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dapandapod · 1 year

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Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing.

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook.

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.

142 notes · View notes

hux-and-gay · 2 months

Text

Kylux Short Shorts Fest 2024: Day 1: Memory Loss

Till You Return

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look at me still posting day one prompts on day two lmao. Pls reblog I don’t have A03 yet.

Rating: General Audiences

maybe more chapters in the future idk yet

after their shuttle crashes, Hux finds himself stuck on a planet with his rival, yet again. but it seems Ren is not exactly himself.

At first everything was loud, too loud. Sounds so jarring he couldn’t discern what they were or where they were coming from. Everything echoed as if he were underwater. He was bombarded by sensations, rumbling, crashing, the smell of smoke, light flashing. screaming? No that was himself, pain shot through his body, he couldn’t tell from where. Was he bleeding? He wasn’t sure. He reached out grabbing the wall in frontal of him to pull himself from the rubble of the crashed shuttle. He stumbled forward, almost falling into the belly of the ship. He caught himself on his elbows glancing back to see his foot still stuck in the twisted metal of one of the passenger seats. He moved it slightly. It hurt but it didn’t seem to be stuck too tightly. He gritted his teeth and yanked it forward, yelping as the metal cut into his boot. Once it was free he pushed himself to stand, ignoring the throbbing pain shooting through his leg.

As much as he hated to give any form of credit to the man, If Ren hadn’t been piloting he’d likely be dead. He looked across the compartment where the other troopers had been standing. The ceiling had caved in, their bodies strewn across the floor. He knelt down to them, removing the helmets of those he was able to, and feeling for a pulse. Dead. He grumbled to himself. He’d told them to sit down but they hadn’t listened, now their stupidity was their downfall. He limped to the cockpit door which still seemed relatively intact though the access panel was crushed and it was slightly ajar. He grabbed it and pushed as hard as he could, which was quite difficult while trying no to put weight on his leg. He could see Ren at the pilot's seat through the crack in the door.

“Ren, A little assistance, please!” He grunted, pushing harder as the door started to move. “Of course this would happen. I’m beginning to think it’s not merely a coincidence that something goes awry every time you’re with me. This is the second crashed shuttle you know.”

There was no response.

“Ren?”

Silence.

“Typical.” He squeezed his body through the slight opening in the door he had widened, trying to mask his anxiety about Ren’s lack of response. If Ren was injured it would make things a lot more difficult. Though his silence could mean alot more than just injury… he tried to shake away the feeling. He doubted a mere crash landing would kill Kylo Ren, and if it did, well, he should want that, right?

He didn’t have any time to dwell on these thoughts. Once he was through the door he rushed forward, almost hopping as to not put pressure on his injured leg- which probably looked more ridiculous then he elected to admit.

Ren was slumped in the pilot's chair, he didn’t appear to be bleeding, which was a good sign. Hux took his head, gently lifting it. His eyes were closed and there was an angry bruise across his forehead. He must have slammed against the console when they landed. He was breathing so he wasn’t dead. Hux wasn’t sure whether to be fortunate about that or not. He got to work quickly, unstrapping him.

“Of course you're going to make me drag you out of here. Don’t say I never do anything for you.” He said even though he knew Ren wouldn’t hear.

As he began pulling Ren up from the chair he started to smell something acrid, sulfuric. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was but it could not have been good. The air seemed thinner in the cockpit, harder to breathe. He glanced up seeing a gaping hole in the roof. It must have been the atmosphere that was causing the difficulty. He actually had no clue what planet they were on or whether the air was breathable.

“Kriff” He mumbled to himself. He glanced around taking shallow breaths and trying not to cough at the tightness in his throat. Quickly he squeezed himself back through the door grabbing two of the trooper helmets and limping back over to Ren. Taking one He began shoving it over Ren’s head, which was slightly difficult since he was bigger than the average stormtrooper.

“the one time that ridiculous helmet of yours would prove useful you don’t have it.” He grumbled finally managing to shove it on, winching slightly at the thought of how much it was probably pressing on the man’s head wound. He pulled the other helmet on himself, taking a deep gulp of air as soon as it was filtered. He squinted through the visor, the helmet was certainly something he had to get used too.

He grabbed Ren and hoisted him up hissing as he fell back on his leg. He certainly couldn’t carry him, dragging would have to suffice. He couldn’t deny he was slightly amused by the notion. He dragged Ren from the ship, taking the transponder with him. Once they were free of the wreckage he brought them a safe distance away and leaned Ren against a tree before collapsing, panting. He was grateful his co-commander wasn’t conscious to see how much he’d struggled. He glanced down at his foot, the pain was numbing, he didn’t think he could take his boot off without cutting it. He’d have to wait for the first order to arrive. Right… they didn’t know where they were. He picked up the transponder, it was somewhat crushed but salvageable, he took off the front panel and began working on it. So immersed in the inner workings of the machine he didn’t notice Ren stirring.

“Don’t move!” Ren’s voice cut through the silence.

“Oh your awake?” Hux said not even bothering to look up. “Good I was begging to think you were dead, not that I would’ve been adverse to that.”

“Silence Imperial scum!”

“Imperial- What?” He sputtered, turning to Ren who was standing over him with a broken tree branch.

“Ren, what are you talking about?”

“My name’s not Ren.” He growled angrily “You’re probably part of the remnant aren’t you?”

“The remnant?” Hux shook his head realizing what was going on. “Lovely, you were bad enough before, and now you’re delusional. Put the bloody stick down, I'm unarmed, I won’t attack you. I’m not a fool.”

Ren relented and dropped the stick. “You’re bleeding.”

“And you hit your head, evidently very hard.” He responded curtly. He hadn’t noticed he was bleeding, nor was he sure from where, but he wasn’t that concerned about it at the moment. “Ren- or Ben… or whatever you remember your name being, I’m not an imperial.”

“Then why are you wearing a stormtrooper helmet?!” He said, hand lingering over where he’d placed the stick down.

“So are you.” Hux nodded.

“I am?” He reached up and felt around his head. “Oh, I guess I am-“ He began to take it off.

“No! Don’t take it off!” Hux yelled, sounding more anxious than he intended to.

“What? Why! I can barely see and it’s really tight.”

“Not my fault you have a big head.” He scoffed.

“Hey! no need to insult me!” He said, crossing his arms.

“Oh what a joy it is to be stuck here with an oversized concussed toddler,” Hux added, shaking his head. “You can’t take the helmet off because it’s filtering the air.”

“Oh! I guess that makes sense.”

Hux couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. Ren’s agreeable nature was odd, endearing, almost cute.

“Did you think I put a helmet on your head for fun? I’m beginning to think you’re more brainless than you were before.”

“Do you want me to get the stick again?” Ren asked bluntly, Hux couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Oh no, I’m terrified.” He crowed sarcastically.

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” Ren added as he paced around the tree. Hux had to admit he was jealous the man could still walk, though he wasn’t sure which injury would have been better.

“If you’re not an imp, then what kind of uniform is that? It looks pretty imperial to me.” He said poking Hux’s shoulder

Hux scowled and shrugged off the finger. “The empire is long gone, I’m part of the first order, so are you, though it seems you’ve forgotten.”

“First Order…” He sounded out the words slowly and deliberately as if he were testing them on his tongue, trying to see if it felt familiar to say. “What of the republic then?”

“Also gone, aside from a few loathsome troublemakers bent on keeping the Galaxy in turmoil.”

“But my mother was with the republic…”

“And you’re with the order. Ren I can’t make it make sense to you, I can just tell you what is true.” He slumped his back against the tree picking up the transponder again. He didn’t really think it was important to explain what he knew of Ren’s past to him at the moment.

“What’s that?” Ren inquired pearling over his shoulder like a curious child.

“The transponder, communications were shot so I’m fixing it. If not, we won't be able to contact anyone.”

“And you know how to do that?” He sounded impressed.

“What, fix it? Yes, sometimes engineering skills can be useful.”

“What happened?”

Hux mumbled under his breath, the questions were only distracting him and he was in too much pain to put up with Ren at the moment. “Would you calm down with the questions they’re giving me a migraine.”

Ren blinked at him waiting for his answer, making it clear he would only keep asking.

Hux sighed, “Our shuttle crashed, It’s just over ther-“ As he spoke there was a massive explosion in the direction the shuttle had been, they both jumped slightly as the trees shook with the force of the blast. “Or it was over there.”

“So who are you exactly?”

“Hux.” He didn’t care enough to add anything more. He was still trying to focus on getting communications back up.

Ren raised an eyebrow “If I don’t remember who you are then a name isn’t going to do much to help. How do I know you?”

“You’re my co-“ He paused, smirking to himself. “My assistant.”

“You’re assistant?” I find that hard to believe.”

“Means nothing to me if you don’t believe me. Again I can only tell you the truth.” There wasn’t any reason for him bluff but he had to admit there was some fun to it.

“Fine then why would you need an assistant?”

“Well I’m the- the leader, I rule the order.” It was a childish lie he knew, but Ren didn’t have any reason not to believe him, or prove he was lying.

“So you're like on the senate?”

“Something like that.” It was nothing like that, but why bother explaining something that wasn’t true.

“Oh- Does it hurt?” Ren kneeled down beside him

“Does what hurt?”

“Your leg, It’s bent weirdly.” He nodded to it, brushing his fingers across his boot but trying not to add any pressure.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He insisted.

“It hurts, yes, I’d be surprised if it didn’t. But at the moment I’m more concerned about getting off this planet, and dealing with your… Amnesia.” Hux wondered to himself if Ren’s memory loss would be permanent. He doubted it, but it would change a lot of things. One of the leaders of the order not even remembering what the order is could prove a challenge, or an opportunity. He yelped, jolted from his thoughts as Ren suddenly propped up his leg up on his knee.

“What are you doing?!” He choked biting back pain at the sudden movement.

“Helping you? Come on, don't tell me you can’t bear a little pain.”

“It’s no use, I can’t take my boot off.”

“Don’t worry I have my-“ Ren’s hand reached down to his belt finding his saber but staring at it curiously as he held up the unfamiliar hilt. “Jeez, how much have I forgotten?”

“I couldn’t tell you, and there is no way you are putting that thing anywhere near my body!” He scooted himself further away from Ren, he’d seen the man use his saber to angrily slice through the finalizer’s walls too many times now, he did not want to become his next innocent victim, especially when Ren was impaired.

