12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Five Golden Rings: Branding | Obsessive Whumper | Gift-giving
12 Days of Whumpmas 2021 Masterlist / Of Vampires and Men Masterlist
Takes place a month after The Transacation
CW: Vampires, slavery, long-term captivity, depression, loneliness, self-blame, past mutual noncon/human breeding, female whumpee, minor (not whumped), emotional whump, there is fluff I promise
Aaron sat on the floor of the stone cell, staring at the wall, feeling nothing. He was back at the fort, back in the same cell he had spent almost two years in. The only difference was that now he was alone. Henri was gone, taken by a vampire who was doing gods knew what to him. And it was all Aaron’s fault. If he hadn’t told Henri about Micah, his exit date, Henri wouldn’t have offered himself up. Aaron didn’t cry. He had used up all his tears that first week alone.
It was strange, being alone again. When he was with the smugglers, he was the only human but they would talk to him sometimes, or at the very least he could overhear their conversations. But now… he spent most of his days in his cell. In silence. The only time anyone spoke to him was when the vampires gave him orders. He almost looked forward to the feedings now. They provided a break from the monotony, the silence. The isolation. Aaron sighed, closing his eyes. It wouldn’t be long before his mind broke and he almost looked forward to it. Then at least this hell might be manageable.
Aaron was stirred from his thoughts by the sound of footsteps out in the corridor. A guard opened the door and Aaron blinked at the light.
“Follow me,” the guard said, turning around and walking off without checking to see if Aaron would follow. He knew that Aaron was obedient, would do whatever they asked without question. Aaron followed the guard down the hall. It wasn’t the normal time for feeding, but that didn’t mean much. The guard led him deep into the fort and the hair on the back of Aaron’s neck started to stand up. He had only been here once before. That awful week where they decided to breed him. Aaron’s heart started to pick up. He didn’t want to do that ever again. Finally, the guard stopped at a door, turning around to face Aaron.
“You’ve been very well behaved lately, so you’re being given a gift. You get to spend today with your mate and her child. No expectations of breeding, just a visit.”
Aaron’s heart was in his throat. Oh gods, he didn’t know if he wanted to see Penny again. Not after what had happened last time. The guard unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing Aaron inside. Aaron stepped through the doorway and the door closed behind him, the lock clicking into place. The room was bigger than his cell, and glowed softly from a couple lanterns. It was simply furnished with a mattress on the floor, a chair, and a cradle.
Penny looked up from her chair, a smile on her face. “Hi Aaron,” she said warmly. Aaron almost lost it right then and there.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hi Penny,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse.
Aaron hadn’t moved from the door and had to force himself to take a couple steps into the room.
Penny stood up and walked over to him, a bundle in her arms. She stood in front of him, strawberry blonde hair glowing in the lantern light.
“I want you to meet your daughter. She just fell asleep.” Penny said softly. Aaron looked down at the bundle. He saw a light brown face, with chubby cheeks and a cute button nose.
“She’s beautiful,” he breathed, tears in his eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Her designation is 55171, but I call her Hope.”
“Hope,” Aaron said with a smile.
“Today’s her birthday,” Penny said quietly. “She’s one year old. Would you like to hold her?”
Aaron nodded. Penny gently handed Hope to him. He cradled her in his arms. She was so warm. He started to cry.
“Gods, I don’t want this life for her,” he said through his tears. “I want her to be free and happy and safe.”
Penny stood up on her tiptoes, using a gentle thumb to wipe away a tear from his cheek.
“I know. They promised that she won’t be put into the blood supply until she’s an adult. She’ll be safe until then. And who knows? Maybe once she’s eighteen things will be different.”
“Maybe,” Aaron said. He didn’t think it likely, but there was always the possibility of change, he supposed.
“Why don’t you put her down in her cradle and then we can catch up?” Penny said.
Aaron walked over to the cradle. It was wood and the legs were rockers. He gently laid his daughter down, running a finger across her forehead before standing up. Penny was watching him. She walked over until she was standing right in front of him. He had a couple of inches on her so she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
“You’re a good man, Aaron,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I want you to know that I’m not angry at you for what you were forced to do. I forgive you.” At those words Aaron started sobbing. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe again. He hugged Penny back, her body warm through her dress. It was a while before he could speak.
