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sangwooooh · 2 years

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The beginning of an unlikely duo

Part 2

kind of what happens in this part: Things take a turn when (m/n) realizes that Mitsuki indeed loves to talk, especially about him and to Katsuki of all people.

warnings: don’t really know; I guess bits and pieces of family drama; mentions of getting high; Katsuki (he’s not as much of a firecracker in this one, but still)

“(M/n), what are you doing in my room?” There is a look of surprise on Katsuki’s face, but not for long as it soon falls into one of well nothing really. His face looks almost relaxed, but in a controlled and unnatural way. “That old hag told you to wait here, didn’t she?”

His voice was weirdly calm. From the words of Mitsuki herself, her son was hardly calm. Did something happen?

It’s so weird how life works. (M/n) knows him. He knows Katsuki so well due to Mitsuki —at least he thinks he does— and he can feel that something isn’t right because, again, he knows Katsuki without actually knowing him.

“…yeah.” (M/n) glances at the blonde in front of him, then to the side, then at Katsuki again in a game of hesitation, “Listen… I should probably leave now, right?”

Katsuki stares at him blankly, betraying no feelings on his behalf, “You do whatever the fuck you wanna do.”

(M/n) squints his eyes at the boy in front of him for a short second, “O…kay.” Whatever.

He heads for the door, almost stumbling on his own feet. He doesn’t really want to leave. There is nothing waiting for him back home. Well…. There is, but not in the way that he would wish. There is a reason he is here to begin with. In no way would have Mitsuki been able to force him to stay a little bit longer, even with all her lung power, were (m/n) to want to leave. He is incredibly lonely at home. His parents aren’t home yet, gone at work, and the only company he had is his hamster, Alexander Hamsterton. After a while, that gets a bit boring. And even if he doesn’t really want to stay here either, these days it’s much better than being alone.

As his hand rests on the door handle, (m/n) turns back to look at Katsuki who is already lying down in his bed. The blonde looks unbothered by (m/n)’s still presence in his room.

Is he really doing this?

Yes he is.

The hand that covers Katsuki’s eyes moves to the side as the boy opens his eyes to look at what disturbs him, even though he can already guess. The bed dips slightly at Katsuki’s legs with the weight of (m/n)’s body.

It is a curious situation and the both of them know it. The both of them know each other and they feel at ease next to one another, having met only once. Stories indeed can bring feelings to life.

“She talks about you. A lot.” Katsuki breaks the silence, (m/n)’s head snapping towards the boy almost dizzying. He did not expect that. “Must’ve done something right.” The blonde continues.

Not wanting to let Katsuki do all the talking and feeling strange just letting that information float in the air he speaks, “um….” (M/n) averts his eyes, focusing on his fidgeting fingers —he tried to stop himself, but oh well — “She talks about you too.” He attempts to shrug it off and not give the new information that much importance. At least he tries to make it look that way because on the inside he is close to freaking out. Mitsuki really talked about him to her son? (M/n) doesn’t know, like any other time his neighbor says something remotely flammable, if he should thank her or not.

Again, as he has told himself many times, actually starting a conversation and possibly getting to know Katzuki is most probably going to ruin what image (m/n)’s heart has of the boy and he doesn’t want that. Better to be in love with a mirage—did he seriously just think that — than to be disappointed by the cold reality. Truthfully, (m/n) has never been in love, but he thinks this is how it should feel.

“I figured.” Katsuki sits up, rubbing his eyes as if trying to cast away what troubled him. By the looks of it, it didn’t work.

“…” (m/n) doesn’t really know what else to say. How do you even have a conversation with someone you only talked with in a world far far away from the real one. You don’t. At least he didn’t want to. But now here he is.

“Are you gonna leave or what? Don't you have a hamster to feed or something?” Katsuki’s eyes are like deep, crimson pools as they lock eyes. (M/n) feels lost in them and their intensity. He somehow is certain of the fact that the blonde is not even trying to do this to him, but (m/n) can’t help feeling affected. It’s a strange thing to experience and hard to explain. (M/n) wouldn’t say that it’s like getting high in the bathtub, but it is similar for some reason. Seeing Katsuki in real life, with his eyes and his soft looking lips and his whole being that seems so tense, it is about as close to getting high in his bathroom in an attempt to get away as it gets.

“…what?” (M/n) is confused for a second, forgetting what Katsuki even said. Not for long as his eyes widen and panic settles in at the thought of possibly intruding and certainly embarrassing himself. Didn’t Katsuki say he can do whatever he wants? Guess not, “I mean yes. Of course. I am. Leaving.” He gets up from Katsuki’s soft bed, letting go of the covers he started gripping a short while ago. “Bye.” He says quickly and dares to glance back at the blonde with striking crimson eyes only once. Katsuki is still looking at him with that unnatural blankness.

(M/n) leaves before he has another chance to stammer out something that might bring him further embarrassment.

He says a quick ‘have a great day’ to Mitsuki, getting a ‘see you tomorrow’ back, and is gone out the door.

Alexander Hamsterton stares (m/n) down when he enters his room, munching on whatever something green he decided on.

“Stop judging me.” (M/n) glares at his unspeaking friend. Said friend is not even slightly bothered, choosing to ignore the boy in favor of staring at something else more important.

#bakugo katsuki x male reader #male reader x katsuki bakugo #male reader x mha #male reader x bnha #bakugo katsuki x reader #boku no hero x reader #reader x mha #reader x bnha #male reader #romance not bromance #bakugou katsuki #i love him #for some reason

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asweetprologue · 4 years

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my burden to bear

@sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: Piggyback Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier Rating: Gen Content Warnings: None Summary: Jaskier gets hurt during a hunt and Geralt has to carry him back to town. Jaskier has mixed feelings about this. ao3

“You’re hurt,” Geralt said. Jaskier groaned from his position on the ground, more at Geralt’s tone than any amount of pain.

“I think I’m fine,” he said, pushing himself up into a sitting position. When they’d come to the woods, they’d been working under the assumption that the creature plaguing the nearby village was nothing more than an overactive godling or maybe a hag. Neither of them had been expecting a leshen, and no amount of staying back from the fight did any good when your opponent could sense your location through the ground. While Geralt was valiantly slaying the beast, Jaskier had been darting away from roots shooting up from the ground and attempting to impale him. They’d not succeeded, but they had managed to send him sprawling as he tripped over an exposed root. He’d feared he was done for when suddenly the writhing plant life had collapsed. Though he was pleased to be still in one piece, his ankle throbbed traitorously where the root had tugged his feet out from under him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes suspiciously and offered him a hand up.

Jaskier took it and allowed himself to be pulled to standing, only to stumble as soon as he put weight on his left leg. Geralt caught him as his knees buckled, one hand snapping out to grab him by the elbow. Jaskier’s face lit up, heat spilling over his cheeks in an embarrassed flush. “Ah, shit,” he cursed.

“Hmm,” Geralt agreed, looking down at the offending appendage with a stormy expression. “No Roach.”

“So true,” Jaskier said morosely. They’d left Geralt’s trusty steed behind for this venture, as the brush was generally too thick for her to navigate. The village was a good mile or two away. Jaskier’s ankle seemed to throb even more intensely at the thought of the walk. “Well, nothing for it I suppose. I’ll manage.” He tried to pull out of Geralt’s grasp, gingerly testing the weight on his ankle. It felt like being stabbed in the tendon with a razor, but he would be alright. He had plenty of experience limping along beside Geralt on the Path. This time it would just be a bit more literal.

Geralt did not release him, much to Jaskier’s surprise. “You’ll make it worse,” he said, mouth tightening. Jaskier’s pulse, only just having begun to settle down now that the leshen was dead, began to rise again. Angry Geralt he was plenty used to, but angry-at-him Geralt was not something he enjoyed. They both knew that Jaskier was a liability at best on hunts, and he was well aware that he was only ever one misstep from being left behind, at least for the truly adventurous moments. He hadn’t realized it would be an actual misstep that did him in.

“I can manage, Geralt, I swear,” he protested. “What else am I meant to do? Stay here forever? I’m sure I could make a nice home out of the leshen’s abandoned burrow. House. Whatever.”

“They don’t have those,” Geralt said dismissively. “I could get Roach.”

“Sure. So I can be eaten by the wolves that ran off when you killed the beastie. I’m sure they’ll be eager to finish the fight once the huge man with the swords fucks off. I’ll walk, it’ll be fine, I’ll -”

“I’ll carry you.”

Jaskier blinked, and then blinked again. He must have heard wrong. “Come again?”

Geralt glared at him, as if daring him to offer up a different solution. “I’ll carry you. It’s not that far of a walk, and I still have Thunderbolt in my system. It wouldn’t be hard.”

If Jaskier had thought he was flushed before, it was nothing compared to now. “Ah, well. Um. Are you certain? I suppose - I really can walk, truly -” He took a step backwards, away from the warm hand that still cupped his elbow, only to nearly drop to the ground when a bolt of pain shot up his ankle. Even his knee ached with it. Geralt caught him around the waist, hauling him upright again and, unfortunately, directly into the witcher’s space. Jaskier gasped at the contact more than the near tumble, though he hoped Geralt thought it was just the surprise.

“I can see that,” Geralt said dryly, their nose barley inches apart. Jaskier swallowed.

“I take your point. How, uh, how do you want to do this?”

Geralt released him, allowing Jaskier to take a deep, fortifying breath. Leaning all his weight on his good leg, he waited while Geralt turned around and knelt down on the mossy forest floor. Jaskier exhaled slowly. “Put your arms around my shoulders,” Geralt said.

Jaskier ran a hand along his face, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. “This is so infantilizing,” he grumbled, but he leaned over and pressed his chest to Geralt’s back, wrapping his arms around his broad shoulders. He was extraordinarily grateful for Geralt’s armor, separating him from the heat of his body. As it was, he still felt like he might spontaneously combust when Geralt’s large hands came up to grip under his thighs and raised him effortlessly into the air.

Holy fuck. “Melitele,” he said, “do I weigh anything to you?”

“No,” Geralt said with an amused huff. He began to take sure steps through the clearing and back the way they’d come. Jaskier shifted to find a more comfortable position for his arms, and found that he could lift them away entirely without Geralt dropping him an inch.

“I feel like a toddler,” he groused.

“Next time watch your step,” Geralt grunted.

They made their way through the forest slowly, Geralt carefully navigating the underbrush. Jaskier was aware that he was being more delicate with his footwork than he typically was, avoiding any areas that might throw him off balance or land Jaskier with a face full of branches. He was being nice, Jaskier realized, not even getting back at him for the fact that he had to carry Jaskier’s sorry ass through the woods. Always so chivalrous.

That was Geralt though. Even when he was grumpy and upset and probably worn out from a fight, he was always going out of his way to be kind. He wasn’t always nice, Geralt, but he was almost always kind. It was a miracle, honestly, that he didn’t lose hold of his temper more often than he did. They would bicker, often, and fight, sometimes. But even when he was mad, Geralt was often still considerate, still worried about Jaskier’s safety and comfort. He was always taking absurdly underpaid jobs, even taking payment in a simple meal or a roof over his head sometimes, just because there were people in danger. This village, for example, had scraped together a tiny purse to offer a passing witcher, desperation writ on their faces. Seven people, including two children, had disappeared in the last season. It was a small village, only a little cluster of houses, and such a loss must have been felt deeply. Geralt had looked at the purse, a frown maring his features, and pushed it back into the alderman’s dirty hands. The job had ended up being even more dangerous than he’d assumed, but Jaskier knew Geralt wouldn’t take payment beyond maybe a warm loaf of bread and some hearty stew from the alderman’s wife.

It was wildly unfair that the reputation of witchers remained so heavily tarnished. That Geralt’s reputation still suffered so. It was starting to mend - in the decade since Jaskier had begun traveling with him, the White Wolf ballads had become popular, enough so that many towns they passed through were already ready to throw their crowns and orens at his feet. But the further north they went, the closer to Blaviken, the less people were swayed by his songs. People didn’t always see what Jaskier saw. Not everyone felt the depth of affection swell in their breast at the sight of his silver hair and golden eyes, regardless of how many times Jaskier tried to put it to words. Maybe it wasn’t something he would ever be able to capture. This haunting, aching thing inside him that just loved and loved and loved Geralt of Rivia.

He wished he could do more, more to alleviate Geralt’s pain and stress. And instead here he was, only putting more weight on his shoulders. Literally. Jaskier rested his forehead against the leather of Geralt’s armor with a sigh. That was the story of his life, though. Try to help, get in the way, get pushed aside. An infallible cycle.

“Alright?” Geralt asked suddenly. Jaskier blinked back to himself, attempting to shake off the shroud of self pity that had settled over him.

“Hmm?” he responded, lifting his head from Geralt’s shoulder. “Alright what?”

“I’m asking,” Geralt said. “You’re quiet. That only ever happens if you’re writing a song or you’re dying.” He paused. “It’s only your ankle?”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh, stirring the hairs at the base of Geralt’s neck. The silver strands were pulled back into a short pony, leaving the pale expanse of skin beneath exposed. Jaskier had to tamp down the swift and overpowering urge to tuck his nose into the spot just behind Geralt’s ear, to press his lips to the scar just above the line of his armor, where some monster must have gotten in a lucky hit. Forcing himself to focus, he said, “Just the ankle, I swear. I’m only thinking.”

“So it is a song,” Geralt said darkly.

“A great ballad about how the White Wolf of Rivia once again saved a humble bard,” he agreed, eagerly latching onto the half lie. “You’ve made a bit of a habit of it.”

Geralt grunted, sounding unamused. Suddenly there was a burst of sunlight across Jaskier’s vision, warm on his face. They stepped out of the forest and onto the small dirt track that led to the village, which Jaskier could just barely see peeking out over the rise of the next hill over. The sky was a sprawling blue tapestry above them, not a cloud in sight. “I don’t like it,” Geralt said, stopping to scan the road briefly.

Jaskier’s throat felt tight. “Saving me?”

Geralt hummed an affirmative and began walking again, towards the village.

Jaskier let out a long breath, equal parts annoyed and hurt. “Well no one’s asking you to,” he snapped. “I know it’s, I don’t know, part of your job, but you don’t need to go out of your way.”

Geralt shook his head, nearly hitting Jaskier in the face with his short ponytail. “It’s not a fucking chore, Jaskier. I just don’t - I wish you didn’t need saving.”

“Well, you and me both,” Jaskier said. “I know you think I do it on purpose, but I don’t actually want to get in the way.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt gritted out. Truly annoyed now. “Nothing you do could keep me from doing my job.”

“Well obviously you always finish the fight, I wouldn’t imagine you’d just quit on my behalf -”

“I don’t like it,” Geralt interrupted, “because I don’t like this.” He moved one hand to Jaskier’s injured ankle, the touch feather light. Jaskier’s knees tightened automatically to hold himself in place, but it was barely necessary. Geralt was strong enough to hold him in one hand. It made Jaskier feel deeply fragile, but not necessarily in a bad way. More like something precious and delicate. Worthy of being preserved. It made his fingers tingle where they were latched together between Geralt’s collarbones, just at the base of his throat.

“Oh,” he said, at a loss for words. “I didn’t know that it, um. Well - I’m really fine.”

“I know,” Geralt said, sounding tired and a little amused. “You always are, mostly. I still don’t like it.” He tapped a finger against the heel of Jaskier’s boot, still light, and then put his hand back to support Jaskier’s thigh. “Sometimes I forget that you’re not like witchers.”

Jaskier laughed outright at that. “I can’t imagine how you could lose track of that piece of information. I complain about my bad eyesight and sore feet daily, as you are certainly aware. I’m the same as any other human.”

“You’re really not,” Geralt said, so quiet that it almost seemed to be said to himself. Jaskier stilled at that, startled and somehow warmed by the sentiment.

