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theliterateape · 1 year

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Wisdom of the Creatives | From the Archives

By Alan Lake

Long perched upon my living room table is a book gifted to me by an old friend called The War of Art, a play on Sun Tzu’s Art of War—only geared toward the creative process. Glancing through it once again this New Year's Eve, putting it down I resolved to seek more inspiration in my life, which in turn makes me more creative in my own life. “In pursuit of joys untasted,” from Verdi’s La Traviata sums it up nicely. With this in mind, I thought it might be interesting to ask some of my more creative friends their viewpoint on the subject. Impulsively, phone calls were made and emails were sent to a group of people that make my life richer with their presence—musicians, inventors, photographers, chefs, record producers, authors, filmmakers, scientists and then some. Tasking them to give me a comment/thought/impart wisdom about creativity-their responses are below.

I’ll start: I love when concept and execution are simultaneous—when I think of something to play and am already doing it. A musical moneyshot. Creativity is like a muscle; the more you use it, the bigger it gets. No guarantees on meeting the muse, but if you keep showing up, after a lifetime, your chances improve. Creative disciplines are similar in that way. Most people draw like a child because that’s when they stop drawing. As a musician and chef, people often ask me about my cooking, which reminds me of my music and parallels it so naturally that I made up my own word to describe it. “Jazzfood:" Solid technique coupled with tasteful improvisation. That would be me.

Stephen Sayadian (aka Rinse Dream) — Filmmaker, creative director, set designer, writer, satirist, surrealist. Besides winning a dance contest at my bar mitzvah, his work includes directing Cafe Flesh, Dr. Caligari and Nightdreams, and production design for the 90s television series Silk Stalkings. Stephen was fêted with a retrospective of his work at the L’ Étrange festival in Paris a few years back.

"Creativity, n. The essence of life. When it’s over, you're dead."

Jerry Stahl — Novelist, journalist, screenwriter. Stahl’s work includes Permanent Midnight, Perv, A Love Story, I Fatty, Happy Mutant Baby Pills, Alf, thirtysomething, Moonlighting, Twin Peaks, CSI, New York Times, Esquire, Playboy and winner of The Pushcart Prize for fiction. This clip of him from the Moth says it all:

"Creativity is what artists have to keep from blowing strangers' brains out—or their own."

Larry Kopald — Larry has been an Executive Creative Director for some of the world's leading ad agencies, working with Nike to Coke to McDonalds and Mercedes. Today he heads up Kopald/Stranger in Los Angeles, a change agency that helps companies and governments create positive social change while achieving their core objectives. He‘s done environmental communications for the Olympics and the United Nations, serves on the board of the Museum of Broadcasting, is a member of the Television Academy and has been nominated for Grammy and Emmy Awards. In junior high, there were three drummers. Larry and I were two of them. His family owned Dad’s Root Beer here in Chicago and the word “mensch” has a picture of him in the dictionary.

"Wikipedia defines Creativity as 'a phenomenon.' James Michener says it occurs when you 'stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood appear on your forehead.' My guess is most creative people would agree with both of them. Anyone can come up with a creative idea once in awhile, but doing it consistently means drawing blood. It means hours or decades of experimenting, studying what’s already out there in the big world to make sure you’re not replicating and building up such trust in your internal pathway from your head to your heart that you let the car go back and forth on its own. It’s an immensely, intensely personal achievement. Kind of like being all alone on a deserted island and finally reaching that itch in the middle of your back. Ahhhh..."

Mark Panick — Musician/singer/songwriter from Bonemen of Barumba, Razorhouse and Black Friars Social Club. Here’s a video of his I quite like:

"My inner 12-year-old is in charge of my creativity. He's not always amenable to company but I try and create an environment he feels comfortable in. Hoping that he'll show up more often than not. The whole fill the well and then disgorge the well allegory works for me. And as long as I am moving my skills forward, the rest seems to fall into place. Having some discipline certainly helps too.

Victorrio Giustino — Writer, poet, historian, media commentator, radio talk show host knower of all things Chicago.

"Lord lift the creativity of the child in my heart, head in hands, not be chained by adulthood. The clock of creativity never stops. Don’t let outside forces steal your creative spirt. Season creativity into the soup of life so those that taste it will grow.

Robert Smyth — Inventor/engineer/developer of power supplies for aircrafts, submarines, missile launchers, M1 tanks and my favorite, a solar powered boat he built in his garage and tested in his pool. When one of the submarines he worked on surfaced at the North Pole and radioed back, “On top of the world,” his reply was “Then steer South." A poignant, decadent, mofo 'tis he.

I think creativity is something born out of an aberrant brain condition, as I notice that the majority of people are not creative They just do what they are taught to do and nothing more. As an engineer, most of my creative ideas are born from observation and laziness combined. I see something and sense that there is an easier way to achieve whatever it is. Most of all, to be creative you need to have imagination with no boundaries.

Hegina Rodrigues — Brazilian outsider artist

"My quest is to paint intangible feelings- to illustrate the inner distortions of our emotions."

Patrick Leonard — Pianist, songwriter, record producer, childhood pal and suggester of the book that inspired this piece in the first place, The War of Art. Pat has worked with a who’s who of rock 'n' roll that includes Leonard Cohen, Bryan Ferry, Madonna, Elton John, Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Jewel and Rod Stewart.

"When my old friend Alan Lake emailed to ask if I could write a few thoughts on creativity, I suddenly felt less creative and more confused than usual. First, there are questions: Are we born creative? Is creativity a qualitative attribute? Does creativity relate to art and, if so, what does that relationship look like? Is a creative person necessarily an artist? Is art always creative? Is it possible to be ultra creative and not be an artist, or to be an artist without possessing any creativity? When a child is created, are its parents then creative? Is the child art? A photo is snapped on an iPhone and edited to a striking sepia tone on a free app... creativity? Someone downloads music software, then drags and drops their very own selection of loops to a player, hits the spacebar, and music emerges from the computer. Is this creativity or more like birth, sans the beauty? These are questions that come to mind.

My personal definition of creativity has become very blurry in the last decade or so, and I don’t expect that it will refocus itself anytime soon. It seems that egalitarian creativity has become a new truth, and it’s sheer folly to expect mankind to redefine the word in the name of justice for at least a hundred years or so. An apology to my fellow man, but we know how we are. This poor old word is failing to mean anything and, though it’s a noble and worthy cause to revive it, the result would inevitably be only as good as our iPhones would provide. Maybe it’s best to wait for the iPhone 6, or what I’m sure will be the even greater, iPhone 7.

Bottom line: without some creativity your food is bland, your house is boring, your music library came complete with your iPod and your sex life sucks… but your children are still beautiful. What a world."

Bill Bartolotta — Bill is the principal of esam l.l.c., a firm that delivers mighty solutions through multiple mediums. In addition, he keeps awake by doing creative direction/stage design for Tedx Midwest and Chicago Ideas Week and is creative advisor to the Museum of Contemporary Art’s events and entertainment. He’s also a badass musician.

"5 on creativity—I attempt to say them as me wishing i offer them differently enough to be worthy of someone’s time to read them: 1. Creativity is an urge to express one’s singular understanding of a soul or of a specific incident whether person creature plant mineral or other art is a byproduct of a successful urge delivery. 2. Ion charges for creativity impression aspiration perception conception 3. Assuming creativity—who we are is our best gift to the universe—our best gift from the universe—we may choose who we are—igniting our intention to seek the multitudes within us accepting intuition while listening to the multitudes imagining the possibilities we may evolve to acting upon those which unfold our purpose lead us to understanding ourselves—understanding who we are offers the best of our best gift to the universe—understanding who we are is the best of our gift from the universe—acting on who we are allows us the opportunity to consciously bring our genius to enjoy each and every day which in turn extends joy to all. 4. Method of creativity express do not inform. 5. Secret of creativity good working thoughts exceed the mysteries of faith.

SANDRO — A photographer and filmmaker whose editorial work has been featured in The New Yorker, Time, Forbes, Wired, GQ and Newsweek, and winner of the Saatchi and Saatchi Best New Director Award at the Cannes International Festival of Creativity. Nikon gave him a new camera to test and told him to put it through its paces to see what it could do. Here it is: http://vimeo.com/36345294

"Creativity to me is like a heart beat, without it your dead!"

Jon Langford — A Welsh expatriate residing in Chicago, Jon is a musician (Mekons, Waco Brothers) a Bloodshot Records recording artist and a painter.

"Sometimes great ideas just fall out of the sky, songs appear in a matter of moments fully realized almost like somebody else wrote them but you'd be a fool to sit around waiting for that to happen. The creative process is hard work, a constant and rigorous conversation or physical interaction with the people and ideas in the world around you. Shun all solitary navel gazing. There are always tricks and techniques to get creative muscles to flex and when the juices flow the faucets may not be easy to shut off. Keep a pencil by the side of your bed."

Jonny Stax — Founder and president of Jonny Stax, Inc. His primary interest is supporting people in the creation process of new businesses, art works, social justice campaigns, and educational curriculum. Clients include Chicago Children's Theatre, Test Positive Aware Network, Chicago Department of Public Health and Chicago Public Schools.

"I think it's important to look at the root of creativity, which is creation. The creation process is making something new out of what exists. This happens in every field and not just the arts. I see actions as either creation, execution, or evaluation or making something new, making something happen again, or learning from something that was made."

Don Hall — Storyteller, cultural organizer, events producer, provocateur, podcaster, actor, director.

"Creativity is a habit. The unicorn dust theory of creative thinking is that if you clear your mind and wait, inspiration will come. Which is horseshit and merely fodder for self-help books. There is no new idea on the planet so making the combinations happen as a habitual practice guarantees that eventually you will see inspiration in the constant wash of crap. Diamonds in the rough; needles in the haystack.

Jason Vincent — Executive chef/co-owner Giant, Chicago

"Creativity can be measured by the life cycle of a cronut. Or, more specifically, by the life cycle of the idea of a cronut. You have a moderately cool idea, the right people say that it's a better than average idea, the masses say that it's brilliant, the universe continues to exist when your next moderately cool idea is moderately cool. My point isn't to hate on cronuts... I'm just saying that creativity is the one drug that you need a host and a partner for. If you're creative and alone, who gives a shit? You need someone else to tell you that what you've created is amazing or else you won't want to do it again. But, when a few people tell you that what you're doing is great... All the common sense in the world won't help you. No matter how many little angels appear on your shoulder to tell you that "It could be better. It's not your best work. It sucks." That little fucking devil telling you not to worry about it. What's next? What's new? Creativity is a PR stunt. I'd rather see the forest."

Ian McDonald — Musician, multi instrumentalist, songwriter, producer, founding member of King Crimson and Foreigner. McDonald wrote In the Court of the Crimson King and 21st Century Schizoid Man, both revolutionary for their time. The sax in T. Rex’s Bang a Gong? That’s Ian also. The guy virtually invented a genre of music with a few of his friends. A huge influence on me musically, it’s been an honor to work with and call him friend.

"Creativity is discovery: finding something that wasn’t there before..."

Mike Nagrant — Chicago food writer and critic, contributor to the James Beard award-winning Alinea cookbook.

"Creativity is mostly about discipline, the discipline to sit down, the discipline to think, the discipline to avoid doing stuff other people have done a hundred times. There's not as much genius in creativity as there is the mark of really hard work."

JC Brooks — Lead singer of Bloodshot Records soul band JC Brooks and the Uptown Sounds and a trained actor. Here’s their excellent cover of the Wilco classic I Am Trying To Break Your Heart.

"For me, creativity is a really specific mind-space that it can sometimes be hard to enter. When I'm there, I'm constantly inspired and I can apply my creativity to almost any discipline, but when I'm not, my challenge is trying to find an in-road to it—almost like a self-hypnosis or guided meditation, but it can be tricky and doesn't always take. I guess my biggest challenge sometimes is just being okay with waiting for the state of creativity to settle into/onto (?) me again without pushing too hard to get there. If I really push for it I just get frustrated and pretty-much insure that I won't get there. This all only applies when I'm working alone. When I'm working with a partner or in a group it tends to come more easily."

Subha Das — Associate Professor of Chemistry, Carnegie Mellon University, creator of The Kitchen Chemistry Sessions, a course that uses food and molecular cuisine to teach the concepts of chemistry and science.

"Creativity is the ability to conceive and realize the juxtaposition or combination of disparate things in a new, often unexpected way. The creative concept or act is spontaneous or organic but (I believe) arises from and belies at least a fair amount of mastery over what is traditional or the norm."

John Sinclair — Poet, writer, political activist and Radio Free Amsterdam disk jockey (where he resides). Sinclair managed the MC5 and led the White Panther Party. John Lennon wrote a song about him when he was sent to prison for giving two joints to an undercover cop.

"I just try to do the best I can with what the spirits give me to work with."

Jason Brock — Award-winning writer, editor, filmmaker, composer, artist.

"In its most essential form, creativity is making the divine out of the mundane. It is taking the fundamental life force of the human spirit and resolving that unfocused energy into something akin to the spiritual. Shamans were often catalysts of this nature in pre-religious contexts. In more organized societies, religion has attempted to channel energy of this nature with decidedly mixed results, often heaping upon the creative impulse the added burdens of castigation and humiliation, lest the individual attempt to take their (rightful) place amongst the gods.

Just as one need not believe in a godhead to live a moral and righteous life, one can be a creative without the insufferable tyranny of an organized gathering of impotents taking umbrage at every word written, every stroke painted, every dish prepared, every frame captured.

