#feat one grumpy old man
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Get your shit together so I can love you.
Pairing: human!jake sully x female!human!reader
CW: angsty, so angsty, established relationship, MIGHT BE TRIGGERING for some audiences, disabled person feeling insecure about their body, fluff, crying, yelling, cursing, sexual language, hurt, comfort, sexual content, mentions of sexual fluids, foreplay, mentions of fingering, jake touching reader's pussy. Please, tell me if I'm missing something 🥲
Author's note: This AU is set on 2009. Jake is just a regular 24 year old former marine who ended up losing the movement of his legs permanently after an unfortunate accident that happened while he was fighting for his country, amidst a terrible, unforgiving war. The reader is a 21 year old regular human girl. There is no sci-fi or aliens involved. I totally understand if it's not your cup of tea as it's almost not canon at all to the Avatar Universe. I guess I just kept most stuff canon to Jake as a character. As I said, it's an AU. Just call me Miss Marvel and call this a version of Jake that exists somewhere in the wide multiverse 😂 guys I'm way too sleepy and exhausted that I'm starting to sound a bit drunk... gonna shut my piehole up now. I hope you guys like it. ✨ I need to sleep ughhh ✨
Not proofread. Sorry, my babies, momma is always too tired n running low on time.
❃
I tapped on your window on your darkest night
The shape of you was jagged and weak
There was nowhere for me to stay, but I stayed anyway
You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself
But do you know you're demolishing me?
And then you squeeze my hand as I'm about to leave
Renegade (Big Red Machine feat Taylor Swift)
❃
You walked to your boyfriend's house, watching the starry dark sky above. It was a full moon night, its pale light bathing your skin as you thought about how you missed Jake. You had just gotten back from a family trip yesterday and hadn't had time to go over to Jake's house to see him yet. You were so anxious to see his face again that you didn't even bother to call him to let him know you were about to come over.
When you got there, as soon as you opened the door with the copy of the keys Jake had given to you, you saw a miserable looking man sitting on a wheelchair, staring at the wall, eating a burger and fries and drinking beer. You swore to God one day you'd slap his hand and tell him to eat healthier. He ate junk food and drank way too much. His face was grumpy and a little sad at the same time. But it was your Jake. It didn't matter to you that he always looked like he was done with everything, he was so freaking handsome and charming, so, you could get past his moodiness. At the end of the day, you loved him so very deeply it made you feel like there was not enough space for so much love inside your body.
"Hey, babyyy!" You say, locking the door behind you "Sorry for not calling before coming over. I'm gonna stay the night, okay? I missed you so much..." You walked towards Jake and kissed his warm cheek, leaving the keys on a piece of furniture nearby
"Hi, baby. I missed you like crazy. I'm so glad my girlfriend is back here with me." He smiled at you. That was the first time he smiled, in a truly happy way, that night. You were the light of his life, he always felt better when you were around. He had missed you like a mad man, especially at night, when he looked at pictures of you/the both of you together on his black laptop. "And I gave you the keys for a reason. No need to say sorry. It's not like I go out on Wednesday evenings anyway.. Or any night of the week" He laughed in sarcasm. "I'm always here at this time." You laughed a bit and he took another bite of his burger
"I'm gonna take a quick shower, ok? Be right back" you said loudly as you walked to the bathroom
The day you and Jake had decided to be in a serious relationship, after you let the words "I love you" slip off of your mouth, by accident (you didn't even know if he crushed back on you, let alone reciprocating your feelings), Jake was so insecure, thinking you were just playing him, that it took him one week after that happened to finally say "I love you" back. You were getting sadder and more impatient as time passed. When he finally did, it was through texting. When you saw the message in your cellphone screen, your heart raced like a wild horse in a big forest.
ত
Later that night, you and Jake were cuddling, half sitting, half laying on the couch. Jake watched a movie on the television as you tried to read a book. But your attention span was equal to zero. You felt your boyfriend's warmth beneath your body, so comforting, so inviting. You wanted him so bad. You two had been together for almost one year and no sex had ever happened. You were starting to think that maybe he didn't find you that attractive, after all. That thought was like a rusted knife digging into your heart.
You closed your book since you couldn't go past the same sentence you were reading and re-reading all over again, too many times.
You moved your body from where it was and sat on top of Jake's legs, straddling his lap, taking him by surprise. He looked at you wondering why you suddenly gave up on your book if you had been bugging him for months about how bad you wanted to read it, but, you preferred reading a physical copy, as you told him, so he bought a copy for you that he found on sale just so you could stop talking to him about the same thing over and over. But he was actually just kidding, inside his own mind. He bought it for you because he knew you were gonna get really excited, just like a little child, and thank him by showering him with kisses. He loved being kissed by his pretty girlfriend.
"The book wasn't interesting enough, babe? Weren't you dying to read it?" He chuckled and then smiled, placing his big, warm hands on your thighs, making the small, thin hairs of that part of your body stand on end
"I just can't concentrate right now. That's all..."
"Is everything alright?" He noticed the angst in your expression
"Jake... We've been together for almost one year now, and... we haven't had sex yet. Don't you... don't you feel the need to do it with me? Do you still feel attracted to me? Why do you never try to initiate anything other than kisses and caresses? You've never even tried to touch my boobs... and you told me you loved them, over texting"
"Wait, slow down a bit" Jake asked of you and you stopped to breathe a little "Of course I feel attracted to you." He put a small lock of your hair behind your ear, so he could see your beautiful face better "I want you so bad... so fucking bad, you got no idea, girl. You drive me insane, my girl. I can't resist you when you're sitting on my lap like this" He caressed your face softly, light blue eyes staring at your own
"Then don't. Don't resist me. You don't have to. You just have to let me kiss you and touch you and show you how wet you make me, without even doing anything crazy, just by touching my skin like this and letting me sit on your lap."
"Baby, I...I can't" Jake looked down, sadness clouding his beautiful face. You hated to see your boyfriend like that. Why didn't he realize he didn't need to be so insecure? You loved him, all of him. No matter how badly he always talked about his legs or the fact that he couldn't do even basic day to day activities easily, because of his disability, you didn't care. You loved him. Freaking loved him to death.
"Why not?!" You were desperate for an explanation
"I could never be all you need. I wish I could but that's wishful thinking. Don't fool yourself, (y/n)."
Your eyes got filled with tears and you felt a lump forming in your throat. It was like your chest was sore, bruised from his harsh words.
"You are all that I want! All that I need, Jake! Why can't-"
"Don't make it harder than it already is, (y/n)!" The blonde guy interrupted you, his words colder than ice, burning your skin, already so sensitive from from taking all the hurt Jake was causing you by not letting you just simply love him right, be his girlfriend... "Get off me, please." So freezing cold...
You were a crying mess already, so, you felt so weak you just obeyed him and stood up, leaving him free from your body. Jake transferred himself from the couch to his wheelchair as fast as he could. He then started wheeling himself away from where you were
"Please...Please!" You say, chasing your crazy boyfriend like an idiot, while he moves his wheelchair fast towards his small room "stop being so insecure and just lemme love you." Jake stops, his freckled pale arms turning the wheels around so he could look at you
"Why do you insist on being tied down to a cripple?! Don't you get it?! You are so, so damn beautiful, (y/n). Your smile, your hair, your body... Jesus, your fucking body... You're so hot. You deserve... a man who can give you all that a relationship can offer. I can't be that man. I will never be him. I'm sorry you don't get it, but it's time for you to move on!!!" He yelled. You've never seen Jake so angry. His face was red, his eyes were gleaming, tears starting to roll down his face. He felt like his heart was breaking in a billion little pieces. He'd rather go through war, become traumatized and then have his spine injured all over again, because, honestly, it would hurt him less than what he was doing to you right now. But he knew he had to do it. "I love my (y/n) so much, I always will. But she should be happy, free from me." He thought
"Stop running away from me, Jacob Sully!" You ordered, as soon as you catch up to Jake, getting inside his room, your breath heavier than normal "I'm warning you, I will take you in my arms, no matter if you say you're too heavy, and I will lay you on this bed, against your will, if that's what I need to do so you will stop pushing me away! And don't ever call yourself a "cripple" again! I swear to God, you're testing me tonight! I won't let you speak like that about yourself. Never again! Do you understand me?!" You almost screamed
Jake sighed heavily, in defeat. With both arms, he started to support himself on his wheelchair, moving his body to the bed.
One he was settled there, sitting down with his back against the cushioned bed frame, he spoke: "Baby, I'm sorry for yelling at you like that... it was wrong. You don't deserve that. Please, forgive me." Looking at you with those eyes he had you on your knees, every single time.
"It's okay..." You looked hurt but your forgave him. You wanted to try and forget that had ever happened.
"I love you... so much."
You gazed at him and felt a need to comfort him
You sat on his bed, beside him and held his hand. After some time, you and Jake were cuddling, you sitting on his lap. He brought his mouth to yours and kissed your lips. You missed his kisses so much that you got wet so easily, just like a virgin would.
Jake grabbed the back of your head with care and deepened the kiss, using his tongue to massage yours. The way he kissed you was leaving your lips slicked with his saliva. You moaned and he held tight on to your waist, heavy breathing, his warm breath colliding with your own, the two of you getting drunk on each other. His lips were crushing against yours and that felt so amazing.
Out of nowhere, he stopped the kiss and when you tried to kiss him again he gently pushed you away, seeming uncomfortable.
"I gotta stop, baby... I can't pleasure you more than this..." he looked defeated
"Of course you can. You have fingers and a mouth, don't you? Then put them to use, baby. Your girl is begging you to pleasure her. Don't you want to help me out a bit?" You started to kiss his neck gently but sloppy. You breathed his scent in. It was so familiar, so comforting to you. He smelled like home. Home, for you, was wherever Jake was, right by your side.
Jake was starting to slowly give in and he let out a breathy moan. You felt happiness creeping in your head, your heart beating faster.
Jake did something that in his mind, was so damn bold. He dared to touch you in a very intimate way - he was as nervous as a teenager having his first sexual experience - moving his hand from the bed sheet until it got to your entrance. Jake's breath faltered as he touched your coated folds gently, his chest tightening while he looked at your face. His light brows furrowing, his demons still trying to convince him that you could not be turned on because of him.
"Sweetheart, you're so soft... just so... so wet." He was getting shaky, aroused as hell, feeling how wet you were for him
He was finally ready to just relax and enjoy the moment, as he touched your coated pussy.
"Wait a bit, will ya?" You ask, getting off his lap, standing on your feet and then stripping down to him. Your clothes were laying on the floor, as you felt a little shy but excited to see his reaction to seeing your naked body for the first time.
"Fuck, my baby. How did I get so lucky? Your body is so fucking perfect...." He put his hand up in the air, towards your own hands and you grabbed it and let him sit you back on his lap.
