#they cared about each other so much to the point it turned to hatred. loop cares but is so so angry that stardust made the same mistak | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

caretaker-au · 4 years ago

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CHAPTER 10

Bright light spilled into Chara’s vision as the world manifested around them. Their body—heavy and fragile—struggled and dropped them to their knees.

As they fell forward Chara caught themselves with their hands. They stared out at their small, feeble fingers that were splayed on the lavender colored floor, each digit tipped with a dull, flat fingernail. Where were they? And what was that awful pounding sensation? They pulled a hand to their chest. That’s right. Their heart. No longer made from monster magic, Chara’s human flesh felt comparatively sluggish and dense. The body they were never supposed to return to. Chara crossed their arms and gripped themself tight. Fierce emotion flooded through their body: a touch of grief for their own death, relief for their survival, and most of all, rage.

“Asriel…” they breathed, their voice a shaking whisper, “How could you?”

After everything they had done, after all that they sacrificed for him, Asriel had betrayed them. Again. As he always had. It didn’t matter how hard Chara worked or how many timelines they chased, their wretched partner threw away everything they had to protect accursed humans. This time was the worst, however. Asriel’s betrayal ended in orchestrating a shared execution.

“You really hate me that much?” Chara’s voice was little more than a shaking growl. They wanted to scream, to declare that they wouldn’t allow it, that they would find someone else who would respect them and carry out their plan. But they didn’t believe it.

“Chara?”

A small voice broke through the fury. Chara looked up and saw them. A child hesitating in a stone doorway just ahead of them: Frisk.

The child’s expression relaxed into a smile, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Anger flashed across Chara’s face. They pulled themselves to their feet, wavering slightly. They staggered towards Frisk with heavy steps, increasing their speed into a run. Frisk’s eyes widened for a moment before they scowled. The child braced themself and held out their arms, “Chara, stop!”

The caretaker grabbed Frisk by the collar and wrenched them up against the doorframe. The kid’s teeth chattered as their skull thudded against the stone behind them.

“Why?!” Chara barked, hatred seeping from their every pore, “You took everything from us! Our lives, our future, the salvation of all monsters!” Frisk turned their head away, clenching their eyes tight as Chara berated them. “Nothing was stopping you from leaving. So why?” Chara demanded, “Why did you return? To mock me? To torment me?”

“No…” Frisk answered quietly, “To save you.”

Their answer didn’t make any sense. Chara stared back, unable to even articulate a response. Instead, they slammed Frisk against the wall again. “Liar!” Chara cried out, “You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!” Frisk squirmed and pulled on Chara’s hands to no avail, “Escape isn’t worth anyone’s life. Not even yours, Chara!”

Chara’s fists clenched tighter around the slack of Frisk’s sweater. With a heave, they tossed the child to the side. Frisk splayed across the floor with a grunt.

“You are wrong,” Chara huffed, “And you… are a fool. Did you not learn the first time? I don’t care about your mercy.”

Frisk pulled themself to their feet. They straightened and returned Chara’s frenzied glare with a quiet gaze.

Chara continued, “I will not stop. This time I’ll take the souls, ignore you, and escape to the Surface. There, Asriel and I… we’ll…” Chara trailed off as Asriel’s face crossed their mind again. They sank to the floor, the air feeling heavier and heavier. “That traitor… he will never… he will never cooperate.”

The realization was like a knife twisting in their gut. Even with his betrayal, Asriel was always the most devoted. No one would be able to replace him. Despair crept into their heart as Chara realized they needed him more than Asriel needed them back. Chara had considered Frisk their greatest opponent, but it was Asriel who truly stood in their way.

Chara’s vision swam, so they turned their head away from Frisk, their hair falling in front of their face. Knowing the human was seeing them like this made their skin crawl, and they wished the ground would swallow them up. As Chara spoke, they held their breath to keep their voice from shaking. “Leave.”

Frisk hesitated, surely coming up with a response. Mockery? Pity? Chara wouldn’t bear it.

“Out of my sight! Now!” Chara shouted; their roar made the air tremble. Frisk didn’t wait to be told again. The sound of scuffling footsteps faded from earshot, and soon Chara was alone in the silence once more.

Finally, Chara let the tears fall from their eyes. They were disgusted with the way their breath hitched and sobbed no matter how much they tried to stifle it. Asriel did this to them. Asriel would have to pay.

Chara indulged in several minutes of sickening self pity before they finally wiped their face. Looking around, it took Chara a moment before they registered just where they were. They were deep within the Ruins, just outside the chamber Frisk had fallen into. But that didn’t make sense. From Chara’s experience, time could only be turned back to the most recently fixed point. Frisk should have been returned to just before their battle, perhaps in the jail. Instead, here they were, back to the moment they first met. Was Frisk not confined to the same limits of time travel?

Chara shook their head. They couldn't think about this now. Only one thing mattered: Asriel’s punishment. Drawing the will to stand, Chara pushed themselves upright to follow the child.

In one way or another, Frisk had made it past all the traps, through the house, and—presumably—out the exit. It was for the best; Chara couldn’t stand to cross paths with the child again. Inside the house, they paused to collect a large padlock they had stored in a table drawer. It was heavy and nearly the size of a text book with ornate designs engraved across it. The lock was imbued with abjuration magic, made specifically to lock the Ruins after Asriel was nearly killed by the human years ago. The lock would render any door unbreachable by human or monster, and Chara held the only key.

Chara carried the device with them into the basement, down the hall, and to the large exterior doors that lead to the snow draped forests beyond. The doors were slightly ajar, revealing a set of footprints that dotted the snow off into the distance.

Chara sighed, taking one last look at the snowy view, before pulling the doors shut. For decades, the lock had only been placed on the outside, removed only when Chara came through to patrol the ruins or escort monsters between Home and Snowdin. Today, for the first time, the doors would be locked from the inside with Chara within. They looped the padlock through the handles of the door, and when they snapped it into place, the doors shuddered and clamped together with a jolt. Chara traced a fingernail down the seam of the two doors. No one would be passing through without their permission.

Confronting Asriel directly was not an option. After all, any progress made with Asriel could be undone by Frisk. Not to mention they weren’t even sure what they could tell him. Asriel’s traitorous inclinations were buried deep into his core, waiting until Chara was at their most desperate to stab them in the back.

But there was one tactic that Frisk would be unable to interfere with. Silence. If Chara withdrew to the Ruins without a word, Asriel would surely blame himself for Chara’s sudden absence. Chara knew Asriel well: he’d beg for Chara’s return and apologize for things he didn’t do, all the while ignorant of his traitorous compulsions. Cruel, perhaps, but nothing was as cruel as what he had done in those erased timelines.

Chara checked their phone. They already had one message from Asriel inquiring as to when they’d return home. The caretaker marked it as read before slipping it back into their pocket.

---

As predicted, Asriel came to the door and stayed all night long. Knocking, calling, pleading-- Chara relished each pathetic attempt at reconciliation. He deserved to be confused, heartbroken, and alone, just as Chara was. Over the course of the day Chara received messages from Asgore, Toriel, and many other monsters. They all asked the same thing: Are you okay? Do you want to talk? We found this human named Frisk, do you know them? Even Muffet demanded an explanation. Chara would have to deal with her later.

Leaving everyone wondering and begging for answers was the only power Chara had left. Word was getting to the monsters in Home as well, evidenced by the additional messages piling up on their phone. Chara ignored them too. Eventually they would realize they were trapped on this side of the door as well, unwilling hostages in Chara’s scheme.

No matter. The monsters deserved to be trapped. Every one of them was just like Asriel: eager to please and sentimental to a fault. Chara had devoted their entire life to serving them and in return they never offered to help collect the souls that would free them. In fact, Chara had to resort to time travel to push them in the right direction for just an ounce of support. They all deserve to rot in this dark, claustrophobic hell.

---

“So you just let a human walk on by?” Muffet inquired in a sing-song voice, “That doesn’t seem much like the great caretaker at all!”

The two of them were sitting in her parlor, each on a lavish chair. A full tea set complete with baked goods sat on a low table between them, though Chara knew better than to partake in it. Spider legs stuck out of the scones like coarse hairs, and they couldn’t even imagine what the tea had been steeped with.

“Yes. Well.” Chara said, looking down at their lap, “There is not much I can do about it now.”

“Oh yes, I imagine the sweet thing is the new royal favorite, aren’t they?” Muffet’s fanged smile turned up in a mocking grin, “The queen has always had a soft spot for filthy little strays. You know that better than anyone, right, dearie?”

Chara bit back a retort. With time no longer under their control, they had to be careful while inside of her lair. It had been a week since they sealed the Ruins, and Muffet was the only person they had spoken to since. The crime lord wasn’t their first choice of confidant, of course, but she had been insisting on meeting and they knew better than to reject her invitation.

“I suppose so,” they responded softly.

Muffet giggled to herself, then suddenly reached for the plate of cookies between them. It was only after she grabbed a couple treats that Chara realized they had flinched when she moved. They tried to relax but the attempt only made them more tense.

“So, is that why you locked the exit? Had a bit of a falling out with the in-laws?”

“Something like that.” Chara frowned, “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Oh of course, a lady like me wouldn’t dream of indulging in distasteful gossip! Instead, I have a business proposition~”

Chara straightened. In their current circumstance, they didn’t have much in the way of influence or leverage.

“How can I be of service?” they asked.

“I want to relocate,” Muffet paused to bite into one of her cookies. It sounded... crunchy. “You see, the Ruins are awfully drafty, and the cold isn’t good for my constitution. I was thinking about moving in the next year or so, but now that you’ve so... graciously sealed us all in here, I predict the traffic in my shop will be slowing down considerably.”

“Understood.” Chara nodded, “I will make an exception for you and open the d—”

“I wasn’t finished, Chara.” Muffet said, her voice lowering. There was a tense pause before she smiled again, “I want a limousine~”

“A—A what?” Chara asked, incredulous.

“A heated limousine that will chauffer my employees and I all the way to Hotland,” she gestured to the spiders that skittered between the tea cups, “A necessary luxury to ensure we make it safely through the biting cold of Snowdin. Should be a simple task for a monarch, correct?”

“Of course. Leave it to me.” Chara smiled, “Is that all?”

“Not much for business, are you, Chara?” Muffet smirked, “This is where you negotiate the terms of the agreement~”

“No need. I am happy to do this as a gesture of goodwill.” Chara outstretched their hand—it wasn’t trembling anymore, thankfully—and Muffet gave it a dainty shake.

Once Chara was safely out of Muffet’s lair, they heaved a sigh of relief. Somehow they had managed to leave in one piece despite Muffet’s attempts to bait them. Now they just had to figure out how to serve her outrageous demands. Chara fished their phone out of their pocket, dismissed several dozen missed calls and text notifications, and opened their address book. They were going to need to call in some discreet favors.

---

One month had passed since they sealed the Ruins. It wasn’t easy, but Chara managed to arrange for Muffet’s departure without alerting the Dreemurrs. Eventually, the royals found out the Ruins door had been briefly opened which led to a fresh barrage of calls, messages, and knocking on the resealed door, all of which Chara ignored, of course.

Chara walked the streets of Home late at night, the crystals in the ceiling sparkling above. They could feel the eyes of the monsters on them, but after weeks of Chara ignoring and scowling in return, the monsters had given up on approaching them. Wordlessly, they did their weekly shopping at the local market. As a member of the royal family, Chara had never needed to pay for any necessities, and it seemed the benefits even extended here. It was only fair compensation, of course. After all, Chara was still serving the undeserving monsters by patrolling the Ruins every day for human threats.

---

“Ugh, really?” Chara muttered. They were nearly done with their patrol, having reached the large trap of spikes that was circled with a moat. Chara pushed down on the edge of the spike panel’s pressure plate with their foot, but the spikes failed to retract completely, the deadly points standing out by a few inches. It wasn’t a good sign: the springs inside were starting to give out. And if the springs snapped while Chara was standing above it…

Chara shuddered. They had witnessed that messy result and they didn’t care to experience it first hand. Typically, Chara would order replacement parts and perform maintenance themself, but the machinist that created the pieces was in New Home. Unsealing the door again was out of the question.

“Of course this would happen now,” Chara grumbled. They moved their foot off the plate and the spikes shot back into place. How many more compressions would it tolerate before it broke? Before Frisk came to the Underground, Chara could risk it and undo any unpleasant accidents, but if the past five months were any indication, Frisk was not nearly as eager to manipulate time. In fact, time had been rolled back only two times since Chara let the child go.

It was inconceivable. How could Frisk resist the urge to erase the inevitable little mistakes that ruined every day? Embarrassing moments, broken tea cups, scraped knees… all could be fixed in an instant with the right application of their power. To have such power and yet choose to carry the weight of their failures—it defied reason.

More importantly, if Chara suffered a tragic accident while isolated here, no one would come to their rescue… whether through time manipulation or otherwise.

“Unfortunate.” Chara said to themself with a resigned sigh, “I will have to dismantle them. All of them.” They turned around and headed back home. While they didn’t have access to their machinist anymore, they did have a few hand tools and plenty of time.

---

Eight months had passed since Chara had let Frisk go. As they walked the path of the now defanged Ruins, they revised and repeated their old plan over and over. If they could just get one more soul to replace Frisk, they would have the seven required to break the barrier and purify the Surface. The only thing missing, of course, was a willing monster to absorb them.

They reached the end of their patrol: the entrance to the Underground for lost, unlucky humans. The chamber was empty, as it had been every day since Frisk fell in. Chara walked into the center of the room and stared up into the vacant darkness looming above. One hundred years had passed on the Surface and only eight humans had fallen in that time. How long would it take for another to arrive? Ten years? Thirty? Without the help of their powers Chara could very well die before seeing the next human soul.

Chara turned to leave, but did a double take as they glimpsed a glimmer of gold on the ground. They kneeled and pushed the grass aside to reveal a small yellow bud, barely beginning to open.

“It cannot be…” Chara breathed, “A Golden Flower?”

Golden Flowers were common on the Surface, but had no presence in the Underground. Chara was so sure of this that they had incorporated them into their original plan over 20 years ago. By requesting to see the wild flowers on their deathbed, Chara could ensure Asriel would cross the barrier with their corpse in tow.

Or at least, that was what should have happened.

Chara clenched their teeth at the bitter memory. It was the first of many perfect plans ruined by Asriel’s cowardice. The caretaker grasped the plant and ripped it out of the ground by the root.

Immediately, Chara felt a pang of regret. They stared down at the pathetic thing. Their favorite flower, somehow growing in this dark, sunless prison. When had it taken root? Did some seeds blow in from the Surface? Or were they brought in by a... passenger?

Chara shook their head. Regardless of how it was introduced to the Underground, it was now a part of the Ruins—their Ruins. It didn’t deserve to suffer for Asriel’s mistakes. Reflexively, Chara attempted to turn back time, but nothing happened.

With a sigh, they returned the flower to where it was and buried its roots back into the soil. The stem was bent and it wouldn’t stay upright, but weeds were resilient. With a little help, it might still make it.

---

Chara hesitated before their latest masterpiece, knife in hand. Resting on a serving plate was a beautiful, hand crafted chocolate ganache cake. Strawberries perched on top of the silky dark topping, and the intoxicating aroma filled the house. Somehow, even without their powers, it had turned out almost too perfect to eat.

Emphasis on "almost". Carefully, Chara slid the knife through the decadent construction and placed a slice on their plate. They paused to admire the moist cross section before sliding a fork through the end and taking a bite.

Absolute bliss.

"Not bad for a humble birthday cake," Chara said to themself. They were thirty-seven today. Chara looked across the dining table into the empty living room. The only sound was the fire crackling in the hearth, emitting heat for a one person abode. They wished this house wasn’t nearly identical to the one in New Home; the similarities made it too easy to imagine Toriel in her chair, Asgore in the kitchen, and Asriel leaning on the table with his elbows, big goofy grin on his face. The Dreemurrs loved birthdays, always spending weeks preparing for a large and lavish party.

This was the first birthday they had spent alone since they were thirteen. They had forgotten how miserable it could be.

Chara checked their phone. They had over one hundred notifications that had come in just today. They scrolled through to find the only contact that mattered: Asriel.

“Happy birthday, Chara!!” the message read, “Mom and Dad and I are thinking about you lots! We even got you a gift, so I hope we can give it to you one day! Wherever you are, take good care of yourself, okay?” A line of party and heart related emojis followed.

Chara read the message over and over. Asriel’s texts would always fill them with disgust and hatred, but not today. Instead Chara just felt… lonely. It was a pathetic, shameful feeling, but a true feeling nonetheless. Despite all the ways Asriel had disrespected them, Chara couldn’t hide from the fact that they missed him.

The caretaker allowed themself to vocalize a thought they had been pushing out of their mind for months. “Maybe…” Chara spoke, their soft voice breaking the quiet, “Maybe it is time to go home.”

They sighed, resigning themself. The eternal silent treatment was never a realistic plan, and while Asriel was the intended subject of the punishment, it was unpleasant to Chara, too. Scrolling up through his messages, Asriel had sent hundreds upon hundreds over the past year begging them to “just talk”. All had gone unanswered. The confusion and desperation in those messages were clear; he was perfectly primed for a reconciliation.

But Chara wanted more than reconciliation. More important than companionship was freedom. Freedom not just for undeserving monsters, but most importantly, freedom for themself.

“There is still a way,” Chara muttered to themself, “I simply… pushed Asriel too quickly. Asriel always responded better to a softer approach.” Chara stood, pacing.

“We will delay soul fusion until the end of my natural life. Nothing barbaric or tragic. My dying wish will be to live on within him. He cannot turn down my final request.”

Chara nodded, they could see it now. After a few decades, Chara would peacefully pass from their old, frail body into Asriel’s strong, youthful one, a benefit of his species’ long life span.

“Then we gather the rest of the souls. But not right away. Asriel will need some time to adjust to sharing a vessel with me. But he will with time. Perhaps even the child can be convinced to willingly donate their soul to the cause.” Even though Frisk wouldn’t be a child anymore, it was hard to imagine Frisk as anything but a meddling brat. Honestly, they’d probably still be a brat in thirty years.

“If not, that is... fine. The child can be suffered to live.” The decision was a reluctant one, but giving mercy to such an undeserving creature gave Chara a pleasant feeling of self-righteousness. After all, it didn’t really matter if Frisk lived or died. The important thing was purifying the Surface and breaking the barrier. One human would not make a difference.

“Yes. This will work.” A smile crept onto Chara’s face and their heart thrummed with excitement. They would return to Asriel, who would embrace them with utmost relief and joy. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and Asriel had shown no signs of giving up on them.

Chara would enjoy a long life in the company of their loved ones until the day they would embrace their prophesied purpose as the Underground’s savior.

It would require patience, but their splendid utopia was once again within reach. They began planning their grand return.

chapter 10 // end

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#undertale #chara #the caretaker of the ruins #undertale spoilers #main comic #chapter 10 #story summary #amazing that chapter 1-9 took place in one day #but this chapter is a year long

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mrs-gucci · 3 years ago

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Rough Around the Edges {Prince Kylo Ren x Reader}

author’s notes: hello, hello! taking a quick break from all the fourth of july stuff to submit this piece for this week’s writer wednesday :) thanks @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape for organizing this wonderful weekly event!

this story takes place in a medieval AU and is lightly inspired by certain elements in “Beauty and the Beast”.

warnings: angst with a hopeful ending. partially unreciprocated feelings. arranged courtship. time period-authentic sexism (women are meant to please men and that’s all). there’s a kiss.

(possible) tw’s: arranged relationship. implied age gap (not specified, but everyone’s above age).

word count: a touch over 2k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea @gildedstarlight @mrs-zimmerman @soldmysoulagain @roseepossee @pascalisfairyy (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

You sit in front of the mirror while Anna pulls your hair into a flattering updo. Your eyes begin to tear up at the painful sting of your hair being manipulated in such a forceful way, scalp throbbing with each of Anna’s harsh, calculated movements.

"Must you be so rough?”

She offers little empathy in her expression as she looks at you through the mirror’s reflection. “The Prince insisted that you wear your hair up tonight, madame. He was absolutely furious when you wore it down the last time, and I’m the one who had to stand there while he threw a tantrum over it.”

Your eyes roll, knowing all too well of your betrothed’s legendary fits of anger. He’s much too old to be doing such childish things, but god forbid you ever say that to him.

Anna finishes up with your hair, much to your relief, but now the real pain begins. You look over at the corset waiting on the bed and already, your ribcage aches.

“What, are you trying to turn it to stone?” She asks, and you shake your head. “Well, you’re certainly staring at it long enough. Come on now, stand up, we don’t have all afternoon.”

You sigh, rising up out of the chair and walking over to the bed where Anna’s standing, corset in-hand. She wraps it around your torso, pulling the laces impossibly tight over your ribs and stomach, caging them both within the garment.

After the corset is very securely tied, Anna grabs your dress and helps you step into the golden yellow skirt. She ties the top part with just as much aggression as she tied the corset, making simply breathing a painful process.

“Try to at least look like you don’t want to jump out of the East tower’s window.” Anna remarks as you scowl at your reflection in the mirror. “Have you ever considered smiling?”

“I have absolutely nothing to smile about.” You reply curtly, unamused by this conversation or her suggestions.

She sighs in defeat. “I’m only trying to help, madame. You need to learn how to be a princess, or at least try and act the part.”

“I’m not interested in being a princess, Anna. But, if you ever asked my opinion on the matter, then you’d already know that. Now please, I wish to be alone.”

Anna’s surprised at the hostile tone of your words, but she keeps her lips pursed, knowing she’s in no place to press the issue any further. She simply nods, backing out of the room, leaving you alone.

Your bottom lip begins to tremble as your vision blurs with tears, abruptly turning away from the mirror so that you don’t have to look at what you’ve been forced to become.

There’s nothing that you wish for more than to be free from this life, free to live the way you want to live instead of the one that was chosen for you to live. You loathe the mask you must wear, the painted face that looks back at you through the mirror.

