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parkerslatte · 3 years

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Fun & Games [Chapter Two]

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After getting up close and personal on a case, neither Y/N nor Spencer can get enough of one another.

Part Summary: It's a paperwork day and Y/N and Spencer can't help but let their longing gazes continue throughout the day.

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: light smut. This series and 18+ series MINORS DNI

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***

CHAPTER TWO: JUST FRIENDS

The very next day at work, Y/N was surprised to find herself there before the majority of people. The only ones in work were Hotch and Rossi and both were already in their respective offices already tackling their paperwork for the day. Looking at the stack of work on her desk, Y/N sighed and headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. As she stood there in silence, she suddenly regretted not getting one before work started. However, in her defence, she was distracted.

Ever since the incident between her and Spencer happened while they were undercover at the restaurant the day previous, Y/N hadn’t been able to get her mind off it. The feeling of his body pressed tightly against hers and his hands roaming her body. When their lips connected for the first time and Spencer flipped their positions so her back was against the wall. All of these thoughts gave her butterflies in her stomach. Butterflies that Y/N didn’t want.

It was one way to think of a co-worker in a romantic setting but a friend - let alone a best friend. Y/N didn’t want to be having these thoughts, especially not when her desk was located diagonally across from hers. Their kiss was nothing but professional in a professional setting.

As soon as Y/N finished making her coffee and headed back to her desk, the bullpen had already begun to fill up. Derek was sitting at his desk as was Emily and JJ. Y/N gave them all a smile as a greeting before sitting down at her own desk. Without meaning to, Y/N’s gaze shifted over to Spencer’s desk and found it vacant; there was no sign of the resident genius. With a small shrug of her shoulders, Y/N got to the pile of work she had to get through that day.

Not even five minutes into her work, Y/N was already interrupted by Spencer tumbling into the bullpen. Of course, there was a small look of shock on everyone’s faces at Spencer’s late arrival as he is mostly always early to work but that wasn’t all they were shocked at. His hair was a mess and stuck up in several different places. The first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned and his tie was undone - not a typical Spencer Reid look.

“Sorry I was late, my alarm didn’t go off.” Spencer mumbled as he tried his best to flatten his hair and sort out his appearance as he made his way to his desk.

Y/N couldn’t help but let her eyes wander over him. As soon as she realised what she was doing, she gently shook her head of any thoughts before returning to the pile of work on her desk. Despite her only thinking about Spencer moments ago, Y/N easily slipped back into the routine of her work without much hassle. All she wanted to do was get through her work as quickly as possible and head home to yet again her empty apartment and watch television all night.

For at least forty minutes, Y/N had been in a perfect routine and nothing had distracted her. If she were lucky she would be able to go home early. It wasn’t until she reached to the side to take a sip of her coffee that her routine had been interrupted. Her mug was empty, disrupting the flow of her work. Sighing, Y/N leaned back in her chair, she wanted to get a new cup of coffee but she didn’t want to stand up and walk over to the kitchen area to make one. It wasn’t lazy, it just wasn’t efficient.

As her eyes scanned around the bullpen, everyone was engrossed in their work - just like Y/N has been until she was interrupted by her empty mug. Her eyes scanned over Derek’s desk, then Emily’s, then JJ’s and then finally Spencer’s. However Spencer wasn’t hunched over doing his work like everyone else, he was staring directly at her. Their eyes made contact and Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything else melt away.

Ever since Y/N had known Spencer, she always knew that he had nice eyes but it wasn’t until the previous night that she realised how beautiful they really were. There was a warmth to his eyes that just drew you in. Now whenever Y/N looks into Spencer’s eyes, she can just think of the desperation within them after their kiss and that image was seared into Y/N’s brain.

The two only broke eye contact once someone walked past Y/N’s desk, breaking their eye line. As the person passed Spencer was staging down at his desk again. Letting out a small sigh, Y/N went back to her work abandoning her mug of nothingness.

The flow of Y/N’s work was ruined completely. She couldn’t get back into the routine she was originally in before. Mainly because she was getting thirsty but was too stubborn to go and get herself a drink and secondly because of the fact that she and Spencer would occasionally make eye contact from across the bullpen. Whenever they turned away the corners of their lips turned up in a slight smile. They thought no one noticed these small barely noticeable interactions but someone did.

The next time Y/N was interrupted from her work it was Penelope marching over to her desk. She had this look on her face that Y/N had never seen before. It sort of looked like...betrayal?

“Hey Penny,” Y/N greeted her blonde friend, “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I’ll tell you what’s up!” Penelope said, before leaning down to Y/N to whisper harshly in her ear, “You and boy genius kissed!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, even though Penelope had the decency to whisper it into her ear, the whisper was still pretty loud to hear. She was lucky that Spencer was still engrossed in his work.

“Okay, Penelope, let’s just keep our voices down-” Y/N said.

“So it is true?” Penelope said, “I should’ve been the first to know. That’s what I’m here for, to help you and Reid finally figure out your feelings toward one another.”

“That’s technically not what you’re here for, you’re the technical analyst,” Y/N states, “And yes we did kiss but it meant nothing, we had to do it to lure the unsub closer, he was losing interest.”

“And you didn’t feel anything after?” Penelope questioned, “Like nothing?”

“I didn’t feel anything at all.” Y/N lied. Of course she felt something after kissing Spencer, she was thinking about it all night and whenever she made eye contact she was brought back to that moment.

“If you didn’t feel anything why did Derek say that the two of you have been eye-fucking all afternoon?” Penelope questioned.

Y/N raised an eyebrow before looking over Penelope’s shoulder to look directly at Derek Morgan who was just looking back at Y/N with a small smirk on his face. Y/N turned back to face Penelope.

“We were not eye-fucking, it just so happend that he looked up whenever I did and vice versa. It was all coincidence.” Y/N said.

Penelope sighed, not satisfied with her answer, “Y/N, you know I love you but you seriously need to figure out whatever is going on with you and Reid. Ever since you started working here he’s come out of his shell more, he even flirts with you while working.”

“It’s exactly what you and Derek do!” Y/N defend.

“Yes but both Derek and I know that we don’t mean anything by it, with you and Reid, there is always this sexual tension whenever the two of you flirt. It’s so thick you can cut it with a knife.”

“No there isn’t.” Y/N denies.

“You might not be able to see it but everyone else does, even Hotch and Rossi, and it’s driving us all crazy.” Penelope says.

“I highly doubt that this so-called sexual tension between Spence and I is driving everyone crazy, I don’t think Hotch and Rossi even care,” Y/N says, “And it doesn’t exist. Sure we flirt occasionally but that’s all it is. Flirting. And that kiss we had yesterday that’s all it was a kiss, it’s not like it’s ever going to happen again.”

Penelope let out a quiet huff, “Fine, but the longer you keep denying it, the more you’ll begin to realise your feelings.”

“Bye Penelope.” Y/N says, as the blonde begins walking away.

The moment Y/N turns back to her desk, she sighs. Y/N was extremely glad that Penelope wasn’t a profiler otherwise she would be able to see through all of the lies she just told. Just as she was about to get back to her work, Y/N felt a presence behind her. Thinking it would be Penelope again, she swivelled her chair around and came face to face with the person she had been thinking about all day.

“Spencer!” Y/N exclaimed, “I thought you would be Penelope.”

“It just looked like you needed this.” Spencer says, offering her one of the mugs he was holding in his hands.

Y/N let a small gasp past her lips, “Where would I be without you?”

“Probably dead in a ditch.” Spencer says, leaning past her to place the mug on the desk.

“I could’ve gotten out of that ditch myself,” Y/N defended, “You’re help wasn’t needed.” Spencer raised one of his eyebrows, “But it was greatly appreciated.” Y/N added before realising how close their faces were.

Silently she cursed Spencer for placing the mug down on the desk himself instead of just giving it to her. If this were any other day, Y/N would easily just give a small flirtatious comet before the two of them went along with the rest of their day. But it was today, and both of them knew that a comment like that wasn’t going to cut it.

“There was something I wanted to talk about with you.” Spencer said quietly as he remained in his position with what looked like no desire to move.

“Oh yeah? What do you want to talk to me about Dr. Reid?” Y/N muttered under her breath.

There was a small pause before Spencer answered and in that small pause, his gaze trailed down from Y/N’s eyes to her lips and back up again. Once Y/N realised what he did, she didn’t stop herself from doing the same thing before making eye contact with Spencer again.

“I wanted to talk to you about what happened between us yesterday.” Spencer stated and Y/N felt her heart drop though she didn’t let it show.

“Okay, well we can talk after work if you want, I just want to quickly get through these files first.” Y/N offered. In reality she only wanted more time to figure out what she was going to say.

“That’s fine,” Spencer said, giving her a smile, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Y/N gave him a smile before going back to her work, quickly getting back into her routine but now that routine had something new added - worrying about what she was going to say to Spencer.

As Spencer sat back down at his desk, he couldn’t hemp but let out a sigh of relief. Even though he seemed calm and collected asking Y/N to talk about their kiss, he was freaking out internally. Giving her one final glance, Spencer began to work through the stack of files on his desk, him too worrying about what he would say to Y/N.

***

Nearly everyone in the bullpen had gone home. They had either finished all of their work for the day or they had taken the remainder of the files to finish at home. The only two that remained in the bullpen were Y/N and Spencer - even Hotch left ages before them.

Of course Spencer had finished his work a while ago, he had only been fiddling with things on his desk or reading a few books to pass the time it took until Y/N finished her work. Spencer had even tried to steal a couple of files but Y/N made him put them back deeming that it was her work to do not his.

It was nearly ten at night and Y/N was finishing off her final bit of work for the day. She knew that Spencer had been done for a while. There were multiple times where she told him that he could go home but he waited there regardless. The closer she got to finishing her file the more nervous she got knowing that her conversation with Spencer would be happening within the next few minutes and she had no idea how to approach the topic.

Before she could finish the last file she noticed that Spencer lent against her desk with his arms folded.

“I can tell you’re procrastinating.” He stated.

Y/N sighed and closed the file, “That’s because I am.”

She stood up to match Spencer’s height better and so she could talk to him face to face.

“I’ve been thinking about what I was going to say all day about what happened yesterday. I guess you want to talk about this kiss, correct?” Y/N asked and Spencer nodded.

“That kiss,” Y/N begins, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. When I went home last night, all I could think about was how good I felt when your lips were on mine and your hands were roaming my body.”

Y/N didn’t know where her sudden burst of confidence came from but she had begun to close the small gap between their bodies so Spencer's was trapped between her and her desk. She snaked her hands up his chest and leant up so her mouth was level with his ear. While her hands were resting on his chest, Spencer’s ghosted over her hips, hesitant to touch her.

“To say that I enjoyed the kiss would be an understatement.” Y/N mutters in his ear.

Spencer’s hands finally come in contact with Y/N’s hips and he can’t stop himself from giving them a small squeeze making Y/N let out a small gasp.

“I’m glad you said those words,” Spencer mumbled, lips brushing her ear, “Because I feel exactly the same way.”

Y/N’s lips begin to pepper small kisses across his neck and up his jaw before they hovered just before Spencer’s. They were both panting slightly, getting lost within one another. Both of them knew that they shouldn’t be doing this but neither of them could stop, just being with each other in this way was intoxicating.

Spencer leaned forward and finally connected their lips. They kissed each other with the same amount of passion as the night previous. Y/N’s hands gently tugged on his hair causing Spencer to occasionally let out small whimpers against her lips. The more they kissed, the more both of them wanted.

Y/N’s hands trailed down from Spencer’s hair to the top of his shirt as she began to loosen his tie. As she did this, Spencer’s flipped their positions and sat Y/N on top of her desk.

“You really like flipping the positions don’t you?” Y/N teased.

“Shut up.” Spencer muttered before kissing her again.

His hands fell to her thighs as he slowly began to push her skirt further up her legs. Y/N’s legs parted letting Spencer know that she was okay with it. As he continued to trail his hands up her thighs, Y/N began to unbutton the first few buttons on his shirt, fully exposing Spencer’s neck to her along with a small bit of his chest.

Slowly she began to pepper kisses down his neck, occasionally biting down to get a reaction out of him. As she did this, Y/N’s hands sank lower and lower down Spencer’s chest until they found his belt. Pulling him slightly closer, Y/N could feel the erection that was growing every passing second. She moved her hand over it, purposefully avoiding giving him any sort of relief. Spencer gently grabbed the back of her neck to make her look at him, “Two can play at that game.”

Spencer’s hand’s trailed higher up Y/N’s thighs until her skirt was bunched around her waist. He began to kiss down her neck as his hands firmly held her thighs in place. As his thumb lightly passed her clothed core, Y/N let out a rather loud whimper.

“Spencer please…”

Spencer chuckled slightly before he slowly moved his thumb to press gently over her clit - enough to give her some sort of stimulation but not enough for Y/N’s liking. Letting out a soft moan she tried to move her hips towards Spencer’s hand but he moved it away before she could get any sort of relief.

“I hate you.” She muttered.

“No you don’t.” Spencer said before leaning in to capture her lips again.

However, before their lips could connect, they both heard footsteps coming their way causing Spencer to jump apart from her. Not that it would exactly do them any good. His shirt was unbuttoned and his tie was slack and he had a small trail of hickies trailing down his neck - not to mention the bulge in his trousers. Y/N wasn’t any better with her sitting on her desk and her skirt bunched up at her waist, if it weren’t for the thin underwear she would be exposing herself completely. Her hair was a mess and she was very flushed in the face. If anyone walked in it was very clear what the two friends were doing.

The footsteps only seemed to get louder before they went away again making both Y/N and Spencer let out a sigh of relief. Whatever mood that had been created between the two had been entirely ruined. As they looked at each other, both of them let out small chuckles.

“You should probably hide those before tomorrow.” Y/N pointed to Spencer’s neck.

Y/N hopped off her desk while pulling her skirt back down and straightening her clothes out while Spencer buttoned his shirt back up, although he took his tie off completely not seeing the point of putting it back on.

“I should be glad that you don’t have any, otherwise it would look very obvious what happened between us.” Spencer stated.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Y/N said, “We’re best friends and nothing more.”

“And I agree.” Spencer said.

The two stared at each other in silence before Y/N spoke up again, “But tomorrow night I have a free apartment so if you want to come over to relieve some of this tension I’ll be there.”

Spencer nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Okay but after that we’re just going to be back to being just friends,” Y/N offered her hand for Spencer to shake, “Deal?”

“Deal.” Spencer said, shaking her hand.

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

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid series #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut

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somewhatgreatexpectations · 4 years

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To Die For (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello! It is with great joy and a little bit of sadness that I present you all with the final part of “Love Goes”. This part in particular is inspired by Sam Smith’s “To Die For”. Pieces from Endgame are used but very little.

Summary: The aftermath of Endgame, how will Wanda navigate and what will happen to Y/n.

“I long for you, just a touch of your hand. You don't leave my mind. Lonely days I'm feeling like a fool for dreaming… Sunshine living on a perfect day while my world's crashing down.”

Hope. That was all Wanda had left. She knew that she couldn’t let it waver for even a moment. Allowing the hope within her to waver would be the same as accepting defeat. Accepting that you weren’t coming back. That was something she would never allow herself to believe.

Like you told her, you and her were a happy ending. It’s the only ending she could ever envision for herself. The only life she wanted. The only life she’d accept. You and her. Together. Happily.

It had only been a week since the fateful battle and you had been transferred to a S.W.O.R.D. facility since. What worried Wanda most was that you still hadn’t woken up and hadn’t shown much progression since arriving.

She could still feel you though.

Wanda would allow herself glimpses into your mind and could see the vibrancy that still existed within. Your heart was still beating, and your mind was still your own. Even if you weren’t awake, you were still you.

The thought brought comfort to Wanda despite the circumstances. It kept hope alive in her heart.

It was only a matter of time until you were awake and in her arms again. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.

The situation could have been worse though and she knew that. Shortly after you were transferred to the facility she learned the full details of how exactly Thanos was defeated. How Tony and Natasha had given their lives in exchange for the outcome. As much as the news saddened her, she couldn’t help but feel a selfish sense of relief that you hadn’t been dealt the same fate.

Her life – her heart - felt as though it was hanging in the balance. You were all she had. All she wanted. If she lost you she knew there would be no recovery for her. She’d drown. Sink to the bottom with no chance of resurfacing if you weren’t there to pull her back up.

The warmth of your hand in her own anchored her. It always did, but not as much as being in your arms, or hearing your voice. “I’m drowning.” She whispered against your hand. “I’m drowning, Y/n. I need to hear your voice, see you open your eyes, and have you hold me and tell me everything is going to be okay. I’m drowning, and you can’t save me until you wake up.” Her lips trembled slightly against your hand as a single tear fell down her cheek.

The days and nights had blurred together for her. Both of which were spent unwaveringly at your side. The only disruptions often came in the form of varying people in the facility checking your vitals or injecting new medications into your IV that they informed her should wake you up soon.

Besides the worry and fear she constantly felt, there was a sense of bitterness that the only one who had come to see you or her during your time in the facility was Fury. That was only when you were still at S.H.I.E.L.D’s location. It was upsetting to her that Steve had yet to visit you considering the history you two shared and how close you two had always been. Considering how you had been willing to risk your life for him on multiple occasions.

Today was Tony’s funeral and she was reluctantly leaving your side to pay her respects for a short while. Also, to give Rogers a piece of her mind.

When the funeral concluded she wandered over to the lake to collect her thoughts and emotions. Taking in the beautiful day around her, a stark contrast to how she felt internally. The perfect day felt wrong when it still felt like her world was crashing down within her.

As she was staring out the lake, preparing herself for what she wanted to tell Steve, Clint walked up to her. “Hey, kid.”

Wanda kept a neutral face and merely nodded at him. “Hello.”

There was hesitation in the way Clint stopped at her side. “You have every right to not want to talk to me right now.” He began seriously, his head ducked shamefully. “I wanted to go visit Y/n… Check on you. I did. I just-… It’s been hard accepting that Nat’s gone, you know? It’s not an excuse for not being there. It’s just where my head was. I’m sorry, Wanda.”

As much as Wanda wanted to ignore him, she knew she couldn’t. “I understand.” She replied softly, her gaze still on the lake before her.

“I wish there was a way that I could let her know that we won. That we did it.” Clint admitted quietly to her.

Wanda shifted her gaze to him. “She knows.” There was a small pause. “They both do.” Despite not being awake, she liked to believe that you knew.

Clint wrapped a comforting arm around her and she leaned into the embrace.

“Wanda.” A somber voice caught her attention as she turned to find Steve standing there with his hands folded behind his back. “A word?”

Clearly not wanting to be caught in the crossfire, Clint stepped back. “I think that’s my cue to go.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. “I’ll do better, okay? Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be by to visit Y/n soon.” Wanda nodded slightly at his words as he walked away.

When Clint was out of the vicinity, Steve stepped into his place. Wanda’s jaw clenched. She was more upset at him than anyone. She knew if roles were reversed you would have been uncompromisingly by his side.

“What do you want?�� She asked, her tone cold.

Steve’s face remained neutral despite her tone. “How is she?”

A bitter laugh escaped her lips at his question. “How is she?” she shook her head in disbelief. “You have a lot of nerve asking that when you’ve had a whole week to go see for yourself.”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. “Look, Wanda, I understand you’re upset with me but I-“

Wanda rounded on him, her eyes livid. “Upset? I am far passed upset, Rogers. I’m furious. Y/n needed you and you abandon her. She would have done anything for you! She idolized you!”

Each of Wanda’s words impacted Steve, she could see that, but she didn’t stop. He took it. “She thought you were her family and you couldn’t even be bothered to go see for yourself if she’s okay! You don’t even care-“

“Enough! That’s not true!” Steve roared. The accusation that he didn’t care seemingly being the final straw. Wanda recoiled in surprise. “I feel guilty, okay? I feel like the only reason that she’s in there in the first place is because of me. I couldn’t face her. I didn’t deserve to.” His volume didn’t lower as the emotions he was holding in finally boiled over.

“You know she wouldn’t have blamed you.” Wanda eventually replied, her tone still clipped.

Steve rubbed a hand down his face. “I know, but I do. I blame myself. She was trying to protect me, and she only felt like she had to protect me because I couldn’t stop him the first time. She got hurt because I couldn’t get to her fast enough. She’s my family too.”

As much as she wanted to be angry with him, she found it much more difficult when she learned of the guilt that seemed to be weighing heavily on him. “You know Y/n would have done that either way.” She confessed quietly. “She would have tried to stop him regardless of who she was defending. That’s who she is.”

A weak nod was his only response. Wanda wasn’t sure if he believed her. “How has she been?” Steve repeated, hoping for a genuine answer this time.

“She still hasn’t woken up.” Wanda began unsteadily. “They keep injecting her with new serums everyday saying that each one will wake her up, but it never does.”

Steve closed his eyes at the information, his expression distressed for just a moment until he schooled his features and put on a brave face for Wanda. “She’s going to wake up. I know she will.”

Hearing the words she had been telling herself from someone else brought Wanda a small sense of comfort. “I know she will too.” She turned to him. “I’m going to get back to her now, she needs me. Go see her.”

“I will.” He nodded firmly, his words definitive. “I have to return the stones in an hour and try and see if I can undo something. As soon as I do that I’ll be immovably by her side. I’ll stay with you until she wakes up. You have my word. She has my word.” There was purpose in his voice.

Wanda quirked her lips up slightly at him and nodded without a word. She knew he meant what he said. She walked off to her car to begin the drive back to S.W.O.R.D’s medical branch of the facility. ___________________ Her heart dropped when she entered your room, only to be met with an empty bed. On numb legs, she ran out and stopped the first worker she saw. “Y/n Y/ln. Where is she? She was here just an hour ago.”

The employee looked around nervously. “She’s been moved. I believe it would be in your best interest to speak to the director.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The director? Why?”

“His office is located on the second floor, third door on the left.” The employee informed her meekly before scurrying away.

Practically running, Wanda reached the office in minutes, throwing the door open. “Ms. Maximoff.” The man who she presumed to be the director greeted her, an unnerving smile on his face.