“I’m so, so sorry Penny.”
Penny just squeezed him tighter.
They spent the rest of the day just talking. There was a lot of crying too, for both of them. Aaron felt like a shroud had been lifted, like the depression that had engulfed him had abated, at least a little. They sat side by side on the mattress, Penny leaning her head on Aaron’s shoulder. She had fallen asleep, and Aaron was just enjoying the warmth, the human contact. He didn’t know when he would get it again.
A cry sounded from the cradle. Penny opened her eyes, moving to get up.
“It’s okay, I can get her,” Aaron said. He got to his feet and walked over to the cradle. Hope’s brown eyes went wide when she saw him and her cries quieted. Aaron reached down and picked her up.
“Hi Hope,” he said, love bursting in his chest. He carried her back over to Penny, carefully settling down next to her.
“This is your dada, Hope,” Penny said, a smile on her voice.
“Dada,” Hope said, her voice high pitched. She gave him a smile with all of her two teeth.
“Happy Birthday, Hope,” Aaron said. It might be her birthday, but getting to meet her was the greatest gift of his life.
Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy @the-monarch-whumperfly @aswallowimprisoned @secretwhumplair @whumpzone @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @nicolepascaline @susiequaz12 @princessofonwardsworld @puffball-lover554 @itsleighlove @pumpkin-spice-whump @wiwinia @sunflower1000 @whump-blog @that-sapphic-person @melancholy-in-the-morning
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My parent's generation: "All this talk about pollution and climate change and super-viruses... In my day, we were all worried about nuclear war, and it never happened! These things are always blown out of proportion. Calm down."
Me now, an adult, soaking wet and stripped down to my underwear, taping tinfoil over my windows to keep the twenty-degree-above-normal heat out of my uninsulated split apartment so my roommate and I don't die of heat stroke while self-isolating to suppress the spread of the global pandemic that's kept the whole world in lockdown for the better part of a year and a half, while the sky grows grey and hazy from the distant wildfires that we now expect to come annually and block out the sun in the middle of the day: I miss my friends
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Everyone knows he's a delicate man. Just months from now he'll, he'll take his own life.
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when to cradle, when to pry
Pairing/setting: Pro-hero!Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader
Summary: As he re-learns the joys of loving you, Katsuki also learns how to help you back on your own feet when you need it.
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: reader has depression and self esteem issues, panic attack, fluffy comfort
AN: So, this is a sort of "in the aftermath" look at the relationship in you feel love in the sodium, from Katsuki's perspective. Honestly, I don't know what hit me last night but it just plopped down onto the paper from my brainsicle and I've decided it's worthy of seeing the light of day. Plus, it has the @katsupeach seal of approval and I trust Emme's brain much farther than I trust my own<33 As always, don't be afraid to come say hi in my inbox or DMs or comments, I always love when y'all do that:D Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie
prequel: you feel love in the sodium
Two weeks after moving back into your apartment, Katsuki comes home from the night shift to find you crying at the kitchen table. You don’t hear him come in -- don’t pick your head up out of your hands or stop sobbing as he hastily toes out of his boots and comes to your side.
“Hey, what’s up?” He’d been tired after a long shift, eyes drooping on the elevator ride up to your floor, but now his heart is pumping like he’s been doing rounds boxing with Kirishima. His hand clamps firmly around your forearm, to ground himself as much to ground you.
You jolt in your seat as he touches you, letting out a shocked hiccup that cuts off your tears.
“Oh, god,” you breathe. “Is it really that late? I’m sorry, I didn’t want--”
“You’re sorry? Fuck being sorry, what’s wrong?” His tone is maybe a little too sharp, but the way his stomach is flush with anxiety over your blotchy and wet face demands answers.