“Thank you,” he finally said. They were nearly to the outskirts of the village, where hopefully they would find a warm welcome with the alderman or another grateful peasant. They might be given a place to rest for the night, maybe a few, while Jaskier’s ankle healed. Maybe they would be asked to move along, and Geralt would let him ride on Roach for a few days, and in the evening he would give Jaskier the salve he used for bruises and pulled muscles. Maybe even rub it into his swollen foot himself. “I’m sorry to burden you.”

“You’re not a burden, Jask,” Geralt said. Then he laughed, a dry rasp that Jaskier never tired of hearing. “Well, alright. Technically you are at the moment. But I don’t mind.” As they reached the first house, he gently set Jaskier on his feet, turning to offer support. Jaskier let him slip a broad arm around his back, Jaskier’s own stretched out across Geralt’s shoulder to grip at the rough leather there. After having Geralt’s face hidden from him on the walk back, the sudden confrontation with golden eyes and square jaw was enough to make Jaskier flustered. Their faces were close now, and it felt almost too intimate, too raw after being unable to see Geralt’s expression during the rest of their conversation. Geralt quirked a small smile at him, a fondness there that Jaskier felt echoed in his own chest. “I don’t like it when you get hurt, but I don’t mind saving you.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile back, even though his heart was racing and he knew his face was flushed from their proximity. “I suppose I’ll have to let you keep doing it then,” he said, only the tiniest bit breathless.

“Good,” Geralt said, and together they took their first steps into the village. “But for the love of the gods, at least try not to get yourself into trouble.”

Jaskier laughed even as his ankle flared with renewed pain and he spotted a few villagers stepping out of their homes, concern plastered across their faces for the injured bard. So it would be hot stew, he thought giddily, and a warm place by the fire, and Geralt would still probably rub that salve into his ankle. He could be satisfied with that. “Geralt, my dearest, just try and stop me.”

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geraltxjaskier #witcher #the witcher #fic #fan fiction #writing #witcher fic #>5k #sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo #s&s #my work #geralt of rivia #jaskier #fluff

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tojisveryown · 3 years

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𝙸𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝙴𝚢𝚎𝚜 | 𝟶𝟹

𝙰𝚌: 𝚠𝚃𝟼𝙸𝙳𝟸𝚀𝟺𝙰𝙺𝚄𝟿𝚏𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚠𝚝

𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠𝚍 𝚘��𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚑𝚘𝚕, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚍𝚛𝚞𝚐 𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚜

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟸.𝟸𝚔

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚎 𝙰𝚄, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏 𝚖𝚒𝚡𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟶𝟹 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

(𝚄𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍)

⋆ 💌 ⋆

You knew that it’d be better for you to work alone and that you’d finish the project a lot faster if Gojo wasn’t assigned your partner, but you did owe him from saving you from those girls. Even though you were perfectly capable of handling those bitches on your own. You didn’t exactly expect much from Gojo, but you certainly didn’t expect him to be so lenient on trust. Which is exactly why you didn’t expect yourself to spend a whole day with him.

“I don’t understand why this is necessary.”

“Oh my precious Y/N, what do you not understand? Trust is the basic necessity of partnership, and dare you say it isn’t necessary?!” Gojo clutched his heart, wiping fake tears from his eyes.

“Gojo-”

“Satoru,” he smiled, “the first step to gaining each others trust is by being comfortable with each other, so call me Satoru.” He grabbed your hand and led you to the entrance of a coffee shop. He picked out a table near the window and gestured you to sit down on the chair he had pulled out. You began to pull out a notebook and your favorite pen.

“So where should we start?” you opened up your notebook and had your pen ready in you hand “What do you think the importance of life is?” waiting for a response you looked up at Gojo and you were staring right at his crystal blue eyes. Hand resting on his cheek as the other crept up on your own. “Gojo-”

“Satoru.” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, “I told you to call me Satoru didn’t I?”

“Okay,” you took a deep breath “Satoru,” he gave you another smile as his name rolled off your tongue nicely. “What do you think the importance of life is?”

He adjusted his and your hand so you two were now loosely holding hands, his phone had a fresh notification but he never once took his eyes off you. “What’s the importance of life?” He traced circles onto your palm with his pointer finger, “How are we supposed to know? Aren’t we still new to this whole living thing?”

“Satoru? We’re twenty, what to you mean ‘new to this whole living thing’? We’re not exactly children anymore.”

“Well yeah, but how are you supposed to know the importance of life at only twenty? It isn’t like it’s just given to you.”

“Of course it isn’t, that’s why you keep living until you find it.”

“But what about for those who can’t keep living? You know the people who die earlier than expected. You can’t exactly wait for your realization on your perception on what’s important to just hit you. I sure as hell don’t have the answer to that, and neither do you, I’m positive no one does.”

“That’s not what I asked.” You groaned removing your hands from Gojo’s touch. You placed your fingertips on your temples and began to mutter how stupid this project is, especially since you were paired up with stupid Satoru.

“What’s the importance of life?” Gojo pulled your hand off of your temple and loosely intertwined it with his. “What’s the reason for your existence Y/N?” That question put you in a state of shock, even you didn’t know what the importance of life was and there you were asking Gojo the same question that you had no answer to. What was the meaning of life? “Hey,” Gojo fully intertwined your hands “this is boring, let’s go on a date?”

Seriously? Is this the only reason why he wanted to be my partner again?

“What, no. I agreed to be your partner again, not your date.”

“Ouch, okay let me rephrase that.” He held both of your hands and looked you dead in the eye “Let’s go on a friend-date, you know where we get to know each other.” the look you gave Gojo made him sigh “Y/N, don’t you think if we knew each other a little bit better our project would turn out somewhat decent?” He squeezed your hands as he pleaded. The immense eye contact between his crystal eyes and yours made you soften up to the idiot in front of you and the word just slipped out your mouth.

“Okay.”

Gojo tensed up and froze as soon as the word slipped out your mouth, it took a moment to process what had just happened in that pea brain of his. Once it finally processed you received a big, genuine smile from him. It almost made your heart melt at how handsome he looked as that smile was plastered on his face.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

“The carnival? Are you serious Satoru?”

“Very much so, now come win me something!”

“Aren’t you supposed to win me something?” you asked as you were casually being dragged by Gojo through the crowds.

“Well, yeah.” He stopped walking and turned to look at you, this time he was walking beside you while swinging your locked hands together, “But I don’t like the idea of you being seen as weak.”

“Weak?”

“Yeah as in I don’t people to think you’re dependent on me.”

“Oh.”

“I guess I don’t want our relationship to fit into gender norms,” relationship? you looked over at Gojo and there was a slight smile on his lips that complimented the shade of pink his cheeked turned, which again almost melted your heart. But before the thought could fully process in your head Gojo ruined the moment “plus I want a dolphin plushie.”

⋆ 💌 ⋆

You and Gojo walked hand in hand as you two approached the ring toss, he paid for your turn as the man gave you the rings, the game began and Gojo’s cheering only began to embarrass you instead of encourage you. You made your first toss and you missed, and the sudden bang on the stand startled you. It was Gojo. “COME ON Y/N!!”

“Sir please don’t do that you’ll break the stand.”

You felt all eyes on you as the man you pretended not to know continued banging on the ring toss’s table making the whole stand vibrate. You tossed the other three rings and made two of them, you only had one more shot to win stupid Satoru his dolphin. You turned over to Gojo and saw him cover his face with his hands peaking through his fingers. You focused your attention on the bottles and your ring and tossed it hoping it would make it, you shut your eyes as soon as the ring left contact with your hand. Just as you opened your eyes a pair of hands wrapped around your waist and your feet were no longer touching the floor.

“Y/N YOU DID IT, YOU FUCKING DID IT!! THAT’S MY GIRL!!” Gojo spun you around and the crowd that formed over his yelling began clapping.

As Gojo got his dolphin plushie you heard whispers from the people waiting to play, “What a happy couple.” You wanted to correct them but Gojo grabbed your hand and laced it with his. You two began walking and the whispers around you two about how attractive Gojo was didn’t stop. There were also a few comments about how they were bummed that he was dating someone. Realization finally hit you. Everyone thought you two were on a date. You glanced at the man who’s fingers were laced with yours and you noticed him smiling to himself, you also noticed that he wasn’t holding the dolphin plushie, perhaps he asked the man at the stand to reserve it for him.

When you looked up at his eyes they made their way to yours, he smiled even bigger and pulled you to the ice cream stand.

“What can I get for the lovely couple?” the lady at the stand smiled warmly waiting for you and Gojo to order

“Oh we’re not a couple.” you ensured her

“Oh my, you aren’t? Well you two certainly look good together.”

After waiting a few minutes the lady at the stand finally called you over, she ended up handing you one big bowl with both yours and Gojos choice of ice cream “Go on dear, have fun with your friend.” she gave you a warm smile and made sure to give you two spoons and a few napkins. You realized her motive and you mentally slapped yourself.

“Uh, here.” you held out the bowl filled with the mixed flavors “She accidentally thought we ordered the couples sundae.”

“Oh it’s okay I can pay for another, you can have that one.” Gojo gave you a smile and got up from the bench that gave you both a view of the city.

“I don’t mind sharing,” realizing what you just said you wanted to roll up in a ball and die “Um, I mean she added what you wanted in here too and I don’t really like red bean.” you said shyly. He sat next to you and you both ate your ice cream.

There was an awkward tension that fell between you two, you silently wished that Gojo would say something to break it and it’s as if the gods were listening from above because suddenly he spoke up.

“For someone that asked me to share a sundae with them you do seem uncomfortable, I’d be fine with getting my own you know.”

“Eh but the lady said to share it with you”

“Why are you listening to an old hag?”

The truth is, this really did seem like a date and for once Gojo wasn’t being a complete asshole. He was actually tolerable and you wanted to see this side of Gojo for as much as you could. He was growing on you ever since he flashed that stupid smile of his and you wanted to grasp the look on his face when he wasn’t being an idiot but it’s something you’d never admit due to the endless teasing that would come from Satoru, stupid Satoru.

Without hesitation you grabbed his wrist and led him to the ferris in attempt to change the subject because there was absolutely no way you were about to admit how you truly felt.

“Hey I wasn’t finished with that!” he whined as he allowed himself to be dragged through the crowds, he shifted his hand so that your hands were now intertwined with his, “You know I never really noticed how small you hands were compared to mine.” You felt yourself heat up over the small comment he made about your hands. You hadn’t realized that you stopped walking until he squeezed your hand and “Why are you stopping, we have a ferris wheel to ride.” You two began rushing through the crowds that formed. It was the perfect time to go on the ferris wheel, the sun was setting and the skies were a pretty blood orange color, it was the perfect ending to a perfect date with the one and only stupid Satoru.

You two ended up waiting in line, completely missing the sunset you set out on seeing. However being with Gojo and allowing yourself to actually open up to someone was able to replace seeing the cotton candy skies. You figured that for today, and today only everything could go wrong but it didn’t matter as long as Gojo was by your side.

By the time the line before you passed it was completely dark out, and although you missed the sunset you were able to see parts of the city near the peak of the ferris wheel which was enough for you to be able to enjoy yourself.

Due to your lack of attention towards the figure that was seated next to you, you failed to see how he fidgeted with the key chain in his hands. Nervously trying to bring it up Gojo rapidly tapped his foot against the floor, you finally took notice of how tense the person next to you was and rested your hand on his knee to reassure him.

“Are you afraid of heights?” you teased plastering a grin on your face.

“No it’s just embarrassing.”

Gojo lifted up your hand that was lightly laying on his knee and placed the key chain he had gotten instead of the dolphin plushie in the middle of your palm and closed your hand. He hid his face with the hand leaning on the arm rest and waited for you to say something.

“You think giving a girl a key chain is embarrassing?” you laughed lifting it up to get a better look at it. It was a key chain that had todays date on it “You know I would expect you to think getting caught having sex in the school library is embarrassing, but nope! Giving someone a keychain is.” you laughed

Gojo turned his head “Hey!-” but couldn’t finish his sentance because of the smile you had on your face. He was in awe. It was the first smile you’ve given him and your angelic laugh was ringing through his ears and in that moment it felt like it was just the two of you. He wanted to treasure this moment for as long as he could. He realized how beautiful you looked laughing and smiling especially under the moonlight.

You held onto the keychain that had marked the date you slowly started to fall in love with him, thus the start of your love story.

However this wasn’t your typical love story, how could it be when it involved stupid Satoru.

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 | 𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 | 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐! 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙷𝙰𝙷𝙰𝙷 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝. 𝙰𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌! 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢'𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

⋆ 💌 ⋆

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @peppytine @enesitamor @fairyblue-alchemist @diluczs @honouredsatoru

𝙽𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚜. (𝟺/𝟸𝟸)

⋆ 💌⋆

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nah-she-didnt · 3 years

Note

Erm.... hi.... I don't think this was on the prompt list that you posted recently, but it's a prompt I've seen somewhere else on Tumblr: for Wolfstar, could you do "I love you no matter what your brain tells you."? It's totally 100% okay if not ofc, no pressure <3

Hello! Sorry this took a bit, inspiration struck, but free time did not. I altered your prompt a tiiiny bit to make it a cleaner fit for my idea.

Also, while I LOVE my jily-centric followers so much, if any wolfstar blogs out there wanted to reblog this I would love to get into that space more since I do write a fair number of remus/sirius fics!

Enjoy! Once again, I did not proof read this thoroughly, so I apologize for any obvious typos!

“I Love You No Matter What Your Head Tells You”

Remus was utterly exhausted.

His first night as a prefect had not gone smoothly. One particularly thick first year had managed to get himself lost on the way to the Gryffindor common room, a feat that Remus previously thought was impossible considering that the prefects always led the first years to the dorm in one large group. However, Matthew McMorris claimed he’d been so distracted by a painting of medieval witches on the third floor that he’d looked up to find his group nowhere to be found. And so, it fell to Remus to retrieve him. Thank god for the map.

Remus turned to shoot McMorris a stern look as they climbed through the portrait hole. “Right, straight upstairs with you. You’ll be grateful for a full eight hours of sleep before your first lesson tomorrow, trust me.” The boy scowled at him before scampering away to the boy’s staircase.

Remus yawned and stretched dramatically as he glanced around the room. Most of the students had already gone to bed, but James, Peter, and Dorcas sat together on the couch in front of the fire.

“Alright?” James asked absentmindedly as he studied his hand of Exploding Snap cards. Peter held his hand upside down as if hoping that a new perspective would allow inspiration to strike.

“Fantastic,” Remus muttered as he dropped into the seat next to Dorcas, “who’s winning?”

“Who do you think,” Peter grumbled as he watched James play a particularly good hand, “how do you manage to rope me into this stupid game every time?”

James shrugged. “I guess you’re a glutton for punishment.”

The boys continued to bicker. Dorcas nudged Remus with her elbow. “Do you know what’s up with Black tonight?”

Remus didn’t meet her gaze. He knew that Sirius had been in a particularly bad mood on the Hogwarts Express. The mood must have been the result of an entire summer spent cooped up in Grimmauld Place. “What do you mean?”

“The berk snapped at me earlier!” Dorcas scoffed, “I asked him how his summer was and said ‘mind your own fucking business.’ Very uncool.”

“Yeah,” Remus said distractedly as he glanced towards the boys’ staircase, “extremely uncool.”

“Don’t even think about going up there, Moony,” James called over his shoulder, “he’s not in the mood. We’re giving him some space before we go up.”

Remus frowned at James. “You mean you’re just leaving him up there, alone? After the summer he’s had?”

James shrugged again. “He said he wanted to be alone. I wasn’t about to argue.”

Remus shook his head and stood. “Well, I’m going to check on him.”

“Godspeed, mate,” Peter called at his retreating back.

Remus marched towards their dormitory determinedly, but lost confidence with each step up the spiral stairs. Sirius could be wildly unpleasant when he was in one of his moods, and he’d already had a stressful night of rounding up wild first years. Nevertheless, Remus couldn’t bear to think of him up there all alone. Perhaps when Sirius said he wanted space from his friends, he didn’t mean Remus himself. Maybe Sirius would be glad to see him.