“Relax, it's just a quick cut, I’ll be careful.” He assured him, taking the saber hilt firmly in his hand.

“THAT IS NOT AT ALL REASSURING!”

“It will hurt a lot less if the boot is off, so stop squirming damn it!” He grabbed his foot and steadied it making it clear Hux did not have a choice in the matter.

Hux sighed watching as the blade flickered to life. Ren blinked at it, eyes wide. “It’s… it’s Red.”

Hux hadn’t yet thought of how shocking that would be for him. As far as Ren or rather Ben was concerned he was still a Jedi in training, living with his uncle, or his parents, or whoever under, republic rule. He probably didn’t understand exactly what the first order was and Hux wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to deal with him discovering that he was a Sith apprentice. “it’s not yours.” Hux lied, hoping Ren’s memory would eventually return so he wouldn’t have to explain all this later.

“it isn’t?” He looked at it puzzled. “Then why do I have it?”

“you fought the man who owned it, you won and took his blade.”

“Oh!” he laughed, smiling as he did. “ for a second I thought I’d turned to the dark side!” Hux had never seen him like this before, for a second, it seemed as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he was just a young boy again. Seeing this made Hux smile internally then he immediately scowled, shaking off the feeling. That wasn’t something he should enjoy, in fact, he should be disgusted by it. Even if it was in the past, he’d never experienced that kind of happiness, and Ren had, and he threw it away. Now he was looking upon it fondly? Feeling remorse that Ren was no longer like that? He shook his head. He was just getting buried in his thoughts again, there was no attraction to this strange boyish version of Ren. There couldn’t be.

“Yes, what a crazy notion…” he added dryly, not bothering much to hide his lie.

Ren got to work carefully cutting through the boot, making sure he wouldn’t singe any skin. Once there was a slit down the side, he removed the boot carefully and worked to unclip the garter that held up Hux’s sock before gently rolling down the fabric. Hux winced, glancing at his swollen bloodied foot. It was definitely twisted in the wrong direction as Ren had pointed out, but the boot had hidden just how bad it was.

“Oh yeah this is definitely bad.” He said studying it. There was obvious concern in his voice.

“At least I haven’t lost several years of my memory.” Hux jested.

“yeah well if you didn’t let me take your boot off, you might’ve lost a foot.” He interjected, paying him a serious glare.

“I think that’s a bit of an overexaggeration” Hux added, rolling his eyes. In reality though his foot had gone numb, he wasn’t actually sure how bad it exactly was.

“Hux, the boot was cutting off your circulation, your foot is purple!”

It took Hux a second to process what he said. However it wasn’t the comment on his injury that stumped him, it felt odd to hear Ren say his name right now. He felt like more of a stranger than the man he’d known for several years. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even remember who I am and I haven’t exactly been cordial.”

“Well, I’m your assistant right? Isn’t it my job to assist you?” There was a sarcastic tone to his voice and Hux tried hard not to laugh. “Plus why would I just leave you in pain? Is that something I normally would do? Cause If so, then I guess I’m not a very good guy.”

Hux paused thinking about the question. “I- I don’t know. I suppose not.” It's true. Ren had hurt him in bursts of anger when his powers got the best of him, but he never felt that his life was threatened by Ren. Perhaps he should have, but sometimes he felt as though there was this unspoken bond between them. They both saved each other's lives on several occasions, Though they never spoke of it openly. And despite all their arguments they had always paired well together and been successful on their missions.

“Look,” Ren said, his voice sounded oddly somber, and genuine, “ I don’t know how much of what you’ve told me has been true, you very well could be lying to me right now. But what I do know is you pulled me from the shuttle or whatever or wherever I was. I was injured and unconscious, but now I’m safe because of you. That has to mean something doesn’t it? I may not be able to see your face through that helmet, but there’s something about you that feels familiar. Safe. You’re someone that I trust. I know that. Even if you lie to me. There’s something about you that tells me you’re important to me even if I can’t remember why. So whatever kind of person I am normally, I must value you very highly.”

Hux was stunned. He wasn’t sure what to say. Ren valued him? It was all too surreal. surely It had to be because of the injury? Naturally, he was just delusional, concussed, confused. He’d overheard countless times Ren complaining to Snoke, asking the Supreme Leader why Hux was still around and grumbling about his appointment as co-commander. There was no way these two men could be the same person. But deep down, Hux knew what Ren had said was true, and he knew he felt the same.

“Thank you.” He said quietly. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could think of to say. It was something he rarely said, though Ren wouldn’t know that at the moment. But part of him knew Ren realized it was a special occurrence.

Ren smiled at him, placing a hand gently on his knee before quickly turning back to his injury. “Good, now shut up and stop moving!”

@lessdenied @fives-ren @jaynesilver @thegeneralorder @diabollicallyangelic

@existing-sadly

@theosb0rnway

@dragonflies-draw-flame @hpdmism @fridayincarnate @tomatette

@transmasc-vampire-is-tired

@bostarsky

@kyluxshortshorts

#kylux #huxlo #armitage hux #star wars #kylo ren #general hux #ben solo #memory loss #fan fiction #writing #fluff #kylux short shorts 2024

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mslowlife · 1 year

Text

Mad(e) For You - Part III

Part I Part II

Pairings: Yandere! Ethan Landry x Yandere! Reader

Warnings: Murder, blood, violence, stabbing, swearing, possessive reader

Summary: No one deserved Ethan, especially her. You were going to make sure of it. Only you deserved him.

Word Count: 947

A/N: This part is really short I'm sorry ;-; i've been so busy last few days but I still hope you enjoy <3 thank u all for the support as well <3

Lydia Marrol. What a name, you thought. You repetitively told yourself that of course he had an ex girlfriend, there would always be another before you, but it still made your blood boil. How dare he. He should have known, he should have just been patient and not given in and dated some lowlife like Lydia. Lydia just seemed so amazing, Lydia had the perfect nuclear family, Lydia was just so smart with her scholarship. Gosh, why are girls so dumb you thought, just accepting any follow request they get for the sake of another follower. She practically let you into her life, to her ‘private’ online world. She did this to herself.

And even though they had been broken up for nearly three months, she still seemed so hung up on him. Always posting some cheesy breakup quote on her story with a sad song, or posting some stupid and unconvincing ‘i’m totally not in love with my ex’ motivation crap. Scrolling through her older instagram posts, you found old photos of Ethan and her together. God. She probably didn’t delete them because she thought they’d get back together. Well they weren’t, you were sure of it.

It didn’t take long to find out who Lydia was, you see with some simple sleuthing you could find exactly what school Lydia Marrol attended, what classes she took down to the exact times and days, and what dorm she stayed in.

Adjusting your coat, you slipped your boots on and headed out the front gate. Finding where Lydia would be this time of evening wouldn’t be too hard, considering she usually spam posts what she’s doing at every time of every day.

Looking at her timetable, you found she just finished class minutes ago. Perfect. Then, you went on her instagram, knowing she would have just posted some unrelatable crap on story, and yes of course, she did. “study timeeee someone bring me coffee and i’ll love you forever” After her insufferable story post, you went back to her first story of day, showcasing her ‘OOTD.’ Perfect again. Now you know what to look for.

Winter was truly showing how harsh it could be, dark clouds rolled over the city, making the sky darker than it was. Droplets of rain fell from the sky, and in a matter of seconds, rain gushed down in violent showers, causing people to run for shelter or pull out their trusty umbrellas. Taking shelter in a nearby bus stop, you waited patiently. She shouldn’t be too far away now. Lydia took the bus home from school on days like today.

In just the corner of your eye, a blurry figure approached through the spitting rain, they wore a tan coloured coat, a grey beanie and dark blue jeans with a tote bag they kept under their arm. There’s Lydia, you thought. Wiping the seat with her hand, she sat down. Offering a friendly smile to you before reaching for her phone in her bag. You glared at her up and down, how could Ethan have loved her? Loved her? What if he loved her? Why would he? Just the thought of him loving her alone made you fuming.

But rather than losing your cool, just yet, you took a deep breath and scanned around you. Ensuring no one was walking nearby, or any cars were around.

Lydia’s face lit up from the glow of her phone. She wasn’t going to see this coming. Reaching into the inside of your coat pocket, you pulled out the silver blade by the heavy wooden handle.

Here goes nothing.

In sudden force, you twisted your body to Lydia, before plunging the knife into her stomach. Her body contorted, buckling beside you as she gasped for air and groaned. Her eyes bulged, swelling with hot tears. Using your free hand, you silenced her by grabbing onto her jaw and covering her mouth. In and out, in and out was the motion of the knife as it punctured her stomach. Blood covered your hands and shirt as you straddled her motionless body to get a better angle of her torso.

“He’s mine. Only mine” You hissed.

Lydia couldn’t even respond, all she could do was gurgle and choke out incoherent words as blood oozed from her mouth.

“Fuckin’ bitch, think he still loves you?”

Still no response. You twisted the knife in her guts, she deserves this.

As your adrenaline surged, you ploughed the knife hard and deeper into her stomach until your arms began to ache.

“Can’t even fucking answer me, can ya?” You berated breathlessly.

Lydia spluttered her final breath, the entirety of her life in the last glimpse and blink of her draining eyes.

You watched as the blood seeped down her torso, onto the bench seat then as it dripped onto the concrete. Her lifeless body spread on the bench, arms flailed apart from her body and painted with her own crimson red blood.

The scene to you was beautiful. Your own artwork on display.

Admiring your work was consuming and all, but as you came down from your adrenaline high, you realised you needed to go. Now.

Before leaving, you quickly changed coats with a new one stuffed away in your bag, then swiftly walked home.

Arriving home, all you could stare at yourself in the mirror. The intricate blood splatters on your body, the way it was smeared over your chest and arms. It was fascinating, surreal even. But what would Ethan think, would he hate you, or would he love you for this? Because after all, you did for him. You killed for him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taglist @volturi-girl-imagines @poisonousgem16

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #ethan landry headcanons #jack champion #yandere #ghostface #scream x reader #scream ethan landry #scream jack champion #scream 6 ethan landry #series

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yeehawbvby · 8 months

Text

Falling Away With You | Ch. 48

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao

Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*

My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!

I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.

Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.

For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.

After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.

I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though.

Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.

I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.

Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.

I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay.

I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.

Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.

I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.

After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.

While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...

I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.

I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.

I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.

We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down.

“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”

I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.

Great.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”

I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?”