But, you have no choice...you’ve never had a choice.

The palace is aglow this evening, thousands of candles burning and casting a warmer shade across the normally-bland ivory color. Your shoes clink on the marble flooring as you make your way to the front steps, looking over the railing at the grand room below.

Lords and ladies, princes and princesses are all arm-in-arm, walking through to the ballroom. Some have stopped to converse with each other, fake smiles plastered on their painted faces.

You huff to yourself as you reach the top of the staircase, and at the bottom, stands your betrothed. He looks up as you make your way down the stairs, a pleased smirk tugging at the corners of his lips with each step you take.

Kylo holds his hand out to you when you reach the bottom, guiding you down the final stair before looping his arm through yours. The two of you walk towards the ballroom, smiling and nodding politely at the other guests.

“You look nice.” His voice is flat, emotionless.

You huff in false amusement, physically having to prevent your eyes from rolling. “Am I supposed to thank you for saying that?”

"Ah, you’re learning.” He says, stopping to look down at you, fingers holding your chin and forcing you to look up at him while his eyes linger over your face. “Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, little dove.”

You yank your chin from his grip, snarling softly. “Don’t touch me.”

His hand suddenly comes up to wrap around your throat, teeth bared. “I can touch you however I please, young one. You’re mine, and you ought to learn your place.”

Once he feels you relax, feels you surrender under his touch, he lets go of your neck and continues walking as if nothing’s happened, dragging you along with him.

He wears you on his arm the whole evening as he talks to various noblemen and you just stand there, silent with a small smile, pretending like you don’t exist.

Then, the two of you take a seat at the big table with King Han and Queen Leia, beginning to feast on the royal spread. You barely eat, partially due to the fact that you’re afraid to bust the ties on your corset if your abdomen expands even a little bit too far, and Kylo seems to take notice.

“I promise I didn’t poison it.”

You look over at him with widened eyes. He simply smirks, laughing softly to himself.

“I’m only joking, little dove.”

You’re incredibly surprised, stunned into utter silence at the fact that he’s just joked with you. You'd been convinced up until this point that humor wasn’t a part of his emotional capabilities, that he was only capable of anger, hatred, and inflicting fear.

His hand hesitantly rests on top of yours, which makes you flinch. He looks conflicted in the moment, as if he’s deciding whether or not to be upset that you react this way to his touch.

“Why aren’t you eating? You need to eat.”

You look away, jaw clenching. “I know you don’t actually care why I’m not eating, Kylo. Plus, none of my answers will be good enough to please you, anyway.”

He stiffens, pulling his hand away immediately.

“Perhaps you’re right.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the tone of his voice. He almost sounds...upset. Not upset at you, though, upset at himself.

The rest of the time he’s silent, only glancing over at you occasionally. Dessert comes around and you don’t even touch it, simply sitting up straight with your hands in your lap.

Couples rise from their tables as the musicians begin to play an upbeat tempo, gathering on the ballroom floor. Kylo stands up next to you, holding out his hand without a word.

You rise from your chair and take his extended hand, allowing him to lead you out to the ballroom floor. Dancing was customary in Alderaan and was a very popular practice at gathering’s like this.

Kylo’s large hands drop to your waist as soon as you reach the floor and you reach up to rest your hands on his broad shoulders. The two of you sway in unison and make your way around the dance floor skillfully, gracefully.

After the song comes to an end and another slower one begins, the Prince tilts his head down to look at you. His face is stoic, unchanging, but there’s something different about this look. It’s not as harsh or as emotionless as it normally is; there’s a certain gentleness to it.

Your eyes keep his gaze, looking back up at him with a curious glint in your eyes, drinking in his up-close appearance for truly the first time since you’ve arrived in Alderaan. He’s intoxicatingly handsome, there’s no getting around that, but his personality and temper leave a lot to be desired.

Yet, despite his hostility and distaste for you, you still find yourself temporarily entranced by his presence, melting under his gaze. It’s in this moment that you catch a glimpse into your own psyche, recognizing the true source of your vehement hate and closed-off behavior towards him.

All of it is done out of a desire to hide your attraction to the man that you’ve tried so, so hard to dislike. There’s always been a small part of you that’s known this, but you figured that if you pushed it down long enough and acted otherwise, perhaps you’d eventually convince yourself otherwise. But, alas, those feelings of attraction have only grown and festered beneath the facade of hatred.

It is true, Kylo Ren is a moody, closed-off, hostile and frankly childish being, but you’re somehow able to look past that and see the diamond-in-the-rough quality to the young Prince. You know that somewhere, behind the stone wall he’s so clearly built up around himself, there’s a goodness to him. You’ve seen glimpses of it throughout the time you’ve known him, but he almost immediately shuts it down instead of letting it show further, a fact you find incredibly perplexing.

“Y/N?” His voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You snap from your temporary trance and shake your head. “Sorry, I was deep in thought.”

“I gathered.” He chuckles softly. “If I asked what it is you were thinking about, would you tell me the truth?”

“Probably not.”

He nods. “I appreciate your honesty.”

The two of you continue to move around the floor before the handsome Prince clears his throat, cheeks flushing a delicate shade of pink.

“May I ask you a question, completely unrelated to my previous inquiry?”

You nod, and he swallows harshly.

“What is it about me that you loathe so much?”

Your stomach drops and you suddenly feel a touch of lightheadedness begin to pressurize within your skull. You’re frozen for a moment as you try to decide whether or not to tell him the truth.

“I don’t...why are you asking me such a thing? I know you don’t actually care about the answer.”

His jaw clenches and his grip suddenly tightens on your hips. “Why do you always insist that I don’t care?”

“Because I know you don’t, Kylo. At least, not truly.” You reply, squirming beneath his grip.

“W-Well, what if...” He huffs, looking away. “What if I do care? Or am at least trying to care?”

You’re genuinely surprised by his words, taken aback for a moment. This is a turn you certainly didn’t see coming...

“I find your ever-changing moods and stubbornness often makes you difficult to deal with. You never try, at least up until this point, to understand my feelings or show any sort of interest in getting to know me, which just makes me feel even more unwanted than I already do, and I--”

Before you can continue, you’re cut off by a sudden presence on your lips. It registers in your mind, then, that he’s kissing you. You stiffen, and he pulls away slowly, eyes staring into yours.

“You are not unwanted, Y/N.” He says, voice low. “Never...p-please never think that.”

Did he just say ‘please’? That’s almost the most shocking thing he’s said thus far.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Kylo. Just...a little rough around the edges.”

His entire demeanor shifts for a moment, and for a split second, you swear he looks happy; truly, genuinely happy. Perhaps a bit of relief was sprinkled in, too. He wears a small, barely-there smile as he continues to look down at you.

“I would like to try and change. We should at least try to get along, considering the fact that we’ll be wed soon. I know you don’t want to be here, but I’d like to at least try to make things a bit easier, h-however I can.”

You can’t stop the smile that quickly spreads across your face, delightfully pleased to hear these words. Your expression widens his smile ever so slightly.

“I think we can certainly give it a try.”

Kylo nods, a subtly optimistic expression etched on his features.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

#mrs-gucci #writer wednesday #mrs-gucci writes kylo ren #medieval au #medieval kylo #prince kylo ren #kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren angst #adcu #adcu community #adcu fanfiction #adcu fanfic #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver angst #tw: implied age gap #arranged courtship

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curiosity-killed · 3 years ago

Text

Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

#should I wait and proofread and edit this tomorrow? yes.#am I doing that? no <3 #idk what to tag this as #uhhh #tgcf spoilers #lang qianqiu #I don’t think this can reasonably be called meta #since I am unsure if it is even readable #tgcf #long post

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maibi · 4 years ago

Text

All You Really Needed

Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: contains a spoiler of one of the first few episodes.. the summary also contains that spoiler so be wary!!

Summary: after the death of Itadori Yuuji, Gojo finally let’s go of his strong posture and breaks down in front of you. (I suck at descriptions I know T_T)

A/N: I apologise for any mistakes,, this was not proofread plus I am sleep deprived 99% of the time so I have no clue what im writing lmao. Anyways ENJOY!

——————————————————————————

Gojo wasn’t one that opened up about his feelings or emotions, whereas you were the complete opposite of that. your days together were mostly filled with you rambling about your days teaching the first years at Kyoto Jujutsu High. You loved your students, but it was a tiring job to train them constantly.

Gojo never seemed to complain about his work or students and he didn’t really seem to take his job seriously, yet he always pulled it off. He talked about his so called dream to change the jujutsu world when in reality that wouldn’t be as simple as he thought it was. Even for the strongest shaman, this is a job that was almost impossible to accomplish alone. But as much as Gojo had confidence in himself, you believed he’d get far. Because whatever he wants always comes his way.

For example: you.

You and Gojo were actually classmates throughout high school, but nothing really happened between you back then. Being in a class of 4 didn’t really help with getting you two closer. It would be you and your friend and he with his. It wasn't rivalry or hatred, but rather a situation of seeing each other but ignoring each other’s presence. Your personalities just didn't match, or at least that’s what the both of you had convinced yourself to believe.

It wasn't until both of you actually became teachers that you grew closer to each other and that’s also when you realized he wasn’t as bad as you thought he was. Yes he was quite the clown, but in reality he was a very caring person.

The first years of your teaching career had been a constant loop of Gojo trying his best to get closer to you. His personality hadn’t changed much, but in whole honesty there wasn’t much different in yours either. The only difference was, that the both of you had finally become adults.

You liked Gojo, but telling him that back then would be like giving in on his constant confessions that you rejected as if it was a daily routine. Sooner or later you gave in, not being able to resist him. He knew you would fall for him, because he always gets his way.

You had been together for a long while now and even though you didn’t actually live together it was as good as if he lived with you. Both of you had an own place to stay at, but given the circumstances you always were together. With the whole Yuuji situation the teachers and higher ups didn’t really have a choice but to be together constantly. Stuff had to be talked about and for Gojo his students’ safety was his number one priority. Even though yuuji had brought this all on himself, Gojo had no intentions of letting him die any time soon. If they let him, he wouldn’t even let him die.

He always looked as if he was having the time of his life, but you knew him longer than today and sometimes his masked slipped. He didn’t deepen the conversation when you pointed it out, but he was already happy to have you by his side. He didn’t need words to comfort him, but even if he didn’t it felt as if you didn’t do much for him. You wanted to show him that you cared for him and that you would listen to him if he needed to vent.

He didn’t show, but the whole Yuuji situation messed with his head. The higher up scheming Yuuji’s death and Gojo constantly running behind his back to make sure Yuuji is safe. It tired him. He always said he was okey and gave you kiss on top of your head. It was a constant routine, but you noticed. You noticed how he’d fall asleep the second he arrived home and how he let his weight fall on you when you hugged him. You didn’t say anything because you didn’t want him to feel pressured. But you desperately hoped he would talk to you because the both of you knew that would be a big relief for him.

You went home earlier than usual. The students had begged you for a day off, but just randomly giving them a break was not the best option in these hectic days. They had to train, they had to get stronger. So you made a deal. If they caught you, you’d give them free the rest of the day. Of course they failed, but you saw great accomplishments so you agreed on giving them free for the rest of the day. They were also tired, you could tell. But you didn’t want them to get hurt because you weren’t able to teach them properly.

You sighed as you dropped your weight on the couch. You let your head fall back and looked at the ceiling. Your eyes darted to the clock on the wall. About an hour from now Gojo should be home. You could already tell how he’d be when he got home. His sleep deprived posture walking inside as he slumped on the bed. You felt bad to see him like that.

You were surprised to hear the door open and when you turned your head you say Gojo walking inside with his blindfolds in his hand. His hair was wet and he was supporting himself against the wall. You noticed this wasn't like normal, but before you could even walk up to him he had left to the bedroom and slammed the door shut. You knew it wasn’t directed you so you immediately knew something was wrong.

You raised from the couch and made your way to the bedroom. You knocked once and walked inside. “Hey, Satoru”, you said silently.

He was laying on his back on the bed, his feet touching the ground. You walked up to him and sat down next to him. You brushed your hand in his hair and felt water droplets collect on your hand, but you didn’t really care. He was breathing heavily and his heart was beating rapidly in his chest.

You didn’t was a word and kept your touch on his hair. He slowly rose from his laying position and rested his arms on his legs. His head was bent downwards and naturally your touch left his. You placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. “Are you alright-”

And suddenly he dropped his head on your legs. You noticed that he was refusing to look at you. He was rejecting any kind of eye contact, just so you wouldn’t have to see his worn out face. He mumbled something, but you didn’t hear him. But before you could ask him to repeat himself, he spoke up again.

“Yuuji is-”, he said with a crack in his voice. “Yuuji is dead.”

You were shocked. Your heart dropped and you couldn’t even imagine how torn he must be feeling. He stood up and showed you his face. His eyes were red, he had been crying.

You placed your hands on his face and a tear rolled down his cheek. You wiped it away, caressing the spot a few times. “He did his best, so much. He wanted to become stronger, but I failed him.”

“No you didn't and I'm sure he thinks the same. You were so good to him and you thought him many amazing things. I bet he was so proud to say that he had you as his mentor. He was a great kid”, you said in a whisper to calm him down.

This was the first time he had shown any sign of vulnerability. You didn’t want to let him down and you wanted to show him that you cared. You wanted to show him that you were there for him, that you were willing to do anything in your power and beyond to help him.

“They killed him. They planned this, they schemed it so that he would die. They’ve been wanting him dead from the beginning and I swear I'm not gonna let them have this. I will destroy every single on of them and I will show them exactly how much of a mistake they made”, he said in a small voice.

“Hey, you did the best you could. And I have trust in you. I know you’re gonna make it and you’re gonna show them exactly how powerful you are. This won’t go unnoticed and we will make sure of that. Yuuji’s death will not be in vain”, you said.

You embraced him and pulled him flush against you. You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes as you squeezed him, as if he was about to fall from your grip and were to never return.

“We will get revenge”, you whispered as you felt his breath against your neck and felt the wetness of his tears create a damp spot on your shirt. “For Yuuji.”

You stayed like that for a while and you were almost convinced he was asleep. You slowly tried to wriggle the both of you in a laying position because you didn't want to wake him up, but his arm squeezing around your waist told you that he didn’t want to move just yet.

He moved away from your grip but placed his hands on your cheeks. “Thank you for being here for me and thank you for always knowing how to deal with me.”

You gave him a small smile of reassurance. You placed your hand on his cheek once again and pulled him in for a kiss, a small brush on the lips. “I will do everything in my power to help you get through this. And I will use up every bit of energy to carry on Yuuji’s will. We will protect the students together and we will take revenge for the teenager’s death. And we’ll do it together.”

No other word were spoken that night. No words were needed that night. The both of you had understood and the both of you had agreed. It was the first time Gojo had openly showed his feelings and you were more than happy to receive those emotions with open arms. To show him just how much you cared for him. But in reality he already knew and he didn’t need you to comfort him alone to understand that. He was a person that looked out for the smallest details and you just being there next to him, was really all he needed. And him being there, next to you was all you really needed.

#gojo angst #saturo gojou #gojo x reader #gojo imagine #gojo x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji

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fangirlwriting-stories · 3 years ago

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Star-Crossed

Summary: Virgil has known since he was little that some day he's supposed to meet his soulmate and fall in love with them. You're supposed to date, then fall in love, and eventually ride off into the sunset to the sound of wedding bells and a happy life in front of you. You're supposed to look forward to meeting your soulmate. You're supposed to plan your life around them, because you're supposed to want to.

He's not sure what exactly you're supposed to do when someone else gets there first.

There’s a way these things work, Virgil knows. Of course, everyone’s story is different, because people aren’t made with perfect cookie cutters. But there’s a general way that these things work. It involves meeting your soulmate, getting to know them, dating and falling in love, ending with a wedding at an appropriate age. You’re supposed to be tailor made for each other, your love story written in the stars, to the point where communication is easy and problems aren’t hard to overcome. Now, that’s of course not how it always works in real life, because people are complicated and problems can be just that. But it’s supposed to be relatively easy to ride the wave to your happy ending, wedding bells and cheers and riding off into the sunset.

For most of his life, Virgil had craved that ease. Relationships that didn’t come pre-packaged for success were hard, and he wasn’t very good at them. It took him until eleventh grade to make any friends. But even when he did, they were proof that soulmates made everything easier.

Roman, Patton, and Logan had the kind of soulmate story people dream about. The three of them had been best friends since childhood and started dating in their early teens. They’d had their general share of problems throughout the years, but overall they were good. Their story made them popular too, and Virgil couldn’t imagine why they’d taken him under their wing, but here he was.

With popularity-by-association came pressure, though, and Virgil couldn’t name the number of times he’d panicked about what would happen if he didn’t live up to the soulmate story of his friends. It was what they expected of him, in the way that they never said outright, but Virgil could tell they were thinking it. He knew for a fact it’s what his parents expected of him, as unlike his friends, they had said it outright. He wondered why exactly they felt the need to make that clear. Did they know something?

Because in the end, that was the point, wasn’t it. Nowhere in the general “way these things work” did your soulmate story allow you to be here, in your crumbling backyard treehouse, wrapped in the arms of someone you love but shouldn’t as they kissed your damn brains out.

Virgil couldn’t give an exact name for what he and Janus were. They weren’t quite dating, but they definitely weren’t just friends, if the way Janus’ hand was tangled up in his hair and pulling him closer had anything to say about it. He did know that Janus made him feel alive, in a way he’d never quite gotten from anywhere else. He wouldn’t trade Patton, Logan, and Roman for anything, but there were times the expectations they came with made him terrified. His parents made him feel more trapped than anything else, though he didn’t think that’s what they intended. But here, with Janus, he felt like the world could burn, and as long as he had Janus there with him, he would be perfectly content to just watch.

Virgil shifted enough to see the outside of the treehouse, and pulled his head up slightly. “Janus,” he murmured.

“What, I’m busy,” Janus murmured back, shifting his lips on Virgil’s neck. Virgil gasped and pulled in a breath.

“Janus,” he said again, though his voice sounded significantly higher than a second ago. “The sun’s rising.”

“Oh, my, alert the media,” Janus said, moving up from his neck to capture Virgil’s lips again.

Virgil pulled back. “You can’t keep kissing me to shut me up,” he said.

“But it works so well,” Janus crowed, leaning back in.

“Janus,” Virgil groaned, but wrapped his arms around him anyway, letting them both move back slowly onto the floor.

“You have to go, you know,” he murmured in a moment he pulled back to breathe.

“Mmm, I can’t convince you to stay just another half hour?” He kissed the corner of Virgil’s mouth and Virgil held back a whine.

“You are very persuasive,” he muttered.

“Ah, one of the many reasons you love me,” Janus said, moving to the other corner of his mouth.

“I’ll love you less if we get caught out here,” Virgil said. “You know how early my dad gets up.”

“Really? Getting caught during one makeout session, that’s all it takes?” He pulled Virgil up closer to him, wrapping his arms around his back.

“Janus,” Virgil said, pushing him backwards. “It’s not about that and you know it.”

Janus sighed, dropping his head onto Virgil’s chest. “You ruined it with seriousness, Virgil,” he whined.

“It’s going to be ruined with a lot more seriousness if you don’t go,” Virgil said, trying to ignore the way that Janus’ lips still looked so very tempting.

Janus had to have noticed his staring, because he smirked and leaned back in. “Yes, and it seems like you want me to leave so much,” he whispered, right before connecting their lips yet again.

Virgil heard the soft click of a lightswitch, easy to hear with nothing else going on— well, with only one other thing going on.

Virgil pushed Janus back more firmly. “Janus,” he said. He looked over towards the house, where the kitchen light had just come on.

Janus sighed, and laid back down on top of Virgil. “Curse your early bird of a father.”

“Yeah, he’s the worst,” Virgil said, only half joking. “I’ll see you on Monday, alright?”

“How ever will I last,” Janus said with a smirk, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil much more gently, the way he did goodbyes.

Virgil returned the kiss as Janus sat them both up, and pulled back a second later. “Text me when you get home,” he said.

“I will,” Janus agreed, moving to climb down the treehouse ladder. Virgil watched him go for a second before leaving himself, climbing across the tree branch that led through his open window. He made it just in time to look out his window and spot Janus leaving through the gate towards his front yard. He paused and looked up at Virgil first, giving him a sloppy salute as if saying “There, I did what you wanted.” Then he turned and vanished into the early morning.

Virgil smiled to himself and sank down against his windowsill. God, he loved that idiot.

He waited until he got a text half an hour later that Janus made it home before climbing into bed. It would still be a while before he fell asleep, though, the buzzing feeling Janus left him with made him feel too alive for that.

Not for the first time, Virgil wished that the “way these things work” was something different.

…

“I’m just saying,” Roman said, his arm looped through Logan’s as the three of them walked to class. “That if you’re going to give students an assignment over break you deserve nothing less than death.”

“Agreed,” Virgil said.

Logan shook his head at them both in disbelief. “We are students,” he said. “Our entire job is to learn. If the teachers have assignments to grade over break, shouldn’t students have something to work on too?”

“No,” Roman said. “It’s the teachers job to grade assignments.”

“Did you miss the part where I said learning is our job?”

“I don’t see myself getting paid for this shit,” Virgil muttered. “And I don’t want to write a whole damn essay over break. I don’t care if ‘learning is my job’ or whatever you think. The whole point of a break is a vacation.”

“It’s just one essay,” Logan said, raising an eyebrow. “You can get it done and still have a vacation.”

“Logan, your ‘I can write essays in an hour’ thing is kicking in again,” Roman said. “It takes most people longer to write an essay than it takes you.”

Virgil didn’t catch Logan’s response, having instead caught Janus’ eyes on the side of the hallway. Janus looked at him as he passed and smirked, giving Virgil just enough time to think about how absolutely gone he was for this boy before he passed behind them.

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked around to face Roman. “What?”

“Don’t you agree?”

Virgil blinked. “Oh, yeah, absolutely.”