Remus paused with his knuckles inches from the door. One last chance to turn back, he thought to himself. After a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his worries aside and rapped loudly on the door.

A loud hmph greeted his knock. Remus took this as an indication that he was allowed to enter.

Sirius was sprawled out on his four-poster bed, still fully clothed. He stared up at the ceiling as he tossed an old quaffle up into the air only to catch it at his chest again and again. He didn’t look around as Remus sidled into the room.

“Um, hi,” Remus offered awkwardly, “did you have a good time at the feast?”

Sirius grunted again.

“Oh. Well, good,” he waited for Sirius to say something back, but he seemed fixated on throwing and catching that damn quaffle.

At least a minute of silence passed. Remus felt himself sweating slightly. He glanced around the room, desperate for something to talk about. The silence was oppressive. If he didn’t say something soon, he would explode faster than Peter’s cards.

In his desperation, Remus felt himself ask the worst possible question. “Did you have a good summer?”

Sirius caught the quaffle one last time, then hugged it to his chest. Remus could have smacked himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, “I just meant- we don’t have to talk about your summer, let’s talk about something-”

“No,” Sirius said softly, still gazing at the ceiling, “it’s alright. My summer was shit, thank you for asking.”

There wasn’t a hint of irony or anger in his tone. It was a simple truth. His summer had been pure, total shit.

“I’m sorry,” Remus mumbled to his shoes.

He heard Sirius scoff. “Not your fault.”

Another moment of silence followed this pronouncement. However, this silence wasn’t like the one before. Sirius seemed to be thinking long and hard about what he had just said, completely lost in his own thoughts. It was as if he’d forgotten that Remus was in the room.

Finally, he spoke again.

“They’ve gone absolutely mental,” he nearly whispered, “mental. You know they’re full-on blood purists now, right?”

Remus shifted uncomfortably. He knew that Sirius’ parents had become more and more radicalized over the years, but Sirius had rarely opened up about their beliefs, and Remus never asked.

“They think I’m the ultimate blood traitor. Worse than a blood traitor, actually. A ‘lazy, ungrateful, sorry excuse for a son.’ That was what she called me last night when I told her I didn’t want to come home for the holidays. Ungrateful because I don’t want to end up a hateful, spiteful hag like her.”

Sirius grew more agitated with every passing word. Remus could see his knuckles growing white as he gripped the quaffle fiercely into himself.

“And the really fucked up part is that they clearly love Reg more. And I get it, right? I can see why they love him so much because he kisses their arses. I know he loves me and all, but he cares more about what they think than about supporting me. That’s the worst fucking part.”

Sirius brought his hand to his face under the pretense of scratching his nose, but Remus knew that he was wiping a tear on the cuff of his shirt.

“I just can’t get them out of my head,” he sighed, “stupid, useless, blood traitor. Unworthy of love. And all the rest. It’s like there’s a record in my head that plays over and over again, and I can’t turn it off. It’s hell.”

Remus felt completely frozen. He had absolutely no idea what to say to any of this. All the responses that ran through his head felt tired and unhelpful. Sirius did not need someone to lie to him and tell him that his parents really cared for him, deep down. He didn’t need someone to tell him that it would all be alright in the end, that everything would work itself out.

The only thing he could think to say tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself.

“Well, I love you no matter what your head tells you.”

Sirius’ head snapped up. He looked Remus in the eye for the first time since he entered the room. A beat passed between them, a moment that allowed Remus to realize what he’d just said. He felt his cheeks burn with panic.

“We! We love you, me and James and...and Peter,” Remus finished weakly. Excellent. There was nothing unreasonable about expressing the familial love shared between four boys who were like brothers, right?

Sirius blinked at him, then nodded slowly. He looked as if he were trying to solve a particularly complicated arithmancy equation in his head. “Right. Thanks, Moony.”

Remus let out a breath. He started to back up towards the door to the dormitory. “Well, I’ll leave you alone again. Or, I dunno, do you want to come downstairs? Pete’s about ready to blow James’ head off if he wins at Exploding Snap again.”

Sirius still looked preoccupied as he eyed Remus. Finally, he lifted his gaze back up to the underside of his four-poster.

“Nah,” he grunted as he threw the quaffle into the air again, “you go. I’m not in the mood.”

Remus nodded, then turned to leave. Just before he could shut the door behind him, Sirius called, “Moony?”

Remus nearly tripped over himself as he hurried back through the door. “Yeah, Pads?”

Sirius grinned his lopsided grin. The one that made Remus’ head go fuzzy. “Thanks again. I love you too.”

Remus smiled back, then closed the door. He hardly noticed the way he pounded down the cold stone steps back into the common room, as he was too busy walking on air.

#nina writes #wolfstar #remus/sirius #remus lupin #harry potter #i wasn't totally satisfied with how this turned out #but i'm trying not to let that stop me from posting #sometimes i'll post fics that I'm not too confident about only to find that people absolutely love them #and sometimes i post fics that i'm crazy proud of that don't get much traction #it's all good practice!

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christinesficrecs · 4 years

Note

Hi! Long time listener, first time caller. Your recs are a Godsend, real stress busters. Any fics you can recommend that are gonna be lengthy? Like I’m talking real time killers. But also Derek is a werewolf. And he and Stiles fall in love between all the monster fighting and the bickering back and forth. And just a real good slow burn. I think that’s all. Ok thanks for being so awesome!

Haha! That’s awesome. 💜 Well, time killers are 100K+ but there are also some great fics in the 50K tag.

@shimmeringstarrs and anyone else looking for tags to dive into. 😉 The word count tags are on the left of the tag page. Under 3K, Under 10K, Under 50K, Over 50K, 100K and Novel Length.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) | 149.1K | Explicit

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

Years later when Derek returns to Beacon Hills, he does it as Alpha of a military pack on a mission to capture those responsible for the region’s resistance. With his main objective, Sheriff Stilinski, out of sight, he settles for the next best thing: his son, Stiles.

Neither of them suspects they’ll need to trust each other if they want to make it out this alive.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K | Mature

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn't expect and aren't sure they approve of....

Pack Wars by miss_aphelion | 158.6K | Mature

Scott liked to call it the Great Pack Divide of 2012.

Derek liked to call Scott an idiot.

(Or the one where Derek kidnaps Stiles to teach Scott a lesson, and ends up learning a few things himself)

Trust Fall by Stoney | 144.2K | Explicit

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it's pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait...does this mean he's the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam | 105.1K | Explicit

It's Stiles' senior year, and he's trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he's being haunted by a hag. Great.

Bruises and Bitemarks | 121.5K | Explicit

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he's attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

Running Up That Hill by maypoison | 139.4K | Explicit

“Even before the pack joined together, Scott was trying to protect you. And he still is trying to protect you, even if it means leaving you out of all this.”

Stiles does roll his eyes at that. “Yeah, but it didn’t work did it. I was still involved, and so was my Dad. We were nearly killed by Matt, and then Gerard.”

“My point is, people change. Relationships aren’t always perfect. Scott's tried to kill me before."

Stiles raises an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying that someone trying to kill you is just a small flaw in a relationship?"

“We’re werewolves.” Derek answers with a shrug, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.

Don't Savage The Messenger by exclamation | 172.3K | Explicit

There is an uneasy truce between the werewolves in the woods and the humans who live in Beacon Hills, protected by a magical boundary that gives warning any time a werewolf crosses it. Then the sheriff is taken by the werewolves and his son offers himself in exchange.

Stiles promises to serve the werewolf pack, not knowing what horrible use they might have for him. But it turns out his most useful skill is the ability to cross the boundary line between humans and werewolves. Life with the werewolves is nothing like he feared and the werewolves themselves are nothing like the hunters' stories would have him believe.

You Don’t See Straight by annber | 174.9K | Explicit

Stiles finds himself in a secret werewolf community to participate in a mating run. Sterek happens. Side OC's.

The Hollow Moon by thepsychicclam | 180K | Explicit

It's the summer after Stiles' first year of college, and he's working a crappy job and dealing with nightmares and anxiety - but he's okay, he swears. He makes it through most days without too much trouble. Then, a certain werewolf comes back into town. Which Stiles doesn't care about, nope, not at all.

After two and a half years, Derek returns to Beacon Hills with his small Pack. Though he tried to move on, something just kept drawing him back to Beacon Hills, he's just not sure what. Now, he figures he can start building something like a life - but he keeps getting distracted by Stiles Stilinski of all people.

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #100k #novel length #eyes-of-a-disney-princess

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kookie-doughs · 4 years

Text

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader -Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 11: Prepare For Trouble And Make It Double

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day. Which was actually what's happening. So there we were, Annabeth, Percy, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses. Percy and I walked side by side with our hand still connected. Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "All our money was back there," Percy reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything." "Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—" "What did you want me to do? Let you guys get killed? I was not going to leave Y/N." "You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." "Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine." "Shut up, goat boy," I said. Grover brayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans." We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry. After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to Percy. "Look, I..." Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave." "We're a team, right?" She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died... aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world." The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. Do you want to see?

Yeah that would be nice.

It was as if it was morning, I could see everything clearly. I wandered my head to make sure I could see everything. This is cool. "You okay?" Percy asked. "Yeah," Not really a fan of the current silence I turned to Annabeth. "You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven?" I asked her. "No... only short field trips. My dad—" "The history professor." "Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home." She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not." If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice. "You're pretty good with that knife," I said. "You think so?" "Yeah maybe you can teach me some tricks. "Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me." Percy smiled. I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled. "You know," she said, "maybe I should tell you... Something funny back on the but..." Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by a shrill toot-toot-toot, like the sound of an owl being tortured. "Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, but the tune still sounded suspiciously like Hilary Duff. Seeing a tree coming up I tried to pull Percy to avoid it but Percy immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on his head. I suppressed my laugh by covering my mouth which made Percy glare at me. After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This kid needed a double cheeseburger. >We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell. It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English. To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM. "What the heck does that say?" I asked. "I don't know," Annabeth said. She loved reading so much, I'd forgotten she was dyslexic, too. Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken. I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers. "Hey..." Grover warned. "The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open." "Snack bar," I said wistfully. "Snack bar," Percy agreed. "Snack bar," Annabeth joined. "Are you three crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird." We ignored him. The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps. "Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!" We stopped at the warehouse door. "Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters." I turned to look at my knife. It had a light glow emitting from it. Probably because it was sheathed. "I think there's monsters." I was now reluctant and sided with Grover. "Grover's nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?" "Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian." "You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.. "Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

"Percy, I don't think---"

"It'll be fine." Percy took my hand and went in. Be careful and don't look. Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady. >Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?" "They're... um..." Annabeth started to say. "We're orphans," I said. "Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!" "We got separated from our caravan," Percy said. "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant a different gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?" "Oh, my dears," the woman said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area. We thanked her and went inside. Annabeth muttered to Percy, "Circus caravan?" "Always have a strategy, right?" "Your head is full of kelp." The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. I was anxious so I tighten my grip on Percy. It's stupid for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because we were hungry. For a child of Athena, Annabeth sure isn't making wise decisions. I mean yeah I agree, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away. But Grover's nervous whimpers, and the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, to add the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us. Made me more cautious. Sure enough, there it was at the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything you could want, plus a few steel picnic tables out front. "Please, sit down," Aunty Em said "Awesome," Percy said. "Um," Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am." Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans." "Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said. Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, I had to turn to Annabeth to check if there was something wrong with her.. Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child." I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves. "Percy, I want to leave..." I whispered. "Just a few bites Y/N. Don't worry." He gave me a reassuring pat. Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries. I wasn't gulfing down my food like Percy was. Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat. Annabeth slurped her shake. "What's that hissing noise?" he asked. I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head. "Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover." "I take vitamins. For my ears." "That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax." I don't like it here. I'm scared. Be wary of all things. Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess. "So, you sell gnomes," I said, trying to sound interested. "Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know." "A lot of business on this road?" "Not so much, no. Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified."Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face." "You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked. "Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company." The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?" "It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a... a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price." Annabeth gave me a look of worry. I knew she realized something. "Percy?" I shook him to get his attention. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything. "Such beautiful gray eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those." She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly. "We really should go." "Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!" "Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?" "A pose?" Annabeth asked warily. "A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children." Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—" "Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?" "Percy, I don't want to..." "It's just a photo guys." "Indeed it is just a photo Y/N," the woman purred. "No harm." I could tell Annabeth didn't like it as well, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues. Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side." "Not much light for a photo," I remarked. But joke's on her I could see quite clearly. Don't look. "Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?" "Where's your camera?" Grover asked. Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?" Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." "Grover," Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear." She still had no camera in her hands. "Percy—" Annabeth said. "I will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil...." "Percy, something's wrong," I insisted. "Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?" "That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped. DON'T LOOK. Annabeth turned to my direction, "Look away from her!" she then shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover and and I pulled Percy with me. We were on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet. I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. "Percy, we have to move!" I shook him. But he was too dazed to move. Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails. Percy was about to look higher then her hands and I instinctively covered his eyes. "Don't look!" More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be. "Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers. "Percy we have to move please!" "Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," she said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up." "Percy please!" Percy pushed my hand away and looked to one side. I turned to look as well and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens— a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents. Aunty Em. Aunty "M." How did Medusa die in the myth? But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by my namesake, Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face. "The Gray-Eyed One did this to me," Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this." "Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Y/N carry Percy!" "Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer. We won't even hurt, Y/N." I swung Percy's arm around my shoulder. But he was too heavy. "No," he muttered trying to make his legs move... "Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain." "Y/N!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!" I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone. "Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!" I tackled Percy to the other side. Thwack! Then Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!" "That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back. Pulling along an out of a dazed Percy we scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack! "Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting. Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Y/N! Percy!" Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!" Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. 'You have to cut her head off." "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here." "Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she were about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance." "What? I can't—" "Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?" She pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster. Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—" "Would you speak English?" "I am!" She tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly." "Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!" "Roooaaarrr!" "Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch. "Hurry," Annabeth told him. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash." Percy took out his pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide showed. He turned to me and gave the glass then offered a hand. "Percy you can't be seriously bring her along!?" "I'll go with him." Taking his hand, we followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair. I raised the glass so I could guide us. I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her. Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!" Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!" We advanced on her. I had let go of Percy's hand to bring out my knife. So if she charged, I could help Percy. But she let us approach—twenty feet, ten feet. I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse. "You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," she crooned. "I know you wouldn't." I could tell he hesitated. From the cement grizzly, Grover moaned, "Percy, don't listen to her!" Medusa cackled. "Too late." She lunged at him with her talons. I ran and raised my knife to block her talons, Percy then swung his sword, then we heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating. Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces. "Oh, yuck," Percy said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck." Annabeth came up next to us, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move." >Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice. "Are you okay?" Percy asked me, his voice trembling. "Yeah," I decided. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?" "Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," she said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you." Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head. "The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man." He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun." He snatched his shoes out of the air. "I didn't know Grover got Luke's shoes." Percy recapped his sword. "I can't fly." He shrugged. Together, the four of us stumbled back to the warehouse We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak. Finally Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?" Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him." "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa." Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'" "Forget it," I said. "You're impossible." "You're insufferable." "You're—" "You're both loud and stupid." I growled. "Yeah!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?" I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS! I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L.A. alive, much less before the summer solstice. What had Medusa said? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Percy and I shared a look. We got up. "I'll be back." "Percy, Y/N," Annabeth called after me. "What are you—" We searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket. In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. "Found one." Percy called. We went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip: The Gods >Mount Olympus 600th Floor, >Empire State Building New York, NY With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON <3 Y/N L/N "They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent." I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop! "I am impertinent," Percy said. I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize. She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that we had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Great, well Fred and George," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

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UwU bb I'm just licherali rippin off now srry -kookie-doughs

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river-bottom-nightmare · 4 years

Text

[New draft]

I’m finally getting hitched Tying The Knot Official Words

Wedding Vows

by roy harper, putting the laughter in manslaughter since 1983

A couple years ago, you asked me why I loved you, and I said “I-I don’t know.” Except you weren’t really happy with that answer, I could tell, so I tried to put it into nicer words. I mean, I’ve loved a lot of people in my life, or at least I thought I did. Look how that turned out. And, you know, I kind of write them off when they leave me, or when I leave them, because obviously that means it couldn’t have been love in the first place. But then I know that’s a big fat fucking lie because I still remember all of them, still remember exactly how it felt to tumble head over heels. So maybe they reason they stayed with me forever, despite one of us leaving, has to do with them and not me? And I was about halfway through this awful explanation when Dick gave us a call, told us that dealer we were tracking had just put his dirty little hands in Bludhaven, so we went to go deal with that.