“Where is she?” Wanda demanded, not caring about anything other than being reunited with you. “Is-is she okay?” Anxiety began to build within her and press against her chest making it harder for her to breath. Her nails dug into her palms.

The man gestured for her to sit in an empty chair, she ignored the request. “My name is Tyler Hayward. I am the director of S.W.O.R.D.”

Wanda merely stared blankly back at him, her jaw clenched tightly. “Where. Is. Y/n?” She enunciated sharply, her patience fading.

The unnerving smile never faltered on Hayward’s face. “That is the unfortunate part, Ms. Maximoff. You see, while you were gone Ms. Y/ln suffered from some brain hemorrhaging. We were able to stop it, but it seems her brain has suffered an extensive amount of damage. We ran some tests and it appears she has lost all cognitive function. She is just a shell now. She only has another day or two at best. I’m sorry.”

Wanda’s world stopped at his words. She immediately shook her head. “That’s not true.” She said shakily as tears began streaming down her cheeks, the weight on her chest getting heavier, forcing her under. She couldn’t breathe. “That’s not true. Let me see her.”

Hayward gestured forward to the large window in his office. “They’re running some tests on her now, but so far the data has remained conclusive. There is no longer brain function.” Numbly Wanda walked up to the large window and glanced down, feeling the life drain from her at the sight of you. Pale and on what looked like an experimentation table, surrounded by several S.W.O.R.D. scientists. “I’m afraid it’s time to start talking about letting her go.”

Wanda spun around to face him angrily. “Let her go?” she cried, her voice cracking. “She’s all I have.”

Hayward held his hands up slightly. “It’s only a matter of days before she’s unable to breathe on her own and her heart stops being.”

Empty. That’s what she felt at his words. She wanted to scream. Her powers reacted to the emotion she was feeling before her mind did as the glass she was leaning on shattered. Without hesitation she floated down to where you were. Her heart hammering in her chest the closer she got.

The world around her went dark and the only sight she was able to take in was the way your chest weakly rose and fell with each breath. With shaking hands, she raised them to your temple as feeble wisps of red floated from her fingertips and disappeared into your mind.

All she saw was darkness.

“I can’t feel you.” She whispered brokenly, the pain in her chest overcoming her. The sensation composing her entire being as everything within her collapsed. She was alone, and she knew she wouldn’t recover. Then everything went dark around her. ________________________________

“Darling, have you seen my notebook? I’m running late for my meeting with my editor and I can’t seem to find it anywhere.” You questioned hastily as you rushed into the kitchen and skidded to a halt in the entry way. Looking around the area with a frazzled expression on your face.

Wanda looked over from her place by the stove and waved her hand, the notebook floating from under your arm to directly in front of your face. “You mean this one, dear?” She asked with an amused smile.

Sheepishly you plucked the notebook out of the air as you made your way over to her. “What would I do without you?” You leaned forward so your lips rested gently against her own.

“Mmm,” Wanda mumbled with a smile as she spoke against your lips. Her arms resting comfortably over your shoulders. “I believe your mind would fail you, sweetheart.”

Your hands fell to her waist as you pulled her closer. “That’s for certain.” You replied easily with a loving smile. “Have I told you how beautiful you look today?”

A small blush spread over her cheeks. “You have not but thank you. You look beautiful as well, darling. I’m beginning to get jealous that your editor gets to spend the day in your presence. Speaking of…” she trailed off and glanced pointedly at the clock.

“My meeting!” Your eyes widened as you pressed one last loving kiss to her lips. “I’ll be going now. I love you, darling. I’ll be home soon!” You shouted as you began running out.

Wanda shook her head at you, the smile on her face never faltering. “I love you, too, dear!” She called after you, pretending to catch the kiss you blew to her as you rushed out the door. She sighed happily and leaned against the wall of the kitchen.

The end.

. . . . . .

“Glad you were able to make it, Rogers.” Fury said seriously as he shook Steve’s hand. “And Ms. Romanoff. Welcome back.” He shook her hand as well.

Steve nodded easily in response. “Of course. You know that I’d be here in a heartbeat for Y/n. Wanda as well.” Both followed Fury into a large make-shift tent located in the woods.

“What exactly are we dealing with?” Natasha asked, confusion lacing her words.

For a moment Fury seemed to ponder her question. “We’re not entirely sure.”

“Does Wanda even know that she saved Y/n? That she was never gone?” Steve questioned seriously, his arms crossed as he stared at the screen before him.

Fury shook his head. “No. It seems Hayward convinced Wanda that Y/n was gone, no brain function. What Wanda didn’t know was he had gone rogue. Every serum they injected in Y/n kept her in her comatose state rather than attempt to wake her up like they were telling Wanda. I’ve looked at the files that my inside contacts gave me, and it seems Y/n should have been up in the first day or two to recover from minor brain swelling.”

“Why are they doing this though?” Natasha questioned as she looked over the chart. Steve’s jaw was clenched as he listened to each detail.

Taking the chart from Natasha, Fury turned the pages until he found what he was looking for and handed it back to Natasha. “Right there. It seems that Y/n carries a rare mutant gene that they could extract and essentially build an army with. They believed that if they removed Wanda from the picture they could continue the experiments and eventually wipe Y/n’s memory to use her as a weapon. Turn her into a super solider… but much worse because of her powers.” There was an edge to his tone. “They are very interested in her ability to manipulate earth and metal. They had considered Wanda briefly as well, but the perfect opportunity presented itself with Y/n. That’s why they insisted on her transfer to their facility.”

“How do we get them back before Hayward gets to them?” Steve questioned quietly, a dangerous tone to his voice.

Instead of answering Fury gestured to the woman who had been sitting and listening to the conversation. “Wanda isn’t letting anyone with ties to your past in. Fury already tried. She won’t let you or Natasha in.” They both stared at her. “I didn’t introduce myself. Sorry, my name is Darcy Lewis. Astrophysics. Big fan.” The bespectacled woman rambled.

Natasha smirked, an amused glint in her eye. “Okay, Darcy Lewis, what’s our next step?”

“We’ll do whatever it takes.” Steve finished powerfully as they all watched you and Wanda share a sweet kiss before the credits began to roll on the screen before them.

Well, that’s all folks! 13 parts completed! It’s been a journey writing this and it is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written. This story has become my baby and it always brings me so much joy to read your comments and seeing others enjoy it. I had a plan for this chapter since the moment I began writing this story but it was so hard when it came down to writing because of the most recent episode of Wandavision, so I tweaked it a little. Was it a sadder or happier ending? You may never know. Thank you all so much for taking this journey with me. I hope you enjoyed.

As always, thoughts and comments always welcome. :)

p.s. I brought back Steve and Nat but I couldn’t figure out how to make Tony surviving make sense or fit the story, sorry. Still love Tony.

619 notes · View notes

adorerdraco · 4 years

Text

Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 2

PART 1

Summary: PART 2 ! of Draco falling in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP) and dealing with the consequences of opening his heart to someone.

Warnings: angst !!! but just a little fluff as always, BLOOD, violence, more crying, very detailed sectumsempra scene, mentions of death

Words: 4.9K

A/N: omg i can’t believe so many people liked the first one and to everyone who left me a comment, I appreciate you so much you have no idea plsss you guys are so beautiful. but here is part 2 and I hope you guys like it as much as the first oneee !!!!!!!! this one got dramatic. I’m thinking of doing a part 3, but I’m not sure and i also want to make it be mostly fluff so PLS let me knowww <3 i do not own gif.

It was an awful feeling; the feeling of needing a specific someone to bring him a peace he so very much lacked in his life. It was a feeling of not being able to feel joy unless he had you by his side. He felt stupid and pathetic knowing he had made an even bigger mess of himself and regrettably of you. He felt more weak too, wondering to himself why he couldn’t stop crying and do what he needs to do without several potions or you with him to get him through the day.

He didn’t want to need anyone. He didn’t want to need help. He didn’t want to need advice.

“Why can’t I just do this?” he cried to himself one night in the room of requirement, kicking something by his foot across the floor in frustration. He stared at the dead bird in hopelessness, not wanting to move it from its spot in the vanishing cabinet. He had managed to send inanimate objects, but not living things and that was only a discovery he was able to make when you were still in his life.

It had been weeks, since he left you under the tree, broken and in tears. He regressed back into to his old ways of lacking proper self care, of sleeping and eating, his studies being the last thing on his mind, him distancing himself from his Slytherin friends again. It was right back to square one, maybe even below that this time.

In Potions, he didn’t dare look at you, ever. He moved to a seat in the very back of the class where he would be hidden from you and could sulk to himself in peace.

“Mr. Malfoy, forgive me as it is none of my business, but why are you no longer working with Miss Y/L/N?” Slughorn asked him one day as he came by to grade his potion.

“It is nothing of concern, Professor,” Draco answered bitterly, holding back the scowl that wanted to show but deciding against being any more rude to authority. “I just rather work by myself.”

“It’s a shame, Mr. Malfoy, you both were my star pupils,” Slughorn mixes the potion around, eyeing it with a frown. “Now the both of you are falling behind. This potion is not passing, you forgot to mix in the dried periwinkle leaves.”

Draco never noticed how you would glance at him throughout Potions class. Of course, he was ignoring you and you felt that nasty realization every time your eyes landed on the platinum blond.

You felt numb, to say the least. You cried for days and days on end. If you weren’t in class, you were in your dorm, wrapped underneath the covers wondering why someone you shared so much love and time with had dropped you with no explanation. You tried endlessly to get him to talk to you, cornering him in the corridors, going up to him in class, but he would ignore you until you went away. He never once met your eyes, and your heart broke more every time you saw the coldness in his icy gray’s that made you feel like you didn’t even exist to him.

Your roommates and friends had gotten involved, forcing you to take better care of yourself. Staying up and hugging you while you cried. Bringing you meals from the Great Hall into the dorm. Brushing your hair when it started to become matted. Encouraging you to divulge yourself in studies rather than your sadness.

“Y/N, you are so much more than what you’re feeling,” your closest friend whispered to you one night as you cried in her embrace. “You can’t keep going like this. It’s okay to cry and be sad, but this is eating you up. Remember how strong you are. Remember the healer you are trying to be. You’ve helped so many people, inside and out, let your friends help you now.”

You nodded sadly, and finally accepted the help your friends had been trying so desperately to give you. You allowed them to take you out into the Great Hall again for meals. To Hogsmead for a fun day out. To the courtyard where you guys would sit and just talk. It was nice, feeling your old and normal life coming to light again even if it was just for a couple hours. But when you couldn’t sleep at night and your mind wandered off to Draco, you felt that same empty feeling of a gaping hole in your heart sting at you.

There was nothing you could do or say anymore. The cornering him was getting desperate and made you feel weak. The ignoring was never going to stop. You didn’t cry anymore, forcing yourself to bottle up your feelings for him deep down into your mind, body and spirit to the point where you just tried your best to recognize him as a dream.

Your brain didn’t know any better, right?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Draco sat on the floor of his dorm, head resting against the side of his bed as he twiddled with the letter from his mother between his fingertips. His owl, Aquila, sat beside him and enjoyed the loving pets he was giving her with his other hand. It was rare she let him do this, but he figured it was because she felt that he might have possibly needed this. She nibbled on a crumb of a biscuit he gave her that she had brought with her on her journey from home. Draco sighed and opened the letter again, his eyes scanning over the perfect cursive of his mother’s handwriting once more.

My Dearest Draco,

How are you, my love? I feel as though we have gone too long without writing to each other. I must say, the Manor feels lonely without you and your father here, but the house elves have been keeping me company. They are quite entertaining, some of them. I do hope you enjoy the small pastries I sent with Aquila that the elves also send on their behalf.

I know the pain you are feeling, my son. I know it wears at you and I am deeply sorry that I cannot change it or help you. Please do entrust in Professor Snape, as he is the only one who can help you and understands your circumstances. You cannot get through this alone.

Please also remember that you are just a boy. In these times of turmoil, it is easy to lose yourself in your own despair. You are young, Draco, only 16 years of life and it has already failed you. Please find it in your heart to locate the little several joys in life that keep you going. Despite your situation, It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there. Do not succumb, it is what he wants.

I will always love you, and I hope to see you soon.

All my love,

Mother

He felt tears sting at his eyes, clutching the letter to his chest as if his mother had charmed it with the feeling of a hug. It wasn’t, but he swore he could feel it. He felt sad, knowing she was all alone in that house, but suddenly remembered that his aunt was seeking refuge with her at the Malfoy Manor and his mother left it out for the sake of keeping Bellatrix’s location secret. Seeing as she was a maddened Ex/Present Death Eater and escaped prisoner on the run. The thought of Bellatrix left a bitter and foul taste in his mouth, making him feel even worse that his mother was stuck at home with that beast who was nearly as bad as the Dark Lord himself. He didn’t care that that was her sister, his aunt, she had no empathy for anything, especially not for him. He recalls her telling him right before he went to school, that he should be grateful and honored for being entrusted with a task so important.

As much as Draco wanted nothing to do with his tasks, he didn’t ignore them. He begrudgingly let Bellatrix teach him Occlumency, something he desperately needed to learn and was now a little good at. He had even tried convincing himself that he needed to do this. It was all up to him. He was chosen for this. He hated it, but he was chosen nonetheless. And he would try with everything to save his family and to make them proud, even if it killed him.

He ignored the thoughts of his aunt and his dreadful life options, refocusing on the words his mother wrote to him. They echoed in his mind, imagining her saying them to him.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

His mind wandered to you, knowing full and well you were are the one and only joy in his life he so deeply desires. His mother’s words hit him hard, to the point where he almost ran out of his room to go look for you. Almost.

But he was stubborn and still couldn’t pull himself out of the mindset he had boxed himself in where he thought being with you would be worse in the end for you than not being with you.

So he went over to his desk, Aquila following him before flying up to the wooden surface where she perched herself in front of him as he sat down and pulled out a parchment and quill to begin his responding letter for his mother. He thanked her for the pastries, told her he would try his best in confiding in Snape, loosely promised he would fulfill her wishes of him finding some happiness, and gave her his love. He gave the letter to Aquila, smoothing the feathers on the top of her head one last time before she chirped and flew to the window and then out of his room and into the open dark starry sky.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

More weeks had gone by. And then a month. You were seeing less and less of Draco and for a healing heart, it was the best thing for you, but also the worst. He had even began skipping class as much as he could, not that anyone ever noticed, except you and Slughorn of course.

“Miss Y/L/N, may I have a word?” Slughorn came up to you while you were working on a potion with your friend. The same friend who had given up her seat to Draco who she now despised and regretted ever doing in the first place. She gave you and the professor a look before getting up and heading to the front of the class where she began to pick up vials and jars to store the potion.

“Of course, Professor,” you answer with a polite smile.

“I spoke to Mr. Malfoy about a month ago, he seemed rather distraught,” he began, placing a finger over his chin in thought. “I’m beginning to grow worried of the boy! Is there a reason he’s no longer showing up to class?”

You swallowed thickly before responding, “your guess is as good as mine, Professor.”

“Ah, well, one mustn’t pry too much,” he says. “Also, I’m pleased to see your marks improving in the last couple weeks. Keep up the good work, Miss Y/L/N.”

And with that the professor turned around and left to go check on other students, your friend returning.

“What’d he want?” She asked, setting the supplies down on the table.

“Wanted to know about, Mr. Malfoy,” you mocked quietly, your voice turning bitter when the name left your lips.

You knew Draco’s disappearance was your fault and you felt that twang of hurt beat against your chest thinking about it. That whole conversation with the Professor killed your entire mood. It wasn’t great to begin with, but the feeling of nothing had turned into hurt.

You were roughly stirring the cauldron, preparing to put the nearly finished potion into the two large jars so it could sit overnight. They were right beside your arm and you felt your elbow collide with the glasses, cringing internally when you heard them crash onto the ground and shatter. Luckily there was nothing in them, but you had still made a mess of glass. In your heat of embarrassment and with the people are you now staring at you, you forgot you could easily clean up your mess with magic so like a klutz, you instead bent down to pick up the shards of glass that scattered the floor with your bare hands.

A loud gasp left your mouth as you began to pick them up, feeling the largest piece of glass in your palm deeply slash the skin of your hand. You dropped it, feeling the blood begin to drip down your arms and onto the floor.

“Oh no, Y/N,” your friend sighed from above you, gripping onto your other arm and lifting you up. “Are you okay?”

The question was meant for your hand, but you felt it hit your soul just as it did whenever someone asked you that question when you were so overwhelmingly not okay. You shook your head no, the pain from your hand and your heart taking over you completely as tears began to trickle down your face.

Slughorn came up to the table, waving his wand over the mess of the floor and fixed the damage done to the vases and making the small puddle of blood disappear.

“Class is dismissed, students, you are free to go to the Great Hall for lunch,” Slughorn announced and everyone quickly packed up their things and hurried out except for you and your friend. The full-bellied Professor watched you with concern and you turned to your friend where she took your hand in hers and placed it palm up for you.

You shuddered, bringing up your wand to the cut and simply thought your healing spell before watching it completely fade into a faint light pink scar.

“I’m going to explain to Slughorn what happened and put away our stuff,” she says to you, a sad glint in her eyes. “Go clean yourself up and I’ll meet you at our table for lunch with everyone when you’re done.”

You could only pathetically nod before you slung your bag over your shoulder and trudged off into the direction of a bathroom. You decided to go up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, wanting to be alone from everyone so you could clean yourself up in peace and also have a meltdown. You didn’t know why you wanted to torture yourself with the ghosted memories you shared with Draco in that bathroom, but you still went.

You took your time getting there and you were only down the hall when you saw the entrance. It was then when you heard a familiar ghastly screaming and wailing. It was horribly loud.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!”

Moaning Myrtle floated from the large wooden double doors, screaming so loud it ricocheted off all the walls of the now deathly silent castle. You felt all the blood drain from your face as an awful and sickening feeling had bubbled in your stomach.

“It better not be Draco,” you said to yourself, your legs taking longer strides towards the bathroom. “Please, don’t let it be Draco.”

By now, you were sprinting towards the end of the corridor, throwing your bag to the floor as soon as you reached the doors and flung yourself through and into the destroyed bathroom, stepping into a pool of water that had streaks of crimson red. Your eyes followed the trail of blood, stopping suddenly when you found the source.

A blood-curdling scream twice as loud and stronger than Myrtle’s, left your throat as you tripped over your own feet to reach him. You saw Harry Potter, standing a little ways by the door, a panicked and pained look in his eyes as he tried to understand what he had just done.

Once you reached Draco’s nearly lifeless body covered in angry red gashes, you fell next to him, his eyes finally meeting yours for the first time in ages. He was breathing raggedly in choked grunts, clutching at his mauled chest as he struggled to breath. The stormy eyes you loved so much were clouded in fear. Nothing but fear.

You shoved your hand into your pocket, searching for your wand and pulled it out hastily. You shakily waved it over his cuts, thinking and saying any spell you knew that came to your mind in the matter of 5 seconds. This was what you did. This was all you did. Why couldn’t you heal him? None of your spells worked.

“I, I can’t heal you,” you sobbed, resorting to putting your hands over his chest at a failing attempt to stop the bleeding. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“n...o,” Draco said weakly and quietly. He mustered up all his remaining strength and placed a bloodied hand over yours, you grabbed it tightly and leaned over him when you realized he was trying to speak. “S-sorry. lo...ve. y...ou.”

It felt like there was a knife in your chest being repeatedly stabbed into your heart and twisted. His eyes closed and you cried harder, knowing you were going to lose him. Everything was happening so fast. You had only been in the bathroom a solid 10 seconds, everything around you moving in a slow blur but so quickly.

It was as if Merlin had answered your pleas, the sound of the door slammed open and a maddened looking Snape rushed inside, pushing Harry roughly to the side and looking down at Draco and then you only momentarily before dropping to his knees beside him and opposite of you.

“Vulnera sanentur,” he began running his wand over the cuts on Draco’s chest and you watched with wide teary eyes as the blood pooling around you began to retreat back into the wounds. He said it again, and once the blood was back in, the cuts began to close. He chanted it one last time, and the cuts had healed into thick and reddened scars. “Miss Y/L/N, please help Draco over to the hospital wing for some dittany, and quickly please. We might be able to help with the scarring, perhaps avoid it completely. I need to deal with, Potter.”

Draco was half conscious, a dazed and confused look in the gray of his eyes as they fluttered open and closed. You noticed the scar beginning to form on his paled face and you bit back a sob. You knew if that scar stayed there, it would only drive him into a deeper hatred for himself.

You quickly got up, Snape picking up Draco and throwing his arm over your shoulders so that you would be able to help him over to the hospital wing which luckily happened to be a hall away from the bathroom. The adrenaline and sheer love for the boy was pumping through your body which had made you feel stronger in basically carrying Draco through the halls. He was dragging his feet, mumbling incoherently and you couldn’t stop crying.

You saw the doors to the hospital wing open, Madam Pomfrey staring at the scene heading towards her in horror.

“DITTANY!” you called to her. She threw open the doors wider, nodding before she ran back inside in a hurry. A passing seventh year Hufflepuff had dropped all of his books and his bag and linked arms with Draco’s free side, helping you take him inside with much more ease. Madam Pomfrey yelled to rest Draco on the nearest bed and she quickly returned with the dittany, shooing the both of you away from him.

“I’m afraid the two of you are going to have to leave, immediately,” she demands, her hand reaching up to grab the privacy curtain before shielding her and the love of your life from you and the prying eyes of shocked students gathered at the doorway to see what had happened. The Hufflepuff that had helped was already out the door, but you couldn’t bring your legs to move.

“Away from the door!” McGonagall suddenly appeared from behind the crowd of students, a disgruntled look etched into her aged skin. “Return to your house’s common rooms! That goes for you too, Miss Y/L/N.”

She gently placed both her hands on either of your shoulders, guiding you outside the door and out of the hospital wing. She gave you an empathetic glance before grabbing the handles of the doors and shutting them with a loud clang.

The lingering students stared at you in discomfort and grimaces. You looked around, still in a daze and then looked down at your body. You were drenched in blood and water, looking straight out of a horror movie and closely resembling the clothing of the Bloody Baron, Slytherin’s house ghost.