“I didn’t want--” you start, but have to stutter back more tears trembling on your lashes. “I didn’t want you to see, but I just-- I just-- shit--”
You can’t get a decent breath. Katsuki can see your chest rising too shallowly and sporadically. His hand leaves your arm to twist in your fingers and he finally lowers himself to sit at the table from where he’d been leaning over you.
“Breathe.” The command leaves as gently as he can make it from his mouth. “Don’t rush it.”
You nod, gripping his hand tight and focusing on where his eyes are boring into yours. Painstakingly, he waits as your lungs regulate and start working normally again. Your fingertips are chilly against his sweaty palm.
When your throat seems to unstick itself, you try again.
“I just really hate myself tonight.”
Your words are spoken too softly for their meaning. Katsuki’s never heard something so violent said with such careful reverence. The first response that threatens to pass his lips is altogether too aggressive, and the second would be entirely unhelpful. Four or five possibilities cycle through his mind before one his anger management counselor would deem appropriate pops up.
It’s a simple question, but one he would rather slice his own toe off than know the answer to. He doesn’t want to know why you hate yourself tonight, doesn’t want to hear and dissect the bullshit lies your depression is feeding you to make you feel this way.
But he thinks this is how he gets through without making you shut him out entirely.
Your lips twitch into a smile briefly -- like some part of you is happy to elaborate on how you suck -- before you answer him.
“Because I’m a fat, worthless college dropout with no prospects whose pathetic cries for attention earned her a pity boyfriend who has better things to do than pick her up off the floor every other day. Because I’m an awful, stupid person who does selfish things that hurt the people around her. Because I--” you interrupt yourself with a broken half-sob, half-laugh, and gesture with your free hand to the kitchen floor behind Katsuki. “Because I broke the fucking Pyrex.”
Katsuki follows your gesture, turning to see a mess of soapy water and glass all over the kitchen tile. For a moment, he just stares at it. Your words scatter through his mind until they rearrange themselves into something decipherable.
“You hate yourself,” he turns back to see you biting your lip, “because you broke the fucking Pyrex.”
“Yeah,” you say, looking for all the world like you expect him to start yelling. You blink at each other for a moment, until he bursts out with--
“I fuckin’ hate Pyrex!” He does yell it, but it shocks you so much that you stop looking so pathetic and start looking confused. “Shitty fuckin’ company,” he continues, finally letting go of your hand and standing up. “Says it’s shatter-proof, but look at this shit! Fuckin’ shattered.” He points at the mess, then pins you with the most deadpan face he can manage. “We should sue.”
“Katsuki.” You sniff and run a hand under your dripping nose. “Don’t be sarcastic.”
“I’m not, we should sue for emotional damages. Look at you.” Now, he steps closer into your space and chuffs a finger under your chin. “You’re distraught over-- what? A couple hundred yen of glass? We’ll suck the sons of bitches dry.”
It takes a second, but Katsuki sees the exact moment when the layer of melancholy over your face slips enough to allow clarity.
“Ha,” you laugh tonelessly. “You’re funny.”
“I’m a goddamn comedian. But before we sue a kitchenware company, let’s clean up their shitty trash and discuss more in-depth why my beautiful, intelligent girlfriend hates herself.”
Together, you clean up the glass and mop up the water. Katsuki finishes the half-done dishes in the sink while you go change out of wet pajamas. As the sunrise starts to creep in through the windows, turning your living room grey and breathing into Katsuki a new understanding of exhaustion, you cuddle on the couch and try to believe him when he tells you your brain is a dirty, filthy liar.
When he tells you that you’ve been his first choice since he was seventeen. When he reminds you that you did get your undergrad degree and that he’ll support you when and if you decide to go back to school. When he tucks his body into the curves of you and whispers worship into your skin.
It’s not the last time Katsuki comes home only to have to stack you back onto your feet. He gets better at it, learning when to pry and when to cradle. Learns how to tell you he needs a break in a way that won’t make you feel like a burden. As he re-learns the joys of loving you, he comes to view knowing this side of you as a privilege. To know the whole of you is to be trusted, to be known in return. To know you won’t think he’s weak for breaking down when his own shit gets too heavy.