Both of us were glad that conversation was over, and I’m pretty sure you forgot all about it. But I didn’t. I never forgot about it, and I realized I never really answered your question. So, here goes.

I mean, I thought I was so smart when you met me. Sure, I was at my absolute lowest. But I was 25 and reckless, and the heroin had me feeling like a real person for the first time, you know? A human being, with the kind of secrets a grown-up kept, telling the kind of lies grown-ups told. And I thought I loved the way grown-ups loved. Always on the move, always leaving. Because it was either leave or get left. And I thought that was love. And I thought that was a brilliant idea. I was all dark and tough and had this tragic backstory, and I thought I was fucking irresistible, but only for a night. I thought I was fucking irresistible for a night, and after that I wasn’t worth shit.

Now, I’m looking back at 25 year old me and the only thought going through my head was, what an asshole. Just, everything about me was supremely dickish. But most of all, it was the way I treated relationships. Do you remember that time you, me, and Kori went to that carnival? And Kori won that strength competition and we got free cotton candy? And I just gorged myself on candy floss, man. I was worse that Wally used to be, back in the day. And then we went on all those carnival rides and I thought to myself, I’d be fine. I run around jumping off rooftops with grappling arrows, and I used to practice marital arts with Dick Grayson. Motion sickness doesn’t happen to me. And then like half an hour later I was puking my guts out and you stood there and laughed at me? That. That’s how I treated love. I gobbled up everything I could get, and it was way more than I could handle, and then I’d throw it all up and run away.

I’m not 25 anymore, but it feels like I’m still running. Except I can’t get away with what I used to do, ‘cause Kori can hear my fucking heartbeat and you check my arms for track marks all the time and Dick bribed his way into being my second emergency contact after you. So I hide away in my room and sort of melt onto my sofa. But not the good melting, like the way I melt into your mouth like you snipped all my strings. The gross kind of melting where I’m curled up onto the couch and I just wanna hack all my hair off with a knife and it feels like my brain is leaking all over the sofa and I know you killed most of my old dealers but I wanna bring them back to life because just one more hit, I just need one more hit, and I wanna drink myself into a rage but you locked away all the alcohol with a bat-lock that even I can’t break. Figures. It’s funny. You’ll shoot yourself in the neck before you go to Bruce for anything, but if it’s for me, you’ll swallow your pride in a second and get whatever the hell you need.

I guess I’m just scared. I’m scared that I’m imaginary. I’m scared I’ll always end up reinventing myself every day to spare other people the trouble of having to do that for me. That what I want everyone to see always takes precedent to who I really am. I’m scared that I’ve finally lost it, that I’m crazy, that I’ve finally gone mad. But I’m even more scared that I’m perfectly sane. Because if I’m sane, then what excuse do I have? What excuse do I have for treating people the way I do, like they’re problems that I have to solve or explain or else I’ll just fall behind everyone else.

And that’s where you come in. Fuck, Jay. That’s, that’s when you came in.

I tried to word vomit that last part to you one night when you thought I was drunk and I thought you were drunk but neither of us had had a drop, and we hid behind the curtain of alcohol to have a heart to heart. And you told me people don’t have to be solved or explained. We’re all just ghost stories, and maybe we should just try to stay that way. Because we spend our days doing wonderful things, horrible things, and sometimes there’s no reason behind it. Or, wait, fuck, no. There is a reason. But that reason’s too simple and too straightforward to really be satisfying, you know? And then we keep forgetting the lesson that we learned and re-mystifying these problems that we already solved because deep down we don’t actually want to figure out why we love each other but hurt each other and-

Fuck. Sorry, Jaybird. This was supposed to be a simple answer to a simple question.

I think. Um. No, I don’t think. I know. I know I love you because I have to.

There’s no “why” about it. Any more than there’s a reason why Kori loves the dew drops that gather in the morning grass, or why that old hag in the apartment next to us can’t keep a plant alive for the life of her. I mean, I guess there is a reason. There’s always a reason, there’s always a “why.” I don’t really understand it, though. And you know how much that bothers me, you gotta know how much I hate that. Maybe if I dug around in myself for a bit, really thought some stuff through, talked to some people I thought I was done talking to, I’d figure it out. I’d figure out where all this love comes from. What it’s for.

But then the question would be answered. Why do I love you? Boom, I’d have an explanation. The ghost story would be over. And there’s really no point in telling a ghost story that has an ending, all nice and neat and wrapped up in a little package.

Right now, I think I’m finally at a place where I can just let it be. It’s just you and me. Me sleeping ‘till noon, then waking up to see you in my kitchen, looking like a fucking greek god reincarnated, a smile on your face that I don’t think anyone else but me gets to see, flipping an omelette with the same ease and grace that you flip knives. Me in fiddling with a couple spare parts, adding on to my arrows, and you either sliding up behind me, wrapping your arms around my waist and whispering in my ear how good I look in this old tank top or you throwing a greasy rag at my face and laughing at how it messed up the bun I had my hair put up in and telling me to wash up, dinner’s in 10. The two of us crowding around a set of blueprints, scheming and figuring out how to best hurt this one greedy asshole and send him down the highway to hell. And you honestly know all my secrets, all the dark thoughts I had when I was doped up and hating the world and everyone in it. And I’m the only one who knows what really happened in that funky green goo you call a Lazarus Pit, I’m the only one who knows what you went through under the League. The fact that we don’t have any secrets gives me this feeling in my chest, it’s warm and golden and sorta like how you feel with Dick Grayson smiles at you, except this time I think I caused it.

I just hope to god I’m right when I say “I love you.”

‘Cause I do. Jason. I love you. I just, fuck. I like being around you. And for the first time in a long while, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.

Fuck. That was stupid. This barely even made sense anyway.

[Are you sure you want to delete this document?]

[Document deleted]

[New draft]

Wedding Vows.

From Roy Harper. To Jason Todd.

I was trying something new with this and I have no idea whether it worked or not but oh well here it is.

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lucky-aspen · 4 years

Text

This is my first time posting my writing, so I hope you enjoy this one-shot. This is meant to be set some point after episode 107.

TW: there is talk about emotional and manipulative abuse.

Being back on the ocean was welcoming for the Aasimar. From fighting a fake volcano god to a dinosaur. Traveller-Con had come and now was gone. Now it was open seas and a world to explore. These past few weeks had been nothing but eventful. Stopping wars and a forming cult. The surrounding calm was strange but welcoming nonetheless. The distant storm clouds making another wave of reassurance hit her. The sun had finally disappeared from the sky and darkness was brought over the ship. The only light came from the small candlelights of the lanterns that rested on areas of the ship. Darkness sat around them, a large void they floated on.

Despite the eeriness of not really knowing what was in front of her or what was lurking underneath the water Yasha felt surprisingly calm. A calm she knew both Veth or Caduceus didn’t have out in the water. The party had gone and started their own small tasks on the ship leaving the top deck empty and silent just like the area around them. The only sounds were the moving water and the distant rumble of thunder after a brief flash of light in the sky.

She had no real reason to be out here, But there wasn’t much to do on a ship. Not at this moment at least. They weren’t being hunted by a Dragon Turtle and now they had a bigger boat. Most of the crew had gone to bed besides the few who kept watch. It wasn’t until the sound of footsteps against the wood of the deck that Yasha drew her eyes away from the coming storm that would greet them soon.

What she was greeted by were familiar bright blue eyes; eyes that made her breath get caught in her throat. Every time they meant her own different colored eyes she couldn’t help but stare. The barbarian was easily able to feel a small smile creep up on her lips.

“Hey,” Beau spoke first, breaking the silent night air with her words, “I saw you alone out here...so I thought maybe you’d like someone to talk to?” She said with an unsure shrug.

The cool charming behavior the monk had spent minutes trying to build up was already breaking away into a flustered mess. Beauregard could feel herself mentally slapping herself and secretly prayed she wouldn’t say something too stupid.

Yasha found herself looking at Beau, the candlelights casting heavy shadows on her face. The sharp features of her face standing out. It wasn’t until seconds later Yasha came to the realization she had been, in fact, staring far too long without an answer to give to her question. Yasha was quick to avert her eyes to the side of the ship that led to nothing but darkness. Her face flushing with a pink hue.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

The response was soft-spoken like most of the time Yasha spoke. If Beau had not been listening Yasha’s response could have been carried off by the wind without a problem. Soft spoke despite the rage she held in battle. It was strange seeing a woman so brutal in a fight look so vulnerable at the moment. As if she had just been caught stealing something of great value and part of Yasha felt like she had.

Beau had rested her lower back against the railing of the ship, one leg crossed over the other with her arms crossed over her chest. She stood inches away from Yasha who was also leaning against the same railing but with her forearms resting against it. Silence came over the two of them but in hope one would start the conversation up. As the Aasimar went to speak, the monk was already beating her to it.

“It’s-“

“So-“

A small chuckle escaped Yasha’s lips as Beau was stumbling over her own apologize for cutting the other woman off, “no, you go ahead.” Yasha insisted.

“It’s been a crazy few weeks,”

“Yeah. I guess now we finally get to wrap our heads around all that happened.”

“Yeah, I um, I actually want to talk to you about something.”

A raised eyebrow was what the human got in silent reply as Yasha stood to her full height towering over Beauregard. Yasha, a woman, so hard to read most of the time, broke. Concern crossed her face, only for a second, enough for Beau to catch a glimpse of. A side the monk had only seen from the barbarian a handful of times.

“Now that we’re out here, not having to worry about war and a dragon turtle chasing us I’ve had time to think. I’ve had time to think about going and helping Veth and Caduceus and now I’m thinking about the visit we had with my dad.”

Yasha didn’t interrupt, but she felt a certain sadness pull at her chest, and she found herself wanting to reach out and take hold of her hand. Part of her wondered why Beau came to her wanting to talk about her family. Yasha had never been good with feeling, or words. The monk could be with Jester or Caduceus spilling her guts out with all the thoughts she held in her mind. Yet she was here and Yasha knew this wasn’t just the only reason why the shorter woman had come to her during the middle of the night.

Beau stood there, her gaze never meeting Yasha's own. Her eyes glued to the deck floor in front of her. She remembered the night as if it were yesterday. Her father who she thought of as this giant monster who stood tall over her, and she had found herself in the belly of the beast when she walked in her home. The fear that had rested deep within her chest was a distant remainder to her constantly. Even with how the events played out one part stood out to her above most.

The time she had been escorted out with her friends, strong hands of support on her shoulders to know they were there to protect her as she felt like nothing more than a child again, helpless. The difference was she wasn’t alone in this conflict that rested in both her mind and the outside world. One last glance was all she needed, to look at the man who didn’t love her the way he should have.

Yasha stood there, mouth moving, talking in a voice only for him to hear. The wide eyes of the man was enough for Beau to tell Yasha had struck a nerve. He looked...small. Almost helpless as if he were the child getting lectured by the woman with a sword. It was a strange look on the male who did everything to keep order and power; yet the more the pale stranger talked the more his world around him crumbled apart. With that and without another word Yasha parted ways and joined the group as if though she never left at all.

Beau saw all the fear in her father’s eyes as he looked at the group once more before the door shut with a soft click. A man who she thought was bigger than the world around her was now just a coward trying to make a living on one stupid fortune. Beau was no longer that child, and she was no longer alone. She had her friends right behind, but like Beau, she was always seeking answers and the thoughts of what Yasha had said to her father rested in the back of her mind.

“You said something to him that clearly got him scared shitless, what did you say to him?” Beau cut straight to the point of her question, no sugarcoating it.

Yasha shoulders tensed. She hadn’t noticed Beau had seen her when she talked to her father. The spotlight was on her now, and she knew she’d have to give an answer to Beau. She couldn’t lie to her.

“I asked him if we were to kill the hag would all he have just go away. He didn’t know. I told him it’s something he should think about that. That he should be more appreciative toward what is important. That he should be proud of you.”

Beau could feel her throat dry as she listened to Yasha’s voice. Beau knew there was something more between the two of them, something unspoken; a tension that made her want to stay next to Yasha. Both knew there was something there and now that Obann was gone Beau noticed the bolder moves that came from the Aasimar. Before Beau could respond Yasha spoke up,

“I didn’t want to make a big deal of it, you know. He should be proud of you Beau. You’re so strong and a really good fighter.”

Beau looked up from the deck floor she had been looking at and her eyes meant Yasha’s own gaze. A small smile fell on the monk’s lips. A compliment, despite how small it was made Beau’s heart beat fast in her chest. Her stomach felt like it was doing flips and the pink against her cheeks was enough for Yasha to know her words hit Beau.

“Thank you Yash, I appreciate it. You did scare him shitless.” Beau chuckled but the pain that she held toward her father still sat there.

“Yeah.” Despite the chuckle Beau gave, Yasha didn’t return it and held a concerned look in her eyes, “are you alright?”

“Yeah! Yeah…” a sigh broke from the shorter woman, “like I said, now that everything has calmed I’ve had time to just sit and think. I realize my father doesn’t have any control over me anymore. That I shouldn’t fear him. Yet when we went to my old home all I felt was fear. I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible.”

“You know I could have killed him for you,”

This made Beau let out another halfhearted laugh, “As much of an asshole he is, he doesn’t deserve to die. Part of me still cares for him even with all the shitty stuff he has done.”

Beau took in Yasha’s form and looked at the chest piece she wore. The lights reflecting off it. They sat in silence for seconds before she spoke up.

“You still wear the breastplate.”

“Yeah.”

“Why is that? You had the bracers but you decided to keep the chest piece.”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard to let go...”

Beau looked confused and part of Yasha just wanted to end the conversation right then and there. Would she even understand?

“Like I said, whenever Obann took control of me, parts of that were me. All my memories that were lost just came back. I did awful things Beau. He took me in when I thought I had lost everything. Before the Stormlord found me. Despite all he made me do, he treated me like a friend. He said all these kind things. He gave me this.” She said gesturing to the breastplate.

The painful look in the monk’s eyes was clear as day. The manipulation that Yasha has gone through was a lot. Everyone in the Mighty Nein knew that. The way Yasha had acted whenever they got her back broke Beau’s heart. The fear the tall woman had when she was back, that she had lost her found family. That she thought that they wouldn’t accept her back in. Yet here she was with the people she now saw as her family.

“He can’t control you any more Yasha.”

“I know that. He deserved what he got in the end. I’d just like to keep this as a reminder. Plus it’s done me some good in battle.”

“Yeah it has. You’ve done a lot of good since we’ve got you back.”

The small smile Yasha gave was sad as she looked down at her hands, despite them being cleaned, in the back of her mind she could feel the blood that stained them. All the innocent lives she had taken. Balling her hands into fists she let out a heavy sigh and turned her attention to Beau.

“I like to believe being with you guys I’ve done a lot of good. But it’s hard to just erase the past.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a bright future.”