Everything still felt quiet and slow. You didn’t even notice your friends rushing towards you in hysterics, throwing you in hugs as you only stood there, unable to react. You let them pull you away, leading you to your house’s common room, tripping every now and then. You caught a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle in the distance, her cries still very loud and apparent. She had gone around the entirety of Hogwarts wailing the same news that had broken you, only this time you heard the new choice words she had added along the way.

“MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER! HARRY POTTER HAS MURDERED DRACO MALFOY!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You sat immobile on the edge of your seat besides Draco’s hospital bed. Much to your surprise, Madam Pomfrey had allowed you to stay overnight with the fallen Slytherin Prince. You recognized it might be her way of paying you back from all your countless volunteering and because of that, she trusted you in knowing exactly what to do when it came to the medical field of the wizarding world.

It was around three in the morning, the incident having happened well past twelve hours ago. You were showered now and in a fresh pair of robes, your pajamas holding in your warmth as a cold draft flowed throughout the dark dimly lit room. The hospital wing was tall and large, it felt like a castle in itself, and it only made you feel more feeble. You scooted your chair closer to the bed, placing a hand onto the mattress right next to Draco’s paled slender hand.

Fingertips ghosted over his knuckles, your body shivering at the closeness of the near contact. You didn’t know how he was going to react when he woke up. It was all a waiting game, and your heart squeezed with anxiety as you awaited his regained consciousness. You didn’t forget the words he said to you right before he slipped away. They rang and rattled in your head like a pinball game on loop.

He had told you he loved you.

The thought of him dying and you never being able to tell him you felt the same haunted you. You thanked Merlin that Snape got there when he did. You also made a mental note to hex Harry into the oblivion the next time you got a chance.

You sighed deeply, your voice quavering as your ran a hand through your tangled hair. His face glistened under the orange lamp on the bedside table, his skin tinged with a grayish undertone and his eye bags deep and dark. The scar you had seen on his face earlier was gone, the skin now just holding a skinny reddened line going across his features as if he was just hit with something. You smiled slightly, knowing it would be gone in the morning and feeling grateful for him that he wouldn’t be scarred with it.

His body was covered in a hospital gown and bandages infused with dittany, but seeing how bad his cuts were before they healed, you knew those would leave something behind no matter what. In your studying towards becoming a Healer, you read about the effects of dark magic and the marks it left behind on its victims. You didn’t know what spell had done what it did to Draco, but it was violent and radiated with darkness.

The softness of his his skin was met under yours, your hand finally allowing itself to fall over his and you let out a sharp exhale at the touch. It wasn’t like earlier when you were holding onto him for dear life, rough and filled with fear and pain, this time it felt familiar. It felt warm despite the coldness of your skin and his. You shook quietly, another set of tears rippling through your body as you tried your best to not wake him. You sat up and slowly leaned over him, looking down at him to observe his peaceful features. He slept soundly and peacefully, his breathing even and quiet. Even though he almost died earlier today, he looked as though he was having the best sleep of his life. The sleep he gravely needed but seemed to never be able to get.

Your free hand softly rested on his cheek now and you carefully moved your lips towards his forehead where you placed a long kiss. A stray tear had fallen onto his skin as you pulled away and you frowned, wiping it away with your sleeve before moving your hand up towards his hair. You smoothed it back, the soft blond strands feeling like silk between your fingers. He was a dream, an angel to you. You stood by what you had told him that unfortunate day under the tree, he was good, and you would tell him again and again until he believed it himself.

Just as you pulled back from him, a sharp gasp erupted and he shot up in bed, grabbing and tearing at his gown as breathless quick pants fell from his lips.

“Hey, Draco, I’m here, you’re okay, relax,” you coo gently, grabbing his hands and holding them tightly in yours so he wouldn’t tear his bandages. Your heart battered against your chest, the waterworks in your eyes beginning all over again. He stared at you, searching your eyes and he began to cry too. The same broken and deep sobbing from months ago you had grown accustomed to hearing.

He threw himself onto you, crying even harder as his arms wrapped around you, his hand on the back of your head pressing you into his chest. You climbed into the bed in deep shaky breaths so that you were now sitting on your knees between his legs. It was overwhelming, to put it lightly, both of you crying into each other as you remembered the fall out, the lonely days and nights, the wasted opportunities, the endless missing of one another’s presence in their lives.

“I’m sorry,” Draco chokes out. “I never meant to hurt you. I thought that by pushing you away, you would be safer, but I can’t do it anymore. I need you, I love you, Y/N.”

You cradled him in your arms, rocking the two of you back and forth, and you shook your head reverently.

“I forgave you the second I thought I was going to lose you,” you respond quickly. “Merlin, Draco, you scared me to death. I thought you were gone.”

The same words from his mother echoed in his head again and he finally understood what they meant.

“It is okay to be that 16 year old boy and revel in those joys for as long as you can before it is too late and they are no longer there.”

Darkness was going to arrive one way or another, it was going to steal the rest of whatever life he had left in him one day. It was out of his hands, out of his control. The time to live his life was now. Because he didn’t know when he would ever have this opportunity of love again, of safety, of light. Everything was undefined and unknown and he felt the anguishing regret of all his decisions when he had seen you in the bathroom hovering over him with a hopeless look in your eyes. He promised himself, to Merlin and to the sun, the moon and all the stars that in the 1% chance that he survived that close call with death, he would never abandon you again. His heart pained at the memory of him trying to sputter out his final ‘I love you,’ not knowing whether or not you heard it or if you understood how genuinely he had meant it.

The room was only filled with sniffles and shaky breathing, both of you still in the same rocking position, afraid that if you let each other go, the other is going to disappear.

“Draco,” you say, lifting his head up from the crook of your neck so that he could look you in the eyes. “I love you, too. More than you’ll ever know. Please don’t ever, ever leave again.”

“Not in a million years, darling.”

PART 3

2K notes · View notes

cheri-translates · 3 years

Text

[CN] Gavin’s R&S - Minor’s Memos

🍒This R&S (韩野的备忘录) is part of the Dream Heart Lake event which has not been released in EN🍒

More r&s from the event:

> minor’s memos ♡

> tilted time

> little bro’s self-cultivatiion

> ashes

[ Chapter 1 ]

The First Memo

I was beaten up.

This morning, I was especially courageous and pasted a "Evil Spirit Begone" challenge letter on the school bully’s lunchbox. But I didn’t stop myself and pasted too many. The other party brought five people and cornered me in a small alley. I straightened my back, but felt a chill. What happened in the end were the four words I started off with... I was beaten up. With a bloody nose and a swollen face, I suddenly felt that there truly weren’t any heroes in this era... Even an ardent youth like me had to face such tribulation...

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers stood before my eyes. Lifting my red and swollen eyes with difficulty, all I saw was an icy outline. He reached out to grab the neck of one of the school bullies, and had a sharp look in his eyes!

Oh my... It was actually Se! Nior! Ga! Vin!

Today, I finally witnessed what was a true 1 v 5 looked like. Gavin blew the dust off his hands, lowering his eyes and giving me a glance before leaving. Quick-wittedly, I tugged on the bottom of his trouser leg.

Senior turned out to be just as cold and indifferent as the legends said. During the entire process, he only said one word - “Scram”.

He’s such a MAN!

Hence, there’s a small goal in my heart. I want to learn the supreme feat of Senior’s 1 v 5!

The Second Memo

I looked for Senior many times, but was mercilessly ignored by him... He was either wholly absorbed in drinking water, or wholly absorbed in sleeping... I decided that I had to take the initiative! So, I came up with a plan to perfectly understand Senior.

Cough cough.

With this, I started embarking on the dull and dry life of “tracking” Senior. At 7.30am, Senior would appear at the school gate punctually, carrying a flat schoolbag. I don’t know if there are any books in it... Forget it, is that the main point? Nope!

After Senior reaches school, the first thing he does is head to the small kiosk in the north to! Buy! Breakfast! Does he actually lead such an ordinary life too? I even thought an existence like Senior’s should be above worldly affairs, and that he wouldn’t eat the food of common mortals! Hey hey hey! It seems that Senior really likes to eat fishballs? He’s been eating them for three consecutive days!!! Isn’t it good to change it to something else?!!!

During class, I deliberately went around the upper levels where the Year 3 seniors were, pretentiously passing by Senior’s window. Of course, Senior typically wouldn’t appear in the classroom at all. But!!! He was here today!!!!

As expected, he was assigned to sit in the last row, and was sleeping without restraint...

Did nobody care?! Wait, why am I feeling envious?

After school, Senior walked around, and I had no idea where he was headed to. Finally, he walked into the library. I couldn’t help but think - Senior really lives life as he pleases...

Huh? Hang on! Why would the Underworld Senior go to the library?!

He not only went to the library, but the thing which startled me even more till my jaw dropped was - I saw Senior helping the prettiest girl in class retrieve a book from the shelf!

He even... s-smiled...

Had my vision gone blurry? This was the Underworld Senior who’s said to be cold, unruly, and scares girls away?!

[ Chapter 2 ]

The Third Memo

I was beaten up again... Writing these words is truly lamentable... Why did I have to rescue that stupid, unsophisticated and immoral four-eyed boy? But isn’t that what a hero does? What this era needs is a hero like me!

...this era might also not need such a weak hero like me...

That’s what I thought when I was pressed against the ground and punched by a school bully. My conviction was about to collapse. All of a sudden, I recalled the sharp look in Senior Gavin’s eyes. It’d have been nice if he were around...

Perhaps God happened to hear my wish, and Senior descended from the sky! With a dashing left uppercut, the other party lay on the ground, and I was moved to tears.

Senior asked, why do you keep causing trouble for yourself? I very righteously said that it’s because I wanted to be a hero, and couldn’t stand to see school bullies targeting the weak. Senior then said, don’t you know that they call me a school bully?

In my heart, I responded that I knew. But I shook my head very firmly. The look he was giving me suddenly had a hint of bewilderment added to it... like he was looking at a... hm? An idiot? ...

Senior is very difficult to understand. He even told me about what true heroism was, which went beyond the words I recognised from Senior. He actually said two sentences! I’ll note them down, I’ll note them down...

Who cares about him! From what I see, heroism is about rushing to the rescue when one sees injustice!

The Fourth Memo

Today, I! Was! A! Hero!

I was following Senior around secretly today, though I don’t know how many days it’s been, and encountered Senior being ambushed! Those guys were the school bullies who beat me up the last time! A total of ten people were there! Terrible! Tyranny of the majority! How could I, Minor, allow such a situation to happen!

Without much thought, I rushed forward to help Senior! Of course, I was beaten up yet again... but I discovered one of Senior’s nuclear abilities-

1 v 10! Too dashing, too dashing. I don’t think Superman, X-Men or Iron Man are as dashing! Senior is a god in my eyes!

But Senior was very cold. He said two words to me which left me utterly heartbroken: courting death.

Feeling wronged, I told him that I wasn’t courting death. This was what heroism meant to me.

Senior scoffed, then told me not to follow him around sneakily in the future, because it was annoying.

What what what? Was my perfect “Understanding Plan” exposed since a long time ago?!

For some reason, I spoke up at this moment. “Senior, I saw you handing a book to the prettiest girl in class... Are you...”

Senior coughed, then covered his mouth with a hand... W-was he actually blushing!!!!? Oh my goodness - did I discover something disgraceful? Senior actually blushed! If I say it out loud, would I get silenced?!!

[ Chapter 3 ]

The Fifth Memo

On the first day of becoming Senior’s, oh wait - Bro Gavin’s little brother, hehe, made me feel like I was suddenly floating. Today, I finally walked beside him in broad daylight, and felt as if a gust of wind was blowing past while walking hahahaha! I saw people looking me with that gaze! That~ Gaze~

But I never expected Bro Gavin to be so strict... All I did was mention casually that someone gave the prettiest girl in class a love letter again, and Bro Gavin suddenly got angry, and asked me to grab those people over.

Catching people is really tiring. I had to run to several classrooms, and it was really annoying to move personnel. In the future, I definitely wouldn’t do such work.

Bro Gavin glanced at them and didn’t say anything. Was I supposed to save the show?? After recalling how teachers typically lecture me, I copied them wholesale and gave them a lecture: At this young age, they should concentrate on their studies instead of fooling around.

[Note] I translated “copied them wholesale” from “原封不动”, which literally translated to “not touching the original envelope”. This is a beautiful choice of idiom because that’s exactly what Minor did later on LOL T^T

Seeing the fear and trepidation in their eyes, I became even more excited.

While I was lecturing them happily, Bro Gavin walked over and only said one thing: Get the love letters back. If you scare her, don’t blame me for being difficult.

Wow, Bro Gavin is so cool! Come to think of it, did I discover a little secret that I shouldn’t be aware of? For example, that Bro Gavin’s feelings towards the prettiest girl in class are actually..

The Sixth Memo

I think Bro Gavin is most likely, indeed, and definitely in love. Recently, I became Bro Gavin’s private detective, specialising in focusing on the prettiest girl in class. Maybe next time, I should change the way I address the prettiest girl in class to “Sis-in-law”... Well, since the ancient times, heroes have always loved beauties!

As of now, Bro Gavin isn’t really Bro Gavin anymore -

He hangs out in the library every day. If you want to know where Bro Gavin is, all you have to do is ask where the prettiest girl in class is... He no longer fights, no longer goes to the sports field, and no longer plays ball games anymore. He’s like a salted fish which has lost its dreams. And he actually started reading “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions”... I just want to cry.

[Note] “5 Years of College Examinations and 3 Years of Sample Questions” (”5年高考3年模拟”) is a supplementary book for college entrance examinations used in China!

At noon, we had a PE class together, and I excitedly told Bro Gavin that Sis-in-law had chosen basketball! I initially thought Bro Gavin would snatch up a territory to play basketball. In the end, Bro Gavin hauled me over to the nearby volleyball court...

He said that it was a good place.

Good? What’s good about it? My basketball... I still wanted to display my coolness!

Afterwards, I found out that, tsk tsk, Bro Gavin was truly very sly...

The volleyball court was actually even closer to Sis-in-law’s location as compared to other basketball courts!

When I almost accidentally smashed the ball on Sis-in-law’s head, it was blocked by Bro Gavin, who was far away... How did Bro Gavin do it?!

He actually ran diagonally across the volleyball court so quickly?!!! Does he have some special ability? Will it appear!

But Bro Gavin isn’t attuned to flirtatious expressions at all...

[Note] I translated “flirtatious expressions” from the term “风情”, which literally translates to “information about the wind”

When Sis-in-law thanked him, his face was even colder than when he’s facing me... And when I “accidentally” pushed Sis-in-law onto Bro Gavin! He actually gave me a merciless killer glare. Just thinking about it makes my heart feel pained...

He didn’t recognise my good intentions, sob sob sob sob.

[ Chapter 4 ]

The Seventh Memo

Today, I saw another side of Bro Gavin! That is - the Bro Gavin at the sports meet! He’s such a MAN!!!

In the ten-lap long-distance race in the sports field, Bro Gavin won the first place, leaving the second place runner far behind him by three laps. He didn’t even pant!

What kind of supreme feat is this? Before, I used to think that he was only super capable in fighting. Looks like there are many other things I have to learn from Bro Gavin!

It was only today when I realised that although Bro Gavin is so fierce and is always called an Underworld Senior, he seems to be really popular, based on how the female students looked as if they were about to glue their eyes onto Bro Gavin’s body -

Ah, I just want to “tsk tsk”.

Bro Gavin seemed to be in a good mood, but when I asked him to teach me 1 v 10, he assigned me to work as a private detective again...

He was very concerned about Sis-in-law’s sprint. Perhaps he’s a tsundere or something, so he didn’t go himself, and insisted that I went instead. He even tossed his phone to me.

What’s that supposed to mean? His phone? Did he mean that I should sneak pictures? Am I, Minor, such a person?

I called out to Sis-in-law. She turned her head, and I managed to secretly photograph an utterly beautiful side profile. It looked really good. This time, Bro Gavin would definitely teach me 1 v 10, right?

In the end, he! Did! Not!

Bro Gavin is someone who values a lover more than his little bro!

What can I say? I had no choice but to squat at the side and watch Bro Gavin staring at the picture on his phone, occasionally revealing an unusual smile...

Oh my, Bro Gavin smiled again!!!! It makes me feel frightened!!!!

Love makes people lose their minds!!!

[ Chapter 5 ]

The Eighth Memo

Bro Gavin looks very low-spirited recently. If he was a salted fish with no dreams before, then I reckon that right now, he’s not even a salted fish... He seems to have fallen in love with being in a daze lately.

After being in a daze in the piano room, he’d be in a daze in the library, continuously staring at the empty seat where Sis-in-law used to sit, and I have no idea what he’s thinking about.

But I really didn't expect a person who sleeps in class to be in a daze in the library for an entire afternoon... Did Bro Gavin and Sis-in-law have a fight recently?

Very curious, I asked around, and found out that for some reason, Sis-in-law has been hurrying off after school, and no longer goes to the library nor the piano room. I also heard that she’s been doing her revision for exams at home... Could it be that she’s hiding from Bro Gavin?

Oh my god, why don’t I write an eight o'clock soap opera with such an imagination? It might even become popular!

Returning to the original topic... should I tell Bro Gavin about this? If Bro Gavin also thinks that Sis-in-law is hiding from him, he might be heartbroken.

I’m worried...

The Ninth Memo

Bro Gavin disappeared for quite a long time, and finally returned today! But he brought with him a body full of injuries, and it’s very worrying because I didn’t know what happened! He also stuffed a letter to me, saying that it was for Sis-in-law. Even though the envelope was flat and smooth, it had a lot of blood stains.

Did Bro Gavin do something dangerous? He bled so much! I asked him to go to the hospital but he refused... Bro Gavin is truly too wilful!

But he is really different today. Why do I feel like I’m handling funeral arrangements? Touch wood!

He also said that he’d teach me 1 v 10 when he we meet again... Wow! If Bro Gavin wasn’t hurt, I’d have wanted to pounce on him and give him a peck! Bro Gavin is the most dashing! Bro Gavin is the coolest!

Come to think of it, Bro Gavin is about to take the college entrance examinations, and the seniors from the graduating classes have been pretty sad recently. The next meeting Bro Gavin mentioned was probably summer vacation? Hehe, I’m looking forward to it a little!

In that case, while Bro Gavin isn’t around, I’ll be the one to help Sis-in-law block off all the rotten apples!

Other men, don’t even think of approaching my Sis-in-law!

She! Is! Bro! Gavin’s!

The Final Memo

During the entire summer vacation... I didn't see Bro Gavin...

More from the Dream Heart Lake event: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc minor #mlqc gavin #I mistakenly thought the other translator who did this deactivated their account so I did my own version of this #BUT TURNS OUT THEY DIDN'T LOL #(ಥ﹏ಥ)

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goddessofmischief · 4 years

Text

Blue Monday, Part 1 - Loki x T.V.A.! Reader

Episode One... ‘Welcome to the T.V.A.’

Summary: Loki finds himself in an unexpected location, with a very unexpected partner.

You can read Chapter Two here and Chapter Three here! ...For the first time in his life, Loki Laufeyson was confused. Deeply confused.

All of it... it had all begun minutes ago, just minutes. But it felt like hours.

Minutes, since he had grabbed the tesseract (He’d thought himself so clever then - he was less sure now.)

And since then... he’d been launched into another dimension.

Launched into another dimension. Some thoughts feel stupid, even as if you think them. But there was no other phrase for it.

He’d been surrounded by a group of cloaked persons, then dragged to a location he could not quite place.

Now... now, he stood in an elevator.

And what an elevator it was. There was... a man, standing next to him, who he had not noticed before.

He was a hard person to sneak up on, he prided himself on that. But he couldn’t place blame with himself - this was something else. New magic.

So unlike his. So much... more colorless.

This was earthly magic, devoid of wonder or curiosity. It knew itself. It had bounds.

And he had absolutely no interest in it.

“You’re taking me somewhere to kill me?” he said to the man, who looked despairingly ordinary.

“No, I’m taking you someplace to talk.” Loki stared straight ahead.

Everyone always wanted to talk to him - it was what he had to say that they liked less.

“Well, I don’t like to talk.”

“But you do like to lie. Which you just did - cause we both know you love to talk.”

Okay, well, that settles it - he knew not when, and he knew not how - but he would kill this man.

Until then, he would... bide his time.

Find out where the elevator was taking him.

Go deeper to the depths.

"How long have you been here?” The man shrugged. “I don’t know, it’s hard to say... y’know, time passes differently in the T.V.A.”

The T.V.A...

That was the name stamped on his prisoner’s uniform. But why? “What does that mean?” The man merely shrugged again.

“You’ll catch up.”

...

He would slowly, with time, begin to regret that he had come quietly.

When he’d called the place earthly before - well, he had been right. The building was extremely boring. But it became less so with every dropping floor. By the time they had arrived at floor 2T13, it bore almost no resemblance to the building he had first entered.

And this room...

Well, this room was something else.

It nearly resembled a church, in some ways. But there were two armed guards at the front - no, it was a courtroom.

A courtroom. Of all Midgardian things.

But this was not like any Misgardian courtroom he had ever seen. Behind the judge, who was the only person present, except for his escort and the guards, were three large faces, carved into the back of the wall. The judge herself was enough a matter of interest. She wore a cross expression and a red sash, and seemed displeased with him being there.

“Who’s this?”

“Loki Laufeyson,” answered his escort. “The Asgardian, remember?” “Of course. We’ve been expecting him. Crimes?” “Murder. Attempted murder. Attempted overtaking of New York City.” “Gracious,” said the judge. “Attempted!”

“What’re you sentencing him to, Judge?” The Judge appeared contemplative. “Life.” “What?” snapped Loki. He had almost no idea what he was being sentenced to, but he was quite sure he didn’t want to do it for life. “I agree. Judge, surely we can work it down,” his escort offered. “Very well. 2,000 years... or 200 missions. Whichever he arrives at first.” Loki swallowed.

“I’ll brief him,” promised the man, and then he was swept into another elevator and gone.

...

The interrogation room was hardly any less dismal. The ceilings were high, square shaped, and there was almost no light. What light there was made small, geometric patterns on the floor, nearly impossible to see.