Nonetheless, it’s not an easy thing to tell if the two of you will be okay. Not for a while, at least. There are moments when he can’t reach you, when he can’t find the right avenue in and becomes destructively frantic to keep you from slipping too far.
You try to break up with him again, once:
“I don’t want this anymore.”
“Bullshit, you don’t want it.”
“You don’t get to tell me--”
“Do you still love me?”
“Well? Say it to my face, if you don’t.”
“Yeah. ‘Cause, you do. You do love me.”
“Sometimes, that’s not enough--”
“It’s enough for me. I love you. Let me love you.”
“Baby. What’s this really about?”
And there are moments when he’s so manically in love he doesn’t feel real. When it’s just the two of you riding on a speed train through the countryside on the way home from a much-needed vacation. You lean your head into his neck and read aloud from your book, and he tries to keep his head from floating to the top of the train car.
And there’s a moment when you’re standing in the kitchen of your stupid, shitty apartment scrubbing brand new glass measuring cups and humming an indistinct tune that Katsuki feels the gravity of the afternoon he came back to you so fully he can’t breathe. One more day, another hour, if he’d ignored Izuku’s calls, and he wouldn’t have you. You might’ve been gone, too far for him or anyone to reach.
You pause in your humming and place a dish in the drying rack.
“What’s with the face?” Your voice, so blissfully normal and real against the storm in his chest, sends goosebumps across his skin.
“Fuck you,” he says, voice cracking with heatless emotion. “I can’t look at my hot girlfriend?”
That afternoon, he does a lot more than just look at you.
That afternoon, he can tell you’ll be okay.
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I wanted to draw one panel... oh damn.
My grabby little hands got on the soundtrack of Dear Evan Hansen, and- I might have exploded a little.
But there is something about Geralt, feeling insecure and alone and depressed that just makes me... Well. There is more to come!
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Hi.. I’m here to say something.
My name is Siya. I’m a nonbinary lesbian, and I’m also neurodivergent and disabled. Me and my system are really struggling right now. We live in an abusive household and we’re not sure what to do, we battle suicidal thoughts and depression every day.
I’m making this post because.. I know it’s selfish, but I want some sort of reason to keep going. We have a long way to go, several years until we can legally get out, so we just need something to show people care.
One note on this post is one day we will attempt to stay safe, stay alive, and stay clean from self-harm.
I love you all.. please don’t feel you have to reblog or like if you don’t want to.
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Hey! Um, this is a comic I’ve been wanting to do for a few years now, but wasn’t sure how to even go about it. I wanted originally to just make a comic about like “my depressed life haha lol but also here’s some real shit” but I still wanted to share like… the beginnings of it and maybe ways for other people to relate/get help.
Uh, anyway. I’m hoping to make more in the future. o/
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Duke: What are the signs of depression?
Jason: Why are you asking me?
Duke: I just saw Tim drop a book and say, “even gravity hates me”.
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gen z culture is not knowing if you're horny or touchstarved
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It gets better.
my art | my ko-fi | my writing
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Depression Lifestyle Pro Tips™ for when you’re really down low
paper plates & plastic utensils
mouthwash/rubbing your teeth with a washcloth
buy a big cheap pack of socks, wear them instead of walking barefoot on dirty floors
(same thing goes for cheap underwear/tshirts. do whatever means u have clean clothes to wear)
dry shampoo & facial wipes & washcloth baths
regularly wipe the crumbs out of your bedsheets
(buy extra sets of sheets if u can afford to. if u only have the energy to do 1 laundry load, do sheets first. having clean sheets makes a big difference when you’re in bed all day)
find frozen foods you actually like. it doesn’t have to be a balanced meal, just find something microwaveable that isn’t a chore to eat. (bonus points if it involves protein/not just carbs.)
abandon the notions of “breakfast” and “dinner” foods. eat whatever works best at the moment.
if u discover a piece of media that somehow gives u some of that sweet, sweet serotonin, wring every last drop out of it. you aren’t “wasting” time, you’re self-treating a neurochemical imbalance. it’s a stopgap measure, but hey, if it works...
just take shortcuts where u can. there’s no shame in just surviving. use whatever solutions allow u to be a little more comfortable day-to-day
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this was the scene right
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I had two friends, when I was a kid, who were both funny, and clever, and very well-liked.