Words similar to Caleb own, allow yourself a little happiness in your life. The events that happened on the island Yasha felt like she was doing just that. She had to be doing something right. She got her wings after all, she could fly. The chains no longer held her down and overall she felt…lighter, free. Hearing the words from the woman made Yasha’s heart flip. She was trying, believe her, she was. She found her happiness in her friends and one particular monk stood out against them all. Yasha would be trying for that happiness, now more than ever.

“I like to think I’m trying. I must be doing something right.”

The sound of a low rumble could be heard in the distance before flashes of white light could be seen in the dark sky. A silent word for the Stormlord himself telling Yasha she was. She could feel the eyes of Beau on her even as she looked out at the storm.

“Is that him?”

“I think so.”

“I leave you to your god then.”

With a slight sigh Beau pushed herself off the railing she leaned against, Yasha eyes were now on her once more and no longer on the storm that would be with them soon.

“Thank you for talking to me Beau.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. I should be thanking you too. Not a lot of people stand up against my father.”

Yasha gave her a soft smile and a nod of her head in acceptance of her thanks. She watched as Beau turned to walk away. Part of her wanted to reach out for her; to ask her to stay, but she didn’t move. She wanted to spend more time with the monk. To talk to her, to hold her, to keep her safe, to just be with her, but she stood stiff. Her voice was caught in her throat before finally she spoke. Just before Beau could get too far away.

“Hey Beau. Would you just like to watch the storm with me?”

She was caught off guard, usually their conversations ended so awkwardly they would just call it there. To have Yasha ask her to stay. It made Beau's stomach do flips. Part of her had to make sure it wasn’t only her hearing it. She had to play it cool, their conversation hadn’t gone completely wrong tonight. She wasn’t going to lose this moment by saying something stupid.

“Sure.”

Making her way back to where she had just been seconds ago, she sat down on the deck floor and looked up at the sky. Watching the flashes of lightning in the storm cloud. She hadn’t expected to see Yasha take a seat next to her, looking up at the sky with her.

“We don’t have to talk or anything, not if you don’t want to.”

She had blurted it out so suddenly, and she was now mentally facepalming herself, nice going Beau, you had to make it awkward. She could feel the heat rushing to her face once she knew Yasha was looking at her.

“If you’d like that. Just listening to the rain is nice.”

Another rumble of thunder in the distance made itself known, along with the light touch of another hand just next to Beau’s own, barely touching.

“Yeah, I always like waiting to hear the thunder.”

#critical role #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #beauregard #yasha #yasha nydoorin #be carful of spoilers #takes place after ep 107 #my writing #my fic #sorry for any spelling/grammar errors #long post

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zeoumren · 4 years

Text

The skeletons, the swamp and the song bird(undertale drabble)

I am not gonna post this to Ao3 (probably) but I wanted to write something about the boys™ ( y’know San’s Red and Skull because they spark joy) and I ended up making...a swamp monster Au? hey, you know what sure. I'm chill.

So please enjoy this little drabble

Sans is half blue spotted salamander

Red is half Marine iguana

And our boy skull is an unholy amalgam of giant leeches that makes him look like he has tentacles. c:

It had been another indescribably shitty day.

You were not a pessimist but the dark circles under your eyes had something to say about your lifestyle.

It was shit, plain and simple. You had a hard time separating your real life from your work life and that lead to more stress, less sleep and a pissy boss telling you to get your act together before coming back to the venue.

A sigh left you as you sat hunched over on a stump in the forest clearing.

This was your quiet place, you came here to sing and practice routines.

You were an entertainer and it was hard not to keep your mask on, you pretended all the time to be someone...something you were not it was hard when someone asked you about yourself because you didn't know who you were off the stage anymore.

So yeah, life was kinda shit right now so you threw yourself into what you normally did when you hiked up here, into the humid underbrush of a forest no one wanted to come to, legends of creatures eating full-grown men whole and actual real dangers surrounded this place, but you didn’t much care anymore.

After all, the ones who were more dangerous were outside the forest.

Taking off a ball cap and letting your hair tumble free you wipe your brow free of sweat and kick your legs as you sit.

Most of the forest was loud, full if chattering and nattering of birds and other creatures, but this space that just dropped off into a bog, was quiet.

You liked to come here in the wee hours of the morning and watch the fog roll off the algae-green water, it made for the perfect ambience to a forlorn song or a crooning that let all your own heartbreak loose.

But today, in the evening after being told your routine was shit and you were one slip up from being let go and replaced by someone new, who you had no grievance with, but it was the principal of the matter, you had worked so hard to get to sing and perform for crowds and now….you were having it dangled above your head.

You grit your teeth and for the first time since you ever came here you let out a cry of pure frustration and rage.

The quiet never broke, even through all your angered screaming, then looking between your knees as you sat and into the murky water you buried your head in your hands and wept.

You did not know what to do! It was all too much all at once.

Still, you came back to a familiar song, even with a tearful voice.

"Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird teach me how to sing."

You were able to get a few verses in before the sun began to Dip down below the horizon and you got up from your perch.

No point trying to navigate this quagmire in the gloom.

You took careful steps, keeping to the path you always did when something caught your attention. A pale bluish light hovering in the air, soon being joined by more close by of other colours…you spotted red as well, and a strange, almost grey-blue light. You hummed to yourself, reminded of the fact that this was a bog, and swamp gas igniting was a thing. Still, you stopped and stared, a smile playing at your lips.

"Wow, this is the most beautiful light show I have ever seen! And people say the Fen is haunted. More like hauntingly beautiful!"

You giggle to yourself and don't even notice the lights flare brighter at your statement.

You always loved the Gloom, you just never knew the gloom loved you back.

---

Well….you never thought it could get worse, but even after giving it your all you still ended up being fired.

So you came to the bog to say your goodbyes. You probably would have to move back into your parent’s town.

"I'm gonna miss this place, not the shitty managers, or the fights...but I always thought the locals were silly to be afraid. This place is so magical and I'm really gonna miss it…"

It was weird, saying goodbye to a place. But you somehow still ended up crying a little.

And for the first time ever in this clearing, you heard a sound.

A mournful wailing, deep like a foghorn that rattled into your very bones.

It looked like the Bog itself had seemed to shift, the top layer of Jenny green teeth giving way to the sound of mud slurping and water gushing.

You couldn't move, frozen to the spot as you watched in awed terror.

Writhing tentacles that moved like leeches and were just as black moved towards you, you figured this was it, you were dead. You sucked in a breath and screwed your eyes up tight.

You were startled as the wet appendages slowly ran over your cheek. Delicately.

You cracked open an eye and saw there in the water a skull, a giant gaping hole that looked painful gushing water as it rose, one of its eyes was devoid of light and the other…

Was a deep crimson, the colour of blood.

Yet it smiled softly, even with so many teeth.

The tentacles seemed to be coming from it and it made you cock your head to the side as it almost shyly drew closer, hauling more of its body out of the water.

Its torso was also skeletal, and it was gigantic, at least eight feet tall without including its lower half.

You thought of story's of swamp hags dragging people under and looked at this...it seemed to fit some sort of description...it definitely looked like a drowned corpse.

But as it hauled itself out of the water and you saw how it slid over to you in one fluid motion, how its bones melded into strange dark tentacles, how it's eye lit up when it reached a skeletal hand over to pat your hair.

This was surreal, strange in every sense of the word. Your voice caught in your throat as two other skulls, smaller than the first bobbed in the water, one had white pinpricks of light for eyes like the stars in the sky, the other had sharper teeth and predatory red slits for eye lights.

They shared a look and dipped under the surface, leaving you with the behemoth.

It was so strange having something so giant hold your face and look you over, play with your hair.

You finally found your voice, it wobbled despite your best efforts.

"S-sorry to bother you...I didn't know anyone lived here. Don't worry I will go."

The touching and playing stopped and it said one word that made your stomach drop and your bones freeze.

"N o."

It was soft, but full of a strange emotion you could not understand and you felt your eyes widen in shock as millions of tentacles surrounded you, even if you were to scream it would come out muffled as the world was blotted out by the writhing darkness.

---

The moment you were spat out from the inky prison you were on a shore...a tiny island with a cave in the center.

You were surrounded by the bog and your heart sped up when you saw the water froth and churn.

Out of the murk popped the small skeletal creature...white eyes.

He watched you curiously before sliding up onto the island. His lower body made you actually smile, he looked like some sort of blue newt from the waist down. That was it. You had to have bumped your head and were slowly bleeding out. None of this was possible.

So, since this is probably a weird dream induced by bloodless, you may as well be nice. You smile and wave to the creature who looks shocked and his skeletal face flushes a bright blue as little wisps of blue light curl around him.

He Pat's his face roughly and scampers off into the cave.

"Bye lil guy."

The next thing you know you are being tackled and you are staring up at a grinning maw full of sharp teeth and slit red eyes.

"Um...are you going to eat me?"

If you are already dying you may as well just get that question out of the way. The newt skeleton seemed harmless...but this one…

It looked more like one of those lizards that catches fish, it had sharp claws on both its skeletal and reptilian appendages. This was a predator and it could rip you apart...yet you were suprised when it laughed and started ...purring?

It was a gravely sound that you felt in your bones, but it was strangely warm.

"Heh, cute but I'm not gonna even try songbird. Skull would kill me...oh speak of the devil. Goodluck sweetness.~"

He scrambled off of you, but not before licking your cheek with a forked red tongue.

He too wandered off to the cave...it struck you that these creatures could talk, which sent your mind reeling, even as you were picked up by curling black tentacles.

You crossed your arms and looked at the creature holding you.

Skull...right?

"So...are you going to eat me?"

Skull...looked horrified. His one eye light got impossibly small and he surged out of the water, reaching out to hold you...your clothing was no doubt ruined by now and everything felt so surreal. He scooped you up and you were shocked by how warm he was.

"No. Wont. Keep you safe."

You blinked softly.

Huh.

"Can I go home?"

You were squeezed a little tighter and you realized he was bringing you to the cave.

"Keep you safe."

You were placed up high on a rocky shelf that was covered with sweet smelling moss and animal skins. tentacles retreating after softly patting your head. You blinked in the low light.

It...was a little home? The cave had three rocky pools of water and some different shelves and outcroppings. You held in your grasp of wonder as all around you little jars filled with bioluminescent blue mushrooms blinked to life in the growing gloom.

You may be dead...but you guessed there were worse places to be dead. You looked down and waved at the little newtiton and received a wink from the skelezard.

Skull was winding himself into a ball of tentacles inside the biggest pool while the other two were resting on old animal skins and warming up by a fire that crackled with the smell of roasting fish.

You sighed softly and laid down on the surprisingly soft moss.

You guessed this was fine for now.

It is not like you had anywhere to be and you were safe, unless you were already dead...plus you probably were in shock, nothing felt real right now.

Closing your eyes you heard three separate voices call out to say the same thing.

" Good night songbird"

---

"How long do you think she will sleep for?"

Sans stifled a yawn as he had stayed up to chat with the others.

It was no fair, he had found you first, someone singing in the early morning just for him. He had hoped to lure you with the will-o-the-wisp's into the water at first but in the end he had let you go. You were just...your song was so sad.

Mournful.

He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, and you came back. A new song each day that felt like it was just for him.

Then Red had to show up and decide he liked your singing too.

And you came once or twice at night so, skull found out too. Skull was dangerous, sans thought for sure you were dead but the behemoth seemed smitten. He liked your happy songs filled with love, your sad songs filled with loss...you sounded like you had lived all these songs.

Then you came to the fen not with a song, but with tears, with frustration and heartbreak.

And yet you had still called their home beautiful...their lights that they put up to cheer you...you called them beautiful too.

And of course it was hard to hold skull back from wanting to take you then.

"I dunno squirt. But Hell. I know she deserves some sleep...she always looks so tired. But she still hikes out here everyday."

Red growled and looked up at your sleeping form.

Their songbird was suffering all this time and they never noticed until now.

It made his instincts flare up. He had to protect you...he had to, you were too fragile to keep out of sight for long.

If he did someone else might hurt you.

You were better off here.

He may be adverse to skulls method of getting you here, but now that you were…

"So, we all agree we are keeping her?"

Sans thought it over and nodded, he may not want to share, but he was stuck in this situation now.

"...I mean...I don't want her to leave, and she is so tiny and thin. We should probably take care of her."

"Protect little bird. Needs to eat more."

Skull was already in full nesting mode with you here. It was weird to see someone so...feral become a purring kitten in your presence.

They all stopped and stared all three skulls snapping up to the shelf when you cooed out a little yawn before rolling over in your sleep.

"...too cute."

Skull was holding his face and twirling his tentacles into tight knots. He probably wanted to hold you.

"Stars, yeah we gotta keep her. I'll get her more furs for her nest tomorrow."

And now Red was gone too. His mind working on instinct to protect, provide and comfort.

Though sans was not much better. He was already trying to figure out where to catch more humans and extort them for favours so they would give him things for you.

Yes. They all looked at each other and nodded.

The songbird was theirs. The world would never harm them again.

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iwaswritingmywayout · 4 years

Text

BTMH: Chapter 27: Love

Once Y/N and Seonghwa got to the kiss-and-cry, they sat on the bench and Seonghwa clutched the Makkachin tissue box.

“The scores, please, for Katsuki Y/N,” the announcer said. Once the announcer received the scores, he continued. “Her free skate program score: 165.20. Her total score: 259.56.”

The audience cheered loudly after hearing the score. Seonghwa was even happier. His face lit up and he hugged Y/N tightly, rocking her back and forth in a very enthusiastic hug. Y/N was just as excited as Seonghwa, she was so happy about how she did so well. She was even happier knowing that now she would have a boyfriend.

The pair walked away from the kiss-and-cry.

“It’s amazing you scored high after a jump like that! Thanks for proving to me that you’re able to get a lot of PCS points,” Seonghwa said, hugging her tightly. “You can score even higher, so don’t feel down, okay, Y/N?” Seonghwa leaned close to her ear before whispering. “Besides, I’m your boyfriend now so you don’t have to worry about impressing me now, I will always be impressed by you.” Seonghwa nuzzled her as he hugged her. Y/N just sat there, her face as red as a tomato.

“Y/N!” Wooyoung shouted.

The two broke apart and turned around.

“I totally lost to you. I want to face you in the Grand Prix series someday! Until then, please don’t quit!” Wooyoung said.

Y/N’s eyes widened and started to shine, tears starting to form. What Wooyoung had said was very sweet and Y/N was so shocked.

“And another thing!” Wooyoung bowed, holding out a pen and paper. “Please give me your autograph!”

Y/N held up her hands but smiled and did as he asked. Jungkook showed up as well, also wanting an autograph. Taehyung showed up too and wanted a picture. She did everything they asked her to do. Seonghwa smiled as he watched the interaction.

Later on Y/N and Seonghwa were standing around talking to Minako and Takeshi.

“Y/N! I was so impressed! It was so obvious that you took the younger skaters seriously as rivals!” Minako said.

“What if you’d gotten hurt, slamming into the wall like that at the end? You’re still dealing with the side effects of you ACL injury, you can’t afford another one!” Takeshi lectured.

Y/N took out the tissues she had in her nose and threw them into a trashcan nearby. “S-sorry. At first, I was just desperate because I didn’t want to lose, but somehow, I started having a lot of fun in the middle. I don’t remember a lot about it.”

“That’s right, Y/N, I never asked. Is your knee hurting?” Seonghwa asked,

Y/N shook her head. “Nope, I took some medicine before I skated so it wouldn’t hurt after,” she said.

“Huh?” Minako and Takeshi said at the same time.

“Yeah…” Y/N nodded.

Y/N, Wooyoung, and Jungkook stood on the podium. Y/N holding a first place certificate, Wooyoung holding a second place certificate, and Jungkook holding a third place certificate. Y/N was smiling.

‘Anyway, that was the most fun I’ve ever had while skating in competition.’

Seonghwa smiled and clapped slowly.