“I think I can imagine what you’re thinking,” said his escort. “You’re trying to figure out how to escape. You don’t even know what we’ve brought you into, and you’re trying to escape it.”

Loki chuckled, tapping his fingernails on the small, wooden table.

“Oh, you have no idea. I’m going to burn this place to the ground.”

“You may as well hear us out,” said the man. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Mobius. Mobius M. Mobius.”

“Good name. Easy to remember.”

“And this is you,” he said, placing a hologram puck on the table. An image of himself from moments earlier, fighting in New York, appeared. “...Yes.” Mobius switched out the hologram puck, reigniting it. This time, an image of his older self appeared... longer-haired, and grinning, and shouting something about being Asgard’s savior.

“And this is also you.” “...No,” Loki uttered, shaking his head.

“Well, I’m afraid, yes, it is,” said Mobius. “Except... it’s you a little bit farther down the road from now. You saved Asgard, Loki.” “Why?” “Oh, one reason or another, but you got there. But do you know what the problem is, though?” “Do tell me.” “You die. Yeah, not long after. It’s a sad thing, really.” “No.” “Oh, yeah. It’s a shame. But... you know, I’d like to talk a little about the T.V.A. first. What we do here.”

“Go on.”

“We alter time, you see. Keep it in order. And we had to alter quite a bit of time to get you here, Loki. And do you know why?” “Enlighten me.” “Because we saved you. Like everyone else here, you were saved from a timeline that wasn’t... uh... entirely beneficial for you, let’s just say.” “You reference my untimely death. How do I die, anyhow?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that. It’d mess up the book... say, Y/N, would you mind bringing in the book?” At that moment, the strangest creature he had ever seen in his life entered the room.

You were incredibly beautiful, and he noted that. Were you on Asgard, he wouldn’t have hesitated to attempt at gaining your affections. But here, your arms were crossed, and you wore a pair of dark, denim-type pants, and a long-sleeved, grey shirt. In your arms, you clutched something - paperwork, it seemed.

"This is the book,” you said, quietly, holding it tightly.

“The book?” “He’s not ready for the book,” said Mobius. “No, I’m ready for the book. Give it to me.” “You can’t have the book,” you insist. “You can only learn from it. The book... sees that which has not yet been seen. By us, anyway.”

“So, it’s a magical, future-predicting book.” “Pretty much,” you said, at the same Mobius uttered “Think of it more as a map.”

“A map?” “It will tell you where to go. Where to be. And the tesseract... the tesseract can take you there. At the point we are at, here, in the universe, we are a gateway to every dimension. All things are happening around us, all the time. We are eternal - never changing, never aging.”

“Who placed you here?”

“She was brought here by me,” Mobius said, nodding to you. “And I was brought here by the Creator.” “The Creator?” “A supernatural being. Now that he is gone, I’m in his place. He is not capable of dying, but he is capable of fading away, as he did... scattering his atoms throughout the universe, creating something new. He will always exist, in some way, acting through us. He has been here since the beginning of time, like Ego, like the Grandmaster. We all called him the Creator - well, I just called him Stan.”

“And all that work here, are they... like me?” Loki was looking at you, specifically.

“No,” said Mobius, insistently, also looking in your direction. “We choose... humans with special talents, too.”

“What’s special about her?”

Your cheeks flushed, and you took the opportunity to leave the room.

Mobius shrugged.

“She is waiting.” “Waiting?” “Yes. She knows that she is written in the book, too, though she doesn’t know what, or... why. People cannot see the pages in the book that are written for them, it’s just me that knows. But I’m unable to change or help it... and unable to tell anyone. But she is here for a reason.”

“But she is useful?” “She is. Exceptionally clever. Terribly determined. I have mentored her, until now. Now, she mentors you.”

“Her? A human? I’d hardly find us compatible.” “Think of her less as your mentor and more of your... companion. She understands the system - the book, and its workings. You may have to do some of the heavy lifting, but I assure you, without her, you wouldn’t be able to travel more than a few feet. You - the both of you - will need each other. You’ll come to see that.”

“And what if I refuse?” Mobius shrugged. “You can spend eternity in our prisons, for all I care. That’s what we do with interferers around here, Loki. And you’re an interferer if we ever saw one. We’d just rather you worked for us, is all. And... if you sign this... 200 missions. Just two-hundred missions. Then we’ll put you back in your timeline, and you can go die, for all we care.”

Loki sighed, eyeing the contract on the table.

It would seem... he had no choice.

Tag List: gorgeourrific-nerd @suwupremeleader

#loki x reader #blue monday #blue monday: a loki story #blue monday on disney +#loki x reader angst #loki disney+#loki imagine #loki #loki series #mobius

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longitudinalwaveme · 3 years

Text

Arkham Files: Pied Piper

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Hartley Rathaway, alias Henry Darrow; also known as the Pied Piper. The patient shows signs of depression and general emotional distress, but I have not yet been able to give him a full psychiatric evaluation. Session One. So, young man, your name is Hartley Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir.

Hugo Strange: Any connection to Osgood and Rachel Rathaway, the billionaire publishing magnates?

Pied Piper: They’re my parents, sir.

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) You mean to tell me that you’re that Hartley Rathaway? The boy who was set to inherit a fortune as large as the GDP of some small countries?

Pied Piper: I’m the only Hartley Rathaway! Ever! Nobody but my parents would stick a child with a name like that!

Hugo Strange: So if that is who you are, young man, why in the world would you have ever decided to put on a costume, call yourself the Pied Piper, and embark on a life of crime using weaponized musical instruments?

Pied Piper: Because someone had to even the score.

Hugo Strange: What do you mean, even the score? You had life handed to you on a silver platter. You grew up in a palatial mansion, with servants to tend to your every need. You had the best education money could buy, you traveled all around the world, and you were set to inherit one of the largest fortunes in the country. What injustice could a pampered prince like you possibly have faced?

Pied Piper: None, sir. I’m not evening the score for myself. I’m evening it for the poor, the downtrodden, the people who through no fault of their own are denied the opportunity to even know that they’ll have a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs. My parents and people like them live in scandalous luxury that they didn’t even earn, and they have the nerve to say that the poor are lazy and selfish! It’s unjust and unfair, and yet everyone turns a blind eye! I...I had to do something!

Hugo Strange: (A bit taken aback) I must admit, young man, I was not expecting to hear a manifesto from someone of your background. (Pause) I take it that you don’t simply steal for kicks in the way that your file seems to suggest?

Pied Piper: Not often. Usually, I take the money from people who won’t even notice it’s gone and give it to people who really need it.

Hugo Strange: So you think of yourself as some sort of Robin Hood, then? Stealing from the rich to give to the poor?

Pied Piper: I wouldn’t have thought to put in those specific terms, but...I suppose I do, yes.

Hugo Strange: Why not just give away your own money, Mr. Rathaway? Certainly you have access to more than enough of it.

Pied Piper: (Laughs quietly) I tried that once. When my parents found out, it became part of the argument that got me disowned, disinherited, and thrown off of their estate without a dollar to my name.

Hugo Strange: Your parents disowned you?

Pied Piper: Yes. They even paid the FBI to give me the identity of Henry Darrow just so I could never be traced back to them. If the Flash and that brilliant young reporter hadn’t stumbled onto the connection between me and my parents somehow, Hartley Rathaway probably would have been effectively erased from existence.

Hugo Strange: That does at least explain why your file gives you two entirely separate names and histories. I admit that that had been puzzling me, Mr. Rathaway.

Pied Piper: Well, now you know. (Pause) How did I end up in Arkham Asylum, Doctor? Even if someone had become convinced that I was mentally ill, Breedmore Psychiatric Hospital would seem to be much more conveniently located.

Hugo Strange: It would be. In fact, there are any number of prisons and psychiatric facilities that would be more conveniently located to the area of the Twin Cities than Arkham Asylum...but through a series of judicial and political decisions to which I was not privy, somehow all of you “Rogues” were placed under my watch. (Pause) So, Mr. Rathaway, you went from being one of the wealthiest and most privileged people in the country to being homeless and penniless. I imagine that that was not an easy transition for you.

Pied Piper: No, it wasn’t. Although the panic didn’t kick in right away. It wasn’t until I used my sonic technology to steal forty thousand dollars from my parents’ company, and then gave the money away to people in need, that my anger subsided and it really hit me that I was impoverished. All I had left was my hypnotic flute and the silly costume I had made out of my mother’s nice shower curtains in order to disguise myself while I was stealing money from her company, and I was panicking. Which in hindsight is probably why I made the stupid decision to hypnotize a group of random crooks into becoming a sort of gang, told them that my name was the Pied Piper, and tried to become their leader. One of them probably would have ended up shooting me within a couple of days, but because my sonic abilities were quite unusual, the Flash showed up to arrest us before I got myself killed. They went to prison, but for some reason that was never adequately explained, I was released from the police station without even being booked.

Hugo Strange: How could that have happened, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: My parents’ money, of course. They hadn’t had the time to create a false identity for me yet, so I suspect that they simply bribed the police station into letting me go so that no one would know that the former heir to the Rathaway empire was now a common crook.

Hugo Strange: And what happened after that?

Pied Piper: I almost starved to death.

Hugo Strange: And what saved you?

Pied Piper: Well, I had sat down on a park bench and was sort of waiting to die when I suddenly came face-to-face with a pair of blue pixie shoes that were floating four feet off the ground. The pixie shoes were attached to a blonde kid in a garish leotard. He asked me if I was the kid with the magic flute, and when I said yes, he told me that he was the Trickster and invited me to stay with him in his apartment for a couple days. I agreed when he told me that he also had food. During the month I stayed with him, he gave me a crash course on how to survive on the streets...although most of the other Rogues insist that I must not have learned very much from it.

Hugo Strange: Why is that, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Because I still give away basically all the money that I steal. Most of it goes to the poor, and the rest of it goes to my parents, to pay them back for the money they spent on trying to mold me into someone I could never be. That way, they can stop complaining about all the money they wasted on me. (Pause) Captain Cold insists that if I had any sense, I would keep some of the money for myself, but why would I do that? I spent my early life in unimaginable luxury. It’s only fair that I go without to help the poor now.

Hugo Strange: So you’re martyring yourself for the sins of your parents?

Pied Piper: I’m not martyring myself. I’m just doing what needs to be done.

Hugo Strange: Sacrificing your own financial well-being for the sake of others is not healthy, Mr. Rathaway. With a philosophy like yours, I’m surprised that you’re even still alive. (Pause) Incidentally, how have you managed to survive multiple stints in prison? A skinny, sheltered ex-aristocrat like you would seem to be an obvious target.

Pied Piper: Which is why I don’t call attention to myself whilst incarcerated. You’d be surprised how effective keeping your head down and your mouth shut can be. (Pause) Well, that, and Captain Cold has made it pretty clear that if anyone messes with me, they’re also messing with him. And almost no one is willing to get on Captain Cold’s bad side.

Hugo Strange: So your status as one of the Rogues protects you?

Pied Piper: Yes, sir. (Pause) But if I really had to, I think I could survive without them. I may be a sheltered ex-aristocrat, but I’m also a master hypnotist. I didn’t take up the name Pied Piper for nothing, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your file does go into great detail about the effectiveness of your hypnotic instruments. When you first arrived on the scene, there were even some people who thought that you might be the Pied Piper of the folktales, due not only to your powers but also the fact you seemed to appear and disappear almost at will, without ever really getting caught (Pause) Of course, from what you’ve told me, I can guess that the explanation for your remarkably infrequent imprisonments was due to your parents’ wealth, rather than to any magical powers.

Pied Piper: Those rumors were actually quite helpful. When people thought I might be magical, they put considerably less effort into tracking me, and that gave me a lot more freedom to do things like volunteering at homeless shelters and food pantries.

Hugo Strange: But you are not magical, Mr. Rathaway. You are only a man.

Pied Piper: I know that, Dr. Strange. If I had magical powers, I’d be a lot farther along in my goal of helping uplift the downtrodden than I am.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, that was not what I was trying to tell you. Wanting to help others is an admirable goal, but the methods which you are taking to pursue it are decidedly unhealthy. You are a human being with human needs, and you are discounting them all in your desperation to prove that you are worth loving. While I believe that you honestly want to help others, I also believe that there is a part of you that is still trying to earn the love which it sounds like you were denied as a child. You’re hoping that if you sacrifice enough, you will finally be accepted as worthy...but you are giving too much.

Pied Piper: Too much?

Hugo Strange: Yes, Mr. Rathaway. Too much. (Pause) Think of it this way. If you starve to death because you have no money to pay for food, you will no longer be around to feed anyone else...and by giving away all of the money you bring in, illicitly or otherwise, that is effectively what you are risking. And it’s certainly what you’re doing to yourself on an emotional level.

Pied Piper: (Quietly) It’s what I was taught to do, Dr. Strange. What I wanted wasn’t important. What I needed wasn’t even important. The only thing that was important was upholding the family name. My parents have always made it quite clear that their love for me was conditional on whether I would sacrifice what I was to be their idea of the perfect heir, and I tried. For eighteen years, I tried, but it was never enough. Not after I’d been born deaf.

Hugo Strange: Yes, your files mention that. Your files also mention that your deafness was cured thanks to a pair of highly advanced hearing aids, which were created by Dr. William Magnus. The operation cost millions of dollars, and it granted you far more than the normal range of hearing.

Pied Piper: 14 hertz to 55,000 hertz. I hear more sounds than a dog. (Pause) And all the nasty things that people whisper behind my back when they think I can’t hear.

Hugo Strange: Are you glad that you were given these hearing aids, Mr. Rathaway?

Pied Piper: Very much so. Without them, I’d never have known what music sounded like. (Pause) But to be honest? If I had to choose between being deaf and knowing that my parents loved me, and being able to hear and knowing that it was entirely because my parents didn’t want the social embarrassment of having a disabled son, I’d choose the world of silence. And I hate silence.

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you have spent your entire life sacrificing your own needs, either for the needs of others or for your parent’s desire for a so-called ‘perfect’ heir. That is why the request I am going to make of you will be so difficult. (Pause) Between now and our next session, I want you to write down something that you really want to do. Not something you think you should want to do; something that you actually want to do.

Pied Piper: But-

Hugo Strange: Mr. Rathaway, you will never be able to achieve healing until you recognize that your wants and needs are just as valid as anyone else’s. You will not be able to care for others in a healthy way until you learn to care for yourself.

#flash rogues #dr. hugo strange #pied piper #flash comics #batman comics #fanfic

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writingsfromhome · 4 years

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Nuclear Family II

Part 2: Miscommunications

A/N: part 2!! I was so overwhelmed w how much you guys enjoyed the first part, kind of made my head go blank lol. But now I rewrote it and added more ~spice. Sorry it took so long but I so appreciate all of you engaging w it! 💖

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V

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

Sleeping in was not something that existed when you had a child and Harry learns that the hard way. By half past 7, I’m already up because of the poking on my cheeks and when I come out from brushing my teeth, I hear shouts from upstairs.

“Charlotte!” I shout up but I'm ignored. I climb the stairs and locate the door to the small voice. “Charlotte let your dad sleep!” I open the door to Charlie jumping on Harry's bed and Harry rubbing his eyes. His eyes go to mine when the door opens and he lets out a chuckle.

“Parenthood,” I sigh and try to grab Charlie from the bed. She moans to come back and wiggles her way out to run back to the bed. Harry's sitting up at this point and I blush realising he didn’t have on a shirt. I had to stop acting 12.

“I want to play!” Charlie shouts, still jumping.

“Alright you crazy monkey!” Harry grabs our daughter and whispers something to her before attacking her in tickles. She shouts for me to help but when I try to help Harry pulls me into the covers and Charlie climbs atop me to tickle me instead.

“You two sneaks!” I shout between fits of laughter but Charlie soon tires and lays beside me, her head resting on my chest. Harry lies down on the other side of her, propped up on his elbow.

“I’m just going to…” Harry grabs his phone from his bedside table and holds it above us. Charlie already loved posing for cameras, so she grins but I cover my face. “Y/N come on! One photo!”

“Fine but I get to take it,” I bargain. Harry agrees and hands me the phone, shoving in closer so our heads almost touch. I ignore the closeness and stretch the phone above us, getting my good side, and just before I click it I shout “please!” a phrase Charlie used to say when she was younger instead of cheese. It gets a giggle out of her and in the photo her eyes are squinted and her grin is pure joy. Harry is glancing at me with a faint smile on his face while my expression is stretched out in 'please.’

Suddenly the cute family photo disappears as the phone vibrates and a picture of a woman smiling on a boat appears. Harry's girlfriend. My smile curdles as I awkwardly hand over the phone to Harry. It was an abrupt reminder of what Harry and I weren’t, despite the illusion of the photo.

"Let's give your dad some privacy," I pick up Charlotte despite her protests and bring her outside.

"Who's on the phone?" She asks as I seat her on the kitchen counter. I glance at her concerned face and remember that kids were a lot more intuitive than we gave them credit for.

"His friend," I answer as truthfully as I could without breaking her heart. The weeks following our trip Charlie talked so often about having both her mom and dad together-like we were getting together forever. Even though I broke it to her gently, she still carried that flame--I didn't want to extinguish those hopes so early on.

"Is she your friend too?" Charlie asks innocently.

"Just your dad's." I kiss her forehead and then get breakfast started, so by the time Harry comes down it's almost done.

"Shit," Harry says and then glances at our daughter who's too busy with Oreo to notice his language. "I was meant to make you two breakfast your first morning here!"

"It's alright," I shrug, unable to make eye contact. "Just grab a plate."

"I feel awful," Harry joins me in the kitchen. "Have you made coffee yet?"

"No," I glance at the machine.

"I'll do that then."

"Three sugars-"

"And a drop of milk," Harry finishes. "I remember."

"Right," I flush. How odd that we keep tiny details of one another, however useless, for years after we split.

"So I sort of forgot but-"

"Mom!" Charlie interrupts Harry and I tell her it would be a minute.

"Right, well when I was talking just now w-"

"Mom! I'm starving!"

"Charlotte! Give me a minute!" I say sternly before putting the last of her strawberries on the plate. I set Charlie's breakfast up and Harry joins with our coffees. Before we even sit, Charlie begins her monologue about coffee and how she was going to drink it when she's old enough.

"That won't be for a while," I comment, glancing up at Harry who was still standing by his chair.

"I'll drink it when I'm five," she holds up her fingers and counts them down. "Then I can drink it."

Harry and I share a brief glance, him opening his mouth to say something before the doorbell rings.

"Oh sh-uh-I'll get that," Harry rushes to get the door. Charlie spills her juice in the process so I pick up the sippy cup and grab paper towels to mop the spill.

"They're right through here," Harry's voice carries over and he enters again with his...friend.

"Hi," she has a pleasant smile and hips that had obviously never carried a child. My own had never quite recovered.

"Hi," I hold up the dirty towels and quickly lower them, painfully aware of how terrible I looked. I couldn't help but compare myself to Harry's girlfriend-especially when she looked like that.

"You're daddy's friend," Charlotte says matter-of-factly.

"I am!" Her voice raises an octave as she walks towards my daughter. "I'm Miranda it's nice to finally meet you!"

Charlie looks up at me and then back to her. "Why aren't you mommy's friend?"

An awkward silence follows and I can't help but glance at Harry. He rubs the back of his neck before stepping forward towards Charlie.

"I've only just met your mommy," Miranda glances up at me with another smile but this time it's stretched too tight. "But we can all be friends! It's nice to meet you."

Charlie looks at me and I smile at her in encouragement. "Okay," she concedes before going back to her piece of toast.

"Have you had breakfast?" Harry asks her quietly.

"I had a coffee," she answers. "But we'll be late if we don't leave now."

"Have you got somewhere to be?" I ask, unaware as Harry hadn't mentioned it yesterday.

"A friend of mine has a wedding thing," she keeps glancing at Harry even though she talks to me.

"I forgot about it," Harry says. "Miranda reminded me this morning I meant to tell you but the pancake monster kept shouting for her pancakes!"

Charlie giggles and tears into another one.

"We've got to be there half past ten," Miranda says quietly to Harry.

"I'm not even ready!" Harry looks down. "I need to shower too. Give me a half hour."

"This is why I had to come early," she shakes her head at me as if we shared an inside joke. I smile knowing how fake it felt. Harry gives me a pleading look as if to say he was sorry before heading upstairs but I shake my head and go to the kitchen to wash the sticky juice off my hands. I hear Miranda talking to Charlie and stay longer than I needed to in the kitchen before heading out again.

"It was really nice to finally meet you," Miranda tells me after Harry finishes up and they get going. She bends down to high-five Charlotte. "And you too!"

"I'll see you around 5," Harry tells me. "I've left keys so you can just come and go whenever."

"I thought we were going to have lunch together," Charlie pouts, suddenly realizing what this all meant.

"I know love," Harry picks her up. "I forgot about this party I had to go to."

"You never forgot at home," Charlie's bottom lip quivers.

"Dad will be home soon," I take Charlie from Harry before the waterworks could start. "And we're gonna have so much fun together right?"

"It's bullshit!" Charlie shouts. My cheeks colour and Harry's jaw drops before he bites back a laugh.

"Charlotte!" I scold but she runs away from my arms. I meet Miranda's eyes and they're wide as saucers.

"I don't know where she...picked up on that." I say lamely. I never swore in front of her-well rarely did. She must have been listening yesterday. Harry tries to say something about it but I cut him off. "Just go. I'll deal with her."

He hesitates but leaves with Miranda who looks relieved to go. I feel bad for Charlotte, knowing how excited she was to spending her whole first day with Harry and I find myself annoyed at him too for forgetting the event and ruining the plans.

I find our daughter curled up in bed and before I could give her a warning about swearing she's wrapped her arms around my neck and shoves her snotty face in my shoulder, apologizing for saying the bad word.

"As long as I don't hear it again," I say without much conviction. I was too upset with Harry to be upset with her too.

I put Charlotte in front of the TV as I clean up breakfast and try to work through my feelings. I couldn't tell if I was more upset about Harry bailing on us or seeing him with his girlfriend; anyone with eyesight could see they had good chemistry and it bothered me. But I came here knowing he was dating somebody else and knowing nothing would happen between us. But then last night, Harry was more affectionate than he needed to be. Maybe he was working through old emotions too, I figure. Maybe I didn't need to read into every single thing.