“See!” Roman exclaimed, spinning to Logan like that won the whole argument. Virgil was happy to help.

They both continued the argument that Virgil had lost all interest in until they reached the lunchroom, where Patton was already sitting at their usual table.

Virgil pulled his phone out as he sat down, because if he’d passed Janus… yep.

Janus: So how are the universe’s favorite love birds doing

Virgil rolled his eyes.

Virgil: You don’t always have to act like you hate them you know

Janus: Excuse you? They are the worst. I despise them and everything they stand for

Virgil: They also happen to be the only people who actually tried being my friends

Janus: Ugh

Janus: You and your hatred of loneliness

Virgil: If you want to talk to them they wouldn’t hate it you know

Janus: And surround myself with soulmate perfection stories all the time? Please

Virgil sighed. They both knew he could see right through Janus. While Virgil now had three close friends and gained the friendliness of everyone else by association, he remembered the things that you said when you didn’t have anyone and were trying to convince yourself you were okay with that. “As if I want to surround myself with soulmate perfection all the time” was up near the top of the list. Virgil had said it more than a couple times himself before he realized the soulmate perfection people were actually pretty nice.

“Hey, Virgil, whatcha looking at?”

…About most things.

“Nothing,” Virgil said, putting his phone back in his bag. “Just making notes of assignment stuff. Roman’s right, an essay assignment over break is BS.”

“Right?” Roman said, and started launching into his complaints. Virgil sat back in relief and listened to him start to rant, rubbing his thumb over his phone case in his pocket.

He had other reasons to hate the essay assignment. He and Janus had been planning what to do over spring break for months. Janus had gotten his mother’s permission to take the car and go with a friend on a couple of day trips, so long as they didn’t like, leave the state or something. Virgil had been looking forward to going somewhere fun with Janus, exploring the places Janus had picked out, finding places to be alone… maybe pretending to be soulmates.

Virgil looked down at the name on his wrist and sighed, wishing once again that it said something other than Ethan Baker.

Virgil went through the rest of the day trying to figure out a way to finish that essay before break. He had a week, but he had other assignments due before break. He could probably ask Logan for help, come to think of it. He texted Logan after school as he was heading out to Roman’s car. Logan stayed after most days to tutor.

Virgil: Hey, could I maybe stay after Thursday to work on my essay with you

Logan: Sure, I don’t have any tutoring on Thursday. Try and have an outline and an argument decided on by then, okay?

Virgil: Will do

Virgil slipped his phone back into his pocket and glanced up as he approached Roman and Patton, who were standing outside Roman’s car waiting for him.

“Sorry,” he said as he ended up in front of them. “Trying to figure out how to get an actual break.”

“Do you have a plan?” Roman asked, getting into the driver’s seat as Patton took the passenger and Virgil got into the back.

“Yeah, I’m meeting up with Logan on Thursday to write the essay.”

“Oh, can I join?”

“You should ask, but I’m sure he won’t mind,” Patton said. “I need a treat. Anyone else want ice cream?”

“Sign me up,” Roman said as he started to back up. “Jenny’s?”

“Absolutely,” Virgil agreed. Jenny’s was their favorite ice cream place. He wanted to find a way to take Janus some day.

Patton texted Logan to meet them there when he was done with tutoring, and then they all headed there.

Virgil grabbed his notebook once they got there and started writing down ideas for his essay in between bites of ice cream. By the time Logan got there, he had a couple ideas to narrow down, and he pulled out his phone to text Janus.

Virgil: You don’t have any assignments over break, do you?

Janus: Fuck no. What monsters do you have as teachers?

Virgil: Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it handled. Just making sure you’re ready for our trips too

…

Turns out, Janus had quite a few good spots to go to, with different goals in mind. They went to ice rinks, outlet malls with Hot Topic, and a state park all within the same week. The park ended up being Virgil’s favorite. It was filled with giant rocks that people were encouraged to climb on. They found a high up rock tucked in between trees overlooking a river, and stayed there for hours appreciating the view, and appreciating… other things. If anyone saw them, the names on their wrists were covered, and people were much more likely to assume they were soulmates than otherwise.

It was as they were getting into the car to leave the park that Virgil turned to Janus. “Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“We can’t pretend we’re not dating anymore, can we?”

Janus huffed a laugh. “I don’t think we can,” he said. “Not really.”

“Should we talk about that?”

“What part of it?”

“You know what part, Jan.”

Janus sighed. “No, Virgil,” he said. “I’m not going to force you to tell everyone now just because we’ve admitted we’re dating. Believe it or not, I like things as they are.” He leaned over and kissed Virgil as if to make his point. Virgil’s hands drifted to hold the sides of his face as he kissed him back.

“Hey,” Virgil murmured as Janus pulled away to breathe.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus replied easily, like he barely had to think about it, and Virgil pulled him closer as sparks lit inside his chest. It was going to be awhile before they left the park.

…

“What about that hotel, we could stop there.”

“We are not stopping at a hotel, dumbass,” Virgil said, shoving Janus’ head from the side. “These are supposed to be day trips.”

“Oh, Virgil, how could you deny me the chance to spend a night with you?” Janus asked, throwing a hand up to his forehead as if this was some huge betrayal.

“Don’t you have to be 18 to be able to buy a hotel room anyway?” Virgil pointed out, crossing his arms and smirking.

“Hmm. Fair enough. I know a motel a couple miles away, we could try that.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the same deal.”

“I have a fake ID in the glove box.”

“You what?” Virgil laughed, pulling open the glove box to see that Janus was right. “Why are we going to a motel and not a hotel if you have a fake ID?”

“So what I’m hearing is we can go to a hotel!”

“Janus!” Virgil groaned, trying to stop smiling.

“What, it’s not like we have school again tomorrow. We’re not needed anywhere.”

“Yes, well as technically true as that is, tomorrow is still the day we all meet up at Roman’s house to set up the pool and swim.”

All of the mirth faded instantly from Janus’ face. “Oh.”

“Hey, what?” Virgil asked, furrowing his eyebrows in concern.

“Nothing. You’re allowed to have other friends,” Janus said, sounding sincere in that.

Virgil sighed. “Except I never get to see you as is,” he muttered. “Right?”

“Well… yes,” Janus admitted.

Virgil reached over and grabbed Janus’ hand on top of the steering wheel. “Come with me, then. I’ll ask them if you can come. I’m sure they’ll say yes.”

“Oh? And what will you say? ‘Hey, are you three with your perfect fairy tale story ending cool with me bringing my boyfriend that isn’t my soulmate over to your house?”

“Well of course I wouldn’t say that,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll probably say you’re a friend I’ve met.”

Janus sighed and shook his head.

“Janus,” Virgil said, checking to make sure no other cars were around before pulling his hand onto the middle console. “Come with me. You can wear a swimsuit and look hot and make me wish I could come over and kiss your face off.”

Janus gave him a look, and Virgil could see his answer before he said it.

“Maybe another time, Virgil,” he said, pulling his hand away and putting it back on the wheel.

They made the rest of the trip home in silence, and after a while Virgil leaned on the window and fell asleep.

…

“LOGAN, LOOK OUT!” was all the warning that Logan got before Roman landed right on top of him and sent them both underwater. Virgil started swimming over to them instantly, but both heads popped out of the water before he got there, though Logan was rubbing his and looked in pain.

“Do you never look before you leap into pools?” Logan asked, glaring at Roman.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Roman said, grabbing Logan’s head and starting to look it over. “Here, I can kiss it better.”

“That is not how medical care works,” Logan said, as Roman kissed the area of his head he’d landed on.

“Oh for goodness sake, specs, I’m being sweet.” Roman said, continuing to look his head over. “You look okay. You want to get out for a minute?”

“I am alright. I think a headache is forming after that, but I don’t feel I need medical attention.”

“Medical attention? What happened?” Patton called, emerging from the house with a platter of various snacks.

“Roman was being the idiot he usually is and leapt right on top of Logan instead of just into the water,” Virgil said, swimming back over to lean against the side of the pool.

“Oh my goodness, are you two okay?” Patton said, setting the platter down and rushing over to the side of the pool.

“We’re alright, Patton,” Logan reassured, catching Patton’s hands before they could start fluttering over him in worry. “Neither of us are seriously injured.”

“Good,” Patton muttered, kissing Logan quickly, and then moving on to do the same for Roman. Virgil looked away, trying not to feel bitter. He looked over at his phone, sitting over by his clothes, and debated going over to call Janus and make him get his ass over here.

He missed his boyfriend. How had he gotten so used to seeing him every day so quickly?

The sound of people climbing out of the pool roused his attention, and Virgil saw Patton waving him over for the snacks he’d brought. He pushed himself out of the pool and headed over to eat them, trying to push Janus out of his mind.

“You know, I heard there was going to be a new student coming to school after break is over,” Logan said.

“Ugh, of course you care about stuff like that,” Roman said, rolling his eyes and giving Logan an endeared smile.

“No, there was something about him. His name sounded familiar, but I’m not sure why.”

“What’s his name?” Patton asked, popping a grape in his mouth.

“Um… Ethan, I think. Ethan Baker.”

Virgil’s blood ran cold. “What?”

Logan glanced over at him. “What?”

“Oh my gosh, Logan!” Roman exclaimed. “Why didn’t you say anything? That’s Virgil’s soulmate, you dummy!”

Logan’s confused look cleared. “Oh, that’s why it sounded familiar,” he said. “Well, congratulations, Virgil. Unless it’s a different Ethan Baker, it sounds like you might get to meet your soulmate soon.”

Virgil stood up suddenly and stumbled a few steps back.

“Virgil?” Patton asked, standing up and looking concerned again. “Are you alright?”

“Um,” Virgil said, still moving backwards. “I—”

Roman jumped up. “Virgil, stop, you’re going to—”

The ground disappeared from under Virgil’s feet and his heart leapt into his throat a second before he hit the water, thankfully in a deep enough part of the pool that he didn’t hit his head on anything.

Maybe he could just stay down here and never have to face the reality that Logan just presented him with.

Unfortunately, a hand reached down into the water and pulled him upwards until he was above the surface and looking at Roman’s concerned face.

“Are you alright?” Roman asked, helping him out of the pool and sitting down next to him.

Virgil yanked his hand away and wrapped his arms around himself. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Hey, kiddo,” Patton said, sitting on his other side. “I get it.”

Virgil looked over at him.

“It’s okay,” Patton said, smiling. “Of course meeting your soulmate is scary. I was scared when I met Roman and Logan.”

“You were a kid,” Virgil pointed out.

“And? You’re not allowed to be scared because you’re a little older than I was? Virgil, it’s alright. No one is going to blame you for being scared. You don’t even have to meet him right away if you don’t want to.”

Something in Virgil’s chest lightened at the thought. “I don’t?”

“Well, I wouldn’t conceal it from him,” Logan said, sitting down on the other side of Patton. “You should tell him who you are. But if you’re not ready for a relationship or even a friendship you can tell him that.”

“I can?” Virgil asked, as his heartbeat continued to slow.

“Oh, kiddo, of course,” Patton said, grabbing Virgil’s hand and squeezing it.

“This is your soulmate, Virge,” Roman said, and Virgil glanced over at him. “You’re matched up for a reason. He’s going to understand if you’re not ready. And even if things are bumpy, it’ll be alright eventually. I mean just look at my parents.”

Virgil wasn’t sure what Roman’s parents had to do with anything. Roman had two dads who seemed as in love as any other soulmates Virgil had ever seen.

“Just relax, Virgil,” Roman said with a smile, cutting off his thoughts. “There’s no reason to freak out before you even meet the guy. You don’t know what he’ll be like. Just keep that in mind.”

Virgil leaned forward and rested his head on his knees. “Okay,” he murmured. “I’ll do that.”

“These things tend to work themselves out, kiddo,” Patton said. “That’s what soulmates are all about.”

Virgil’s test tightened again. That’s kind of what I’m afraid of.

…

“Okay, I got your frantic text,” Janus said, pulling himself up into the treehouse. “What’s going on? Why are we meeting tonight when school starts again tomorrow?”

Virgil was grateful in the moment that he must have looked outwardly anxious in his position of being tucked against the back wall with his arms around his knees, because otherwise Janus definitely would have made some kind of joke about him being just that irresistible.

“There’s a new student coming to school after the break,” Virgil said. “Named Ethan Baker.”

Janus shut his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. He clearly knew what that meant. He moved across the treehouse and sat in front of Virgil. “Okay. What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean what do I want to do?” Virgil asked, staring at him. “Janus, I want him not to come.”

“Yeah. I figured. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s coming. So what do you want to do?”

Virgil didn’t have an answer. He didn’t want to think about it, or have to make this decision. He didn’t want his parents to reject him. He didn’t want Patton and Logan and Roman to hate him. He didn’t want to go back to being alone and friendless, and especially not while dating someone who wasn’t his soulmate. He’d be ostracized, and even when he was lonely, he hadn’t dealt with any level of vitriol. But the issue was that, at the same time…

He wanted Janus. He wanted this, stolen nights in a broken down treehouse and day trips over spring break and Janus’ wit and sarcasm and hatred for all things soulmates. He just didn’t know if that want was strong enough to override all of the things that he didn’t want.

“I want…” he said after a moment. “I want to meet him. Who knows, maybe he’s an asshole who can fuck right off.”

“Maybe,” Janus said, in a tone that said ‘hopefully,’ but also in a way that meant he didn’t really believe that.

“Look,” Virgil said. “What I want is to not decide anything before I meet him. Let’s just do things like normal. I’ll see you here on Friday.”

Janus looked at him for a moment, and nodded. He turned as if about to leave, and suddenly Virgil wanted to scream at him to stop. That would have been incredibly stupid, though, so instead he reached out and grabbed Janus’ arm.

Janus turned back to face him.

“What was that you said about wanting to spend a night with me?” Virgil asked, trying on a wobbly smile.

“I meant under different circumstances,” Janus said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yes, but…” Virgil tried to figure out a way to say Don’t leave me like this without using those exact words.

Janus seemed to read it in his face. “Okay,” he said, and he turned back around, thank god. “But I’m not sleeping in a treehouse.”

Virgil nodded. “Follow me,” he said, and climbed back across the branch into his bedroom, showing Janus where to put his hands and feet.

Janus dropped quietly down into the bedroom after him, and suddenly soulmates were gone from his mind, and the only thing Virgil could think about was that Janus was in his room.

When was the last time he’d cleaned up again?

Janus was smiling as he looked around. “Wow, Virgil, you’re a regular neat freak, aren’t you?”

“Shut uuuup,” Virgil groaned, shoving his shoulder and stepping over various items as he started towards his bed. Janus followed, and toed off his shoes at the edge.

“Here,” Virgil said, taking a short detour to his dresser and handing Janus one of his hoodies and a pair of sweatpants to sleep in. He crawled into bed as Janus changed, and then joined him a minute later, wrapping his arms around his waist. Virgil leaned back against him.

“I set an alarm so I’ll get up and leave,” Janus said.

“Okay,” Virgil murmured. He was quiet for a minute. “Hey Janus?”

“Hmm?”

“I still love you.”

“I love you too,” Janus whispered, kissing the top of Virgil’s head, which made Virgil feel warm in an entirely different way from how he felt after a makeout session. He fell asleep still warm all over.

…

Virgil recognized Ethan by finding his name on his wrist, which really just felt like one more way for the universe to laugh at him. But Logan was right. He couldn’t just hide from Ethan the fact that he was his soulmate. So instead, he walked up and tapped him on the shoulder, feeling like he was sealing his fate.

Which he supposed, in a way, he was.

Ethan turned with a slightly curious smile. “Hello,” he said.

“Ethan Baker?”

Ethan nodded, looking more curious.

“Uh,” Virgil waved his wrist. “I’m Virgil Storm.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh, my goodness!”

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered, trying to make his smile look happier than he felt.

“Well, hi!” Ethan said, starting to smile much wider. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Virgil! I never would have thought—” The warning bell rang overhead.

“Oh, damn that thing,” Ethan muttered, looking up at it. “I wish we had more time to talk.”

“What class do you have?” Virgil asked.

“Uh… Holden. English.”

Virgil tried to smile wider. “Well, I’ve got good news then. That’s my class too. Want to walk with me?”

“Oh, awesome!” Ethan said. “Yes, please! It’s so good to meet you!”

“You too,” Virgil said, falling into step beside Ethan as they started down the hallway.

Come on, Virgil. Give the guy a chance. Maybe this will all work out fine and he is an asshole. Maybe he’s about to say something super dick-ish right now. Here it comes.

Ethan beamed over at him. “I should have known you’d be even more gorgeous than I pictured,” he said.

Goddammit.

…

Ethan wasn’t an asshole, by any stretch of the imagination. Virgil really tried, he tried so hard to hate him. It should be easy, he was an expert at hating people for no reason! He tried twisting all of Ethan’s words and actions into the most despicable light he could manage. But Ethan was just too damn sweet.

He was gentle and caring. His smile could light up a room. He got along perfectly with all of Virgil’s friends. Virgil was pretty sure he tried harder than anything else he’d ever done in his life, but he just couldn’t hate him. Why couldn’t he hate him? Was this the universe fucking with him? Was there some kind of genetic thing that kicked in that made people incapable of hating their soulmates?

Or was Ethan just that fucking nice?

Either way, Virgil couldn’t hate the guy. He wanted to, but he couldn’t. Maybe that was why he was hiding here. Virgil looked up from the stage, glad at least that the auditorium was big as well as empty.

He just couldn’t go back to class, where everyone would be staring at him and Ethan like all of their future problems were solved now. He buried his head in his knees. He wanted to get out of here.

He didn’t register any kind of bell ringing, but one must have, because doors opened and people started coming in, and Virgil remembered that there were drama classes in the auditorium. He jumped up and headed backstage, trying to control his now much worse breathing. He’d be fine, he just had to last until everyone starting doing things and then he could—

“Virgil?”

Of course. Of course he would be here.

“Hey,” Ethan said, coming backstage. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Virgil shook his head. “No,” he choked out. “No, I don’t want—” He yanked his hood over his head and pulled hard on the strings until his face was obscured.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me. Just come here, alright? People are going to be coming back here soon.”

Virgil grabbed onto his hand when it was offered because he didn’t know what else to do, and they ended up in what looked like a prop area underneath the stage.

“Hey, breathe with me, okay? I’m gonna count to four, try and breathe in. It’s okay if you can’t make it all the way there.”

He started doing that, and waited so damn patiently until Virgil finally managed to calm down, and the whole time he didn’t make a single sudden move, and Virgil wished that he wanted him to leave.

When Virgil was breathing normally again, Ethan just smiled gently and leaned back. He didn’t ask a damn thing about what happened. He just said “You okay?” in a way that meant it would be totally fine if the answer was no.

Virgil took a shaky breath and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, because Ethan was good at that, and he hadn’t met another person who knew how to do anything like this before he told them.

“Of course,” Ethan said with a nod.

“How did you know what to do?” Virgil asked.

“My little sister gets panic attacks sometimes. I wanted to learn how to help her, so I did some research.”

Virgil nodded. “Guess that’s lucky,” he muttered. He looked up at Ethan. “Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want from this?”

Ethan looked confused. “From what?”

“Me. What are you looking for?”

“Well, a soulmate,” Ethan said, like that should be obvious. “I don’t want to start dating you if you’re not ready, of course, but eventually. I— I like you, Virgil,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he started to blush. “I’d love a relationship with you once you’re ready.”

What if I’m never ready, Virgil didn’t say. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the wall behind him.

“Virgil,” Ethan said, and Virgil opened his eyes again. “If you are not ready to date me, we don’t have to date yet. Is that what you’re panicking about?”

“I… don’t know,” Virgil lied.

“I’m not going to rush you,” Ethan said, taking a small step forward. “Or push you. I want to move at a pace we’re both comfortable with, and if that means I have to wait, I’m okay with that. For now, I would be more than happy to be your friend, Virgil Storm.”

Virgil looked back at his soulmate, with the universe stamp of approval. It was the ‘for now’ part of that statement he was going to have issues with. But then again, maybe for now… that would be fine.

…

Virgil’s entire body melted with relief when Janus appeared in the doorway of the treehouse.

“Janus,” he said, climbing up and moving across to meet him. He started to pull Janus down into a kiss, only to be stopped by Janus pushing back a second later.

“Janus?” He stopped moving when he noticed the look on Janus’ face. “Janus, what’s wrong?”

“Virgil, we need to talk,” Janus said.

“Oh, hardly,” Virgil said, starting to smile. “I have good news. Ethan says we don’t have to date if I’m not ready. And I’m not. So…” He leaned up to pull Janus down to him again.

Janus sighed and pushed him back. “Virgil.”

Virgil stopped smiling. “What?”

“Did you miss the not ready part of that sentence?” Janus said, sitting down across from him. “He definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with you dating other people in the meantime.”

Virgil scowled. “I don’t owe him anything.”

“Yes, you do. He’s your soulmate.”

“And since when does that kind of thing matter to you? Part of the whole damn reason you fell for me is because I’m not your soulmate. You hate soulmates.”

“But you don’t,” Janus said, looking firmly at him. “Virgil, I saw you with him. You don’t hate him.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m in love with him! I love you.”

Janus sighed. “Virgil.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly see yourself falling for him? There’s no chance you could end up in love with him even more than you are with me?”

Virgil leaned back. “What— Janus. It’s not about that.”

“What’s it about then, Virgil? Come on, he seems made for you. That’s what they say soulmates are supposed to be, don’t they?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “I don’t care.”

“Oh, so you don’t care about whether or not your family wants you to be with him? Or your friends? Or everyone else?”

Virgil winced. “That’s different.”

“I’m not going to push you into the limelight like that, Virgil. You seem uncomfortable now, when you’re doing what everyone expects of you. If someone found out you were dating me, I…” Janus shook his head, looked more helpless than Virgil had ever seen him before. “I can’t do that to you,” he finished, shifting backwards slightly.

“Don’t you think that should be my decision?” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“Well, I’m making it. I’m sorry.” Janus stood up and started for the ladder.