Back in Russia, Jongho scowled as he looked at a photo of Y/N jumping into Seonghwa’s outstretched arms. He shut his eyes and threw his phone against the window with an angry grunt. It bounced off the window and onto the floor. Jongho was trembling slightly, the veins popping up on his face.

Mila saw it happening from the edge of the rink. “What are you doing, Jongho?” Mila teased. “Oh, you saw the picture of Seonghwa and Y/N, didn’t you? Are you jealous? You must like Y/N yourself, why else would you be so mad about her hugging Seonghwa. Or, could it be- no, it can’t be. Could you actually like Seonghwa and that’s why you’re jealous?”

Jongho’s eyes darkened and he turned around to face Mila. “No! Of course not! Shut up hag!”

Back in Japan, Y/N was at a press conference as Seonghwa and the rest of her family watch it from Yu-topia Katsuki. Y/N was looking professional, wearing a black skirt, white button up shirt, and black jacket.

“Next, we have skater Katsuki Y/N who’s thought to be the next leader of co-ed’s singles in Japan. Please, show us,” Morooka said.

Y/N stood up, blushing slightly.

“Um…Please show your theme for this year. Skater Katsuki?” Morooka said.

Y/N placed her board on the stand so the audience can read it. She raised the microphone. “My theme in this year’s Grand Prix series is “love”. I’ve been helped by many people in my competitive skating career thus far, but I’ve never thought about “love” until now. Though I was blessed with support, I couldn’t take full advantage of it. I always felt like I was fighting alone. But since Seonghwa showed up to be my coach, I’ve seen something totally different. My “love” is not clear cut, it’s not only the romantic love, but also the more abstract feelings of my relationship with Seonghwa, family, and my hometown… I was finally able to realize that something like love exists all around me. Seonghwa is the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. He’s the first person I want to hold on to and never let go. I’ve been wondering about what to name that emotion, but soon after the competition, Seonghwa made it clear to me what it was. It’s “love”. Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it,” Y/N said, making a fist with her hand. “I’ll prove it to myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!” Y/N threw her fist in the air.

Seonghwa, the Katsuki family, and the Nishigori family watched the press conference on TV at Yu-Topia. Seonghwa was smiling as Y/N spoke about love. When she finished speaking, Minako raised an eyebrow and looked over at Seonghwa.

“What did she mean you made it clear to her what love is?” Minako asked.

Seonghwa just chuckled and smiled. He then ran a hand through his hair. “It’ll become clear when the time is right,” he said.

“So we… were abstract,” Yuuko said.

“After all this time we’ve supported her… “ Minako said.

Seonghwa hugged Makkachin, who was wagging his tail. “When you get back, we’ll burn that unfashionable get-up.”

Y/N waved on the TV screen.

“Let’s buy a new one before the Cup of China,” Seonghwa said.

#born to make history #yuri on ice #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #park seonghwa #ateez #x reader #imagine

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daybreak-delusion · 4 years

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Chapter 6

Introduction: Whitney Goodwinson was planning on inheriting one of her deceased grandmother's properties, but not a little house off the coast of North Carolina. As she struggles to meet new people, fix up her new property, deal with troublemaker JJ Maybank, and perfect her grandmother's infamous lemonade, she might just find that the Outer Banks has more to offer than it seems.

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

I was trying to keep up with Sarah’s pace as she headed towards a stone path lined with rose bushes away from the lights and noise of the country club. The smell of salt was starting to get stronger so I could only assume that we were headed towards the beach.

“God, I thought we’d never hear the end of what hook to use for deep sea fishing,” said Sarah, annoyance in her voice. As we kept walking on the path the beach came into view. It would have been a dark night but there were no clouds in the sky and the moon was full and making the ocean light up.

“Um look Sarah it was nice to meet you and everything, but what are we doing?” I asked, starting to get a little weird out. I had just met this girl a little over an hour ago and for half of the time that I knew her I thought she hated me.

“We’re just walking to the Lemon House,” she said nonchalantly.

“We’re walking!?”

“Hey it’s good exercise and I could tell that you would rather walk home than get in a car with my brother again,” she said now heading towards the general direction on the house.

“Very true, I just don’t think he likes me that much,” I said.

“Ha consider yourself lucky, then you’d actually have to talk to him.”

“I’m good I don't think I can talk about fishing anymore after tonight.” We were walking along the shore now en route to the Lemon House.

“Oh my god, that’s what my whole life is and it’s only gotten worse since he’s gotten back from college.”

“I truly do feel bad for you.”

“Don’t be, they’re my family. I have to love them.”

“Yeah I guess, families are weird, mine thinks that every conversation needs to include an argument, mainly about the person they’re sleeping with.”

“Wow hold on, your family discusses that with you in the room?”

“Yeah my family has messed up morals, but like you said have to love them.”

“Geez that’s awful,” she said. As we walked I looked over to the ocean, mesmerized by the way the moonlight reflected on the water.

“So did you mean what you said about the Killer Whales at SeaWorld?” Sarah asked, pulling me away from the view of the water.

“Oh, that’s not even the half of it,” was the beginning of my rant about ocean life, after that we talked more about other environmental issues. The rainforest, oil spills, and illegal hunting.

“I mean it’s disgusting what those stupid clown people do to those poor animals,” Sarah continued throwing her hands in the air.

“I know! Did you know that in Germany they started using holograms instead of real animals in their circuses, it’s an amazing show.”

“Wait have you been?”

“Yeah we went last summer with my grandmother, she was all about keeping things eco-friendly.”

“She sounds like a great lady,” Sarah says, “Everyone was really upset about her passing.”

“Yeah I didn’t realize the impact she had here, JJ was telling me about it.”

“Wait JJ,” she said turning to look at me with a confused look on her face, “JJ Maybank? When did you meet him?”

“Oh he was mowing my lawn this morning, apparently he works for me now. Do you know him?”

“Oh yeah I do, I mean I don’t think we're considered besties more like acquaintances. He’s practically brothers with my boyfriend.”

“Interesting. Now please correct me if I’m wrong, but aren't you technically a Kook and JJ’s a Pouge? So how did you two become friends or I mean acquaintances with him?”

“Ah oh my god, do I have a story for you, Whitney.” So as we were starting to pass what I could only assume were Kook mansions Sarah explained the story of the Royal Merchant and how her and her Scooby gang tried to find it. Unfortunately, the trail dried up and the treasure was never found.

“Then after we were shot at by that old hag it turns out there was nothing down there in the first place. Everyone was crushed about it. I thought John B would never recover, he stayed cooped up in his house for like two weeks I don’t even know if he ate anything. He looked like a ghost when he finally left his room.”

John B had been Sarah’s boyfriend since their adventure into the archives at their local university. It was a cute story and brought to light why the Camerons had gone silent at the mention of Sarah’s friends. They don't really approve of the relationship or her new friends but were too proud to admit their opinions.

“Wait I thought he was staying at your house?”

“He was until his uncle finally showed up after hearing the news about John B. He talked to Child Services then John B and his uncle moved back to the chateau. Ever since John B turned 18 though his uncle moved out and JJ moved in with him.”

“Wow, I thought stories like that only happened in movies or poorly written Netflix originals.”

“Nah it’s a big deal around here and for real don't joke about it, two mainlanders died when the trail was hot.”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s insane.”

“Tell me about it, that week was both the best and worst week of my life,” she said with distraught in her voice.

“Geez, you guys have been through so much. I can’t believe JJ actually almost went to jail.”

“Oh yeah that was the weirdest part we were all nervous about his bail, but it was paid for anonymously.”

“Wait what? Who just decides to pay 30K for some kid to get out of jail?”

“I don’t know, but I swear even after someone gave him the biggest break of the century he hasn't changed a bit. He’s still reckless and still doesn't give a shit about his future.”

“God that’s kinda insensitive, on his part I mean. I don’t know if it’s morally ethical for me to keep him as my gardener.”

“Don't get me wrong he’s kinda clueless and illogical but he's the hardest worker I know.”

“I hope so.” The longer I’ve known JJ the more I didn’t know about him. He seemed to have a reputation as a vulgar troublemaker. Why did Grandmother trust him? And why should I?

“Here we are,” said Sarah as the Lemon House came into view in all of its yellow glory.

“Wait how are you gonna get home?” I asked the realization that she did not have a car or bike hitting me.

“Oh don’t worry I’m actually going to head to John B’s house, he lives just a bit over from you.”

“Ahh is that why you really wanted to walk me home?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

“Of course not, it’s not like my parents told me I couldn't see my boyfriend tonight and saw an opportunity to see him and took it,” she said batting her eyelashes.

“Sure, anyways thanks for saving me from another ‘super interesting’ car ride with Rafe.”

“No problem and Whitney for real don’t worry about JJ he loved working for your grandma and probably won't screw you over.”

“Thanks Sarah very reassuring, don’t have too much fun with John B, okay?”

“Hey no promises,” she said with amusement in her voice, “Well until we meet again miss Whitney!” she said in a terrible British accent.

“Until then!” I replied, throwing in a curtsy.

As she disappeared into a grove of trees I turned to the path that lead to the house. I had just met Sarah a little less than three hours ago, but I could tell we were going to be good friends. She was carefree and easygoing unlike my few “friends” back home. She also gave me some very good insight into her and her friends' background, especially JJ. They had all been through a lot and I know this was selfish of me to think, but that probably meant they didn’t take too well to outsiders. Still, it couldn't hurt to try to make friends.

a/n: like for real how sad would it have been if John B didn’t find anything in the basement? It would have been uber depressing. Also pls don’t get mad at my jest at the Netflix writers, it’s all fun and games. Anyways I promise JJ comes back in the next chapter! Thank you so much for reading it really means the world to me that people are actually reading what I am writing! Next Chapter up shortly!

#jj maybank #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x original character #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fandom #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fandom #obx #obx fandom #obx fanfiction #jj outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fic

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xtrashmammalstefx · 5 years

Text

Some Day One Day (Gwilym Lee x Reader)

Part 13 of The Queen Repertoire

WARNINGS: Insinuations of suicide and depression, moderate violence (bullying and abuse)

Notes: I may or may not have realized there was a lack of BORHAP boys in my works thus far and have vowed to make more with them. Starting with this piece of angst and fluff sprinkled with smut. Enjoy!

Some day one day I will marry a prince.

That's what I used to tell myself, back when it was okay to dream of fairy tales. As I got older though that silly fantasy faded and in its place was something only I knew to be real.

Some day one day I hope to be alive.

I wasn't the happiest girl at my secondary school. No, that would be my older sister, Y/OS/ N. She was popular, and easily loved. She had a massive group of friends and lads wanting her to be theirs. One of said friends, whom she had fancied, was a lad named Gwilym.

Gwilym was different. Always the one in the crowd that looked like he didn't wish to be there. His eyes would wander as though lost in a daydream. He was also strikingly beautiful. Inside and out.

I only knew him from afar, and only managed an occasional hello before Y/OS/N would take over the conversation.

One day, my emotionally lowest day, Gwil and some of the other kids from school came over to hang with Y/OS/N. I was sixteen while they were seventeen. Earlier that day at school during lunch hour the group had caught Gwil zoning out. I know because I could hear them from table by the window. Apparently this time his eyes were set on me. Y/OS/N noticed this and became irate.

Later that day she cornered me in the girls lavatory and took scissors to my Y/H/L, Y/H/C hair; cutting it all off. “Gwil can't love you if you look like a boy now can he?”

“And you really think he'll love you for looking like a hag?” I blurted out through my tears. To this she drew her hand and slapped me across the face.

I went home early and mum took care of the rest of my hair to make it even, and I wound up with a pixie cut. I went into my room soon after, dug out a beanie, and placed it on my head covering the damage. I suddenly heard the crowd of people come in.

Now I sat on my bed, chin on my knees, as mum yelled at Y/OS/N grounding her for what she did. She then told everyone to go home but unbeknownst to her Gwil had slipped passed them.

I didn't even know he'd come until he knocked at my door. “Y/N?”

“Gwil?”

“Yeah, um, may I come in?” I wiped the tears from my eyes and muttered okay. He opened the door and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” I muttered. He came over and sat down across from me on my bed.

“I heard what happened...it's disgusting of her,” he said sounding irate at my sister. “Why would she even think to...and to you of all people... what could you have possibly done to her to deserve such cruelty?”

I looked down. “I didn't do anything...I think it's mostly what you did that set her off.”

“What is it exactly did I do?”

I looked back up at him. “You looked at me.”

He sighed as the memory came back to him.

“She completely fancies you,” I said. “So much so I became a threat to her. I don't know why though...it's not like you―.”

He cut me off with his mouth. It sent a shock down my spine, but I couldn't deny how magical it felt.

After a while he pulled back and gasped at something over my shoulder. I look over and realized I'd left my bottle of antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, and Naproxin (for my headache) out on my bedside table along side a letter addressed to my mum.

“Does it really surprise you?” I asked in a whisper. “That I would want to use them all at once? I'm exhausted Gwilym. Exhausted and I just want it all to stop. I want the pain to stop.”

“And it will, but not like this,” he said. He reached up and gently lifted the beanie off my head. He placed it aside and wiped away my tears with his fingers, taking my face in his hands. “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much my whole being has been aching to be with you. I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

“But why me?” I asked.

“Because of the Blue Moon Night,” he said. Blue Moon Night was the title I gave to an old painting I made. It was a night time setting. Two figures sat beneath a giant tree, silhouetted by the light of the full moon. It was framed and hung up on the wall by my bedroom door. It was the only painting I couldn't give away or sell since it was my proudest accomplishment and I never wanted to lose it. I was thirteen when I made it and I remember finding Gwil had been watching me while I worked on the finishing touches. “Because when I saw it, and saw you, a part of me wanted to be in it. I saw us staring at the moon, and spending an endless amount of time together far easier than I could see my own future. It was then I knew I wanted you, and that I wouldn't ever feel like that with anyone else.”

I started crying again, and melted into him as he wrapped his arms around me After a while I sniffed back tears and pecked him on the cheek, trailing down until I reached his lips. We kissed as though we had forever. My hands explored him and his explored me, until, eventually mine started working on the buttons of his top.

After taking care of the last one I pushed the fabric off his shoulders. Gwil pulled back and tossed the fabric aside. I then leaned in and pressed my lips to the skin above his heart. I knew then it was something that would always be mine. The idea made my heart beat like mad. I pulled back and shrugged out of my top.

I had never been like this with anyone, so I was pretty nervous throughout...That is until Gwil was finally on top of me, bare naked, with his tip ghosting my entrance. My body trembled at the feeling, which worried Gwil.

“Are you okay?” I nodded, took a deep breath, and brought my mouth to his. A couple of kisses later he pushed himself in. I gasped and clung to him. He didn't hurt me though. Instead he gave us a moment to get used to the feeling of one another. Once we realized how brilliant we felt to each other he began to move.

I swear it's as if God had made us to be perfect for one another. Our bodies moved together in a perfect harmony I never knew was possible. Gwil kissed me, and placed his hand in mine giving it a squeeze as a wave of passion came over us.

It hit me first. I bit back a moan as my body tensed up tightening around him. Gwil followed his body trembling, a slightly loud moan escaping his lips, as he filled me with his warmth.

“I love you,” he whispered breathless.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

We laid there for the rest of the afternoon, just holding each other.

“How come you've never said anything before?” I asked. “I mean, for me it was obvious why...but you?”

“I don't know,” he said. “I guess I was just scared. I mean...how was I supposed to go on if...if it turned out differently?” I sighed and pecked him on the neck. I couldn't help but think how silly that fear sounded but... I figured every one must have that fear then. And in that moment the words to one of my favorite songs came into mind.

You never heard my song before the music was too loud But now i think you hear me well for now we both know how No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear But some day, one day...

“What's that?” Gwil asked. It was then I realized I'd been singing the words aloud.

“It's one of my favorite songs,” I said. “It's actually one of the things that's kept me going these last few years.”

“It's beautiful but rather sad don't you think?” he asked.