I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground…

A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.

Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.

God damnit.

“Nice one.”

God fucking damnit.

I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.

Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing.

I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”

Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?”

I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.”

I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.

Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.

“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”

My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”

There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”

I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.

Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.

Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.

I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.

“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”

Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.

“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.

“Buh.”

…Buh?

I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!

Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.

The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.

The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady.

The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.

While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty.

I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…

No. I shan’t.

I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!

Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world.

Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.

He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.

I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed.

Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.

Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.

“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.

He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.

“Hell yeah, thanks dude!”

I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”

“You didn’t make yourself one?”

I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”

Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”

Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.”

“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.

“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!”

“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.

“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.

It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”

“Shit, here.”

Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps.

I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”

Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.”

I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.

Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.

I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.

This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…

I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly.

My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.

I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”

My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”

Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.

“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”

…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid?

Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.

My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.

I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!

Screw this guy!

Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”

“E-excuse me?!”

I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”

“I— w-what are you doing?”

Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.

Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.

Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!

Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”

This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.

I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.

Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.”

HUH?

I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.

“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy.

My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.

“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”

53 notes · View notes

andreas-river · 1 year

Text

➷ Kinktober 2023

Day IV: Breath play || Nikto

Cross-posted on Ao3.

TW: breath play, unprotected p in v, established relationship, mention and use of safeword, fluff.

He turned, the sound of his boot almost echoing in the silent room. "You trust us that much?"

You nod, fidgeting with the empty glass of water as you watch him nervously through your lashes. He goes back to sitting in front of you at the table—the two of you had a normal dinner together in the comfort of his home, after chatting about various topics you ended up confessing your curiosity about some kinks in the bedroom.

"Why this one?" He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table, eyes scanning your face, which was blushing furiously.

"It's just... I want to give up control, even if it's just for a few seconds..." you feel a grip on your chest, the weight of the truth hitting you harder after you've said it out loud.

He exhales, probably searching for something to say. "We need a safe word."

You noticed something in his eyes the moment he put his big hand around your neck while he was already deep inside you, feeling your hole flutter slightly as you tried to accommodate his girth, even if it wasn't your first time. His pupils were wide, almost completely covering the bright blue you loved so much: he was hungry—from the moment his bare fingers touched yours, you became more than he expected. He had not expected such a request from you, but the fact that he was in control gave him an adrenaline rush that caught him off guard.

As planned, your hands were free as he applied a certain amount of pressure to your neck, cutting off both airflow and blood, your lips parting instinctively—kissing them in a rush as he began to feel your body struggling under his own. He released your neck, feeling you regain some oxygen through the kiss, cheeks rosier than normal: he watched you breathe, moving his hips tentatively, eliciting a moan from you.

He repeated the process again, and you were almost frightened at how quickly the knot inside you threatened to break, the lack of oxygen making you dizzy—each thrust of his hips felt like a crushing wave, a tsunami in the shape of a human, bound to take you under.

But your heart demanded more, pounding almost painfully against your ribcage as your orgasm came so close to the surface, your hand tapping twice on his arm, which immediately moved away as you felt him slow down. He stared at you, looking for any discomfort or pain, thinking about how he hadn't been able to notice that he had hurt you—but you smiled.

"I'm sorry," you took his hand in yours and squeezed it. "I was already too close."

There was a moment of silence before he snorted—literally, the ghost of a smile adorning his lips. He relaxed his shoulder, closed the distance and kissed you fervently, waiting for your signal to continue, which didn't take long, and began to pound his cock into you, returning to restrain your neck, feeling every nerve in his body on fire at the beautiful sight he had beneath him.

Even if you tried, your orgasm came back much stronger, your walls squeezing him in a vice grip—the same one he had you in around your neck. Groaning, he pulls out as he came, painting your lower stomach white, holding himself upright with his hands at your sides, both of you out of breath. He's quick to clean his mess off your skin, forcing you to lie down to relax—actually ordering you to do it, so you look at him as he cleans you and himself, putting on some boxers and a clean pair of panties, along with a large shirt for comfort. He examines your neck after he lies down by your side, seeing some darker spots—you are quicker than he is to stop him and place a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.

He freezes, then relaxes and circles your shoulders, holding you against him as if he wanted to imprint your shape in his body, skin against skin, feeling more happiness blossoming in his heart, and only because of you.

#nikto #mwii nikto #nikto mwii #nikto x reader #cod nikto #nikto cod #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw

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dreaming-medium · 10 months

Text

Animals Without Direction

Chapter Eight - Twenty Laps

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Masterlist

As it turns out, when one hold declares war on another, it’s not like in the books you’ve read where the entire army marches and the leader makes a grand speech at the gates. In reality, it’s a handwritten letter from one Jarl to another with their terms and conditions in order for peace between them.

Chan wrote up his letter immediately and sent it with the fastest messenger Miroh has. The poor thing was shaking in his boots after the Jarl stressed how fast he wanted that letter delivered.

Part of you was worried that Chan would send you to deliver the letter like he had done previously. But he didn’t, and for that you were thankful.

‘Not this time,’ Chan noticed your jaw clench when he spoke about someone delivering the letter. ‘The next time you step foot in Erbus, it will not be alone.’

It’s been a week since the messenger left for Erbus. It’s been a week since you revealed a sliver of your past to the Jarl. It’s been a week since you’ve known relaxation.

In that week, you’ve spent most of your time in the throne room or hovering nearby. Chan immediately started commanding different legion commanders to get their armies ready, to prepare for the worst. He’s leaving no stone unturned: sharpen the swords, smith more arrows, strengthen the armor.

Yes, they’re waiting on a letter, but it never hurts to be prepared. And if you know Erbus, the preparation is necessary.

Chan, Minho, and Jisung were all currently standing around a table in a room tucked away behind the throne room. Various maps and papers were tacked on the walls and tables. The table that the three men stood around was exceptionally large. It had the same map you saw a month ago spread out on top of it.

Both you and Jeongin stood by the door on either side, your stance more relaxed than his. He stood ramrod straight with his eyes fixed on the conversation.

You were paying attention, but you allowed your eye to wander around the room.

A large desk was by the way with more papers and a globe of the world on top of it. There were compasses and other charting tools everywhere.

They’ve been discussing various plans for the stone forts closer to the western border and how they want to strengthen them; but they also need more protection to the north.

Chan reaches over and grabs a small blue flag, placing it on the map. “I have been trading written correspondence with Eldred of Oakenmaw, a village to the north east of here. He owns Hollypond Farm, he is ready and willing to allow soldiers to house and set up camp on his land. Given how close to Inuin’s border his farm is, it is perfect for this.”

That was the letter you delivered for Chan. Eldred had given you one back for the Jarl, which you delivered without a hitch. Eldred was more than happy to send you off with a warm meal and enough food for your journey back to the capital.

“I know not what will happen with the other holds once open war is declared. I do not know if they will show support for sides or if this will stay between Miroh and Erbus.” Chan explains.

“Miroh has a close relationship with Daefall, I am sure if this was to turn into a large scale war, they would stand with us.” Minho says to them.

“But the same goes for Bewaes and Erbus, they have been tied to one another in every conflict the land has ever seen. Their alliance is older than my bloodline.” the Jarl says back. “What we truly need is Upera’s alliance since they share a border with Bewaes.”

“And what of Inuin? How do you think their alliance would fall?” Minho asks, both of his hands placed flat on the table.

Chan shakes his head, “I know not.”

Minho nods and moves a few smaller markers on the map, Jisung places another red flag.

“While we were in Erbus, it seemed that their military postings were light, not many soldiers to be seen around them. And if they were there, they were drinking or eating.” Jisung explained, marking several forts with little red flags.

“They do not even suspect a declaration of war.” Minho adds, keeping his eye on the map. His lips in a sneer.

“In past councils with all the Jarls, I have not been quiet about my distaste for Erbus’ treatment of Elves. It is almost an insult that Sisk has not taken these warnings seriously. If only I knew the true nature of this ‘banishment’.”

At the mention of the Jarl’s name, a shiver runs down your spine. Before living in Miroh, the stories of his horrible nature rivaled Chan’s. But after being here for a month, you’re sure that Chan’s stories were made to keep Elves from running across the border for safety.

Their discussion makes you stop and think. You know for sure that Erbus’ military postings have some of the most evil fighters around. They use dirty tactics and are the ones who send the guards to slaughter the Elves.

Your eyes narrow, words form in your mouth but you’re not sure if you should speak up or not.

‘You could have stood in the room for that conversation, you are a member of the court.’ Seungmin’s voice echoed in your mind.

“My lord,” you speak softly. Chan immediately turns around and looks at you with a curious expression.

“Yes, Y/N?” he turns his body to face you.

“Most of the military outposts are very well hidden throughout Erbus,” you explain, your eyes moving from him, to the map, then back to him, “I may know of a few, may I look at the map to see if you have them identified?’

Chan smiles sadly, “You do not need to ask, Y/N.” His voice is soft and caring, his eyes are warm. Minho and Jisung turn to look at you as you approach the map.

“How do you know of these hidden outposts?” Jisung asks.

You look down at the map, all of the ones you know about are not marked at all.

“My mother and father would tell me which places to avoid while playing outside.” A sad smile creeps on your face as you recall the bittersweet memory of your parents. They tried so hard to shield you from the horrors of the world. “Being a curious youngling, I would go anyway and sneak around to see what I could.”

Minho laughs under his breath at your statement, but the three stay quiet and watch you.

Grabbing about five red flags, you place them on top of each hideout you knew of. “Their top soldiers stay in these hidden forts. They send the lower level guards to the forts that are out in the open.”

When you look up, you see Jisung staring closely at you.

“I apologize if I overstepped,” you bow your head as an apology and take a step away from the map. Jisung was gone for an entire month to find military outposts, and you practically told him that he did a bad job at it.

A warm hand on your lower back made you stop. “Do not apologize, Y/N.” Chan said from next to you, “We appreciate all the help we can get. Any information is valuable.”

“Agreed.” Jisung adds afterwards. When you look over at Jisung, he nods at you.

You then look up at Chan, the same warm expression on his face. The hand on your back is the only thing you can feel at this moment.

“Aye, my lord.” you bow your head once more.

The hand on your back twitches, “Chan.” he says, before dropping it and allowing you to go back to where you stood next to Jeongin.

The squire makes eye contact with you on your walk back towards him. He’s smiling at you a little, there’s a playful glint in his eye.

