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radiorenjun · 3 years

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twisted strings || lee donghyuck

➶ pairing: lee donghyuck x reader

➶ genre: angst. angst. JUST ANGST. twisted string soulmate!au, non-idol!au

➶ word count: 3.1k

➶ synopsis: you and donghyuck were one of the rare soulmate couples unlucky enough to be cursed by your own string

➶ warnings: y/n and donghyuck have somewhat of a toxic relationship, mentions of surgery, injuries, drinking, arguments, hyuck being selfish, character death!

➶ a/n: I am not romanticizing or support toxic relationships. This is purely fictional and if you do not like such topics, kindly move on. Have a good day.

➶ based on the song 'Evelyn, Evelyn' by Evelyn Evelyn

“Y/N.”

“Donghyuck.”

God makes mistakes sometimes. One of the greatest mistakes was the soulmate system. It is often believed that if you meet your soulmate before the age of 14, you were set for a doomed relationship. Unfortunately for you and Lee Donghyuck, you found each other when you both were only 5 years old. Upon meeting each other for the first time, the string tied to your pinkies had intertwined the both of your hands together, making it impossible for the two of you to physically separate.

The day you met Donghyuck was considerably one of the worst moments of your life. You were both trapped in each other's special bond. The string that was supposed to connect the two of you together became a cage, one that you could not get out of until death tears you apart. Soulmates were supposed to love each other but the twisted string binding the two of you together only made you desire for freedom even more.

“Why do we bother to stay?”

“Why are you running away?”

You two were soulmates after all. The twisted string was a rare phenomenon that only happens to one in 50 million people around the world. You’ve been sticking to each other for so long, you can’t stand being with each other considering you couldn’t have your own privacy anymore. When your parents took you to the doctor back when you were younger, the doctor suggested surgery to remove the bond.

But the risk was too high. Removing your string could result in one of you dying, your parents didn’t want you to go through with it. But as you grow older into your teenage years, your relationship becomes even more unhealthy. Donghyuck was beginning to think the risk of getting the surgery was worth it. While you, on the other hand, all you wanted was to get along with Donghyuck. You didn’t want to run away from your relationship, you wanted to fix it. But unfortunately, Donghyuck didn’t have the same mindset.

“Don’t you feel like severing?”

“Everything’s just come together at last.”

“We’re broken, why would you want to play?”

Donghyuck felt like this life was all just God’s game. An entertainment for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of living by your side at every second of the day, but yet again, you would always turn down his offer of getting the surgery. You were scared. He was too. You both wanted to be happy. Donghyuck felt like the time you spend alone with each other was a complete waste, he rather used his time to do other things like developing talents and doing things he used to enjoy like playing soccer or baking cookies with his mother.

You, however, felt like you should be more grateful for this opportunity. You’ve heard a countless amount of stories about those who lost their soulmates before they could meet them or those who never found their soulmate. You didn’t like the toxicity your relationship holds, but you couldn’t help but hope that maybe one day that things would change between the two of you.

After all, at some point in your lives. There was a time when the two of you actually fell in love with each other.

At least, that’s what you want to believe.

“We grew up closer than most”

“Closer than anything”

When you were younger, your foolish selves believed that the two of you would get through living a happy life living by each other’s sides for the rest of time. But of course, those are just nonsensical ramblings of young children. Nothing good lasts forever. You’d like to believe that Donghyuck loved you at some point in your lives, just like you loved him. Even if that love is no more, you couldn’t help but hope.

Life was playing an amusing game with the two of you. The longer you both spend time with each other, the more broken your relationship becomes. The more broken your relationship becomes, the stronger Donghyuck’s urge to cut you off from his life becomes. And as more time goes on, you start to think if things would be better if you get the surgery. If one of you dies, at least one of you will have a chance of living a happier life, right?

“Shared our beds”

“But wore different clothes”

Your parents didn’t know what to do when you first met. When you were younger they would arrange an organized schedule of who gets the two of you in their home for the week like a child with divorced parents. It wasn’t like your parents didn’t like you being together like this. Your parents treated Donghyuck as their own son and his parents treated you as if you were their own daughter. But you both knew that deep down, they’d like to have their own child back without their soulmates sticking to them like some kind of weird sloth.

“Talked about everything”

“Spoke about so many things”

You spent years of your life together talking about anything and everything in an attempt to heal your relationship despite the fact that you two knew that it was getting you nowhere. You often asked questions like “what shall we wear tonight?” or “what shall we do today?”

“Can we go ice skating?”

“But we just did that yesterday”

You were both different people with different personalities and different interests. Unlike Donghyuck, you had thrown away your hopes of ever achieving those big dreams of yours a long long time ago, but always felt nice to dream of what you could be if you weren’t so hopeless.

“Should we be firemen?”

“Can we be astronauts?”

You were often looked down upon by your classmates when you were still in elementary school. The teachers would always scold them for constantly making fun of your intertwined hands being stuck together by the string. They would always tell your classmates to be nice and to invite the two of you to play with them. But alas, children are children. They don’t understand what words and actions could do to someone else.

Often, the teachers would make you join in on their little game of tag or hide and seek. It was quite difficult for the both of you to participate, it wasn’t like the two of you were telepathic. You constantly spend the first few seconds arguing where to go or where to hide which ends the two of you being caught before you could even have a chance to actually have fun. And eventually, your classmates would ignore your presence if the two of you participated.

“What if they find us?” you asked one day while playing hide and seek with your peers, crouching down to ensure that your body is safely hidden. Donghyuck lets out a small scoff, outstretching his legs as he leaned his back against the wall with a heavy sigh before looking down at your intertwined bond. “They’re not looking anyway,” he shook his head.

These days, your conversations were always the same. Dull and monotonous. Filled with hopelessness and despair. Eyes filled with exhaustion and distress. Faces void of emotion as you both stared at the dull grey ceiling.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

“Why do we bother to stay?”

“Why are you running away?”

“Don’t you feel like severing?”

“Everything’s just come together at last”

“We’re broken, why would you want to play?”

“Fill my glass,” Donghyuck ordered, making you reach your hand out to fill his glass with wine. At the age of nineteen, the love between the two of you was nonexistent. You both had to deal with the excruciating truth that you’re going to be stuck together forever. “Why are we weeping?” you muttered under your breath as you slumped against the sofa beside him. Donghyuck ignored you as he sipped his drink with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

“At your side”

“I feel like a ghost”

You never knew about this. But Donghyuck was always the one to wake up first every morning. And every morning, he couldn’t help but turn over to stare at you as you sleep. Knowing how creepy it is, Donghyuck couldn’t help but admire your content expression. The way your eyelashes hovered over your skin, the way your lips part slightly. He would never tell this to your face. But he loved waking up to see the innocence glossing over your sleeping state.

Despite the many arguments you two get into with each other on a daily basis, it felt nice to lay down in silence with the comforting thought of the two of you having your own peaceful moments every morning. But of course, as soon as you wake up, Donghyuck is back to looking at you as if you were the bane of his existence.

In retrospect, Donghyuck viewed you as someone who needs to get off of his back. Quite literally. He wanted you to let go of him, he wanted to live his own life where he doesn’t have to put up with you being constantly beside him. He knew you were his soulmate, but he didn’t know if he loved you or hated you. All he knows is that he just wants you to leave him be and have his privacy.

Everyday was just the same. There was nothing new to the two of you. Your days of living with each other always goes by the same questions over and over again.

“What shall we wear tonight?”

“What shall we eat today?”

“Do you think we’ll get married someday?” you asked him one day, looking at the loving couple across the street from you as you both stood in front of the bus stop side by side with equally emotionless expressions. Donghyuck took a small glance at you, unsurprisingly you were saying it with a hopeless expression. Why did you have to ask such a question when you know very well what the answer was going to be?

“We discussed this yesterday,” Donghyuck replied shortly, keeping his eyes on the empty road as people continued to walk past you. His eyes wandered to those who walked alone with hands in their pockets. Then his eyes wandered to those holding hands with their soulmates, gazing lovingly at them as if they were the brightest star in their eyes. Donghyuck then looked back at you, his half-lidded eyes scanning your broken figure that mirrored his own. Was he willing to marry someone as broken as he is?

“Should we be movie stars?”

“Will we be millionaires?”

But can someone broken still talk about dreams as if they still have hope in their lives? Donghyuck never knew what’s the point in these wishful conversations. It was just hurting the both of you even more as time went by. You knew conversations about the things you know you’ll never be was just getting your hopes up. But life seemed too dim for the both of you, you couldn’t help but hold onto these late night conversations as if it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“I want to be famous.”

“They’re watching us anyway.”

Donghyuck had always wanted to be a singer since he was a child. He loved to sing and dance before he met you. His parents were ready to support him in his dreams, his future was bright as heaven’s gate when he realised he had actual potential of being a star. But that can’t happen. Not with you by his side.

A part of you thought that the reason Donghyuck had always hated you was because you ripped him away from his dreams and his own privacy. You couldn’t blame him for being angry at you. But you knew that deep down, he was also at fault, too. If the two of you hadn’t met all those years ago, you’d probably be in a much healthier and happier place by now.

You both would probably be in a better place by now if fate hadn’t decided to let you meet that day.

“We grew up so very close.”

“A parasite needs a host,” Donghyuck spat at you, venom and malice lacing his tone as he pushed away his plate of food aggressively across the table. It was another one of those arguments. You two were getting sick of each other. You were at a breaking point. Donghyuck was discussing about getting the surgery again and as usual, he snaps at you harshly whenever you decline the offer. But you couldn’t help but retort back at his snarl.

“I’m only trying to do what is best for us!”

“Well I never wanted this. I never asked for this. All that I want is some time to myself!”

“Donghyuck…”

“Just get away from me! Please just stop touching me! You’re always trying to be somebody else!”

Donghyuck believed that deep down you were just putting up a fake act. He believed that all this talk about you not getting the surgery for the sake of the both of your safety was all just buffoonery. He thought that you just want to see him live a miserable life along your side for the rest of your lives. He views you as some kind of parasite sticking onto his body.

He was too blinded by selfishness to see the good side in this situation you were both stuck in.

“I just realise I’m not alone.”

You were afraid. If you took the surgery, you were afraid that Donghyuck was going to die instead of you. He may not like you, but you didn’t want to live with the overwhelming burden that you killed your own soulmate, even if it wasn’t your idea to do the surgery. You didn’t want to live without Donghyuck either. You wanted someone to love. Unfortunately for you, Donghyuck didn’t want the same thing.

“Well you’re only scared of me.”

“But you never cared for me!”

“Why don’t you let me free?”

“Cause you never dared to be!”

Spewing insults and cries back and forth was all the only thing you’ve been doing the past couple of years. You were both tired. Tired of living like this. Living in misery and despair. You knew you weren’t going to be happy in this life, but you also knew you didn’t want to sacrifice Donghyuck just because he wanted it. In Donghyuck’s mind, all there is to think about was how life would be so easier if you cut the damn string off of your body. How everyone would be much happier if you just agreed to the surgery.

“Cause you never listen, you’re always insisting!”

“Just stop reminiscing!” ¦¦ “I’m just reminiscing!”

“I feel something missing.”

“I just want you here with me.” ¦¦ “I just want my privacy.”

“God, can’t we just get along!?” ¦¦ “God, won’t you leave me alone?!”

That was it. That was your breaking point.

You finally agreed to the surgery without hesitation, your eyes no longer held a single ounce of light and hope in them as you signed the papers willingly. Donghyuck couldn’t say anything else to you either. He finally got you to sign the papers and do the surgery but why didn’t he feel as ecstatic as he should be? Why was his heart still so empty? Why couldn’t he find the enthusiasm in him as you both got into your robes, preparing for the surgery.

You haven’t spared the slightest glance at him since the argument you two had the other night. But then again, why would you? You finally agreed to signing either yours or Donghyuck’s life to death, there was no need for you to feel anything about it. You prayed to God that Donghyuck would be the one to survive, no matter how bad he has treated you in almost the past two decades, you still prayed for his survival.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

The doctors placed masks over your mouths, informing you that they were going to start the anesthesia with a concentrated expression on their face. Donghyuck looks over to you to give you one last look, his eyes becoming half-lidded when he sees your content face resting right beside him. The way your eyes slowly shut when the gas kicked in, he practically saw your hopeless pupils shining before his own eyes started to get droopy. For once in years, he squeezed your hand encouragingly in his, feeling the string tighten around your body as he does.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

He felt your hand squeeze back softly, making his heart flutter for the first time in ages before he finally succumbs into a deep sleep.

“Y/n.”

“Donghyuck.”

As Donghyuck opens his eyes, he finds himself in a hospital room, A heart monitor placed right beside him, beeping loudly to signal the calming beating of his heart. He sat up slightly, his body feeling weak and sore. He examined his body, stitches and gauze were everywhere and all around his arms. The strings that he had gotten used to seeing wrapped around his body were nowhere in sight.

It worked. The surgery worked.

“Y/n.”

He was no longer stuck to your body anymore. He was finally able to live his life as freely as he wanted. He could hardly believe his own eyes as he pressed both of his palms against his face, pinching himself to see if this was just some kind of weird dream. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face. God, when was the last time he smiled like this.

He couldn’t wait to do the things he’s always wanted to do. He couldn’t wait to go home to his parents and see the baffled looks on their faces once they see him as a whole happy person again. He couldn’t wait to tell all his friends that he could finally drink with them without you getting on his back for drinking too much-

Wait. You. Where were you?

“Y/n.”

His head shot up, looking around to see if you were in the same room as he was. His heart raced when he saw the empty bed next to his. Have you gone home without him? Or did you wake up way earlier than he did? Why didn’t you wait for him to wake up? Where have you gone? Why weren’t you right next to him? He was supposed to be the first one to wake up to see the peaceful expression on your sleeping face. He was supposed to be the first one to tell you that this surgery would be the best decision you two have ever made.

The clipboard filled with data the doctor left on the table beside him had all the answers to his question. Donghyuck used a weak hand to grab the papers and set them on his lap, carefully picking each and every one of them up, his eyes quickly scanning the letters printed onto it. From what he can conclude, your soulmate string was cut off and donated to science. The surgery took about 4-5 hours and he had been resting for about two days.

He also concluded that you had died in the middle of surgery.

“Y/n.”

“...”

“Why didn’t we try to stay?”

“You wanted to keep running away.”

“Why did we agree to severing?”

“Everything’s over at last.”

“I’m broken. Let’s play this game again.”

if you haven’t noticed. Hyuck is in bold. Y/n is in italic. Both is both.

This was a new writing style I wanted to try out and it’s not my best work but I think it’s pretty good enough to post.

197 notes · View notes

lassostark · 3 years

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So yeah, I got carried away. As usual. *facepalm* Anyway, Happy Birthday, Wolfie @jaskierswolf!!! I hope you enjoy reading this long-ass fic, lovely. 😀💙

(Edited) Word Count: 9k (I have a problem, I know)

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: AU: College/University, Professor!Jaskier, Professor!Geralt, Soulmates, Rated M for Language, Jaskier!Whump, Miscommunication, Enemies to Lovers (ish, can’t find the right tag sorry), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending

Read on AO3 here

--------

The Other Half

“Do I have a class to teach here or are all of you going to be focused on your phones?”

Jaskier is standing in front of his desk, hands on his hips as he gives his Creative Writing class students a stern look. Several of them look up from their phones with guilty expressions, and if Jaskier wasn’t in the middle of a lecture about storytelling in poetry, he would’ve laughed at their almost identical expressions.

“Sorry, Professor,” Rebecca, one of his favorite students, says. Jaskier raises an eyebrow at her, and the brunette blushes faintly as she reluctantly turns off her phone.

“Care to share what has everyone’s attention glued to their phones instead of me?” Jaskier smirks, injecting a bit of humor into his query. He notes how half of his students chuckle as others follow Rebecca’s lead in turning off their phones.

“It’s Sole Mate, sir,” a student from the back answers.

Jaskier frowns slightly. “Soulmate? Did another celebrity couple split up because they met their other half?”

There’s a ripple of laughter in the classroom while others shake their head. Thankfully, it’s Rebecca who gives him a proper answer.

“Er, no, sir,” she begins. “Sole Mate. The new app that’s been circulating lately? Everyone said it’s loads better than Tinder because instead of just random hook-ups -- um, I mean dates -- Sole Mate allows you to find your, well, soulmate.”

By the end of her explanation, Jaskier’s eyebrows are nearly reaching his hairline. He’s no stranger to social media and technology, so Jaskier knows what Rebecca is talking about. In fact, he’s noticed that aside from the students in the campus, he’s heard his fellow colleagues talking about it every now and then. Which is odd, to be honest, because for one, professors like Jaskier aren’t really that open about the whole soulmate thing. It’s not a taboo, per se, but more like a personal thing because not everyone has met their soulmate yet.

So while he’s aware that people are talking about the topic, Jaskier didn’t think that it was this big of a deal.

“I… see.” Jaskier nods, giving himself a few extra seconds to come up with a follow-up question. He coughs lightly before clearing his throat. “I’ve heard about that app, but I’m afraid I’m not familiar with its algorithm. What makes it so special, hm?”

Another student, Marcus, raises his ring-laden hand in the air. Jaskier gestures for him to speak.

“Well, sir, Sole Mate gives you the option to upload a photo of your soulmark. The photo is never made public, of course, but rather it’s an added feature that’ll help the app. Once it’s in the system, Sole Mate narrows down the scope of the search to people who have a similar look to your mark. It’s broken into groups which the app refers to as Sole Groups. Then you just chat with the people who are in those groups that meet the criteria until you meet the one whose mark matches yours.”

“I read an article from CNN yesterday,” Arif pipes in. “Since the app launched three months ago, there’s been a 95% increase of people finding their soulmates compared to the last ten years. And just yesterday, I found out my great-aunt found her match!”

“I’m going on a date tonight and I think they’re my match!”

Jaskier looks on in befuddlement as his students start to whisper excitedly to one another about the prospect of meeting their soulmate. He blinks and shakes his head before calling their attention once more.

“Alright, alright!” Jaskier calls over their chattering. “Enough now, please. Midterms are a month from now and we still have much ground to cover.”

“How about you, sir? Have you found your Sole Group yet?”

Jaskier hides his amusement at how eager his students look at him. Instead, he shakes his head and smirks at them as he moves around his desk to pick up his chalk.

“No, Damian,” he says mildly. “I don’t see a need for me to do so.”

“But why not?” Rebecca asks, sounding both curious and confused. “Don’t you want to meet your soulmate, sir?”

Fortunate that he’s facing the blackboard so his students can’t see his conflicted expression, Jaskier writes a few notes on the board as he flippantly replies, “I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down, Ms. Haywood.” Before his students can pry further, he adds in a sterner tone, “Now, please pay attention to the lecture because there will be a quiz before the end of this class.”

There’s a collective groan behind him which Jaskier happily ignores as he launches into his lecture once more.

“‘I’m happy on my own and don’t see myself settling down’?” Essi repeats to Jaskier later when they’re on their lunch break. “That’s a load of bollocks, love.”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he pops a grape in his mouth.

“Obviously,” he says after swallowing his food. “My students don’t need to know I already met my soulmate, Essi.”

“I know that,” Essi replies. “And I respect your privacy for saying that. But you don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“What the hell are you on about now?”

“I mean that you don’t have to lie to yourself, Jask.”

“I’m not lying!”

Essi scoffs at him. “Oh, please. We’ve known each other for nearly ten years. I know when you’re lying, Jask. You do that thing with your lips; it’s subtle but don’t think I didn’t see it earlier.”

Jaskier scowls at his friend, who’s one of the best and strictest Marketing professors in Redania University. So instead of replying, he decides to take a huge bite out of his ham and egg sandwich.

She’s lucky I love her, Jaskier thinks moodily.

“Still haven’t spoken to him?” Essi asks him after several minutes of comfortable silence pass.

‘Him’ being Jaskier’s soulmate, obviously.

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

“Are you ever going to speak to him?”

“Once he has his head out of his arse, maybe I’ll contemplate breathing the same air as him.”

Essi whistles low. “Damn, was the confrontation really that bad, Jask?”

Jaskier pointedly stares at her.

“Essi, darling, I’ve told you about it a hundred times in various states of inebriation and sobriety. Of course it was bad. It was horrendous for both parties.”

And honestly, Jaskier doesn’t want to talk about it. Hell, he doesn’t even want to think about it because every time he does, he feels nothing but disappointment and anger and hurt. Goddamn it, it’s been three years and it still fucking hurts. It’s a constant phantom pain in his chest that Jaskier doesn’t know what to do with, and he’s been living with that kind of pain for years with no hopes for resolution in sight.

He thinks of that day, the confrontation as Essi puts it, and all Jaskier can think of are golden eyes filled with apathy. An inscrutable expression on his soulmate’s chiseled features after Jaskier told him that they’re meant to be together.

Well, Jaskier didn’t say it like that, exactly, because he was nervous. He was rambling and sweating in places he didn’t know he could sweat, and he had just met his soulmate for fuck’s sake!

Alas, like the idealist he is, his expectations didn’t meet his reality.

“Oh shit,” Essi suddenly says, breaking Jaskier from his glum thoughts. “Don’t look. Your three o’clock.”

Because Jaskier has an issue with impulse control, he looks.

And he freezes.

There, dressed in tight-fitting grey slacks and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, is Jaskier’s soulmate.

Geralt Rivia.

His hair is fixed into a man bun, and Jaskier feels his chest constrict at the wisps of silver hair framing his jawline. Geralt hasn’t seen them, thankfully, because he’s busy chatting with Yennefer Vengerberg, the gorgeous yet cutthroat International Relations professor who’s notorious for failing 40% of her students.

Jaskier is about to look away when Geralt turns his head and meets his eyes.

Fuck.

He notes the deep furrow between Geralt’s brows, the Anthropology professor’s hold on his lunch tray tightening when their gazes meet across the room. As much as Jaskier talks about being alright on his own, he can’t help but secretly admit to himself that he likes the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine when their eyes meet. Jaskier read somewhere that researchers called it The Spark. It’s cheesy, yes, but it’s exactly that. An electrifying feeling shared between two halves of a whole finding each other.

Then reality comes crashing down and Jaskier remembers what Geralt told him that day and he thinks: Fuck this.

Appetite gone, Jaskier clears his throat and looks away. He deliberately ignores Essi’s sympathetic gaze as he packs up the rest of his uneaten food. He stands up and slings his shoulder bag before daring to look at his friend.

“I just remembered I have papers to grade. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Essi nods her head. Jaskier doesn’t wait for a reply and turns to make his escape, but not before he catches Geralt still staring at him.

For the life of him, Jaskier is still unable to read the man’s facial expressions. It’s just so… inscrutable. Like staring into a slab of brick wall with no hopes of breaking through it. Jaskier doesn’t know why he still finds himself caring at this point.

Who is he kidding? He’s always cared.

“Professor Pankratz.”

Jaskier averts his eyes from Geralt to meet Yennefer’s violet eyes, a smirk on her ruby lips. They’re not close, and though he finds the woman equally terrifying and beautiful, Jaskier can’t help but be a little fond of her.

“Professor Vengerberg,” he acknowledges her haughty look with a faint smile.

From his peripheral gaze, Geralt looks like he’s opening his mouth to address him. But Jaskier thinks it’s probably a trick of the light, so he walks away and forces himself not to look back.

No matter how painful it is. No matter how his soulmark feels like it’s going to burn a hole through his shirt.

3 years ago

“Is that the new Anthropology professor?” Essi whispers to Jaskier excitedly.

Jaskier gazes across the spacious meeting room to find the person his friend is referring to. It’s about damn time the university hired someone to replace Mousesack. The elderly scholar looked like ready to drop if he stayed for another semester.

“I don’t see-- oh.”

Oh, indeed. Jaskier shamelessly eyes the silver-haired Adonis dressed in grey slacks and a tight-fitting dress shirt. He notes with mild amusement how the newcomer looks a little awkward standing beside the drinks table, drink in hand as he silently eyes his surroundings with a guarded expression.

“Oh, he’s gorgeous,” Jaskier says under his breath.

“The hair isn’t doing it for me, but yeah he’s gorgeous,” Essi agrees with a hum.

“I’m gonna introduce myself. Be right back.”

Jaskier doesn’t wait for Essi’s response as he quickly crosses the room to approach the brooding man. Like a lone wolf eyeing his prey, he thinks with an inward chuckle.

“Hello, there,” Jaskier greets the man with a friendly smile once he’s standing a respectable distance from him. He quickly takes note of their height difference. Well, more like a lack of it as Jaskier surmises the burly man is only an inch or two taller than him. “You must be the new Anthropology professor. I’m Julian Pankratz, but everyone here calls me Jaskier. I teach Introduction to Creative Writing and Advanced Creative Writing.”

Jaskier feels his smile start to falter as the silver-haired Adonis initially doesn’t accept his handshake. He’s about to bring down his arm when he feels a warm, calloused hand curl around his.

That’s when he feels it: the spark. Jaskier is unable to hide a gasp when he feels an electrifying feeling trail down his spine. He blinks owlishly at the other man who looks just as shocked as him.

“Geralt Rivia,” the man introduces himself after a few seconds of awkward silence pass. Jaskier feels another shiver down his spine upon hearing the low, growly voice.

“N-nice to meet you, Geralt.”

“Hmm.”

Instead of feeling annoyed, Jaskier feels endeared at the non-verbal reply. He finds his gaze falling on their clasped hands, and he’s about to let go when something catches his eye and he freezes on the spot.

Geralt has his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, so Jaskier can see the veins and light dusting of hair on his arm. But that’s not what he’s focusing on, no. He finds himself drawn to Geralt’s forearm, where a familiar-looking mark resides. A mark that Jaskier can draw in his sleep because he bears the same mark since he was born.

Holy shit, Jaskier thinks as he looks up to meet Geralt’s puzzled frown with a slackened expression. I just met my soulmate.

Present day

“Hang on, you bloody cat,” Jaskier grumbles under his breath as he enters his one-bedroom apartment later that evening. Mister Fuzzball meows and curls his orange tail around his calf while Jaskier locks the door. “Yes, yes, you will get your meal in a bit. Just let me put down my bag, darling.”

Mister Fuzzball meows again as the tabby cat trails after him.

Jaskier goes through the motions of his nighttime routine like clockwork. Change into his home clothes, feed Mister Fuzzball, prepare his own dinner, and then eat his dinner on the couch while watching a rerun episode of The Office.

Afterwards, he leaves the dirty dishes on the sink to sit on the small dining table to grade more papers. He works silently for a couple of hours while nursing a glass of wine, and when Jaskier finds that he can no longer find the energy to constructively criticize his students’ writing, he turns in for the night. He cuddles Mister Fuzzball for a few minutes before going to the loo to brush his teeth and do his extensive skincare routine.

By eleven o’clock, Jaskier is in bed with the lights turned off. He lets out a sigh as he stares aimlessly at his ceiling and wonders how his life has come to this. Just going through the motions of a routine well-established whilst trying his best to ignore the ache in his chest.

Lost in his thoughts, Jaskier finds himself stroking his left collarbone, tracing the lines that are slightly raised as he hums a nameless tune under his breath.

Rebirth. That’s what his soulmark symbolizes. But all Jaskier feels these days is the opposite.

He doesn’t fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

“- so I told mum that I’ll spend Christmas with them and then go to Scotland for New Year’s with Edmund. What about you?”

Belatedly, Jaskier notices the silence has stretched on, so he looks up from staring at the painting of Philippa Eilhart to meet Essi’s worried gaze.

“Sorry, what?”

“Are you alright, Jask?” Essi asks. “You don’t look too well, love.”

Jaskier bats off her hands as his friend tries to feel his forehead for a fever.

“I’m fine, Essi. Just tired.”