“Wh- wait, Janus!” Virgil moved and started climbing down after him, catching his arm before he could run from the backyard.

Janus sighed, then turned and faced him. “It’s okay,” he said. “We’ll be okay. Don’t try and stop yourself from falling for him, Virgil. I won’t even be a little mad, I promise.”

“Janus, please.” Virgil tried to pull him back, but Janus wouldn’t budge. “What— what if I don’t see you again?”

Janus smiled sadly. “How ever will I last,” he whispered, leaning in one last time and kissing Virgil gently.

The way he did goodbyes.

He pulled his hand out of Virgil’s and ran for the back gate, slipping through it and into the night.

…

When Virgil had no reason to try and dislike Ethan, liking him was much easier. He was sweet, and very cute when he was excited, which tended to happen whenever he talked about theatre, which was his favorite part of school (he got along well with Roman). He knew how to help Virgil if he was panicking, and he took an interest in the kinds of things Virgil liked. Virgil tried so hard to return the favor, but he couldn’t make himself interested for very long. That… that was okay. That would change with time.

For all of Virgil’s fears about what having a soulmate would do to his relationship with Janus, now that the worst had happened, having one actually having one wasn’t so bad. Ethan was easy to care about, and easy to spend time with, even if their interests didn’t always line up. Virgil would fall in love with him. He just needed a little more time.

These things worked themselves out, Patton said. That had to be true.

Virgil’s parents were thrilled to meet Ethan. His mom got along with him really well, and his dad seemed approving, if his smiles and nods to Virgil were anything to go by. His mom was astounded when Ethan mentioned they weren’t dating yet.

“Why in the world not?” she asked, looking over at Virgil across the dinner table.

“It’s just… a big step,” Virgil muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” his mom said, in the way she did when she thought Virgil was being too anxious about something. “I suppose that’s fair. Take your time, of course.”

“It’s not just him,” Ethan said suddenly. “I don’t want to rush things either. We both decided to just take it slow.”

Virgil smiled gratefully at him, glad for the save. Ethan gave his hand a quick reassuring squeeze under the table.

They went up to Virgil’s room after dinner, and Ethan seemed concerned. “Is your mom always that pushy?” he asked, as Virgil shut the door.

“She just… wants me to push myself,” he said. “She thinks I would be more satisfied if I took more risks, went after what I want.”

“What if you don’t know what you want?” Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And therein lies the main problem in my relationship with my mother,” Virgil sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

Ethan chuckled a little, moving to lean against the wall next to the door.

Virgil worried his lip between his teeth, and looked back at Ethan. “You’re really okay with moving slowly?”

“Virgil, I told you,” Ethan said, smiling genuinely at him. “I want you to be comfortable.”

“You want to be with me though,” Virgil said.

“I… do,” Ethan admitted. “But if you’re not ready for that, I don’t want to rush you.”

Virgil looked at him a moment longer. Ethan wasn’t bad looking. Virgil liked him as a person. Maybe in order to make the switch into liking him romantically, he just had to force it a little.

He took three steps across the room and kissed Ethan square on the mouth. Ethan made a muffled noise of surprise, and Virgil pulled back instantly. Idiot, you need to ask before doing something like that, you moron.

“I’m sorry!” Virgil said, stepping back. “I’m sorry, I just— I—”

Ethan cut him off by reaching up and pulling him back in to kiss him again, and in the moment, all Virgil felt was relief that he hadn’t freaked him out or pissed him off.

He could do this. He’d done this a hundred times with Janus, he just had to… go through the motions. Come on, Virgil. You know what you’re doing.

He pulled Ethan with him as he stumbled back across the room and pulled them both onto his bed, wrapping his arms around his back and trying to push himself a little farther. He’d start feeling something any second now, he just needed to—

“Okay, okay, woah,” Ethan pushed him back, panting. “I need to breathe.”

Virgil leaned back. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no apologies necessary,” Ethan said, grinning at him. “You… you’re very good at this.”

Virgil felt his cheeks grow warm. “You wouldn’t guess, huh,” he muttered.

“Absolutely not a bad surprise,” Ethan said. “It just might be my turn to ask you to slow down a tad.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. You’ve got it.” He looked down and fidgeted with his fingers. “Want to watch a movie?”

“That sounds nice,” Ethan said, still looking very happy with the situation. Virgil leaned over the side of his bed and grabbed his laptop as Ethan sat up.

It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ll fall for him. You just need a little more time.

…

Time passed, and Virgil didn’t fall for him. He didn’t know what else to do. He tried to come up with something to make it better, some kind of “at least” to work off of. At least Ethan was nice. At least he was pretty. At least everyone else was happy for him. At least Janus didn’t hate him. None of them seemed to work.

Virgil was quickly becoming the soulmate envy of all just like Patton, Roman, and Logan, and feeling absolutely miserable because of it. He hadn’t shown it, of course. He’d beamed at Ethan and kissed his cheek before classes and smiled and rolled his eyes in endearment whenever someone asked him how knowing his soulmate felt.

He couldn’t stand it. He was pretty sure he’d never felt less like himself. But Patton and Logan and Roman all smiled at him like they thought he was happy, and so did his parents, and so did Ethan, so Virgil tried to brush aside the miserable feeling in his chest and fool himself like he’d fooled everyone else.

He hadn’t expected a change to come from Roman. With his general romanticism and his perfect soulmate story, he’d expected Roman to be the last person to be able to tell when someone wasn’t happy with theirs. He’d noticed the occasional suspicious look sent his way by him, but he’d managed to brush it off. He certainly hadn’t expected Roman to say anything.

On the day he did, Virgil had already been feeling pretty shitty. It was around lunchtime, Ethan was sitting next to Virgil and smiling at him as they both ate, riveting them all with a story about what had happened during drama class. Virgil had mastered the art of smiling and nodding along, and that’s what he was doing when he turned at just the wrong time and met eyes with Janus, who looked as miserable as Virgil felt.

His eyes widened when their gazes met, and Virgil tried to think of the last time he’d seen Janus in any way. Janus was very good at disappearing.

As if proving his point, Janus looked away and disappeared into the crowded room like a ghost.

Virgil stood up and pushed his chair back, saying something about going to the bathroom before all but sprinting from the lunchroom.

About halfway to the bathroom he realized that was a mistake, because it was just going to make Ethan come looking for him, so he veered right to head out to the football field. He sat on the bleachers and buried his head in his knees, trying to quiet any of his rushing thoughts.

“You are going to seriously hurt someone.”

Virgil jerked upwards and saw Roman walking up the side of the bleachers towards him, arms crossed and looking firm.

Virgil swallowed, recovering his bearings as Roman stopped in front of him. “What?” he asked.

“Virgil, if you don’t love Ethan you need to tell him that.”

Virgil’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about, I do—”

“No. You don’t.”

Virgil looked away. “But I have to.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Virgil. You clearly don’t.”

“But he’s my soulmate. What… what else is there?” Virgil asked, like he didn’t know the answer to that question by heart.

Roman didn’t reply right away.

Then suddenly, Virgil was pulled up off the bleachers and into a hug.

“Oh, Virgil,” Roman whispered. “Virgil. There is so much more if you want it.”

Virgil blinked quickly, trying to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. “What?”

Roman leaned back. “Virgil, what on earth made you think that all soulmate bonds have to be romantic?”

“What— but you— but they are,” Virgil insisted. “That’s just how soulmates work.”

“Well, that doesn’t seem very fair,” Roman said, smiling gently. “First of all, aromantic people would be shit out of luck if all soulmate bonds had to be romantic.” Roman’s look turned curious. “I have told you about my mother before, right?”

“Your mother, what— don’t you have two dads?”

“Not always. My mother married my father before she realized she didn’t experience romantic attraction. She ended up divorcing dad, but they’re still close friends. That’s how their soulmate bond works, but my dads aren’t soulmates. And mom lives with Remus. He and I are soulmates, but that’s definitely not romantic.”

“Who’s Remus?” Virgil asked.

“My brother,” Roman said, waving his hand dismissively. “He and mom live a couple districts over. He’ll come over here more often on summer vacation and you can meet him. Point is, soulmate bonds aren’t inherently romantic, nor should they be, in my opinion.”

“But… but you’re in love with Patton and Logan,” Virgil said weakly.

“Because I choose to be, Virgil. The three of us don’t have to be dating. I know that’s what most people tend to do, but it’s not fair to expect that of everyone. What if you don’t want a partner right then? Or ever? What if you fall in love with someone who isn’t your soulmate?”

Virgil’s blood ran cold, and he took a step back, almost stumbling into the bleachers. “Who told you?” he whispered.

Roman’s face fell. “Oh, Virgil,” he said. He moved forward and pulled Virgil into a hug again. “No one told me, Virge. I’m so sorry.”

Virgil’s breathing started to shake, and he pushed himself back from Roman. “I thought— I thought you wouldn’t understand,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself. “Because your soulmate story is so perfect. I thought you wouldn’t—”

“A lot of people don’t,” Roman said quietly. “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong for being afraid. But right now all you’re doing is hurting Ethan, and yourself, and the other person you love.”

Virgil sat down on the bleachers and buried his head in his hands. Roman, after a moment, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

“I have to break up with him, don’t I,” Virgil muttered.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do in that regard,” Roman said. “But I think you should strongly consider telling him what’s going on.”

Virgil nodded. “I thought I could make myself love him,” he whispered.

“Love doesn’t work like that, Virgil,” Roman whispered.

“It would be easier if it did,” Virgil muttered.

“Yes,” Roman agreed. “But then you wouldn’t get to have the person you love now. Is that what you want instead?”

Virgil shook his head instantly. He hadn’t wanted to lose Janus in the first place. He didn’t want to trade him for anything.

“Do you want to stay out here for a while?” Roman asked.

“I want you to go get Ethan,” Virgil said firmly.

Roman blinked, seeming surprised. “Right now?”

Virgil nodded. “Yes.”

Roman still looked hesitant. “Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

Roman must have seen he meant it, because a second later he nodded. “Alright. I’ll be back. Um, advice, don’t dance around the subject. Be straightforward and genuine, but also gentle if you can.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay,” he said, and Roman left. Virgil leaned back against the bleachers and took a deep breath. This wasn’t going to be fun. It may not be romantic in nature, but he did love Ethan, and he didn’t want to hurt him. He leaned forward and buried his head in his hands again. Why had he thought this would last?

“Virgil?”

Virgil jerked upright and spun around, because that wasn’t Ethan’s voice.

Sure enough, there was Janus, standing just at the edge of the bleachers and looking concerned.

Virgil leapt to his feet. “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

“I saw you run off, I wanted to make sure you’re okay—”

“Not what I meant. You completely ignore my texts and then you avoid me at school? You asshole.”

Janus turned his hands upwards, looking a little offended. “What, did you want me to hang around all the time?”

“I didn’t want you to leave in the first place you idiot,” Virgil snapped, jumping down from the bleachers and storming over to stand in front of Janus. “You were clearly miserable on your own.”

“And you were fine,” Janus said, stepping towards him. “I was trying not to be selfish for once.”

“Oh, I was fine?” Virgil said, throwing his hands to the sky. “Janus who’s spent most of these past months avoiding me thinks I was fine. Never mind then.”

“I thought you wanted to do what everyone expected of you,” Janus snapped. “It’s not like you ever wanted to fight for me.”

“Oh, fuck you, Janus! I wanted what everyone expected of me because that made me feel safe.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“No, right now I just want to feel alive again,” Virgil said, moving forward until he was nose-to-nose with Janus. “Which is kind of hard to do considering I’m starting to spend my whole life going through the motions.”

“Why would you need me to change that?”

“Moron,” Virgil said, and pulled Janus into a kiss, desperate and passionate and making up for all of the months he’d been gone.

They both pulled apart when a gasp came from nearby.

Virgil spun around to see Ethan standing at the edge of the walkway leading up to the field.

“Wait,” Virgil said, stepping towards him. “Wait, that’s not how this was supposed to happen. Ethan—”

Ethan spun around but didn’t leave, and Virgil moved across the field until he was right behind him.

“You’re never like that with me,” Ethan murmured.

“I’m sorry, this wasn’t supposed to be how I did this—”

“But you were going to do this. You were going to leave me for him. He’s not even your soulmate.”

“I know. I… I’m sorry. I do love you, Ethan. Just not…”

“Not like I love you,” Ethan said, looking over his shoulder at Virgil.

Virgil winced. “I’m sorry.”

Ethan laughed a little and looked down. “I think I kinda knew it, you know? I just wanted… I wanted to be enough for you. But I was never going to be, was I?”

Virgil started to reach for him, but stopped and dropped his hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “You can… you can hate me if you want.”

Ethan looked up at him again. “But you don’t want that.”

“Not everything has to be about what I want,” Virgil said quietly.

Ethan turned to face the school. “I… I’m going now, Virgil,” he said. “I’ll call you if I’m ever ready to talk again.”

“Okay,” Virgil whispered. “Take care, Ethan.”

“You… you too,” Ethan said, and then he walked away.

Virgil watched him until he was gone, and then turned around to face Janus, who was casually looking around back in the middle of the field. He looked back at Virgil when he started walking across to meet him.

“All good?” Janus asked, like he already knew the answer.

Virgil shook his head. “No.”

Janus nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered.

They both looked at each other for a moment.

“Janus?”

“Virgil?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Janus started grinning, and held out his hand. Virgil grabbed it, and they both started running. They made it to Janus’ car, and both got in, and drove. And drove, and planned to drive some more.

Nothing was fixed. They’d have to come back and face the music eventually. Virgil had to tell Patton and Logan what happened. He’d need to tell Janus about Roman’s parents. They’d have to figure out a way to make this work, actually work, work in the way they both wanted.

But for now, they rolled down the windows, and drove out of the suburbs and out under the open sky. Virgil screamed My Chemical Romance lyrics at the top of his lungs. More than once throughout the drive he checked to make sure no other cars were around and leaned in to kiss Janus’ face off. He had a lot of lost time to make up for, after all.

And now, hopefully, a lot of time to do it.

Part 2

#sanders sides #anxceit #virgil sanders #janus sanders #soulmates #except not really #my fic

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years ago

Text

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 11)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, (here)

Read it on Ao3 HERE

🐺 🌼 🐺

Geralt didn’t even make it a day.

He left Oxenfurt behind at dawn, riding Roach, alone, just like he always was. There was water here, a river, and trees. They were willow trees, weeping over the sludgy river, bending to sweep the water and Geralt thought of Jaskier’s mother, of the flash of an opal ring on Jaskier’s hand. The Pontar was wide and slow here, and Geralt thought of a hidden pool, far in a forest, and Jaskier talking about his mother.

Maybe he wasn’t half dryad, maybe he was. Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything but...but what if his life was longer than a human’s? Geralt didn’t want to have to lose him anytime soon, but what if he wouldn’t have to?

Geralt realized he’d already lost Jaskier. He’d betrayed his husband’s trust, kissing a witch and leaving him. He was still injured. Melitele’s tits, Geralt was an asshole. He’d hurt Jaskier. On purpose.

A clean break, what the hell was he thinking? They were married, there was no ‘clean break’. They’d have to see eachother eventually. He’d look into beautiful eyes and they’d be full of hatred. He’d see his husbands solid frame and watch the posture become closed and standoffish. Perhaps Jaskier’s words would even turn cold. Toss A Coin would never be heard in taverns again, instead something else. Witchers Are Selfish Bastards could become the next hit.

He couldn’t protect Jaskier though. The doublet was just that, a doublet. It was a pretty thing, not armor. Geralt could wrap the entire bard in basilisk leather and he still might never be safe.

But at least you’d be there to fight for him, whispered a treacherous part of Geralt’s mind. He spurred Roach faster, as if he could outrun the thought.

What if there was a barfight? Sure, Jaskier could take care of himself, but if there were no knives around? No weapons? What if he got jumped in an alleyway, or fell ill and he was too sick to find a healer?

Surely having Geralt there was better than nothing.

Jaskier might not even want Geralt back, not after he’d run like a coward and a fool.

Without his permission, Geralt’s hands had turned Roach’s reins back towards Oxenfurt. It was dusk, they’d ridden without stopping for food to escape Geralt’s wretched thoughts, and he felt bad for riding her so hard.

“Treats for you,” he said. “And the finest stable in Oxenfurt, I swear it. Just get me there.”

Roach didn’t seem to mind. She didn’t even need Geralt to nudge her into a gallop, she turned and ran, bolting across the damp earth like a streak of lighting. Jaskier surely would have called her a heroic steed. Geralt would be sure to tell him, just as soon as he was at Oxenfurt.

Geralt’s heart felt lighter already. He was racing, the wind in his hair, rippling across his face. He wasn’t leaving Jaskier, he’d never leave him again, not ever. He’d bundle him in all the finest things, armor him with dragon scale if he had to.

Jaskier would sit by the fire in Kaer Morhen and Vesemir would teach him the old songs. Geralt would hunt for him, buy him baked goods, make him fat and happy and shining through and through with joy. And if he got old Geralt would love him. If Jaskier grew too old to travel, Geralt would stay in Kaer Morhen year-round. He’d carry Jaskier up stairs if he had to. He’d learn to play music if Jaskier ever couldn’t play anymore, he’d tap out rhythms if his husband ever went deaf.

His husband. Geralt loved him. He loved him so much and his eyes were streaming. It was so rare that a witcher could cry but he was. He loved his husband so much that this one day without him had been the worst of his life. He’d thought it had been seeing Jaskier hurt, fearing him dying. That had been awful, but if death took Jaskier from him, Geralt would fight death itself.

There was a story, he knew, of a bard who took his love back from death, leading her from the underworld. He’d looked back, so the story said, to make sure his love was still with him. Geralt was a witcher, though, he wouldn’t need to look to know Jaskier was there.

Jaskier being gone from his life was an almost unbearable thought, but Geralt could live with it. If Jaskier died or left of his own accord, Geralt would survive. To push him away, however, to be the reason Jaskier left him, that was unbearable.

Roach’s legs moved like a landslide under her, hoofbeats so fast they merged into one. Geralt’s slow heart matched pace. He would go, he would lay himself prone on the floor of wherever Jaskier stayed, and he would beg forgiveness.

He would earn his forgiveness.

And if Jaskier ever forgave him, and if he ever returned Geralt’s feelings, Geralt would kiss him.

The thought gave him wings.

He would kiss Jaskier. He’d wind his hand in that thick, dark hair, loop the other arm around his waist, and dip him back, the way fancy gentlemen did. He’d kiss him the way he should have kissed him on their wedding day. He’d kiss Jaskier so that there could be no doubt in his husband’s mind that he was the most important person in Geralt’s life. And then he’d kiss him again, and again, and again.

Geralt would learn about poetry and art and music so that Jaskier had someone to discuss it with. He’d teach him witcher lore and monster zoology, so that they had the knowledge in common. He’d teach Jaskier to fight, not just bar fighting, he’d be able to defend himself if Geralt ever failed him.

Geralt was never going to fail him again.

The lights of Oxenfurt were visible. When Geralt had last raced to the city Jaskier had been wounded by bandits. Now, his heart had been wounded by Geralt’s own hand.

He pulled out his xenovox, pressing it desperately.

“What?” she snapped. “It’s almost midnight, can’t you go a day without bothering me?”

“Where is he?” Geralt asked. “Where is he staying?”

“You just got rid of him, now you want him back?”

“Yes, Yennefer it was a mistake, I can’t lose him where is he? Tell me!”

“Essi Daven has a placement at the university, she may have quarters there, ask her.”

Geralt didn’t even thank Yennefer, just stuffed the xenovox in his bag and turned Roach, her ironshod hooves ringing against the cobbles.

The bulk of the university lay across the city like an old dog lying on a rug. Geralt headed for the living quarters, dodging Roach around drunken students and midnight revellers, sometimes the same people.

A man was sweeping in a quiet courtyard.

“You,” Geralt called, almost falling off Roach in his haste. “Essi Daven, where can I find her?”

The man looked up, eyed Geralt with distaste, and pointed toward a wing of the building. Here, there were doors, facing the coutyard, each door marked with a name.

Yes, dormitories.

Geralt ran up the row. They were organized by name, two on each door. He’d started at the wrong end. He passed Willow and Worthington, Umber and Urdock, Smith and Silverly. He sped up. Marx and Mannock, Lee and Lorntin...

He skidded to a stop.

Davidson and Daven. He hammered on the door, shaking it on it’s hinges until it was swung open.

There was a small woman there, glaring at him behind a mane of golden hair. Only one eye was visible.

“What do you want?”

“Essi Daven?”

Like a snake, she stepped forward, into Geralt’s space, putting a long knife to his throat.

“You’re here for Jaskier,” she said.

“I made a mistake,” Geralt said. “I need to see him.”

“You don’t need to do anything but leave him alone,” she hissed. “I ought to slice you open like a pig.”

“I want to make it up to him,” Geralt begged. “I have to, please, I love him.”

“You abandoned him,” she said like poison.

“And if I do it again I swear I will deliver myself to your door so you can gut me with your knife but please,” Geralt reached up a hand and lowered her knife, which she allowed him to do without stabbing him. “Please, if I lose him because I was stupid and drove him away, I think I’ll just have to lay down and die.”

“He’s crazy about you,” Essi said, eyes narrowed.

“I’m crazier for him, I promise,” Geralt said. His heart was soaring. Jaskier was crazy about him.

“He cried his eyes out all day,” Essi said. Geralt’s heart landed with a thud.

“Let me make it up to him,” Geralt said. “Please.”

“You’re going to need more than a pretty face.”

“I’ll do anything.”

Essi snorted. “He’s not here, he’s at the Fiddler’s Bow inn. If he wants to see you, go ahead, if he doesn’t leave him the fuck alone.”

Geralt nodded solemnly.

He had to find something that would show Jaskier how he felt. Something perfect. He mounted Roach again and she nickered questioningly.

“What do you get someone you love?” Geralt asked her quietly.