We are the authors of our lives and the masters of the final outcome, not the politicians or religious leaders of the moment. To understand that takes courage, passion, skill, talent and inspiration, otherwise we are all doomed, in the words of Thoreau, to lead "lives of quiet desperation." And then the grave, followed by the unknown.

Why not take one's life and steer it, rather than listen to the protestations of less valiant persons hiding from the possible?"

Karen Page & Andrew Dornenburg — Authors and winners of two James Beard Awards for The Flavor Bible and Becoming a Chef. Here’s a link to an interview I did with them a few years ago.

"People describe a certain dish as "creative," when what they really mean is "eccentric" or "unusual." Are fruit-flavored caviar-like spheres really creative? We'd argue that true creativity not only expands the boundaries of what came before it, but does so in a way that adds value.

In summation I think it’s safe to say that a creative’s worldview is different than most. One can do worse than having an imagination with no boundaries or doing the best with what the spirits give you to work with. Lots of golden perspectives here. May they inspire you to create your next masterpiece (or three). And don’t forget to keep a pencil by your bed.

***

Alan Lake is a chef, musician, writer, reprobate and lover of all things beautiful and delicious. Author of The Garlic Manifesto and the soon to be published Home Cookin'. He’s also won numerous awards, professional competitions and distinctions. Friends describe him as talented, tough, comical and egotistical with a mushy center that often smells of garlic. He views his food as he does his music and writing, and has been known to bust a pout if subpar in any way.

#creativity #art #music

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isaaccecilbryant · 4 years

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"So do ya have any crazy stories from when you were a kid? I'll share mine if you share yours! It'll be fun! I've got looooots~"

Isaac warmly chuckled as he thought back to his childhood. He was never the type to misbehave, so he had a limited selection of stories to pick from. Even less if he excluded the fatally embarrassing ones.

“It was a regular occurrence for me to sneak whatever small animal I caught outside into the house. My parents would catch me right away and make me release it though. I really wanted a pet as a kid.” Isaac gave it some more thought. Was he so boring of a child that he hadn’t had any wild adventures.

“Oh, wait. There was a time when my friend Miles and I hid in his father’s office, and he ended up evacuating a whole floor of the academy building to keep a bully from finding us.”

#rpRosabell #crownofsmiles #this was a good ask XD #making me muse my brains creative muscles!

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cno-inbminor · 3 years

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iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings: DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him. It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,” he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin imagines #childe #tartaglia #childe angst #genshin impact #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #this fic maybe took two years off my life

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mediicusvitae · 2 years

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🍒 afailedkingsheart ;)

{ @afailedkingsheart | Positivity meme – Not accepting! }

{ I don't even know where to begin. }

The amount of love and dedication poured into each of your muses is amazing. Whether it's Killer, Rosi or Kanjuro, each of them is written or drawn with such affection and it shows. I remember your old art from all the way back in ~2015 and you have improved so considerably. You grew so much while still maintaining a recognizable, distinct style and your art is such a big inspiration for me. I absolutely adore the way you draw muscles, scarred tissue and eldritch horror demons.

You are such a talented storyteller, no matter the medium. The amount of varying threads and AUs you write is another testimony to that. I love seeing the darker sides of comedic characters like Rosi and the 'soft' sides of a dark character like Killer. It's your fault that I'm beginning to ship DeathPenalty and Lamy doesn't approve in the slightest lmao. You flesh all of their feelings and thoughts out so well, the good and the bad, while always staying true to the source material you are working off of and it is a marvel to read. One can almost see the cogs of their minds turning as they introspect themselves in the quieter moments between the action. And when you write action, it's amazing. Thrilling scenes that you describe so poetically it's as if a movie would be playing out in my brain. Also, you're one of the only people who indulge my love of writing unbridled gore, so thank you for that! Out of character you are always so encouraging, fun and nice. Chatting with you about AU ideas or bad German swear words is always a blast! Thank you so much for taking a chance on my Lamy and her several verses. She needs a good parental figure in her life after everything she's been through, and having Cora adopt her alongside Law means so much to me ♥ Every time you mention her beyond our threads my heart does the biggest silly happy dance. I know you said that the parental guardian relationship between Law and Cora is very relatable to you, and I can absolutely sympathize with that. Also with the aspect that you sometimes struggle with seeing Law as handsome because of musing Cora c': RIP Law's sexiness, you shall be deeply missed. Thank you so much for sharing your creativity with the world. The Wano fire festival event you organized was such a wonderful occasion in the RPC and you brought so much fun to so many people. It's evident that you enjoy doing so, which is a wonderful trait to have, but I just wish you would take more care of yourself >:C I know that you know, but we love and care about you Jug, and burn out isn't fun so please take it easy in the future. I have to physically stop myself from gushing about you at this point because otherwise I would just keep on forever and ever. To make it short, you are a wonderful person, and I am looking forward to having more adventures with you (*^▽^*)/ Ps. Your music taste? Immaculate.

#{ thank you for sending Anubis <333 }#ikkaku-of-heart #ikkakuofheart #afailedkingsheart #;asks #;answered #;outofspots

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thekrazykeke · 3 years

Text

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears.

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this.

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it.

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist.

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?”

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.”

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that.

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked.

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away.

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions.

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid.

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated.

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always.

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?”

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it.

You’re at an impasse.

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you.

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself.

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain.

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so...

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went.

Until you find him.

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.”

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to.

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’.

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are.

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around.

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.”

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations.

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you.

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso.

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest.

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.”

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off.

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth.

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does.

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan.

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones.

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji.

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc.

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful.

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward.

Coming almost uncomfortably close.

“Or is there another….”

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his.

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again.

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring.

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out.

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.”

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to.

There are no more kisses between you and Uta.

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired.

Almost as if he could love you.

#uta #tokyo ghoul #uta imagine #black reader #uta tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul imagine #uta x reader #tg #human reader #tg imagine #thekrazykeke

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willow-salix · 3 years

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It’s here, Virgil’s FabFiveFeb

A nice little bit of Virg fluff for @gumnut-logic

"I think he'd like someone that has an interest in creative pursuits," Gordon mused, poking one of the boxes to tick it.

"And someone that likes to go for walks, you know what he's like for wanting to wander and take in the scenery, maybe even snap some pictures to paint later," Scott added, touching another box to tick it.

"More of a home body than an adventurer, he gets enough of that with work," Gordon added it to the list. "And they definitely have to believe that family is important, he can't have someone that won't understand his commitments."

"OK, next, all about him," Scott scrolled down to the next section. "His interests…"

"Classical music, obviously."

"Enjoys visiting art galleries and concerts."

"And eating out."

"Don't we all?"

Gordon nodded at that, there was nothing they liked more than picking up some tasty food.

"Ideal date? What's that movie he likes? The one with the lake house?"

"Oh, I know the one you mean, with the…the…" Scott's brain failed to make the connection, romantic comedies were not his thing, that was what Virgil watched with Selene, not him.

"Doesn't matter," Gordon assured him, brushing it aside. "He liked the date so I'm putting it down. A relaxed stroll along a lake side at sunset," he murmured to himself as he quickly typed it out.

"That's the one," Scott nodded. "He-"

"Allie! Have you seen Scott?" The sound of Virgil's voice floating up from the kitchen made them both jump guilty.

"I think he's in the lounge," Alan shouted back.

"Shit!"

"He's coming!"

"Quick, submit it, submit it!" Gordon smacked at the submit button, growling in frustration when a flashing red 'incomplete field' warning mocked them.

The sound of steel capped boots thumping up stairs spurred them on.

"Just tick anything!" Scott yelped, fingers flying as he randomly poked boxes in between Gordon whacking the submit button like it had personally offended him.

"Yes!" Gordon sighed as the 'congratulations' sign appeared in green. "Done!"

Scott just had time to hit the x and pull up a report before Virgil strolled his way in.

"What are you two doing?" he asked suspiciously, stopping dead in the doorway when he was greeted by the sight of the two brothers least likely to be discussing a report seeming to be doing just that.

"Nothing!" Gordon yelped just as Scott yelled "Reports" which was definitely upping the suspicion levels. He didn't believe them.

"I don't believe you," Virgil told them firmly, attempting to give them the kind of 'don't lie to me' eyebrow raise that Selene or John managed to pull off but knew he had failed. Damn the fact that he was the nice one and they both knew that any and all threats he might issue would go unfulfilled.

"You doubt me?" Scott gasped in mock outrage. "Me? Your big brother? The one that always has your back?"

"And me, your wingman? The one that always fixes your hairdryer fuse?"

"One time Gordon! That was one time! And it wasn't my hairdryer!"

"I don't know, you bought it, you keep it in your bathroom and you warned us all that we couldn't borrow it on pain of death, so that evidence all points to it being your hairdryer…"

"I won't stay here to be insulted," Virgil sniffed indignantly, "I'm gonna go find Kayo and see if she'll help me with the inlet manifold, at least she can take instructions and won't lie to me."

They watched him stomp away in a huff, breathing a sigh of relief when the sound of his boots faded into nothing.

"Damn, that was close," Scott gulped, clicking back onto the dating website to check it had worked. His eyes widened when he looked at the screen.

"What? What's wrong?"

"He's got three inboxes already."

"Seriously? Already, it's been what, five minutes?"

"Yep."

"We’re gonna be spoilt for choice."

"I guess that just means we have more chance of picking him a good one, he needs to get out more."

"He'll thank us for it in the end."

***

"I don't understand, why do I have to dress up?" Virgil groaned. "I'm tired, I've had a long day, why do we need to go to the mainland just to pick up pizza?"

Gordon glanced at Scott for help. None was forthcoming. He nudged him for emphasis.

"Fine," Scott sighed, admitting defeat. Honesty was always the best policy anyway. "We arranged a blind date for you."

"You did what?" Virgil exploded. "Why the hell would you do that?"

"We thought you needed to get out more," Gordon shrugged. "We were trying to help."

"I don't need your help, I didn't ask for it."

"Not like you were going to meet anyone on your own, was it?" Gordon continued to needle.

"John did! So did Scott. I am perfectly capable of getting my own dates."

"John is an enigma that none of us understand and Cat's my ex, I was recycling, that doesn't count."

"Do not let her hear you say that," Gordon laughed.

"My point still stands," Scott insisted waving away the worry about his girlfriend, "we don't have a normal job or the chance to socialise much, and unless fate decides to be nice and throw someone at you like it did for John or you have an ex hidden away somewhere, you can't use us as an example."

"You don't want to let her down, do you?" Gordon tossed in, knowing that his softie brother would feel guilty as hell if he upset anyone. "How would you feel if you got dumped before you'd even met the person?"

Virgil wanted to argue the point some more, but honesty and his vow never to lie to himself stopped him. They did have a point, a small one, but still pointy and therefore he was unable to ignore their logic. He decided to give in, although he refused to do so gracefully or with any forgiveness of their plotting. Plus, they were right, he wouldn't want to be responsible for anyone feeling like they weren't good enough in any way, shape or form.

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice…" he started only to be interrupted by the victorious cheers of his brothers. "Do you have a picture of her?"

"Nope," Scott grinned. "We signed you up with that new site where pictures aren't allowed, you pick based on shared interests and compatibility, not looks."

"That's…actually a nice idea," Virgil acknowledged reluctantly. He wasn't one to judge people on looks, he cared more about personality and morals.

"See, we knew you'd approve," Gordon grinned, slapping him on the back.

"I didn't say I approved of this-"

"Come on, hurry up, you don't want to be late for your date!"

***

Virgil waited nervously on the picnic bench, clutching the single sunflower Scott had thrust at him like it was a weapon, ready to fend off anything if his blind date turned out to be some kind of psycho.

They couldn't be too careful, they were far too used to people trying to find out details about them or to trick them in some way. No one was ever as they seemed.

Scott had assured him that they hadn't used his real name and that no one would associate it with him but he couldn't help the little nagging doubts that gnawed away at the back of his mind.

Plus he still hadn't forgiven them for pulling this stunt on him. Did they really think he was that bad at dating that he needed such help? He wasn't bad at dating, he got plenty of offers for a hook up, they all did. Well, not John but he was hardly ever out on rescues and Selene was common knowledge now but, to the rest of the world, him and his "single" brothers were all fair game.

Butt gropes and comments about their hard muscles were a common occurrence, so much so that he often felt like a piece of meat being squished and tested before purchase. Another reason why he rarely managed to meet anyone that he could actually see himself wanting to date.

Maybe their idea, while badly executed and heavy in trickery and taken liberties, hadn't come from a bad place. He'd worried the whole way to the meeting spot that they might have picked the worst candidate they could, but he firmly forced the thought out of his head. His brothers might like to indulge in mutual pranking and to push the limits sometimes but they would never do anything to hurt or embarrass someone, especially not a stranger. The thought had calmed him down enough that he hadn't had to make use of Two's on board bathroom facilities for an emergency freshen up because he'd stress sweated through the nice shirt and jacket they had forced him into.

He'd managed to relax a little but, now that he was sitting here alone, waiting and looking out for someone he had no clue about, he was starting to worry again.

Seeing an abandoned pen on the picnic table he snatched a few napkins from the dispenser and let his eyes roam the scenery.

It really was a gorgeous place, something often referred to as a little slice of heaven in the city. The urban park, man made in the center of the mass of concrete and steel, sported a carefully constructed lake that was home to a teeming ecosystem of endangered species that exhaustive conservation efforts had made possible.

The sun was just beginning to lower towards the horizon, painting the sky and the surface of the lake with the most beautiful colours. Virgil's fingers itched to paint them but he settled for snapping a couple of pictures on his phone.