“Not sleeping well?”

He shakes his head. He can’t explain it, but he’s feeling more lethargic than usual.

“No, I’m sleeping fine. I’m just tired, s’all.”

Essi doesn’t look convinced, so Jaskier musters what strength he has left to smile at her.

“I’m fine, mother. There’s no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“If you say so, Jask,” Essi replies with an eye roll. Then teasingly, she adds, “Better apply concealer, though. I can see your bags from here.”

Jaskier gasps and tosses the crumpled wrapper of his sandwich at her.

3 years ago

“Geralt! Hey, hi. Do you have a minute?”

Jaskier smiles nervously at the hot Anthropology professor who is about to exit the break room. Geralt turns to look at Jaskier with a puzzled frown before he grunts and nods his head. Relieved, Jaskier tilts his head and gestures for the other man to follow him to a somewhat secluded corner of the room. Although standing beside the painting of Philippa Eilhart, one of the founders of Redania University, isn’t such a good idea. But Jaskier is out of good ideas at this point because he’s nearly bursting at the seams to do something he’s been meaning to do for the past three months since he met Geralt Rivia.

“What did you want to talk about?” Geralt asks him, looking curiously at Jaskier now.

Jaskier clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on his slim corduroy pants as he works up the nerve to just… do it.

“Yes, um, so,” he begins eloquently. Oh gods, this was easier in his head. “So we’ve known each for a few months now and I like to think we’ve reached a certain understanding of one another. One might, er, even say that we’re casual friends at this point.”

Geralt blinks at him but doesn’t say anything. If Jaskier looks closely, which he is, he thinks there’s something akin to amusement dancing in the other man’s golden eyes. Could be a trick of the light, but Jaskier has high hopes.

“Geralt, um,” Jaskier continues. He tries his best to ignore the butterflies fluttering in his belly as he focuses on what he’s going to say next. “I don’t know how to say this, exactly, because it’s never happened to me before. But, um. Well, the university is singing your praise and you’re an unexpected hit with the students. No surprise there, if you ask me, you’re an incredibly beautiful man and, oh god.”

“You’re rambling,” Geralt notes with a slight upwards quirk of his mouth.

Jaskier scratches the back of his head. “Yes, I’m well aware, thank you.”

Geralt snorts, looking amused now.

“Just spit it out, Jask,” he says not unkindly.

And, well. That ought to do the trick.

“We’re soulmates,” Jaskier blurts out. He doesn’t notice Geralt stiffen, too preoccupied with getting the words out now that he’s finally said it. “And before you say anything, I saw your mark. On the first day we met - well, I introduced myself. We shook hands and you had sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and that’s when I noticed the mark etched on your forearm.” When Geralt doesn’t say anything, Jaskier hurriedly adds, “I have the same mark, you see. Right here.”

Then and there, Jaskier unbuttons his white dress shirt and yanks the collar of his undershirt down to show Geralt the same dandelion tattoo across his left collarbone.

Seconds, and then minutes, pass by and Geralt remains stoic, an unreadable expression on his chiseled features. Jaskier’s smile falters as he self-consciously buttons up his shirt once more, feeling naked and seen under the stoic gaze of his colleague.

“Geralt? What, um. Please say something.”

It takes several seconds before Geralt reacts. The older man breathes in deep through his nose and slowly exhales through his mouth. He blinks at Jaskier, golden eyes swiftly glancing at his covered soulmark.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier nearly balks at the response. Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that!

“Geralt?”

When Geralt meets his hopeful stare, Jaskier knows his answer from the lack of emotion in the other man’s eyes. Something in him cracks at that very moment.

“I don’t know what to say,” Geralt begins haltingly.

Jaskier’s voice is hoarse when he answers, “The truth would be nice.”

Geralt hums but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He looks at the painting to his left, and Jaskier silently observes him as he works up the nerve to share his thoughts.

Eventually, Geralt settles upon saying, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

A part of Jaskier was already expecting it, based on Geralt’s initial reaction, but it still hurts, holy shit.

“Can you…” Jaskier clears his throat. “Can you tell me why? Maybe, maybe we can compromise?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“I’m not… available. The whole soulmate thing is… hmm. It’s not my thing. I don’t believe in that whole destiny crap. I’m sorry.”

Not his thing? Doesn’t believe in the “whole destiny crap”?

What?

“But, but Geralt,” Jaskier protests weakly. “You’re my other half. And I’m your--”

“I said I’m not interested,” Geralt reiterates firmly, golden eyes determinedly not meeting Jaskier. “I’m sorry, Jaskier.”

Then without waiting for a response, Geralt shoulders past him and leaves the break room like he’s being chased by a pack of wolves.

Jaskier stares at the spot where Geralt was standing just moments ago, feeling like he lost the one thing he never had in the first place.

Present day

“Remind me again why Valentine’s Day is not considered a proper holiday?”

Essi is looking through the books that line up the shelves of Jaskier’s office as he rummages the piles of paper scattered on his desk.

“Because Valentine’s Day is not a proper holiday, Essi,” Jaskier answers somewhat distractedly. He continues searching for one of the papers he remembers grading the night before, but he can’t find. It. Here. “It’s just a big, fat scheme for companies to capitalize on lovesick fools. Now where the bloody fuck is that paper?!”

Essi ignores his grumbling.

“Hmm, true, but they should. I mean, any business big or small can develop a strong value proposition aimed at lovesick couples. Of course, the competition would be ghastly, but considering that Sole Mate has matched 5,000 couples in the UK alone, I think they missed an opportunity there.”

“Whatever you--” Jaskier starts to say, only to immediately cut himself off when he starts coughing. And it’s not the good kind of cough, either.

He spends almost a minute coughing up a lung, and he ultimately accepts the tissues Essi hands him. He thanks her with a thumbs up before he spits out the phlegm on it. Jaskier crumples it up before tossing it in the bin under his desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Are you okay?” Essi asks him, sounding worried.

Jaskier nods as he clears his throat before speaking.

“Yes yes, I’m fine. Sorry, didn’t mean to alarm you.”

“Jask, you don’t look fine.”

Jaskier waves off his friend’s concern as he pushes a book out of the way. He makes a triumphant sound when he finally finds the missing paper. Jaskier quickly shoves it into his messenger bag as he picks up his blazer to shrug into it.

He meets Essi’s worried gaze, and Jaskier tries to appease her with a dimpled smile.

“Turn that frown upside down. I’m perfectly fine, Essi.”

Essi still doesn’t look convinced. “Have you been to the doctor? You should go for a check-up.”

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m still recovering from the flu last week but I’m regularly drinking that herbal tea you recommended to me. It’s working wonders on my throat. I’ll be right as rain in no time, don’t you worry.”

Rejected soulbonds are few and far between as far as Jaskier is aware. There’s not much study material available on the Internet, but what he’s found out so far doesn’t help ease the anxiety that’s been building up for months now.

Lethargy. A decrease in the immune system. Difficulty with sleeping. Shortness of breath.

They’re a few of the symptoms that researchers from Kerack Institute compiled a few years ago from studying broken, or rejected, soulbonds. According to their study, it’s not a life-threatening situation. People who experience this usually end up recovering after a period of time. Broken or rejected soulbonds usually occur if the person’s soulmate is deceased before they meet, or if their other half is already in a committed relationship with someone else.

In Jaskier’s case, it’s neither. Geralt’s rejection still stings after all these years, and Jaskier doesn’t understand why he still feels like it happened yesterday. The ache in his chest is not dissipating at all. In fact, it’s worsening as days go by. He’s been to see a cardiologist, and the scans showed that his heart is perfectly fine. So whatever Jaskier is going through right now is not physical, but more… psychological? Emotional?

He’s not certain about that since there’s not enough material about his case. But one thing does stand out from what Jaskier read about rejected soulbonds.

Proximity is what makes or breaks the affected party.

Unfortunately, Jaskier and Geralt are employed in the same university. They attend the same weekly meeting, attend the university’s functions when required, and they usually see each other during their breaks. It’s not often, but it happens frequently.

So the more he sees Geralt, the worse Jaskier feels. And over time, it could literally be his life on the line.

And therein lies the problem.

Well, there’s only one thing left to do.

“You want to go on sabbatical?”

“Yes.”

“Right now?”

“I believe that’s what I just said, yes.”

Vesemir Morhen, the president of Redania University, looks at Jaskier with a perplexed expression.

“Jaskier, may I know why you’re requesting to go on leave in the middle of the semester?”

Jaskier hesitates for a second before replying, “I just think it’s the right time to do so, sir. I talked to Priscilla, and she’s willing to shoulder my classes for the rest of term. There’s not much ground to cover--”

“Jaskier, Priscilla is going on maternity leave starting next month,” Vesemir interrupts him, eyebrow raised.

“Well, um, I’m aware of that.”

“Then why--”

“That’s why I talked to Coën to cover for her, well, for me, next--”

“No.”

Jaskier snaps his mouth shut mid-tirade at Vesemir’s stern gaze.

“Sir, please, I--”

Vesemir shakes his head.

“No, Jaskier. If you really want to take a sabbatical, you can do so after the term ends. At this moment, I can’t allow you to go on leave. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait a little longer.”

“Very well, sir,” Jaskier answers stiffly, knowing that once Vesemir has made his mind up there’s no chance of him changing his decision.

So he’s stuck for another three months here.

Fuck, he curses to himself. Damn it.

It’s a little late in the evening and Jaskier is just about to leave his office. After hours of hunching over his desk marking papers from his Advanced Creative Writing class, Jaskier is more than ready to eat leftovers for dinner and binge-watch a few episodes of Anne With An E. Fortunately, he doesn’t have a scheduled class until tomorrow afternoon so he can sleep in a little bit later.

Jaskier locks his office, pockets his key, and turns to walk down the hallway towards the parking lot when he finds himself meeting Geralt’s gaze across the corridor. A jolt runs down his spine as he staggers in his steps, and Jaskier is momentarily nonplussed at the peculiar look on the burly man’s face.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says eventually when he doesn’t speak up.

Jaskier swallows inaudibly, his tongue clicking on the roof of his mouth.

“Geralt.”

Jaskier waits patiently as he eyes the Anthropology professor who looks like he’s working up the courage to say something. It’s certainly a first, and Jaskier is not sure what Destiny has up her - his? Their? - sleeve this time.

He’s fucking exhausted, damn it.

“Yennefer told me you were planning to go on sabbatical,” Geralt finally blurts out in his typical gruff voice.

Jaskier blinks. Well, he was certainly not expecting that.

“What? I mean, how in the world did Yennefer find out? I never spoke to anyone about this except Vesemir.”

He notes with awe as Geralt shuffles his feet on the hardwood floors, and for a moment, something akin to fondness wells up in Jaskier’s chest before he tamps it down. This is not the time to feel anything remotely positive towards Geralt Rivia when he’s the source of Jaskier’s misery.

“Hmm, well,” he hears Geralt reply. “She told me she heard it from someone who overheard Vesemir’s assistant talking to Tissaia after you left. So it could be anyone.”

Jaskier is unable to hide a groan of frustration. He runs a hand through his already disheveled chestnut locks as he thinks, Great, they’re definitely going to bring this up at the meeting on Friday. Nosy little witches.

“Yes, well, it’s not happening,” Jaskier says with a shrug. He finds himself taking a step, and another, and another, before he’s walking down the corridor to narrow the distance between him and Geralt. And he doesn’t stop when he reaches the other man’s side. “Vesemir said I can’t go on leave right now, so I’ll still be here until the end of term.”

He hears footsteps behind him, and Jaskier inwardly curses when Geralt picks up the pace to follow him.

Just his luck. And why the fuck now?

“Is everything okay?”

Puzzled at the non-sequitur, Jaskier doesn’t break his stride, but he does look over his shoulder to see the closest thing to concern written over Geralt’s face. A part of Jaskier finds it endearing before he swats that thought away with a scowl.

“Everything’s fucking peachy, Geralt,” he answers waspishly before turning his attention ahead of him. “And why are you following me?”

“I’m not, I’m going to the parking lot,” Geralt says simply. This time, Jaskier detects a hint of amusement in his tone, which only serves to piss him off. “Where did you plan on going, then?”

“None of your business,” Jaskier says through gritted teeth. He thrusts open the double doors and quickly descends the stone steps two at a time.

“What’s gotten into you?” he hears Geralt ask, and that’s it.

They reach the parking lot, but instead of marching over to his blue Volkswagen Beetle, Jaskier whirls around to face Geralt. He distantly notes with satisfaction how the other man quickly takes a step back.

“Nothing has gotten into me,” Jaskier says, aggravated beyond comprehension in that moment. “I just wanted some goddamn space, but apparently that’s really fucking hard to come by these days. So for the love of god, take your curiosity and fake sincerity and leave me the fuck alone.”

Geralt’s brows furrow as he meets Jaskier’s glare with perplexity.

“I… it’s not--” he protests haltingly before he shakes his head and tries again. “I only wanted to know--”

Jaskier swiftly cuts him off.

“Well, you lost that right the day you rejected me,” he spits out. Distantly, he knows he’s being too harsh, but Jaskier can’t bring himself to care right now because nothing in his life makes sense anymore. He misses the flicker of emotion that passes over Geralt’s face, too busy turning around to unlock his car. “Just… just leave me alone, Geralt.”

If Geralt responds, Jaskier doesn’t hear it. He starts the ignition and doesn’t bother to warm up the car. He quickly reverses from his parking space and presses his foot on the gas, wanting to get as far away as he can from the one person his soul is aching to be close to.

“Damn, Jask,” Essi says after Jaskier relays to her what happened that night over the phone. “You really tore him a new one, huh?”

“Serves him right,” Jaskier grumbles. He takes another bite of leftover orange chicken as he listens to his friend whistle on the other end. “I know that kind of whistle. That’s your disapproving whistle.”

“Yes, well,” Essi starts. Jaskier frowns, so he pauses the show he’s watching, cutting off Anne mid-tirade as she talks to Gilbert Blythe.

“What is it?”

Essi hesitates for another second before eventually saying, “Don’t you think you were a little harsh on him, though?” Before Jaskier can respond, she continues. “Don’t get me wrong. Geralt should’ve seen it coming and I understand where you’re coming from, Jask. But I don’t know, something doesn’t add up to the confrontation. Like, I feel like your reaction wasn’t justified enough?”

Jaskier sighs.

“What do you want me to say, Essi? He was being nosy and I didn’t like it. We barely exchanged a word in three years and of all the occasions, he chooses now to do so? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know, either.”

Essi is silent for a while.

“Something’s up with you, Jask.”

Jaskier is lucky that they’re not talking over FaceTime because he would’ve been caught in that moment.

“Nothing’s up with me,” he says with an eye roll. He knows Essi doesn’t believe him, so he adds, “I swear, Essi. I just want a break, and I think not seeing Geralt’s face for a year is the first step.”

Weeks pass, and spring slowly introduces itself in hues of green and yellow. Jaskier is able to breathe a little easier when he notices the distinct lack of one Geralt Rivia. Sure, they still see each other during faculty meetings, but that’s a given. Outside of that weekly assembly, Jaskier doesn’t see neither hide nor hair of the silver-haired Adonis. A part of him sighs in relief because at least his one wish was granted. But another part of him, the bigger part, can’t help but feel melancholy at no longer seeing or bumping into his soulmate.

After all, it’s for Jaskier’s benefit that it has to be this way until the end of term. Less than three months to go and he can finally go on sabbatical. He doesn’t know where he’s going yet, but Jaskier finds the idea of starting in New Zealand to visit Hobbiton very appealing.

He’s going to miss his students, of course. He’s going to miss Essi and Priscilla, and the other faculty members he’s gotten close to over the years. He’s obviously going to miss Mister Fuzzball, his orange tabby purring and constantly requesting for cuddles and treats. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but Jaskier knows he’s going to miss Geralt. Fuck, he misses the man right this moment, and the idea of not seeing his soulmate for a year makes him feel… antsy.

“No, we’re doing this,” Jaskier shakes his head. Mister Fuzzball meows and he looks down to see his cat playfully nipping at his fingers. Jaskier chuckles and cuddles Mister Fuzzball closer to his chest. “You’re right, Mister Fuzzball. This is for the best. Distance is what will heal this rejected bond, that’s for certain. What’s the worst that could happen, right?”

Mister Fuzzball meows and boops his nose to Jaskier’s chin.

Yes. Easier said than done.

It all comes to a head in late May.

Finals week is looming closer so Jaskier and the rest of the faculty at Redania University are working overtime. After a tiring week of preparing exams and preparing his handover to the Literature Department before he goes on sabbatical, Jaskier elects to pamper himself once the weekend rolls around.

He wakes up after eleven on a Saturday morning and decides to have brunch at his favorite pub. He calls Essi, who agrees to meet him at Rosemary & Thyme in half an hour, before he gets up from bed and starts getting ready for a relaxing day outside. Maybe he’ll try and coax Essi to go shopping with him. Retail therapy has worked wonders on his mental state before.

But Jaskier never managed to do any of those things.

Instead of taking his car, he elects to take the subway instead because finding a parking space is always a pain in the arse on the weekend. Jaskier is only a few blocks away from reaching Rosemary & Thyme when he hears the commotion before he sees it.

Several vehicles’s horns start blaring while people from the sidewalks shout in alarm. Jaskier turns at the noise, and he feels his heart leap to his throat when he sees a small blonde girl running to the middle of the road to pick up a round, furry stuffed toy she likely dropped.

“Ciri!”

The voice who yells the child’s name is somewhat familiar, but Jaskier ignores it for the moment because a child is in danger. He doesn’t know how it happens or why, but something clicks in Jaskier that makes him act on instinct. He pushes past the other onlookers staring in horror and sprints to the middle of the busy street.

The small blonde girl -- Ciri -- can’t be more than five years old. She has the furry toy clutched to her chest when Jaskier reaches her side. From his peripheral vision, he glimpses a cab approaching them, and the next several seconds happen in slow-motion.

The cab’s brakes screech as the driver spots them a little too late.

The blonde girl’s emerald eyes lock on Jaskier, a look of awe and confusion on her freckled gaze.

Around them, several bystanders are either frozen on the spot or shouting in alarm.

Geralt stands at the curb with Yennefer and a few other burly men, a look of undisguised terror on his handsome face.

It feels like a lifetime and not, and without giving it much thought, Jaskier finds himself lifting the blonde girl and tossing her in the arms of the one cyclist who had the presence of mind to block the other cars who managed to brake on time.

Except for one.

One second, he has both feet on the ground, and the next Jaskier finds himself on his back on the concrete floor. He feels something sticky trickle down his face, and when he tries to speak, he ends up coughing on the metallic taste of blood.

Oh. So he got hit by the cab, then.

A cacophony of noise permeates through his muddled senses. Sirens and screams and several pairs of feet thudding closer and closer. Jaskier tries to blink but his vision is blurring.

“Jaskier, Jaskier,” the familiar voice says, sounding panicked and choked to his ears. Do they know him? “Jaskier, oh fuck. Hold on, Jaskier. Help’s on the way.”

“Eskel, take Ciri from the cyclist,” another familiar voice filters through. “Geralt, don’t move him. We don’t know what injuries he’s sustained.”

“What injuries-?!” an unfamiliar growly voice interrupts. “He got hit by a fucking car! He’s definitely broken some bones.”

“Lambert, be useful and call a fucking ambulance,” the familiar voice growls back. There’s a gurgling sound before the familiar voice, Geralt, speaks up. “Ssh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“Ngh,” Jaskier slurs. He tries to keep his eyes open but it’s becoming more difficult by the second. “G’rlt.”

“Keep your eyes on me,” the voice repeats, and they sound choked with emotion. “Jask, stay with me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please stay with me.”

It’s the last thing Jaskier hears before he loses consciousness.

2 weeks later

“You wonder what he’s thinking when he shivers like that. What can you tell me? What could you possibly tell me? Sure, it’s good to feel things, and if it hurts, we’re doing it to ourselves--”

Someone knocks on the door before it opens, and Jaskier looks up to see the nurse, Jackie, standing on the threshold. Essi, who’s been reading to him his favorite poems for the past hour, stops to look up as well.

Jackie smiles at them before she addresses Jaskier, “I’m sorry for interrupting you, but you have another visitor, Jaskier.”

A glance at the clock nailed to the wall in front of him alerts Jaskier that it’s already past three o’clock.

“Shit,” Essi curses beside him, clearly taking note of the time as well. “Sorry, Jask. I lost track of the time. I need to go.”

She looks down apologetically at Jaskier, who shakes his head in understanding and smiles warmly at her.

“Not at all, Essi,” he says, voice still a bit hoarse. “Thank you for visiting me again. I’m sorry for keeping you.”

Essi pockets her phone and slings her messenger bag across her shoulders before leaning down to brush a hand through Jaskier’s unwashed hair and planting a soft kiss on his bandaged forehead.

“Don’t apologize, silly,” she admonishes slightly once she straightens. She smiles crookedly at Jaskier and brushes her fingers on his face, lightly tracing the faint bruises on his cheek. “I’ll drop by again tomorrow before my afternoon lecture. Do you need me to get you anything?”

“No, I’m good. But please feed Mister Fuzzball, and cuddle him for me, won’t you?”

Essi rolls her eyes good-naturedly but nods her head. “Of course, Jask. I got Mister Fuzzies under control.”

“It’s Mister Fuzzball!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Love you. Take it easy and I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

It’s Jaskier’s turn to roll his eyes, but he carefully waves his bandaged wrist at his best friend’s departing figure.

“Love you too. See you later, Daven.”

When Essi disappears around the corner, less than thirty seconds pass before Jaskier’s next visitors come in.

“Jaskier! You’re awake!” a small, blonde girl greets as she dashes inside the room. She stops at the very last second when she reaches Jaskier’s side, careful with his injuries as she climbs up the bed to plant a sloppy but very welcome kiss on his bruised cheek.

“Of course I’m awake, darling,” Jaskier answers with a dimpled grin as he playfully boops Ciri’s nose, causing the child to giggle. “I would never pass up the chance to miss your visit.”

“How are you? Did you finish watching Frozen yesterday? You fell asleep and Papa said I shouldn’t disturb you.”

“I’m feeling better now that you’re here. And no, I didn’t finish Frozen yesterday but I already watched it before so it’s okay. What movie do you want to watch next, hm?”

Jaskier chuckles as he listens to Ciri prattle on for the next few minutes about her favorite scenes in Frozen and how she wants to watch an old Disney film called The Emperor’s New Groove. Jaskier looks up to see the second visitor who silently trailed after the energetic child, making sure to shut the door behind him to give them privacy.

Geralt is already seated on the chair Essi just vacated, the silver-haired man looking at Ciri and Jaskier with undisguised fondness. If someone told Jaskier that he would be the object of Geralt Rivia’s shameless googly eyes, he would tell them where to shove it. But as it is, since his unfortunate accident two weeks ago, it’s like the man did a 180-degree. It’s probably mean of Jaskier to think it, but he can’t help it. If he hadn’t saved Geralt’s daughter, they likely wouldn’t be in this situation.

But Jaskier won’t have it any other way. Daughter or not, Jaskier doesn’t regret saving Ciri. Not at all. He may only know the child for less than a month, but he already loves her like his own, and that notion should terrify Jaskier. It really should, but for some unfathomable reason, it feels completely natural. As easy as breathing.

Although he and Geralt still have so much to talk about - goodness, there’s so much baggage between them that needs to be unpacked and addressed - Jaskier finds that he doesn’t mind spending this time getting to know his soulmate’s family. Aside from Ciri, he’s already met Lambert and Eskel, Geralt’s foster brothers who also drop in to visit him a few times a week. Jaskier likes them, likes their crude sense of humor and enjoys their company even when he doesn’t feel like chatting.

Then there’s Vesemir, who happens to be Geralt’s uncle or whatever, and isn’t that a fucking shock? Jaskier initially didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused when the president of the university he works at visited him to wish him a speedy recovery. In the end, Jaskier takes it in stride and thanks the old man for his well wishes.

How has this become his life now? Will wonders never cease?

“- and Uncle Lambert said I should watch Monsters, Inc. next after The Emperor’s New Groove because he said I remind him of Boo,” Ciri continues to chatter, the adorable five-year-old making herself at home by Jaskier’s uninjured side.

Jaskier listens to her attentively, while looking up every now and then at Geralt, the Anthropology professor currently balancing his laptop on his knees as he slowly types.

It’s the sixth, or probably seventh, time that Jaskier looks up when he meets Geralt’s golden eyes already trained on him. There’s that familiar jolt that runs down his spine when their gazes meet, and Jaskier raises a brow at him.

Geralt’s lips quirk upwards into a semblance of a smile, and Jaskier feels his heart stutter against his chest when his soulmate quietly mouths, “Hi.”

Jaskier tries to fight off a smile but fails rather dismally.

“Hi,” he mouths back before shifting his attention back to Ciri, who’s now chattering about her morning at the daycare.

All at once, it feels like the end and beginning of something new.

“Gods, I miss playing my lute,” Jaskier grumbles to himself a few nights later.

Ciri is fast asleep beside him, the adorable child already drooling on his shoulder but he doesn’t mind it in the least bit. They watched two movies and had dinner plus dessert, so Jaskier feels a little spoiled.

“Your what now?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier nearly jolts Ciri awake, almost forgetting that there’s another occupant in the room.

He recovers quickly and leans back against the fluffy pillows.

“My lute,” he repeats. At Geralt’s blank stare, Jaskier huffs out a laugh and continues. “It’s a medieval instrument that bards used to play. I learned to play it back in uni - I minored in Music, by the way - and I just… I just love it. And I miss playing it.”

“Oh,” Geralt says after a while. “I never knew you played.”

If Jaskier’s smile comes off a little bitter, Geralt thankfully doesn’t mention it.

“We both don’t know a lot about each other, I’m afraid,” he says.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier snorts. “Well, except for that.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything after that, so they spend the next several minutes in silence. It’s comfortable, for a change, and Jaskier doesn’t mind breaking the quiet with inane chatter. While he enjoyed watching children’s movies with Ciri, he’s easily exhausted, still in the midst of recuperating from his extensive list of injuries. A major head concussion is no joke, but at least Jaskier can sleep peacefully these days.

He’s staring aimlessly at the ceiling and thinking about what he’ll do first when he’s eventually discharged when he hears Geralt clear his throat.

“I was afraid,” Geralt starts when Jaskier turns his head to meet the older man’s eyes. At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt clears his throat again and explains. “That day, when you told me we were soulmates… I panicked.”

Oh, so they’re finally going to talk about it now. While his soulmate’s daughter is lightly snoring and drooling on Jaskier?

Okay, then.

“That’s some way to panic,” Jaskier teases, but it falls a little flat. He notices Geralt wince, and Jaskier inwardly curses himself because it’s not the time to make jokes right now. “I’m sorry,” he quickly adds. “I didn’t mean it like that. Please continue, I won’t interrupt.”

Geralt blinks, looking surprised. Jaskier smiles at him and decides to wait patiently for him to speak. It doesn’t take long.

“I don’t have a good track record when it comes to relationships,” Geralt begins, his voice quiet and gruff so as not to wake his daughter. He’s not meeting Jaskier’s gaze. Instead, it’s trained on Jaskier’s fingers that’s carefully playing with Ciri’s blonde curls. “Ask my brothers, ask Yennefer, and they’ll gladly tell you of my failed relationships. Don’t know why, but I was more prone to burning bridges than maintaining them.”

Jaskier feels his heart break, and it takes every ounce in him to not reach out to take Geralt’s hand in his because he’s afraid the other man won’t welcome his touch. So Jaskier bites his cheek and keeps silent, and keeps his hands to himself. He continues to wait in silence, willing to be patient for Geralt because it’s clear to see now that his soulmate is struggling with his words.