Both were kind, and generous, and charismatic in a loud, goofy, unselfconcious sort of way. Both loud, both alive, both magnetic.
One was hit by a car just before graduation.
The world turned upside down.
The rest of us- we realized for the first time that we were mortal. That we were fragile. That any of us could stop.
It still doesn't feel real.
I remember who he was, and I remember that he was so real it seemed impossible. I remember hearing the news and thinking it must be a mistake, because he couldn't die. It was like he was immortal.
But then he was gone.
My other friend didn't die. He disappeared, but he didn't die.
We graduated. We moved away. We lost touch. And then one day I realized I hadn't heard from him in a while, and I tried to message him online.
His email was inactive.
His Facebook had been scrubbed.
His family's accounts had vanished.
No hint of why. No explanation. Not dead, just gone.
I found him today.
He's grown his beard, lost his muscle.
He's got little round bruises up and down his arms.
Angry red scabs across his face.
He speaks very slowly, slurred and quiet, and he talks like he's exhausted.
I wanted to ask what happened.
I wanted to wake him up.
I said hello. That it was good to see him.
He nodded. Looked at me like I was a stranger. Walked away, and will likely forget we spoke.
I remember a scrawny little teenager, letting the younger kids crawl all over him.
I remember tossing pinecones on a bonfire. I remember singing, loud and horribly out of tune, and being alive.
The past feels like an animal, frantic and wild and disappearing fast into the trees, into the dark, alive, but gone.
I feel like a dead thing, a ghost that remembers what it used to be, watching the world slip through my fingers as they fade away to nothing.
A man sat next to me today and said he's been clean and sober for two months. He smiled at me, and his eyes saw my face. His looked hopeful, and happy, and a little ashamed, as if having being addicted to anything in the first place was a crime that surpassed any victory, and he expected me to spit.
I'm alone now, writing this from the side of an empty room.
There is a clock on my left that is ticking loudly.
The trees are green.
I should get back to work.
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I was sitting with my dad and a bunch of old people in someone’s backyard. There was a little stage and Bucky Barnes was giving a speech about depression and then he said, “Clap if you’re not depressed.” I wasn’t clapping and my dad asked me why and I just got up, put on an orange safety vest, and walked away.
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this is going to sound absolutely weird, but I want to see c!wilbur have a breakdown. like, over the course of his character, I don’t think we’ve once see him be honest, or let down whatever walls he puts up around himself entirely.
he says he never cared about l’manburg (personally at least) but we know that he cried himself to sleep during his presidency and drive himself into depression believing he was a bad leader. he yelled and cried and sang for that country, but it wasn’t personal? you stared wistfully at your old home for 10 seconds but it wasn’t personal? you’re not afraid of death but you refuse to go in tommy’s basement? you think you support dream but you refuse to acknowledge what he actually did to tommy in exile?
this feels an awful lot like him saying he didn’t care about niki, and then offering his life up for her five minutes later, is all I’m saying.
but anyway, I want to see him have a breakdown. a full on ‘oh god oh fuck I’ve been caught and there’s nothing I can do’ breakdown. a classic ‘I just failed a test I thought I did well on and now I’m crying in my bedroom’ moment, if you will. I want to see how he is behind closed doors.
because wilbur has so many personas he hides behind, so many lies he tells to stop himself from getting hurt. he never really reveals much beyond what we can see in a few moments, or in actions he doesn’t think about before doing. he has never once truly confided in someone, not like characters like tommy have, and I’m so curious to see what an unmasked wilbur would be like. I want to know what he’s like, and I think the most direct way is just gonna be through a straight moment of panic or fear, or realizing he can’t lie to someone.
so yeah. c!wilbur have a breakdown and finally show us what the fuck is goin on in that head of yours. please.
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♫ two friends, on a perfect day ♫
I know all my things are lowkey shippy, but- Them being friends first and foremost is the most important thing to me.