Jake started to touch your breasts softly, his mouth slightly open, desire scorching his insides. Your skin burned so good beneath his fingers. Then, he placed his big fingers on your slit
"God, this fucking wet pussy..." he was having trouble breathing but he loved the way you messed with his head
"I'm all yours, baby. Please, just let go and make love to me. I need you so bad it hurts me physically." You begged him to put an end to your misery
"Is that what my babygirl really wants?" He murmured, his voice low and sexy, ringing on your ears
"Yes, my love. Please... I'm so wet, Jake... only for you, my baby." You felt his fingers touching your pussy and your body became limp
"I love your pussy, baby. So velvety, warm and juicy. Can't wait to slide my fingers inside of you over and over again until you're all sweaty and whimpering"
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#human jake sully#human jake sully x female reader#human!jake sully x reader#human!jake sully#jake sully x female reader#jake sully x fem!reader#jake sully fanfiction#jake sully fic#jake sully avatar#human jake sully x reader#human!jake sully smut#jake sully smut#avatar fanfic#avatar fanfiction#avatar fandom#kxamtxomaw writes
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Can you write about a fanfic with the reader being Kalego's sister. She is sweet and kind, and I wanna know how you'd depict Kalego's life with his little sister in the school. Thx in advance
An Unexpected Connection
Featured Character: Kalego Naberius
A/N: AJAHJSHAHAKKJAHA that is a great idea. Imagine how chaotic Bablys would be the moment it's revealed that the precious cinnamon roll of the campus is actually related to the grumpy old man.
Also, protective older brother Kalego is *chef's kiss*
PS. I made the reader here a teacher if you wouldn't mind :D
I also suck at making up subject names so... *nervous sweats*
Fair warning though, this is a bit lengthy (I got too eager. This was really fun to write :D)
Enjoy!! <3
MASTERLIST
"Hey, did you hear? We have a new teacher for our Defensive Magic subject starting today."
"Really?"
"Yeah! I heard other students talk about it earlier."
"Are you talking about the new Defensive Magic subject teacher?"
"I saw her just now. And let me tell you, she's quite the beauty."
"She is?!"
Afternoon class just started, and the Royal One classroom is filled with murmuring. The subject of their gossip today is the new subject teacher at Babyls.
"Silence!"
The gossiping voices stopped.
"As you may have heard now, you will be having a new teacher on your Defensive Magic subject starting today," Kalego looked at you and motioned to get in front. "Please introduce yourself."
"Hello! My name is Y/N, and I will be your teacher in Defensive Magic starting today." You introduced yourself, and you can't help grinning widely at the students.
You were excited. It has always been your dream to be a teacher here at Babyls, and now, that dream finally came true.
You were also a little nervous, now that you're actually standing in front of the students.
You just hope that everything goes well as you prepare yourself for your first lecture.
"Just relax and focus. The casting will be off if you're nervous," you gently advised as the blue-haired student beside you cast a barrier spell on the bird figurine you brought.
"D-did I do it?"
"Let's see..." You watch as a barrier forms around the figurine.
"Well, it seems that... Oh!" you blinked as the figurine melted into a black goo.
"Oh... I must've made a mistake." The blue-haired student lowered his head dejectedly.
Seeing his crestfallen expression, you gingerly patted his head and smiled. "Don't worry, you don't have to get it immediately. Casting a barrier spell can be very tricky, so you're bound to make blunders every once in a while."
A tall, pink-haired boy came beside him. "Sensei is right, Iruma-sama! And knowing you, I'm sure that you'll figure out that spell in no time!"
"Hehe... if Iruma-chi is having trouble, you can always count on Clara-sensei to teach you!" a green-haired girl chimed in while proudly presenting her barrier.
"This is impressive, considering that it's your first time! It's a little unstable, but it's no less a feat! And... Iruma, was it?" You turned back to the blue-haired boy. "If you're still having trouble casting the barrier, you should try imagining that you're putting the object in front of you inside a hamster ball. It always works out for me! After all, visualization is important when it comes to casting spells."
"Will that really work?" Iruma glanced at you curiously.
"Yup! But you can also think of something else if it suits you more."
RIIIINNNGGG!!!
"Okay, that concludes our first lesson! We will be having a quiz about the fundamentals of barrier spells next week, so please be prepared for that. And for those who are having a hard time with their barrier spells, you are free to consult me in the faculty room. Have a good day!"
.
.
.
"Wow, you sure are famous among the students, Y/N-chan~"
"Ahaha, what makes you say that?"
"Oh, you don't know? You've been the topic of the students' conversations for the past few weeks. They mostly mention how nice or how almost-impossibly angelic you are," Dali appraises.
You sheepishly scratched your cheek. "Well, as much as I appreciate their praises, I think they might've overexaggerated a bit."
"I wish my students were as enthusiastic in my class as they are in yours," Momonoki sighed. "It almost makes me a little jealous. Tell me, how do you do it? Do you have any special tricks?"
"Tricks?" you tilted your head in confusion.
"Hahaha! It's amazing how you captured their hearts in a small matter of time. But whenever you need help, just remember your senpai will always be there for you," Robin assured while proudly giving you a thumbs up.
You can only giggle at his actions.
"Thank you, senpai. I'll make sure to keep that in mind."
"Hnggg... I totally get why the students think you're angelic."
You slightly jumped when the male teacher suddenly hugged you.
"You're so adorable, I can't help but want to protect you!" He cried.
"O-oh... Haha..."
"What are you doing?"
"Kalego-sensei!"
You turned to the door. Kalego stood there with his brows furrowed.
"W-we were just, you know..."
"W-we were just talking about how Y/N is famous among the students nowadays!"
...
...
...
"I see. Don't forget about your paperwork."
The teachers watched as Kalego took his class record and left the scene.
"Okay, what just happened?"
You raised your eyebrows at your co-teachers' reactions. "What do you mean?"
"Well... Kalego-sensei used to scold us whenever we were caught gossiping at work. So seeing him leave quietly is a little unnerving," Dali explains.
"I wonder why he didn't?"
"Maybe it's because Y/N-chan is here."
"It's possible."
"Wow, so even Kalego-sensei is not immune to Y/N's charms? You really are amazing, Y/N!"
"Uh... thank you?"
A few weeks had passed since you started teaching, and you were now the students' favorite subject teacher on campus.
You're still not used to their compliments, but you're trying to come to terms with it.
But as they say, fame comes with unwanted attention.
"Y/N, please come with me to the library. I need your help with the next lesson."
"Oh, okay."
You hurriedly put away the papers you were grading and followed Kalego to the library.
"Kalego-sensei sure likes to ask Y/N-chan for help nowadays, huh?" Dali said as your back left his sight.
"He sure does..."
Raim awkwardly laughed. "He doesn't hesitate to work the newbies to the bone, does he?"
The others nodded in agreement.
"Surprisingly though, he's quite lenient with her," Raim added.
"You call that lenient?" Orias looked at her as if she was joking.
"Well," Marbas hummed, "considering what it was like when we were new here, I'd say he is."
"So you're saying Kalego-sensei plays favorites with Y/N-chan?"
"No, I don't think that's it."
Everyone turned to Murmur.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know but... I feel like there's more than favoritism that's going on between them."
"What makes you say that?"
"Well, you see..." Murmur bashfully scratched his head. "I sorta asked Y/N out before."
"WHAT?!"
Several exclamations came from the teachers.
"Oho~ so you asked her out, huh?" Dali teased.
"Oh my~ that's very bold of you," Raim commented.
"How can you ask your coworker out?! Have you no sense of professionalism?!" Orias hissed. Marbas nodded in agreement.
Murmur scoffed at their reaction, "Oh please, stop acting as if you're not planning to ask her out too. It's irritating."
The two flinched at his words. Dali and Raim gave the flustered teachers a teasing look.
"Anyways, that's not why I'm telling you this," Murmur continues. "You see, before I could even finish my question, Kalego-sensei suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He was giving me the death glare, all while asking Y/N for some help. Ever since, whenever I talk to Y/N, I can feel him looking daggers at me. It still gives me shivers while thinking about it," he shuddered.
"So... you're implying that Kalego-sensei and Y/N-chan are in some sort of relationship, right?" Raim asked.
"Well... Kalego-sensei's reaction would be weird if they weren't," Murmur retorted.
The others hummed in contemplation.
That conversation ignited the rumors that you and Kalego were dating each other.
The two of you were oblivious to it, as the teachers never mentioned it whenever you or Kalego were around.
Unfortunately, the students caught wind of the rumor.
You started to notice that students were murmuring to each other whenever you walked in the hallways with Kalego.
It was starting to get to you, so you decided to confront it once and for all.
"Okay, that's all for today. Good job everyone!"
You smiled proudly at the students as class ended. However, you stopped them before they could leave the courtyard.
"Can anyone please tell me what's going on lately? I've been noticing that some students whisper to each other whenever I walk through the hallways these days. I suppose you guys know why that is."
You turned to the bushes in your right.
"You guys can also come out now. I know you're there."
"Haha... So you noticed us?" Dali asked nervously. He didn't expect you to notice them as they used magic to hide their presence.
"So, can someone please explain to me what's going on right now?" you eyed the teachers and students suspiciously.
"Y/N-san... Are you dating Kalego-sensei?!" Momonoki shouted.
"...What?"
"Momonoki-sensei!"
"I know, I'm sorry, but..." her eyes shone with passion and determination. "I have to know. So... Y/N-san, are you or are you not dating Kalego-sensei?"
"Okay, wait. First of all, no, I am not dating him." You heard Momonoki let out the breath she was holding.
Your brows furrowed in confusion. "What made you think that?"
The teachers exchanged glances with one another.
"We noticed that you and Kalego-sensei were getting close to one another, seeing that you're the one he always asks for favors," Raim answered.
"He was also making sure that the male teachers who were trying to get close to you did not even try."
Your eyes went wide with surprise. "Oh. I... see."
You let out a sigh.
"I guess I owe you guys an explanation. Kalego-sensei and I are not dating because we're..."
...
"EH?!?!?!"
.
.
.
"Where were you?" Kalego looked at you slightly miffed.
"Sorry, I had to clear some misunderstanding with the faculty."
"Misunderstanding?"
You nodded. "They thought you and I were dating."
He scoffed. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Well, if you hadn't hogged all of my free time, they wouldn't have made that assumption," you quipped.
"And let those guys lay out the charms on you? Not on my watch."
You sighed. "That's the reason why they thought that in the first place."
You look at your wristwatch. It was almost 6 in the evening.
"We should get going now. Shall we go home, my dearest big brother?"