She whinnied. “Oats,” she was probably saying. “And a nice stable.”

Geralt rode her down streets, ambling rather than searching for the inn. He’d find it, but he needed the perfect gift first.

He’d know what he needed when he saw it.

Oxenfurt never slept, but many of the shops had closed for the night. Geralt trotted Roach past them, until he saw one. It had a large, paned glass display window, an expensive luxury. Inside were weapons of all makes and sizes.

Geralt thought about purchasing a dagger for Jaskier, but daggers weren’t special enough. They were a good gift, not a great one. Geralt dismounted and peered through the glass. A light was on in the back, and he knocked at the door.

There were shields and axes in the shop, but the lacked the grace that Geralt wanted. There were swords, some covered in jewels, which were certainly beautiful enough, but the decoration would throw off the balance.

Geralt heard clattering from inside.

A little old man opened up the shop door, peering up at Geralt.

“You’re a mighty big fella,” he said. “Witcher are ya? I’m closed you know.”

“I know, sir,” Geralt said. “I apologize, but it’s a matter of the utmost importance.”

“Ah, broken a sword have you?” Said the old man, sticking his hand out to shake. His grip was like iron, despite his age. He was definitely the swordsmith, then.

“No sir, I need a gift, true love is on the line,” it was a horribly florid thing to say, but Geralt couldn’t bear to lie to the old man, who reminded him oddly of Vesemir, despite his bent posture and small size.

“Ah, dueling for her honor?” asked the smith, hobbling to one of the display stands.

“No, sir. Begging his forgiveness.”

“Do you deserve to be forgiven?”

“...maybe,” Geralt said, reluctantly.

“Aha!” Said the shopkeeper. “Slept with someone else have you?”

“No!”

“Lied to him?”

“Not that I can think of.”

The man leaned close, strangely pale eyes searching. “Killed someone he cares for?”

“Never, I...I abandoned him. I left him alone, I shouldn’t have,” Geralt admitted.

The old man tutted. “Not the easiest mistake to remedy, young man.”

Geralt realized that he and the man were probably fairly close in age.

“But,” the man said. “Not without hope, I think. And you want to give him a weapon?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, mouth dry. “Something that can keep him safe.”

“In case you can’t?”

Geralt flinched. “Yes.”

“Is he a warrior like yourself, your young man?”

“A poet and bard, but he can fight as well.”

“Mhhm,” said the old man, running his hands over his stock. “He likes fine things?”

“Yes, but not at the expense of practicality.”

“Indeed,” said the man. “And he is right handed?”

“Left handed,” Geralt said.

“Aha,” said the man, softly. “I have just the sword.” He lifted a long, thin blade from a rack.

“It’s an unusual style,” he said, holding it out in both hands. “A rapier, it’s called. They’re thin and light, and this,” he held the sword by it’s handle, a strange, twisting cage of metal protecting his hand. “This crosspiece will keep his poet’s fingers from damage.”

“I’ve never seen it’s like,” Geralt said, carefully taking the proffered sword. “It’s so thin, will it break if he parries?”

“It is unlikely, the blade is damascarine steel, the blow will merely deflect down to the crosspiece.”

Geralt observed the blade, witcher eyes letting inn all the light from the dim shop so he could see the wavy pattern in the thin blade where the steel had been twisted and folded back on itself.

He turned from the shopkeeper and raised the sword, feeling it’s balance. Much too light for him, but for Jaskier...Geralt turned the sword tip-down and measured the height of the crosspiece. Yes, it would be about at Jaskier’s belly button, the right length.

“It’s perfect,” Geralt said. The sword looked like a line of moonlight, the handle was elegant with it’s swooping, twisting lines, and it was deadly. It was Jaskier, through and through.

The moonlight coming in through the windows glinted off the sword as the man took it back, gently, sheathing it in a smooth, black leather sheath.

Geralt paid the asking price without haggle. For the craftsmanship, and opening his shop in the middle of the night, the price was more than fair. He would have gladly paid double, he’d never seen an equal to the sword he carried now.

Geralt didn’t hold it like a sword as he remounted Roach. He held the rapier flat across his knees like an offering to the gods.

He stayed there a moment, astride his horse, and closed his eyes. He breathed in. He breathed out. He was about to open his eyes but...there, chamomile and sun-dried grass.

He opened his eyes, afraid the action would dissipate the scent, but it was still there. Jaskier had been nearby.

He trotted Roach forward, seeing with his nose. He lost the scent by an irreputable ale house that smelled of sick and stale beer, so he turned and looked around. There was another tavern down the street and he rode towards it slowly. Music poured from it, even at this late hour. Jaskier would have come here, instead of the other alehouse.

Up alongside the tavern he could smell dry grass again, mixed with salt. Jaskier had cried here, but the salt-scent left, trailing down the street.

Geralt’s heart was heavy as he followed the smell of his husband’s tears. He’d done this, he had to fix it, and he had just the one chance. It couldn’t wait until morning. If the sun dawned and this wasn’t fixed, Geralt just knew he’d have lost his chance, Jaskier would be lost to him forever.

The tears stopped.

Geralt loked up.

The Fiddler’s Bow. He didn’t even speak to the innkeeper as he walked up the stairs and gently knocked on the door.

He could hear the familiar beat of Jaskier’s heart behind it. His own tried to match time.

A bedraggled and red eyed Jaskier opened the door. Geralt knelt and took one of Jaskier’s hand’s in both of his.

For a second that was all there was.

Then Geralt spoke.

“I was a fool,” he said. “I saw you, hurt, and I was frightened, because I hadn’t been able to protect you.”

Jaskier tried to pull his hand from Geralt’s grasp, but Geralt didn’t let go. “Please, Jaskier,” he said, gold eyes meeting blue. “Hear me out, and then if you never wish to see me again I swear on the medallion at my throat you will never have to.”

Words weren’t easy for Geralt, but he prayed he’d be granted just a sliver of the power Jaskier had over them. This was more than life or death, this was love or loss, and Geralt couldn’t bear to lose this.

“I am in love with you,” Geralt said, looking Jaskier straight in the eyes. “The thought of losing you scared me so badly that I turned like a coward and ran, but,” Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat. “The thought of losing you,” a sob, “Because I pushed you away, Jaskier, it’s so much worse.”

He pulled out the sword in it’s scabbard, placing it tip down on the floor and holding it like a cross. “I want to teach you to fight, so that you can’t be taken from me, and I want you to teach me to sing, so that you won’t grow bored of me.”

“Please,” Jaskier,” he said, shoulders trembling. “I swear on my soul, I swear on the soulds of the men who raised me, I will never abandon you again.”

Jaskier was crying, rivers of saltwater, silver in the moonlight, trailing down his cheeks. A drop fell on Geralt’s hand as he proffered the sword.

“I love you,” Geralt said simply.

Jaskier stood there and cried, chest wracked with sobs. Then he took the sword in both hands. His fingertips brushed across the back of Geralt’s hand and the witcher shivered.

“You kissed her.”

“The Law of Surprise,” Geralt said. “I had just pledged my devotion and care to you, it was your great windfall. We thought it meant I love her, but I don’t.” Geralt stood, reaching forward one large and travel-stained hand to brush the tears from Jaskier’s cheeks.

“The kiss just made me realize how much I never want to kiss anyone but you, ever again.”

Jaskier leaned his cheek into the cradle of Geralt’s hand. “I forgive you,” he said.

Geralt stepped forward, taking Jaskier’s sword and setting it aside, then he wrapped his arms around Jaskier, admiring how they were of a height.

Jaskier leaned his forhead against Geralt’s, and the pair just stood, breathing the same air.

“I love you too.”

It was whispered, but it shook Geralt’s world.

Jaskier’s arms came up and twined around Geralt’s neck, drawing him even close.

“Please,” Geralt begged. “May I kiss you?”

He felt Jaskier nod.

Geralt had imagined a kiss on his desperate return. He’d imagined how Jaskier’s hair would be so soft under his hand, how Jaskier’s arms would feel so warm around him, he’d been right.

He could never have imagined the wonder of kissing Jaskier, though, not truly. Joy flared in Geralt’s heart like a wildfire, consuming him. The world burned around them and Geralt didn’t care because having Jaskier in his arms, kissing him like this, this was the only thing he could ever want.

This was everything the kiss on their wedding day wasn’t and should have been. All the sounds of the city rushed in Geralt’s ears and he didn’t hear any of them, because Jaskier’s lips were sweet and warm and slightly chapped, and Jaskier’s hand was digging oddly into his ribs, and it was perfection.

🐺 🌼 🐺

Almost done! I think there will maybe be one more chapter to tie up all the loose ends. Although I suspect at some point I’ll be unable to resist writing some husbands-in-Kaer-Morhen fluff.

Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @ailorian @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtea @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @westmoor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee @comfyswitcherblanketfort @wellthisstinks @thenameislion-dandelion @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban @darkangel91939 @enkelikauneus @saphiramalbec @silvermirror1997 @just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard @iamaqt314 @itsthelittlethingsnlife @oneshots-galore @inikokoru @gryffinqueen @anythinggoesfandoms @artemisthehuntress @pomegranatebitch @nuitarius @ub-sessed @tookarma @spearmint-honk @nicelytousled @wingirl2015 @live-long-and-trek-on @kingcitywitch @flowrhippieprincess @oneshots-galore @laughingatlivedragons @nanamis-trophy-wife @annafortoday @dapperanachronism @jaybeefoxy @gods-no-longer-tread-here @flustratedcas @nbspaceboy @comorbid-corvid @ellwren @red-wasabi89 @ouradarablelove @chanonce

#arranged marriage au #fluff #angst with a happy ending #geraskier #the witcher #essi daven is a good friend

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years ago

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adam, carved from the rib of eve.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: godfrey industries throws a party in the honor of their new ceo. roman is less than thrilled to be attending, but at least he has you.

word count: 3.4k (a shortie)

a/n: i am such a slut for the “i hate everyone but you” trope as you can probably tell and that’s basically this fic lol. i ended up not loving the ending to this, but i like the beginning so i’m posting it anyways lol

Roman’s hand hadn’t left the small of your back for hours. His fingers widened and drummed and stroked and squeezed you through the slinky fabric of your dress, to both soothe himself and to keep you intune with his moods throughout the evening. His nails would probe into your skin when someone would approach him that he disliked, telling you with his fingertips of his distaste. Leaving small crescents in your dress and the smooth skin underneath kept him from showing his true loathing for an employee on his face. At certain points during the evening, you were worried that Roman would draw blood from his ministrations, fearing little lines of crimson would blot your dress and force you to tie his suit jacket around his waist like some midwestern mother. During these moments, you’d reach out to stroke his lapel or lean your temple to his shoulder in a show of affection and warning. Roman would ease his prodding and smooth his fingertips over his marks in sweet apology.

Tonight was a big night for Roman. Tonight was the night that he was being officially inducted as the new CEO of Godfrey Industries. Large posters had been unrolled from the ceiling that pictured his signature pout and chilling glare; a slideshow that was being projected on a far wall of the rented ballroom showed pictures of Roman, Pryce and JR; napkins were leafed across tables with a congratulation message for Roman’s succession. Tonight was a momentous night in the history of The White Tower and the Godfrey legacy, and Roman was miserable.

He hated that everyone wanted to talk about his father and Norman and his mother and Pryce and what he would do for the company in the future. He hated that he had to put on a neutral face and hob knob with men and women he deemed to be serfs and peasants. He hated that men eyed you up and down and women tried to grope him and he hated that anyone thought they were worthy of your combined presence. If either of you were forced to shake another hand he’d blow his brains out (hyperbole, unfortunately, because he could see a fat man with a wet upper lip approaching him).

But, he thanked whatever higher power that was out there that you were by his side, looking gorgeous and regal and supportive. Roman Godfrey said a silent thank you to every God his mind could name that you loved him and he loved you back, because he could not fathom attending this party without you. Without you smiling when he couldn’t conceal his hatred, without you lightening the mood with sweet anecdotes and pretending to look interested when his employees talked to you.

You nodded and hummed and asked thoughtful follow up questions that left the impression on his lessers that Roman Godfrey and his girlfriend were good people; the kind of people who cared about the lives of their workers. He would be utterly lost without you, a thought that crossed his mind every time he glanced down at you, huddled into his side with a glass of champagne cradled in your dainty hand.

Well, that and how much he wanted to fuck your brains out when you both returned home. You looked down right delicious in your evening gown.

Unfortunately when there is a party thrown in your honor, people are interested in talking to you. Soaking up your presence without any regard for how the honoree might feel. The mouth breathing attendees wrapped in their rented Men’s Wearhouse tuxedos didn’t care that Roman just wanted one minute alone to cozy up to his girl, as they formed a line to congratulate him and try to perform for him as a way to prove their keep. Little did they know they were just doing the opposite, only fueling his ire for them. Thankfully, the line had diminished for the first time that evening, leaving you and Roman to your own devices by the bar.

“Thank fucking God,” Roman murmured as he order a bourbon and another glass of champagne for you.

“Just try to grin and bear it. We can leave in an hour.” You reply, squeezing his hand that still resided near your backside.

He groaned, “An hour?”

“Yes, an hour. This party is for you. You don’t want to seem ungrateful or stuck up.”

The bartender placed your drinks in front of each of you. Roman took his quickly and took a long pull from the glass.

“You my PR director now?” He muses.

“Hell yes I am, and you better be thankful,” You say, quite matter a factly, “I make you look good, approachable, the boy next door. Not the playboy who snorts coke off of hookers tits. I am the Persephone to your Hades. And people love it.”

Roman chuckles, “I can’t say I don’t like that comparison.”

You smile at him over the rim of your glass. Roman takes a drink from his own glasses and swallows thickly before speaking again.

“You know I am thankful for you, right?”

Your grin softens at the uncharacteristic confession and you place your glass back on the bar so you can cozy up to him, “I’m thankful for you, too.”

Roman stared down at you, love and appreciation pooling in his green eyes as his hand loops around you to link with his other. You place both hands on his chest and kiss his chin chastley as Roman melts into your embrace. You make him feel so needy and weak in a way he had always chased away and feared. But you made him love it, revel in it, look forward to the feeling. Though, it made his guard fall, you and your sweet kisses and sweeter touches, and right now, while he was in a room full of judgmental employees that he was trying to make see him as their alpha, probably wasn’t the best time for him to be turning to honey and sun shining warmth.

Luckily (or not so luckily) the haze you two were in was broken by an onlooker.

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Roman’s glare hardens within seconds as he looks away from you to Pryce, who stands behind you, hands clasped behind his back.

“I don’t need them.” Roman replies, letting you untangle yourself from him.

“Well, I offer my sincere pride and happiness for you, anyway.” Pryce says with a tight lipped smile.

Roman doesn’t respond, just raises his eyebrows at the other man.

After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Pryce moves his attentions to you, “(Y/N), you look stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” You respond politely.

“I’ve heard from many patrons tonight that you have bewitched them, they are all fat and happy with the care you’ve shown them.”

“I do what I can.”

“I would enjoy it if some of that good will would rub off on you, Roman. It isn’t becoming for any of us for you to look like a tyrant.”

Roman scoffs, “I don’t want them to like me. I want them to be fucking scared of who I am and what I can do.”

“I believe Mussolini said something similar.” Pryce quips back quickly.

“I’ll be their fucking Mussolini if I have to be.”

“Let’s hope you’ll be more effective.”

And again, there is a tense pause between the three of you. You sip the bubbles from your glass and try to burrow into Roman’s side to calm him. You knew Roman was capable of explosive outbursts, and you really preferred if he didn’t have one tonight in front of all these people. Especially at Pryce, when they were supposed to be creating a united front for the company.

“Well, unfortunately I didn’t just come over to offer my congratulations,” Pryce begins.

“It’s never just one thing with you,” Roman responds spitefully.

“I came over to inform you that you are expected to give your speech soon.”

Roman’s jaw ticks, “What fucking speech?”

“The speech we discussed last week.”

“We didn’t discuss shit.”

“Believe me or not, we discussed a speech last week. Though, I suppose I am not surprised you don’t remember, as you seemed less than thrilled with the news when I gave it to you.” Pryce lamented.

“I am less than fucking thrilled about it now.” He snapped.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Roman. This is a part of the job; addressing the troops.”

“I don’t address the troops, I delegate someone to do that for me. Which is you, in the scenario.”

“I am already giving a speech tonight, Roman. The one before your own that introduces you.” Pryce informs.

Roman doesn't retort, just clenches his jaw tightly, you could see his muscles pulse through his skin. The glare he was giving Pryce would have made a lesser man quake, make them sweat and tremble with fear. But, the good doctor was used to Roman’s stares.

“Go fuck yourself.” Roman spat, his face so close to Pryce’s that you could see flecks of spit freckle his skin.

Roman then stormed off, pushing his way through the crowd and disappearing.

Pryce gives a deep sigh, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face while you simply shrug.

“I can’t say it doesn’t worry me that a bonafide child will be taking over this company.”

“Easy.” You say, reminding Pryce who he is talking too, “He’s just overwhelmed. He’s not much for public speaking.”

“But public tantrums he has no problem with.”

“He’s very passionate. Something that will take this company far. Don’t forget that he is JR’s son, who himself was a very passionate man.”

Pryce eyes you, “Will you continue to spin his outbursts into good omens?”

You shrug again, this time with a budding smile, “I don’t mind.”

He snorts, “What we do for love.”

“Tell me about it.” You reply, before leaving Pryce by himself at the bar and going to search for Roman.

You found him in a back hallway of the ballroom, back pressed to the wall with his knees to his chest, a lit cigarette between his lips.

“You look very modelesque right now. Very sexy,” You smirked and Roman looked up at you, “Like this in black and white? Boom, Vogue cover guaranteed.”

You walked toward where he sat and smoothed your dress against the backs of your thighs so you could do the same. You faced him and rested your cheek to his bent knee.

“You’re very funny,” He replied sarcastically, taking another drag from his cigarette, “Maybe I’ll just quit now and work on finding an agent.”

“Well, you have the bone structure for it.” You played, but Roman still seemed less than amused.

“I’m serious. What if this is a sign?” He said, twiddling the filter between his thumb and forefinger.

“What, the speech?”

“Yes, the speech. What if me fucking it up, forgetting about it, is some sign from the business Gods that I’m just bound to mess this all up in the end? That I’ll embarrass myself and my father…” Roman’s voice shook at the periods.

He was terrified, but had done a good job at hiding it. Over the last few weeks, you had been asking him how he felt about taking over at Godfrey, and everytime his answer was succinct and indifferent. Each time he told you that he was perfectly fine with the idea, as it was something that had been promised to him since birth. You never pried or pushed, but you made sure to keep a closer eye on his feelings than you normally did. You had a feeling the other shoe was going to drop and Roman would feel the weight of this decision lay on him, you were just waiting for when.

“Baby, hey,” You cooed, snuggling closer to his folded up form, “None of that is going to happen, and you forgetting some stupid speech doesn’t mean anything. It means that you forgot, that's it. You’re human, you’re allowed to make human mistakes.”

“Not in this job. Not when everyone is already waiting for me to fail.” Roman said.

“Well, you still are, because I’m telling you. You are allowed fuck ups and mistakes. It makes you seem more relatable.” You pluck the cigarette from between his fingers and take a drag.

“I don’t want to relatable to those people,” Roman spits, “My God, nothing sounds worse.”

You giggle, “Good thing you will never be like those people out there. Because those people, the ones out there desperately searching for your approval? Those people were born to worship men like you, Roman. You were born the man to be worshipped, the man to be followed.”

Roman looked at you with his big doe eyes, both filmed with unshed tears as his lips pursed. You moved to place his cigarette back between his pouted mouth and let your thumb sweep across his bottom lip as you did.

“You, Roman Godfrey, will be amazing. You will shock and awe any and everyone. You’re not going to fail, because you don’t know how, baby. You are the man that I love, and no matter what, that won’t change.”

A few tears had fallen on his cheeks as you spoke and Roman sniffled quietly, “You promise?”

“I do.” And you leaned forward to slot your lips with his.

The kiss was gentle and reassuring, you could taste the salt of his tears and the bourbon and smoke on his tongue. Roman’s hand came around to rest on your side and you purred at the contact.

When you parted, it was because you could both hear the muffled sound of Pryce’s booming voice over the microphone.

“Fuck,” Roman groaned, thunking his head against the wall, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“This is what you’re going to do,” You leaned forward and took his face in your hand, “You’re going to go up there, thank Pryce for his words about you. Then, mention how much this company meant to your father and how proud you were of him, and how proud he would be of you. Then say something about how much you love the company, how much it means to you and the world of medicine, blah, blah, blah. Then round it out with something light hearted, maybe make a joke? Then you’re done, you’re out of there.”

“Are you sure that’s enough?”

“It’s gonna have to be.”

Roman nodded, before crushing the remainder of his cigarette under his dress shoe and pulling you into his side. You both sat in silence as you listened to the faint sound of Pryce’s speech. He was a well spoken man, which you knew made Roman nervous.

“You know,” You said, breaking Roman from ruminating on what was to come, “I heard this couple talking shit about us.”

“What?” Roman barked, snapping his head to look down at you.

“Yep, when I was coming out to look for you, I heard them.”

“What in the ever loving fuck did they say?” He fumes.

“They were talking about how we were eye fucking each other all night, and how are PDA was inappropriate for the event.” You snort a laugh.

“Who were they? Did you get a good look?” He was angry, you could feel it in the rigidity of his body. Your plan was working.

“Nah, just overheard them.”

“Well, they better fucking hope I don’t find out who the fuck they are. Fucking rip their fucking eyes out for looking.”

You giggle and Roman looks down at you again, anger and curiosity in his eyes.

“I just love it when you get all riled up, it’s hot, baby,” You reach out to press a lingering kiss to his pulse point, “Love it even more than when you show everyone that I’m yours.”

Roman’s expression changes on a dime and pure hatred shifts into a sauve look of arousal, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” You hum, leaning to give more kisses to his throat, “I love how your hands feel on me, love that everyone can see, love how possessive you are, baby.”

