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lytters · 2 years

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jealousy, jealousy || b. katsuki

chapter four

masterlist

guilt roils within you, sinking and settling in your skin like a new lover. it coats your mouth, your brain, and you can barely focus on what nejire is saying. you feel bad for not paying attention to her as she chatters on about her day, but your mind is far away, left behind some streets ago with a certain blond at a certain fountain.

distracted, you don’t realize where nejire has led you until you’re seated with a menu in hand. it’s a restaurant you and katsuki used to come to all the time when you were in highschool. your mood drops further, and it feels wrong to be seated here with nejire and not him.

“y/n-chan? what’s wrong?” nejire asks, concern splayed across her face.

“nothing!” you try for a smile, failing miserably as tears begin splashing down your cheeks.

“y/n!” she’s alarmed now, dashing over to sit next to you.

god, this was embarrassing. you’re crying over nothing while on (fake) date with a pretty woman who has done nothing but try to help you and yet, you can’t help but wish it wasn’t her.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” you choke out between sobs. “just, give me a moment.”

nejire wraps her arms around you, patting your head comfortingly. everything you’ve tried to suppress since last night, every emotion, every thought, it comes crashing hard. it sweeps you off your feet, tossing and turning and drowning you until you’re gasping for air. you only stop crying when you’ve run out of tears and energy.

blowing your nose noisily, you wipe the remnants of your tears away and sit upright. nejire’s arms fall from around you, and you turn to her. you avert your eyes, too ashamed to meet hers, and apologize. she shakes her head sympathetically, wrapping you in another hug. it feels like she’s trying to hold you steady, to stop you from spilling everything once more, but your cup’s been emptied, leaving you with a hollow feeling.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize once more as nejire returns to her seat. “i… i think i was just overwhelmed by...”

you shrug helplessly as you trail off.

nejire only smiles empathetically and says, “it’s fine, i get it. i’ve been there too. do you want to talk about it?”

“...maybe we could eat then talk?” you’re feeling drained from your little breakdown, and it doesn’t help that hunger is finally setting in.

“definitely!” she beams at you before calling the waiter over. you place your orders, and the food comes almost instantly. nejire picks up from where she left off earlier, and you’re a much more attentive listener this time, albeit still as silent as before. she doesn’t seem to mind though, and you appreciate her for it. by the time you’ve finished dinner, you feel a lot better. between having hot food in your stomach and nejire’s cheerful demeanor, you’d like to think you have enough energy to be a proper date.

“nejire-senpai,,” you start cautiously. “i really appreciate you wanting to help, i do. but… i don’t think we should continue this fake-dating thing.”

“why not?” nejire asks, and for once, there isn’t a barrage of follow-up questions.

“it just doesn’t seem right, you know? it feels like i’m using you, and i’ll be lying to my friends. and i don’t think it’ll work anyway. if katsuki’s with her, then it must mean he does have genuine feelings for her. he wouldn’t waste time on someone he doesn’t like.”

“y/n-chan, how sure are you that he doesn’t have feelings for you?” nejire asks gently. “because from what i remember from highschool, he only ever had eyes for you. maybe i don’t know him as well as you do, but you were the only one he ever looked at that way. and based off his reaction earlier, it didn’t exactly seem like it was coming from a place of platonicity.”

“nejire-senpai, i really appreciate you hoping for me, but i’ve spent years hoping, and katsuki’s not the type to not act on his feelings. if he truly does have feelings for me, wouldn’t he have acted on it by now?” frustration seeps through in your tone, tinging the atmosphere with bitterness that almost hurts.

nejire must see something in your eyes because she backs down, saying, “alright, if that’s what you wish to do, then we’ll stop. but that doesn’t mean we can’t still hang out! i do actually miss my kohai!”

relieved that she understands, or at least you think she does, you crack a smile, her happiness infectious.

“of course, you were my favorite senpai for a reason.”

she gasps delightedly. “say that again, but let me record it this time! i’m going to play this back for mirio. he’s going to be sooo jealous!”

you laugh, but agree to it, even adding a few reasons why she was your favorite senior. mirio would probably act hurt by it, but he would know you were only joking. at least partially anyway.

the remainder of your time at the diner is spent talking about everything and nothing at all, laughing at the stupidest of reasons until you had to leave. nejire pays for the meal, insisting that she had to, as your favorite senior. you agree reluctantly, and once the payment has been made, you both make your way to the train station together.

the night air is warm, slightly sticky from the summer humidity. but it’s not so unbearable as you walk arm in arm with nejire, giggling as you walk. you’re almost at the train station when you spot katsuki, only he isn’t alone this time. his girlfriend is by his side, the both of them leaning against a railing as they sip on some drinks.

you don’t realize how tense you are until nejire squeezes your arm lightly.

“y/n-chan, come on, let’s go.”

but you’re frozen in place, eyes glued to them, watching as he smiles at her, laughs with her. that used to be you, once upon a time. where you were younger, before life split your paths up. your stare must hold a weight to it, because katsuki turns his head and makes direct eye contact with you. his shoulders tense for a moment before it relaxes once more, and he murmurs something to her.

he begins walking to you with her following right behind, and you’re now caught between fight or flight because you were not ready to speak to him yet. katsuki stops right in front of you, saving you from making a choice as he speaks.

“y/n, nejire-san.” he nods politely. politely. that was unlike katsuki to be civil, especially when he’d been on the verge of losing his temper earlier. is it because he thinks nejire is your girlfriend? he opens his mouth to continue speaking, then closes it, as if at a loss for words.

a light cough from his side reminds you all that she is still around, and katsuki shifts a little before introducing her.

“this is my,” he hesitates, shooting a quick look to the girl. she wraps an arm around his biceps, leaning forward with an innocent smile. “my girlfriend, harada akio.”

though you had already acknowledged this, repeated this and said several times, having confirmation that she is his girlfriend feels like a knife’s been shoved between your ribs, twisting and dragging its way across your chest.

“nice to meet you, harada-chan!” nejire chirps when you take too long to respond.

“nice to meet you,” harada replies, waiting for nejire to introduce herself.

before nejire can, you cut in, plastering a bright grin on.

“this is my girlfriend, hado nejire.” oh god, what are you saying? what are you doing? are you insane? have you lost your mind? “nice to meet you harada-san, i’m l/n y/n.”

harada smiles at you, all pearly whites and perfect lips.

“nice to meet you l/n-san, i’ve heard plenty about you.”

shock flits through your system for a second before pettiness takes over. you aren’t friends with hitoshi for no reason, and you channel as much of him as you can in this moment.

“funny, i can’t say the same. katsuki never even mentioned he has a girlfriend.” your smile bares more teeth than can be considered friendly, and a sliver of satisfaction snakes down your spine at her faltering smile. hitoshi would be proud of you.

“you didn’t tell me you were dating nejire-san either.” katsuki interjects through clenched teeth.

“you don’t sound too pleased about that, bakugo-kun.” nejire smiles sharply. “jealous?”

“why would he be?” harada says blandly. you watch her grip on katsuki’s arm tighten. “now, we’ve got plans to catch a movie, so we’ll be off first. it was nice meeting you, i hope to see you again.”

you exchange terse goodbyes, and nejire’s hand grounds you as they walk off. when they’ve walked out of sight, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“sooooo,” nejire starts. “we’re doing the fake dating thing after all.”

you flush, scratching the back of your neck sheepishly.

“i’m so sorry senpai, i just…”

“felt like you had to one up him? wipe that smug look off that girl’s face? punch them both?” she suggests, and you laugh.

“yes, yes, and yes.” you slip out of her hold, sliding your hands to grab hers. “i know i said i didn’t want to do it, but” – you shrug helplessly – “i kinda just dug my own grave there, so if you really don’t mind, would you be my fake girlfriend?”

nejire lets out an exaggerated gasp, hands flying out of yours and up to her mouth.

“y/n-chan, i would love to be your fake girlfriend! it would be my absolute honor!” she pulls you in for a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you laugh at her theatrics and let her spin you around until you’re both breathless and in stitches.

“thank you, really.” you say right before you part ways at the train station.

“like i said, anything for my precious little kohai.” nejire pinches your cheek affectionately. “now get home safe, alright? can’t be losing my fake girlfriend just when i got her.”

“i will, senpai. you get home safe too.” you wave at her as she steps on to her train. she winks, blowing a kiss at you.

“don’t you worry sweetheart, i’ll be just fine.”

#bnha x reader #bnha #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugo x reader #bnha.myworks #l.writing

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drowningbydegrees · 4 years

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This started as a pwp praise kink idea. The praise stayed, but the pwp did not. Perhaps I will give it another go, but in the meantime, have 4,000 words of emotional hurt/comfort instead I guess. 😅

Read on AO3

Geralt is what Jaskier cheerfully describes as "forever years old" when he discovers that okay, maybe he is just the littlest bit affected by… actually he’s not sure what one would call this. He’s not even sure if it’s specifically what was said or just the act of being spoken to like a person in a vulnerable moment. Either way, it’s more than a little unexpected, but that’s not actually the problem. After all, everyone finds themselves unraveled by something a little unorthodox now and again, and in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t really all that weird.

No. The problem is that he learns it at exactly the same time Jaskier does, and it would be embarrassing enough if the bard were just some accidental bystander. But no, Geralt couldn’t get that lucky either. It’s very definitely in response to Jaskier and that is nothing short of mortifying. Whatever longing Geralt might privately harbor, Jaskier has never given any indication that it might be a mutual feeling, and so their companionship is very definitely not Like That.

It's a perfect storm that leads to this discovery.

The contract is a disaster in every sense of the word. Somehow, after all these years, there’s still some tiny part of him that allows for optimism, that remembers a time when he thought he could be a hero. There’s no room to be an idealist in his line of work, but the opportunity was right there. The monster was just an unfortunate curse to break. There were people who might be still alive to save. Stupidly, he let himself believe that this is the kind of contract he always hopes for, where just this once no one has to die.

But of course, that isn’t how it goes. The creature is worse for his meddling, leaving the man underneath tortured by a few seconds of horrified lucidity before the curse consumes him again. The creature dies by Geralt’s sword and as its blood drips from the blade, the witcher takes in his surroundings. It’s dark, but Geralt does not need to see to recognize a graveyard made up of all the people he failed.

Even Jaskier is subdued, largely silent on the walk back to the village. He’d had the good sense to stay out of the cave, or else maybe it was just too dark. Whatever the reason, if Geralt is granted any small mercy in this whole debacle, it’s that Jaskier is not in there among the dead, that he did not become another life the witcher couldn’t preserve.

The villagers are understandably as dismayed as Geralt is, and he makes for an easy target. He tolerates the shouting and cruel accusations. He stays Jaskier’s hand when the bard tries to come to his defense. They’re grieving people, desperate to shed the weight of their loss, and he can bear it.

The innkeeper does not turn him away at least, though Geralt suspects it has something to do with the very pointed look Jaskier is giving the man. It matters little if it means he can bathe in peace and fall into a miserable sleep and just… start over again tomorrow.

Death clings to Geralt like a film he can never quite wash from his skin, but oh how he tries. There’s an echo of blood and ichor that he just can’t shake, and by the time Jaskier comes to bring him clean clothes, he’s rubbed his forearms red.

Whatever scene he’s expecting, whatever reproach he anticipates, it never comes. He’s too strung out to put up much of a fight when Jaskier eases the washrag from his clenched fist. Jaskier gives him an uncomfortable smile that would be hilarious in some other context, waving awkwardly at Geralt’s head. “I’m just going to, ehm, your hair is sort of-”

“Covered in blood. I know,” Geralt fills in the gap in that sentence tersely. It’s not pity, not from Jaskier, but it drifts too close for comfort and the witcher doesn’t know what else to do but lash out. That’s not fair either though, and once Geralt has taken a breath he relents. “Get on with it.”

Jaskier does. Quietly even, which would seem suspicious or worrisome under normal circumstances. Geralt just happens to be too worn down to do anything but count his blessings and appreciate the silence as Jaskier works the tangles (and who knows what else) from his hair. He tries to close his eyes, but every time he does, it plays out behind his eyelids, forcing him to wrench them back open again.

“It’s not your fault. You do know that, right?” Jaskier’s voice is soft, and really, Geralt must look truly miserable for him to forgo their usual playfully scathing banter. “You did everything they asked of you and then some. There was nothing else left.”

Geralt doesn’t reply because what can he say? What could possibly wipe the memory of this colossal failure from his mind? It’s a gift of some sort that Jaskier doesn’t press Geralt to respond. He just hums a quiet tune while he painstakingly washes the mess out of the witcher’s hair.

“It wasn’t enough,” Geralt says very softly when he dredges up the will to speak. Jaskier’s thumbs rub down the nape of his neck, and he bows his head to it in silent surrender. The comfort is unearned, but he’s blank enough to crave it anyway.

“That’s not on you, Geralt. It’s like you genuinely don’t have a clue how... good you are. I mean, you’re a grumpy pain in the ass for sure, but still. You were good to the villagers even if they didn’t do a damned thing to earn it. You’re sweet to children and pets and...to me.” Jaskier suddenly seems very close, so near that when he speaks, his warm breath flits along the shell of Geralt’s ear. “I know I get on your every last nerve, and you haven’t turned me away. You might do it with a lot of scowling and insults, but you… are still very good to me.”

Geralt’s breath catches on what is definitely not a whimper, but what he’d probably classify as one if literally anyone else had made that sound. He’s been brought so low and Jaskier sounds so honest. He could have maybe gotten by without notice, but in the bath with Jaskier's hands in his hair and on his skin, there’s really no passing off the sound he makes as anything other than the desperate, needy thing it is.

“I punched you the first time we met,” Geralt points out, because he’s right on the precipice of something and urgently needs to back away from the edge. He tries glowering at Jaskier over his shoulder, but it turns out to be a grave mistake. Geralt is used to weariness and disappointment in the muted way he feels them. But this is a fragility he doesn’t know how to contend with, the brittle surface cracking when Jaskier gazes back at him like he’s anything other than a monster.

“I… probably had that coming,” Jaskier mumbles. Though Geralt has stopped looking, he can feel the shift in Jaskier’s posture suggesting that he’s sheepishly ducking his head. It’s an out of the ordinary thing, Jaskier owning his foibles, but Geralt doesn’t even get the opportunity to wrap his head around that before the bard swings a hammer at whatever defenses the witcher has left. “You’re good to me when it counts.”

Geralt doesn’t believe a word of it, but here and now he wishes quite desperately that he could. He longs to trust the warmth that slides like honey down his spine and settles at the base of it. He wants so badly to be what Jaskier names him as.

In retrospect, it’d probably be less humiliating if it were a sex thing. Jaskier has a penchant for oversharing and probably wouldn’t bat an eye. But it’s not as straightforward as that, even if the praise Jaskier wraps Geralt up in leaves him wanting. This is more, a bone deep sort of yearning that sits like a brick behind his breastbone, heavy and terribly misplaced.

The notion sneaks in that Jaskier just might see through him. He might recognize that despite the veneer of indifference Geralt puts out into the world, tonight the witcher is one stray thought away from a breakdown. He protects himself the only way he knows how, shrugging out from under where Jaskier’s hands have come to rest on his shoulders. “I don’t need help. Get out.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s brows furrow with concern. Frustratingly, the bard’s hand smooths over Geralt’s hair. Even more frustratingly, it’s a fight not to lean into the touch despite everything.

He snarls because it’s safer than the shaky thing in his chest, the thing that clings to the idea that there’s a version of the world where he is worthwhile. “Get. Out.”

Jaskier holds his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t even have the decency to look surprised and that’s all the more maddening.

Jaskier gives him space, to bathe in peace and then to irritably crawl into bed. It’s only when Jaskier must think he’s fallen asleep that the bard curls up around his back, nose pressed to the nape of his neck. He hasn’t earned the comfort he’s being offered, but cannot help himself taking it anyway.

They do not speak of that night again.

*****

They do not speak of it, but Jaskier thinks about it an amount that is probably just a bit inappropriate. He recounts the punched out sound Geralt made at something so simple as a little well deserved absolution. He commits the little shudder of Geralt’s shoulders under his hands to memory. But most of all, Jaskier aches at the way Geralt had snarled about it, so convinced of his own unworthiness. This bridge isn’t Jaskier’s to cross though, so he secrets away the desire to do so and satisfies himself with whatever small kindnesses Geralt will tolerate.

But tragedy is rarely a one time occurence, even in an easy life. And Geralt’s life is anything but easy. It’s only a matter of time before everything comes down around his ears again.

It’s not even a hunt this time, not a monster but a mage. It’s just a spell gone wrong, and there was nothing Geralt could’ve done to contain it. They were too close, and Jaskier is pretty sure the only reason he even made it out in one piece was that Geralt shielded him with some sign that protected him from the worst of the blast.

Now, spotting Geralt’s still form among the rubble, it’s clear to Jaskier what his safety cost the witcher. He picks his way across the rubble as quickly as he dares, fighting to keep the fear from his voice. “Geralt?”

“Ngh.” It’s a reply, if not much of one, but it’s only Geralt when blinks blearily at him a couple of times and scowls that the terror Jaskier feels begins to settle.

He doesn’t know what to say. Jaskier is tempted to crack a joke and make light of the situation. It’s how he copes. It’s just that, they weren’t alone in this building, and judging from the quietly defeated look on Geralt’s face, the witcher is already thinking about that.

“Look, I know this isn’t ideal.” Jaskier holds out a hand to Geralt, but he ignores it as he staggers to his feet. “But it’s not all hopeless. Because of you, they can’t ever harm anyone else again.”

“Shut up, Jaskier.” Geralt’s expression shutters, but Jaskier doesn’t need to be able to read the witcher’s emotions to know he’s thinking about all the people that outcome isn’t good enough for. As hyper sensitive as Geralt’s senses are, Jaskier can’t help but suspect that the rocks aren’t enough to hide what’s buried within the ruins, so he tries to steer Geralt back towards their camp. There’s nothing else they can do in this place but mourn.

“Are you okay to walk?” Jaskier doesn’t like the idea of leaving Geralt here to get help, but he also doesn’t want to inadvertently make things worse.

“I’m fine.” Geralt takes a step and then another. They’re wobbly, but he does manage to stay upright.

“You sure? A building exploded with you, you know, in it.” Jaskier is sort of sorry for pressing even before Geralt glowers at him.

“I said I’m fine.” Geralt repeats himself, and there’s no progress to be made pressing any further about it.

Jaskier knows better than to offer his support despite the fact that Geralt is limping at his side. If the witcher is not actively falling over, his attempts to help are likely to be ill received. He tries very hard to ignore it, even if it makes his heart twist up in his chest, but that all flies out the window when they finally come to a stop at camp, where the ground beneath them is dry dirt rather than grass and leaves, and there’s no missing the blood sluggishly pooling at Geralt’s feet.

“Geralt. For the love of- You’re bleeding. Sit down.” Jaskier grouses, more irritated at himself for not noticing than anything else.

To his shock, Geralt sits without complaint, though Jaskier suspects that is more out of exhaustion than any sudden desire to be cooperative. With a pained hiss, Geralt works to rid himself of his armor while Jaskier gathers supplies, so maybe he means to cooperate after all. That’s either very good or very bad.

Very bad, Jaskier decides, grimacing at the deep gash in Geralt’s side beneath where his rib cage ends. It’s not a clean cut the way a claw or a blade might be, probably a product of part of a building dropping on him.

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathes out, kneeling to try and staunch the bleeding enough to properly stitch it back up.

“I’m okay Jaskier,” Geralt insists. That he’s gritting his teeth on a low moan when Jaskier presses on his wounded flank is… not really helping his case.

“Great. You can continue to be okay while you sit there and let me stitch this up.” It comes out a little more tartly than Jaskier had meant, but Geralt doesn’t even seem to notice.

He does, however, sit still. That Geralt is quiet while Jaskier threads a needle isn’t out of the ordinary. But Jaskier looks at the witcher’s face and finds a great deal more than weariness there.