“That's because those were just the starting words,” I said looking up at him. “But it gets better.”

He leaned in and kissed me on my forehead just as Y/OS/N barged into my room. “Hey dumb-fuck mum says dinner's―WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Christ can't you bloody knock?!” I shrieked at her bringing the blanket up to cover us both. Gwil was already moving to get his boxers on though.

“Honestly you two I have just about had enough of―OH MY GOD!” Mum said as she gawked at us from behind Y/OS/N.

“MUM PLEASE!” I damned near shouted.

She then pulled Y/OS/N out and closed the door.

Gwil and I both got dressed, and laughing made our way downstairs.

“I'm sorry you had to see that Mrs. Y/L/N,” he said to my mum before pecking me on the mouth and leaving for the night.

I turned to my mum and sighed. “How long am I grounded for?”

“We're you safe?” she asked. My face felt almost burning with embarrassment, but I nodded still. “In that case what is there to be grounded for?”

“WHAT?!” Y/OS/N shrieked. Mum then told her it was her night to do dishes after dinner.

The next day at school energy in the lunch hour shifted at her table. When Gwil stepped into the canteen her whole table went silent. Y/OS/N glared at me, and looked at him with whatever hope she had left. That hope was dashed, however, when Gwil came and sat with me, greeting me with a kiss.

Years later we had completely different lives. We married two years after leaving secondary school, and got our own flat. Y/OS/N hadn't been to the wedding and had actually cut ties with my family and I. Claimed she was tired of being treated so 'cruelly'.

Soon after we married Gwil got into acting, while I continued to paint and sell my work (with the occasional piece I simply can't give up). Life was brilliant.

Gwil wound up getting a big part on one of my favorite series, a detective series known as Midsomer Murders. I was happy for him but he seemed nervous about it. Mostly because it required him to travel quite a bit of distance across the country.

“What am supposed to do without you?” he asked. “Or you without me?”

“Gwil,” I sighed. “I promise you I'm going to be alright.” It was night time and we were sat by our fireplace. “You don't have to be like this.”

He sighed. “I'm sorry, love. It's just I remember how fragile you used to be, and I see and love how strong you've been these passed few years.”

“You make me sound like a damsel,” I frowned.

“That didn't quite come out right,” Gwil cringed. “What I'm trying to say is I was fragile too. Almost to the point of breaking but then we came together, and I have been a stronger and better man because of it. How am I supposed to keep that up if your not there?”

“It's easy Gwil,” I said. “You just have to remember what you're coming home to. This house, this life, me...” I grabbed his hand and placed it on my stomach. “And them.”

He looked at me wide eyed. “Oh my God...” he cried. “Oh my God, Y/N,” he smothered me in kisses, even placing one on my belly. “Hello little one. I love you so much already, and am so so excited to be your daddy.”

We then cuddled by the fire for another few minutes, and once again my favorite song came to mind.

Funny how the pages turn and hold us in between A misty castle waits for you and you shall be a queen Today the cloud it hangs over us and all is grey But some day, one day...

“What's that? Another favorite song?” Gwil asked.

“Actually it's the same one,” I said. “I told, Gwil, it only get's better.”

A few months later I gave birth to a baby girl. The first few months were hard but we persevered, and pushed on knowing it was worth it.

Our careers continued and our child continued to grow. I fell pregnant again and again, eventually adding a boy and another girl. Our family became our everything and life was beautiful.

Eventually Gwil got another big role in an equally big film. Bohemian Rhapsody not only changed his life but changed mine as well. One day the kids and I decided to surprise him on set.

“Alright go to daddy,” I said letting my littlest go as soon as we spotted Gwil on the stage.

“Oh my god you are the cutest little thing,” Joe said as she stepped up to her daddy who turned around at the remark.

“Princess what..?” he said scooping her up before he looked up and saw us all. I approached him and greeted him with a kiss. “What are you all doing here?”

“We missed you,” I said. “Besides I wanted the kids to meet their new uncles and Granddad.”

“Oh well,” he turned to the other three lads. “Darling, this is Joe, Ben, and Rami. Everyone, this is my wife Y/N and our babies.”

It's amazing how three little kids could turn three grown men into butter. Joe, Ben, and Rami were practically melting at the sight.

“It's lovely to meet you all,” I said. “Gwil has told me so much about you.”

“You're not talking sh-stuff are you?” Joe said.

“Of course not,” Gwil said rolling his eyes.

“Now isn't this a lovely sight,” said a gentle voice coming up from behind the three young men. It belonged to a tall gray haired man who had me almost losing my mind.

“Brian, this my wife, Y/N and our kids,” Gwil introduced us.

“It is so amazing to meet you sir,” I said holding my hand out for him to shake. He took it and brought it to his lips.

“The pleasure's all mine, dear,” he said.

“BRIAN!” Gwil gawked at him.

“What? It's only fair since you've been flirting with Anita when she's here,” he said.

“Yeah but that was a sort of flirting by proxy,” he argued. “I was dressed head-to-toe in an original Brian May outfit and was donning the signature curls after all.”

“Fair point, son.”

“Anyway I've been a fan of yours for years,” I said. “I even sing your music to Gwil every now and then.”

“You do?” Gwil asked.

“Which song if you don't mind my asking?” Brian asked.

“Some Day One Day,” I said. Gwil smiled in realization.

“The song that brought us together,” he said.

“It's one of my favorites,” I told Brian. “It helped me through a lot, and honestly...these three wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you and your music.”

“I am beyond pleased to hear that,” Brian said. “And I know Freddie would be too.”

Later that night the three lads, and Lucy came around our house for a drink and a laugh. We'd invited Brian, Roger, and Adam too but they had other business needing tending to.

Our party went out into the backyard where Joe taught our oldest how to have fun with sparklers. As my two oldest kids ran around with their uncles and auntie Gwil and I stood under the tree and watched them as they smiled and played.

I looked up for a moment and realized the moon was full that night. Like my heart.

“Gwil,” I said.

“Hm?” He looked down at me.

“It's a blue moon night,” I said motioning up at the sky. Gwil looked up and laughed. “Looks like you got what you wanted.”

“Well not entirely,” Gwil said looking down at me. I looked up at him confused. “You've never finished that song.”

I laughed and cuddled into him.

When i was you and you were me and we were very young Together took us nearly there the rest may not be sung So still the cloud it hangs over us and we're alone But some day, one day... We'll come home

Taglist: @okaykathryn @fairestkillerqueenofall @onceuponadetectivedemigod @boherahpsody @thebohemianpenguin @ihatethespacebars @madsthegroupie @freddie-bulsara-queen @rose-de-jaune @xxkellsvixen19xx @valeriecarolinaw @5sos-wdw @hearttshapeddboxx @spicyarreagaa @fluffffffffffff @pleasingiswhatweaimfor @hatemylifesofuckingmuch @jollyavacado @painandpleasure86 @haileynicoleseavey17 @queenlover1997 @rrogerrz @peachyywine @mrsmazzello @hannafuckingsucks @zwiezraczek @night-writer-writer @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever @tinywildeace

#gwilym lee #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x reader #BoRhap

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asweetprologue · 4 years

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Fandom: The Witcher Pairings: Geralt/Jaskier Words: 16,147 Chapter: 1/5 Summary: After a job goes wrong, Geralt must rely on Jaskier as he is left blind and deaf. As they attempt to navigate the curse and find out how to lift it, Geralt comes to realize that his feelings for the bard have grown deeper - but how can he know if Jaskier returns those feelings if Geralt can't see or hear him?

Also on AO3

your skin carries echoes of me

Winter in Temeria was a hell of a thing. The entire country was, broadly speaking, a damp and slightly rancid place. From the time of the first thaw until the Velen equinox, it was redeemable by virtue of the sweeping golden fields in the countryside and the lush, vibrant forests in the west. Come winter, however, the forests became gray, fractured matchsticks scratching at the sky, the golden fields rotting away into mud and gravel. Even when it wasn’t cold enough to set your teeth on edge it was wet, slimy and miserable. Humans and monsters alike tended to burrow into their respective hovels until the warm rays of the spring sun graced the region once again.

Which is why Geralt, finding himself deep in the south as autumn began turning the landscape around them a fetching red-gold hue, was in desperate need of some quick and easy work. Wintering in Kaer Morhen would be out of the question. There was no way that he could make it to the pass through the Kestrel Mountains before the winter snows claimed the valley. And besides that, he had a particularly aggressive tag-along that he suspected wouldn’t fare nearly as well as Roach might along the steep mountain trails.

Said tag-along was standing besides Geralt at a notice board in the ramshackle town they’d stopped at for supplies, a pout on his youthful face. He crossed his arms over his chest, the deep navy of his current ensemble stained near black in places from the muck of their travels. “I just think,” he continued, resolutely ignoring the fact that Geralt was ignoring him, “that she cheated us of well-earned income. I mean, ‘a fearsome beast tearing apart the garden and scaring off the sheep.’ Those were her words! ‘Kill the beastie that’s ate my poor Bella.’ That was the job! It’s not our fault the culprit was a wild dog and not a bloody griffin.”

Geralt pulled a flyer down from the board, looking it over before turning it in Jaskier’s direction. “Caravan escort?”

The other man sniffed, eyeing the paper with a distrustful look. “The last one of those ended poorly. If they want entertainment that’s one thing.”

“Hmm. Roadside protection is asking too much?” He stuck the flyer back in its place, looking over the others again. Nothing too promising - someone asking for help with autumn logging, the herbalist looking for fool’s parsley, a dog gone missing. Not exactly witchers’ work, though he supposed he was reasonably skilled enough in alchemy to dig around for roots and plants if it came to that.

“It’s not that it’s not a reasonable request,” Jaskier said. “They just always seem to want it for a very particular reason that they aren’t at all ready to discuss with the hired help. It’s just. Well. It’s one thing to prepare oneself for the inevitability of bandits on the road. Quite another to wake in the middle of the night with an assassin’s blade at your throat in nothing but your drawers.” Geralt shot him an amused look. “A situation that you handled admirably. Still. We wouldn’t be in these circumstances if that hag hadn’t skimped on us.”

“Hmm.” People rarely, if ever, paid what they said they would in Geralt’s experience. Once their fear of the monster was assuaged, their distaste for mutants resurfaced with a vengeance. They seemed to have little remorse about trying to weasel their way out of their agreements, though it happened with less and less frequency the longer Jaskier kept his company.

Geralt glanced back at the bard as he turned away from the unhelpful notice board and back towards Roach. The man had been traveling off and on with him for some time now, though this latest stint had been longer than typical. They crossed paths often enough, but usually Jaskier would only spend a few weeks trekking after the witcher before disappearing back into civilization once again. He would spend his time on the road singing snippets of ballads, humming seemingly thoughtless tunes and plucking the strings of his lute absentmindedly. The witcher would have said that the bard used his time with Geralt to freeload if he didn’t inevitably hear the same snatches of song on the lips of strangers, even in the most remote parts of the land. And he had to admit, his purse had been significantly heavier, the eyes of strangers less accusatory, in the last few years than they had been in decades.

Jaskier continued, unaware as ever of Geralt's internal musings. “She hired a witcher, and that’s what she should have paid for. I don’t think -” Jaskier was suddenly interrupted by a hand reaching out to snatch at the sleeve of his embroidered doublet. He made a small noise of surprise, likely in reaction both to the hand and to Geralt’s sudden move into his space as he faced the newcomer. “Excuse me!” the bard exclaimed, and Geralt was unsure whether it was directed at him or the assailant.

Who, fortunately, turned out to be a pleasant looking middle aged woman, who quickly let go of Jaskier’s tunic when Geralt stepped forward. She backed away, shoulders drawn in fear. “F-forgive me, sirah, but if you please, I have a request for you?”

She phrased the statement as a question, and Geralt attempted to relax his posture invitingly before he realized that her eyes were unfocused and clouded. She was blind. He cleared his throat. “Go on then.”

“Well, sir, um. I heard your companion -” she gestured vaguely in Jaskier’s direction, leaning around Geralt’s shoulder - “mention you work as a witcher? If that’s for true, I would ask for your help. We’ve not much by way of coin, but we’ll find some way to gather a nice pouch for you if you care to help us. We’ve been plagued for too long now, and I’m not sure how much more we can take.” Her hands twisted in her stained apron, which smelled faintly of flour and cloves. A baker, or a baker’s wife.

“What’s the problem?” he asked, cutting to the chase.

“A witch,” she said, her voice pitched slightly lower, as if she feared said witch was listening in. “It began with the chickens. She was takin’ em at night, to use in some foul ritual, and then a pig. And the animals in the wood have all run off, it seems. Samuel, our hunter, hasn’t found more than a few pheasants in weeks, and with the snows comin’ we’ll need meat to dry. A few of our men tried to confront her, and when they came back they were all foul tempered, mean spirited to a one whereas before they were gentle souls. I went to confront the wench myself, and she…” Here the woman grew quiet, drawing herself inwards as she reached up a hand to hesitantly touch below one of her sightless eyes. After a moment she shook herself and stood again, shoulders back in defiance of her plight. “Please, master witcher, help rid us of this scourge and we will find a way to repay you.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak and found himself cut off by Jaskier, who was already pushing his way forward to gently take the woman’s hand in his own. “My lady, I give you my word that we will do everything in our power to help you with your plight. Consider it done.”

The woman looked near tears. “Oh, bless you both. Bless you.”

Geralt huffed, annoyed at Jaskier accepting his job for him despite the fact that he’d planned to say the same himself, though in significantly less words. “Fine.” Jaskier turned towards him with a bright grin. “Where can we find her?”

* * *

On the plus side, despite the fact that this witch seemed like, well, a bitch, they were typically easier to deal with than monsters. They usually wanted something, or were trying to get something, but they weren’t nearly as difficult to manage as a kikimora or, gods forbid, a sorceress. Most weren’t actually capable of going up against a professional witcher; their magics were more indirect in nature, a glimpse into the future here or slew of bad fortune there. Very few had anything approaching the battle magics wielded by true mages, or even the alchemical knowledge of a witcher. Most could be reasoned with, forced into moving on or, if necessary, put down with a bit of steel. Geralt was sincerely hoping that it wouldn’t come to the later in this case.

Which was why Jaskier had been allowed to tag along, much to Geralt’s chagrin.

The bard, for his part, seemed happy to have been allowed to come. Despite his detailed and often blatantly exaggerated retellings of Geralt’s exploits, Jaskier was rarely allowed to actually come along for the battles themselves. He had, at this point, utterly perfected the art of sneaking after the witcher on hunts, staying far enough away that Geralt’s heightened senses wouldn’t pick up his presence and closing in when Geralt was distracted by his quarry. It had, to the witcher’s extreme annoyance, actually proved useful once or twice. It wasn’t that his life was typically in danger when he was injured in a fight, but. Well. Having someone around to help patch up his wounds and haul him back to an inn was an improvement on lying in the mud throwing back potions until he could stand again.

This time, Jaskier was traipsing along by the witcher’s side, after he had - again, much to Geralt’s annoyance - convinced the witcher that he would actually be an asset on this particular hunt. Geralt anticipated that this job would involve a lot more talking than fighting, and even he could admit where his skill set ended and Jaskier’s began. In spite of his frequent bouts of oversharing and his tendency towards nervous chatter, the bard was profoundly charismatic. Geralt was made keenly aware of this every time he found himself searching for Jaskier in a crowd or buying the man another round at the bar in spite of his own oft-light coin purse. It wasn’t his fault; Jaskier just did that to people.

He hoped it would come in handy this time around. He really didn’t want to have to kill this witch.

“So, what do you think she’ll want?” Jaskier said, his eyes on his boots as he unsubtly moved through the underbrush. He’d recently been convinced to finally purchase a pair suitable for traveling, and had immediately had them dyed an aggressive shade of mauve. “New dress? Pearl earrings? Our first born sons?”