“We should focus more on trying to find these hidden camps then.” Minho says to them, leaning over the map and looking at the flags you placed. “Y/N, how recently did you see these hideouts? Are you quite certain they are still there?’

He grabs your attention from Jeongin. “I had not laid eyes on them in a few months before coming to Miroh, but they were there for my entire life before then. I do not believe they would shut them down.”

Minho never looks at you, he just nods and keeps looking at other places on the map.

“We should send another, smaller, reconnaissance team to Erbus to try and find these hidden postings.” Chan looks over at Jisung, “You just returned, so I want you to stay here. Send out a team of only five of your men. I want it kept secret.”

Jisung nods and moves towards the door. Before he leaves, you catch his attention by calling out his name.

“I know not if it’s true,” you say, looking down at your feet. Jisung stops in his tracks, his head turned towards you with rapt attention. “But I have heard that the Elves of Erbus have created a marking system carved into trees to warn others about these hideouts. I have only seen one for myself; it is shaped like an Elf’s ear, the point facing the direction of the camp.”

You look up and meet Jisung’s chocolate brown eyes, they search yours. It’s only a split second, but it feels like you’re watching each other for an entire minute.

“Thank you, Y/N.” he says quietly before leaving the room.

When you look up, you see Minho staring at you from the other side of the table. His mouth is behind his hand in a sort of ‘thinking’ pose, so his eyes were your only means of reading his face. As soon as you make eye contact with him, he looks back down at the table.

Chan and Minho begin talking again about various other plans.

“Will you be at training tomorrow morning?” Jeongin whispers to you.

“Aye, I will. Will you?”

Neither of you turn your heads to face each other.

“Aye, I believe Changbin would have my head if I did not show up.”

You both chuckle under your breath. Jeongin’s hand brushes against yours lightly, you make no move to take it away. The touch was featherlight but a zing of electricity shoots up your arm and your fingertips tingle a bit.

“His morning exercises are getting a bit harsh, no?” You ask after a moment of silence between the two of you.

“I agree, aye. I think it’s from his nerves. Everyone is handling the idea of war differently.”

All you do is nod in agreement, both you and Jeongin then turn your attention back to Chan and Minho.

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

You can’t sleep. Even in your large, cozy bed, your mind refuses to turn off. These past four nights, if you had gotten a collective two hours of sleep that would be generous.

Thoughts raced through your mind, coming up with every single negative scenario possible due to the impending war. What was the Jarl of Erbus going to respond with? There was no way he would agree to Chan’s terms without a proper fight.

What would your role be as his mercenary? You weren’t quite a soldier, you weren’t quite a guard, you fell somewhere in the middle of everything. Were you expected on the front lines?

The idea of fighting in a grand battle turned your stomach. One on one fights were something you could handle, but a bloodbath where you couldn’t tell your friend from foe at any moment? That was a different story.

The closest you’ve come is a brawl in a bar, but even then you just threw punches and hoped for the best.

With your body turned towards the window, you watched the room grow brighter with the sunrise. Sunlight streamed in your window.

No time like the present to get up and continue with your daily schedule.

As you discussed with Jeongin. The training has gotten harsher, more intense. The amount of laps that Changbin had the group do increased every morning. By the time you would finish, you’d be drenched in sweat, your legs screaming for you to take a break.

You knew why he was doing this, but it still seemed like too much.

“Five more laps around the keep!” Changbin commands.

Five more laps. You can do five more. Right?

It feels like cotton was shoved into your mouth, your teeth are throbbing in your gums. It tastes like iron on your tongue.

You had already done twenty laps around the keep nonstop.

Five more. Just five more.

You needed to push yourself, harder, harder . Finish the laps, Y/N. Come on, you can do this. Your body needs to be in tip top shape if you’re going to fight for the Elves freedom.

Your fingertips go numb, the sweat on the back of your neck turns cold and clammy. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

The edges of your vision begin to fade.

Maybe if you just slowed down, you’d be able to regain your stamina. The jogging pace you set began to decline.

Your chest is heaving up and down, lungs desperately and greedily trying to suck in oxygen. It looked like you weren’t the only one struggling, there were many guards who looked a bit worse for wear.

“Pick it up!” Changbin yelled from behind you, he didn’t sound winded in the least. He always ran at the back of the group to make sure no one was slacking.

Where was Jeognin? Was he at the front? You bet he wasn’t even struggling with these laps. Sure, you trained as a mercenary, but never like this.

Picking up your pace, you swallowed the bile rising in your throat.

You tried, you did. But after two more laps, your world began to tilt. Your hip flexors locked when you took a step, your knees buckled underneath you and suddenly you had a faceful of dirt.

A low groan came from your throat and you tried your best to lift yourself from the ground as quickly as you could. But each time, your elbows would shake and buckle beneath your weight.

Cursing underneath your breath, you shift your weight around to try and roll onto your back, but every single one of your limbs seems to be numb. Your mouth has never been dryer in your entire life.

A strong hand grabbed your shoulder and flipped you over onto your back. Changbin’s eyes were full of worry. Sweat was dripping down his face, his tunic stained a darker color from all the perspiration.

His eyes scanned your face but you couldn’t focus on his long enough. It sounded like someone had their hands over your ears. It looked like his lips were forming your name over and over again.

Changbin moved his hand from your shoulder and pressed the back of it against your forehead.

“Sorry,” you tried to choke out, but your throat was drier than a desert. It only sounded like a rasp. Changbin’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper in concern.

Jeongin’s face appeared above you suddenly, the same concerned expression crossing his features. Changbin said something to him and leaned down towards you.

It looked like Jeongin said something back to him but you couldn’t hear anything other than your rapid heartbeat.

Before you knew it, you were scooped up in Changbin’s arms, one arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulder blades. Second by second, your eyelids were growing heavier and heavier.

With your ear against his strong chest, you could now hear and feel his heartbeat as well as your own. His voice rumbled in his chest and then he began walking into the keep.

Like a ragdoll, your arms and legs dangled from his gentle hold. By the vibrations against his chest, it sure felt like he was talking to you, but you couldn’t make it out.

Eventually, you allowed your eyelids to close. But you didn’t fall asleep, no, your body still would not give into the pull of slumber.

The world underneath you moved around with every step that Changbin took.

Once they stopped, you felt yourself being placed on a bed. Another, colder hand pressed against your forehead as Changbin’s arms came out from underneath you.

Cracking your eyes open, you were met with the homey sight of the healing ward again.

Changbin carried you to the healing ward, you were having definite deja vu, all that’s missing are the ropes keeping you tied to the bed.

Felix stood on one side of the bed, Changnbin on the other, both of them were looking at each other and not you. Their lips moved as they spoke to one another.

Since no one noticed you opened your eyes, you decided to close them again, it was much easier this way.

“... hard, Changbin. How do you expect anyone to fight in a war if they’re worn down.” Felix said lowly. It was a step above a whisper.

“And how do you expect them to fight a war if a few laps around the keep is what takes them down?” he responded harshly.

You would’ve frowned if you had the energy.

“A few laps?” Felix said incredulously, “Three laps around the keep is easily a league! Twenty laps, Bin, that’s too much.”

A beat. “She did twenty two.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Changbin speaks. “I need to get back to the training grounds. I’ll leave her with you, Felix.”

Felix only sighs and you hear Changbin’s footsteps leave the room and the door closes behind him. The hand on your forehead returns followed by a low curse.

He walks away from the bed but comes back quickly and what feels like a wet rag is placed on your forehead.

“You can stop pretending to sleep,” Felix whispers, wiping away the cold sweat on your face.

With as much of a smile as you can muster, you crack open your eyes.

“Hello, Y/N.” he smiles down at you. Pure sunshine.

“Hello, Felix.” you croak.

When he hears your voice, he frowns and turns around, picking a glass of water off the bedside table and bringing it to your lips.

Eagerly, you gulp down the entire cup.

“Easy, easy.” He chides when some drips down the side of your mouth.

With a strong intake of breath, you pull your face back from the glass. “Sorry,” you say, your voice is a lot stronger now.

Felix puts the glass down and turns to look at you, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Each time I see you, something is wrong.” He frowns.

A sheepish smile comes over your face. “If I am not injured, how am I supposed to see you?”

Quicker than you could blink, Felix reaches down and flicks your forehead. “Do not be daft, we share a wall. You do not need to be in need of healing in order to say hello.”

You roll your eyes and mutter another apology.

He thinks for a moment before his face falls into a sadder look. He was so empathetic to other people’s pain and emotions, it’s no wonder he became a healer. Everything about him screams that he loves caring for other people.

Felix sits down on the edge of the bed, his body facing towards you.

“Changbin is pushing you all harder than he needs to be. I suspect you won’t be the only one that I see. I give it twenty more minutes before I have a ward full of soldiers looking for revitalization remedies.”

“I do not understand why he is doing so.” You admit to Felix. He stares closely at your face, eyes scanning every feature.

Felix hesitates before answering, “I believe he is more worried about the war than he lets on.”

You nod, looking away from Felix. The exhaustion from everything is sitting on top of your chest like a boulder.

“A war…” You trail off, keeping your eyes locked on the ceiling, “I cannot believe that this is really happening,” you admit softly. “I never thought that anyone cared deeply enough about the Elves to fight for them.”

Felix tenses next to you.

“Why do you think so?” his voice sounds different, like it’s laced with a deep sadness.

You fiddle with the sheets underneath your palms, “That is what we were told our entire lives in Erbus.” a lump forms in your throat, but you swallow it down. “Over and over again it was simply ingrained into everyone’s minds that Elves were lesser, evil creatures. They even taught it in schools, propaganda is out of hand in Erbus. I had a friend when I was little that was so afraid of Elves because the guards told her that the Elves were plotting to kill her in the night.” You shake your head, trying to clear the nasty thoughts.

“We had no idea that other places were better. As a child, I remember hearing my parents talk about moving to another hold. My mother begged my father to leave,many nights she cried and held him. Clear as day, I can hear his voice, ‘Why go through the struggle of picking up my life just for my head to be cut off in another land.’ Every day I think about how I wish he had listened.”

Felix stayed quiet for a long moment. You had just thought that he was processing your words, letting them settle in. There was a loose string on the blanket that your fingers continued to pick at.

A soft hand cradles your cheek and brings your face to look over at him. His eyes are shining down at you with a gentle, compassionate look. It looks as if he grabbed the stars from the night sky and put them in his pupils. His thumb rubs your skin gently, swiping a stray tear away that you didn’t know had fallen.

