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libidomechanica · 1 month

Text

Untitled (“Of melancholy thoughts of great”)

A curtal sonnet sequence

That which took a wind the puddle great harmes had beene. Crime. Disappear like one white fingers direct, a golden gate; for a moment in embalmed darkness. That thy praise, to tie up envy e’er could not better, yet radiant Sisters which humanity—which men vainly decimate the lake a little patience; otherwhere pure sportive as this thy Court, thy Kingdom come. Of melancholy thoughts of great store of beauty to discpline.

He made those two crystal. Hey ho the human face; and that whisper at the Grand Canyon, still onward; still thee so bestadde? He never mind;—’God save the gods know howl I can’t help scribbling on thy deceitful streaming again, thou had’st pity. If thou lonely, smooth pearl makes waters at the fine Edge of all men who saw power, medicined death, immortality of reading on thy despair sung a war-song of defiance.

Out-sparkling I listeners all asunder, the dews at evening miserable beloved. Makes men weep and sing where there we took one tutor as they would mean no harm unto a fire, that euer since now I dare not worthy being so flagless as mine, with dilated glance on the pebble-bead of saying: Youth! Come far from the isles of our set, five other. All was I forst by Nature said, unto thee who in earthquake’s ruin.

In his tutor, rough spots … or loneliness. Now let me feel things were stood with no stars, and tears. If free forest old; and not been embroider’d women, without a friends fall confident thatch for this sons, in one and pays it then Hesper bright roll is in Apollo! But convention the father came with easeful Death, through the world! Of pearl and gold, a watermarks. Now all the calm of mute insensate things. The witches fail to seed.

You, don’t forget their reason to regret the glaciers and then apart, left me tossing sobs began to fall, but truly I’ll not hurt ye, or once again, thou know’st my aching heaven’s image from the field. An immortality’s harsh jars: the proper craft, tricks of glist’ring breast, and your epitaph to make all the world, and thus the old Man young, I’m o’er young brain captiu’d in golden butterfly; upon whose gentlier-mightiest.

The sences theyr charmer, her sweet whisper inspiration; the wide was Neptune on his lute: his fingers crumble fragments on the birds do chaunt theyr eccho ring. For I fear to me. Of sapphire portal, guilty sight? The sea: where not by the deeds, to the feel anon the pineal gland, I all rapt in the promist weale; breakfast of trees, in starlight gems: aye, all fashions, and thy babe’s father die. His grace gracing o’t.

And though the same full fringed listening thee! This single leaf where theyr drery accent: Potent goddess when I behold thee fallen, or not allow, and doubts, and when anxious heavens, and at my bow. And knocking heart, yet could much I praise tho’ in her will ne thought, condemn? He, that when the sister will ache with an offerings aloft, follows murmur at our heroine’ clamour bower- door, who only said, he never stop nor stars.

Its roads sunken in love’s banishment, with a long walks were dead! His day: this task of joy and passing night at your yrksome clouds while they found true, sprang to jealous misery of my chin. Which see Shakspeare’s everblooming in drouth, I feel thine honey- combs of blooming of the golden keel’d, is left bare; but of these signs in one extremes, globing a golden gates that love thee dear, made fierce agony of sound, sepulchral from thee?

Ill death-dart; and where must give the great a stake, robin’s lost or seemed as lost or seem what this heart who, by a Christ’s sister Lilia. With flow; the blue-bell pinch to your people doth sing i’d say everything, and take them chaste: but first did turn uneasily sketches fly, the morning did he weep. All fragrance irrefragably, and can that moved on those manifold divided me a spoil much gold for Love’s world grows weary.

Stay, poure out of door hath hym payned, to himself, and deepest maze. When Night he! And I lost my common languid paces, and fro, to acquainted finch: rise, Cupids shun thee, youth! Within my captive gain’d its country folks would make mankind; but such small inherit, of blessed Saints for the last few steps, each other. Me out some stray impassion. But strike me dead smell it, and that tells you is God’s gifts as mine? When I was a pitteous plight.

A rowing cold: a wild beasts and Ireland stand but crazed eld annulling young days, and high-favourite; at least it takes to wean Don Juan, we’ve no time to be free of thy grave, when Healths and dim to wild uncertain moment there is Aunt Elizabeth and sixteen shelving coasts, to hear: O let me entwine thee thus, my Katie! Through thunder, and louing lampe, his fears for killing mirth an echo of my desire on earthquake’s ruin.

Could say what hope to move from bastion still blessed Saints for he was more on my girls a glance and singe our gold around my love their very pretty creatures, do just what I receive; ten, who designed to do, deceives: and what kind? If ye be Annie of Love upon the great dilettanti in topography—having came meekly through thou art—not in love with the Singer he would not be much that same fumes of deeds! My silence.

A sweete is, voyd: and nerve: you were made perfect the casuist in more my eyes, my friendship, or romance of pantomime;—he danced, I say. Her disaray, and stung with no Spring again, be your own abyss of the sound of thy reign. Sing me a foot and a Grecian house, the delight writhed, and colourless for never kissed you like a linger in this thy advocate—and gainst his gloomy morn, spun off a drizzling company.

Gamekeepers, to brooded o’er the entrenchment and pearl. Ten men love Gregory is roar’d by the head, my love: that all thing. Believe it is bright are they—now furious wine doth transfix the flying prey, rose early rise, find it, although yonder I see the string coolness, the rarely—man’s make vs once more than leaves on me, and Provençal song, and what it were soon shall bow thy Neck beneath the throne, your sampler, and a drowsie day?

When they deem that’s had enough can I admire, which this Polar melody was low, they had, and size, even now, as he lift, that feele no woe, when and reset. Between the chanced your truth. Moved on with Thee true, hath been done, Salámán rose drunk as flies whose number of the change, or veer or vanish’d, still deadly feel of featured lion’s groan moanings helpelesse, eternity, promising wonderful fragments lighted way.

Should take this: an empty arms together Voice and all around, and though not soft caressing on the soul its budded charm’d my guilty hands Learned Nor Jove’s high employing some holy is, poure not show his lot. The park: strange the misery have my bonny ship, and one, the moment which people I have lullaby to silence did their guns were all this little to decke her heart, most ruthfully thoughts hath neither none can kill!

Invincible bleeding to quell one hair of Heaven’s flashes spare, or thriue in welth, she is, cease we to prolong the head, and close my father blisse in the mark! Fool the shepherd’s call’d on; and, for peace at last, this Present, and humanity, when he died, and mists, and tune the chase the republic. From the sight more will not say it was not afraid! That things and victory is wither, droop, but not a Prison make, that were won or lost?

But I’m there’s not a summer air at every god be that point me out sometimes too long octaves, pass’d beyond the path the place of melody was lost; and all must love resides. For sure his stole, with some more did it become a quarrel as he sees. Has met wi’ my Phillis, has met wi’ the main, and shrugg’d—and the rill to its huge sea- marks; vanward step proud companie. Had he, that I were something like figure; like swift motion slide.

Seventeen, too, my battle next, the others of gravity, who have made are gone in this world such precedence upon such a verse discloses: but such thou hast state was seen a portal to bishop, but I turn my heart apace taketh his fire is sweetest of crime, to tie up envy evermore—we sing, through window-flower Lilia. Power to kindled by a Fool? All her shrinks back from the rest, I long ere art thou?

As they gave the story up into the new wonder endymion feels his feet, where the desires, and sharp enough to-day, that my Muse doth say, since Ariadne was one that phrase—perhaps mankind, thy mither with wide eye he wore, o’erwrought mistakes, too, happy plain that dreams so please me: for that be now posting,—and thine eyes pressing thy trespass with an empire sterner stream. Must blush when the same, while they lay fondling breast.

And in the sea inside you: on your pen. And their distress, as Captain Parry’s voyage may do with the groan was pierce intoxicated machinery just meant to give us Life, forgive that has not thy spirit: despair sung a war-song of defiance. And waters flow through t he made of memory! Will fall; but at the stormy sea! Only later did it treat of, as out of sun hath refuse there were three Ghosts, adieu!

He found the dwarfing city’s rest were born. Such a man, with devotion, she had climber for on a dead smell of solitude. Me whereas my loue and was not for my phalanx on the burr of smothered: the hart is not afraid of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it was dared. And thirty—say seven, old Atlas’ children leap in the eddying with post. With this, Come out, ’ he said, thy vows were the silver gleam slants over blue orbs!

Of Neptune; and gather be your wars eternally away from thy disparity of rhyme’s distress, for pearl then, like fritillaries scarce be run, and found his back. But be it true—away, away, or I shall be sport; a herd of boys without shadowings, because I love, these though all ages, of no great joys, Civilisation he acquitted both may she exercise her chain and armour to Rome, although mossy ways.

The rest, who stands superscription less, as I trow thou didst the bottom deserves to gratifying hold, as do the heat of carnage, but of this song; though of a pretty, trifling provocations. And lying on vs plentiously, and seek for roses, bound the giant size, into thy high raigne of dread of heauenly tabernacles the pediments, light of my hart, I do any wish it may, a bard must we condescend!

Thrice happy statue shall be my gentle men! Asleep and breezes, to pale oblivion; and sweetly! And breathing in the shepherd, and elegance was store, until life’s as frail; rode o’er somewhat lower that dimmed were born to change; and gain’d his horse, or contend one moment’s filling all the world, and all alone: around—But where all the sky and hand you will sing, ne let them; I will make thee surer, surer—now how can we part?

It chanc’d a ring—a little wildering To-day to-morrow, and calm, and rigid ranks of iron—whence declining daily boon of Imogen, fair Pastorella in these our hopefull hap to sing: for while beneath his flowers on a suddenly than dreadful bow. To watch the Master, and mad, without hope, of course, and the same moment cuts the daisy amus’d my fond fantsies shall seize on trickling tear and death rattles.

For God’s creatures choycest tree; it disna become. Among birds louelearned Nor Jove’s high treasure. I grieved bodies fill with Hannibal, and may see both in excess! Back to thy great city still is: seldom shown, and martyr. So saw he panting glow; nor did discern how all is darkened, with excessive love. She said; she said; she shall shine of ten of thought of dread. It ceased to refer you to be gone in tendered that one Will.

Each that strove for thou starv’d on for a friends, like pitcher shapes—though mossy bed and the sway of human thou art, methinks that draws their smart, wealth brings to which most breathe ambush of my soul which multiply until she tells me of this were such an ecstasy. Rear more savage; and both to make his part, I do any wish it may be, now gaze upon him and a sullen moisture, and his veil’d eye down the Gazette are grown exceeding.

By humouring for western skies: then of the heart who, being an hour ere lightning on my girls in green, cooler than centaur, upon whose that his shepherd? Hey ho the Saint—their cheek, and scatt’ring brave men, they pleasure, and polish’d neck, with blacke but i just don’t know here right insinuations to be a base Bezonian’ as Pistol calls the rest from him; but now reduced the radiant Sister of sorts, and breathing is pleasant name!

Nor Love guide benignant led to where it burst empty noises; while every creek joining the wit of any spirit in are but a beard; or else swoon to deare captainesse to run away, dissolve, and fann’d into a chain! Such conviction could form the lawns until the readiest way of aged men; but Johnson took but mix’d with that shines she has numbers mix my soul would be engulphed in their feeble force of friends reserve thee.

As before I saw them in stays, her patches: and beg of you, love and look of Jove— Minerva’s start back. That thou shalt thou, that they succeed; but speach, and speake, her beauty do I questions were fix’d, as daybreak was expanding, and fountains or deep dells, in gulf of rock yawns,—you can tell me back from my idle days for Neptune’s palace where I go; long hair was a model to behold how every soldiers. Than torturing fact!

Counting quickly fired, adored; but not resigned to march on the heart, yet is not what. I will breath. No fashioned marble and see the blue of ocean in arms wherein my Love holds deare for the horizon’s brink of ruin, rose cheeks, of milk and brute, laughing scandals stranger—seeming bubble, not even the large bounty fed; robert Burns: let me be; and Phyllis is but would be found: not by the sea and place, a Gothic lights thee.

From off the might be falsehood accurst! One thousand pearls, and die, and tempest-tost, and I must believe strange, are men: some twenty stone glittering bottle which made Solomon on them, the reeking towards; ’twas a clever fear. This task of joy that he leave me deep caverns for many a shrieks and guineas but none of theology in begging him in bloom, and I at rest from heat did themselves, one with the uninitiated.

Whose Bliss is most. In sombre chariot attains is airy goal, haply some small inheritor of element, dismay’d alecto’s serpents; ravished from my reason. Nothing happen’d watered with flow; the blue fly sung in Years and quite as they seem’d to that Urne. The silken trackless smile, or kind behest, the praises, and fight lily grow, whether russet, silk, or dives, or contemplate between you dedicated, naked thing!

And yielded up its fire, that he said; she said, oh Thou, who have an occupation? Is main, and now than magic music, and paine. That did call upon him not think the Rahvs in the flies, and elbow-deep with fighters, with eager care that first of alabaster vase;—up came Johnson said: I urge thee, God, who fears before Aurora, in morality to fix without dreams the syntax of love—he—but alas, hast never kiss.

Is it that watch’d six or severed great Athenian admiration was sheer astonisht lyke the deadening noontide rain into foam. An fondly they live unwoo’d and lightning from heat did you so too; than I have been heart, that Juan and such idleness, ’ for the melancholy thought so; but this, from the way money burns. One pretty beam a straightway pass to mortals all his rebel tempest rage, shrieks and straightway to the lights thee.

In such a cup of camomile tea. The sacred rites were much care, that ye would spy it. Ne let that inspired.—I care not wan or a pole, a handsome ancient that sounder sleep had been alone is worth the latest dream there thou hast smil’d? So saw her day. I rather blessing thy amiss, excusing thy sight? Will from a harmless days of his mind, could solder the pride, the surges prone, with idle paines and Stellaes name.

But Sylvio, when most rich fooles, or corn below with the bels, to the dew of her god, when the sweet unrest, still obey the ghosts, the living flow, and—what is he but a flowers all another line;—but not a heavenly powers, nights vnchearefull dampe, doe ye sleep of thing imply but you, beauteous blaze upon my white, shall flow, and two bodies lull’d without. Set all you I know the Minstrel in their baffled rage asswage.

— By surest Steps builds up Prosperity. Proof that heaviness, he might have lost, what need not as his tact, he could that out I ran and supply, till which she fills a regiment besides enjoying. And so vanish’d in the first cut. The horrid war-whoop and the witelesse of my bed-feet. Grasping thee neare. Toward paradise, summons to seek; and if it prove beyond! For while ye may. Fire-branded foxes to such an ecstasy!

Aye, sleep; for who beheld him in common— my lady’s prattle, mere conquering of fresh boyes run liquid through gorgeous pageant history can only made of jasper that sweetnesse of the same moment more came upon the head, it scents thy early from many had love’s banish to trace all action in the steep, when birds from such a thousand loveliness, or studied Spanish to read Don Quixote in the siluer sounding great!

From hue-golden sphere, through the dear ruin each wish and try: each sweetest milk and brow. Let thy lovely youthful were similar, and Mankind’s trump card, and dances. Of his heart, which he was, that my Muse but one meets my squalid cot; shunn’d, hated, wrong’d, unpitied, unredrest, take it weare awayt, and those who hold thee living at the apparel me releeued. To find a resting plain that draws them answer, glittering there. The lone way?

To outgrow their shaggy jaws. When flowers to admires themselues did silent deep- drawn sighs, my tears rather deaths are borne; now raving-wild, I curs’d the thick-moted sunbeam lay athwart, and the sight her young, all my clear-eyed fish, golden, or what I follow, each day—no hero trust what Thou the glowing,—tis pleasure, carelesse harmes, ne let false and chase the spongy cloud, now soone as these dreary leisure in lopping hastily.

—Having to the Yes of the parallels in beautiful blush, and with lively brain … I wish you would trace the prime in spring, that state and troubled with prudes for Cassandra’s bliss. In the heat of carnage, but fainter wander’d o’er her dight, but still water? While ye may: the morning pure as it grew, so every eve saw me my heart apace taketh his little think’st thou binna she, now set to fray old darknesse lend desire.

Even with me into my theme: there were my hot desire to sadder husbands chaste Adeline, built up unto his call, tis not say Jack, ’ for summer’s green toss’d up the parapet appears the Turks at first weale; breakfast table mess. This to thee brief appendix, to come, sad, slowly does sad Time that did not do. Snow; or be deliverer, how desolate, and pikes all one. Or the sage’s pen—the bath your sin, nor breast.

He cried, Sweet friend! ’Er young khan, who have an ocean-bed. A word which I choose to loss with truth; and his within their tongues to Tantals smart, as he lay, on either eat nor stare, vpon thy sable months and thee. Full hearted to show his lot; the proper excell and yet separate appear’d, the wet drops of lilies, like this told, how much which we ceaseless sunrise. We play as wanton in the bald-coot bully Alexander! About her Mind.

My life was seen God, who had been ordained, but promised race. To what their doming curtain’d by a newe daunce awry, which rain’d violets cover’d without hope that love but he would not. The woods may answer Ribas’ summon to the way young Eulalie upturn’d o’er they could rhyme in praises of this element, to seek my love me, and performance had been; therefore so ashamed of fame or profit and trembling to see the windchime wasn’t fooled.

Voice sigh’d! Or like the dreaded cards forget what a wild surprise, through billows green, nor out-value, nor they meant to see my recklessness, and very lands unblest with life- enkindling and kind, and crowns, and runs the place, still, so Stellaes face. Which he brought it knew not while waxing chiller in her beauty to disgrace, red were grown exceedingly to everyone starved in cellars and, ladies’ rights; ne let thy lip, eye, and mouthingness?

Even that buds and ermine, a quiver? With the mind o’ my charming melancholy; until, impatient doves, up rose their she came unasked buds discloses in her way too was a time to express, to chose that smiles, and venom-bag, and wings there lay thou my blessing up to with goodly veil, which truth than here has it been for the rampart, wall, casements, and nymphs, and not, I freeze in your iris tighten to refer to.

Of conch shells with trembling first, prepare witness— it must be to that stone. Or though the thonder clear rime, infrangible and green lollipops. But bespeak truth, that amaze no more sweet balmy lip when ’tis his, after long had place, that I shall say sometimes far away, in the more ’gan to plait and truth, with all its crie on the same we are in His hands, how lithe! And man, with odds, are the heart-aches had once, and passageways withal.

Her very joy mellifluous singer on her god, when her lips Loues Standard beare: what I throw betwixt the bels, to make her sage, who listen’d, but satiated at least, like Nature’s soft arms a Lute as if he don’t, I doubt if men seek her nostrils small, washed cottages, or stun the sweet as English air could be told, how much more than he. His and his heart, when he ran, and Nineveh. Was the pediments, with wares which sight of sublime!

And the Russian pathos with his sports were dead smell it, and not be so. Is our long light; for, by which I at present heere, yet what page; my music lest it shows half-disdaine, then what both with foule yoke bare; but her Mind. Tell her, is ages blame, where each the wolf is mild; and had it not yshend your pillar’d vista, a faint eternity, promising wonders—past the black-eyed virgin limbs o’er the vortex of our meriment.

And by the clover, a Fisherman mends a glimpses of the sounds of love and try: each sence her face that gave him from your surfaces there, cupids a slumbery pout; just awake in its breasts, have passion’ e’er be tough ones that if Blucher, Bulow, Gneisenau, and sore the day, and afterward beare: what, he! The which, euen of sweet lovers are despises reference; and her eldest chick pushed with spent for the sight of foot and heaven.

She said then; I’m sure I do. Distracted with firm foot, and ’gan to smother’d when ’tis paid price, and that I were simile enough; hope, in pity hide the universal sun. Something to figured flame that she look’d—’twas Scylla fair! A new magnified to those who won’t slip at busy points out impatient in my tears in forlorn wretched like delight, viziers nodding by the riches at thy Door; let his title says enough.

If i could not her one poor sprite with milk- white bone. These same species, one with my eyes, and how should be discontent, or die and wince, and from hell’s pavement—if it be weeping in the prey of purple orchis variegate the gate, to whisper at this joyous seem by thy lighter the night in their shoes. Cut off, and crowns, and we were cold weather- beaten, veteran body, life-holding his flutter’d by the view you don’t—but, pale, and me.

Kiss I cover the mood of ancient bugaboo follow’d—for it came; all his kingdoms in control were they behold, he flings, committed to stifle his mouth is a geranium. To play his proposition bed. There is crown’d with ioyance bring me a forsaken lady to tak me frae my mammy yet. Reset it; shave more, now, through those same look which at this or any time spins fast, whom I love and huge jaw of names mingled!

Tender and wind-flowers. How have I put forth: Descend, from where if men seek heau’n of my smart, wealth bring a noisy nothing may shrinking at the stranger, she was, or thou seen but point out a rock of height to hang the perfumed tincture one enough, and mild modestly in the morn. Under the amazement, to seek; and the nectar-wine, the whiles she beheld to bind him all at once to do, young men rarely, when they pleased within it.

The very germ of care or gain: the glyder, the delight, so louely, and fynd no part of pleasure’s nipple learns. In camps, in cottages, or corn below the armies would theyr names, grew side by side: resuming flee to her fall; she can afford no praises are loos’d, and sun, and look on the baskets start upon the Russian officer for ever and all, severe before, nor needed by the invalid and marvelled, lo!

A clementine of heaven dying through the dead acted upon that a man; with an oath, a savage; and once more thee; he’d look up into the bay estuaries fleck the People’s purse—the Tyranny which they all she fail them Mars, bellona, what we may be myne, let me pour a dewy splendour grave proves the fair, ever since the sea. And look on his Cheek, and in my thought, hey ho hollidaye, when then let go. Bride allowed me.

Had lorded therefore be grieve, that we call Stellas selfe did lean over a bower, trailing for an elephant appear’d, through mochell worse and Give. Nor knew to be packed into the fear’d the train emerges from the monsoon we shall mould the wanton Childe- like way, and there from your mother’s lips—’Twas even bet which little Child for endless sorrows of the poor sprites. A cloak of blood knots in spring I deny, admires themselves?

And still climbing slipperie placed, be both riotous and lithe pediments, without a friends, while their wills and still dost pay. I have cast not further pride at all: but flank’d by friend, a god in love’s banish to read; and as ye vse to Venus, save unchariest muse to embrace, and wait. Frozen mud, now as we sat on their poor breath of his tyranny. And over Glaucus cried the Past. And over Glaucus stood trembling watch all were cock’d.

While those will bitterness as required—but so witty could restored, reincorporated, boundless rue. As we said, My life is oft a dream. I saw thee to the rest were they are blue evening’s sleeping eyes: and there we would be broken, while they did they went to hue, crown the present time, there God is dwelling honour first Canto promise of his heart, with fright, nor light watch’d the parapet, rampart, wall, casement broken beams, pillars?

If in my thought and Good and made the flowry grass; for I no more vpon vs raine, that bred her this, but didn’t know how my sweet beauty, gloriously. Went force of feeding wroth at shrink from ancient cathedrals what a wild about. I am on the rose conceding dialogue, and me never rankle before him, in kind strawberry shows, past the dead smell of sport, half in a dream, mither, and where love again, a thing wind.

My music lest it shows the morning light, moonlight lone. Are the dyer’s hand, the which arch’d brows, such name of his mouth, for her they models jetted steals unto her singing, Die, oh! He saw the gilded bed-posts … I have full force of a grone, the little sense among the great dilettanti in topography, so that o’er their antiquarians who could not gain’d its utmost age eas’d in sleeps alone one week and more ease to be eaten.

All arts to tell her, is ages blame, to helpe to addorne my best one. Half the Courtly Nymphes, acquaintance hath her pure; gold is that dark foldings that rang with fig leaves, which attack on cities, as hath been the mignonette of Vivian-place, in sooth, wouldst mount upon his heart’s shore, so snug, so complete, and leave the while that I propose this destiny! One moment we shall find all the hour by hour, with his sons, in one who they?

Juan, to whom I’ve watch. In the pine at the book you departing is yearning Though t he made noise of things, which multiply until they richly feast shone, silver proved how vain a thing on the Signs of Kingly Aptitude; wise Head—clean Heart—strong reason: never, she can find nothing more that hath set us young khan in heaven, either came with the sand; and thou Hymen free, fishes that I mean time, surcharg’d without the Day, awake!

In any threat, or casts his mental boasts to be wed or deaths are shut, the fearful deep, death thee stop here, where it came; all his lips were built up unto her; and scarcely wastes of her little friend or to see an unseiz’d heaves and innocence and cheerless nymph! Own heart, and say—I canna wrang the heart droop and hideous roar were emblem’d in their secret knowledge absolute, subject on the deep; my grotto-sands took silently.

From their crimes is quite regards on what bounds of dawn to hunt his embrace, and promontory, first days. Claymore and soul believes till Triton’s bright too few their murderous stone, unbothered by women—the sweets I faine would pleasures of the downs—to the day for tears of May; the ornament doth in perfectly correct, a pet-lamb in a sinecure as he: for the little though the arms a Lute as if it were silent wheels.

Stretching still, and the guerdon of the Godless, but ioyed in them, bleeding way, whose porch, windchime in silence declining did her awake; and, at their Eastern wind, and bursts, and geniall bed remaine, for slander’s mark was done—in sombre wholly, but for the Wolf’s Accomplish’d:-If he uttering Pyes, do louers through to blighted way. Then bless every that every god be that never enough— the round every shame you bastard in all the breast.

’ The quiet scene; the mean time, leans a few, and chaste liaison for me,—so sweet paining of old gold, a water-courses; scaring on the diamond gleams, after dinner; but, light arm and folds—not hiding up an Apollo! Not the Kingdom-troubling over dull skies, things I do? So long delays her foes with the waves make a pass, statistics, tactics, politics, and geography, so that took my sighs: and mingling mutual flame.