Could this be one year in their relationship? Like. Looking at this chronologically I didn't plan it that way, but now...
I feel like this could be its own story of Jaskier, finally telling Geralt that he's in love with him and Geralt... turning him down.
It isn't that he isn't reciprocating but. Jaskier deserves someone gentle and kind and happy, and he is not. And he doesn't know how to change, how to fix this, and he fears that might be it, he destroyed their friendship-
And urghh, I have so many feelings, and I love stories where all the tension explodes between them and they fall into bed and fuck, but I am SO SOFT for the concept of them going slowly and steadily and choosing each other, and-
[FIRST] - [PREVIOUS]
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The Holidays (derogatory)
hi dont look at this too hard i promise im not projecting at all - also if you like christmas and thanksgiving and that shit and have a good time maybe skip over it, i dont want any ‘yOu DoNt LiKe ThE hOlIdAyS?!?’ on this
CW: modern au, jaskier is the baby gay who went off and started his own life and is stressed/depressed about the holiday season meaning shitty family members, geralt takes care of him, jask feels guilty?, jask isn’t out to his family, depression tw but not in a wholly wallowing/graphic way?
Jaskier had been functioning. Just functioning and he was rather proud of himself for that much, even if it did still feel like a failure. But he made it to work, pretended he was fine, and had been feeding himself, so when Geralt asked how he was doing he said he was fine. Because compared to previous holiday seasons he had a lot more to freak the fuck out about and he was still doing more than before so he reasoned he was actually fine.
The fact that his studio apartment looked like a depression cave and he hadn’t cleaned the litter box in a little too long or taken out the trash kind of slipped his mind. The numbness blocked it out.
So when Geralt showed up at his door with takeout after the third cancelled date it was with mute horror and an apologetic look that Jaskier let him in. Geralt simply set the food out on his dinky little kitchen table and instructed him to eat. When Jaskier just frowned at him, Geralt held him by the shoulders and kissed his forehead before guiding him to sit and opening the pressed aluminum container full of his favorite pasta.
“You eat, I’ll get the kitchen.”
A strange mixture of relief and embarrassment settled in Jaskier’s gut as he picked at his pasta and watched Geralt clean his tiny kitchen. He’d really only been eating avocado toast and taquitos all month so it wasn’t like there was all that much to clean, but watching some of the evidence of his spiral disappear was nice, even if it really was just a tiny bit. When Geralt was done, he sat down next to Jaskier and ate his pasta, finishing well before Jaskier did, but he didn’t mention it. He kept up a light, pointless conversation about Roach, showing Jaskier a picture of the hole his new husky puppy had made and sat in at the dog park which made Jaskier giggle just a bit. It felt odd, giggling. To be honest, it felt a little hysterical, but it was a nice change from the way he’d been two seconds from crying all week.
When Jaskier was finally done, Geralt cleaned that mess up too before he led Jaskier into the little nook he called a living room, even if it was really just a carefully positioned couch and coffee table in a weird corner of the apartment.
Giving him a playful nudge, Geralt winked at him, “If there’s anything you don't want me to see, hide it now. We’re cleaning this up.”
If he hadn’t felt like absolute garbage, Jaskier would have sputtered, but as it were he just raised his eyebrows in the closest he could get to playful, “And what do you think I might want to hide?”
“Well,” Geralt started, grunting a little as he leaned down to collect a laundry basket laying on its side, “you were a little jumpy about your butt plug a couple months ago. Just giving you a heads up.” The slight teasing tone in his voice warmed Jaskier’s insides even if he rolled his eyes in response.
It had been the most ridiculous fight Jaskier had ever had, yelling at Geralt for accidentally finding his little box of toys while he was looking for bandaids. In the end Geralt was laughing his ass off and Jaskier was so embarrassed he thought he’d melt into the floor. Geralt had to drink a glass of water to calm down before he could give Jaskier a hug and ask Were you scared I’d make fun of you? Having to admit to his hot new older boyfriend that he’d never had a boyfriend before and he only figured out he liked men a couple months prior to meeting said boyfriend and wasn’t entirely sure what to think let alone expect from new boyfriend wasn't Jaskier’s favorite conversation, but it did make a few things easier.