“Y/N,” he says your name so softly, it reminds you of the first fall of snow hitting the grass in the winter. “Why didn’t you tell me you were an Elf?”

What?

Your jaw dropped open a little and your eyes widened.

When did you?

Oh.

“I did not- '' you begin to stutter. Like a fish, your mouth opened and closed over and over again. “I did not mean to– I just– Please, I– Only half, I–” Nothing was coming out right.

Your brain was so exhausted, you let it slip. After all these years, you finally slipped up.

At this point, keeping your lineage to yourself was not self preservation. You knew Miroh’s stance on Elves, you knew you were safe. Now, it was more embarrassing than anything else.

You didn’t want their pity. Didn’t want them talking to you like an injured child who needed to be coddled.

To cut off your rambling, Felix pressed his thumb to your lips. Immediately, you shut up. There’s a knot in your throat.

Your heart was racing, you couldn’t tell if it was from his touch or from his discovery of your true blood.

“It was not a tonic you took that day, was it?”

You hesitate before shaking your head.

His eyes welled up with tears, a brilliant smile crossed his face. The sun was high in the sky at this time and it did not even hold a candle to his smile’s brilliance.

Felix’s other hand came up to hold your face, his skin was so soft, his caress was gentle.

“I am so glad you are here, Y/N.”

A sob bubbled from your throat. It came up so violently and suddenly, you couldn’t stop it from happening.

Your lip quivered and more tears threatened to come down from your eyes.

Out of everything he could have said to you in that moment, nothing would have felt more like a blanket being draped over your shoulders than that, than those eight little words.

Felix’s smile turned sad and his eyebrows furrowed, “I cannot imagine what you’ve been through. But you’re here now, Y/N, you’re safe.”

Again, as if he could sense every emotion running like wild horses in your mind, he brushed away the tears as they began to fall down your cheeks.

Truly, in the month you’ve been here, you’ve never really thought about how safe you were. You never considered that telling anyone about who you were would not hold the sort of weight that it did back in Erbus.

But here, in Felix’s gentle hold, you let your body relax; and finally, after a month, you allowed your brain to come out of fight or flight. Like ice melting off the side of a mountain, your heart begins to thaw.

Sobs emit from your throat and you lean into Felix’s calming touch.

He leans down and wraps both of his arms around you, lifting your top half up off the bed and into a hug. Your head presses into his shoulder and you squeeze him so tight.

One of his hands comes up and rests on the back of your head, smoothing your hair down. The other hand stays on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

You cry and cry. Cry for the little girl who had her parents torn away from her. For the teenage girl who pierces her ears with so many rings to hide the point. For the young woman who thought no matter where she went, that she would be spit on and killed.

Felix begins to rock you both back and forth a little, he whispers small words of comfort into the crown of your head.

He smells so good. Like fresh laundry in the sun. Like running through a meadow when all of the flowers bloom in spring. It’s the most comforting smell you’ve ever experienced.

His lithe fingers comb through your hair, undoing any knots that had formed since the morning. You hadn’t felt comfort like this in so many years. You never wanted to leave his warm embrace.

Felix’s whispers slowly turned into low humming and the rocking continued. The song was soft and his voice was deep and soothing. After your tears ran dry, you stayed in his arms.

You turn your head and let your ear press against his collarbone, his chest vibrating with each hum.

A sleepy, weariness settled deep in your bones.

“I attempted to go into Erbus once,” Felix says after a while of humming. He stops rocking the two of you as well.

“Really?”

“Aye, it was many years ago. There is a certain species of plant that only grows on the island off the western coast of Erbus. I wanted to study it for a potion. My hair was much shorter back then, I suspect it was easier for the guards to identify me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, cogs turning in your brain.

Slowly, you peeled yourself from his embrace, but stayed close. Reaching your hand up, you gently tucked his hair behind his ear revealing a soft point.

He’s an Elf too.

This makes two members of Chan’s inner court Elves.

You softly trail your fingertips down his sharp jawline, your eyes still studying his pointed ears.

“What did they do to you?” You whisper.

Felix smiles sadly, “I took one step over the border and the guards immediately began slinging the most vile words at me. Luckily, I had Jisung with me. The two of us turned and immediately went back to Miroh. Since then I never even go close to the hold.

“Knowing what I know now, I see that I was extremely lucky to only have insults shot at me instead of arrows.”

Finally, you met his deep blue eyes. They hold so much sadness in them, but so much wisdom and other emotions that you can tell he feels so deeply. His empathetic soul is reaching out through them to comfort you.

Both of your hearts connected at this moment. He managed to break through and surround you with a comfort you’ve never known. Never in your life have you felt anything like this.

Felix is staring at you intently, as if trying to read your mind; perhaps he really could, you would not be shocked if that was the case. His lips part for a split second, his tongue coming out to wet them. He then pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. He looks like he’s weighing something in his mind.

As he opens his mouth to say something, a sharp knock comes from the door.

Both of you jump and split apart from one another. Felix jumps to his feet and you clear your throat, looking down at your lap.

“Come in!” Felix calls, his voice a little strained.

About six guards stumble in, all panting and sweating buckets.

“Felix, is there any way we could–”

Felix cuts them off, “Revitalization tonics? Give me a few moments."

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fantasy au #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #skz fanfic #animals without direction

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relia-robot-writes · 2 days

Text

Lone Wolf

A mech and a pilot handler deal with the loss of their shared pilot

"Commander on deck!"

There was a chorus of boots and servos as every person in the hangar saluted.

"At ease," called the Commander as she made her way to the center catwalk. Thankfully she wasn't one of those hardasses who enforced every single iota of protocol. She didn't need to. She had our respect. "New watch rotations after the latest casualties. Look 'em over, share 'em with your squad, get 'em done. I expect the new rotas to go into place with the 1800 shift. Command's still figuring out our next move, so if you're not on watch, take some R&R. Dismissed."

She turned to go. I looked at the posted watch schedule on my HUD. Then I ran after her.

"Sir!" I saluted, and tried to get my body into a parade rest position. It's not easy when you're twenty feet tall and your arms aren't supposed to bend that way.

The Commander put her hands on the railing and looked me in the head camera. "Yes, Corporal Stormcrow?"

"Sir, I noticed my name isn't on any of the rotas." She stared at me, face neutral. "Just wondering why. Sir."

She sighed, and pulled up her dataslate. "Following the events of Operation Waterfall and the death of Pilot Abagail Walker, awakened machine Corporal Stormcrow is to be relieved of duty until another suitable pilot is found," she read. She put it away again. "Sorry, Stormcrow. I'm sure they'll get you a new pilot soon." She turned to go again.

"Sir!" She stopped. "What if- Sir, I don't need a pilot. It's unnecessary to keep me decommissioned, I can fight just fine without one."

"Rules are rules, Corporal. Can't go breaking protocol just because you want revenge." She didn't turn around. "Dismissed, Stormcrow. Get some rest."

She got another ten paces before I couldn't stand it anymore. "Sir, do you know what the weak point of a mech is?" Everyone in the hanger had turned to look at me, but I was beyond caring. "The pilot! Kill the pilot and the whole machine goes dark. Everyone knows that. But I don't need one!"

She sighed, but still didn't turn around. "Corporal, the rules are there for a reason. The pilot helps you as much as you help them." She sounded tired. I didn't care.

"Sir, I'll blow things up for you. I'll capture targets for you. I'll escort shipments, rescue VIPs, hell, I'll turn into a goddamned truck for you, but I will not take on another pilot." I slammed my giant metal fist into the hangar wall, making the commander stumble. The sound echoed through the silent hangar. Slowly, I pulled myself back into something resembling parade rest, and tried not to scan the dent in the wall.

The Commander turned around slowly. "You're grieving," she said, "so I'll let it slide this time. Dismissed, Corporal."

She walked out of the hangar bay, and I was left standing alone.

---

Rain beat down on the roof of the hangar. Boots sounded on the catwalk, accompanied by the clattering of bottles. I looked up from my welding. "Handler Finn."

"Corporal Stormcrow." She sat down on the catwalk, letting her legs swing out in the air. Her tank top showed off her wiry frame. Not muscular, like Abagail had been, but fit, and too tall for the cockpit. I always felt like she should have been wearing spurs. There was a pop as she flicked the bottlecap off her first beer. "They'll writecha up for that, you know."

I finished welding my cockpit shut. "What are they gonna do, court-martial me?"

"Dock yer pay, at least," she drawled. She took a swig, let the silence roll out in front of her. "I miss her too, you know. There's like... a void in my head where she used to be." She tapped the side of her head, where the uplink implant was.

I contemplated my cockpit. Finn took another drink.

"Hell, how long did we work together? 'Spect it's only natural."

"Depends on how you count."

"Pardon?" She leaned against the railing, letting herself go boneless.

I turned to face her, my head level with the catwalk. "I spent ten years non-sapient as her M.I., and then another five as Corporal Stormcrow. Is that five, or fifteen?"

Finn let out a low whistle. "Fifteen years, huh? Can't hardly believe it." She took another swig. "Goddamn."

Lightning flashed through the windows, and a beat later a long, drawn-out rumble sounded through the mostly-empty hangar. Finn and I stared at the rain together.

"So, you wanna go solo, huh?"

"It just makes sense," I said, a little stiffly. "No pilot, no risk. They can shoot my cockpit all they like." I ran my fingers over the patch job the engineers had done after the op.

"Guess I can't blame ya. I ain't the one putting my neck on the line." She took another plug, set the empty bottle down.

"......yeah," I said. "It won't... be the same without you."

"Then again," she popped the cap on another bottle, "there's a reason they group us all up. We watch each other's backs."

"What's a scrawny little pilot supposed to do to watch my back?" I snarled. "Pain in my ass."

Finn put the bottle down and gave me a look. "Now, I know you didn't mean to say that about our poor Abagail."

I couldn't look her in the eye. After a moment, I muttered, "I did a pretty piss-poor job of watching her back, too."

Rain fell against the windows in waves. After a moment, I looked back at Finn. Her cheeks were wet. "Damned," she said, a hitch in her voice, "leaky roof. Command really oughtta fix this thing. Somebody could get hurt."

I scanned the sealed roof, and looked back at the rain. "......yeah."

"You know- you know she wouldn't blame ya. Right?"