I decide that Charlie and I wouldn't feel sorry for ourselves and dress us up to step out. I pay a visit to an old friend and we all go out to lunch-Charlie being kept company by my friend's five year old. As we head out I check my phone to see nine missed calls from Harry and a few texts asking where I was-it was already 6 and I hadn't even noticed.

I text Harry simply saying we were on our way home and listen to Charlie talk about her new friend the whole tube ride home. But once we reach Harry's flat, my mood sours. For starters, his girlfriend is still over and Harry is really upset I hadn't picked up.

"Where've you been?" Harry asks calmly but his annoyance betrays his true feelings.

"Hey," I let Charlotte down. "We were just having a late lunch with y/f/n and time got away from us."

"I've been calling and texting-you didn't hear?" Harry, surprisingly, is still trying to remain calm.

"My phone was away," I laugh off the tension noting that Miranda sat awkwardly at the dining table. "We had the keys so-"

"I was worried," Harry glances at Charlie who was preoccupied.

"You told us we could spend the day out--that's why you gave the keys," I say a little aggressively.

"I wanted-I thought we could go out before dinner since I couldn't spend the morning with Charlotte." Charlie looks up at the sound of her full name.

"I had lots of fun with my new friend," Charlie states and I could tell she was still angry at Harry with the stubborn set of her chin. She'd gotten that from me.

"Just mixed signals," I interrupt. "It's not a big deal-we just need to communicate our plans better, okay?"

"I booked us tickets for a movie," Harry's continues, his voice is definitely bordering on aggressive and I wonder why he was so upset and making such a show while his girlfriend was still here. "And dinner reservations and now that's gone to waste! Keep your phone on you if-"

"No," I say assertively to stop Harry as his voice rises. "I understand I'm living at your place because I had no choice, but you don't get to speak to me like that. We're Charlotte's parents but we're nothing to each other. Next time, don't forget your own plans and communicate to me clearly if you want to go out with all three of us. Now excuse me."

I pick my bag up again and head to the room, my eyes burning and my heart racing. I hear Charlie's little footsteps behind me and I feel guilty that it hadn't even been a day and she had to witness us arguing. Why was parenting so hard?

I stay in the room and don't come out even as Charlie heads back out again when Harry calls us for dinner or when I hear Miranda leave or a movie being put on. I stay on my laptop, working, and ignoring the slight hunger at the back of my mind.

A sharp knock on the door catches my attention. The door opens slightly and Harry stands looking the complete opposite from the afternoon.

"Hi," he lets himself in and leans against the wall. "I wanted to say sorry. I didn't mean to get that upset with you I was more frustrated with myself for forgetting the party in the morning and ruining Charlie's first day here. And I was upset that she was upset with me so I planned something fun with her to make up for it and it fell through too."

I stay silent for a moment, after Harry finishes. I was still upset with him. And that wasn't a good excuse to chew me out in front of his girlfriend.

"I understand that," I shrug. "But I don't appreciate the way you just came at me with all those accusations. Especially in front of our daughter and while your girlfriend was there."

"Miranda's fine," Harry says. "She wouldn't have minded-"

"I minded!" I exclaim. "Oh my god Harry I've only just met her! This isn't my house or my city and to have a stranger sit through an argument with my baby daddy is not very fun."

"Right," Harry gets it. "Sorry. I just...keep feeling like I'm fucking up everything. I wanted Charlie here and to be with her as much as I could and now I have an angry three year old. She only just started talking to me because I gave her extra dessert."

I freeze, "Harry if you gave her extra dessert you're dealing with the consequences."

"What do you mean?" Harry perches on the bed.

"She's going to stay up and be super hyper and I'm not dealing with that."

"Ugh," Harry falls back onto the bed. "This is why I need you. You can't be angry at me, I'm such an amateur at this parenting thing and you're the wise one with all the knowledge like don't give your kid a second helping of dessert."

Harry rubs his eyes from where he lays, his shirt riding up to expose his stomach. I glance away, old feelings stirring up.

"Is there still dinner?" I change the subject.

"Of course," Harry shoots up. "I'll warm some up for you."

As I eat, I'm entertained first by the children's movie and then by Harry dealing with a hyperactive Charlie. She begins hopping around and jumping from couch to couch, tackling Harry and then coming my way. I pick her up and blow raspberries on her belly as she laughs.

"Tire her out quickly," I advise Harry as I go to clean up. "She'll fall asleep faster."

As I settle into bed, my heart twinges hearing the voices outside my room. It sounded like a family, like a family that could be mine. And the thought keeps me up even after the voices die down and Harry carries a sleeping Charlie into the room.

I keep my eyes closed and feel him tuck her in beside me. I sense him standing above the bed, the smell of him grows stronger as he leans over and kisses Charlie goodnight. I feel him hesitate before he presses his lips to my temple. I relive that single moment as he closes the door behind him and Charlie snuggles into me. And I start to realise that staying with Harry was one of my worst ideas yet.

#harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #fic #harry styles imagine #dad!harry #I can't decide if I want more drama or fluff #if ur reading this pls help #lol #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #writingsfromhome

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kittyprincessofcats · 4 years

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She-Ra S5 E08 - Shot in the Dark

There might be spoilers for the rest of the season in this post!

I absolutely LOVE this episode, and at first, I couldn’t really put my finger on why I liked it that much. And then Noelle tweeted this:

And yeah, that’s what it boils down to. This is the first *happy* Catra episode since... basically since “Once Upon a Time in the Waste” - and back then, the happiness didn’t last long.

(I also just think that story of AJ being so worried about Catra and Noelle reassuring her with every script is so adorable. I love to see how much they all care about these characters.)

Now let’s get into the episode!

- “Why does space hate me so much?” Yeah Glimmer, as I’ve said before, your powers don’t work in space because otherwise things would be way too easy and this show would be over way too quickly.

- “So, your plan is to, what? Ram through an armada of ships?” “No! ...Maybe!” 😂 I love Adora.

- The way Catra’s hands are shaking when she tells Adora they’re going to get caught... oh, baby 😢. And how Adora suddenly looks so worried... gosh, these two.

- Catra and Adora playfully arguing over whether or not Catra ‘defeated’ them in the past is so cute. I love this kind of ‘former enemies’ bickering and it’s why I was so glad they didn’t wait until the very end of the show to redeem Catra.

Bow: “Adora, Catra’s right.”

[Everyone’s eyes go wide.]

Bow: ... “That felt weird to say.”

😂 Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. Bring on all the ‘former enemies’ bickering, please!

- So, is this just because Wrong Hordak’s “brains were scrambled”, as Bow put it, or do all the clones randomly blurt out that Horde Prime has a weakness whenever they hear someone ask about it? I’m going to assume it’s the former. Also, the way he keeps blurting out more and then denying that Krytis exists is super funny.

- I like how they set Krytis up before with Catra having visions of it back in Taking Control - still pretty convenient that just hearing the name lets her make the connection, but I’ll take it. (Is it meant to be some lingering effect of being connected to the hivemind that she’s having visions of it again now, or is it just her remembering what she saw before?)

- I love the detail that Darla’s information on Krytis is locked and they need administrator clearance to access it. Shows again that the First Ones aren’t that different from Horde Prime - they were also ashamed of their failure to conquer Krytis and tried to hide the information on it.

- “In- In- In- Incorrect. It is located nowhere, because it does not exist, because Lord Prime destroyed it.” I honestly think this line should be a meme. When you want to hide something from someone (but you know it does exist), just quote that exact line (kind of like “There is no war in Ba Sing Se”). I once said it to my sisters when they asked about certain fanfics I wrote as a teenager. (“Nope, they are located nowhere, because they do not exist, because Lord Prime destroyed them.”)

- Changes in the opening: Micah, Spinnerella, Scorpia and Mermista are now standing mind-controlled around the Heart of Etheria in the villains’ shot. They’re also all missing from the final heroes’ card. In that final shot, Perfuma and Sea-Hawk both look sad now, and Netossa looks angry.

- Catra touching her neck when she sees the spire on Krytis... 😢. I’m here for the angst, but I also just need Catra to get lots of love and comfort after everything she’s been through.

- Can we talk about how absolutely ADORABLE her space suit is, though? Bow is absolutely right to coo over those ears. And when she tries to take it off with her foot? And Adora laughs about it? And Catra smiles when she sees her laugh? ❤️❤️❤️

- Wrong Hordak still denying that Krytis exists while currently being on Krytis is absolutely hilarious to me. It reminds me of flat-earthers or anti-vaxxers, or people who try to deny Covid exists (while others are currently dying from Covid) - not that any of those are funny, of course. I just mean that wrong Hordak nicely demonstrates how ridiculous they can sound.

- Catra calling out the Best Friend Squad on how dumb their plan is and then reacting with “Honestly, what did I expect?” is absolutely iconic. They really were missing her as the team’s braincell all along.

- Bow and Glimmer teasing Catra about her “first mission”, Catra grumbling that she’s going to kill Adora’s friends, Adora responding with a really calm “Please don’t” - everything about this is perfect. 🤣

- Also, small detail, but I love how Catra has a hard time walking in her spacesuit because she’s not used to wearing shoes.

- The remaining rebels looking around the destroyed camp is really sad. Frosta immediately trapping Castaspella in ice and checking her neck is great, though. That’s what they should have been doing all along. Why didn’t they also check Shadow Weaver’s neck, though? I know she’s intimidating and all, but there was no way of knowing if she’s chipped.

- “How did the rebellion lose so many of our finest members and yet we’re still stuck with you?” Castaspella’s asking the real questions! I like how literally no one in the rebellion likes Shadow Weaver. (Though honestly, I’m also glad she’s not chipped. Imagine how hard fighting a chipped Shadow Weaver would have been.)

- “But if you try anything, I won’t hesitate to strike you down.” Castaspella said ‘I won’t hesitate, b*tch!’

- Every single part of Wrong Hordak’s existential crisis (and Entrapta’s handling of it) is absolutely hilarious. I’m not going to quote all of it here, but pretty much every line of it is comedy gold. My favourite moment is probably “It seems Wrong Hordak has begun to question the meaning of life” (and everyone’s annoyed expressions at his crying) 😂😂. (On a more serious note, though: As much as it’s played for laughs, Wrong Hordak turning his entire worldview around in such a short amount of time is also pretty epic.)

- Catra just cutting through that door - damn, she’s strong! And I love Adora’s blush! (Yeah, the door was probably just an illusion, but my point still stands. She’s at least strong enough that it doesn’t seem completely weird that she'd be able to just cut through a door like that.)

- “You have an arrow that turns into a magnifying glass? I can’t believe we were losing to you guys.” 🤣🤣 Catra realizing the people she was fighting are actually idiots will never not be funny.

- It goes hand in hand with Bow realizing Catra is actually a cute kitty with an adorable sneeze. Good stuff. And the way her tail gets fluffy when she insists she’s not cute? D’awww. (Bow saying “The angrier you get, the cuter you are” reminded me of that scene in Steven Universe where Peridot loses her limb-enhances at the beginning of her redemption arc and Steven calls her cute and “an angry little slice of pie”.)

- Castaspella’s cape getting stuck in tree branches and the like is pretty funny, ngl. This is why Edna Mode said “No capes”.

- Shadow Weaver saying that her gifts are “far subtler” than mind-control is very fitting. Her thing is manipulation, after all. She doesn’t need to control people’s minds when she can just manipulate them and raise them in a way that’ll make them do what she wants. It’s scarier than mind-control in a way because it’s far more realistic. Mind-control doesn’t exist in real life, but manipulative parents (or just manipulative people) who will mess someone up emotionally? Very realistic.

- I like that you can tell that something’s off about Entrapta’s voice this time if you pay attention to it.

- “Seriously? How have you guys stayed alive this long?” Yup, the people you were fighting are idiots and you’re the braincell of the team now, Catra.

- I love the creepy music when Entrapta tells them it’s the first time they’ve talked since the last floor.

- Also, I love how Catra’s first instinct is to just launch herself at Melog, even though you could tell she was terrified just a moment earlier.

- I really like the moment where Glimmer realizes there’s magic on Krytis, especially since she doesn’t have her other powers right now.

- Melog bonds with Catra because they have the same sneeze ❤️❤️

- “Are you... are you petting the thing that’s been trying to kill us?” I love this whole moment 😹. I also love how Adora is so protective of Catra and immediately yells “Get away from her!” when Melog seems to get angry.

Catra: “I’m sorry. I got angry. It’s something I’m working on.”

Adora [with sparkling eyes]: “Aww, you are?”

Catra: “Yes! Now can you please...” [deep breath] “Yes. I am.”

I love everything about this. Catra genuinely working on her anger issues, Adora being so touched about it (remember back in Taking Control where she wished that Catra would ‘at least try’?), Catra having to hold back her anger because she realized Melog responds to emotions - perfect. ❤️😂👍

- Catra is so sweet when she calms Melog down. And the moment where they form their bond is really nice.

- So, can Catra understand Melog because of their bond, or because they’re both cats? I’m assuming it’s because of their bond?

- Melog’s backstory is really sad. But Adora offering to take them to Etheria is a really sweet scene.

- I like the parallel between the Best Friend Squad realizing that magic is Horde Prime’s weakness (and that the only planet he ever failed to conquer had wild magic) and Shadow Weaver telling Castaspella that the First Ones weakened Etheria’s magic and they have to set it free.

- “Stop me if I try to take the power for myself.” I’m not sure how I feel about that line. I like how SPOP has very much written Shadow Weaver as ambiguous so far. She’s not a good or nice person by any means, but is she at least on the side of the good guys and really trying to help now or is she still only after her own selfish goals? I very much did not want Shadow Weaver to get any sort of redemption or forgiveness, and I’ve always interpreted her as still being power-hungry. So, I have mixed feelings about this line. I like that it canonically acknowledges that Shadow Weaver is still tempted by power and might actually try to take the magic for herself, but asking Castaspella to stop her if she tries makes her look more selfless and like she’s taking precautions against it. (But then again, could Castaspella even stop her if she tried? I’m pretty sure Shadow Weaver is the stronger one of the two. So, you could still read this as Shadow Weaver being a master manipulator and only saying this so Castaspella will feel more inclined to trust her and go along with her plan - while knowing full-well that she could easily defeat Castaspella if it ever actually came down to it.)

Glimmer: “So, just to make sure I get it - We’re going to go running through a Horde blockade while relying on the magic of a creature we just met?”

Catra: “That about sums it up, yes.”

You know what this means - Catra’s a part of the Squad now!

- “Punch it, Darla!” I still love that the ship’s name is Darla. Also, all of their expressions when they fly through the blockade should be a “draw the squad” meme.

- Catra holding Adora’s hand and getting embarassed about it ❤️❤️ (while Adora is dumb and doesn’t even notice).

- I did not expect us to get a Glitra cheek kiss this season, but I’m not complaining! Also, Catra complaining while Glimmer and Bow are hugging her is such a cat thing; I love it.

- “We made it. We’re home.” Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think this is actually the first episode this season that ends on a happy / hopeful note and not on some kind of cliffhanger. And I really like that. This is where the “space arc” of season 5 offically comes to and end and I’m glad it has its own little happy ending. (And as much as I like the final episodes of the season, the space arc is still probably my favourite half of it.)

I love this episode, mainly because of what it means for Catra. She’s finally happy, she saved the day, she’s bonding with Bow and Glimmer and constantly flirting with Adora, and she has an amazing therapy cat now! I loved all the bickering between her and the others and how she’s starting to open up to them. Also, Wrong Hordak was absolutely hilarious in this episode and I commend Entrapta for having the patience to deal with his existential crisis. This was a really nice way to wrap the space arc up and bring the Squad back to Etheria.

[Previous episode] [Next episode]

#spop #spop s5 #spop s5 spoilers #Shot in the Dark #Catradora #Catra #Melog #Adora #Glimmer #Bow #Entrapta #Wrong Hordak #Noelle Stevenson #AJ Michalka #She-Ra and the princesses of power #Castaspella #Shadow Weaver #long post

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novantinuum · 3 years

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Hi, I was just wondering if you had ever thought about what would have happened in your story "Hollowed Moon" if you had continued it. I always thought it was such an interesting setup that could have gone in so many different directions. And there really aren't other stories focusing on Stevonnie and Spinel, so it was unique!

Hiya!

So, I do have some half-written, half-plotted out material to share. I gave this story some consideration the other day, and came to the decision that I don't have the desire to finish it out, alas- I have far too many other active WIPs to add it to the list. There's a few good reasons why I discontinued it, anyways... intimidation over the huge surge of attention it was getting back in 2019, some rude comments from overzealous Spinel fans, (I know everyone isn't like this, but a certain segment of the Spinel side of the SU fandom kinda burned me over time, hhh), and a future chapter containing a sensitive topic that I wasn't in a good headspace to write about at the time.

But! Anyways! Below the cut is all the existing material I have for Hollowed Moon past chapter 14, consisting of a mixture of descriptions, sketchy dialogue, and prose. It honestly feels nice to finally be able to put this story to an official rest.

Chapter 15

“I... I saw her.”

“Who-?”

“I saw Pink Diamond. I saw you, in this exact garden, in a dream. I- it was like I was experiencing everything through her. She explained your game, tapped your nose and told you to smile, then warped away—“

“That’s it, that’s what happened, almost exactly! But how could you even know that, I never—“

“I don’t know,” they blurt out. “I have empathic abilities, and sometimes that makes dreaming a little weird, but I have no idea how or why I saw any of this.”

[Pause for Stevonnie to think]

“Spinel, I’m so, so sorry,” they whisper brokenly. “But I think... she left you here.”

“What...?”

“She said she’d return, but before she warped away she whispered goodbye, like she didn’t actually intend to make good on that promise. She was lying to you,” they choke out, voice thick.

“No. No,” she says in clear denial, “no she’s not. She can’t be! She told me she’d come back! I can wait! I just have to wait—“

“But she’s not! She... she can’t, because Pink Diamond is gone. She- she was shattered, Spinel. Five thousand years ago, on the Earth. I- I should’ve told you this from the beginning, and I didn’t, and I- I’m so, so sorry—! But she left you behind, and now she’s never coming back.”

[Silence. Tears brim in Spinel’s eyes. Her eyes grow dark, pained, and then she glares at Stevonnie with such venom it almost knocks them backwards in alarm. ]

“NO!” she screams, tears streaming down her faded pink cheeks.

[She tears her feet up from the roots and runs away, using her arms like an orangutan to vault herself forward super fast so Stevonnie can’t catch her.]

___

Chapter 16

AN: Content warning for self-shattering attempt. Part of the reason why I had to stop writing this story at the time. I considered pushing the plot another way, but it didn't feel authentic to how I believed this scenario would play out for Spinel when she didn't have a direct target for her anger. Without someone to actively be jealous and upset AT, I could only imagine her breaking inwards instead of outwards, feeling that she's utterly failed in her life's purpose. Nothing more than a description for this chapter... and it'd be a short one.

[When Stevonnie finds her, she’s smashing her fists against her gem in her sheer anguish. She’s already cracked it. She’s glitching. It looks terribly painful. She’s about to strike her gem again when Stevonnie intervenes.]

___

Chapter 17

[Post timely intervention. Spinel is still cracked at this moment, though... her form glitching as she cries.]

“I was... her best friend,” she cries, fat, glistening tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was supposed to make her happy! Why wasn’t she happy? Why didn’t she come back?“

[Spinel reasoning that maybe if Pink came back for her, she wouldn’t have been shattered in the first place]

“What did I do wrong?” she whispers hoarsely, gazing pleadingly into Stevonnie’s eyes. “Wha- what am I doing? Why do I wanna hurt myself so badly?”

“Shh, now,” they reply, tears of their own brimming at the crease of their eyes, and pull Spinel’s head to their chest. “I’ve got you...”

___

Chapter 18

They know their throat is tight, and their voice scratchy. They know they’ve never sung this song in front of another living being, since it’s something personal they composed alone on one of their late nights back on Earth, thinking about all the difficult days Steven and Connie have had to face over the months. Pair this with their active crying, and there’s no way their singing will be anything pretty.

But pretty doesn’t matter right now.

Stevonnie opens their lips, and— clutching the broken hearted Gem close, rhythmically rocking with her back and forth— lets the wandering melody emerge from within.

“I guess I have to face That in this awful place I shouldn’t show a trace Of doubt...”

“But pulled against the grain I feel a little pain That I would rather do Without...”

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

[Hoarse, Spinel starts singing with them.]

“I’d rather be Free, free Free...”

“Free, free Free...”

“From here...”

[Stevonnie holds her tight while crying, their tears healing it back up.]

___

Chapter 19

AN: Don't have anything but a single bit of dialogue in this chapter note- I'm assuming I intended it as being a good few hours after the events of chapters 16-18... when Spinel has calmed down a little and has a moment to reflect on the upsetting news she's just received.

“I think... I always knew,” she says, voice hoarse. “In a way. It was so obvious how she felt about me.

___

Chapter ?

AN: From here on out, the plot hasn't been split into individual chapters.

[At some point shortly after chapter 19, Lars and his crew locate Stevonnie in the garden, and pick them and Spinel up. The next few bits of dialogue and description takes place on the ship.]

Rutile twins: “I haven’t heard of Spinels being produced in over five millennia.” “Me neither!”

Rhodonite: “Yeah, I heard they stopped making them entirely after the rebellion on Pink’s colony.”

[A bit of overwhelming conversation later, no one really noticing Spinel's conflicted emotional response to so many Gems hovering around her at once.]

Padparadscha: “I predict that you’re both going to make Spinel feel very uncomfortable aboard this ship.”

Rhodonite: “I’m sorry, we don’t exactly meet new Gems every century.”

Rutile twins: “Yes!” “It’s just been us until we met our captain!”

Fluorite: “Our new huuuuman friend helped us escape the tunnels on Homeworld. Now... we’re slooowly making our way back... to Earth.”

Spinel: “Earth?? You’re going to Pink’s world? But why? I heard she... was shattered.”