A moan rips from Roman’s chest and he quickly grabs you and forces your legs around his hips to straddle him, “You like it when I show everyone you’re mine, huh?”

He subtly bucks his crotch into your own and you whimper at the contact, “I love everything you do to me, baby.”

His lips descend on yours once more, but this kiss is anything but soft. It’s hot and passionate and intense and fucking raw. His teeth clanging against your own, his tongue pushed deep in your mouth, both his hands groping your breasts. He occasionally broke apart from you to curse or to whisper an obscenity. You loved when he got like this, and you knew he needed it. He needed to feel in control, he needed to feel desired and strong. He needed to know he was still powerful; a protector.

“You wanna know what you’re gonna do?” You moan, pushing his face to mouth at your neck.

“What, baby?” He asked breathlessly as he covered your skin in filthy kisses.

“You’re going to go out there, and fucking nail this speech. Show them that you’re the fucking boss, that you are in charge. That you own them and this fucking company. And you’re gonna do it knowing that I am in the audience, watching you, waiting for you to take me home and fuck me so good I can’t see straight.” And you pulled him away from you.

His pupils were blown, his mouth red and kiss bitten and he panted as he gazed at you.

“What the hell? Your plan was to give me blue balls then throw me on stage?”

“A little, but mostly make you remember who you are. Roman Godfrey, the most powerful man I know, the only man who gets me soaked in seconds.”

“Damn right I am,” He kisses you hard once more before you pull him off again.

“Now go give your speech so we can go home,” You patted his shoulders firmly then stood from his lap.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Roman complained, standing as well.

But he didn’t, he really fucking loved you. Because somehow you knew every part of him, every nook and cranny of his twisted brain, every emotion and feeling before he had it. You knew him, and you always knew just what to do. He had been preening at your earlier praise and then fully immersed in your kiss and had totally forgotten about the speech altogether, along with his nerves. You had pumped up his ego with acclaim and hot touches and suddenly he wasn’t so scared anymore. Because all those stupid fucks out there, they didn’t matter. Like him or not, he owned this company, he owned them. They would learn to fear him, to want to be him, and that was something Roman knew was true (something that you had helped remind him). He fucking loved you so much, for always knowing what to do when he felt lost and helpless in the dark. Roman knew that taking over Godfrey Industries was the first in many steps he would take for the rest of his life to take care of you, and guide you through the blackness when you needed it.

“Sure you do,” You laugh.

“I’m supposed to go up there with this? You gonna let that happen?” He gestured to the bulge in his pants.

“Think about baseball.” You shrugged and started back to the ballroom.

Roman groaned loudly before catching up to you.

As you both came through the double doors to the event, Pryce seemed to just be finishing up, catching Roman’s eye in relief that he hadn’t bounced. You reached down and gripped his hand as Pryce introduced Roman and gestured him to the stage.

His face fell as all eyes moved to him, but you were there to plant a strong kiss on his lips and whisper, “Just giving that couple somethin’ to talk about.”

Roman couldn’t help the cocky smile that spread over his face after that. He walked to the stage and you took your seat at one of the head tables.

Roman cleared his throat and shook his blazer over his shoulder to resettle it as he looked out over the sea of his new employees. The sea of his new employees and you: who gave him an excited thumbs up and a wink.

And Roman knew this would be a piece of cake.

i really hope you enjoyed!! if you did, i would love to hear any and all feedback <3 also, bear with me for a while, i am not sure when my next story will be out bc the ones i have working on rn are kinda long, but! until next time (:

#roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey reader insert #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagines #hemlock grove imagine #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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murasaki-murasame · 4 years ago

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Thoughts on Higurashi Gou Ep22

All of this ‘the culprit’s motives are super shallow and they’re just unhealthily obsessive’ discourse is giving me war flashbacks to . . . . basically every other part of the entire When They Cry franchise, lol.

Thoughts under the cut. [Plus spoilers for Umineko]

I feel like at the end of the day we’re all just gonna have to agree to disagree about how we feel about how Ryukishi is handling Satoko as the culprit here, since I don’t really think any amount of social media posts detailing our interpretations of her character are gonna change anyone’s minds, lol. But I’m still gonna give my thoughts on her anyway because it’s fun, even if I’m basically just preaching to the choir.

To be honest, this feels pretty much in line with how Ryukishi already wrote characters like Takano and Beatrice, in terms of them having unhealthy obsessions that lead them to mass-murder. The amount of violence Satoko has caused is arguably worse than either of them, but they’re all pretty awful if you think about the reality of what they all did as villains.

Sorta like with how a lot of the old-school Umineko discourse went, I think people are too focused on the whole idea of Satoko hating studying, and ignoring everything else about her character and her circumstances. Although even then I feel like people are being kinda unfair toward Satoko about how strongly she feels about academics, but maybe I’m just biased because of my own history with schooling and the intense levels of anxiety and self-hatred that can go along with it.

Plus the fact that Satoko already has a long history of sever abandonment issues, and has basically always had HS that amplified her feelings of paranoia and persecution. It’s pretty obvious at this point that she never really got ‘cured’ in the first place, though it’s less important to think about HS as an in-universe fictional disease with it’s own rules, and more important to just think about it as a representation of real-life mental illnesses which aren’t bound by the rules of made-up brain-worm parasites and aliens or whatever.

Also, the Satoko that started all this looping in the first place was one who never dealt with Teppei returning to the village, and thus never went through her whole character arc related to that. The series is kinda ambiguous about how it handles the idea of people’s character development carrying over between loops, but it explains a lot about Satoko’s attitude here if you go with the idea that she never really had to overcome any of her trauma or coping mechanisms in the “good ending timeline”, and this is the consequence of that taken to it’s logical extreme. The idea of her view of the world being skewed by the fact that she only remembers the “good ending timeline” is also kinda lamp-shaded by the part where she hears about Rika’s looping and is like “oh yeah, that’s the month where we had that cool action movie stand-off with the Mountain Dogs :)”. By the time she really got to understand exactly what was going on beyond the specific timeline she had experienced, she was already way over the edge.

I get why people don’t like the idea of Gou ‘tainting’ the VN’s happy ending, but I honestly like the idea that it’s examining the consequences of how Matsuribayashi was such an overly-specific timeline where basically nothing bad happened and everyone just banded together to beat Takano. It kinda glossed over a lot of the personal problems that the main cast had in the rest of the series, and this really goes to show the effects of some of that stuff not getting properly addressed. It also reminds me that Minagoroshi is a timeline that even in the VN, Rika completely lost her memories of, so I can see how even post-Matsuribayashi she might have never let Satoko know about the details of that one timeline where she overcome her abuse.

I also feel like it only really got to this point because of Featherine’s meddling. In the original Matsuribayashi timeline, Satoko just started drifting away from Rika and ended up wandering into the Saiguden and meeting Featherine before anything actually serious happened in that timeline. I think that if she had just been left to her own devices and that timeline had just kept going, Satoko probably would have either found a way to reconnect with Rika, or they would have just slowly drifted apart for good. But then Satoko got given the power to time travel, and only started going off the deep end after going through another five years of identical suffering.

And on that whole note, it reminds me of how in Umineko, Lambda had a whole conversation about the idea of an abused person becoming an abuser themself if they’re given the power to lash out. Which is basically what’s happening here. Satoko is being given the tools to completely detach herself from reality and try as many times as she likes to get what she wants.

Which also reminds me that this episode in particular REALLY lays the Umineko parallels on thick, lol. Particularly the whole ‘Satoko is turning into Lambda’ thing, which feels just about 100% confirmed now. They straight up have Featherine bring up the exact same ‘monkeys using a typewriter’ analogy to explain Rika’s situation that Lambda uses in Umineko to explain Bern’s situation.

I know a lot of people don’t like the increasingly blatant Umineko tie-ins, and that a lot of people still think it might just be misdirection, but considering how much stuff in Gou has been surprisingly straightforward and predictable, I think it’s pretty much exactly what it seems to be.

Though to be more specific, this is probably more about the start of Lambda and Bern’s relationship, and their appearances in Umineko, rather than the very first origins of them as individuals, if that makes sense. Obviously the concept of Bernkastel as an identity has been around since Higurashi itself, and we’ve known for a long time that Lambda was the one who originally gave Takano her blessing of certainty, but we’ve never known the full details of how those two started their relationship, and Featherine’s whole series of name-drops in the last episode makes it seem like Lambda as a meta individual more or less already exists, with Satoko being an iteration of her. So I think they both technically already exist, but this is how the two of them come into contact and start their whole unhealthily obsessive relationship.

I guess it’s still possible that, even if she’s already existed for a long time as a meta individual, she hasn’t actually come up with the name ‘Lambdadelta’ for herself yet, and this might be where she does so. Even with the list of names Featherine referenced, she didn’t technically bring up Lambda’s name directly. So in that sense this might be ‘Lambda’s’ origin story, even if she already exists.

Considering how basically the entire story at this point seems to be acting in service of setting up the whole LambdaBern relationship dynamic no matter what, I’m becoming increasingly convinced that this will end with Satoko and Rika fully embracing their codependency and mutually ascending to the meta plane so they can stay together once and for all. There might still be human versions of them that stay behind in the real world and continue living normal lives, though.

At the very least, it feels like that’s the logical outcome of the whole Chekov’s Sword Fragment plot device that’s been hanging in the background for ages now. I think it’ll just be the in-universe explanation they use to show the mechanics of how exactly that process works. It’ll probably be used to ‘sever’ Satoko and Rika’s meta consciousnesses from their physical bodies and allow them to basically become witches.

Mainly I just can’t really see this having a ‘happy ending’ at this point, aside from the whole idea that maybe the severing process leaves behind ‘normal’ versions of the two of them who stay in Hinamizawa and go back to their normal lives. I dunno if that’d make people happy, but it’d at least be a way for Ryukishi to have his cake and eat it too, lol.

I just don’t think that there’s any real chance of this ending with them just talking to each other and agreeing to put an end to all this, though. For one thing that’d just feel kinda anticlimactic and honestly make Gou’s story feel even MORE pointless, if it just ends with literally the exact same ending as the VN with nothing really being changed. But I also feel like Featherine wouldn’t be willing to just let Satoko ‘give up’ without having one of them definitively win their current game. In general I just feel like Ryukishi should just commit to the story he’s setting up at this point, instead of just backing out at the last minute and circling everything back to the same ending we already had like nothing in Gou ever happened. If we’re gonna have this whole new story to begin with, it should at least have some lasting consequences.

Anyway, I think in the next episode we’re finally going to loop back to the Damashi arcs and see how they played out. At this point I don’t care too much about getting answers to the ground-level mysteries of those arcs, and I doubt the story will spend much time on that, but I’m curious to see how it progresses Satoko’s whole development through these loops, since I think she goes through some changes with her motives and methods over the course of them.

Specifically I think that the actual experience of being physically present in her own set of loops and causing so much pain and suffering started to get to her, and she might have almost given up in her own way during Tataridamashi and wanted to just stay in that arc, but things went south anyway. Maybe, if that’s what happened, Featherine basically let her know that she won’t let her give up, and will force her to keep looping until one of them ‘wins’ no matter what. Either way, I think that arc was a turning point for her. Like how she asked Featherine to arrange things so that Satoko can make sure that she and Rika’s loops are synced up, she probably asked Featherine after that arc to change the rules again so that Rika will start remembering the details of her deaths. At this point it’s pretty obvious that the Hanyuu fragment Rika was talking to earlier in Gou was more or less just Featherine putting on an act and manipulating her, so the scene of Hanyuu giving her the power to remember her deaths was probably just Featherine telling her about the rule change.

And going by how the Nekodamashi arc went immediately afterward, I think that rule change was related to Satoko becoming increasingly desperate to put an end to the loops as soon as possible. And considering how she was willing to spend so much time reviewing Rika’s hundred years of looping just to prepare for this, it’d make sense to me if she becomes desperate because she basically gives up, but realizes that she isn’t actually allowed to give up, so she has to try and make Rika give in as fast as possible. Either way it’s pretty obvious that Satoko’s methods start becoming more violent in that arc, and she basically tries to brute-force Rika into submission, leading up to the loop where she just spawn-camps her and straight up starts screaming at her to just stay in the village while tearing out her guts. It’s still possible that her attitude in that loop was just one big act, but I think that was the result of her being genuinely desperate to just have Rika give up once and for all, and her starting to crack under the pressure of doing all of these things with her own hands across so many loops.

So now we’ll just have to see how the confrontation between them at the end of Nekodamashi plays out once we get back to it. In the long run I just think it’ll lead to the ending I talked about before, with them using the sword on each other. The exact nuances of how that sorta ending might play out are up in the air, though.

Either way, I think there’s probably enough time to wrap up all that in two more episodes, but there’s still reason to believe that there might be some kind of sequel in the works. I don’t really want to bet on it, though, so I’m just gonna assume that there’s two episodes left and base my theories on that. In which case I think the next episode will go over the Damashi arcs and end with Rika and Satoko’s confrontation at the end of Nekodamashi, and then the final episode will wrap everything up. Considering that they both more or less know exactly what’s going on with each other by that point, there isn’t really that much that needs to be wrapped up. I think that will be the final loop we get, so it’ll all just come down to how their confrontation plays out, and what decision they come to about how to handle each other.

I honestly don’t really know how I think a full sequel would go, if it’s at least one cour long. Assuming that it’s not just a new Umineko anime that more or less continues Rika and Satoko’s arc via Lambda and Bern, but is a straight up ‘Higurashi Gou Season 2′. It just feels like there isn’t really that much that needs to be done to wrap things up, now that everything’s being laid out in the open, and Rika and Satoko are both aware of each other’s looping. They might switch it up so that they both end up teaming up to take down Featherine, but I kinda doubt that’ll happen.

I’m still hoping this is leading into some kind of new Umineko anime though, lol. That feels like it’d be the main reason for putting so much effort into this whole elaborate LambdaBern origin story we’re getting here.

I’ve heard rumors that there’s been listings for a 25th episode of Gou, so it’s possible that rather than another full season, there’s just one extra episode at the end. I’m not exactly sure what the point of doing one extra unannounced episode at the end would be, though. It might end up being a bridge between Gou and a new Umineko anime.

At the very least, if it’s just ‘Satokowashi Part 8′, it makes me wonder why they haven’t announced it yet, and why they didn’t just split that arc into two BD volumes with four episodes each, instead of having it be one big volume with seven episodes, and one random episode at the end for some reason. But if it’s more of an epilogue or a bridge of sorts between Gou and something else, with Gou’s story concluding with episode 24, then I guess it’d make some sense to do it that way.

We also know there’s gonna be a panel for Gou at a convention around when ep24 comes out, so if anything gets announced it’ll probably happen there.

Anyway, this whole episode can be summed up as “Satoko does a gay little psychological torture that pisses Rika off”, in the most morbidly entertaining way possible, lmao.

#murasaki reblogs #higurashi #higurashi gou

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rohad93 · 4 years ago

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RWBY - Driftwood

~ ~ ~

Post Volume 8 finale

~ ~ ~

Her whole body hurt.

Not that Ruby expected much else when she and Blake fell from the golden bridge to the inky blackness below; their aura broken.

Actually, she really expected to not even be alive. Ambrosius’s warning not to fall had echoed in her head as the pathways grew more and more distant before all light vanished, swallowed up by the inky blackness.

She could hear Blake yelling and then nothing, like being smothered with a thick blanket. There was no sound, only a dull static buzzing in her ears along with the heavy thumping of her own heartbeat. The all-encompassing darkness had been suffocating. She couldn’t breathe, but she must have somehow.

She and Blake had separated at some point and the next thing she knew, she had hit the water with all the force of a rampaging Ursa, the back of her head slamming against the water and it may as well have been cement for all the force with which she landed. She thought that she may even have blacked out for a moment before the cold water and the need for air made her eyes pop back open. It took a long second for her to orient herself, swimming up toward the light.

The swelling ocean waves and an island laid out in front of her, a towering tree reaching up toward a ruddy pink sky. She didn’t spare it more than a glance before making her way to shore.

She coughed as she crawled onto the beach, sand squelching under her fingers and knees.

The sun was warm on her back but she was numb to it as she stared blankly down at the sand, watching the rivulets of water drip from her hair and face, leaving dark splotches in the granules.

Her head pounded in time with her heavy heart and her lungs burned with fire as she gasped for air. Her limbs weighed down every movement and all Ruby wanted to do was collapse on the dark sand and never move again. The dull throb piercing every inch of her body pulled her deeper into the miasma of despair.

She forced her head up and looked around at the expanse of beach that seemed to stretch to the horizon on either side of her, blank and unchanging.

With a pained grunt, she pushed herself up off her knees, stumbling a little as she climbed to her feet.

Where even was... this?

The trees stretching out in front of her were like nothing she had ever seen before, twisted and bent in looping knots toward the ground before their leafy tops stretched back up toward the sky.

She pushed her soaking wet hair out of her face and took a tentative step toward the trees. She was bone-weary but she forced her aching body to move just the same.

When the spirit of the staff had warned them not to fall, she had expected something else.

A bottomless abyss…

Death…

Not a tropical island.

She moved, without purpose or sense of direction through the jungle landscape. The sounds of birds cawing echoed off the trees. The foliage was thick and wild and the air was heavy and humid.

She was slowly coming back to herself the longer she moved. Feeling returned to her limbs and the haziness in her head parted some. The oppressive heat and humidity was starting to get to her and she stopped long enough to pull off the insulated shirt, letting the air finally get to her skin. Her aura was broken, so she had no way to regulate her body temperature until it regenerated. While the fall didn’t kill her, she may very well sweat to death in the thickly insulated gear now that she had left behind the bitter cold of Solitas. She threw it down in the dirt and left it there as she moved.

The water beading up on her skin was as much sweat now as it was seawater.

If she had survived the fall, then surely Yang and Blake had to be here somewhere too.

Unless…

She stopped and turned to look back in the direction of the ocean that she could no longer see through the trees and the weight of everything began to settle on her.

What if they had drowned? What if instead of landing in the water they had hit the ground?

What about Weiss? Her aura had been broken when she shoved her out of the way of Cinder’s attack. Had she fallen? Had she gotten through to Vacuo?

Or had Cinder...

Water began to gather in the corners of her eyes and her fists clenched, the leather of her gloves squeaking in her grip as a sob ripped out of her throat.

Her partner, her sister, her closest friend… was her whole team just gone… was she the only one left? What about Jaune and Penny? Were they still fighting or had they fallen too?

She choked on another sob and sank to her knees in the dirt as her sorrow wracked her body.

All she had wanted to do her entire life was help people, keep them safe from the monsters that surrounded them. Make life better, like her mother…

Her mother, who had probably been turned into a creature of grimm by Salem for her eyes. Taken every good intention and warped it into something black, ugly, and malicious.

How had everything crumbled to ruin around them, again!?

Cinder.

It was always Cinder. Ruby clenched her teeth as her body trembled.

She understood now, why her eyes reacted to the woman. Her grimm arm stuck out in Ruby’s mind.

She was a monster, in every sense of the word.

“Argh!” Ruby slammed her fist into the dirt, over and over until it throbbed and she’d spent what little energy she had left pounding a divot into the ground. Something dark and ugly had pooled in her stomach, spreading through her veins like wildfire.

Hate

Hatred so bright and hot it set her aflame from the inside out.

Salem might have been behind it all but it was Cinder who had continued to take and destroy everything she had ever fought for, ever cared about.

The fall of Beacon, Pyrrha, Haven, her sister, her teammates!

She tasted salt as tears dripped down her face, splattering in little dark spots on the ground.

Why… Why did she keep trying?

Now they had lost two relics and everything in between.

Maybe Ironwood had been wrong but how had her plan turned out any better? What good did saving the people of Mantle and Atlas do if Salem got the relics anyway and destroyed all of Remnant?

She sat there and cried. The burning hatred ebbing away to make way for something else.

Despair

The searing hatred bubbling beneath her skin fizzled out and bitter despair took its place.

Acrid and raw, burning up the back of her throat with a fresh wave of tears.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there in the dirt, lost to the world around her as despair reigned supreme and she didn’t know how long she might have, if a distant sound hadn’t finally broken through the haze of anguish.

Ruby looked up, sniffling as she strained her ears to listen for the far-off sound that didn’t fit the noises of the jungle.

A voice.

One she would know in her sleep.

“Ruby… Blake…. Yang!”

Was that…?

She scrambled to her feet and took off running in the direction of the voice calling her name as it grew louder and loud.

“Ruby!”

Ruby panted as she ripped through the thick jungle undergrowth, never slowing even as branches and plants whipped at her face. She was unconscious to it all; nothing penetrated except the sound of the voice growing ever closer and the furious pounding in her ears as she tore through the trees.

She burst through the tree line and skid to a stop the moment her eyes landed on the bright spot of blue and white in front of her that stood out like a beowulf at a dinner party among the dark greens of the jungle.

Weiss whipped around at the commotion she’d made and her eyes widened as they landed on her partner.

“Ruby!” She all but screamed before dashing forward and Ruby’s feet were moving without her even realizing until she crashed painfully into Weiss, arms wrapping around her in a near stranglehold. Ruby would take any pain in the world if it meant seeing her face again.

“Ruby... You’re okay…” She heard Weiss’s strained and desperate words against her ear and she squeezed her all the tighter as tears again started to gather in her eyes.

“Weiss…,” she choked, burying her face in the other woman’s neck. Her grip on Weiss remained air-tight but her knees were folding beneath her and the next thing she knew they were kneeling in the dirt, clinging desperately to each other. She could feel the cool drops of water dripping onto her shoulder where Weiss’s head was pressed against hers. They squeezed each other for a long, handful of minutes, relief washing over them.

Eventually, they pulled back but didn’t go far, still clinging tightly to each other.

“Are you okay?” Ruby asked, silver eyes darting across Weiss’s tear-stained face as she stared back at her, nodding.