#mairimashita iruma kun#mairimashita! iruma kun#m!ik#m!ik fanfic#naberius kalego#kalego naberius#kalego sensei#kalego x reader#cookie writings
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Hello and welcome to Day 4 of "Let's Explore My Plot Bunnies"
Since yesterday's post was Long™️ I decided that the fic idea I wanna put forward today should be more on the short side (like a one-shot or less than 10 chapters short fic) just so I can claim that my brain isn't torturing me with fics ideas of the length and detail like yesterday's (which is a total lie on my part but claiming otherwise makes me feel better)
So, I present to you:
Unwilling cat!Shen Qingqiu and Very exited owner!Shen Yuan (feat. Panicking! Shang Qinghua because the Plot has gone off the rails and the System is having an... aneurysm?)
Edit: As of February 6th, this fic has a title:
"Dogs are dogs, but cats are people"
When Shen Yuan woke up (after he died) he did not expect to see himself in the body of a 12 years old child, all alone in the middle of nowhere. After a very much needed freak out given his circumstances, Shen Yuan did what he always did best: chose one direction and started walking in that direction in search of civilization. When he came across a village, it was not the way the people were dressed nor the way they spoke that surprised him; instead it was the name of the village. A name that he had only read once, in a specific stallion novel that he hated with a passion.
"Well," Shen Yuan thinks sarcastically, "this is fantastic, isn't it?" (At least he can be happy he was reborn as a non-essential character and not someone like the Scum Villain, right?)
With the amount of knowledge accumulated from the stallion novel, Shen Yuan managed to form a golden core in a couple of years and currently roams the lands as a rogue cultivator. He feels way healthier than in his previous life and prefers to stay out of the drama that is the main story line of "Proud Immortal Demon Way."" Why, you ask? Because he already died because he choked. All the deaths in PIDW are 100% worse and more painful. So, no, thank you. He is gonna avoid the Cang Qiong Sect (and all other sects) like the plague.
Two years after he transmigrated in this world, Shen Yuan finds a little white kitty with green eyes that hisses at him like the small little thing is ready to spew poison.
Shen Yuan thinks the little thing - it's a boy - is very much adorable.
Taking the little kitty in his hands, not minding how his claws are piercing through the skin of his palms, Shen Yuan looks at him with a big grin on his face. "Spicy little thing, aren't you?"
The kitten looks at him and lets out a very grumpy "Mrow" before bitting the finger that was massaging under the kitten's chin.
Seems Shen Yuan found himself a new travel companion.
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Shen Qingqiu is having a bad day. Scratch that - his day is so awful, it is worthy of being put in his "Top Five Most Awful Days".
It started with that idiot Yue Qingyuan calling him "Xiao Jiu" - a name which he hates with his entire being - and telling him he is needed for a mission. Which, fine. It's not that bad.
But then the partner for this mission turned out to be none other than that Bai Zhan Brute of a Man, Liu Qingge. A man with whom he can never get along. But they have been through other missions together even if they have butted heads mid-way through the mission. So, again, nothing really new here.
What was new about his situation is that he is currently stuck as a four legged small animal. Like actually a small animal. And he has no sword anymore... or clothes. And he can't even feel his cultivation.
"Fantastic" he thinks sarcastically as he moves slowly through the crowd of people in search for that Bai Zhan Brute. (Liu Qingge has to be able to recognize him, right? Right?)
He never expected to be picked up by a child no older than that little beast of a desciple he has. He also never expected that, despite all the hissing, bitting, clawing and wiggling he used in order to escape from the kid's hold, the idiotic child (cause there is no way this kid has all mental faculties intact) would just laugh and seem... pleased?.
"This child, Shen Yuan, is weird." Shen Qingqiu concludes in his mind as he looks at the little idiot grinning despite Shen Qingqiu's fangs holding his finger hostage. "And this day is still awful."
(At least he won't starve tonight.)
------------------
Liu Qingge is not panicking. He really is not.
If that little spoiled young master of a scolar decided to up and leave mid-way through their mission, it's not his problem.
(Shen Qingqiu wouldn't leave during a mission however. That man is way too prideful for that. And he wouldn't leave his sword and clothes behind in the forest either.)
Liu Qingge checks the Warm Red Pavillion anyway; just to be sure that Shen Qingqiu isn't up to his nefarious deeds like before when he caught him sneaking out to drown himself in carnal pleasures.
(Shen Qingqiu is not there. Liu Qingge check the perimeter three times. Still no sign of that spoiled young master. He is getting worried.)
When Liu Qingge comes back to the inn they are staying at, Shen Qingqiu isn't there either. Nor is he there the next day or the day after that.
Liu Qingge is not panicking. (He is panicking)
He is not going to keep looking for that asshole. (He still checks the entire village for his fellow Peak Lord. There is no trace of him anywhere.)
A heavy sigh escapes from him as the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, the so called God of War, hides his face with the palms of his hands.
"Yue-zhangmen is going to kill me."
---------------
In the An Ding Peak Lord office, the current Peak Lord Shang Qinghua looks at the scattered papers on his desk with growing horror.
Not because there are a lot of papers for him to write or check.
Nor is it because some of them have splashes of ink on them which means he has to re-write them from scratch again.
The reason behind the horror in his eyes lies in the floating screen that glows red intermittently, as if it is a piece of wood in a see of fire. The words on the floating screen read as follows:
"SYSTEM ERROR! SYSTEM ERROR!
THE PLOT OF THE NOVEL "PROUD IMMORTAL DEMON WAY" HAS DIVERTED FROM ITS INTENTED COURSE.
OOC BEHAVIOUR DETECTED FROM SEVERAL CHARACTERS!"
Shang Qinghua's eyes are still wide with horror as he faintly wispers, more to himself than the System.
"What the fuck is going on here?"
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Luo Binghe doesn't know what to do. Liu-Shifu returned a month ago from a mission with his Shizun (his very mean Shizun; the Shizun that he still wants to be acknowledged by, be praised by) without well,... his Shizun.
Everything went downhill from there.
He, together with Ming Fan and Ning Yingying, are still taking part in the search parties for his Shizun. But the search still yields no result.
No one seems to have seen his Shizun at all. It's like the man was swallowed by the earth itself.
While searching around, Luo Binghe comes across a rogue cultivator by the name of Shen Yuan. He seems to be his age and is a very nice person. (Luo Binghe really likes this rogue cultivator. He is very kind to him and Luo Binghe can count the people that were nice to him in his life on one hand)
The only problem is that Shen Yuan's little white cat doesn't seem to like him - or anyone, besides maybe Shen Yuan - all that much.
Still maybe asking Shen Yuan to help them find Shizun is a good idea. (Plus he gets to spend more time with Shen Yuan too. That's a bonus.)
So what do you guys think?
Also here:
Cat!Shen Jiu towards everybody:
Cat!Shen Jiu waiting for his supposed fellow "Peak Lords" and "desciples" to realize that he is the cat (and they still don't):
Shen Jiu, throughout this whole fic: I am surrounded by idiots....
This idea was both fun to come up with and hilarious to boot too. I might actually take a shot at writing this, given that my brain doesn't make it an over 10 chapter long fic. I do have a question though: if you were to give this fic a title, what title it would be? (I need all the help to chose titles cause I am BAD at them)
Regardless, I hope you had fun reading this and that the rest of your day will nice as well (and good night to those that read this post just before bed).
I will see you guys tomorrow,
- TooManyPlotBunnies-Send Help
P.S.: This was low-key, the inspiration behind the idea of this fic
#shen qingqiu#poor shen jiu#cat shen jiu#shen yuan#svsss#fic ideas#i am sorry Shang Qinghua#i love you I promise#I just love you freaking out over the plot derailing even more#liu qingge is panicking right about now#shen jiu is losing braincells#and those braincells can never be recovered#spicy kitty shen jiu#shen yuan loves him#(even if he doesn't know it's shen jiu)#i swear this was supposed to be an one-shot but my brain said “Make it a multi chapter”#Me: How many chapters? Brain: Numbers are irrelevant. Me: Fuck you.#bingyuan#i guess
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YOONGI FICS JULY 2022
└➤ sorted by 。 。 。genre (angst, fluff, smut)
MASTERLIST
(last update: 10.08.2022)
☆ - personal favorite
e2l- enemies to lovers, s2l- strangers to lovers, f2l- friends to lovers, bf2l- best friends to lovers, cf2l- childhood friends to lovers, fwb2l- friends with benefits to lovers, ex2l- exes to lovers, i2l- idiots to lovers
FINISHED
MATURE / PWP
⇢ spit by @rmverse (established relationship!au)
⇢ Mine by @kookiecrumb (bf2l)
⇢ Lab Partners by @jungblue (high school!au)
❝ What happens when your dreams get taken over by your newly assigned lab partner Min Yoongi? ❞
⇢ eat, sleep, work, fuck by @jeonloops (established relationship!au)
⇢ at the nightclub by @7deadlysinsfics (established relationship!au, read warnings!)
⇢ ddaeng bang by @kookskingdom (boxer!yoongi, read warnings!)
⇢ Trick or Treat. by @satnin-darling (halloween!au, feat. jk)
❝ The Joker, a Gray Pianist, and an Action-taker were supposed to walk into a bar on Halloween. Turns out they don't even make it past the front door because they were too busy fucking each other to partake in this year’s spooky season ❞
⇢ Freak by @chemicalpink (kinda fwb!au)
❝ Min Yoongi has a thing for bending you over in front of a mirror. ❞
MATURE & FLUFF
⇢ keep the change by @httpjeon (cashier!yoongi)
❝ typically an old man works the night shift at Greg’s Place. however, it seems there’s a new cute guy working the register at night now. and it just so happens it’s finals week... ❞
⇢ Breakfast in Bed by @joonbird (ikea employee!au)
❝ Min Yoongi, a grumpy Ikea employee, is wondering who you are and why exactly you’re sleeping in the display bed at his Ikea. ❞
⇢ lipstick on my satin sheets by @minyfic (s2l, college!au)
❝ you don’t know his name, you don’t have an image of him in your mind, all you can recall is the deep, inviting drawl that seems to hypnotize you whenever you’re speaking under the cover of darkness; the frenzy is what drives you to seek out the man behind the enticing voice, even if it goes against the rules. ❞
⇢ i've been missing you by @jjksblackgf (established relationship!au)
❝ Yoongi gets so pleasantly surprised that you surprised him that he decides to fuck the shit out of you. ❞
MATURE & ANGST & FLUFF
⇢ S`more than friends by @borathae (f2l, i2l, camping trip!au)
❝ Never Have I Ever had a crush on one of my best friends… ❞
⇢ Wildest Moments by @joonbird (s2l, cheating!)