___

[Spinel feeling a sense of kinship with the idea that there’s other Gems who didn’t serve their rightful purpose and are now escaping their life on Homeworld to be free of that. Because now, without her Diamond, since she was unable to keep her happy, she’s an Off Color too. She failed her given purpose same as them.]

[Discussion of Earth, and the rebellion, and how there’s Gems living free there. And how Pink’s colony was siphoning life away, and that’s what these Gems were fighting to protect. Stevonnie points out all the plants and wildlife that used to live in the garden, and asks her if she felt happier when it was around. Spinel says yes. Stevonnie says that this is what the Diamonds are destroying, with each lifeless colony they forge. Everywhere they go, dead wildlife lies in their wake.]

Spinel: “I... guess I never thought of it that way.”

[(Stevonnie adds...) And while they’re very sorry for the personal connection there, and can’t imagine how painful that must be, that’s why Pink Diamond was shattered.]

[Spinel is given an open choice... Lars gives the invitation to stay with him and the Off Colors, and Stevonnie offers for her to come with them back to Earth. It's not a hard decision for her in the end, though. She's always dreamed of seeing what was once Pink’s planet, ever since she heard the Diamonds bequeath it to her.]

___

Stevonnie: “Okay, so… before we go, I need to be honest with you about something." [deep breath] "I’m actually a fusion of two separate people who are close friends. You... know what fusion is, right?”

Spinel: “Duh, o’course! What, d’ya think I was made yesterday?”

[...]

Stevonnie: “But even with that, I can’t be together as me all the time. Steven and Connie, the two who come together to form me... they love hanging out with each other so much, but they also have their own lives! Other friends, other hobbies, their own families. They still talk when they’re apart, but they know it’s okay to do things alone, too. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Spinel: [shakes head no] “No...?”

Stevonnie: [sighs] “I understand you’ve been left behind. Believe me, I know how bad that feels. So the last thing I wanna do is make you think I’m doing that too.”

Spinel: “Y-you— you’re going away?” Stevonnie: “Unfusing, yes.” Spinel: “But Stevonnie, you—“ Stevonnie: “Spinel. No matter what, you are my friend. Steven and Connie consider you a friend, too. And my hope is that you’ll keep making a whole bunch more on Earth, so you’ll always have people around who know and love you. But that can’t always be me, okay?“

___

[At home... on Earth. There's a bit of a close call for Pearl when Spinel arrives, and recognizes her as Pink's second pearl. This is news for Garnet and Amethyst and Steven, the first of which had somewhat suspected that Pearl used to be in the diamonds' service, but never knew for sure. Pearl, of course... can't say much on this due to her gag order... not that anyone else knows about that yet... but does manage a very concise and PD=RQ free explanation about her past in Pink's court, and her transition towards being a Crystal Gem:]

Pearl: “Rose Quartz set me free, and I’ve been a part of the rebellion ever since.”

___

[At some point between the last scene and the next, mention how Spinel had a bit of a relapse... she ended up poofing herself, and reformed differently. A little bit closer to the smudged mascara and frayed pigtails look of canon, but no rotated heart. Unlike in canon, she has a solid support system amongst the Crystal Gems, and she's working hard to recover from the heartbreak of Pink's abandonment.]

___

[Final scene is set post A Single Pale Rose. Steven and Connie fuse, and Stevonnie goes to find Spinel to check in on how she's taking the news. The final line of the fic is as follows:]

Spinel: “I know you’re not her, not really. And I know you’ll always be a better person than she ever was. But in some silly cyclical way... back in that garden... it’s almost like Pink came back for me after all.”

#su #spinel #stevonnie #su fanfiction #my fic stuff #hollowed moon #this isn't REALLY 'my fic stuff' since it's unwritten but #i think it deserves to be here. this is the full unfinished plot of a fic that got the most exposure of anything i've ever shared in fandom

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years

Text

The Miys, Ch. 131

Two things about this chapter:

One: I am a sucker for these domestic chapters. I love showing people being people, and weaving world-building and plot development into those scenes.

Two: I am currently doing better from a work-exhaustion perspective, thank you everyone who was concerned! I actually took the day off the day before I wrote this and just slept as much as I could that day, because the last day I worked, I was literally swaying on my feet if I stood still.

As always, thanks to @the-raven-fae, @baelpenrose, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog for keeping me going, along with every. Single. Person. Who has found this story somehow and just binged it as fast as you could. I love when my inbox gets detonated by someone new, please never stop!

Glimmering Feathers Podcast is currently doing The Miys from the very beginning! Please listen and support!

“Have the shelter locations for non-combatants been shortlisted?” I panted as Tyche and I sat on the floor of the gym after an intense cardio and sparring session.

She shook her head as she took a gulp of water. “Not that I know of, but Xio hasn’t really told me anything yet.”

“You would think we would be told pretty quick,” I complained. “After all, we’re supposed to be putting together the rosters of who goes where.”

“We put together the lists of combatants and non-combatants.” She stood and held out a hand to help pull me off the ground. “Our part is done for right now, and we’re pretty far ahead of schedule, honestly.”

“This isn’t exactly the kind of thing we want to leave to the last minute.”

Tyche groaned. “Right about now, I wish you were planning the Festival still. You get crabby when you’re stressed and don’t have anything to work on.”

I scowled and made pincer-like gestures with my hands. She just laughed and shook her head before I asked, “Are you and Antoine coming over for dinner tonight?”

“Only if you let me shower first. We both stink.”

There was no way I could argue with that, especially as I went to put my glasses on and caught a whiff of myself. “Showers, then dinner at twenty-oneish?” As we exited the gym, I paused to let my eyes adjust to the far-dimmer lighting. Chills ran down my back every time I recognized the similarity to the nightmares Else had given me while trying to communicate, and I always had to spend a few minutes forcing myself not to step over debris that wasn’t actually there.

“Can we do vegetarian tonight?”

“You have to talk Conor into it.”

A couple hours later, we were standing in my kitchen area. Tyche was aggressively mashing chickpeas while staring down a nearly-flinching Conor.

I leaned over from where I was mincing herbs. “That isn’t what I meant and you know it,” I whispered.

“Don’t worry. I’m making him lamb, he just doesn’t know it,” she whispered back from the corner of her mouth.

To avoid smiling and giving it away, I called out instead. “Hey, Antoine, can you come start the tzatziki? You’re better at it than I am.”

“If you would give in to the existence of salt, Sophia, you would be a much happier woman,” he teased with a serious face.

“I use salt!” I objected.

“At the end,” my sister pointed out. “He salts the cucumbers before mixing everything together.” She glanced back at Conor before arching an eyebrow at him.

Distraction time. “Love, how are the plans for the housing fabrications coming?”

“Your mate Arthur apparently convinced Huynh - somehow, it’s not like they talk - that we don’t need fortifications,” he groaned. “I keep trying to explain that we aren’t putting up fortifications, it’s for agriculture.”

“Wait, what? What does that have to do with housing…?”

He tilted his head side to side as he considered. I could almost see him rewinding. “We have several different blueprints drafted for housing, dependent on what we learn when we drop into ‘real space’. Lots of them include plans for those espell-things to grow on the side, but Huynh is pushing back. It’s holding up the approvals.”

“What does Charly think?”

“Anything that helps us grow more plants with less impact on the environment is a win for her, so I’m trying to take the long view. He can decide whatever he wants now, but she’ll go with the plants every time.”

Antoine appeared next to me, wiping his hands. “How would your plan work if there is a cavern system, as suspected, rather than a surface settlement?”

He conceded the point. “Still working on a sustainable grow-light system for that one. But if it works, we would have year-round crops, so it would solve for the problem of storage in the winter.”

The door to our quarters opened just then, and a very tired-looking Maverick paused to take off his boots. “What would solve for the winter storage issue?” he asked.

“Sustainable grow-lights,” Tyche tossed over my shoulder from where she was hiding the lamb.

He made it as far as the table before dropping into a chair and leaning heavily on Conor, who wrinkled his nose. “Mav, you stink.”

“Turns out grav-mechs are greasy, even in space,” he mumbled, nuzzling into the other man’s shoulder instead of taking the hint. “I hate calibrating them.”

“No dirty hands at the table!” I reminded him. He didn’t move his head, just held up two meticulously scrubbed hands. “Fine…” I surrendered.

“Why are we talking about grow-lights?” he asked.

“Huynh is fighting with me ‘bout the housing solutions,” Conor explained, stroking his hair.

“Ah… the plants?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t you just make the plants where they can grow with less light? I thought you were already working on that.”

“They turned black, tasted horrible, and we ended up with a sentient plague,” I pointed out. “No more dinking around with plant genomes please?”

Tyche turned around, hands on her hips. “We are already trying to manage a food festival and a potential invasion by space-pirates. No more plagues. Knowing her luck - “ she jerked a thumb in my direction “- this one won’t be the apologetic and cute kind.” Apparently the words that just came out of her mouth registered, because she rolled her eyes and threw her hands in the air before turning back to her top-secret dinner plan.

I finally finished turning the pale green paste into patties and shoved them in the oven, removing the griddle that had been warming in there. Hefting it onto the heating elements that served as a stove, I started putting together dough for pitas. “So, grow-lights. What kind of light do we need for them to work?”

“Blue, ideally,” Conor responded without even having to think. “Four-fortyish nanometers. Weirdly red light, six-fiftyish nanometers works, too.”

“So explain the issue, because I feel like I’m missing something. Charly designed lights in both those colors.”

“Wrong wavelengths,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck. “And it’s apparently really hard to finetune the wavelengths of organic lighting. She’s managed to get it right, but only for about twenty four hours before it shifts too far one way or another. We don’t want to depend on completely inorganic light, if Von is as metal-poor as we think it will be.”

“Can’t replace them,” I half-asked. He winked and shot me a finger-gun to confirm my suspicion. “Yeah, that’s a huge problem.”

“The star emits just the right kind of light, barely, so if we stick with surface settlement, we should be okay.”

“And that’s where the storage issue came up,” Maverick mumbled sleepily, bringing us back to the original question he asked.

Conor jostled him gently, and I heard something about a shower to wake up before Maverick padded off in the direction of the bathroom. Right at the same time, Tyche reached around me to flip a pita before blowing her fingers and cursing softly. Apparently, her secret was done, so I handed her the spatula and started rolling out more dough.

By the time Maverick came back with wet hair and a too-big shirt that had to be Conor’s, most of the food was on the table and we were ready to eat. Conor started grumbling about no meat and how could us weirdos eat a meal with no meat when he was interrupted by Tyche clearing her throat. His head snapped up and his jaw dropped.

“You! You are the sneakiest, most beautiful sister in law I could ever ask for,” he extolled dramatically as he saw the platter of lamb skewers in her hands.

She moved the platter out of his prodigious reach as she approached the table. “There’s a catch. You have to at least try the falafel. By itself, no lamb. Then you can have the meat.”

Maverick, more awake now and with half a sandwich already in his mouth nodded. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded again. “It’s really good, I swear.”

I pretended not to notice that he grabbed a skewer off the stack. Then again, Maverick also wasn’t a grown man who still had to be bribed to eat vegetables. Usually, he had to be bribed to eat meat actually.

Conor, on the other hand, took the falafel pita that Tyche made for him and eyed it skeptically. “I feel like I need to point out that this isn’t a sandwich, this is what you put on a sandwich.” His hesitancy lasted about as long as it took for Antoine to stand and pick up the platter before he took a huge bite out of fear that the lamb would be taken away. He chewed frantically until Antoine put the platter back down, before he actually registered the taste.

I wanted to laugh at the confusion that flooded his face as he stared down at the sandwich in his hand. Finally, he swallowed, but the confusion didn’t stop.

“That’s…. Actually not bad. I thought vegetarian food was supposed to be bad?” He flinched when dual glares were thrown his way by me and my sister. “I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant - you know what, I’m going to shut up and eat before you two ladies decide I’m for dinner tomorrow night.”

“Very wise course of action,” Antoine confirmed solemnly as he carefully spooned tzatziki on his own, onion-loaded sandwich.

Still shaking my head, I started making my own food when I realized something. “I thought we made a lot more falafel than this?”

Tyche smirked but didn’t say anything. Neither did Antoine, focused on his own meal. Maverick however, was suspiciously quiet. I glanced over at him, only to see him staring really hard at his plate, which now had three empty skewers on it. As my mind caught up, I actually found the sight kind of adorable.

I must have stared too long though, because Maverick muttered pathetically. “I was hungrier than I thought.”

Kissing the top of his head, I put another pita on his plate. “Baby, we made more than enough. Eat all you want. I just don’t want you to choke, that’s all.”

A long-fingered hand with slightly ginger hair on the back put a skewer on his plate. “Love, we can’t eat all this, you’re fine.”

“I always make enough food for ten people when you two are eating,” Tyche confirmed, not even looking up. “Teenage nephews in the Before. Lots of practice.”

He slowly looked up at us, and realizing that no one was angry, just surprised, he looked less afraid and sat up straight. Conor patted the top of his hand before deploying one of his weaponized, thousand-watt smiles. “C’mon, I’ll show you to make one with the lamb. You’re gonna need a lot of onions for this…”

I groaned, setting off a round of laughter. I wasn’t against onions on a sandwich, but they didn’t have to sleep between two men with onion breath.

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#the miys #found family #food #aliens #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #hfy #haw #apocalypse #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #recovery #science fiction #sci fi #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing #my writing

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moonlightreal · 3 years

Text

This is the “author’s note” I found on the amazon pages for the pretty hardcover Night World books. My memory is that it was just there, the book-blurb at the top by the cover picture, was this.

Like a bonehead I just copied the text without grabbing a screencap or noting the date. The amazon page now has the publication date is December 2016 so this bit of optimism was just before Ms. Smith vanished. Of course we don’t know when it was written or whose idea it was. Was Strange Fate really finished or was someone just feeling hopeful?

NIGHT WORLD Dear Readers, It’s hard to tell you how much the re-release of the Night World books means to me. It has allowed me to come full circle, to complete a cycle that began with Secret Vampire. It has allowed me to finish Strange Fate, which grew into an epic that included roles for almost every Night World character. And Strange Fate allowed me to show the origins of the Night World, the apocalypse that threatens to destroy it, and even a possible future in which the evil side of the Night World prevails. I am often asked how I conceived the idea for the Night World series. It began when I wanted to write stand-alone novels that would combine horror and romance. But I wanted more: I wanted to do a series in which this Night World—a vast, secret world that exists within the everyday world—would slowly reveal itself to readers. That’s why the first book is called Secret Vampire: the inhabitants of the Night World, composed of vampires, shapeshifters, witches, and other supernatural creatures I wanted to invent, are hidden from humans. A vampire is necessarily a secret vampire … because of the laws. I also wanted to write about a new kind of forbidden love. That’s not easy—most good forbidden love topics were old by Shakespeare’s time. But with this series, I could create the possibility of forbidden love simply by saying that the laws of the Night World prohibit a Night Person from falling in love with a human. But I still needed one more ingredient. I needed the rise of the soulmate principle to actively force Night People to fall in love with humans, no matter how hard they fought against it. Voilà! Then it was just a matter of making up interesting characters and setting them loose in my head to see what they would do. I often begin like that: sitting in a quiet room and searching for a sparkle in my mind that could become my new heroine. Sometimes it’s easy and a whole character shimmers before me. Sometimes I only get the faintest firefly glimmer of a new girl, and I have to hold my breath and see if that glimmer will materialize into a three-dimensional person. Heroes and anti-heroes are easier. It’s just a matter of picking one that will be a true soulmate for my heroine. I have a whole collection of these characters in my mind, all trying to crash the party. And they’re usually bad boys. The settings and in-depth plot development are another layer of work. But often the characters just run off and do what they want, and I have trouble keeping up with their antics on my keyboard. One thing I always do is look carefully at my characters and plot from all angles to make sure I’m not plagiarizing a book or series that I may have read before. That’s just normal procedure for ethical authors: we make sure our stories aren’t too much like another story we might have read. Of course, there are many ideas that have been around since the Babylonian myths, and many characters that are archetypal. But, really, it’s almost impossible to take many things from the body of another author’s work—say, someone else’s character(s) or plot or story device—without actually intending to do so. I can’t imagine wanting to do that. I wish I could say every author felt the same. Poppy North is a character I examined very carefully. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t too much like Bonnie McCullough, another petite character of mine from The Vampire Diaries. I didn’t even want to plagiarize myself ! But Poppy convinced me that she was a tough little squirt who by high school had already planned out her future, which is very unlike Bonnie. Poppy was going to marry her mysterious friend James—she just hadn’t informed him yet. Also, unlike Bonnie, she had a fatal flaw in her small body. In Secret Vampire, I knew I was dealing with a serious issue: terminal cancer in a high school girl. So I did a lot of research before deciding on a type of cancer that would be truly inoperable and give Poppy only a month or two to live. I went to several hospitals to talk to nurses in oncology wards. I always brought toys for the hospitalized children, but the whole subject was so heartbreaking I was almost afraid to tackle it. Once I did, though, I found that Poppy was even stronger than I had imagined. In the book, she makes the only choice she can to go on living, and she never looks back. Poppy is one of my favorite girls, and she ushers in Ash Redfern, who quickly became one of my favorite bad boys. Ash has a murky past of womanizing and … well, more womanizing. Ash returns in Daughters of Darkness because he has been ordered by the leader of all vampires, Hunter Redfern, to bring his three runaway sisters back to their cloistered vampire island. But when Ash locates his sisters, he runs straight into the human stargazer Mary-Lynnette, and the sparks begin flying—literally. Mary-Lynnette is a character I made up when I was a kid, and I’m always surprised by how many people like her and Ash together. Mary-Lynnette spends most of the time expressing her feelings for Ash by kicking him in the shins, but their dialogues are some of my favorite passages in the whole series. Ash, in turn, escorts Quinn into the series. And Quinn (who does have a first name, though he rarely uses it) is one really scary guy. A vampire since 1639 A.D., Quinn is sharp, cold, humorless, and heartless. Unlike Ash, who is mainly guilty of an incredibly long series of one-night stands, Quinn enters the series as a human slave trader. That is, he provides vampires with young girls, and he doesn’t ask questions about what happens to the girls afterward. This led to a problem: How on earth was I going to redeem this villain enough to make him someone’s soulmate in The Chosen? I really sweated over that. My first task was to make Quinn more sympathetic. The best way to do it seemed to be by telling a bit of Quinn’s own tragic story: how he falls in love with sweet Dove Redfern, and how her vampire father decides to make Quinn his heir. Dove’s father is Hunter Redfern, one of the most important vampire leaders in Night World history. This is the same Hunter Redfern who, nearly half a millennium later, sends Ash to drag his sisters back home. The same Hunter Redfern who sends his daughter, Lily, after Jez in Huntress. The same Hunter Redfern who tries to turn Delos into a merciless killer in Black Dawn. But, as a boy, Quinn doesn’t know anything about the Night World, and he is deeply in love with gentle Dove. When Hunter makes him a vampire by force and then when Quinn can’t save Dove from being killed, Quinn’s heart freezes over. For four hundred years it accumulates ice—until he meets Rashel. That’s another favorite scene of mine: when Rashel, a dedicated vampire hunter since (guess who?) Hunter Redfern killed her mother, encounters Quinn. A group of Rashel’s fellow vampire slayers have captured Quinn and plan to torture him, and Rashel is left alone to guard him. Quinn, feeling old and tired despite his youthful appearance and great power, gives himself up for dead—and is a little glad to do so. Rashel, however, can’t stomach the idea of torture. When Rashel talks to this most-hated vampire and hears his story, she deliberately sets him free. And that astonishes him. But it’s the soulmate principle working its magic. I loved making two such strong-willed enemies succumb to the silver cord that connects them. I especially loved hearing Quinn warning Rashel not to let him go—and then protecting her when her comrades arrive back in time to see that she’s let him loose. I really loved writing about Quinn and Rashel’s soulmate sequences. As Rashel enters Quinn’s mind, she sees “thorny scary parts” but also “rainbow places that were aching to grow” and “other parts that seemed to quiver with light, desperate to be awakened.” She begins to think that people ask so little of themselves. If the mind of a slave trader can look like this, an ordinary person must have the power to become a saint. It is with this revelation (and much penance on Quinn’s part) that Quinn is redeemed. That’s the thread that binds all the novels together: redemption. The possibility of a second chance. Everyone has choices to make, but even the most evil of vampires can choose to atone and be redeemed. It may not necessarily stave off punishment in this world or the next, but redemption is possible. I’ve been asked who my favorite characters are, and the answer always changes because it depends on the book I’m writing. Right now my favorites are three characters from Strange Fate. As for my favorite couples in the published books? Morgead and Jez—I suppose. Who would find themselves at greater odds than a vampire gang leader and his onetime superior, a vampire who finds out she is half human? I learned some cool martial arts moves as a bonus for writing about them. Then there is Keller, one of my all-time favorite heroines, and Iliana, the beautiful Witch Child, and Galen, ruler of the shapeshifters: the love triangle in Witchlight. Keller starts out seeming brusque and businesslike, but the love of Galen and of the unselfish Iliana help to heal her inner wounds. And I can’t forget Thierry and Hannah, and Circle Daybreak. I created Circle Daybreak because the Night World witches had only two clans: Circle Twilight and Circle Midnight. Those, like Thea in Spellbinder, who belong to Circle Twilight are not-so-wicked witches (that is, they don’t want to exterminate all humans like the darkest witches, those who belong to Circle Midnight), but they are still wicked enough. So what was to be done with all these new soulmates, when Night World law said that they must be put to death? Someone had to make a place for them where they would be safe, and I decided it was Thierry, one of the oldest vampires, and Hannah, his Old Soul soulmate, who has lived hundreds of lifetimes without ever reaching the age of seventeen. They are the ones who revive Circle Daybreak, where humans and Night People can forget about past tragedies and concentrate on a brighter future together. Although Thierry is an old vampire, he isn’t the oldest vampire. There is one older, the one who Changed him. She provides another thread that binds the series: the pitiless Maya. Maya is the first vampire, the witch who finds the secret of eternal life—and chooses to use it for evil. But there will be plenty more about her, including a look at the young Maya, her sister Hellewise, and their mother, Hecate Witch-Queen, in the upcoming Strange Fate. And so now I’ve come full circle, back to Strange Fate. But I can’t finish until I add the other joy that the re-release of Night World has brought me. It’s brought me into contact with you by e-mail. Night World fans write so many intelligent, articulate, courteous, exciting e-mails! I love to get messages from “old” fans, who say my works “got them through high school.” Thank you for them! And messages from new fans, who say they have just read all my reissued books—and are impatient for more. Thank you! And the messages that simply demand: “When is Strange Fate coming out?” Thank you, too! With a full heart, all I can say is thank you, thank you, and thank you again! I never thought I would have a chance to write an open letter to all Night World fans, and I can only wish that you knew how grateful I am … for this second chance. Sincerely, (LJ Smith signature image) P.S. I love to get e-mail, letters, and messages. Visit me at ljanesmith.net!

