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seokiloquy · 2 years

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The Chances - Sugawara Koushi

Soulmate au: Shared pain; if one person gets hurt, the other can feel it too

Requested

Tags/Warnings: GN!reader, injuries… thats it

Word Count: 1.8k

You always caught Sugawara’s eye as you waltzed into class. As students were allowed a little bit of lenience with their uniforms —like Hinata often wearing a hoodie beneath his uniform jacket (He said he was just cold, and Sugawara was inclined to believe that the boy hardly had any fat on his body to keep him warm with all his biking)— you opted to added gently flowing layers to your daily outfit that added a serene air to your movements. First, you’d peek your head into the door, checking for the teacher. Then you’d make eye contact with your friends sitting in the front corner. Shuffling in, you’d straighten your back with an excited smile before plopping into your seat, causing your decorative layers to wave and glitter in the morning sunlight.

This happened every morning. Sugawara was entirely entranced until Sawamura nudged a heel into his shin as the teacher arrived, and he had to focus on class. It was hard to focus fully during the first period.

“It’s not like you haven’t talked,” Sawamura smirked, rising from his chair. “Go ask about the recent assignment. You know (Y/N) is finished and will help you with whatever you need.”

“(L/N),” Sugawara forced through his teeth, “helps anyone who asks.”

“Exactly. So go ask.” His tone was smug.

Sugawara glared. “No way.”

Sawamura shrugged, giving a little hum before turning away. With the conversation done, Sugawara gathered his notebook and pencil, grabbing his backpack while the heat in his cheeks dissipated.

“Hey, (Y/N)!”

“Dude!” Sugawara smacked his friend's arm, watching from the corner of his eye as you jogged over.

“What’s up?” you said.

“Have you finished the essay? I’m having trouble explaining it to Suga, and I can’t help him over the weekend cause I’m taking care of my siblings.”

“Oh,” Your eyebrows jumped up, lips curving into a smile as you faced Sugawara. “Do you want me to help? You have practice after school. So the weekend would be best, wouldn’t it?”

“You know our schedule?” Sugawara asked, breath catching in his throat, which resulted in a series of light coughs.

“Of course I know your schedule.” Whatever drug was in your smile was making him addicted. His palms began to sweat as you continued. “How about we meet at the library for lunch? Everything we need is there, and the staff are really helpful.”

Sugawara gulped, “Uh, Hmm, ya. Sounds good.”

“Awesome. See you then.”

He froze, watching you skip by and out the classroom door. “Did you just get me a study date?”

Sawamura hummed happily, “I believe I did.”

“What’s the point?”

“Bro! A date with (Y/N)?! That’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

Nishinoya and Tanaka were as obsessive as ever regarding matters of the heart. Nishinoya rested his hands on Sugawara’s shoulders and jumped up and down, sending his feet over his head. Tanaka, the taller of the two, opted for pacing instead of possibly knocking his teammate to the floor while rattling about a romantic date, cuddling on the library couches while reading in front of the fire.

“The library doesn’t have a fire.”

“Boo.”

“And it isn’t a date!”

“BOO!” Nishinoya yelled in Sugawara’s ear.

Gripping onto the silver strands of hair that fell into his face, Sugawara sighed. “(L/N) is just helping me with our final essay.”

“Who’s (L/N) anyways?” The first year who wasn’t already running around the court or tiredly ignoring the team as he put his shoes on faced his seniors.

“(Y/N) is in our class,” Daichi said while adjusting his shirt.

“(L/N).” Sugawara insisted.

Sawamura ignored him. “And (Y/N),” he smirked, “has amazing grades, is very kind, volunteers at the local shelter, and wants to be a teacher like our Suga here. Match made in heaven, eh? Ahh—”

“You good captain?” Nishinoya stopped bouncing, looking at the captain.

Sawamura gripped the ribs on his left side. “Fine. Soulmate’s at it again.”

“Ugh, I’m jealous.” Tanaka’s soulmate, to his knowledge, was nowhere to be seen. Being someone with a soulmate mark, he had to rely on seeing someone with minimal clothing to know whether they were his soulmate. Despite being one of the most prevalent connections, it wasn’t easy to see someone in such a vulnerable state.

Sawamura, like Sugawara, had one of the other most common soulmate connections, shared pain. Luckily for Sawamura, his soulmate seemed to be an athlete like himself, gaining injuries in similar spots at similar times. On the other hand, Sugawara’s soulmate got injured very rarely. The only clue he had that they existed was once in middle school, and it felt like he broke his nose in the middle of class without being hit.

But despite his soulmate's ghostly existence hardly appearing, Sugawara couldn’t let himself indulge in the possibility of another person, even (L/N)’s.

The conversation spun away from him, giving Sugawara a moment to breathe on his own before practise started. (L/N) was perfect, but some things just couldn’t move forward even if he hoped they could.

The library near the school was two floors and stacked to the brim with books. Sugawara glanced at his phone as he entered, catching your message about leaving and asking the staff about topics. He followed the suggestion, interrupting the conversation that the two ladies behind the front counter were having to ask about where to find books about Japanese literature history.

Sugawara waited at a small coffee table with his supplies and book resting in his lap. The clicking of the nearby clock seemed to drill into his ear, and he found himself glancing at the time every other minute. He hoped that another message would appear on his phone but seeing as you were likely biking through the light snow, he knew better than to expect one.

After ten minutes and no appearance, Sugawara huffed and got to his feet, marking his page in the book with his notebook with a few lines written in it. He was only a metre away from the front counter, lips parted and ready to ask where the bathroom was, when a blunt and forceful pain rolled through his side before enveloping his whole body.

His face hit the floor with a knock to his forehead as the woman behind the counter gasped.

“You okay there?” one leaned over the edge of the table as the other ran around it.

Sugawara groaned, while feeling like his body was melting into the floor. He was rolled over, chin held as the librarian fussed over his forehead.

“You’ve given yourself a goose egg,” she said, poking the growing bump on his head. “Sara, do you mind grabbing an icepack from the back?”

“Sure thing.” Sara ran off, before calling through the doorway. “Taeko, ice pack? Or a bag of ice?”

“Whatever works!”

“Ice pack it is!”

Their shouting was sending spikes into Sugawara’s head, but before long, a cold pressure was gifted to him.

“Do you know what happened?” Taeko asked, handing the ice off to Sugawara to hold on his own.

“I think my soulmate might have gotten into a bit of trouble.” His back was fighting against his push to sit up, but as there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him other than a phantom pain, he managed. “I think I might have gotten them back by kissing the floor though.”

“That’s not good. Not to scare you or anything but that much pain doesn’t bode well for their condition. Do you know them?”

“No,” he groaned.

“Well, that doesn’t help.” Sara rolled her eyes.

“How about you lie down for a bit and head home when you’re ready? Are you waiting for someone?”

“My classmate is supposed to meet me here. It’s been fifteen minutes though.”

They didn’t say anything, and half an hour later, when you still hadn’t arrived, Sugawara’s mind was whirling with possibilities. Jumping to conclusions that were just as unlikely as the next but didn’t stop him from fantasising and worrying all at once.

With no message and the remaining pain making his body ache, Sugawara returned to class on monday with his usual routine; waving off Sawamura’s questions and keeping his eye on the door. But, you never arrived. You weren’t at school the following week either, and Sugawara’s early morning class was missing its usual sparkle.

By the end of the week, Sugawara was tired of waiting.

“Do you know where (L/N) is? We were supposed to work on the essay over the weekend.”

Your friends gave him bewildered looks before sitting straighter.

Yuki spoke up. “Oh, Sugawara. I completely forgot, we’ve been so in our heads.” The group was shifting in their seats. “(Y/N) got into a bit of an accident on the way to the library. There was black ice on the hill and a slow moving car at the bottom.”

Sugawara felt like he had been struck by lightning as Yuki continued to elaborate. According to the girl's words, while you were okay by the end of it, rolling uncontrollably down an icy hill only to crash into the hard side of a parking car left you in pain and with a broken bike. Luckily, you were supposed to be back on Monday, which was also when the essay was due.

The weekend leading up to your likely return was more tiring than the last. Cramming in a last minute essay while repeatedly trying to stop his mind from wandering off of Japanese literature and to your condition was not the best way to get a good grade. And the pressure on his shoulders seemed to grow with every passing second.

It lifted slightly with the sound of his pencil dropping onto his desk after finishing his last sentence.

Then, Monday finally came around.

Sugawara kept his eyes on the door, but the sleepless nights had him struggling to keep his eyes open. Sawamura ended up slipping their two jackets under his head before he could slam his head on another hard surface.

Something pressed against the bruise of his forehead, making Sugawara look up.

“Sorry about that.” you smiled, sleeping off your sunglasses. “I’m also sorry about missing our study date, and getting you injured, and not messaging you. I was told to stay off technology and rest.”

Sugawara shot up, blinking. “Elaborate.”

Sawamura snorted.

“Sorry,” you repeated. “I missed our date—”

“Pause. Date? You thought it was a date?”

“Didn’t you? You said it last week.”

Sawamura was chuckling behind his hand.

“I guess I did. Continue.”

You laughed a little, playing with the layers of your uniform. “I missed our date, which meant I couldn't help you with the essay, and I got hurt, which hurt you as well—”

“Elaborate?”

“Well, I’m sorry for not saying anything earlier, I was hoping to talk last week. But, well, do you remember feeling like you broke your nose in middle school?”

Sugawara buried his face back into the jackets on his desk.

The chances. You really were perfect.

I have 3 exams this week. And i just want it to be overrrrr - Bacon

Good luck to everyone doing exams and finals! Bacon and I are suffering with you - Kiwi

Posted: 04/12/2022

#sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #Haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #x reader #oneshot #oneshots #haikyuu oneshots #haikyuu reader insert #reader insert #aus #haikyuu aus #fluff #haikyu #haikyu x reader #anime x reader #anime

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fayoftheforest · 2 years

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WAIT PLEASE WRITE THAT ESSAY YOU JUST MENTIONED 🥺🥺🥺

(message is in reference to my tags on this post)

ahh I would really like to, I think!! although I am slightly intimidated to put my thoughts out there, as last time I made a fairly innocuous post about kyle & judaism i got anon hate for it. apparently me talking about him being jewish was enabling other people to be wrong about it or something??? and also according to them I have never met another jewish person before and have no idea what life is like as a *real* jew :\ idk man i ignored their second message and turned anon off so I guess I should feel a little safer now

BUT ANYWAY like, just off the top of my head, check out this video!! i don't agree with 100% of what the rabbi said here, but the part from 3:18 to the end was just 🥹🥹🥹 like, the idea of marriage being a freeing experience, and that unique selflessness gives a sense of purpose in life - idk I just think it would fit style so wonderfully!!! kyle especially is big on advocating for others and seems very purpose-driven, so I think a marriage with stan would be very fulfilling in that regard :)

of course, if I were to write a meta post about a jewish stan/kyle marriage, there's a whole bunch of other teachings and traditions I'd want to reference too!! actually now I am kind of getting excited about that :D maybe I will write it after all...

#south park #sp style #ask #i have covid atm so maybe it would be a nice way to kill time whilst self isolating :)#thank u for the support as always rooster!! it really does mean a lot

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sungbeam · 2 years

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just wanted to say hi and that i hope you did well on your midterms! it seems like life's been busy nowadays and i don't have time to write as much as i'd like—college application deadlines are fast approaching for me.

i did see the tag game you tagged me in though, which was so creative and i wonder who started it lol.

oh wait speaking of deadlines tysm for moving the collab deadline to april fools day, it's a win for all of us LMAOO (and an excuse to procastinate shhh). anyways yea enjoy the rest of your day!

ahh eris hello !! 🥺🥺 i was so excited to see u in my inbox <3 i did not do well on the one midterm i cared abt but that's okay there's a second one cri ah, i totally get the less time to write, as well as the grapple w college apps 😔 oh the pain dude, and ik it's super stressful, but ur almost there !!! for me, most of my apps were due late november and after that i was home free, but ik some colleges have deadlines jan 1st as well :0 but no matter what, i hope they go smoothly and ur essays r brilliant !!! manifesting good things and results for u 💖✨ please do remember to take time for urself as well! it's okay to write a little in btwn or not even write at all if u lack the energy or extra brain power :')

OOP yeah the tag game @_@ omg i gotta go see what u put for urs —

AHAHA yes !! ur most welcome; it was for all of our sakes like no way we could've made it sorry y'all (_ _;) i have no faith in us, except for maybe j lmaoo she's got like 6k doesn't she T_T and i think april fools was a great day to move it to 🤡🤡

i hope u have a great night eris!! <3

#sungbeam strikes again #eris 🩰#moot ❧#very sweet hehe

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you-cant-spell-subtext-without · 4 years

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so get this. I was gonna roll around in Tombstone related fluff today - but no, no - this post came across my dash so Now We Are Gonna Discuss the Carnal Consumption of Meat as it appears on That Show Supernatural. YEAH BUDDIES!