Jaskier lets it go at first, the task at hand more pressing. It’s only when he’s on his third stitch and Geralt is still staring miserably out towards the trees that he gently chastises the witcher. The expression isn’t an unfamiliar one, and Jaskier hates it every time. “Stop it.”

Geralt’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t look at Jaskier. “Stop what?”

“Insisting on taking on burdens that aren’t yours to carry.” There’s a needle in one hand and blood on both of them, so the tactile methods he’d usually use to soothe are no good. Jaskier tries words instead, already knowing they’ll be rejected. “It wasn’t your fault. If anything, it was a great deal less awful than it might have been because of you.”

On the bright side, Geralt doesn’t immediately snap at him. It might have something to do with the fact that he’s actively stitching the witcher up. Geralt doesn’t even look at Jaskier, but his expression is stormy and tense. Jaskier bites his tongue for another couple of stitches before he decides this is a sort of misery he can’t leave alone. So, he tries again. “When we first met, you really didn’t like me. And I know you’re making a face. Stop it. Just because I ignored the fact that you found me aggravating doesn’t mean I didn’t recognize it.”

“I’m making a face because you said that all past tense.” There’s a note of what might be humor there, and Jaskier doesn’t even care if the joke is at his expense under the circumstances.

Jaskier huffs out a fondly exasperated breath. “That’s very rude, but I’m going to let it go this time because you’re bleeding all over my hands. My point is that you gave me - someone you actively disliked - coin you didn’t have to spare.”

Geralt is quiet for so long that Jaskier thinks he might actually be listening. He probably is even, but his reply is too close to their usual banter, like he can’t stomach the idea of having a conversation that matters. “With songs like that, it seemed like you could use all the help you could get.”

“Oh, haha. Very funny. I realize it wasn’t my best work.” He’s trying, really, and it’s hard not to deflate in the face of Geralt’s resistance. Jaskier stares down at his current task and that could be the end of it. But the last time they went down this road still haunts him, and Jaskier is determined to try again, hopefully without being run off this time around. “Okay, if you’re going to be like that. In the last village, you let a little girl hire you to check her closet for monsters.”

There’s a clear sense of suspicion in the way Geralt narrows his eyes at Jaskier, but all the witcher says is, “Why would I turn down a paying contract?”

“Geralt.” Despite everything, Jaskier is pretty certain he’s never loved anyone in his life as much as he does Geralt right now. “She paid you in rocks.”

“They had value to her.” It’s endearingly defensive, but Geralt is justifying himself rather than running Jaskier off, so the bard counts it as an improvement.

Regardless, it’s not the message Jaskier is trying to get across. “I know. But you can’t exactly get provisions or a room at an inn with a pocketful of pebbles. And then there was Goose Hollow. You snuck that woman’s payment back into her kitchen.”

The witcher’s nose crinkles in distaste. Jaskier knows why he did it, but Geralt seems to feel the need to remind him anyway. “She’d just lost her husband to that kikimore and she had a baby on the way. I could make do without. Not sure she could’ve.”

“Right. You’re absolutely right, and that’s what I’m getting at,” Jaskier says, giving up on the idea that Geralt might have at least enough sense of self worth to reach this conclusion on his own. That’s clearly not the case, so Jaskier opts to connect the dots. “These are things you acknowledge, things you act on, because you are kind.”

Annnnnnnd there it is, the point at which Geralt can’t pretend he doesn’t understand what Jaskier is trying to communicate. He growls, shifting like he means to get up. “Fuck off.”

Jaskier pinches Geralt’s hip, well below where the bruising from the wound stops. “Do. Not. I have a needle literally stuck through you. You’re a good person whether you acknowledge it or not, so stop being dramatic and trying to flounce off just because someone said something that clashes with your self loathing.”

The scowl doesn’t leave Geralt’s face, but by some miracle, he does settle. “Oh, I’m dramatic?”

Bowing his head to hide a smile, Jaskier goes back to work. He wishes he could stay made for even a moment, but there’s just nothing for it. “What with the growling and glaring and stalking needlessly off into the trees or whatever nonsense you were planning? As someone who is personally very well versed in dramatics, yes.”

There’s no scathing or witty retort so it would be easy to assume Geralt is ignoring him when Jaskier is met with silence, but the bard knows better. It’s subtle things, an evening out of Geralt’s breathing, a shift in his posture, and though the seconds drag out, stretched like taffy, he’s not surprised when the witcher says very softly. “I didn’t know you’d noticed.”

And oh, that hurts. Not for the sake of Jaskier’s own feelings, but for the fact that Geralt could share shitty tavern food and too small inn beds and miles of open road for so long and still not recognize that he matters. “Of course I noticed. I always notice you.”

“I don’t think the rocks are going to make for a very interesting song,” Geralt says, and while his tone is clearly meant to convey sarcasm, his gaze is soft and searching, and oh to hell with it all.

“For fuck’s sake. It’s not for a song. I notice because I love you, you absolute twit.” There’s that strange, wounded sound again. The one that makes Jaskier want to wind his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and draw him close. Last time, that had been the preface to Geralt shutting him out entirely, but it doesn’t happen this time. Geralt hardly seems to notice when Jaskier rises after tying off the thread. His whole body goes stiff when Jaskier succumbs to the urge to embrace him, but somehow this time Geralt doesn’t immediately pull away.

With bated breath, Jaskier waits for the awkward stiffness to become a full blown retreat, because surely Geralt does not want his feelings, but the demand to be let go of never comes. Surrender is a quieter, subtler thing than any resistance Geralt put up. It’s a gradual release of the tension holding him bow string taut in Jaskier’s arms, a furtive embrace as Geralt’s hands find their way to curl loosely in the back of Jaskier’s chemise. With a sigh Geralt’s head drops to rest against Jaskier’s shoulder.

Jaskier is prepared, he thinks, for that to be the end of it. There are no strings attached, no conditions riding the tails of his affection. That Geralt didn’t immediately turn him away, that the witcher relents enough to let Jaskier be a source of comfort is enough. Geralt sags a little bit against him and Jaskier commits the feeling to memory, idly smoothing his hand over Geralt’s hair.

It’s still there when Geralt pulls back to look at him, eyes wide with something Jaskier might describe as wonderment.

“What?” Jaskier doesn’t give himself permission to hope because that’s not what this is about, but his heart takes off anyway, hammering away in his chest.

“You weren’t afraid of me, even though the only point of reference you had was the stories.” There’s a question in the quiet words Geralt speaks. And Jaskier does know what he means. Rumors of the Butcher of Blaviken were far reaching, and Jaskier had no way of knowing the accuracy of them. So why?

“Well, you’re not nearly as scary as you think you are,” Jaskier says lightly, and then, because the question is there, but Geralt looks afraid of the answer, he adds with a sheepish smile. “Also, you were the one person not throwing food at me, so that was a point in your favor automatically.”

Geralt says nothing at first, but his mouth turns unhappily downward. Jaskier expects annoyance or anger, is used to those things, but this is more akin to grief and he doesn’t know what to do with it. In the wake of it, Jaskier is almost relieved when Geralt speaks again.

“You learned how to do this because we travel together.” Geralt gingerly pries one of Jaskier’s hands from his back, laying it delicately over his wounded side, and no. No, that last point was definitely easier to address. They should go back to things he can make jokes about.

“So what?” Jaskier says, though it comes out more like a croak. And his chest might as well be split open on the faint smile that coaxes from Geralt.

Curious. Jaskier can feel Geralt’s thumb sweep back and forth across his chemise, almost like the witcher is nervous. “You hate blood.”

He’s already said the most terrifying part, and he doesn’t know what Geralt thinks, but the witcher hasn’t left. So really, Jaskier wonders, what is there to be frightened of? “It would be very unfortunate for the both of us if something happened to you.”

“That’s not… I don’t think you’re hearing me,” Geralt mutters, mouth slanted off to the side.

It won’t do. Jaskier has no wish to be a source of frustration when he’s trying to be a comfort, so he lets himself smile and brushes Geralt’s cheek with his knuckles. “I’m sorry. Would you tell me again?”

Jaskier barely gets the words out before Geralt’s lips are brushing, feather light, against his. It’s over as abruptly as it started though Geralt lingers with his forehead pressed to Jaskier’s and his hand cradling the bard’s cheek. “I notice you, too.”

He could live in this moment, Jaskier thinks, just sat here knowing he’s not alone in the things he wants. The circle of Geralt’s arms is a lovely place to linger, so Jaskier lets himself have it even as he says, “In case you missed it, I’m done if you’re still feeling the need to go stomping off in the woods to fume.”

Geralt rarely laughs at anything, but the amused snort Jaskier gets for his trouble is close enough. Even better is the kiss that follows, slow and sweet and full of promise. “Well, someone very obnoxious and very... dear told me it was dramatic, so I thought I’d maybe stay here with you instead.”

You can find the rest of my Witcher fanworks here. <3

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #geralt whump #emotional hurt/comfort #Guest starring Geralt's egregious lack of self-worth #mentions of blood and injury #In which life is hard and Geralt would very much benefit from a hug #conveniently Jaskier would also like to give him one #my fic

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willowbleedsonpaper · 4 years

Text

Play Dumb

Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw Female Reader

W.C. 3500

A/N: Hello! So this is my first time posting something I wrote. I’m a little nervous but also very proud of this. I apologize in advance if there is any mistake, English is not my first language.

I would love to know what you think! Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: One day visiting your friend Myrtle, you found that she already had company. Learning some things you shouldn’t about Draco Malfoy you become really nervous around him and see yourself in the need to face him.

*Not my GIF. Credits to the creator*

You knew you shouldn’t be out so late, the corridors were completely empty and the echo of your hurried footsteps were so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if some prefect caught you just because of the sound.

But you weren’t the only one out past curfew. The sound of laughter and chase reached your ears from the end of the hallway and there was only one escape. You waited until whoever was having worse luck than you ran past so you could turn and head to your destination. Just as your back rested flat against the stone wall a group of Gryffindors ran the opposite direction from where you were followed close by Mr. Filch who limped as fast as he could after them.

You counted to ten on your head, letting out a breath and resuming your way. The second floor girl’s bathroom was rarely visited by anyone, but you found comfort in the friendly chat you could have with the fellow Ravenclaw, even is she was dead. Not many took the time to get to know Myrtle and she didn’t give chances easily after being called names and thrown things her way, you on the other hand, gathered the patience and tried your best to be an enjoyable company to the girl. You argued, many times ending in an exchange of shouts and petty insults but you always came back and Myrtle always welcomed you with open arms.

So to say that you were shocked to hear a different voice from Myrtle’s as you walked through the door was an understatement. You tiptoed your way in, curious as to who would be there that late at night, you never encountered anyone else there on your visits.

“Myrtle?” you called, taking the last steps to where Myrtle usually. There on the floor sat a boy, he rested his body against the wall, hugging his knees and looking up to nowhere in particular. He didn’t seemed to have heard you until his head snapped at you, your shoe stepping in a puddle of water.

“What are you doing here?” he grumbled, clearly annoyed as his wide eyes changed into a glare. It was Draco Malfoy. You could see him now more clearly, his hair was little wild and his eyes looked tormented, but otherwise it was just the Slytherin Prince in the flesh.

“I came here to see Myrtle.” you answered him, opting to not say a thing about his puffy eyes of the fact that his hands shaked at his sides “I can go,” you offered pointing at the door “She’s not here anyway” and with that you turned on your heel, leaving without another word.

********************************************************************

Your days at Hogwarts were peaceful and full of joy. You adored each and every single one of your classes even if you weren't the best at them, the fact that you tried was enough for you, spending time at the library to research the subjects you didn’t fully understand and just for the sake of being there. If someone was looking for you that would be the first place to look.

You were rarely alone. You were always by your housemate and best friend side, Luna Lovegood, and so it wasn’t a surprise to find her alongside her friends from Gryffindor, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Ginny was the only Weasley you ever considered talking to, the others were too involved in the drama of Harry Potter’s life, and even if you caught on the looks Ginny would give the boy who lived, she didn’t drag the problems with her.

You were happy.

The biggest problem you’ve had in all your years at Hogwarts involved failing a test. That was it. You weren’t a brilliant witch like Granger but you weren’t stupid either. You learned even if that didn’t reflect on your grades all the time.

And yet, lately you found yourself nervous all the time. You felt watched, every place you turned a certain Slytherin was looking your way. Sometimes his eyes would drift away from you and pretend he wasn’t staring but in more than one occasion you’ve locked eyes with him and he shamelessly would keep on looking at you.

Did you do something to anger him? No, you would remember something like that. You’ve barely crossed paths with him, much less talked to him. Then why the sudden interest in you?

“Y/N?” you turned your eyes to Luna next to you, giving her a shy smile “Are you alright?” she asked you with a little smile of her own.

You nodded your head, and took a sip of your juice in front of you “Sorry Luna,” you said “I’m just distracted, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” she sighed happily “I can see that. I’ve also noticed how Draco has been staring at you the entire week” she said, you choked a little on your juice at the casual tone with which she spoke. She handed you a napkin, muttering a Thank you you took it from her hand. Luna tilted her head in your direction “Haven’t you noticed?”

“Actually, yes.” you answered nervously “I don’t why, though.”

Luna hummed softly under her breath, turning gracefully to the table and getting a piece of fruit “Maybe it has to do with your encounter with him” she said.

“Why is that? We barely spoke” you frowned at her, the idea never crossing your mind

“Well, if I was Draco and someone had seen me potentially crying I would be scared of that someone gossiping” Luna smiled, grabbing her bag and holding her hand out for you to take “You coming?” she asked.

You mirrored her actions, taking her hand and walking to your first class of the day. You found it difficult to concentrate the entire day, Luna’s words ringing inside your head at all times. You couldn’t grasp your head around the idea of Draco Malfoy being scared of you telling everyone that you saw him crying. Why would anyone do that? Everybody cries, it’s human.

You pushed the thoughts aside, or as much as you could, and carried on with your day as normally as you could. The back of your head burning at all times with glares and stares from the blonde boy.

********************************************************************

“What’s gotten into you?” Blaise Zabini took his usual spot next to Draco on the common room, the fire burning as he started intently into the flames.

“What do you mean?” Draco asked back, never lifting his eyes to look at him.

Blaise laughed softly, pointing his hands at him “That’s what I mean.” he exclaimed “You’ve been inside your head the past week, barely putting any attention to any of us or the classes. How many times have you asked for my notes?” he asked with a raised eyebrow “Pansy’s? Theo’s? Merlin! Next thing we know we’ll have to give the class ourselves”

Draco’s glare made Blaise slump a little in his seat, but he didn’t walk away or apologized like many did. Years of practice being around Draco did that to you.

“It’s called thinking, Zabini” he growled standing from his seat “You should try it some time”

“Where are you going?” he asked Draco who stopped at door of the common room. Draco only flashed his prefect badge at him, turning and leaving without uttering a word.

No one had said anything to him, not a comment making fun of him nor a funny look, nothing. He was on edge every time he stepped on his common room and heard his friends laughing. The first thought coming to his head being They're laughing at me. But it was never the case. Why was he so scared of you saying something? Did you even notice he was crying? He didn’t even knew your name until two days back when Longbottom shouted for you on the middle of the courtyard, you ran towards him and didn't even spare a glance his way.

Y/N Y/L/N. A Half-blood Ravenclaw.

He would have never acknowledged your existence if it wasn’t for those miserable ten seconds he talked to you, and know you were his every waking thought. Why did he had to breakdown that night? Why did you have to go there at the same time as him?

Why was he walking to the exact same place where yet another problem was thrown over his shoulders?

He opened the door, finding it empty. Maybe it was just a coincidence you were there that night. He made his way to one of the windows, sitting down so the moonlight would shine over his face. He closed his eyes, shaky breaths leaving his lips as he tried to even his breathing. Then the door burst open.

“Myrtle!” It was you again, he rolled his eyes standing and crossing his arms over his chest, you halted and squinting your eyes at him “Hello” you said, recuperating quickly from the shock and walking past him “Have you seen Myrtle?” you asked him so casually his entire unbothered look faltered.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in annoyance, his face hardened as you pulled several things from your bag without a care in the world.

“I could ask you the same thing?” you said back, not bothering to look at him.

“I’m a prefect” he said matter of factly and your entire body stiffened, standing up straight with your eyes scrunched closed.

You cursed under your breath, but then you came to the realization that you were in the girl’s bathroom, your body relaxing as you asked him “Are you patrolling the bathroom?”

He was about to answer but no words left his mouth, he stared at you in anger and pointed to the door “I have to report you”

You turned your entire body to him, he had to admit you were intimidating with the look of determination in your eyes, your straight posture that make you look taller than you were but still, you had to tilt your head upwards to stare into his eyes “Right, let’s go to professor Flitwick. I bet he’ll love to hear how you find me in your patrol through the girl's bathroom.” the words left your mouth so fast you didn't even had control over your voice, sounding like a complete bitch.

“Sorry,” you sighed, still accommodating your place “But I’m not going with you” you shrugged, giving him a side glance to see his reaction.

He scoffed loudly, the bitterness in his face almost making you uncomfortable but you were more taken aback at his reaction, turning completely to him with a frown. “You’re trying to blackmail me, aren’t you?” he laughed humorlessly missing your face contort in one of utter confusion.

“Excuse me?” you said, letting your body fall to the ground sitting there as you looked at him pace.

“You are going to tell the entire school that you saw me crying the other night unless I let you get away with this.” he said, his pacing increasing as he started to rant “I knew there was a reason you didn’t tell anyone…”

“Malfoy”

“...I knew Ravenclaw’s were clever…”

“Malfoy!”

“...this is infuriating!”

“DRACO!” you finally shouted, grabbing his shoulders to hold him in place “Who was crying?” you asked and watched his face fell.

“What?” he whispered, you gave him a concerned look and he shook himself from your grasp “You mean you didn’t see me?” he asked relieved, a relief that quickly was replaced with anger. How could he had been so stupid?

“Draco” you called softly, keeping your distance as you noticed how he had tensed at your touch “Are you alright?”

He shoot you a glare, practically fuming “Stay away from me” he growled and stormed away, leaving a very bad energy in the air.

You sighed, picking up your bag and getting all your supplies inside. Your painting session would have to wait. You stayed a few more minutes chatting with Myrtle, the only thing she could talk about being Draco and how he visited her too from time to time.

That night you stay up until late, wandering what other things did Draco do that you didn’t know of. You wondered why was he so scared of you and the information you learned of him.

********************************************************************

Weeks passed by and you had managed to avoid Draco at all costs, dominating the art of ignoring stares you tried to never be alone, you also cut short your visits to Myrtle, her telling you specifically which day to go. You didn't question her, you even managed to convince Luna to tag along a few times.

Everything was going great. You changed spots and instead of visiting Myrtle you found a windowsill covered by a thick curtain where you could sit and read, sometimes even paint.

So when someone cleared his throat from beside you, you jumped in your place, heart beating hard as you turned to face whoever interrupted your reading. Coming face to face with stern grey eyes.

“Merlin,” you breathed out, catching your breath as you picked your book from the floor “Next time announce yourself or something.” you said.

“Go to your common room” he said, walking past you. You stayed frozen in place and he seemed to notice, his head turning to look at you in disbelief “Now!” he hissed but you still couldn’t take a step.

“Aren’t you going to report me?” you asked him.

He began to lose his patience, marching towards you and you stumbled back as you caught sight of his sleeves rolled up his arms, bracing yourself against the wall “Do you,” he said eyeing your entire body “want me to report you?”

Saying your heart rate was normal would be a lie, that your arms were not shaking would also be a lie. You swallowed the gulp in your throat, shaking your head fast you avoided to look at him and what you just saw, ducking your head down “Goodnight Draco” you said making a beeline to your dorm. Who knew Draco had a tattoo?