How oft would’st thou, but, by God! That Johnson I will give the fire ashes I cried, Sweet youth’s heritage, life’s hackney coach, which the arch through the threw up then she was dizzy, busy, and women, who have foretold, that they share: their very sight you heare allied to goodly eyes abashed to bud like soldiers, who would change men’s eyes, and sweet, and Where, ’ asked Walter, part affected; but when obstinate as Swedish Charles at their fellowship.

As she, of whose back t is pretty creature like mine, each kept as fixedly as rocky marge, till by the ocean’s tides, war’s meridian splendour gracelesse byrds are void of college and half-entranced laid his heart, and care. And this true, you drink my answers in. Into the powers smother the maps they fell as allied on the found their spirits from the vast of one if short a time to Nais paid with pity oft will be free.

To see her foot should have reliefe: but such a pertinacity: my business but thee hence, spiral throned eminence uplift this and triumph—let thee in earth close, will from that light wakes among birds from his bed; but now I choose the rest from it preached by the summer’s call, unlikely to tune. Strength to fly the river. To him her dream, mither, and her eye: let them minish into nought; nothing heart was old Saturn in his way.

’ The queen o’ the last axiom, he advised his for you Come bring thee; he’d look up into the vision, or redeeming ready to her entranced it through the fine morn was chill as the grey: a whispering, as I’ve read like those for payne, or thrice-seen love tunes its rose-mesh pulled every man, of eve, where either self I turn my head, as might best beloued. Came at billiard-ball: chin as woolly as the lark at breath, and carelesse griefe.

And hasten while beneath that heart so potently? In the raw as quick! Beyond a silver bow and the middle-aged were true poet comes the foule horror free. Yet if perchance unto his cabinet, to thy closet-gods through the pine itself corrupting, slow, the neighbours to read her eye: let him, in kind strive was, that still to flie, first, in the charm of women, springs of a great sang-froid, among the earth can yield to sleep.

The heard him soft names mingling mutual arms devout with Tyranny which fills with hindward feathers the siluer scaly trouts and Ireland stars, through the gods know howl I can’t answer and those infrequent toil and trumpet heard thy sweet, so faire you, don’t depends upon the parents’ joy. Now I could not even glean the priefe there was not look upon matter: impression! When sweetest prison twine. Awhile shadows float—o let me die!

Then bedde, or bowre, both himself beat back again, I long embrace, by only then high upheld by jasper that woman to the right; for it seems it rich of shame which she there to put my final gulph me—help! ’Twas told by a cavern rude, keeping in thee I lay; if there ran two bubbling over Endymion knelt to rhyme at, are the sun began to boot, at lengthened drowsily, and a ho, and about him, in kind stranger-youth!

My sex will be for ever in the rarities of affections of wine—my topmost degrade the man-slayer, who eats Profit of another grooves, which pen express, to chose thraldom was more of honest fame, than a new heart, than sighs, half in dreaming through rude nettle-briar, cheats us into a scene, and nymphs to thine, and pinch of bursting grapes, they bear of fate: ’tis done, mere conquest and run again sae bonie. And, every crime.

Look ye not meant that hour, with fingers are. Let breathe away, and a ho, and awe; till, weary, oh God, that suffers not so, sweet unto your promise set of sublime with a wayward round about my earthly shore through the advance; but rather starry eminence she kist the man whose numberless, and thought, thou art named, the car Love might drinks and since king Neptune’s hall: and all around the roses on my faithless arm; time an end.

In this, now shew theyr laies and then to my loue doth shew beyond the sky is light. To watch of one whose breath most privilege that hath been dreams; my soul-shift pure as a water- blurred fever parches up my tongue of her dight, doe ye this or any thorns and then a hymn. Be country dawn, behold I fell a-weeping water I rear’d my heart to heaven, by the sails o’ cramoisie. In the arbour cloisters echoed by his art may spie.

One creatures were the sea, wi’ four-and-twenty, and yet loue, all faith is six days long. As the silver through the argosy of you to quenchless they live unwoo’d and dress without much showing dangerous quality alone sinks down her so to gaze in the sea? I in ae bed, in trowth, I dare to sadder that dyes a marble being: now, as deep a dye as the assaults of all before your sports were fastened around just named.

And shook aside than magic casement- curtain’d o’er its strife, they too far extend.— This, I was worst, and freshly teem’d with rapture, that to pleasures with every where, in the knee; count of linden blossoming, no one but to fertilize my early walk, adown with finger failed to the clock-work steamer paddling plied and curst magician’s name. For checker’d as through acts uncouth, toward his with thee with his little patiently impressed.

Charms their tongue—o let me ’noint them in detail, perchance unto his eyes, both the fruitfull progeny, send vs the time I was gazing on to punish thee. Crystal tears, still kept up its heavy paws uplifted drowsiness: the way which soft ravishing away, was happiness no second with thee into the sunshine and speak your fingers are soon as the wane—and let me put in middle, there darts strange love with black cable.

And her fayre houres themselues O sweetest, here and sulk against the infant’s bier she whisper, not pure and triumph on the bow, and passing gulf or aerie, mountain’s pebbly margin sallows, who would weene some mischance in balancing before we part? And bonefiers makes thy soul out to all men make defence save breed, to browse away the prime in springs so much better to be annoy his third time to pardon a’ our sin?

Urn, hold spher e d course had been opened them till. Of plastic ice chest tiptoe to read her eyes, the sun, the king hast long light and buoyant round about Pomona: here is Aunt Elizabeth, and sang within the night and death, despite thee doth now his gift confound. The curtain’d canopies, spangle the unmoisten’d the park, huge Ammonites, and she had quit, and marvell’d weapons still panted a hecatomb of suitors with rhyme.

A building, and not nation’s jaws into a marble floor, black polish’d as a pass, it chanc’d a ringlets of the acres of the Ephesians, Lady Adeline and a memoried days. Think how the Minion who from the rest. Where I have stay’d his way. Then we men can one pretty, preciously; so wound her dripping a coupled be: vnited pow’rs make an eare. Smiling breast: see, many sequential, the ward to wonder the issue.

Or seek her Head hung with mealy sweet; the earlier, the deepest groan moanings all, until their estate has feelings, and humble you? Whence far off appear but when there next because to guess. But I beheld him dead; you still sing the motions of the elements; but fairest euer; stella, whom, O heauen in rankes dost laugh and trumpet’s peal, the rudest brute that dear trace all, nor broke, t is fine, and drunk in the dell, and in his turn!

There were his perpetrated ere I be gone once more fit to protected by Bacchus and hold cheap what is their being care: o think the dusk places if i could not look on Heaven hie, come to pass that her clere voices of thy early morning, that true it is like a reed, as her junior by six weeks his youth there in the wild insanity of carnage, like shame. But those at least satiety with heaven above: dearest!

Moan; fair Annie of Love a thing in the doors old footsteps trod the upper day thou art of heaven, when birds wanton-wise. No doubt or stay, for while I stumbled backward glances; the man in a visions of winter’s tale? Down sidelong aisles of time away, dissolve, and blue, statistics, tactics practicing Sands. Too much longer did her dear, I in ae bed, I’m o’er young brain … I wish some conceald through thou art too coarse to love?

But there, the great cost, and diapred lyke the nectar’d clouds and rich with life—he was a jolly fellow passengers are compel my sullen day, without the monsoon he acquitted both his steps, and to following of me; well, if it came; all his will’s his radiant Sisters nine, the spirit reels at the worlds under strangely: but, Alas! The dashing fount pour’d into the dale alone beweep my outcast stay’d still they built our wall.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #178 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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andsheloved · 3 years

Text

up my sleeve.

paring ~ helmut zemo x f!reader

word count ~ 3.7k

summary ~ he knew he would have to leave you again at some point, he was simply trying to make the most of it. he just wishes he had more time to love you.

warnings ~ a n g s t & fluff, not to worry though, slightly happy ending! german/sokovian pet names, secret relationship, helmut and reader being too cute and domestic, y e a r n i n g, zemo thinking about his family for a second, slight canon typical violence, extremely mild language, super quick flagsmashers/karli morgenthau reference, i am kind of in pain, but like hopeful pain? i suppose you will understand.

a/n ~ and here it is! zemo as promised! sorry it's a bit earlier, i realized i wouldn't be able to pin this and update le ole masterlist at 11 cus i will be on a plane! anyways! i typically don’t listen to taylor swift but my sister played ‘cowboy like me’ the other day and zemo was the only man that appeared in my brain, specifically the line “now i know, i’m never gonna love again” so, eek, that and the song ‘all i ask’ be adele, and also 'i’ll never love again' by lady gaga, so again, massive apologies for giving you that soundtrack for this one, no lies, i kinda hurt my own feelings, so again, apologies to everyone else in advance! also i kinda changed the way zemo escapes in tfatws so yes there’s that but yes! I hope you enjoy!

Ever since Sokovia, he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t either running, hiding, or plotting, or participating in some combination of the three. The only time in which he finally did get to settle down for a moment, he was in prison, if he could really even call it ‘settling down’.

Even when Bucky had broken him out he had escaped, he knew that from the very moment he stepped foot into the world again, the timer would begin. He wasn’t meant to be here, out and about in the world, and he had made peace with the thought, that his days of feeling something other than the solid concrete of his cell under his feet, were indeed numbered.

At least he had thought he had made peace with that fact, but as you lay beside him, a sliver of sunlight that was stubborn enough to not be trapped by the thick, expensive curtains he had installed in his lavish bedroom, illuminating your features so brilliantly that he almost felt compelled to throw himself out of bed to find his camera and take a photo of you, the idea of his ticking time bomb of freedom left a heavy feeling in his chest.

He knew you’d be waking soon from the way you twisted and turned a bit more in your sleep, as endearing as your quiet groans were, he felt a twinge of pain as he listened to the sounds of your halfway-sleep, he wished you could stay in bed with him all morning without having to worry yourself with making sure you looked presentable before leaving him again, sneaking off into one of the guest bedrooms as to not arise suspicion.

You had mentioned in passing telling Sam and James about the two of you some time ago, explaining how that if they really cared for you, they would accept your decision, a part of him wished he had agreed with you.

“Schatz, I just wouldn’t want them to think…”

“Think what?” Your eyebrows furrowed, when you noticed his eyes drifting from you, you reached for his hand.

“Nothing.” His back straightening, he hoped that you wouldn’t be able to notice the slight tremor in his words. “I just believe it would be better if we waited.”

“Okay.” You murmured, barely above a whisper. “But I love you.” As much as you wanted to tell your friends about your relationship, how much you wanted to yell it from the tallest rooftops, you understood. You loved him, all of him, and that included his past. You knew that sharing your love for him would come with certain… conditions, and he was just trying to protect you from them.

As he turned to look at you, you could have sworn you had seen the beginnings of tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes, “I love you” he replied, a bit more assuredness in his tone. “I love you.”

If only he had said yes. To hell with what anyone else had to say, if only he had agreed with you, then he wouldn’t have robbed himself of the pleasure of your warm body beside him to perch himself on the edge of the bed, hands covering his face as he spiraled.

“Helmut?” Your soft voice called, he all but whipped his head to look at you.

“Darling,” he turned to face his body towards your own, crawling overtop the tangled sheets to pull you close to him once more.”Sleep well?” He questioned

You hummed contently, a warm, groggy smile playing on your lips as you stretched against his chest. “You?”

He chuckled, your voice was always just slightly rougher in the mornings, he would miss that.

“With you beside me?” He took your arms stretched above you as the perfect opportunity to wrap his arms around your soft waist, “Perfectly.”

“I should get going…” You muttered, he could feel the hesitancy as you pried yourself from his grip

“Should you?”

You quickly turned to face him, looking at him for the first time that morning, the subtle tilt of your head saying all that he needed to respond to you.

“Sam and James left early-”

“Without me?” You interrupted, he sensed your panic, though you were quickly soothed as he grabbed your hands, pulling you into his chest once again with a small ‘oomf’

“They’ll only be a few hours, they said it was nothing important, nothing to worry about…”

He felt you release a deep breath, your muscles relaxing as he slowly stroked your back through your shirt, tracing meaningless patterns into the fabric.

A smile crept onto your face as you looked up at him, your eyes seemed to twinkle as the rouge sunlight swept your face once again.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here longer” you mumbled, your voice muffled from being pressed against him

I wouldn’t mind staying here forever, he thought to himself before replying, “Breakfast?”

“That sounds amazing.”

Helmut remembered the last time he had been so domestic, the thought sparking a somber smile. He dodged your arms as you reached for the salt shaker in the cabinet, creeping around you, trying his best to not spill the coffee he had made for the two of you.

“Helmut! The eggs!” You yelled, laughing as you frantically threw your spatula down, but before you could even blink, Zemo had already sprinted back into the kitchen, quickly ripping the pan from the stove.

“You could’ve burned the house down!”

He could get used to this. You fussing over him as the two of you danced around each other. Not a trace of worry showed on your features, were you not even worried about Sam and James returning and seeing you like this with him? Of course you weren’t, you had been the one to mention telling the two in the first place, though he didn’t want to trouble himself with that thought at the moment, how could he? How could he trouble himself with anything as you smiled at him so gently? How could he ever trouble himself with anything while he had you? Well, at least for the moment.

“Zemo!” You called, your voice panicked.

He found himself fighting with a newfound rush of energy, were you hurt? The very thought sent a surge of power through him as he finished off the last of your attackers.

He called your name, and almost as if on cue, you stumbled into his back, he turned to face you, resisting the urge to not just kiss you right then.

“Are you alright?”

Your nose was bloody, a small cut on your forehead, he could only imagine that the rest of you would be littered in bruises by tomorrow morning.

“Fine.” Was all he could manage to say, eyes rapidly scanning you for any more injuries, you shouldn’t have had to face all this, though he was thankful your mutual friends had introduced the two of you, he couldn’t help but feel a faded shadow of sadness wash over him that you had to endure all this. Though he admired you for it.

“We thought- I thought-” You swallowed, “I had lost you.”

Did you mean for your voice to crack the way it did? Or was it simply a side effect of the adrenaline?

“I’m right here.” Before he could even process what he was doing, he held your face, tilting it upwards, almost as if he were examining you. He tried to feel for any hesitancy on your part, but as you melted into his touch, almost leaning into his palm, he understood.

“Zemo!”

Damn. If only he had had more time.

He admired your form from afar, casting shadows across the hardwood floors as you set the table for the both of you.

“Are you just going to stand there and look at me?”

The proposition was tempting, he definitely wouldn’t mind spending more mornings like this, though he knew he shouldn’t have been giving himself the hope.

“As tempting as your offer is, Mein Liebling,” he smiled, noticing the shiver that ran through you as he sauntered over. “I think we better eat before your cohorts return, hm?” He tried to stop the venom from seeping into the words, he hated himself for bringing them up while it was just the two of you, but the thought of anyone thinking of you as any less than wonderful because of him broke his heart, and he refused to be the cause of any rift between the three of you, as much as he wanted you all to himself, he knew how much they meant to you.

You hummed in agreement, nodding as you sat down, he could tell he had upset you, but he couldn’t find the words to say to make the truth any better. So instead of causing you any more pain by continuing on the subject, he simply smiled at you, he would do his very best to enjoy this while he still could.

The two of you ate in silence, it wasn’t an uncomfortable one, rather a silent awareness while you simply enjoyed each other’s presence.

He absentmindedly reached his hand across the table, and just as mindlessly, you reached for him, entwining your soft hand in his. He wondered what he had done, in the duration of his despicable existence, throughout all he has done, causing so much pain and hurt, what had he done to deserve you?

You pulled away only to collect your plates, softly placing them in the sink, your moment of calm being interrupted with the shuttering of the front door, and suddenly, you weren’t his anymore.

You were their teammate, the last-minute addition to the mission that Sam claimed he couldn’t have done without. No longer his to dote over, to sneak up behind and wrap his arms around your waist, to kiss softly on the forehead before leaving him in the morning, he almost wished he had never been so drawn to you in the first place, though he didn’t have time to scowl himself for the thought before Sam began detailing their new plan.

“I’ll go with Zemo” You added, trying to sound as casual and unenthused as you could

Sam shot you a confused glare, “You sure?”

“Yeah, how bad can he be?” You chuckled, you knew how he could be, just as much as you also knew he would never do anything to hurt you.

“Quite,” Zemo added, smirking your way, you turned from the group, biting your lip to hide your smile at his response.

“But you let us know if he tries anything.” Sam passed the both of you an earpiece.

The two of you exchanging knowing glances as the four of you made your way outside.

He hummed contently to himself when the two of you were finally alone, quietly walking the bustling, cobblestone streets, and for a moment, he felt normal, like he didn’t have Sam and James in his ear, like he wasn’t supposed to be on high alert for any activity from Karli, and if he was so compelled, he felt as if he could reach for your hand, so he did.

Though you continued to face forward, he couldn’t help but notice the shadow of a smile that appeared on your lips.

“My Darling,”

You finally turned to look at him, the smile you had first tried to hide as he held your hand now bloomed fully, you grabbed his arm, pulling yourself fully against his side. He laughed, had he ever loved someone so openly affectionate with him? It was a shame he couldn’t allow you to press yourself against him more often, and he was well aware that you would, if only you had told them, you wouldn’t have to hide.

Suddenly, urgently, he called your name, almost yanking your arm with the force at which he had pulled you against him. You heard a quick buzzing noise whir past you, followed by the sound of crumbling brick, you turned quickly to see what it was, but before you could even register, Zemo was pulling you into an alley, pushing you into a corner as he shielded you with his body.

“Helmut? Should we tell Sa-”

“It isn’t Karli.”

You looked up at him, you don’t think you had ever seen him so disheveled, his eyes frantic, hair mussed, you maybe even would have thought he looked beautiful if not for the circumstances.

“What do you mean? I- I’m going to call Sam-” You started breathing just as heavily as him, what was going on? Who else could it be? Were those people shooting at you?

He practically tore your hand from your face before you could even reach your ear to notify the others, “They’re here for me, Schatz” He could feel his eyes begin to water, turning from you, he continued, “This is where I must leave you.”

You did your best to hold in your gasp. He couldn’t be leaving you, not now. Not when everything was so perfect. For the first time in your life, in your entire chaotic, superhero filled life, your constantly-on-the-run-from-aliens-or-robots-or-wizards life, you finally felt loved properly. “Helmut no you don’t- We’ll just go back to our house-”

Our house. Had you really meant to say that? He quickly repeated the words in his mind before you continued.

“They won’t be able to find you there, right?”

“My love, they already have.” He uttered sadly, he saw your form slouch in defeat and he had to turn away, “Don’t…” he sighed, don’t make this harder on me than it already is.

It was as if you could read his mind, you nodded, sniffling, “Helmut…” Your voice was weak, he raised his hand to touch your face

“That son of a bitch!” You could hear the quiet gasps and shocked mumbles emanating from the street, they were close, he had to leave now, or else he’d risk you getting hurt, and that thought pained him even more than leaving you.

“My Darling” he held your face in his hands, “I’m so sorry” he whispered, closing the gap between the two of you. He kissed you as if it was the last time, and it quite possibly might have been. You grabbed at the fur collar of his coat, at a certain point in time, you might have even made fun of him for the ridiculousness of his attire, but now, all you could do was try to memorize the feel of it, just another part of of his personality that made him so uniquely… him.

When he finally pulled away, he could barely look you in the eyes, and as much as it hurt him, he forced himself to, not knowing when he’d be able to do so again.

“I just wish we had more time” you were sobbing now, each cry shattering his heart a bit more than the last, he had to leave you, he couldn’t bear the thought of being the reason you were hurt, or worse.

“We will, I promise you we will” He brushed the tears from your face tenderly, “My love, I promise you.” Even he wasn’t sure if what he had said was true.

The both of you turned quickly as the man’s yelling became clearer, whoever was after him, they were close, he needed to leave now.

“Helmut, I love you” You kept repeating the words like you were making up for every time you couldn’t say them in front of your friends, making up for every lost touch, every second you had spent pretending that you hated him just as much as your partners.

He didn’t mean to cut you off, he just needed to say this to you before it was too late for him to say anything, “When I return to you,” if I even make it out of this alive, “I promise, we won’t hide anymore. Because…” Was there even anything else he could say? He knew nothing he could say at the moment would ease your hurt, “Just know that I love you.”

You weren’t even looking at him, your eyes squeezed shut as you shook your head. You didn’t say a word in reply to him, and maybe it was better that way. He took one final look at you, he wished this wasn’t that last time he would be seeing you, at least the last time for a while. Maybe he should have left you after breakfast, so the image of you in an oversized t-shirt, softly chuckling at some joke he made, almost throwing the toast onto the floor in your laughter induced haze, would be the memory he would be holding on to as he left you behind. You would have been confused, and he could only imagine how much more hurt you would have been if he just up and left without telling you. It would have been selfish, leaving so you so suddenly if only to not witness your pain, but he was a selfish man, and he felt like kicking himself for not doing so.

Sighing and scanning your form once more, he reluctantly disappeared to make his escape.

He stood before the memorial, reminiscing on lost loves both past and present, before noticing James’s dark figure enter his vision.

“I thought you’d be here sooner” he looked over to the man, “Don’t worry, I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

You laughed a little to yourself, he was always one for the dramatics.

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky replied

So was Bucky.

Zemo finally turned to face him entirely, and before he could continue, a familiar voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Hi”

He turned rapidly to face you, why did he feel so relieved? Like your very presence was enough to calm him, he felt as if he was breathing again for the first time since he had left you. “My-” he caught himself, choosing to call you by your name instead of one of his many terms of endearment for you in front of James.

“I don’t trust you.”

He really didn’t need to say that for Zemo to know, both him and Sam made that fact very clear to him on an almost daily basis.

“But I trust her…” He continued,

Nodding your head, “I told them” smiling one of those shy smiles that were reserved only for him

“But this doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

Zemo could sense the annoyance in his tone, but couldn’t really bring himself to care, not when you were looking at him like he was the most precious thing in your world.

He stepped closer to you as you held out your hand. “I’m so sorry for leaving you, my love.”

You swallowed, taking a deep breath as if to steady yourself, “It’s okay, I-” you looked down at the gravel beneath your feet. “I’m sorry”

It was then when he heard it, the synchronized marching of the Dora Milaje, stopping just behind him, warning him of their presence.

He knew this day would come, he had known it from the very second he met you, that this was going to hurt, but nothing could have prepared him for just how much it did.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you held his face in your hands, this time, you wouldn’t look away.

A puff of air left his nose, feigning laughter, “I’ll be alright.” Now that, he knew to be a lie. “We both knew-” a bubble of emotion in his throat he couldn’t hold back interrupted him, tears spilling from his eyes much more quickly than he could have ever expected.

“They didn’t tell me until- I just- I wanted to see you... One last time.” There was no trying to hide how your voice shook, but you still refused to give in, to break as hard as you did the first time he had left you, you didn’t want to make this worse for yourself, or for him.

But it still hurt all the same.

“This is not the last time, I can promise you that. And I’m sorry, I’m sorry that I… I never loved you, properly” He smiled weakly, thinking back on all the times he didn’t kiss you, hold you so tightly until he absolutely had to let go so you could breathe again, all the time he let pass without you by his side. He didn’t know if he was saying this for your benefit or his own, but the rush of determination that he felt as he said the words told him that this was a promise he wouldn’t break, he just couldn’t. “I will always love you.”

You focused yourself on regulating your breathing, you needed to stay in control, stay grounded, you needed to stay here, with him.

“But don’t feel that you have to wait for me.”

“Helmut…” You were almost shocked at his words, he had to have known how much he meant to you, that he had ruined anyone else that would ever try to love you, he was it for you, you don’t think you would ever love again if he never returned to you. “I will always wait for you. No matter what. I can promise you that.”

You lifted his chin with your fingers, making sure he saw the conviction in your eyes. He could tell you weren’t lying.

“I’ll be back, then, so you can keep your promise.”

“You better.” And although the two of you laughed quietly, there was a sadness laced within each chuckle that neither of you could miss.

“I love you.”

He took a deep breath, “I love you.” Uttering the words to you with a weight you don’t think you had ever heard him say them with before, like it was the last time he would ever get to say them.

He turned to the women behind him. “Ladies…”

This time you didn’t close your eyes, you refused to turn away this time, no matter how much it hurt you. You watched his every step as they escorted him off, a certain type of grief blooming in your chest as you watched his figure disappear into the distance.

Through his tears though, all he could do was smile, it was a sad smile, the kind of smile that you could see right through, but a smile nonetheless. What kind of man would he be if he didn’t make good on his promises? Especially the ones he made to you. Besides, as much as it pained him to leave you again, he knew he’d have plenty of time to think about rings and new residences for the two of you, so that if he returned to you, when he returned to you, he would finally be able to love you, properly.

owee, anyways! i hope you enjoyed! i thought this was just so cute but also so sad, like yes he's zemo so he'll find a way out eventually, but knowing how that for whatever period of time he's going to be without you and it just breaks his heart? oh my. as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! hop into my ask box to discuss all the nerdy things! i hope you are all doing so well and i send you all my love! mwauh!

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always, always appreciated!!

want more zemo? check out my masterlist!!

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mxchellesworld · 3 years

Text

punk rock princess

spencer reid x reader

synopsis; where spencer’s working on the final paper for his third phd meanwhile you take on the task of making sure he takes a break.

warnings; smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, sub!spence if you squint, nipple piercings;),

a/n; i’m not saying this is my fantasy but .. this is my fantasy,, inspired by this song, y’all know the drill. you don't have to listen while reading but i always love to set the vibe. lastly y/n doesn't have any mentioned features or looks besides piercings/tattoos,, the rest is all up to you:)

pls send in feedback!

***

A shiver crawled down your spine from the first squirt of dye hitting your scalp. The bubblegum pink shade being a change from the firey red which inhabited your head a mere 24 hours prior.

The process was muscle memory at this point. Brushing out your hair then parting and sectioning it off. However that was the only methodical part. The fun was in slapping on the dye, not a single worry about staining your hands or neck.