Trees of all types surrounded the lake, creating an attractive backdrop to the whole scene and before he even realised he was doing it he was deep in concentration as he sketched the lake area on the napkin.

The process was calming, helping to soothe his nerves and slow his thumping heart, allowing him to stop and breathe for a second, helping him to resist the urge to cut and run.

"Are you Virgil Grant? You have a sunflower."

The voice behind him made him jump and drop his pen.

"Yes, yes I am," he admitted as he turned around to face his date.

***

"So, how did it go?" Scott asked when they arrived to pick Virgil up, less than half an hour after he'd text for a ride. "Did you have a good time?"

"I had a great time," Virgil smiled.

"You were gone a long time," Gordon grinned, nudging his older brother playfully with his elbow. "Did you go back to her place or something?"

"Yeah, we did."

"You did? You dog you!" Gordon leered with an exaggerated wink. Virgil just smiled, taking the teasing with his usual good grace.

"You gonna see her again?" Scott asked, pleased that their plan seemed to have gone so well.

Virgil nodded. "I told her I'd drop in as soon as I'm free."

"Come on, give us all the juicy details, tell us all about, Emma, wasn't it?" Gordon pushed, desperate for gossip.

"Nothing much to tell," Virgil shrugged. "She's sweet, we had a nice time hanging out, she gave me her number."

"That's it? That's all you can tell us?" Gordon groaned, disappointment evident in his voice.

"No, that's all I'm going to tell you," Virgil corrected. "You've interfered in my private life enough already, thank you."

"Oh, come on, Virg," Scott pleaded. But the big guy wouldn't budge, staying smugly silent the entire journey home.

Gordon and Scott had given up by the time they eased the little jet back into the hangar, going off to do their own thing, hopefully to remove his dating profile, leaving Virgil alone.

Selene and John were cuddled up together on one of the couches, watching something on the holoscreen when he made his way into the lounge.

He hadn't meant to disturb them, especially when they were actually getting some time alone for once, and was about to make his excuses but Selene had other ideas. She patted the couch beside her, shifting over to make room for him.

He accepted the offer, sitting down and getting comfortable. He didn't know what they were watching, possibly some kind of documentary.

"Cookie?" he offered, pulling a baggie of what looked to be pretty decent cookies out of his jacket pocket.

Selene glanced up from the screen, looking first at the bag of cookies and then at Virgil, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You're all dressed up."

This got John's attention as he reached for a cookie. "Have you been somewhere?"

Selene selected a cookie and took a big bite. "Oh, damn, these are so good, where did you get them?"

"My date made them for me," Virgil grinned, consuming almost half a cookie in one bite.

"Wait, wait, back up, date?" Selene actually paused the documentary, something about William Shakespeare by the looks of it.

"You had a date? That wasn't on the calendar?" John frowned. "Were they cleared by security?"

"The romance is strong in this family," Selene drawled, rolling her eyes.

"Scott and Gordon decided that signing me up to dating sites is their new hobby," Virgil sighed.

"They arrange the date? What were they like? Did you have a good time? Witchy needs details," Selene gently shoved John's face away from her as he chewed loudly in her ear and leant closer to Virgil.

"We actually had a nice time. Emma, my date, is a local, lived there all her life. She's been a bit lonely so her friend set her up on the site. We wandered around a lake for a bit and then we went back to her place."

"Awww, so romantic," Selene sighed dreamily before mock glaring at her husband. "Why don't you take me on dates any more?"

"Because we only got back off our honeymoon a few weeks ago and we live on an island?"

"No excuse."

"Dinner on the mainland next week?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she stole a quick kiss as he rolled his eyes in defeat. "Got any pictures?"

"Of the restaurant? Are you needing to inspect my reservation making skills now?"

"I was talking to Virgil."

"Oh, then carry on."

"Virg, pictures?"

"I did take one, yes," he pulled out his phone, scrolled through for a couple of seconds then turned the phone to show them the screen. "I took a selfie of us at the lake."

Selene and John blinked, unsure if they were seeing the right picture.

"Erm… not to be a judgey judgerson or anything but…" Selene trailed off.

"But she has to be older than Grandma," John finished for her, blunt and to the point as always.

They both looked at the picture again, showing a goofily grinning Virgil next to a sweet older lady, her blue rinsed hair set in a helmet of curls, her half moon glasses perched on her nose.

"Again, not with the judging, you do you, but does she have to watch her heart? She needs to be careful if she's going out picking up handsome young men."

"Stop, please stop," Virgil groaned. "She didn't know how old I was. Gordon and Scott set it up and apparently they somehow, and I choose to believe it was unintentional, managed to upload my profile to the over 60s side."

"And you didn't correct her?" John had to ask. He knew his brother was the nice one of the family but that was a little ridiculous.

"Of course I did, but we were there and she hadn't been out in a few weeks. Her grandson moved away for work and her husband died a few years ago so I bought her dinner and we had a nice walk around the park. She wasn't actually looking for a romantic date, she just wanted a companion, someone to chat to, go for a walk with and maybe see an exhibition or two. Her friend at the widows club set it up for her."

"So you were both set up by others?"

"Yep. She's a really nice lady."

"And that walk around the park turned into cookies at her place?" John's fingers snuck into the bag again to take another.

"And banana bread. She mentioned that she was going to hire a handyman to fix her sink because her daughter was too busy and she didn't have any help now."

"Ahhh," Selene could see exactly where this was going.

"And so I offered to unblock her sink for her."

"Of course you did," John sighed, hiding his smile against Selene's shoulder.

"And while I was there I put up some new shelves for her and took her trash cans out to the kerb and retuned her TV. She made me cookies to say thank you."

"She sounds lovely," Selene cooed, already in love with the thought of her. She could take or leave it when it came to little kids, usually leave if she was being honest, but she was a complete suckee when it came to the elderly.

"She is, smart too. I complimented some of the paintings she had on her walls and she told me she'd painted them, her and her husband met at art school and used to go on vacation to different countries to visit galleries and take classes. I showed her a few pictures of some of my pieces and it turned out she'd seen one of mine in a gallery in New York, you know that one of the Sphinx I did from that picture I took after that rescue?"

"Do I take it that our darling brothers don't know any of this?"

"Nope," Virgil grinned. "I'm letting them stay curious, they asked me all sorts of questions on the way back but I stayed quiet. I'll tell them eventually, once all the cookies are gone." He picked another out of the rapidly depleting stash.

"I have never heard a more Virgil story in my entire life," Selene laughed, shaking her head. "So when are you seeing her again?"

"Gonna try and visit next week to mow her lawn," Virgil admitted, looking somewhat sheepish.

"Hey, no," Selene grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "No looking embarrassed. You're amazing, it's a totally you thing to go on a date, not get what you were expecting and still come away with an old lady best friend and having had a great time. That's one of the many reasons I love you, because you're just so you."

"She's right," John added, patting his brother's shoulder. "One thing I've learnt the last few years is that you shouldn't make excuses for who you are or try to change. Don't belittle the fact that you have probably made her happier than she has been in months just by giving her some time and treating her with respect. Don't undervalue that."

"Yeah," Virgil acknowledged. "I know I did the right thing, it doesn't hurt to help someone and I had fun too."

"And that's all that matters," Selene said, patting his hand one last time before she let it go.

"Yep," he smiled, settling back against the cushions, munching on his cookie, his cheeks bulging like a hamster's, muffling his words. "That and the fact that her granddaughter is a nurse and she's going to introduce us next month."

#Virgil Tracy #fabfivefeb #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #John Tracy #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirdsarego #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction

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barbika1508 · 4 years

Text

Perks of an open Pool (Octopus/SeaWitch!Yoongi x Human!Reader/ Smut)

Word Count: 9,4k

Genre: Fluff, Romance, PWP

Pairing: Octopus/SeaWitch!Yoongi x Human!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Breeding Kink, Mating, Dom! Yoongi, Brief Dom!Y/N otherwise Sub!Y/N, Tentacle sex

Summary: It’s just your ordinary mated type of a couple, living together, loving each other and getting frisky as anyone does, with the exception of these two as a limb or two more might be involved.

Authors Note: It’s basically tentacle porn, simple as that! So, enjoy it and if you don’t there’s plenty other things to read! Anyways hope you’re having a good day :3

Why am I getting agitated? I was fine not even an hour ago, completely calm and collected. My fingers remain drumming mindlessly along the side of my laptop, as I keep staring at the beat and the waves it has created, listening to the same part of the song over, and over again. The repetition is irking me, the missing part just growing and adding to my nerves. And going down and through the 20 versions I’ve made of the beat, it’s not sitting right frustrating me by this point. This is supposed to be a simple pre-chorus to lead the song into the main part but why in Poseidon’s name nothing is working right?!?!?!?!

Beyond my own little world, I pick up on other sounds deducting movement. Noises of moving furniture and footsteps aren’t quiet anymore. The agitation from before in my stomach lessens as I glance at the clock, but the irritation remains as I continue glaring at the screen in front of me. Letting out a heated exhale I switch onto another track completely, knowing I have 2 things to tweak, but instead for some reason this feels like an entirely different song with a different meaning than it felt the hour before when I was satisfied with it. I just let my mood sour even more, today seemingly being against me creative wise.

My concentration is easy to break as something above me falters to the ground, my mate adding onto my frustrations as she’s taking her sweet time of doing whatever she’s doing instead of directly coming down to greet me, like it is the usual. Turning my head to the left, I’m still left amazed time to time at the concept of the house and her idea which she conceptualized.

This was after all her childhood home, but she bluntly went ahead and demolished half of it transforming the lower part of the entire house, which was built on rocks, into an open pool area of sorts. To humans, it’s a chill barbeque/ relaxing era with the pool being directly connected to the ocean, opening up to natural causes.

The pool stretches outwards from her relatively small house, but it has a shallow area where I am settled with a laptop and my gear all kept on dry land, meanwhile my lower body is submerged underneath the water, two of my limbs working lazily time to time, by bringing the water upwards to keep me wet. The tiled floor is smooth and comforting in a way beneath me. I know exactly where they stop and natural rocks begin to cover the sea ground.

Summers are of course always the best times to hang out in this area. But it has switched for me as well into loving it, which is an oddity. I am cold blooded through and through, I come from the debts of the ocean, where no human has even reached or even been to, where sunlight can’t reach anything. So, the contrast of everything was monumental, the biggest hurdle being the sun that hurt my eyes, the brightness almost blinding me at one point. But I’ve preserved becoming stronger than I once was, my whole mood and liking of summer changing into one of enjoyment. And it’s all because of her. In summers it’s easier for my beloved to spend more time with me in the water, and on land as it’s warm enough for her to sleep here, and stay and work and do whatever she wants to.

Even though I don’t look like it but I crave skin to skin contact with her, at all times if I can. Having her close, at and in arms reach means I can easily protect her from any harm, and bad. Nobody will ever harm her on my watch, that is a promise I’ve made to the gods, an oath to them and myself.

Upon my train of thoughts drifting I stumble upon an idea, fingers quick to act and move along, dotting down notes, which quickly develop the said idea long, from a mere image to creating a sort of a universe on its own. With only half my attention on what I’m doing I focus the other part of my brain on my surroundings.

I can hear my mates’ sweet tone, as she speaks to someone words pronounced sometimes clumsily but the giggles make it up for it. Frowning slightly, it takes me a moment or two to figure out that she is speaking over her phone. Good. I’m in no mood to have company or wait for her to be done being all polite and give them her attention which should be on me most of the time.

Besides she didn’t greet me this morning when she left for work, our everyday morning kiss being skipped. I need to get back at her for that. And yes, she will probably say she left me be because I love sleep, I mean who doesn’t but that isn’t a good enough excuse for me not to get a kiss.

I quickly examine how I’ve went on with the inputs into the music program, the newly created song filling my ears as I press play still working along. Some of my limbs come to life, playing around the water, hydrating my skin but also fooling around my mood obviously haven lightened up at the new discovery and creation thanks to my very own muse. I’m not entirely sure how much time passes on, as I get easily lost but I am aware when my mate does decide to finally descent down, greeting me. I manage a mere nod, still working ahead. I will admit that I am ignoring her on purpose, giving a bit of the silent treatment, upon her actions this morning. My kind and I as an individual can be very petty as humans can be too, but we can take it to extremes if we want to.

It isn’t until she is suddenly right next to me, her legs in the view of the corner of my eye. I slightly twitch as she bends down, knees buckling. Before I can jump in an attempt to grab her from falling, she’s right there her warm lips leaving a kiss on my cheeks, my skin tingling not only because of the warmth from them but also because of the innocent gesture. Turing to look at her in disbelief she has a bring smile on her face. There’s no irritation in sight on her, as I’ve predicted there would be.

‘’Hey there Mr. Grump.’’ She teases seemingly in a cheerful mood. She should be upset that I gave her back some of her own medicine, knowing very well how she dislikes silence between us.

‘’I’m not grumpy.’’ I immediately reply frowning as she starts to giggle instead. I take her in for the first time today. She has already changed, wearing a big white t-shirt that reaches till her mid-thighs while a black garment which is probably a bikini is visible through the thin material easily so. Hmm.

‘’Uh huh. I’ll play along with you. I’m the grumpy one, obviously.’’ She continues happily, still grinning her eyes seeming warm. She shifts on her bent position, sitting back properly while she swings her bent legs, and submerges them into the pool right next to me. Automatically my body consciously or subconsciously gravitates towards her.