********************************************************************

You were officially paranoid. Everywhere you go your eyes scanned the room at least three times for the Slytherin Prefect, and if you even saw a glimpse of him you would run the opposite direction like your life depended on it. You would collapse on other people walking, drop their books or leave your friends abandoned in the middle of a hallway with confused looks, by now they didn’t question you, they just sighed and waited for you to return on your own or for them to find you again.

You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them that Draco Malfoy had you walking on eggshells, that you couldn’t be in the same room as him out of fear of him snapping at you.

You were terrified.

And Draco had caught up in your odd behaviour, he never paid attention to you but now it was hard not to. As soon as your professors said the class was over you jumped to your feet and ran; he went several times to the second floor bathroom in the hopes that he would found you there, he even tried the same windowsill where scared you so bad you dropped your book. He thought of going to your friends but not one time did he gathered the courage to do so. He was lost.

“Draco?” he lifted his head from the book spread over the library table, his eyes falling back to the pages as he met Pansy Parkinson’s eyes “We looked all over the castle for you” she said, a little upset but said nothing more as she took the chair next to him. She frowned at the papers he worked on, not recognizing the subject “What is that?”

He was quick to cover the pages with his arms, gathering all of it so he could put it away in his bag. He muttered a Nothing, getting to his feet, Pansy following close “We’re going to the three Broomsticks“ she said “You want to come with us?”

“I have homework to do” he answered coldly, and she sighed knowing it was lie. They all had finished their homework the day before so they could go out without any worry.

Pansy glanced at him, a smirk tugging to her lips as she leaned into his ear “I heard certain Ravenclaw girl would be there” she whispered, making him stop leaving him a few steps behind her.

“What?” he asked, glaring at his friend when her smirk widened “You’re mental.” he established resuming his walk. She catched up with him, holding his wrist so he would turn and face her.

“I didn’t say who,” she said triumphantly “and you didn’t deny it.” he scoffed moving his eyes away from her, crossing his arms over his chest “Oh, c’mon Draco. We all saw it, you’re not as discrete as you think”

If only you knew, he thought. With a shake of his head he turned to their common room muttering the password and stepping inside. “Leave it, Pansy.” he asked in defeat “This has nothing to do with her, she’s just a problem I’ll have to deal with”

Pansy Parkinson made her fame around being a gossiper, annoying, nosey and manipulative. But she treasure her friends . She knew they all had their boundaries and problems of their own. She knew when to step back.

One of her hands came to his shoulder, giving it a squeeze “We’ll be at the three broomsticks for a while.” she said as an invitation, her hand fell and she left him be.

Draco sighed, running a hand through his hair he looked at his reflection in one vase over the table, he was thinner and looked untidy. He hated looking as he felt. But right now wasn’t time for looks, he had a job to do.

He changed into a more comfortable choice of clothes, making his way to the Room of Requirement. He paced outside the wall a few times before the door appeared before him.

“In the name of Rowena Ravenclaw!” he heard you yell as soon as he crossed the door, closing it slowly behind him “Are you following me?” you asked shutting your book with such a force a thin coat of dust flew from it.

He stood there in shock, that wasn’t the room of requirement. It was a library, but a more comfortable one. Soft couches were lined alongside the bookshelves full of every book you would want to read, the floor was scattered with rugs and cushions, many of them accomodated in a makeshift bed where you had been reading previous his arrival.

“What?” he whispered, looking at you for answers. But you were having no more of it. You jumped to your feet and stormed to his side “Y/N…”

“No” you said pointing a finger at him “Don’t Y/N me” you shut him, and he stood there listening to your every word “You know how much I have suffered because you told me to stay away from you? I don’t even know why I listened to you, but I was terrified. You are intimidating, did you you knew that?”

“Terrified?” he gasped. Never would he have thought that you would use that word to describe him but here you were, ranting on and on about how scared you were, tripping over your own feet as you unconsciously took a few steps back.

You stopped all the gibberish pouring out of your mouth at his question, your eyes were wide but something told you that he was hurt by your words. Your eyes stole glance at his left forearm, quickly realizing your mistake as his own eyes followed your movement.

“You saw it?” he asked, moving a hand to his forearm, running his thumb softly over his sleeve.

You nodded, still shaky that after all your attempts at hiding from him he managed to find you. “I haven’t told anyone” you practically yelled and he now understood your fear towards him.

You knew he was a Death Eater.

“It’s alright” he whispered “I know you haven’t”

You let a breath out, fidgeting with your hands “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m worried about you.” you admitted, a blush creeping over your face “No one deserves to be alone” you muttered, not daring to look up in fear you just made a fool out of yourself in front of the person you were scared of not more than an hour ago.

But when he did not answer the curiosity killed you and you rose your head. His eyes glistened and he had a soft smile on his lips, he looked sad and vulnerable. You couldn’t resist and took the short steps separating the two of you. You engulfed him in a tight embrace, resting your head in his chest as you waited for his body to relax. Just when you thought about letting go of him, he let out a shaky laugh and wrapped his arms around you with the same intensity you did.

You stayed like that for a short while, him pulling you away and looking down at you “Does that mean you didn’t see me cry?” he asked.

You laughed loudly, a look of adoration in his face as your laugh died down “Oh, I did” you said with a chuckle “I just played dumb”

#Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #pansy parkinson #blaise zabini #luna lovegood #ravenclaw reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #ginny weasley #neville longbottom #Harry Potter #first fic

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rosiehunterwolf · 3 years

Text

And the Walls Kept Tumbling Down

Prompts: Trust and Breakdown

Word Count: 3,706

Characters: Pixal and Lloyd

Timeline: right before season 8

Trigger Warnings: Mental Breakdown/Panic Attack, Lack of Self-Worth

Summary: Pixal has been Samurai X for awhile, now- a role that allows her to be herself, to be happy. But it’s also... incredibly lonely. Luckily, she’s not the only one alone- Lloyd has been left in the city while his friends go after Master Wu, and his presence is comforting. But as they struggle with a mysterious biker gang, Pixal can’t help feeling the want to be part of something more.

Link to read on FanFiction.Net:

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13897921/1/And-the-Walls-Kept-Tumbling-Down

“Master Lloyd, maybe you should go get that checked at the hospital.”

“Pix, I’m fine, it’s just a scratch,” Lloyd mumbled through the gauze as he snapped it with his teeth, winding the last several inches around his forearm. “And I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Why? You are our master now, aren’t you?”

Lloyd snorted, tentatively testing his arm as he moved it back and forth. “I’m no master. I can’t even keep our team together.”

Pixal stared at him, shocked. “We all agreed on this, Lloyd. It is the most efficient plan to find Master Wu.”

“Yeah, and whose plan was that?” Lloyd’s voice was suddenly sharp.

“I believe it was Zane’s, but-”

“Exactly! It was Zane’s plan, not mine. I did nothing. And now, they’re off searching for Master Wu, and I’m sitting here, doing nothing.”

An unfamiliar sensation squeezed at Pixal’s chest, one that felt hot and fierce and miserable all at the same time, before she had to remind herself that no, she didn’t have a body, didn’t have a chest to feel pain in, and that she was just speaking to Lloyd over the monitors.

At least, in the moment, she was.

“Zane trusted me to watch over this city,” she insisted, her voice unstable- which it shouldn’t be, she was a nindroid, not affected by such things- “He trusted us.”

Lloyd flinched visibly, looking away from the computer they were using to talk. “Pix, I didn’t mean- look, I’m sure Zane much would’ve rather had you come along with him, but instead you got stuck babysitting me.”

“Normally, I would object, but I think you’ve already proven your own point,” she commented, shooting a pointed glare at his bandaged arm.

Lloyd gritted his teeth, letting out a slow breath. “I get it, Pixal, I’ll be more careful next time.”

“A doctor’s visit couldn’t hurt, Lloyd.”

“Will you drop it already?”

She frowned. “I wish you wouldn’t grow cross with me, Master Lloyd. I am only trying to look out for you-”

Lloyd stood up sharply. “I get it, okay? I’m incompetant. You don’t need to keep calling me ‘master’ out of pity, I know I’ll never be able to live up to my unc- Master Wu.”

Pixal blinked at him, stunned. “Lloyd, I never-”

“Shut up! I don’t want to hear it!” And then he was reaching forward, slamming down the laptop’s lid, and Pixal’s world went dark.

He knew how much she hated that, when he turned her off or walked away without her consent, like she was some sort of object.

He hadn’t meant it- she had learned a lot about Lloyd in their past year alone together, and he often became impulsive when he was angry in order to cover up his sensitive, insecure side. It would probably only be a matter of hours before he came running back, apologizing repeatedly, and sobbing over what a horrible friend he was as Pixal patiently waited for him to calm down. But she had grown to like and respect Lloyd, and it still stung when he snapped at her, even though the logical part of her mind knew that it wasn’t really her that was the problem.

What bothered her even more so, though, was the things he said about himself. It had been abrupt, this time, but she hadn’t missed the times he had slipped it in more subtly into conversation. It made her angry, how he refused to appreciate himself.

And now, stuck in this stupid form, she couldn’t go after him.

Well. Technically, she could.

The Samurai X suit had been up and operational for a few months since her last major upgrade- the one that had finally given her her own, independent body, separate from just the mech itself.

But she was nervous to remove herself from the computer entirely. She was aware that she was so incredibly useful as a program, with instant access to all sorts of technology and data. She had become an asset to her team.

She liked feeling important, feeling like she was part of the group.

But being the samurai allowed her to physically be there. In these last few months, she felt like she had really grown to know and trust Lloyd- even if he didn’t know it was her beneath the samurai mask. She wanted to get to know the others fully, too- she was already fairly close to Zane, but she liked the rest of the team, too- Cole, Jay, Kai, and especially Nya, Pixal felt intrigued by. She had spent some time connecting similarities between them- there were a lot of differences, too, but she felt like they could be friends. A physical form would allow her to bond with them, like a human. She was well aware she wasn’t one, but she wanted to understand.

But she was afraid, too. Except for Zane, and maybe Lloyd, now, seeing the others again felt daunting. They had never been particularly close before she had been scrapped. What if they thought she was infringing on their team? The six of them had been close for so long. It would make sense if she wasn’t wanted there.

She just wasn’t ready, not yet. Communicating with Lloyd through the monitors would just have to do for now. It was difficult, though- it didn’t seem like he took her as seriously this way.

For now, though, they had bigger problems. Lloyd’s injury hadn’t been too severe, from what she could tell, and would heal quickly. But it had been a sizable wound, and could leave some pretty severe scarring, if he wasn’t careful with it- she knew he wouldn’t be, which was why she had to keep him in line- but the point was, these were no common thieves going around, dealing this kind of damage. This gang- whoever they were- were something bigger, more dangerous than their day-to-day threats. Pixal wasn’t sure if it was severe enough to start calling the others back- she didn’t want to interrupt their search for Master Wu. But she would certainly have to keep a closer eye on Lloyd from now on, to make sure he didn’t get in over his head.

She should probably start playing a more active role as Samurai X. Although the ninja had a tentative relationship with her mysterious persona, she wasn’t about to send Lloyd against this gang alone again.

She just hoped he would have her.

---

The next call came in much sooner than Pixal had anticipated. At the unappealing hour of four in the morning, Lloyd hauled himself out of bed and stumbled drearily out the door at Pixal’s report of a prison breach alarm coming from Kryptarium. With the rush, there was no time to talk to him, and the drive to the prison was awkward and silent.

When they arrived, it turned out the alarm had been triggered by accident. The good news was there were no criminals to stop, the bad news was that they had woken up at four am for no reason.

Not that Pixal particularly minded- sleep was inconsequential to a nindroid, but Lloyd was less than pleased.

“I mean, if you’re going to have an alarm system that immediately pages the city’s ninja team and makes them stop everything they’re doing to rush over there, it should at least be heavily guarded. How do you even accidentally set off an emergency alarm? I thought these guys were supposed to be professionals!”

Pixal stifled a laugh as he paused, taking a sip of the iced coffee he had picked up as they had headed back. He had told her, “If I’m already up and ready, I might as well spend some time in the city for a little while. Y’know, in case they trigger any other ‘alarms’ that I need to go rushing off to.”

“Perhaps they need a lesson from the ninja,” Pixal suggested.

“I’ll say,” he grumbled. “I don’t know how this city ever survived before we showed up.”

“Well, experience is the best teacher, and you guys have triggered enough traps and alarms to last a lifetime.”

“Wait, what?” Lloyd spluttered. “No, we haven’t! We’re highly trained ninja, we’re better than that.”

“Oh, really? I seem to remember quite a few in the Tournament of Elements, or the time with the technoblades, or when General Cryptor tracked you- shall I go on?”

“Shut up,” Lloyd snorted, trying to hide his grin. “You don’t know nothin’.”

“You’re right, I don’t. I was only with you for a short time before I was uploaded into Zane’s head, and after that, my view of your adventures was extremely limited. I can’t imagine how much more trouble you got into when I wasn’t there.”

“I hate you,” he said, attempting to scowl and failing miserably, the look on his face was too comedic for Pixal to bite back her laugh this time. It wasn’t long before Lloyd joined her, and soon, he was bent over, clutching his stomach, and he had to sit down for a moment to catch his breath. Pixal felt warm inside as she watched him take a long sip from his coffee. She enjoyed seeing him like this. He had been far too tense over the last few weeks, and she missed the more childlike, carefree side of him.

After a moment, though, the expression on his face fell solemn, and he turned to the tablet they were using to communicate to look her directly in the eyes. “Pix, I’m really sorry for yelling at you last night. I was being a brat.”

She paused carefully, both relieved and nervous that they were finally addressing this. “Lloyd, I know you were hurting. I am only trying to look out for you.”

He put his hands behind his head. “Yeah, I know, I need to work harder-”

“Lloyd,” she interrupted firmly. “That’s the other thing. I need you to stop saying things like that about yourself.”

He cocked his head at her. “Like what?”

Good grief, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. “Talking down on yourself. I called you ‘master’ because that’s what you are now. You’ve earned this title, Lloyd. Just like you’ve earned everything else in your life, and more. It was not my intention to say you would take your uncle’s place, but say that you can be just as great of a leader as he was.”

Lloyd suddenly found the cracks in the concrete to be very interesting. “See, people keep saying that, but- it’s just so hard. I feel like I always mess everything up. Something always goes wrong, or worse, someone gets hurt-”

“Lloyd, you’re one person. You can’t expect to be successful all the time. You may be a ninja, yes, but your job is very difficult and dangerous, something most people wouldn’t even dream of tackling. You’re part of a team for a reason, and I’m sorry they’re not here right now, but until they return, you’re going to have to give yourself a little credit.”

Lloyd’s breathing hitched, and he scrubbed at his suspiciously wet eyes. His next words were so quiet, Pixal could barely hear them. “I just miss them. Everyone… everyone always leaves, and I’m tired of being alone all the time.”

Pixal was struggling to breathe herself- even though she was a nindroid, didn’t need to breathe- the sensation was still there.

She could remember when she had been alone too. Those nights after Zane had… had died, had been some of the worst times of her life. The emptiness had only made it sting worse, but when Lloyd had reached out to her, she had refused him.

She had been scared, scared to let anyone else into her life in case she lost them too, but now she realized that he had been hurting just as much as she had. She knew his friends had gone off on their own like she had, leaving him just as alone as the rest of them. She had been the cause of that, she had only hurt him more when he was already going through so much.

When she spoke again, it wasn’t just for the situation at present.

“I’m sorry, Lloyd. I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at the screen, his watery green eyes staring into hers, then raised an arm, his fingers ghosting the screen, before falling back to his side. He looked away, swallowing.

“What is it?”

“I just… I wish I could hug you. I wish you were here. Like, actually.”

“I am much more useful in the computer, Lloyd.”

“Yeah, but you’re not… you’re not here. I don’t care about how useful you are.”

Pixal let out a trembling breath, but Lloyd hardly seemed to notice, already beginning to stand up. “Sorry about being such a downer. I better get back to the Bounty, I’m sure the police have something for me to do.”

“Lloyd?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just… they’ll be back soon. I know they aren’t like… other people. They’re going to come back. And besides, until then, I’ve got you, right?” He gave her a shy smile.

Pixal froze. This was it. He was extending- a metaphorical- hand to her. Offering her to be part of something that she had been wanting for a long time.

But it felt wrong. She wasn’t a ninja. She wasn’t one of his teammates. What if she was assuming wrong? What if he wasn’t really asking that?

“I’m not one of the ninja, Lloyd. I can’t help you the way they can.”

“No, you’re whoever you want to be, Pix. But you’re still my friend.”

Friend. Pixal felt a sudden urge to correct him, to tell him he was mistaken. “I’m not part of your team. I… I can’t be.”

“Trust me, Pix- in every sense that matters- you are one of us.”

---

“Pixal, I need my car! Now!”

The nindroid’s voice came out slightly crackly from the radio. “Your coordinates, Master Lloyd?”

“I’m somewhere around… well, you know how to find me.”

The cable he was gripping onto slowed to a stop, then quickly began to swing back down. Squeezing his eyes shut, Lloyd prayed that Pixal knew what she was doing, and let go.

Air whipped past him as he fell freely, the fall feeling both agonizingly slow and alarmingly quick at the same time, but before he had time to question what the hell he was doing, a blur of green darted out from a nearby alleyway, and Lloyd fell into his car.

He quickly pulled himself up and took over the controls. “Impeccable timing, Pix! You’re getting good at that.”

“I have to do something while you’re busy fighting crime, don’t I?”

“Speaking of which…” Lloyd cut off, gritting his teeth as he wove in between cars on the busy street, chasing after the biker. “Who is this person? Anything you can tell me about them?”

“They appear to be affiliated with the same criminal biker gang we have been having trouble with over the last few weeks. I am afraid I cannot tell you anything other than that. They have been keeping a very low profile.”

“Well, whoever they are, they’re good. I’ll keep you posted.” Gritting his teeth, he pushed on the gas and shot through the streets after the mysterious biker. They were a skilled driver, but Lloyd wasn’t lacking in that department either, and soon, he had caught up to the biker. The person’s eyes glowed an eerie red through their mask, their expression emotionless, and Lloyd forced his gaze away for a moment to examine the object in the back of his bike- presumably the stolen item. It was a red mask, with an ugly, beast-like face patterned over the top, complete with a mouth of crooked, yellowing teeth, and deep, glowering eyes. It looked like nothing more than a costume. Lloyd wondered what they could possibly want with it.

Putting on another burst of speed, he pulled in front of the biker, making them screech to a halt to avoid a collision. The two of them stared each other down, only a short stretch of road between them.

The criminal revved his engine, and suddenly, was racing towards Lloyd. Lloyd began to do the same, and just when he thought the biker was about to hit him head-on, mechanical arms extended from the bike, driving into the road, and sending the biker flying over his head. Lloyd slammed to a halt and jumped out of the car, running over to the bridge as the biker went over the edge. He yanked something near his chest, and all of a sudden, a big sheet was billowing out from his back, gray and black and red-

Lloyd’s breath caught in his throat as the parachute unfolded fully, revealing the emblem of a face that Lloyd had never thought he would see again.

No, no, no. Lloyd stumbled back from the railing, his breath hitching in his chest as he tried desperately to draw it in. This doesn’t mean anything. Perhaps they just are a fan of Garmadon, it doesn’t mean he’s here-

But it wasn’t working. His body just wasn’t listening to him, his heart beating too fast, his breath trembling and shallow, and his head-

“Lloyd!” A voice came from seemingly out of nowhere, and in his panicked state, he couldn’t, he couldn’t-

“Lloyd, it’s Pixal. What’s happened, why aren’t you responding?”

Oh. It was Pixal, on… on the radio. With trembling fingers, he reached down and switched on his mic. “...Pix?”

“Lloyd, don’t scare me like that, what’s wrong?”