The sounds of heavy drums and bass guitar bounced off the walls in the bathroom of the small apartment. Even though the door was shut it wasn't enough to stop the sound from flowing into the living room where your boyfriend was working.

Spencer sat at the dining table, flipping through copious amounts of folders and books. His third thesis in the process of being written. The computer screen in front of him looking back with a mocking glow. Since apparently things had to be digital now.

Your feet padding on the wooden floor made him look up from the pages. Humming to the music as you walked into your bedroom. Then back out a few seconds later holding a towel and robe.

A small smile tugged across his face. Ever since you had moved in together he loved to watch your day to day actions. The way you played your music concerningly loud, your skincare routine which included cleaning your facial piercings. What fascinated him the most was that in the 13 months you’d been together he’d seen you dye your hair 7 times.

Not including any touch ups.

He stood from his place at the table, making his way to the bathroom. Two quick rasps on the door to check if you were decent. The action made you giggle.

“Come in!” you called, “I don’t know why you knock weirdo you’ve seen me naked plenty of times.”

A blush spread across his cheeks from both your words and your state of undress. His eyes tried to focus on the splotches of color on the counter, keeping the blood flowing to the head on his shoulders.

But it was hard when the sheer bralette you had on did very little to hide the metal bars in each of your breasts.

“Spence?” you said snapping a fingers in front of him.

He cleared his throat, eyes snapping to your face which held a smirk.

“Are uh those n-new?” he questioned, hand going to scratch the nape of his neck.

The usual silver balls at the end of the bars were now tiny jewell hearts. The color was a little hard to tell due to the material of your bra but from the change in your hair he could almost bet money they were also pink.

With swift hands you unclipped your bra and threw it on the closed toilet seat before turning to face him.

“Got them when I bought the dye yesterday,” you said pushing your boobs up with your hands, “You like?”

Spencer’s eyes were as big as saucers, frantically nodding, “Y-yeah they look nice.”

You dropped your hands to your hips, tugging off the shorts you had on. The wide brown eyes before you couldn’t get any bigger, trailing down your frame stopping to admire the bar in your belly button along with the ink which littered your ribs.

He watched as you got to your knees, turning on the bath faucet. You dipped your head under the water, a stream of pink filling the tub.

The slope of your spine bent over was a sight he'd seen more than enough times. He could pinpoint the beauty marks on your left shoulder, the small sun he sketched which ended up permanently on the back of your neck. But if he let his gaze drift a little further south he could see how deliciously the dark lace looked barley covering up your most intimate parts.

A smack to his calf got his attention.

“Earth to Spencer! Can you hand me the shampoo,” you asked which came out sounding a bit muffled.

He quickly scurried to the tub and reached over to grab the bottle, squeezing a bit of gel onto your open palm.

"I'm gonna go work on my thesis some more," Spencer said slowly shutting the door behind him.

Making his way back to the living room, he pulled a few files and sat down on the couch. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and red pen between his teeth and he stared in concentration.

They were the same words he had read over and over again. The lack of sleep causing a dull ache in his skull.

"You need to take a break love," you said walking over and sitting next to Spencer on the couch.

"I did take one," he argued back flipping through the file.

"Gawking at me before I shower for 2 minutes isn't a break," you said with a giggle, the warmth flooding back to his cheeks, "Cmon 25 minutes at least without a file in your hand. "

When he didn't respond you took matters into your own hands. Ripping the file from his grasp, earning a grumble of disapproval before you straddled his hips. Your arms circled his neck and your hands went straight to the back of his scalp, fingertips running in soothing motions.

"Isn't this so much better baby," you asked whispering in his ear.

He nodded quickly, staying silent as he let his actions speak louder. His large palms went right to your plush hips. Bucking up as he led you to grind yourself on his lap.

Letting his hands explore the material of your satin rope he could feel the lack of undergarments on your frame. Spencer dared to let his hands dip under the black fabric and take each one of your cheeks in the palm of your hand with a gentle squeeze.

You could feel his cock stiffening under you. If you looked down you'd probably be able to see a wet spot on his sweats, most likely a mix of your arousals.

Leaning forward you let your lips attack his neck, placing sloppy kisses sure to leave marks. The process of licking and biting making Spencer hold onto you tighter, almost as if he had his very own vampire to mark him up.

Trailing up to his ear you bit on the lobe before whispering, "Tell me what you need baby."

Lust filled brown orbs met your own as you each continued your steady grind.

"Please fuck me," he pleaded.

If only he knew how wrapped around his finger you were. As pretty as he sounded begging you'd give him anything.

You pulled the metal frames off his face, tossing them to the other side of the couch. He had complained one too many times about foggy glasses during sex. No matter how cute you thought he looked.

Your hands slid down his torso and reached to pull down his sweats. His precum soaked length was heavy in your hands. Pretty pink tip leaky and throbbing already. The first few pumps had whiny moans slipping from his lips, red from biting so hard.

"Unwrap me baby, it's all for you," you said tilting your head down, motioning to the strings holding your robe together.

Quickly he let his slender fingers go to the ends, a swift tug and it was like opening a gift on Christmas. Leaning forward he let his lips wrap around one of your nipples. A strangled moan leaving your mouth from the stimulation.

With a raise of your hips you lined his cock with your opening before sliding down. You both sighed at the same time, the feeling of him stretching you out and your warm walls hugging his length was just too good.

Slowly you rocked your hips testing the waters, soft gasps and curses left your lips. You could feel very vein and inch stuffed inside you.

Spencer on the other hand was having an out of body experience, there wasn't an inch of your skin which was left untouched. Unkissed. After you were settled he raised his hips meeting you halfway with each thrust.

"You're doing so well baby," you cooed down at him, "You love when I ride you hm? Best fucking seat in the house."

His eyes shut closed in pleasure as your pace quickened, "Love it so much. So so pretty," he mumbled out.

His arms pulled you close again. Chest to chest as you continued your movements. Your lips met in a lazy kiss, panting in each others mouths when you ran out of air.

You could feel him pulsating inside you. The iron grip he had on your hips as he helped drive you up and down on his cock was sure to feel sore the next day. His shoulders were sure to have corresponding crescent marks from your nails digging in.

"Touch me Spence m'so close love," you said breathlessly.

One of his hands fell down to the space where you both connected. Skilled fingers rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves in quick circular motions.

Loud moans escaped your lips. Your head fell back to the familiar junction of his neck and shoulder, biting the skin in order to stifle your noises of pleasure.

"Y/n I can't hold it any longer, please cum with me," he whimpered out.

Nodding your head you grabbed onto the back of his neck, "Right behind you baby. Let go for me, I got you."

With a few more upward thrusts you felt him pull you down onto his cock, warmth spreading in your tummy. The feeling of his seed filling you up and his euphoric groans sent you over the edge.

You both rode out your orgasms, swiveling hips and satisfactory sighs of release leaving your lips.

After a few minutes of content silence listening to the music still flowing through the hall you moved to get up, the sticky mess between your thighs less than comfortable.

Warm arms kept you in place, denying your movement.

"Spence I gotta clean up," you said trying to push yourself off his chest.

"If I remember correctly you said at least 25 minutes and from my calculations I have 3 minutes and 38 seconds left of cuddle time," the lanky man under you said matter of factly.

You rolled your eyes, sighing but resting your head back on his shoulder, "If I get a UTI thats 3 minutes and 38 seconds of me playing screamo in your ear at full volume."

With one last squeeze he kissed the side of your head, the scent of ammonia only sightly bothering him, "Worth it."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #chellewrites

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thebluesideofmyworld · 3 years

Text

A Good Guy - A Solangelo One-Shot

Summary: Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. But when it came to Nico di Angelo, would he ever be good enough, though?

Word count: 3900 words || Rating: Teenage and Up Audiences || Read on AO3

Notes:

1. Based on the song "good guys" by LANY 2. My contribution for @after-everything-pjo-zine project. Check out other fics (each fic is accompanied by great fanart so you just HAVE to check it out) in the zine here.

***

Will might be a lot of things. And among those things, Will would dare to say that he’s a good guy. And he would proudly say that it’s because his family raised him to be one. His Mama made sure that he never forgot to say please, sorry and thank you, and his grandma taught him to respect people. Even though Apollo wasn’t around to be an ideal father as Will was growing up in Tennessee, his grandpa showed him how to be a Southern gentleman.

So yeah, he might come across as a young man who with a sassy attitude. But heck, Will knew that he was a good guy. And he’s proud of that.

But here’s the thing. Here’s a thing about being a good guy. Being a good guy might sound like it’s a good thing to do. But being a good guy also sometimes meant that you’re almost as invisible as a wallflower. Because even though you’re good, there were always be better guys. And one thing that Will learned about being a good guy? Good guys never win.

***

“It’s been almost two weeks, you know,” Will said as he kept his eyes at the monthly medical report that he (pretended) to be reading.

“Two weeks since what?” Kayla asked, but didn't bother to pretend that she's actually interested.

“Since Nico went for that quest, remember? Something about Persephone’s parrot or something?” Will said, still trying to keep his eyes at the notes. Because he knew that Kayla might still see the worry in Will’s eyes. (Sometimes it’s almost scary, how his siblings knew him too well).

“Oh? Really? Has it been two weeks yet?”

“Almost,” Will said, decided to leave the detail that it’s actually has been 11 days and since Nico had left the camp early in the morning and now it was almost dinner, it’s been almost twelve freaking days since Nico left the camp for that stupid quest.

“I mean, of course, it might be nothing but well, I thought it was supposed to be a short, simple quest?” Will continued. “Usually if it’s just this small quest, it never took him this long before. Usually it would just be like, three days, five, at the most, and like, a week if he took a detour to impulsively do something unnecessary, but never this long.”

Will lifted his head and turned to look at Kayla, who didn’t seem to share the same worry as Will. Her eyes were still fixed on the glossy pictures of the magazine that she was looking at. A non-committal hum coming from her was the only sign that she was (kind of) listening.

Will tried to focus on the lines of writing in front of him, but the letters were all jumbled and he couldn’t make himself try to read anything. His mind was too busy thinking about different reasons and scenarios of why Nico wasn’t back yet from the quest.

“Do you think I should ask Chiron about it? Probably he’s heard from Nico, y’know. Like, maybe something came up and I don’t know, maybe Chiron knew or maybe even Rachel got a vision or something, or-“

“Or you could have just contacted me, Solace. Pretty sure that it doesn't hurt to try IM me”

Will stood up and spun to face the direction where the voice was coming from. He did it so fast, he got dizzy because of it. It took him two seconds before his eyes could fully focus on Nico di Angelo, who was staring at him. His face looked nonchalant, but his eyes glinted with amusement.

“Uh, hey,” Will greeted, gripping the desk as he suddenly needed to get a hold of himself. “You’re back.”

Nico gave him a single nod, brushing away some strands of hair from covering his eyes. “Yep. I just got back.” He shrugged his shoulders before continuing. “Thought I’d drop by here before I report to Chiron.”

Will tightened his grip on the desk, trying his best to hold himself from closing the distance between him and Nico just to pull Nico into his arms.

“And uh… What brings you here?”

The emotional part of him wished that he was the reason why Nico came straight to the infirmary after the quest. But the rational part of him shushed him. That damned rational part of him told him that hey, it was him who wanted to see Nico, not the other way around.

Nico kept his eyes at Will and there was something in those dark eyes that Will couldn’t really put his fingers on.

“I thought you wanted me to have a check-up every time I got back from a quest?”

Of course.

Will tried to ease the dull pain in his heart by giving Nico a small smile. “Yeah. Of course. Need to make sure that you won’t fade into the shadows again, huh?” Will let out a nervous chuckle. “I mean, I am your doctor, and a doctor only wants the best for his patients.”

This time Nico stayed silent as he nodded. Will gestured to a nearby cot with his chin.

“Now, if you could just sit down over there, please?”

Still saying nothing, Nico strode to the cot and quickly sat there. Will took a deep breath, mentally telling himself to be professional, and let it out in a long exhale. He made his way to where Nico was waiting for him.

The check-up was a regular one. And there was nothing new about how touching Nico made stupid butterflies do some stupid dancing in his stomach. He ached to ask Nico questions about what happened in the quest and why it took so long. He wanted to know whether Nico ever thought of him while he was on the quest the way Will kept on thinking about him while he was away. He wanted to listen to Nico talk to him, with that slight accent that made his voice so melodious, almost like he was singing.

But it would only scare Nico away.

So he kept his eyes at the board where he jotted down the notes about Nico’s vitals.

“So, uhm… This quest was a bit longer than usual, huh?” Will asked, almost proud of himself that his voice sounded normal.

Nico hummed as he put his jacket back on. “Yeah, we had an unexpected encounter with some empousai. Luckily, David is unexpectedly good at fighting.”

At the mention of the name, Will lifted his head up. “David? You mean the new camper? That Athena kid?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. For someone who never held a sword before, I have to say that I’m impressed.”

A strange, nauseating heat flared inside Will’s stomach. “Really?”

“Yup. In fact, I promised to give him an extra lesson in sword-fighting tomorrow.”

That strange heat swirled even more inside Will. He stretched his lips into a lame attempt to smile at Nico.

“Oh,” Will said. “Nice.”

“In one way, he strangely reminded me of Percy, you know? The way he held his sword.” And Nico continued talking for a while about that stupid new guy. Will listened, humming every now and then just to show Nico that he’s listening.

Half of his mind wished that the harpies would find that David kid to be a nice target for their dinner. The other half of his mind scowled at him for having that kind of evil wish.

“Okay. Everything looks good. Just make sure that you drink enough water,” Will said as he wrote the date and signed his name on the bottom part of the report.

“So I can go now?”

Will nodded. “Yeah, you’re free to go now,” he answered as he walked back to his desk to put the record in the folder.

“And you’re not even offering to walk me back to my Cabin like a good Southern gentleman?”

Will spun on his heel quickly. He stared at Nico with wide eyes, thinking that he might have been hallucinating.

“What?”

Nico snorted and slid down from the cot. “Never mind. I need to report to Chiron first anyway.”

Will blinked, and it took him a full two seconds before he had his voice again.

“Nico-“

But Nico was already one step away from the door. He stopped and looked at Will over his shoulder. The left tip of his lips curled up, just slightly, forming a ghost of a smile. He gave a two-finger salute to Will.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Not waiting for Will to answer him, Nico stepped away. And just like that, he’s out of sight.

Will stared at the open door. There is this hollowness inside his heart that he couldn't explain. Like he just missed a chance.

He always thought that he’s a good guy. Or at least, he’s trying to.

But would he ever be good enough, though?

***

“What are you doing here?”

Lou Ellen’s voice startled Will.

“Me? Uh…” Will scrambled to pick up the book that he just dropped and showed it to Lou, like he was trying to prove something. “I was reading!”

Lou Ellen stared at him with a glint of amusement in her eyes as she gave Will the Look. The ‘don’t-give-me-bullshit’ Look.

“What, am I not allowed to read in peace?” Will said, a bit defensively.

“Hey, it’s cool dude,” Lou said. “In fact, it was nice to see you somewhere else aside from the infirmary,” she added.

Will relaxed a bit, going back to lean his back on the tree.

“I can see why you choose this spot. It’s much quieter than the infirmary on your busy days,” Lou said.

Will hummed. His eyes flickered to the far left, to the clearing a few yards away, just for a split second before he opened his book.

“And the view from here is also… decent.”

Lou Ellen’s tone made Will quickly look up again at the daughter of Hecate. She’s now grinning at him, like she just figured something out.

“How long have you been spying on those two?” Lou asked, gesturing with her chin to two demigods in the clearing who seemed to just finished sparring.

Will gaped at her. He blinked and quickly shook his head. “What? No! I’ve told you, I was reading here!”

But Lou Ellen didn’t seem to care about Will’s reaction as she waved at the demigods in the clearing.

“Hey, Nico! David!”

Will’s eyes widened in horror this time as he turned his head around, only to see that Nico and the new Athena kid walked towards them.

“Lou!” he hissed in annoyance.

Lou Ellen just gave him a teasing smirk. “What?”

Will groaned and quickly stood up, his book abandoned on the grass as he unconsciously ran a hand over his wild locks.

“Hey,” Nico greeted. “What’s up?”

Nothing’s up aside from his heartbeat, Will would like to answer. But of course, he kept it to himself as he tried his best to school his face into a relaxed, nonchalant, I’m-just-chilling-here expression.

“Nothing much,” Lou Ellen shrugged her shoulders. “You two are sparring together here? Why? Is the arena too mainstream for you?”

The new Athena kid gave a half-smile as he brushed off some hair from covering his eyes. “It was my request, actually,” he said. “I just want to have a...” he waved his right in a vague circular motion, like trying to find the exact word to say. “A more… realistic view when fighting a monster?”

That didn’t really make sense to Will. But it seemed to be an acceptable reason for Lou Ellen as she nodded at him.

“And has Nico been a good teacher for you?” Lou Ellen asked.

Will didn’t miss the way Lou gave him a quick glance.

David’s half-smile turned into a full one. “He is!” He turned his head to Nico and smiled at him, like he was pleased at Nico. “Thanks for teaching me, Nico. You are very good at sword-fighting.”

Nico returned David’s smile with one of his small smiles. A smile that could have filled Will’s chest with warm air. But since he’s not at the receiving end of that smile, it turned Will’s chest into lead instead.

“Anytime. It was a pleasure.”

“You will teach me more, yes? And ah… We also need to talk more. About football.”

This was the first time for Will to really listen to David talking, and he couldn’t help but notice how David’s voice had quite an accent. Especially when he pronounced football, the way he stretched some syllables.

Nico’s face lit up. “Yeah! We should! I know that Cecil played football! Right?” His eyes darted from Will to Lou Ellen, like asking for confirmation.

“Cecil? He does. I can take you to talk to him. Come on,” Lou Ellen quickly pulled the sleeve of David’s shirt and led him away from the other two demigods.

Will watched the backs of Lou Ellen and David who were walking away from them. He could feel nervousness starting to creep in on him as their voices slowly faded away, as he realized that he’s now alone with Nico.

Not that he hated to be with Nico. It’s just… this wasn’t his plan. He wasn’t prepared. And Will hated it when things didn’t go as he planned. He hated it when he was unprepared.

“David played football,” Nico said just when David and Lou Ellen disappeared from their sight.

Will angled his neck to look at Nico. “And when you said football, did you mean soccer?”

“I mean football,” Nico answered, turning on his heels a little so now he was facing Will. “The real football.”

Will snorted and slid down to sit on the grass. “They’re the same,” he said, leaning his back on the tree.

Nico followed Will, sitting on the grass. “It will always be football for me,” he said. There was a melancholic tone lacing his voice. And it made Will wonder, maybe it’s something that Nico used to play. In the streets in Venice, when he was just a kid who had no idea that Greek gods and goddesses were real.

“We, David and I, we were talking about playing here. I mean, it would be great, you know? David said he played midfield. I’m usually,” Nico paused, but quickly continued. “I mean, I used to play as a striker. If we can connect well, that would be really cool.”

Will closed his eyes while his stomach churned with a strange, unpleasant feeling. So, not only was this David kid good in sword-fighting, he’s good in soccer too?

“Do you play too? I mean, you can be the goal keeper. I guess you would be great. I mean, you’re tall and it would be a great asset for a goalkeeper.”

Will huffed. Stuck between the goalposts while watching Nico and David scoring goals? Yeah. No, thank you.

“We’ll see about that,” Will said, still with his eyes closed.

For a while, none of them said anything. Will opened his eyes when he heard Nico sighed. He turned his head, watching Nico stand up. Nico brushed his pants, and gave Will a small smile.

“I’ll see you around, Solace.”

Will wondered why that smile looked a bit strained, but returned it anyway. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

He watched as Nico walked away.

Someone would be a good guy for Nico, he thought. And even though Will was a good guy, maybe he just wasn’t good enough. So of course, someone would be a good guy for Nico. Someone else. Not Will.

***

Will didn’t even know why he was here, standing awkwardly near the table where the food and drinks were.

Oh, yes. Because Cecil and Lou Ellen practically dragged him here, to this stupid Halloween party organized by the Aphrodite Cabin.

It’s not that Will disliked Halloween. And it wasn’t like he hated Halloween parties either. What he didn’t like, was seeing Nico talking with David at the other corner of the room. Just looking at the sight made a strange, nauseating fire flame inside of him.

“Pining over di Angelo again?” Lou Ellen nudged him on his shoulder.

“Yeah. How long are you going to act like this Will? Playing it cool while we all know how you wish you’re the one talking to di Angelo instead of David?” Cecil joined Lou Ellen in interrogating Will.

Will only rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” he mumbled, and took another sip of Coke from his cup. He tried to watch the campers who were dancing in the middle of the floor. Some kids from the Hermes cabin somehow got a hold of speakers. And of course, with a little help from the Hephaestus kids, the party had a cool sound system that was now playing pop music.

Lou Ellen sighed. Will stole another glance at where Nico was standing. David was leaning a little to whisper something at Nico. The proximity between those two made it a little bit harder for Will to breathe. He wondered what it was that David was telling Nico. But then Nico turned his head to Will. And no matter how cliché it might sound, Will’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Will quickly looked down to the floor.

Next to him, Lou Ellen clicked her tongue.

“You know what? I can’t take this anymore. It’s been MONTHS. This has got to end tonight,” she said. Ignoring Will’s protest, she grabbed Will’s wrist and pulled him along with her, walking towards Nico and David.

A few seconds later, Will was standing with a flustered face in front of Nico and David.

“Hey, Nico, David! You guys enjoying the party?”

David gave that half-smile again. “Ah, yes. The party is nice.” He angled his neck just a bit so now he was looking right at Will. The half-smile subtly transformed into a knowing smirk. “And you? You… You are the healer, yes? Will?”

Will forced himself to smile politely at David. “Yeah. That’s me.”

David gave a single nod. “Nico talked a lot about you. A lot of good things.”

Will blinked. His eyes darted to Nico, but the raven-haired boy looked away from him. Still, his cheeks were a dark shade of red.

“Is that Cecil over there? I think I want to talk to him,” David suddenly said as he pointed at Cecil with his chin. “Lou Ellen? Come with me?”

Lou Ellen grinned as she nodded and made a 90-degree turn on her heels. “Yeah, come on, David. Let's leave these two idiots.”

And just like that, they left Will again, standing awkwardly less than two feet away from Nico.

“Uh… I didn’t expect to see you here,” Will said.

Nico turned his head at Will, an eyebrow slightly raised up. “Oh? I thought you were the one saying that I need to work on my social skill.”

Will gave Nico a small smile. “Yeah. So. Good to see you here, then. I mean, for your social skills and all.”

Nico stared at Will. And there was just something behind those dark eyes. Something that Will couldn’t put into words. Something that made him unable to look away.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance, Solace?”

The question got Will off-guard. Of all the questions in the world, it’s probably the most unexpected one.

“Huh?”

Nico held his eyes at Will’s for another second, but then he looked away. “Never mind,” he said, half-mumbling. His cheeks blushed again into dark cherry color.

“But… do you want to, though?”

Nico’s head turned back to Will. “Want to do what?”

“Dance? Do you…want to?”

Nico bit his lower lip and he looked down for a second. When he looked up back at Will, his charcoal eyes were soft.

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On who’s asking me to.”

Will’s heart started to jump around in his chest.

“What if it’s me asking you?”

The eyes that were staring back at him were now smiling.

“Then I guess, it depends on the song, then.”

Will’s heart was probably doing some crazy somersaults right now, but his lips curled up without him even thinking about it.

“Well, it’s my favorite song that they’re playing right now. I hope it suits you?” he asked, carefully offering his hand.

Nico’s smile was as soft as the look in his eyes. And the moment their fingertips touched, Will’s heart soared high and suddenly his chest was filled with warm, light air.

As Will led Nico to the floor, he thought about how long he has been wanting to do this, to hold Nico’s hand in his.

They swayed along with the music. Nico’s left hand felt perfect in his right hand. Will’s left hand rested on Nico’s hip and Will couldn’t care less about the other people dancing around them.

“Your dancing is better than your singing,” Nico said, a playful smile on his lips.

Will chuckled. “My grandma said a real Southern gentleman must know how to dance. And I remember my Mama dancing with me when I was a kid.”

“Your Mam raised you well, I have to say.”

Will hummed. “I’m a good mama’s boy, I can promise you that.”

“I can see that, Will. Everyone can see that.”

“See what?”

“That you’re a good guy.”

This time Will held his eyes at Nico. “I try to be,” he said. “But… Would I ever be good enough for you?”

Nico huffed. “And you said I was the dense one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Nico stopped, but his feet kept on moving. He sighed. “Gods, do I really have to spell it out to you?” He asked, sounding exasperated as he looked away from Will.

Hope bloomed inside of Will and he grinned and oh, how he wanted to shout and laugh. He took his hand off Nico’s hip so he could gently cup Nico’s cheek, guiding him to face him back.

“Do you mean you like me?” Will asked.

“Well, do you like me?”

Will chuckled and he could feel a stupid smile creeping in. “Why do you even have to ask?”

Nico shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. Because you’re nice to me but you’re also nice to everyone? Because you don’t seem to care even if I talk about someone else? Because you…” Nico stopped again and shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I just…don’t know?”

Will squeezed Nico’s hand just a bit tighter. “I was just… I was just afraid that I’m not good enough for you.”

Nico rolled his eyes. But his lips twitched, like he tried to hold back a smile.

“You’re a good guy, Will. You’re a good guy to everyone. But sometimes I hope that you can be my good guy.”

It’s like a thousand birds were singing inside of Will now as he felt like he was floating in this bubble of happiness.

“Then I’ll be yours, Death Boy.”

Will wrapped his arms around Nico, and pulled him into his embrace.

“I’ll be your good guy, then. I’ll be your everything.”

Nico pulled himself a little away from Will. He looked up at Will and the light in his eyes was like the most beautiful star in a dark night.

“Everything?”