‘’I take it, you had a good day at work?’’ I ask sparing a glance at my limbs as they are quick to raise up and eagerly wrap themselves around her ankles, and up her calves. She wiggles her toes, her muscles tensing and untensing briefly as she relaxes one hand finding one limb, as she starts to play with it gently the others eagerly following and raise up higher over her two legs.

‘’Very good day. We’ve got more funding, meaning the cleanup is continuing successfully and will go on steadily.’’ She’s quick to explain eyes on me, while I slide the headphones off completely to listen to her, my mood to create diming as she’s finally back.

‘’Hmm, I’ve noticed there has been more halibuts swimming around recently.’’ I note glancing at her seeing her eyes spark up instantly ‘’You should still consider cleaning the north west side first before moving onwards elsewhere, like I’ve suggested. Start by planting close at first, small things. you’re gonna see the fish are gonna grow it all on their own into a healthy ecosystem…if nobody touches anything around there of course.’’

She claps gently along nodding her head, in excitement and is quick to assure me that she has told her boss about my plan. She always gets this spark in her eyes whenever she talks about her job, being a Marine Biologist, these kinds of stuff just entrance her. Her words do start to falter, as I save up my progress along the way. The silence we fall into after she’s done explaining their plan too briefly, has me turning towards her noticing the content but small smile gracing her lips, as she stares down into the water absent mindedly.

‘’Are you okay baby?’’ I ask halting everything and turn towards her, letting my right arm rest over her knee as I move closer taking her hand into my own eagerly. Her smile widens, free hand reaching up to cup my cheek which she starts caressing with her thumb. She is way bubblier than this, whenever she’s talking about future plans on her days in general actually. This calm demander is worrisome.

‘’I’m perfect my love.’’ She replies leaning closer ‘’Just perfect.’’ Her words do make my heart flutter even more so when she leans in to kiss me on the lips. It’s still a bizarre thing, this human interaction that is considered to be so intimate. Something simple as kissing, lips pressing against one another. It works though, there is this spark that kissing ignites even in my own cold blood. I quickly return my own affections towards her with shameless eagerness, as I’ve been missing her for more than half of the day.

She ends up giggling into the kiss once I swipe my tongue over her lower lip, and teasingly start to tug at her legs, and hands. The kiss gets broken thanks to me smiling as well, her laughter being one of my favorite sounds in the world.

‘’Are you done for now?’’ she asks leaning on her elbows her body positioned in an awkward manner but she doesn’t move away or show discomfort.

‘’Yeah, the project I was working on wasn’t good either way.’’ I point out lessening my hold on her. I turn to my laptop quickly closing everything off whilst she sits up properly stretching out her fingers and arms. I push everything technology wise away, as it’s all propped on a self-built pillow and wooden plank which she made for me a long time ago. It’s all prevention from things getting wet, and despite her meticulous waterproofing and calculation of risks I still make sure not to ruin anything or take chances.

‘’Liar, I bet it’s amazing.’’ She mumbles. I glance over just in time as she tugs the white fabric over her head, which leaves her in the two thin pieces of clothing which are very offensive. I don’t understand why she isn’t bare all the time. I prefer her that way and it’s just easier. Life is easier without those restrains and barriers. My eyes roam quickly over the expanse of her skin, noting how her skin has been sun kissed today meaning she has spent her time out in the open. Before I can drink her up, she’s sliding into the pool, submerging until her chest a quiet hiss leaving her lips smile never leaving her lips. I push myself backwards silently sighing in relief as I let myself sink into the water, my skin feeling rejuvenated. I keep 3 limbs on her, raising them to hold her around her waist, while I sink further into the water and backwards encouraging her silently to follow keeping my head above at all times, eyes not leaving her for a second.

‘’It needs work.’’ I reply watching as she shivers for a while the contrast of temperatures too sudden. She looks unbothered stepping forward and follows along, moving her arms around warming herself up automatically. Turning towards her properly I catch onto her hands, her giggles filling the air as I tug her into me immediately wrapping myself around her protectively and teasingly as she can’t move a muscle in any way, she wants to my limbs making sure to hold her still. I automatically grin upon hearing giggles, as she lets me move her around trusting me whole heartedly even as I almost submerge her, but manage to hold her above the water level ‘’This is what you get for calling me a liar human.’’ I mock jokingly and push us away swimming towards the open ocean, bringing her along with me.

The colder and warmer currents, have her shuddering but she simply musses at me ‘’I’ll repeat myself; You are such a liar Yoongi-yah!!!’’ She exclaims grinning her hands finding their way to rest over my chest, as I move her to partially straddle me, the tiles below us being replaced by smoothened out rock. Stopping mid-way across the pool I stop us, taking in the cooler water currents that brush over my back and arm, whilst I hold her where the warmer current is floating around ‘’One of these days I’m going to make you admit that!’’ I only chuckle at her behavior simply admiring her and press a kiss to her nose quickly ‘’Yah!’’ the exclamation has me laughing, and half submerging underneath which leaves me unbothered ‘’Lets move on okay, pabo!!! Where are you even taking us?’’

And there it is her immediate curiosity, as she looks ahead at the vast ocean eyes falling back to glance along the rocks that same spark I mentioned before just burning up.

Briefly let’s mention the pool again…it might seem to the naked eye that it is in fact opened to the ocean and that it is welcoming anything in. Technically speaking it kind of is, but there’s a specially built underwater gate that prevents animals and other intruders to just float in into my home. Otherwise the benefits besides that ones are that it lets in fresh water and takes out the so to speak old one. Pushing us into motion in no time we reach the gates, which I prop myself onto holding her easily as her legs wrap themselves around my body, giggling as I brush the tip of a limp just bellow her exposed thigh to the edge of the undergarment ‘’I didn’t mean it like that.’’ her hand is quick to brush the tentacle away and to give me a stern look which she fails at because of her smile.

‘’Hmmm what a pity.’’ I reply faking disappointment, while she wraps her arms around me lovingly and despite her statement and action, she still leans in to kiss me. I sigh into the kiss contently, living the rocking motion of the waves that rock us up and down gently, while her touch is everything.

But were we are settled currently the sun is beating down on us, and it’s making itself annoyingly present by warming my skin up, even though I’m submerged more than she is. I do recall the north side which is just in front of me, being perfectly shaded the sun being blocked by the house perfectly so across the rocks on that side of the house.

Knowing when she’s getting low on oxygen, I break away brushing a strand of a lose few hairs from her face ‘’Are you in a mood to explore, my love?’’ I ask her curiously knowing her well enough to predict what her next answer is going to be. There’s a reason why I stopped here.

‘’Not really…’’ she starts hesitantly, glancing towards the ocean again. I’m reminded constantly everyday how much I love her and why exactly I do, and this is one of the moments as I take her profile in. Her eyes are focused straight ahead, expression portraying a longing for something greater, something she wants and has wanted her whole life. She doesn’t know it yet herself what it is, but the ocean is calling for her I know that for certain ‘’…I’ll need to refill the oxygen tanks first, we can explore another time.’’ She turns to me, with a smile. I can just feel how the tension melts from her muscles, and note in her body how she relaxes completely. But thanks to that I can see the tiredness resurfacing knowing she gives it her all at her work and for others.

My heart aches because I don’t want her to be tired, or worried and stressed at all. If it was up to me, I’d happily provide for us, find treasures frequently to afford only the best things in life, wanting to give her everything she wants and wishes for. But I’m being completely blocked off by her human stubbornness, her desire to work to a certain point infuriating but to another understanding.

‘’Whatever you want, my everything.’’ I reply leaning in to kiss once more. It starts out slow, lazy even as I brace her against the gate and let my hands submerge from her back lower to take a hold of her under her thighs. I love her legs, not only because they fascinate me, but because of how they feel under my arms and hands. Her thighs are an absolute delight to grab and hold onto. Don’t even get me started on her ass.

I smirk as I feel her tongue prod at my lip. She’s isn’t being forceful but she is playing a game plainly teasing me. I let her struggle on purpose, letting my hands roam over her thighs, fingers touching everywhere I can, while her own hands are rooming my back, then my neck, until she is cupping my jaws. I almost purr when she let her right-hand slide under my ear and into my hairline, nails scratching against my skull. My limbs practically vibrate, and on their own they wrap themselves more and more around her legs, for sure leaving imprint in their wake, but she told me countless times she doesn’t mind.

Sensing her growing frustration, I decide to let her have her fun letting her have some control, her tongue quick and eager to intertwine with my own. Her hand repeats the motion she did briefly ago, nails skillfully scratching me perfectly, causing me to gasp involuntarily as I tighten my hold onto her trying to tug her even closer which isn’t really possible anymore as I’m already crowding the very air she’s breathing. I want to touch every inch of her, my blood starting to feel as if it’s boiling. I want her. I want to eat her all up.

Just as I swipe my tongue across the roof of her mouth she is pulling away. Reopening my eyes, I notice how flustered she has gotten, breathing deepened as she half pants staring at me with darker eyes. I smile proudly seeing how I affect her ‘’Hmm I’ve missed you.’’ I find myself admitting running my fingers sideways and around to grab a hold of her glorious ass, the flesh smooth and oh so perfect in my hands.

She snorts leaning in to nuzzle her nose against mine, the ministration always endearing even though I’m still missing the point of it ‘’Me or my ass?’’

I muse glancing downwards, but end up looking straight up at her exclamation and how quickly she tugs her arms backwards to cross them, which only brings her breast to the front more ‘’Both.’’ I reply honestly which has her gasping. Now she is acting dramatic.

‘’Pfff sure. I see how it is!!!’’ She rolls her eyes looking away from me still holding her arms crossed, legs still wrapped around me, body slightly turned away. She’s adorable.

I squeeze her ass instead as an initial reply ‘’Babe, your ass is glorious how could I not miss it!!’’ she turns to stare at me in bewilderment, but the blush that’s getting more intense over her features is a dead giveaway that she doesn’t mind my crude words. My words aren’t even crude we’ve both said nastier things. Foreplays can be very fun.

‘’You just want me for my bodyyy.’’ Comes a reply which has her bursting into joyous laugher. It’s an inside joke between us from a TV show we’ve watched a long time ago. I only stare at her in adoration, as she throws her head back, hair cascading down touching the water even though she has it tied up into a mess ponytail. My entire focus is on her face, admiring in fascination at the way the side of her eyes circle slightly, the way she is showing her blunt teeth, nose slightly and adorably so scrunched. I’m fucking rejoicing as her laughter graces my ears, her voice shooting in general, but it’s her laughter and her giggles that melt my ice-cold slow beating heart any time.

‘’It’s a little more than that love.’’ I say smirking as she ends up chuckling at the end eyes finally landing on me once more ‘’I’m here also for the food, and music equipment.’’ I end up whispering. She bursts into another fit of laughter pushing me away playfully at first but ends up wrapping her arms around me, and to my surprise I’m getting an onslaught of kisses peppered all over my face.

‘’Help somebody I am being attacked by this puny human!!!’’ I fake shout simply raising my voice, which gets her to bite onto my ear the cheeky human indeed that she is. I gasp staring at her in bewilderment when she leans back to look at me, and shows me her tongue briefly.

‘’You are really asking for it.’’ I state as she scrunches up her nose and then puts on this innocent expression eyes darting upwards as if she has done nothing wrong ever in her life. I let my limbs crawl upwards over her lower half, as I’m holding her around her waist hands still on her ass to hold her steady.

‘’I am innocent, I have zero idea what you are on about.’’ She goes on further making me giggle, a few ideas popping in my mind with what I want to do to her.

‘’The only innocent thing here are the fish.’’ I reply to which she simply snorts glancing around as if fishes are swimming near us ‘’You on the other hand…’’ I end up sighing heavily, as I’m coming up with a lot of ideas, I know I won’t be able to fulfil all at once. Her stamina isn’t like my own, even though since we’ve been together the first time, she’s gotten to endure a lot more than what she was used to.

‘’Uh huh go on.’’ she says teasingly both hands ghosting over my shoulders, fingers finding the vertebrae of my spine. It has my shuddering for a moment, limbs relaxing slightly around her but wrapping themselves higher up one peeking over her shoulder only now I notice. I can feel the edge of her bikini bottoms, and I subtly try to move them to the side which so far is working as my hands are simply holding onto her flesh. The key to this method is going slow.

‘’Are you going to work tomorrow?’’ I ask keeping on a cool expression not wanting to give anything away, as my excitement is rising. If she says no or yes.

‘’Depends. I could not go.’’ She sings teasingly bringing her fingers to the nape of my hairline. I’m trying very hard not to just purr our loud, it feels that fucking good when she does it.

‘’That wasn’t a yes or no, my little human.’’ I go on giving her a more serious look, as I reach up to cares her cheek. She visibly gulps, eyes fixating onto my own.

‘’I’ll take the day off.’’ she replies with a more careful tone which has me smiling widely leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

‘’Good girl.’’ I praise her, feeling how her heartbeat is beating quicker. Her skin is still warm against my own ‘’Now be good for me, and climb up.’’ as I speak I move us further out, towards where a boulder is settled, having been rolled and cemented into an empty sloth perfectly and is the best resting place for her on sunny days, and on rainy it’s my napping rock. But in heated moments like these its perfect for something else.

‘’Yoongi-ah, should we move inside first…’’ she starts glancing upwards and back towards the beach and other houses nervously while I’m already maneuvering her upwards which has her yelping briefly voice getting cut off once her perky ass lands on dry land.

‘’I don’t understand where this shyness comes from on some days I really don’t.’’ I speak out loud more to myself, all the while I grab the two strings that are holding the bottom of her bikini together and easily undo them. The top follows expertly as two of my tentacles snatch the garment away.