“Pixal… Pixal, I don’t know…” Oh gosh, he was spiraling, spiraling hard, panic swamped his brain as images of his father flashed before his eyes, first running off with the golden weapons, then trying to kill him when the Overlord had taken over, then when he had submerged under the ocean, down, down, down with the Preeminent-

No! Lloyd’s eyes snapped open, scattering the images. He couldn’t be thinking about this now, not- not when-

Oh gosh. His father couldn’t be involved with this gang, he couldn’t. He was gone, gone for good. He missed him, so, so much, but nothing with his father was ever that simple. Something always went wrong, and Lloyd was just beginning to get over his last death, he couldn’t- couldn’t live through the pain again-

“Lloyd, Lloyd listen to me, just try to breathe-”

He could barely hear her. His legs had stopped working, and he sunk to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, trying to remember to breathe. The last thing he needed was to pass out from lack of oxygen.

He buried his face between his knees, gulping through the sobs. Dammit, why was he like this, he hadn’t had an episode this bad since Morro-

And now he was thinking about that part of his life, one he had so desperately hoped to forget- it had been years, why was still not over that, he had gotten good at suppressing those feelings long ago, but when he got like this, he couldn’t control anything-

He hated when he got like this, it was so terrifying, he just wanted to go home, he just wanted Kai to be here, why was he always all alone-

Suddenly, firm, cool arms were wrapping around him, pulling him close. Lloyd gasped, his eyes flying open sharply.

A pair of glowing green eyes stared back at him, shadowed with fear. “Hey,” she whispered, her metallic jaw moving with the words, “I’m here now. You’re going to be okay.”

He had lost it, he was hallucinating, how was- how was she here-

“Pixal?!”

“Yeah,” her voice was quiet, rubbing her fingers across his palm. “It’s me. I’m here.”

“How?”

“I’m Samurai X, Lloyd.”

“Oh.” Vaguely, a part of his mind told him he should be more surprised by that piece of information, but he was just tired. His mind was already on overdrive, he couldn’t afford to take in anything else.

“Lloyd.” Pixal’s voice was scared, and he realized he was trembling in her grip. “Please, what has happened to you?”

“It’s- it’s…” Lloyd gasped for breath. “My dad, he- the biker, he was- he had-” and those words alone were too much. Everything was breaking, splintering apart right in front of his eyes, and he clutched onto Pixal like she was his lifeline- in a way, she was. She felt different from Kai’s warm, soft touch- harder and cooler- but sturdier and stronger, too. And right now, Lloyd could use a bit of strength.

But most of all, she was here.

“Why did you tell me?” He managed to get out. “Out of everyone, you told me first? Not Zane?”

Pixal was silent for a moment. “I know what it’s like. I mean, not exactly- I can’t feel what you are feeling right now. But… feeling emotions has been hard. Draining. You, out of all people, seem to know that. But you’re still so strong through everything. I just… you helped me to see how to heal. How to get better.” She paused, looking down at her hands. “But I guess it doesn’t always work out that way. I figured it was about time I helped you back.”

He leaned his head into her lap, examining her long, silver fingers, brushing them gently. “I like you like this. You’re pretty.”

He wasn’t looking at her face, but he could almost feel her smile. “Thank you. I worked hard to make this. I wanted to make sure… that I was better, this time. I still have some modifications to make, but…”

Lloyd winced, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry I made you show me before you were ready.”

“Lloyd,” she said firmly. “This was my choice. Not yours.” She took one hand and turned his chin so their gazes met, green on green. “I trust you. I always have.”

Lloyd felt his lip tremble. “I-”

Pixal stopped him. “It’s okay, Lloyd. You don’t have to say it. I know.”

Lloyd curled into her side and wept.

#ninjago #ninbingo #my fic #ninjago lloyd #ninjago pixal #hope you guys enjoyed!#this was really fun to write #i finished it in like three days wow look at me actually being productive for once #but yeah pixal is underrated and i needed to be sure to add her at least once into this found family event #because she's just as much a part of the team as any of them ❤

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pickledpascal · 3 years

Text

‘tis the damn season

Chapter Eleven: Always Remember Us This Way

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Minor Violence, emotional breakdown

Summary: The final showdown with the White Nova and Spider-Man vs. Doc Ock happens in an unlikely place. And has an unlikely ending.

Song: Always Remember Us This Way by Lady Gaga

It was late when Ailani got a call from Peter, telling her they needed to go to Otto’s hiding place. It seemed he got the last piece to form his nuclear fusion reactor and he also kidnapped Peter’s crush, Mary Jane. Ailani let out a groan of frustration, she was working on the inhibitor chip but she was nowhere near done with it. So, she quickly got dressed in her suit and escaped to the docks from her window.

Ailani watched as Peter crawled around inside the water lab, trying his best to stealthily get Mary Jane out of the place. Which failed pretty miserably, Otto caught him almost right away. Ailani shook her head as she watched before she literally kicked the front door across the room, one of Otto’s actuators caught the door because it was coming straight for him.

“Hello again, Otto! I think it’s my turn to break into your house don’t you think?” Ailani asked with a sarcastic smile. She decided not to put her mask on, MJ didn’t know who she was anyways. “Maybe you’ll understand how I feel.” She winked as she walked over to the man.

Peter was currently being strangled by Otto’s extra arms, but quite frankly, all of the Doctor’s attention was on the woman coming towards him. Ailani acted like she was untouchable, but he knew she had weaknesses. In fact, Otto basically defeated her once–through dirty tactics but still.

Otto cocked his head at Ailani as a challenge. “What are you here to do? Seduce me into the good side?” He said with a sarcastic and mocking tone, the arm that held Peter pushed him against one of the metal pillars and held him there. It didn’t want to hurt him badly just yet.

“You tried that with me.” Ailani growled a little before she looked at Peter for a moment. “But the only way this is gonna end is with you getting hurt.” She was determined to have her Otto back, so if he had to get hurt in order to fulfill that, she didn’t mind.

Otto cocked his eyebrow at Ailani before Peter somehow escaped from his claws and swung over to MJ to try and help her out of there. The doctor’s claws were busy getting the reactor online and capturing Ailani as well. “Too late, hm?” He asked with a smirk. “No one can stop it once it starts.”

The woman closed her eyes for a moment, making Peter think she was about to pass out again with how tight those things were holding her. But when Ailani opened her eyes again, they were glowing a firecesom deep red as she pushed open the claws of the tentacle that held her. Otto’s head went blank as he watched, not even hearing the voices of the AI.

He was mesmerized by Ailani’s show of strength.

Ailani’s powers were very much tied to her emotions. Each time her eyes glowed, it was like she was plastering her emotions on a billboard. But this time she didn’t care if anyone knew she was mad. Hell, she was furious. Both at herself and the evil that captured Otto’s mind. She could’ve stopped this so much earlier if only she was there the night the first reactor started up.

The girl blasted Otto away from her and into the water, not caring that there was metal flying past her and feeding into the perpetual sun just a few feet away from her. Otto groaned from the pain, his glasses were knocked off his face and water was all over his face and in his hair. Flashes of memories played behind his eyes, like he was trying to remember what it was like without the AI in control.

Peter jumped in front of the Doctor, looking at Ailani for a moment before he took off his mask. “Doc, you gotta help us destroy this thing.” He pleaded softly, his eyes filled with sympathy.

“I won’t.” Otto growled, his actuator trying to get close to Peter before he caught sight of Ailani next to him and stopped. “I-It’s my dream, my life’s work.” He ground his teeth together, his eyes glazing over with sadness. Otto worked on even just the blueprints for the reactor for half of his life, he couldn’t take the fact that what he was doing was wrong.

“Sometimes you have to give up your dream.” Peter whispered sadly, glancing over at Ailani before he swallowed thickly.

Ailani shook her head gently and let out a small chuckle. “Or maybe you need to find a new one.” She said softly, holding out a hand for Otto to take.

The man narrowed his eyes at Ailani’s hand, his heart heavy with emotions. A new dream. Maybe that new dream is you. Otto gently set his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. There were so many things going through his head at one time but the main thread that tied everything together was Ailani.

“How do we stop it?” Peter asked again, his voice more hurried. The reactor was quickly gaining more steam and was absorbing every piece of metal there was, that was starting to include the whole building.

“We can’t-”

“Think, Otto!” Ailani grunted, “There has to be something.” She looked over at the reactor, her eyes trailing to the city that layed almost a mile away with water separating them.

Suddenly, it clicked. For both Ailani and Otto. “The river! We can drown it.” They said at the same time, immediately looking at each other once they heard each other's voices. Peter rolled his eyes at the two of them, they were disgustingly cute together.

Otto stood up from the little pool he was standing in. “I’ll do it. I made this mess, I should fix it.” He said regretfully, shaking his head at himself. Even then, the voices of the actuators were hissing at him but he was resisting.

“Otto…..” Ailani sighed, shaking her head as the man gave her a gentle and shy smile. “I’m supposed to be saving you.” She knew what Otto was doing. His arms were way too heavy for him to be in deep water….

He cupped her cheeks and caressed them softly. “I have to do this, my little sun.” Otto whispered softly, “Think of me before this ever happened, please.” He pleaded before he pulled his hands away from Ailani’s face.

Ailani bit her lip then pulled Otto’s face towards her own, kissing him passionately. Fireworks went off in her head, but they came crashing down, setting everything aflame. This would be the first and last time she would be kissing Otto…. It scared her. Far worse than any physical trauma she’s been through in her life.

Otto let out a noise of surprise when Ailani kissed him, the actuators calming as his brain cleared yet again. All because of her. He wrapped his human arms around Ailani’s waist and deepened the kiss with a soft smile, just enjoying the last moment that they had with each other. But Otto pulled away, an almost proud smile on his face. “You’re gonna do great things, my little sun.” He whispered softly, walking to the reactor.

Ailani and Peter watched, though one of them felt more helpless than the other. Otto waved at them before he started to push the reactor down into the river, the pulling of metal actually even helped Otto since it tore open the building out to the river.

“C’mon, Ai…. We have to go.” Peter said, looking at his friend. He already swung MJ to safety but now he needed to make sure his friend was safe as well.

Ailani shook her head and gave her friend a weak smile, “It’s okay. You go to MJ.” She said softly, nudging Peter away.

She didn’t like feeling weak anymore. And, more importantly, she didn’t like when someone knew she felt weak. The weight Ailani put on herself was too much and even she knew that but she would find a way to feel okay again.

Peter sighed a little, giving Ailani a tight hug. “I love you, sis. I wanna see you tomorrow….” He whispered softly before he swung away to make sure MJ was alright.

Ailani practically broke down once Otto left, a power surge erupting from her body as she cried. Power waves of deep blue rocked the building and the surrounding water. Her eyes glowed a bright and strong blue as tears flowed down her cheeks and added to the river below her.

The love of her life was truly gone and there was nothing she could do about it….

#doctor otto octavius #otto octavius #otto octavius x oc #otto octavius x ailani tolar #alfred molina x oc #alfred molina #ailani tolar #tobey!peter parker #tobey maguire #peter parker #spiderman #raimi spider man #spiderman 2 #tis the damn season

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papirlife · 4 years

Text

Blistering Love

Okay so slowly but surely making my way through Johnny’s quest line so expect these over the top analyses of my Johnny/V for each of these jobs ( I shall apologize in advance for spamming anyone’s dash but I can’t help myself). Feel free to add on your own thoughts, I love reading about wveryone’s different takes on these two.

Okay so, Blistering Love, the first step in Johnny’s journey to reconcile with his past, and make amends to the people who cared about him, so we’re emotional from the get go.

Now, in my last post regarding ‘Chipin In’, I stated that my V, who is by all means a very distant, rational person who suffers from chronic emotional constipation, had to come to terms with a lot of things which Johnny brought to the surface when he abused their trust. One of them was wondering wether or not they had made a fool of themselves by placing their trust in him after he went on a mad bender that basically left V emotionally overwhelmed, hurt, vulnerable and pissed as all living hell.

But coming to terms with Johnny’s betrayal hadn’t been the only thing that had upset V. When they had broken down after coming back to their apartment, all the pent up emotions, the grief, the anger, the hurt, everything they had suppressed had come bubbling up to the surface but in the midst of all that V later recognizes that one of the reasons they were so upset was because they were starting to feel something FOR Johnny.

(Now this can be anything from romantic love to something completely platonic and familial but in this case for my V it was romantic).

They had started to develop a romantic interest in him, they liked him, genuinely. They cared about him, his emotions, his well-being, they cared about what happened to him, and what might happen to him depending on how everything with the relic panel out.

But they also cared about his opinion of them, even if it was only subconsciously.

So to wake up and think that everything you shared with this person, everything you had been through to get to this point in your relationship, had all been a ploy, an act to make them lower your guard so that he could take advantage of them.

For V to think that Johnny had such a low opinion of them, that he didn’t have enough respect for them to blatantly disregard their boundaries and reservations despite being intimately familiar with them, had been a huge blow.

It had made V feel like an idiot, feel used, manipulated, and most importantly it had made them wonder what the hell were they thinking when they went and fell for the Johnny Silverhand, rockerboy and professional asshole.

All these thoughts had been plaguing V’s mind in the aftermath of Johnny’s bender and it had made them doubt everything, especially his promise at Pistis Sophia.

But this had been a turning a point in the relationship for V, because this episode had forced them to confront the fact that yes, they had fallen for Johnny, that they cared about him, maybe even loved him just a little, but then have to contend with the idea that he very likely knew this already and was just taking advantage of V’s vulnerability.

But V starts to doubt this claim at Oil Fields, and by the end of their talk, while the doubts are still there, their muted, more of an afterthought than a serious consideration and eventually with time, they fade completely.

Because here’s the thing, Johnny doesn’t know that V has feelings for him, they have a mutual agreement to stay out of each other’s heads even if it’s difficult to manage and that day during V’s breakdown, it was the first time Johnny had been hit with such a tumult of emotion from V’s end that he hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of it, so while V picked up on their romantic feelings for Johnny, he was none the wiser because he was barely able to process anything during the breakdown and afterwards he made every attempt to give V their space so that they could collect themselves.

Bottom line, Johnny doesn’t know shit about how V’s feeling, which is why when V hesitates in answering Johnny about letting him take Rogue on a date, he thinks that they’re just apprehensive about giving him control again (which they are) but in reality, the idea of him and Rogue isn’t sitting well with them, and they’re just a little jealous and sad, especially because it brings to mind Johnny’s comment about V not being his type, which in my opinion is complete bull, Johnny doesn’t really have a type, he just goes for whatever looks good.

Secondly, the not my type comment comes after the jacking off comment, and it felt more like we afterthought than a serious rejection. In my canon, Johnny falls for V first, but since he doesn’t understand the concept of emotional stability, he just locks everything down and thinks that if he doesn’t acknowledge his feelings, they don’t exist.

So at this point, he’s fallen for V but he’s subconsciously in denial about the whole thing and hasn’t realized it yet.

So the comment about V not being his type, complete crap, it’s just his mind being defensive and trying to deny that he’s in love with them.

Moving on, Johnny’s whole quest line is all about trying to reclaim his past, realizing that that’s impossible and instead choosing to reconcile with the people he cared about and moving on. We see him trying to reclaim his past in ‘Chipin In’ and failing miserably but then we see him trying again, this time by attempting to rekindle a relationship with Rogue. Now, Johnny/V ship aside, the whole ‘date’ with Rogue, didn’t really feel like a date, it felt awkward, forced.

There was no chemistry between them. Personally, I think it was just an excuse for Johnny to try and reclaim his past, because the world has changed a lot in 50 years and I think this whole quest line was likely born out of anxiety and panic over the fact that everything he once knew is gone, this new world is still Night City but it’s unfamiliar territory, it’s not the same.

So his quest line involves him coming to terms with this fact, accepting it and starting anew.

But anyways back to the point, V is uncomfortable with the idea of Johnny going on a date with Rogue, because while Johnny may have fallen first, V is the one who acknowledges their feelings for him and doesn’t try to deny them unlike him. Which is why they’re so uncomfortable and disheartened by Johnny wanting to take Rogue out.

But V still thinks that he doesn’t want anything with them beyond friendship, so they put on a brave face and agree to go along with his ideas dreading it but also wanting him to be happy and show that they are willing to put their trust in him again.

So they go to SPC and let Johnny have his night. He and Rogue have their moment together, but this is where it differs from canon; in the game, rogue is the one who pulls away and stops Johnny before things go too far. But in my version, it’s Johnny who pulls away much to Rogue’s confusion and unconsciously relief.

Keep in mind, Johnny might be in love with V right now, but he’s doing his damnedest to deny and suppress his feelings, even if it is subconsciously. So when he’s kissing Rogue, it feels wrong, it feels off. It’s not right.

Because all he can think about is V. All he can think about is how much he wishes they were the one’s sitting here with him watching a shitty action movie and making fun of it, that they were the one’s he was kissing.

And that’s when he can’t do it anymore, can’t deny that he’s in love with them, and he has to stop because this is wrong, because V is the one he wants, even if he can’t put that into words right now. So he pushes Rogue away, says that he can’t, he just can’t do it, can’t do it to V and Rogue realizes what’s happened, and sees that this little merc really has managed to get through to Johnny, to help him be better.

Because he loves them, because the old Johnny didn’t possess the capacity to love, but his one does and he’s learning to accept it. In a way it’s comforting, and she’s glad he’s the one who pulled away first. It seems that they both realized something that’s been eating away at them for a while, and they’re better for it.

They talk, and Rogue finally voices the words that Johnny has been avoiding these past few months,

“You love them, don’t you?”

And now that it’s out in the open, he can’t run from it anymore so he tells her yes he does. They stay like that for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s company after so many years apart, reminiscing g about the few good times they shared, with Johnny actually apologizing for how he treated her when he was alive like he was supposed to.

Eventually, Rogue calls it a night, she kisses Johnny on the cheek, and wishes him and V a good night, before leaving SPC, contented and happy to have spent time with an old friend instead of storming away from an ex-flame like she had done in the game.

Which is when Johnny takes the pills and V wakes up back in their body, groggy and disoriented and confused when they don’t see Rogue. What they do see is Johnny looking at them with this somber, soft expression on his face, like he’s seeing them for the first time after years as he explains that things didn’t work out and she went home.

V is arguably relieved, and Johnny tries to ignore the wave relief that washes over him from V’s end of their link, convinced that they could never feel the same way he does, especially after the stunt he pulled in “Chipin In” (because y’know these two are stupid and who doesn’t like a bit of angst with their enemies to friends/idiots to lovers ‘fix-it’ fanfic?).

Anyways, they talk and call it a night and Johnny desperately tries to ignore the feelings of calm and contentedness he’s catching from V, just like he tries to ignore the way his heart skips a beat when V looks at him with an adorable little smile on their face.

He hopes to god that they can’t feel it because he can still feel something sharp near their heart. Or is it him? Who knows, it’s hard to tell at this point.

#they’re stupid your honor #I really hate the CDPR did rogue and alt so dirty #there was so much potential in this quest for rogue and Johnny to reconcile and be friends and CDPR just went nope not happening #cyberpunk 2077 #v cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 game #cyberpunk v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk #v x johnny #cyberpunk johnny #cyberpunk screenshots #johnny/v #johnny silverhand x v #johnny x v #rogue #rogue amendiares #rogue cyberpunk #cp2077

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 4 years

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as long as you like- 1

I’ve decided to start a series! so far, i’ve only written one shots, but I wanted to try something new. in this series, you and Harry are roomates. I haven’t decided how many parts this will be, but probably not very many? maybe 3?? not sure yet. anyways, here’s part one!

warnings: mention of parent death

word count: 1.2k

A soft knock roused you from that cozy place between awake and asleep. You blinked groggily, wondering at first if you had imagined the sound. You lifted your head to look at the door, surprised when it crept open slowly.