And he knows better now, too, that Geralt needs this moment to unpack everything that’s been left unsaid between them all these years.

“When Ciri was born, I felt like I finally had purpose,” Geralt continues. “Her mother didn’t want anything to do with her, so Fiona left her in my care and never looked back. I was fine with it, didn’t mind taking on the responsibility of caring for Ciri. She’s my kid, after all, and it’s an honor to raise her. I thought, since I hadn’t met my soulmate at the time, that everything would be fine. And it was fine for a couple of years. Then I met you.”

At this, Geralt finally looks up from studying Jaskier’s deft fingers to meet his cornflower blue eyes. There’s that oh-so familiar jolt, and for the first time in three years, Jaskier allows himself to bask in the remarkable feeling.

“Then you met me,” Jaskier repeats with a small, sad smile. “And I went and made a fool of myself.”

Geralt emphatically shakes his head.

“No, you didn’t,” he says firmly. “I was an idiot.”

“No, I was the idiot.”

“Let’s agree to disagree, then.”

“In retrospect, I probably made things difficult for you,” Jaskier says with a half-shrug. “So I’m really sorry, Geralt. I think I was pretty tactless with my approach.”

Geralt smiles ruefully at him. “My reaction is what caused us to have a falling out.”

Jaskier opens his mouth then closes it with a thoughtful hum.

“I suppose,” he says, then he glances up from studying Ciri’s peaceful face to look at Geralt with a slight tilt of his head. “Why did you react that way, though? I thought… well, I thought you hated me. Hated the concept of soulmates.”

“I could never hate you,” Geralt cuts him off with a sincere look.

Jaskier gapes at him for a few seconds.

“I, well. You said--”

Geralt swiftly interrupts him once again.

“I remember,” he discloses with a grimace. “I’m not proud of it. I was selfish, Jaskier, and I’m sorry.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says with a patient smile. “You’re sorry, but for what? Telling me the truth? Rejecting me?”

His voice trails off when Geralt shakes his head.

“No, no. None of that.” At Jaskier’s puzzled frown, Geralt sighs and rubs the back of his head. “When I met you, I was terrified at how you made me feel. I felt… wrong-footed, I think? And when you told me we were soulmates, it just made the whole thing more… threatening.”

“Threatening how?”

“Ciri is my number one priority. Sure, she has Vesemir and her uncles, and Yennefer, but I’m her dad. My purpose, my… everything I do is for her, Jask, and you have to understand. Please understand, that when you told me we were soulmates, it felt like everything I worked so hard for would come crashing down. Because here was another person who… matters to me more than I could understand at the time. I was… scared… that if I acknowledged our bond, and accepted you, that it would make Ciri feel like I wasn’t prioritizing her. That she was no longer my number one.”

“Because then you’d have to focus all your time and energy on me,” Jaskier finishes, finally understanding where Geralt is coming from. “And on us. Because it takes a couple of months to solidify the bond.”

“Yes.”

Geralt nods, and he looks like there’s a huge weight that’s lifted from his shoulders. Like he’s been carrying this weight for the past three years or so.

Jaskier breathes in and slowly exhales through his nose. He, too, feels like there’s a huge weight that’s been lifted off his chest. Like he and Geralt are finally on the same page.

Well, almost.

“Geralt, I want you to listen to me closely because I’m going to say this once.”

Geralt nods, golden eyes intense as he waits for Jaskier to continue. This time, Jaskier takes a chance and reaches for his soulmates clasped hands. To his immense surprise, Geralt’s fingers curl around his, as if they’ve been doing it for years instead of for the first time.

“I will never fight for your attention, because Ciri will always be your number one. I’m confident in saying that because, believe it or not, I absolutely adore your daughter to bits.” They exchange smiles at that, each turning to look at Ciri sleeping peacefully between them. Jaskier clears his throat and continues. “I’m sorry that you felt like you had to choose between us. If that was the impression I gave you, then I beg for your forgiveness because it honestly wasn’t. I promise you, Geralt. I promise you that Ciri will also be my top priority.” He shakes his head when Geralt is about to open his mouth. “No. If we’re doing this, Geralt, then I want to be involved. I want to be a part of Ciri’s life, not just yours.”

“I can’t ask you of this, Jaskier,” Geralt professes.

“I know you’re not asking,” Jaskier says with a good-natured eye roll. “That’s why I’m offering, silly.”

Something in Geralt breaks because his shoulders sag. He stares unbelievably softly at Jaskier, golden eyes tender with emotion.

“Jaskier,” Geralt says, awe in his tone.

Thinking that he literally has nothing left to lose, Jaskier moves his hand from grasping Geralt’s to cupping his cheek. He feels his soulmate lean into his touch, and Jaskier knows right then and there that they’re going to be alright.

“We both have baggage,” Jaskier tells him once their gazes lock once more. “And we still have so much to talk about. But I’m in this for the long haul, Geralt. You’re my other half, and I’m yours.”

“I’m yours,” Geralt repeats, and he sounds like he’s starting to believe it.

When he leans over to press soft, dry lips to Jaskier’s slightly chapped ones, Jaskier lets himself believe it, too.

They’re going to be alright.

#jaskierswolf #birthday fic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geralt of rivia #jaskier #professor jaskier #the witcher au #will cross-post on AO3 in a bit #my writing #dapperyklutz

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silvanable · 3 years

Note

Idk if hcs are open and ignore me if it isnt!! Can i request an angsty ikevamp prompt? How would suitors react to an MC he likes who likes another suitor? Both suitor and MC's love can be unrequited, and MC could come to suitor to talk about her unrequited love. If you want to make it super angsty, MC could be suitor's first actual romantic interest in a very long time. Plz feel free to choose any suitor, but my favs are leo/comte. I love your writings :) thanks so much!

i know you said headcanons but i saw this as a perfect opportunity to slap down an angst filled fic because i’m not doing so hot and i can’t process emotions unless it’s written format. anyways, i hope you don’t mind!

i figured it was about time i got back to my roots, bringing the unholy angst back that started this blog—

SO HAPPY THANKSGIVING AND WHY NOT WRECK CELEBRATE THE HOLIDAYS WITH A LITTLE ANGST, EH?

and everyone can cry with me because we all abso—fucking—lutely know that comte would sideline himself and his feelings for the better of others.

↪ GUIDELINES

✒ tags : unrequited love, comte x mc, mentioned mc x leonardo, angsty af, gn!reader mostly but love languages don’t have fucking gn terms

✒ warnings : n/a

✒ word count : 1740

It seemed this was some sort of punishment. It had to be, perhaps to make up for all the things he had done in his youth. Fitting, he would agree, but it did not lessen the pain.

Here you are, sitting in the garden with him.

A wistful sigh falls from your lips.

The things he would do to comfort you. To assure you that you were deserving of all admiration and love.

He would steal your breath with amorous kisses, only daring to relent when neither of you could last a moment longer without air. He would whisper every loving and reassuring word he could muster from his tongue. He would hold you close and keep you in his embrace until you understood how much he adored you.

He would do all these things because he loved you like any other before. You were intoxicating. The way you smiled brought warmth to his chest. The sound of your laughter was a melody he could never tire of. The scent of you was more intoxicating than any vintage wine that ever grazed his lips.

Without you, he was empty and hollow. You had brought the light back into his life. You had offered a hand to him and showed him a gentleness he believed he was undeserving of.

And perhaps he still was because your heart belonged to another.

Comte forced a small smile.

“Ma cherie,” He called your attention. Those beautiful eyes flickered away from the cup of tea in your hands and up to him. His heart still had not gotten used to such a sweet gaze upon him, yet now it was broken with sorrow.

“You said you wanted my advice on something?”

You pursed your lips in response. It seemed you were second-guessing yourself on the need to talk. Comte knew the expression you made all too well and offered a small, encouraging nod.

Another sigh escaped you, far heavier than the one before. “There’s… Someone I like and the problem is, well, they don’t seem to feel the same way.”

What a bitter irony of life.

“See,” You shifted, sitting up and twisted your hands in the hem of your sleeves, “It’s been a long time since I felt something for someone and… I don’t know— maybe I’m just over-analyzing it because they were nice.”

He understood, Comte understood entirely what you meant. After all, he was looking at the very person who had set a spark to his heart’s fire and he would never say a thing.

“Are you sure this mysterious suitor is just unaware of your affections?” He took a sip from the teacup in his hands. He tried to play it off calmly, to hold himself together.

Nothing was allowed to slip through his carefully crafted facade. It took decades to build such a gentlemanly persona and he would not allow himself to fall in shambles, back onto his old ways. No, he had to be a better man.

No matter how much this drove a knife into his chest.

You shrugged, defeated with a gesture of your hand. “I don’t know, maybe it’s because we’re just too different—personal—and don’t even get me started on time-traveling culturally!” An exasperated huff left you, somewhere between a broken laugh and squashed sob.

Comte said your name softly, “Surely there are things you have similar, things that drew you to this person,” He set the tea aside on the table between you both, “Have you confronted them about your feelings?”

As if he was one to talk about such a thing, with you just across from him, yet he hid a secret from you.

A growl of frustration erupted from your throat. “That’s the thing! I’ve tried so many times to find a good moment but any time I start, he somehow always manages to run away!” By now you were on your feet, angrily pacing through the gazebo.

“I mean, did I do something wrong? Is it because he’s a vampire and I’m not?” You vented, too caught in the whirlwind of your growing anger to notice the softness the pureblood gazed at you with.

He understood the fear of that commitment. You were mortal after all, he was not. No doubt the resident—who Comte had a growing suspicion of who, yet would not dare entertain the thought, not yet—feared their long life and falling for someone who would, eventually, pass away and leave them a broken heart.

He would love you nonetheless. If you were his, he would dare to turn you if you let him, so that he could have you to himself longer.

Selfish, yes, but if he had been fortunate enough to have your heart he would never want to let it go.

“Or is it because of the door? I don’t have to go back—hell! I’ve thought more than once these past few weeks about not going back!” You glared heatedly at the mansion. A gaze that was so fierce that the flames of it practically glowed in your eyes.

“But when I mention I might suddenly Leonardo—” Comte visibly flinched, you did not notice, “—is insisting that I go the moment I’m able when all I’ve been trying to tell him is I want to stay for him!”

How could you be so cruel and yet so gentle at the same time?

Comte had only wished you had never said his name, his closest friend. He could feel his heart twist, the ugly head of jealousy reared like a viper, but he forced it down.

He was a gentleman, one of the utmost kind.

Comte’s smile strained but to you, it was sympathetic. “You must understand, ma cherie, as pureblood vampires things are different for us.”

“Yes and?” You turned to Comte, expression twisted and asking to explain how any of that mattered. How did being different like that matter so much when you were so enamored with him that you were willing to give up everything you knew just to be with him.

“Does he not want me and just doesn’t want to tell me?” Your voice welled with emotion suddenly, “Does he think it’s sparing my feelings instead of telling me straight?” Tears gathered in your eyes.

It was painful to see you becoming so unraveled. At that moment, it took all his strength to remain poised and still, to not reach over and take you into his arms and kiss away all of your tears. But he could not be the jealous man, it was not his place, because he was not your lover. He was nothing but your host and he had to remain the courteous host for you.

And now of all times, he damned himself for taking that position, because it meant he would never have you.

“Perhaps he believes that not telling you will spare you of forcing your decision, of stealing the life you have ahead of you.” And to protect you from the heartache I feel now.

You sank back into your seat. A disheartened sigh fell from your lips as you put your head in your hands. “What should I do?” You lifted your head to look at Comte.

He could not resist your gaze, the way your beautiful eyes plead with him. He wanted to see that stunning smile of yours again, the one that brightened his days, the one he cherished in his dreams.

It was decided at that moment, he would see your smile again. Even if it meant he had to break his heart to have you happy. To see you happy was all he wanted.

“Let me speak with Leonardo,” He prayed you had not heard the jealousy hidden in his chest in his voice, “I’m sure I can find what is troubling my friend and spare you from any further pain.” He leaned forward, taking your hand in his.

If he could freeze time he would have, to engrave this moment in space and never let it pass. The warmth of your hand in his. How the light returned to your face with newfound hope. The sparkle in your eyes. Everything, he wanted to remember everything about you at this moment forever and preserve it.

Alas, time was fleeting, and moved on despite his desperate wishes. So he had to keep the memory, tucked away somewhere close to his heart, never to leave him even with the wear of time.

“You would?” The eager hopefulness in your voice was heart-wrenching.

“Of course, ma cherie,” He patted your hand before he reluctantly withdrew his touch, “This is an issue you have with one of my residents and I would not be a decent host to let these problems fester when they affect you so.”

You were absolutely beaming, a bright smile that could rival the sun’s own warmth and light. It was something he wished he could have basked in for eternity.

“Thank you so much, Comte,” You jumped from your seat, throwing your arms around him.

The action was so sudden it had taken him by surprise and yet before he could process and return the gesture, you drew away again.

“Thank you!” You repeated, gathering up the dishes from your tea chat, “I should go help Sebastian with dinner.” Your tone was practically ecstatic as you moved back towards the path to the mansion.

All the while Comte only smiled at you. Yet as your figure grew further and further away, fading into the gardens lush greenery, his smile began to gradually fall.

That facade of a caring, gentlemanly host shattered the moment you were gone. Emotions erupted from the tight fist that had held them at bay. Comte pressed a hand to his mouth, restraining the sounds of sorrow that threatened to burst from him. Amber eyes welled with unshed tears.

Emotions rushed over him like a tidal wave. There was no moment to breathe, not a chance to catch himself. No, these feelings grabbed hold of him and dragged him under. He would drown in them and nothing could save him now.

Comte swallowed hard and his eyes fluttered close.

The sky grew darker as time passed him by in silence.

He took a shaky breath and steadied himself, dropping his hand into his lap, as he regained his composure.

“For you,” His voice betrayed the emotions under the calm face, “For you, ma cherie, and your smile.”

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pluto-art · 3 years

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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shoujolover-666 · 4 years

Text

Forget-Me-Not: Alternative Ending 2

Here it is! Hopefully you guys will be able to enjoy this Happy End!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26821216/chapters/65594641

Floyd was lying on the couch of Azuls office, his eyes were closed as he almost died of boredom. The little octopus avoided them lately, and he didn’t like it at all. Not only because of the fact that he was the most entertaining person he has ever come across, but also because he liked the shorter man.

If he didn’t, he wouldn’t even obey him that often in the first place.

Next to him was his brother Jade, who read over some of the contracts that Azul left them with a note, telling his twin that he should check for any loopholes that some of the contractors might want to exploit.

In the taller twin’s opinion, that was rather pointless, for the dormhead always checked for any possibilities for the little fishes to escape, just to take this away from them.

The ticking sound of the clock got on his nerves more and more with every single passing second.

At one point, Floyd got up from the sofa and yawned, stretching a bit before he looked at his brother.

“I am going to look for the little octopus~. It has been so boring lately, so I am sure he is willing to play with me.”

There was a lazy grin on his lips as he turned around. He didn’t have to look back to know that the other put down the documents and also got up from his seat. By now, they knew each other well enough to know what the other would do at certain points.

“In that case, let me tag along.”

Oh how awfully polite Jade was. Just as usual. Naturally, Floyd knew that he would also have come with him, even if he said no to the slightly shorter twin.

Alas, he decided not to answer him and simply made his way to their toys room… or should he call him accomplice?

Floyd never gave their relationship too much thought back then, because he simply did not care.

Maybe it was because they did spend so much time together. He said that he would say bye to the octopus if he ever grew boring to him, to them.

At the same time, he truly believed that the octopus, no, Azul would never cease to be entertaining to them.

Now that they got to spend less and less time with him, he noticed how much more annoyed he got by things.

How his mood tended to get worse more easily because Azul was not around him, them.

His face scrunched up in slight confusion.

What was the feeling he had for the other? Floyd had no idea, it was the first time he felt something like this towards someone. Ah, he shouldn’t think too much about it.

Doing something like this was simply not worth his time.

From the side, Jade had been watching Floyd and his change of expression. He himself had been able to realize why he was so agitated by Azuls sudden priority to avoid both of them, but he was not sure if the other had been able to find it out as well.

Jade himself had found out about his own feelings only recently, when Azul has already avoided both of them for around two months.

At first, he believed that he felt the same as a child that lost his favourite toy, but that was not the case.

He started to think about all of the things they went through together.

The contracts, the people they got under their thumbs, and how they got to have so much power together.

It was fun, but he didn’t only enjoy it because of the act itself, but also because it was Azul that he did those things with.

His pleased smile, each time another student signed one of their many contracts.

His adorable face that twisted slightly whenever he ate something he disliked because he was so careful with not gaining more weight.

His cute frown whenever something did not go according to his plans.

What he loved about him the most was his laugh. That cocky laugh never ceased to make him feel warm, pleasant.

To suddenly be denied all of this was something that he didn’t mind at first. There were times when Azul wanted to be alone for a bit, too used to being on his own because of the part of his childhood when he was still bullied.

He easily accepted it, but with each passing day, he noticed how his mood worsened, just like Floyds.

The only difference was the fact that he hid his emotions.

Jade closed his eyes for a second before he opened them again. They were now standing in front of Azuls door.

The calmer of the leech twins knocked on the door and waited for a response. He knew that if he let Floyd open the door, he would have just slammed it open without a care.

A rustling could be heard from the other side of the door before a dampened but tired sounding voice answered them.

“I am busy right now, go away.”

How… awfully impolite. That kind of surprise actually surprised both of them. Normally, the person behind that door would have acted way more collected, would have tried to sound as if everything was under his control.

Right now, Azul simply sounded tired. Almost as if he were on the verge of breaking.

Jade frowned and was about to ask if there was something that he could do for their leader, but Floyd was faster as he simply opened the door, not having the patience to go along with that master-servant game that Jade and Azul had between them for so long.

What greeted them was the sight of Azul hovering a trash can, his hands bloodied by the red liquid that came from his mouth. In the trash can were flowers.

Flowers?

Both of them rushed to him. Floyd’s face was painted with an angry look as he placed a hand on Azuls back.

“What the hell? Was that why you have been trying to avoid us?!”

He was almost growling, his wrath was clear as the day. Jade did not feel different. His anger was on the cold side though, clashing with the heat of his brother’s emotions.

The octopus tried to say something, but instead of words, more flowers and blood started to escape his lips.

Jade eyes widened. His brain tried to process what was happening in front of him.

“Hanahaki?”

It was Floyd who came up with that word first. He had heard about this, but he never saw it as anything relevant.

A disease that starts because of unrequited love. Floyd knew about it, but he simply brushed it off as something that would never concern them back then or in the future, so he didn’t care too much about the details.

Jade seemed to know more about it though.

“Who is it? We have to act immediately. Either tell them that you love them, or we will get you to the next hospital to have you treated.”

Jade's voice was mostly calm, but it was also slightly shaking. As much as he tried to seem like his usual picture perfect self, even he couldn’t help but feel shaken by that appearance.

Azul’s skin was more than pale, his lips had no colour left except from the blood and petals that stuck to them. His hair was a mess, stuck on his forehead because of the cold sweat.

Even his body was colder than it usually was, and he was slightly shaking.

“I don’t want to.”

Azul was barely able to say these words, his voice was as dry as sandpaper as he moved his hands up in an attempt to push both of them away. He wasn’t able to with his shaking arms. The only thing he was able to do was to dirty their clothes with the blood that stuck to his fingers, but neither of the twins cared about that in the slightest?

“How dumb can you be? Just get treated? Aren’t you smart? Even you should know that love is not worth suffering through all of this.”

Floyds looked at the shorter man angrily as he gripped the others white shirt that was stained, but the other simply looked down and shook his head.

There was nothing left of his usually proud and gentlemanly behaviour.

A whisper was an answer to Floyds question, but they weren’t able to understand him.

“We didn’t hear you.”

This time, it was Jade who was talking.

He moved his fingers under his chin and moved his hands up, so he could look him in the eyes. His eyes had this beautiful silver-blue colour, but they were slightly glazed because of tears.

The dorm leader of Octavinelle answered them again, but this time in a way that both of them could hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to lose the feeling and my memories I have of both of you.”

Both twins froze in place as they tried to wrap their minds around the thing he just told them.

Azul didn’t want to lose the feeling he had for both of them? Jade was quick to understand the meaning of these words.

That was the reason why he avoided them. People who suffered from the sickness would lose their love for the person they had feelings for and their memories of them once the flowers and roots were removed. The person who has Hanahaki would also suffer more the more they had to think about the person, or in the octopus’ case people, they were in love with. Jade’s eyes were wandering to the flowers for a second. It was almost as if they tried to mock him.

Floyd was the one who acted faster than Jade. The taller twin gripped Azul by his arm and pulled him towards him, pressing his lips against the blood stained ones.

His eyes were open, for he wanted to see the shorter man’s reaction.

The other’s pair of eyes widened and he didn’t move for a few seconds before he put his hands on the others chest, trying to push the eel away, but to no avail.

After Floyd broke the kiss, it was Jade’s turn to claim the pair of lips this time.

They were dry, probably because of the lack of care, but that did not matter to him. All that mattered was that Azul realized that his love was not unrequited.

Once again, the octopus tried to get away from that display of affection, but this time he gave up more easily as he gave in after a while, letting his arms relax.

When Jade’s lips pried his pair of lips off Azul’s ones, he wrapped his arms around the others hips. Floyd did the same thing on the opposite side.

“I don’t need your pity… especially not when you are going to leave me once you grow bored of me.”

The shorter man sounded almost broken as he buried his face in the others shirt, not daring to look either of them in the eyes. Having both of them seeing him in that condition was bad enough.

He didn’t need pity from either of them now, not when they made it clear that he was nothing more than entertainment to them. Floyd’s statement from back then was still clear in his mind.

“We’re together with him because he’s interesting, but once he starts being boring, it’s bye-bye Azul~.”

Floyd also seemed to realize what he meant with that.

“Eh? I only said that because I believed that you would never become boring to us?”

Azul looked up and turned to Floyd, looking at him with disbelief. What did the other just say?

“I am not sure if what I am feeling is truly love, but I know that I really like you, and that I don’t want to lose you, little octopus.”

Jade was quick to catch up as he used his fingers to turn the other’s head back to him.

“In my case, I know that I love you, and I would hate to lose you like this… especially now that we know that you feel like that for us.”

Azul simply remained silent before he started to cry. It wasn’t a cry of sorrow though.

It was a cry of happiness, for there was a relieved smile on his face. This serene moment was broken by another coughing fit, but this time, it was worse than the ones he had in the past.

He felt so much better though, for this time, it was not only flowers that escaped his throat, but also roots.

The creature of the sea could feel how his lungs slowly started to feel so, so much lighter with each cough.

Jade and Floyd were shocked and didn’t know what to do. Jade wanted to let go of Azul to look for help, but Azul kept holding on to Jade.

When the coughing stopped, the octopus carefully let go of Jade’s shirt and gave both of them a smile. It was a small one, but it was genuine, brimming with… love.

“We should get you clean and something to eat.”

Floyd had noticed how much slimmer his wrists were, and he didn’t like it.

Azul shook his head though.

“I want to stay like this.”

He was almost whining as he tightened the grip he had on the shorter twin. Now that he knew that he didn’t love them in vain, he didn’t want to let this moment pass.

Jade smiled at the others' almost spoiled behaviour. The twin was used to Floyd acting like this, but not to Azul. Not that he minded it.

“We can cuddle and talk after we get you cleaned and fed again? I am even going to make you some fried chicken.”

Azul seemed to think about his suggestion for a second before he nodded slowly, agreeing to it.

“Very well… but don’t expect me to let you leave my room after that.”

#Twisted Wonderland #Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #jade x azul x floyd #Hanahaki Disease #happy ending #Fanfiction #Forget-Me-Not

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

The Monster’s Lair - Bewitched

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 8 | Chapter 9 - Bewitched | Chap 10 >

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - mourning, angst, death, masturbation (M), hunting, bloodlust (I really don’t know how to tag this stuff people)

Author’s note: This chapter just happened to turn into something quite..erotic and I don’t know why, but alas, I hope you will enjoy the read my lovely ones!

Word count: 5.115

Reading music: Wardruna and Aurora - Helvegen (”way to Hel”)

(Link to my Masterlist)

And he did.

He did bring Arthur back. The night dull as sullen tears fell from the skies, Belle watched from the highest tower as a dark silhouette appeared from the trees, in his arms a lifeless form. Her father, his face pale as a sheet.

Somewhere in her heart she had known; it hadn’t been right. The way he had sank through his knees, hands gripping for his chest. Her father was, despite his old age, a strong man. He may have coughed and limped, but not a day he would skip work. Not a day would he forgo his tasks because they were too menial or heavy. And thus it had been very uncharacteristic of him to give up like that. To accept defeat.

No. HE had not given up. His heart had.

Maybe indeed she was cursed. First her mother died. And now her father? Was this why everyone despised her? Kept her at a distance with snarky remarks and glowering eyes? Was that why?

Her chest ached with a tightness as more tears started to billow down her cheeks, her eyes watching the hooded figure below as he looked up, blue eyes hidden in the dusk of night. The Master. He was back. With her father. As he had promised.

And how..

‘Papa..’ Belle sniffled quietly, feet rushing down the stairs to meet the Master in the main hall.

---

Only the dead have seen; the end of war

The end of ball and chain,

Only the dead cannot starve and cry;

Or die again of shame,

With steady feet he moved silently through the stark of night, a milky moon illuminating the path through the castle gardens. The man in his arms felt weightless, but the weight on his shoulders was great. And despite his monsterly strength, he felt a strange heaviness in his limbs. His movements felt near sluggish, his eyes barely managing to take in the shapes around him as the castle’s silhouette appeared, a few lights welcoming him home.

Welcoming back his cold, unfeeling heart that suddenly didn’t feel so unfeeling anymore. Was he..sad? The Master swallowed in discomfort as he hoisted up the boney old man in his arms a bit more, his mind wandering aimlessly through the depths of his memories.

Long centuries ago this garden had been well-kept, a staff 50 heads strong working day and night to keep the ovens burning, breads baking, horses shoed and gardens bearing fruit. Those may have been good days, but those too had been his worst. He had been young, he could give himself that. But he had been unjust as well. He knew that now. What started with a miserable start of his marriage, soon escalated into an avalanche of terrible events. Mostly by his doing. He knew that too.

At the time he had thought he was just following his father’s orders. But his father never ordered him to cut his staff’s rations when a harvest failed. His father had never raised taxes so high that his people couldn’t afford the clothes on their backs. His father had not been so cruel.

He had.

And his wife had despised him for it. Her, more than any of the other people around him. And with her, it all started. The curse. The decay.

At first he thought it was nothing. As his father was stepping down from his role as Master of the lands, it was only natural that the young Master was feeling a bit stressed. A bit tense. Suddenly he was responsible for so many people, so many lives. Any man would feel a bit shaken in his boots, no matter how well trained he’d be.

But then it truly started. The sleepless nights, the terrible headaches, the strange itch beneath his skin. Like a million bugs crawling just beneath the surface, he’d scratch but feel no relief. He’d bathe and salve and pray. But no relief. For nights on end his nervous feet would pace through the nightly hallways of the castle, blood-shot eyes staring angrily at those smug looking portraits of his ancestors. How had they ever made it through? Was he doing something wrong? Why couldn’t he f*cking sleep? Was he so weak? So unsuitable for this position?

Was he a failure?

And thus he’d work himself and his staff even harder by the day-time. More hours. More labour. More extensions built. Larger gardens planted. More, more, more! He’d make sure he’d leave a lasting impression in the family name. He’d show that he was a great Master. That his father could be proud of him!