‘’Yoongi!!!!!!!!!!!!’’ she half shouts hands grabbing onto my wrists, which does make me glance up at her in question, her hold lessening but remaining on me.

‘’Are you intentionally pushing my buttons today baby girl?’’ I ask letting two of my limbs let go of her calves to get a hold of her wrists.

‘’I’m not! It’s just, the beach is crowded and…’’ she starts to ramble. I take the chance of her brief distraction and worried glances backwards and around, to tug away her hands, easily pinning them next to her body.

‘’If you are so worried about others, then I suggest you keep quiet to not bring attention. I can help you out with that if you’d like too.’’ I grin in the end, and let one tentacle raise up over her still clothed core, and upwards her tummy, following every curve along the way. Regretfully I pass her breasts and let the tip start ghosting over her neck as she snaps to look at me her jaw locked tight. I keep heavy eye contact as she glares at me and tries to struggle, attempting to break free which is of course completely useless.

‘’This is not funny.’’ She goes on looking like she’s mad. You’d think she’s pissed off. But ohhh I know what’s going on in that pretty brilliant head of hers. This is turning her on. I can smell her besides the sea salt in the air, her pungent heavenly smell. Its why my limbs are already tugging the flimsy useless piece of fabric away and chugging it away which leaves her lower part bare to my eyes only.

‘’Oh baby, nobody is laughing.’’ I comment smirking ‘’Now, be a good girl and stay silent.’’

While two of my limbs hold onto her hands, I wrap two more around her thighs lifting and bending her legs, holding them wide open, meanwhile I eagerly lean down, poking my tongue out as I lick a long stripe from down upwards over her delicious core. Her breath hitches loudly, as I eagerly lick over my lips, then just dive in for more at first just blatantly licking her juices.

I can hear how she’s trying to keep quiet, but is failing miserably as small but noticeably loud mewls are leaving from her. Getting more serious and of course eager, I use my left hand to spread her lower lips revealing her folds properly. Perfect color of pink and a luring warmth and smells has me entranced. Happily, I dive down sucking directly onto the little numb that was so foreign the first time we’ve done this, but now I know exactly which flicker of my tongue can send her off. Hence why I start doing everything, to build her orgasm up quickly.

It has her reacting flawlessly and just as I’ve predicted in my mind. Her noises stat to raise up in volume, body bending backwards as she lies onto her back. Letting go of her clit, I teasingly lick over her lips giving her a second and then I’m dipping my tongue finally into her hole knowing it turns her on for some reason. A load moan tears itself out from her, which has me grinning smugly as I raise my head upon an urgent call of my name ‘’Yoongi!’’

‘’Yes, my love?’’ I ask ready to argue in return but what I’m met with is a desperate expression, cheeks completely flushed as she opens her mouth, sticking her tongue out as if to show me it.

‘’Please.’’ She suddenly begs. The way she’s rendered, the visuals are just stopping my brain from functioning normally for a moment. My blood has speed up, and my nerves are starting to tingle more and more, as I myself get turned on and at attention, body buzzing.

‘’Please what? Use your words, you are my good girl after all aren’t you?’’ I tease her happily smiling wider at her eager nodding.

‘’I’m your good girl. Please, I want…’’ she pauses but doesn’t remove her eyes from my own ‘’I want you in my mouth.’’ She almost whispers. I don’t push her on, and accept it as good enough.

‘’You are a very good girl today, my sweet, sweet human.’’ I coo, tilting my head ‘’There you go, gorgeous.’’ I watch as the tentacle that I left at her neck, raises slowly. She raises her head looking absolutely greedy to have it in her mouth. Teasingly slow I hover it near her mouth, while my fingers absently play with her folds tracing her lower lips. The initial touch has her flinching briefly in surprise eyes darting down to meet my own, as the pads of my fingers brush over her clit. So easily distracted. While her eyes and attention are focused on my ministration I watch giddily almost as the tentacle slips down, over her lower lip and into her mouth filling it. The warmth sends a brief shiver to run over me, but otherwise the feeling of her throat closing in and the choked sound that arouses, has my hunger raising.

‘’That’s it.’’ I coo, pulling the tentacle out letting her regain her breath just to push it back in, her throat this time accepting it properly. Her glossy eyes remain on me, obediently so as I fill her mouth, and stretch out her throat more and more, keeping in mind that she needs to breathe now and then, slowing my ministration just for her. Setting up a rhythm, I smile hungrily as I look down at the redness that’s starting to replace the pinkiness. Closing my eyes, my tongue finds her heat, tongue eagerly once more scooping the gathered wetness, as I taste the tanginess of her juices.

At a particularly well aimed and manoeuvred tongue swipe, she mewls and chokes on the tentacle in her mouth, the sensation of her throat closing in around tightly, has me shuddering harder than before. Reopening my eyes, I watch my limb retreat her chest rising and falling as she catches her breath, eyes ready to spill with tears at this point. A trail of saliva is still connected with the top and from her lips. She is absolutely fucking gorgeous.

‘’Yoo-n-gi…’’ she manages voice slightly rough. I haven’t pulled my mouth of off her, so instead I simply start sucking, and licking, building up a combo while with my right hand, I slowly prod at her entrance, my fingers which have dried now getting coated in her flowing juices. More sounds spill from her parted lips, breathless and whiny ones, as I let the tentacle slip inside her mouth once more muffling those glorious sounds. I don’t force it in this time, letting her suck onto it, her tongue quick to dart around it. It tells me that she isn’t distracted enough, even though her eyes are shut tight eyebrows furrowed, her fingers and toes curled up.

I start to push my middle finger into her tight and wet heat slowly loving the way she clenches up, the sensation on its own has a rather violent but invisible to the naked eye shudder run down my human spine, which then spreads and vibrates briefly all over my limbs that freeze for a second, but then just tighten their hold onto her. My precious human. Everything has me boiling on the inside, the visual, the sensations, her smell, her noises. It has me restless, has me wide awake and feeling so alive. Every piece of me wants her.

Knowing her body, instead of teasing her further or going slow by opening her up gradually, I let my pointing finger slide in next, a tiny bit forcefully as I do meet some resistance. Her body tenses, as she half sits up her yelp getting muffled.

‘’Shhhh…’’ I coo smiling letting two of my biggest tentacles reach around her to hold her up in the half sitting position she has put herself into ‘’Relax my love, just relax for me.’’ I encourage her, watching the sweet delicious tears run down her cheeks as our eyes meet. They aren’t there because she is hurt, but because she is overwhelmed with all these sensations.

I tug my fingers out and push them back in while maintaining eye contact, and slowly raising myself up to be closer to her ‘’That’s it, my good girl, doing what I tell her to do, hmmm.’’ I hum in the end, loving the obedient and almost innocent look she gives me. She is starting to get really desperate by the on flow of whines, and thighs which start to tremble now and then.

As I pull my limb back from her mouth, it falls open droll dripping from her slightly bruised lip. Gathering strength not to hurt her, I push my body upwards to reach her mouth, eagerly licking over her lips distracting her as she chases my tongue with her own. Now half propped up I readjust my position on the edge of the rock, and haver her legs spread but around me, using my left arm to hold her up, while with my right I can finally start to finger her properly and the way she wants me to, curling them up and scissoring them once I slow down my thrusts.

She cries into our kiss, tensing up once more, as I aim for her g-sport which has her crying out, incoherent words spilling. I grin wildly and lean my forehead against hers holding her still and tight against me, absolutely loving how she has clenched around my two digits.

‘’Use your words my little human.’’ With that I slow down, the action itself has her immediately nodding eyes meting my own in clear distress.

‘’P-please Y-Yoongi, please I wanna…I wanna cum, please Yoongi, my love, please, please, please don’t stop.’’ She cries with more tears spilling down her cheeks as she starts to tremble, her high near but fading.

‘’Then cum for me, gorgeous.’’ I whisper letting go of her wrists so she wraps her arms around me, body tensing and straightening up, as I resume to finger her towards and through her high, maintaining it and intensifying it. Instead of shouting out, I feel her blunt teeth sink where my shoulder meets my neck, while her nails dig and drag into my back leaving red marks over my skin. I groan at the burn, the tingling in my spine and vibration from my limbs an indictor how I’m boding.

Not wanting to be cruel this time, I start to slow down, coming to a stop slowly her body mimicking my touches as she eases down. Pulling my fingers out regretfully so to be honest, her body suddenly all but collapses onto me. I start to hum a song I’ve learned a century ago, and just hold her close to me, loving how she radiates heat and projects it onto me warming my cold self-up.

We are left in a comfortable silence, even when I lower us down into the water after licking her juices from my fingers. A quiet hiss leaves her lips, but she doesn’t protest or makes an attempt to move, as I push us away and lower us until only our shoulders and collarbones are sticking above the water. I let my limbs caress her body, and trace her skin gently as the ocean current would. No surprise is that even though I’m trying my best to let her gather herself I am getting very impatient, with my own needs.

So, I start by portraying it, by pressing open mouthed kisses over her collarbones, enjoying also as I submerge my face under water. I can hear her chuckle, as I leave marks in my wake, but upon her more awakened state I start to raise up, still marking her up happily and let my hands cup her ass again, pinkies tracing the juncture of her legs towards her folds again.

‘’Every time I think humanly so may I point out…’’ she starts tone unhurried and not so husky anymore. I let two of my limbs raise over her hips, up her ribs in the meantime ‘’…I think; “It can’t get better than this.” But yet you always leave me…’’

‘’Fucked right out of your mind?’’ I finish her sentence smirking as I still remain marking the side of her neck. Regretfully so I will have to heal the marks, as humans are ridiculously so timid creatures at certain things. She chuckles at my statement, gasping at first which turns into a moan, as the two tentacles have wrapped themselves around her breasts, the tips now playing with her perky nipples.

I glance downwards watching them raise up and down, noticing how her skin breaks into goose bumps.

‘’Basically.’’ She breathes out looking down at me. I smirk to myself rolling my shoulders, as she leans in this time hands reaching up to cup my face, but she doesn’t kiss me. She presses a kiss to my cheek and leans closer, lips touching over my ear ‘’Fuck me, Yoongi-ah.’’ she whispers.

Another spark goes through my system, which has me vibrating practically, and changes my soft look into a hard one as I stare at her as she has moved back, and is now biting onto her lower lip. It’s a rule that she isn’t allowed to do that. Only I can bite her lick. (And no this is nothing like 50 shades)

‘’You need to rest my love, you…’’ she leans in to kiss me, stopping my train of thoughts all together. It’s not only me that has a huge effect on her, she can also completely change me, my thoughts, my mood, my everything basically. A mere human. She truly is something else.

Her kiss becomes demanding quickly, body leaning forward shoulders squared up as she takes complete control over the kiss. I’m surprised once she starts to move her hips. Tries to as she is entirely leaning onto me having no proper support around us. So, I help her slightly, by pushing her back against the rock again, one of her hand momentarily leaving me, so she can brace herself back against it. I can feel her smiling into the kiss, breaking it but she isn’t letting go, her right hand which has been supporting the back of my head, has her fingers curling and tugging onto my hair making me groan quietly at the tug and pull, meanwhile her other hand is quick to find its place over my chest, lowering down over my right nipple. Her touch is brief as she continues to move her hands lower.

‘’I should return the favour.’’ She says sensually her hand still lowering, ignoring the small tentacle that eagerly wraps itself from her wrist to her elbow just caressing her skin and holding onto her.

‘’We don’t have time for that baby.’’ I reply trying to stay calm. Even though she is my mate, and we’ve been together for what feels like an entire lifetime it’s still not completely easy to reveal all f myself to her. I still get nervous, when we’re intimate. But I’ve gotten good at hiding my feelings and nerves away.

‘’Alright then.’’ she sighs sounding disappointed but licks her lips teasingly and as if quietly saying ‘Guess you’ll be missing out’. I shudder as her fingers trace the front tentacles, not really intending to play with them. She does have to lower herself down to reach what she wants, but stops mid-way, face slightly lower than mine is as she readjusts herself and her hold on me ‘’Yoongi.’’ She whispers staring straight at me hands tightening their hold ‘’I want you to fuck me.’’ she states completely calm hand suddenly raising up cupping my cheek the coolness and wetness from the water slightly calming me down ‘’Do you want to fuck me, my love???’’ I simply blink staring at her trying to calm myself down as I nod at her question ‘’I’ll keep my hands here alright?’’ she goes on wrapping both arms around my neck, and intertwines her own fingers, while she wraps her legs around my body her knees tucked where my human hips would be ‘’Please, fuck me.’’ she whispers not doing anything ‘’I’m so wet and ready for you, my mate.’’

Even though I tried to hide my nerves, she saw right through me. My mate. I press her against the wall gently letting my limbs do the work as to anchor us against it, so we aren’t moving too much thanks to the reappearance of the waves that is making the pool unsteady enough so that with a small mistake something bad might happen.

Not saying anything yet I reach with my human hand up and take her right into my own, kissing the top part of it, before lowering both hands down underwater. Her expression does change into a surprised one at the beginning, mouth opening as to say something but she simply closes it, her gorgeous eyes focused onto my own. Even though we aren’t physically connected right now, we are one.