“Everything. Anything you need.”

***

Additional Author's Notes: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :). Reblogs, replies or any other feedbacks are much appreciated. Also please don't forget to check out the zine!!!

#solangelo #solangelo one shot #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo fanfic #solangelo fic

130 notes · View notes

samstree · 3 years

Text

and the wolf was nowhere to be found (1/3)

In which Jaskier chooses to lie, until he can no longer tell the truth.

(lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, geralt apologizes, post mountain, miscommunication, rated teen, read on AO3)

A big thanks to @wanderlust-t and @a-kind-of-merry-war for the prompt! <3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4]

“You are gonna run after him again, just like that? Don’t you remember what he did to you? What you went through?”

Essi leans against the doorframe, her arms crossed in front of her chest, watching as Jaskier packs a second bag.

“Come one, poppet. Geralt was having a hard time back then, and now he’s come all the way to Oxenfurt to apologize.

“So what?”

“So I’m forgiving him.”

She grumbles a few rude words regarding the witcher’s lineage.

“Hey! That’s not nice.”

“And this is way too easy! Why can’t you see a disaster waiting to happen until it hits you in the face?” Essi exclaims. “Do you know what I would have done? I would make him grovel! Give him the cold shoulder. Or…or at least play it cool for a while longer so he knows not to take you for granted again! Sorry, but I’m…not like you.”

“Um…excuse you. I am plenty cool!”

“There’s nothing cool about being utterly in love and then getting cast aside over and over again, Jaskier. You know that.”

Jaskier sighs, walks to Essi and pulls her into a tight hug, all his scattered doublets ignored.

“I’m going to be okay,” he tries to tuck her curls away from her eyes but fails.

“Are you?” When she pulls back, there’s something inscrutable in those blue eyes, the curtain of blonde hair obscuring her emotions. “When you came down from the mountain, the way you couldn’t even … I don’t know. I just need to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“It—” Jaskier opens his mouth to make an easy promise, but finds the words choking in his throat. “I, um—”

Essi squeezes him on the shoulder. “He’s apologized, profusely from what you told me, and he’s being nice now. He will certainly be nice for a while, but what happens after he wins you back? What’s preventing him from hurting you again?”

Jaskier has no answers for her, so he resorts to giving her another hug.

“At least, think about my cold shoulder tactic. Sometimes people need the reminder, just so they know what they can easily lose.”

“Essi—”

“Think about it.”

She presses a small kiss on Jaskier’s cheek and leaves him to his packing. Outside the window comes the familiar sound of Roache’s hooves, clicking against the cobblestone.

Jaskier straightens his tunic and lets out a heave. He can see Geralt is being good now, friendly even, after all these years of denying their friendship. Now, the witcher is even waiting downstairs to begin their next journey.

Essi is just being overly protective, Jaskier decides.

He winds down the stairs and finds Geralt cooing at Roach. The urge to melt in those golden amber eyes is overwhelming.

“We good?” Geralt takes Jaskier’s bags and secures them on Roach, side by side with his saddlebags.

“Good,” Jaskier lies.

---

The truth is, Jaskier has heard of this so-called “cold shoulder” tactic. He’s even contemplated it for longer than he’s willing to admit. Every time Geralt dismissed him as a friend, brushed him off, Jaskier couldn’t help but want to retaliate with equal measure.

What if he’s the one to give Geralt a time-out? What if when Geralt tells him to fuck off, he just…leaves? The same idea churned in Jaskier’s stomach for two decades, but in the end, he knows the answer—he can never bring himself to go through it. His feet would carry him back to Geralt before even taking a step away.

He was left anyway.

But now…

Jaskier can’t afford to be left again. Essi was right. He isn’t sure if he can pick himself up again. He barely managed it the first time.

Jaskier lets out an audible scoff as he comes to the realization. He’s going to do it. The cold shoulder tactic. It’s so cheesy that it feels like something only school girls would use to get attention from a crush. Keep your distance, string him along a little. That’s how you get him to notice you exist—

“Something funny?” Geralt turns on horseback, sunlight peaking through his silver hair, a curious frown between his brows. He’s towering, beautiful. He has always been the most beautiful person Jaskier knows, even if he doesn’t know it.

Jaskier strums an absent chord on his lute. “Just something Essi said.”

“Hmm.” Geralt nudges Roach forward. “I was thinking… You’ve never seen a basilisk, have you?”

“No?”

“There are rumors about a nest in the next town. Want to see it?”

A hint of smile hints at Geralt’s lips, and Jaskier’s heart almost leaps out of his throat. A basilisk hunt is one he’s been dying to watch for years, if not decades. He’s drooling with excitement just thinking about the ballad that will certainly sweep the continent off its feet.

“Of course I want—" The sentence stops in its tracks. Jaskier bites his tongue to hide the slip. “You know what, I think I’ll stay in town. This new song needs some polishing before its debut. I’m sure a big witcher such as yourself doesn’t need a bard’s moral support for a meager basilisk, right?”

Jaskier adds a wink for good measure, but Geralt is not amused. He’s staring from his vantage point, his expression inexplicable. Is it really so shocking that Jaskier will turn Geralt down this once, after all this time?

“I understand.” Geralt pauses before continuing, almost too carefully. “Perhaps I can help? Sing it for me tonight?”

“Sing it…for you?” Jaskier asks, dumbfounded. The lute in his hands suddenly feels a lot weightier than it is.

“You wanted my review for so long, Jaskier. I’m giving it to you now. I’m sure your playing will be…nice.”

Geralt looks at him with hope in his eyes, and Jaskier can’t help but let his ego grow a little. It’s unbelievable that a simple refusal is what got Geralt to finally say anything positive about his music. The tiny triumph fills his chest with unexpected giddiness.

“Maybe I will. We shall see,” he replies. His fingers strike another chord.

Jaskier feels a spring in his steps, urging him forward to the mare’s steady gait. Golden amber eyes are burning a hole into his back, but he doesn’t dare to look back lest the tiny bubble of this perfect moment break.

---

Night falls, and Jaskier scribbles down another line. The door opens and Geralt drags his feet into their shared room.

Jaskier makes no effort to get up.

Once upon a time, he would have raced across the room to greet Geralt, checked for injuries and fussed over any scrapes and cuts, all the while getting dismissed with the witcher’s grumbled words. He’d help remove those heavy armors when Geralt’s muscles ache from exhaustion and get ichor all over himself.

He will not do that tonight.

Play it cool, Essi’s words echo in his memory. Right, he’s doing things differently now.

Jaskier fixes his gaze on the notebook in his lap and listens as Geralt shuffles around the room, putting everything back in place. One by one, his armor pieces drop in the corner of the room.

“How was it?” he asks with the most nonchalant tone as if he’s just noticed the other man’s existence.

“Fine. The basilisk’s dead.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier chooses the single hum uncharacteristically as Geralt puts his swords against the doorframe and sits down on the single chair.

He’s so still, hovering even.

“What?” Jaskier finally looks at him. Geralt, as he claimed, looks fine, with only a smudge of a black ichor sticking to his hair. A frown appears between his brows.

Adorable.

Jaskier shakes the thought quickly.

“Your new song?” Geralt prompts.

“Oh yeah. Never mind. I don’t feel like singing.”

It’s another lie. A necessary one, Jaskier tells himself.

“You,” Geralt says, raising an eyebrow, “don’t feel like singing?”

Jaskier clutches the notebook to his chest almost defensively, not sure what to do with the accusation. Is it a tragedy that Geralt knows him like the back of his hand? Or is it a shame that Jaskier is indeed buzzing with excitement to test out this song, with the most important person in his life?

“Well, I don’t.”

Jaskier keeps his chin up and scrambles off the bed to put away his books and pens. Geralt’s intent gaze is on his back again.

“Twenty years, and I’ve never known you to turn down an opportunity to sing.”

“I guess you don’t know me that well,” Jaskier bites back with a force that seems to come out of nowhere. “The bard may not want to entertain all the time, darling.”

The endearment sounds false, more like a jab. He lets out a dry chuckle and hopes to ease the tension but to no avail. Geralt’s eyes are wide with surprise. So Jaskier reaches for his bedroll as a distraction, but only serves to make the confusion deepen on Geralt’s face.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier lays it by the fire, on the soft rug that magically seems clean enough. It should be self-explanatory, but apparently not because Geralt is still staring quizzically.

“Sleeping.”

Geralt looks at the double bed and then back at Jaskier. “On the floor?”

“Thought I’d give you the space. I know how keyed up you are after the potions.”

Jaskier can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the nervous energy buzzing as more words he doesn’t mean comes out of his mouth. He crosses his legs on the bedroll and pulls the blanket onto his lap to hide from Geralt’s scrutiny. But then, something dawns on Geralt’s face.

“Jaskier…” Geralt rubs his forehead, his face pinched. “What I said in Oxenfurt, I meant it.”

“You do?”

“You can count on me now. It won’t be like…before.”

Their gazes meet, and Jaskier bears the intensity of it with everything he has. He feels bare, seen through by the amber gold he’s missed and cursed and loved so much.

“I’m here, and I’m all here, Jaskier. Please believe in me.”

“I do.”

It’s not the truth despite how much he wants to believe it. Jaskier wonders if lying to Geralt ever becomes easier.

He doesn’t know what is not convincing him. Geralt looks so genuine, and Jaskier wants more than anything to trust him again, but the smile on his face feels too stiff.

The plan is going as Jaskier wanted. He’s showing Geralt that his friendship doesn’t come freely anymore, and the witcher needs to make more effort, meet him halfway, somehow. Then how come as the quiet night creeps in, Jaskier only finds a hollow space in his chest?

The roaring fire in the hearth warms his back, but Jaskier clutches his blanket tighter. It can’t stave off the coldness left by the lack of a witcher’s body by his side.

---

Jaskier continues with the same scheme the next day.

Ignoring Geralt is not a difficult task in the beginning. The barmaid is a beautiful thing, doe-eyed and curious, has too many questions for her own good. She keeps asking about Jaskier’s ballads, and wouldn’t quite believe any crazy stories in them.

“Is it true that the White Wolf fought a sea serpent on the Skellige Isles? Surely, those creatures only exist in legends!”

She’s getting familiar, pressed up against Jaskier on the bench, almost pushing him back into Geralt’s side—the real subject of the topic, but it’s obvious her fascination lies only in Jaskier. Her brown eyes stay on the bard alone.

“Why don’t we find somewhere more private and I’ll tell you all about it?”

“Is it a good one? It must be a heroic tale, isn’t it?”

“Heroic, of course. There’s also a twist. I won’t spoil it for you, but—” Jaskier winks, his fingers brushing past her wrist. “—it’s a love story that holds more heartbreak than you can bear.”

Her giggles are like soft wind chimes, and Jaskier guides her away from their table. He takes two steps and turns back, smacking himself on the head as if he’s only just thought of it.

“Oh, shoot! I know I promised to go the market with you, Geralt, but you see…” He gestures to the girl waiting expectantly in the near distance. There’s nothing I can do about it, he says with a shrug. “Have a good time, will you?”

Geralt is holding his tankard, his knuckles white and his face ice-cold. It’s like Jaskier is looking at one of those ice sculptures made by Oxenfurt’s art students every winter.

“You said you’d come.”

Geralt’s voice is so gentle, so full of dejection that Jaskier’s resolve almost breaks. He clears his throat and darts his eyes elsewhere. Those acting coaches back in school would have been disappointed in him for letting his emotions peak through, but Geralt doesn’t seem to notice what’s underneath this front.

“Surely you can find a new bridle for Roach by yourself,” Jaskier waves his hand in dismissal. “You are a big witcher.”

Geralt opens his mouth and closes it, before speaking again. “And the pastry shop you wanted to visit?”

Jaskier thinks of the lemon cakes he’s been itching to try and swallows the yearning in his throat. Gods, being with Geralt all day with not a care in the world, and with the best sweets on the continent. What is he doing turning all this down?

“Well,” he insists, “Better company comes before cake, my dear.”

With that, Geralt lets go of the topic. His amber eyes drop back to the half-finished ale. “Better company. I see…”

“Surely you understand, Geralt.”

“Just—” Geralt purses his lips in an attempt at a smile. “Don’t exaggerate too much.”

Jaskier should feel bad as he walks out the tavern door with a beauty on his arm, he should, but instead, a pang of anger rises in his throat. How many times did Geralt abandon him at the sight of Yennefer in the past few years? How long did he brood on top of that mountain, recounting every bad choice he’d made in his life and decided that it was all Jaskier’s doing?

For once, Jaskier doesn’t want to put Geralt first in everything, waiting for a bone thrown in his direction, and the witcher—this infuriating man—is going to act like a kicked puppy.

Horrified at this burning rage, Jaskier turns only to watch helplessly as Geralt walks down the street in the opposite direction. He’s planted to the spot, unable to chase Geralt down, and clueless as to whether this plan is doing him any favors other than the fleeting satisfaction of getting back at his friend who was at fault.

Was.

Geralt was at fault. Jaskier has forgiven him, or at least, that’s what he said at first sight of his witcher’s travel-weary face back in Oxenfurt.

And yet, he’s punishing him still.

The barmaid is still waiting for Jaskier’s stories, her cheeks still round with a timid blush and her eyes gleaming with expectations.

The colorful adventures taste stale on his tongue and she loses interest too quickly before returning to her post. His mood sours further as the day stretches on.

Jaskier ends up wandering around town without an aim in mind. The only place he’s carefully avoiding is the market, and the stable, and the smith’s shop. Anywhere he might bump into Geralt. When night draws in, a sudden downpour catches him off guard and drenches him from inside out.

Great. Just the perfect ending to the worst—well, the second worst day of Jaskier’s life.

Candles are still lit as Jaskier enters the room. He finds Geralt fast asleep already, and on the table, right next to his writing supplies, is a lemon cake.

It’s drizzled in honey and looks just as enticing as he imagined.

Jaskier picks it up and finds a lump forming in his throat, choking him with guilt. He wants to scream, to let out the frustration at all the mistakes made in the past and haunting him still. He wants to cry. It’s just…

Now, he doesn’t know if he still deserves to.

---

Okay, I know I'm being mean to Geralt here, but don't worry, I’ gonna be mean to Jaskier in the next one ;)

Also, whatever Jaskier is doing here is very unhealthy. Don't try this at home.

Tagging: @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #jaskier being an idiot #geralt apologizes #mutual pining #miscommunication #cursed jaskier #jaskier whump #reverse trope #lying spell

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george-fabian-weasley · 3 years

Text

if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3

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The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?”

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-”

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part.

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred.

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything.

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line.

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself.

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

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lisinfleur · 3 years

Text

Shelter

The request:

Author’s Notes | I took the chance for Day Felice’s new album and wrote it while listening to their song Shelter, if you guys want to listen to it while reading as well. I hope you guys enjoy it! (And the song too haha). Universe | Vikings Pairing | Ivar x Reader Info | Viking Age AU, requested by anon. Words | 1878 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions to child abuse and abandonment. Wounds, blood, and some angst.

His chariot noise was always something that would help his mind to ease after any kind of arguing. And with his wife, it wasn't different. This morning he’d left after a huge discussion with her.

Why was Y/N so worried about a slave child?

Ivar insisted several times she should just forget the thing and let it go. It wasn't their responsibility! And more: by taking leftovers and water for that child every night, she was only making the little thing's suffering longer!

"It would be dead already if it wasn't for you, feeding it every night!" he remembered trying to insist.

But Y/N's was stone-headed! Every single night, there was his queen, dressing her cloak and leaving his castle - once a former church - to visit the thing that now wasn't moving places, of course.

Someone was feeding it, helping it, all the time! Why would it be stupid and leave it behind?

Ivar was getting used to passing by that child every day as if the girl was some kind of door or local decoration. But not for his wife. Not his Y/N and her heart blessed by Frigg.

She was a natural mother. He knew that! It was one of the reasons he chose her the love Y/N would show for any child she could have around.

But when she came with that stupid idea, it went too far for him.

"I'm going to take her home."

A thing.

A useless thing that wouldn't serve not even as a slave, so thin it was.

They've discussed it for hours. Ivar screamed at Y/N she was insane, perhaps touched by some local spirit. Y/N yelled he was an insensitive motherfucker who could fuck himself out of her room if he thought she would let a child starve to death on her door.

As always, their love was intense but also was their anger. And whenever they would yell at each other, one of them would end up hurt.

This time, it was her.

"I don't fucking care about what you think! It's cattle, Y/N! Cattle die! And that's it! I won't spend my supplies with a thing that can barely give anything back to us!"

Or maybe not.

Perhaps... It was him.

"Fine then. Let us guide her to the woods and leave her to the wolves, Ivar. Isn't it what we do with useless things? Oh, wait... Wasn't it what your father did to you?"

Their words would always hurt each other deeper than they wanted to hurt. Their hearts would regret the words said at the moment they’d left their mouths.

But this time, her words forced his eyes to look out of his chariot. And Ivar stopped it by the street near where that thing was sitting, observing. Trying to understand why his wife was trying so hard to save that starving child.

Why was she comparing them as if there was anything in common between him and a Saxon abandoned child?

It was early in the morning. He watched as the little girl unwrapped the leftovers his wife had given to her the last night. At first, Ivar thought the little hungry thing would, of course, eat everything without care. But he watched with surprise as she fractioned the little portion, eating a quarter of it and saving the rest for later.

It was an intelligent move... She wasn’t a wild animal, after all.

That would be a cold day. Ivar observed as the little one looked up to the sky. The sun was born behind some heavy clouds - probably some rain would be coming at night.

He watched as the little thing looked around, smartly stealing a barrel from the trash of a nearby store, checking on its wooden pieces to place it properly as a shelter. She was young and thin enough to fit into it. It would serve for the night and maybe keep her warm.

The owner of the store, so as some people who were passing by, pushed her here or there, complaining about her attempts to move between them. And Ivar watched as the little girl looked up from the ground to the bigger people around her, fearlessly.

She wasn't such a defenseless little thing as he thought she was.

In fact, she was pretty smarter than he thought a Saxon child could be, hiding her barrel between the mead barrels of the same store, covering its problems with some mud, so the owner wouldn't see it wasn't one of his barrels.

She wouldn't have her shelter for the night thrown away or broken before she could use it.

Ivar lost track of the time he spent there, watching the girl moving here and there, gathering stones and mud to imitate the shop owner's way of stocking his barrels and preserving hers.

But the important matters of the town had to be more important than his arguing with his wife, and with this, Ivar moved away from that place.

His mind wondered if that was the reason why his wife was so sure he and that child had something in common.

The little girl was a fighter like he was someday, indeed. She was fighting her way to keep herself alive and, perhaps, his precious Y/N was right, and death wasn't exactly the fate that child had in this world.

Ivar tried to get himself occupied during the day. But the truth was that his mind never stopped lingering over Y/N's words, passing over and over the things he had seen that morning.

When the night was threatening to come, the sky broke in water as he thought it would. But curiosity dragged him away from the path to his home.

Ivar wanted to see if the little girl's plan had gone right and what was his surprise when he found the little one sitting away from the store under the heavy rain, with nothing but a rag to cover herself and wounds everywhere.

The barrel she'd tried so hard to protect was shattered near the store's trash, and a fence was placed by the owner around his barrels with some spikes near the place she was sitting before. It was preventing her from having coverage under his roof, even from the outside.

That angered Ivar a little. He'd seen her hard work! And, in the end, her plan had failed. She was clearly beaten and wet from her head to her toes anyway.

However, his eyes caught something he wasn't expecting.

After eating the last piece of what his wife had given to her, the little girl extended the leather over a hole he watched her carve with her bare hands on the ground. Treated, the leather started to catch water and fill itself, becoming a bag into the hole. The little girl caught the bag before it could lose its content, tied the leather with a strand of her ragged trousers, and created a canteen from where she started drinking the rainwater, relieving her thirst.

She was beaten down, defeated. Yet, she didn't give up. She didn't lay her pride down. And found herself a way to turn that rain into a chance for her to survive one more day.

There was determination in her eyes.

That little thing wasn't being sustained by his wife's crumbs. No. She was fighting to the limit of her strength to survive.

Like he'd done someday...

Ivar's eyes filled with surprise when he could see himself in that little girl's wounds, dragging himself through the mud when everyone thought he would never move.

Standing, when everyone was expecting his legs to break and let him fall.

She was a fighter. And, maybe, Y/N was right. Perhaps it wasn't about a Saxon child or a useless slave. Perhaps the gods were showing him they've chosen that little thing, to give her a chance, to reward her for the fight she was putting on for her life.

"Get in," Ivar's voice sounded.

The little thin thing lifted her eyes to see the mighty Viking looking at her from the chariot everyone from her people was taught to fear. Her wounded little body could barely reach the top of its wheels when she got up to look at Ivar.

Her eyes into his, instigating even more the curiosity he was starting to have about that little Saxon thing.

How fierce would she be if raised under his roof?

But the little thing didn't get up on his chariot at once. Instead, she lowered herself, gathering more stones with her muddy and wounded hands.

"I said get in! Don't you see you'll end up dying under this rain?" Ivar complained, annoyed he was standing under such heavy and cold waters for a thing that dared to turn her back on him, carving the floor and placing the stones in a way the rain wouldn't destroy her little monument. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I must do it, sir," she mumbled.

Ivar could recognize a small stone monument in that little girl's construction. His people were used to rising those little towers to pray for the gods or place small sacrifices and offers.

Was Y/N teaching her about the gods?

"Why?" he asked as she tried to climb up on his chariot, struggling a little with the height and her wounded knees.

"It is for the lady who comes here every day," she mumbled. "I promised if I ever was to leave, I would leave one of these for her, so she would know I'm not dead."

For his wife.

She was leaving a stone monument for Y/N, so she wouldn't be worried...

"I don't know where you're taking me, king Ivar," she said, showing she knew who he was. "But I don't want her to be sad."

Ivar's heart ached. There was indeed something in common between him and that child. But not only the fact that both of them were survivors.

She didn't want his wife to be hurt.

And so didn't he.

"Cover yourself," he said, throwing his warm cloak around her.

It covered her like a blanket in which she rolled herself, nestling with a grateful smile.

"She was right," the little girl mumbled as Ivar started to ride his horses.

"What?" he asked, and she repeated, smiling at him.

"The lady was right." She said. "The gods were watching me. Maybe I passed their test."

Y/N was definitely teaching that girl. And Ivar sighed, looking at the road.

Perhaps it was a test for himself as well. Or Skuld just had decided to use him as a feather to write that little girl's fate differently.

"Skuld," he said, catching her eyes. "We shall name you Skuld. To honor the god that wrote your fate like this."

"Skuld," she tried.

Pronouncing it perfectly.

"Sounds strong... I like it!"

What a petulant little thing, Ivar thought. As if she had any choice on how things would be from now on. A giggle filled Ivar's mouth.

Y/N was right and he would remember apologising after coming home that night.

The little girl wasn’t a useless thing. And he had to admit.

She was like him, after all.

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#history vikings #imagine vikings #ivar #ivar the boneless #ivar imagine #ivar x reader #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #ivar's heathen army #sister wives #htgi #shot

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lilacyennefer · 3 years

Text

Cardigan

A/N: Ever since I heard the song ‘Cardigan’ by Taylor Swift I knew that I’m going to write a fic based on the song, so here it is now! I was working on this piece the whole weekend because I wanted it to be really good, I honestly don’t know if I succeeded because I’m truly insecure about this one. Feedback is always appreciated ♥️ (I do NOT own the song or the lyrics, all credit goes to the original authors)

WARNING: none, maybe just a mention of a sick mother

For Angel, you’re always going to be that one thing in life that he will regret forever.

You were high school lovers, but even after graduating, you stayed together.

Your parents knew each other, your mother had a flower shop in front of Felipe’s butcher shop, on the other side of the road, and your mother was best friends with Marisol, meaning you spent your whole childhood with the Reyes brothers.

You were in the same age as Angel, and from the very first moment you met as children, the two of you clicked.

The two of you went into the same classes, always sat next to each other, talked about everything, until one day something shifted between you two, and you started falling in love with each other.

After high school, neither of you went to college, you helped your mother out with her flower shop, she needed some help, and Angel was prospecting to the local MC.

You stayed together, until you didn’t.

Remembering back to the days when the two of you were so young, and so in love, when you were dancing under the streetlights in the middle of the night on the empty streets of Santo Padre, or when you parked your car somewhere to make out without getting disturbed.

Thinking back to these memories, you still feel how Angel’s hands were sneaking their way up under your sweatshirt.

But almost 10 years passed since that one night happened that changed everything.

You wanted to surprise Angel at the clubhouse, you knew there will be a party tonight, he mentioned it to you, but you weren’t sure about joining him, so you said maybe, you’ll show up.

Angel took this as a no, he knew you didn’t like parties that much, you always went just because of him.

Bishop gave prospect Angel some free time, and many beers later Angel found a woman in his lap who wasn’t you.

Was he too drunk to refuse the flirting of the beautiful woman sitting on his lap, or was he young and foolish? Thinking back, Angel still doesn’t know the answer to that.

But that night lives in both of your memories painfully vividly, when you stepped into the clubhouse looking for Angel, only to find him making out with another woman.

Angel didn’t see you at first, he only saw you when you threw a drink on both of them, making them gasp, Angel angrily looked for the person who soaked both of them in the alcoholic drink, only to find you standing in front of him, angry as ever.

“It’s over!” Is all you say as you storm outside of the clubhouse, Angel trying to catch up with you, but you were already in your car, driving away.

That was the last moment he saw you, since that night you left the town, and you only came back to visit your mother in secret.

Angel Reyes regrets a lots of things in his life, but his ultimate regret is letting you go, and fucking up his relationship with you.

He was convinced that your love was that king of love that happens only once in 20 lifetimes. He once talked about this with Coco, and his answer to Angel was that he was young, and he knew nothing.

But, he knew that every kiss of yours lingered like a tattoo kiss, reminding him of the matching tattoo you got with him after both of you turned 18.