#nightworld #ljsmith strangefate #strange fate #LJ Smith

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thekitschdiet · 3 years

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the kitsch diet part II

part one alr posted!! this chunk is about 3,000~ words long... let me know what u think :-) thank u all for all the luv already!!! looks like I really will hit 31 followers by easter!!!!!!!!

Who is the Kitsch Girl?

I think this is more loosely defined, but The Chic Diet did a truly admirable way of reducing a girl to her YSL bag and her really skinny legs. Now, that implies an archetype, or a population in a specific location. I think kitschness is kind of the niche you fill when you’re not really much of anything else, sort of your own conglomerate of mainstream-specific. One major requirement, though, is being a little too into something somewhat uncool. And the whole illusion falls apart if you have any sort of outward insecurity. See, the Kitsch Girl is somewhat undefinable because she is so much of everything. She exists in multitudes, in a way that is also quite simple to understand; think of a list of axioms, or principles to live by. And now add a section to each one that says “but…” to make a collection of verified exceptions. Say, the kitsch girl will never wear jeans. But she thrifted this pair of vintage flares she just loves. She doesn’t reply to texts efficiently, but sometimes she will within a couple seconds. No mascara, no dinner forks, candles are to be collected not burned; but that was a gift, or something. It’s not personal, of course, those are just the contradictions she exists in. Don’t try to understand it, the enigma is essential to the facade. Or maybe she just lives like this, and her character is so homogenous with her inner world there’s no sense in trying to separate it. You have to have a little bit of an individuality complex about the whole ordeal, which is normally so eugh, but if you’re kitschy enough it works on you. Trust!The Kitsch girl is not someone unlikeable, but amiable and well heeled. I double checked that last one, assuming it meant liked by most, but apparently means affluent. I suppose that is an aspect of the kitsch girl too, having seemingly endless frivolous expenses with no real strain, but that’s not important right now. People that don’t like her think so out of jealousy, or something. Envious that her clothes are all kind of shake-it-up-esque and her highlights desperately need touching up, but she still seems so enthralled with the whole of life… How does she enjoy her own company so much when other people want to know her better? Doesn’t she feel weird about blowing people off to make a joke about reading Kafka in the bath? Why would she document her cluttered, unexciting life on Instagram so delicately, so vibrantly? Of course, no one would say this to her face because they are really baseless claims. She’s nice, generous, and valuable to have as a friend. Trade-offs exist, as they do with anyone. But I like thinking it’s easier to overlook a forgotten birthday when your kitschy best friend gave you a multi strand pearl necklace to celebrate the welcome breeze of June. Or some other made-up holiday. She is so unassuming if you’re not really looking. Girls want in on her inner circle. Or they just don’t care. Nothing wrong with being liked or thought of naught, for the most part. Boys are either enthralled or repulsed by her. Her doctor knows her as something of a hypochondriac, but only minorly. It’s just carpal tunnel, don’t worry… The sales staff at CVS turn a blind eye when she slips an eyeliner pencil into her tote bag. She shoplifts on occasion, just to see if she still knows how. But she is not a shoplifter. $9 here and $6.45 there doesn’t really add up to much. Everywhere she goes, she makes a tertiary friend or two. The term of friend is loosely used here, of course. But it is nice to tell a stranger you like her earrings. Or her phone case is so fun, is it Wildflower? The kitsch girl has an eye for this kind of detail. Simply put, she is sort of unspectacular. But in a way that makes you sort of wish you knew her better.

Phone cases

The phone case is, like, religious for the kitsch girl. Sorry, but there’s just no other accessory as flippant and expensive and single-purpose as a trendy little iPhone case with some semitacky stickers plastered over the design. I used to have an iPhone XS- extrasmall- with like, 18 phone cases. It was kind of a sordid affair. I jest, but really… owning that many phone cases was kind of sick. We get it, you are frivolous and spontaneous and sooo stylish! Stop posting mirror selfies on your Instagram story, your crush isn’t going to see it. Kidding again. Having an extensive collection of phone cases is just so fun because while attainable, most people just simply do not partake in it. That makes you kitschy and unique. I really thought I had more to say about the IDEA of the phone case, but I guess in practice it is all very, very simple. You can slide your driver’s license in the back of a clear case. At what point does it stop being cool to have legal operational control of a vehicle? I don’t display mine because I don’t really like the photo. I look round. In the eyes but also just in general, swollen, unglamorous. Whatever. Not like I drive a Nissan or anything. I drive my *Mom’s* Nissan. Playing Bladee in the car seems sacrilegious. She would hate it.Back to phone cases. Sonix ones are cute but kind of overpriced retail- unless you have like, an iPhone 12 Pro Max or whatever the fuck is new this year, just go to Winner’s. They always have Xs and 11 cases. I had a cherry one for my previous phone, like the exact one Lana Del Rey had? Thank god I sold it before she got outed as a copfucker or whatever. Casetify is for an inadvertent flex. Flexing your lame, lame taste. Sorry, I know you bought it because you liked it, but what you failed to consider is just how un-Kitsch they are. SO common, and they advertise on Instagram. Sorry, I just can’t get into it! Kind of how I just never liked the Brandy Amara tanks. Or lowtop converse. Otterbox is just distressing. Like, if my boyfriend gave me an otterbox phone case I would probably break up with him because somebody clearly isn’t paying attention- one of my favorite, potentially overused joke is how Otterbox cases are the equivalent of orthopedic insoles. Sorry but if you have poor arch support or whatever, but no pain is worth giving up a good pair of Margiela slingback tabi heels. Obviously I couldn’t afford that right now because all loose income goes directly to Wildflower and my cig boy. But like, one day. I hope you want to punch me in the face a little bit after reading that. If Wildflower isn’t your thing, at least have the decency to get a beaded phone strap. But not from String Ting. Pray tell you aren’t keeping score, but they are one of my several parasocial enemies. That should have been ME collaborating with Wildflower! Should have been ME mailing shit to Caroline Calloway (more on her later, but she is the only blue check I follow. I adore her! I was on her patreon for a bit I thinkl!!) …. Side note. Phone cases are cute but there is no way to properly protect your laptop without looking just absurd or colossally lame. The foam sleeves… ick.

Having the shittiest music taste ever

So like, here’s the thing. I’m an Apple Music user, which sort of reinstates my status as an unironic My Bloody Valentine Hyperpop Death Grips kinda gal. Read; volcel. My most recent conquest ended up being a huge L on my part, but also… I totally dodged a bullet. The guy had an iPhone 11 (female trait) and didn’t know who Rei Brown was, which just seemed suspicious given his Niche. I just know he had a “making out playlist” comprising entirely of like, Joji. Which isn’t a bad thing I guess but so unembarrassing it horseshoes back to being humiliating.Like I said. Having the worst music taste. It’s nice how subjective and deeply personal your music taste can be; no one really Needs to know you’re a die hard drainer. But there’s also no point in being a die-hard drainer and Not capitalizing off it somehow. I added it up and I have well over 150 hours of just Bladee and Yung Lean. Which is so yass? The more I write, using myself as a case study, I realize just how desperately jobless I am. And Yogenfruz isn’t even hiring! UGH!I think there is something very kitschy about liking hyperpop in the least ironic, least obnoxious way. Sort of feeds into a “I’m not like other girls” thing, but I mean… That’s kind of the idea of kitsch, isn’t it? Be a little different but also the very same as your lipgloss brethren?!Side note. If you make monthly playlists I am genuinely kind of afraid of you. That is just so organized!! I just make playlists with esoteric titles and then make a new one when I’m sick of the stuff on the last. I have exhausted most genres but I think my favorite is the “I’m wearing f****ng air forces and my teeth are SO white”. Guess what genre it is. Or don’t, but it’s probably what you think is. Okay, moving on….

Curating a scent

I like thinking I smell like mango and peach, Glossier you, whatever citrus is in that Lush shower jelly and mint 5Gum. But of course it is probably less distinct and just kind of generally fruit-floral-mint. Anyway. I think Glossier You is the perfect scent for anyone with a rather elementary understanding of the whole.. Perfume business. Every bottle of intentional fragrance I own was made via aesthetic choices… it really helps that Glossier You is so cute And so universal. Now, Glossier is kind of interesting to me because it really is at the intersection of cheugy and kitsch. Kind of basic, overplayed, unspectacular. But also…. Often popular things are popular because they are good. Glossier has excellent customer suurv, they ship SO fast (and no import duties! W!) and their stuff is just so sweet and nice if not unoriginal, in kind of the same way strawberry ice cream is. Which is still my favorite, of course, especially if there’s a vegan option. I was talking about Glossier. What the hell! It’s really worth trying out. A huge principle of kitsch is just… having as many possible layers and appendages to your composure as possible. And adding a signature scent just really completes that! When curating your own, I say this as a complete amateur, know-nothing; make it something that comes kind of naturally to Your Character. Like, I’m just not a Chanel No 5 kind of girl. Odds are you aren’t either. My bottle (before she asked for it back when I told her I didn’t use it, in exchange for a Nordstrom’s gift card) was from my grandmother. Ummm.. Yeah, I really have no expertise in curating a scent. But it is nice to have a signature. And having a bottle displayed on your dresser next to your aughties McDonald milkshake themed beanie baby and a handful of lip products is just way too fun! This is the kind of girl I am, everyone! Cluttered, but prioritizing pretty-delicate things!

Cheugyism

Cheugy is a relatively new word that has unfortunately wormed into my vocabulary to replace “uncouth”. Which I use to mean graceless or tacky, but if that isn’t what it means…. Don’t tell me. That would hurt more than weighing myself after a “feast” slash pastry binge at my dear Grandmothe’s house. Like I was saying. Cheugy. It’s sort of a fucked up concept to me because it is a critique on consumption, but not the pace or volume or magnitude of it. But rather… the idea of not being “good” enough at engaging in microtrends, or involvement in the fast paced fashion cycle. Don’t get me started on TikTok, or do, but… yeah,. No. That will require a cigarette because I’m so sorry, but writing a thinkpiece on social media is so lowbrow I would need to find about six ways to aesthetically counteract it…. Moving on. I think the idea of cheugy is good, we really do need a word to simply and efficiently define “out of date/uninspired/lame”. But the way it is used to shame others for not liking the same trends or whatever is kind of gross. If you use cheugyism to put other people down and not as a neutral identifier umm… you will become what you fear. Sorry, that’s what happens. Some things that I think are cheugy or embarrassing, or just not part of my stylistic lexicon are… 1. Hooded or zip up clothing, or things with a large graphic on the back. Bingo if it's all three! I just can’t get behind it. Side note, my summer home outfit is brandy sweats and a tube top (Urban Outfitters tank I ripped the straps off) and a large cardigan that should have belonged to a stoner, but probably didn’t. I can dunk on bulky, uninspired clothes because I would honest to God NEVER be caught DEAD out of the house wearing any of it. I’m so serious. Next segment should be about the kitsch girl’s inadvertent affinity for diuretics. Remind me….. One of the ports of my laptop is dead. Not really sure what to do about that.

Eye makeup and what it means to me….

Personally, I am one of those people who never wears foundation and kind of has a complex about it. The kitsch girl wears fluffy eyelashes and owns a plethora of sparkly eyeliner. Or maybe she doesn’t, but she has something distinct and a little ritzy, if not haphazard. We all saw Euphoria and it like, totally imprinted on us. The way glitter sits on your face after a long day is so resplendent. When it’s shining and a little bit melted off from your long, semi-productive day… ugh! Just made for film. Pictures on film. But not the Prequel app. I keep getting fucking ads for it. But it’s so embarrassing. Like, isn’t the whole point of film the authenticity of the moment? The texture of the afternoon? Why would you fabricate that? Prequel is just so cheugy. More on that later. But anyhow. Wearing a ton of eye makeup kind of fits with the idea of film too I think. Like, look at you, in the moment. With your strip lash falling off! It’s all so tres-chic. Plus, for whatever reason, it’s kind of unique or notably dedicated to ~Pull up to the function~ with more eye makeup on than everyone else. Sorry, but it really doesn’t take that long! But yes I will gracefully accept your praise… it’s kind of like the dropshipping of complements if you think about it. Easy to source with little to no effort in the curating. Side note, lashes are like $20 for 40 weeks if you cut them in half and use each pair about 5 times. You could probably do more but I lose track. How the fuck is it almost June? I was trudging through the snow to check the mail for my Online Ceramics shirt just last week, I swear. The trick to cutting your lashes (the way I do it anyway) is pretty simple. Get out two lashes that are symmetrical. Find the middle and cut one slightly to the left and one slightly to the right. This means you have two sets (one set is a little more dramatic than the other but at least they are symmetrical) with longer outer edges. Glue this to the outer corner of your eye and you will look so Composed… obsessed with how this layers with three eyeliner tails (one traditional one pointing up and one pointing down directly below it, sort of like the tail light on a 2019 Lexus UX) and one below your eye, like a clown. Fun, irrelevant fact, is the first time I added this third tail to my eye makeup, my dad had just gotten home from the hospital because he was sure he had like appendicitis or something and it was actually.. Not that. Typical indie hypochondriac. He made me bring him cottage cheese on a plate with a teaspoon that evening. I put black pepper on it for flair, which he hated. Walking up and down stairs with a plate of cottage cheese is much more imprinting than most of the multiplication tables. Don’t forget to use a bright shimmer eyeshadow in your inner corner. It really opens up your eyes. I recommend Too Faced. One time I got a little bit too high and tried to film an “editorial” makeup tutorial. You will never, ever, ever see that video. But I essentially covered my whole eyelid in the ABH shadow “palermo” and smudged out the edges with a tan Tartelette Toasted shade, coupled with my long-expired Milk Makeup holographic stick. Lopsided lashes and near-blinding eyeliner experience aside, it was kind of cool. My point is, you really cannot go wrong with an arsenal of shimmers, taupey mattes and a good eyeliner pen.

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samstree · 4 years

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You are too well tangled in my soul (4/5)

In which Geralt tries to apologize, Jaskier has some unexpected encounters and Roach is the best.

(love confession, kaer morhen, 6.1k, no warnings)

read on AO3.

War breaks out.

Nilfgaard mercilessly scorches the continent, and Jaskier survives. The next time he sees Geralt, there’s a lost princess in tow.

The girl has pale blonde hair, just as Jaskier remembers from when he performed at her birthdays. Her green eyes are big and wary, staring at the bard from behind Geralt’s armored bulk.

Jaskier wouldn’t blame her, from what he learned from his encounters with Nilfgaard the girl must have been through hell. And from what he heard about Cintra, well, she has more demons to run from other than the evil army. She looks exhausted too, hair dirty and eyes alert, studying Jaskier intensely.

“You were at my birthday. You sang the songs.” The princess’s crisp voice breaks the silence.

“Yes, Princess Cirilla. I was at three of your birthdays, though you were too young to remember the first two.” he bows. “Jaskier the bard, at your service.”

She softens, nodding at Jaskier’s gesture. Her lips tug upward.

“Just Ciri.”

“Ciri, then.” Jaskier smiles at her.

“I loved your singing. It was beautiful.” she bites her lips, pausing, before putting her arm around the witcher’s. “Geralt only said we were looking for a friend. I didn’t know it was you.”

The mention of the name snaps Jaskier’s attention back to the witcher, who remains motionless and silent. This entire time, Geralt has been staring at Jaskier’s face, like he could blink and the bard would disappear. Jaskier stares back, and the bruise in his chest throbs anew.

“A friend, uh?” he feigns nonchalance and fails, suddenly his throat feeling dry. “Now you use the word, after all these years. Thought you’d keep insisting on not being my friend until the end of time. Thought I gave you life’s blessing –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt exhales. The word is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to stop the bard from landing a blow. The witcher doesn’t seem to have more words, despite continuing to look at Jaskier with remorseful sorrow.

Good. The pettiest part of Jaskier thrills at his regret, after all he’s the one who spewed all the venom on top of that mountain.

But one look at Geralt, Jaskier realized that he is just as tired and disheveled as the girl, if not more so. Being on the run from Nilfgaard is no fun, he learned that from personal experience.

Knowing Geralt, he is going to neglect his needs in favor of Ciri’s, gritting his teeth through everything. Jaskier finds himself searching all over him for injuries, familiar worry bubbling of its own volition.

Jaskier cannot even stay mad at him for long. Damn him.

“Why are you looking for me then?” he asks.

“I –” Geralt pauses. “Nilfgaard is looking for us. Hunting us. They want something, and they are willing to raise armies to chase us across the Continent.”

He tightens his hold on Ciri. The young princess looks away with a haunted expression.

“And they are also trying to hunt down whoever might know your location. They’ll torture them for the information.” Jaskier adds. His two near escapes are too vivid in his mind. The first time he only got away by the skin of his teeth. It turns out he’s not so bad with a dagger when faced with two Nilfgaardian footsoldiers.

As for the second time, he may have had help from an old friend. Not that Yennefer would be thrilled if he ever called her that. The story of his life, he thinks, it seems to be.

Realization dawns in Geralt’s eyes. “You already know they are looking for you. Are you – did they get to you, Jaskier?”

“Get to me? No,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “I wouldn’t be standing here, would I? Your secrets are safe, Geralt. Not that I knew your whereabouts for the past year. They didn’t get anything from me, if that’s your worry.”

“No. Fuck –” Geralt curses under his breath, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Jaskier challenges him, raising an eyebrow. Geralt struggles for words and starts to look like his usual brooding self again. It is Ciri who speaks up.

“Come to Kaer Morhen with us. It’s the safest place on the Continent,” the girl says.

Jaskier breathes, stunned. Of course, it makes sense for them to go. It is a home for Geralt. He remembers the first time Geralt told him about the witcher keep, in that greenhouse, a lifetime ago. To him, it is as much of a myth now as it was back then.

“You are sweet, Ciri. But I don’t think Geralt would want that.”

There’s a bitter tang in those words. Ciri scrunches up her brows, confused. “But he’s the one who wanted –”

“What Ciri meant,” Geralt interrupts, “was that Nilfgaard is still out there looking for us. When they can’t, they’ll come for you again.” Desperation bleeds into his tone. Or is it annoyance? “Come with us, Jask. You’ll be safe in Kaer Morhen.”

“I can take care of myself.” Jaskier’s resolution is swaying despite his pride.

“Jaskier…”

“Geralt.” He stays emotionless, waiting for the Witcher’s reasoning, but it doesn’t come.

It is the lost Cintran princess who decides for Jaskier.

“Can you just come with us?” her voice is uncertain, and it tugs at Jaskier’s heart. “Please?”

Jaskier looks into her green eyes and only sees the loss she endured. The fall of Cintra reached Jaskier like a punch in the gut. He thought Geralt’s Child Surprise – the bright-eyed little girl who danced to his songs – was lost with it, so when those soldiers started questioning him about her escape, Jaskier only felt relief. Now, the lone wolf stands protectively next to the lost lion cub.

Jaskier is glad Geralt went to find her, truly.

He finds himself nodding, and Ciri brightens up ever so slightly.

“So, you are the boy?”

The dark-haired witcher says upon meeting Jaskier for the first time at the gate of Kaer Morhen when Geralt and Ciri have gone to stable the horse. He’s the same height and build as Geralt, only his shoulders are just a bit wider. Unlike Geralt, his hair is a muddy brown, and three nasty scars run down the right side of his cheek, making him look almost grotesque.

“Pardon?”

“The boy Geralt kept seeing.” His eyes fix on Jaskier with amusement, the golden color eerily identical to Geralt’s.

“Oh, I didn’t know anyone else –” Jaskier is rather surprised that another witcher knows about Geralt’s condition. “Yes, that’s me. But I’m hardly a boy anymore.” He extends a hand. “Jaskier.”

“Eskel.” The Witcher takes it with a friendly smile. Huh, not all of them are broody and rude.

“So you know about our…” Jaskier trails off for lack of a descriptor. Their bond? Their relationship? They certainly are not in one.

“Not much. If you’ve known my brother for this long, you’d know how little he talks.” Eskel offers an understanding pat on Jaskier’s back. “He just came back here one year and couldn’t shut up about an annoying bard. Then he came back another year. Disappeared in the middle of the day, and scared the shit out of us. We’d thought he was cursed out of existence by some angry mage. When he came back, out of thin air too, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost.”

“Not a ghost, only the same bard. As a boy.”

It makes sense, according to however little they know about the mechanism of it. Wintering at the witcher keep is the longest Geralt is away from the bard, so destiny has to drag him to Lettenhove. It would be hard to sail away from your anchor.

“Guess I’m too much of a nuisance. He can’t escape me even here, in his own home.”

“He never –” Eskel seems surprised at Jaskier’s remark. “I might need to have words with my brother, bard. And he was only upset because he worried for your safety.”

He smiles tightly. “It’s kind of you to say, Eskel. Though you don’t need to protect my feelings. I understand now. I would take myself off of his hands if I could.”

Too bad he can’t. Even if the invasion blows over, destiny would still work against Geralt’s attempt at free will at every opportunity.

He ignores Eskel’s inquisitive eyes as they stroll into the stone castle when Geralt and Ciri rejoin them.

Geralt is trying to apologize.

He knows by the way Geralt follows him outside, and onto the trail behind the keep, somehow with guilt written all over his posture. It’s a nice place for a walk and for Jaskier to clear his head and compose under the pine trees.