That was until his father was found dead one morning, drowned in his bile whilst sleeping in his bed. A strange, peculiar death for a man that seemed to still be strong in his years. But alas, it happened when you lived a good life. God would say you had lived well enough and take you away.

The young Master had tried to shake off the sorrow that had then consumed his heart, his one last supporter now gone from his life. His father had been a difficult man to please, but at long last he had felt that he and his father had aligned. That his father had felt pride in calling him his son. But his father was now no more, the grave dug and the earth wet as winter had come and the first rainy snow had started to fall.

All that remained was a scornful wife, a starved-to-the-bone people, an overworked staff and a castle that would never be filled with children’s laughter or joy. His wife wouldn’t even have him to bed. He had failed. He had.

He knew it when Morgana disappeared. He knew it when his staff vanished, searching good fortune in neighbouring towns. He knew it when all he could think of was the great hunger that shook his bones, clattered his teeth. All he could think of was the empty growl in his filled stomach, the food on his lips ashen and the wine in his belly red, but not right.

Not the right kind of red.

Not the thick, sweet pulsing life force that throbbed and drummed in the veins behind terrified eyes. Oh, how strange an obsession it had become, his ears pricking and tongue licking eager lips whenever people got near. The Master knew that something was amiss then. This wasn’t normal at all. This wasn’t stress. This was..this was…

The curse.

From there on events came in quick succession. The kitchens went quiet, the hearths went out and life as he knew it became but a distant memory. When winter came again, the last of the staff had disappeared, taking with them the last glimmer of hope. Hope for a return to things as they had been, hope for his wife that she would one day be free.

And so she did the unthinkable. But also the inevitable, her broken-heart shattering now truly as she cast herself from the highest tower, broken bones lain in the soft white snow as that same delicious red oozed onto its fresh blanket. And he? He had just watched it happen. Watched how she had cried out in despair as he had returned from a tax retrieval, the evening fallen and the cold of night wrapping the castle and her heart in its cold embrace.

Cold.

He could feel it now.

Strange.

Looking up into the sky he awakened from his dream-like state, a soft drizzle kissing his hood as he studiously gazed upward to the darkened brickwork, the mortar eaten away by the overgrowth. A figure was standing way up high in the tower. Just like his wife had stood. And just like his wife had, she whimpered and wailed, the sound of her broken heart aching to be heard.

Belle.

His breath hitched at the sight of her, his cold heart quite feeling indeed as he felt a sudden urge to save her, the beat of the undead muscle now clearly thrumming in his ears. He needed to get to her! Keep her from doing what his wife had done. Keep her from casting him into an even deeper, hollower hole.

The door burst open, bringing with it the icy winter winds, rain and one pair of panicked blue eyes. But Belle couldn’t care for it all. Not the weather and not the feral expression on the Master’s face. None of it. All she did was reach out for her father’s pale frame, her aching heart clenching as she saw that he was indeed without life.

‘I’m sorry.’ The Master whispered, shock ebbing away as his sorrowful blue eyes met with Belle’s tearful ones, their beautiful browns welling up with new salt water. ‘Papa..’ She whimpered, the soft shuffle of the Master’s staff now echoing through the entrance hall as they too gathered round to welcome their new guest. Albeit so that he would never be able to feel the warmth of their welcome.

And how warm he was welcomed.

With great tenderness he was placed in one of the guest rooms, his soaking wet clothes removed and replaced with nightly garments he had never owned. For tonight he’d sleep like a prince. Tonight he’d sleep a sleep that would never end, Belle’s watchful eyes guarding him along with the Master, his watchful eyes in turn watching Belle.

He was feeling things.

Breaking away his eyes, he noticed his staff peaking through the door. Closets, chairs, candelabras and spoons. They were all here, but it was Lumiere who was the first to let out a silent sigh, his golden arm pushing the door open a bit further so he could quietly mimic what to do, his firey candles dancing as he wrapped an imaginary friend into an exaggerated hug. The Master blinked as his brows furrowed, careful eyes looking back at Belle, the sweet girl blissfully unaware of what was happening.

“Really?” The Master mouthed back at Lumiere, making the candelabra let out another sigh, this time loud enough to alarm the young woman.

Belle looked up, only noticing that the door was slightly further ajar than it had been moments ago, her eyes searching the room for visitors before she noticed the Master, his uncomfortable, near pained expression making her raise up an eyebrow.

‘What is it, milord?’ She asked quietly.

‘I eh..AHERM..eh..’ He got up from his chair and straightened his shoulders, then loosened them again, eyebrows furrowing deeper as he awkwardly opened his arms towards her. ‘Would you..eh..like a..’

Thankfully he didn’t need to finish that stumble of words, Belle’s small figure rushing from the bed to melt into his chest, her cheek pressing into his cold but beating heart. With hesitant hands the Master lowered his arms, folding his large hands around her corseted frame, the fabric so delicate beneath his fingertips. SHE was so delicate beneath his fingertips. As the night was strong, so was his beastly strength. One little snap of his hands could break her, he was aware of that. And so he held her as carefully as he could, his nostrils flaring as the smell of her was now near maddening.

With a slight dip of his head he sniffed her hair, the smooth brown locks smelling of soap, of wood fire, of life. And with life came blood. That delicious, slow thrumming force that lingered just beneath her porcelain skin. So sweet and enticing. Ugh..his teeth started to chatter again. That sweet, sweet blood. So, so…HMMMM...SO...

‘I-I’m sorry.’ The Master choked, releasing the embrace to storm away, leaving behind him a confusedly blinking Belle.

What was this all about? Did she do something wrong?

It was nearly suitable that come morn they were welcomed by a fresh blanket of snow, a low rectangular hole now dug into the icy earth at the family’s cemetery. With one perfect red wild rose in hand, Belle watched as the Master carefully lowered her father into his grave, his old body wrapped in fine cotton sheets, protecting him from the elements for just a moment longer.

As the Master climbed out, Belle stepped forward, her chest heaving in her tight corset as she lowered her gaze, eyes shutting for a moment as she quietly said her final goodbye. Goodbye. It was a strange word wasn’t it? The librarian had once explained that it was a term derived from “Godbwye”, which is a contraction of the phrase “God be with ye”. So here it was. God was with her father.

With a little bow of the head her eyes fluttered open again, the fine cotton shape laying before her matching quite beautifully with the white snow. It felt clean. New. Pristine, but..lonely too...She sniffled as she looked down upon the rose in her hand, its scarlet petals starting to shine with white little crystals as more snow had started to fall, dancing around them like a curtain of glitter.

Yes, this was goodbye.

With a sad smile she cast the rose on the cotton, her arms instinctively wrapping around her chest, in need of comfort. And comfort she received, quite unexpectedly. Especially after tonight’s abrupt departure, she was near baffled to find the Master’s hand on her shoulder. His touch cold, but welcoming nonetheless.

In fact, after he had left she had thought more of the Master, than of her father. The closeness of his presence, albeit only for such a short moment, had ignited a fire in her heart that she did not know it could hold. The whole world around her had fallen quiet, except for that strange clicking sound, his teeth chattering nervously in his mouth.

What was it with this strange man? She knew that he was a monster of sorts. And yet he was far too human for it to make sense. He was, or had been, refined. She knew it from his gestures, from his knowledge of etiquette, his ability to read and write so well - so very well indeed, the letter that he had written her still tucked in the book she kept in her pocket. Never had she met such a person. Such a man. Especially not so handsome. And so..awkwardly endearing.

Turning away from her father’s grave she was suddenly standing face to face with that manly monster, his sky blue eyes holding a quiet sorrow in them. Belle nodded, as if indicating she was done, but couldn’t help but let the words escape her mouth, escape her mind as the same question had continued to roll around in her brain throughout the night.

‘What made you a monster?’

For a moment the Master just stood there, unblinking eyes watching her with studious fascination, his face unreadable. And then it changed. His face melting into one of unexpected softness as he looked straight into her soul.

‘Why do you ask that, Belle?’ His voice was soft.

Belle shrugged, eyes not once looking away from his, though her voice was less certain. ‘Well. Eh..The first time I met you? The chat we had? You asked the question. But you then never gave me the answer. You never told me. Milord.’

A flicker of amusement lit up his eyes. ‘I see. Very well.’ The Master nodded.

In mere minutes the grave was filled back up with earth, the snow now starting to thicken as it whirled and whispered onto the castle yards. Belle and the Master made haste to get back inside, back to the heat of the library hearth where Belle warmed her hands and a cup of tea was awaiting her. The Master pulled out a seat for her before he settled in his great reading chair, the distance between them small enough for knees to touch. With quiet eyes the Master watched Belle for a few long minutes, her long fingers wrapped around the smooth porcelain as she blew over the hot liquid, steam arising in the air.

‘So..?’ Belle finally looked back at him, her eyes tearing away from the flames.

‘It can wait if you want. I understand if you are in need of..’ - ‘No, please. I could actually very much use some diversion right now.’ She turned slightly in her chair, tea cup lowered to her lap. ‘Please.’

The Master nodded, then hesitantly started to speak, his low and heavy voice telling of his tale as the fire crackled on and the day slowly passed, tea cups emptied and refilled numerous times. He told her of his family, his father, Morgana. The card laying. The rose. His stupidity. His wife. The curse. Everything.

When his story came to a silent close, he noticed her hand reaching out to him, fingertips carefully brushing over his cold, porcelain cheek. A tender caress. And then, quite unapologetically, she pulled up his lip, eyes wondrously studying the fangs beneath.

The Master wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, eyes nervously flicking to her fingertips. But she didn’t hurt him. In fact he could again feel the flutter of something inexplicable in his cold heart, like a bird was caught inside his rib cage, wishing to escape. It nearly hurt to ..feel, his hand gripping her wrist to still her movements as he tried to catch his breath. Nearly. But..no..it wasn’t..

‘Does it hurt?’ Belle asked quietly.

‘No.’ The Master shook his head, blue eyes boring back into hers. ‘It’s...it’s good.’

She was truly beautiful like this. Large doe eyes looking back at him. Not afraid, not teary eyed - though still red rimmed. She was calm, rosy lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling in her corset as the whole room went quiet. For a moment the Master could swear that he had gone deaf. Like he had been buried in a thick layer of snow, the world mute, but his eyes seeing. Was she feeling what he was feeling? His gaze lowered to her lips for a moment, studying the way she opened and closed them a little.

Was she trying to say something? Ask something? Did she need something?

‘Did it hurt when we..’ Belle swallowed. ‘..embraced?’

‘No.’ The Master shook his head again, understanding finally what she seeked. Could he contain himself? Give her what she wished? She surely deserved some effort on his part. Especially now, with her father passed away and her future uncertain. It was the least he could do, right? Silently the Master lifted from his chair, hands pulling up Belle before his fingers interlaced with hers, the distance between them so small that every next movement ran on pure bodily chemistry. Electric and nervous. Clumsy and new. The Master wasn’t sure about what to do.

But Belle, did.

Like a strange fever dream the Master felt the whole world shift. Felt the tingles run up his spine, the heat in his loin, the delicate brush of her breath as she leaned in closer. For a moment he felt heavy and light all at the same time. Needing, but satisfied. Nervous, but bold. He wasn’t even entirely sure anymore where his limbs were as all he could see was Belle, her large expectant eyes floating so close to his now. Those sweet lips slightly parted, ready to be..to be..

OH that smell. That sweet, maddening smell!

Without thinking the Master crushed himself into her, his fingers quick to interlace through her hair, lips crashing into her plush warm ones, capturing her. Oh how SWEET she was. She tasted. He hadn’t tasted such delicacy in years..centuries. Oh that SMELL! Her hair. Her musk. Her skin. Her..mmm.. taste. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing over the inside over her lips, meeting her tongue in its wake. Slightly hesitant, but curious, her fingers now started to curl around his black velvet vest. Keeping him just where she needed him.

OH THAT SMELL.

The Master growled inwardly as he heard a faint moan somewhere in the back of her throat. She liked this? Oh GODS. Gods he ..he..

The rush of blood lust became nearly too much, his fangs desiring to click as the brush of her warm-blooded life was so close to his lips, so ready to be tasted. Oh how sweet she would taste if he..

NO.

With a tight grip, her face held between his two large palms, he pulled back, eyes widened in terror. No, he couldn’t do this. It was too much. ARGH! And thus, once more, he fled the scene, a soft wind following him as he ran out in the snowy world outside, willing himself to quiet the turmoil in his heart.

HE WAS FEELING.

ARGH! No this wasn’t right. This wasn’t right. He was a monster, for heaven’s sake! He shouldn’t. He couldn’t..he...ARGH!

With his tailcoat flying out behind him he ran and ran. But no matter where he went, the thundering in his heart wouldn’t quiet down. He could feel, he could FEEL! What sorcery was this?! With clicking teeth he felt the whole world crash down onto him, obliterating him after centuries of dullness. He could feel the strange hush of the snow beneath his boots, crunching and powdery. The cold as it licked at his porcelain skin, tingled at his fingertips. The pounding of his heart as it thrummed in his ear drums. The taste..the taste that lingered of her honey sweet lips. And her blood. Oh, he could still smell it.

*Click click click*

His restless jaw gnawed into nothingness, long fangs appearing from beneath his curled up lips. If he wanted to return to that castle, he needed to get himself back in order. Reign back whatever the hell was going on with him. Perhaps he needed to feed. Yes. He hadn’t hunted in a few days now. He was probably just starving.

And so the Master set out on sniffing any potential victims, the cold air sharp in his nose as he inhaled deeply. Lots of small animals he could find, along with a sleeping bear not far off. No. Not that. And then he smelled it, rich and nervous, sweet blood seeping from a wounded deer, her breath shallow as death was starting to cover her hazed, glazy eyes. With vampiric precision he could even note how old the beautiful animal must be. How and where she had fallen down. It was like the forest whispered it into his ears. Told him any detail that a predator could need.

Perfect! The Master sped off, his fast pacing feet soon finding the poor animal as it struggled to get up from the pool of sticky red blood.

‘Sshhh..’ The Master hushed, large hand palming the thumping jugular of the nervous animal. His teeth started to click again, the sound echoing through the tall pine trees as his eyes slowly gazed down upon the bloodied fur of the trembling creature. With glassy eyes the doe looked back at the vampire as he brushed a hand over the claw-marked wounds on her chest and belly. She had been attacked. Though not by the bear he had spotted earlier. The claw marks were too fine, though also messy in execution. Had it been a young predator? The Master couldn’t quite figure it out, but he also couldn’t care any longer, his stomach grumbling at the notion of fresh blood ready for drinking. Bending forward, hands tilting up the pretty long neck beneath his fingertips, he sniffed again. Oh so sweet.

Though not as sweet as hers. Belle’s.

ARGH, couldn’t he just quiet his mind for a second? Forget about..about… Reaching out his tongue he lapped on the sticky red as it flowed down from one of the wounds, the taste like cocaine to his veins, his whole body burning up with desire. It always confused the Master why he felt this way when he drank blood, but, then again, it was the way it was.

As he started to nibble and suckle on the open wounds, fangs digging into the soft flesh of the dying deer, all he could feel was a growing ache for relief, his loins tightening to a painful degree. And with every drop of blood the need intensified, his hands clenching around the poor deer’s neck, near breaking it as it started to struggle to get away from the beast. In vain though. The Master was too strong and too eager to drink his fill, the red life dripping in little trickles down his porcelain skin as he gulped down the tangy sweet goodness.

After a few long minutes, the Master was both finished..and just getting started. With his breeches now filled out to a mighty degree he let the deer drop back into the bloodied snow, her form drained of life. What a day of death it was indeed, the Master thought, licking his scarlet stained lips. But what a day of life as well. Long fingertips grazed over the coarse material of his breeches, feeling the throbbing length that was begging to be released from its confines. Hmmm… A low moan escaped his throat as he wondered why it was now, after so many centuries of nothingness, that he could feel again.

Sure, he had felt before. But it had all been dull, void, unpleasurable. Everything he did was done and touched with purpose. Not because it simply pleased him. But Belle had pleased him terribly. Even now he could taste the sweetness of her tongue as it had brushed back against his.

Nimble fingers made light work of the lacing of his breeches, his hard length springing free as the Master sat back in the blanket of snow, cold licking at his frame. He was a sight to behold like this. Dark, elegant clothes hanging disheveled from his strong physique, hard jawline clenched in focus as his fingers wrapped around his erection, tugging at it with a need for cooling down. Cooling down the need as it rushed through his veins, tightened his muscles, widened his eyes.

OH..fuck. He could indeed feel more. He could feel the cold as it licked on his velvety hard member, a few stray falling snowflakes kissing his sensitive skin. FUCKKK. Whatever had happened today. He needed it again. And again. Though at what risk? He knew not how well he could reign himself in, the mere scent of the pretty young woman enough to make him dizzy in his head. In his cock. FUCK. Tugging more harshly, mouth pulled into a snarl, he eyed up at the sky, its hues grey and purple, foreboding more snow to come.

He needed to find a way. He had to. He didn’t want to hurt her, he didn’t. He.. AHH..YES..he needed to find a way. AHHHH. His balls started to tighten, along with his breath, his lungs stuck in his large chest as he started to feel his legs tremble, eyes keeping their gaze up at the sky.

Please, let me find a way. Please.

--------

But when you are cursed, release is hard to find. Even after helping himself to some relief, it was never enough to face Belle again. Not now at least. Even as his boots walked back up the path to the castle, he could feel the restless drum in his clear beating heart. Even now he could feel, albeit less sharply and overwhelmingly as before.

Hesitating a moment longer, feet halting in the castle gardens now evening was soon to fall, he made a B-line for the small family graveyard, eyes first picking up the new mound which he had dug just a night earlier. Arthur. The poor man had willingly given his life to save his daughter. The least the Master could do was make an attempt at doing the same. He would do whatever it’d take. Anything.

Inhaling the clean fresh scent of the snow, his gaze moved on, on towards the next grave, a beautiful tombstone dusted with the powdery white. His wife. A heavy lump sank into his throat as he gently brushed off the snow to see her name engraved. And that annoying etching. He had nearly forgotten about it. Swishing his hands over the rest of the stone, the maliciously carved text appeared back into view.

I condemn you, beast, as only true love shall prevail.

True love.

He had been so angry when he had found that text in his wife’s tombstone. How dare they! But then, when he tried to convince the stonemason to create a new one, the man refused. HOW DARE HE! The Master had nearly slain the man right then and there, on the spot. But thankfully he had managed to at least stop himself from performing such a hideous crime. No. He never managed to get a new tombstone for his wife, and so now, even to this day, that malicious text stood there, etched into the cold stone.

True.. love. True love. True love..?

The hearth in Belle’s room had nearly died down, her exhausted body still dressed in her blue dress as she had not even managed to get herself out of its tight constraints before sleep had taken her. With careful steps the Master walked further into the room, a few slumbering pieces of furniture blinking open an eye. ‘Sshh.’ The Master hushed, index finger resting on his lips before he reached out to at least pull a blanket over the sleeping maiden.

For a moment she stirred, her sleeping face turning towards him, cheek still glimmering with the many tears she had shed. And again, his heartstrings pulled painfully tight, his eyebrows furrowing. Oh he truly needed to stop running away from her. The poor girl had it rough enough as it was. Her father died. She was chased away from her village. She was all alone. Except for of course his company. But what good company was he, to begin with?

He was a monster, for heaven’s sake! He could never..never…

He slumped down on the edge of the mattress, the bed shifting slightly beneath his weight. But thankfully she didn’t wake, her face still calm as dreams had taken her away to a world that was hopefully more serene, more kind. More deserving of her blissful presence. Oh, she was so beautiful. She was. A tender finger traced the sticky salt on her porcelain skin, wiping away its residue. Oh Belle..

The Master couldn’t lie; he was glad she had returned to him, even though he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He wasn’t sure if he could ever give her what she needed, deserved. He was a broken thing. A cursed thing.

And now, a bewitched thing, as well.

Chap 10 >

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#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill smut #vampire!henry #fluff #smut #beauty and the beast au #long fic #adult fairytale #vampire #belle

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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 3 years

Text

Winter Whumperland Day 2 - Alone

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 2. Set in a modern AU, sequel to Day 1 'Appearances'. At night after the party, Hiccup lies awake, unable to sleep. He's not alone in bed, but still alone with his thoughts.

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 1 321

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Sleep Deprivation”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: Since these all take place in the same story, but are loosely tied together, it means that I have the full story to work with as I post these one-shots. I somewhat re-wrote this one and the previous one to fit and flow better and even added another scene to Day 3 because of an event happening on a later day that was already planned but hadn't been written yet.

What I'm trying to say is, this has been an interesting project to work on.Also, is the rating of "mature" right? And I've seen the Winter Whumperland blog itself tag the first Day as "dubcon", does that count for whole relationships that only one half of the couple wants as well?

Constructive criticism is appreciated!

Enjoy!

@amonthofwhump

Ao3

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

The clock ticking softly on the wall is infuriating, but it's about the only companion he has right now. That and the moonlight timidly lighting the room with what little the moon can reflect.

Eyes on the ceiling, he's never seen a room look so blue before, so used to the orange light of streetlamps coming in instead.

Or maybe he is used to it, he's been here long enough, after all.

He hates how that thought makes him feel. He's so used to everything now, nothing really fazes him anymore, nothing is new.

He wants to be at home.

Hiccup sighs deeply, a familiar feeling of a deep yearning in his heart that seems so far out of reach now. Every day it dwindles just a little more, every day it goes farther and farther away. Like a pleasant dream one has at night only to wake up and barely remember it.

Someone follows his example, breathing just as deeply, but more contentedly than he does.

He's not alone in bed as Viggo is with him. As if they're a real couple, they share the bed and sometimes it's almost like the elder of the two actually believes that they are. And Hiccup, he feels like pretending that they are makes things easier for him.

He pretended less than an hour ago.

Both bare underneath the covers, Viggo's head is lying on his naked chest, Hiccup can feel his prickly beard on his skin. His expression is quite neutral and Hiccup would've liked it if his sleep was at least a little bit troubled. He doesn't deserve a full night of rest.

The ironic thing is, Viggo is sleeping well because of Hiccup's presence. Something he'd told the young man, who almost felt flattered until that rational part of him, no matter how small after everything, reminded him not to be fooled.

Viggo is a manipulative man, the last thing he needs is to develop Stockholm syndrome after everything.

It's not fair that he gets to sleep while Hiccup can't. He's too uncomfortable to.

There's a layer of sweat coating him and the feeling of it drying on his skin is abhorrent, especially given the circumstances. And so is the culmination of wetness between his legs and on his stomach. They had sex before Viggo so graciously fell asleep on his chest and Hiccup desperately wants to take a shower.

But alas, he can't. That involves getting up and 'his darling' won't appreciate being moved. Maybe he'll get the chance somewhere during the night. If not, he'll be forced to wait until morning. So he has hours of uncomfortably lying in their mess to look forward to.

And he'll be expected to change the sheets later. When you keep someone hostage for your pleasure, you expect them to do the housework, too, apparently.

The Grimborns used to have a housekeeper, but she was "fired" for discovering Hiccup and not wanting to keep him quiet.

She was so kind, Hiccup hopes it was quick at least.

Gods, he hates himself right now. Not that it's a new feeling. He feels responsible for what happened to that poor woman and so he hates himself. And for getting caught in the first place, for drawing attention everywhere he goes, for everything he's had to do just to get through the day.

He's been performing his role as some kind of obedient... He doesn't want to think about it. Like a dog, he's expected to bark, roll over, play dead whenever his master commands him to and he's done it all. He's done it all. Because he's already figured that fighting Viggo and Ryker physically just doesn't work. And then there are those invisible fences to keep him trapped, like he's some pretty bird in a golden cage and Viggo is the master who makes him perform just for him until the day he dies.

It's sad and he hates it, but sex is a handy tool. The youngest Grimborn is a smart man who likes a smart partner, he's reminded Hiccup several times of this fact. But he, too, can be persuaded with the pleasures of the flesh, especially if the person offering is Hiccup.

Tonight, Hiccup pretended they are a couple and offered his body to lessen his anger when Viggo came searching for him after the party and found the bedroom door to be locked. Just as he predicted earlier, locking the door on top of everything else he'd done was the final straw for that night. And it didn't help that the party had left Viggo drained and even more easily agitated.

Hiccup doesn't want to think about how trading himself for his own safety makes him feel like. He doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts either and yet here he is.

Astrid was his girlfriend and they've only done it twice. They were a young couple that thought they had plenty of time, so they didn't rush. That is far, far less than what he's done with his current... "lover".

They were both inexperienced, simply exploring, finding things out together, garnering experience together. He doubts that has changed much for Astrid, but his experience has skyrocketed since their separation. Another thing he hates. So much he's had to learn that he wants to unlearn.

Before pretending that they are in love, he's tried to pretend this was Astrid he was with, but that never lasted long. A 19-year-old young woman and a 30 to 40 something-year-old man aren't the same things, after all.

And then there is another little thing that he's heard the brothers talk about, eavesdropping in on a conversation he was never meant to hear and probably would've been punished severely for. But that is for when Viggo's broken him enough to when they can be sure Hiccup won't run away given the chance.

It'll be the final insult, the last chain that is meant to keep him here, the end goal so to speak. When that guest made his joke earlier, he probably didn't guess the meaning behind Viggo's look correctly, but Hiccup knows what that smile was about.

But he's not going to let it come to that, he can't. Even if he's never found, he has to get out of this situation somehow.

Or maybe he's too optimistic for his own good and his kidnapping will end like so many other cases before him have. Namely, with him in a shallow grave somewhere far away from home. Nothing but skeletal remains and forever remembered as the tragic golden child who went missing when he had so much promise.

Once again, not him, just like that reflection wasn't him.

Hiccup wishes he could sleep. He's so, so tired and he wants his thought process to finally stop bringing him places he doesn't want it to go. He can't even use this time to think of a way out, his mind too preoccupied with hurting itself. He closes his heavy eyes, but they won't stay closed.

How dare Viggo sleep so peacefully when he's the one harboring a missing person that he stole and exploits in every way he wants to.

Glaring down at him, Hiccup curses him for leaving him alone with his thoughts like this.

The nights are arguably the worst in this aspect. Days are bad, but at least there's stuff he can keep himself busy with. House stuff usually, since he's not allowed to do anything else, and they somehow always manage to keep his list of chores full. It's almost like he's a child in a strict household.

But now there's nothing stopping him from thinking, from feeling, from missing. And what he feels is discomfort, fear, heartache, and loneliness.

A well, he'll just have to bear with it. Despite Viggo's methods and his way to beat him down and tire him out, Hiccup does have a plan.

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thespacebetweenworlds · 3 years

Note

so... i’m not actually in the witcher fandom, nor do i know the most about it...but i still think you should write witcher!hyunjin + bard!jisung. i just approve of the notion idk

I WROTE IT!!!! lmao, be proud of me! this was a whole ride and I loved every second. I hope you’ll find this amusing, too!

Here's the tags: KPOP RPF, Stray Kids Fanfic, Han Jisung/Hwang Hyunjin, rated T, warnings for violence and blood, Witcher AU, 5k, complete. Read it on ao3 here or continue forth below the cut.

Inspired by this Witcher!Hyunjin edit. Beta’d by Reltic, who writes very good skz fic y’all should go read it <3

Anyway let me know what you think :]

Hyunjin punched him in the face.

… by accident. That was important. Or it would be important, if Hyunjin didn’t wish he could punch the annoying bard a second time.

Unfortunately, they were currently caught and bound in the bandits’ cave, back to back, and if Hyunjin wanted to break free fast, the knife in his arm guard would also stab the annoying bard in the back. And he had to admit that that annoying mouth was currently the only thing preventing the bandits from slashing their throats and leaving them to bleed out in a ditch.

Fuck.