❝ Min Yoongi is forbidden territory. And although you both know better, the two of you just can’t seem to stay apart. ❞
⇢ back-burner by @yoonpobs (bf2l, read warnings!, ☆)
❝ sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete? ❞
FLUFF
⇢ Cooking Class by @btsrunmylife (cooking!au)
❝ Realizing how little you actually know about the one thing needed for survival, you decide to take a cooking class. One of the other students catches your eye, not necessarily because he’s attractive (although, he is), but because he clearly already knows what he’s doing. And that…really isn’t fair. ❞
⇢ i love you. by @theluckyyyoneee (established relationship!au)
❝ you ask yourself what your husband's reaction would be if you didn't tell him you loved him back ❞
(I`m not sure if there`s just fluff in this, bc i read this almost a year ago)
⇢ Hug-o-gram by @cinnaminsvga (college!au, hugging booth!au, ☆)
❝“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.
“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.
“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.
{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.} ❞
FLUFF & ANGST
⇢ Neighborly Etiquette by @cinnaminsvga (neighbour!au)
❝ You and your boyfriend live across from Yoongi’s apartment, much to his chagrin. Your laughter and dancing and bed creaking were seriously annoying him, until it stops. Then, Yoongi finds himself knocking on your door. And no, he’s definitely not there to comfort you. No way. ❞
⇢ THINKING OF YOU by @smaubts (e2l, sm!au)
❝ yoongi and y/n hate each other, at least that's what they tell everyone. when unexpected events occur they begin to realise that maybe the real cause for all the hate is because it's a way to hide the feelings they won't admit. ❞
UNFINISHED
MATURE & ANGST & FLUFF
⇢ Set Me Free by @myooniverse (arranged marriage!au)
❝ Growing up as the sole heiress to your father’s fortune wasn’t all that it was cracked up to be. In desperate need to escape your home life, you enter into an unexpected arrangement with the infamous Min Yoongi. Will the both of you be able to find freedom, happiness and possibly love? ❞
#min yoongi#yoongi#yoongi angst#bts min yoongi#bts yoongi#bts one shot#bts fic#bts#bts fluff#bts fic rec#bts fan fiction#bts fic recs#min yoongi fic#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fic#yoongi fluff#yoongi fanfic#yoongi fic recs#suga fic#suga fic recs#myg
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People I’d like to know better
Tagged by @pedros-immaculate-vibes ! Thaaaaanks~ 💓
P.S. I know my main blog @fairy-cat-mother was tagged but I make posts/reblog from this one, I just can’t like posts from here too 🥲 so I hope you don’t mind me making this post from here.
Last song:
Before this, though, I was listening to the Halsin playlist that Dave Jones made, The Piccolo Snare song in particular <3
I listen to a lot of Nordic/Celtic stuff though in general…Wardruna, Faun, Skald, etc. And some cinematic stuff too—like music by Two Steps From Hell.
Favourite Colour:
Sage Green or Lavender Purple
I wear lots of neutral colours though like black, brown, and cream, with a lil forest-y green thrown in the mix. Love me some old knitted sweaters 🤗
Currently Watching: Not currently watching anything…except if watching my Durge attempt to romance Halsin counts lolol Baldur’s Gate 3 has me in a chokehold and I’ve been playing in any spare time I get hahaaaaa. Also had exams for my herbal medicine course this past Friday so uhhh technically I was watching a bunch of recorded lectures? 😅
Last Movie / TV Show: Fuck, it’s been a while…ummmm, I thiiiink the last show I watched was Loki? And the last movie…my younger brother and sister-in-law wanted to watch Five Nights At Freddy’s so I watched it with them haha wasn’t my favourite but wasn’t the worst I’ve ever seen.
Spicy / Savoury / Sweet: I have a baby tongue that cannot handle spice and yet I always go for the spice lol. I do like all three though. Probably overall, savoury would be my go-to. I love ✨soup✨
Relationship Status: Happily married to my big, burly, ginger-bearded Irishman and I love his grumpy-but-really-a-softy ass with my whole heart 🥰
Current Obsession: Halsin. Times infinity. Can’t stop, won’t stop. Man has GANKED my heart 😩 Also BG3 in general—also can’t stop, won’t stop 😈
Last Thing I Googled:
“Durge bg3 scene with Halsin”
It was for research…
I was trying to find out if the resist scene would work with Halsin. It sadly does not. 👀 Y e t 👀 LARIAN PLEASE MAKE ONE FOR OUR DRUID I BEG YOU 😭🙏
P L E A S E
People I’d like to know better:
@autistichalsin
@orehuna
@cakenpiewhyohmy
@jiiigen
@tasmaniandevilworshipper
@minatofnowhere
If you don’t wanna do it, no worries! Or if you were already tagged, my baaaaad—I just went by the peeps who interacted here/on my main 🥳 either way, y’all are cool and thank you for interacting!
Anywayyy, peace out until next time duuuudes~ 😎✌️
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Current top 5 songs? (Or all time top 5 if you prefer!)
all time would be SOOO HARD TOO HARD lemme do right now songs, lemme see. in no particular order......
Bianca Stratford by BB Bean
nothing's working out by meiyo
microdose by John craigie
grumpy old man by remi wolf
free by Florence + the machine
BONUS: Romeo by jungle (feat bas) - this one's been in the rank long enough it would probably go on the all time list
#m2a#m2answers#music#thank youuu listening to these is making my happy#even if i listen to them every fucking day lol
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CONFESSIONS 18
Sometimes we go places expecting them to be somewhere and sometime else, and so often they turn out otherwise. There are many strange destinations in Gor. Strangest of all are those we expect to be the same as they once were.
My Master surprised me with a journey yesterday. He told me to dress warmly, which is no easy feat to a slave girl whose entire wardrobe consists of silk ribbons or silk strings. I went with the ribbons. I was, as one would expect, underdressed.
This became even more the case when we arrived at our destination, Sais, and my Master, in His displeasure with my clothes, cut some of them off and fed some to a verr. As ingenious as His solutions are, He could not make Sais different from what it is.
Sais has seen better days. After a casual encounter with a passing Master, we were led into the dilapidated village by a peculiar slave girl. She had a pet verr, which was odd on many levels, and also spoke in a third person way that was even more bizarre than “this girl” does. Namely, she used her full name, like a vain Ubar might, and no articles, like a caveman might. The effect added to how perplexing the village was.
My Master received a gift of a honey jar from her, literally, and made polite conversation. He was in a grandiloquent mood, which is always delightful, as He has a magnificent way with words. He seemed especially interested in my dreams, which tend to be very weird and vivid.
After the slave girl, we entertained a Free Woman seamstress. My Master used the opportunity to praise my body considerably, which was nice, by talking of clothes that the woman might make me. This was all during a time at an inn where urts were lurking nearby.
That was kind of symbolic of the entire experience; my Master making the best of a pestilential situation. Some may think, at first glance, that He is grumpy. Perhaps even He does. But He is one of the most positive minded Men I’ve ever encountered, with both a determination and an aptitude for making something special out of rude material.
As much as He tried to make it otherwise, Sais was still a sow’s ear. I believe He wanted to give me one of the great adventures that He and i discussed Him having with Daisy. It was great, only in that His presence made it so.
That’s the best we can do with the destinations in our lives. They are never just what we expect, and with that comes a necessary element of disappointment. To paraphrase the old saying of Vosk River mercenaries, “the first casualty is always the plan.” Yet so long as we accept the happiness that does exist, we lose nothing at all by losing our expectations, except for illusions.
I have no illusions about the man my Master is. He has shown that He cares for me greatly. I hope that He sees the same quality in me. So long as He is with me, no matter where we go, we wind up where we want to be.
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A Man Called Otto (2022, dir. Marc Forster) - review by Rookie-Critic
TW: suicide
A Man Called Otto had its moments, but tended to be a little too sickly sweet for its own good (when it wasn't being way darker than advertised). I'll admit that I was on the side saying that I wasn't sure I could believe Tom Hanks as a grumpy old man, but for all of the film's faults, the believability of Hanks' Otto Anderson is not one of them. As much as we as an internet collective have corralled Hanks into the role of "America's Dad," and as much as Hollywood has begun to cast Hanks for roles that genuinely don't suit him (excuse me while I glare at Baz Luhrmann), we tend to forget that Hanks is a phenomenal actor that got as famous as he is now for being consistently great, not just in his more typecast-aligning roles like Big and Sleepless in Seattle, but also for movies like Road to Perdition and Philadelphia. Also, let's be honest, we all love him as Woody in Toy Story, and he's basically playing a giant buzzkill (pun absolutely intended) for a majority of the first film in that franchise. I actually found most of the film's cast to be quite endearing, especially Mariana Treviño, who practically steals the film from Hanks, which in and of itself is an impressive feat. As I've said in previous reviews, I love when we get to see fairly unknown actors play big roles in movies alongside the legacy names. The big name draws in the crowd and then they get to see this new (or new to the average moviegoer, anyway) face thrive. I hope to see Treviño in bigger and better things in the future because she was a delight in this.
The biggest detriment to the film is that it really tends to get caught up in itself a lot. I'm actually quite a sucker for sentiment in a film and get swept up very easily in a movie's emotional manipulation if I'm even remotely enjoying it, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I did shed some tears while watching A Man Called Otto, but there were moments that, had they been dialed back about 75%, would have been so much more effective. There are multiple montages set to the most over-the-top, Josh Groban-esque music (which I'm seeing now was mostly written by Hanks' wife, singer and fellow actor Rita Wilson) that absolutely kill the emotional momentum of the film. It is so unbelievably heavy-handed and saccharine that I think I was audibly groaning by the third time it happened. I really can't stress how hilariously atrocious these sequences are. There's also quite a few scenes of these incredibly out of touch depictions of the younger generation that seem to be plaguing a decent handful of films in the recent months, including one sequence involving a train station that is laughably obtuse, and the way the young people in that scene behave ends up being beneficial to Otto later in the film anyway, so I'm not really sure what the commentary is supposed to be, and I don't think the film does either. I find it odd that these sequences are even in the movie for how amazingly progressive a lot of the film seems to be.
Lastly, I'd like to talk about something I mentioned at the beginning of this review about the film being way darker than advertised. I would also like to take this moment to issue a trigger warning (TW: suicide) for those that might have PTSD or anxiety about this topic. This film presents itself in its advertising as a wholesome family drama where a young, friendly family melts the heart of the neighborhood grump. What this movie is really about is a suicidal man learning to find his reason for living again. I won't divulge the details of why for people who don't want those plot spoilers, but I feel it is heavily important to know going into this film that suicide is a heavily felt presence throughout the entirety of the film, and I think I counted five suicide attempts that are shown on screen (it could be six, but I remember at least five). I'm not against the depiction of suicide or suicidal thoughts in film, I think it's an incredibly important topic to discuss openly and without shame or judgment, but I also think that it is paramount for a piece of media to clearly state when it is going to depict something as potentially traumatizing (or re-traumatizing) as that on screen. When the first attempt happens, the film is barely 15 minutes into its runtime, and I was so jarred by it that I almost thought I had somehow walked into the wrong theater, that this had to be some other grumpy Tom Hanks movie and not the fun-loving, cheery looking one whose trailer got "The End of the Line" by The Traveling Wilburys stuck in my head for weeks. I don't know if I can hold a fault of the trailer against the film itself, but I was quite angry with the film's marketing for not giving some kind of indication of what the film and its tone actually were.