(also my sincere apologies to OP of the inspiration post who innocently tagged it with “lunch date!” because I am about to go Elsewhere, cursedly).

Let’s all go meat man, after the cut!

This analysis centers primarily on 5x14 Bloody Valentine. The title of course is a semi-homage to a 3D Slasher Film Jensen starred in circa 2009.

Which I will be renting soon I guess. ,[<- parasocial panda GET BACK IN YOUR ENCLOSURE]

Also Its Really Fun that the trailer for Said Cinema ends with “nothing says date movie like a 3-D ride to hell” [are you also thinking of Cas pulling Dean out of hell, or are you normal?] ***unironically the teaser for 5x14 is -

EXT. SIDEWALK - IN FRONT OF ALICE'S APARTMENT BUILDING

RUSSEL

First date.

They then eat each other. Literally they eat each others flesh. They also do it while dirty talking about it. SPN IS A SHOW

ALICE Ugh! I've been so alone. So empty...

RUSSEL I know. Me too.

ALICE I want you, Russel---All of you... inside me...

[they both take bites out of each other, Alice chewing on a piece of Russel's flesh]

****Remember this detail, as it is important.

ANYWAY, it’s truly Cursed that not only are we doing an homage to this 3-D Jensen Horror Date Flick but also this episode is specifically centered on Valentine’s Day. The day honoring romance and love Now Coopted by Hallmark, everyone, that is the day spn writers chose to introduce us to

Sir Horseman of THE Biblical Apocalypse Famine.

Canonically, we are aware that the show is drawing from the book of Revelations in its depiction of the Four Horsemen. Here’s what it says about Famine -

"When He broke the third seal, I heard the third living creature saying, "Come." I looked, and behold, a black horse; and he who sat on it had a pair of scales in his hand.”

-Revelations 6:5

Famine holds scales (used to weigh out grain in times of food scarcity). Spn’s depiction is represented as hunger, a bottomless pit of need. It consumes souls (demon and human alike).

Cas describes Famine a little more poetically:

CASTIEL

"And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... "

"... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. "

"His hunger will seep out and poison the air. "

***Consider a prior season in which we are introduced to the Seven Deadly Sins. Which are the sins associated with hunger?

Gluttony

and Lust.

***this is also important

Back to the episode. Case cold open, and we find out that Alice was a Nice Girl. In that she didnt drink, smoke or

have premarital sex.

***So Alice’s hunger for the sin of Lust caused her to succumb to it; and her demise was presented as Gluttony (literally eating her partner’s flesh). HMM

Famine’s presence is affecting the town, and Cas is not immune.

DEAN

And when did you start eating?

CASTIEL

Exactly. My hunger-- it's a clue, actually.

***They lay it out a little more in case you missed it ->

SAM

I thought famine meant starvation, like as in, you know, food.

CASTIEL

Yes. Absolutely. But not just food. I mean, everyone seems to be starving for something--Sex, attention, drugs, love...

***this is so important. but of course because its spn and our textual narrators are generally unreliable (even in a Ben Edlund episode, yes I know)

we get a red herring

CASTIEL

Right. The cherub made them crave love, and then Famine came, and made them rabid for it.

***but that’s not accurate. they didn’t get married or become obsessed with each other (remember the cursed coin in 4x08 Wishful Thinking and the unconditional love wish? not what happened here). they had premarital sex. they did the thing Alice considers wrong, and dark, and sinful. and then they ate each others’ flesh.

DEAN

Okay, but what about you? I mean, since when do angels secretly hunger for White Castle?

CASTIEL

It's my vessel-- Jimmy. His, uh, appetite for red meat has been touched by Famine's effect

***mad lad Jimmy Novak’s hunger is for...red meat? He is starving for red meat? You are telling me that the Novaks, red blooded conservative religious midwestern Novaks, ate RED MEAT SO SPARINGLY that Jimmy Novak was LITERALLY starving for it?!?! No way. Absolutely no way. This is a man who was such a religious zealot he STUCK HIS HAND IN BOILING WATER and accepted an angel of the lord into his own body but his secret hunger was for fucking ground beef?

give me a damn break.

to me this is an absolute coverup. Because Cas’s burger consumption is not related one iota to his vessel Jimmy Novak.

it is a representation of Cas falling. Cas’s cravings for meat represent his growing (and very much prohibited) feelings for...humanity (Dean Winchester), and they are presenting as Gluttony in the form of his downing more and more copious amounts of red meat.

SERIOUSLY, consider this - at one point the depiction is so desperately carnal that he is eating raw ground beef with his bare hands. It is fucking uncomfortable. and it is SUPPOSED to be. Famine stirs up hunger for the prohibited. For the sinful. That which we are starving for but do not believe we can ever have, so we lust and we lust and we LUST after it, but should we allow ourselves even just a taste of what we have been ravenously craving, we binge it until we ourselves disappear into the oblivion of our own sinful, dark desires.

Since You Want More Examples of why this cant possibly be hunger for Cheeseburgers and Cheeseburgers alone, Consider Famine’s effect on Dean. Remember his doctor kink?

**when its revealed that Doctor Corman has succumbed to Famine’s poison by drinking himself to death, Dean - very uncharacteristically by the way - reacts by saying out loud

DEAN Thanks. Crap! I really kind of liked this guy.

***please note that Doctor Corman says the following to Dean in the prior scene they have together -

DR. CORMAN [to Dean]

Agent Marley, you just can't stay away.

****was that a flirtation?

***Also, Dean doesn’t want to go out and chase tail for Valentines Day.

SAM

I mean, what do you always call it-- Uh, unattached drifter Christmas?

DEAN

Oh, yeah. Well... be that as it may...I don't know. Guess I'm not feeling it this year.

SAM

So you're not into bars full of lonely women?

DEAN

Nah, I guess not. [takes a sip of his beer] Ahh. What?

SAM

That's when a dog doesn't eat-- That's when you know something's really wrong.

***oh look we are relating things to eating again. sex/lust to gluttony. hmmm hmmm hmmm

ANYHOW - *takes deep breath*

this is also the Episode Where This Scene Lives

****JACKTING JOICES

oh and speaking of jacting joices, this is also the Dean Notices Cupids Crotch Episode.

frAckles, I am once again asking why you only permit celestial beings to hug you from behi-[gunshots]

but Dean isn’t hungry. Why? Famine has the explanation, and we get it after Dean immediately runs inside after Cas heads in to complete his portion of their plan barely giving him any time to do so because he misses him that much.

FAMINE

I disagree. [Famine moves closer to Dean and touches him] Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

DEAN

Oh, you're so full of crap.

FAMINE

Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me!

***not Dean making all of those homophobic/homoerotic jokes every time he’s in danger or feeing uncomfortable; not that, that can’t possibly be what Famine is referencing, right?

I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated.

***not THIS parallel:

AMARA:

You're a mystery. I can see inside your heart. Feel the love you feel, except… It's cloaked in shame

You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions.

***not the motions of performative heterosexuality!!

***Dean’s not hungry because in his heart he truly believes that he can’t actually have what he hungers for. That Thing Which This Episode Overtly but Also Very Clearly Made Obvious. It’s an angel riding shotgun [I did Do That and I am Not Sorry], eating a burger in the front seat of the impala. But, I’ve deviated from the meat of this essay [gunshots] [this time just for the bad joke].

BONUS

there’s Exists another episode in which a man ravenously consumes red meat; eventually succumbing to eating raw beef with his bare hands in the season prior to this one.

Yes Supernatural the Show That Brought Us Not One But Two Scenes of Persons Carnally Consuming Red Meat With Their Bare Hands.

This episode is a MOTW - the man in question is a rougaru - a monster that starts out as human but due to some specific genetic disorder (hmmm hmmm hmm crack in THE chassis hmmm hmmm) soon begins to be extremely hungry - “for everything, but eventually long pig.” AKA human flesh.

Wanna know the kicker?

Episode’s called Metamorphosis.

(GIF by jackttwist)

I’ll see myself out.

[DOUBLE BONUS for extra credit:

if you really wanna wild out, go watch the scene of Jack the rougaru looking at himself in the mirror in 4x04 - and then meander on over to 7x01 and check out God!stiel looking in the mirror as the leviathans writhe inside him over there. It’s worth the walk.]

***oh and @lilac-void im tagging you in this one because in exchange for your KIND creator content nomination I guess I will respond by cursing you with an Honorary tag in this, a Meat Meta. you’re welcome slash I'm sorry XO [but seriously thank you again for your kindness and appreciation; it really motivated me to sit down and get moving on making more content <3]

#yes I did do a meat meta #and what of it #destiel #spn #spn fandom #supernatural #spn family #myspnmeta #my spn meta #hellerism #deancas #longpost #spn analysis #spn 5x14 #spn bloody valentine #meat meta #<- I do not even want to know or see what else that tag would lead to

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morzowo · 2 years

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reveal your watch and rewatch drama list

Thanks for tagging me @akk-theo uwu 💖

currently watching:

1. KinnPorsche - I remember watching the trailer and not understanding all this hype surrounding it. I thought it’d be boring and serious (like other mafia shows tend to be) but oh boy was I wrong. I could write long essays about it and its themes and interesting characters and dynamics between them and all that but there are plenty posts out there written by ppl that actually can use words so I’ll just say it’s FUN so much FUN

2. Old Fashion Cupcake - the whole vibe is just ahh from warm colours to chill music (that gives me persona vibes) and whole premise is also just so heart-warming, watching two grown man slowly breaking from their routines of everyday corporate work life and just enjoying little things together :’)

3. To My Star 2 - pain :) but the good kind, the one that makes you reflect on characters’ actions and emotions and even though it hurts it makes sense plot-wise and character-wise, I really like how Hwang Da Seul show stories (it’s not perfect but I still like it)

4. Triage - (;¬‿¬) "ᴵ ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵗʰᶦˢ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᵃᵐᵒᵘⁿᵗ" ᴵ ˢᵃᶦᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒ��, ˡᶦᵏᵉ ᵃ ˡᶦᵃʳ, I love plot driven shows and it also has paranormal element of a timeloop and mystery to solve and corruption to fight and every character is interesting and has their own story and importance but show manages to make following the plot not that hard and it’s so easy to like the main character (dr Tin my beloved) and it’s also not always heavy it’s well balanced and romance is ahhhh yea yea I could go on and on, everybody should just go and watch it

5. Plus & Minus - I still have to watch final ep but yea it was nice and wholesome, love me some childhood friends shenanigans and clownery and FLG and ZZS are very likeable also I loved Yuki’s cat behavior ajfkgh

6. Star and Sky: Sky in Your Heart - I’ve started it but I still can’t finish second ep, I think I’ll just give up, not much more to add

7. Rak Diao - it is technically on hold but I WILL finish it, I liked the humor (even though laugh track hit me like ton of bricks) and I love dynamic between main characters like they are so petty good for them

Rewatching:

nothing, my sense of time is broken, my time managing skills are non-existent

Looking Forward to:

The Eclipse (supernatural and has First as the main character so how could I not be excited), Vice Versa, Moonlight Chicken, UMG (plots of all three look interesting and all have really strong cast), GAP (self-explanatory and I have high hopes after scoy) (it’s mostly GMM shows lol but I’ll probably watch other things along the way that ppl recommend)

tagging: uh oh anyone who’s interested really and feel free to say I’ve tagged you I’m always looking for new things to watch and also other people’s opinions 👀 ᴵ'ᵐ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˢʰʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵘᵗ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵘʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵃᵏᵍᶠᵈᵏ

#ah quite late response but * looks at rewatching section *

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willowedwisteria · 2 years

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oh lord im so fecking sorry for my friend that pulled an essay on you- i didnt know they would add some stuff about the past events until i found out today.

but ig its time ill tell the truth, and its a stupid one honestly. im currently under the weather and starving so i might write a bit shorter than usual.

so, uh. the reason why i was avoiding yall back then, was because- uh-

i felt like i was the last resort, you know, the third, fourth, fifth wheeler in a friend group. this wasnt the first i’ve experienced it. i know i speak a lot and tend to interrupt (truly sorry for that), and sometimes i was told to talk less or just be quiet.