"Y/N?" Harry whispered into the dark room. "Are you asleep?" "No," you mumbled, dropping your head back to the pillow. "Need something?" You had been living with Harry for almost a year now. You had been good friends for years, and he had been there for you through the worst times of your life. Like when your father died and you had nearly failed out of college. And when you lost your job. And when you were so distressed by everything that you just went numb to the world, he had been the one to take care of you. He made sure you ate enough and stayed healthy. Most days during that time, he was the only one who could bring a smile to your face. Thanks to how good he was to you, you were doing much better now. It had been a long few months, but you were finally through to the other side. Harry had taken it upon himself to move in with you when your mental health started taking a turn for the worse. He told you he didn't want you to be alone; he didn't think it was safe. Besides, he didn't like being alone in his big house all the time. At least, that's what he told you. Secretly, you really hoped there was more to it. You had liked Harry for a long time, even before everything in your life went wrong. You had a small crush on him from the very day you met him. The weeks he spent taking care of you made you realize how strong your feelings for him really were. Now that you were in a better place, you could think more clearly about everything that had happened. About all the hours he sat with you and just let you cry. Or the nights he held you until you fell asleep. Or the way he could always make you feel better, no matter how miserable you were. You worried pretty often that he would move out. You thought that maybe, once he decided it was safe for you to be alone again, he would pack his things and go back to his own house. You didn't really have any way to make him stay, though. You already felt bad for taking up ten months of his life to take care of you during your breakdown. You didn't want to impose on his life any more than you already had. Unless, maybe, he felt the same way about you. Maybe the long nights he sat up with you had been more than just a friend taking care of a friend. Maybe he truly did like you too. You didn't want to get your hopes up. After all, he's Harry Styles. He could have anyone, go anywhere, do anything he wanted. Why would he choose you? You couldn't help but wonder, though, why he hadn't left yet. You were definitely doing better, and to be honest you didn't need him to be here anymore. Not that you wanted him to leave; quite the opposite. You wouldn't mind if he moved in completely and never left. You just worried he was only staying because he would feel guilty if he left. Of course you wanted him to stay, but not out of obligation. Only if he wanted to. "I was just- my bed's really uncomfortable," he said. You could hear the grin in his voice, even though you couldn't see his face. "Oh, how tragic," you replied. "Guess you'll have to come cuddle me." "Precisely what I was thinking," he stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You moved over, flipping back the blankets to invite him in. He got comfortable under the covers before pulling you against him. You sighed contently, relaxing against his warm body. This wasn't anything new for you. You had always been very touchy with each other, more so since he moved in. He claimed he slept much better next to someone, and you told him you did too. You weren't sure if that was entirely true, or if you just slept better next to Harry. Even during the day, you were physically affectionate with other. You would put your legs over his while you watched a movie, and he constantly rested his arms on your head or shoulders. You rolled your eyes at him every time, but you could both tell you loved it. "I don't think I've ever thanked you," you mused, tracing the ink on Harry's arm that was around you. "Thanked me for what?" "You know. Moving out of your own giant house and taking care of me for ten months." "Oh," he said, like he had forgotten all about that. "You're welcome. But I don't think it was ten months of taking care of you." You hummed in confusion. "I'd say maybe 5. The rest of the time has just been like a sleepover with my best friend." You laughed. "That's true, I guess. I've been doing really well for almost half a year now." "You have," he agreed, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Again, this action wasn't new, but you couldn’t help but hope it was more than platonic. "And I'm so proud of you." Your face warmed at his praise. "Thank you. But, um, speaking of that... I wanted to talk to you about that." He nodded against the back of your head, motioning you to continue. "I just... I don't want you to feel like you're... stuck? I guess? Here. If you want to move back to your house I would totally understand, and I wouldn't be offended or anything." He froze against you, and you could feel his muscles tensing. "Yeah... I mean, I don't want to impose or anything. I can move out anytime." "Well, it's not... like I want you to go," you decided to just be bold and tell him what you were thinking. "You're right, the last five months have been like a sleepover with my best friend, and it's been awesome. But I would get it if you wanted to get back to your normal life." "Honestly? I don't think my normal life was all that great." "Really?" He nodded, and you could feel him relaxing again. "Every day, I came home to an empty house. I cooked dinner and then I always had leftovers, because there was no one else to eat with me. Then I laid in bed for three hours until I fell asleep. I told you I sleep better next to someone, and I wasn't lying. I really like staying here with you, so if you're not sick of me by now..." "Of course I'm not sick of you," you smiled. "Stay as long as you like."

#Harry Styles #harry fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x you fanfiction #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #one direction #one direction fanfiction

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 12)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

CHAPTER 11

WITCHER OF THE NIGHT MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Protectiveness for his child of surprise may be the only thing that could get a witcher confessing to a midget with all of his pent up aggression and kept up feelings that he has been dealing since day one because he knew he wasn’t just protecting Cirilla. Deep inside, he was also protecting you from the wicked that lurks throughout the continent; trying hard to wipe you out of their dimension by hook or by crook. One kiss is all it takes for all the frustration to stop...or maybe not?

Warnings: Slight angst? MEAN Geralt. Sweet Geralt too. Soft Geralt too. (It’s kind of a tough contrast don’t you think? HAHAHA!) Jaskier feeling...things that shouldn’t be felt. Uh-oh. Reader being frustrated and infuriated. Cirilla being a sweetheart! Modern references included!

Words: 7,1k

A/N: Smut will come in Chapter 14 and 15. Yes, two chapters for the filth! Because...Why not?! (*frustrated potato*) I THINK TUMBLR IS ACTING UP. I SEE FICS WHERE I’M TAGGED BUT I AM NOT INFORMED. ALSO, I CAN’T INCLUDE PICS OR GIFS FROM MY LAPTOP! *angry growls* I’m lucky because i’ve had my banners and other gifs in my drafts last night and Tumblr is acting up today!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE!

Disclaimer: PNG’s used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi. Characters, places and said monsters aren’t from moi as well. GIF’s INCLUDED ARE CREDITED TO THOSE WHO MADE THEM! I DO NOT OWN THEM!

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

Your days have been quite a torture. A mix of embarrassment and full blown flusters when Geralt was around. It was simply a slip of the moment as you were too enamored by the witcher and his succulent lips that you oh-so-idiotically swerved when you could've went straight for the target instead.

Yet, here you were. Torturing yourself by taunting the witcher the day after the time you've began your self-assuring tease by telling Geralt what you've been feeling since the day you've arrived.

Now, you were being punished? Or probably suffering from a serious case of insomnia and the idea of missing his presence because the witcher wasn't around and it has already been days.

What if he gets hurt? You mindlessly talked to your alter ego, receiving a response that he's a tough one and a pretty skillful swordsman, so worrying about it like a wife does to her husband who was a soldier can be toned down to the slightest.

God, those lips. You were an idiotic potato for even doing the first move and eventually failing as you do so; like a five year old giving her crush a kiss. Well, pretty much five year old were more confident than you in this condition.

Warm palms spread through your shoulder, giving you a fright as you sat back and your tushie fell to the ground with a soft thud; with Kolby giving you those scary smile of his that made you want to pat his head but today, it seems like you weren't in the mood and that there was something bothering you with your thoughts wandering about Geralt. The witcher himself and only him.

You were acting like a clingy girlfriend when you both weren't lovers at all. Maybe, being delusional and creating fan-fics about your celebrity crushes back at your apartment wasn't enough that you even had to think that Geralt would want to be with you forever like how such happy endings in stories must have been.

What if he was just one horny man who wanted to hulk-smash because you were different than his flock of felines?

Well, it wasn't like you weren't acting the same way like a toey teenager when he hauled you closer to his chest; giving him the heart eyes.

Why must he be a white-haired hunk of a man who knew how to fight and knew magic? Even skillful with his sword?

"Oh---Geralt!" you shrieked out of the blue, the body heat of Jaskier's presence radiating beside you as he sat crouched with a crooked smile, "I must say, you're quite obsessed with the witcher since that awfully intimate moment you've had in the bathing room,"

You ignored the teasing tone he omitted and went on to shooting a question you've been bothering him since the day Geralt was out and about, "Where's Geralt?" hence, the bard could already hear the tiny whines for the presence of the witcher and he couldn't help but scoff.

"You're hurting my poor heart for asking Geralt when it's actually a pretty handsome bard in front of you,"

Your lips instantaneously jutted out in a sad pout, exhaling a long sigh as you shifted your legs into a criss-cross position; staring into space, "I need Geralt," pause and another sigh, "---I miss Geralt,"

The sudden strong yearning was becoming worse each day without Geralt around. It felt incomplete, unsatisfying and utterly frustrating that he wasn't with you, nor can you even sleep without feeling those fingers of his raking your hair even though it was only done one time.

Heck, you were worried that maybe Geralt used magic within you when you've taken your slumber because the feelings you have for him was turning insufferable, irksome when you want something but has never been given and utmost round the bend.

All you wanted and ever asked for was Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. Geralt. In which, confused the bard because you've become too attached after the Djinn incident.

"This is certainly a huge relationship development if you're finding him that miserably all the time," Jaskier stated the obvious, his laugh sounding disturbed because of your new personality that he'd noticed; or maybe you were one of those types of women?

Though, what baffles him the most is that there are days where you actually don't try to find him; like you were being just you and not one needy lady whom asks for only the witcher when he'll be coming home. Just the timid, naive small rat he knew.

There were also strange instances whenever you sleep back in Geralt's chambers; as he was writing another new epic he'd ought to create, the bard heard you whimpering and sobbing like you were in pain when it was already two in the morning.

He'd wanted to check up on you. Though, he was quite doubtful because a woman deserves whatever space and respect; thinking that maybe you were spending some wonderful time with yourself and had the pleasant time to take it while Geralt wasn't around. But, your whimpers were something else. It was a mixture of pain and distress.

Therefore, Jaskier tried to ignore your hushed outcries, although he could technically hear it from the other side of the room. The draft of his epic now forgotten as he fidgeted; he went on with dipping the tip of his feather on the ink and write nothing on his piece of parchment.

After hearing those nightly weeps of yours, the bard never left your side. Especially when you were alone in the morning, thinking that you were having a mental breakdown and actually just missing the witcher.

He could do just that. Distract you with his talkative self and so he did.

"A witcher needs to do what he always does," the bard reassured, waving off Kolby who tried sniffing his ear.

You've snapped out of your stupor, giving the bard a stink eye as he was wailing his arms around to wave Kolby away from assaulting his face, "I thought you were his travel companion? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be protecting him as well?"

Jaskier continued his bellyaching, "You naughty Hirikka!" he scolded the doe-eyed Hirikka; the creature abruptly planting his tushie on the ground as he growled at the bard as the toubadour mockingly growled back as well, a sharp bark coming from the Hirikka, "---What? With a lute? Kill beasts with my singing?"

"Then, what are you even here for?" you deadpanned. Voice all nonplussed as you apathetically gave the bard your gaze.

Jaskier made a fuss, shifting on his crouched position and turned to completely give you his full attention, giving you back a stinky lour, "How rude of you! I wonder why the djinn has never sent you home!"

You had your cheeks hollowed looking like a chipmunk as you ignored his whingeing, "What if he dies?"

Jaskier was fighting off the feeling of rolling his eyes for your worry. Geralt has dealt with lots of beasts already and his current hunt wouldn't earn him a sweat as he'd already killed a lot of its kind, "He never does. Cease the worry. He can kill beasts even when he sleeps," the bard gave an abrupt pause, gesturing with his finger as he pointed it to you to add more effect as you tried to understand his point, "---Unless, if its you he's sleeping with then we all die from the beast! Cirilla and I know how his senses are disappointing because you're like the silver to his...his...monster?"

"He isn't a monster, Jaskier." you blankly pressed.

"Who even said he was?" he gave you a guileless shrug of his shoulders. Jaskier clicked his tongue, pretty blue eyes fixated on you as it twinkled along the sunny day while you sat in the middle of their living room, "---Besides, he's hunting down a bruxa for the whole week. My dagger won't be useful for the darn beast,"

A Bruxa. You hummed to yourself in understanding; remembering that Geralt has told stories about the monster. It was a type of vampire that takes on the appearance of a dark-haired, young woman whose natural form is that of a large black bat, with sharp fangs and claws. Technically, their form of vampires weren't all glitz and glimmer that they glitter against the sunlight nor are they rich dudes that were bloody pale, attractive and screams like a banshee.

"You have a dagger?" you grilled the bard. He gave you a nod and a laid-back answer, "Well, Geralt has given me one; taught me how to use it too,"

Jaskier hasn't left your side from the moment you woke up. He had been keeping you company like an injured person. It kept you cynical because it even got to the point of following you where ever you may go; which made you skeptical about his whole tailing the midget while Geralt wasn't around.

But, you were thankful. It got you distracted by not noticing that heavy, rattling feeling inside your chest.

"Smile!" you aimed the camera of your cellphone at the appalled trouvère who had his eyeballs popping out of his eye sockets as he was struck dumb, arms crossed in front of him, shielding himself from your digital phone.

Stifling titters wanted to come out of your lips when you've received a scared bard by aiming your camera at him. Jaskier tried peeking to see your guffawing self treating him as a laughing stock. He cocked his head to the side in suspicion as he heard a loud 'click', dropping his arms to the side as he gave a frown because you were giggling back at him.

"What's that?" you've both sat on the dining table; close to each other. He'd scooted closer, trying to see what were you doing as you continued to tap on your phone that still had no time nor date listed. "A phone," you simply said; focused on the phone at hand as Jaskier's curiosity got the best of him, grasping nothing but the idea that your so called phone was out of this world and utterly magnificent when you've showed him the picture you've taken. The kaleidoscope of colors complimenting each picture which fascinated him.

"Is it a weapon?" he asked out of the blue, too absorbed by the phone on your hand as you've felt Jaskier lean in close, his hair touching yours as you were too concentrated with the thing you had in your hand.

Jaskier coincidentally raised his line of vision to look at your face. It was thoroughly unintentional especially when he'd seem to never break his eyes away from you; like he'd seen something worth to be stared at.

He didn't mean to outstare all of a sudden.

"I can throw it at your head, though my phone might be the one breaking rather than your head," you sent a harmless bon mot, being all smiles as you've sent a teasing jest.

Tranquil silence. Totally impossible for the bard to achieve with his chatty mouth. You've given him a look which was entirely a flicker of pure impeccability when you've lately realized that he was staring at you with a twinkle of his pretty ocean blue eyes.

The bard awkwardly cleared his throat, his face suddenly feeling warm when you've taken the time to look into his eyes. "Jaskier," he clicked his tongue and swallowed the ticklish feeling down his throat and avoided those eyes of yours while he'd pulled back from how the proximity was enough to remember Geralt who would tell him to 'fuck off.' for at least a thousand times, "Would you mind if I record your songs?"

He blinked back in curiosity. Record. Jaskier didn't know what it meant, "What? I cannot fathom whatever it is you're saying, rat---"

You've given him a wide grin, beaming before him with a twinkle of your eyes. "Just play your lute for me, will ya'?"

Thus, Jaskier did in a fraction of a second; like a demand from the queen. He did, surprisingly.

A distraction was best at the weird pain that spreads through your chest; along the valley of your breasts because of the realization that Geralt wasn't around. Your nightly weeps needed to have explanations because feeling the scorching pain that radiates off the symbol wasn't normal.

Including the thirst you had for the witcher himself; craving for his touches and existence. Alarming you that what you wanted from him wasn't just profound affection but also his virility as well and even a part of his soul.

The princess of Cintra was bored to tears. She'd pleaded and gave you the puppy eyes; thoroughly begging to wander through the woods and catching fireflies. Hearing something familiar that actually existed just like the same ones in earth amazed you because it was something that you've never get to see ever because of pollution and its habitat being endangered with the year you were in.

Apparently, you've followed her orders. Cirilla didn't want Jaskier to come because it's a bonding that only you and Cirilla should experience. Despite of how pushy he was, worried that Geralt would get mad at him for even letting you wander in the woods all by yourselves. He eventually agreed with a sigh and a bothered expression; telling you both that when the frog croaks in chorus, it was time to go home.

You've wondered, imagining how their frogs actually croak in chorus. Yet, having to experience it was rather much different than imagining as you've seen the whole scene unfold before you. A captivating sigh that had you cooing in the middle of the woods as there were balls of light that blinked within the thone ground like Christmas lights twinkling in the 25th of December.

It was beautiful.

Cirilla seemed to be rather used to it as she explained how it was already the croak of the night, her feet never leaving the ground as she was joyously catching a firefly that glowed with the frogs, swinging her jar till one was captured, "Is everything okay, Y/N? Oh! A firefly!" she excitedly mussed, giving you a glance and noticed that your expressions were twisted in a way that says you weren't comfortable.

You've given your symbol a caress; trying to relieve the utter worry and fury that was spreading through your chest with no reason. Why were you mad? At whom? on what? Also, the uncomfortable feeling came with knowing that Geralt already came home. He was finally home.

Howbeit, you didn't know why your intuitions tell you that he was finally home.

"Yes. It's just that...Geralt's home," you hesitatingly spoke, shaking your head to wash away the sensations as you honestly told the beaming Ashen child, "---and I feel worried even though I should be excited that he's already home,"

Cirilla was unaware of your worried face as she went on with the jests, "Told you he likes you---!" the princess teased, laughing when she'd caught a glimpse of your flustered face; remembering the awful kiss you've done back in the bath room when you were with Geralt, "---Midget."

"Not you too, Cirilla." your face was burning in a trail of blush. You've quietly shrieked as she'd gave a teasing poke on your side; making you jump, "I was just playing with you!"

All was done and everyone was left satisfied. For the princess, that was what she felt. Great elation by having what she wanted all the time. Except for you, who appeared to be in a discordance when you took your trek back home.

The witcher was back earlier than he expected to. Unexpectedly running into some of the royal guards of Kaedwen and creating a skirmish with the knights who disturbed his peace after killing the bruxa he'd been hunting.

They had reasons for their disturbance. Conniving reasons just for him to agree for the favors that he has been asked to do; or wishes from a royal command that Geralt never accedes.

Bargains of giving enough coins that would last him for half a year, the cost of token higher than the previous deal which included women, coins and ale.

He was done with that lifestyle. Well, before you came around; that is.

The witcher was as stubborn as how the townspeople have been saying. They've came to the point of calling him a monster for butchering their fellow men in which Geralt never gave a damn about it because they were destined to die anyway by what evil they've chose to have.

He didn't need people giving him another moniker. He wouldn't let it live down if he'll have one but with just another city he'd tried to save. Some of the children and women they've abducted were homeless, taken in force or had slave contracts; saying they were owned by noblemen paying for their life despite of how they didn't want to agree in the first place.

The Butcher of Kaedwen? Blaviken? What else did he needed to do and have all those infamous monikers created for him?

Until, the men mentioned and threatened to kidnap a small woman who Tybalt had stabbed on the hip that made Geralt jump on his horse because he'd also heard them draw their swords; ought to bring bloodshed when the witcher never complies.

Hence, which is why he was now in the base of their home. All exhausted, droopy, worried and furious because you and Cirilla weren't home when he'd arrived. His temper rising off the roof.

Jaskier has received a sharp cuss from him and an intense rebuke from the witcher who came fully in Bruxa blood and a little bit splashes of human blood which answered the bard's question that a Bruxa hasn't been the only thing he'd encountered on the way home.

You promised Jaskier that you'll be back as soon as possible. However, it took you both an hour after the frogs have croaked in the night and a scary witcher who wore his all black armor and had a peevish expression on his face which explains the heavy feeling dropped on your chest; doubling more when you'd seen the impetuosity radiating off the brawny man.

Geralt heavily marched to meet you midway along the meadow; with Jaskier motioning something behind the witcher with his hands like a cat clawing and slicing his throat with his thumb when you couldn't understand what he wanted to say.

"Geralt---" the princess started, reading his rigid posture and instantly knowing what his current thoughts were. But, she was cut-off by a seething, curt query start of his interrogation.

This wasn't what you expected from him. Your imagination was that you'll try and get a hug out from the witcher himself, thankful that he'd arrived safely and with complete limbs; not this. Not an angered, bloody Geralt who had his nose flaring.