So Hyunjin lost himself in the memory of the bard’s stupid soft cheek on his knuckles, the impact he felt before the bard’s head snapped back and he stumbled away. The blood on his teeth when he smiled up at Hyunjin, who had honestly (oh, his past self new nothing) meant to punch the lackey of the village’s head who refused to pay him. The space around the bar had been packed, and someone was pushed into the lackey just before Hyunjin hit him.

The annoying bard.

Hyunjin, feeling sorry and embarrassed, had kicked the lackey a few metres away, relishing in the thump of a body against the wall and then the following slump to the floor accompanied with the sudden scared quiet of the room. And then he’d glared at the guys who had been pushing the annoying bard and escorted him out, meaning to apologise. He had not meant for the annoying bard to follow him on the dusty dirt road to the next village and never stop talking.

“You really should let us go, my dudes,” the annoying bard laughed – Jisung, oh how Hyunjin wished he didn’t know that name – “I mean come on, have you ever seen a man as beautiful as him? It would be a crime to kill us, a crime.”

The first that hit Jisung’s bruised face after that was deserved, and Hyunjin wished he was the one who did the punching.

“You trespassed into our territory, we will do as we wish,” one of the bandits crossed his head and lifted his chin as if he was almighty. For the moment, he was. “We have heard of a witcher with ties to the queen, and we can’t let him run to her and tell her about our secret drug ring.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Life was just out to get him specifically.

“Ah, we don’t kiss and tell,” Jisung said, and Hyunjin just knows he’s winking and putting on his ‘flirting’ face. “Wait, Hyunjinnie, you know the queen? Me too!”

Hyunjin wished he could close his ears too. Those were definitely the words the bandits needed to hear right now. Yes. Good thinking there, Jisung.

“Who are you that you know the queen?” Another of the bandits spoke up, walking closer. “Maybe we can exchange your dead remains for money.”

Jisung, at least, had nothing to say to that. “Ahaha, a joke, of course! How would I know the queen! Why would he know the queen? He’s a witcher, not a witch.”

Hyunjin groaned. “The queen and I are on bad terms right now, and I won’t tell her about your drug ring because I will kill you all.”

Finally, blessed silence. Hyunjin counted his heartbeats and breaths, relaxing his shoulders. Quiet. Nice. Now if only there was a breeze carrying some fresh mountain air.

“Hey,” Jisung hissed, “don’t encourage them!”

And the room broke in frantic yells and panic as they tried to decide what to do since both their prisoners apparently knew the ruler of the kingdom, except of course if they were lying. Hyunjin sighed.

“Hyunjin,” Jisung whispered, shuffling around, “how do we escape? You have a plan, right?”

Hyunjin took a deep breath. “I have a knife in my boot,” he told Jisung quietly, “if we stand up at the same time, I can take it, and cut us free.”

Jisung let out a breath. “Oh, that’s good! I knew you got this.”

Hyunjin just brought his legs under him, swiping the dagger from his boot – really, what kind of bandits didn’t tie their prisoner’s legs? – and as he stood with Jisung scrambling to his feet himself, he cut the ropes tying them together.

The bandits noticed a second too late, and drew their swords a second too late. Two put up half a fight, but soon they all lay dead on the floor, blood splattered all over Hyunjin. Hyunjin wrinkled his nose, and made an attempt to wipe the blood off of his daggers on the only bandit who still had a clean shirt.

“Where did that second dagger come from?” Jisung, his wrists still bound, interrupted Hyunjin.

“You’re still here?” Hyunjin shoved the daggers back, one into his boot and the other under his arm guard where it was concealed under black leather.

“Wait so you could have broken free all along with the dagger in your sleeve? Why didn’t you…” understanding slowly crawled across his expressive face, followed by a bright smile. “Hyunjin! I knew you care about me!”

“I don’t,” Hyunjin said, but somehow couldn’t stop himself from untying Jisung’s hands. He took his sword from where the bandits had tossed it in a corner and drew the blade. More bandits would still be outside. Jisung picked up his lute and hugged it close to his chest.

As Hyunjin had expected, a few bandits were in the surrounding woods, just far enough to not have heard their companions’ dying screams. Hyunjin killed the ones that attacked him and let the others run away.

When he reached the road, he lifted his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

Loud breathing and stomping reached him not much later.

“Hyunjinnie!” Jisung emerged behind him, cheeks flushed under his bruised face, lute strapped to his back. “I don’t understand how –” he gasped for air, “– you can run through the woods so fast. Wait for me.”

Hyunjin, however, only had eyes for the beauty that approached him now. “Kkami!”

Kkami was his trusted companion and only friend. And a horse. But she was the best. Better than all humans he ever met. A good listener too. And quiet. Unlike a certain annoying bard.

“Oh, pretty,” Jisung stumbled towards Kkami, who neatly stepped around him as if he was just an unusual kind of tree.

“I’m so proud of you,” Hyunjin whispered to her, leaning his forehead against hers and stroking her long neck. Kkami was truly his only friend.

Hyunjin climbed up on her back in one smooth move. He patted the parts of her neck he could reach and steered her down the road with his legs alone. She started walking in a comfortable walk, one that she would be able to hold for days. The sun was high in the sky, the trees green, the birds singing. It was calm now. The breeze smelled of forest and moss and rotting leaves and flowers in bloom. Hyunjin could hear his own heartbeat as well as Kkami’s, their breaths aligning like they so often did on long journeys.

It was wonderful.

Except that his and Kkami’s weren’t the only heartbeats he heard.

“Oh, can I also ride on your horse? No? Alright then, it’s your horse, I understand. Did you call her Kkami? That’s so cute. Like you! You were so badass back there, I had literal goosebumps. I must admit the blood splattered clothes fit you very well. And did you see their faces when they realised we got free? And oh, we busted a drug ring, if you were on good terms with the queen we could totally go to the capital and receive money for doing good deeds in the name of the crown. But alas, we’ll have to live as vagabonds! Lonely heroes on their way to defeat evil!”

Yup. There he was.

“I should write a song about it. I can write a song about us. I will write a song about you! Hyunjin, how do you feel about songs? I promise I’ll also credit Kkami with defeating a villain, of course, she’s lovely. Do you think a long ballad would be suitable? Or a drinking song? If you don’t mind, I’ll try some freestyles, yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Ah, but I write my songs by freestyling! I just start singing, play some chords, and continue until I find sounds and words I like. You know, as a starving artist with only my lute, I can’t rely on making notes and writing my lyrics down, I have to memorize them as I come up with them! So talking to myself helps with that, obviously. And now I have you, too! You will help me, right?”

Hyunjin contemplated kicking Jisung in the face. It would… even be possible, he realised as he studied the distance between his leg and Jisung’s head. He’d have to stretch weirdly though, and unless he shifted his weight, the kick wouldn’t be very strong. The movement would surprise Kkami though, and while she definitely wouldn’t mind or be inconvenienced, Hyunjin was sitting comfortable and breathing in synchrony with her.

Why mess that up? He could just pretend he wasn’t hearing anything, anything at all. A fly, maybe. A bee. Human voices? The last time he heard a human speak was one of the bandits, before he stabbed him in the chest with his sword and left the body in the shrubbery.

Oh, the calmness of the forest… so quiet… so nice.

In the late afternoon, the trees gave way to the next village, with fields spreading out into wasteland and far away mountains. The village was just big enough to have a bit of stone ground in the middle, with a river and a mill. An inn sat in it’s center.

Hyunjin sighed. He had exactly no money, which meant he’d have to ask for a job first before he could rent a room. However, he had yet to see a village that didn’t have at least one monster to get rid of. It just meant he’d have to go monster hunting before he could go to sleep for a day.

“Oh, are we staying here, Hyunjin?” Jisung stood in front of Hyunjin when he jumped off Kkami. And Jisung grinned. He swaggered towards the door of the inn. “I don’t have money, but I’m sure I can get us a room in exchange for entertainment! I’ll sing of your victories, witcher, and the town will love you!”

“Uh… bard,” Hyunjin said, because he’d actually have to warn him, didn’t he? “Jisung.”

Jisung turned to him with wide eyes and his grin turned into a soft smile.

“That might not help. As a witcher, people don’t usually… like… it… when I’m around.” Hyunjin gestured to his appearance, dark leather armour splattered with blood. Long white hair bound together but he knew there were leaves caught in it. It really spoke for itself. His glowing eyes didn’t help his case. “I’ll ask for a monster to kill, which will hopefully get us a meal and a room, and Kkami a place in a stable. That’s all, and only if we’re lucky.”

A look of something crossed Jisung’s face, there and gone too fast for Hyunjin to read. He squared his shoulders and bared his teeth. “Trust me on this, Hyunjin.”

And Jisung sauntered into the inn as if he owned it.

Hyunjin and Kkami shared a look. “I don’t know either, Kkami, sweetheart,” Hyunjin sighed.

Kkami neighed quietly.

“I know, I know, I better go and save his ass or something,” Hyunjin cringed. He was actually going to, wasn’t he?

Kkami snorted.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “Yah, don’t laugh at me! Wait here, okay? If anyone comes at you, you know how to drop kick them.”

Jisung had maybe one minute alone in the inn. Somehow, Hyunjin expected there to be fire and screaming and new bruises on Jisung’s annoying face.

One minute, and yet what Hyunjin found when he opened the door was Jisung pointing a finger at him, yelling, and cheering from a crowd of mostly drunk farmers and a handful of young women who curiously turned their heads.

“That’s him!” Jisung was laughing, too. “He saved my life.”

Hyunjin didn’t have time to process that before he was shoved next to Jisung by a smiling man with a long beard and a cup of beer was handed to him. The women oohed and aahed.

“Jisung-ssi, why didn’t you say he’s pretty?”

“Mr Bard, he truly looks as beautiful as you said! A hero!”

“To have defeated a Barghest! I’ll drink to that!”

Jisung cheered with the small crowd, and Hyunjin lifted his beer in cheers, setting it back down when it seemed like most people were briefly shifting their attention to their own drinks. Alcohol did nothing for him, and he didn’t like beer. Jisung swiftly switched his own cup with Hyunjin’s, and when Hyunjin brought the cup up to his face, he noticed it was water.

“I told you to trust me, Hyunjin,” Jisung said quietly.

Hyunjin could only nod.

“Oh, your hair is so pretty,” one of the older women said, sliding into the seat next to him. “I’m the co-owner of this establishment, by the way.”

“Um, thank you,” Hyunjin swallowed a mouthful of water. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you had a job for me here.”

Jisung, now a few metres away, strung his lute and started singing a catchy song about ‘that time a handsome witcher saved me from the beast’ which, despite his raspy throat, sounded good – if you could ignore the terrible text. And the fact that it was all lies. Well, Hyunjin had to admit that he did save Jisung from certain death, but there was nothing heroic about it, and Hyunjin also hadn’t taken off his clothes to use his undershirt to bind a cut on Jisung’s ankle.

“We are uncertain still,” the woman quickly tugged Hyunjin out of his thoughts with her serious tone. “A monster dwells upstream. Sometimes the river is dyed red, or pieces of ripped clothing will pass the village. My niece disappeared two weeks ago. One of the farmers went up to see what was causing the issue last week, and he never returned. One of his shoes did, though.”

“Hmm,” Hyunjin nodded. “I have a few ideas of what it might be, and none of them are good.”

The woman nodded, smiling worriedly. “If it really is a… monster, as you say, we will of course pay you accordingly. For now, your drinks are on us – see it as a gesture of good will for saving that bard.”

With a polite smile, she turned to attend a group of newly arrived villagers.

Hyunjin eyed the sliver of fading daylight streaming in through the dirty window. If it really was a drowner, it might move closer to the village when hungry. Drowners lived in streams and ponds and sewers, but if this one was upstream it might not take long for it to decide to live closer to the village. Hyunjin remembered the mill. There must be a body of water directly connected to it.

And if the last death was already a week ago, then he’d have to hurry. He finished his water and got up.

“Jisung,” he said when he reached him and Jisung had taken a small break from singing to hydrate. “I’m going after a monster here. I will be back by moonrise.”

Jisung smiled a gummy smile, eyes sparkling. “You’ll be back?”

“I’ll be back,” Hyunjin agreed, wondering if it would destroy his fragile positive image in the village if he punched Jisung in the face right now. Why bother though, Jisung’s bruises were just reaching their darkest point, another one wouldn’t even be visible.

Hyunjin turned and left, hearing Jisung loudly announce that Hyunjin was going to defeat the monster.

Kkami was eyeing him.

“What,” he grumbled. “So, he was right. So what. I still have to go kill a monster now.”

Kkami snorted judgingly.

Together, they swiftly galloped towards the mill, and in a slower tempo they followed the water upstream.

There were a few hills there, some shrubbery that quickly turned into tall trees, the river courving and going into the forest. The smell was the first thing that told him something was wrong here, so he got off Kkami, drank one of his witcher potions – never a fun experience, the way his insides twisted and bones shuddered just wasn’t a good vibe – and he felt his sight sharpening, eyes turning black.

Kkami, unbothered queen that she was, turned to snack on some leaves.

Hyunjin followed the smell of blood and death deeper into the woods to a clearing. A dark pond greeted him, and yes, this was it. He would never get the smell out of his hair.

He kicked a pebble into the water.

The water made waves, but not the ones physics predicted the pebble would have created.

In the end, killing a drowner wasn’t that much different from killing a human. They were, after all, human shaped with extra gills and fins. Somewhat. The difficulty didn’t lie in their superhuman strength, but Hyunjin was a witcher, and he had drunk his potions. Not even the coldness and darkness of the water surrounding them really bothered Hyunjin.

The difficulty lay in the fact that Hyunjin didn’t like the quiet that came after. He waded out of the pond, wet and cold, hair plastered to his forehead, the slippery head of the drowner in his arms, and what greeted him was cold starlight and absolute silence.

He walked the way back to the village. Kkami was waiting where he left her, but he didn’t want to ruin his saddlebags by getting them wet with smelly pond water and the drowner’s blood.

The moon rose just as he made it back to the village.

And when he opened the door to the inn, the first thing he saw was Jisung’s annoying face. Could his day get any worse after this?

“You’re back!” Jisung smiled again (why did he smile so much, and why did he smile at Hyunjin?) and then he saw the water dripping down his clothes and the monster’s head in his arms. Naturally Hyunjin couldn’t really grab the head in one hand, it was too fishy for that. Jisung winked at him, before turning back to the room. “The witcher defeated the monster! Your village is safe now!”

Cheers sounded through the room, which seemed to be packed with the whole village and not just the handful of farmers from earlier.

“Should I leave the head outside,” Hyunjin asked the woman who had spoken to him earlier.

She took a look and briefly looked nauseous. “Yes, just leave it outside, thank you. I’ll prepare a room and a bath for you, master witcher.”

Hyunjin blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever been addressed with this much honest respect. “Thank you.”

“Follow me.”

Through a crowd of mostly drunk cheering, the owner led him up a narrow stairway in the back, and opened one of the doors for him. There was a fairly big bed, a small window with curtains, and a tub behind a paper screen.

“Uh, excuse me,” Hyunjin stopped the woman just as she walked past him with the promise of getting someone to bring up hot water, “my horse, she’s outside. Could you send someone for her? If it’s too much trouble, is there a stable I can bring her to?”

The woman smiled. “Of course, dear. I’ll send my son, he’ll take good care of your horse.”

Relieved, Hyunjin started to undo the straps of his armour, putting the pieces on the clothes rack next to the tub. Hopefully the leather would be dry by morning. When he was down to his undershirt and pants, the woman returned with two people following behind her, all of them carrying buckets of steaming water.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin smiled politely, only to be told thanks in return, ‘for saving the village.’

… Jisung must be composing an epic ballad.

Tired, Hyunjin decided to not care about that right now, and fully undressed. He was just starting to relax in the hot water when the door behind him opened. Jisung’s familiar heartbeat sounded in the room. Hyunjin closed his eyes and sighed.

“Are you – oh.”

“What,” Hyunjin groaned. “Don’t tell me they only have one guest room and thus you simply must share with me.”

“Ah, yes, actually. How did you know?” Jisung crossed the room and sat next to Hyunjin, keeping his eyes strictly on Hyunjin’s face.

“Just – a hunch, I don’t know. Are you blushing?”

“No.” Jisung blushed.

Hyunjin hummed and started to cover his arms and chest with soap. It smelled too strongly of flowers, but maybe that would cover the lingering smell of blood and forest. He moved on to wash his hair, getting his fingers tangled in the knots.

“Wait,” Jisung interrupted, “let me do that.”

Stunned, Hyunjin didn’t move when Jisung grabbed the soap out of his hands.

“Your hair is really pretty,” Jisung murmured. “I want to braid it and give you a flower crown. Did you know that one of my aliases is Dandelion?”

“I did not,” Hyunjin said, because Jisung’s aliases were the most conceivable piece of information he just received.

Jisung laughed and used his hands to wash the soap out of Hyunjin’s hair. “You pretend you’re all tough and dramatic but really you’re a big softie.”

“Are you talking about yourself,” Hyunjin replied, because really, he did not come here for an emotional evaluation.

“Aw, no,” Jisung lightly splashed water in Hyunjin’s face, “I never pretend to be all tough and dramatic, I am all tough and dramatic.”

Hyunjin wrinkled his face in disgust. “You’re annoying.”

Hyunjin noticed how Jisung’s musician’s fingers lightly lingered on the scars on his shoulders and back when he washed the soap away. He let Jisung hold his hands and massage a pleasant smelling oil into his skin after he dried and got dressed in a long nightshirt the inn had kindly provided for them. He sat still as Jisung used a towel to gently dry Hyunjin’s hair, and in the absence of a comb used his fingers to disentangle the worst of the knots.

Jisung, for once, blessed Hyunjin with silence. Hyunjin still noticed Jisung. Even when he wasn’t talking a steady stream of nonsense, his presence was still… loud. Strong. The many buttons on Jisung’s jacket were undone with skilled fingers, and Hyunjin pinched himself when he finally remembered to look away. He walked through the room, closing the curtain, locking the door. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and looked everywhere except at Jisung, who pulled the nightshirt over his bare skin.

“You don’t mind sharing the bed, do you?” Jisung asked at last, sitting down next to Hyunjin.

“If I did,” Hyunjin replied, raising an eyebrow, “I’d have removed you from this room already.”

Jisung’s annoying mouth formed a big, heart shaped smile.

Hyunjin wanted to punch him. With his mouth. On Jisung’s mouth. He shuddered internally. Oh no. This wasn’t happening. He was definitely not going to kiss the annoying bard on his annoying mouth. Nope. Not happening.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Jisung said, serious. “Not just from the bandits, but you also kinda saved me back at the other village. You also punched me, but I know that was an accident.”

“I will punch you again,” Hyunjin grumbled, getting under the covers and scooting to one side, “it just won’t be an accident.”

Jisung laughed. “You’re really funny, you know that? I think most people don’t even notice, which is a shame.”

“You’re not funny,” Hyunjin yawned.

“Is that a challenge? Keep thinking that, then. I’ll make you smile.”

Hyunjin didn’t dignify that with an answer. He closed his eyes.

“Sleep well, Hyunjinnie,” Jisung murmured, burying himself in the blanket just a hand width away.

“Night,” Hyunjin returned after a pause.

It didn’t take long for Jisung’s breath to even out and his heartbeat to slow. Hyunjin listened to the muffled and fading noises of the inn for another while before he allowed himself to drift off. Even witchers needed sleep.

When he came back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was the early morning light streaming in from behind the curtain. He still had his eyes closed and felt no need to move for the moment. Jisung’s heartbeat sounded steady, his breaths warm against Hyunjin’s neck. Hyunjin was warm and comfortable in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, the sheet comfortable around him.

Arms tightened around him, and a voice in the back of Hyunjin’s mind started screaming like the house was on fire. Except Hyunjin really didn’t mind burning houses, he was a witcher, why was his brain screaming? He firmly told himself to shut up and enjoy the lingering sleep. Awake time would be later.

“Hrngg warm,” Jisung murmured, and threw a leg over Hyunjin’s hips.

That woke Hyunjin.

Wide eyed, he stared down, only to see Jisung half on top of him. He realised that it wasn’t the blanket that was so comfortably warm and soft, but Jisung, because Jisung was draped all over him.

Carefully, Hyunjin tried to extract himself, but Jisung only tightened his hold on him.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin whispered.

What did one do when one woke up with a human octopus attached? Hyunjin didn’t know, so he tried to breathe normally and not disturb Jisung further. The bruises on his face were thankfully already fading into lighter shades of purple, but Jisung must have been exhausted. One of Hyunjin’s arms was free, and he’d left a bruise balm on the small table beside the bed, in case he hadn’t healed fully in the morning.

Carefully, Hyunjin reached over, scooped a bit up with his finger, and very carefully started to cover the bruises on Jisung’s cheekbone and temple. Jisung didn’t wake.

After a while, Hyunjin closed his eyes and fell back asleep. When he woke up again, it must have been late morning – golden light illuminated the room. Jisung was staring up at him, wide eyed.

“You drool in your sleep,” Hyunjin told him and gently pushed Jisung off him.

Jisung blushed furiously and wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, eyes not leaving Hyunjin.

Hyunjin stretched and stood. He opened the curtain, squinting against the bright daylight. When he turned to Jisung, he found Jisung rubbing at his eyes, looking lost in the center of the bed, blanket pooling around him. His hair stood around his head and looked – despite all logic – fluffy.

“I – uh, did I sleep on you?” Jisung averted his eyes.

Hyunjin hummed, turning to his clothes. His armour was dry, luckily, but he’d hate to wear the same undershirt and pants again. He’d have to find a river where he could wash his clothes soon.

“I’ll go find the toilet,” Jisung mumbled and left for the door. He almost stumbled in the doorway. “Oh, clothes! The nice lady must have left them for us.” In front of their door, indeed, was a neatly folded pile of clothes. Simple linen undershirts and pants, nothing fancy but of good quality.

When they had fully dressed and Hyunjin had wrenched his hair into a bun, they made their way downstairs just to find the barkeeper grinning widely at them, reminding Hyunjin that this village thought him a hero.

Thankfully, Jisung did all the talking, and Hyunjin could eat as much breakfast as he liked. Maybe he should keep Jisung around.

A handful of villagers came together to bid them goodbye, and the woman from the inn for some reason apologised for being unable to pay him, but instead offered a horse. A cute, mischievous black mare that had been her niece’s favourite, and as such had never learned how to be a proper farm horse. Jisung thanked the villagers profusely and loudly, and sang another rendition of ‘the handsome witcher saved my life’ as they left.

Out of sight and out of earshot of the last farm belonging to the village, Jisung’s voice went high and panicky.

“Hyunjin! I don’t know how to ride a horse!”

Hyunjin just looked Jisung up and down slowly, making his point. Jisung was, after all, sitting on his horse. Sure, he was also hugging his lute to his chest and also gripping the saddle with white-knuckled fists.

“Ha! I did it!” Jisung whooped then, and pointed a finger in Hyunjin’s face. “You smiled!”

Hyunjin wiped the smile off his face, furrowed his brows and glared. “No.”

“You did! I clearly saw – Hyunjinnie you’re so cute when you – ah!” Jisung blanched and cowered over his horse, who had just made a bigger step than usual to nose Kkami in the face.

Hyunjin laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Jisung was confident, or good at bullshitting confidence, and pretty, and annoying, and brave. And he was afraid of riding on a horse.

He leaned back just a bit, letting Kkami know to stop just by shifting his weight. Jisung’s horse also stopped, probably because it had decided Kkami was the best living being on the planet. What a smart horse. Hyunjin jumped off and patted the black horse on the nose, smiling at her.

Kkami snorted loudly.

Hyunjin grabbed the reins of Jisung’s horse and started walking. “Just relax, Sungie,” he said without looking over his shoulder. “I’ve got you.”

“What about Kkami?” Jisung sounded very relieved and adorably worried about Kkami.

Hyunjin hummed. “She’s the best. The smartest. She’ll walk with us on her own. You’re the one that needs to learn how to communicate with your horse. What’s her name?”

“Uh,” Jisung paused. “I forgot? Or they didn’t say.”

“Well, then you should start by naming her,” Hyunjin replied, and then started to talk about horses. What they liked to eat, how to care for them, what they did when they felt good and what they did when they felt scared, and what to do to calm a scared horse down. He talked about saddle care and the different kinds of signals most horses learnt from humans, and then he talked about Kkami.

Jisung listened.

And Hyunjin, the complete and utter fool that he was, talked himself hoarse (ha, get it, horse?) and taught Jisung how to not fall off his newly acquired companion.

In the afternoon, they rested by a stream, Jisung complaining about sore legs the entire time and whining when he tried to sit climb back up on the horse. Hyunjin laughed at him, which made Jisung smile brighter than the sun in the sky, and they decided they’d just walk next to their horses to relieve the stress put on Jisung’s legs. After a while, Jisung started singing again. Maybe it was chronic. Still, Hyunjin found himself enjoying the company, and if his ears didn’t betray him, Jisung’s lyrics were better now, too.

As the sun set behind some mountains in the distance, the annoying bard’s voice cracked from dehydration every few minutes. Jisung settled for humming melodies. Hyunjin caught a small animal for them to eat and build a fire on a clearing off the road. Jisung found an apple tree. As night fell, they huddled close together under Hyunjin’s thin blanket.

“I’m seriously unironically glad to have met you,” Jisung’s loud voice startled Hyunjin, who’d gotten used to the quiet and the fire’s crackling. “I forgive you for punching me in the face, too.”

Hyunjin took it all back. The annoying bard was annoying and Hyunjin did not enjoy his company at all. He sighed, pouring all his long suffering pain into the release of air.

“But only because you’re pretty,” Jisung continued his monologue.

That was it. Hyunjin couldn’t listen to another word. He leaned in, punching Jisung in the face. On the mouth. With his mouth.

Jisung made a strangled noise and returned the kiss with a small smirk in the corner of his lips.

#stray kids #han jisung/hwang hyunjin #hyunsung #uhhh not that people will be able to easily find this because i put links into the post and tumblr hates those #ummm #skz fanfic #witcher au #long post #my ao3 is tinystreetlamp! come say hi #uhhh now idk what to tag #like. lmao #there was only one bed #enemies to lovers #well not really #it's not really enemies to lovers they just don't know how to show attraction without being ... like... the way they are #as my tags on ao3 say: tender yearning and crack #... it is kinda cracky #fluff #because I am incapable of writing anything without fluff #i write what makes me happy! or i try to lmao #like there is sad backstory that you can guess at if you know anything about the witcher #i just don't talk about it because this is about falling in love with the most annoying person you can find on this rock #shoutout to Kkami! she cute #i love u all and pls take care of yourselves!!! even if u think you don't need it #do something for you mental health today #and tomorrow #and like. every day. because you need it. there i said it #live laugh love lee felix

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let-it-show · 4 years

Text

And Their Hearts Began to Glow

WHEW HERE WE ARE. It’s like, 2 am, but I have a little fic for Anna’s birthday. I wish I could write this lovely little spitfire something incredible, but alas I’ll have to settle for something loaded with fluff and sap. Anna asks Elsa a question, prompted by this line from the graphic novel.

"How did you KNOW?"

Anna rolled on her side and looked at Elsa, eyes full of questions. She was happy, comfy on the thick blanket laid over the grass, and drunk off of delicious wine. The sky above them was clear and full of stars. All that could be heard around them was the crackling sound of the little campfire. Anna was cozily wrapped in a thin pair of black pants and a little light green nightgown. Elsa had decorated it with little icy hearts all along the bottom and a light blue ribbon tied around her waist.

Elsa stared back at her, clad in a simple light blue gown with white, snowy flowers on the chest and in her hair. She smiled as Anna reached for her hand. "What do you mean?"