I watch as colour returns to her cheek, turning it into a more intense pink-ish colour. I can feel her body warming up, blood rushing through her veins, same as her heart spiking in excitement. A few shudders one after another just shoot down my spine, and it is a human trait I’ve learned, but fuck the sensation thanks to it, has me experiencing something no one of her own kind would, on the male side. Readjusting my grip, I cup her hand instead over the top part. I lean into her but this time, I rest my forehead in the crock of her neck, staring down watching our hands through the water. Finally, I move our hands forward stopping before my body. A short gasp leaves her lips as I just hover our hands close, meanwhile the pit in my stomach start to boil in excitement. My cock isn’t necessarily like my limbs, I can’t really control it per say. It has humanoid traits but it doesn’t act like a tentacle it’s hard to explain it. Letting go of her hand, I reach in to grab a hold of it feeling how much it has filled up and grown. I tug it forward to the front, past the cosy and safe confine of my other limbs. Some sort of goose bumps raise over my skin as well, as I feel very exposed and vulnerable, even more so when the tip of her fingers touches the head.

A gasp involuntarily leaves my parted lips, but she’s quick to press a reassuring kiss to my cheek, her right hand that’s been resting on my shoulder, kind of gripping it in anticipation or excitement, loosens up and reaches up to my hairline again nails scraping against my skull which has me relaxing slightly.

‘’May I?’’ she asks calmly, her breath fanning warmly over the side of my neck. I barely manage a nod but she understands it perfectly. Instead of grabbing onto my dick as I thought she would, her fingers touch my wrist instead at first. They gently caress it, and lower themselves down. I automatically tense up once, the tips of her fingers are touching just over the base of my cock where I’m holding it. It’s such a contrast her touch against my own and it’s not only temperature wise.

I start biting onto my lower lip, eyes closed and just feel, how she gently traces my dick as if she’s doing it the first time (She isn’t just let me clarify, but it is rare and special whenever I let her touch me like this). Her hand finally wraps itself around me, in the middle but pulls up towards the head, which is very sensitive and has me hissing, my dick practically twitching and following her warmth on its own.

‘’Hmmm Yoongi-ah.’’ She moans softly, fingers brushing the tip again which has me letting out a faint sob ‘’Shhh it’s alright my love…’’ her hand circles around my cock again, but lowers down towards my hand again ‘’Will you fuck me my love? Will you fill me up so that I’m leaking for days?? I want you to fuck me, so I won’t be able to walk tomorrow, I want to feel you in my womb, want you to fill it all up…’’ I’m surprised at the change in her, the submissiveness from before replaced by this strong and dominant presence she has put on.

And her words do have a tremendous effect on me. They have me buzzing, wanting her more, want me to fulfil every wish she has. Again silent, I grab onto her wrist and pull our hands upwards, at the same time leaning backwards noticing that the sky is setting, with the sun sinking over the horizon. But that doesn’t matter. When I look at her, her hair has dried up, cheeks not so pink anymore.

‘’Yoon…’’ before she can finish or properly start her sentence, I grab her by her throat and squeeze while at the same time, I grab onto my cock again and easily manoeuvre her how I like, by spreading her legs wide open whilst at the same time, I let another tentacle to raise up and slide into her mouth, letting go of her neck not wanting to actually choke for real. The two tentacles from before that have just been caressing her breasts now tighten as well, and another two joins to wrap themselves around her nipples. Two more make sure her arms remain under my control.

‘’Fill you all up huh?’’ I start with a deep tone readjusting half of my limbs and drag her backwards towards the shallower part of the pool and away from any unwanted eyes. The only lights that are always turned on are the pool ones ‘’You don’t want to walk tomorrow huh little human? Want me to fill you up so that you’ll be leaking, your womb filled up for days?’’ she eagerly nods at my word’s eyes glassing over as she reverts back into her sub state.

‘’I don’t think you can take it.’’ I challenge her, eyebrows furrowing as she turns to glare at me. I simply let the tentacle shove itself further into her throat, feeling it start to close in. But she still glares at me defiantly, like she wants to say something. With my right hand, I simply let it run over her exposed pussy. I let my middle and pointing finger trace lower to her asshole which has her body tightening up ‘’Your little human body, can’t take me whole darling.’’ She starts to properly choke pretty tears glittering as they fall down from her eyes. Pulling the tentacle out she gasp for breath, heaving. Meanwhile I finally find the perfect position and sit on the smooth ground. Getting a hold of her hips I straighten her up, arms locked behind her back tightly.

I grin widely as she looks at me ‘’I’ll split you wide open, is that what you wish for??’’ I ask casually while she stares at me still in defiance before something in her brain clicks and the desperation slips back in.

‘’Please.’’ Her voice is gone, but I understand the word she mouths.

I don’t even give her a heads up, as I raise her above me, bend her knees and plant them on the floor. I let some of my limbs attach themselves on her, as I take a hold of my cock and start to force it into her. She gasps and mewls her body’s natural reaction at first is to run away from the intrusion. We’ve been over this so many times. It’s all natural, as is the size of my cock which is above average, and I’ve put that into human terms, her quote directly.

My mouth falls open, as the head of my dick enters her, and eagerly wants to chase after the warmth. And yet despite the onslaught of pleasure that’s overwhelming me in waves, I hold myself back just to stare at the way her eyes roll back, and feel how her thighs and forearms tense up meaning her fingers and toes are already curling up. Her head falls backwards revealing her half marked up neck. I mimic a human way of mating which is; a thrust. It has me entering more halfway to be precise but she suddenly shouts out body jerking and then going limp only her hips briefly shaking until they stop. I smirk staring as her head falls forward, to which I cup her cheek and take a look at her. The moisture on her skin is from sweat, the sight bringing a chuckle to rise from my throat, as she continues to breathe deep eyelids half closed not leaving my own eyes.

I readjust myself slightly, and grab a hold of the bottom of my cock, to help and guide it properly into her. The waves of pleasure are still going through me, my spine tingling more and more demandingly. But I ignore my own pleasure at the moment in favour of making sure she’s alright. I set her hands free and take her weight off her legs, settling her so that she’s simply straddling me arms resting between us limply.

‘’Fucked out 2 times, another point for me.’’ I state as I sit up and start marking her left side eagerly loving the still unusual taste of her skin.

‘’It’s not…’’ she starts tiredly ‘’It’s not a com…’’

‘’Not a competition yeah, yeah.’’ I chuckle in the end, licking the shell of her ear before I look at her, at her heavy eyelids that are slowly rising and falling as my cock continues to pulse inside her ‘’Do you still wish to continue my love??’’ cupping her face I look at her with such adoration, because she is my everything. Truly she is the reason I’m living and alive. And I’d give anything for her to be happy an get whatever her heart desires.

She lets out a groan of what sounds of discomfort, and closes her eyes briefly. Looking at me a smile stretches across her lips ‘’So full. M just…’’ She trails off looking intoxicated making me grin and nuzzle my nose against her a trait that she likes to do to me, as it is considered childish.

‘’Hmm yeah? Are you feeling good baby?’’ I prod on, waiting for her to get comfortable enough to continue.

‘’So-o goooddddd.’’she practically purrs her fingers that are resting on my lower abdomen, curl up as she attempts to rolls her hips. And that is a sign to continue. I simply hum in agreement, and move her body up slightly so there’s enough room to start fucking her ‘’Ahhhh..’’ she gasps head falling forward again, but this time her eyes remain open as she stares down. I know for a fact that she’s trying to see through the water as much as see can to see us connected. I find myself getting breathless the more times I tug out and re-enter her, the tightness the heath, the feel of her velvety walls all around me, are starting to feel overwhelming. Giving in, I let her be as I lie back getting submerged all besides my face while I let myself get overwhelmed by everything.

It’s easy to succumb to pleasure, especially given how much she is giving me; because she is giving me literally everything. Everything starts to feel too much, but not enough. It’s never enough. I can hear her moans, how they roll of her tongue the sounds matching to those of an angel if you ask me. And through hooded eyes I watch as she moves her hand, placing it over her own stomach. When she presses against it, I can feel her hand. She tears her eyes away and up to meet my own, a goofy smile adoring her lips suddenly.

‘’I-I-I love y-y-you…’’ she manages out, those simple 3 words warming my cold heart every time she says them.

I push myself upwards bringing my own hand over hers ‘’I l-love y-you too, Y/N.’’

Her thighs start to tremble again, hands reaching for something to grip onto, which again end being two of my tentacles that eagerly wrap themselves over her forearms. Her strength isn’t enough to hurt me at all no matter how strongly she squeezes. Meanwhile my hand remains pressed plat over her stomach, and I just remain half in awe as I feel myself move in her, reaching and brushing up against her womb. By this point she has gone quiet, breathless, and speechless from how overwhelming it must be. Glancing up I watch as and can feel as her orgasm hits her and takes completely over, her mind and body. As I feel her tummy, images of children running, and swimming some that look like her other like me, running around fills me up with joy and excitement. But the sight of her so undone and vulnerable that alone…it’s all because of me. The only person the only being I’ll ever be so open with, the only one I care about, my heart, my body, my soul all belong to her. Everything.

With those train of thoughts and the actually imagine of her with a big belly, it has me spiralling over as I finally let myself get washed away with the tide.

I still am aware on what’s going on around us, I hold her close to me feel her hand wrap around my back, hold me in return. I can fee her lips press kisses to my neck, my cheek, I can feel them moving and faintly can hear her sweet tone. She’s singing. Huh. A siren. I always tease her that she has sirens blood in her, but she always denies it. So, if not a siren she is an angel like I’ve mentioned.

‘’Yoongi-ah.’’ She whispers her tone clear. I spread my fingers testing out how my limbs work, my other limbs which are submerged in the water as most of my body has sunk down work normally still tingling all over. I reopen my eyes seeing her smiling widely. I don’t even remember closing my eyes let alone lying back down again, my mind having shut down for a while. She’s leaning above me, comfortably lying over my front and is running the pads of her fingers over my face, with this far-away look again in her eyes. But once they met mine its like she has found herself again ‘’I love you.’’ She whispers again, eyes crinkling as she smiles looking genuinely happy.

I find myself smiling easily in return at how ridiculous my human is, but look at her and remove my hand from her belly to cup her cheeks that are still warm ‘’I love you more, my sweet human.’’

#bts smut #min yoongi x reader #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #yoongi x you #min yoongi x you #tentacle smut #suga x reader #bts mermaid au

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jebazzled · 3 years

Text

it ain’t your muse! (shut up & write, ft. rihanna)

You nerds are always talking about your muse. My muse this, my muse that, I have no muse, my muse went the way of the dinosaurs, if my muse comes out of its burrow and sees its shadow I won’t be able to write for six weeks.

Shut up about your fucking muse!

It is true that you might go through periods where it is hard to find time and energy to write, or negative experiences in a writing community might leave you with anxiety surrounding writing. But by and large, writers block is something you can overcome!

Please, for the love of god, let me help you.

Writing is a muscle, and you’ve got to exercise it if you don’t want it to atrophy.

This tutorial is a bit of tough love about y’all and y’all’s diddly-darn muses, and some advice for snapping yourself out of it!

So here’s the thing about writing, my loves. You have to actually do it.

TERRIBLY inconvenient, I know.

I’m not here to tell you how to manage your work-life balance or how to manage your time. If you’re not writing much because you straight up don’t have time to write much, my advice is simple: pare down on your characters, focus on the plots that matter most to you, and spend some mental health juice on reminding yourself that there isn’t an RP Prom Queen, and even if there were, it’s better not to live or die by that bizarro crown.

But if you’re having trouble writing because of Your Muse... I’m cracking my knuckles.

We’ve all written with folks before - or been that folk before - who need a very specific set of circumstances if they’re going to write: they need time to Pinterest, need to listen to a specific playlist, need to get in the mindset, need the thread to scratch a very specific itch and need all of it to come together before the moon passes out of a waxing gibbous. As a fellow dev ho, I understand the appeal of writing to suit a mood, of vibing to a playlist, of prioritizing the stuff you’re going fucking feral for, of having the stars align while you do the thing. But if you’re like this when you’re writing for other people -

well, you’re making things difficult for both you and your writing partners! We can’t control the external constraints on our time, e.g. work and school, and we can’t always control the nonsense our psychology spins to keep us from writing. But some things are within our control, and by god, if there is any control to be had in the year of Mother Sappho 2021, don’t you want it?

At least some of your writers block is probably dumb as hell. So let’s beat the shit out of that part.

Anyway, if you’re yakking on and on about how your muse demands a bottle of red wine and a scented candle and fairy lights and soft socks and the blood of the servant, willfully given in order to spit out 200 words, or whatever...

it’s not that fucking deep.

Writing is a muscle. It’s like any other muscle: you need to exercise it.

If you’re training for a 5k, you don’t sit on your couch listening to “Eye of the Tiger” until race day. You get your ass off the cushion and pound the pavement. You probably start by alternating walks with short bursts of running. You probably don’t work your way up to actually running 5k at a time for a few weeks. And once you’ve run that first 5k, you don’t go sit on your couch to listen to “Eye of the Tiger” until the next race. You keep running to stay in shape for the next race.

Writing is like that.

What you write does not have to be perfect.

You can work on the post for six weeks and there will still be things you could change. You know what change your writing partner would have appreciated most? If you’d posted it for them three weeks ago. Don’t let perfect be the enemy of good.

Cut yourself the same slack you cut for your writing partners. Do you yearn to keelhaul them if their reply isn’t worth a National Book Award? No, because you’re not an asshole. They’re also not an asshole. Everyone is reasonable here. Write something that responds to what they gave you and that gives them something to work with. Not every single post has to be capital-I Inspired. ✨

What you write does not have to be a vibe ready for the Goop newsletter.

I was a creative writing major in college, and I was always having to turn stuff in for class that wasn’t exactly what I wanted to work on: a short story set in another country when I just wanted to write a play with puppets, an essay about food when I would rather write one about a weekend drive, etc.