You were rooted on the ground; your mouth closing once he'd started to act volatile after a week of not seeing him.

"Where have you wandered in the forest in this wild hour of the night, Ciri? Y/N?"

Ah. Y/N. Not midget, but Y/N. You were now Y/N to him. Well, that kind of hurt. You didn't know that hearing him say your name in such fiery stung your heart; such sudden frustration riling your patience. The concern and melancholic desire to see him changing into ire.

You've shut your mouth, a forced small tremble of your lips turning into a guileless smile. Tilting your chin and realizing he was pretty much taller and utterly intimidating when mad. Those amber eyes of his that swirl in unfamiliar ferocity for wandering around the woods.

The witcher couldn't help it. After meeting some of the royal guards, his protectiveness took over as he traveled all the way home in haste to check his family if they were safe.

Especially you as he'd heard one of the cavaliers threaten to abduct you soon.

The naive pretense you've wanted to use through his anger wavered when you've heard your voice faintly quiver, "She's--She's with me, she's safe, Geralt. We were just catching fireflies or whatever this is called in your world---"

Albeit, it seemed like the witcher had a closed mind and didn't want to hear your explanations as he cut you off with a seething truth; his amber eyes blazing as his jaw was clenched so tight, "You think you can protect her?"

You swallowed the hurt for the truth that was sent out in the open, catching you off-guard by the harsh statement that was bound to be told because you were saved twice; like a princess who needed rescuing all the darn time.

Thus, it added more stones to the weight dragging your heart to the ground.

"I--I--" a pathetic stutter has been uttered before the angered witcher seemed to have lost his temper and lashed out on you. He was chirlish and brusque as he does so; like how everyone pointed him out to be and this was the first time you've seen the witcher acting the way he is now, "You can't because you also need saving," pause. "---Your rash behavior can get the both of you dying!"

The latter shook his head in thwart, his gaze burning you in a way that made you want to turn into dust.

"It was fucking dangerous out there!"

The more he gnarled felt like he was blaming you on whatever caused his life to turn the way it is; even the desire for Cirilla to wander in the woods to catch fireflies was all on you to be brought on your shoulders. You huffed out a shaky breath, disbelieving the way he was throwing his surly attitude towards you made you puff your cheeks in utter vexation; wanting nothing but to scream back at the witcher.

Jaskier has managed to saunter towards where Cirilla is, her eyes completely panic-stricken by Geralt's rage; watching between the both of you and seeming to want to step in between but it seems like there were also other issues as well that made you both angry at each other. Matters that should be truly said and not be kept on the inside.

"Ciri, come with me." the bard hushed, catching the princess by the arm and dragging her away till he brought her to the door way, around a hundred meters away from the pair as the both of you tried to withstand each other's glares.

She struggled against his hold, "But, Jaskier! It was my fault! It's not Y/N's fault. Why is she being scolded when I should be the one who must be? Geralt shouldn't be mad at her! What if he---"

"He won't hurt her physically, Princess. He never does. When did he ever hurt us no matter how irking we are? You know Geralt more than anyone in this world,"

Kolby was howling inside their home, his instincts knowing that there was something happening which added more noise to the argument you had with the butcher of Blaviken; shaking the night with your kept frustrations against each other.

"---He just knows how to ruin everything with his teetering, strong feelings. He isn't the best at expressing it but you know the lout knows how to care," he went on, trying to dispel her fears for the both of you, thinking that you would eventually hurt each other with heart-breaking words, "---He'll deal with it. Come on now,"

Jaskier ushered the princess to come inside. She was hesitant at first, giving you both glances before he pulled her in; giving you both the space that is needed. The bard knew that Geralt won't start talking in a sensible manner when they're around. He wouldn't try and open his heart with people hearing what he wanted to truly say.

Your eyes started to cloud, the sensitivity of yourself beginning to take over. One fact about you was that you didn't like people yelling like you were an idiot; as well as people who were mad at you for something you've done which adds more regret to the grief, "I know I'm useless. You didn't need to yell it out loud." you deadpanned, biting the insides of your lips; trying hard not to start sobbing because you've already felt the familiar tremble.

"---You know I would spare my life just for hers because she's a princess, Geralt." your voice got the best of you, quaking in a way that got the witcher knowing that you were in the midst of crying; but somehow reluctant to break down because of his doing, "---Is this how badly you want to kick me out of your house?"

You've blinked and try to ignore the warmth pooling around your eyes, never giving him the opportunity to see right through you before you've snapped your eyes back up to the witcher who had a grimace as he stared you down. The twinkle of your eyes that was an epitome of stars in the night was now loosing its gleam and it was because of him. He'd done something wrong again; like how he was used to. Mistakes that seem to go along with his name.

Geralt had his nose scrunched; having another set of his internal battles within himself as he watched you pour out your anger at him like he'd done to you. Sharing each other's frustration since the days prior that you weren't there for each other.

Your weeping at night. He'd knew. The witcher felt what you were feeling every damn night even though he wasn't with you and he didn't know why.

"I've had Ciri close to me! You know I wouldn't let her get hurt by anyone especially from the people of Nilfgaard!" Your raving was ceaseless; impulsively bringing out pasts you heard from Cirilla and Jaskier as they've tried to tell you important things that should be avoided or was evident of danger. They were the only ones who were openly alarming you about them and never the witcher.

"How did you know about that?" Geralt's scowl grew tighter, his question sounding like a vibrating snarl that warned you he was utterly vexed.

"Because your surprise child and Jaskier had the respect to tell me what's happening in this world you're in!"

You've felt yourself choking from the hysteria raging in your veins, angrily snapping at the witcher who also appeared to be in total dismay as his scowl turned into a frown; his gaze solely on you alone, never leaving your sight. Fists were tightened on either side of you, wanting to throw things out of madness for how rude he was when you remembered how he'd wanted to kiss you back at that certain day.

He was confusing you by how he was acting tonight which also left you enraged for his complicated hot and cold demeanor.

"I don't even know where I am! What this dimension is called! Nor do I know people! Who's bad or who's good! I don't know your map or any of your kingdom!"

"You don't need to know any of that!" because the more you knew about the continent, the more it can bring darkness to you. He'd thought that keeping some things within the family was better because he didn't want you to get involved by whatever problems they may bring.

The witcher wanted you to himself. He wants to protect you from any cruelty that the continent may offer because you were his little secret.

You were his midget. His.

You've roughly bit your lips, fighting the urge for the first tear to fall; howbeit, it was a traitor as you rolled your eyes and avoided his amber peepers searching through the emotions that you oh-so wanted to convey. But, all that was evident was disappointment, anger, sadness and grief because of expecting something that wasn't supposed to be expected from a monster-slayer.

Perhaps, hoping to see through what his good heart could offer was too delusional for you.

"---Don't worry, witcher. The princess comes first before I do. I know that and it should be as well. Thanks for making me come to my senses that I'm useless and a burden for you! I'll leave tomorrow morning so your baggage of having someone needed protecting would lessen on your shoulders," you kept a straight face, blankly looking away as inscrutable as possible; not giving him the benefit of seeing you mourning for the stab of your heart.

Mayhaps, wishing for the fondness to be reciprocated by a witcher was too much of a dream for you. Definitely too high to achieve nor hoped for.

Geralt deeply growled, his forehead creased like he was hurting. You've never seen the pain that spread through his face, letting the emotion he's been keeping to himself burst like he was showing vulnerability.

He didn't like it when you've deadpanned and called him a witcher. It sounded too cold and distant, like he was made to only be seen as a witcher to you, a stranger, a mutated human who slaughters beasts and nothing else.

"Don't call me that!" he snarled, invading the space you've had and your forehead was now in line with his massive chest. You peered up at him with the same ire pooling through your peepers, your gaze hostile as you spoke with thick sarcasm.

"Aren't you a witcher? What do you want me to call you, then? Your job description changed now?"

Geralt roughly breathed out of his nose, his broad shoulders going up and down as he was controlling those emotions that he had which always seemed to be stronger and uncontrollable. He narrowed his blazing amber eyes, genuinely staring into you as he kept his hands to himself; on either side of him. Wanting nothing but to grab onto your face and make you believe that he was earnest about not wanting to be called that when it came to you.

"Don't...Don't make it sound like I'm just a trifling matter to you,"

You scoffed out of the blue for his wishes that he suddenly seem to want, "But, aren't I also just a trifling matter to you, witcher? Or do you want to be called in full name? Geralt of Rivia? Is that your full name? Oh! Maybe, the butcher of Blaviken, then?"

The sound of you calling him witcher felt so distant because he knew that, for you; he was Geralt and not a witcher who people see him as a mutant who kills beasts. To you, he was more than human and less than a witcher. In your mind, he was Geralt. Only Geralt and nothing else because he was a man whom you see that had a good heart and hearing you call him with his monikers was shattering his stronghold.

"No!" he suddenly groaned out of the blue. You gave him the death stare, stepping a foot away from the man himself as his presence was too bewitching in the rage of fire that you both cast upon each other tonight, "What do you mean no?!"

"No," the witcher hoarsely repeated, snapping his head to the side as he gravelly spat out profanities out of those mouth that you've been dying to kiss.

"---Fuck! Don't."

You shook your head in utter disappointment. Your face in a baffling twist, "Are you a broken record or something? no? don't, what?"

He had his share of breaths; seeming to be straightening his thoughts before lowly muttering out his next words, his jaw still clenched as he turned his head to see those eyes waving the white flag like he was submitting and wanted all the anger to just vanish.

"Don't spare your life for anyone, midget." it was straight to the point, giving you what he wanted you to hear.

Yet, because of his unstable attitude; you've chose to weigh down the options as to what his words meant. Choosing the platonic sense of a thought before you even smash your heart into pieces by praying that he meant something more.

"But, she's a princess---"

"---Because you are also important,"

You could see the anger dissipating from his glowing eyes; shifting into such ire that also had a hint of dithering and abrupt acquiescence. Your heart skipped a beat when his words echoed inside your heated head.

'Because you are also important,' Howbeit, your assertion for the truth had you turning his words into the chaste part of options.

"Cirilla is more important than me, Geralt. She's your child of surprise. You know I would risk my life for her. No one would really care for my death anyway. I'm probably already dead for my family back in earth," you scorned, huffing out a breath that hitched when he started giving you the doubts again.

The witcher appeared to be more frustrated as time goes by, your denial making it all too difficult for him to explain, "I.....care!" he prolonged the simplicity in his words, his teeth showing as he gritted and deeply snarled, "I do care, midget. I care about you!"

"Ah." you impassively muttered, eyes vacant as there was a void hidden behind those peepers of yours, "---you mean that because I'm your responsibility. Noted." and a simple shrug of your shoulders was enough to draw a stressed-out growl from the man who kept your heart on the line, always.

"Fuck--no! Not that!"

A simple shake of your head and a chance to leave his presence was all it could take for Geralt to grab onto your wrists, surprising you to say the least. His hold on you was tight, never letting go as you tried and uselessly battled with his strength.

You skeptically sent him a sharp look as he appeared to be groaning out deep within those sturdy chest of his that was still clothed in armor, "Let go, Geralt. I swear to God, if you don't let go and use magic or your Harry Potter slash witcher styled---Wingardium Levi-O-sa on me---!"

"You know I will never do that!" he fumed, his expressions telling you that he was offended by even thinking he would hurt you in any way, disregarding your modern references that he simply couldn't understand. Therefore, Geralt carried on with his kept feelings and raved.

"You...You are important to me! I care because you're you..."

You've exhaled a huff of frustration, never believing his words that was always been said whenever he was caught up in a moment.

"You're speaking in riddles that I couldn't comprehend, my lord." a mock of his accent made you done for. The deathless struggle you've tried to escape in his hold; both hands prying him away but he was utterly stronger than you imagined him to be.

You were utmost naive that it was making him want to just kiss you hard for you to understand his feelings.

The witcher breathed fire. Features thoroughly livid for your naivity and denial, "You're too fucking blind and too naive!" he barked, completely infuriated for your nonsense.

You loudly whined as you tried wrenching his hand away. It was better to escape his presence because you could sense that the more you stayed, the more you would forgive this man in a heartbeat with his words that seem to confuse you.

It took one more struggle and a stumble of your own foot for how forcibly you were trying to get away his hold that Geralt swiftly hung that arm he holds; slipping it around his broad shoulders, catching you completely off-guard as he leaned down entirely to your height; your eyes bulging out of your eye sockets for his surprising gesture.

"Witcher---!!!"

However, those flamed words were forgotten as you've felt those pillowy, succulent lips of his fall onto yours in a feathery touch that got your insides growing wild.

Your eyes were all open, soul flying out of its chambers when you've felt his warm lips falling in between yours. A fluttering connection of both bodies that got your body turning rigid before he'd tried to snap you out of your shock and softly kissed tips of your lower lip, his fingers gently grabbing onto the side of your face; thumb falling into the tip of your chin to chide you into kissing him back.

He hoped he wasn't just imagining things; thoroughly thinking that what he felt about you can somehow also be reciprocated and that it wasn't just him.

You've eventually given a satisfied sigh and fluttered your eyes closed, entirely giving into what your heart desires; molding your vermillion to his with a soft pucker of your lips and your other hand falling onto the side of his chiseled face that got a low grumble of his chest out of him from the tender touch of your fingers he'd anticipated to feel.

You were finally kissing Geralt and your heart seemed to be flying out of its cage.

The kiss was how you imagined it to be. Soft and candied like a precised choreography dance that was satisfying for both of your beings; yet aching for more. Your breath hitched when you've felt the tip of his luscious tongue caress your lips in a way that got the warmth pooling in your stomach turn wild.

You've snapped your eyes open and broke the kiss before it escalated further; hardly pulling away with a faint smooch that got you wanting another.

It was definitely difficult to believe. Before the witcher could even flutter his eyes open, you've timidly puckered; your face boiling in such a high temperature as you reach for his lips, planting another chaste kiss that got Geralt in a small beam that you were blinded with; finding your actions adorable as if you were timid of kissing him.

So, it was real. You've kissed him again and he let you. The feelings were actually true.

He was met with those ingenuous flicker inside your eyes as you stared back at him, a sheepish smile and a coy twinkle of your eyes got him sighing; breathing in your delectable scent and never believing you actually felt the same way, "I am...done leaving people," Geralt breathed through his nose, whispering sweet and soft nothings that got your heart twerking inside your chest.

The latter tenderly leaned his forehead against yours; eyelids shut closed as he deeply murmured. The anger simmering out of the way once he'd gotten to kiss those lips that he wanted to have a taste since the day he'd felt something for you, "---Nor am I done being left by people who are important to me,"

You felt his gentle fingers graze your chin, the dimples of his nose tickling yours; urging for just another harmless kiss that tells you it all isn't a dream you've forged to create.

"Forgive me," he gravelly whispered, hearing your thoughts as to how you wanted to be kissed; though, it was just Geralt and his self that couldn't get enough of you.

The witcher planted another uncluttered kiss to the tips of your vermillion, catching your breath away as you blinked repeatedly to get a hold of yourself when he'd pulled away with a mischievous grin, "I...didn't mean to yell,"

You've bit your lips; trying to fight yourself from squealing hard at what just happened, feeling your toes tickling your bashful heart. You took a glimpse of those amber eyes that held a roguish gaze to it, "You're...You're mean!" was all you managed to say, eyes downcast and your nose scrunched from being utterly cringe; feeling his soft lips still lingering.

Oh dear, you weren't going to sleep without squealing for the next couple of hours.

"I know," his dashing face was filled of remorse. You've given him a blink of surprise, astounded by his sheer admission towards being a big meanie for yelling at you.

A soft narrow of your eyes was the only thing he'd receive and he did the same way, his amber eyes bright and free from pique as he cocked his head to the side, a dubious impression from how you were still giving him that hostile but shy gaze of yours.

"You're still mad," the ivory-haired witcher straightened his back as he stated as a matter of fact with that rough baritone timbre of his voice. You ungracefully cleared your throat for the second time; his gaze heavy on you and it was making your heart turn wild.

"And the night is dark, Geralt." was enough for Geralt of Rivia to trail behind you like a guilty puppy as you hurriedly jogged back to their house; your nose scrunched to the extent as you delicately held onto your lips in which the witcher has kissed; your face burning from the blush that wanted you squealing out loud.

"---Utterly mad." he scoffed to himself as he groaned in regret, rolling his eyes from how you were brushing him aside.

Geralt tailed behind with a frown on his face, "Forgive me, midget." he repeated in a stern but clearer tone, utterly bothered by how you were disregarding him after all he confessed.

The door to their house were sprightly shut closed when Jaskier and Cirilla left the hatch ajar. It was Jaskier's idea to eavesdrop over the both of you and much to say, he'd already awaited for this moment to happen because of the tension that seemed palpable by everyone who surrounded you both.

"That's character development right out there, Cirilla." the bard peeked out of the small opening, watching how Geralt has leaned down to give you the kiss that was bound to happen.

Cirilla moved away from the doorway, an incredulous haze of her eyes as she had her hands on her hips, "I thought Geralt didn't know romance, Bard?"

Jaskier didn't back down from her sassy gestures and also did the same as he began to reason out, standing away from the door way when he'd heard Geralt asking you for forgiveness. The princess of Cintra has a smug look on her face, teasing the bard, "Some people improve when it's been a long time since his heartbreak---Stop judging me like that!"

He'd seen you walk back to the house, a fathomless cringe carving your features which looked like you were constipated as the witcher jogged up from behind, calling you out in the middle of the night. Jaskier was quick to shut the door closed for the second time, hauling an arm around Cirilla as he pulled her wrists till she was crouching with the bard and Kolby, acting like they were playing Knucklebones and not snooping over you and Geralt, "---Also, act like you didn't see them kiss!"

Y’ALL ARE PROLLY WAITING FOR CHAPTER 14 AND 15 NOW. 😂😂 (Strikethrough means I couldn’t tag you, bb. Please do check your settings. 🥰 Thank you!)

Taglist: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernatural @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @winter-moons @cheesecakeisapie @silverkitten547 @angelofthorr @carrieannewaywardson

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coffeeandcalligraphy · 4 years

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Weeping Statue | Feeding Habits Update #6 & let’s chat about quitting writing

Hello! Are we back for another Feeding Habits update (finally)?? Let’s chat chapter 7, Weeping Statue.

Just a reminder: This is my original work and plagiarism of any form will not be tolerated.

Can we talk about struggle? Because this chapter was IT. I believe I started it in late July and finished it earlier this month. I’ve taken my time with chapters before, but this was next level--the amounts of changes I went through in one chapter was astronomical, and reminded me of drafting chapter three earlier in the summer. I went through so many stages writing this chapter: from enjoying it, to feeling no joy from writing at all, to nearly quitting this book altogether!

Scene A:

Harrison and his mother Suzanna simultaneously avoid each other over breakfast after he failed to return home the night previous

She lowkey calls him out (calling out his denial of missing Lonan)

Scene B:

Harrison goes to a farmhouse owned by Theodore Harvey, a friend of his mother’s, to drop off the rescued litter of kittens from chapter 6. He realizes he is missing one kitten and concludes Reeve has stolen one after dinner the night previous.

Scene C:

Harvey invites Harrison inside for coffee where he admits his coffee machine is broken.

Harrison fixes the coffee machine, and is hired by Harvey to flip the rest of the farmhouse as he and his wife are moving.

Scene D:

On his way home, Harrison stops at a gas station where he buys a bouquet of tulips for his mother, a dog collar for the puppy he found in the kitten litter, a pack of gum, pastries, and sunscreen before heading to a beach.

At the onset of a lightning storm, Harrison swims in the ocean and has an epiphany--he decides to accept his miserable life (a development!)