"Every year you've told me when you first saw me, you loved me. How did you know though!?" Anna repeated, studying her. Elsa was three, how on earth did she know that? When Anna was three, aside from loving her sister she also loved flowers, chocolate, funny hats and sheep. While the love she had for Elsa was different than the other things, she never knew the depth of it. Apparently Elsa sensed differently.

"Oh Anna." Elsa laughed and squeezed her hand, propping herself up on one elbow. "I can't explain I just...knew. I walked into that room with some idea I was meeting someone special. Mother showed you to me and I looked at your face with you sleepy eyes, your cute little nose, I looked at your hands grabbing the blanket and your tiny, tiny feet...." She nudged Anna's foot with her own, bare against feet in little pink slippers.

Anna rolled her eyes. "Everyone loves BABIES. How did you know, how did you know how MUCH you loved me? I wanna hear it from your lips," she said, knocking her own feet against Elsa's.

"Where else would you hear it from?"

"I don't know..." Anna thought hard about that question. She started to say Elsa's tongue or her hips, but she knew where that would go but she was too drunk and giggly to focus on where she might want to kiss or be kissed. "Ummm...your...uh..."

"It-it wasn't that serious a question," Elsa answered with a laugh. She released Anna's hand to poke her nose. "You really want details, huh? Can't you just be content knowing you've always been loved?" she teased. A little breeze cruised through and Anna shivered only slightly in the otherwise warm air. "No! I want to know-I want to know stuff!" she demanded, smacking the blanket for emphasis. "Everything! How'd you still know when we couldn't see each other? When you said hi to me at your coronation party, was it because you knew? Story story story!"

"...." Elsa shook her head and then pulled herself up to a sitting position. She pointed her finger over her own shoulder and made herself a sturdy little ice column to prop her back up against.

"Woah," Anna gasped, lifitng her head from the blanket. "Sometimes I forget you can do that."

Elsa stopped suddenly and gave her an incredulous look. "How!?"

"I dunno. Sometimes I just think about how pretty you are and forget," Anna blurted. That was not at all how she meant to explain herself but she had immediately forgotten what she initially would have said. That have been some strong wine...

Elsa's braided hair did glisten under the moonlight, her features highlighted and her beauty more striking than ever. Anna not only couldn't believe she was in love with someone so beautiful, but that she even KNEW someone so beautiful. Her curves, from her lips to her legs, made Anna melt. A minute ago she had felt silly and then she wanted to run her palms over all that skin.

"-what I'll do with you. Besides, I'll tell you again and again how gorgeous you are," Elsa had been saying.

"Wait, what?" Anna snapped to attention. She's been lost in her thoughts.

"You weren't paying attention at all." Elsa shrugged and laughed, patting her thighs. "Come here."

With a big smile Anna crawled over and flopped down on her back with her head on Elsa's legs. She looked right up at Elsa's flawless face, blue eyes connecting with her own. Anna couldn't think of what to say for a minute and simply hummed when Elsa took her hand and held it on her stomach. Her other hand played in Anna's loose hair. It felt amazing.

"How did I know...how did I know," Elsa mused, watching her for a minute before taking a breath and looking to the stars. "I entered that room and laid eyes on you. Something seemed to take a hold of my heart, but not in a bad way. I remember feeling such warmth inside of me. I remember my fingers tingling, little sprinkles of snow falling from them. I was incredibly happy. That was the main part. I felt like...like some space in me I didn't know existed had been filled with exactly what it needed. This feeling surrounded me and welcomed me, and I welcomed it. All I knew was love."

Anna had been gazing at the sky above them as well when she noticed little fuzzy white flakes forming in the sky below the stars. They sparkled blue, pink and green as they formed little Elsa and baby Anna. "Wow!" Anna whispered. In little Elsa's chest an icy blue diamond began to shine, beating like a heart. So did a light purple one in Anna. Pink sparkly snow sprouted from the light purple diamond and flowed across the small space between the girls before touching Elsa and bursting into a glimmering cloud that surrounded her. Elsa hurried toward baby Anna and when they met...

Elsa pulled her hand from Anna's hair and raised it, palm up. She suddenly made a fist. The sky exploded with multicolored snow above them, falling down around them on their blanket. Behind the snow stars continued to glow brightly against the deep blue sky. Anna wore a big grin as the cool flakes kissed her face. "That feeling has always been there," Elsa continued softly. "Every day spent with you, and even those long years behind the door. I would know you were there even when you were quiet as a mouse," she said.

"Mouses-mice...aren't quiet. They squeak an-ooh. Sorry," Anna sheepishly smiled when Elsa stared at her and lowered her hand back down to her hair.

"Don't be. I love hearing you talk. Those days in my room, it brought me such joy to hear you ramble through the door. Sometimes you got tongue-tied in what you were saying or went off on tangents, or forgot what your point was entirely. I didn't dare laugh but I'd be covering my mouth and trying to control little spirals of ice flowing around the room and glowing pink and purple. I'm sure if my heart could literally glow I'd have blinded by the light you gave it." Elsa continued to look down at her with adoration. "I may not have actually realized what it all meant, but I did know I loved you deeply then."

Anna blinked up at her. "You...I wish I had broken down the door! I would have loved the ice and I would have hugged you so so tight!" Elsa constantly blew her mind with the wonderful things she said and Anna could hardly take it. After speaking she turned her head and tried to hide it in Elsa's stomach. Her face was burning red from a blush and the wine and her head swam with hearts of all the soft icy colors she could think of.

And to think some years ago she had dared think she would always feel lonely, think she was some spare that even her sister wasn't particularly interested in. She was just a princess who existed within the confines of a castle, her only escape the books that filled the library. Even knowing there would be a day when she could meet people, Anna had wondered if anyone would want her company. She had felt so isolated...

"Oh Anna." Elsa's stomach vibrated wonderfully as she giggled down at her and Anna tried to press her face closer to it. She loved hearing her laugh. "When I saw you at my coronation I didn't just want to hug you, I wanted to take you across the dance floor. I wanted to tell you thank you for never giving up on me, wanted to tell you I only loved you more each day. I wanted to tell you everything, but I was so scared."

"Powerful ice spirit, scared of what I might think," Anna murmured against her. It still surprised her.

"Scared too, of hurting you again." Elsa squeezed her hand. "But none of that now. I've answered what you asked me, and I don't want to revisit the fear and pain of being ripped away from you. Just let me spoil you, let me give you this moon and this sky and soon, the sun."

Anna slowly turned her head to look up at Elsa again. "You know you don't have to give me anything. Maybe more wine? But nothing else. Ummm...your presence I mean. So you and wine, but nothing else!" she rambled out, and then stopped and laughed at herself. What the heck was she even saying?

"I give you more wine and I'll soon be carrying you to the tent," Elsa pointed out. "If that's what you'd like however? Anything you ask Anna, anything you ask and I'll give it to you."

That, Anna knew, was the truth. It was the complete truth. Anna could ask for treasure from a far away land and Elsa would prepare herself to track it down for her. Anna could ask for the ocean, and Elsa would summon Nokk to help her wrangle it.

Anna didn't want any of that, though. It all sounded like too much effort and time away from Elsa. She was content playing tag with her through the castle hallways and tickling her when she did catch her. "Anything I ask..." Anna found herself repeating.

"Anything."

"Is there any ice cream cake left?" Anna asked eagerly.

Elsa laughed gently as she brought Anna's hand to her lips for a gentle kiss. "Of course there is. Ice cream cake, wine, and cuddles?" she asked hopefully. "Or you know, whatever you want."

Anna smirked and wiggled her hand free from Elsa's so she could pinch her cheek. "You are so, so cute, I love your cute everything," she told her. It wasn't terribly eloquent. She didn't care. "I'm so lucky that you are so cute." Who would have ever known that the icy queen of Arendelle was such a cuddlemonster? Anna was grateful for it every day.

She was rewarded by a blush from Elsa. "I'm...Anna you..." she faltered and just sighed. "I love your everything too," she finally managed.

Anna giggled then and pet the cheek she had pinched before. Another thought occurred to her. "Before anymore wine, will you make us in the sky again? Can we burst into color again? I want to see it over and over," she said shyly.

She saw Elsa's eyes light up at the request and immediately the snow began to form again. Above them there were two women with diamonds for hearts, and Elsa began to raise her hand once again. "As you wish, my love."

#Elsanna #ficlet #Happy Birthday Anna!#Anna the cutie #Anna and Elsa

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peeterparkr · 4 years

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limits of desire⤳t.h.||9

chapter 9: book your honeymoon

story summary: you met Tom a night he was trying to sleep with you, it didn’t work and you became best of friends. Wedding bells might be ringing for when you both realize what you really feel.

summary:the one with y/n’s doubts and tom’s dancing

pairing: fuckboy!tom holland x best friend!reader

warnings: swearing, surprises, angsty, fluffy, ish? sexy ish?, lizzie... hm latin songs, dancing

word count: 6k

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This is kind of the choreography I meant ;) || And here’s the translation of the lyrics :) . PLEASE! Tell me what you think! Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a wall even if a lot of people are on the taglist.

Everyone makes mistakes. But making the same mistake two, three or more times knowing the consequences involves being rather stupid or incredibly naive. Y/N was both. Maybe she was hiding under the fact that she still had a certain hope. Of course, it wasn’t really a mistake, if she didn’t count the factors that made her do the mistakes. If she were to say it was an innocent thing to do, then, of course, she wouldn’t have woken up several times at night.

Yet, she did. She had woken up and stared at him, so peacefully sleeping, when he had probably done it with half a million girls who were not her. Was she really stupid to think that he’d give up that for her? He wouldn’t. He would never change. Because she was the second choice for everything.

How stupid had y/n been after she had purposefully left to forget him? And she had, she had moved on. In a way, at least. The only way to forget him, of course was leaving for good. Being apart for good. And maybe that was why she was there.

Because she was still staring at him, and feeling her heart-stopping. Maybe that’s why she was trying to memorize his scent, so she could never forget him. Hugging the time she had left with him. Though she was going to try, she was never going really to move on. How could she?

One could never forget those pair of chocolate eyes. Everyone knows that, it’s impossible to get over him, She wondered, how many other girls had cried for him? How many other girls had devastated shed tears for him? She wasn’t the first to be broken-hearted. There were so many other fools, Lizzie being one of them who would be waiting for him. Waiting for a call.

But none of them were as broken as y/n, they couldn’t be. He had pushed her love aside because he loved her, he had pushed her aside because he wasn’t able to love her the way she wanted to be loved.

That was the problem, that he simply wasn’t able to do it.

She didn’t want to let go, yet. She didn’t. Because deep inside she thought that maybe he was just as hopelessly devoted, that maybe all the fear that had wrapped around him was gone.

He had said it, right? He had said he had changed.

But it was too late now, right? She loved Miguel, and more importantly, Miguel loved her. Miguel would be able to give her the life she had wanted. Love and be loved in return. Was that too much to ask? Miguel was able to love her the way she wanted to be loved. Miguel was many things, handsome, caring, adorable, dedicated. All the good adjectives that you can come up with.

There was one issue, Miguel wasn’t Tom. Tom, with his many flaws, was...him. And that’s what made him special. All the bad things that could turn into better things. Tom was vain, Tom had no commitment and Tom was too selfish. But he was...Tom.

Nothing’s ever gonna change that fact. That even if she hated all the times that she had to walk out the trash, or all the times that she had to ignore the fact that he was flirting with everyone but her, or that he could easily hurt her before anyone, despite all his games, despite sometimes acting like a jerk, she loved him. She hated loving him.

Because just with one smile he could break that tiny glass barrier that she’d build. And she’d tumble down and end up making her love him again.

She stared at his lips. She would give out her entire life for him if he asked her to. And she had almost given it up, but Miguel brought her back to her senses. But Miguel was gone now, so it was now her going into the battle without her shield.

Just the day before she had managed to get through it. She had almost blurted it out back in the bridal shop, how terrible and polemic it could’ve been had she done what she wanted to do. Tell him to run away with her, kiss him. Ask him to love her. As if he would.

There she was now, staring at him, her head on his chest and her hand on his arm. His arms around her and his lip brushing her head. All night, she had felt him kissing her forehead, her cheek, the top of her head. She didn’t know if he was awake or if he had done it in his sleep. Maybe Tom was so used to it. The aftercare, she guessed. Or had he done it aware of what he was doing? Was he still playing with her?

They had stayed on his couch. What would it feel like to wake up like this every day? She shook her head. She needed to get her mind off the thought. She gently shifted out of his grip and tiptoed her way to his room. Her phone was out of battery and she needed a charger.

Harrison wasn’t home, which gave her an open invitation to explore the house, right? Not entirely, of course. But she imagined how it would be if only her fantasy come to life. How she could move in with Tom, at first, and then they could wake up in the middle of the night to dance without music, maybe have some midnight snacks. She pictured herself kissing him between giggles against the wall. She imagined herself walking around wearing his hoodies as he’d pull her to kiss her again, and again, and again.

But that was wrong. Wrong to even have the thought, even worse to imagine it. She gulped as she kept her walk. She arrived at his room and sat down on his bed. Guilt was killing her. It didn’t make any sense.Why was she again a dumb fool crushing for her best friend? Especially now that she was going to marry. She was engaged. She had someone, she didn’t have to continue this.

She thought about it. What if she just woke him up and kissed him? Tell him that she loved him. After all, he said he had changed. Maybe he could try it? Maybe they could try to get into a relationship.

And right now, she thought, it was simple. She didn’t need anything but to tell him and then she’d just call off the wedding. No need to go back to Mexico.

But she loved Miguel, she reminded herself. She loved him. She loved Miguel. But...she loved Tom, too.

But alas, there was not much she could do right now but borrow Tom’s charger. She approached his drawers and opened it delicately, where she was received by a surprise. A blue surprise.

A tiny blue box.

Her heart stopped. Anyone would recognize that white-ribboned blue box anywhere. A Tiffany & Co. box. It could be anything, right? Whom had Tom bought it for?

It could be a necklace, for his mother, or a pendant for his cousin, or a maybe even a bracelet for her, right? She felt wrong for it. But at the same time, she needed to get out of the doubt.

She opened it. And her worst fear was revealed. It felt exactly the opposite as to what she had felt when she had seen the ring Miguel was giving her, that shiny diamond on that blue box had made her whole body warm up.

Yet, right now. She felt...confused, and hurt and cold. And she just wanted to know. Why did he have an engagement ring? When had he bought it and for whom?

The question would remain in her head forever. Maybe it was just a prop. But she knew it wasn’t.

“Oh, god,” she whispered, as she held the open box in her hand. Maybe Tom had met someone.

And it made sense. That’s why he had changed. But six months? Why hadn’t he told her anything? And who the hell falls in love that quickly.

Such a hypocrite she was, because, well, she had. She had fallen in love. And sure, Tom had bought a ring but she was wearing one.

Why were tears coming down her face?

She heard noise coming from downstairs so she wiped them off and quickly closed the box and shoved it back into the drawer. Nervously and clumsily, she ran to the visiting room, where she pretended to be on her dead phone.

A somnolent Tom walked in, rubbing his face. “Hey,” he greeted her. “‘Morning.”

She cleared her throat as she looked at him. “Oh, eh, hi.”

Neither of them, she knew, wanted to address the fact they had cuddled up all night. Especially not now that she had found out about the engagement ring. Of course, Tom didn’t know that. But there were still a lot of questions that remained to be asked like the sole fact that they had never stayed together all night. They usually drifted apart and ended up in separate rooms, because that’s what friends do. They don’t sleep, in the most innocent and filthiest meaning, together.

And now, she thought she had maybe imagined it, his lips against her cheek or her forehead. It probably was all her imagination betraying her.

Besides, there was a bigger issue. Miguel. Miguel. She was marrying Miguel.

“Sorry… I,” she started. Why was she apologizing? She closed her eyes. “Uh, I had to wake up to…”She didn’t need to give him any explanation. She didn’t need to apologize for leaving their cuddle.

He was just standing by the door frame, rubbing his eyes as he watched her. And y/n was trying to avoid his gaze because if there was something that could easily melt her were his eyes. The way that his eyes managed to dig deep and down into her. Powerful eyes the boy had, they talked for themselves. Just one look and then she felt soul naked with him. Even more because he knew her, so well.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. He seemed worried.

“I--yeah,” she lied.

He cleared his throat. “Did you...did you sleep well?”

She finally looked up at him from her dead phone. “I… yeah, I’m sorry, you probably wanted to go to your room, but I was too tired.”

Tom smiled slightly. “You looked too peaceful, and I know you’re a light sleeper so if I moved I knew I’d wake you up.”

That was true. And he probably was being honest. That’s all Tom is. Honest.

“Hey..um...Oh, great my phone died,” she shrugged. “Well, I was just checking the…” She needed to get him to confess about the ring. Whom was it for? Why did he have it?

“Hm?”

“Uh...Do you have a charger?” She asked him.

Tom blinked. “Ah, yeah, yeah…” He bit his lip. “It’s...in my room, I’ll bring it over.”

Y/N watched him leave. She needed to get over him. How can one get over Tom Holland? Especially because she was about to ask him to go with her to her dancing lessons.

He came back. Y/N needed to pop the question. And an idea came to her mind.

“Hey, Tom, I know I’m being silly to ask this but--”

His eyes light up as he sat beside her. Why was this so awkward?

“Yes?” Tom looked at her, expectantly. She shifted away from him, relying on the fact she was plugging her phone.

“I was uh, checking the guest list,” she said carefully. “And um… should… I….” There was no simple way to ask this. “Should I consider a plus one for you?”

Tom watched her. Didn’t answer. At all. The look on his face went stern as compared to the soft smile he was once dedicating her.

“Come again?”

Y/N cleared her throat. “Yeah, well, I thought… Since, you know, you’ve said you’ve changed and I haven’t’ seen you flirt with anyone lately, and all this advice you gave me yesterday,” she looked down. “It made me think, and well I thought you found someone…”

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. He was hiding something and he clearly didn’t want to tell her. “I...well,” Tom took a deep breath. “Y/N...we…”

Y/N finally stared deep into his eyes. She didn’t want to hear those words. Because hearing those words meant that Tom was able to love but that he could never see her as more. It meant that it wasn’t because Tom couldn’t be capable of falling and committing, it meant that he just simply didn’t want to do it with her. Because she wasn’t good enough for him.

“Well then?” She asked.

It was his turn to avoid her gaze. “Y/N, there’s something I have to say.”

But y/n didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t.

“We’ve been friends…”he started.

Oh god, she really didn’t want to hear it.

She cleared her throat. “I know, silly,” she chuckled. “Well, are you dating anyone then? It’s alright if you didn’t tell me, I didn’t tell you about Miguel either.”

And she was saying it with all the poison she could. As if she was trying to remind him that she was over him and that he didn’t need to give her an explanation as to why he loved someone else and couldn’t be able to love her.

Tom looked down at his hands. “No, I’m not dating anyone.

Y/n stared at her phone as it turned on. “Did you fall in love? Some rubbish like that?”

He blinked and stared at her. “Y/n.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” she gave him a smile. “I just want to know if I need to consider someone else at our—Miguel’s and mine… my wedding.”

Tom threw his head back and let out a short laugh. “No, I think she’ll be there alright.”

Y/N felt a stab in her heart, who? Who was it? Lizzie? It couldn’t be. Or could it? Maybe he meant he’d flirt with someone at the wedding.

But the ring. The damned ring. He couldn’t have bought it just out of the blue.

Or maybe… she bit her lip, maybe it wasn’t his. Maybe it belonged to Sam, or to Tuwaine, it made sense. They both had girlfriends, and Tuwaine at least was very serious with her. That was another option. An option that made sense.

But y/n was paranoid and doubtful. Because of course how else would she live if she wasn’t having a her daily mental breakdown involving Tom Holland.

“Fun.” That had been her response.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut again and melted into the bed.

“Anyway… uh, are you busy today?” She turned to him.

Tom popped one eye open. “No… but uh, breakfast.”

“What about it?”

“I uh, need to go make us breakfast,” he said.

“Make us…?”

Tom shrugged. “You like that, don’t you? I’ll… we could make breakfast together.”

Y/N just stared at him. Was he trying to give her a heart attack? Did he know? Was he aware of all the doubts she was facing right now? And then making such a domestic thing together was giving her butterflies.

“Right but uh, well,” she bit her lip. “I booked some dancing lessons and I was hoping, since you are… a very good dancer-“

“Oh well, thank you—“

“Would you be my partner? I asked Haz and he couldn’t…”

Tom frowned. “Why did you ask him first?”

And it was an easy answer, really. Because she knew she’d go stupid if she were to ask him. “Thought you’d be busy.”

“I’m never busy for you.”

She shrugged. “Dunno,” she chuckled dryly, “I’m just waiting for you to pick up some random chick and leave me, maybe you’ll find one in the dancing lessons.”

Tom looked at her hurt. “Is that all you think I am?”

“It’s all you’ve been so far,” she admitted but then showed him a smile. “But I love you nonetheless.”

Tom wrinkled his nose. “I am more than just a playboy,” he started. “And, besides… I’ve changed.”

Y/n smiled sadly. Tom reached over for her hand but she quickly pulled it away. He raised his brows in confusion.

“So you said you’ve changed,” she adventured, “how much?”

“Sorry?” Tom rubbed his eyes. He was too sleepy to be attacked. Y/N understood his confusion, just last night she was cuddling closer and closer, playing with his hands, brushed her own lips against his chest.

Of course they were mixed signals, but with Tom, she knew, it never mattered.

“Yeah,” she pushed, “how much have you changed? Enough to love someone?”

Tom blinked. “Y/n—“

She chuckled. “I’m.. serious! Maybe we could find you a lovely Mexican girl for you,” she said with poison.

Tom glared at her. “Y/N.”

“I just need to know,”y/n shrugged. “Unless of course you’ve found someone else.”

Tom frowned. “I—“

“I mean, it’s cause… I can’t see it, you, buying an engagement ring, getting down on one knee...I’m sorry if I have trouble believing that.”

Tom looked away. “Well, maybe I do want that, maybe I just want a simple life—“

“Tom, you’re not simple,” she chuckled. “If I know anything about you is that you can’t be tied,” she smiled. “And that’s not a bad thing, alright?”

Tom looked at her.

“I mean—you’ve got all this big life going on, your career, you—I don’t know, I understand it, and—“

“But that doesn’t exclude loving someone,” Tom said, “I had it all wrong.”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t know, we think we have a life, a destiny, and then...life brings you something...someone, and suddenly you're not anymore who you thought you were. You do impulsive things and you do… things for love, for passion and for the sake of your sanity. But, we forget our plans, don’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t let someone get in the way of your plans, Tom.”

“So you’re saying I can’t fall in love because of my big plans?”

Y/N didn’t know where that had come from. “Not like that. I mean, even if you love someone don’t let them change you.”

“You should take that advice yourself, too,” he pushed. “I know for a fact that you’re not interested in becoming Julia Roberts at the beginning of that movie you like—uh, what was it?”

“You know I love all Julia Roberts movies,” she said condescendingly.

“Eat, pray, love,” Tom reminded her.

“But she is everything I aspire to be—a successful writer and—“

“And a sad wife?” Tom pushed.

Y/N looked down. “I won’t be sad, I’m very happy with Miguel. I’ll be accomplished, it’s just a new dream.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Well, I hope you’re right. I just hope you can be what you deserve to be, a successful reporter or writer, everything you deserve.”

Y/N looked away. “Loving also means compromising, and sometimes loving means giving up.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Sometimes silence is the only absolute response we need. And she didn’t need him to answer, because she was mostly talking to herself. Loving Tom meant giving up on him and opening up to a new life where she needed to compromise with Miguel. Miguel was the love of her life, Tom was just a pebble in her path.

He turned to her. “You’re not one to give up, y/n,” he reminded her.

She smiled. “I know…”she said. “But enough about this—let’s go grab breakfast.”

A smile drew back on his face. “Yeah, you tend to get deep when you’re hungry, cmon.”

So they did one of the most domestic things one could do, yet it felt so intimate. Y/N felt wrong for feeling that way, she saw the writings on the wall trying to get her back to her senses. Miguel. Miguel. Miguel.

He was his destiny, not Tom. Besides, Tom wasn’t doing this because he wanted a life with her. He was doing this because they were friends, there were no secret meanings behind it. No willingness to continue a life like this, looking forward to the simple milestones a couple could want, like making breakfast together, or staying up all night to watch a movie, or taking care of each other’s cold. Things which, if we’re honest, they had all done before. Y/N realized it while she was dancing to the music he had played as he was making her try the batter for their waffles. They had always been a couple, without, of course, the title and the romantic intimacy.

That’s why she had to leave him for good. But that of course, didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy her last days with him.

Which brought her to be in a sort of state of shock, watching him stretch before the dancing lessons. In the end, Haz and Lizzie had come too. Which could give y/n a little bit more retrospective to see if there was something actually going on anything between Tom and Lizzie. Which, even though it was highly irrational, it could be, right?

Y/N forgot about the subject as she was subtly watching Tom stretch, watching wasn’t a crime, right? He was looking at himself in the mirror as he was practicing some moves. Add to the list, another one of y/n’s weaknesses concerning Tom was whenever he danced. There was something so passionate about the way he moved that she simply couldn’t ignore taking notice.

Lizzie was talking to y/n something about bridal duties of sorts as they were tying their shoes. Y/N was pretending to be listening as her eyes would constantly go back to Tom. Haz noticed it and y/n finally turned her full attention to Lizzie.

“Y/N you’re not listening,” Lizzie pushed.

Y/N looked away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, my head is elsewhere.”

Lizzie looked at her friend with disappointment. “Y/N, don’t let yourself fall for hope.”

Y/N frowned. “No, I’m not, I’m not--” Y/N tried to say something in her defence.

“Y/N, you’re getting married,” Liz reminded her. “You love Miguel, don’t you?”

“I do,” y/n admitted.

Lizzie watched her. “Then, don’t do anything you can regret, okay? I can’t always be there for you.”

Y/N bit her lip. There were many things about Lizzie that she didn’t like. But Lizzie was one of the only ones who got her back to her senses. Lizzie was one of the few people that kind of knew her real feelings for Tom, not because y/n had told her because she hadn’t told anyone, but Lizzie knew her. And Lizzie knew who Tom was, and the best friend duty is to always protect her.

Y/N had explained to her that having Tom as her maid of honour assured her that Tom wouldn’t do anything against the wedding, meaning that it was making her support her in every step of the way, and with that, also remind herself that he didn’t believe in weddings.

Lizzie had been reluctant to that decision, but Lizzie knew that Y/N still had certain feelings for Tom, even if Y/N never admitted them.

“I’m not doing anything…”

“Don’t do good things that look like bad things and vice versa, alright?” Lizzie looked at her friend. “Now, get on your feet and dance.”

Y/N didn’t want to continue having that certain conversation with Lizzie. Because having that conversation meant admitting it to herself.

There were other couples at the class, too. Some of them had not so subtly stared at Tom. But as soon s the instructor had walked in, y/n felt relieved.

She had insisted to dance with Haz at the beginning, Tom and Lizzie had rejected it but ended up that way. “You guys need to bond.” She insisted.

All the time while dancing with Harrison, she couldn’t help but stare at Tom and Lizzie, especially Tom. But she realized that those two weren’t really into something. It was stupid to even think about it. How could they? They hated each other. Why had that thought even come to y/n?

A few songs had gone by, and it was getting rather boring even if the songs were very moving.

“You’re actually very good at this,” Haz pointed out. “I’m not.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not that bad, you just...need practice.”

“How did you learn?” Haz asked as he tried not to trip.

Y/N shrugged. “Well, I went to a few parties back in Mexico,” she admitted. “Miguel taught me some moves.”