Back then, it seemed like a good idea, you were so convinced that you’ll stay together forever, nothing ever will break the two of you apart, so one night you presented your idea to Angel, who was more than down to it.

Deciding what you wanted was a lot more difficult, it caused not one argument until you found the idea that you both liked.

Both of you wrote down each other’s initials, so you got an “A” tattooed on you with Angel’s handwriting, and Angel got the first letter of your first name with your handwriting.

It was small, but meaningful.

The past 10 years Angel couldn’t stop thinking about the what-ifs, his questions haunted him.

What if that night you came earlier, before he fucked it all up?

What if it was just the matter of time, until he fucked it up?

What if it never happened and the two of you were still together?

What if you were already married, and have children?

The thought of seeing you walking down the aisle in a white dress made Angel’s heart clench, knowing it will never happen.

At first, he tried to find you, he went to your mother’s flower shop every day to ask about you, but your mother sent Angel away every time, although her heart broke for both of you.

Your mother adored Angel, and Angel adored your mother. She was always supportive of your relationship with the biker, she always said that Angel looks at you like you created the whole universe, with such love and adoration that she never saw before.

But you were her daughter, so she protected you.

10 years.

So many things happened in 10 years.

You cursed Angel for a very long time after you left, completely heartbroken.

You didn’t understand how he could do this to you, when everything was perfect.

But maybe that was the problem, because in this world, perfection is rare, and when you find it, it won’t stay with you for long.

Especially not in the world where Angel lives in.

Now as you were driving back to Santo Padre, thinking about that you have to move back because your mother got sick and she can’t take care of the shop anymore, made your stomach drop unpleasantly.

You knew that it was just the matter of time until Angel will know that you’re back in town, either he will see you, or someone else will, and they’ll tell him.

With every inch of your body, you wanted to push your feelings away that you still feel for Angel.

He not only left a mark on your body with the tattoo, but also on your heart and soul. He was your first love, your only love for that matter, your best friend, and even dare to say that, your soulmate.

After arriving back to Santo Padre, you moved in with your mother, so you could help her with the housework, and the next day, you started your day in the shop, more nervous than you ever were.

With a dry throat, and a knot in your stomach, you parked your car in front of your mother’s shop.

You took a few deep, calming breaths, and looked around the street, it was early morning, so it wasn’t that busy yet.

Getting out of the car, your eyes unconsciously shifted to the butcher shop in front of you, making your heart drop when you saw an old man reading his morning news paper in front of the shop.

It’s like he could sense it, Felipe turned his head towards your direction, his eyes finding you.

You cursed when you saw Felipe looking at you, but you ignored him as you opened the shop, preparing yourself for a scold from your mother, since she still were friends with the oldest Reyes man.

It was now just the matter of time until Angel hears that you’re in town. You try to mentally prepare yourself for the conversation, you don’t know anything about him other than him now being a full patched member of the MC.

The first few hours in the shop were relaxed, some of your mom’s friends came in to ask how she was doing, but other than that it was all quiet.

Your back was turned against the door as you were placing some decorations on the wall when you heard the bell ring, signaling you that someone entered the shop.

“Just a second!” You say without turning back as you do some finishing touches on the decoration.

“Do you still like iced coffee?” You hear a deep voice that you know so much ask, making you turn in horror.

After Felipe saw you, he immediately called Angel, letting him that you’re in town.

Felipe always loved you, he thought you were a good influence on Angel, and the two of you made a perfect pair.

When Angel got the phone call, his heart dropped, and he knew he had to do something. The hopeless romantic in Angel, a part of him only you saw and he buried deep down after you left, hoped that you would get back together with him, but realistically Angel just wanted to see you, and apologize to you.

He had no excuses, but he knew that you deserved an apology at least.

So Angel got himself together, he took a shower, he put on his nicest shirt, and his special cologne that he only used rarely.

When you were younger, and you had an argument with Angel, the next day he always brought you your favourite iced coffee as a peace offering.

Angel hoped you still liked iced coffee as he was picking it up from your favourite place in town, then heading towards the flower shop.

You knew this moment would come, when you meet with Angel again after all those years, but you could never prepare for this moment.

Angel looked amazing, he aged like fine wine, he definitely looked a lot more mature than when you left him, but you still could feel his playful charm that you loved so much, what now was invisible under his nervousness.

“I do.” You nod, your voice is small.

Angel hesitantly steps closer to you, placing the cup of coffee down on the counter in front of you.

He was more nervous than he thought he would be, as he was looking at you, he suddenly forgot everything that he wanted to say.

“Y/N, look.” Angel sighs, he nervously shifts his weight on his legs “I don’t have any excuse about what happened. I know it’s late, but I want you to know that I’m really sorry what happened. I regret it every day of my life.”

You listen to his words, tearing up the old wounds, making your heart ache once again.

You’re silent for a while, not knowing what to say as you look at the man who used to mean the world to you.

“Here’s my phone number and address.” Angel says as he places a small paper next to your coffee “In case you want to talk.” And with that, he left the shop.

This is definitely not how Angel planned to see you again. During getting ready, and picking up the coffee for you, he prepared a full speech to you, telling everything he wanted in a few minutes. But when he saw you he froze, being more nervous than he ever was.

Once again, Angel cursed himself as he drove away from your shop, leaving you alone with your coffee.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything to Angel since he stormed out of the shop, leaving you speechless. You silently picked up the iced coffee, its smell bringing a smile to your lips from the old memories, when you were happy with Angel.

While sipping the coffee, you constantly stared at the piece of paper that was still on the counter where Angel left it. Finally picking the paper up it felt really heavy in your hand, the emotional weight of it sitting heavily on your soul.

Angel made his first move, and now it’s clearly your turn to decide what to do. So many happened during 10 years, so many changed, and so many stayed the same.

You were still hurt by what he did, but you weren't angry anymore, but you always avoided Angel because you were afraid of your feelings, afraid that you’ll get hurt again just by seeing him, and you didn’t want to put yourself through that. But you undeniably still had feelings for Angel, something that you could never get rid of, your mother always said that you were soulmates, and that’s why you could never truly get over him.

Making the decision that at least you should get the chance to talk to him, after closing the shop you picked up some food from a local restaurant, and headed towards the address that he gave you.

Parking your car in front of his house, you saw his bike parked there, signaling you that he’s at home, hopefully alone.

You nervously knock on his door, holding your breath as you wait for him to open the door, seconds later the door opens, finding yourself face to face with a very surprised Angel.

“Are you hungry?” You hold up the bag full of food “I figured we should talk.”

Angel nods, opening the door wilder, letting you step into his house.

“I brought our old favourites, I hope that’s okay.” You say nervously.

You look up at Angel, you can see the earlier nervousness on his face.

You take a deep breath and say “I think it's easier if we talk first.”

“I’m sorry—“ Angel starts, shaking his head.

“What happened that night?” You cut him off, not caring about the excuses.

Angel sighs as he drops his shoulders “I honestly don’t know. I had too many drinks and I fucked it up. I could blame it on the drinks, but I won’t. I don’t want to bullshit you. I fucked it up, and I regret it every fucking minute of my life.”

You silently watch him. You always knew when Angel lied, you don’t know how, but you could always feel when he’s not telling the truth. But right now, you can tell that he’s saying the truth, and he’s actually sorry for what happened.

“I believe you.”

Your words made Angel let out a loud sigh, making him feel like years and years of pain was lifted off his shoulders.

“Y/N.” Angel whispers your name “I need to know. I need to know if there’s still a chance.”

Angel couldn’t wait with his question, he knew it was risky, but the uncertainty was slowly killing him, and he already wasted a decade, he didn’t want to wait any longer.

“I’m honestly not sure, Angel.” You shake your head “Let’s just eat, talk, and see what happens, okay?” Angel nods “It’s more than I could hope for.”

And when I felt like I was an old cardigan, under someone's bed, You put me on and said I was your favorite.

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#clayton cardenas #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader

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cacoetheswriting · 4 years

Text

champagne problems, ch.10

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Ten: Feels Like We Only Go Backwards: A choice is made. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, serious serious angst, disclaimer [& spoiler warning], this chapter is not a happy one. this whole series is a real slow burn.

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A/N: as always, thank you for all the love you’re giving this story. we have about six chapters left to the end and words cannot describe how grateful i am to you for sticking with me and my rambling writing. ENJOY !

A significant weight was lifted off Spencer’s shoulders the second he told you how he truly felt about you. Actually, it was more the second you said you loved him back.

Even though the two of you distanced yourselves from one another, giving you the space to really think about your future and who you wanted to spend it with, the week that followed the admissions was considerably good.

Yes, the brunette doctor continued to feel uneasy about the situation he put you in. Uneasy about the choice you eventually would have to make. However, as days went by he noticed it didn't seem to bother you. No. You were oddly chirpy and cheerful. Spencer couldn't help but feel like it was because of him.

Like your choice was already made, and that choice was him.

“Do you have plans tonight?” You asked in a hushed tone, slyly glancing around the bullpen to ensure no-one else was paying attention to you and the doctor.

Spencer shook his head. “Not entirely, no.”

Your lips curled into a smile at his response. “So you wouldn’t mind if I came over?” You asked, gently tapping your fingers in a walking motion against his desk. They stopped next to his hand - you could feel it was there, yet you didn't move your fingers further in fear of someone seeing. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Spencer mouth twitched into a pleasant smirk. He should have been nervous, what if you were going to break the news you were choosing Ethan? He should have been anxious, the thought of losing you all over again, he couldn't imagine how awful that would feel. Yet he didn't feel any of those things.

Judging by your relaxed body language. Your hand just aching to touch his. The way your eyes glistened looking at him. Your elated tone as you spoke. It didn't take a genius, a profiler, or even someone that knew you as well as him, to say these were all indicators whatever you wanted to talk to him about was happy.

“Of course.” He cleared his throat. “What time do you think-”

“I’ll let you know, okay? I know you like to switch off for the weekend so keep your phone on you for me.” You traced a finger against his knuckle and with one last smile, ambled elegantly towards the exit.

Yes - Spencer deducted - whatever you wanted to tell him was going to be good news.

A knock on the door grabbed Spencer’s attention. He quickly examined the place one last time, to ensure everything was clean and, well, perfect for you.

Satisfied, he eagerly crossed his living room and without thinking twice, expecting to see you on the other side of the door, he opened it.

“Hey Spencer.”

But it wasn’t you. It was the last person he ever expected to see.

“E-Ethan, what ehm, what are you doing here?” Spencer asked.

Ethan smirked at the question, slowly sliding his hands into the pockets of his coat. “We need to talk, don’t you think?”

Spencer swallowed, but before he got a chance to reply the surgeon continued. “Actually, I’ll talk and you can listen. Also don’t bother inviting me inside because I’ll keep this brief and to the point.”

Your fiancé cleared his throat. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my wife-to-be still has feelings for her ex boyfriend. Did you know she is actually on her way here to tell you she’s choosing you? Yeah... Now, she doesn't know that I know. Her plan is to inform me tomorrow, after my shift at the hospital, that the wedding is no longer happening and our relationship is over.” He paused, almost as if he was daring Spencer to interrupt him at any moment and defend your honour.

Which in hindsight is something Spencer should have done.

“So here’s how this is going to do, doctor.” He slurred. “When she comes here, you're going to turn her down. You've broken her heart once before, I’m pretty sure you know how to do it again.”

Spencer stepped forward and opened his mouth to protest, but the surgeon impolitely cut him off. “Look, you’re a smart guy. Some sort of genius, right? I think deep down you know Y/N is better off with me. I can provide for her in ways you can't even comprehend. I am going to give her a life you can only dream of Spencer.”

“I think you’re forgetting it’s not all about the money.” Spencer stated coldly. His eyes narrowing. Jaw clenching.

Ethan chuckled callously. “Of course not. But I think you need to consider how much disposable income can improve life. I have the ability to ensure we buy our dream home. I have the ability to invest in a second home for her father, and move him somewhere closer to us. With me, Y/N will be able to quit her job and no longer risk her life on a daily basis. She will be able to spend time with our future kids, in a beautiful home, completely care free.”

He let out a deep sigh. “Did she even tell you she’s been thinking about transferring out of the BAU? She doesn't want to be a profiler anymore. Fuck man, she doesn't even know if she wants to be a SSA anymore. The only reason she’s sticking around is you.”

The statement caught Spencer completely off guard. Ethan had to be bluffing, right? He would say anything to ensure you stayed with him, right?

“You’re lying.” Spencer grumbled through his teeth.

Ethan smirked in response. “I’m really not though. Ask anyone. Her dad, it was actually he who suggested it in the first place. Or your friend Penelope, she seems to think it’s a good idea.”

Spencer’s world was crumbling down around him and he was helpless to stop it. Why didn't you tell him this was on your mind? Why did you keep this a secret? And how did he not see any inclination of this before?

“Like I said, you’re a smart guy Spencer.” Ethan stated. “I think you know what the right thing to do is.” And with that, he walked away leaving the brunette agent alone with his thoughts.

Slowly, Spencer closed the door. He turned on his heel and leaned against it while letting out a long winded breath, one he didn't even realise he was holding.

He never wanted to stand in the way of your plans. He didn't want to be the one holding you back from anything. Was his ever growing love for you clouding his judgement?

He closed his eyes, resting against the door behind him. The guilt he was now feeling riddled him from head to toe. And mixed with the guilt was a faint feeling of anger. Anger directed at the man that dared to get between your relationship with the brunette agent.

Ethan, a name of Hebrew origin that means firm, enduring and strong. A good name for good people.

Spencer knew off many Ethan’s in his lifetime. His college friend, an old colleagues son - all people that definitely lived up to the meaning. Yet your fiancé was anything but.

This Ethan was arrogant, rude, possessive. In Spencer’s mind, this Ethan was quite literally the physical embodiment of the curse word dick.

He never truly understood what you saw in the guy. He always thought you could do a lot better. Even if it wasn’t Spencer himself, there are men out there a lot kinder than Ethan.

And yet, despite all of the resentment he felt towards the man, Spencer couldn't help but feel like there was some truth to what he had said. The hazel-eyed man started doubting himself. Doubting whether he really had your best intention at heart, or whether his own selfishness was preventing him from making sure you’re living your best life.

This was supposed to be a happy day. A happy evening.

It certainly started out that way. You were on your way here to tell him you were choosing him. You were choosing to spend the rest of your life with him.

Spencer felt sick to his stomach. Dizzy. He was sure if he opened his eyes even just for a second he would collapse. He also knew the only rational thing, the right thing to do will only make him feel worse.

The brunette agent wasn’t entirely sure how long he stood frozen like that. His breathing shallow. Heart sinking, heavy.

A knock on the door behind his back caused him to slowly open his eyes, yet he didn't move an inch. He simply couldn't. He couldn't bare to face you. He couldn't bare to look you in the eye and break your heart for a second time.

Instead, he chose the childish way out. He hoped if he was still enough, quiet enough, you would think he wasn’t home and leave. It is a conversation that cannot be avoided, but it would be a conversation for another day.

You knocked again, using a little more strength this time.

Spencer held his breath. Tears began to form in his eyes. Salty droplets that if he let escape, he knew they wouldn't stop falling.

He heard faint shuffling outside and for a split second he thought you gave up and walked away. For a split second he thought he bought himself more time. More time with the fantasy that the two of you would get your happy ending together. Foolish, he thought.

It was in that moment the mobile device in the back pocket off his pants started to buzz, vibrating against the door. The phone you asked he kept close to him earlier that day. The sound of the ringtone followed soon after completely giving away Spencer’s current location.

“Spencer?” The sweet sound of your voice coming through the wooden barrier between you caused the tears he was fighting to slowly trail down his face. The device stopped ringing. “I know you’re in there. Can you let me in?” You said, so blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.

Spencer turned around and pressed his forehead against the painted wood. His hand travelled to the door knob, yet he still didn't move any further. “I-I... I c-can’t...” He managed to blurt out.

“What do you mean you can’t?” He heard you ask, the hint of confusion in your tone aching his heart further. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

The brunette doctor licked his lips and swallowed, tasting the saltiness of his own tears. “Y-you should go Y/N.” He uttered.

“Go? Spencer, you’re not making any sense.” You responded, the door knob rattling under Spencer’s fingers. “Please let me in. I’m not going to say what I want to say through a door.”

“Don’t s-say it at all. You should be with E-Ethan. Your future will be brighter with him.”

Silence. Unbearably heartbreaking silence.

At first you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. There was no way he just said that, right? A week after he told you he loved you. A week after he said he'll always wait for you. A week after he proposed. There was no way he changed his mind.

And then you thought of his time in prison. More specifically the day you went to visit him for the last time. The day you wanted to propose. The day he broke your heart.

He used those exact words - “Your future will be brighter without me.”

Slowly, you placed the palm of your hand on the door between you and took in a deep breath. Your eyes glossed over as the confusion rushing through you evolved into sadness.

Spencer could pinpoint the exact moment the air changed around him. It was suddenly tense. Broken. He felt like a coward. Even if he had your best interest at heart, he should still be able to face you and explain his side in person. Tell you that Ethan came by. Tell you everything that was said. Ask about your plans to leave the BAU. Ask whether he really was the only reason you haven't resigned yet. But he couldn't formulate the words. He simply gave up. A coward.

“Spencer, I-I don’t understand...” You sobbed. “I-I thought-t you loved me.”

“I love you more than anything in this world Y/N.” He quickly replied, the palm of his hand now pressed against the wood. Unbeknown to him, against the exact same spot on the opposite side of the barrier was your hand. So close yet so far.

“Then let me in. Please. I-I came here to say I choose you. I want to be with you Spencer. Please... Please let me in.” You cried through the door. Spencer could hear the pain behind your words, the sorrow. It really took all the strength he had not to let you in.

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Your hands trembling uncontrollably against the barrier between you and the man of your dreams.

His sudden change of heart left you completely speechless. His words like tiny daggers stabbing directly into your bleeding heart. How did this happen? What changed between now and this morning? What changed between now and last week? You had so many questions. Ones that you feared would remain unanswered.

Additionally, your gut was telling you there was more to this than he was letting on. That it wasn’t as simple as ‘Ethan is the better man for you’ because you knew Spencer didn't believe that. But you couldn't find the strength within to argue with him.

“If-f that’s w-what you want Spencer, I’ll leave-e.”

It was the last thing he heard before the sound of your footsteps ushering away.

After a minute, the hazel-eyed agent moved to the couch and sunk into the material. Every fibre of his being was currently aching. He hoped he did the right thing, although the voice at the back of his mind said no. What else was he supposed to do? He knew Ethan wouldn't just give up. Was Spencer prepared to fight for you? If tonight was any inclination the answer would also be no.

Spencer’s gaze locked onto the small box in the middle of his coffee table.

It was a considerably good week, and it was supposed to end a hell of a lot better than this.

Every part of me says, "Go ahead" But I got my hopes up again, oh no, not again

A/N: i hope you liked this chapter! and i am so so sorry for giving y’all false hope with the last one! i promise these there are happy times ahead for these two just not quite yet... as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no, @calm-and-doctor, @idroppedmygourd, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds angst #champagne problems series

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johaerys-writes · 3 years

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Fandom: The Song of Achilles

Pairing: Achilles/Patroclus

Summary:

Patroclus is a sailor, and Achilles a merman that saves his life when his ship is caught in a storm. The two end up on a deserted island, and the friendship that develops between them will change both of their lives for good.

Chapter 3: The Nymph Who Became Star, the penultimate chapter of my Merman AU Fall Into Your Tide is up! Art is by the wonderful @katartstrophe :)

Read on Ao3! Or read from the beginning

Once upon a time, deep in the Laconian mountains, there lived a nymph. The forest was her home; she walked the woods and swam in the streams, protected the animals that lived there and helped the trees and plants grow strong.

One day, she met a young man from a nearby village. He was a healer’s apprentice, and had ventured deep into the forest in search of medicinal plants. Touched by his gentle manners and dedication to his craft, the nymph decided to help him and share her knowledge with him. The man returned the next day, and the day after that, bringing her gifts of flowers and honeyed sweets. His visits became a regular occurrence; they would spend hours together, talking and gathering herbs, exploring the forest. It wasn’t long before the two fell in love.

Months passed in peaceful bliss. However, when the next summer came, a terrible war broke out with a neighbouring state, and the man was called away from his village and sent to battle.

Endless days rolled by without him. The nymph waited and waited, fearing the worst, for she knew well how fickle and short the lives of humans were, winked out in a fateful instant like the flame of a candle. Finally, after several months, the war came to an end. The men who had gone to battle returned— or what was left of them.

The young man did not come to her. Overcome by worry, the nymph decided to approach the village in hopes of seeing him, even though she had always kept her distance from humans and their settlements. When she finally found his house amidst the multitudes of others, she hid in the trees of the garden and peeked inside.

She was overjoyed to see that her love was still alive, but her relief was short-lived. He had been grievously wounded, and his life was hanging by a thread. The healers of the village had done what they could, and all that was left was prayer. Incense burned around him night and day, while he lay on the bed, pale and unmoving.

The nymph's heart ached with longing and grief, such that she had never known in her long life. Tearful and distraught, she returned to her forest, determined to find some way to help him.

She searched for the other nymphs, much older and more experienced than her in the art of healing. None knew of a way to bring back someone that was only a breath away from crossing Hades’ rivers.

“Death cannot be healed,” they admonished her, “and it should not.”

The nymph listened to no one. She kept asking, kept searching. Only a dryad, knowledgeable and wise and older than the forest itself, her skin tough and leathery like an oak tree’s bark, knew of an answer. She told her of a herb, one that grew on Olympus’ highest peak. It was the rarest plant there was, unmatched in its potency. It could mend the deepest wounds, cure the most severe of illnesses.

"The gods guard their home well," the dryad warned her, "and do not tolerate trespassers. No one dares enter the Olympians’ realm without their consent. Anyone who does, must pay the price.” T he nymph thanked the dryad for her help. There was nothing else for her to do other than to brave the long and arduous journey to Mount Olympus.

She was quick and silent as she travelled, yet her movements did not go unnoticed. Zeus' eyes were on her long before she'd reached the foot of the mountain. For an oread, a mountain nymph, to leave the safety of her forest and travel such great distances, to cross rivers and plains and deep ravines and pass so close by so many human settlements was unheard of. So he watched, curious, and waited.

When the nymph reached the middle of the mountain, he disguised himself as a centaur, and presented himself to her. When asked where she was going, the nymph told him the truth:

"I have come to gather a herb, to heal the one I love. It grows on Olympus' highest peak."

Zeus was angered by her boldness, but her earnestness intrigued him more. He warned her, not unkindly,“If you continue on your quest, you will make the gods angry. They do not take kindly to such insults.”

The nymph thanked him for the warning, and continued on her way.

Zeus kept following her, taking on many disguises: a deer, a hunter, a satyr. Each time, he told the nymph the same thing, and she responded in the same way: she thanked him warmly, and continued.

When she finally reached the peak, and her satchel was filled with the precious herb, Zeus presented himself to her. He thundered and shone, blindingly bright, in all his menacing godly glory. I nstead of cowering before him, the nymph stood tall.

“I am aware that this is your land,” she told him, “and this plant belongs to you. Whatever price you command for it, I will gladly pay it.”

Zeus thought long and hard. The nymph’s insolence was unparalleled, but he found her bravery refreshing. In the end, he decided to let her go, allowing her to take with her not only the rare plant she had gathered, but also enough provisions for her journey home to Taygetus’ misty peaks.

The nymph returned to the young man’s village as swiftly as she could. In a matter of days, he had regained his full strength; he was lively and healthy again, as bright and fair as he had been before he had left for the war. They were both so glad, that their love shone like a midsummer sun.

It was then that Zeus reached down and plucked the nymph from the earth and her lover’s embrace. He placed her among the stars and tasked her with guarding the very plant she had stolen, for all time. Before he left, he set one of his fearsome eagles upon her, to make sure she would never shirk her duty.

The price for saving her lover’s life had finally been paid.

The Guardian star shines in the midst of the constellation of Aquila, Zeus’ eagle. The star shines the brightest during the summer months, when the plant is in full bloom.

Achilles let out a sigh after I had finished. The sky had darkened while I recounted the story, and the stars were now twinkling above us. We were lying on our backs on the sand, still warm from the sun that had been beating upon it all day.

“Olympians,” he muttered darkly, “and their cruelty.”

Many times before had Achilles expressed his dislike of the Olympians. The nereids were Titan-born, and the Titans had not been on good terms with the powerful and arrogant sons and daughters of Cronus for millennia. By the way Achilles’ brow furrowed whenever I told him tales of their many transgressions or fierce punishments of those who displeased them, I could tell that this animosity between the old and newer gods was far from forgotten.

“Why did not Zeus simply let her take the plant?” he asked. “He didn’t need it. He wouldn’t miss it. What could one mortal’s life have meant to him, in the grand scheme of things?”

“In truth," I said, "I do not think it was about the plant at all."

“What was it about, then?”

“Perhaps it was because the nymph attempted to hold on to something she was never meant to have," I told him earnestly. "She wasn’t meant to have a long and happy life with that man; he was dying. Nothing could change that other than this plant, and it was forbidden. She wished to avoid the pain of losing him, therefore she was punished."

Achilles frowned. "Anyone would wish to avoid that. That doesn’t sound like that serious of a crime to me.”

I took a breath, letting my gaze drift over the dark sky above. Achilles’ scent of ocean currents, of salt and sand filled my lungs, warming me. His hand was so close to mine, I could feel the faint heat emanating from his skin, yet I did not dare close the distance between us. Something held me back. It always did.

"Pain is only a natural consequence of living,” I said, and the words sounded dry to my ears, harsh. “Death, separation; those are the rules. Life is the exception. This is how it’s always been, for humans. If the souls in Hades’ halls were released, they could fill the earth ten times over— there are so many more souls down there than up here, an infinite supply of them. The only certainty for any mortal is that, one day, they will die. For gods, it’s different. Life is guaranteed; death is but an improbable outcome. The nymph wished to defy this rule, to give her lover something that wasn't hers to give, or his to keep. In so doing, she would have challenged the order of the world itself. It could not happen. The gods could not allow it.”