I'm having a hard time thinking of what score to give A Man Called Otto, because for all of the things that were objectively bad about the film, I did find myself getting emotional on more than one occasion. The film's sentimentality gets in its own way a lot, but when it's able to find a good balance between heart and drama it really sings, so I'd say there's a little more to like about it on the whole.
Score: 6/10.
Currently only in theaters.
#A Man Called Otto#Marc Forster#Tom Hanks#Mariana Treviño#Manuel Garcia-Rulfo#Rachel Keller#Truman Hanks#Alessandra Perez#Cameron Britton#Christiana Montoya#Juanita Jennings#Emonie Ellison#Peter Lawson Jones#Lavel Schley#Mack Bayda#Kelly Lamor Wilson#Mike Birbiglia#Kailey Hyman#film review#movie review#2022 films#tw: suicide
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Miss Fisher’s Murder Mystery || Winston and Dave
Timing: Immediately after Murder They Wrote and Murder He Thought
Parties: @danetobelieve & @seizethecarpe
Summary: When Winston hears a murder, they come to investigate, leaving both of them a little worse for the wear.
Winston scanned the surface of the water, their thoughts frantic. They didn’t know how they knew. They weren’t really sure what these thoughts in their head were. But they felt foreign. They felt different. They definitely didn’t belong to Winston that much was sure. It was almost as if they were oil on the surface of the water, similar but not enough to be indistinguishable. “Hello?” honestly, they weren’t sure what they were doing but they knew that they had to look for something, they got up the flashlight app before immediately closing it. It was the middle of the day. Sighing, they kicked off their shoes and socks, and rolled up their jeans before gingerly stepping into the muddy lake that was Dark Score. Cringing as the dirt oozed between their toes, Winston shuddered, this had better be worth it.
Gorged on Ahuixotl flesh, Dave was pretty happy and unself aware as he swam through bloodsoaked water. They’d finished their fight in an unobtrusive part of the lake, nowhere Dave expected to run into people. He just couldn’t stand to stay in the water much longer - fresh water itched at skin that was built to be surrounded by salt, and while being in the water was glorious, Dave had other things to do. Slowly, he exhaled, his body rearranging as his skin split open. He was sure for some it hurt, but for him it was as natural as stretching. Dave stood up in the fortunately waist high, bloody water. He didn’t hear the other person at first, nor see them as his eyes adjusted to the sunny light, but he felt them step in the water, clear as anything. Shit. “Who’s there?”
Honestly. Winston wasn’t expecting to see Dave. Topless. For a man his age he was in pretty good shape. That wasn’t the reason for Winston’s slack jaw but honestly they couldn’t really help but try and look anywhere but at Dave. “Oh…” Winston’s mind was racing. What was Dave doing here and why was he topless. Winston guesses he could just be swimming. But swimming through water that was bloody was a weird coincidence when Winston had thought those things. Felt them in their mind. Here he was stood in water. “It’s just me, uh Winston, we met the other day at the … station.” Winston swallowed trying to decide how to play this. They really hoped Dave wasn’t a dangerous criminal or just dangerous. He seemed chill.
Dave rubbed his hand over his eyes, knowing full well that wouldn’t help them adjust. But yeah, shit, it was Winston. They were standing at the edge of the lake, jeans rolled up, their shoes abandoned on the rocky shore. In truth, they were a little far away for Dave to hear them all too great nor lipread as easily, but the kid looked slack jawed and deeply uncomfortable, for whatever reason, and Dave would try to be real respectful of that, so he was staying right where he was. In bloody water. Without even thinking about it, he scratched at his scarred up chest. “Yeah, uh, kid, why’re you here? Recreational side’a the lake’s that way.”
Frowning. Winston was vividly aware of the fact that they didn’t have a god reason to be here. They could always pull the police business card but they didn’t have their ID or any justifiable reason to be here. But it also seemed somewhat ironic that they were the one who was being questioned at this moment. Taking a deep breath. Winston took a step forward before immediately regretting it. Bloody water wasn’t going to do their jeans any good and Winston wasn’t sure what getting wet would do for them right now. “I … I was walking and I saw all this blood,” Winston replied in a half shout, “... kind of couldn’t help but wonder what went on. You don’t know why there is like … a LOT of blood… do you?”
“Really? You were walking through that thicket over there with all the trash that’s washed up for the hell of it?” Dave eyed them shrewdly. They were lying, clear as day, but Dave was about to do just the same. He wasn’t about to tell some cop associate that he’d killed an ancient species that pretended to sound like crying babies and used their hand shaped tail to drag all sortsa people to a watery grave? That he still had a bit of said species stuck between his teeth? “I’m fishing, Dane. S’all. Nothin’ for you to worry about.”
Still unable to hear Dave all that well, Winston made the executive decision to press onwards into the lake, rolling their jeans up as far as they would go. “Sure let’s go with that,” Winston replied in agreement with a squint of their eyes, was there something weird about Dave’s teeth. Taking a few steps forward, they couldn’t help but frown. Swallowing their apprehension at the situation, Winston was about to say something when they spotted what were unmistakably not human teeth. Oh! He’s a selkie. Winston thought, it made sense really.
Dave frowned even more deeply, stopping his idle scratch to warn Winston away with his hands. That was too late, though, as he heard them speak, calling him a selkie. His calm, if annoyed demeanor dissipated as he surged through the water up to Winston, faster than he was sure most expected of him these days. He grabbed the front of their shirt and twisted it in his fist as he growled deeply. “What did you just call me?” He asked, his sharp canines only inches away from Winston’s face.
Winston was pretty sure that they hadn’t said anything. In fact, they were certain that they hadn’t even moved their lips. Yet within an astoundingly short amount of time, Winston was being grabbed by the collar of their shirt and dragged forward. “Hey, I didn’t say … I didn’t call you anything,” Winston did their best to protest. But Dave was clearly strong. Why was it that all Selkie’s that Winston had met could kick their ass up and down the sidewalk? Aside from Skye of course. But it would be nice to just have someone who wasn’t so much more … physical then them. It was instinctive, Winston couldn’t help it. It was like the first time they’d used magic against that Hell Hound, there was the pull in their stomach, the heat in the palm, a flash of blinding light and the smouldering smell of skin and hair burning. Winston wasn’t sure exactly what they had done.
“Like hell you didn’t. You sai-“ Dave couldn't finished that thought, as hot air burst from Winston's hand, throwing Dave back. Kid shoulda thought that one through, Dave didn't let go in time, so as he fell in the water, so did the Spellcaster. Because of fucking course the kid's a Spellcaster. Plunging in the water was a relief for the burnt skin and chest hair, gave him a chance to let go and get some distance between them, and think. Like how he hadn't seen Winston's lips move a moment ago. Like how the last few days all he'd heard was these random thoughts about computers he knew nothing about. Dave came up from the water with his hands up - neither way was he up for fighting a Spellcaster without an ambush. "Alright, alright. You didn't say anything, but you thought it, right? Like you been thinking about rams and computers and stuff. You play with mental magic, Winston?"
“Fuck no,” Winston replied with a frown, “I mean, I have played with mental magic before, but only because this lake had a giant squid demon in it and a cult trying to end the world, but I ended up with a third eye from it,” Winston wasn’t sure why they showed Dave their third eye in their hand, they hoped that it would be enough to impress upon Dave how unwilling to fuck around with this shit they were. “I don’t know what’s going on but I’m pretty sure I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, like the fact that you just killed someone or … I guess something as a seal? I don’t know, but I promise I don’t want to hurt you and I really don’t like sharing your thoughts, it’s fucking deafening and I can’t focus on my ram and computers and stuff when you’re constantly making that hmm noise. Like I get that you’re stoic but jesus dude you don’t have to be so gruff ALL the time.” Winston hoped that they didn’t have to blast Dave again. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I know you just killed something and I’m really hoping it wasn’t something that you shouldn’t of killed.”
“Giant squid demon? Nearly sorry I missed it,” Dave said gruffly, touching at his reddened, slightly singed chest, trying to see how bad it was. Nothing he couldn’t handle, nothing needing a doctor. “You pack one hell of a punch, kid.” He almost felt bad for pulling them into the water with him. He narrowed his eyes as Dane ranted. “Alright, alright, I get your point. I ain’t that gruff. Although why you’re always thinking about goats is beyond me.” Hmmmm. “Shit, kid, I killed exactly what I needed to. She was a feisty one. Hold on now,” He rummaged around in the water, until he felt the limb, and lifted the ahuixotl outta the water. Bloody water ran from his flesh where he’d been eaten at its muscles. “I hunt ‘em. That’s all you thought you heard. Real noble of you to run out here to try to save her, although kinda ill advised.”
“Yeah, giant squid demon from the underdark that we lovingly named Squidward, had to carry out a big magic ritual to get everything in the town to a point where we could actually deal with it. Not terrifying in anyway.” Winston bit their lip and looked at the wound on Dave’s chest. “Hey, I’m …. I’m sorry I blasted you, I guess this was just one weird coincidence marred by supernatural involvement.” Pursing their lips, Winston swallowed away the guilt that they were feeling. After all if you were going to grab people by the scruff of their neck then you had to consider that this might happen. “Oh, damn, fuck, now I feel dumb… I guess thanks for killing something else that would’ve liked to hold my head under the water and … well probably eat my bones or some shit afterwards.” Winston felt better, at least Dave was cool, but they guessed that meant that there were other things for them to contend with now. “I can keep a secret, about … the whole selkie thing, if you want. I mean, like, I won’t tell anyone and actually, I know a few selkies in town already that are pretty cool so you’re in good company.”
“Wait, Squidward was the demon? Why were people grieve- Oh” Dave smacked his hand against his head. He’d totally been had by them girls online when he came to town. Right. Good to know. “Sounds like that was one hell of an experience.” He waved away Winston’s apology entirely, unconcerned. “I’ve had worse,” Which was a statement he could rather extensively back up, considering the long, lacerating scars running across his whole body. This’d peel like a sunburn and get it all over with. “They cry like babies so you come to the water thinking you’re about to discover Moses in a wicker basket, and drag you under. Lot’sa things like this in this town, I’m learning.” Winston would keep Dave’s secret if he wanted? Dave huffed, standing up properly in the water now he didn’t need to worry about a spellcaster sizzling half the lake before he could get away. “Shouldn’t need to ask, kid. Keeping secrets should be the default, same as I wouldn’t tell nobody that you’re a spell caster.”