“Yes… I…” She sniffled. “I was afraid that you…,” she trailed off and if possible, Ruby’s hold tightened.

Her mind was still foggy with everything that had happened but the sheer relief she felt now that Weiss was here, in front of her, was like a ray of sunlight piercing the dark clouds of her misery.

“I’m not hurt…,” she assured, pulling back to grip Weiss’s shoulders, her thumbs running soothingly back and forth over her shoulders. She couldn’t say she was okay. Okay was the last thing she was right now. She was alive, and for now, that would have to be enough.

“Have you seen Yang or Blake?” Weiss asked, releasing her hold on her partner and Ruby shook her head.

“What happened after I fell, Weiss?” she asked and Weiss’s lips pursed, tears continuing their slow trek down her cheeks.

“Cinder took the relic…,” Weiss said quietly and Ruby’s jaw tightened, teeth clicking together.

“Did Penny at least get to Vacuo?” she asked and Weiss froze, eyes flickering to her lap and fingers curling into tight fists against the top of her thighs.

If she closed her eyes, she could still see it.

Penny’s body, an hour into becoming a living girl of flesh and bone, lying lifeless on the ground and Jaune’s sword, stained with dark, crimson blood.

She looked up at Ruby’s questioning face and swallowed thickly. How badly she didn’t want to say the words sitting like rocks in her mouth; but she had to.

“Penny…” Her tongue darted out to wet her suddenly dry lips. “Penny was injured… and we didn't have the time to heal her. She… asked Jaune to kill her, so Cinder wouldn’t get the maiden powers…,” she trailed off, voice growing lower with the words. She could feel Ruby’s grip on her shoulders tighten into a white-knuckle grip and winced at the nails biting into her skin.

“He did…,” she mumbled and Ruby’s grip on her tightened for a brief second before she ripped her hands away and shot to her feet, turning on her heel and walking a few feet away before she stopped as Weiss scrambled up to follow her.

The air around them was tense and quiet, the chirping of the birds and rustling of the trees in the breeze were the only sounds between them.

Weiss didn’t know what to say as she stared at her leader’s back, watching the growing trembling in her frame.

Ruby hunkered forward, body shaking, then suddenly, jerked back, headshot back as a scream filled the air.

Cold chills ran up Weiss’s spine as she watched, wide-eyed and lips parted in silent shock as Ruby wailed up at the coral-colored sky.

The howl faded, turning into choked sobs and that knocked Weiss’s feet loose as she rushed to close the distance between them.

“Ruby…” She lifted a hand but stopped short.

“Why… Why Penny… why again!?” Ruby choked on her choppy breaths in between sobs. Weiss frowned, stepping closer.

“She wanted to keep the power safe from Cinder at all costs… to do the right thing. What she thought was right, like you would have…” She jerked back, eyes wide as Ruby whipped around.

“When have I ever done the right thing!?” Ruby screamed, slapping a hand to her chest. “Everything I’ve done, every decision I’ve made has only made everything worse!” she choked as tears dripped down her cheeks. “We lost the lamp, we lost the staff, we lost Penny…. again! All I am is a failure!” she screamed before sobs rocked her body and she crumpled to the ground in a heap, hands pressed to her face.

Weiss quickly crossed the remaining distance between them to kneel in front of the sobbing young woman. Her body shook and her head hung, refusing to meet Weiss’s eyes.

“Ruby, no… You’re not a failure…,” she said quietly but there was steel in her voice. “You are the bravest and kindest person I’ve ever known, Ruby. You always try to do the right thing and you’ve made some mistakes, we all have! You can’t know everything… you can’t be perfect!”

“I can’t do anything right, why do I keep trying? Everything just blows up in my face!” Ruby finally looked up at her, eyes rimmed with red and lips pulled back over her teeth. The fury and desolation flickering in her eyes struck at Weiss’s very core.

It broke Weiss’s heart to watch Ruby crack and fracture under all the pressure that had been building for months. She’d always been amazed at how strong Ruby had remained through everything but even her fearless and intrepid partner had finally reached her breaking point. The weight of their world having finally settled on her young shoulders.

Weiss bit her lip, feeling helpless just sitting there as Ruby continued to cry.

“You try… because that’s who you are, Ruby,” she said quietly. Reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Ruby’s forearm. “You want to make things better, you want everyone to be better and you actually work toward it, every day. You don’t just say it, you do.” Weiss squeezed. “Yang and Blake… you’ve helped them so much… you’ve helped me, more than I know how to say,” she mumbled. “You help everyone.”

Ruby’s cries quieted but they didn’t stop.

“I haven’t helped anyone lately… every decision I made was wrong,” was the gravelly answer and Weiss frowned, tears pricking her eyes as she watched her partner unravel before her eyes.

“I know that things have gone wrong… but you can’t do everything, you can’t fix it all. All we can do is try and you do. More than anyone I've ever known.” Weiss gave another squeeze as Ruby sniffled. “You’re…”

She hesitated, words stalled on her tongue. Words that had been sitting in her mouth, unsaid for some months now but there had just never been a good or right time for them to be said. Weiss was starting to think that maybe there never would be a good time.

“You’re amazing, Ruby. You make me want to do better and be better and that’s… that’s one of the things I… I love about you…,” she murmured, eyes trained on the ground between them. Ruby looked up at her, silver eyes glossy and red as tears continued their trek down her flushed cheeks.

“There’s no one else like you in all of Remnant and I don’t know what I would do without you to lead us, to remind us why we're doing this, why we have to do this. You inspire us… you inspire me .” She finally looked up and blue met silver for a long, silent moment. The buzz of cicadas and murmur of the birds in the distance being the only sounds between them for a long few moments.

Ruby leaned forward and buried her face into Weiss’s shoulder and continued to cry. Not the earth-shaking sobs from before, just quiet, grieving tears.

Weiss wrapped her arms around her as tears fell from her own eyes, quietly carding a hand through the black and red strands of hair.

They sat there a long while, long enough that the sun had started to dip below the horizon, casting warm rays of orange light and the long, twisted shadows of the trees overhead.

Finally, Ruby pulled back and scrubbed at her raw cheeks with the back of her gloved hands.

“I don’t know what to do…,” she admitted sullenly.

“We’ll figure it out… like we always do,” Weiss said, giving another assuring squeeze and Ruby nodded. “It’s going to be dark soon, we should find some shelter,” She glanced at the sun sitting just over the horizon.

“Right…” Ruby climbed up on her numb legs, Weiss helping her as she pulled her to stand.

She went to pull her hand away but Ruby’s fingers wrapped around hers only tightened and Weiss looked at her, curiously.

Silver eyes were gazing back at her with an unreadable expression.

“Weiss…” She seemed to hesitate. “When... when you said you… loved me…,” her voice petered out and Weiss felt the embarrassment crawling up her throat. “Did… how did you… mean that?” she asked at last.

Weiss’s first instinct was to lie. To save face and not admit to this thing that had kept her up at night for a while now, right along with thoughts of Salem.

She wasn’t sure which she preferred to be the thing keeping her up at night.

Something about the barely held together look in her partner’s face though brushed away that instinct.

“I meant… I love you, Ruby. I’m… in love with you,” she finally said and watched the expression on Ruby’s face shift to total shock as her own face warmed.

“You… I…,” Ruby stuttered, unsure what to say.

“We don’t need to talk about this right now, Ruby…” Weiss cut her off before she could say anything else and Ruby’s jaw snapped shut from where it had been hanging open. They stared at each other for a long moment before she nodded.

“Right… later,” It was a promise.

Weiss nodded but felt Ruby give her hand another squeeze before finally letting it go. “We need to find shelter and we can look for Blake and Yang in the morning… there should be more people than just us that fell from the pathways,” she said and moved toward the trees with Weiss in tow. She was relieved to see a little life breathed back into her leader, even if she still looked broken.

That was okay. One step at a time and even if Ruby fell apart, Weiss would be there, to help her pick up the pieces.

#RWBY #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #post V8 finale #oneshot #fanfic #WhiteRose #sorta #It's a Mental Breakdoooown!#Ruby finally cracks #but shes never alone

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

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Can I Make You Cum Again?

For anon who asked: “Can I make you cum again?” Pathfinder/reader i do be a robot fucker low key 😔✌🏻

Don’t mind if I fucking do. Finally some good fucking food around here.

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog but makes my day :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Pathfinder/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader has a vulva and is explicitly mentioned, otherwise gender is ambiguous/neutral, light bondage

Words: 600

_____________

Pathfinder had to be the most affectionate, caring, and kind partner you had ever had in your life. Not that you were exactly award winning at PICKING good, kind, and caring partners, but it threw you for a loop. There, of course, was stigma against dating MRVN units and other sort of bots. Some people said they were slaves to premade emotions. But, Pathfinder?

Pathfinder was...so much different. His own person, he learned from others behavior, learning to take some sass, some kindness, and yet never reflecting the hatred he had received. He was his very own person, and even without a facial expression or a beating heart in his chest. He was...

He was perfect.

You tell him that some days, when you’re in bed and he’s letting his processor go so the warmth clouds you like a midday breeze in the spring. His screen lights up each time pastel pink with vivid hot pink hearts and some heart emoji as his voice cheerfully tells you that he loves you too.

There’s just one thing you failed to mention about your beautiful, stunning, perfect robot. Just a tiny little thing, not even a big deal.

That Pathfinder?

Was the biggest bastard you ever knew.

~Rest under the cut~

This is proof now as you lie on the bed, flat on your back with your arms restricted above your head. Tied with pretty pink rope tight enough to bite into your wrists when you squirm too hard. They’re tied to the headboard, and your legs are left splayed apart. Not restricted by anything, but not like they needed to be with the MRVN unit happily perched between your legs like you two were having a goddamned tea party.

Pathfinder’s screen is pastel pink, a drooling emoji in the heart outline with hearts for eyes. His hand is fit between your legs, hand vibrating as two fingers squelch inside of you. His palm rests perfectly nestled against your clit, vibrating at an intense frequency that makes your toes point and your head throw back. You screen when his fingers curl upwards, throwing your head back when he applies more pressure and you cum for the third time.

“Path- Path—Pathfinder I can’t, oh baby, oh baby please, please, please-” You sob out hysterically, hiccupping as your hips thrust upwards into his palm that has lessened the intensity, but is still vibrating. You’re unaware of your own body, shaking your head, trying to toss and turn to no avail as you another sob wracks your frame.

Pathfinder, ever the bastard, has a chipper tone back at you, “Can I make you cum again, love? I’m sure you can cum again! You haven’t even reached your record!” His tone, as always, is bright and beautiful. Sunshine, fresh flowers, always so delightful.

But you? You know him too well to know the ever so slight reverberation of his voice. You manage to crack an eye open to check his screen, watching it flicker to this darker blue color with a red devil emoji taking place.

The vibrations stop, but his fingers keep moving in you slowly, letting you have time to catch your breath as you throw your head back and groan.

“Okay- okay fine, you bastard, yes, you ca—AN--!!!” Your voice pitches up to a scream. And you know the magic word of ‘yes’ was all he wanted.

And yet his tone never wavers, so delighted and happy as he coos out, “Name calling is not very polite when I’m making you feel good, sweetheart!”

Fucking bastard.

#Pathfinder #Pathfinder x Reader #Apex legends #apex lemons #lemon #nsft #drabble #princess writing

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sokayisaidiot · 4 years ago

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Dream SMP assumption #1

Today’s topic: how deaths maybe accure in the smp

Please DO NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with the themes of death, depression and suicide. It’s a very complicated theme. I did NOT study it and do NOT know some aspects of it. I just go off the things I saw in the smp and made my own theories about it. If you’re even slightly triggered by this, please stop and do NOT try to read it. Please do NOT put yourself in some kind of uncomfortable zone.

Please do not. Thank you

(This is all assumptioning from the fictional world of dream smp)

(Heavy spoilers on the resent events)

(Mainly around the lmanburg way, sadly need to learn more about badlands ): )

(This Series is created by another person, that’s just too fuckin lazy to move her butt)

Trigger warning today:

Suicide thoughts

Death

Okay, we all know the canon death things- how much people right now have to live before ultimately dying.

I first thought it had to be like you need to die some specific times to get one of your three lives away. But that’s not true, it wouldn’t make sense for some canon deaths like wilbur or jschlatt, since if that would be true, half of the population would be just ghosts roaming around.

The emotions being the cause:

So what if they are actually bounded to emotions. As in saying, if negativ emotions are involved into killing another person, or just yourself. If it’s peer pressure (technoblade killing tubbo, jschlatt and quackity at the festival in the same time), hatred (Quackity killing Jschlatt as he destroys a build he really hardly worked on), sadness (Philza killing his own son Wilbur, after seeing him so broken and lost in insanity). But I don’t think insanity itself can kill a persons life in saying taking one away. The board Wilbur made on reddit of canon life’s shows Niki with all her three lives, even after techno killed her at the festival.

The thing about death itself:

Another thing I want to address is, people can actually, of their not in influence of negative emotions can decide to kill this person life. We saw it so many times. At the battle of the lake, badboyhalo killed tommy. Despite being on his last life, he didn’t turn into a ghost or died completely. Why? Badboyhalo decided to not kill him. Bad never wants to take someone’s life away. He doesn’t want people to die or be the one to trigger it. And as Techno finished Tommy in the pit, (he killed him), Tommy didn’t die, again despite being on his last life. Techno doesn’t want to kill Tommy. Not like Dream to use him, but just because why? Why is such a death necessary? Or when he killed of Tubbo a second time at the podium. At this time, Tubbo already was on his last life. But Techno Just wants people to listen to him. He, again, doesn’t want unnecessary death. Even if people think he is a violent person. Like boi, did you look at him, he just wants no government and the best for himself (And Philza at that point too).

(Now to the trigger warning,) what if it’s suicide:

Tommy is seen to open up to his long fear. He hid it pretty good, but we sometimes saw his hidden trauma (another dream smp assumption about tommy). He gives in to the thought of suicide. He doesn’t want to. It’s clear. He’s fighting like he always is. But now he just doesn’t know what for. Tubbo is actually safe. Lmanburg is actually kind of safe. His friends are happy. His disks are the last thing, but when he wants the disks, he’s losing everything like that again and presumably the loop Begins again. And when he decides it’s too much, then he’s going to be dead. Why will he defiantly die? Well first of, Dream said it, a clear plot point and it’s his arc to finally free himself on the build up trauma. But when you know it, the suicide comes through the most negative emotions, thoughts and worst memories. Let’s see on Tommy’s checklist:

His fears of being alone, not trusting people, his repressed sadness, blaming everyhting on somebody else

Thinking he is a waste of time (the stream where he, fundy and ranboo went into the nether together), constantly trying to be in the right, scared of losing everything else he has left

Wilbur going into insanity, his canon father Philza killing his brother, his older brother technoblade betraying him, Wilbur whispering in his dreams: Tommy, let’s be the bad guys, being exiled, being exiled again it this time alone, Dream killing him, People betraying him, Dream manipulating him, being assumed to be the loud annoying child of by most, Philza picking techno over him (after being threatened to be thrown out and dealing with his trauma alone), his best friend having now a nation to lead, being alone in a ravine with a insane brother

You see my trying points here? He is now so infected with those negative feelings that if he dies in a kind of a dark situation, he will die forever.

What if:

What if there’s a way of giving people another life? From one person to another. That’s just a question I’m asking. Since we know Philza has only one life, there’s going major happening to him. If it’s him getting killed. He either way trigger another way of big negative emotions and Technoblafe gives one of his lives to Philza. Or Philza gives up his only life to save one of his sons. The way of giving someone’s life is that you have to greatly appreciate him. No matter what happens, you have to need a deep emotional situation between them.

So for saying:

Tommy and tubbo could each give their life’s to each other.

Technoblade and Philza.

Philza with one of his sons (maybe).

Sapnap to one of his friends

Eret for someone he cares greatly for like niki since she’s like their sister

But why wouldn’t someone with three lives like technoblade give wilbur one of his lives, you may ask (if you’re still even reading). He has a good relationship, and good moments together. Theyre Brothers! Well there might be two reasons...

1. Well, maybe it comes on how long you have to wait. Like if for a long time you need more than one life

2. The ghost needs to accepts ones life

And Wilbur for one? Why do they want to die? Wilbur is happy and don’t want someone close to him sad. Simple. He refuses to have someone’s life. And with the time, he probably needs someone’s rp three lives or like Philzas one powerful life.

Cant understand physics for life but writes too much about smp’s

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ly-canthropewrites · 5 years ago

Text

Love or War

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 2998

Rating/Warnings: SFW. Brief mentions of previous season drama.

Summary: “I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage”

You can feel the heavy gaze from across the field. Intense eyes fixated on your figure as you rattle the chain-wire fence that surrounds the newest section of Alexandria. The post-apocalyptic town has been thriving since the end of Negan’s reign and with the undead being the town’s only consistent antagonist, it has given the community an opportunity to expand their borders. The chain-mesh fence was scavenged from the Sanctuary before the community fell off the map and serves as a strong protector as the new plot of land gets tilled. But it remains fragile when leant against and it has become a daily task during guard duty to rid the walkers that stumble near the temporary fence, a job you jump at to vent your frustrations.

The deliberate noise draws the attention of the few walkers close by and they turn, growling as they catch your scent in the wind and they shuffle your way. It’s second nature now, muscle memory, to shift your grip on the knife handle and strike at their heads, using the fence for leverage and stability. The motions do nothing to quench the frustration and fire that rages inside you and you growl, yanking your knife from the last walker’s head with more force than necessary. The bloodied blade gets cleaned on the rag that is tied to your belt loops and then you are left with nothing to do, no more walkers to distract you from the boredom or the swirl of emotions that fester inside.

You find yourself glancing over in his direction, succumbing to the gravitational pull of the universe and you don’t find yourself surprised at all to find him still staring at you, a dark scowl painted across his face. You sneer back at him, standing strong with your own gaze.

“Stupid, fucking redneck,” you mutter under your breath and the fire that burns in your chest grows hotter, feeding off of your anger.

The swishing of grass on your left distracts you and you are met with Carol only a few feet from you. You nod at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile as well before turning to look at the perimeter, finding nothing in the wilderness has changed and you sigh.

“I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage,” Carol says lightly, walking to your side and mirrors your stance; arms crossed and back straight.

You scoff, openly showing that you aren’t in the mood for her banter today but it doesn’t deter the older woman.

“Most definitely murderous rage” you grit.

“See, I don’t know about that - I see a lot of passion,” She teases.

You throw her a withering look, disdain heavy in your eyes and if Carol isn’t careful; some of that murderous rage will be pointed at her soon.

“So if it is murderous rage, how long are you going to remain angry at him?” Carol tries a gentler approach, obviously getting the message and you wince, guilt beginning to set in as you mentally chastise yourself about your unrestrained attitude.

Shrugging, you refuse to make eye contact with your old friend. “I don’t know Carol, he humiliated me,” you breathe.

“He didn’t mean too, he was worried,” Carol begins to defend him but when she sees you shaking your head and the flash of hurt across your face, she stops herself.

“But he did it anyway. He humiliated me, he berated me in front of everyone, undermined me, treating me as if I am some soft fucker who hasn’t been beyond the walls” you spit and you render the woman silent, unsure about what to say next.

When the silence between the pair of you becomes stagnant, Carol realises it’s time for her to leave and she steps back a few feet, mulling over her next words.

“Talk to him,” she pleads and you snort, “Fuck no,”.

Carol says your name in warning, making you roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking submitting. If he wants to talk, then he can man up and come to me with a goddamn apology,”.

You hear her heavy sigh behind you before her retreating footsteps, leaving you to stew in your malcontent alone. It is your stubborn pride and bruised feelings that prevent you from talking with your old companion, from making amends and burying the hatchet, an ideal that is important in this world because life is too short and unpredictable to be so petty. And yet, you cannot help yourself this time. He hurt you, deeply, a stinging wound that will take time to heal.

It’s not like you have done anything wrong in the first place. With the apocalypse a decade old, resources are unimaginably scarce, leaving only items that are grown, hunted or handmade to be used. It was commonplace for you to be the first person out of the gates in the morning and the last to return in the evening, spending hours and even days hunting, refusing to go back to Alexandria empty-handed. You are too stubborn for your own good, too arrogant in your capabilities to survive and adapt to the dangerous world. As a repercussion, your last run was almost the death of you.

Enemies are like hydras; one falls and another takes its place. Negan was once considered Alexandria’s greatest threat, but that fear was usurped by the latest peril; the Whisperers. Negan ruled with fear and violence. The Whisperers rule with death. Their ability to influence herds is an obstacle that the community does not know how to overcome. The capricious nature makes every run, every scouting mission, every patrol dangerous and life-threatening. Therefore, it became law that no-one is to go outside the metal walls without a group and without informing the council. It should have been expected that you would struggle with this rule, never been one to abide by strict regulations, but the thought slipped the minds of the council and you kept slipping outside the gates.

Your last run is a perfect example of why the rule is in place; you got caught by the herd with Whisperers dotted within. Perhaps they tracked you down or perhaps it was just shit luck that you ran into them, but it resulted in a fight for your life and an injury that planted fear on sight. It was sheer, dumb luck that allowed you to escape with your life; an old tree fell whilst you were in the midst of swiping at walkers and humans alike, and caused a great enough distraction that gave you the opportunity to bolt. You damn well shocked Rosita who stood on guard duty that evening as you came sprinting towards the main gates, coated in two types of blood and clutching at your side, out of breath with wild eyes.

That night you had Siddiq inform you that you got lucky the knife wound at your abdomen was free of infection but he was stern to chastise that only one hour more and you wouldn’t have made it, wound too deep to be stemmed by only pressure and the combination of exhaustion and blood loss would have defeated you. His words didn’t shake you that night, instead, you shrug nonchalantly and smirked, telling him that death in this world is inevitable and you would greet it like an old friend.