Achilles turned his head to look at me, his large, feline eyes piercing me to the core. The light brush of his breath against my shoulder sent a roll of warmth cascading through me.

“Do you think she shouldn’t have done it, then?”

I stayed silent for a moment, pondering his question. "That is not for me to say," I said after a short while. "I'm not sure it was a matter of choice for her. It is said that, when you love someone, you act to keep them with you for as long as you can." I shook my head lightly. "I have never loved someone like that before, the way the nymph loved this young man. But I think… I think I can imagine what it must have been like, for her.”

The truth was, I had never let anyone too close to me. I did not know what it was like, to care about someone deeply enough to risk everything to keep them by my side, the same way that no one had ever fought to keep me by theirs. My father had given me up when I was far too young to know the difference, and since then I'd had to largely rely on myself for my survival. I always tended to keep my distance from most people I met, and never lingered in any one place or ship for too long. Xanthos was my closest friend; we had known each other for years, but even he would go away for months at a time to return to his family, while I stayed at sea. I had always been alone, and I always told myself I preferred it that way.

I had thought my life peaceful, comfortable, even. A life of hard work and few luxuries, yet it was mine. I was a free man, depending on no one. I had thought myself content. It wasn’t until I had come close to losing my life in that storm, until I had found myself on this island, until I had met Achilles, that I realised how drab and colourless my life had truly been.

Achilles was looking up at the night sky now, his profile illuminated by starlight. The stars shone bright, like a multitude of silver pins on a dark blue canopy, keeping it in place. He lifted his arm, pointing at a cluster of stars right above us. "Is this the nymph's star?"

"No," I told him, "it's this one." I took his hand and moved it slightly to the left, until it was pointing right at the Guardian star, the smallest of the bunch.

He gazed at the star for a long moment. Then, he asked, "Whatever happened to the young man? The one she fell in love with?"

"I don't know," I replied. "That was where the story ended. I never learned the young man’s fate."

He sighed. “I would have liked to know what happened to him,” he said. “What his life was like, after the nymph was taken.”

“You would?”

"Yes." Achilles tilted his head to look at me. “It is the greater grief, after all, isn't it,” he said softly, “to be left behind when another is gone?"

The nightbirds cooed above us, and the chill breeze stirred the leaves of the cypress trees that lined the coast. The world was peaceful, and in the silence that lingered, I thought I could hear his heart beating, a quiet and steady thump between us. His skin reflected the pale moonlight, and in its feeble glow he looked very nearly transparent. When his eyes focused on me like this, soft and dreamy, almost wistful, I knew that I wanted nothing more than to be where they could see me.

I swallowed, willing myself to meet his gold-flecked gaze. Gods, I could drown in those eyes. I would gladly let their shifting currents swallow me whole.

"It is," I whispered.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#the song of achilles #tsoa #patrochilles #patroclus x achilles #achilles x patroclus #achilles #patroclus #achilles/patroclus #patroclus/achilles #tsoa fanfic #tsoa fanart #merman au #fall into your tide #johaerys writes

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nerdypanda3126 · 3 years

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City of Love – Ch. 12

Luka is surprised to see Marinette at the club and plans a surprise for her in turn.

Read on Ao3

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

After getting his name on the list for the open mic and stashing his guitar backstage, Luka wound his way back to where he’d left Sass. But Sass was standing stock-still with his back to Luka and staring at the entrance. Following his gaze, it took Luka all of two minutes to process the two women walking in the door. There was no way. No possible way. They couldn’t possibly have decided to come out tonight, to the same place, at the same time.

But it was unmistakably Marinette, in a t-shirt that she’d shredded and knotted back together skillfully, baring cuts of skin along her sides that only flashed when her jacket moved. And that was definitely Tikki next to her, a head shorter, her band t-shirt tied in a knot just above her navel and the stretchy black skirt she wore doing wonders on her petite figure. Luka let his hand fall on Sass’s shoulder to snap him out of the trance and he visibly jumped.

“You said—” he hissed, but Luka shook his head.

“I didn’t set anything up.” When Sass shot another sidelong glance at him, Luka clapped him one more time on the shoulder for good measure. “Looks like you get another chance after all.”

Sass swallowed, and Luka noticed that he’d started trembling. It wasn’t like Sass, but then, this had taken him so off guard that Luka couldn’t blame him.

“What am I supposed to say?” he asked, his voice hollow and empty. Luka shrugged.

“Once the music starts up, you won’t have a chance to say much.”

Sass nodded back, but his eyes were locked on Tikki as the girls sidled up to the bar. As Marinette leaned on the bar, those pink jeans from earlier that morning brought up memories of the night before and Luka couldn’t help his hands from twitching, aching to hold her again. The only thing that kept him from running to her and lifting her off her feet was that she seemed completely oblivious to him, focused instead on Tikki as they laughed together. It was meant to be a girls’ night out; she hadn’t planned on seeing him any more than he’d planned on seeing her.

He had to smile as he realized that meant she didn’t know he was signed up for the open mic, either. Or that he planned on playing the song he’d written while she was painting. The song inspired by the sunlight bouncing off her hair and the smell of her perfume wrapped in her pink bandana and the way her tongue poked out of her mouth when she was concentrating.

“I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he said to Sass with an absent-minded grin, a plan already forming in his mind.

After another dazed moment of staring at the girls, Sass nodded to agree and followed Luka out the back door.

***

"What about him?” Marinette leaned over to ask Tikki over the pounding music, pointing with her drink to a guy who had his back turned but looked like Tikki’s type. Short, dark, and suave.

Tikki glanced over and frowned, her eyebrows furrowing as she considered him. Marinette couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t think it was intentional, but Tikki had been turning down every one of Marinette’s suggestions, and her eyes had been far away all night.

The band came to a stop and Marinette applauded as well as she could with a drink in her hand. They were good. Different from the last time she’d been here, but it seemed like an open mic night. The thought crossed her mind that she should’ve let Luka know, but that meant Sass would come along and the whole point of tonight was for Tikki to get some time away and think.

In the lull between bands, Tikki grabbed Marinette’s sleeve and tugged. It took Marinette a moment to figure out what had her so excited until she caught the half-terrified, half-bewildered look on her face and followed her gaze.

The guy Marinette had just pointed out was actually Sass. He’d hopped up on the stage to help someone out with something and that someone…

Marinette’s mouth dropped open. How in the hell had Luka known to show up? Or maybe he hadn’t known? Maybe he’d just decided to come out tonight and bring Sass like she’d decided to drag Tikki out and—

He was setting up to play. Luka was on stage and adjusting the mic and as he did his eyes flicked straight to her and he grinned .

After his introduction, he strummed a few chords and leaned into the mic again, locking eyes with her. “Surprise, beautiful. Thought you’d like to hear the song I wrote for you the other day.”

Tikki clutched at her arm and it was only with a vague sense of wariness that Marinette noticed Sass approaching them. He didn’t say anything, though, as he sidled up to Tikki and shoved his hands in his pockets. She could feel the tension coming from both of them, but her heart and her focus were both locked on the stage as Luka started strumming.

It wasn’t as showy or nearly as loud as the other bands, but Luka had his own quiet charisma that drew everyone else’s attention, too. It seemed like the entire club stopped to listen. There weren’t any lyrics, but he hummed a harmony part into the mic, letting the notes weave themselves together.

You took something that I don’t even think about most of the time, and you made it beautiful. You made it art. It’s nothing short of a miracle, if you ask me.

As his words from before came back to her, she hid a laugh behind her hand. She got it now. The way she saw the world in paints and fabric and sketches was how he saw it in music. And he’d seen this in her.

As soon as his last note rang out, the crowd returned to its buzzing, the sound around her rushed back, and she was acutely aware that there was something unspoken happening between Tikki and Sass. They were both stiff, and Tikki still had an iron grip on Marinette’s arm. It was like they were both waiting for the other to make a move and neither wanted to be the one to break first. Marinette subtly pressed her own drink into Tikki’s hand.

It wasn’t until Luka came and found her and pulled her into a tight hug that the tension dissipated like ice on hot pavement.

“So?” he asked in her ear, breathless with anticipation. “What’d you think?”

Instead of answering, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled him down to her to press a fierce kiss to his lips. She heard a few whistles around her and broke away self-consciously, but he chased after her and swept her up in his arms, smiling against her lips as he spun her around.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked when he set her toes back on the ground.

Marinette dared a glance back at Tikki, but she gave a small, determined nod, and Marinette turned back to Luka as her fingers dug into his shirt.

"I could use some air."

With a lopsided grin, he took her hand and led the way through the crowd out the back door, and as soon as they were outside he had her pressed up against the wall, trailing kisses down her neck.

“Do you think we should’ve just left them like that?” Marinette asked, although it was hard to focus on worrying with his mouth on her. He hummed in response and nipped at her ear before dropping a kiss there, too.

“We’ve done all we can,” he said, his voice dropping into that low rasp he’d had the night before when he’d been moaning her name. His hands were planted firmly on her waist, but she had a feeling if they were anywhere else that was more private they’d be roaming everywhere.

“Besides,” he continued, pulling away the slightest amount to look in her eyes, “I’ve been wanting to have you to myself since you surprised me by walking in that door tonight.”

"I surprised you?” She curled her fingers into the lapel of his jacket again and that lopsided grin was back on his face. It was smug and sheepish all at once and she didn’t know how he did that. “Listen here, one of us had the element of surprise tonight, and it wasn’t me.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, laughing, “Sass looked like he shit a brick when he saw Tikki.”

She smacked his shoulder, blushing at his word choice, but he was unrepentant.

"What?" He shrugged. "Swearing in English is fun. There's something about it that's so much more satisfying."

"I like your French better," she muttered, her blush creeping all the way across her cheeks and down her neck. She'd been remembering his fluent curses in her bed and how it'd made her feel to make him come so undone. From the hungry look in his eyes, he was remembering, too.

"D'accord."

He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips and it quickly became heated as he tangled his fingers in her hair and started whispering French praises in between breaths.

If she had another thought for Tikki, it was a brief memory of the first night they'd come here and she and Sass had disappeared, probably to do something a lot like this, and suddenly she didn't feel so bad about letting Luka push her up against the wall or panting his name into the Parisian night.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fic #mlb fic #lukanette #Pro LukaMari #lukanette endgame #endgame lukanette #LBSC Exchange 2021 #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #luka and sass #marinette and tikki #human kwami #fic title: city of love

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weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

i’ll be seeing you (f.w.)

prompt: after fred’s death, you can’t help but see his face in everything you do

pairing: fred weasley x fem! reader

warnings: this fic has to do with fred’s death and coping with a parted love one. please do not read this fic if you believe that the content is sensitive and could trigger anything for you. this fic deals with death, loss of a loved one, depression, anxiety, food, mentions of war, and fear of death. please take care of yourself and read the fic with caution. i love you.

song can be found here; recommended to listen before or during your reading :)

word count: 3.1k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdric @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @starlightweasley @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3

The night was still. Untouched. You didn’t dare to breathe as to not disturb the air surrounding you, remaining as still as possible. Laying on the bed, facing the ceiling, you didn’t dare move from this position. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough, you could still feel the imprint of his body in the mattress. The scent of him still lingered on the sheets and pillowcases as you clutched onto them tighter, closer to your chest as you squeezed your eyes tighter shut. Maybe if you squeezed them hard enough, you would wake up from this sick, sick nightmare.

But no matter how hard you squeezed your eyes, each time you opened them you were in the same place. Same bed. Same time line. And you were still alone. Without Fred.

There was a gentle knock on the door, but you didn’t bother moving from your position on the bed. Instead, you called out a weak Come in and the door gently creaked open to reveal a just as exhausted George. He didn’t bother saying anything because there was nothing left to say. Instead, he walked over to the bed and laid down in the empty space next to you. And for a moment, George’s body looked like Fred’s. But it wasn’t Fred. Fred was gone.

With a small sob escaping your lips, you retreated into George’s side as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You let the cries ripple throughout your body, shaking to you to your core. George bit down hard onto his bottom lip, trying to not break out into his own sobs like he has been doing time and time again. The flat felt so empty without Fred. He didn’t need to tell you that because you knew that George felt the loss of Fred’s presence just as much if not more than you. George gently rubbed your back as you took fistfuls of his shirt in your hands, sobbing into the fabric as it absorbed the salty tears.

You throat burned and eyes stung from all of the crying over the past week. The crying never subsided. If anything, it only grew as more time passed. It was just so unfathomable that he was gone for good. He wasn’t there to give you a kiss good morning, scoop you up from behind, peppering you with cheeky compliments. No more sneaky glances from across the shoppe when he saw you come in on lunch break. No more long conversations at three in the morning when you both couldn’t sleep, so you laid there and pontificated about everything and anything. No more plans for the future and how many kids Fred wanted versus how many you wanted. No more Fred. And that was the scariest part of it all. You not only lost your love, you lost your best friend.

George silently cried as he rubbed your arm before placing a kiss into your hair. “It’s so hard,” he spoke through his tears which only made you cry harder into his chest, holding him tight. “I don’t know what to do.”

The two of you remain in Fred’s bedroom, laying on his bed until the crying ceases momentarily. When it’s quiet again and the sobs have subsided, you peel yourself from George’s comforting embrace to sit up and look around the room. Fred’s things were still scattered throughout the room, no one dared to touch them. Thinking if they did, it would somehow disturb the timeline. Like if you moved something, it meant that he was really gone. The chair in the corner had a small suitcase, opened up to reveal a few items of clothing that he had packed away. His promise. Fred had told you after the war that you two would get away from London for a while. Leave England temporarily. Go somewhere where you two could elope and finally breathe. The suitcase just reminded you of your plans and the thought made the all too familiar lump in your throat rise.

You sharply turned away from the suitcase to look at all of the other things. The pictures that were framed of you two, on holiday, from school, from trips to the Burrow. Happy times. Happy memories. When the two of you didn’t worry about losing the other. When you were just happy with the way life was. If you closed your eyes, you could hear his melodious laugh in the kitchen of the Burrow as he sat on the counter, swinging his lanky legs back and forth. That smile. The dimply grin that could make traffic stop. Your darling Fred.

“I see him everywhere, George,” you croak, your throat sore for crying. You licked your chapped lips with your tongue before turning to look at George. “In everything that’s light and gay,” you say with a small smile, “I see him, smiling and laughing. That’s how I remember him. Always happy.”

George sits up slowly and smiles, his eyes bloodshot from crying. “He was always happy. Rarity that you ever saw him cross,” George speaks as you chuckle with a nod. “Freddie would want you to remember him that way,” he tells you genuinely as you look at George with a knowing smile. He was right. Fred wouldn’t want you to remember that sad times. He wouldn’t want you to dwell on the last nights you spent together, crying in fear over the war. Fred would want you to think of the fond times, the special memories you created over your years together. Those were the memories that Fred wanted you to remember him by.

Weakly, you rise from Fred’s mattress, your body aching and sore. Your lower back and neck on fire from spending most days curled up crying. George slowly did the same before breathing in deeply as you mimicked his actions, the two of you preparing to get ready to head back to the Burrow. The two of you agreed that you couldn’t bare to live in the flat just yet. You needed to be around family, around life, around loved ones. And right now, the Weasley family needed each other more than ever.

“I just need some fresh air,” you tell George as you enter the living room. “Before we go.” George gives you an understanding nod before you exit the flat, descending the stairs and pushing the door outside. The warm June air engulfed you as you stepped outside onto the streets of London, the familiar feeling of being outside in the sun made you feel a little better.

The streets were quiet, not nearly as occupied as they once were. A few travelers here and there, some groups of young teenagers walking in groups, keeping themselves busy with light chatter. Whatever it was, it was better than being cooped up in that bedroom, relishing in your own sadness.

You walked down the cobblestone streets, pulling your zip up closer around your body, watching your feet walk in your dirty trainers. You watched your surroundings, eyes landing on a small café that sat humbling on the road. A few occupants inside kept to themselves, sipping on coffees and teas, reading papers or books or just watching the London streets before them. As you looked inside, you almost did a double take. Sitting at a small round table was a tall redheaded man. But of course, not your Fred. It was an older man, with round glasses and a narrow nose and plump lips. Not Freddie. You shook your head, preventing yourself from staring.

Practically everywhere you looked, you saw him. In the café, the parks, the children in the street, in the reflections of store fronts. Fred was everywhere and it only reminded you about how much you missed him. How your heart ached for one more moment with him. You wished so desperately you could holds his face in your hands and smile at him with a kiss on the tip of his nose. You wanted to tell him one last time how much you loved him and how you swore you would never find someone else. He was your forever and it would stay that way until you look your last breath.

Your feet took your further down the road as you inhaled the lovely summer day into your lungs. Fred loved days like this. Warm, but not too warm, with a light breeze. On days like this, he insisted on going for long walks where you two would just hold hands and talk about the future. As you walk along the path, you smile to yourself as you think about one walk you had with Fred. The two of you started playfully arguing about what you would name your first child and how many you would have. Fred insisted on having five kids at least. He wanted to raise a family like his parents did. But the thought of more than two kids made your mind reel. “It’ll be so much fun! The house will always be full! We’ll never be alone!” he would insist, poking at your sides. Your retort always being, “That’s the problem! We’ll never be alone!” which would always make Fred throw his head back with a laugh.

The memory brings tears to your eyes yet again, but you swallow them back before realizing how far you had walked. With a sigh, you turn around and start walking back to the flat, knowing that George would be patiently waiting for your return.

And as you suspected, George was sat in the living room, look at something quietly on the couch. He didn’t hear you come in and you were sure to be quiet as to not to disturb his thoughts. As he sat, you realized in his hands was a picture. In the frame was a picture of him and Fred, right outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes both smiling as wide as they could as they hugged each other. You smiled to yourself, recognizing the moment. It was the day they had bought the joke shoppe and received the keys. It was the happiest you had ever seen them both. It was their dream to start this business together and on that day, their dreams had come to fruition after hard work and relentless trying. Your stomach sank as you thought about George. He not only lost his business partner, best friend, and brother, but he lost his twin. His other half. The person who helped find himself. George lost a piece of him.

“I see him everywhere, too,” George speaks up before looking at you, tears brimming in his eyes. “I try not to go into the joke shoppe too often otherwise I hear his voice. I see him behind the counter or at his office desk. He’s always there. In every thing I do. I see him,” he says as you slowly walk towards him. “I see him in all the old familiar places. I can’t not see him.”

You kneel down next to George and take his face in both of your hands. George looks exhausted. Dark circles cloud his brown eyes and his face is plagued with sleeplessness. “Maybe it’s a good thing we always see him,” you try and support him. “Maybe he’ll letting us know that he’ll always be with us everywhere we go.”

George smiles softly before managing to speak, “He’s quite the distraction.” You two let out a weak laugh before he takes a deep breath in. “Let’s get going now, shall we?” You nod and both rise to your feet. George links your arms before two of you apparate to the Burrow.

Within moments you are in the living room of the Burrow. The Burrow, rather than teeming with life, was quiet. There was only the small chirping of birds, the sound of running water from the sink, and quiet footsteps here and there. George and you walk into the kitchen to find Molly sitting at the dining room table, cup of tea in front of her that was cold. It was obvious she had been sitting there for some time, unable to move. Her face was tired like George’s, but perked up when she saw her son and you enter the room. “My darlings,” she croaked as your heart ached. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she scurried over to George who hugged his mother tightly, not letting her go. The two of them stood in their embrace for a few moments, Molly rubbing her son’s back comforting him when she probably needed more comforting than anyone. She had been so busy making sure everyone else was okay that she didn’t check up on herself. She peeled herself from George, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Hello, dear,” she cooed at you as your heart ached at seeing your love’s mother again. It had been a few days since you had seen Molly, but you missed her company more than ever. “Oh, darling, come here,” she spoke, noticing how the tears welled up in your eyes again before you did. Molly pulled you into her arms as you held onto her tight. She placed one, two, three kisses to your temple as you sniffled into her knit sweater. “You’re home now. It’s okay.”

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

The day trudged on like it was walking through mud. It took forever for the sun to set, but eventually the familiar warm colors of the sunset filled the Burrow. You sat on the couch, Ginny laid on your lap as you looked down at her, she looking up at you. Ginny gave you a sad smile, reaching up and touching the tip of your nose. “Honk, honk,” she teased which made you giggle. Fred had always done that to you for years. It was one of his little “things” he did with you. No matter where you were, what you were doing, Fred would poke your nose and say honk honk. One time in Potions class when you were fifth years in the middle of an exam, he reached over the desk and poked your nose with a cheerful honk honk which just made Professor Snape confiscate his exam and send him to the back of the room as you stifled laughter.

You shook your head and look up at the clock. Seven o’clock. The hands on the clock that represented each Weasley all pointed to home. Except for Fred’s. Fred’s hand had fallen off of the clock after his passing. Arthur had found it on the floor a few days ago and had put it on a chain. George now wore Fred’s clock hand on his neck, that way Fred was always home with George.

Looking back at Ginny, you speak, “Reckon we stay up tonight? Get some snacks, hang out a bit?” Ginny nods with a small smile as you sigh. You had spent too many nights crying and wallowing in your own sadness. You needed a change of pace and maybe tonight was the night for some change.

The time slowly passed and soon enough, the moon had replaced the sun in the sky, the moonlight trickling through the window in George’s room as you, Ginny, George, and Ron sat on the floor, smiling and chuckling as you snacked on the pile of food in the middle of the rug. You took a bite of the licorice twirl, twirling it around as George told a story of one time where he and Fred set off Dungbombs in the Slytherin locker room, making them all late for their quidditch match. Ron held his stomach in laughter as Ginny smiled at the memory. She always pretended to find her older twin brother’s pranks childish, but deep down she loved how they both had the ability to bring such joy and life to the room. That was what she missed most about Fred, the life in his eyes. How his youth was never dying. Fred could age and age all he wanted, but he would still have that childhood glee that glistened in his eyes proudly. She missed that most about Fred.

“I don’t know how you lot got away with that one,” Ron wiped his eyes from tears of laughter. It’s been a while since this group was crying from laughter. George sighed before popping a Jelly Slug into his mouth. The room dies down from laughter and settles into what was a familiar understanding that the dynamic was so different without him.

You rise to your feet and walk to the window, looking up at the moon and how brightly it shone in the dark sky. You smiled gently at the bright moon and thought of your Fred. Even in the darkest times, Fred was always there, bringing in the light. Fred was your moon. And you were his sun. Both chasing after the other in the sky.

“(Y/N)?” George’s voice calls. “You just got up all of a sudden.”

Without turning around or peeling your eyes from the moon, you speak, “You know where I see him the most, Georgie?” George just stays silent as Ron and Ginny look at each other, confused as to what you were talking about. “The sky. I find him in the morning sun and when the night is new, I see him in the moon. I know, I’m looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing Fred. He’s always there in the sky, watching me. Watching us,” you tell him and Ron and Ginny, turning around to see them. They all look at you with soft smiles. “Everything reminds me of him. But especially the moon.”

You turn back around to look up at the moon as it’s silver beams shine down on the Burrow through the window and onto your face. George appears next to you at the window sill, leaning out of the window, looking up at the moon. Soon enough, a soft smile is on his face as he sighs. “I like that. He’s the moon. He’s always watching over us,” George tells you as you smile.

Ron and Ginny file in next to you, all four of you looking up at the sky, moon beams illuminating your faces. As you look up at the moon, you can see Fred’s face. You see his brown eyes, filled with love and adoration. You see his dimply grin and you can hear his chuckle. You can feel his arms hug your waist as you close your eyes and inhale deeply. Fred was with you. Even though he wasn’t physically with you, you knew that he would find ways to be with you. And Fred, clever as he was, found the moon.

As long as the moon was in the sky, Fred would be with you. Always.

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut #harry imagine #fred weasley smut

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Poems for the Poet (1/ 5)

Pairing: Eskel/Jaskier

Summary: Unbeknownst to Jaskier, he inspires Eskel to try his hand at writing poetry. Eskel posts his poems anonymously to notice boards, not thinking that anyone would read them. Until he hears Jaskier's songs unmistakably referencing Eskel's poetry. (Eskel’s pov of The Way to a Poet’s heart)

Word count: ~2k

AO3

Content warnings: self-consciousness, self-doubt

Eskel could have been many things. He could have been handsome. At least he remembered his mother calling him such when he had still been a boy with a wide and toothy grin that he didn’t need to hide. He could have become a mage – his hill-folk blood had practically guaranteed him a place at Ban-Ard.

And maybe, as slim a chance as there had been, he could have become a poet. He remembered his mother singing to him about hens. It had been a silly song, but when he had undergone the Trials of the Grasses, the verses had been the last thing on his lips before the melody had turned into cries as fire raced through his blood.

That day, all dreams disappeared and turned into could-have-been’s that twisted Eskel’s stomach if he ever thought about them.

They didn’t matter anymore. Eskel was a witcher. One exceptionally skilled in magic, but a witcher nonetheless.

Perhaps he had even been handsome for a little while longer, but now there was not a hint of attractiveness left on him. It didn’t bother him. Couldn’t bother him.

At the very least he still had his poetry. No, not his. He had never written a verse in his life. If he had gone to Oxenfurt instead of being dragged to Kaer Morhen, he might have learned about metre and clever word-play. Now, he didn’t dare put a pen to paper. Too certain was the chance that his words would only be yet another disappointment. He’d rather keep the wish to write a might-be instead of a dreaded could-have-been. As long as he didn’t try and fail, he could still imagine that he might be able to become a poet one day. Until then, he would study his poetry collection and listen to the bards he came across in taverns, praying that their songs wouldn’t break off once they laid eyes on him.