“Oh, yeah, that was probably ironic grieving, or they were part of the angry cult that was trying to let Squidward consume all of White Crest or whatever it’s nefarious plan actually was.” Winston was glad that there weren’t any creepy eye cultists left, they were a real buzz kill. Looking Dave over, Winston was sure that they probably had had worse. There was a gruffness to him that suggested that he had plenty of experience dealing with some of the more terrifying aspects of the supernatural. “Oh, well that would’ve absolutely worked on me, I’ll remember to take any crying noises with a pinch of salt with the recognition that it is probably some awful supernatural creature that is intent on turning me into their dinner. But yeah, this town is a literal hell hole in terms of terrible creatures that want to kill you. Don’t even get me started on the mime problem because honestly fuck mimes. Though I am glad that we didn’t have a carnival that was a murder carnival, I was kind of waiting for that one to specifically break bad to be honest.” Winston nodded, that was a dumb move on their part. “Sorry, sorry, I know, I’m kind of new to all of this and sometimes forget the ‘etiquette’ and the rules that everyone else seems to know about.”
“Mime problem?” Dave repeated, looking at Winston skeptically, wondering if they were yanking his chain. If they weren’t, he wasn’t too sure he wanted to know, either. “Not a carnival guy, but I heard some shit went down there too.” Some weird mirrors, the drowning tea cup ride, the rollercoaster that left people petrified. “That’s the big one. So, Dane, how do we get outta each other’s heads? I’m figuring it ain’t as easy as trying to be quiet. Because I really don’t need to hear all your goat and I-eight-six-b-three or whatever now.” Leaving his pelt underwater for now, not wanting to reveal it to the spellcaster, Dave walked out of the lake, to where he’d left his clothes hidden in the undergrowth, forgetting all sorts of human decency conventions as he did.
“You probably wouldn’t believe me even if I told you, but my honest advice would just be to leave if you see a mime, or kill it. I’m not convinced that they’re actually people.” Winston had the image of themselves dressed in mime gear burned into their retinas. It was a sight that they doubted they would ever get rid of. “I mean, it certainly wasn’t the most mundane of carnivals, but I don’t think that anyone died.” At least no one that Winston had heard of. But they could not help but remember the hall of mirrors. Winston was about to start suggesting various ideas that they had to potentially cure this and all of the research that they were planning to do and all of the things that they could try when Dave just walked over to the lake shore entirely naked. “Uh………” Winston wasn’t sure that they would have blushed that hard ever again if they tried to, “I’ll just look the other way I guess.”
“Right, escape the mimes, watch out for giant squidward demons and ladies making fun of it online, and be careful at the carnivals.” Dave nodded, taking it all in. “I think I got it.” He was waiting for Winston’s reply when they panicked, and Dave remembered that not everyone needed to see his own dangly bits. “I thought you said you knew other selkies. How do you think we get into our seal skin, kid? With jorts on?” Dave rolled his eyes, entirely unashamed at he pulled his boxers and shorts on, where the fabric struggled against his damp skin. He only wore clothes nowadays that would dry fast, and considering he was hot no matter the weather, they’d dry fast too. Once he had his shirt on, he emerged from the thicket to look at Winston again. Even if they’d looked away, their skin was still flushed deeply. Dave chortled. “So the brain untangling thing. Thoughts?”
“Dude, White Crest really is fucked, hearing you say it out loud like that. I don’t know how we’re not all dead.” Winston wasn’t sure what it was. Was it the shock of everything? Maybe. It was the fact that there was an older man that was naked from head to toe in front of their very eyes. Maybe it was the fact that this naked man was actually a shape shifter that could slip into their seal skin at will and change form. Surreal didn’t seem to cover it. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to do it in such a blase manner, but you know your confidence is really impressive. So you’ve got that going for you.” Winston needed to disconnect their mind from this person so that they could curl up and die. Swallowing their embarrassment at their sheer awkwardness, Winston sighed. “Uh, well, mental magic is really … finicky and I don’t really know enough to be confident in using it, but I have access to a really big library of magical knowledge and then there’s also the internet, and there are tonnes of people that might be able to help. I guess we should probably try by working out what is actually causing this and then we can work out how we stop it. Did you have a weird dream a few nights ago?”
“Confidence? Kid, I’m just too old to give a fuck,” Dave replied with a bemused snort. At least he was kind enough to not comment on their embarrassment. He looked out to the lake, where we water had grown clearer. Or rather, the blood had diluted so much it weren’t so noticeable anymore, at least not to him. The fish’d had a grand time with the remains of the ahuixiotl. “Right, right. You hit the google and I’ll hit good old fashioned paper. Not that I’d have the foggiest where to start.” He looked up at them. “I have a whole bunch’a weird dreams, constantly. Had one about them hungry sands recently, and woke up with bloody knees. Now I think about it, you were in it. That what you mean?”
“Isn’t that the same thing?” Winston replied somewhat glibly. “God I really wish we could just google a fix to this, that would be ideal.” Unfortunately something told Winston that wasn’t the way that this was going to work. It was fine. Coffee would help them through it. “Yeah, exactly. The incredibly terrifying dream where my parents were devoured by the … what did you call it … hungry sands?” Winston had to admit that as phrases for names and places went that was pretty good. “Well, yeah, that was what I meant. I remember you were in it and I also woke up with fairly bloody fingers, like they’d been rubbed raw by something even though I was just in my bed. It was incredibly disconcerting.” Winston swallowed and frowned.
Hmmmmm. “Wonder if it’s the same shit.” Dave rubbed the back of his head, shaking the water out of his hair. That dream had held nightmares of his too. “Anyhow, Dane, I got shit to do. This spellcaster stuff is way above my paygrade. Not looking to play Nancy Drew when I got to get paid for my real job. Why don’t you head off now, and we’ll talk about this some other time.” There was something else behind his words too. No way was he showing a near stranger his pelt, but he couldn’t leave it in the water either.
Raising an eyebrow, Winston swallowed and nodded gently. “I got it, you’ve not got time to extricate me from your head right now, gotta make that bread or whatever.” Why did Winston always have to do everything themselves? Sighing, they turned and waded to the edge of the lake. The cuffs off their jeans soaking wet despite the fact that they had been rolled up, obviously hadn’t made much of a difference.
“If neither of us’s got an answer as to the how, then I don’t see how we can get our brains untangled right now,” Dave replied with a shrug. “And I ain’t signing up to having my head messed with until we know more.” What did Winston expect, a buddy cop movie? Dave sighed, internally and externally. Realising there was a whole chance they would hear that. He crossed his arms, looking back out to the lake as he learnt against a tree. The sooner they were gone, the better.
As Winston turned to walk away, they couldn’t help but think that a buddy cop movie would’ve been nice, Dave might not know it yet, but Winston was now determined to make it happen.
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Wild Blue Yonder
My second fic for @thewitcherbog's Horror and the Wild week!
Suggested and Beta by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde. It got a bit out of hand.
Have 5k of Geraskier bookshop AU feat. Fake Dating
CW: mentions of sub/dom vibes but nothing explicit
_
The bell over the shop rang just as Geralt was starting to wind down, not five minutes before closing. He was already in a bad mood: the finances for the store were looking dire and he was having to face the fact something needed to change to get more customers into the shop. So really the last thing he wanted right now was a shitty customer at the end of the day who probably just wanted to browse the comic books without buying anything.
Customers that came in at the very end of the day were always the worst, and Geralt just didn’t have the patience.
“We’re closing soon,” he grumbled as he peered around the store, not seeing where the arsehole had snuck off too, but he could hear the trill of someone singing behind the shelves.
Just what he needed.
“Oh, oh, right, yeah, that’s- that’s not a problem. I know what I want!” The voice called back, completely ignoring the growl in Geralt’s tone.
Idiot.
“Be quick.”
“Right, yes, well maybe you can… oh…”
Piercing blue eyes peered around the bookshelf and the man trailed off, face blushing red as he chewed on his bottom lip, which was unbelievably distracting. The brunet ran his hands through his hair, knocking bits of flour onto the wooden floor, and Geralt’s gaze was torn away from the man’s face to his clothes, covered in bits of batter and nearly white from the flour. How the fuck had that not been the first thing he noticed? The man was a complete mess.
“Maybe I can?”
The man’s jaw snapped shut and he smiled sheepishly. “Help?” he squeaked then cleared his throat. “I mean, umm, hi. I’m looking for the music books? I- I umm… I just started blowing- playing! Playing the flute. Ah fuck.”
Geralt chuckled and rolled his eyes. “This way.”
He led the budding musician through the shelves until they reached the back of the shop. The first thing he noticed was that the man seemed incapable of silence.
“I started on piano when I was a kid, my parents enforced it really, good for the old brain cells, but well… Teenagers? I wanted to be cool. So I picked up guitar instead,” the man winked, wiggling his fingers. “Good for practicing my fingering.”
Geralt groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and he let out a slow heavy breath. Suddenly he regretted the Pride flag at the back of the store. He’d like to go one day without some twink hitting on him.
Although, judging by the thickness in this man’s arms and thighs, and the peak of chest hair from just under his t-shirt… maybe he wasn’t so much of a twink as his general aesthetic gave out.
Not that Geralt was looking.
He wasn’t.
“Just choose the damn book,” he muttered, louder than he meant to.
“Alright, grumpy!” Came the reply and the man swatted Geralt on the arm. “I still have ten minutes, right?”
“Still need to pay.”
“Yes, yes. I know. I’m Jaskier by the way.”
“Geralt,” he replied without thinking.
Fuck. That was only going to encourage the- Jaskier.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier winked and plucked a beginner’s flute book from the shelf. “Shall we?” He gestured towards the till near the front of the store.
Then he brushed past Geralt without even looking at him. The scent of chamomile and lavender wafted in the air as he passed and Geralt found himself watching Jaskier as he strutted to the till, the curve of his arse in the far too tight jeans. He had to admit, even if just to himself, that he’d been wrong about his last minute customer. Despite the noise and the whirlwind that was Jaskier… he’d been alright.
And Geralt would get to leave nearly on time, safe in the knowledge that he probably wouldn’t have to meet the handsome stranger again.
Shit.
____
Over the next week Geralt found his thoughts drifting back to soft blue eyes and the scent of chamomile and lavender. He fell asleep more than once wondering how Jaskier would fit in his arms, the weight of him against his chest. Whenever the bell of the shop chimed his eyes would flash to the door, only to be disappointed when a parent dragged their child through the door, or a lone teenager would shuffle in, head down and timid. The worst part was he found himself gazing out the shop window, watching the crowds go past to see if he could spot that mop of ruffled brown hair.