You refused to stay in the infirmary that night, scrunching your nose at the thought of being surrounded by sick people in a sterile environment, rather opting for the privacy of your own place. He was unable to stop you, letting you go with an armful of supplies and a sigh, watching you stagger down the pathway. You made it only halfway home before you were halted by a loud yell, the noise capturing the attention of not just you but the other residents that were milling in the nearby courtyard.

“What the fuck wer’ ya thinkin’?” Daryl yelled, storming towards you with a glare that would frighten Hades. “How fuckin’ stupid are ya?” he adds.

He berated you in public that night, practically screaming in your face about your stupidity, your lack of respect to the council and their rules, your selfishness and conceited attitude. He didn’t let you get a word in to defend yourself as he raged, words becoming harsher by the second. You could handle the words but it was the venom in his voice that surprised you. It was filled with so much anger, so much hatred and spite that you lost the words that you wanted to scream back at him. Instead, when he took a moment to catch his breath, you just walked away, your eyes on the ground as you stifled the bewildered cry that ached in your chest.

The incident happened two weeks ago and you haven’t spoken since, avoiding each other like the plague but the distance hasn’t stopped either of your from directing heated glares at each other, consequently deepening the rift in your friendship.

----

The guard changeover occurs on dusk and when your replacement comes, you greet them with a tight smile as you pass over the unused rifle before quickly leaving the post. You don’t head home after the shift and instead, you go down to the armoury with hopes that working maintenance on the weapons will distract you from the words Carol has lodged in your mind. Daryl worried? You scoff at the thought. In a previous time, those words would have made sense - you and Daryl have been partners in crime since the fall of the world, similar in too many ways and it made sense that you were friends. But after seeing the pure acrimony he directed at you, you fail to believe it stemmed from a place of compassion.

It was well past midnight when the doors to the armoury creaked open. It was probably someone on shift wanting to pick up more ammo or something alike. What you didn’t expect was to see the rugged hunter ease into the room. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a twist in your lips, hands paused on the shotgun you were working on.

“You weren’t home when I knocked,” Daryl states simply, gruff voice a melody to your ears after the long radio silence.

“You know I don’t sleep when I’m alone,”

It’s true; you struggle to rest when there is no-one watching over you, a position that is usually filled by the man in front of you.

Daryl nods, biting down on the inner side of his cheek as he reflects. Of course you don’t, you never have and he knew that. The poignant silence weighs heavily between you and Daryl shifts uncomfortably, moving further into the room to take a seat on the chair that sits in front of the sole workstation. You never sat at the workstation, preferring to sit on the floor so you had more space to work with but at this moment, you hated how you were positioned lower than the man.

“Yer gonna use that thing on’ me?” There is a ghost of a sly smirk upon his lips, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes but you aren’t having it, you won’t befall to his sparse charm.

“Don’t tempt me, Daryl Dixon,’’

The full use of his name and the stern attitude makes Daryl wince, the severity of damage he inflicted to you now evident before him. He nods silently, gnawing anxiously at his lip as you both fall back and stew in silence. You resume cleaning the weapon in your hands, needing to keep busy in an attempt to distract your mind from the chaos that sits in front of you. Daryl watches you, this time without the hatred and disdain, but his gaze is just as heavy as before.

“Why are you here, Daryl?”

He notes the tiredness in your voice, not the physical exhaustion that is a permanent state in this new world, but the emotional weariness that burdens you.

“‘M here to apologise,”

“Are you here because Carol told you to or because you actually want to?”

His hesitation is a loud answer and you scoff, glaring up at him with your teeth bared.

“Of course not. Daryl Dixon never apologises because he actually wants to, no, someone else has to puppet him. You are so fucking incompetent,” you growl, “You can’t even do the right fucking thing. Whatever ‘apology’ you have concocted to make this all better; forget it, Daryl. I don’t fucking accept it!”.

You take a predatory satisfaction in seeing the raw hurt flash across his face at your words. Your words are harsh, digging at old wounds that the man harbours but you can’t even conjure up the guilt or regret; hungry to dish out the same pain that you have received. Vexation and wrath raise its ugly head and you furiously rub at the long barrel of the shotgun, as if you would be able to transfer your rage through kinetic energy.

“Yer keep sacrificing yerself for the group ‘n’ and I fuckin’ hate it,” He breaks the icy air. His voice cracks despite his whispered tone but you catch it the little hitch.

Your cautious gaze meeting his is the signal he needed because he keeps going, as if the dam inside breaks and the words come spilling out; unrestrained, pure and honest.

“You’v’ done it since the beginnin’. Take the burden of the group on yerself ‘n’ takin’ all the risks. We’v only survived this long b‘cause of ya. You’v always kept us goin’. When the prison fell, you wanted ter round everyone up ‘n’ then Terminus happened and..” he breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as he recalls the horrible and degrading things the savages there threatened you with; how they held the machete to your neck and how powerless he was to stop everything. You were so close to death that afternoon as well, mere seconds away from being just an empty vessel.

“Then all the shit that's happened since. You’ve never stopped, never broke down. Just kept trudgin’ on. But it all caught up and you could’ve died out there… without me. ‘N I wouldn’t have known until it was ter late”.

“But I could have died in here and you still wouldn’t have been able to do anything, Daryl - that’s life,” you argue.

Daryl’s head whips up so fast, you are sure he could have suffered whiplash, but you get distracted by the flames in his eyes.

“It’s not life. You ‘ave no fuckin’ idea what yer do to me, woman,” Daryl groans, looking at you so helplessly, almost insulted at how you don’t get it.

“Apparently I piss you off!” you retort, “Ya know, with my selfish attitude and lack of respect” you parrot his own words back to him, a glare resituating across your face. “You yelled at me, Daryl. You screamed in my face, in front of everyone, and then gave me the cold shoulder. Me, out of all people, your fucking friend”.

He shakes his head while you speak, an action that only infuriates you more. You are ready to attack him about that, mouth already open as you reveal your disgust, “Stop fucking shaking your head as if I’m playing the vic-”.

In your rant, you don’t acknowledge the scrape of the metal stool along the concrete, given barely enough time to react to the new stimulus of rough lips upon yours and a hand that grips your chin. Daryl swallows your surprise, mouth unyielding as he crowds into you, pushing you back against the back leaving you no room to run. He kisses you desperately. Frantically. It is messy and unruly, a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head spin. You can taste every single secret that has ever danced across his lips, taste the fear that dwells within him but has never been uttered to another soul. You learn more about Daryl in this instance than you ever will in a lifetime.

You both are slow to break apart; lips barely separating as you catch your breath, greedily sucking in as much oxygen as you can to sate the burning of your lungs.

“‘M so fuckin’ sorry,” he cries against your lips.

His hand still has a firm grip on your jaw, which is sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in its wake, but like his kiss - his touch is desperate as well.

“You’v neva been a victim. I was just so fuckin’ scared that I would lose ya. I can’t lose ya,” he stresses, a voice that sounds so pained and winced; it sounds as if the wounds were personally inflicted upon him.

He drops his death-like grip on your chin, bowing forward to rest his head against yours, never straying too far from your space. Your arms wind around his hulking form; bringing him closer and Daryl lets himself slump against you, his head slipping to rest on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck and his body, although heavy, feels like comfort from a warm blanket. You can feel him utter endless apologises into the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your skin and you memorise the soft tone of his voice as he echoes “‘M sorry,”.

You hush him, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the dark tresses, whispering “I know,” to every apology he mutters. Eventually, the apologises fade and you are submerged in peaceful silence, curled into each other. You don’t need to ask why he couldn’t have just told you all those words at the beginning, to save you both the agony and trauma of the last few weeks. But your Daryl is complex, a stunning mosaic of intricate emotions that aren’t easily given and you accept that this is who he is. The man would go to war for love; for you.

Tags:

@guywithacrossbow

@oncemorewithfeelingg

@rachelxxraucous

@gaenahelleborus

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star-trekkin-across-theuniverse · 4 years ago

Text

More than 5 minutes with Thor

note from Jo: It’s been a long time since a plot bunny took me for a run. I’m not sure this worked out the way I wanted it to, but it’s a step in the writing direction again.

XXX “You green-eyed she-devil,” Thor spat, cursing me with his words. “This is all your fault!”

“How is is my fault?” I snarled back, trying to loosen the rope binding us together, back to back. “Can’t you just call your stupid hammer to come and save us?”

I felt his snort of disgust more than heard it. “You somehow think Mjolnir can just, what, exactly? Grow thumbs and untie these knots?”

“Listen thunderboy, if you don’t get us free, I will fucking kill you myself,” I snapped. I hated being sent on missions with Thor. He was certainly much humbler than he had been when he first came to Earth, but there was a natural arrogance carried by royalty that he could never completely shake. And suspicion about those of us with powers.

“Your jedi mind tricks won’t work on me,” he snapped. Right, and Tony had started introducing him to pop culture, which made him even more annoying.

“This is going to be so enjoyable,” a voice echoed through the room, obviously through some kind of speaker. “You idiots played right into my trap.”

“You dare entrap the son of Odin?” Thor roared, lightning sparking around the room ineffectively. A stray spark hit my wrist and somehow loosened the bonds there enough that I could begin to work the knot holding me.

“And the daughter of a man,” the voice laughed. “The great Thor brought low as a mortal by trying to save his powerless team member. If you wish to leave alive, you will do exactly as I say.”

Thor drew in his breath as though he was going to start yelling again, and I had just enough play in the ropes to elbow him in the ribs to shut him up. I was hoping he wasn’t so angry he didn’t notice that our captor thought I was powerless. I absolutely wasn’t.

“What is it you want from us?” I asked.

“Your love,” the voice responded. I choked on a laugh.

“We do not love each other,” I retorted. “We can barely stand one another. He’s an arrogant -”

“Stupid human, you couldn’t possibly understand,” the voice interrupted. “My plan is to pull all of the emotions from this world, starting with you. Without love, or hate, or empathy, or disdain, this entire planet will atrophy. There will be no drive, no motivation. Humanity will simply die off. And then my people can move in, extract the resources we need, and carry on, as we always have.”

“And why us first?” Thor demanded.

“The power of a god? Much like jumpstarting a vehicle, the strength of the first emotions gathered will make the power of my engine stronger,” the voice explained. I finally managed to push the end of the rope though the loop, freeing one of my wrists. Keeping my hands in place, I started working on the other knot.

“If you just want to deplete our emotions, why start with love? Isn’t hatred that much stronger?” I asked.

“Certainly, but making you fight might cause your death, and I need you to go out and spread the contagion that will leech your humanity away.”

“So you’re somehow going to make us fall in love?” I snorted. “Not likely, as I said -”

“No, you’re going to make love. At climax, this chamber will steal your passion, and -”

I started laughing, hysterically. “What the fuck?” I couldn’t help but cackle exactly like the witch Thor accused me of being. “This is the stupidest trope in the universe. Fuck or die? Seriously?”

I felt the ropes fall from both my wrists and turned to unbind Thor, still laughing. My laughter was both terrified and amused. Whoever had us captive honestly thought Thor and I would have sex in order to get free.

“Free! I could kiss you,” Thor teased as he held out his hand to call Mjolnir.

“Well, don’t. We don’t want this creep being successful.” Mjolnir broke through the wall of the room, and snapped into Thor’s hand. Through the hole in the wall, we could see a bank of computers, but no person or creature who could be responsible. We stepped through the hole in the wall, careful to be quiet, and followed the hallway to what appeared to be an exit, encountering no one. I tugged on Thor’s arm before he pushed the door open.

“Shouldn’t we be finding this asshole and stopping him?” I asked. Thor met your gaze and thought before speaking.

“No, I think we should return to the compound, and have Stark look into this,” he replied after a moment. “There’s more here than meets the eye.”

XXX

“You escaped before you had to do the do, right?” Tony asked. I sighed and rolled my eyes and Thor glared.

“I need not lay with a woman who hates me,” Thor replied and turned to me. “I am grateful for your skill at freeing us.”

“Your lightning trick in there zapped me, and loosened the ropes. It was a team effort,” I shrugged.

“I called you a she-devil. You have apologies,” he offered. I smirked.

“A green-eyed one, even. You’ve looked long enough to know my eye colour,” I winked. He grit his teeth and you noticed a light flush on his cheeks.

“He can describe the exact colour of your hair too,” Tony pointed out. “Something about the ruddy gold of Idunn’s apples right before the harvest.” Thor turned pinker.

“That’s downright romantic,” I commented, “particularly considering you hate me.”

Thor shook his head. “You are maddening. You try my every nerve. But I have never hated you. I only guard my feelings because of the disregard you hold me in. You’ve a viper’s tongue when you are angered.”

“And when I’m not?” I asked, curious. Thor met your eyes and looked away. He took a deep breath and looked back at you before looking down at his feet. He stared meaningfully at Tony until the latter cleared his throat and pointed at the door, excusing himself. Finally, his shoulders squared up and his eyes met yours.

“You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met. You beguile me enough that I asked Loki if you’d ensorcelled me with your magic,” he admitted.

“And what did Loki say?” I breathed.

“That there was no reek of Midgardian spellwork to me. That I am merely smitten with a woman who notices not my own charms,” he admitted, looking away. There was hurt and humiliation written on his face

“Oh, I’ve noticed your charms,” I admitted with a self-deprecating laugh. His head snapped back to look at me. “You’re infuriating, but you’re also really goddamn pretty.”

“It would have been no hardship to make love to you,” he admitted.

“Maybe under different circumstances,” I nodded.

“Yes, I believe after what you would call a date,” he smiled. “Perhaps we could watch a movie tonight.”

“We still have a bad guy to catch,” I protested. He stepped closer and pressed his forehead to mine.

“Tomorrow.”

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honeypwark · 4 years ago

Text

[ Riverside ]

↳ Gone Days era

↳ Xiang interrupts Chan and Jisung. She and Chan take a walk. She finally tells someone.

Note: Maybe reread Quitter and Turbulence before reading?

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter contains a detailed explanation of how Xiang developed and lived with her eating disorder. Please do not read if this is triggering for you.

m.list

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Chan sits at his desk with Jisung beside him, explaining how different chords in the same spot will change the feel of the song and he should choose based on what vibe he wants the song to have.

“I kind of want it to not just cut off. Like it’s leading to more even after the song’s ended.”

“G7 might work better then.”

“G7...?”

Chan plays the chord on the keyboard to his left.

“Oh, got it.”

“As opposed to G.” He plays said chord.

“Alright. And for the second verse I wanted to-“

There’s a soft knock on the door, “Chris?”

Chan turns in his desk chair, his attention immediately going to the girl that walks into the room.

“Hey, Sophie.”

It’s been three days since Xiang’s breakdown in the bathroom at four in the morning. The next morning, Xiang had promised she’d talk to Chan about what caused it but she’d need time. He gave her time, not even mentioning what had happened. Of course, without any kind of explanation, Chan has been left to worry about every little thing and see all the worst case scenarios for the last few days.

“Do you wanna go for a walk?”

“What? Is he your dog or something?”

Xiang’s eyes land on Jisung, who she hadn’t noticed when she’d entered, too tunnel visioned on finally growing a pair and talking about her issues. It took her nearly an hour to knock on Chan’s door and ask to go somewhere to talk privately. Her momentary false bravery crumbles visibly on her face as she realizes Chan is busy.

“Oh, sorry. You’re busy.”

“No, it’s fine,” Chan says quickly, stopping her from leaving. He turns to Jisung, “We’ll finish later, alright?”

Jisung is confused but nods slowly, “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Jisung watches as his leader saves everything on his computer without his usual attention to detail, scrambling out of his chair after Xiang as she walks back out of the room. He blinks after him confusedly, rolling his eyes before packing up his laptop to return to his own bedroom.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After taking a bus to Han River and walking along the riverside for about five minutes in silence, Xiang is still struggling with beginning to lay it all out for Chan. She squeezes the linings of her jacket pockets, the joints of her fingers aching from the strength behind it.

“Do you want to sit?” Chan asks, pointing toward a bench they’re approaching.

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

Xiang takes a deep breath in. She breathes it out slowly. She relaxes her hands in her pockets.

“I have an eating disorder.”

Chan wishes he could say that her admitting that makes everything fall into place. That he can say he’s noticed her acting strange. That he can admit he’s been worried about her weight loss. But he can’t. Because he didn’t notice those things. He’s aware of her weight loss (she‘s trended on Naver a few times because of her light weight) but he never thought of it as the outcome of something terrible. Dammit, he should have.

“Y-You do?” he stammers.

“Yeah. It probably started when our manager told me the company wanted me to lose weight. I don’t blame him, I really don’t. He was just doing his job. But... it got me thinking and I decided to eat less and work out more and that’s where it all started. It wasn’t that bad to begin with. I had control of what I was doing and it was like being in a diet. I’ve never been the most mentally sound person; I have clinically diagnosed anxiety, depression, and depersonalization but that’s a whole other can of worms.”

Now that she’s started, it’s easier to lay it all out.

“After I decided to eat less, I started skipping meals. In my mind it made sense. To lose weight, eat less. So I did. I started lying to you and the others about eating, saying I had when I hadn’t or that I wasn’t hungry when I was. It went on like that for a while, just not eating and working out a lot more. But I felt so guilty when I did eat. When I couldn’t avoid it.

“So I started making myself throw up. It all piled on top of each other and I barely ever ate and kept it down. I probably started eating a meal or two every three or four days. For a while that’s what I did. I lost so much weight. It was so unhealthy. I weighed myself before we left for tour in America and I was 37.6 kilograms.

“I felt like I was going to pass out during the entire performance in New York. I only woke up at six in the evening the next day. I was scared that the next time I went to sleep, I wouldn’t wake up. That my body would just give out on me. So I went and ate pizza with the younger boys. I started eating at least once a day because I had to do my job. I still didn’t eat enough but... it was something.

“And that should have been good. I should have been proud of myself for starting to take care of myself but I wasn’t. I hated myself for eating. I started gaining weight. I realized one night that what I thought I had control of I didn’t because I can’t control how much I hate myself.

“I went out with Yeosu one night and I ate more than I had in such a long time. I felt so guilty and I started rambling to her about my problems. But I ran away before she could even respond. I tried to stop on my own because Yeosu is so amazing and so famous and she’s mentally fine. And I got a little better. But then the company asked for an update on our weights and they told me not to get heavy again.

“It felt like doing what was best for me wasn’t what I needed to do. Like maybe this is the cost of being who I am and doing what we do. I just spiraled and I got worse than I’d ever been. That’s when you found me. I hadn’t eaten in two days and I was so hungry but I couldn’t make myself keep what I’d eaten down. I don't know how to stop doing this to myself and I want to stop but I just can't.”

Xiang takes a breath, closing her eyes for a moment.

Chan is impressed with how well Xiang has handled her emotions while explaining everything to him. Simultaneously, his heart is aching from the story she has told him and how well she’s handled her emotions. Chan can’t help but wonder how many times she has felt like the world is crashing down around her and he was none the wiser.

“When did this start? When did our manager- When did the company say you should lose weight?”

“... Late June?”

Nine months. Nine months Xiang has been dealing with her eating disorder. And before that, anxiety, depression, and personalization. Chan has his own qualms with anxiety and depression occasionally but he’s not even sure what depersonalization is. But as Xiang said, that’s a whole other can of worms.

“It’s just-,” Xiang looks for the right words to continue. “I’ve developed so much self-hatred. I never feel good enough. I never feel pretty or talented. Even with the mess my mentality has always been, I used to be able to be content with the music I make or the performances I give. Now, I just hate everything about myself. I wish I could just deal with this on my own and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this mess. But believe me I won't hold it against you if you want to back out now-"

"Sophie.”

Chan steps in front of Xiang to face her.

“I don't know how to prove to you that I will always be here for you.”

It hurts more than he would have thought when she lets out a tiny, humorless breath of a laugh, disbelieving. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the overcast sky.

“I‘m so tired of everything.”

She closes her eyes.

“I just want it to stop.”

“It will,” Chan says. “And you’re not going to deal with this alone anymore. Know why?"

When Xiang lowers her head, Chan can see she’s barely holding back tears. She gives a minuscule shake of her head.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Nearly two and a half years ago, Xiang stood in front of Chan in a recording studio. She’d come to tell Chan she should leave the group. He’d called her a quitter and wouldn’t let her walk out on the group.

“Why can’t you just let me do this?” she asked, not understanding how Chan can’t see the problems she’s causing.

“Because I’m not giving up on you,” he responded.

Xiang swallowed, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. Chan stood and wrapped her in a hug.

“And I’m not gonna let you give up on me.”

Xiang hesitated but looped her arms around Chan.

“We’re in this together, understand?”

Xiang smiled and let her head rest on his shoulder.

“I understand.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Because I'm not giving up on you."

At the riverside, Chan pulls Xiang into a hug, wrapping his arms securely around her shoulders.

“And I’m not letting you give up on me. We’re in this together, understand?”

Over two years later, Chan has kept his word. Before she’d started starving herself, before her mental state depleted further than it had ever been, he’d told her that they are a team and he won’t let her quit on him. And he’s kept to that.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On the plane ride home to South Korea from America, Chan had comforted Xiang when she’d been anxious and fearful during turbulence. She’d thought about Chan. What he’d done for her and how he’d treated her.

Despite her self-loathing and her anxiety. And the way she’s convinced herself she’ll never be good enough. Or how she can only ever feel pretty on an empty stomach, hunger clawing at her insides in a painful way she’s grown fond of. Amidst it all, being next to Chan makes her feel safe. Chan makes her feel safe. Safety is something Xiang has been having a hard time finding for months now.

She realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Here, beside Han River in Chan’s arms, she feels safe. She feels... loved. And the idea- the fact that Chan cares for her and has been by her side, even unknowingly, through all of this brings her to tears.

Xiang buries her face in Chan’s shoulder and wraps her arms tightly around him, crying hard into the material of his jacket. And Chan lets her. He holds her tighter against him and lets her cry, a hand coming to cradle the back of her head comfortingly. She’s safe here. She’s safe with Chan.

And she realizes that if she could, she would never leave his side.

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