i was also told that i always interrupt every conversation when a common interest was mentioned irl.

i already mentioned it in my blog but im going to say it again, i honestly felt like i have to please everyone on the discord server, that i have to play my cards right to please the many interests of everyone there.

dont get me wrong, i love feeding all of you fics about your fav(maybe slander them in the process too), but over time it felt like i was working hard just for recognition that “hey, im here. i still exist.”

again, this wasnt the first time i’ve experienced this. heck, i wrote like 2-3 fics just for gaile (one of them is diluc), like i was tryna impress for whatever reason. and honestly? i regret feeding gaile now. i dont hate gaile, i just regret writing fics for them.

and yes, im sensitive, i tend to get jealous of petty things, ill admit that. but i try to reason myself that “your moots have lives outside of tumblr, Hana. Of course they won’t notice your work/message/etc.”

honestly sound like im guilt tripping but im genuinely not.

i hated that i have to please people even on the internet, as if i was born to make everyone around me happy, forever making me an afterthought.

like that time where i send out a message that it was also my birthday but was met with silence, so i quickly deleted it out of embarrassment. (gunter and i shared the same birthday, surprisingly.)

and yes, i regret send that ask to you. i really do. sagau villain au has gotten way too stale here, another major reason why i regretted that. and yes it was supposed to be what my friend previously said, but i didnt expect it to blow up and it to become your au.

i often get attacked whenever i mentioned that i was the reason it blew up, but thats selfish of me, i shouldve kept my mouth shut. ahh yes, the good times where my tumblr blogs were too dangerous for me and my former followers. hah

ah flip, i got sidetracked haha. im not seeking for forgiveness, nor am i asking to interact with my former moots again. i came here to tell the truth.

a petty, childish truth.

but we all have flaws no matter how well we hide it.

im under the weather, family and childhood has messed me up, and honestly i feel like ending it all sometimes one way or another.

however, if you do want to interact with me again, feel free to tag me, even if i dont respond much. i wont respond at all if its in pms, im too awkward for that. you can decide whether you want to publish this ask or not, i dont mind.

-Hana

I have no right to say that I can truly understand how you feel since I didn't go through what you had to painfully experience, but I can say that I relate to it.

But, let's not talk about me right now.

You don't have to apologize, it was partially my fault. Your friend must have brought it up to me because I needed to at least know.

If avoiding us was your last resort, then I and I hope the rest of your old mutuals respect your decision. Tumblr may not have a place for you, but you definitely will always have a special seat in my blog.

You've been so strong after facing so much unnecessary hate. If you've experienced such hurtful comments about you supposedly interrupting someone else, unintentionally or not, I can kind of see why this was your last resort.

Recognition, fame, to not be forgotten. I don't know how to console or help you, but I'm glad you decided to take the time off of Tumblr. This is an unhealthy mindset.

If you look back into my blog, I also felt jealous of things such as notes and stuff. I felt insecure because my fics weren't doing well and I thought my writing had become terrible. I was insecure. I think you went through something similar.

You don't have to call yourself sensitive because many people also surprisingly feel this way as well. It's a valid and plausible thing, but it's also very unhealthy. Tumblr was just supposed to be this place to interact and have fun, and take a break from life.

I really wish I got to know more about you and bond with you. You seem like a wonderful person. However, for now, I don't think you'd need that.

Again, I'm so sorry for the trouble. That one mistake of mine escalated so much. We might not know each other that well, and nor do your old mutuals, but I'm sure many did miss you.

Thank you for your time here and for being here.

Thank you for the truth, Hana.

#Wisteriamutual

4 notes · View notes

j-pankratz · 3 years

Text

The Slumber that Creeps to Me

Geraskefer. 7208 Words. Rated T. Jaskier pulls an extreme all-nighter (read: 60+ hours) to finish a paper he procrastinated on, and finds at the end of it that sleep does not come as easily as he’d hoped. Tags for: Sleep Deprivation, Self Destruction/Lack of Self Care, Hallucinations, Nightmares, Overstimulation, Hurt/Comfort, Whumping the Bard, very loving partners, and a happy ending. <3 AO3 link in the reblog!

As with most disasters spurned by his own cockiness, Jaskier felt as thought that all in all, the situation could have been worse.

The idea to have Geralt and Yennefer spend the spring holiday break at Oxenfurt was, in his defense, ingenious. His students weren’t around, the weather was gorgeous, they all had varying degrees of business in the city, and they could fuck each other senseless at any hour of the day. In a bed. A nice one, provided he was a legitimate professor, now. Well, visiting. Well, it was complicated. But they were his rooms, and that’s what mattered.

When Jaskier gotten the prestigious offer to write the season’s main article for the Continent’s most respected Bardic Journal, he’d just sort of figured he’d… fit it in, somewhere. He had seventeen months, which was plenty enough for him. Then he’d just work with the editors, and have a centerfold piece. It was an honor. He was excited about it! He’d meant to get to it sooner, but decided the summer before that he’d devote the winter to it. But… he’d… he’d been distracted. It wasn’t often the entire family gathered at Kaer Morhen. So, he thought, he’d do it later.

But the first few weeks after winter were, of course, spent with Geralt. And the week after that, a trip to the coast, where he’d played a festival and met up with Ciri, who was becoming an amateur critic herself. And then by pure, absolute happenstance, after 3 more weeks of travel he happened to end up at an inn that he definitely hadn’t heard Yennefer was staying at. So that more time gone. And then he’d arrived in Oxenfurt, and he’d really meant to get to work on it, but there was so much to prepare for! He wanted things to be right for them.

And then Yennefer and Geralt had actually arrived, and the idea of anything possibly being more important than their presence flew his mind.

And now, here he was. If he wanted to get it in on time (unfortunately, that wasn’t a suggestion in this case, more of an actual, terrifying requirement,) he’d need to submit it in… gods above, less than three days. 60 hours, if he was doing the math.

There was no word limit, nor a minimum. But, ever the maximalist, he knew it was going to be… long, if he was going to do it right. They’d edit it down, but it was the focal point of the journal, they’d been leading up to it for ages now. Ahh. Well. There was only one thing for it, he supposed.

“I’m working through the night on my paper!” He’d announced that morning, sitting straight up in bed, jostling his sleepy lovers. “No one bother me! I will be at the dining table until further notice!” He swung himself out of bed and made for the door.

“Pants,” his lovers chorused together.

“Right!” he'd said, and marched back into the room.

He’d pulled all-nighters in his youth. In fact, he couldn’t count the times he’d worked through the night, deposited a composition or essay on his professor’s desk with some polite conversation and maybe a wink, and then promptly fallen asleep during the lecture itself. Just a 15-minute power nap, really! Then he’d be back up and at it again, working through another night just to sleep through the weekend. He’d done it before, he could do it again.

Well, it’d been 25 years ago, but that didn’t change much, did it? He still felt spry, agile, hearty— hell, he’d spent the better part of the last twenty odd years chasing after a Witcher, and later an additional princess and mage— surely he should be in better health now!

This was completely accomplishable. Admittedly, he could have written this sooner… but he hadn’t, and here he was.

Geralt and Yennefer both set out early on different errands, leaving the bard to some peace and quiet. Relatively.

He spread his work and references out before him. 7 books, 4 pamphlets, his favorite quills, a hundred fresh pieces of parchments, his lute at his knee. “Alright,” he said aloud to his empty Oxenfurt apartment, “Just sit down and write the damn thing. Sitting part, definitely done. Writing next. Just… write.”

He stared at the page.

“No! No, no, do not be impossible about this. Just start the thing.”

The page stared back.

“Ah, blast,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. This was fine. Just… do the awful, disgusting part of beginning, and then he’d be off. The sooner he started, the sooner he’d finish, after all! He took a breath, and put his pen to paper.

Yennefer returned a few hours later, a book and small parcel in hand. Jaskier looked up to see her sweep through the room, a commanding presence, though she didn’t acknowledge him yet. A few waves of her hands and a pot of tea was put on to boil, her hair was put in a bun, and three mugs were floating down from a shelf.

“Lovely to see you too,” he smiled as Yennefer poked through the tea collection. He could practically hear her fond eye roll. She neatly plucked two from one box and looked back at him in question. “Ah… peppermint, if we’ve got it?” and she turned back to the cupboard grab it.

“Any progress?” She finally asked.

“A bit, actually!” Jaskier said cheerfully. It didn’t look like much, but he’d done half a page with almost no errors, and he’d made plenty of notes in the margins of the books he’d need later. It was better than he’d hoped it’d be going by this point, at least. He was kicking academia’s ass. Or, he would be.

The kettle whistled and Yennefer poured the tea, bobbing all three of the tea bags up and down as they steeped. He watched her lean against the counter, casual, relaxed, gorgeous, before realizing she was staring back at him. “Um! Yes, no, definitely good. Got a lot of… those words, you know, they are definitely here. Looking very sexy. The words! The writing is looking… very sexy, very curvy… letters. Sensuous words, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Sensuous words.”

“Yeah, yes. Like… contemporaneous… and… iguana.”

“Iguana.” She let out a little huff of a laugh and something in Jaskier’s chest tightened and loosened in quick succession. And in a moment she was there, sliding him a large mug with the carving of a rather playful looking bear on one side, batting at a butterfly.

“Oh! My favorite. Thank you, thank you.”

“Mmm,” she said before waving a hand to cool down their tea a bit. She took a seat opposite him, scanning an eye over the table. “Think you’ll be done by tonight?”

Jaskier laughed. “Darling, I’ll be lucky to be done by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re planning to stay up all night, bard?”

“Unfortunately.” He took a sip. “Should be done by tomorrow afternoon, if I keep steady at it.”

“After tea, of course.”

“Of course.”

Yennefer stretched out a bit, kicking her feet onto Jaskier’s lap and rolling her neck. They sat there a moment, sipping, pausing, drinking in each other. There was something nice about taking a moment of stillness with someone just as frenetic as he was, someone who was usually just as itching for something to do, even if she went about it differently. The grace of choosing stillness, he thought, was not something to ignore.

Yennefer reached the end of her mug and tapped its ceramic walls lightly.

“What’s next for you?”

“I have to refresh my potion stock, so I’ll be at the market for supplies. You sure you don’t want to take a break and join?”

Rat’s ass. He fucking loved the Oxenfurt markets. “I’m afraid I can’t. Academia calls.”

“Who does it call for, exactly? What’s that I hear…” She cocked her head and listened intently. “Who is it calling for… is that… V… Val… Valdo?” Jaskier hefted her feet off of his lap in protest, and she laughed. He plucked his quill from its stopper, and went back to hovering over his paper. Introduction mostly accomplished, now he had to really lead in to his point, give some proper context. He flipped through a book beside him.

Yennefer rose smoothly from the table and went to move her mug to the sink. “When Geralt gets in, tell him I need toadflax and bluebells from him? Might as well put him to use.”

Jaskier flipped through the pages, thumbing through for a note he’d sworn he’d made ages ago, when he belatedly tried to register his mage’s words. He could have his fun, too.

“Blue…Yennefer, you want me to tell Geralt that you need blue balls from him?”

“Bells! Bells, you absolute child!” she said. “Honestly. Blue balls? Really, Jaskier?” He was giggling. “I don’t need to ask to give either of you blue balls.”

“Exactly, Yennefer, you provide that service for us anyway, free of charge!” A balled-up napkin hit him in the head and he laughed joyfully.

“I can’t stand you. I’m leaving, you’ll never see me again.”

Jaskier looked up through his grin and met her twinkling, happy eyes. “Tonight then?”

“Tonight,” she agreed, and left with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“Still working?” Geralt said as greeting later in the afternoon. The desk was neater than Jaskier expected it to be this far in, only a few books open, dog eared and marked in colored ink. He’d written a page and a half since Yennefer left, and it was good, it was, but he’d need to go back and make edits later. His long empty mug of tea sat far across him.

“Mm,” he agreed, continuing to write. “Ah, Yennefer came through earlier,” giving a gesture to the waiting mug of tea on the counter. Geralt made his way over to the mug, and gave it a small igni to warm it. He smiled fondly down at the drink—what a terribly lovely sight he was. Warm here, and safe. Couldn’t it be like this always? The three of them here, comfortable and happy? No, he supposed, but gods how he wanted it.

“She’s at the market now,” Jaskier continued, “wanted me to ask you about...” He lifted his pen and squinted. “Ah, toadflax and bluebells.” He looked up at Geralt, smiling. “Blue balls,” they said together, sporting matching shit-eating grins, Geralt’s albeit much smaller. “I made the same joke myself,” Jaskier added.