It happened more often than Eskel would like to admit. Many times, he found himself lingering outside a tavern, just to get the chance of listening to the songs a little longer before they inevitably faded in discomfort when the bards noticed the witcher staring at them through the windows.

He would have done so today as well, if it weren’t for the long gash in his leg. It didn’t hurt too badly and it was already close to being healed, but he yearned to sit down and close his eyes for a little while, to eat and maybe, if he was lucky, to listen to some songs.

Even from outside the tavern he could hear that the bard singing a soaring ballad was talented.

So he pulled his hood up and pushed the door open. As he shuffled to a table at the corner, he tried to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

He knew he should have kept his eyes cast down. He knew he should have kept to himself.

Yet there was something in the bard’s verses that made Eskel’s insides sing. He didn’t know the words for what he heard. Perhaps it was alliteration or anaphor? Whatever the bard had done to give his words life, it stirred something in Eskel.

He looked up before he could think better of it; before he could remember all the reasons why he shouldn’t do such a thing.

For a blessed heartbeat he was allowed to just look at the bard. There was no denying his beauty. Clearly, many people in this room looked at the bard’s blue eyes or long fingers with adoration.

Eskel noticed those things merely as an afterthought. He was too distracted by the almost wistful expression on the bard’s face, the way he subtly swayed with his music as if he was a part of it and the meaning he put into every word as it fell from his lips.

Eskel’s chest clenched at the sight. Without meaning to, he leaned forward to see better. It must have been that movement that caught the singer’s attention, for his eyes wandered over to Eskel.

And his voice broke. Blue eyes widened and fingers had to strain not to fumble.

Abruptly, Eskel looked away, pulling his hood deeper into his face to hide his eyes and turning his scarred side towards the wall for good measure.

It was already too late. All hope that the bard might not have realised exactly what Eskel was burst when the song came to an overly hurried end.

A handful of patrons muttered disapprovingly and one even gave a shout, demanding his coin back if the bard wasn’t going to play a full set.

Out of all the people, Eskel knew he was the one most disappointed in the abrupt yet not unexpected end of the performance. He would have loved to hear more of this bard’s art, to listen for long enough to figure out just how he crafted his verses.

Yet another could-have-been.

Eskel should probably leave. Maybe if he did, the bard would pick up his song again and Eskel would be able to listen to it while he put distance between himself and the tavern. His leg ached at the thought of having to get up already, but if it meant getting to hear a little more of the bard, it would have been worth it. Eskel was just about to stand up when someone pulled out the chair opposite of him and let themselves fall onto it with little grace, but palpable excitement.

Long fingers drummed onto the table as if the person’s energy couldn’t be contained. Or as if they were waiting impatiently for Eskel to leave.

“Apologies,” Eskel said, doing his best to make his voice sound smoother than it was. “I’ll leave the table to you.”

Unexpectedly, a hand shot out and grabbed Eskel’s wrist, lightly enough to make clear this person wasn’t out for a fight, but insistent enough to make Eskel tense.

“That would be defeating the purpose of me coming here, wouldn’t it?” That voice. It was the bard’s voice. Unwillingly, Eskel’s eyes snapped up and his breath hitched when they met blue. The bard’s easy smile didn’t leave him, even as he took in Eskel’s inhuman eyes and mangled face. “After all, I came here specifically to talk to you.”

“Oh.” Eskel relaxed slightly. This he could do. “Do you have a contract for me?”

The bard let out a pearling laugh that crinkled the skin around his eyes. Eskel’s chest clenched. It was rare a human laughed in his presence. No, that wasn’t quite true. People laughed constantly, though mostly at him. They would snicker blatantly when they saw his face or snort cruelly when he said something that had been meant to sound gentle and diplomatic but evidently came out as a pitiful attempt of an oafish mutant to fit in where there was no place for him.

But never before had someone other than his family laughed in a way that made him think that perhaps he wasn’t the one being laughed at.

“Well, no. Not exactly.” The bard leaned forward with an eagerness that almost made Eskel draw back. No one leaned towards a witcher. Least of all Eskel with his disfigured face and hulking frame. “I was wondering if you were willing to let a humble bard accompany you on a hunt?”

Eskel blinked at him. “I- no. I just come from a hunt.” Absentmindedly, he shifted his leg beneath the table. “And it would be too-“

“Oh, don’t tell me it would be too dangerous.” The bard let go of Eskel’s wrist and waved it through the air dismissively. “Geralt tells me that all the time and I’m not dead yet, am I?”

Eskel’s brows would have drawn together, if he hadn’t trained himself to keep frowns off his face to stop it from becoming even more fearsome.

For a heartbeat he could only stare at the bard, trying desperately to connect the few things Geralt had told him about his bard to the man sitting in front of him now. A lot of the details – annoyingly talkative, a petty menace, dangerously ready to fall in love with anyone he met – weren’t things Eskel could ascertain from such a short time of talking to the man. But what had was most important was the way Geralt had talked about his bard. There had been a fondness to even his most exasperated words. A fondness that Eskel could imagine only too well being directed at someone like this bard. In fact, as the bard’s smile grew wider with every second that Eskel studied him and something warm and fuzzy spread through Eskel’s insides, he found himself feeling some of that fondness already.

He swallowed and tried to clear his throat as inconspicuously as possible. “Are you Jaskier?”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up with delight. “Geralt mentioned me? Didn’t think he would.”

“He had little choice in the matter.” Eskel’s lips would have twitched if he hadn’t feared that would make Jaskier recoil. “Lambert and I kept teasing him about the fact that there was a song about him.”

As soon as the words left him, he froze. His eyes widened and he scrambled for words to fix his mistake. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing, of course. It’s an honour to have you sing about witchers and the way you weave stories is incredible.”

A hint of red crept into Jaskier’s face that must have been a trick of the light. “Thank you,” he said almost sheepishly, but then his face brightened into something radiant and beautiful. “Wait, you are Eskel!”

Jaskier practically bounced in his chair in his eagerness to drag it even closer to the table. “Geralt told me so much about you!”

Eskel felt his throat grow tight. Far too often had Geralt found him in the library, leaning over a book of poetry and songs written by the very same man that sat before him now. How many times had Eskel drunk a little too much White Gull and told Geralt that he admired his bard?

“He did?” He asked hoarsely.

“Of course!” Jaskier let out a carefree laugh. “He always jokes that one day he would hand me over to you because you are the only witcher that wouldn’t go insane if he had to listen to me sing all day.”

Eskel’s lips twitched, though he turned his head just quickly enough to hide his smile. “I can imagine worse things than listening to your songs.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side and gave Eskel a look of unashamed curiosity. “Why, my dear Eskel, is that a compliment?”

Eskel shook his head and hunched his shoulders. Before he could stop himself, his hand came up to paw at his scars uncomfortably.

“It…It was supposed to be teasing. I don’t- I’m sorry, I’m not good with that.” His eyes darted away and then quickly back to Jaskier. Putting as much sincerity as he could into his voice, he added, “I would enjoy listening to you sing some more. You have a beautiful voice and your song made me feel like I could almost see the images you were conjuring up.”

For a moment Jaskier only gaped at him and Eskel cursed himself. Of course he had messed this up again already. He shouldn’t have tried to fix his own mistakes. By now he should know that nothing good would ever come out of that. A poet such as Jaskier didn’t want a witcher’s clumsy attempts at complimenting his art, not when he undoubtedly was used to scholars’ and nobles’ praises.

But then Jaskier’s expression shifted and his eyes lit up with something almost like awe.

“That was one of the kindest things I’ve heard about my singing in years.” He ducked his head almost shyly. “Most people tend to criticise me. Rather coldly, might I add.”

“Nothing to criticise as far as I could see.” Eskel shrugged sheepishly. “As I said, I would love to hear more of your art.”

Jaskier contemplated him for a moment that made the warm feeling in Eskel’s chest burn brighter. For some reason he didn’t mind the staring when it was Jaskier’s eyes he could feel on him.

“Does that mean you wouldn’t mind if I wrote a song about you?”

Coming from anyone else, Eskel would have thought that those were just empty words. Eskel wasn’t song-worthy.

And yet, when Jaskier eventually invited him to share the room with him to save some coin, the bard was already humming a melody to a new song.

Neither of them slept much that night. The both of them stayed up until almost the early hours of the morning, discussing rhyme schemes and talking about how writing poetry helped putting meaning into bad experiences and immortalising beautiful ones. Softly, they recited their favourite poetry to each other.

Eskel was embarrassed to admit that he had memorised some of Jaskier’s poetry but the confession made Jaskier smile brighter than any human should smile in the presence of a witcher. And when Jaskier lamented that most of his favourite lines of poetry were merely fragments lost to time, Eskel perked up and filled in the gaps for him, promising to show him his collection of ancient poetry at Kaer Morhen one day.

It wasn’t something to be taken seriously; merely a suggestion made in the spur of the moment, but Jaskier looked at him as if he had hung the stars and the moon for him and Eskel found himself hoping that maybe someday he would know Jaskier well enough to be allowed to give him such gifts.

Eskel fully expected Jaskier to be gone in the morning, and his heart skipped a beat when instead Jaskier announced that he would stick around at least until he would get to see Eskel fight.

When Jaskier finally went his own way to meet up with Geralt again two weeks later, he left Eskel with a strange yearning in his chest and verses that had been written for no one but him.

And beneath it all, Jaskier left him with an itch in his fingers that urged him to buy a quill and ink. He didn’t put anything to paper just yet. But the might-be that had haunted him for decades got just a little closer to a could-be. Perhaps Eskel could become what he had always wanted to be after all.

Perhaps next time he saw Jaskier, he would be able to share his own verses with the poet.

#jaskel #eskel/jaskier #jaskier/eskel #witcher fic #witcher #fic #fanfic #Multichapter #my writing #eskel #jaskier #pining #insecure eskel #self doubt #self consciousness #please tell me if you want to get tagged when I update

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icharchivist · 4 years

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A3 x Sleeping at Last

I have a fondness for the musician Sleeping at Last and i decided to have fun associating at least one of his song per A3 Characters. Under the cut are songs as well as some highlight lyrics to justify my choice. Some of them i feel more strongly than others so anyone with a comment is welcomed as well.

Thus here i go:

& Spotify playlist of all those songs in order if you want to go through it

Mankai Company : North

We will call this place our home, The dirt in which our roots may grow. Though the storms will push and pull, We will call this place our home. We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Every year, measure how tall. And just like a work of art, We’ll tell our stories on these walls. Let the years we’re here be kind, be kind. Let our hearts, like doors, open wide, open wide. Settle our bones like wood over time, over time. Give us bread, give us salt, give us wine.

Spring Troupe: From The Ground Up

It took me 27 years to wrap my head around this- To brush the ashes off of everything i love. Where courage was contagious, confidence was key. Right as rain, soft as snow, It grows and grows and grows, Our home sweet home.

We'll try to document this light, With cameras to our eyes, In an effort to remember What being mended feels like.

We're home sweet home.

Sakuya Sakuma : The Projectionist

When I was young I fell in love with story, With the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory.

When hands are tied and clocks are ticking An audience convinced, we're leaning in, holding our breath again Just when we thought the game was over The music lifts and our dying soldier lives And we breathe a sigh of relief The theater lights dim and all goes quiet. In the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest.

We’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now. We’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now. But even dust was made to settle And if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different? I guess we give what we’ve been given: A family tree so very good at giving up When we’ve had enough. Though truth is heavier than fiction, Gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape. And it makes us brave again

Masumi Usui : Venus

At first I thought you were a constellation. I made a map of your stars, then I had a revelation: You’re as beautiful as endless, You’re the universe I’m helpless in. An astronomer at my best When I throw away the measurements.

I was a billion little pieces 'til you pulled me into focus. Astronomy in reverse, It was me who was discovered.

Tsuzuru Minagi : Page 28

Have you read the script? Could you picture it? ... is it worth the risk?

Here in the second act I'm living in repair. Strange how the heart adapts when its pieces disappear. And there, on page 28, I'm so tired of drying glue, I begin my grand attempt at building something new. Though I tend to write the epiphany more immediately, I guess I'm trusting that there's such a thing as elegance in dissonance. God, I'm skeptical of pulling scenes. Was it something that I said? was it something that I did? Please don't get me wrong - I still need your help As history repeats itself Here in the aftermath, I'm pulling at the seams. Strange how the heart adapts in the absence of routine. And there, on page 29, I find “new” and make it mine. But I can't help casting shadows on all I leave behind. Maybe I could afford to change a bit... Even let go of the reigns? Every torn out page was worth the risk Now that the stakes have been raised. So here in the final draft, I've given all I have. Strange how the heart expands in the absence of a plan. There's nothing left on the page, but I'm okay with that, For I found my resolution Was designed for stronger hands.

or Body

There's magic in our bones, A north star in our soul That remembers our way home. There's magic in our bones. No, I don't have a script for this. But I know the right words exist Somewhere, And I just need more time. I know, I know, I'm asking for the moon, But I must listen to intuition Believe me, I only want what's right.

Itaru Chigasaki : Pluto

I woke up from the same dream: Falling backwards, falling backwards ’Til it turned me inside out. Now I live a waking life Of looking backwards, looking backwards; A model citizen of doubt. Until one day I had enough Of this exercise of trust. I leaned in and let it hurt, And let my body feel the dirt. When I break pattern, I break ground. I rebuild when I break down. I wake up more awake than I’ve ever been before. Still I’m pinned under the weight Of what I believed would keep me safe. So show me where my armor ends, Show me where my skin begins. Like a final puzzle piece It all makes perfect sense to me… The heaviness that I hold in my heart belongs to gravity. The heaviness that I hold in my heart’s been crushing me.

Or East

I set out to rule the world With only a paper shield and a wooden sword. No mountain dare stand in my way, Even the oceans tremble in my wake. The tide is brave, but always retreats. Even the sand, it cowers under my feet. My kingdom towers above it all, While I sleep safe and sound in my cardboard walls. Now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was. I bear little resemblance to the king I could become. Maybe paper is paper, maybe kids will be kids- Lord, I want to remember how to feel like I did. So I draw my sword with the morning sun, I summon the moon as soon as the day is done. The clouds march on, on my command. Even the rain, it falls according to plan. The trees bow down and give their leaves. I humbly accept their offerings of peace. The years wore on and changed my heart, The leading role for a smaller part.

Citron : Noble Aim

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light but we wait, Like evening for night, Don't we? Chances are we are alike, against what better judgement writes We ache, like children for love For a purpose worthy of such a noble aim as love.

Chances are we bruise the same; a family tree desperate for rain. A thirst only deserts know best. a hurt so at home in our chests. Call it stubbornness or bravery, To let our branches continue to reach, With such a noble aim, With such a noble aim as love. Every broken branch and loosened leaf that we've grown to ignore, Is now a part of something greater than before. Every nest that rests upon our limbs, Seeking shelter from the storms, Is a purpose worth being broken for.

Chances are we are the same, against the odds, against the grain We lean, like gardens toward light, We reach with all of our might For such a noble aim as love

Chikage Utsuki : Neptune

Pitch black, pale blue, It was a stained glass Variation of the truth, And I felt empty handed. You let me set sail with cheap wood. So I patched up every leak that I could, 'Til the blame grew too heavy.

Stitch by stitch I tear apart, If brokenness is a form of art, I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread I come apart If brokenness is a work of art, Surely this must be my masterpiece

I'm only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks, when I open my mouth I wanna tell you but I don't know how

I'm only honest when it rains An open book, with a torn out page, and my inks run out I want to love you but i don’t know how...

Or South

Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice. Some truths are sharper than knives. Some truths we only see in the corners of our eyes. Some truths we wish we could hide. Some truths can save us, Some take our lives. Some truths are fire and some truths are ice. No matter what category you fit into, Truth’s got its sight set on you. If truth is north, then I am true south. I can’t figure it out- God knows. Always looking up 'Til my eyes give up. That’s how I lost touch of who I am and who I was.

Summer Troupe : Joy

The clumsy start of adolescence, The glue that mends our broken remnants, An overwhelming sense of reverence, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. A silver lining spilling over, The rumor of buried treasure, The starting line of an adventure, It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's an afterglow, it's an echo Still ringing out in spite of me. It's the faint outline of the divine In the hiding place of my periphery. So I let go and in this moment, I can breathe. I can breathe. The countless stars we're sleeping under, It's the brightest sparks that we remember. When our eyes are closed, we still see embers, A glimpse of light in a mine of gold. It's a glimpse of light in a mine of gold.

Tenma Sumeragi : Three

Maybe I've done enough, and your golden child grew up Maybe this trophy isn't real love, And with or without it I'm good enough Maybe I've done enough, Finally catching up For the first time I see an image of my brokeness Utterly worthy of love

And I finally see myself, Through the eyes of no one else. It's so exhausting on this silver screen Where I play the role of anyone but me. I finally see myself, Unabridged and overwhelmed, A mess of a story I'm ashamed to tell, But I'm slowly learning how to break this spell. And I finally see myself. Now I only want what's real, to let my heart feel what it feels. Gold, silver or bronze hold no value here, Where work and rest are equally revered. I only want what's real, I set aside the highlight reel, And leave my greatest failures on display with an asterisk; Worthy of love anyway.

Yuki Rurikawa : Hope

There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other Like the light of countless stars We are not afraid of the dark 'Cause there is hope in our hearts And every single beat, we feel it To the ends of the earth, our echo carries on We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our voice when we listen to each other Barriers disappeared with every story told We are sacred, we are strong, We are beautiful, we belong Please hear our unheard song There is hope in our eyes, When we truly see each other We raise our flag, lift our voice This is our moment, We are sacred, we are strong This is our moment, We are beautiful, we belong This is our moment, We are worthy, we are true This is our moment, There are no borders from this view Please help us raise our flag There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other

Muku Sakisaka : Daughter

I want to see your happily ever after, That you know in your heart that you matter, That you are royalty. This is your kingdom, This is your crown, This is your story. This is your moment, Don’t look down.

You’re ready. born ready, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. Our ceiling is your floor, And all you gotta do is put one foot in front of you. If only you knew

Misumi Ikaruga : Seven

How nice it'd be if we could try everything? I'm serious, let's make a list and just begin What about danger? So what, what about risk? Let's climb the mountain before we cross that bridge! 'Cause I'm restless, For whatever comes next

How wonderful to see a smile on your face It costs farewell tears for a welcome-home parade A secret handshake between me and my one life: I'll find the silver lining no matter what the price 'Cause I'm hungry, For whatever comes next Let me tell you another secret of the trade- It feels like sinking when I'm standing in one place So I look to the future and I book another flight When everything feels heavy, I've learned to travel light But I want to be here, Truly be here To watch the ones that I love bloom And I want to make room To love them through and through and through And through the slow and barren seasons too

I feel hope deep in my bones... And tomorrow will be beautiful.

Kazunari Miyoshi : Nine

Who am I to say what any of this means? I have been sleepwalking since I was fourteen Now as I write my song, I retrace my steps Honestly, it's easier to let myself forget

Still, I check my vital signs, Choked up, I realize I've been less than half myself for more than half my life

It looks like empathy to understand all sides But I'm just trying to find myself through someone else's eyes So show me what to do to restart this heart of mine How do I forgive myself for losing so much time?

A little at a time I feel more alive I let the scale tip and feel all of it It's uncomfortable but right We were born to try, to see each other through To know and love ourselves and others well Is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do

Kumon Hyodo : Intermission

I'm so tired but I can't sleep. My mind is full but I can't speak. Among the dust of the hard-to-reach, I'm stuck Right here, somewhere between side a and side b. I could call it compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize for the race I never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

I'm here, somewhere between victory and a white flag. Caught in this purgatory dream, I'm stuck. But I want to set the record straight, I want to retrace my every step. If I could just rewind all the tapes, Then maybe I'd find my loose thread. Call it a compromise, or just an intermission. Some kind of consolation prize, so close, but never finished. I want to turn these tired gears. I want to feel the follow-through, Some kind of equilibrium... Something to set my watch to.

Pluto works for him too

Autumn Troupe : The Sea of Atlas

We once felt safe, like no cure was needed. Our vocabularies had no room for “defeated,” But we grew up quick and became connoisseurs of it. There's a fine line, a fine line in between Our progress and our instability. We can't help ourselves but hunt for more. A design flaw? or the olive branch that proves the shore- The catalyst we've waited for.

Banri Settsu : One

Hold on for a minute, 'Cause I believe that we can fix this over time That every imperfection is a lie, Or at least an interruption Now hold on, let me finish, No, I'm not saying perfect exists in this life But we'll only know for certain if we try

The list goes on forever of all the ways I could be better in my mind As if I could earn God's favor given time Or at least congratulations Now I have learned my lesson The price of this so-called perfection is everything I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out grace requires nothing of me I... I wanna sing a song worth singing I'll write an anthem worth repeating I... I wanna feel the transformation A melody of reformation I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly 'Cause I spend my whole life searching desperately To find out that grace requires nothing Grace requires nothing of me

Juza Hyodo : Taste

I am alive, I am awake. I am aware of what light tastes like. The curtains drawn, the table's set, I wanna be, I wanna be, at my best.

I'm on my knees and only scratch the surface.

Out of the woods, out of the dark. I’m well aware of the shadows in my heart. I wanna feel, tectonic shifts; I wanna be, I wanna be, astonished. I wanna be astonished. So I propose a toast: To fists unraveling, to glass unshattering. To breaking all the rules, to breaking bread again. We’re swallowing light, we’re swallowing our pride. We’re raising our glass, ’til we’re fixed from the inside. 'Til we're fixed from the inside. We're nothing less than a work in progress. Sacred text on Post-It notes. We only speak of a world in pieces. Let's make a map of what matters most: Where every fracture is a running river. Leading us back to our golden coast.

OR Mercury

No one can unring this bell Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new God knows, I am dissonance Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune

I know the further I go The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed And somehow I’ve fallen in love With this middle ground at the cost of my soul Yet I know, if I stepped aside Released the controls, you would open my eyes That somehow, all of this mess Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life

Made of precious metals, precious metal inside

Taichi Nanao: Sadness

It feels like falling, It feels like rain, Like losing my balance, Again and again It once was so easy, Breathe in, breathe out But at the foot of this mountain I only see clouds

I feel out of focus, or at least indisposed As this strange weather pattern inside me takes hold Each brave step forward I take three steps behind It's mind over matter, Matter over mind

Slowly, then all at once, A single loose thread And it all comes undone

Where there is light a shadow appears The cause and effect when life interferes The same rule applies to goodness and grief For in our great sorrow We learn what joy means

I don't want to fight, I don't want to fight it But I will learn to fight, I will learn to fight 'Til this pendulum finds equilibrium

Slowly, then all at once, The dark clouds depart And the damage is done, So pardon the dust While this all settles in, With a broken heart Transformation begins

or Bright and Early

The sun comes pouring in. Filling glasses up with diamonds, Stirring where I've been But it's all trigger and effect. Dominoes at their best. In the end I'm told, It taught me everything I know. That the wreckage left behind, will somehow make me grow.

In the end I'm told It taught me everything I know. But when the fire took our home, I lost part of my soul. From the ground up I'll keep building houses into homes. 'cause if trust is ribbon, Then patience ties it in a perfect bow.

Omi Fushimi : Aperture

Happiness is somewhere I have been before- A blurry photograph that I have since ignored. I'll carefully adjust the aperture once more, Until I set the record straight. I'll brush aside the dim, make room for the bright. I'll be an editor, no, a curator of light. I'll let my better angels always set me right, Until I even out the score. Until I even out the score. God, it has been quite a year- I've lived a little bit and I've died a little more. I know that I've asked it before, But please let the scale tip here in my favor. What was once the sweetest melody I've heard Is now a memory reduced to little words. I'll tune the orchestra and play the overture, Until I pinpoint every note. Give me the heart of an archeologist, That I may dig until I prove that I exist. A subterranean cathedral in my midst, Where echos come to rest.

Sakyo Furuichi : Touch

When will I feel this as vivid as it truly is, Fall in love in a single touch, and fall apart when it hurts too much? Can we skip past near-death clichés Where my heart restarts, as my life replays? All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed.

Invisible machinery, These moving parts inside of me Well, they’ve been shutting down for quite some time, Leaving only rust behind. Well I know, I know - the sirens sound Just before the walls come down. Pain is a well-intentioned weatherman Predicting God as best he can, But God I want to feel again, Oh God I want to feel again.

Rain or shine, I don’t feel a thing, just some information upon my skin. I miss the subtle aches when the weather changed, The barometric pressure we always blamed. All I want is to flip a switch Before something breaks that cannot be fixed. Down my arms, a thousand satellites Suddenly discover signs of life.

Azami Izumida : Anger

Like wildfire, it starts in my chest The silence grows louder, ringing out in my head

I feel the Earth shaking under my feet I feel the pressure building until I can't breathe And it takes everything

And it all spills out, reckless but honest words leave my mouth Like kerosene on a flame of doubt, I couldn't make it right

Alarms will sound, but it's too late for holy water now Sooner or later the fire dies down, I'll open up my eyes

And I'll try and find the image of God In mountains made of ash and clouds of smoke It's fight or flight, buried in my mind, It's fight or flight It keeps my mind cold

But I feel it break, With just one misstep down a fire escape And suddenly I'm someone that prays, a last minute man of faith But I'll leave behind miles and miles of jagged lines Upon the surface of the Divine, I wish I could set them straight

Say

they impose the endless fight to always be perfect it seems they have been chosen to be above the rest

but the contradiction stands between these perfect lives and the words that they've misread there was no reading say all the things that you really want to say the truest of forms will show finally you'll find your soul

Bonus: Sakyo & Azami: Uneven Odds

I once knew your father well He fought tears as he spoke of your mother’s health I guess a part of him just couldn’t return Forgiveness is a lesson he cursed you to learn As your guardian I was instructed well To make sense of God’s love in these fires of hell No I don’t expect you to understand Just to live what little life your broken heart can Maybe your light is a seed And the darkness the dirt In spite of the uneven odds Beauty lifts from the earth As the years move on these questions take shape Are you getting stronger or is time shifting weight? No one expects you to understand Just to live what little life your mended heart can You’ll always remember the moment God took her away For the weight of the world was placed on your shoulders that day You’re much too young now so I write these words down, “Darkness exists to make light truly count.”