“But you’re a natural,” he laughed.

“Am not, but thanks, Watson,” she giggled. “You’re just too white for this.”

Haz rolled his eyes. “I know, I know,” he laughed.

“But...see? Tom over there, is amazing, despite the fact he’s with Lizzie…”

Y/N laughed. “Lizzie has never been...gracious.”

“So, what’s the deal, Sherlock?” Haz asked as they were trying to understand the not so easy pace the instructor was doing.

“Huh?” She turned back to him.

“Why did you pair them up? You should be dancing with Tom,” Haz insisted.

“What?”

“Yeah, not Lizzie with him, please they’re...practically killing each other,” Harrison said as they looked over.

And they were, Lizzie was putting no effort on the dance moves and Tom was constantly rolling his eyes while moving her a little...violently, nothing bad, but just not gently.

“I know Tom’s a more experienced dancer, and I want them to bond, really, besides, I thought that with Tom’s lead she’d be better,” y/n lied, of course she was not going to tell him that she had paired them up to see if there was any kind of chemistry that could tell y/n if Tom had bought the ring for Lizzie. “But, next song I guess you’ll be stuck with Lizzie.”

“Lucky me,” Haz rolled his eyes.

She frowned. “Haz-”

“I actually have some questions,” Harrison said. “I...uh, look, I don’t know much about this.”

“Hm?”

“I actually went home last night,” Haz started, as she spun y/n around. Y/N blinked.

“Oh...didn’t see you-”

“Left early,” he declared. “But, I’m pretty sure engaged women shouldn’t be cuddling up with someone else.”

Y/N went red. She stared back at Haz with widened eyes who just raised his eyebrows at her.

“Please, it means nothing,” she assured Harrison.

He chuckled. “I’m just saying, y/n.”

Harrison was someone else who knew about her feelings for Tom, without her having to directly admit it. So him calling her out meant that indeed, there were things she should be thinking about instead of carrying on with this wedding. But she couldn’t just… leave it, right.

“Alright, you two--” The instructor walked over to Tom and Lizzie. “I don’t… know why you’re all paired up but this is not working.”

“I’ll--dance with him!” Y/N said, in a sudden urge to run away from a further interrogation that would certainly come from Haz’s behalf.

Tom’s eyes lit up and Lizzie’s turned furious. She shook her head at y/n, who quickly got out of Haz’ grip and into Tom’s. He smiled gently at her.

Lizzie rolled her eyes but walked to Haz anyway.

“Okay--” The instructor said. “Alright, to finish this class… this is a song… with more...Uh, I don’t know, let’s call it sazón, yes, perfect word, we need a little bit more sexy, right? Let’s finish today with some sensual moves.So, uh… That what we were dancing was cumbia, but let’s… let’s bring in some salsa, alright? This is going to be ‘Yo no sé mañana’.”

Y/N looked up at Tom. “Hmm.. salsa, you think you can handle it?” She asked him.

Tom let out a gentle laugh. “Can you?”

“Let’s… see,” he placed a hand on his back and took hers with the other. The moment y/n placed her hand on his shoulder, she was transported back to 6 months before, at Andrew’s and Monica’s wedding. She felt her heart stop, and turned nervous.

“Hey,” he grinned as he whispered on her ear. “It’s alright, I’ll take the lead.”

The song started out slow, Tom started slowly, too. As they were following the instructor. Her eyes landed on his and she wasn’t going to be able to get them elsewhere. The song was moving and she just felt herself moving with him. He got closer and closer as he was taking the lead.

They didn’t understand a word the song was saying but y/n was sure that the lyrics were meant just for them. Tom’s hands was going from her hand to her shoulder as his forehead was resting on hers. He moved her forwards and backwards and y/n was trying not too stare too deep, but whenever her eyes left his, they landed on his lips.

And Tom would spin her around, backwards and forwards. And he seemed just as hypnotized as she felt, and then the chorus started. The spice of the song the instructor had talked about.

And y/n didn’t know how TOm had spun her and how she had landed on his arms just inches away from his lips, as he let her fall just slightly backwards only so he could catch her. And he got her back on her feet and then continued to dance with her.

And y/n just lived the song, she felt whatever the song was supposed to make her feel. The only things she had caught from the lyrics were: ‘I don't know of tomorrow, I don't know of tomorrow, if we'll be together; if the world will end. I don't know if I'm for you or you're supposed to be for me. If we will end up loving each other or hating each other. I don't know of tomorrow, I don't know of tomorrow. Who is going to be here.’

And y/n didn’t know when they had both stopped looking at the instructor because the music had made them move, as if they owned it now. With hands all over each other and each time she was turning, she felt more intrigued for the next move Tom would make. It was sexy, sensual, and romantic, all in one moment. She had leaned his back against his chest for a step and she had felt his heart just as fast as hers, as if they were synchronized. They had gone down and y/n realized in that moment, that maybe whatever they were doing was wrong, but it felt so right.

They didn’t even realize when the instructor had stopped teaching to watch them, amazed with their chemistry and their moves. They didn’t see them, they continued with their sight glued on each other and with each step growing closer and closer. Only their lips were missing to touch. A smile had drawn in their faces, as if they were the only ones in the room.

The song ended and they landed again against each other foreheads, catching their breath. They both closed their eyes and chuckled slightly.

They heard people clapping and then finally turned back to reality. They were in a class, in London. Not wherever y/n had disappeared in her fantasy.

Y/N quickly stepped back, but Tom didn’t. He remained with her eyes on her.

The instructor laughed. “Well, that was… amazing, I don’t even know why you’re booking classes,” he chuckled.

Y/N gulped.

“Why weren’t you guys together from the beginning?”

“She wanted to know if I could make that table over there dance,” Tom laughed. Lizzie flipped him off.

“This should have been the pairing since the start,” the instructor said. “You see, everyone, when you dance with someone, it has to be like love, you’ve gotta have chemistry, it’s like…Oh, wait,” the instructor turned back to TOm and y/n, and he clapped his hands. “You’re the girl who’s getting married!” He laughed. “aren’t you?” The instructor grinned. “Well, hon, I’m glad your fiancé can dance like that, I know you’ll always have fun and romance.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. “He’s not--”

“No, no, you’ve got talent and chemistry, happy couple that’ll be” he chuckled. “But… well, we all need more classes, huh? You guys want to dance like them? Next class, I want you all to let yourselves-”

And y/n stopped listening to whatever the instructor was saying. She stepped further from Tom.

“I…”

Tom grinned looking at her. “Well, that was...fun.”

Y/N coughed as she looked away. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She turned around to get her belongings, Tom followed after her.

“Can we… can we… talk about that?”

“We’re both good dancers, that’s it,” y/n lied as she got on the flor to change her shoes. “Thanks,” she smiled at him. “I...finally enjoyed the class.”

Tom was trying to say something, she saw it. His mouth was trying to make out some noise. She stood back up as she was inches away from him. He needed to be feeling whatever y/n was feeling right now. Because that dance had felt more like making love that whatever she had done with Miguel. That dance had given her explosions, fireworks and it had warmed her up more than any sweater she had worn in the last few days.

That single dance had made her think.

Lizzie and Haz approached them. Both of them were staring at y/n. She knew what they would say, she knew what they were thinking. And y/n was thinking it, too. She had made a mistake.

But she couldn’t let that mistake keep going unless she knew that it was reciprocated. So she needed to talk to him.

“Y/N...can I?” Lizzie motioned to walk away with her.

She followed after. “Yeah?”

“What was that?” Lizzie questioned. Y/N watched Tom talk to Haz, who seemed to be doing the same Lizzie was doing.

Y/N blinked. “Just… a dance.”

“Y/N, you’re getting married,” she reminded her, for the second time today.

“I...I know, but this means… nothing, right?” Y/N tried to convince her friend, or herself. She wasn’t sure.

“Does it not?” Lizzie pushed. Y/N stared back at Tom and Haz and made direct eye contact with Tom.

“I don’t want to give up on anything unless I know that I can get what I’m asking for,” y/n admitted looking down.

“What about Miguel?” Lizzie continued.

“I—no, this is stupid.”

“Tom is just a player y/n, just… don’t forget that,” Lizzie told her friend. “I don’t want him hurting you.”

Y/N bit her lip. “I know—I know, but I need to talk to him.”

Lizzie smiled. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Tom and Haz joined them.

“So, let’s go for some drinks huh?” Lizzie suggested.

Tom squeezed his eyes shut. “I—we can’t, we—uh, I need to see the last details for y/n’s bridal shower. It’s tomorrow, remember?”

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Yeah. It is.”

“Yeah, And you guys—have a wedding to plan, huh?” Tom whispered.

“We…”Lizzie turned to y/n. Just in time, she received a text from Miguel.

‘I love you’, it read.

“Yeah, we do, still a lot of things to sort out,” she looked down. “I’m marrying Miguel.”

And they did, they needed to plan a wedding because y/n realized it. Tom didn’t have any plans on going further than a dance with her. And she would forget about this, right? She could easily forget about all the feelings she’d felt that day. No need to feel them anymore. The ring wasn’t for her. Everyone makes mistakes.

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syngigeim · 5 years

Text

Day 29 - Talk

Ugh. Elly’s head hurt. Too much to drink the night before. She helped to save the world again and thus party. Thankfully, she felt no body next to hers. She said a quiet prayer of thanks for that one.

There was a note on her bedstand! She bolted straight up. Thal’s balls, maybe she did take a man to bed.

Elly

I wonder how much you remember of last night.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite. This was sounding bad already.

You kinda had a breakdown after many drinks, saying that I was a bastard who was never around. Moaned about just when you managed to find me, well, I at least stopped you from mentioning that G’raha teleported us here.

...gods this was worse. There goes Elly’s reputation with the people of the Crystarium. And she was beginning to figure out who wrote this.

So I volunteered to take you to bed. And then had the glares of everyone in the Wandering Stairs for my poor wording. Just envision Y’sthola glaring at you and that might cheer you up. Anyway, the Washi sisters took you to your room and I just offered to leave you a note. Whenever you are ready for breakfast, come meet me.

- Thancred

Okay, only half as embarrassing as a night that Thancred evidently had. That was at least somewhat welcome. Time to ignore the splitting headache and to see if he’s actually sticking around somewhere.

–

“Oh hey, you’re finally up!” Mariko said, spotting Elly walking out of the Pendants.

“How bad was I last night?” Elly asked.

“Clingy to Thancred. Like holding his arm all night. I think there was moaning about not wanting him to slip out of your grasp again.”

“GODS!” She felt her face go beat red.

Mariko gave a sly grin. “And here I thought you were getting over him.”

“I thought I was! Balls!”

She heard him laughing at her swearing. Damn you! Quit enjoying this too much! “Anyway, he’s been waiting in the Wandering Stairs for you,” Mariko said, grinning, pointing over to the bar.

She gave him a dark look as she headed on up. Sure enough, there he was, sitting patiently. He gave a small smile at her and waved her over. Gods strike her down now. She sat down, her face still red. “I was horrid last night, wasn’t I? I should stop drinking like that. What in the gods did I say to you?”

“Well I was going to ask what did you remember from last night. I guess the answer is, not much.” Thancred said.

She moaned and slumped over on the table. “I don’t even have a real good excuse this time. Other than ‘Hey! It’s a festive time! Drink until you forget everything!’” She moaned again. She then heard the thunk of a glass being put on the table. She looked up to see a tall glass of water.

“Nothing beats a hangover more than a drink and a good meal,” Cyella said. Elly just turned her head to the side and stared at her. She was undeterred. “An order of sausages and eggs?”

“Sure.” Elly said, half-mumbling, moving her face back to rest against the table. Thankfully Cyella said nothing more as she headed back over to the bar.

Thancred chuckled at Elly’s antics. “Oh come now, it wasn’t that bad. I’ve heard worse professions and declarations before.”

Declarations?! She sat straight up at that. “Wait, did I say that I...well...liked you?”

“Well, not like that. You were acting a lot more like uh...many women who’s hearts I’ve broken before,” He said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.

“Great.” Elly said, this time slumping against the chair. “The perfect image for people to have of a hero.”

Thancred tilted his head. “I thought you weren’t too terribly concerned about that?”

“No it’s more that...I thought I was over you. You have different things going on than I do. You’ve got Ryne to look after and I have to well, find myself I guess?” She shrugged. “I still can’t even think of where I want to even be after...well, there’s the thing. I still can’t think of any after being the hero.”

“There might not ever be an ‘after’ Elly,” Thancred said with all seriousness. She stared at him with shock, and he smiled at that. “Life tends to keep continuing on and on and we just have to take what we can get.”

A steaming plate of eggs and sausages was suddenly placed in front of Elly. “Anything else?” Cyella asked, cheerfully.

“No thank you,” Elly replied, wondering if the former adventurer was listening in. She cut into her sausage first.

“You know, if I had actually drank last night...I might have joined you last night.”

Elly quickly put up her hand to her mouth, making sure she didn’t accidentally cough her sausage out. Well, it wouldn’t have been the first time the two took a tumble together but she just had a sudden thought with that statement. “What about Ryne?”

He looked confused at that. “What do you mean?”

“One, aren’t you like, sort of a father to her now? You need to be more responsible and like focus on her! Hells! Why aren’t you with her right now?!”

“She wanted to keep an eye on Syngigeim. Besides which, she wants me to at least work on things with you.”

“Did you tell her what I said to you before? That...I thought we were going in different paths and that while I cared, I didn’t know about any relationship?”

He nodded. “Yes, but remember, you were kinda...despondent last night. Scared that I was going to vanish on you again, I think was about what you said.”

She quickly shoved more pieces of egg white in her face. So those thoughts were what she said while drunk. It was less sadness and more anger. Anger that she could never find him after the Liberation of Ala Mhigo, right when she was done. Right when she could have talked and actually maybe started something stronger with him. The most she got was one night together before he ran off to be a spy in Garlemald. And refused her help, because she was a bloody famous Warrior of Light in the Source.

Elly poked at the yolk of the egg. Did she say anything about Minfilia? That...wait. The man was right in front of her. And wanting to sort things out. She gulped and steeled her nerves. “Did I say anything bad about Ryne? Or Minfilia?” she said softly. Elly was scared of this answer.

Thancred sighed softly at that. “You might have mentioned something about how you were never anyone’s most important person. That no one looked out for you and you alone.”

Crap, shit and fuck. “I am sorry of saying that. Really. And gods, I’ll need to find Ryne and-” She said bolting from the table but Thancred managed to grab her arm, stopping her.

“You didn’t say anything about Ryne or Minfilia.”

“But it’s what I meant. I’m jealous. And I know I shouldn’t be. They’re important to you and I always secretly felt jealous that you seemed to care more about them than anyone else.”

He held tighter onto her arm. “A lot more of your ranting was about how you didn’t feel like you deserved to be celebrating. That your contribution was nothing compared to the Warrior of Darkness. And let me tell you that that’s wrong.”

She gave a short huff and tried wriggling out of his grasp. “We all know that Syngigeim is the real hero here. I just, we all in Wanderer’s League tend to tag along. Hells, I only fought two Wardens! And I could only watch as her soul fractured and break! I couldn’t even fight Emet-Selch and that’s what we’re supposed to be good at! What purpose do I have here?!” she yelled, slipping out of his grasp...and into the table right next to her. Her arm slid across the top, as the side of the table jammed into her side. Worse, her feet slid out from underneath her and she had to cling onto the tabletop in order to attempt to stay up.

Elly felt Thancred help pick her up and onto her feet. “No. You weren’t useless here.”

“Ha. I’m one of many people who can fight.”

“Really Elly? Are we really doing this? No. Not everyone can fight as well or as skillfully as you. And I’m sick of you tearing yourself down like that!”

Elly stared at him. She wanted so badly to say No! I’m within a group of people who are all skilled as I! But he would ignore that. Instead she sat back down in front of her breakfast, stabbing her fork into a piece of sausage a bit more forcefully.

Thancred sat down across from her, his expression serious. “You know, you said you and I were going on different paths, but you never allowed me to speak. I, for one, have always loved the light and life you are. Your energy, your determination. And for the longest time, I tried not to get too attached because yes, as it turns out, I too, have a bad habit of pushing away those who care for me. Focusing on the next duty and what I needed to do, pushing feelings aside. Well, now let me say this. I will respect your feelings if they are different than mine but I for one, love you.”

“Now you say that?! Now after I gave up? Cut my losses?!” She said, slamming her hands on the table. Which hurt more than she was going to let on.

“You have every right to be mad at me for that. And trust me, it took me a long while to realize what exactly I felt towards you. And if your passions have cooled and you now can’t stand me, that’s fair.”

She sat back down in her chair. “Again...I ask, aren’t you now a father?”

“I-”

“No,” she said, raising her hand. “Listen to me. You trying to do right by Ryne. That, is the big difference between us. You are ready to take care of someone and guide her. And if there is anything I have thought of, it’s that I’m not ready for anything like that. Not yet. Maybe not ever. My answer is the same as it was on the sands. I care for you. Would like to spend nights with you. But...you will always have another obligation. Another duty. I think we both will.”

Thancred inhaled a deep breath. “I can accept that. I won’t press further.”

Elly nodded. “Thank you.” And quickly ate up the rest of her food and waved down Cyella to pay the bill.

“I’ll handle that. I asked for you anyway.”

She would have fought but any anger she had was long dissipated.

Slightly outside the Wandering Stairs, on the steps around it, was Ryne and Mariko. Ryne looked disappointed and sad after hearing Elly and Thancred’s agruement. “Sometimes things don’t work out like you hope they would,” Mariko said. “She was evidently angrier at Thancred than I thought.”

“I might have figured...but I kinda held onto that foolish hope I guess, that everything could work out,” Ryne said glumly.

“Love’s kinda hard to control and fickle like that. Trust me on that regard. Take absolute care of yourself and your heart.” Mariko said, grabbing her shoulder and squeezing it. She at least nodded at that. But there a familiar look in her eyes, one of stubbornness. This wasn’t over yet, but he sure hoped that Ryne would not hurt herself too much in the process. He’d seen enough of that.

#FFxivWrite2019 #elly browne #thancred waters #ryne #mariko zuriko

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Of Earth and Sea: 6/9

My fic for the 2019 @cssns will drop this Friday, so to celebrate, I’m re-posting my fic from last year (and also because I was a tumblr newbie back then and didn’t post the chapters here, just the link to Ao3)

Gorgeous art by @shipsxahoy!

Summary: Five years after their wedding, Emma and Killian are ready to start a family. But Emma discovers that raising a family isn't that simple when your husband is a Dunedin (half-elf) and your mother-in-law is neither dead nor alive.

Rated T

Tagging: (please let me know if you wish to be added or removed from this list) @profdanglaisstuff @let-it-raines @optomisticgirl @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @kday426 @jennjenn615 @mythologicalmango @xhookswenchx @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke

Chapter Five:

Night fell on Neverland, the only discernible difference between it and day being the piercing cries of Lost Boys. The fact that over half of Hook’s crew could hear them was a testament to what turned an innocent lad into a cutthroat pirate. Smee, Starkey, and a handful of others were the only ones who could sleep peacefully on the island. And as a whole, Killian’s crew preferred to anchor far enough away from shore to escape the haunting sounds. Actually sleeping on the island was something few of them were willing to volunteer for.

But on this particular night, it wasn’t an option. Pan had some sort of job for them again, and it required two things: close to a dozen men and readiness before dawn. So here they were, trying to get comfortable despite the constant weeping.

Killian had volunteered for first watch and sat against a tree, nursing his flask. He rubbed his forehead wearily, wishing desperately for a respite from the agonizing wails. When he dropped his hand, he thought he saw something moving amidst the trees. Hand at the hilt of his cutlass, he eased forward hesitantly. He almost started at the blinking green eyes that caught the moonlight. Then he saw the pale, pointed ears against red hair.

“Oh, it’s just you,” he muttered, leaning back against the tree and taking another swig of rum.

His mother stepped forward on silent feet. “I know these cries torture you, my son.”

He shrugged. “Course they do. Orphans understand other orphans.”

She blinked, obviously hurt, but he had long ago stopped caring. “I hear them too,” she said softly, ignoring his jab.

Killian furrowed his brow curiously. “How is that?”

“Elves have soft hearts towards children. We understand them.”

Killian scoffed as he tilted back his flask. He had heard stories of elves fostering orphans. Ironic.

“I see you got Dionysus’s flask back,” Tauriel commented.

He shrugged and lifted it high, making a show of admiring it. “What can I say? Your old boyfriend knows me well.”

Tauriel scowled openly. “Since you’re in a foul mood, I’ll leave you. There are hurting children who could use an elvish lullaby.”

Killian ignored her, relishing the burn of the rum as it went down. Soon the lullaby his mother had mentioned floated on the breeze, and one by one, cries were stilled. Yet the more peaceful the night became, the more Captain Hook drank.

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

Killian didn’t know if it was the vast amounts of rum he had consumed the night before, or if it was the tall tales of his crew, but his head was bloody pounding.

“It’s a ghost, I tell you!” Smee insisted. “I saw her myself, floating through the trees.”

“And then the crying stopped!” another mate added.

“What of it?” another scoffed. “How do ya know it had to do with the ghost?”

“Because she sang,” Smee told them, “in a foreign tongue.” He turned to his Captain, “Did you hear her, sir?”

Killian clenched his jaw in irritation. “I’m much more interested in this mysterious job of Pan’s, Smee, so I’d ask that you not distract the crew.”

“Y-yes, sir, of course, sir,” Smee muttered, twisting his red cap in his hands before sticking it back on his head.

But that didn’t stop the whispers among the men. Whispers that a ghost haunted Neverland. The ghost of a mother whose child had died, they reasoned. The mother searched the island for her dead child, soothing the cries of the lost ones. Of course, some of the pirates took the story in a more sinister direction, blaming the ghost for luring Lost Boys and pirates alike into Mermaid’s Lagoon, Dark Hollow, or the Echo Caves.

By the time they arrived at the rendezvous point, Killian was ready to send his entire crew over the bloody plank. Dawn had not yet broken when Pan appeared on a pile of boulders above the pirates, flanked by his most trusted Lost Boys. Felix eyed Killian coldly, beating his twisted club repeatedly into his palm. Killian met his gaze with a cocky smirk and a small salute of his hook. He still prided himself on giving the little bastard that nasty scar down the side of his face. He’d deserved it and then some.

Hook then addressed Pan with equal sarcasm. “So what is the purpose of this odd little parley?”

“Funny you should call it that,” Pan answered, “for I have given your request some thought.”

Hook raised his eyebrows. “My request?”

“To leave this island.”

Killian attempted to school his features. It couldn’t be that easy; this must be one of Pan’s games. Pan jumped down from the boulders and drew closer with cold, calculating calm. He got right in Killian’s face, but the pirate refused to retreat a single millimeter.

“Do you hear that?” Pan asked him.

Killian shook his head and gave a short, dismissive laugh, “There’s nothing to hear, imp.”

“That’s exactly it,” Pan said, turning away from Killian to pace around him. He said nothing for a long moment, and Killian found it difficult not to roll his eyes. The little demon did have a way of drawing out the dramatics. Finally, he stopped pacing and looked Killian straight in the eye. “And you and I both know you can hear them. The cries of the Lost Boys?”

Killian swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as his men whispered behind him. He had never told them he couldn’t hear the weeping; he had merely avoided that topic of conversation. Clearly, his men had assumed their fearless leader was immune to that type of psychological torture.

Pan drew close. He leaned forward and whispered in Killian’s ear. “You’ve never wanted those who sail with you to know what you really are, Dunedin.”

“Let’s speak privately,” Killian hissed back.

“Fine,” Pan spat, “let’s.”

Hook shouted for his crew to return to the ship and ready it for departure. Pan likewise dismissed his companions. When it was just the pirate and the imp in the small clearing, Pan smirked and took a seat upon the rocks.

“I tried to kill her,” Pan informed him, as casually as one would discuss the weather, “alas, I can’t kill someone who isn’t really alive.”

Killian tried to stop the muscle in his jaw from jumping, but he couldn’t. As much anger and hurt that he felt towards his mother, as much as he fought with her, he loved her dearly. More perhaps even than he had loved Milah or even Liam. At least, it was a different sort of love. One with a bond he couldn’t sever, no matter how much he sometimes wanted to.

Pan laughed sadistically. “That bothers you!”

Killian narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I see what you want. My crew and I leave, and my mother is forced to go too. That way, your Lost Boys stay desperate and miserable, just the way you like them.”

“I’m not the only one who leads with fear, Captain Hook,” Pan sneered, “and if you think leaving is as simple as all that, then you don’t know me as well as I thought you did.”

“Then what is your price?” Killian hissed through clenched teeth.

Pan lounged backwards against the rocks. “Oh . . . just Tiger Lily’s hiding place.”

His eyes widened. “What do you want with her?” The fairies on this island – Tiger Lily and Tinkerbell – were honestly the closest he had come to friends in a long, long while. Perhaps it was because they had both lost their wings. Tiger Lily in particular, seemed to understand the allure of darkness and its crushing weight more than most.

“Let’s just say my history with her goes way back,” Pan shouted, lurching up from his casual posture, face contorting. It was the most unhinged Killian had ever seen him. He quickly composed himself, a slight red tinge to his cheeks. “All I’m asking is where to find her.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed. “So you can kill her.”

Pan shrugged. “Maybe. It really isn’t your concern.”

Killian closed his eyes, weighing his options. He had longed to leave this island for so long. Milah’s memory deserved vengeance, and with knowledge of the Dark One’s dagger, he could finally achieve it. Tiger Lily may not have magic, but she was a fierce fighter. All Killian was doing was giving Pan a location. He could send a message of warning to Tiger Lily once the Jolly Roger was far enough from shore.

“Hangman’s Tree,” he finally told Pan.

This was exactly why Captain Hook didn’t have many friends.

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

Killian Jones had conflicting emotions right now. On the one hand, it was a gorgeous early September day with bright sunshine, a pleasant breeze, and the first hints of yellow and orange in the trees. His little girl skipped merrily between her parents down the sidewalk, her little navy jumper and knee socks making her the most adorable picture. Elien’s light red hair was pulled up into pigtails that curled at the ends and bounced as she skipped along.

On the other hand, it was his baby girl’s first day of preschool.

“What are you brooding about Killian?” Emma laughed as Elien darted ahead. “Don’t you dare jump in that puddle, Elien! You aren’t wearing your rain boots!”

Elien skidded to a halt just at the edge of a murky puddle and glanced up at her mother with a mischievous grin. “I was just looking!”

Emma elbowed him in the ribs. “Who does that sound like?” she teased. Then she threaded her arm through his as they walked along behind Elien. “Now, about this brooding . . . “

Killian sighed. “Doesn’t four seem awfully young to go off to school?”

“Well technically, she’s four years and five months old,” Emma quipped, then laughed at the tortured look on his face. “Relax, Papa Bear! It’s half day preschool. We’re taking turns picking her up at lunch every day. Aurora – gentle, soft-spoken Aurora – is her teacher. What could go wrong?”

Emma would kick herself later. Almost a decade of peaceful, small town life had obviously made her complacent. Because why else would she have tested fate with a statement like that?

One minute, Elien was poking at a worm in the rain puddle with a stick while Killian shouted a warning for her not to get her socks muddy. The next minute, there was a roar and a scream, and Elien was gone. Swallowed up in an instant by the swirling portal that opened up beneath her. Emma and Killian dove forward to catch her, but the portal closed just as swiftly as it opened. They both ended up rolling with groans onto the hard pavement. Heedless of their injuries, they scrambled to their knees, and pounded at the unrelenting pavement, screaming Elien’s name. Both of them were near hysteria, and their panic brought a crowd running to help.