Geralt snorted. “How’d she take that?”

“Oh, as well as you’d hope. We’ll never see her again, of course.” He turned back to his work, reading over the last paragraph. He could feel Geralt approach to stand behind him, and while he’d normally shoo his witcher off, he was too deep in concentration to bother.

How long was too long to linger on the progression of oral storytelling to bardship? It’s not like he could ignore it, (Geralt’s hand came to grip his shoulder, a thumb rubbing against it tenderly) as it was a crucial tenant of the argument— but there was plenty to be said for assuming the literacy and foreknowledge of the reader. (He leaned in to get a closer look at Jaskier’s page, the soft warmth of the tea in his other hand bouncing off his chest) But this was to be in a journal often referenced by first years, and he knew how much he would have loved a paper that had everything all in one—

“How’s it going?” Geralt asked softly in his ear.

Jaskier waved a hand over the mess before him. “You know. It’s fine, I’m just not sure at what point I’m lingering on points to excess.”

“Mm,” Geralt hummed understandingly. “Tell the story. Trust your gut.” He gave Jaskier a nuzzle and light kiss against his cheek before taking up the empty mug off the table and walking off further into the apartment.

“I always do!” Jaskier called back. Mm, if only this were as simple as telling a story. Well…Oh—if he spent this paragraph referencing the progression it would end up taking up more room, be a run of the mill lead-in, but if he wrote the actual history as a short story itself, now there was an idea, he could make his point and give the context. Oh, fuck, brilliant—

“Back soon,” Geralt was saying as the front door slipped shut, but the bard was too lost in his work to do more than give a small nod of his head.

The sun was falling, making a graceful bow into the horizon. Warm light spread out over the streets of Oxenfurt like the last pushes of tide, ebbing, and flowing, and sinking back into night.

“Ah, fuck,” Jaskier muttered, crossing out a spelling error with a snarl.

His shoulders ached, and his lower back was going to be the death of him. He was on page 7. All he could see was the work ahead of him, winding off ad infinitum. If he didn’t pick up the pace, he might have to go 60 hours straight—he shivered. Not ideal. He took a breath, stood up and stretched a bit, his muscles groaning in thanks. A quick bathroom break later and he was sliding back into his chair, still warm, his papers grinning up at him, sardonic.

He’d take a meal break at 10 pages, he told himself.

He stood to stretch and his head swam. Well. Plenty of reason to stay seated, he supposed.

Geralt and Yennefer returned at 12 and a half pages. He turned his head in greeting, and when he looked back he got the first real look at the table in hours—it was a disaster, crumbled pieces of parchment, empty quills, and little notes strewn everywhere. Some books propped open, the pile of parchment looking more like a mountain slope, an empty glass from when he’d chugged water hours ago.

His loves were clearly a few drinks deep as they came through the door, and completely unmarred by the woes of academia. Bastards, honestly.

“Hi, hello, hope you had a good evening, I—”

“Come to bed,” Yennefer said, suddenly right behind him. Two small but firm hands came to his shoulders, rubbing deeply.

“Ah! Oh, fuck—oh, yes, darling, right there—”

Geralt came to his other side, tipping his head up for a kiss, which he moaned into. His witcher’s tongue was soft, pleading, tempting him—his mage’s hands pushing almost painfully against his aching muscles. He wanted to cry, it was so good. It was so different than the last… however many hours it had been that he had been sitting here. Geralt pulled away, and Yennefer’s hands came to rest as well.

“So?” Geralt asked, his voice deep and velvety. “Bed?”

“I…” gods, who had he become? “I can’t. I want to, I just—”

Yennefer placed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s fine,” she said, and he knew it was, but he hated denying them something they all wanted. “Have you eaten?”

Jaskier frowned. “Fuck. Not really.”

Geralt sighed and went to the pantry. “You’re getting a sandwich,” he grumbled.

“Ooo, Geralt, dear heart, would you heat it up? Use some of your,” he wiggled his fingers “your witchery magic?”

Geralt turned and glared. “You’re getting a sandwich.”

“He’s so mean to me,” Jaskier muttered to Yennefer, “I can’t believe he’s so mean to me.”

His mage snorted a laugh into his hair. “You’re really staying up all night, then?” She waved a hand and the curtains around the room swept shut, and his lantern began to burn steadily.

“Looks like it,” he sighed. Geralt retuned a moment later, plated warm sandwich and glass of water in hand.

“Fuck. Thank you.” He took it and took a bite, suddenly ravenous. He looked up at both of them, staring down in fond amusement. “Fank—” he swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. “Thank you both, truly. I’ll be up a bit. If you need something, call, yes?”

They rolled their eyes. “He tells us to call if we need anything,” Yennefer muttered. “Don’t get into any trouble,” she said, and with a peck on the cheek from both of them, they disappeared into the bedroom.

He looked back at his work.

Okay. 12 ½ pages in. He could do this.

At 15 pages, he felt ravenous again, and made a second sandwich. Not as good as Geralt’s. Geralt’s sandwiches weren’t even that good, but they were made by Geralt, which added a certain kick, a novelty he adored.

He drank another glass of water and shook his head. Back to work.

At 17 pages, sometimes the world swam before him. He gripped the edge of the table. Fuck.

He was so tired. 23 pages. He kept writing.

It was terrible. The whole paper was a mess. Nothing made sense and people were going to laugh at him. 25 pages.

He heard a sound. Was that Geralt rising for the bathroom? Was it an intruder? Light crept in through the window. 27 pages.

There was a ringing in his ear. His writing was getting increasingly larger. 27 ½ pages.

Geralt gave him a soft nuzzle to the top of his head before padding through to the kitchen. Jaskier’s heart ached. His bones ached. Writing was hard but right then it felt impossible. 27 ¾ pages.

Geralt lingered, and Jaskier felt his nose twitch. He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for him to leave. He couldn’t have any distractions right now. He shut his eyes tight until he heard the bedroom door close once more.

Yennefer entered hours later, sweeping the curtains over with a flick of her hand. Bright light flooded the room, painting the desk in all its full, disgustingly messy glory. “Well—”

“Could you ask next time?!” Jaskier snapped. “Some of us need consistency to concentrate!”

Yennefer raised an eyebrow, and they stared at each other. Some part of him wanted to slap himself but the rest was just so irritated. Who’d she think she was, anyway?

After a moment, the mage turned and left with a flick of her hand to sweep the curtains shut again.

“Headed out,” Geralt said at 30 pages. “Contract.”

“Good,” Jaskier muttered. “I mean. Good that you’re—fuck. Whatever.”

Geralt stared. “You need rest. It’s been more than 24 hours.”

“I need to fucking finish.”

“Yen said—”

“I’m sure she did,” Jaskier muttered, driving his heels into his eyes. Gods, his eyes burned. Silence hung.

“She portaled out this morning.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Great. Love that. I’m a fucking disaster, thank you for the reminder, Geralt.” He waved toward the door. “Don’t you have a contract?”

He turned back to his papers, shifting around to look for page 11, and didn’t think about how long it took before Geralt left the apartment.

His hand was shaking but he was at 34 pages. He still had so much to say. Fuck. But he was in it now.

He scarfed down some soup that was mostly broth at some point, and he’d under-salted it, but it was something. His eyes kept going blurry; traitorous things.

The bear on his mug was plotting his downfall.

38 pages and Jaskier felt like the gods themselves had gifted him with the knowledge he now bestowed onto meager commoners. He was a genius.

At 43 pages, he had stopped to lay out the entire essay on the ground, so he could see it all. The words sometimes swam before him, and he had trouble remembering what he was meant to say next. Once, he looked up, confused as to where he was. And then, at 44 pages, the guilt of snapping at his dearest loves, the weight of this behemoth paper he wasn’t even sure he could finish, and his own self-doubt crept in and seized him up, leaving him breathless and in tears for… awhile. Everything hurt. He had to keep going.

At 48 pages, he saw a griffon fly through his window, and he named it Kalvin. He turned whatever color Jaskier wanted him to turn, which was very considerate of him. Kalvin was his only friend now, and with a little convincing, might become his editor, too.

At 55 pages his chest seized, and it was hard to breathe for a moment. He closed his eyes but—no, no, couldn’t do that. If he fell asleep now, he’d never finish in time. He tried to relax, got some water, leaned against the counter. Everything was a mess.

He sat back on the floor, his work around him. Keep going.

“I don’t think there’s anything about anything that I have to be doing right now. Kalvin, you’ve… you’ve got to understand, this could be my finest work! It’s good. It’s pretty good here in… in this part, here. In that other part it’s just okay, but that’s why you come in with your big claws and you’re gonna. Rip up the bad parts. Don’t rip up the good parts. Right? Yeah. Do you think they’ve forgotten about me by now?”

He looked down. 57 pages. Took a long blink.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “That’s fair.

He had to write two extra pages so that he could skirt around referencing Valdo Marx’s work as anything other than a contradictory point. Maybe it would have been fun to use his own writing against him but he didn’t want to give the satisfaction of being referenced positively in a centerfold piece.

He lost the essay.

“Fuck—oh, gods, where did—”

He turned around, looked down. Oh, there it was.

“Thank fuck.”

The curtains were still closed and the charmed lantern was still burning, but Jaskier knew it was night by the time he reached 63 pages and Geralt came in.

Jaskier looked up from his spot kneeling on the floor. Geralt looked fine. He was a little dirty. There were some gushy bits. Probably blood. He was tired. Or just mad. Maybe he hated Jaskier.

“You’re still—?!” Geralt asked, looking at Jaskier like he’d just said a griffon named Kalvin had flown in the window earlier and now they were friends.

“I met a griffon,” Jaskier heard himself say. Geralt stared. “We’re friends now.”

“…You need to fucking sleep.”

“No.” Jaskier went back to the margin he’d devoted to drawing circles in. “Sorry ‘bout earlier.”

Geralt sighed. He might have talked but Jaskier didn’t hear, just kept writing.

“How often has that been happening?” he heard Geralt ask.

“What happening?”

“Where you fall asleep for a moment.”

“I haven’t! Fallen asleep.”

“Fuck,” Geralt said. He looked very nice, except for the goop all over him. Well. Even that wasn’t so bad, when the underneath bits were Geralt. His Geralt. Looked so warm, so strong, so able to carry him.

“Later,” Jaskier replied, and went back to his words. The familiar pop of a portal sounded in the bedroom. Their eyes lingered on the direction it came from, but Yennefer didn’t open the door. They looked at each other, and then back at the door which remained very much shut. “She’s mad.”

“Yep.”

“At me.”

“Yep.”

There was a pause. “Are you covered in blood?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh.”

“Not mine.”

“That,” he said pointing to the Witcher, “is good.”

“Mmm.”

“Sticky though.”

“Definitely sticky.”

Yennefer came out of the doorway, and Jaskier blinked. When he opened his eyes again she was much closer than she’d been and was in the middle of talking. Magic, he assumed.

“—yourself very lucky, bard.”

“Yeahh,” he said. “Sorry. ‘Bout… Sorry.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. There was a look in her face. Eyes? And her mouth. It was hard to name. Words were hard, when they weren’t the words he desperately needed to write.

“—for a while,” Geralt was saying. “Jaskier. How close are you to finishing.”

“Soon!” Jaskier said. “Soon! Soon. Due… 1pm tomorrow. What time is it?”

“10pm.”

“Fuck. Psshhh. I can… I can do it.” He looked up at Yennefer. “Sorry. Really. I… I’m just tired,” he admitted. “Shouldn’t have snapped. Not fair to you.”

Yennefer stood there, arms folded, emanating some emotion Jaskier had lost the concept of around page 41. Geralt walked further into the apartment, into the bedroom. Oh right. Blood armor. Ick.

He went back to writing and tried to ignore the desire to cry again, and then suddenly Yennefer’s shoes were in his line of vision.

“Let me read it,” she said.

“Oh.”

They stared at one another. She had such a pretty face. He might have been smiling. She rolled her eyes and then came to sit next to him. She quickly found the first page and began.

Halfway through it, he spilled ink on the bottom half of page 64, and wept. Yennefer gave him an attempt at a comforting pat on the back.

Yennefer had read the pages and risen; “It’s good. You need edits, but it’s somehow decent. Good. Whatever. A little… loose, toward the end, though,” made herself a cup of tea, and entered the bedroom.

Either a few moments, or 20 minutes later, Geralt emerged.

“What are you at now?”

“69 pages.”

“Nice,” Geralt said.

“Ha. Yeahhh,” Jaskier agreed.