Scene E:

After the beach ordeal, Harrison returns to his apartment ready to accept the plainness of his daily life when an old ghost from his past (his! ex!) Lonan appears to be having dinner with Suzanna

This chapter brought so many things. A) many... breakdowns lol (I cried a lot!), B) many false epiphanies that wound me back into ruts, C) a desire to quit this series that was just as terrifying as it sounds and D) an ideology I never would’ve gotten on my own. Just have to thank my sister Sarah for telling me a few weeks ago after I insisted that I knew what needed to logically happen but couldn’t write it no matter how hard I tried. She said: “It’s not about what works, it’s about what you want” << literally changed my philosophy on writing, even as someone who tries their best to advocate for care and enjoyment in writing. Not sure if it’s because of the timing when she said this, but I’d probably never had made it out of the rut without having this said to me.

I was *not* planning at all to have my boys reunite so soon in the book. Technically, it is not very soon and we are almost done the book, but for some reason, I really didn’t think it would work so early because I felt Harrison’s POV was so undeveloped already (I still think it is). HOWEVER, the fact of the matter is: it was not working at all. I knew exactly what I needed to do to get to point A to Z but the thing about writing is, it is not formulaic! I tried to make fit what I thought worked, but as time progressed and I immensely struggled, less and less did I want what worked. Writing was miserable and that’s not what I want writing to be for me. So I took Sarah’s advice, and I did what would make me happy, and that was, and has always been, seeing my boys interact.

Now that I’ve finished this chapter, I’m not sure if I made the right decision! I have yet to write the boys interacting so I don’t know if it will work, but what I liked about this method is that it freed me from this constriction I’d written myself into and opened a new avenue to do something that DOESN’T “work” for the story but that does work for me. To me, this project, this series, is more important to me than making something “work”. Sustaining my health and happiness (which were declining on the path I was on) is critical for me and my writing journey.

EDIT: by the time I’m editing this post, I have written the boys interacting and haha yep this was the right decision! Was doubting myself for a sec, added in a lil robbery, and now it’s all good (oops)

Excerpts:

I don’t have too many for you because this chapter does need an edit to “set” it in place (right now it feels like liquid Jello that has been in the fridge but is yet to set up). I know it needs one more scene but I cannot :) write :) what :) it :) needs :) no matter how hard I have tried, and so I am giving that section of the story a break instead of over-kneading it and toughening up the dough unnecessarily.

Here is part of the opening scene! There are things I don’t like about this but I am trying not to self-hate, so !!!

The next morning, Harrison gets up at dawn to drop the kittens off at the farm, and Suzanna makes coffee for one. This is unusual for both—Harrison rarely leaves the apartment, and Suzanna always makes coffee for two. In his room, Harrison combs his hair and twists his earring, its blue gem pearling in dribbles of sunlight. In the kitchen, Suzanna stirs coffee like it’s wronged her. Harrison dabs cologne onto his throat and blinks off his hangover. Suzanna flecks her spoon onto the tabletop so it leaves an egg of amber on the surface.

When he approaches the kitchen, Harrison pretends he does not see his mother and his mother pretends she does not see him. They move like this, repelled, one moving left, the other moving right, one opening the top cupboard, the other opening the bottom.

Harrison stops at a convenience store and buys a hodge-podge of things (also the beach scene which yes mirrors the last scene in Lonan’s POV hehe I indulge myself):

He picks up the best bouquet of fuchsia tulips, a collar for the dog he left in his bedroom even though it’ll be weeks until she’s big enough to fit in it, a pack of spearmint gum he doesn’t need, a package of pastries, and a tube of sunscreen—SPF 30. He almost drops every item at least once on his way up to the register, and definitely drops them when his receipt is spitting from the machine and the store clerk says she likes his earring—is it vintage—and he nearly vomits in the parking lot, trained against the hood of the taxi—is it even his taxi—the plastic bag teetering from his wrist, rain coiling against his cheek, the air so humid, his clothes so heavy, it is no wonder the next place he ends up is the beach.

It is never smart to swim during a storm. If he thinks hard enough, his mother’s voice warns him to keep from the shore, stand behind the yellow line, stay safe, stay where you are, don’t run under a tree, and even more, don’t run into the water. He does everything wrong in an even worse order—dollops sunscreen into his palm before opening the pastry so his teeth freckles with zinc, chews the gum and the pastry at the same time so his tongue becomes a slime of crumbs, rests the tulips too close to the shoreline so they wilt under a wave, misplaces the dog collar in his own left hand, and dives into the water fully-clothed.

Harrison getting very angsty about Lonan’s future (which he’s predicted completely wrong haha):

He will die alone. Reeve will not think of him again and he will deserve that. Somewhere in the city with the missing kitten, drinking bottles of holy water because there is no drink more fitting for a woman so sacred. His mother will miss him only briefly, and then return to her daily life of no longer needing to clean up after him. Maybe she’ll find the tulips. Put them on display until they wither, then use their carcasses as fertilizer. Save electricity. Use the coffee machine less. Downsize to a smaller, cheaper, prettier apartment with arched walkways and stained-glass windows. Harvey will think he is a fluke who missed his first day of work and will never think of him again. The dog isn’t old enough to recognize him. Suzanna will give her the collar. And Lonan will continue his life in Las Vegas, tottering after Eliza, refilling her wine, getting neon at house parties, watching French silent films without captions because he’s probably learned another language, cut his hair, gotten a tattoo, learned how to cross-stitch, bought life insurance, a yacht, a coastal summer home, learned how to play the mandolin, perfected his lamb sous vide. He’s probably married. Him and Eliza family-planning. He’ll expand a future, and Harrison will do the opposite. There is something freeing in being unmissed.

Lightning snaps across the sky like a wishbone, sounds like the prick of tambourines from under the water. Everything turns violet—the clouds, his skin, the waves. Tomorrow will be a better day, as he sinks lower into the current, tomorrow will be a better day, as the light fades and dissolves into blackness, tomorrow will be a better day, as seaweed wraps his throat, as the freezing water impales his ribs, as he burrows under and simultaneously, rises up.

This next part comes right after!

In the stomach of a tidal wave, the sky is so much bluer. An unrolling of cyan like fractals of a baked marble. There is so little to remember. No grocery lists, no fresh turmeric, no shift of portabella mushrooms. No outstanding to-dos—no kibble to by, no resume to update. Harrison folds in blue and lets it gorge his eardrums. He gives his body to that wide chasm of water and breaststrokes not into a second life, but a third.

Here is the last bit:

He buzzes back into the apartment at 3:00AM, tracking in saltwater and SPF, puff-pastry gummed to his palm, a dog collar wound around his ring finger, a sheath of tulips shedding into the elevator behind him.

He hits every floor button twice and is undisturbed when the elevator lurches and reopens in sixty-second intervals. A man rotating a jade cuff on his wrist gets on at the fourth stop and gets off at the sixth. A woman wearing a lynx cape gets on at the eighth stop, breaks up with two girlfriends, and gets off at the eleventh. Two children in coveralls tail in after she leaves and throw jacks at each other’s eyes until one of them bleeds, and by then, they are on the fifteenth floor and the children are leaving like they have not left behind accidental shell casings. On the sixteenth floor, a deer head chihuahua patters in with no owner and barks at the door chime the moment it releases and lets him out. A mother and daughter shell pistachios on the twentieth, a maintenance man introduces himself as David though his nametag says Maxwell on the twenty-second, a flock of teenage girls in whirl about a new way to blend oil pastel on the twenty-third. So it is no wonder by the twenty-fifth floor, Harrison misses his stop and becomes one of these people too—the man with zinc down his eyes like a weeping statue, juggling pastry and a dog collar and a seedy bouquet of tulips.

He tracks seawater in that hallway, parts of him scattering with the zinc, the petals, the crumbs. Like a way to get back home even though he hasn’t started at his destination, he moves through the labyrinth of halls, both starving and nauseated. Tomorrow he will rise at dawn and taxi to Brooklyn and hammer four nails into two pieces of plywood and repeat. He will feed his dog. Learn how to cook something that will impress his mother, something French that he can’t pronounce like brasillé or oeufs cocotte. Find liberation in the constrict of routine or at least pretend to. It will be good for him, the rising, the taxis, the hammers, the nails, the dog food, the cooking—it will all be good.

By the time he gets to their door, his fingers are oiled and dripping with sunscreen. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. He nearly drops the house keys. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. Tomorrow will be his arrival. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. His beginning swelling as he turns the lock. Rising, taxis, hammers, nails, dog food, cooking. There is no other way out.

The apartment is dark when he tracks in. The scent of cinnamon steeping the air like Suzanna’s pulled a saucepan of papas off the stove. At first he doesn’t hear it, but he should, the voices leafing the kitchen like a flit of moths. He steps out of his shoes but never sets anything down, even after he passes the coffee table. Two plates ringing the centre, streaked with and caldeirada and bayleaf. A pitcher of lemonade sweating onto the glass. It is almost like he never left, like he and his mother shared dinner, sipped from each other’s cups, cleaned the tines of each other’s fishbones. And he almost believes it. He never went to the farm. The kittens are where he left them, just a few feet away, not in Brooklyn. He doesn’t have a job to tend to. He never fixed the coffee machine. He didn’t go to the convenience store. He is not slathered in sunscreen, not holding a dog collar or pastries or a bouquet of tulips. He never dove into the ocean like it was some port to asylum and didn’t emerge soaked and walking half-dead to his apartment because he never left. This reality is so easy to believe, he is unfazed by the voices and how they get louder when he reaches the kitchen, when one says “Were you shopping for the apocalypse?” and the other one chokes on its drink and apologizes for its rudeness and stares at him in daydream, those eyes like forget-me-nots, gas fires, seafoam, the wing of a starling, his drop earring.

Harrison is grateful he is soaking wet when he enters that kitchen and Suzanna and Lonan sit at the table sharing a box of petit fours. At least he has an excuse when he drops everything.

That’s it for this update! The tea starts HERE!

--Rachel

#writing #amwriting #writeblr #writerblr #writingupdates #fostered #mothwork #feedinghabits

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gemmassong · 3 years

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So uh. It’s 4:17am and I know literally no one cares but I just finished watching Bo Burnham’s new special and like, holy shit. I have some Feelings. And this is my fucking tumblr so unfortunately anyone who follows me can and will be subjected to those Feelings. Apologies in advance. I blame my high school English teacher for this, who I had for freshmen, junior, and senior year, because that cunt made as analyze and pick apart not just books but documentaries, movies, and other pieces of media to such an extreme degree I still blame her for a lot of my academic burnout and inability to really engage with my college courses because what was the fucking point. If I could write the best paper in the class and still not get a full score when my classmates with less well written shit did because I ‘wasn’t reaching my full potential or putting in as much effort as required’ why should I bother.

Off topic. I’ll put the rest under a cut to be vaguely courteous because this is going to be a lot of semi-organized rambling that I’m putting here mostly so I can stare at it in baffled, disgusted horror at ~2pm tomorrow when I go back and reread it. And then decide not to delete it anyway because hey, I don’t delete anything because I enjoy tormenting myself years down the road.

I grew up with Bo Burnham, yeah? I knew all the lyrics to New Math when I was in middle school and you can bet your ass I understood like, four verses at the time I first started singing it. And I remember the vivid pleasure of going through high school and hating math because I suck at it (ayooo failed out of Calc senior year first semester~ (they weren’t called semesters in hs they were some quarterly thing but I don’t fucking remember the right term)) and the absolute joy realizing how one of those verses were clever was brought me. Like, every time I understood a new verse in New Math it made my entire day so much better.

And then the summer after my first year of college I, for some fucking reason I cannot fathom now, 20 year old me thought it was a brilliant idea to decide to watch What. with my parents while we ate dinner. I had seen What. before. I knew what the contents entailed. I was apparently 100% down to watch him pretend to jack off on stage while eating taco salad in the living room with both of my parents who were so closed mouthed about sex that I got literally my entire sexual education from fanfiction.

And then my cat had a seizure literally right before that scene so fate helped me escape that hell for some reason, and yes, Siren was fine after a very scary night.

But like. Still. What the fuck, 20 year old me. Why did you set yourself up for the mortifying experience of watching a comedian mime jacking off while sitting next to your mother. Why.

So anyway. Bo Burnham was peripherally a part of my life for a very long time. I’ve always really liked him. I wish he had made more vines while vine was still a thing because the ‘is there anything better than pussy’ one still cracks me tf up.

I saw a post here at some point about how the new special made someone feel like they’d just watched his suicide note. And I didn’t take it seriously, because yeah, Make Happy got kinda serious and stressful there at the end but like?

Maaaaan am I glad I watched Inside though, despite being vaguely concerned. I totally get where that person was coming from. It does kinda feel like that. At the same time though, I just have this feeling that Inside is going to be important.

Here’s where I finally get to the actual fucking point of the post.

Collectively, entertainment media is desperately trying right now to figure out how the hell to handle the pandemic. Ignore it? Pretend all media now exists in a universe where the shitstorm of 2020 didn’t exist? Most of the ones that I’ve seen have gone down what I consider the absolute worst route, which is of course terrible fucking writing that kind of? addresses the pandemic and shit that went down, but like, with clunky dialogue and really bad jokes. I’m mostly talking about the Roseanne spinoff/sequel/whatever the fuck it’s considered, of which I watched half an episode of and then silently begged my fiance to let us leave his mother’s house because she was laughing at it and it was genuinely, horrifically painful. This is why I don’t watch tv anymore.

ANYWAY. He never mentions it. Not once. There are plenty of really relevant things discussed and pointed out and I think one? mention of the actual year 2020 but beyond that. Nothing. And I feel like Inside might be one of the most genuine, visceral, real pieces of media portraying the pandemic that we, as an American society anyway, are going to come away from this all with. At least everyone in my own admittedly piss poor social circles has spent like last ~year and a half doing that social media thing where the more you post about how well you’re doing and great it all is, the more miserable and bad off you really are.

(Yes, that is how I judge my ‘friends’’ relationships on facebook. The more pictures/posts/tagged shit/social media demonstrations of how ~amazing~ and ~in love~ and ~perfect~ everything is, the worse I assume the reality is.)

But Inside strikes as very, very real. And I just feel like 20 30 40 50 years from now, when we’re talking about the 2020 pandemic and how it shaped and shifted and effected and destroyed people and society, it’s going to be a very important piece of media. Because so far, anyway, it’s the first one I’ve seen where you can actually see it all go down. The absolute fucking breakdown so many of us went through. Dealing with worsening mental problems that had previously been getting better, lost progress, ruined plans and dreams and missed opportunities and everything else.

It’s the first one that strikes as real, I guess. As not manufactured. Not tailored to portray the ‘correct’ message. Not diminishing or exaggerating anything but just... showing. Existing within the reality of the year. And not being apologetic or ashamed about it.

I’m glad he actually went through with putting it out into the world. That probably took a whole lot to do, and I hope good things get to him for going through with it all. For completing it and giving it to the world. It was visceral and raw to watch and my piss poor attention span that needs 20+ tabs open at all times actually sat there and watched it, in full, all the way through in one go. Without pausing to read a fic, watch something else, check facebook or tumblr, answer a roleplay, or skim through omegle to see if anyone good was online. That’s like, unheard of these days.

I just. I dunno. There’s a lot there to breakdown. A part of me wants to do it, take the time and write the analysis and the breakdowns and pick out what I think the important bits are. But I hate doing that now and I’m sure the desire will be gone come afternoon-morning, along with all these weird feelings about it.

This has gotten long enough and it’s 4:47 now, so half an hour of word vomiting into a tumblr post is probably too much. So I guess I’ll call it quits and maybe maybe not delete this when I wake up. Night, anyone who actually suffered through reading this mess.

#Maddie talks #Weird thoughts mostly #Don't expect anyone to actually read but hey #that's not what this blog is there for so why not word vomit just for my future self

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starsandmoonys · 4 years

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Uh oh, here's another shitty one shot.

Regulus Black, the happiest Ghost

"That's a bad colour on you"

Sirius spun, there shouldn't be anyone in this room. He reached for his wand, startled. He was picking what to wear because he was going to see Remus today and was really trying to look his best.

"You can't just show up out of nowhere and scare the shit out of me," Sirius said, aggravated but turning again to his wardrobe to search for a proper shirt, a better colour.

"Especially at these times, it's not safe. I could've-" He added, but stopped himself.

"Sure, give me all you got, I'm see-through." The voice behind him chuckled, getting nearer. "Also it's the whole point of my existence, I show up whenever; scare you. It's fun." Arrogant and annoying even after death, some things just don't change.

"Yeah, that's how you get your kicks, now."

"It's my power, and I love using it. I can't exactly scare anyone else. Stuck with you, my dearest brother."

"You can leave now, I'm busy." Sirius was buried in his pile of clothes, getting more annoyed and finding he has absolutely nothing to wear or nothing that would fit appropriate to where he's going. Sirius normally never cared what he wore, he thought he always looked good in whatever and anyone else's opinion never mattered, but it was Remus and he needed to please and impress.

"I can help, Blacks have always had style." He was now beside him. He could feel the coldness spreading out. Sirius looked up, he saw Regulus, his little brother. He was cold, pale, transparent, but he was smiling. It wasn't the first time Sirius would see him after he died. He would always show up to Sirius. He would talk to him, keep him company when the days would just be unbearable.

Regulus would always be beside him even during missions and duels with death eaters. Helping with lines like "Watch it.", "Lookout.", " on your left.". He'd been there when he cried over Remus. Sirius would talk his ears off but he never leaves, no matter how repetitive the conversation gets. He listens, and funnily enough to use the new information to tease the hell out of his brother in important situations. Like the last meeting of the order when he kept walking around making kissing faces at Remus just to irritate Sirius and get him to lose his focus and stare at the wrong person. Regulus's ghost was far happier and playful than when he was actually alive. Sirius thought of all the reasons why that made perfect sense.

Regulus had no Walburga, no missions, no pressure or responsibilities, not even the dark lord could hurt him. He only existed for his brother, and that was enough. He was always in a great manner. Only got sad when Sirius would cry or finish a mission looking miserable.

Sirius had a really hard time accepting Regulus's death. He always blamed himself for it. He was the one that left him. He abandoned him to those wretched humans they call parents. He let his brother be fooled by them, he let him sink into the darkness until it swallowed him whole. Until he died, and that was always on Sirius. Maybe if he hadn't left, his brother would still be alive. Maybe they would get through this war together. Regulus would move on with his life, be happy. Instead, he got his brother as a ghost, a voice and a shape, only Sirius could see or hear.

The first time Regulus appeared in front of Sirius, he thought he had finally slipped into madness. He knew he wasn't wired up right in the head, but to actually be able to see his own dead brother, a few days after his death, was his final straw. Especially when no one else could see him, he wasn't a normal spirit. His existence broke Sirius, it was always a reminder of what he did. Sirius would crash, breakdown, cry, sob, and scream at the pale figure. He couldn't be real. It was his mind playing sick tricks on him, maybe it was his parents doing something to him. It had to be anything but the fact that Regulus was actually there.

That was a year ago. After many sleepless nights, experiments and research, Sirius came to the realization that Regulus was a legitimate ghost, he was there for staying. He wasn't a part of Sirius's mind, and it made everything so much worse for him. His brother didn't choose afterlife, he chose to stay. When Sirius asked him, he would tell him that he wanted to be by his side, just like Sirius stayed and took all the spells and hits for him at the Grimuald place. It's torture to Sirius but he got used to it. Regulus wasn't going anywhere and Sirius was enjoying the company, maybe it's selfish but he has his brother.

"Shut up, turtle neck." Sirius eventually responded. Starting to give up on the colourful floor he sat on; piles of shirts and trousers, spread everywhere.

"They're cool, and you know it."

"Sure they are, Reggie."

"Coming from the bloke who owns half the stock of silk shirts in Britain. You buy them in every colour, it's disastrous."

"Why are you here, again?" Sirius turned his head to face his brother, who was now crouching examining the clothes, making disapproving noises and frowning.