“Witchers can’t have children,” Geralt corrected absentmindedly, holding a branch back so that Jaskier could pass. “And I’m assuming you’ve already fathered many.”

The bard spluttered indignantly at him, and Geralt turned around to hide his smirk. He paused suddenly, holding a hand out towards Jaskier to stop both his squawks of protest and his forward momentum. It said much about Jaskier’s character and his time with Geralt that he halted immediately. “I think we’re here.”

The cottage was small, almost cozy, with smoke curling lazily out of the chimney and ivy clutching the west facing wall. It looked more like a place that someone’s elderly relative might retire to than a witch’s hovel.

“Looks like a nice place to settle down,” Jaskier pipped, echoing Geralt’s thoughts uncannily. “Should we knock?”

Geralt held up a finger and Jaskier quieted, allowing the witcher to listen. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose as he peeled away the layers of noise around them. A witcher’s senses were sharp, but often finding specific information in the cacophony of life was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It took years of training to learn how to turn the blunt instrument of their broad senses into a finely honed scalpel. Geralt fell into that place as he had so many times before, concentrating on the house and everything in it. The thick smell of honeysuckle from the plants growing against the side of the cabin, the sweet scent of cedar and pine, the faint rust of old blood. Rustling leaves, the muffled snap of wood burning. No shuffling footsteps, no soft sighs. No heartbeat, fluttering quickly away in comparison to the slow rush in his own ears.

“She’s not here,” he said a moment later, satisfied that the witch was nowhere in the immediate vicinity. “Stay put. I’ll see if I can find out where she went.”

“Tch,” Jaskier said, for once following directions as he leaned against a nearby tree. “Out looking for babies to gobble up, perhaps?”

“You’re thinking of witchers,” Geralt quipped, already checking for footprints around the stoop. Jaskier barked a laugh behind him.

“I had no idea your diet was so restrictive,” the bard replied, mirth coloring his tone. “It’s an honest mixup, you see, witches and witchers.”

It was novel, still, having someone to jest with while in moments like these. Geralt looked up to find Jaskier watching him with an amused expression, something soft in his gaze that Geralt had seen before. It always lingered with him when Jaskier inevitably moved on. He could say with absolute certainty that no one else had ever looked at him like that - with an utter lack of fear and pure, open affection. Feeling off balance, Geralt tried to focus back on what he was doing, away from Jaskier’s too-blue eyes.

This, too, was part of the reason Jaskier wasn’t invited on hunts.

The man was… distracting. Geralt wasn’t sure exactly why. He was loud, and annoying, and occasionally disarmingly funny. And sometimes, when Geralt brushed a leaf out of his hair and Jaskier turned to him with a grateful smile that was devoid of nervousness and the sunlight through the trees made his skin honeyed gold, he was very… something. Something distracting.

It wasn’t great for Geralt’s concentration.

That’s what he would blame it on, later, when he was cursing himself for not noticing her approach. Jaskier was too busy thinking of something else snappy to say about witchers kidnapping children, and Geralt was too busy not-thinking about the way Jaskier’s eyes shone when he laughed, and the witch walked up already fuming.

She was tall, almost as tall as Geralt, with brown hair woven through with silver cord and viney tattoos winding up her arms. At first they looked to be flower designs, but Geralt’s keen eyes could make out small, detailed runes etched out between the artwork. The witch’s bright blue eyes, cold as chips of Yuletide frost, bore into him intensely. “You are trespassing,” she said sharply, sliding her hand into a woven bag she had draped over one shoulder. “I told you all not to return here.”

Geralt stood slowly, resisting the urge to look towards Jaskier. From where she was standing, it was possible that the witch could not see him, hidden as he was in the shadows of the forest. She had emerged from another path that came around the backside of the house. Based on her equipment, it looked like she’d been hunting for herbs, possibly near the river to the north of the town. “Folks from the village sent us to discuss the… situation,” he said slowly. “W- I don’t want any trouble.”

The witch gave him a disbelieving glare. “Trouble is all I get these days, witcher. Don’t look surprised, I’ve heard the songs. I’m not a complete recluse. I know the White Wolf, as they call you, or the Butcher of Blaviken. I suppose I should be honored that you’ve graced my small corner of the world.” She spat the words at him, sneering. “Tell those simpering peasants that if they want to burn me at the stake they’ll have to come and light the tinder themselves.”

Geralt sighed. This was more antagonism than he’d hoped to start out with. “Haven’t heard anything about stakes. They just want you to stop stealing chickens.”

“The blood was for protection rites, to protect my home from the whoresons that have given me no rest since I arrived. They came a fortnight back with accusations on their tongues and cleavers in their hands, and I turned their fury back towards those they love.” She smirked. “I thought it was poetic.”

“People are always spiteful,” Geralt said, annoyed. “You can’t pay them back in kind.” He wasn’t unsympathetic, of course. Throughout his life he had more often than not been spat on and cursed at whenever he showed his face around humans. They knew that he was other, sensed how dangerous he could be if he decided to turn his skills on the ones who fed him. In his experience, this did not make them more cautious in his presence. People reacted to fear with violence in most cases. But the only appropriate response was to turn the other cheek. He could cleave through an angry mob without a second thought, destroy an entire village if it struck his fancy, but it was not what he had been made for. He had refused to let himself be molded into a monster for decades. The least this woman could do was try the same.

The witch broke him from his frustrated thoughts with a snort. “Easy for you to say. Always moving, never in one place for long. People call you a hero. ‘Friend of humanity.’” She scoffed. “They call me a devil. I could help them, and instead they cast stones my way. No,” she said, eyeing him coldly. “I will not bow to them.”

“I can’t let you continue to do them harm.” He felt tired. This wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go. Against his will, he found himself looking in Jaskier’s direction, and found the bard looking back at him with wide eyes. He seemed conflicted, his hands wringing the strap of his lute case nervously as he looked between Geralt and the source of the witch’s voice. Debating whether to try and step in, solve things diplomatically, Geralt realized. He shook his head slightly, and Jaskier nodded, though his brow furrowed in distress. When Geralt looked back to the witch she was watching him with an expression of disgust.

“You’re just like them,” she said, her voice angry and filled with grief. “No one understands. No one sees .” She drew herself up, pulling her hand from her bag. In it she clutched a handful of items - herbs, some kind of stone, and what looked like a human ear. “Very well. If you can hear no foul lies and see no bright pyres, you’ll do less harm to me and mine.” She raised her hand.

Several things happened in rapid succession. Geralt drew his silver sword, and ring of metal on metal echoing through the clearing as the witch tossed the objects into the air. He rushed towards her, raising his hand to begin etching the sign of quen . From his left there was a burst of noise, and he had time to think, ah, Jaskier just as the bard tackled the witch to the ground. She landed with a cry and quickly elbowed him in the jaw, a surprising move from someone so slight. Jaskier tumbled off of her from the force of it, and she turned back towards Geralt. Her eyes were full of fury as she opened her mouth and shouted a word.

Geralt’s sword swung down towards her neck, and the world went dark.

Part Two

#the witcher #witcher #witcher fic #fan fic #fan fiction #geralt of rivia #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt x dandelion #jaskier/geralt #geraskier #the witcher series #tris merigold

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marshunter06 · 4 years

Text

Can I Get a Connection?

1- Beginning of Wonderland

It was a long twelve hour shift. Those overtime hours are catching up to her. Natasha will never understand why a suspect always thinks it’s better to run. It just causes more trouble and her to be more pissed off. Her partner Clint, thinks it’s fun, but she finds it extremely annoying. Now that she’s finally off work, she still couldn’t relax, she needed to do some grocery shopping. She only had a box of cereal in her cart when she saw him.

Steve was having a really shitty day. He was still getting over a cold, but realized he was out of cold medication so he had to go out for some. On the way, he was almost run over by a car running a red light, right after a pigeon decided to drop a fresh one on his new jacket, then he nearly tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. When he finally made it to the store, he realized he forgot his wallet and had to go back home. Perhaps that was a good thing since it allowed him to see that he had no food at home, so he needed to stop by the grocery store and that was when he saw her.

Natasha doesn’t know why he catches her eye, he isn’t very tall in fact he couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds. Still she noticed this blonde haired man while browsing through the pasta aisle. He was about to take a box of spaghetti, when a screaming match starts between a little old lady and a middle aged man. Apparently the older woman took the last pack of fettuccine which was the last ingredient the man needed for dinner tonight. Natasha reacts immediately, this isn’t the end of the world, that guy was overreacting. Before she could interrupt them, the man from earlier cuts in.

“Sir, it’s not the end of the world, this woman saw the pasta first.”

“How am I going to make fettuccine alfredo without the fettuccine!”

“You could always substitute it for penne, there’s plenty of that left.”

“No! It’s not the same! That old hag stole it from my hands.”

She had to step in at this point. This man was acting like a child. Throwing a fit like this in the middle of the aisle, she couldn’t take it.

“That’s a bold accusation, do you have any proof?”

“Who are you?”

“Officer Romanoff. I saw the whole thing, ma’am you’re free to go. As for you mister, you should be ashamed, yelling at a defenseless woman! Didn’t anyone teach you to respect your elders?”

After seeing Natasha flash her badge, the man decides to back off. He couldn’t argue with an officer of the law, it would only bring him more trouble. He scurried away without another word.

“Thanks for stepping in ma’am.”

“It’s part of the job.”

“But you’re off duty.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“... sorry, one moment.”

She watches as the blonde man takes an inhaler out of his coat pocket. This guy was reckless! What was he doing standing up to a man twice his size when he had asthma?

“I don’t know whether to call you dumb or brave.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why did you step in? You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I don’t like bullies. It doesn't matter where they’re from.”

“What exactly were you going to do if he decided to beat you up?”

“Well… I would hope that a police officer was never by.”

She laughs at that. This guy was something else. He wasn’t trying to play a hero, he was genuinely a good guy. If only more people were like him.

“Luckily for you, I was nearby. I’m Natasha by the way.”

“I’m Steve, it’s nice to meet you officially.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh… um… I actually live by you. You’re on the third floor of building C right? I’m your downstairs neighbor.”

“Second floor… Wilson’s old place? I didn’t know you moved in already.”

“It took me awhile to do it on my own.”

“I still should have introduced myself.”

“You’re busy. Plus you usually work the night shift.”

“You know an awful lot about me for someone I’m just not meeting.”

“Sorry! I don’t get out much, so I spend a lot of time watching people. Right by the staircase, so it’s easy.”

“Relax, I thought you looked familiar. I won’t hold it against you, if you tell me more about yourself while we finish grocery shopping. Then you can walk me home, since we’re neighbors.”

He tells her the reason why he shouldn’t leave the house, a number of health issues, she was surprised he was still alive. Still he couldn’t be locked up in his apartment all day long, he still had to eat. Besides being trapped alone at home all day could drive a person crazy. Even so, Natasha made Steve promise to call her whenever he needed help and to not be a stranger. She could tell he was stubborn, but she was determined to make sure he took better care of himself. The longer they talked, the closer they got. Within the next few weeks she was spending all her time off with him, they had a strong connection, no point in fighting it when they got along so well.

This is how they meet, by chance, but it’s not why they continue talking. Something drew them both to each other, they became fast friends. Good thing too, in a month the world would be in panic over the coronavirus, at least now they had someone to lean on— even if they had to social distance.

#social distancing fic #romanogers #CIGAC #WIP #I adore smol Steve

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christinesficrecs · 5 years

Note

So hey, do u know some* long and angsty but sweet and fluffy at the same time* sterek fics, because i swear i feel like i've read everything thats on AO3 and is overall popular, but still want more of those two?

Well, there might be a few in here that are new to you.

List of LONG fics. This is a partial list so check the tag page for the others.

You Don’t See Straight by annber | 174.9K | Explicit

Stiles finds himself in a secret werewolf community to participate in a mating run. Sterek happens.

Find It In Our Hearts by Regann | 103.8K

Kate Argent had a lot of secrets, some of which she took to the grave. When one of them shows up on Chris Argent’s doorstep in the form of Kate’s five-year-old daughter, it’s not long before more to come to light – namely, that Kate’s crimes against Derek Hale didn’t begin and end with the murder of his family. It’s no surprise that as soon as Derek learns about his daughter’s existence, he decides that nothing will keep him from claiming the only family he still has in the world. Stiles finds himself firmly in the middle of the Hale-Argent family drama, slowly growing more certain of his feelings for Derek and ever more sure of the inevitable heartbreak they’ll bring.

one step at a time. by tearsandholdme | 115.2K | Mature

If anyone had told Stiles this would be his life four years ago he would have laughed. This doesn’t happen, not to him, but yet it has. It’s just another story in his and their life and this one will be the biggest yet. It will be the biggest challenge but the most rewarding at the end of the day and all it takes is a deep breath and a step forward.

The Boy and the Beast by Dira Sudis (dsudis) | 116.6K | Mature

In which events in Beacon Hills go rather differently from the start, and a Beauty and the Beast (ish) story ensues. (Scott is not a teacup and no one sings about their feelings.)

The Alpha Pair by ShiningOmicron | 117.8K | Mature

Stiles just couldn’t take it anymore. His once peaceful town had turned into a mess of discord and chaos. Someone needed to do something, someone had to bring order to the steadily growing turmoil in Beacon Hills. Stiles is sad to say it might just be him.

Trust Fall by Stoney | 144.2K | Explicit

Stiles is fairly certain that a case could be made for every bad thing in his life coming back to Peter Hale. This time it’s pissing off a powerful witch, who retaliated by swapping Stiles and Derek a la Freaky Friday, because sure. That makes sense. Um, there are GPAs on the line, not to mention the whole thing where his dad wants to shoot Derek on sight. Except who he sees as Derek is actually Stiles, and Stiles did not sign up for filicide.

Great. Wait…does this mean he’s the Alpha until they figure this out? Holy. Shit.

I’ll Be With You Through The Dark by the_misfortune_teller | 138.1K | Mature

Stiles is having a rough time at home and finds himself going to Derek for help in Scott’s absence. He doesn’t expect for Derek to end up turning to him for support, leading to something more than just friendship between them.

Don’t Savage The Messenger by exclamation | 172.3K | Explicit

Baking My Way Into Your Heart by theSilence | 178.6K | Mature

Derek is an uptight college student, all work and no play. His carefully scheduled life is thrown kilter when his regular barista is replaced with someone new.

Enemy Lines by qhuinn (tekla) | 149.1K | Explicit

This is the story of werewolf Derek Hale and human Stiles Stilinski: two people who grew up in the same town but completely different worlds, their realities split by the war between men and wolves.

between the click of the light and the start of the dream by thepsychicclam | 105.1K | Explicit

It’s Stiles’ senior year, and he’s trying to concentrate on normal things - like the lacrosse championship, spring break, prom, graduation (and definitely not Derek) - when he starts having nightmares and waking up in the middle of nowhere. Oh yeah, and he’s being haunted by a hag. Great.

Sell Your Body to the Night by Dira Sudis (dsudis) | 121.5K | Explicit

“No,” he repeated impatiently. “I’m not a cop. I’m someone who wants to exchange my money for your sexual services. I was told you were in that line of work.”

“I, uh, yeah, sorry,” Stiles said. He glanced around again and then up–the full moon was almost directly overhead. Just one of those nights, maybe. “Yeah, I am. I do that.”

Bruises and Bitemarks | 121.5K | Explicit

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he’s attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

Fire, Fury, and Flame by IAmAVeronica | 124.5K | Explicit

Stiles Stilinski was never going to be the omega who got knocked up right after high school, and then he’s accidentally artificially inseminated with a stranger’s sperm.Awesome.And the father of Stiles’s baby just so happens to be Derek Hale. Half-feral, quite possibly a murderer, and pursued by a gleefully sadistic band of hunters who are only too eager to use Stiles and his baby to hit Derek right where it hurts.Joy.

#asks #sterek #ficrecs #100K #the long list #alifetimespentwithyou

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