He was a mess.
It was really fucking frustrating. Geralt had never really felt this attached to anyone in a while, and he put it down to not getting laid in a while, but a few phone calls and a rather spectacular evening with Yennefer and her strap later… he was still caught up on Jaskier. Worse still, was that Yen had made it very clear that she wouldn’t be used as a substitute for his mysterious bookshop crush.
“You’re not-” he’d tried to protest, as he rested between her thighs.
“Don’t lie to me, Geralt, this has been fun but we stopped hooking up for a reason. Out with it!” her tone had left no room for argument and he’d always been useless beneath the heat of her violet eyes so he’d told her everything.
She’d scoffed and told him not to come back unless he had Jaskier’s number in his phone.
So now, he was sulking, pouting as he gazed out the window helplessly. The bookshop was dead, and he hadn’t had a single customer all morning, just dust floating under the lights and hustle and bustle of pedestrians outside, all wrapped up in scarves and beanies. The plan of the day was to think of a solid idea to draw more customers inside the store, or failing that work out what stock they could afford to switch out to be more appealing to the masses.
But he kept coming up blank.
It was useless.
He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, pulling it from the tie before dropping his head on the counter. The store had been his father’s and Geralt had always been so excited to take over, more so than any of his brothers, but he was failing. He was crashing and burning where he’d been so desperate to succeed. The bookshop was falling apart, drowning in a sea of debt and Geralt was barely staying afloat.
Fuck, he needed help.
The bell chimed.
“Ah Geralt!” Jaskier called, looking like an angel as he swept into the store. His beanie was hiding the shock of hair underneath but Geralt noticed a stray… blue curl?
“Jaskier,” he greeted with a grunt, pretending that he wasn’t completely over the moon to see the man. “You dyed your hair.”
Jaskier’s fingers reached up to touch the curl from underneath the hat, his cheeks were rosy from the cold and his eyes… god, his eyes were even more beautiful than Geralt remembered. He looked cosy wrapped up in a thick woolen coat and scarf that was really too warm even for the chill outside. The idiot looked like he was going out in the snow, not a quick jaunt to the bookstore.
It was… endearing, and Geralt found himself a little lost in the blinding presence that was Jaskier.
“You noticed?” Jaskier asked with a bashful smile.
“I- yeah,” Geralt felt his own cheeks heat up, and he swore gently under his breath as he turned around, hoping Jaskier wouldn’t notice and busying himself with a book behind the counter.
“Awww, you sap. Been thinking about me?”
“No.”
“Rude!” Jaskier laughed in mock outrage. “You could have lied, Geralt.”
Geralt turned back around to find Jaskier pouting at him, one hand resting on his hip. “Are you here to buy books or flirt?” he grumbled.
“Wasn’t flirting.”
With a scoff, Geralt just rolled his eyes. They both knew that wasn’t quite true.
“Oh fine, you caught me. I was flirting, but actually I’m here for a new cookbook. My dearest, darlingest mother is coming to town and is under the illusion that I can function like an actual adult. So… you know… I’m making dinner?” Jaskier looked less than pleased by this, and Geralt couldn’t help but laugh, remembering the mess of flour that had covered the man on his first visit to the shop.
“Stay clear of flour,” he shot back without even thinking.
“Oh, ha ha!” Jaskier glared and then very slowly in the silence that fell between them, his face lit up. “You have been thinking about me!”
“Shit, no.”
“Yes, you have!”
“Really haven’t.”
But it was too late and Geralt knew it. His own smile gave him away, and despite all the stress he was under, he didn’t feel so bad with Jaskier. It was easy to talk to him, to open up, more than anyone Geralt had ever met before even if he’d known them for years. There were books resting on the shelves, lost and forgotten, that weaved brilliantly stories of soulmates, love at first sight and hopeless romantics. It was all a fairytale, an unachievable goal for Geralt.
Until Jaskier, no… this time Geralt was done for, and he knew it.
“Did you need help?” he asked before he’d even realised.
“W-what?” Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he stared at Geralt as if he’d grown a second head.
“Umm… finding the book,” Geralt explained quickly, but he had a feeling that Jaskier knew that wasn’t exactly what he’d meant.
Fuck. Two meetings with the man and he was already offering to help make dinner for his parents.
“Right, yes… the book. In the bookshop, the bookshop that we’re in…” Jaskier muttered, pulling his beanie off and scraping his fingers through the bright blue hair. It was wild and beautiful and suited Jaskier more than Geralt had expected… he realised he’d been rather attached to the mousy brown, but Jaskier was colourful in his personality… everything that Geralt was not.
_
“Do you have his number yet?” Yen’s voice drawled over the phone as Geralt sat in the dark, hunched over his office desk, the tiny lamp barely lighting up his books and he was squinting through his glasses just to see the words.
He didn’t reply to Yen, instead just glaring at his phone. It had been a few days since the dinner incident as he now referred to it, and he hadn’t seen Jaskier since… which was fine. People didn’t buy books that often, and there was no need for Jaskier to come to the shop, but Geralt couldn’t help but hope that he might see him out in the wild.
Not that he really went out much, but there was always food shopping, or picking up dog treats for his mutt.
He was just fucking desperate.
“Geralt, I know you’re not ignoring me.”
“What do you want me to say, Yen?” he sighed, pitching the bridge of his nose. He knew she was having far too much fun tormenting him with this, and he had no idea how to respond. It was just a stranger in his book shop. He saw strangers in the shop everyday, not as many as he’d like but they were there.
Jaskier shouldn’t have been special.
But he was.
With his mermaid hair and his heartwarming smile that had somehow wormed his way into Geralt’s heart in mere minutes. It was really fucking inconvenient, especially now Yen had decided to make it her business. Sometimes he wondered whether she had anything better to do… clearly not, but maybe this was just her way of showing she cared. They’d never been very good at that in the past, arguing with every breath and then fucking like rabbits as if that would hide the cracks in the glass heart of their relationship.
He groaned again and jabbed at his phone, hanging up on her and switching the mobile off. It was late and he was tired… well… it wasn’t that late but the winter nights were long and the dark made him weary.
God, he hadn’t even had dinner yet.
“Fuck,” he sighed and move into the tiny kitchen.
Living above the bookshop had its perks, the non-existent commute for one, but the living space was shit. He barely had room to move about in the kitchen, let alone prep food the way he used to always love in the old family home. So these days he lived off take-aways and ready-meals, processed shit that he didn’t really enjoy but it was better than nothing. Before he could wallow in his own pity, the bookshop phone rang downstairs.
That was… strange.
The phone barely rang during the store’s opening hours, and normally it was Geralt ringing his suppliers and not the other way round. His curiosity got the better of him and he padded downstairs, wiping his eyes to try and fight the exhaustion that was drowning him.
“Kaer Morhen Books,” he grumbled into the phone.
“Geralt?” the lilting voice from his dreams asked, sounding panicked even just on the one word.
It took Geralt’s brain a minute to process, despite the fact he’d recognised the voice instantly. “Jaskier?”
“Umm… yes? Yes, hello. Look, sorry to bother you, but I- I…” Jaskier stammered, and Geralt could imagine the mess of probably now faded blue hair and his fingers tugged at the strands, his teeth catching on his bottom lip.
“Spit it out, Jask.”
“Did you mean it?”
Geralt frowned, perching on the counter and pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Mean what?”
“Help me? With- with dinner? The recipe seemed so simple and- and… fucking bollocks, Geralt I can’t do this!”Jaskier seemed to be struggling to breathe, the words stuck in his throat.
“Hey, Jaskier, Jask… it’s okay. You’re okay. I can help. Where do you live?”
Jaskier rattled off an address nearby, within walking distance of the book shop. So, Geralt scooped up Roach, the small dog yapping as it licked his face, snapping at his fingers when Geralt pulled a treat from his pocket. Then he pulled on his winter coat, grimacing at the feel of poo bags in his pockets, and he headed out into the cold.
To Jaskier.
The wind bit against his skin, making his nose run and he buried his hands under his armpits to keep warm, keeping his head down as he walked. Despite it only being the end of autumn, Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if it started to snow soon. The temperature was a lot colder than he expected. Shadows moved around him in the dark as the carlight flew by, giving his simple small town a mysteriously dark vibe that Geralt wasn’t sure he liked. If a werewolf dived out from the alleyway then it wouldn’t exactly surprise him. He was beginning to feel like he’d walked straight into a movie with his whirlwind romance and the misty clouds half covering the moon.
Luckily it wasn’t hard to find Jaskier’s house, a small flat barely ten minutes away from where Geralt lived. The lights were on and even from the road, Geralt could hear music blasting from the walls. He approached the house, his heart fluttering in his chest, and knocked on the door.
When Jaskier appeared, throwing the door open, Geralt’s nerves all but vanished. Sure, it had been a strange request, but he couldn’t be happier that he’d said yes. Jaskier was wearing a thick dark grey knitted jumper with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, looking unbearably cuddly, and Geralt could already smell the now familiar scent of chamomile and lavender, which was starting to smell more and more like home.
“You came!” Jaskier laughed half manically, there were several blue plasters wrapped around his fingers and tomato splattered on his face from his battle in the kitchen, not that he seemed to care or notice as he flung his arms around Geralt.
And they were hugging.
The soft whine that hummed in his throat was almost embarrassing but Jaskier’s embrace was tighter and warmer than he’d been expecting and he melted against the smaller man’s chest. “I said I would,” he replied softly, barely resisting the urge to press a kiss to the pale blue hair that tickled his chin.
“Thank fuck, I’m a mess.”
“You’re my mess,” Geralt shot back without thinking. “I mean…. Fuck!”
“Oh, ho, ho! No take backs! I’m yours now. No getting rid of me that easily, darling. Now let’s get inside. There’s no telling what might be out there.”
“Could be wolves,” Geralt murmured, remembering his thoughts from the walk.
“Oooh, or demons!”
“Or… vampires?”
Jaskier laughed, stepping back with a wild grin. “Robot vampires!”
Snorting, Geralt shook his head. “There’s no such thing.”
“Oh, oh and vampires exist do they?”
Geralt shrugged.
“Hypocrite!” Jaskier cried, prodding Geralt in the chest.
“Dinner?” he suggested, before Jaskier could completely derail the conversation. He had a feeling that Jaskier was very good at that; a bundle of energy that would keep Geralt on his toes.
“Dinner!”
The recipe Jaskier had chosen was, in fact, laughably easy; a pasta sauce that would be made in advance and then reheated later at the right time. The man just had negative skill points in the kitchen, not helped by the fluffy white cat that was covered in tomato sauce and was seemingly taking great pleasure in marching on the carpet, leaving small paw prints all over the threads.