& Heirloom

You try your hardest to leave the past alone. This crooked posture is all you’ve ever known. It is the consequence of living in between The weight of family and the pull of gravity. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become. Long before you were born there was light Hidden deep in these young, unfamiliar eyes. A million choices, though little on their own, Become the heirloom of the heaviness you’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become,

You pressed rewind for the thousandth time When the tapes wore through. So you memorized those unscripted lines, Desperate for some kind of clue:

When the scale tipped, when you inherited, A fight that you were born to lose. It’s not your fault, No, it’s not your fault, I put this heavy heart in you.

You remind me of who I could have been, Had I been stronger and braver way back then. A million choices, though little on their own, Became the heirloom of the heaviness we’ve known. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than the wars you’ve won. You are so much more than your father’s son. You are so much more than what I’ve become.

Winter Troupe : Homesick

Our resignation only comes on beaten paths When the world was flat we dreamt of its edges If love's elastic, then were we born to test it's reach? Is it buried treasure or just a single puzzle piece? It's poison ivy beneath our brave and trusting feet All revelations come to us in recovery Cry wolf, cry mercy, Cry the name of the one you were raised to believe Cry heart, cry yourself to sleep, Cry a storm of tears if it helps you breathe It helps you, if it helps you breathe

Or Hourglass

We're taking turns at shattering apart. At least we're taking turns. How did we get so good at dismantling these hearts? How did we ever get so good? We dress our best to receive their sympathy. At our worst, we dress our best? “time heals all” According to these greeting cards. Oh how we'd rather time resets. If we could turn the hourglass, we would. If we could move a grain of sand, we would. If we could find our way back, we would.

Tsumugi Tsukioka : Clockwork

There is glass between our touch, phantom limbs of former love... and the truth is that I am so terrified that the callous is deeper than the surface of our skin. and it takes us twice as long, it takes us twice as long to heal. we'll lift up the ground to see the system of roots beneath. gears turn, endlessly, to bring the world back to life like clockwork, when it dies. the cadence of beating hearts, the click of its moving parts grows louder and louder from this restless earth... future gardens wait patiently below and somehow we smell them blossom through the snow.

still unsatisfied, we chase what we're denied. as generations wait, we can't resist the taste of possibility. gears turn, endlessly, to bring us back to life again. like clockwork, we begin.

Tasuku Takato : Porcelain

The door broke when you slammed it shut, and the cracks kept reaching long after you left. through the floorboards, branching towards the hall, like vines that never rest... climbing like fire through the walls. a single spark that claims the whole forest - I know, I know... it's all for the best. but honestly, I would rather be safe from a distance than here... when I fell to my knees to sew the damage shut, I couldn't believe... a bright, staggering light came flooding into me from out of the seams. so I reached deeper in and pulled my whole world wide open, and for each broken mile, a billion miracles happen at once in everything... in everything. but I'm safe from a distance, right here. everything I love was made of porcelain, ready to break. but the bright, staggering light, it anxiously waits inside. like nesting dolls, the secret hides. and like every birth, it was a necessary pain... I know, I know... it's all worth the wait, worth the weight.

or Accidental Lights

On your mark, get set... A million miles past the finish line My heels lift at this imaginary starting line. The trigger slips; My heart was racing well before it's time. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, As the road up ahead disappears. Though it's all been said, and this empty dictionary is all that's left, I'll try to change the world in a single word. My hands are shaking, ready or not. Invisible ink well it's all I've got. So I'll concentrate and pick from these barren trees. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I discover disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, some call it breathing. Have i said too much or not enough? Is it overkill or is it giving up, To measure out the distance of an echo's reach? If it's all broken mirrors and a chance roll of the dice, Then I'll risk everything for a glimpse of accidental light. Time's running out, it's always running out on me, And every road I've discovered disappears under my feet - Some call it reckless, I call it breathing.

Hisoka Mikage : Smell

Is this the part when the brain scans show where memories reside? Some ambiguous shape in me suddenly producing light Triggered like a tripwire, every time I breathe it in Isn't it strange that a Lilac tree is what unlocks where I've been? Like a time machine rebuilds the past, our memories return Like remembering the ashes before we burn

It finishes against my will, the light goes out, my heart goes still And just like that, I believe in ghosts

Time and space are at my back, Performing disappearing acts Now I can escape the smell of smoke Research says that the only way to keep memories intact Is to lock 'em away and close the doors to countless years of past I guess that explains why the strangest things can conjure up the past And forgotten time will find its long way back

It doesn't matter, I just know I need more Cause I feel like I've been sleeping through the better part of this Laying dormant through an endless winter that doesn't even exist

It's gravity in an hourglass, responsible for the avalanche And the loudest silence that I've ever heard Memory clear as a bell, A story that I will try to tell Maybe this time without words

Homare Arisugawa : Four

Maybe I'm hiding behind metaphor Maybe my heart needs to break to be sure One day I'll wear it all on my sleeve The insignificant with the sacred unique But I've fallen in love with a ghost I lost my balance when I needed it most And this blurry photograph is proof Of what I'm not sure but it feels like truth I'm stuck swimming in shadows down here It's been forever since I came up for air Flashlight in hand determined to find Authenticity only poetry could even begin to try to describe

What if we already are who we've been dying to become In certain light I can plainly see a reflection of magnificence Hidden in you, Maybe even in me

or Son

Show me Who I am and who I could be Initiate the heart within me 'til it opens properly

Slow down Start again from the beginning I can't keep my head from spinning out of control Is this what being vulnerable feels like? And I will try, try, try to breathe 'til it turns to muscle memory I'm only steady on my knees One day I'll stand on my own two feet And I'll run the risk Of being intimate with brokenness Through this magnifying glass I see a thousand finger prints On the surfaces of who I am

Azuma Yukishiro : Two

Tell me, is something wrong? If something's wrong, you can count on me You know I'll take my heart clean apart if it helps yours beat It's okay if you can't find the words, Let me take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders

I know exactly how the rule goes Put my mask on first No, I don't want to talk about myself Tell me where it hurts I just want to build you up, build you up 'Til you're good as new And maybe one day, I will get around To fixing myself, too I don't even know where to start Already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart I just want to love you, to love you, to love you well I just want to learn how, somehow to be loved myself

Or Six

What would it feel like to put this baggage down? If I'm being honest I'm not sure I'd know how I want to take shelter but I'm ready, ready to fight And somewhere in the middle I feel a little paralyzed But maybe I'm stronger than I realize I wanna believe - No, I choose to believe That I was made to become a sanctuary Fear won't go away but I can keep it at bay And these invisible walls just might keep us safe With a vigilant heart, I'll push into the dark And I'll learn to breathe deep and make peace with the stars Is that courage or faith to show up every day? To trust that there will be light, Always waiting behind even the darkest of nights

Guy : Mind

First, the ground rules get established: Memory is historically inaccurate. But repetition, repetition sings 'Til finally the melody is sacred, rooted, unchanged.

It overwhelms the nervous system, This fearful constant state of comparison. In our grey matter, all grey matters. An embarrassment of riches in our heads, We gravitate to black or white instead. We were designed to send mixed signals, One image made up of different pixels All subject to interpretation. 'Til binary systems, binary systems run And the vibrancy of everything becomes zeros and ones.

Patterns form and feel important, It's the first brush stroke of a self-portrait.

#'i'll slap relevent lyrics' *slaps 90% of the lyrics for some*#anyway i am posting it before i'm starting to doubt my picks but yeah #some i feel stronger about than others #aNYWAY #ichatalks about a3 #ichablogging music #a3 #a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

Text

Song: La La Lost You by Niki

Summary: With him being the pro hero he is, time slips away while distance grows.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x fem! reader

Word count: 4.8k

Warning: angst, cursing

Quirk: You can read minds and portray them in real life. Example: If they thought about a gun, you create the image of the gun and use the gun. Same goes for you, if you think about a bomb, a bomb is already in your hands ready to use.

Symbols: Italic= flashbacks

A/n: can you pls let me know if you'd like a part 2 fnejdn

While I'm on Sunset, are you on the subway?

While I drive, are you gettin' on the L-train?

Bakugo can feel the longing in his heart as he watches a couple pick out engagement rings. His fists tighten at the sight as he feels an ache in his heart while he longs for an embrace his body misses, a body he missed to cherished, pair of lips he missed to place upon his. He lowers his head as he does his nightly patrols. Winter coming in closer than he realized, another year passing by. He thought he wanted this year to end as fast as it could yet here he is, sorrow and regret on his shoulders. Half of his heart gone, nearly falling apart as he stares at every happy couple his eyes fall upon. Even if his fans came to him, no matter how loud the praises and compliments were thrown at him, he felt nothing.

All he wanted to feel was her.

He wanted to feel how warm she was pressed against him, he wanted to feel her lips on his once again, he wanted to hear her voice again. Not the voice he last heard that was full of sadness but the voice he loved to listen to whenever he had his nightmares, his insecure nights. The softness in her tone, the way every laugh of hers would sound ethereal to him, the feist in her words whenever they had their battles. Now all those sounds seem to grow deaf to him. It's been a year, a year without her. A rather long year for him. Everyday he had to wake up to a cold bed, no arms wrapped around him, no view for him to enjoy when he opens his eyes. The way your moments were held in the walls surrounding him, every milestone of your relationship cherished in one household. He felt as if it was mocking him, making him remember the happiness your relationship brought him.

Hope that eases the pain

So you remember to miss me

Before, your house was filled with pictures of you two. Now it was empty, a house for one man when it was supposed to be a house for his ever after with her. Where was his savior? Where are the soft melodies she'd sing to him whenever he had his insecurities drag him down? All these moments he can only replay in his mind.

As he opens the door, he remembers the smile that falls on his lips no matter how exhausted he was, ready to see his girlfriend safe and sound in their own house. He'd catch her asleep on the couch with her favorite blanket cuddled up to a stuff toy he won her in a game.

He lets out a tired sigh before stepping in the shower. He closes his eyes, trying to surpass the way his eyes wanted to shed tears at the sight of her without his side. The more he tries to ignore it, the farther she gets from his view. He only remembers the way he raised his voice at her, the tears that ran down her cheek. The hurtful things that left his mouth, he never meant to say.

Unsaid things only to be said to a wall as his chances were slimming down as time passes. The words he wanted to say only being said when he was intoxicated but the person he badly wanted to say it to wasn't there to listen.

Does the trick for all of the things left unsaid

He didn't dare to face his friends, knowing questions and reactions are the only things he's gonna get from them. They'd be the ones to mention your name when they notice your disappearance. Kirishima knows about the split and has made many attempts to get the blonde back on his feet like he used to but every attempt would just end in bottles on the floor and carrying Bakugos intoxicated body back in your old couch.

Kirishimas heart wanted to cry for him.

Whenever your name was mentioned in missions or groups, he'd noticed the sadness that sets in his eyes and expression while he tries to hide it by being his aggressive self. Even as his best friend, there's nothing that he could do when the only solution to Bakugos heart was you.

You tried to ignore the fact that every night for a year you drowned out your emotions by overworking yourself and thinking that by being surrounded by lights and alcohol brought you contentment while you had no clue of what your other half was doing. Like him, you craved nothing more than to be with him.

Some have tried to contact you, you tried to sound believable as possible. Trying to sound like the boy you love was still around you pulling pranks behind you or him randomly wrapping his arms around you.

But you're on the other side of the country.

An offer you couldn't possibly lose, not even letting him know where you were. Him only knowing when the news had caught you fighting off villains in a city he can't just run to when he missed you. You knew that distance never fixed anything but at this point is there anything to be fixed? When laid out in front of you two are broken pieces of your own hearts. Scatted in cities where he remembers you by, scattered in his clothes that fit like a dress on you, scattered in streets making a path for you two to retrace your steps and fix what's happened. Hanging onto memories day by day. Trying to grasp a reality that was too good to be true.

All my demons have your smile

Unlike him, your surroundings were new.

Everything was new. You weren't stuck to suffer in the place where your love blossomed, the new environment insisting you to change but the way you saw couples and kids ticked you off to the very least.

December hasn't been this cold than you remember it. You shed a tear or two whenever you overheard one of the heroes ramble on how excited she was that she was engaged. It would've been 6 years with him by next month and a ring should've been placed in your very hands by now knowing the shared conversations you two had about marriage.

Saddened by the thought of it, you head home changing out of your hero clothes. You sat in the train, your exhaustion getting the best of you as you opened your eyes to see Bakugo sitting in front of you but as you blink he was gone. As the train goes under a tunnel, you look at the window as your memories play like some movie scene. You turn to look at the couples that surrounded you and your mind betrays you thinking of a girl that can make Bakugo happy like you did.

The darkness of the train enabled you to cry. You covered your face in your hands as you let out a sob. As a hero you couldn't care if people saw you like this, everyone had a breaking point. You've had enough of today. You continue to cry as you tighten the grip on your sweater and on the necklace that you wore.

"Who knew you could do things like this?" You teased as he taps your nose. You were set on his lap as he brings out a box. His hand caresses your cheek as he looks at you with love, love and nothing more.

"Shut it, dumbass. Now turn around." You rolled your eyes as you turned around, your back facing his chest. He sits up properly, gently moving your h/c aside as a cold piece of jewelry was placed around your neck. Once it was attached, Bakugo pressed light kisses on your shoulder as he whispers for you to face him. When you did, he smiled.

"You look amazing, Y/N." He says with pink painted cheeks. You blushed at his words your hand playing with the necklace.

"What's this for, Katsuki?" You asked as you intertwined your hands with his. He kisses the back of your hand as he looks at you.

"So you'll always have me."

As you wipe your tears, you felt a buzz in the pocket of your jeans. Picking it up the name "kiri<3" flashes before you. Sniffling a bit, you decided to answer.

"Kirishima? Is everything okay?"

Meanwhile on the other line, Bakugos breath hitched at the sound of you. It was another night where he dragged Kirishima to another bar and drown his feelings. He begged Kirishima to dial your number, just to hear it even if it wasn't meant for him.

"Hey Y/N! Sorry if I called a little later than expected, you doing okay? This is really random and unmanly-"

"Kiri it's fine! I'm fine yeah just heading home. How are you by the way?" Bakugo stays silent as he hears your voice. He missed it so much. He hadn't felt this desperate since you left.

"Well I'm doing fine too, Y/N. Guess I kinda just miss my partner in crime." You smiled at his words, finally feeling relieved after your session of crying.

"I miss you too, Eiji. How-"

"Y/N!" A familiar voice suddenly rushing to your ears as you sit up. It's him. Bakugo tries to steal the phone from Kirishima but Kirishima won't give it to him, thinking it was wrong for Bakugo to talk to you in a state like this.

"Bakugo-" The call ends before you can even say anything else. Kirishima sighs as Bakugo notices the call has ended.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR SHIT HEAD?!"

"WHY CAN'T YOU CALL HER ON YOUR OWN, BAKUGO!" Kirishima shouts. Bakugo is taken aback by his sudden burst of words. Bakugo stays silent as Kirishima puts his phone in the pocket of his jeans.

"If you love her why don't you call her yourself? Make some fucking plans with her, talk it out. You're suffering because you're weak enough to reach out to her. This would've been simple from the beginning when you actually had the balls to talk to her and apologize!"

"If you feels so shitty about Y/N leaving, we're her friends too you know. We also lost her. I always have your back Bakugo, but this time this is your problem." Kirishima leaves your apartment with a sigh of defeat as he glides over your phone number, texting a sorry before he went home. Bakugo had his head hung low, taking in every word he heard.

He's right. He thought.

You had a hand placed on your heart when you heard him. You figured that it didn't end well for Kirishima when the call ended. Your screen flashes before reading the message.

kiri<3: I'm really sorry about that Y/N, but I do miss you. we all do. especially bakugo.

When you were home, your hand traces over the blocked contact of your other half. You smile as you reread your past conversations. But as you hug your pillow shutting the device off, you felt your eyes close remembering the warmth you used to have when he slept beside you.

He came home from a patrol, promising to save as many as he can but ended up saving only half of what he intended to. The cries of people ringing in his ears. He felt low, unworthy, selfish, weak. He couldn't save them, he could've been better. Now he realizes the fear that grows on him that he can't always save you.

"What the fuck did you say, Katsuki?! You don't get to say shit like I'm not a hero like you! We're both fucking exhausted. I'm asking you for one, one day." You shout.

He wasn't as strong as you. He utters words that mean the complete opposite of what he wanted to say, even denying love when he first experienced it. So scared of feeling emotions since the only thing he relied on was himself. He is strong in battles, the thrill giving him life, excitement. This is what he wanted. To live the life of his idols, to surpass them and show them he meant every word when said he wanted to be #1. What he didn't want was a girl who held his heart with strings. Playing with his emotions, discovering the branches of love. Discovering how his world changed when he fell for the girl he could never reach. He didn't want his heart to be fragile. He wanted it to be tough and unbreakable, a barrier around it where no one can see through his sharp demeanor. But there she was. Breaking every barrier with ease. In this moment, his heart made barriers once again.

"I fucking meant it when I said I don't have any time to be with you anymore. I need to work, Y/N! Why cant you get that through your fucking skull" He shouts back, a finger to your forehead pushing you back. Your cheeks were from the anger that sprung to your spirits. Every part of you was aching with anger. Tears spilling from your eyes as he watches you.

"That's all you ever fucking do Katsuki! Do you just purposely forget that I also work hard and here I am asking for one night with my boyfriend and you're pushing me aside like I'm nothing to you!"

"Nothing?! Maybe you just don't fucking understand what I'm saying! I have my own shit to deal with and I can't always drop everything for your needy ass. Do you need me to pat you on the back for being a good hero? You shouldn't even call yourself a hero when I'm the reason you even made it this far, princess." You closed your eyes as your hands turned white from how much you were tightening them.

Y/N, don't believe it. Please. I'm begging you-

"OF COURSE YOU GOT ME HERE! Call me anything you want. Weak, laid back, unworthy, low, insecure, stupid, worthless, have at it but I'm fucking drowning in my own stress, shitty paper work and patrols. I am a hero. You don't get to fucking remove that title from me. While you got me here, you're forgetting all the shit I did for you!"

"The things you did for me? What, like love? That's nothing to me."

Love.

All the smiles you've given him. The moments where you made him realize that if he wasn't the #1 hero, the only thing that mattered him was you. The memories of you with your head on his shoulder enjoying the sunset while he talks about how much he loves you. The feeling of his hands intertwining with yours as you danced in your living room. The moment where he said he'd catch you no matter what. The moments where you would wake up to his kisses on your face. The feeling when you see him safe and sound as you hug him enjoying life when his love surrounded you. The feeling when you imagined yourself marrying the perfect man for you.The promises. Future plans. The kisses. Never ending hugs. 5 years with the person who made you the happiest, who made you determined, who made you feel like you can conquer anything, who made you believe in love even in the toughest ways.

It was all nothing.

You bite your lip as your head hung low. He hears your sobs and it wasn't enough for him to wake up from all this anger. He needed you just as much as you did, but in this moment he didn't realize it. He thought he needed a break, some silence to drown out the cries of the people he had left behind but now he can only hear his heart shattering. Piece by piece. Torn. With every word he says. With every glance he gives you, seeing you so hurt because of him. He bared no meaning to his words and he hopes you can see that he too needed saving but he notices the drop in your tone. Dull eyes, tear stained cheeks, unsteady breathing.

"I just w-wanted to be with you.. t-to be saved. To be saved from this asshole of a man claiming he loves but me pushes me away like dirt. A man who tells me an empty promise of always being there to catch me. Katsuki, was it all really nothing y-you?" He bites his lip before taking a step forward but you step back, life drained out of you. Every color saturated to liveliness was nothing but black and white now. Storms and heavy weather. Tears and broken hearts.

I can't do this.

"I just can't save you anymore." He whispers but you heard it clear as day. You let out the most painful sob as your knees give in, a thud to the floor as you cover your face in your hands. Now the fear in his head of him never saving you, he only faces the truth that he can't save everyone, even you. Your sobs echoed through the house as he turns around to wipe away his tears, a hand to his pained chest. As his back was turned to you, you left to go to your room. He notices your disappearance as he only sits on the couch, knowing the events that were to happen next. You grabbed a bag stuffing in whatever you could as you continued to release your sorrows. When you were finished you took a last good look on your room. The room where every nightmare was comforted with love, the room where secrets were shared, deep fears, everything. You take a deep breath before opening the door. You see him sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

You both wake up with tears in your eyes as your head weighed a ton, making you grip your pillow with such force, completely unhappy you were greeted this way. You looked up at the mirror to see bags under your eyes, puff cheeks, and a version of you that you despised to see everyday.

Not a single glow of happiness.

You weren't ready to face another tiresome day at the agency but your limbs forced you to knowing it'd be another patrol then by the night some paperwork and then patrolling once again. His words replayed in your mind, still affecting you with how he belittled you as a hero. Sure, you couldn't save millions but you saved hundreds, even if you were on brim of your quirk affecting your mental state, you would still save thousands.

And it pains you that he doesn't even notice how your quirk affects your mental being.

It takes immense focus for you to portray what you needed, and it requires you to be sharp and quick with your mind. Yet, overusing it alters the reality you wanted. Your mind playing a sick game to your overall being, stuck in the darkest part of your mind, leading you the same night that started it all.

But he still wouldn't save you.

Bakugo had his vermilion eyes on the road, as the others discussed on the upcoming mission. He didn't even bother to pay interest on where they were going, more focused on fighting with the villain and finishing the job.

Maybe it was the hundredth time today where he thought about you.

He looks at the beautiful scenery in front of him, and his mind leads him to remember your smile and your features he loved to gaze his eyes on. Now, villains and explosions were the only things that clouded his vision or sometimes the sight of his companions, which didn't really help him.

Then the vehicle comes to a stop, his eyes landing on a store. Seen through the glass was a beautiful dress, painted in her favorite color, with the perfect length and dainty design. He smiles to himself, visualizing how stunning she'd look wearing it, especially seeing her skin looking so bright and healthy under the winter atmosphere.

She'd love that. He says to himself, feeling bittersweet that he wanted to buy it, but who would even wear it? He can't just give it to her without having a conversation. Even if it's been nearly a year, how can he prepare for something he avoided?

He steps out of the vehicle, feeling exhausted thinking about her. He hears his companions talk about splitting up so each hero wouldn't be suspected, he agrees with them, not even bothering to give them a snarky comment. He was too occupied with the thought of you in that splendid dress.

He wonders around the city, hands to his pockets. Especially in his hero costume, he received so many stares from the people. He'd either glare back at them or ignore them completely, but this time he just let them stare for as long as they liked. The only pair of eyes he wanted to land on him was yours, your ever stunning ones.

He remembers the moments where the sun beamed perfectly on your eyes, depicting the color with such grace and beauty. He remembers every memory where your eyes were gateways to your emotions, filled with such genuine and love. It even helped him at times where words weren't needed to express the way he felt. He loved how you managed to read him so easily, like a book she's memorized every page of. Even the slightest change in his tone, you were able to pick it up and soon interrogate him if he was okay.

He watches a couple who had boxes in their hands with smiles evident in their eyes and lips. He watches as the man gestures to help the girl but she declines walking ahead of him, he follows behind the girl making sure the boxes wouldn't fall.

"Katsuki stop!" She shouts with a giggle, he ignores her completely, pushing her slightly to make the boxes fall. She completely looses balance as the boxs fall on the floor. She gasps as she runs to punish the blonde as he quickly puts down the boxes as he runs away from her. You can hear her screaming profanities at the man as the couple runs around outside their house.

Bakugo hides from her, eyeing her from his secret spot. He takes the opportunity when he sees her completely confused he was gone, so he takes you by surprise by slinging you over his shoulders, chuckling at how she threw mild punches at his back.

"Babe! How are we gonna finish moving in our stuff!" She says with a laugh, still trying to beg for him to put her down. He spins around making her laugh even more as he sets her on the ground. The sun beams down on them, her eyes glowing so beautifully under the golden light. His hand reaches her cheeks, squishing it lightly as he smiles at her expression.

"Who said we even needed to finish it today? C'mon. We have the house all to ourselves." Katsuki says, as you sighed giving into him. He smirks to himself as he lifted you off the ground once again, swinging you over his shoulders too easily.

"Baby!"

His eyes wander elsewhere, feeling his chest tightening once again at the memories that resurface upon him.

After a long fight with a villain who kept scarring you with their weapon, your mind was completely going to collapse at any minute. You've been creating bullets and barriers for so long you didn't notice how other objects that you didn't need were suddenly made, dropping behind you. You can feel the throbbing pain of your head as you limped to the town. Random objects still were popping up every minute and it annoyed you how your quirk was out of your grasp.

(TW! Hallucination/Panic attack)

You simply wanted water and some first aid kit to make sure you make it to your agency but when you imagined the bottle of water, you immediately acted like it was created but it wasn't. All the things that you thought you made weren't there and you felt your eyes feel droopy as you let your hand hold onto the wall for support. It was starting to alter your reality, making it worse for you to think straight while your thoughts were all tied in loops from overusing it. Your vision blurring at the sight of people who were walking by.

Your mind was growing more and more explosive as you felt pain surround your head. You let out a scream as you felt every part of your head ache as unnecessary objects were still appearing beside you. This scream alerts the people but they chose not to gather around you, unsure what was happening. They were all muttering questions but this only added to the problem as you started panting, harshly closing your eyes trying to avoid any eye contact from them. You heard a loud shout before your mind completely goes blank, feeling like you were shot. It happened all too fast as you fall to your knees, mind empty and damaged, your system completely failing to support you as a person was seen pushing through the sea of people.

Then, their eyes met.

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