“That’s not what I—” Geralt sighed the sigh that meant his face was going all pinch-y. “Close to the end?”

“Mmm. What is the end, really?” Geralt made a different pinch-y face. “Soon.”

“Come to bed tonight, Jaskier.”

“I’ll try,” he said. He blinked, and Geralt was gone.

There are a lot of words in an essay that are very hard to spell.

Jaskier ate the rest of a loaf of bread.

For a while, he swore he walked the streets of Oxenfurt while still warm in his professorial housing.

Kalvin’s accent changed three times and at one point he was on fire.

85 pages.

Geralt woke first, as always; There he was! That was his love. So much of his heart.

With shaking hands, Jaskier had brought himself up to sit in his chair, and sat staring down at his work. He looked up at Geralt with a lopsided grin. “I did it,” he said weakly.

“Need help putting it together?”

The tears fell so quickly he didn’t realize it was happening. “Really?”

Geralt sighed softly and knelt down, organizing the papers.

Yennefer emerged a bit later—There she was! His love, a chunk of him was hers entirely. He smiled. “Look!”

“Mmm. And now you can sleep.”

“NO!” Jaskier cried and leapt to his feet, “No, no, now… now is presenting time. To… the editors. Not Kalvin. But I turn it in… and then sleep,”

He had a sudden burst of energy, and tried to step over Geralt and the papers, but fell into the table instead, before the Witcher steadied him from below.

“Ohhhh, thank you dear. It’s time for… presentation! Mm.” He leaned into Yennefer’s warmth at his side, though she did not wrap her arms around him as he’d hoped. “Help me pick out an outfit.”

He blinked. Yennefer was in front of him now, looking at him with a frown, her hands around his waist. Geralt’s hand was against his forehead. “No! Stop that! I’m fine. I’m fine! See me! Fine. It’s action time. Let’s go!” and he marched off to the bedroom.

The floor was suddenly very close to his face.

“Did I—”

“You fell on your face.”

“Have I—”

“You’ve asked three times now, yes.”

There should have been fanfare when he turned it in, but there was only the grateful smile of Edmond, the young new assistant, a firm handshake, and a promise he’d hear back from them very soon, for a quick summarization of their initial thoughts. Or, he’d used all those words, Jaskier forgot which order they’d come in.

The three returned to the apartment, and everything happened very slowly and so quickly he found it hard to keep track. There was definitely a bath drawn for him—gods, it had been days, hadn’t it— oh, fuck, he was gross, wasn’t he—a full meal, and a celebratory drink. He’d made a few good jokes, and all he could see were Geralt and Yennefer, smiling at him. An empty glass. A bar of soap. A long quill. A messy table. A pile of books and an empty mug. They deposited him on the bed for sleep, and left together.

Jaskier lay there, waiting for sleep to take him.

It did not.

He was so tired he could cry. He did, a few times. He couldn’t think straight. All of it, everything, hurt. His body ached. He tried to soothe himself down alone, rocking himself in the hopes it would work. But nothing.

What if he could never sleep again? What if he would always be awake, forever? What if this was how he died?! Oh gods, he didn’t want to die! He still had edits to approve!

Eventually, he could feel himself getting closer. He adjusted himself, lay on his back and took deep, measured breaths, kept his eyes closed but relaxed. Okay. Okay. Sleep.

He was falling, so violently and so fast that when he jolted awake, he forgot he’d been lying on a bed in the first place.

Fuck.

He tried again. It happened sometimes, it was fine. He’d be fine.

He tried breathing deeply once more, trying to let the distant scents of Yennefer and Geralt now embedded in his pillows overtake him.

A fear so powerful it gripped his heart and twisted, whispered to him, ‘this is what dying is, you’re going to die’ and he once again jolted awake. He threw his head back against the pillow and winced; even that hurt.

Fuck. Fuck.

He kept trying. Over, and over, he’d get so close to sleep and then right at the precipice, something would yank him out of it.

Once, he saw Yennefer falling off a cliff. Another time, he saw Geralt stabbed through the chest. At some point, he saw Ciri screaming, and his hands flew out to pull her close, only to find nothing there. Sometimes it was himself falling, and sometimes it was the world below him falling instead.

He’d really done it this time. Stayed awake so long, sleep had abandoned him entirely.

It felt like twelve years before Yennefer and Geralt returned, slipping into the room quietly. He sat up in bed, startling them both.

“Please,” he said quietly, “I can’t. I don’t know why I can’t I just—I can’t. My body won’t let me, I want to but I can’t—”

“How the hell—” Yennefer started, walking over to him with a palm out to check for a curse, maybe? It didn’t matter. He wrapped her hand in his and clutched it to himself, desperate for her. She was so warm. So alive.

“Fuck,” Geralt sighed, “It’s been nearly 70 hours already, Jaskier.”

“Let me just put him down with magic,” Yennefer started, but Geralt put a hand up.

“We can’t. It’s a temporary fix. if he can’t fall asleep on his own without magic, it’ll get harder and harder for him. We need to get him to fall asleep without it.” They looked down at him. What a disgrace he must look like, how pathetic he was. He turned his face away in abject shame. He couldn’t even fall asleep right.

While he looked away, Yennefer tore her hand from his as she and Geralt discarded their clothes into heaps beside the bed, crawled beneath the covers on either side of Jaskier. They hated him. They must. How could they not?

“It’s fine, you don’t—fuck, sorry—”

Geralt shrugged. “Don’t be. I know how bad it gets. It’s different for a Witcher, but no sleep is the whole reason we met Yennefer.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaskier said softly.

“As I recall, the solution then was to have vigorous sex on the floor.” Yennefer ran a finger along Jaskier’s chest. “Sound appealing?”

“I—yes, Yennefer, it sounds appealing.” He fidgeted, tried to focus on the feeling of Yennefer’s delicate touch. He was oversensitive enough that it felt like fire, but nothing… stirred, and each word he spoke felt like he was pulling honey from his tongue. “I don’t… much as I’d like, I’m not sure I’d be... up for it right now.” Yennefer’s head fell against the pillow and she flattened her hand, ran the palm up his chest to rest above his heart. Pressed a kiss there.

He closed his eyes and tried to breathe deeply, but they were looking at him, he could feel every inch of their gazes and it was all too much. He whined in agony. “I can’t do this. Fuck. I can’t, just put me out. We try it again tomorrow, I—”

“Jaskier. You can. Tell us what you need and we can help you,” Yennefer said, sweet but firm. And that was her, wasn’t it?

He couldn’t think. Wanted to. Wanted so much. Wanted to be asleep.

Jaskier curled up on his side, exhausted of being exhausted, when he felt Geralt slide up closer behind him. “Can I hold you?” he murmured into the bard’s shoulder. Jaskier nodded, and felt Geralt’s arm come around him and under his own arm, felt it slide up his chest and cross it protectively.

“Feel good?” Jaskier nodded, and then cracked his eyes open, met Yennefer’s, concern palpable.

He lifted one arm just slightly. “C’mere?” And she did, curled into his arms and around him, tucked her head under his, kissed the top of Geralt’s fingers. He held her close, and was held by the two in turn. Breathing, somehow, felt easier between them.

“Breathe, bard,” Yennefer urged him softly. Geralt buried his nose in Jaskier’s hair, took in a deep breath, and Jaskier tried to follow.

They breathed softly, all together, slow and safe. Soon, he was drifting into sweet oblivion.

‘You,’ Fear said, wrapped around his sternum, ‘will crumble, the moment you let go of wakefulness.’ It gripped him, and tugged him back to reality.

He jolted again. “Fuck, dammit, cock wringing—”

Yennefer pulled back to look at him worriedly. “Is that what’s been keeping you up?” she asked.

“It’s, I don’t know, something just pulls me back, I try to fight it but…”

“Mmm,” Geralt agreed. “Sleep starts. Happens sometimes.”

“The hell are sleep starts?”

“They’re… when you’re too on edge to sleep, or just haven’t in too long, brains… fizzle. Keep you awake. It’s a survival instinct—it makes you think you’ve got to stay awake to stay alive. Feels like falling? Or… a shock. Sometimes other things. Hallucinations.” Geralt pressed a kiss to the back of his head. “It’s scary. It’s meant to be. Your body thinks it’s fighting for its life.”

“I am never letting you doom yourself like this ever again,” Yennefer said, and while it was probably meant to come out angry, she just sounded worried.

Geralt hummed and agreement. “Try again, we’ve got you. We’re not letting go.” Jaskier took a breath. They had him. They had him.

Yennefer lifted a hand to Jaskier’s temple. “May I?” And he let her in, easier than breathing. She gave him Ciri laughing, wind chimes on the breeze, the soft roar of the coast. Geralt hugged him tight, ran his other hand through Jaskier’s hair, tried to keep the bard’s breathing aligned. Now, what had he ever done to earn these two?

Soon, sleep came to him again, and he could feel Yennefer ready to soothe anything that came for him in his mind, Geralt ready to defend against anything that dared hurt his resting body. The darkness crept in, and he felt peace.

Geralt was reaching for him, falling, bleeding, screaming.

“FUCK!”

“Shh,” the real Geralt hushed him. “We’ve got you.”

“Fuck, there’s got to be something else,” Yennefer groaned. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“I have tried… to fall asleep.”

Yennefer and Geralt both huffed small laughs. “No. Positions—”

“Only the good ones.”

“Meditating?” Geralt asked.

“Darling, I haven’t had a thought in my head in hours. This is meditation.”

“Drugs?” Yennefer asked.

“I will try the drugs!” Jaskier said with a drowsy cheerfulness, as Geralt replied “No drugs. No.”

“Ugh,” Jaskier groaned, and shifted to lie on his stomach. Oh. This was… better. He nestled into the pillows, and a soft contented sigh drifted from him.

“That feel better?” Geralt asked as he ran a hand up and down Jaskier’s back. “Mmm,” Jaskier replied. Yennefer’s hand joined Geralt over his chest. Oh, they were going to make him cry.

And then it was too much, too much feeling, like his brain couldn’t handle all the sensation, and he felt Yennefer come to pause, and a moment later, Geralt’s hand as well. ‘That better?’ Yennefer asked in his mind. Jaskier gave her the memory of his favorite hug with her, warm and happy as her legs wrapped around his waist, and his favorite with Geralt, crushing and firm and full of too many emotions to speak aloud.

“Could…” he said softly, “Just. Talk? Not to me. Just… to each other. Just wanna hear you.” He could almost hear their smiles, and felt as they settled in on the pillows beside him, arms and hands intertwining on his back. Yennefer’s head on his shoulder, the gentle planes of Geralt’s chest on his other side. “If you need us, Yennefer and I are here. We’ve got you. You’re safe.”

He nodded into the mattress, cool and soft below him.

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

“G’night Yennefer.”

“Goodnight, Jaskier.”

"G’night, Geralt.”

He started to fade into oblivion, but stopped himself before he got too far. Not fear, not anxiety, a conscious stopping. Somewhere above him, Geralt was telling Yennefer about the contract from… sometime in the past few days, and Yennefer was telling her own story about some town gossip with a woman and her hens, which, it might have been a metaphor, but he’d basically forgotten what those were by now. He breathed deeply, felt their words flow through him, and when he felt brave enough, he let go, trusting they would catch him.

He could have sworn he heard wind chimes, somewhere.

The small amount of light filtering in through the curtains was golden when he awoke. His head both ached and felt light as a feather, his muscles screamed and cried but half of it was in relief. He gave a small stretch and yawned. “G’morning,” an amused Geralt said to him, lounging in a chair he’d brought beside the bed, reading a book. His legs were propped up on the bed beside the bard’s and Jaskier stretched to bump their toes together.

“What time…?”

“You slept 13 hours.”

“Fuck.”

“You probably need more.”

“Yeahhhh.”

“Feel alright?”

“Like a real human being,” he said. “Hungry, though.”

“Mmm.”

Yennefer slipped in the door, but, noticing Jaskier was awake, rose a hand. “May I?” she asked, voice dripping in sarcasm, gesturing to the curtains.

“You may,” Jaskier offered, covering his face with his hands. “Ohhhh, gods, how bad was I?”

“Genuinely awful,” Yennefer said, as Geralt was saying, “There’s been worse.”

“Normally I’d withhold this,” the mage said, withdrawing a small envelope from her pocket. “But, under the circumstances…” she cleared her throat.