I put my hand over my cockpit with the sounds of shifting metal. "...yeah. But that-" a warning flashed on my HUD, and I dismissed it. "That doesn't matter. I'm still going solo."

"Mm." Finn picked her bottle back up, swirled it around by her fingertips. "I met the new kid."

It took me a moment to process the change of subject. "The pilot? They replaced Abagail already?"

"'S conditional," she said, taking a drink. "Lots of pilots in the program these days. Supposed to be the safest place in the forces." She let out a hollow chuckle. "Seems like a good kid. Eager, but respectful-like. We're s'posed to have a neurolink test next week."

I couldn't believe it. "You- you can't be serious."

She looked at me and wiped her cheeks. "I can't live like this, Stormcrow. Not half-in and half-out. Not with this... hole in my head. Mebbe you're built different, but for me, it's either this or..." she let the sentence trail off into the rain.

I shook my head and started walking to the other side of the hanger. To replace her? So quickly? Maybe humans could forget that easily, but I couldn't. I could still feel her, hands on my controls, voice shouting in the neurolink...

"-mcrow! Stormcrow!"

"Huh?" I jolted to. Chronometer said several minutes had elapsed. Finn stood on the catwalk near me, holding her half-empty six-pack.

"I'm headin' out. Gonna take a walk, try and get my head on straight, before I get all maudlin on ya." She grinned ruefully. "Well, more maudlin."

I straightened myself up. Could at least keep things professional. "Good to see you, Finn. Take care." I held out my finger, and she shook it.

I turned to go back into my charging alcove, but she stopped me. "Hey, after the neurolink test next week, I want to bring the kid by. Have her meet you, hear your side of things."

I bristled. "I'm not gonna let some punk kid pilot me."

"No piloting. Just... remembering Abagail. So she knows."

I relaxed my alert level, sighed. "All right. See you around, Finn."

"Take care, Stormcrow."

I plugged myself in, and listened to the sound of the rain.

#relia writes #microfiction #mecha

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bonnymori · 1 year

Text

Captain's food rolls

A/N: This is me trying out writing again, seeing the scene where Kid and Luffy eat a bunch of mochi in Udon gave me an idea. This work feels very goofy for me lol, this whole post is silly, including the pics, I think I'm gonna use this format for now

Word count: 1,3k

Contents/Warnings: Silliness ahead, two lovers being silly. Next up is a law draft ig, either law or killer or heat

The sand under your boots is a comforting contrast from the crass waves of the sea, rumbling and coming near your feet - but not reaching quite yet.

It's unusual, but today is a great day, after a great battle against many marine ships, that you honestly wouldn't dare count, the Kidd pirates share a feast and drinks in a pacific island (even though Kidd scored the secluded place with no 'pacific' methods).

What is unusual, you would ask? Well, normally on the day-to-day of the Kidd pirates, meals are fulfilling, but not so much as to be bloated after eating. Of course, the massacre soldier – and crew's chef – Killer goes great lengths to make sure every member eats well and has a chance of asking for more, but still, in the sea you can ever eat so much, food needs to be watched so the ship doesn't run out again.

In a banquet, though, it's highly different.

The other pirates were kind – terrified – enough to make the beach look very presentable, placing up lighting upon the coconut trees and laying out tables for your friends to enjoy. It looks like some sort of luau, an illuminated beach next to the pitch black ocean, with lots of barbecued meat and endless pitchers of beer. The crew is scattered over the place, most of them are still eating, a few went down the city to find a pretty face to sleep with, and some of them who've had enough of eating are busy playing cards, such as Heat and Wire – you can always observe how they finish eating together, and go kill time together, it's a heartwarming friendship (or more?) between pirates, very similar to the captain and his right hand man.

Speaking of which, during these celebrations, the captain's table is always at the center, a big round table where he can lay down plates and food to scarf down as the night goes on. You observe the captain, aka your lover, fill his belly with delicious meat and booze, a small smile forming on your lips as you know what to expect when the party ends.

It's when something unusual happens, and you can't help but feel giddy.

"Your social energy has ended already, Y/N?" A pair of crewmates join your table, more specifically Hip and Emma, who also seem to huddle together whether to dance or eat during the feasts.

"I guess yes, you always come to a more far away table when you get tired of partying around." Emma answers Hip's query herself, bringing her beer mug to toast with yours, which differently than hers, is almost empty. She observes the small grin plastered on your face and chuckles, "I bet you were looking at the captain just now."

"My, you caught me red-handed." They both giggle at your comment, and you prop your chin on your hand, thinking of a good response, "You know I can't help it, he always looks pretty cute and round after eating so much."

"Yeah, when that happens he can't be rough around the edges anymore, afterall he won't have any edges!" Hip exclaims then covers her mouth to laugh, pulling Emma with her to Wire's table, "We're gonna gamble too, see you Y/N!"

You wave bye-bye to the duo, they are so very sweet.

As they walk away, you glance yet again at your beloved Kidd only to see that he has given up eating to chug on a few pitches of beer, excitedly talking to Killer in the process. Since you don't like approaching while he's eating – it's so messy he's akin to a piggy – you decide to go see him now, just because you'd like to kiss him bye-bye before you retire to the ship.

He doesn't seem to notice when you appear, planting a kiss on his goggles-free forehead, "Hi Kiddo, having fun so far?"

"Heck yes babe, I'm stuffed, and not even done yet." The redhead doesn't even mind the affection, too buzzed and full to protest. You look down, and it looks like he's already displaying a little belly.

You gasp lightly when his arm loops around your waist, your own arms embracing his shoulders and bringing his head closer to give him another kiss, this time in the top of his head – which he happily leans into, after all his hair is a soft spot.

To think about it, from this angle above, his hair really looks like a tulip.

He seems to indulge in your kisses, the alcohol making him loose to public displays of affection.

"Okay okay," You say while pulling him off from you, his arm is bulky but he's weaker from the beer, "I came to tell you I'm heading to the ship to take a short nap. See you later lov."

His eyes blink open, staring at you for a short moment where he lets you go with a 'okey' – you think he got the memo just fine.

Your trek to the ship is quickened by your jumpy strut.

Nap well taken, you've decided to wait for your lover on the deck, knowing very well most of the crew must be passed out on the beach, whether it be the sand or upon the tables or chairs, some would even sleep over the grill so as not to lay on the ground – you can think of a few that would be laying on the tables as well. The point is, nobody really could bother you both at this moment.

Oh lawd he's coming, is your first thought, spotting a big red dot far from the ship, walking with no difficulty yet swaying nonetheless, you just know Kidd is going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.

It's unusual, only happening during the days he feels famished enough to eat for three people in one sitting, his tough muscles disappearing under the new gained weight, how he does it, you cannot know.

But every time you think, he looks so cute.

Your big, angry boyfriend now turned into a big, round boyfriend climbs the plank ladder that leads up on the deck, stopping only once he is a few steps away from you.

There, he flops on the floor, sitting as he looks at you expectantly, knowing damn well that you like his softness when he's chubby like this.

"It's fucking weird the fact you think I look… nice like this." Eustass is the first to break the silence, avoiding the word 'cute' as he huffs at you. It seems his angry act is back, now that he might be a little sober.

Kid groans at your giggle of amusement.

"You look so squishy and soft, I can't help but love your rolls." You walk over to him and make yourself comfortable at his side, resting your head on him but not your weight, or else gastric reflux could a bitch about it at any moment.

He rolls his eyes and looks away with a small blush, his arm looping over your waist much like in the party – at this point, this action feels so familiar to you, you can almost feel it when it comes next. "Satisfied?"

"Very much." You chuckle at him, and silently, sneak your hand up to squeeze one of his chubs.

The big red lets out a yelp caused by the unexpected action, glaring angrily at you. "Hey!"

Even though his tough act, on the inside, Kidd was actually happy to receive free affection, being the selfish bastard he is. At the same time, he couldn't be more relieved, knowing that you could have reacted the opposite of this, and thankfully, you had not. And he loved you for it. But of course, he'd never say that even in a million years.

Eventually, the both of you stilled, the playful bicker coming to an end as the sea waves filled in the silence.

Now there are only two lovers, sleeping soundly side to side.

And content smiles on their faces.

#one piece #eustass kid #eustasscaptainkid #kid pirates #one piece fanfiction #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid x reader fluff #one piece scenario #eustass kid fluff #eustass kid x you #eustass kid x y/n

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teaberrii · 7 months

Text

Chapter 7: The Unknowns

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

“This is a miracle,” one of the men says. His waist-length white hair almost completely blends in with his white dress shirt that has a large detailed rose stitched in black on one side.

“We were worried sick about you!” The young girl walks up in her cute, black boots and dress with a red bow at the collar. “And here you are on a date?”

“I thought you didn’t know anyone here,” you say, looking skeptically at Dan Feng.

After a short pause, it’s the other man, the one with the short brown hair and long side fringe who says:

“We’re not from Xianzhou.” He walks up beside Dan Feng, and you notice he's also wearing a white dress shirt, except he also has a black, pleated open shirt on top and tucked neatly into his pants with a brown belt. “Dan Feng came first, and we were scheduled to fly in a little later.” The man glances at him. “He wasn’t answering his phone, so we were worried that something happened.” Then, he smiles at you. “Looks like he was with a woman.” Extending his hand, he slightly tilts his head. “You can call me Zhongli.”

Dan Feng quietly clears his throat and walks in front of you but faces Zhongli.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Dan Feng says quietly.

Zhongli gives him a look that says 'Yes, you better.'

“If she’s the reason you didn’t appear at the Luofu House,” the young girl says, “I’m going to smack you.”

Wait. Do you hear that correctly? Luofu House?

“You—” Dan Feng stops when he sees Bailu with a hand underneath her chin. She’s circling you, examining you from all angles.

Then, she walks up and extends her hand.

“Hi! I’m Bailu!” She walks a few steps, grabs the white-haired man's arm, and drags him over. “And this is Neuvilette, but he likes to be called Neuvi.”

“No, I do not,” Neuvilette says flatly, gently shrugging out of Bailu’s grip. Then, he looks at you. “Please do not call me by that ridiculous nickname.”

“Ouch,” Bailu deadpans. “Not even after all the money I spent on you?”

Zhongli walks past Dan Feng and says:

“So, what’s your name?”

The brief bickering between Bailu and Neuvilette goes unnoticed as Dan Feng looks from you to Zhongli and back to you. You have a little smile when you introduce yourself. Zhongli asks what you do, and Dan Feng swears your voice goes a wee bit higher. Or, is it just him?