People joined them in their pointless pounding, calling Elien’s name over and over again. Other’s asked questions that only made Emma and Killian snap in anger. Were they sure it was a portal? What color was it? Where did it lead to? Emma was grasping at her hair in frustration because there were simply no answers. An ambulance arrived on the scene, which made Killian practically lose it. His daughter didn’t need medical attention, she needed a bloody magic bean.

But Emma and Killian did need medical attention. Emma had broken her arm diving to the pavement while Killian had scraped his knuckles raw and sliced his knee with his own hook. But Emma shooed the paramedics away like pesky flies and merely waved her hand, using her magic to heal them both. Elien needed them, and she needed them strong.

The problem was, they had no idea where Elien had ended up. Anton arrived with a pouch full of beans, but where did they begin? There were hundreds of realms, each of them containing thousands of miles of terrain.

Emma sat on the curb, rolling a bean between her fingers. Killian paced along the sidewalk behind her. The crowd had long ago dispersed, and only Anton, David, and Snow remained.

“Do you think it was Elien’s own magic?” David asked hesitantly.

Anton shook his head. “Not even Rumplestiltskin could just open a portal. You need a bean, or a magic door, or a wand. Some magical object.” He turned to Emma. “Unless Elien had something like that?”

Emma rubbed her head wearily, “I don’t think so. But how can I know for sure? This town was created with magic, she could have picked up a freakin’ enchanted pebble for all I know.”

“Listen,” Snow said calmly, “instead of focusing on how the portal opened, let’s try and figure out where she might have gone when she went through. I mean, how do portals work?”

Killian stopped pacing, a grin lighting his face. “They take you to the place you’re thinking of.”

Emma scrambled to her feet. “And Elien visits the Elven Lands all the time in her dreams!”

“Which means she’s in Middle Earth.”

The group turned to see Tauriel standing near the pavement. She was more ethereal than usual, which happened when she ventured this far into town. She was frantic as she gazed first at Emma, then at her son. “They’ve taken her. My people. Hurry. I’ll be right behind you.”

Then she was gone.

Everyone exchanged glances, and Emma lifted the bean that she held in her hand. With her other hand, she reached out for Killian’s hook. “Well, I’m relying on you, elf. Never been to Middle Earth.”

Killian shook his head at her good-natured teasing. “Let’s not wait another minute, love, our little girl needs us.”

Emma stepped closer, but before she tossed the bean, she gave Killian an accusing look. “This wasn’t some grand scheme to keep your baby from starting school, was it?”

Killian arched a brow. “This entire situation is making school look better and better.”

Emma glanced back at her parents. “Hold down the fort while we’re gone?”

Her parents gave a nod of assurance in answer. Then Emma tossed the bean, and with a deep breath and a clear mind, she jumped, completely trusting her husband’s memories to take them to their daughter.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2018 #ouat/lotr crossover #killian as half elf #cs canon divergence

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

Text

Their Hero Academia – Chapter 39: Call Me Hero

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here

Back in school after two days off, Isamu Haimawari was still riding a pretty good high. While a part of him still refused to believe that he’d won the Sports Festival, hearing the congratulations of so many people, both those in his neighborhood and people who had just seen him on TV, along with all the discussion and replays being shown on the news, had helped to cement it in his mind. He was going to take pride in what he’d done, while still acknowledging there were several times it could have gone either way. If Midoriya hadn’t come up with the plan for them to cooperate or if some of his matches had been different people or gone just a little differently, he likely wouldn’t have done as well.

Still: he actually felt like a winner.

“Newb.”

He looked up to see Kirishima-Bakugo standing in front of his desk, muscular arms crossed in front of her chest. Her red eyes narrowed as she looked him over, everything about her body language reading as a challenge. But there was something else there too, some subtle sign of acknowledgement that wasn’t there before, as though for the she was seeing him as worthy of her attention for the first time. She did seem to respect strength and skill, after all.

“Yes?” Isamu asked.

She stared him down for a moment longer before speaking. “You did good,” she said. “Seems I underestimated you.”

He definitely wasn’t expecting that, but he quickly found his voice. “Ah, thanks,” he said. “You did good too. Pretty impressive fight against Izumi.”

“Izzy kicked my ass is what she did,” Kirishima-Bakugo replied. She moved to take her seat. “But believe me. I won’t be underestimating you again.”

Well. That wasn’t worrisome at all.

At the desk next to his, Mineta turned so she could talk to Kirishima-Bakugo. “What? No congratulations for me?”

“I still can’t believe you came in second,” Kaminari told her, rolling her eyes.

“What, like it’s hard?” Mineta replied.

At her desk, Kirishima-Bakugo fumed. “I’m acknowledging your victory while refusing to acknowledge you, Horse-Girl.”

Mineta shrugged. “You know what, I’m going to take that as a win here. On top of my actual win. Which I had. And you didn’t.”

Kirishima-Bakugo started rising out of her desk again, rage twisting up her features. “I swear, I will I will blow those damn horns right off your head…”

“Can I get out of the way first?” Kaminari asked, Extension Cords up in the air. “Or maybe just tase you both?

Kirishima-Bakuago growled, but sat back down. A quick glance around showed that Izumi had turned around in the front row and was watching them. Thank goodness for small favors. “You’re still an idiot, Horse-Girl. I’m not gonna underestimate you either. So keep up or get out of the way. And don’t think you can rely on provocation all the time. It won’t save you from me…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Mineta said, rolling her eyes.

“How did Uncle Minoru take how you won?” Kaminari asked.

Mineta shook her head. “He called it ‘great use of psychological tactics’. My innocence is his eyes is safe.”

“Talk about blindspots…”

“On the other hand,” she went on, “he did threaten Shinji when Mom invited him and his dad out to dinner to celebrate my win after the festival…”

Isamu did remember a large teen in a Shiketsu school uniform embracing Mineta after the Festival, twirling her around. He hadn’t gotten his name then, but that must have been Shinji. Who’d have ever thought someone like Mineta would have a friend like that? And apparently as a boyfriend?

He wasn’t sure if he should feel sorry for the guy or not. At the very least, it didn’t look like it was restraining her personality any. She was still Mineta, still hitting on everything that moved (which included him).

Of course, he had his own potential for a girlfriend on the horizon too. He’d spent a decent amount of time over the break texting with Kana Tetsutetsu, even video chatting with her for a little while. She’d turned out to be a pretty fun person to talk to and seemed a lot like a less scary version of Kirishima-Bakugo. Intense and dedicated, but not ready to go off at a moment’s notice. Plus, they’d turned out to both be fans of the cheesy martial arts flicks from the early days of Quirk-based films, which gave them a lot to talk about.

If all went well, they’d try and watch one together before the internships started next week.

The internships. He’d tried hard not to think about that over the two days. As the winner of the Sports Festival, he was likely to get a lot of offers. How would he know who to choose? And there was still the possibility of being overlooked. His win would give him a lot of cache, but considering how many kids of important Heroes were in his class and the others, he wondered if people wouldn’t be more likely to scout them instead, trying to network or curry favor…

Around him, everyone in the classroom was talking about their Sports Festival performance, some happier than others, some lamenting how early they’d been knocked out. The noise was only broken when Aizawa’s sleeping bag clad form suddenly appeared from behind the lectern.

“So. Let’s talk about the Sports Festival. Pretty cute, the way you used teamwork to get past the First Stage. A nice exploitation of a loophole, since it’s not against the rules. And Heroes should be able to work together with anyone.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the classroom. Aizawa as a teacher as perpetually waiting for the other shoe to drop. He didn’t hand out praise easily, so where this was leading, no one seemed to know.

“Which means I’ll just have to make sure All Might and the others ride you harder to make sure your individual skills don’t atrophy.”

There it was. That was the other shoe. Heroics Classes already were pushing them right up to their limits and beyond… how much worse could it get?!

Aizawa continued. “With that being said, we can discuss the Internship offers that have come up.”

He tapped a button on the lectern and the results of the Internship offers appeared on the board. “These numbers are not necessarily reflective of the total number of offers you received. All Might, Midnight, Principal Nezu, and I spent a considerable amount of time reviewing your offers and eliminating any offers that appeared to be made simply to take advantage of who your parents are.”

Toshinori Midoriya: 4007

Isamu Haimawari: 3546

Mika Mineta: 1451

Izumi Torodoki: 400

Kimiko Ojiro: 203

Asuka Tokoyami: 106

Katsumi: Kirishima-Bakugo: 73

Sora Iida: 40

Chihiro Kaminari: 8

Takuma Sero: 7

Tensei Iida: 6

Shota Shinso: 5

Takiyo Aoyama: 4

Daisuke Shoji: 3

Kenta Sato: 2

Akaya Koda: 2

“Hey!” Mineta cried out. “I did better than Midoriya! Why’s he got so many more offers than me?”

“Maybe because Toshi’s not a lunatic nymphomaniac?” Kirishima-Bakugo said. “Who sexually harassed her opponents on live television?”

“…Besides that!”

Isamu was pretty sure his heart had just stopped. How had that many people noticed him, thought he was worthy of their attention? Maybe not as many as Midoriya, but way more than he would have ever expected. He couldn’t help but feel bad for some of the others though, who hadn’t gotten nearly as much attention.

“Alas,” he heard Aoyama say. “My radiance did not draw the attention it deserved.”

“You shall have other chances,” Koda assured him. “And if your internship goes well, it will already open doors to further notice.”

“I suppose so, Mademoiselle Koda, but still…”

“Congratulations, Sister!” Tensei Iida said. “You do the Iida Family line proud by your successes!”

“Do not be so quick to dismiss your own, Little Brother,” Sora Iida replied. “With two of us, the honor is twice as large!”

“Go Kimiko!” Sero said. “I’m totally tagging your videos with “Sports Festival Finalist” now. Our hit count’s gonna be through the roof!”

“Sorry you two didn’t do better,” Ojiro said.

Sato waved it off. “Always next year. And apparently somebody liked what they saw with me…”

“Oh, man, everybody was so awesome,” Shinso squealed. “You all did so great! Toshi was all bouncing around and Izumi was throwing all that ice and Tokoyami did that super-cool armor trick and Haimawari was all ZOOOOOM and…”

“Breathe, Shota,” Tokoyami said.

“Still, an impressive accounting by all of you,” Izumi said.

“Guess stretching by Cords out wasn’t all for nothing,” Kaminari added.

“I suppose it’s an honor just to be noticed, even by three people,” Shoji said. Isamu didn’t know him well, but he didn’t sound particularly depressed by it. Little seemed to faze the six-armed young man.

“Thirty-five hundred people,” Isamu said quietly. “Still don’t believe it.”

“If you’re all done?” Aizawa snapped, impatient working its way into his voice. “I’ll be distributing the requests that go with those numbers shortly. As I expected, there was significant coordination on the part of your parents. Technically, a logical exploitation of a loophole in the rules I issued them against scouting their own children. So not unexpected. However, in the meantime, we need to discuss your Hero names. I’m sure most of you have had these planned for a while, but Midnight would try to murder me if I didn’t indulge her little games.”

“Oh, don’t sound so judgmental about it, Eraser,” Vice-Principal Midnight said, standing in the now open classroom door. “I love listening to what these fresh young minds have come up with…”

***

Koharu struggled to still the shaking of her hand as she pushed open the door to the door to the school’s office. She’d been abruptly summoned from her Homeroom class to come to come to there and her mind raced with possibilities about what it might entail. The two days since the Sports Festival had passed quickly, but with plenty of congratulations from family and friends and even total strangers. Already, the rest of her Class was treating her like the second coming of Shinso.

Inside, one of the school secretaries, a woman pale green skin and blonde hair, looked up. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Koharu gathered her wits. “I’m… I’m Koharu Kocho. I got a message saying they wanted to see me down here?”

The woman nodded and pointed to a door marked with the name “Nezu” on its nameplate. The Principal’s office. “In there,” the secretary said. “They’re expecting you, so no need to knock.”

Taking another breath to steady herself, Koharu crossed the room and opened the door to the Principal’s office. Inside, the strange mouse-bear-dog that was Nezu sat behind a massive mahogany desk, with All Might on one side of his chair and Water Spout on the other, all of them pouring over papers strewn out across the desk and a paused video of some kind of an angled computer monitor.

“Ah, Miss Kocho, welcome!” Nezu said, gesturing towards a chair in front of the desk. “Please, have a seat. May I offer you some tea?”

The hyper-intelligent animal was spritely, despite the small but thick glasses that rested on his nose and the grey around his muzzle. Koharu didn’t know how old he was, but he’d been the principal for well over twenty-five years, even before Heroes like Deku and Ground Zero graced the halls. He had to be well past the life expectancy of… whatever it was he was, exactly.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been in the presence of All Might, of course, having received her medal (and a hug!) from him at the Sports Festival. But here, away from the cameras, he seemed just a little more serious, a little more subdued. Water Spout was a new one, though.

“I, ah, yes, thank you,” she said, as she took a seat.

“Very good,” Nezu said, nodding slightly. “If you wouldn’t mind, Water Spout?”

“Of course, Principal,” the dark-haired Hero said, moving to the corner of the office where Nezu kept a tea service. “It’ll be just a few minutes.”

“I must congratulate you on your win again, Miss Kocho,” Nezu said. “You nearly set a new record for the General Studies department. Of course, there are those who do not count Akamine’s first place victory of a few years ago, since all he did was endure the attacks of others based on his invulnerability.”

Koharu shook her head, slowly, so as not to overly agitate her antennae. “I wouldn’t. He used his Quirk and his head and won fair and square.”

Nezu nodded. “Mmm-hmm, my assessment as well. His path may have lead him elsewhere, but in that moment, it was surely his victory.”

“Young Kocho,” All Might began, his deep voice kind and encouraging, “how would you describe your performance at the Sports Festival?”

Koharu closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a breath. She accepted the tea that Water Spout handed her. “Sugar? Honey? Milk?” he asked.

“Honey, please,” she said, then, when that had been added, extended her proboscis into the tea and took a long sip. It was warm and sweet, perfect to her taste. If any of the three adults seemed disturbed by her drinking method, it didn’t show on their faces. She appreciated that. Wings and antennae were one thing, and while they brought her plenty of attention, they didn’t bring her much bigotry. But when she started to drink, that’s when the looks of disgust usually came out.

The long drink gave her a moment to formulate her answer. “I did alright during the Obstacle Course. Middle of the pack. My Quirk was pretty good at bringing down the drones and I was able to fly around a lot of them. Quirkball… I survived. Barely. My Scales and my String-Shot were good at taking people down so they could be hit, but it was a lot to keep track of. I didn’t always do that good a job, didn’t always realize just how big a target I was.”

All Might and Nezu nodded. “Good,” All Might said. “Please, go on.”

Koharu drank some more of her tea before she continued. She’d come this far. They deserved nothing less than her total honesty. Besides, she was fairly certain this was some kind of test in and of itself. She’d heard rumors about the Principal and all the wheels within wheels he spun.

“I got lucky in the Tournament.,” she said. “My first match was Monoma.” Once I got out of the range of that Binding Cloth of his, there wasn’t much he could do to me. It was just a matter of time before I got him with my String-Shot or my Scales.”

“Nothing wrong with having a Quirk your opponent can’t match,” Water Spout said. “That’s why I get called in to fight fire and flame villains, even though I’m a Rescue Hero. Not much most of them can do against a few dozen gallons of water. But it still takes strategy.”

Not a bad point, now that she thought about it.

“You should know Monoma speaks rather highly of you,” Nezu added. “He’s sent no less than a dozen e-mails to myself, the three Hero Class Homeroom teachers, and several of the other teachers insisting that you be added to the Hero Class.”

He looked down at a printout in his hand. “Ah, yes, and “preferably in Class 1-B.’”

“Against Ojiro, though, she was faster on the move than he was. She got up close instead of trying to go from the distance. Plus, you know, the whole invisibility thing. So I had to use my antennae to find her, but once I did, I could take her out with my String-Shot. I took a lot more of a beating in that one though. Much more of a physical fight. Not totally used to using my wings like that.”

“And you still emerged victorious,” All Might said. “Young Ojiro is an extremely skilled fighter. You did quite well to overcome here.”

“If you would talk about your last fight, Miss Kocho?” Nexu prompted.

“Against Mineta?” she said. “Yeah, okay. I wasn’t prepared for it. Not really. I watched her other fights and she’s pretty hard to get a read on. One minute, she’s fighting or brawling, the next she’s trying to get in somebody’s head. Add in her ability to fire off those balls, she was pretty dangerous. I figured I had the best chance if I got airborne and just took her out with a Sleep Powder or a Paralysis Powder, but she was just all over me, shooting those balls everywhere.”

She looked down at an empty teacup. Nezu, All Might, and Water Spout gave her the moment to gather her thoughts. “They got all over my wings. Pinned them to the ground. Maybe I could have kept fighting. Even if I was pinned, I still had my String-Shot. But I was afraid to tearing my wings. I don’t know… I don’t know if I could heal from that. So I gave up. Not very heroic, really.”

“You understood your limits,” All Might said, gently, coming around the desk. He got down on one knee next to her chair and put a hand on her shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with being afraid. Even the mightiest of us have felt fear. But if you’re to join the Hero Course, you’re going to have to learn to surpass that fear and find new limits.”

“I… what?” Nothing in that last sentence made any sense to her right now.

“We’ve been viewing your Sports Festival footage, as well as your performance during the Entrance Exam,” Nezu said. “We’ve also spoken to your physical education teacher, and several of your other teachers. What happened to you during the Entrance Exam was a rather tragic accident. Based upon your initial performance and your performance during the Sports Festival, I was able to extrapolate a probable score for you if you hadn’t been knocked out.”

Nezu pushed his chair back and hopped down, slowly walking around the desk with the aid of his cane. “You should have passed with flying colors.”

“I… what?” Koharu repeated.

Nezu offered her a hand. “Miss Kocho, if you are willing to put in a, frankly, considerable amount of work to get caught up, we are pleased to offer you a place in the Hero Course for the second semester.”

***

Isamu wasn’t surprised that all of his classmates had names ready to go. And he probably shouldn’t have been surprised that Aizawa had opted to hide himself in his sleeping bag in the corner while Vice Principal Midnight ran the show. He had a habit, from what Isamu had seen, of doing that to avoid anything he didn’t want to be bothered by.

He was, however, definitely surprised by the outright hungry look Vice Principal Midnight was giving much of the class. Wasn’t she in her fifties? And in a committed relationship with Present Mic (the tabloids were always speculating on whether or not they’d get married or if she was cheating on him behind his back)? Of course, given the first time he’d met her, he’d nearly run head first into her cleavage and she’d just laughed it off, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Currently, she was perched on Aizawa’s desk, her short skirt giving everyone a good view of her legs.

Honestly, half of being in this school was learning not to be surprised by things.

Midoriya had volunteered to go first, which wasn’t surprising. He was pretty much always leading the way or taking charge. “Okay,” he said, “so maybe this is a little simple, but I really wanted to honor Grandpa Might, so I’m going with The Gravity Hero: Gravi-Might!”

“You are such a dork, Toshi,” Kirishima-Bakugo groaned.

“A bit direct,” Midnight said, “but appropriate in your case. I’ll allow it.”

Kirishima-Bakugo took the stage next, wearing one of those grins that usually preceded her punching something. “So, how about Queen Explosion Murder?”

Midnight pinched the bridge of her nose. “…No, kid. Just no.”

The explosive girl laughed at that, a harsh, barking sound. “Aw, don’t be so serious. I’m just yanking your chain. Call me… The Explosion Hero: Bombshell!”

“…I’m going to approve that just so you sit down,” Midnight said. She looked across the room. “Question, Mineta? Or do you want to volunteer?”

“Oh, it’s a question. I just want to know how Kirishima-Bakugo thinks she can be a bombshell with boobs that sma…”

A glare from Kirishina-Bakugo quickly silenced that. Mineta and Kaminari both scooted their desks closer to his when Kirishima-Bakguo took her seat.

Izumi took to the lectern next. “Shoto gave me a bit of help with this, but I rather like it. The Ice and Fire Hero: Thermo-Dynamic!”

“Oh yeah!” Shinso cheered. “You used my idea!”

Midnight let out of a laugh. “Well, at least you picked one,” she said. “But it’s got passion! I love it!”

It was a good name, Isamu had to admit. Maybe a little bolder than he expected of Izumi, but she’d shown herself to be pretty bold at the Sports Festival too.

Tokoyami took to the front of the room next. As she opened her beak to speak, Frog-Shadow appeared.

“The Froggy Hero: Super Frog-Shadow!”

“We are not calling ourselves that!”

“I get a say in this! That’s my vote!”

“You don’t get any say!”

Frog-Shadow crossed her arms, looking like she was pouting. “Fine,” she said. “You’re no fun!” She disappeared back inside Tokoyami with a slight popping sound.

Tokoyami just shook her head, staring at the floor. “I must apologize for her. But I have chosen the name Bright Side Hero: Amaterasu!”

“You just made that up!” Sero said. “No one said we could just make up words!”

The bird-headed girl shook her head. “Perhaps it is presumptuous. Amaterasu is the sun goddess, counterpart to my father’s moon god, Tsukuyomi. But it seemed fitting.”

Frog-Shadow appeared again. “Can I change my vote to that? I like being a goddess!”

“Make it three votes,” Midnight said. “You’ve got confidence, Tokoyami. I love it!”

The Twins went next. “While we are certain Father would one day like for one of us to carry on the Ingenium name,” Sora Iida said, “now is not the time for that!”

“He still has an illustrious career ahead of him,” Tensei Iida added. “So therefore, we have come up with names of our own!”

Sora posed, flexing a bicep. She wasn’t as muscular as Kirishima-Bakugo, but she was certainly in good shape. Midoriya was a lucky guy. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t be thinking that about a friend’s girlfriend. But he was only human. “Therefore, I shall be The Speedy Flying Hero: Jet-Red!”

“And I,” Tensei said, arms weaving a chopping motion through the air, “am The Flying Speedy Hero: Jet-Blue!”

“Really,” Kirishima-Bakugo groaned again. “Twin-themed names. You’re really doing that?”

“It is a show of familial solidarity!” Sora snapped.

“We are united as siblings in science and in heroism!” Tensei added.

“A bit flat,” Midnight said. She placed a hand to her face, tapping on her cheek with one long finger. “Still… it will do, I suppose.”

Sero sauntered up to the front next. “Just call me The Acid Tape Hero: Stick ‘Em Up!”

Midnight sighed. “Seriously, Sero?”

He gave her a grin. “I focus tested it with all my ViewTube followers. Eighty-five percent positive approval.”

“No changing your mind?”

“Nope.”

She waved a hand in the direction of the desks. “Fiiiine.”

Ojiro was up next. “So, um,” she began, “I’ve been talking with Doc Clock and she’s really suggested I could be a great Medical Hero someday, so… this isn’t the name I thought I’d use, but I came up with it a few weeks back. I’m going to be the Paramedic Hero: X-Ray!”

Sato and Sero let out a cheer. “You got this, Kimiko!”

“You go, girl!”

Huh. Isamu knew Ojiro was a martial artist and a gossip fiend, but this was new. She’d probably be good at it, now that he thought about it.

“How uplifting!” Midnight squealed.

Then Sato’s turn. “Ah… So, I was thinking the Hungry Hero: Chomp!”

“Now that’s a name with bite!” Sero shouted.

“Puns, really, Pinky?” Kirishima-Bakugo groaned. She gave a quick look to the front. “Still… not bad, Lips.”

Midnight seemed to approve as well. “Short, to the point, perfectly encapsulates your Quirk!”

And then Shiso. As usual, he was practically vibrating with excitement. “Before I go, I just wanna say thanks to Kirishima-Bakugo! She’s really the one who came up with this!”

“…I did what now?”

“I’m gonna be… The Octave Hero: Loud Kid!”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Well, you always call me that, and it’s such a good name, so I really hope you don’t mind if I use it…”

“Knock yourself out, Loud Kid.”

At that, Midnight nodded slightly. Even she seemed inclined to tiptoe around Shinso. “What youthful vigor!”

Then it was Aoyama’s turn. “Please, please, silence all conversations and give me your attention.” He posed theatrically, as though whipping around the cape he wore with his Hero costume. “And now, set your eyes on The Dazzling Hero: Radiance!” He let loose a small flash of light at the same time, forcing Isamu to look away, blinking furiously.

“You do bring a certain sparkle to things, Aoyama,” Midnight said. “But next time, lay off the special effects.”

Koda followed him. “My own choices are not quite so spectacular or outlandish as some of yours, but I hope that they will suffice. You may call me the Gardening Hero: Nurture.”

“Well said, young lady,” Midnight added. “Simple… but I think it fits. And if you ever need any help on “nurturing” the boys…”

Isamu could have sworn he was Koda’s rocky face blush slightly. “I am quite all right, Miss Midnight, thank you.”

Then it was Shoji. “Nothing fancy,” he said. “the Well-Armed Hero: Octo-Punch.”

“Not bad at all,” Midnight said. “I wouldn’t have expected anything fancier from you, Shoji.”

“Hey!” Mineta piped up. “You said you were going to go with my idea! The Hentai-Hero: Tentacles!”

Shoji gave her a flat look. “I lied.”

After that, Kaminari took her own turn. “Been thinking about this one for a while, but figured I’d go with something that combines my Quirk, which is electricity with my Cords, with something about me, music. So from now on, I’m going to be the Plug-In Hero: Shock Jock!”

“How electrifying!”

Mineta followed after that. Before she could even speak, Midnight interjected. “Now, I love a good double and triple or more entendre as much as anyway. And I’d love it just as much as you to see some of these boys and girls squeal and squirm. But I must insist that your Hero name be at least somewhat family friendly. The Hero Commission is really cracking down on R-Rated Heroes and Heroines these days.”

Mineta looked somewhat deflated by that, but she pushed on. “Okay, fiiiiine. I used to think you were cool.”

Midnight looked offended by that. “Oh, child, I am still “cool.’”

“Anyway,” Mineta went on, “I’m going to be the Cavalry Hero: Purple Rein!”

“That’s… surprisingly subdued for you,” Midnight said. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Right as Rein,” Mineta said. “Nothing? Anyone? …Well, it’s a lot funnier in English.”

Finally, Isamu went to the front. He tried not to wither under the gaze of his classmates. Midoriya, Tokoyami, Shinso, and Izumi: encouraging. Mineta: Looking like she was sizing him up to eat him. Kirishima-Bakugo: Glaring at him like usual. Midnight: Also sizing him up in a way that was probably really not appropriate for a women in her fifties.

“So…I’ve been thinking about this one a lot,” he said. “And I want something that tells the world who I am. I’ve got a simple Quirk, but I learned a lot about how to use it and make it work for me. So I’m going to be the Three-Point Hero: Slyde!”

“Spoken like a true champion!”

***

So much paperwork to prepare for the transfer. Private lessons after school and during her gym periods, lots of coursework to study, it was all happening so fast, Koharu thought her head was spinning. She’d have to design a costume, get that fitted and made… And if she did well enough preparing, she’d even get to attend the Summer Training Camp. They were still apparently discussing which Heroics Class she’d get into, but it was a real, tangible thing now.

“One more thing for today, Miss Kocho,” Principal Nezu said. “Since I know you’ve had aspirations for the Hero Course for some time… Have you considered a Hero name?”

She nodded at that. She had for a long time, ever since she’d decided she was going to try out for the Hero Course. “I have,” she said. “the Lepidopteran Hero: Yamamai.”

“A, ah, bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Water Spout asked.

She shrugged. “People with animal Quirks like mine get looked down on a lot. And called a lot of names. I’m not hiding from who I am. I’m embracing it.”

“Well said, Young Kocho, well said,” All Might said. “The perfect beginning to your hero academia!”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #my writing #fan fiction #fan fic

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