Sometimes, you write what you write when you write it not because it’s getting you hot and bothered but because you’ve owed a reply for A While and you feel bad about keeping someone waiting. It will still be fun, because you chose to do that thread with your character and someone else’s character for a reason, and that reason stands, even if your monkey brain is yearning to play with that slime that makes fart noises when you put it away.

(Pro tip, here: don’t do threads you don’t actually have any interest in writing! It is less awkward to tell someone, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn” than to waste their time with 10 posts of it before telling them, “I am not interested in my character weed whacking your character’s lawn.”)

The more you write, the easier it is.

Let’s talk about running again. A couple of years ago, I went on a bit of a kick with the running. I ran at least three times a week. I would bring my running shit with me to work so I could run in the park near my office. I would make running dates with friends. I would reward myself with a bagel from my favorite cafe if I did a run. And you know what? Once I got myself past the hurdle of pulling on my running clothes and lacing up my shoes, I enjoyed myself. When I ran 5k without slowing to a walk, I was proud of myself. When I told myself, “let’s do another loop at the park!” and stopped to take a photo of the sunset, I enjoyed myself. I would not have enjoyed myself if I hadn’t hit the goddamn pavement.

Put your ass in your fucking chair. I don’t care if you don’t have the right scented candle. Write 50 words. Right fucking now. I’ll wait.

Write another 50.

Now write another 100.

How long did that take you? Some days, it might take you 90 minutes to write 200 words. But that’s 200 more words than you would have written in 90 minutes of browsing Pinterest waiting for an angel to come down from heaven and write this post for you.

All that bullshit you do to Feed Your Muse? It’s stalling, you idiot.

The more you make yourself write instead of just thinking about writing, the easier it will be to actually fucking write.

I used to sit and stare at posts for hours and hours and hours before submitting them, so worried about the post being good enough. When I moved to a neighborhood with an aboveground train line, I was able to write on my morning commute, and writing every morning - even if only the 200 words I could crank out on mobile in 30 minutes before work - got me out of my weird writers block crutches and security blankets. It didn’t take as much effort to write, anymore. I wrote over 200,000 words in 2019, and over 300,000 words in 2020, when I had barely any commute at all to use on writing. I didn’t magically have endless hours of free time. I just wasn’t wasting my free time pretending that being on Tumblr counted as writing.

Tough love: doled out. And now:

TIPS & TRICKS FOR BEATING “””Writers Block”””

Stop acting like Writers Block is real. It’s not that it’s not real, but by telling yourself that you have Writers Block, you’re making it worse for yourself. You’re making excuses for yourself. I used Writers Block to stall writing my Topics in Creative Writing: Folktales portfolio for 3 months, and you know what happened? I still had to turn in the fucking portfolio, because the person I was writing for didn’t fucking care about my fucking Writers Block. And you know who had to sit her ass in a chair and write 30 pages of folktales in a 24 hour period? Me. It’s almost like my Writers Block was just PROCRASTINATION.

Set a timer. If you’re looking at your list of replies owed and you’re feeling like it might be easier to “do character dev” and “build a playlist” than to write your posts, break the task into smaller pieces. If your server has a sprint bot, use it. If not, set your own timer. Organize your list of threads with the ones you’ve owed replies on the longest at the top. Set your timer for 20 minutes and see how much you can write for the oldest post you owe. Not done? Set the timer for another 20 minutes. Keep setting that timer until that post is done and you can drop it in the tags channel. Now do the same for the second oldest. CRANK! THEM! OUT! If you find that it’s depleting your creative energy, that’s not unusual! When I get to this point in my own posting habits, my oldest replies owed are usually for Albus Dumbledore, a character I write specifically because I hate him. It is often easier to knock out all his posts in one chunk rather than shift voice, so this ends up working out nicely.

Don’t indulge your stupid stalling tactics. Do you typically get sidetracked by Pinterest? Put your phone away and close that tab. Do you get absorbed in lining up the perfect music for writing a post? Write in silence, asshole. Do you need to be in your favorite chair with the right lighting? Go sit on a park bench and write on mobile. It’s nice to write in idealized environments. I rented a treehouse last summer to write 10k on a novel! I get it! But you absolutely can write in other environments, if you have to. And if you can get yourself to write on a dark skin on your iPad at an airport in the Midwest while waiting for a flight - well, shit, think of how much you’ll be able to write on a laptop when your diva ass demands are properly met!

Don’t take on shit you don’t want to write. I fully admit that these tactics feel a bit like homework/chores/a to-do list for what is of course a fun hobby. You know how they say “love what you do and you’ll never work a day in your life?” If you don’t take on plots, characters, and threads that don’t have a lick of interest or excitement for you, this shit won’t feel like a hassle.

Hope this whips all you little miscreants (myself included) into shape! Now quit your yapping and start writing.

#rp guides #resources #writing resources #on writing #stop trying to make writers block happen. it's not going to happen.

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confessionsofa-roleplayer · 3 years

Note

Hi, I would like some advice on how to be active again? I have muse, but a busy schedule irl and recent fandom drama burned me out bad, to the point I’m constantly self-doubting myself every attempt to reply. Thanks a lot!

Hey there, OP! I just want to say, when I first read this I sort of squinted at it and sat back and tried to remember if there was any way I could've been the one to send this in. That's how much I understand where you're coming from. My real life schedule can be bonkers at times, and I'm sorry to say I know the sharp sting of fandom drama all too well.

So, I'm going to approach this ask very much from my personal perspective. I know what works for me, so that's what I'll be touching on. However, I also know that I'm not everyone. So the things I'm going to recommend might not be what you need. But maybe (at the very least) my suggestions will spark ideas of your own. And hopefully our followers will be able to offer thoughts I didn't consider.

First, a busy IRL schedule can be super detrimental. In fact, when I'm stressed in my everyday life, I usually have to wait for the stress to die down before I'm good for anything. But when it does, I usually find myself with a burst of creative energy. So, if you know when you're going to have a 'whew, it's finally over for now' moment, plan and prepare for that energy burst so you can use it effectively for your RPing. Prep your writing area to make it comfy, make sure you've got your favorite background noise ready to go, put aside snacks/drinks so you don't have to get up for more, set an online stretch timer to remind you to move around a little, and do what you can to make sure you have little to no interruptions (like turning off your phone, for example.)

As for the recent drama. I think if I had a better idea of where the self-doubt was stemming from I might be better able to answer, but I'll tell you what worked for me. New things. ALL the NEW THINGS! I made a new muse (or two), I plotted new RPs with friends, I followed new people, I got involved in new fandoms, and I created new verses for the muses I already had. I also spent a few days scouring my favorite aesthetics blogs for my muses and filled up their queues with relevant images, quotes, etc.

Drabbles are also a great addition to this. You're writing about your muse, but you're not writing with another person. You can put your muse in all kinds of situations - from mostly normal to Dali-esqe levels of 'weird.' You get to stretch your writing muscles and share things with your followers, but there's less pressure since you're not expecting replies. Drabbles are also a great way to show off your writing style to new followers, too (and it keeps your blog active.)

I'm sure there are ideas/suggestions/thoughts I'm forgetting to mention, but if any hit my brain later, I'll do an addendum post of some kind. And since the things that help someone get back into writing can vary greatly, I'm sure some of our followers will be able to offer their own take on what to do, as well.

I'm sorry for the things blocking your will to write, OP, and I hope you're able to move past them soon.

~ Mod MJ ~

#anonymous #answered #advice

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dhwty-writes · 3 years

Text

Awakenings

The last part of my gift for @heyabooboo for @thewitchersecretsanta!

Did you think we're done with the angst? Sorry to disappoint, there's still one last chapter left. So, without further ado, read away!

Summary: Geralt wakes up from his stay in Nehaleni's dreamworld. But Jaskier is still asleep, and it's not looking good for him.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: temporary character death, I guess? For about 1 paragraph

Read on AO3

Waking up is one of the strangest experiences, mortals undergo on a daily basis. It can be peaceful, like untangling yourself from a lover's embrace to go relieve yourself, only to know that you will come back to that welcoming warmth once more. It can be violent, like a bucket of cold water on a morning after a bender. It also can be very disorienting, especially if you find yourself in a place where you decidedly did not fall asleep in.

Some of them wake slowly, their mind still wrapped in the sluggish fog of my dreamworld of creation and creativity. Others fight to escape the misty tendrils of a nightmarish prison of their own design. And others still are able to wake in the span of a heartbeat, one blink submerged in the very heart of my garden and the next far beyond my reach.

Witchers, generally, belong to the latter sort of people. It is a shame; they rarely are able to indulge in the pleasures of my realm for long. Waking to a monster with steely claws looming over you or a beast ready to tear out your throat will teach you to sleep too deeply. And even if they are able to enter into my domain, their lives of hardships often make it impossible for them to even imagine anything but a waking nightmare.

So, it should be no wonder that Geralt of Rivia woke with a gasp, already half on his feet before he even knew what was happening. The witcher stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him and collapsed on the floor.

He blinked. His vision was still foggy with the sleep. He blinked again. And again, and again, and again, until he could see the room he was in clearly. 'Room?' Geralt groaned and pushed himself up to his elbows. "What the fuck?" he meant to mumble, but his throat was too dry to form words.

The door burst open. 'Shit.' He tried to scramble to his feet, panic flaring up in him. He was dressed in nothing but breeches and a shirt, different ones than what he had worn when he had gone into the ruin. His armour, his swords nowhere to be seen— Whoever had come to look for the intruder in their home would surely have having and easy job finishing off the witcher—

"Geralt!" Yennefer of Vengerberg exclaimed and fell to her knees next to him. Her hands hovered above his body as if she didn't dare to touch him. As if he were an illusion that might shatter any minute. "You're... awake?"

"Yen?" he groaned weakly, not quite believing his eyes either. What was she doing here? She should be far away in whatever estate she was currently occupying while he was supposed to be on a scouting mission in a haunted ruin. He glanced around warily. Wherever he was staying, it was definitely not a ruin. More like the mansion of some minor noble.

"Yes, it's me, you big dumb oaf," she scoffed and interrupted his wondering. She tugged at his too-heavy arm until he complied and she could pull one of them over her shoulders. "Triss!" she called as she tried to get him into a standing position. His legs stubbornly remained uncooperative. "Triss, come over here, he's awake!"

It took his brain a while to catch up with her words, his mind still much preoccupied to move even one single muscle in his body. "Triss?" he croaked. This was starting to make less and less sense. And it hadn't made a lot of sense in the first place.

"She's looking over Jaskier," she snapped as if that was an appropriate answer.

"Jaskier." He frowned as he was made to sit down on the bed he had stumbled out of earlier. Jaskier. He remembered— In the ruins, he remembered the fog. The nightmare. The blood, the guilt. And the loneliness, the desperate feeling of missing someone. He remembered yelling— "Jaskier," he gasped. He remembered the deity, remembered the deal—"Butcher, I need a priest. You need to offer a replacement at least. Come with me and I let your loved ones be. Or stay and let them pay."—the garden, robes, shackles. He remembered a door, and— "Jaskier."

He clung to Yennefer, desperately, hoping she would understand. She passed a hand over his hair. "Breathe," she ordered him and pushed a waterskin into his hands. He drank gratefully. "And drink something. Your bard is—" She hesitated with a frown, evidently weighing her next works. "He's asleep next door."

"What happened?" he grunted, once his throat didn't feel like sandpaper anymore.

"He brought you here," she explained calmly, handing him a cup with an atrocious smelling concoction. When he raised his eyebrows in question she answered: "Yeah, I don't know how he managed either— oh that? Drink that, it will give you back some of your strength—he brought you here, begging me to save you. I told him I'd do some research—"

"—and came to Aretuza, where she found me," Triss Merigold chimed in from where she stood in the doorway. "Welcome back to the world of the living, Geralt."

He frowned. Aretuza? Yennefer avoided that place like the plague. If she truly had gone there, it had to have been bad. "Triss," she chided, evidently surprised.

"Don't worry, he's stable." The words 'For the moment' hang unspoken in the air between them. "Did you know that your bard is absolutely insane?" He nodded. "He demanded that we send him after you and threatened to find a ruffian to knock him unconscious if we didn't."

Geralt grimaced. Yeah, that sounded like Jaskier. He drained the last of the revolting brew and thrust it back into Yennefer's hands. "How long?" They exchanged a silent glance. Geralt growled. "How long?" he asked again.

"Almost two months," Triss admitted finally.

Two months. The little colour he had regained drained from his face again. Two months of sleeping. Two months without moving a single muscle. Two months without food and drink except for what the sorceresses could administer with their magic. 'Too long.' That was too long, far too long for any human. Panic started rising within him as he thought of all that could happen in that time. "Where is he?"

"Geralt, lie back down," Yennefer tried to soothe him and manoeuvre him back into a lying position.

"No," he insisted weakly, and tried to push her away, a futile attempt in his weakened state. "No, no, Yen. Yennefer, where is he? Please, I need to— Please!"

"You need to rest, is what you do."

"You lost a lot of strength in that time while you were asleep," Triss agreed, but he barely listened to them.

His mind was aflutter with all the memories of his stay in the deity's realm coming back to him; the lonely eras of him kneeling at their feet with nothing to do, nothing to talk about, Jaskier appearing, the Game of Fools, the poems, the shackles closing around Jaskier instead. Their last song, their kiss, their goodbye. The storm raging with Jaskier at the centre, hidden from view but clear to see, energy swirling around him, within him, dying out. Their freedom. A kiss. "I'll be with you in just a moment."

"Stable?" he echoed.