“To one Julian Alfred Pankratz. We were extremely pleased to receive your manuscript yesterday afternoon. Our editors are will have their notes to you by the weekend, but we wanted to reach out and extend our most sincere compliments on your work. It is—oh, a flood of adjectives, I’m skipping these. Etcetera, etcetera, sucking your dick, etcetera alright, here—and meticulous in construction. We can tell,” Yennefer said, dragging out the final sentence, “you made good use of your year of writing time to complete the work.” Jaskier and Geralt by this point were holding back true howls of laughter.

“And won’t you believe it, there’s more. Ahem; we have a number of suggestions and questions already, but encourage you to get your well-deserved rest as we prepare our feedback. We are grateful to work with you, and thank you again for your stunning entry. There’s a postscript,” Yennefer added. “As a quick and personal note, we cannot have helped but notice the nature of your penmanship; we mean no offence, but would encourage you to see a doctor of the eye to fit you with some spectacles.”

“My—my penman…? What’d—” and Yennefer, who had clearly been waiting for this moment, brought out a rather crumpled piece of parchment with an ink stain at the bottom—ah, yes, the original page 64— and showed it to him. His eyes were… gods, they were aching, but he was clear minded enough now to see that each line had become at least twice it’s normal size. The lines were far from straight, dipping and bending toward the edge of the paper, the letters changed directions at random points, and a fair amount of the words were smudged so completely they were hard to make out.”

Jaskier stared in horror.

“They. Is that. Is that what it looked like? Really?”

“It’s worse than most of the ones that made it in,” Geralt said, carefully.

“Most?!”

“You drew pictures on one of them,” Yennefer said.

“Oh my god. They…they must…”

“Adore it, clearly,” Yennefer said, setting aside the paper. “It wasn’t worth the strain, and you’ve definitely firmly embarrassed yourself, but they’re either embarrassing themselves by fawning praise on you,” she said, sliding onto the bed, “Or you’re actually just… very knowledgeable and talented, even when addled by sleep deprivation.”

There was a pause, Jaskier soaking this in; it hadn’t been worth it, exactly, but it wasn’t all bad. In fact, it was quite good, and Yennefer was complimenting him outright, so, very good.

“Or both,” Geralt added.

“Definitely both,” Yennefer agreed.

Jaskier groaned. “You can’t be mean to me. You’re in my house and I am extremely tired, which means that you, by law, must kiss me and tell me nice things about myself.”

Geralt laughed, light and free, and Yennefer slunk slower down into the bed. “You get no kisses,” she said, “You get sleep and rest.” She grabbed a pillow from under her head and plopped it delicately onto Jaskier’s face.

“Boo,” Jaskier said, muffled beneath the thing. He closed his eyes. Geralt muttered something, and Yennefer gave a snort of laughter, and then there was silence.

“Are you two kissing up there?!”

More silence.

“UGH,” he groaned, and sunk into his soft, sweet mattress. Oh, beautiful mattress. How he adored it, how he adored his two loves on top of it. He listened to their kissing, soft, and sweet, and knew he’d join them soon. But it was so warm down here. Even as one of them removed the pillow, he could only bring himself to open his eyes for a moment, to see them both leaning to kiss his face gently, before returning to each other. He took a long, deep breath, and listened to them swirl around him, until all he could feel was their love and the sweet caress of his pillow.

#Geraskefer #Jaskier Whump #Soft Geralt #Soft Yennefer #The Witcher #Witcher Fic #jaskier #geralt #yennfer of vengerberg #sleep deprivation #insomnia #hurt/comfort #Witcher Whump #Butterbard's Fics

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bloodypapercut · 4 years

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f.w. headcanons (part ii)

here it is! you’re all too kind to me so i truly hope you enjoy! <3 (I apologize if this headcanon is a bit redundant)

word count: 2.1k

@somekidinacoma

(if you’d like to be tagged just ask, i’d be more then happy to!)

-he talks about you so much, molly and arthur practically know everything about you. as for the other weasleys you all get along and they make you feel like you’re part of the family

-he’s so excited to show you everything around the house, like his room, the backyard, the small fort all his siblings made together in the woods, the treehouse, and all the little trinkets that litter every available space. he’s practically shaking when he meets you at the train station because he can’t contain his emotions

-he can’t wait for the people he loves the most to be together. the thought of you, his siblings and his parents in the same household just excite him so much and fills him with joy

-when you arrive molly has already made all of your favorites because she knew from all of fred's letters about you and arthur is already asking about how your ride was and if you saw anything interesting (his letters are mostly about you, they only contain 2 sentences about him)

-you get along with molly and arthur very well, they treat you with so much kindness and love. molly lets you cook with her and she shows you old photos of fred. you and arthur have conversations about muggle things he finds interesting and about all the fun experiences you’ve had while art hogwarts

-when fred leads you to his room he shows you his first inventions that he made with george many years ago, seeing his eyes fill with pride is one of your favourite sights

-his side of the room is covered with pictures of you and him, letters and doodles from you and it’s so cute “george says it’s creepy like it’s some sort of shrine.” “i wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

-he lets you rummage through the old clothes that are too small for him and keep them. they still smell like him, a mixture of cinnamon, ash, pine, and orange

-sneaking down to the kitchen while everyone sleeps and eating cake outside

-baking 4am cookies with fred, trying your hardest not to laugh and make a lot of noise, but it just ends up with the two of you feeding each other the cookie dough then getting stomach aches the next morning

-throwing popcorn at him, him diving to try and catch it, probably leading to his head banging against a table (pouty fred trying to ignore you but ultimately failing when you kiss him all over his face)

-sitting around a fire with his entire family as they all laugh and tell stories, his arm around your shoulders and your head leaning against his

-water chugging competitions, you always win

-staring competitions, he’ll always pull odd faces in an attempt to get you to crack or tickle you with strands of your hair

-stargazing in his old treehouse, holding hands and falling asleep in that position. (imagine fairy lights everywhere, there's a record player in the corner playing si tu n’etais pas la, you’re both under a blanket and you’re tracing words onto his palm making him guess what your message is)

-he comes up from behind you and drapes a blanket over your shoulders while hugging you and talking into your hair, his speech being muffled

-refusing him kisses before class if he’s the reason you’re late, to which he’ll reply by lightly pulling your hair when you try and walk away from him. he doesn’t show any signs of relenting so you quickly turn around and kiss him hard while gripping on his collar, but as soon as he tries to deepen it you turn and rush through the classroom door quickly

-while walking down a corridor together he’ll twirl you around

-sometimes he’ll just hold you up because he wants to admire you. or he’ll prop you on a desk or dresser just so you’re face to face, so he can look at every feature on your face

-i cannot stress enough how warm his hugs are, they completely engulf you and all you can smell is his jumper and you can feel his heartbeat, his hands gripping at the ends of your sweater then slowly running up and down your back in your jumper and he’ll nudge your leg with his knee as an indicator for you to step into him so there's practically no space between the two of you

-slow dancing, he’ll hold you tightly to his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist and your head will be on his shoulder while you play with the strands of hair at the base of his neck. you’ll have hushed conversations about what you want to do in the future, all the places you wanna travel to together, and all the domestic things you can’t wait to do together (while the catfish and the bottlemen cover of read my mind plays in the back)

-pretending to have mini-concerts in his dorm, using random objects as microphones, screaming, jumping around on every surface that will allow it (in my mind fred dances like jarvis cocker)

-if you’re both singing he’ll claim that you’re outshining him so he’ll try and cover your mouth, which leads to you covering his mouth, which ends with him just him licking your hand and you rubbing it off on him “you did not.” “yes, and i’ll do it again.” he’ll take off running, causing you to chase him

-the two of you sitting next to each other while listening to music and you’ll start to head bop, then he’ll start to head bop together in unison

- during lessons he’ll slip little sweets into your hand

-he’ll nudge your ribs while you’re trying to pay attention to class and whispers to you “i’m so in love with you darling.” to which you’ll just grin and hold his hand under the table, tracing shapes onto the back of it

-he definitely throws things at you randomly, at any given location, nothing that would hurt you obviously

-sometimes he’ll just stop mid-sentence and look at you in awe, his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide. his smile is so bright and genuine, his dimples are so prominent and his eyes crinkle and it’s so contagious, you can’t help but hold his face and kiss his forehead lightly

-he admires you so so much, you motivate him to work as hard as he can because one day he hopes that his business will be enough to sustain a life that he wants to give you, he wants to give you the world and he wants to encourage you to follow your dreams as much as you do for him

-very specific compliments “your earlobes are a really nice shape” “i really like the space between your eyebrows” “ahh your nose is just so cute i just wanna poke it all day”

-he gave you a locket and it has a picture of you and him on your first hogwarts train ride together. and whenever he gets the chance he’ll put it on for you, he loves sweeping your hair out of the way and softly putting the necklace around your neck

-matching rings

-fred definitely knows how to make bracelets and rings, i feel like he’d always make them for ginny and molly on holidays. he’d make you so many, and on your birthday he gave you a really ornate silver jewelry box

-he loves brushing your hair

-whenever you’re staying up whether it be studying or writing an essay he will not allow himself to sleep until you’re done, he says people who suffer together stay together. he’ll also try to shovel food in your mouth and make you drink water or tea to assure sure you’re not depriving yourself. in return, you stay up with him while he’s trying to perfect the products he wants to sell. you’ll sit side by side bumping knees and rubbing his back while he scribbles into his notebook

-sometimes he’ll ask for you to lean your back against his because he still wants to be able to work and be around you, but he gets distracted by your face because he just wants to kiss you every time he sees your eyebrows furrow as you reread a paragraph, or your tongue dart out of your mouth, or a tendril of hair slip from your ponytail and onto your face

-he’s not one to be very hard on himself about attendance, but if you are he’ll wake you up and remind you that you have a test to get to, or you have to attend practice. he’ll help you get ready but as soon as he drops you off he’ll go back to sleep or go to the kitchens to get food for you and him for after your class or practice

-he’s so good at comforting people, he takes it after molly. it may seem at times that he’s insensitive due to his playful nature, but if he sees that you’re frantically flipping through pages, nibbling at the end of your pen he will hold your face tenderly between his hands and reassure you in a soft and sincere voice “why’re you being so hard on yourself? can’t you see how hard you’re working and how accomplished you are?” “take a rest, beautiful, you deserve it.” “i’m so proud of you, you have no idea how much you push me to work harder.” “you’ve got a stunning mind, but i think you should give it a break okay?” “you’re so resilient, angel, you can do this okay? i’m right here.”

-if you have a headache he’ll massage your head. if any part of your body hurts he’ll try and soothe it. he’ll pause occasionally to kiss whatever part is in pain

-(for any female, male or non-binary angels that get their period)he’ll keep his hands over where you’re cramping and he’ll let you curl around him. he even bought you a huge body pillow because he’d want you to use it when he couldn’t be with you. he’ll feed you whatever you crave and he’ll read to you or sing quietly to you (fred with an acoustic ahhh). he’ll constantly reassure you, saying that you only have a couple more days left, and if the pain is really bad he’ll try and soothe you to sleep. fred also keeps track of your period, he’s surprisingly really really good with dates

-he likes humming you to sleep while he pushes the hair out of your face, rubs your back, and kisses your forehead lightly

-if you’re about to do something you’re really nervous about he’ll look you in the eyes, grab both of your hands and encase them in has after leaving kisses on them. then he’ll place them on his chest and give you a reassuring grin

-when he gets hurt from quidditch you stay next to him the entire time he’s in the hospital wing, the two of you playing cards or helping him plan a future prank

-he holds your chin between his thumb and index finger and kisses you softly. you two have to stop occasionally because one of you will giggle, causing you to nudge your noses together

-he’ll wake up randomly in the middle of the night and nudge you until you stir “go to sleep fred.” “nooo let’s talk, i wanna have a conversation.” “can’t we talk tomorrow, it’s your fault i’m so tired.” “but love, all these thoughts, amazing beautiful one of a kind thoughts are ripe in my mind now, if we talk tomorrow i won’t remember.” “isn’t that a relief?” “c’monnnnnn.”

-a lot of back and forth bickering “wow, i’m speechless.” “finally.” “shut up freddie.” “look who’s talking.” “you are.” “no you are.” “no now you are.” “you. are.” “shut up.” “we’re back at square one i see.”

-the two of you reeling over in laughter, tears slipping down your cheeks and gasping for air (all. the. time.)