Geralt has tried several times in the past few days. Every time they are left alone, the witcher assumes an expectant look on his face and begins to find words. Every time Jaskier interrupts him before it starts, making up whatever poor excuses he can find. Every time Geralt swallows and lets him go. He puts on a stoic face but Jaskier always sees the disappointed droop in those amber eyes that anyone else would have missed.

Jaskier can’t avoid it anymore, between the fresh smell of pine – his favorite scent in the world – and the sky, there’s nowhere to hide, so he stops to face it.

“Just say whatever you want to say,” he lets out a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt blurts out without a beat. “I never should have said what I said. I didn’t mean any of it, Jask. I was upset and I took it out on you. It wasn’t fair.”

Jaskier blinks.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“You’ve followed me for twenty years. You’ve known me for even longer. Fuck, Jaskier. Your whole life, you’ve known me, and yet you chose to stay.”

“I did,” he whispers, “but you tried to push me away, like everything else destiny forced upon you.”

The hurt in those golden eyes is unbearable to watch, so Jaskier averts the burn of his gaze to take a deep breath. The smell of pine fills his lungs, crisp and soothing.

“It was a mistake. I know that now, Jaskier.” The contrite is unmistakable. Geralt’s gravelly voice is as pained as Jaskier feels. From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier notices Geralt reach into his pocket for something. It is a small notebook, leather-bound and abused at the edges.

It’s his notebook.

It’s their notebook.

“I’ve kept records of everything, just like you did.” he holds out the book for Jaskier to take. “I’ve seen the future, you –”

“No!” Jaskier steps away as if the book might burn him. “You can’t use it against me, Geralt. You think I’ve never seen the future? I know where we are going. I know I’ll still choose you, because how can I not?” his voice breaks at the possibility of him leaving Geralt by choice. “But it doesn’t make it alright. I can’t just forgive you and pretend we are fine, just because the future says we should be.”

Geralt lowers his hand and the book with it. “I meant that…I understand you now. Why you would stand by me when no one else does, when it’s so much easier to just leave.”

“And how exactly did you arrive at this grand revelation?”

Geralt softens, his lips quick upward ever so slightly. “I saw you. In a little cottage by the sea, years from now, happy.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches. He’s so used to knowing all different versions of Geralt, so used to having the upper hand in this little dance, that the idea of his own future laid out like this makes him queasy.

“You told me – or will tell me, rather – why you spent your entire life choosing me when I’ve done nothing but push you away.” Geralt’s voice breaks at the obvious regret in it.

Because I love you, Jaskier thinks. I’ve loved you for too long.

He’s become so familiar with the notion it’s as easy as breathing.

“What do you want, then?”

“A chance. To prove myself again,” Geralt pleads. “To prove myself a worthy companion to you. Because you are my friend, my best friend. You have been since you were so young and I was just blind to it. Jaskier, I –”

I love you.

“– I choose you too. If you’ll let me show you. For the rest of my life, I’ll prove it to you every day, because I –”

I love you.

“– I love you.”

The words come out soft and reverent, the whisper so careful as if to avoid the birds overhearing him. Geralt stills after the confession, his eyes fixed on Jaskier in earnest.

For a moment Jaskier believes the declaration an echo of his imagination, conjured up from years of longing and heartbreak. But when he holds his breath and looks into Geralt’s resolved eyes, the truth washes over him like a cool shower on an autumn morning.

Deep in those ember eyes is the same affection he’s seen many times, during those too-short visits from his older Geralt, in the teasing smirks he carried at the corner of his mouth, or in the sweetness hidden behind his kiss, under a cold Cintran sky and addled by too much ale. It’s in the way Geralt takes him apart with deft fingers and gentle touches, over and over again throughout the years.

It’s the same love that propelled Geralt to ask for his trust and his faith when this moment comes.

“You love me.” Jaskier muses.

“I do. I have… for a while now.” Geralt’s breath forms in the crisp mountain air. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way, Jask. But please believe me when I say it. I love you. It’s the truest feeling I’ve ever felt in my life. Without any djinn magic, or destiny deciding what’s best. Please, at least have this much faith in me.”

After all this time Geralt still thinks it’s possible for Jaskier to not love him back.

I’m going to make mistakes, the older Geralt once said, don’t lose faith in me.

He made a promise after all.

“Okay,” Jaskeir exhales.

“Okay?”

When he looks into the amber glow again Geralt looks expectant.

“Okay,” Jaskier repeats, “You have it. A chance for us to try again, if you want it to go back to… before.”

Geralt exhales like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “It won’t be like before. I’ll do better, I give you my word.”

The sincerity is palpable in Geralt’s expression. The words come out so solemn and he’s clenched his jaw tightly. It looks like he just might break something if Jaskier doesn’t give him an out.

A smiles tugs at the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. And they say he’s the dramatic one.

“Oh, relax, you big oaf, before you hurt yourself. Of course I believe in you. It might be the most words I’ve ever heard from you. Didn’t think it was possible.”

He pats Geralt on the arm, before resting his hand there and squeezes. If Geralt leans into the touch, he doesn’t mention it.

“You,” Jaskeir continues, “You are forgiven, Geralt. I’ve always known I’d forgive you. You are not the only one who’s seen the future. Even if fate didn’t tell me to, I would still know you to be the best man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and I would choose to stay by your side every time.”

The shuddering breath that chokes out Geralt’s throat is almost like a sob. Rumors say witchers can’t cry, but Jaskier learned it not to be true long ago, and he can see how much Geralt is affected right now.

He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Geralt’s ear before resting his hand on the spill of silver on his shoulder, and revels in the familiar feeling of silky hair against his palm.

“As for the other thing.” Jaskier thinks back on Geralt’s heartfelt confession, not sure if he has truly wrapped his head around it. “I think… I’ll need some time before we can do something about it.”

Geralt nods, his warm hand coming up to capture Jaskier’s wrist in a loose grip, the pad of his thumb stroking slightly again. Jaskier’s chest warms at the motion.

“Take all the time you need, Jask. I’ll be right here.”

They spend the winter in the keep, in this safe bubble they created.

Ciri’s progress is obvious even to Jaskier’s untrained eyes. Her stance becomes more confident every day, her moves faster. The clanking of blunt swords echoes above the training ground as Jaskier watches from a bench in the corner, plucking his lute absent-mindedly.

The lion cub is starting to look like her grandmother, with her hair tied back and the sword cutting through the air with force.

The rise in confidence is doing her wonders. Her smile is becoming more often as winter settles in. The first time Ciri laughed out loud at the usual tomfoolery Lambert starts at dinner table, all four witchers and Jaskier stopped to stare at her for a brief moment before joining in.

Later that night, Geralt got emotional when it was just him and Jaskier, cleaning up in the kitchen.

“It’s just… it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.” Geralt’s throat bobbles when he says, and Jaskier’s heart breaks for them both, so he takes the plates from the Witcher’s hands and pulls him in for a hug, one that’s a little too tight.

In the courtyard, flurries of snow fall steadily as Ciri disarms Geralt with a twist of her wrist, the heavier sword flying off to the side. She squeaks in excitement.

“Take that, old man!”

Geralt goes to collect his blunt weapon, his chuckle rumbling deep in his chest. “You only did it because I let you, Ciri. Your enemies are not gonna let you disarm them for practice.”

Her pride morphs into a slight pout before it’s tucked away by her regal stance. They’ll make a warrior princess out of her after all.

“You just can’t let me have this one, can you?”

“Yeah, old man,” Jaskier chimes in. “Just admit your loss. I’m sure the White Wolf should know when he’s beaten.”

From Geralt’s glare, Jaskier knows he’s enjoying this too much, but he just can’t get the proud grin off of his face. Ciri sends him a smug smile when she puts away her weapon and gears.

From a distance, Lambert and Eskel are sheathing their training swords as well when Jaskier notices the snow falling harder by the minute, sending a shiver through his body despite the heavy coat wrapped around him. Ugh, his fingers are numb now.

“All right?” Geralt is all packed up, cheeks flushed from the exercise. He’s only wearing a simple tunic and yet it looks like the cold does not affect him at all. Ridiculous witcher biology.

Mischief lights up in Jaskier’s mind when he puts down the lute and walks towards Geralt, before putting his freezing palms flush against the Witcher’s neck.

“Jaskier, what – Fuck!”

He expects Geralt’s usual grunts and retaliation at the blatant offense. Roughhousing has never been a stranger to them, especially now that they are at ease in their friendship again.

What he does not expect is the concern that appears in Geralt’s eyes after a moment of shock and the warm hands that gently cover his.

“Oh Jask, you are freezing.” Geralt’s brows furrow in seriousness, calloused fingers starting to rub the back of Jaskier’s hands in a slow rhythm. Now that he notices, the heat radiating off of Geralt’s skin is lovely, tingling the numbness in his rigid hands and sending a different kind of shiver down his spine. “Gods, you might get frostbite like this. Don’t you have gloves?”

“Er – that’s not…” Jaskier stammers, suddenly aware of their closeness and the lack of everyone else on the training ground. Thank fuck they’ve all gone inside before his foolish prank. “I – I lost them…?”

Now Jaskier is the one blushing, but Geralt pays no mind to his embarrassment and continues to rub heat back into his exposed skin.

“I’ll make you new ones then. Can’t let a lutist lose his fingers,” Geralt murmurs.

The urge to kiss this sweet man is overwhelming, Jaskier has to look away from the beautiful golden yellow to calm his fluttering heart. It’d be too soon. He’s still raw from what went down in the past year.

Thankfully Ciri calls for them to get inside before they freeze over. Jaskier pulls away to answer her, immediately feeling empty without the warm touch. Now he’ll settle for walking to the great hall where a hearth is lit with Geralt by his side.

A week later, Jaskier finds a pair of newly knitted gloves on his bed. They are made with Geralt’s favorite wool – a thick, soft material – and fingerless so he can play. When he slips them on, the urge to track Geralt down in the keep and kiss him all over fills him again.

Roach bites down on the second apple Jaskier offers her and munches gracelessly.

Jaskier pats her mane while she tries to chew off the fringe on his doublet. Now that he’s reunited with her master, Jaskier can spoil the mare as much as he wants. Not that anyone objected before. The mare clearly has a soft spot for the bard, Geralt is just too stubborn to admit it.

He is just saying goodbye to Roach when the familiar swoosh of magic startles him.

Destiny’s pull rarely works when they are together, so much so that Jaskier has almost forgotten about it for the months he’s within Kaer Morhen’s walls. On top of that, what greets him is not the bulk of a witcher.

Standing by the stalls is a scared little boy.

Jaskier is terrible with guessing children’s age, but this boy is definitely no more than six or seven, wearing plain summer clothes and holding a small bucket for dear life. The boy has a head full of dark curly hair and tears streaking down his cheeks. His brown eyes are wide and full of terror.

“Ma? Where are you?” he calls out, voice horse from crying.

Jaskier is stuck where he stands, too shocked to react. Somewhere next to him, Roach snorts nervously at the volume of the child’s cry.

Geralt once told him how he ended up in Vesemir’s care, when both of them had too much to drink on the eve of Belleteyn many years ago. They only meant to celebrate a hunt well done and Jaskier’s successful performance at the festival, but the drinks kept coming on the courtesy of the pub owner. Before Jaskier knew it, the Witcher was too gone and started to get melancholic in his inebriation.

For once in their lives, Jaskier was the one with some sanity left and promptly put Geralt back to their shared bed.

With the sound of people singing and dancing around bonfires in the distance, Geralt curled into himself, looking uncharacteristically small, and told Jaskier the last time he saw his mother.

“I stood there for so long, by the road. But she was gone,” Geralt slurred the words. “I kept waiting for her…”

Those words, combined with too much ale, broke Jaskier into a million pieces.

“It was so long ago. I don’t even remember what she looks like, the color of her eyes. Or my eyes, before…What was the color of my eyes?”

Jaskier had no answer.

That night, he listened as Geralt drifted off, thinking the witcher would forget about the confession come morning. Or was it Geralt who thought Jaskier never remembered? No matter what reason, Geralt never talked about it again and Jaskier respected that.

And here Geralt is, no more than seven, on what is probably the worst day of his life – having just been abandoned by his mother by the side of the road. He looks confused and cried-out, still clinging to the bucket so hard that his tiny knuckles are turning white.

His eyes are brown.

That’s all Jaskier can think.

The boy’s tears keep falling, and whatever heartbreak Jaskier felt on the night of Belleteyn, it’s not a match for now.

“Hey, it’s all right,” Jaskier shushes as gently as possible. He lowers himself in front of the boy, keeping the movement slow just to not upset him further. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Where is my ma?” young Geralt sniffles, and Jaskier doesn’t know how to answer that. The layers he’s wearing clearly cannot hold out the cold in the dead of winter. The boy is shivering.

“I’m sorry I don’t know where she is. But, here, put this on.” Jaskier shrugs off his coat and wraps it around the boy’s small frame, half of it pooling on the ground. He tries to coax the bucket out of the boy’s hands but he grips tighter.

“Where is she? Where did you take me?” the boy demands in panic.

“I promise I haven’t taken you anywhere, okay? Ger –” Jaskier catches himself. He’s a complete stranger to the child. He shouldn’t know him. “It’s too cold out here. We can go inside and wait for her there. Is that all right?”

The boy shakes his head. “Ma’s coming back to find me. I need to stay.”

“Okay, okay.” Jaskier tries not to panic, but he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even know where to put his hands so he tightens the coat around the boy’s shoulders. “How about this, I’ll find some help for us. Maybe someone from that castle can help. I don’t even know what would happen if they see you like this but…what other option do we have, eh?”

Before he can even get up, Jaskier finds the boy dropping the bucket and clinging to the sleeve of his doublet, the water spilling everywhere.

“No, don’t leave,” the boy says weakly, “Please.”

The boy’s chubby cheeks are streaked with tears, turning red in the mountain air. Jaskier wipes the wetness away with the pad of his thumb, his other arm still in the boy’s grip.

“All right. I won’t leave then, I promise.” Jaskier does his best to smile reassuringly. The ache in his chest makes it difficult but against all odds, it works. The young boy calms down just a little.

“I’ll stay with you, all right? But for now… do you want to make some new friends?”

Jaskier introduces the child to Roach, and he gets less afraid as soon as he sees the horse and reaches out to pet her. With their ridiculous height difference, it looks almost comical. The mare, ever the sweetheart, lowers her head as if she senses something familiar in the boy. She nuzzles his little hand and his eyes light up.

No matter how young, it seems Geralt will always enjoy Roach’s company above anyone else’s. Jaskier watches in wonder at the exchange before him. The boy’s distress dissipates gradually as the mare licks him and showers him in affection.

“Can I keep her?” the child giggles as Roach chews on his hair.

Jaskier smiles, “Sadly no, but maybe you’ll see her again. Who knows.”

All his life, Jaskier has known Geralt as the powerful witcher, his friend and protector. But right here, he’s just another ordinary child who loves giant animals. Only his future holds something no child should ever have to endure.

Jaskier wishes life wouldn’t have to burden this gentle boy, harden him into the warrior that he is now. This moment could last forever for all he cares, so this young boy wouldn’t need to go back to face the path ahead.

He doesn’t know how long they have here, undisturbed by the four witchers inside the keep, or the magic pulling them apart.

“Can I tell you something?” Jaskier says as the child runs his fingers through Roach’s mane. He turns around to look at the bard curiously with his beautiful brown eyes. “Do you know you’re a very good boy? And when you grow up, you’ll become a very good person.”

“Ma says I should do good.”

“She’s right.”

“And doing good is hard… sometimes.”

Jaskier swallows the lump in his throat. “That too. Life is difficult, unfair even. But you are strong, stronger than you’ll ever believe. Remember this, and you’ll find a way.”

“I’m strong?” the boy looks at Jaskier expectantly. His tiny frame is drowned in Jaskier’s coat.

“The strongest.” the bard nods.

“Like a knight?”

“Better than a knight.”

The smile that lights up the boy’s rosy cheeks is the most wonderful thing Jaskier has ever seen, better than the northern lights on these mountains. But their moment seems to have come to an end.

The swoosh of magic Jaskier knows by heart brushes by his ear, and Roach suddenly brays anxiously in her stall.

“I feel weird.” The panic returns to the boy’s voice.

“It’s okay. It means we have to say goodbye.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Never.”

“But why do we have to say goodbye?” his tiny voice gets tight and scared once more. Jaskier shushes him gently.

“Because we’ll see each other again.”

“And horsie too?”

“Her too.” Jaskier nods solemnly.

The boy waves nervously at Jaskier, and then the mare. His big brown eyes bore into Jaskier’s with hope and trust, a trust that will be returned decades from now, for him at least.

“Goodbye.”

Once again, Jaskier is left alone. Snow falls silently in the courtyard like it has been for days.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Jaskier goes through dinner without a word, no matter how the four witchers try to engage with him.

Eskel is his usual self, nice and respectful, not prodding after noticing Jaskier in a weird mood. It’s something Lambert physically cannot do, because he constantly asks Jaskier what is wrong, trying to get a response out of him.

“You smell miserable, buttercup, like you are about to pass out.”

Jaskier imagines the tight smile he offers is not the most convincing, since everyone only gets more concerned. Ciri puts her hand on his arm as a silent question, and when she can’t get an answer she starts brooding just like Geralt.

Jaskier would laugh at their likeness if not for his mind racing so fast.

Geralt must have noticed the moment he came back from the stables. He has not let Jaskier out of his sight since, his worry silent but not pushing. After dinner, Jaskier can still feel the weighted gaze on his back, following him all the way back to the bedroom.

He leads Geralt into his room at the end of the hallway and shuts the door. With a soft click of the door, Jaskier turns to throw himself at the witcher with a force that would have knocked over any other man, but Geralt only catches his momentum, solid and steady. He buries his nose into Geralt’s shoulder and lets the familiar smell of pine and soap fill his senses.

“What’s wrong, Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice rumbles out of his chest, deep and patient. “You know, Lambert was right. You smell so…sad.”

“I made you a promise.” Jaskier’s voice is muffled by Geralt’s shoulder.

“What?”

“I made you a promise. Years ago for me, and years from now for you. To always have faith in you, even when you make mistakes.” Jaskier extracts his limbs and looks into the confusion in the flowing amber. He presses their lips together, sweet and lingering, like they have all the time in the world. The kiss tastes like the lost years between them, all the laughter and heartaches, the lust and yearning, and the dust and smoke from war. He pulls away.

The last time he kissed Geralt, it was by the side of a road, full of rage and hurt. This time, it’s hope that rises like a winter sun, cozy but not sweltering.

“This is me keeping that promise.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt swallows, composing himself, “You know I won’t hold it against you. It’s not fair for you to be pressured into this just for something I haven’t asked of you yet. I meant it when I said you can take all the time you need, because I did fuck up, and I’m so –”

“Don’t apologize again,” Jaskier interrupts, “I know how sorry you feel, how you’ll still feel even years from now. Just – don’t.”

He presses his forehead to Geralt’s and they breathe in tandem. Maybe he’s still affected by the memory of Geralt as a child, scared and alone, unaware of the hurt he’s about to receive. The trials, growing up away from home, training to become a weapon, the glares people cast at him. Jaskier shudders to think, desperately needing to shield his witcher from the world, but he was powerless in the stable this afternoon. He is not powerless now.

“How about a promise you did hear from me?” he asks.

Geralt frowns in confusion, waiting for him to explain, so Jaskier cups Geralt’s jaw to study him again, his thumb resting exactly where he wiped tears off of the boy hours ago.

“They were brown.”

The confusion in the amber eyes only grows.

“Your eyes, before the trials. They used to be brown.”

Geralt still looks at him incredulously. When it comes out like that, Jaskier probably sounds crazy.

“Your mother left you by the side of the road. She told you to get water, and when you got back she was gone,” he swallows, “You waited, holding a bucket of water. You waited until you went somewhere else. Somewhere cold, there’s a horse and snow and –”

“Oh.”

Realization dawns on Geralt like a lightning strike. He stares at Jaskier in disbelief.

“All these years –” he whispers, “How is it possible? I thought it was a dream. Vesemir told me it was a dream, that I was in so much shock that I conjured it up in my mind. A horse in the snow, chestnut brown, and…”

“And me,” Jaskier almost chokes out, “It wasn’t a dream.”

Geralt looks pained. All this talk about that day must be dredging up terrible memories and Jaskier never wants to hurt him on top of that.

“Do you remember what I said before you went back?”

To which Geralt chuckles tightly.

“That whole day was a bit hazy in my memory, Jask. Vesemir was right in that I was in shock. And I’ve tried so hard to forget about that day, to bury it so I don’t have to think about it.” he holds on to Jaskier, studying him in a new light. “I just remember that you made me feel so warm, Jask. You were the only good thing on the worst day of my life.”

The ache in Jaskier’s chest lessens somehow at those words. For whatever reason destiny decided to weave their fates together, he’s grateful for it just for that moment’s solace alone.

“You knew you were leaving.”

“I did. Now that I know, it was the first time I ever got pulled through time. To you.”

“I did promise we would see each other again.” Jaskier smiles.

Geralt pauses for a moment. Gradually, the golden yellow lights up like the most beautiful constellation in the night sky.

“You promised to never leave me.”

This time when their lips come together, it’s quiet and natural, like a piece of puzzle falling into place. Jaskier backs Geralt towards the bed, and they almost fall over onto the mattress, breaking the contact.

Geralt chases him with heated fervor, to which Jaskier gladly returns with a soft moan. He’s missed his witcher after all. Any space separating them at this moment needs to be closed like it personally offends him.

Tomorrow morning, Jaskier will wake Geralt with fingers through his hair and lips pressed to his forehead. Tomorrow Jaskier will tell him how much he loves him, over and over again. It won’t be the first time Jaskier has uttered the words, but it will be the first affirmation Geralt receives. Tomorrow Geralt will crinkle his eyes and return the words sleepily while dragging Jaskier back under the covers.

Tomorrow they’ll start a new chapter, together.

For now, they fall into each other under the night sky of the Blue Mountains, in a small room with a roaring fire burning in the hearth, tucked away from war and heartbreak.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #time travel #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic #geraskier fic #geralt apologizes

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