“She”—Dan Feng casually stepping between you and Zhongli to put a little space—”has been showing me around the city.”

“Has she?” Zhongli asks, trying to look past his friend but Dan Feng blocks him every time. Finally, Zhongli stops trying. “I guess she took over Bailu’s role.”

“You said something about the Luofu House…” you say, and Dan Feng looks over his shoulder. You’re looking at Bailu, but she glances at Dan Feng who slowly shakes his head.

“It’s… the place the three of us are staying at,” Bailu says, still looking at Dan Feng.

“Is that so?” you slowly ask, and then you look at Dan Feng. “You aren't staying with them?"

“It wasn’t ready,” Bailu quickly says. She walks up beside Dan Feng and slaps him on the back. He frowns at her. “Brother Moon can get so impatient sometimes!”

“Brother Moon?”

Dan Feng almost facepalms.

“It’s a nickname,” Zhongli says. “Bailu likes to make nicknames for people she likes.”

“So… Are all of you friends?” you ask, a little skeptical.

“Colleagues,” Dan Feng says before anyone can say anything. “Zhongli and Neuvilette are my colleagues, and Bailu is—”

“His sister!”

Everyone turns to Bailu, and unbeknownst to you, everyone else is shocked at what she said.

“Sister?” you ask, eyes wide. “What a… What an age difference.”

“Adopted sister,” Dan Feng adds.

You still have so many questions.

“So… Why are you in Xianzhou?” you ask.

“I asked them to come,” Dan Feng says. “I told them I had a lead on what happened to Dan Heng.”

“Who—oof!”

Neuvilette glares at Zhongli who elbows him.

You notice how Bailu strangely keeps her eyes on the men. She almost looks confused. Then, you look at Dan Feng. “This is about work, so even your sister came along?"

“She looks young,” Zhongli says, “but she’s not. Believe it or not, she's the oldest out of all of us."

"She insisted on coming," Neuvilette says with his arms crossed.

"Trust me," Bailu says, frowning. "These guys wouldn't have survived a day without me."

“Long story short,” Dan Feng says calmly. “The gang’s all here.”

“Ah…” you say after a little pause. “I, uh, wow, okay. I guess this means you’ll be moving in with them soon.”

Bailu shimmies up to you. “Wait. Why would you ask? Were you and Brother Moon living together or something?”

“No,” you say with a short laugh. “We stay at the same hotel.”

“Is that how you two met?” Zhongli asks.

“Oh, that—”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” Dan Feng interrupts you. “Let’s talk about it a little later.”

“That’s fine.” Zhongli walks up to you. “But, I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s curious about the woman who got Dan Feng’s attention.”

“That’s—”

“Yes, I totally agree!” Bailu interrupts her Brother Moon. “He ditched us for you!”

As Dan Feng watches his friends surround you, he sighs and rubs the space between his eyes. Just how long can he keep lying like this?

“Why are you keeping her around?”

Now, it’s Neuvilette beside him. You, Zhongli, and Bailu are already walking back towards the palace entrance.

“You wouldn’t keep a human by your side if she isn’t useful,” Neuvilette says.

The men are walking side by side when Dan Feng says:

“It’s because of her that we got a head start.” He turns to Neuvilette. “The Aeons might be closer than we think.”

They are still trailing behind the group when Dan Feng gets Neuvilette up to speed.

“You had quite an adventure,” Neuvilette says with a rare surprised look. “So, I suppose it’s safe to talk about our operation with her.”

“With some little tweaks,” Dan Feng says. “Like calling the Aeons gods.”

“Now this man… Dan Heng… His name is too similar to yours to be a coincidence.”

“He was my brother,” Dan Feng answers, “when I was human.” He looks at you walking ahead. “Aeons aside, I have a personal reason for keeping her close by.”

“I hope that reason is with your head and not your heart.”

Dan Feng quietly scoffs. "It's a rational one."

“Does it have something to do with your past?”

“Perhaps." Then, Dan Feng turns to him. “Since when are you interested in these types of things?”

“The four of us have known each other for so long, yet we know very little about each other’s pasts. But in this unfamiliar world, we only have each other to rely on. I simply hope all of us get back safely.”

"How rare coming from you," Dan Feng says with a little smile. "Well, I’ve yet to figure out whether she is the woman I used to know."

“And what will happen once you do?”

Dan Feng faces forward. “Who knows?”

◆◆◆

Eventually, the group arrives at a newly opened coffee shop with groups of people inside and out. Bailu, Zhongli, and Neuvilette are the first to get their drinks, and they head up the small, spiral staircase and grab a table. While Dan Feng waits with you downstairs, Neuvilette tells everyone else about this earlier conversation with Dan Feng.

“Daaamn,” Bailu says, her chin on the lid of her hot drink. “Dan Feng got lucky.”

“Well, it gives some answers,” Zhongli says. “The family probably put the Aeons in positions of power in the company in exchange for what they did to Dan Heng.”

Bailu looks over and sees you and Dan Feng chatting. Dan Feng already has a drink in his hand.

“So… This woman might be someone from Dan Feng’s past?” Bailu asks quietly. Then, she gasps and looks back towards her brother sitting across from her. “What if they’re star-crossed lovers?”

“Bailu,” Neuvilette deadpans. “This isn’t one of those…”

When he can’t find the word, Zhongli helps him out.

“Television shows?” he asks, and Neuvilette nods. “Dramas?”

“Imaginative entertainment is what I’d like to put it,” Neuvilette says.

"Just say fiction, sheesh!"

At the counter where you and Dan Feng are waiting for your drink, you turn to him.

“So, your colleagues are looking for wanted people?”

“Nanook and Lan,” Dan Feng says. “They’ve been looking for them for years, and… There’s a possibility they’re responsible for what happened to Dan Heng.”

“You’re kidding… Right?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Do I want to know what they’re wanted for?” you ask as you pick up your drink.

“I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked.”

“That’s… There’s no way,” you say in disbelief as you and Dan Feng head to the table where everyone else is. “Tsaritsa isn’t the best person out there, but I’d think she would know better than to mess with, well, wanted people.”

“Tsaritsa?”

You and Dan Feng have reached the table, and you sit next to Bailu as Dan Feng sits across from you.

“Are you talking about the current CEO of Lunae?” Neuvilette asks.

Zhongli also adds his question. “What is she like?”

You had almost everyone's attention on the day Dan Heng officially introduced you as his girlfriend. Everyone except the quiet, intimidating woman sitting on one of the armchairs. When it came for her to introduce herself, she put her plate and teacup on the table.

“What does your family do?”

The question took you off guard. But, you quickly responded in kind:

“Might I ask why you’re asking?”

Her hollow, ice-blue eyes landed on yours.

“It should be obvious, is it not?”

“Tsaritsa,” Dan Heng’s mother immediately chided as if the woman were a young child.

But Tsaritsa didn’t even look at her.

“Yikes,” Bailu says with an uncomfortable look. “She sure sounds like a ball of sunshine.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Zhongli says, looking at you. “Tsaritsa is related to Dan Heng's mother who used to be the CEO of Lunae.” You nod. “I heard they didn’t have a good relationship.”

“It’s always been tense,” you say. “But, I never knew exactly why they were at odds with each other.”

“Then, one must wonder how the company ended up in Tsaritsa’s hands,” Neuvilette says. “Was there not a will? For a company as big as Lunae, I’d imagine a will must have existed.”

“The company would likely go to Dan Heng if something were to happen," Zhongli muses, "but considering he was also caught in the accident, perhaps that’s why it automatically went to Tsaritsa."

Dan Feng looks at you who’s holding your drink with both hands. “Did a will exist?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I never asked, and it wasn’t something Dan Heng ever mentioned about.”

“Well, if you ask me, it’d be weird if you did ask!” Bailu finishes her drink. “So… Tsaritsa is supposed to be the big boss. Is there anyone else that we should be careful about?”

“I’d say the entire family,” you answer.

“Tsaritsa’s family?” Zhongli asks.

You nod. “They’re a complicated bunch, and… not all of them are blood-related.”

“You have quite the family,” you said as soon as you and Dan Heng were alone in his room. It was just after you had been formally introduced, but the encounter with Tsaritsa was still on your mind.

After closing the door, Dan Heng hugged you from behind.

“I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” he said quietly.

You put your hands on top of his. “Who was she?”

“A distant relative of my mother’s.”

You turned around. “She’s not your aunt, is she?”

“No. She was adopted into the family.” Dan Heng led you over to his bed, and eventually, you and him were sitting next to each other on the edge. “My mother never told me to call her by anything other than her name.”

“Then… What about the others? I know Childe is her nephew, but…”

“Scaramouche is her son,” Dan Heng said. “Adopted son, at least. As for the others… even I don’t know their relationship to her.”

You weren’t sure if you’d get an answer, but you had to ask.

“Why did your grandparents adopt Tsaritsa into the family anyway?”

Dan Heng held your hand, but he had no answers.

“So the mystery deepens…” Bailu says, stroking her chin. “This could totally be something like a true crime show. Who is this woman, really? Where did she come from?”

“Instead of a true crime show, it sounds more like a revenge story,” Zhongli says.

“Remember,” Dan Feng deadpans, “that this is real life we’re talking about. Not fiction.”

Zhongli smiles at him. “Ah, but haven’t you heard the saying?”

“The truth is stranger than fiction?”

Now, he smiles at you. “That’s right.”

Dan Feng looks from Zhongli to you and back to his friend.

“It’s too early to tell,” Dan Feng says, purposely reaching over to grab a napkin where his arm blocks the eye contact between you and Zhongli.

“Aren’t we getting sidetracked?” Neuvilette asks as Dan Feng sits back down. “We’re here on a job. Whoever Tsaritsa is… That’s none of our concern.”

“Have a heart, would ya, Neuvi?” Bailu asks. “I, for one, would love to get to the bottom of this mystery. If the Aeons had anything to do with it, it’s also our responsibility to bring it to light and clean up their mess!”

“Who?” you ask, obviously confused at the term you’ve never heard of before.

“It’s what we call them,” Zhongli says before Dan Feng can say anything. “It’s just a name.”

“An interesting one to say the least…” You finish your drink. “How’d you come up with that?”

“We didn’t come up with it,” Dan Feng says, beating Zhongli this time. Bailu and Neuvilette glance at each other. “It’s what they call themselves.”