-during the train ride to hogwarts he leans against the wall of the cabin while you lean on his chest, then you’ll take everyone's jackets and use them as blankets and pillows. you’ll cuddle, eat random sweets, and nap throughout the entire ride

-he constantly takes pictures of you and he has an entire box filled of them, the box also has tickets from shows you went to together, receipts from random dates you’ve been on and little notes you’ve passed during class. he plans to keep all of these to decorate the flat he hopes he can live in with you

-he will randomly run into your room, drop a bag and rush out as quickly as he came. usually there are your favorite sweets, socks, candles and a new book. in return you try and spoil him as much as spoils you because he deserves the world

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley headcanons #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #weasley twins

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introvert-celeste · 4 years

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Ahh yeah.. I miss the community vibe of the SU fandom (even in the bad parts), it's hard to find fandoms like that from media with such genuine diversity

Oh absolutely. I don’t have much experience with other cartoon fandoms, but every time I peruse the tags of currently airing shows, I’m always struck by how few posts there are. Maybe it’s because a lot of the fandoms for currently airing cartoons have migrated to Twitter, but it’s always disappointing checking the main tags for a show after a new ep drops and only seeing a handful of new posts.

Now the SU fandom...you check the main tags after a new ep drops and you’ll see 50 million posts, all caps, of people just screaming. My dash would just be a mile long party and it would take me hours to scroll through it. Artists would pump out spoilery pieces within minutes, theorists would write whole essays before the evening was done, people would be keysmashing incoherently for hours afterwards. It was honestly such a magical experience, and I remember absolutely shaking with excitement soaking it all in. I miss that energy.

#steven universe #asks #remember how su would be top trending after every episode? literally EVERY episode from s5 onwards even if it was 'filler'?#those were the days

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littlx-songbxrd · 3 years

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ZIA I ALMOST FORGOT

so i finally got my own copy of aaddtsotu but i haven’t read it yet (i’m sry)

because— BECAUSE— i was waiting for this specific school project

so basically i’m now reading it as a personal choice novel for one of my lit classes and i’m gonna get to write a whole essay over it at the end of the year and i am so excited and i got a bunch of post it tabs to keep track of all the themes and—

i am so excited

i’m 40 pages in lol

and yes i did start it like. a year ago but then my time ran out and i had to return it to the library after reading like ten chapters so.. finally continuing lol better late than never and all that

RAIN YOURE MAKING ME WANNA REREAD ARI AND DANTE AGAIN OH MY GOD Y E S

OHH personal choice novel EXCELENT CHOICE. I have a pretty similar project (literature circles basically you choose a short novel and read it with a group and discuss specific parts depending your role) amd we all choose the outsiders!! Technically a reread foe me BUT ITS PROVING FUN SO IM SO GLAD YOU GET A PERSONAL CHOICE PROJECT

But also WITH THIS BOOK BECAUSE GOD ITS AMAZING ARTIE IK YOU HAVENT GOTTEN TO ITS ENTIRETY BUT BDBNDND *screams*

PLS SEND ME THAT ESSAY IF YOURE COMFORTABLE I WANNA SEE IM SO HAPOY RN.

AHH TABS

THATS SO CUTE I LOVE WHEN BOOKS ARE ANOTATED AND HAVE LIL TAGS AHHH.

Better late than never exactly! Are you liking it? Dhdbnd its only 40 pages but were they good 40 pages?

im trying to make it very clear I wanna hear your every thought on this book it means the world to me

#they may be mexican but..... hispanic queer rep does numbers on me #this was my first latine queer book and like not to get cheesy but till here i hadnt read any queer/latine main characters #i was beyond crying #artie/rain!!

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coeurdastronaute · 4 years

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Essays in Existentialism: Ages

Hey there, in case you're taking prompts right now I would love to see you write something about Clarke & Lexa at different stages in life/ages, from like little kids (first meeting) to adults. Thank you for your time and love your writing!

The classroom was colorful and happy, brimming with numbers and letters and pictures of animals on the walls. An entire side had windows that looked out toward the yard and playground for recess and there were tiny desks arranged in little squares, while the back corner had a very nice looking story time circle.

Nervously, a tiny girl with messy brown hair stood behind her father’s legs and peered out at her new classroom. She could hear the kids screaming and having fun outside, and she wanted to sneak toward the window and see what they were doing, but she had to put her things in a cubby first, and her teacher had to tell her how to get there and where to sit.

It was all very new, and Lexa wasn’t sure how to handle it all, so she held onto the leg of her father’s uniform. She missed her old house, and her old park, and her old friends and her old city. She didn’t like the moving part, or that her new house had a scary basement.

“We are very excited to have Lexa here, and we appreciate you keeping us up to date on your deployment schedule,” the smiling teacher nodded before squatting down lower to Lexa’s level. “I know kindergarten can be kind of scary at first, but soon you’ll look back and say ‘wow, I didn’t have to be scared. I love it here’.”

Lexa dug into her father’s leg a little more, shying back slightly. He patted her hair before kneeling down as well.

“Hey, kid, come on. You’re not usually this shy,” he furrowed and held her tiny hands in his large ones. “What’s wrong?”

At first, Lexa looked around and shifted back and forth in her new sneakers. They lit up. But he waited patiently for a response.

“I don’t know nobody,” she mumbled.

“You’re going to meat the class soon,” he promised. “And you’ll make all kinds of great friends.”

“And now you know me,” Mrs. Gates offered. “Your dad told me you like superheroes.”

Lexa nodded after looking at her father for confirmation.

“I put you in a seat next to someone who also likes superheroes. Do you want to see your desk?”

When she didn’t move, her father decided it was time to do a bit more.

“I want to see your desk. That’s really cool. You can practice your letters and numbers and reading at your desk, isn’t that right, Mrs. Gates?”

“We’re going to learn so many things. We even get to do science experiments.”

“One time, we made a tornado in a bottle,” Lexa offered quickly. “I got to pick the color and I picked blue because I like blue.”

Slowly, Lexa came out of her shell as she walked toward her desk, her father holding her hand and showing her the name tag on it. She sat there and smiled slightly before looking at her cubby and moving to put her bag there herself.

The noise outside calmed and moved to the hall a few moments later.

“I’m going to go back to work now, Lex. But you’re going to stay here and Mom will pick you up after school, okay?”

“Do you have to?”

“I do, kid,” he smiled. “What are we?”

“Tough.”

“And.”

“Brave.”

“And.”

“Kind.”

“That’s right,” he nodded and kissed her forehead. “I’m so proud of you, and I will want to hear all about your day at dinner okay? So have a good time.”

Lexa nodded and sat at her desk quietly going back into her shell when her father waved at the door and disappeared.

At nearly the same moment, the class filtered back in, noticing a new person and not knowing what to do with the news.

“Good afternoon, scientists,” the teacher greeted them. “We have a new friend who is joining us today. Her name is Lexa. Can everyone say hello to Lexa?”

The chorus rang out, some more energetic than others.

“Lexa is coming to us from Virginia. Does anyone know anything about Virginia?”

There was a rumble of no’s.

“Would you like to tell us something, Lexa?”

“Um,” she swallowed. “I used to live close to the beach and I got to see a hurricane once.”

The series of ooh’s and ahh’s made her feel a little braver than the fake level of confidence her father had instilled her with. She pushed at the haphazard hair that fell into her eyes.

“Wow, that must have been scary.”

“It was. There was purple lightning.”

Again the crowd was fascinated.

“Now I want each of you to take turns meeting Lexa over the next few days and telling her your names and being helpful. Wouldn’t we all want some nice friends if we moved somewhere new?”

The group nodded along, still eyeing her, but less brutally than before.

“Okay, loves. To your seats and let’s show Lexa how we behave after recess, okay?”

With more than enough confidence to spare, a tiny blonde girl marched toward Lexa and sat down beside her.

“Hi. My name is Clarke Griffin. I am going to show you around. It’s my job.”

“Oh.”

“We can be friends if you want.”

Lexa just nodded and stared at her blue eyes.

“I like your hair. It reminds me of Tarzan’s or Wonder Woman.”

Still confused about the little person who sat beside her and said things with such clarity and confidence, Lexa pushed her hair away from her face again and nodded.

“I like your… eyes. They are like the sky, and the sky is my favorite thing ever.”

“Ever?” Clarke asked incredulously.

“Mhm. Did you know there are like a million stars? And clouds are cool.”

“Yeah, they are,” she nodded and dug into her desk for a notebook. “Have you seen Frozen yet?” Lexa shook her head sadly. “I just got it. You should come watch it. We can build a fort.”

“I am really good at that.”

“Me too! Ours will be awesome!”

From the front of the classroom the teacher smiled to herself, allowing the group extra time to settle as the two new friends talked a little bit. She saw Lexa cover her mouth from laughing and Clarke made some kind of face and shared a pencil.

By the end of the day, Lexa was certain Clarke was the best person on the planet. She was very nice and she liked good movies and they had the same favorite food of pizza and ice cream and candy. She couldn’t keep quiet when her mom picked her up, and she nervously paced near the front door, looking out the window for her father to come home so she could tell him everything, sparing no detail.

“Daddy!” Lexa pounces on him from the steps as soon as he makes it into the still packed house in need of organization.

“Hey kid, I missed you so much,” he hugged her tightly. “How was school?”

“I made a friend! And it was very fun. We saw pictures of bugs!”

“Wow, what a day. Do you want to go back tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Good. Now tell me everything.”

“You’re still my best friend.”

The statement came out angry and informative. It was declarative and exact, a fact that could not be argued. It was a law of nature. It was absolute.

Lexa nodded, agreeing eagerly and quickly.

“We can talk on the phone and write letters,” Clarke decided. “We can watch movies together, too sometimes. I can ask my mom to use her iPad.”

Again, Lexa nodded.

“This is stupid and I hate the military and I hate that you have to leave.”

Nod.

Clarke had a temper. She liked to yell when she was frustrated, and she’d stomp her foot and clench her fists at her sides, arms straight and her face would get red with a distinct type of rage that Lexa learned to avoid and how to calm her down when needed. Sometimes it was impossible. Clarke said it felt like she was trapped in one of those balls of snow that roll down a hill and get bitter and bigger, and the anger was just rolling around her and she couldn’t escape it. And Lexa could get that, even if she didn’t show it.

“You’re my best friend,” Clarke finally sighed. “And I don’t want to lose you.”

Lexa shook her head and hugged her friend quickly, tightly, eagerly.

“You’re my best friend, too. I don’t care where my dad gets stationed. I wont’ be anyone else’s best friend ever.”

The pair stood there, clinging to each other, uninterested in separating, even by a few inches. There were not many things more powerful than a friendship of two people who worked well together, already seamlessly filling in each other’s personality points and understanding the other’s moods. There was an innate ease between them that always existed, and even now, when clearly stuck in the midst of intense turmoil, they just hugged each other and tried to be better for the other.

“When do you have to leave to move?”

“Next month, right after school ends,” Lexa sighed.

“So we still have time to do all kinds of hings,” Clarke decided. “Maybe my mom will let you come visit for the summer or for breaks. Or I can come visit you.”

“Yeah,” her friend agreed eagerly. “My grandma and grandpa still live near here, so we will have to come close to see them.”

“And then we can go away to college together, and live together, like my cousin Chris.”

“We can?”

“Oh yeah. In the dorms. We get our own beds and sometimes they can be bunk beds.”

“Wow,” Lexa mouthed, her eyes wide.

Even so young, she just enjoyed listening to Clarke talk and tell stories. She bit every single time, and she didn’t care if it was true or not. The only thing that matter was the Clarke knew a lot and Clarke liked to share.

“You won’t forget about me?” Clarke asked after a moment of looking at her shoes. She looked up at her friend, her bet friend, and she waited nervously.

“No way,” Lexa swore. “I could never.”

Clarke held out her little finger and waited for Lexa to shake, completing the promise.

“And I won’t forget about you, never ever,” Clarke swore.

The solemn vow complete, neither knew what came next, only that they were already aware of how little time a month was, and now had to fill up every second.

The gymnasium was packed to the brim with people as the tournament drew to a close during the finals match. Cheers and the echo of shouts and coaching practically vibrated the entire arena. Though she wasn’t much of a fan of sports, Clarke Griffin was, in fact, a fan of one basketball player who travelled across the country to play in the girl’s high school national championships.

Even though Lexa moved nearly five years prior, their solemn vow, that between elementary school chums who were young enough to believe in such things, held strong with them talking every day, and gradually moving up to emails and FaceTime and text. Periodically, over that half decade, they’d even been grated time to see each other, whether it was family trips or one going to stay with the other’s family for a school break. Whenever they were asked where they wanted to go, the answer was always to each other.

When Lexa texted after they won state, she was over the moon, and Clarke immediately made sure to get tickets so she could see her best friend play, even though she still didn’t particularly understand the rules, no matter how often Lexa explained them.