"Yes," Triss agreed. "He has been so for a few days."

"I need to see him," he blurted.

"Geralt," Yen said very softly, but he was having none of that.

"No, I need to see him." He grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her intently. "I need to see him," he insisted again. "Please. Please, Yen, help me."

"Geralt," she said again, more worried this time. He looked at her, pleading, desperate. "Alright," she whispered and hoisted his arm over her shoulder again.

"Yenna," Triss chided, but she was shut up with an angry violet stare.

"Come over here and be useful. He wants to see him? Fine. He'll see him."

With combined forces they managed to haul him over to the room next door. They almost didn't make it over to the chair next to the bed, for Geralt's legs gave out beneath him from relief when he saw Jaskier lying there. The bard was thinner than he remembered, his cheeks sunken in, and his skin a sickly grey he almost didn't notice with the glowing sphere of light surrounding him.

He looked peaceful, almost, he mused, once he collapsed at his bedside, waiting. Peaceful and stable. But the longer he waited, the more worried glances the two sorceresses exchanged, the more time passed without his... friend? Lover? Bard. The more time passed without his bard stirring, the less he looked asleep. The more he looked like a corpse.

"What— Why— Why is he not waking up?" he stammered after what felt like an eternity.

"It's the spell we put him under, so he could go after you," Triss explained as Yennefer put a hand on his shoulder and asked: "What happened Geralt?"

"He won. They said that we could go, he won, he wrote a song to melt a heart of stone!" He looked up at both of them, uncontrolled, unbridled fear clouding his mind. "He should wake up, he won- Why is he not waking up? Triss! Yennefer!"

Again, the anxious glances. "Lift it," Yennefer said quietly.

"Yenna—"

"No, Triss, you have to try again. You have to lift it."

"Again?" Geralt asked with a wavering voice as Triss got to work, chanting quietly in Elder. "What do you mean, again? Yennefer, answer me!"

"Calm down, Geralt," she ordered him sharply and he snapped his mouth shut. He could do that. "It's— Fuck," she cursed and looked away. "I need you to not freak out. Alright? Do not freak out, Geralt."

He probably couldn't do that. Still, he nodded.

"We had agreed with him," she started slowly, "to leave him in the netherworld for one month. For safety reasons. So, after that had passed, we tried to guide him back. And— we couldn't. It was like he was fighting back. And then, he slipped further under. With each day, more of his soul got sucked further and further into the netherworld."

"What?" he whispered quietly. "But he found me. He won. He should be waking up now."

"We're not sure if he can. We can lift the spell, but... there is so little of him left in this world, he might not be able to find his way back here."

"But he won," he said again, stupidly. "We were free to go. He— He said he'd be with me in just a minute." Despite his better knowledge he reached out, to grasp his hand at least. He hissed when the sphere burned his fingers.

Uncharacteristically, Yennefer didn't even chide him for it, her attention diverted by Triss' disturbingly calm: "Yenna." Geralt was left to stare helplessly at his bard's lifeless body as the two sorceresses argued quietly.

After just the blink of an eye, Yennefer turned back to him and said: "Geralt."

Suddenly, he knew with terrifying clarity what she was about to say next. "He's not finding his way back," he said with a surprisingly steady voice. "He's dying."

"He's dying, Geralt," she agreed meekly.

He nodded. He could already feel the tears rising again in his eyes, just like they had done in the netherworld. Only this time there was no soft song of Jaskier to call them forth. Instead, the room was as silent as a grave. "Drop the sphere," he ordered.

"Geralt—" Triss tried, but he shook his head.

"If he's dying anyways, I can at least hold him while he does," he decreed. "Please. Drop the sphere. And leave us alone. I'll— I'll shout, once it's over."

He didn't even register them dropping the spell and leaving. He just blinked and found himself alone with a barely breathing Jaskier in the room. In any other situation it might have worried him. It should have worried him. But not now.

Not now, because Jaskier was dying, and there was nothing he could do.

Geralt swallowed his tears and, with an incredible feat of strength he crawled onto the bed. Wheezing, he leaned against the headboard to regain his breath. Then, he heaved Jaskier into his lap, to cradle him gently.

For a while, he just sat like that. Holding the fragile body of his bard, rocking softly back and forth while he listened intently to his breathing. Jaskier breathed in. And out. In. And out. 'I should say something,' he knew. But what did one say to a dying person who couldn't even hear you?

"I— I'm sorry," he stammered after a while, the first thing that came to his mind. Jaskier breathed out. And in. "I'm sorry it has to end like this. I'm sorry for going into that ruin, I'm sorry for being so stubborn, I'm sorry for never telling you how I feel."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. It was like those words broke a damn, for suddenly Geralt couldn't stop speaking anymore: "It was stupid, I know. But I was scared. Scared of losing you. Somehow, I thought losing you when you didn't know would be easier."

Jaskier breathed out. And in. "Hm." He carded his fingers through Jaskier's soft hair. "Stupid. Hurts just as fucking much."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. "I'm really fucking angry with you right now, y'know, Jaskier? I wanted to hear that song. I wanted to kiss you. For real. Just once."

Jaskier breathed out. And in. "Y'know— hm." This was somehow even harder than he'd thought. "Y'know, you were the last thing I thought about before I fell asleep. And the first thing I worried about when I woke up in the garden. When they offered me their terms, I— it's stupid, but at first, I didn't even think that they might ask for Yennefer's soul instead. Or Ciri's. All I thought was that I can't let 'em have you. 'S why I stayed."

Jaskier breathed in. And out. "I love you," he whispered and took his hand gently. "I know you probably can't hear me, but if you can, please— Please, Jaskier, come back to me. I'm waiting for you. I'll always wait for you."

Jaskier breathed out. Geralt waited. And waited. And waited. He didn't breathe in again.

"Fuck," Geralt whimpered, curling himself around his bard's lifeless—dead—body. He might have been ashamed of the violent sobs that shook his body, of tears that flowed freely. But all of that mattered so little. Not when he— Not when— When—

"Oh," a croaky voice said and Geralt froze, "tha's nice."

"Jaskier," he whispered against his bard's shoulder, not daring to look up. What if he had misheard? What if Jaskier was not actually awake? What if it was a ghost, what if Geralt had to fight him—

"'S my name, love," Jaskier slurred and sighed. "Always thought it'd be nice t'die in your arms."

He couldn't help it. He had to pull back and look. He had to confront the horrors that inevitably waited for him when he looked into his bard's face, he had to see— Blue eyes. Very tired blue eyes. Very tired, alive blue eyes. "You're not dead."

"No? Oh." He blinked sluggishly. "Dyin'?"

"Yen!" Geralt shouted, because he didn't know what else to do. "Triss, Yen, he's awake!"

The two sorceresses barrelled into the room immediately, betraying that they had been eavesdropping. Geralt was hauled off the bed by Yennefer, as Triss rushed over to Jaskier, weaving spells and fishing for potions in her bag. "Wha's happenin'?" Jaskier managed before he was shut up by some vile concoction being poured down his throat.

"You nearly died, you idiot, that's what's happening," Triss hissed as she supported his head while he struggled to swallow the brew. "Reduced your witcher to a useless, blubbering mess."

She wasn't wrong. Geralt still couldn't stop rambling: "He just woke up, Yen, I don't know— I don't understand— He was dead, and suddenly he was talking. Will he be alright? Please, will he be alright now?"

"Shut up," both women snapped at him and Jaskier.

"Yen, I need to—" he tried again and was promptly shoved back into the chair.

"If you don't sit down and shut your mouth, I swear to the gods, Geralt of Rivia, I'll kick you out of this room, whether you can walk or not," Yennefer spat and joined Triss in the check-ups she was running.

It was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life. Normally, he had no issue with keeping his mouth shut, but this time it felt like torture. His fingers itched, his whole body thrummed with the insistent need to do something, anything. Was this how Jaskier felt all the time? Geralt felt like he was losing his mind.

Yennefer held Jaskier upright as Triss stripped him of his shirt to check for... something. Geralt's stomach churned with each strip of sickly grey skin revealed, stretched far too thin over Jaskier's rips. 'Maybe I should wait outside,' he thought. But he couldn't. Not watching, not knowing seemed somehow even worse.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jaskier's hand searching blindly on the soft sheets. "Please," he croaked, "take my hand, love."

And how could he deny such a request? Geralt leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed to clasp his hand tightly with both of his. The angle was a bit awkward, maybe, but that didn't deter him. He was glad to be able to do anything at all. And if he helped Jaskier with that, even better.

He couldn't say how much time passed before Yennefer and Triss backed up, grim masks hiding their relief. Not very well, of course, but still. "You'll be alright," Triss decreed. "A few days of rest and proper food, and taking it slowly for the next few months and you should be as good as new."

Jaskier nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

"Still, you're an idiot. I tried to wake you up, twice. And you didn't come back either of those times. You fought me, you bastard."

"I'm sorry. I needed my strength there." The smile on his face grew sheepish. "But I'm back now, aren't I? We both are."

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "You owe me, bard."

"I know. And I'll gladly repay you at any time."

"No," she pointed a finger at him, "not at any time. First, you rest. Come, Yenna." They were already out the door when Triss poked her head back in. "Before I forget it: there's a strict no-sex-policy while you're resting."

Jaskier scoffed and Geralt made a vague gesture at both of them, exhausted from the little they'd done in the past hour. "I doubt that's even an option."

"For now," Jaskier added and Triss wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, it's the 'for now' I'm worried about. No sex!" she ordered again before she was pulled out of the room by Yennefer and the door shut behind them.

With them gone, the room was plunged into silence. Geralt knew that he should say something, but there was nothing he could think of. As so often. Instead, he just sat there, still holding on tight to Jaskier's hand as if he might vanish if he stopped touching him. And staring. How could he not? Whatever magic the two sorceresses had worked, had regained Jaskier some semblance of strength at least, his skin not quite as sickly pale as before. But it was his eyes that kept attracting Geralt’s gaze. There was something… weird about them. An unearthly glow, interrupted by little bursts of lightning flashing through the clear blue. He couldn’t bear to look. He couldn’t bear to look away.

Luckily, with Jaskier silence never lasted long. "Hey there," he whispered and stroked Geralt's knuckles with his thumb. He still looked very tired, but the smile at least was reassuring. "You look like shit."

Geralt snorted. "You've seen better days yourself, bard."

"Rude," the bard decided and pouted, closing his eyes again.

"You started it."

He chuckled and squeezed his hand weakly. "Shouldn't you be nicer to me? Y'know after all of—" He waved his hand around vaguely.

"What? 'Cause you're my lover?" He groaned quietly as he got to his feet again. "Can I?"

Jaskier's eyes snapped open again and nodded. "Is... that what I am?" he asked hesitantly, shuffling to the side to make room for Geralt on the bed. "Your lover?"

"Hm," he answered and flopped down, exhausted. "You're my bard,” he said finally, once he was settled. “And you're an idiot."

"Yeah?" Jaskier scoffed. "Well, whose idea was it to investigate a spooky ruin? Certainly not mine, I tell you that mu—mphh!" Geralt shut him up with a kiss.

"You're an idiot," he said again once they separated. "And I love you."

Jaskier's expression softened and cuddled close, arranging Geralt's limbs to hold him. "I love you, too, you fool."

"Good," he sighed with relief. Immediately, his expression hardened again: "So, stop being an idiot!" He pointed an accusatory finger at him. "I can't lose you now. Fuck." He draped his arm over his eyes. "Fuck, Jaskier, I thought I was losing my mind. You stopped breathing in my arms."

"Romantic, isn't it?" the bard grinned up at him. Geralt growled and Jaskier winced. "Too soon? Yeah, I get that."

"Yennefer told me you found me and brought me here. I— I can't even imagine how you... How could you bear that?"

He chuckled. "I don't remember, if I'm quite honest. One moment I found you lying there, the next I was knocking on Yennefer's door. And then suddenly I woke up in the netherworld."

"Hm. Was it—" He hesitated, remembering what it had been like for him. The fog, the corpses, the guilt. "Was it bad?"

"Bad?" Jaskier grimaced. "It was a fucking pain in the arse, that's what it was. So many riddles. So weird."

"Weird?" Geralt looked down at him suspiciously. He supposed that was one way to put it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Pink grass, purple trees, green snow. A whole bunch of talking flowers and birds. Just weird."

"Hm." That didn't sound anything like what he had seen.

Jaskier huddled closer. "The nightmares were worse," he confessed. But before Geralt had a chance to ask about them: "But let's not talk about that now. The important thing is that we are together." He yawned. "And that we'll stay together."

"Hmm." He pressed his nose into Jaskier's hair and inhaled deeply as his bard's breathing evened out. There were still so many questions he had. Like why Jaskier had stayed longer. What had happened during the storm. What the name of the deity was. But they could wait until they had slept. "Sweet dreams," he mumbled. "I'll be there when you wake up."

Jaskier's lips quirked upwards. "I'll be there when you fall asleep."

Geralt hummed, not quite understanding what he meant. But it didn’t really matter either, he decided and let his eyes droop closed again.

It was a serene and starry night when the witcher fell asleep with his bards in his arms. As it should be, by any rights; a night as beautiful as you can imagine for a picturesque pair of young lovers. They dreamt as well; a dream of pink grass and green snow, a garden with an old friend and a sky that was eternally stuck in sunset no more. It was a peaceful dream. A dream of freedom, found fortune, and love.

#my writing #For You I'll Always Wait #FYIAW #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher secret santa #yennefer of vengerberg #triss merigold #and we're done!#thank you guys for reading this #i hope this ending is satisfying

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