After a small pause, Neuvilette awkwardly clears his throat. “I heard from Dan Feng that you work as an artist. You’re taking on a big project for Lunae?”

“What kind of project?” Bailu asks with big curious eyes.

Your phone suddenly buzzes, and you see it’s from your boss.

Their creative director wants to meet with you before the official meeting with the team. I scheduled a meeting with him at his office. Let me know if this time works for you.

“Do you have somewhere you have to be?”

You look up from your phone and see Dan Feng. “Ah, it’s just a message from my boss. Their creative director wants to meet next week.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“I used to… but after the accident, they replaced him.”

You catch the group exchanging a glance.

“Did you get a name?” Zhongli asks.

“I didn’t. You… don’t think it could be one of those people you’re looking for, do you?”

“If it is,” Neuvilette says, “you’re not going to get his real name now.”

“If it is,” Dan Feng adds, “they would be revealing themselves in the open. The question is why now."

No one has an answer.

◆◆◆

At the top floor of a building situated in the heart of Xianzhou’s business district is a large office space that’s dimly lit. A man with dark purple, waist-length hair tied into a ponytail is sitting at a wide desk big enough for two people. His dark blue eyes are fixed on his monitor with your resume on his screen. His long fingers are tapping against the table when the door on the other side of the room suddenly opens.

The man’s eyes flash towards Nanook who swings the door shut and strides in.

“Guess I was expecting too much when I assumed you’d pick up on human courtesy while we’re here.”

Nanook plops onto a black sofa, crosses one leg over the other, and rests his arm at the top of the sofa.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, looking over at his Aeon friend. “I assume you heard the news.”

The man turns off his monitor and stands. “That we have a couple of unwanted visitors? Yes. Tsaritsa told me.” A hand is in his pocket as he walks over.

“Makes me wonder when they found out we weren’t rotting away in our cells anymore,” Nanook says, his fingers tapping against the top of the sofa.

“Are they the reason why you’re here? It’s not like you to worry, Nanook.”

“I’m here so we’re all on the same page.” Nanook uncrosses his legs. “I don’t want any surprises.” Then, he gives his friend a stern look. “Just like how I heard you want to meet with her. You may not look exactly like Lan the dragons know about in our world, but they know your name.”

“And you think I’m going to use it?” Lan asks. “Surely, you don’t think I’m stupid enough to do that.”

“Why are you meeting her, anyways? She’s just an oblivious human hanging around a god.”

“She might be the human he's looking for."

Nanook raises a brow. "He?"

The guards thought he was asleep, but Lan was wide awake. He slouched against the damp wall where a spider nearly the size of his hand had crawled by just moments earlier. But he’d seen worse in these godforsaken dungeons, so perhaps his worsening vision was a blessing in disguise. Lan’s eyes fell onto the magic-infused cuffs around his wrists and ankles that sent an unbearable pain throughout his body every time he tried using his magic.

Fuck this.

Lan rolled over until his back was against the damp wall, the sounds of the cuffs echoing in the quiet dungeon that you could hear a pin drop. But he couldn’t hear it as it was part of the torture. As punishment, his senses were slowly disappearing, and the first to go was his ability to taste. Now, he couldn’t hear anything. Lan could barely remember what his voice sounded like.

But suddenly, something rang in his ears. At first, he couldn’t make out what it was until it became more rhythmic. It was footsteps. But it wasn’t his. It took all of his power to stand, and once he did, there was someone whose face was completely in shadow because of the large hood over his head. His cloak covered him from head to toe, but Lan was sure it was a man.

How did he sneak past the guards?

“Do you want to leave?” the man asked, a gh ost of a smile creeping over his lips. " Why don’t we make a deal?”

“Ah, yes,” Nanook drawls. “Our mystery man who helped you escape.”

When Lan notices Nanook’s annoyed look, he smiles. “What’s with that look? Jealous, are you, Nanook?”

“Of fucking what?”

Lan shrugs. “You tell me.”

Then, Nanook gestures to Lan to continue. “Well, finish the story, would you? It’s the first time in a long time you’re bringing him up again.”

“You’d know the story by now if you had the patience to listen the first time.”

“Shut up.”

Lan slightly raises two hands as if surrendering. Then, he stands and walks over to his tea maker sitting on a long black table near the door.

“He told me he was looking for a woman,” Lan says while making tea.

“Oh, gosh, that really narrows it down,” Nanook deadpans. “Why didn’t you just pick one off the street to get rid of our debt?”

“Because it’s not just any woman that he’s looking for.” Lan pours the hot tea into two cups. “He’s looking for the woman who wronged him.”

“Wronged him?” Nanook asks after a small pause. “In what way?”

Lan walks over, holding the two cups of tea. “I don’t know,” he says, putting the cups on the table.

“What?”

Lan looks at Nanook. “I don’t know.”

Nanook scoffs. “How can you not know?”

“I don’t know what this woman has to do with him. But, the deal was that I needed to find this woman before the next dragon year.”

“The next dragon year…” Nanook frowns. “Isn’t that this year?”

“If we don’t, he’ll come deal with us.”

“I’d sure like to see him try,” Nanook mutters.

“I wouldn’t take him lightly,” Lan warns. “He had the power to get through the dungeon barrier unnoticed. You should know how strong that barrier was. Getting both of us here to this world… That was also a feat in itself.”

“Ooh, don’t tell me you’re catching feelings,” Nanook says as Lan shoots him a deadpan look. “I prefer seeing you as the desired bachelor next to me.” Lan rolls his eyes. “All right. Next question. What makes you think it's this human girl the one you're looking for?"

Lan quietly sips his tea. “I don’t. I’m going off of the hints he gave me.”

“Hints?” Nanook asks in disbelief. “This guy sure knows how to play games.” He finishes his tea in one chug even though it’s hot. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark.”

“This woman was someone important to Dan Feng and his brother when they were human.”

“That’s supposed to be a hint?” Nanook deadpans.

“Dan Heng was Dan Feng’s brother. Did you know?”

Nanook scoffs. “I barely know anything about the guy, but that isn’t shocking. Their names are practically yin and yang.”

“I was already keeping an eye on her when I heard about her and Dan Heng’s relationship through Tsaritsa, but I was never sure. She doesn’t look like the woman that I’m looking for. She also doesn’t have the right name.”

“Reincarnation can be a fickle thing,” Nanook says with a sigh. “I guess that’d make everything too fuckin’ easy.”

Lan smiles. “I wouldn’t be too surprised if Dan Feng is also trying to figure out if this woman is the one from their past.”

“So they can be a lil happy family again?” Nanook asks, rolling his eyes.

“If what this man says is the truth, she’s why Dan Feng never died,” Lan says after a small pause. “You know what that means, I’m sure.”

Nanook smiles. “She’s the reason he became a god.” Then, he crosses one leg over the other, draping his arm across the top of the sofa. “Whatever this woman did… it sounded like she messed up big time.”

Lan puts his teacup and plate on the table.

“But, she might be in better hands if Dan Feng got to her first.”

“It sounds like she’s going to get killed either way,” Nanook says, leaning toward Lan. “Why not just team up with him? He and our mystery man both want her dead, anyway.”

“Dan Feng might want her dead.”

A short pause.

“This guy doesn’t.”

◆◆◆

It’s evening by the time you’re back at Wangshu Inn. You and Dan Feng are standing at the entrance when Zhongli takes out his phone.

"Why don't we exchange numbers?" he asks. You don't notice Dan Feng giving him a side-eye.

“Yeah! It’ll be easier to schedule dates!”

“Dates?” Neuvilette deadpans but takes out his phone regardless. “Really, Bailu?”

Dan Feng watches you exchange numbers with his friends, and then Bailu looks up at him.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to keep staying here, Brother Moon. You have a home!”

“I suppose it’s the practical thing to do.”

“Practical?” Zhongli asks. “Don’t you like us anymore?”

Dan Feng keeps his stoic gaze on him.

“Or…” Zhongli smiles at you. “Maybe we can invite her over.”

“Actually…” you say before Dan Feng can get a word in. “I also live there.”

“What?”

The synchronicity is probably the most amusing thing you’ve heard all week.

"You're talking about the high-rise apartment near the suburbs, right?" you ask.

“Y-Yeah!” Bailu says. “You live there, too?”

“I have a flat there. It used to belong to my parents and now it belongs to me.”

Zhongli chuckles. “What a small world. I guess we’ll be neighbours.”

Dan Feng is looking at Bailu when he says:

“I’ll move back tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Bailu says, rolling her eyes. “Now he says he wants to come back.” Then, she sticks her tongue out at him. “Well, what if we don’t want you back, huh?”

“Then, I guess he can stay with her,” Neuvilette says.

“You’re joking, right?” Bailu asks after a moment of silence.

“Take it as you will.”

A short while later, you and Dan Feng are walking back inside the hotel when he says:

“You said your apartment at Luofu House used to belong to your parents.”

“Mhm.”

“Mind if I ask where they are now?”

You give him a side glance. “Why are you so curious?”

Not for research purposes or anything…

You and Dan Feng reach the elevator, and he presses the button.

“Does it have to do with the woman you mentioned before?” you ask, and he looks at you. “The woman who you used to know?”

“You still remember, I see.”

“How could I forget?”

“It does," Dan Feng answers after a short pause.

Well, great. Now, you want to ask more questions.

“Who is she?” you cautiously ask.

You catch his little smile that can almost pass for a smirk. “Why are you so curious?”

"Not like you started it or anything..." you say quietly.

The elevator dings upon arrival. “She was my everything," Dan Feng says, and you slowly turn to him. “Just like how Dan Heng was to you.”

Dan Feng walks into the elevator, and you follow him inside.

“But now she’s gone,” he continues, his voice low. He’s looking at you when the elevator doors close. “Or so it’s believed.”

End notes:

Man, the first half of the story took a lot of editing out of me. And a hint to our mysterious fella who let the Aeons loose... He's from Honkai XD

A short story idea has been eating away at my brain for the longest time, but it's for a different fandom than what I usually write for (Jujutsu Kaisen). Since it's only going to be five chapters, I might write it in between updates for this story to get it out of my brain @_@. So, just a heads-up.

Tag list: @lunavixia @sunsethw4 @aerithsthingss @boomie-123

#dan feng x you #hsr dan feng x reader #dan feng x reader #imbibitor lunae x reader #imbibitor lunae

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