“I can’t believe you guys have stayed in touch so long,” Abby smiled as Clarke sat down from cheering and yelling Lexa’s name after she scored. “It seems like just yesterday you were coming home from kindergarten to tell me about your new best friend, Lexa.”

“It just kind of works,” Clarke shrugged, unable to pinpoint why it did. There wasn’t an easy answer or any real logic to it. Perhaps it was mostly dumb luck.

“Hard to believe that little girl is playing in a national championship,” Jake agreed. “I’ve been following her stats online. She’s ranked and is set to go to a Division I school.”

“Lexa’s going to the University of Oregon, just like me.”

“You’ve changed your mind a hundred times and you’re halfway through your sophomore year.”

“That’s where she wants to go, and it’s where I want to go.”

“We’ll add it to the list, but don’t think about it too much just yet,” Jake shared a look with his wife. “A lot can happen in a year.”

Clarke didn’t want to argue. Instead, she clapped and cheered as Lexa was subbed out in the third. She wasn’t particularly invested in the rest of the game without Lexa out there, but Clarke did her best to watch the entire thing and stay involved with what was happening. In the end, Lexa’s team won, and she cheered the loudest of all. She was wearing Lexa’s old jersey. She was a true fan.

“You did so well, honey,” Jake promised as he hugged Lexa after they cleaned and gotten ready in the lock room.

It was a long ceremony, to lift the trophy and answer questions, and listen to coaches. Clarke just grew more and more anxious. She hadn’t been able to see much of Lexa because of the game for the past two days, and she only had 2 more to see her. They always knew they had to make the most of it.

“Congrats!” Clarke cheered as she launched herself at her best friend, hugging her tightly as they met in the lobby of the convention center. “That was amazing. You’re the best basketball player in the nation.”

“I don’t know about that,” Lexa chuckled and hugged her back, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Thanks for sticking through it though. I’m sure it wasn’t very fun to watch.”

“Yeah, well. Best friends, biggest fan and such.”

They hang on each other, never far apart as the family made their way to a celebratory dinner, facetiming with Lexa’s family to share the good news since they couldn’t make the trip. It was exceedingly normal for Lexa to be taken in my the Griffins; it happened nearly every year in some way, same for Clarke with the Woods. Jake spent dinner going over all of the plays and applauding Lexa’s efforts, amazed that she could do such things. He only took credit for her layup, as they’d spent a good portion of her last visit the previous summer working on it in the driveway after diner. Lexa let him have it. It wasn’t lost on her that he put up a basketball hoop for her and her alone, even though she spent collectively less than three months over the past five years at their house.

Ice cream was a given. The rest of the team would be back at the hotel, probably drinking their water bottles of vodka. Lexa was the youngest on the team, the only underclassman on varsity, and she was oddly grateful to miss it. Nothing could beat ice cream with Clarke and her parents. Only there, sitting outside in the chilly autumn evening, did she swap cones with Clarke as they had since they were five. Only there, did she let Clarke wear her jacket because she was cold.

The Griffins had a guest room. They had two, in fact. But after the festivities and still a little giddy from the evening, the two friends climbed to Clarke’s room and tried to settle in for a movie.

Freshly showered, Lexa fiddled with the menu, trying to find something to watch while Clarke took her turn showering and washing the excitement off. She played with her phone, texting back friends home and the team lazily, stretched out in Clarke’s bed.

It shouldn’t have been as big of a deal when Clarke walked out in her towel, asking about what movie they were going to watch. But it somehow was a big deal and Lexa found herself sitting up slightly against the headboard. She looked at Clarke’s bare shoulders as she slipped underwear on. She stared, wide-eyed and dry-mouthed as the towel dropped, and Clarke slipped on shorts and then an old shirt before toweling her hair.

“You used all the hot water, and I will not be allowing you to shower first, no matter how many championships you win,” Clarke decided, as she joined her in the bed.

“That’s fair.”

Suddenly, Lexa was aware of how close they laid together in bed, and how they shared the blankets, and how they watched part of the movie before falling into their normal quiet talking in the middle of the night. She wasn’t sure how or why or what except she was very comfortable and uncomfortable with how comfortable she was.

“My dad thinks it’s ridiculous I plan on going to the same school as you.”

“I haven’t gotten in anywhere,” Lexa reminded her. “Or any actual offers.”

“You will,” Clarke promised. “I’m just keeping my options open. It’d be nice to be near you.”

Lexa smiled to herself in the dark and felt Clarke scoot closer so they were facing each other, their knees touching.

“We haven’t gotten much time alone this visit,” Lexa sighed.

“Kind of rude of you to interrupt it with basketball.”

“But at least I got to visit.”

“True. I needed this,” Clarke yawned. “It’s been a rough semester.”

“Because you’re dating a real dumb guy.”

“But he’s so cute.”

Lexa couldn’t help groaning and wiggling around in bed. She made a show of rolling over before she felt Clarke pull her back with a chuckle.

“He’s a moron and you can do a billion times better than Finn.”

“I know, he’s just… nice. He’s steady and doesn’t take much effort.”

“Shouldn’t it take some effort?” Lexa ventured, not at all sure about any philosophies about love or relationships.

“Probably a combination of effortlessness and effort,” Clarke nodded. “How’s your crush? Did she text you after you won?”

“It’s going good,” she shrugged in the dark. “I don’t know if she knows it’s a crush or not.”

“You have to be daring and bold. You’re already charming and funny and adorable. She has to have a crush on you. Just ask her out when you get back. Or text her right now.”

“Let me think about it a little more.”

“Fine,” Clarke finally relents and yawns again. “Do you think being in love with someone is talking in the middle of the night, but like forever?”

There’s a quiet in the bedroom in the middle of the night as Lexa mulls over the words. Since they were five, Clarke was the sure one, the loud one, the persistent and confident and sure one.

“I hope love is comfortable. I hope it’s talking all night. I hope it also makes you nervous and excited to see the other person. I hope it’s being someone’s one person that they count on no matter what. I hope being in love is all of those things. It has to be, right?”

“You make it sound like we’re in love. I think you just described our entire friendship.”

Lexa blushed and cleared her throat.

“But we’re best friends. We can’t be in love.”

The quiet settled there again until Clarke readjusted and sighed.

“Exactly.”

“It’d be nice though,” Lexa sighed as well. “To be in love with my favorite person on the planet.”

“It would.”

“Unfortunately, my best friend is painfully straight. Oh darn.” She tried to make her voice sound lighter, like this wasn’t a very confusing hole she’d somehow dug herself into.

“God, I have to dump Finn.”

They both chuckled at that, breaking the fog of the layered conversation they found themselves stuck in. And with that it was easy to fall back into talking about everything else until neither could keep their eyes open.

The sorority house on Sorority Row was spilling out onto the yard and into the street with people celebrating the start of spring semester. For a moment, Lexa stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the brightly lit building and took a deep breath. She’d spent most of her free time not practicing or with the team here, in Clarke’s room, or doing something with Clarke.

It was almost an accident that they ended up at the same school, with Lexa accepting the offer late in the year, well after Clarke had been accepted and decided. And it was the best decision of her life because she got to spend so much time with her best friend, and her best friend was at every home game. And for two years, Lexa watched her best friend date her way through a handful of steadies that all bugged her to no-end. And she knew why. She knew exactly why and yet she could never say. That would ruin everything.

So Lexa stood there for a moment and prepared herself to survive another night of being in love with her best friend and watching her flirt with someone else.

Lexa had a fairly good reputation all over campus due to her breakout season on the court and a Division Championship under her belt. She was active in a few clubs, volunteer organizations, and mostly, she was Clarke’s friend.

“Lexa!” Clarke cheered, hugging her tightly as soon as she found her. “I was wondering when I’d get to see you.”

“I came as soon as I could, darling. I know you miss me too much if I leave you waiting.”

“I’m a demanding broad, and you know me well, skipper.”

“You two are disgusting,” Raven observed.

Lexa just looked down at Clarke who still clung to her, arms wrapped around her middle and grinning back. They were a rather disgusting pair, especially when they did their loving rendition of a polite couple.

“You are looking rather cute tonight,” Lexa observed.

“I’ve been known to look cute from time to time. Shouldn’t be too surprising.”

Lexa just rolled her eyes and waited for Clarke to tug her hand toward the bar. They were practically a packaged deal, and not many believed they’d been friends since they were children because that just didn’t happen anymore, especially across time and space to such stretched degrees.

But the night went on as it usually did, with music and dancing, though neither were extremely heavy drinkers that often, they retained a mild buzz that lasted into the wee hours of the morning. Rarely where they far away from the other. Often, Lexa would find herself looking across the room and finding her friend.

But the party waned, and Lexa let herself be invited to stay instead of trying to traverse her way home across campus. There were enough of her old shirts and workout shorts as part of Clarke’s wardrobe that she always had clothes around anyway.

Lazily, Lexa lounged on the bed as Clarke finished getting ready for bed. She scrolled on her phone for a little bit and yawned, exhausted by the day and drinks.

When Clarke walked out of the bathroom, Lexa stared more intently at her phone because her friend was in a bath towel, and that was too much to handle anymore. She didn’t look. For a solid ten seconds. But then the towel disappeared, and she saw the curly hairs at the base of Clarke’s neck, her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun as she slid on a shirt. Lexa watched all of it happen and she couldn’t pretend otherwise.

“That was a good night, darling. We should have the gang over more often,” Clarke decided with a smile as she turned back toward the bed.

“That was a small showing. I expected better.”

“I’ll russell up a better gang, I swear.”

With a chuckle, Clarke flipped off the light and got into bed, careful to crawl over Lexa and find her spot against the wall. Lexa felt all of that and she remained stoic, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the queen and such.

“I can’t believe we’ve been having sleep overs since we were five,” Clarke whispered.

“You kind of made me be your friend. Mrs. Gates sat me beside you and that was it.”

“Do you think she knows what she started?”

“We should let her know.”

An arm moved around Lexa’s middle. It grabbed her arm and pulled it around her body so that Clarke was the little spoon. Over the past few months, Clarke had been more affectionate, physically. She’d taken the time to touch Lexa and hug her, though Lexa chalked it up to her own wavering brain looking for something that wasn’t there, and resoling herself to being the best friend anyone could ask for. Best friends were the big spoon sometimes.

Stuck smelling Clarke’s hair, Lexa closed her eyes and let her arms squeeze her friend, eclipsed by her taller frame. She held her breath for as long as she could.

“I sleep best when you’re in bed. I’m getting spoiled,” Clarke yawned, wiggling slightly as she found a comfortable spot.

“I’ll have to train your future husband in how to do it.”

“I don’t think I want anyone else.”

“You have your pick of the litter. We’ll find you a squire to court you.”

“Nah,” she sighed, smiling. “I only want you.”

“I, um,” Lexa gulped and felt Clarke’s thumb on her wrist, rubbing soothingly as she was known to do. “I only want you, too.”

“Good.”

It’d been a long day. The world’s longest day. The worst, longest, most exhausting day, and all Lexa wanted to do was sleep. Sleep would wash away the entire week that beat her up, and sleep would save her from dinner with her parents. Sleep was a welcomed reward she was hoping to cash in on so she could escape the stress of breathing.

Cranky and sore, Lexa tossed her keys on the table by the door and chucked her bag on the chair in the living room, kicking off her shoes as she made her way down the hall toward the kitchen. The house was quiet and empty for a Friday night, and she appreciate that for the time being.

From the fridge, she dug out a bottle of beer and tossed the cap on the counter before shrugging off her jacket between eager swigs. With heavy feet, she padded upstairs and collapsed into the bed with a grunt, hoping a nap would help her escape the headache that’d been brewing since before lunch. Still with her work clothes on, Lexa fell asleep quickly and without any resistance.

It wasn’t until she felt the bed dip that Lexa smiled into the bed, a familiar weight settled atop her, squishing her slightly with affection.

“Long day?” Clarke whispered, kissing her fiancé’s shoulder though her shirt.

“Long week,” Lexa complained and stretched, enjoying the feeling.

“Want to order pizza and take a bath?”

“Very much.”

“I’ll open the wine.”

Though she tried to move, Lexa flipped, holding Clarke to her, finally kissing her softly, and then eagerly, and then happily.

“How was your day, darling?”

“Not nearly as bad as yours.”

“Good.”

Clarke sat up slightly and pushed her messy hair away from her face as it fell in front of her eyes as she tried to kiss her best friend and make her smile.

“I think being in love might be wine and pizza and a bath,” she grinned, running her thumb along Lexa’s cheek and jaw and then neck before kissing her again.

“Let’s find out.”

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