He was mulling over the day as he picked things up and made a pile of laundry to do while Geralt vacuumed and bagged up the trash. It really didn’t take that long, his apartment wasn’t huge by any means, but the difference was incredible.
Geralt practically made them a nest of blankets on Jaskier’s bed before tugging Jaskier down on top of him and enveloping him in those heavy comforting arms, “Better?”
“Much.” Jaskier sighed, snuggling deeper into Geralt’s chest, “I take it my ‘fine’ wasn’t really convincing?”
“No, and, y’know the holidays,” Geralt tacked an exhausted sigh on after ‘the holidays’ and kissed the top of Jaskier’s head, “Wanna talk about it?” His tone was so careful, so uncharacteristically gentle and quiet that it took Jaskier by surprise for a moment.
“I… yeah…” Jaskier stumbled over his words as tears welled up in his eyes, “I just don’t know where to start…”
Running a soothing hand up and down Jaskier’s back, Geralt hummed, “Can you tell me what you feel?”
“Scared.” Jaskier surprised himself by putting a name to it so quickly, “Scared and tired.”
“What are you afraid of?” Geralt tucked the blankets tighter around them as he asked, making Jaskier feel that much more cocooned and safe.
“Uhm…” Jaskier did his best to take a deep breath but his breath hitched as he fought a sob, “g-going home? I don’t know how much… uhm... fuck.... I don’t know- how much of any of it I can take? My family isn’t exactly the Adams’,” Jaskier ended on an ugly watery laugh that felt almost as hollow as he was.
Geralt just hummed in acknowledgement and continued stroking Jaskier’s back as he cried through his words.
“They- they don’t know and they’re assholes anyway and- and- and my mom’s going to make a scene because she does every year and her sisters are a shit show and I cant even get drunk for it because I have to work the next day and I can’t accidentally let it slip I fucking can’t. I can’t handle that on top of all the other family drama right now.”
Tilting his chin up to look at him, Geralt kissed the crease between his brows, “They don’t know about me, or that I’m a witcher?”
Guilt washed over Jaskier as he tried his best to suck in a usable breath. He’d made a point to show Geralt off to all his friends in the city. Geralt had been kept secret in so many relationships and Jaskier hated that, he hated it so much, because Geralt was fucking phenomenal in every way and he deserved the world.
“No…” Jaskier held his breath as he looked into Geralt’s eyes. They swam a bit in the tears overflowing and blurring his vision, but he didn’t see any anger there, just concern, and that hurt worse. He was supposed to be a fixer, not be fixed.
“Jask, breath for me. Nice and slow- there you go. What don’t they know, love?”
Jaskier sniffed and gave up trying to control his voice, muffling the little wail into Geralt’s chest, “They don’t even know I’m bi!” He sobbed horribly, expecting Geralt to be angry, or at least a little annoyed that they’d been dating for almost six months and Jaskier hadn’t told his family. He prepared his body for Geralt to leave, for the only comfort he could find to be the giant mass of pillows and blankets on his bed. But Geralt only tightened his hold.
“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry,” Geralt mumbled into Jaskier’s hair.
“You’re sorry? But I k-kept you secret?”
“Not with the people you trust.” Geralt squeezed him a little tighter still, just for a moment before leaning back to look at him, “I’m sorry your family never made you feel safe enough to share this part of yourself.” he whispered, wiping tears away from Jaskier’s cheeks away as he spoke.
Jaskier only squeaked in response, devolving into more tears and shuddering breaths. Geralt held him and whispered soft soothing reassurances until Jaskier had emptied out absolutely everything.
They didn’t move till the next morning, and even then, Geralt kept Jaskier close enough to pull into a hug at a moment's notice. The holiday season was awful, but at least Jaskier had someone who understood and insisted on holding his hand.
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Gen z culture is looking at your Spotify playlist at three am saying "fuck I'm depressed" then dancing along to the music
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