"Fine, I'm leaving. You're on your own. Good luck." Regulus said, getting up and going towards the end of the bedroom, walking rather slowly.

"You're just going to roam around the house then come back again because you're a lonely bitch."

"You're a lonely bitch, Sirius." The Spirit responded, monotonously.

"We're both lonely, now can you please come and help, and stop being a pain in the ass, Reg." His brother just smirked at him. He knew what was coming. So he added and beat him to it. "Do not say the joke you're thinking about."

"Oh, you mean the joke about the pain in the ass? Yeah, you just stole it." Regulus was now beside him again, grinning. "Sure, I'll help. You wouldn't really want to miss tonight's pain in the ass, would you? Big bro." His grin got wider. Sirius could only facepalm as his brother was now laughing and doubling over on the floor with laughter at his very lame joke.

"I'm losing my mind here, in a crisis, and you're laughing," Sirius growled. He wanted to grab Regulus, smack him. His hand would just go through him, it makes him sad.

"So, the usual. Except, I'm the one laughing this time." Regulus said, finding his composure again.

"I'll just cancel with moony, and miss out on the opportunity to see him for the next three months," Sirius mumbled, getting up, shoulders slouched. He felt like crying.

"Or, you could wear those and have the greatest evening for the next three months." He turned around and saw Regulus trying to pick a shirt and a pair of trousers out of the pile, he failed obviously and ended up pointing at them while looking at Sirius. He walked back and picked up what his brother chose.

They were dark Jeans, a white shirt and a black leather jacket, except that it's not the one he normally wears. It's much more modest, without all the chains, pockets and excessive accessories. "Simple, yet charming," Regulus commented as Sirius was examining the clothes.

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver." Sirius looked up to meet his brother's eyes. It's insane how they're just more alive now than ever before. "Aren't I always?" Regulus beamed back at him.

"Yeah, I'd hug you." Sirius smiled, looking down at his clothes. "Don't worry, I hug me every day." Regulus was wrapping his arms around himself, "Like that, self-love. It does wonders. You should try it."

"One day, Reg. One day, I just might. I'll go change now." Sirius said, smiling sadly.

"I have all the time in the world," Regulus spoke confidently, hands on his waist. "By the way, you really needn't stress that much about what you wear. I don't think Remus gives a shit, Sirius." Sirius cracked up, hummed in response and turned around for the second time to leave the bedroom. "and I mean it in every good way, brother." Regulus shouted from inside the bedroom as Sirius was shutting the bathroom door.

It's funny how things turned out with Sirius, he grew up in a hell house, with abusive parents. Ran away to his new family, the Potters. Left his actual brother in the hands of Voldemort. Fell in love with his male, half-blood, werewolf best friend. How he's currently fighting in a war against his former family, against everything he was raised to believe in. How he has his brother with him at any given time, comforting him when neither James nor Remus could be there. It's funny how everything in Sirius's life seems shit yet the best it could ever get at the same time. He didn't want it to end.

The Au I was talking about. I tried not to make it sad. Probably failed. Idk. Anyways, if you like it. Tell me. Maybe I can think of part two. I'm a Regulus stan, I have so much Regulus content and would write essays and essays about him. :)))))).

His relationship with Sirius is just so precious. :')

This is not in anyway edited sorry for the mistakes.

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tisalonelydreamer · 3 years

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i am in my junior year of high school, and it's hard. my mom is going to pay for a whole bunch of ap tests i will probably fail, and it's not that i'm not trying, but that i just feel dumb. i am an honor roll student and have seen nothing but a's since at least 6th grade, but this year has already done something to me. i no longer feel like a good student, and i no longer have confidence in myself. it's only been four weeks of school, and i've already had multiple breakdowns and burn out. the stress is physically making me sicker, and every day the exhaustion worsens. this past week was definitely the worse, because i had a test everyday, and then standardized testing friday, plus i play varsity volleyball and because there is a bus driver shortage in my county, some of our games started at 7 instead of 5:30. game days are easily over 13-hour school days, and we played 3 times this past week instead of 2. i'm on the sga exec board, and we're literally scrambling to try and give our school a homecoming this year, but none of my friends will even be going so it will be yet another miserable dance for me. nothing is going right, and i feel like it's because i'm the common variable here.

and a lot of my friends are in the same boat as me. granted, i think i did this to myself, biting off more than i can chew compared to my friends, but we're all struggling, and it sucks. it sucks that they've already given up, and it sucks that i want to, too. it sucks that i'm normally the person in my friend group to cheer others up, and it sucks that i feel like no one is doing the same for me. it's exhausting. my friends think it's so easy to just quit, and a lot of them are planning to drop out of the ap classes. i don't blame them, but i feel so alone. my guy best friend has invalidated any and all of my feelings, and my best friend goes to another school. it sucks that this is so lonely. i don't know what to do for myself except try to just push through, but i'm not even sure if i can last.

to what extent will this go on? why do i even do this to myself? i made commitments last year and this year, and i plan on keeping them, but only because i don't know how to face anybody if i suddenly just stopped. one of my friends suggested i quit the team and another told me to take a mental health day. except even though volleyball is eating time out of my schedule, i love the sport, and even if i love the idea of a mental health day, i could never bring myself to miss a day of school because i feel like i'd fall behind. and i don't have anyone to ask if i end up needing the help.

i literally feel pathetic. i stay up so late every night to do all my work, but i feel like it's a constant game of playing catch up. it's way too early in the school year to be overwhelmed. i just... i don't even know what i'm doing. I'm stressed and tired and needing to rant because none of my friends get it, because my family definitely doesn't get it, because i fell asleep at the dinner table studying for a test i did not do well on at all, because i want to quit everything but i have this need to always be the reliable one in the group, because if i don't i'll feel useless, because if i don't then maybe they'll realize that nobody needs me, because i don't feel wanted unless it's to be used, because it's so easy to quit and stop and disappear but then what does that make me? what kind of life and i am setting up for myself?

i just wish somebody would get me. i'm giving myself this space to rant because even if i'm struggling with the same teachers as my friends, we're not really on the same boat. we're more like on the same river, pretending that just because we're in each other's sights that means we're traveling together. i just have a better aptitude for school than most of my friends, so i'm in more ap classes, honor societies, and clubs. but they're still struggling more than i am, and i no longer have a person to go to. this past week, one of my friends texted me late at night for the answers to an assignment they didn't do from a week ago, but i had gotten home at 9 because of a game, and was studying for our history test the next day. i'm so stressed. i was so stressed, and so, so tired. i didn't give them answers because they constantly don't do work and then ask for answers, and i was just so sick of being an answer key, i told them i was cramming for the test, and that was that. but i still struggle too, and i feel like no one will walk through it with me. sometimes i feel like no one can.

and complaining makes me feel horrible, but i just have so much in me. i literally cried when my dad woke me up from my nap today because i was still just as tired from before, like how i've been constantly tired all week, but isn't sleep supposed to make you rest? why can't i rest? i know it sounds stupid, but it tore me apart that no matter what, i just can't feel well-rested. i hate it here and i want to give up, but that's stupid and i would never be able to live with myself. except i'm barely living with myself now.

i wish it was easier. i feel pathetic, but i know i'm going to push through because there's no other option, and i've operated like this before. i can do it, but i wish it wasn't like this. i wish i had a person. i wish i didn't feel stupid, or the need to be needed. it's not hopeless, just hard. i know all this. no matter how hard, i have to assume everything will work out.

but, if i'm being completely honest with myself, i wonder a lot if it's worth it to even live like this. i am capable of it, but is there a point to trying? is there a reason to working this hard?

i don't know. i don't know why i try so hard, and i don't know why i should. or maybe i do, but the reasons are just no longer good enough.

#rant over #rant #rant tag #ranting #burnout #junior year #junior year depression #high school #everything officially sucks #but what can you even do?#whatever #im tired #so goodnight

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malthemagnifisent · 4 years

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Plot: Leo receives a call from his brother telling him that their Mother wanted to see them, that she wanted to meet up, but Leo can’t bring himself to even make a decision about whether he wants to go or not.

Trigger warnings: Mentions of child neglect and alcoholism and just shitty parenting in general.

Tag list: @choicesstan1 (ask if you’d like to be added 🥺)

Leo’s head was pounding and his hands were balled into fists at his sides, he had just got a stressful call from his brother and no matter how long he paced back and forth he couldn’t stop his mind from racing.

He had actually forgotten he was in the diagnostic teams office until the door opened and June walked in, she paused in the doorway and quirked a single sculpted eyebrow “if you’re having a breakdown maybe you shouldn’t do it in such a public space” she told him, entering the room fully and making her way to the computer.

Leo pursed his lips and looked down at his phone which was still clutched in his hand “I’m not having a breakdown, I just got off the phone with my brother and-“ he stopped mid sentence and just sighed “you know what? It doesn’t matter, do you know where Ethan is?” He asked.

June didn’t even look up when she answered “cafeteria” she said, her fingers racing over the keyboard of the computer as she typed.

He hummed and turned to leave “thanks” he mumbled, only getting a quiet hum of acknowledgement as he slipped from the room and headed dejectedly towards the elevator.

The ride down seemed to drag on for ages, but eventually it stopped with a small jolt and the door opened, letting Leo out, he turned left and made his way to the cafeteria.

His mood improved at least a little when his eyes landed on Ethan, he was sitting with a book in his hand, his glasses placed on his nose and a plate of fries sitting forgotten in front of him.

Leo smiled softly and walked over to his table, taking a seat across from him and plucking a fry from his plate “whatcha reading?” He asked in a sing-song voice.

Ethan lowered his book and peered at Leo, an amused look in his eyes “I know you must be in debt, but can you not afford your own fries?” He asked, “taking mine is theft”

Leo shrugged and popped another fry in his mouth “you deserve it, because who puts ketchup on fries like that?” He chuckled, gesturing at the plate where ketchup was drizzled over the plate of fries.

Ethan sighed and set down his book before slipping off his glasses and pushing the plate towards Leo, resigning himself to letting his food be eaten.

“I really don’t know what you mean, the ketchup is normal Leo” he tried to reason, “that’s how people eat”

Leo scoffed as he continued eating “old people maybe” he teased, his chest filling with warmth as it always seemed to do when he was around Ethan.

Ethan let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “I’m not even that much older than you” he muttered, “like what? Nine years? That’s barely any time”

Leo chuckled and popped a last fry into his mouth “maybe, but those Nine years have made a difference, after all your rich as fuck and I as you said am in debt, that’s the kind of difference only old age can bring about”

Ethan rolled his eyes and picked up his book once again “I am not that rich” he said, so quietly he didn’t think Leo even heard.

He half expected Leo to get up and leave now that the fries were gone, but instead he stayed and started staring at the table with a dejected expression, his shoulders slumping now that he no longer had Ethan’s annoyance to distract him.

So Ethan once again set aside his book and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows as he spoke “what’s wrong?” He asked.

Leo jumped in his seat almost like he had forgotten Ethan was sitting in front of him, he chewed anxiously on his lip and pulled the sleeves of his coat down his hands, his fingers toying with a loose thread.

He looked briefly up at Ethan before his eyes shot back down to the table “it’s nothing” he mumbled, trying to pull a smile back onto his face, but failing miserably.

Ethan furrowed his brows and leaned forward, resting his arms on the table “Leo, I know you well enough by now that I know when something is wrong, so tell me”

Leo opened his mouth as if to speak and then snapped it shut again, this process repeated a couple more times before he just groaned and slouched down in his chair “I don’t know how to talk about this” he muttered.

Ethan frowned and stood up “come on, let’s go somewhere private, you clearly need someone to talk to, but I don’t think the cafeteria is the right place to do that”

Leo shrugged weakly and stood up, brushing his fingers through his hair as he followed after Ethan “where are we going?” He asked.

Ethan didn’t give any form of answer, instead he just led Leo to the doorway for the staircase and opened it, gesturing for Leo to walk through ahead of him.

“Such a gentleman” Leo smiled slightly and stepped past Ethan and into the stairwell, Ethan followed behind him and as soon as the door closed behind them he took Leo’s hand in his own and pulled him up the steps “if you wanted alone time you can just ask, no need to make excuses” Leo said suggestively, a small smirk flashing over his lips.

Ethan remained silent as they continued to walk, ascending more and more stairs which quirkily led to Leo complaining “where are we going? My feet hurt from climbing all these stairs”

“Do you ever have any patience?” Ethan muttered, but his voice echoed strangely throughout the stairwell “we’re going to the roof, it’s not that far and besides if you get tired just from this I think that means you need the exercise”

Leo groaned and squeezed Ethan’s hand “oh low blow, not everyone can be as naturally athletic as you” he said, his thumb brushing softly over Ethan’s knuckles.

Ethan offered no response and they walked the rest of the admittedly short distance in silence, soon they emerged onto the roof and Leo let out a sigh of relief, immediately taking a seat on the ground.

Ethan took one look at Leo and let his head fall into his hand with a sigh “why must you sit on the ground?” He asked, but quirkily spoke again “actually you know what, never mind” he added.

Leo smiled thinly “well there aren’t any chairs” he said, while patting the ground beside him, indicating Ethan should sit as well.

The look of annoyance he got from Ethan made him laugh quietly, but the way Ethan let out what Leo thought was a muttered curse word and sat down beside him, that just made Leo smile fondly.

“Now we’re alone, so Rookie tell me what’s wrong?” Ethan asked, his eyes trained entirely on Leo’s face.

Letting out a sigh Leo leaned over and let his head fall against Ethan’s shoulder “my brother called” he mumbled, the words quickly whisked away in a puff of wind that ruffled his hair with its force.

Ethan frowned and set his hand gently onto Leo’s knee “what’s the issue? I thought you and your brother got along?”

“We do,” Leo answered, pausing for a moment as he tried to think of what to say next. “I don’t really talk about this with people, but my parents kind of suck” he explained.

Ethan hummed softly to show he was listening, not wanting to say anything until Leo was finished, this was clearly something personal and he didn’t want to make Leo uncomfortable by being pushy.

“My dad was constantly cheating on my mom and when he wasn’t doing that he was getting drunk and my mom, well she never really cared about us, she would just leave us alone all the time without saying where she was going, my brother had to grow up so fast just so he could help take care of me” Leo lamented, the guilt of relying on his brother for so long had always been something he struggled with, his brother gave up so much just so Leo could have a future and it hurt him to think about.

He sniffed and rubbed at his nose, continuing his story “so they were never happy, but instead of just getting a divorce they decided to stick it out and stay together ‘we stay together for you kids’ they used to say, but that was a lie, they never gave a damn about us so why stay together!” Leo said, his voice rising as he spoke.

“They would stay up late almost every night just screaming at each other, than it just got worse, they didn’t just get into fights about my dad's cheating, they got into fights about me and my brother” Leo’s voice cracked on the last word and he lifts his hand to scrub at his suddenly watering eyes

“how my dad never wanted kids in the first place and she just did it to appease my mom, how everything would have been better if neither of us had been born, how if we weren’t there then maybe he wouldn’t have cheated, maybe they would have still been happy” Leo swallowed thickly and lifted his head from Ethan’s shoulder, blinking the tears from his eyes.

“I remember one night, I was about ten at the time, they were screaming at each other and my dad tried to send us to our room, but mom got angry and said ‘don’t go sending them to their room, they know this is their fault so why shouldn’t they be here’ and I just broke down crying, I didn’t understand why it was my fault, but I believed her” he sniffed and looked up through his lashes at Ethan.

The older man was staring at him with a soft expression that he seemed to only ever wear when they were alone.

Leo cleared his throat and pulled his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on his knee and feeling all together like a child once again, sitting on his bedroom floor and playing doctor with his brother so they could distract themselves from the screaming.

“It really only got worse over the years, it got so bad that my mom left, she didn’t say goodbye or anything, just one night she was there and the next morning she was gone” he mumbled, startling slightly when Ethan reached over to take his hand.

“That’s what the call was about, my mother, she got into contact with my brother and said she wanted to meet up, he didn’t know what to do, so he called me” Leo let out a shaky sigh and furiously blinked his eyes, trying to fight back a fresh wave of tears “and I also don’t know what to do”

A heavy sigh escaped Ethan and he lifted his hand to place it on Leo’s cheek, turning his face so they were eye to eye “you are under no obligation to meet with her” he said seriously.

Leo’s bottom lip wobbled and he bit down on it, trying fruitlessly to stop the flow of tears that swelled once again in his brown eyes “but she’s my mom” he choked out, a small hiccup following it “I know she wasn’t the best mother, but if I don’t at least hear her out then I’m just being an asshole”

“If that makes you an asshole then so be it, you told me I was allowed to be angry at my mother, you told me I didn’t owe her anything, so why are you any different?” Ethan asked, his forehead creasing with worry and a slight amount of anger, directed not at Leo, but at his parents.

Ethan had experience with shitty mother’s and whenever someone he was close with had similar problems it always grated on his nerves, but with Leo it was worse somehow, because how could someone do that to Leo of all people, who was so happy and willing to help, who always tried to be the strongest person in the room even when he was scared.

“You can tell you’re mother to leave, that she’s not welcome in your life anymore and that would be ok, you could also decide to meet up with her and try to talk, because Leo there are no wrong answers here” he explained in an level voice, his arms coming up to wrap around Leo’s shoulder’s and pull him against himself.

Leo returned the hug as tightly as he could muster, Ethan rarely initiated hugs so when he did Leo made sure to return it full force “you’re right, I know you are, it’s just hard because if I meeting with her seems so hard, but if I did meet her how am I supposed for forgive her?”

“Who said anything about forgiveness?” Ethan asked, his lips pressed firmly against Leo’s head as he spoke “if you meet with her that doesn’t mean you forgive her, forgiveness is hard, sometimes it might not even be possible”

Leo chuckled wetly into Ethan’s chest “how are you so wise?” He asked, his hands scrunching tightly into the fabric on the back of Ethan’s shirt.

Ethan sighed as he gently cupped Leo’s damp face in his hands “old age will do that to you” he murmured, his lips coming down to press softly to Leo’s.

Leo let out another quiet laugh into the kiss “are you admitting that you’re an old man?” He teased, his hands sliding around to rest against Ethan’s chest.

“If it will make you happy then yes, this is my confession, I am an old man”

Leo snorted and rolled his eyes “well now you took all the fun out of teasing you, if you admit to your oldness that means I can’t torment you about it anymore”

Ethan sighed and raked a hand through his hair “will you ever be satisfied with me?”

Leo paused to think for a moment before shaking his head “not likely, but I can try” he suggested, his phone going off with a quiet beep as he finished speaking.

He picked it from his pocket and chuckled as he read the message “Sienna requests my help, apparently Elijah and Bryce have started a game of truth or dare and she’s afraid it will get out of control” he explained and slipped his phone back in his pocket “oh and Sienna says hi, she definitely saw us coming up here”

“I swear she knows everything,” Ethan muttered.

Leo nodded “yeah it can seem like that sometimes” he agreed, his hand grabbing softly into Ethan’s and lacing their fingers together as he pulled him towards the roofs exit “thanks for bringing me up here, you were right, I needed to talk about it” he admitted.

“Anytime you need to talk I’m always here Leo” Ethan said, their footsteps echoing as they started the descent down the stairs.

“I know you do sweetheart” Leo responded.

Ethan pulled a face and shook his head “yeah, no, don’t call me that”

Leo grinned “aw do you not like it? What about darling? Princess? Snugglypoo? Boo bear?”

Ethan’s face shifted to his usual annoyance and he hung his head “I can’t believe I’m in love with you”

Leo’s laugh reverberated throughout the stairwell “I love you too Ethan” he giggled, his heart far lighter then it had been just earlier that day, but then again it wasn’t really surprising, Ethan tended to have that effect in him.

Notes: this was kinda rushed so I’m sorry if it’s not great, but please enjoy

#play choices #playchoices #mine #open heart #pb #choices #open heart 2 #mc x ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan ransey x mc #open heart fanfiction #male mc #my writing

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