“Pegasus, you little shit!” Jaskier cursed and pulled the hissing cat from the carpet, holding the mess of fur at arm’s length with a grimace on his face. “Fucking cock balls.”
“You sort the cat, I’ll sort dinner. When are your parents getting here?”
Jaskier glanced at his watch that looked like it was upside down on his wrist. “Umm… ten minutes?”
“Shit. Hurry up, and clean yourself up whilst you’re at it.”
Still trying to corral the spitting beast in his hands, Jaskier winked. “Yes sir.”
Fuck.
That was… unexpected, but that single word changed the atmosphere in the room, going from a panicked banter to a charged electricity that burned against Geralt’s skin. He swallowed, almost forgetting his own task as he took a step towards Jaskier, like a moth to a flame. Suddenly, images of having Jaskier pinned underneath him flooded his mind, the taste of his sweat on Geralt’s tongue as he worshipped Jaskier’s body, taking him apart bit by bit. It was clear that Jaskier was a bit of a mess, and he was practically begging for someone to help clear his mind.
A surge of lust drove him forward, and the mere idea that someone else may try and lay claim to Jaskier… it lit a fire beneath him that Geralt had thought was long dead.
The cat meowed and hissed loudly, scratching at Jaskier’s bare arms and leaving bloody lines against his skin. It was enough to pull Geralt from his trance, and he blinked, watching as Jaskier tried to subdue his wild feline.
This was why Geralt had a dog. Roach might be a stubborn little shit, but at least she was loyal. Pegasus appeared to have no such attachment to its owner and Jaskier was paying the price.
“You bastard, fucking little piece of shit! That hurt!”
“Alright?”
Jaskier smiled faintly, looking honestly exhausted but Geralt couldn’t blame him. Parents coming to visit was tiring at the best of times, but it was even worse with very limited cooking skills and a cat that seemed to be making everything worse.
“I’ve got this,” Geralt insisted, watching as Jaskier carried the howling monster from the room as he muttered curses under his breath.
With that out of the way, Geralt dumped his coat and rolled up his own sleeves. It was time to get to work. He settled into a familiar routine, chopping onions, crushing garlic and scouring Jaskier’s kitchen for the spare tins of tomato that he thankfully had. There weren’t any stock cubes but Geralt just threw in some extra salt and pepper to make up for it, and luckily Jaskier had purchased some fresh herbs for the occasion. Soon enough the kitchen smelled like Italy and not burnt shit.
Geralt was in his element.
There was a simplicity in collecting the ingredients and making something functional out of seemingly nothing.
“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier cried when he re-entered the room. “Geralt that smells… amazing. You’re magic! Truly, brilliant.”
Blushing, Geralt turned around, still stirring the sauce absentmindedly with one hand. Jaskier looked… really fucking good. His woollen jumper, replaced with a shirt and waistcoat, the buttons left undone and revealing a mat of dark chest hair. He was still wearing the same tight jeans, but he’d washed the mess from his face and his blue hair was artfully tousled. It was a really good look on him, and Geralt realised his crush on the man was spiralling out of control- wild and free.
The counters were still a bit of a mess but at least the food would be ready, and with a couple of minutes spare. They could clean up the splatters of red from all over the room together, the carpet was a lost cause but Jaskier had a coffee table that would cover the stains nicely. The pair of them were just lifting it up when the doorbell rang.
“Not bad for ten minutes, eh?” Jaskier laughed with a wink.
“Hmm.”
It really was quite impressive. The onions were quite as soft as Geralt would like them, but the sauce could be kept on a low simmer for a while until they were ready to eat, which would solve that problem. Jaskier and his kitchen looked presentable, and the cat had been distracted upstairs… for now.
Jaskier skipped to the door, and Geralt suddenly realised he had no way of escaping. Jaskier’s parents would no doubt question why he was here, and saying he’d met Jaskier in the bookshop twice before inviting himself around the man’s house was… a little stalkerish; no matter how much it was true.
“Fuck,” he muttered, glancing around the room. The window was an option but it wasn’t very big and Jaskier’s parents would have to blind not to notice Geralt’s lumbering form clambering out into the dark. They would probably think he was a burglar or something.
“Julian!” a shrill female voice called.
“Mother,” came Jaskier’s reply. “Jaskier is fine, thanks.”
“Nonsense, what sort of a name is ‘Jaskier’. Julian was fine for sixteen years, there’s no reason to change it now.”
Rage bloomed in Geralt’s chest. He’d known Jaskier’s mother for approximately thirty seconds but he was ready to commit murder. The complete lack of disrespect was infuriating. Jaskier was an adult, functional or not, and deserved to be referred to the name he choose in his own fucking house. All plans of escape fled Geralt’s mind and with a low snarl he approached the hallway.
“Everything alright, Jask?”
“Ah, yes… fine, thank you, Geralt.”
Jaskier’s mother and father started, peering at Geralt suspiciously, one pair of familiar blue eyes piercing but cold. “And who’s this?” the older man said, looking remarkably like Jaskier but with greyer hair, brunet rather than faded blue, and green eyes.
“Geralt he’s… umm….”
“I’m his boyfriend,” Geralt answered quickly before he could change his mind. His gaze flicked to Jaskier who let out a soft sigh before nodding. “Thought it was about time we meet.”
“Julian, I really don’t-”
“His name is Jaskier,” Geralt growled.
“Geralt, please,” Jaskier whimpered, seeming smaller than Geralt had ever seen him. Gone was the cocky flirt from the bookshop, or even the chaotic whirlwind he’d seen in the kitchen with the innuendos and the coy smiles.
It was heartbreaking.
So Geralt did want any good fake-boyfriend did, and pulled Jaskier into a tight hug, brushing his lips against the man’s cheeks. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, love,” Jaskier murmured back, “actually… thank you?”
Dinner was a tense affair. Jaskier’s parents didn’t say anything pleasant, only scathing remarks about every aspect of Jaskier’s life right down to the pasta which quickly died when Jaskier mumbled that Geralt had made it, not him. It seemed to be a battle, verbal sparring as parents and son hurled bricks at each other, with Geralt stuck in the middle, building a wall to hide behind with every stone.
The best part was that he got to hold Jaskier’s hand throughout dinner. His palms were sweating and Jaskier’s hand felt too hot in his, but he held him tight, unwilling to let go. After this night, he might never get another chance.
“And whilst we’re at it, Ju-”
Geralt’s glare cut Mr Pankratz off before he could finish the name.
“Jaskier, why on earth have you dyed your hair blue?”
The water glass nearly shattered beneath his fingers, but Jaskier just giggled.
“Funny story actually. I was trying to go blond, but instead of a blond toner I picked up blue, and I thought… why not?” Jaskier grinned, squeezing Geralt’s hand a little tighter.
“Blond?”
“Oh… yeah, I was bored.”
“Huh.”
Geralt tried to picture Jaskier with blond hair, but he couldn’t quite manage it, even with fading blue. He decided he’d like to see it- hell he’d probably like to see whatever Jaskier decided to do with his hair.
“You like that?” Jaskier teased, brushing his lips against Geralt’s cheek. “Well, for you, darling, I would have gone so much blonder.”
He blushed again, and without thinking he pulled Jaskier into a chaste kiss; forgetting this was all an elaborate charade. Thankfully, Jaskier only froze for a moment before smiling into the kiss.
His parents did not look best impressed, but Geralt didn’t care. He’d kissed Jaskier, the man he hadn’t been able to get out of his head since he first left the bookshop. He might not have his number… yet, but Yen would be pleased with this turn of events, and if he was being truly honest- he was proud of himself too.
It had been a long time since he had put himself out there, and Jaskier had met him halfway.
By the time Jaskier’s parents finally left, grumpy and sour faced, Geralt was completely smitten with his fake-boyfriend. He’d learnt a little about Jaskier’s childhood, mostly through the poisonous words of his parents, but the strength and light that Jaskier seemed to have regardless of the pain he’d faced, made Geralt admire him a whole lot more. He discovered that Jaskier worked as a marketing assistant at the local theatre, but his real passion was music, something that Geralt had already guessed from their first meeting.
In turn, Geralt had admitted quietly that the bookshop wasn’t doing so well and he was struggling to draw in customers. Instead of looking pitiful, Jaskier’s face had lit up and he had immediately started throwing out ideas to help. He was so engaging and brilliant and bright, that Geralt had almost forgotten about the two bastards sitting opposite them.
They’d tried to shut Jaskier down, but Geralt had told them to shut up. Jaskier’s idea had been brilliant; a coffee machine in the corner, and maybe some late night live music or poetry slams, any way to create a community in the shop that was sorely lacking.
The idea of Jaskier sat in the large bay window, his guitar resting on his lap as he cooed softly, a string of fairy lights behind his head, and looking like a dream come true. At the end of his set he would meet Geralt’s gaze and smile softly, and Geralt would see the love he felt reflected back in those gorgeous blue eyes.
“Ah, well, this has been lovely,” Jaskier drawled as he practically shoved his parents through the door. “Until next year, and no I’m not coming round for Christmas, once a year is enough I think, good bye!” The door slammed. “And good riddance.”
Geralt chuckled, but the smile was quickly thrown from his face as Jaskier spun around to face him, a smirk playing on his lips. One finger poked Geralt in the chest and the other hand rested on his hip.
“You kissed me!”
Ah fuck.
“Hmm.”
“And whilst we’re at it… boyfriend??”
Geralt swallowed, wondering if he could really make the jump, but the hope that shone in Jaskier’s eyes gave him the confidence to hold his heart out and bare his soul.
He shrugged. “If you’d like?”
“Fuck, shit… I mean- yes. Please. Thank you?”
Geralt laughed, and then they were kissing again. Jaskier’s arms were flung around his neck and he moaned against Geralt’s lips. He was hot, needy… so fucking desperate.
“Christ,” Geralt groaned, the word muffled by the lips against his. “You’ve been driving me mad.”
That only made Jaskier giggle. “You said you hadn’t thought about me? You liar!”
“Hmm.”
“Oh no! No, no, no. None of that, mister-”
“Sir,” Geralt cut him off, raising an eyebrow at Jaskier and delighting in the way he flailed at the word.
“That!” he cried, “was a joke… unless?”
The only answer Jaskier got was another blistering kiss as they fell through the house towards the bedroom, tearing the clothes off as they went. They temporarily got the giggles when Jaskier’s socks got caught as he tried to rip them off, but it only made it better, more real… more human.
By the time they were curled up together, panting and covered in sweat as they tried to catch their breath, Geralt was certain he was half in love. They hadn’t played, too lost in each other-
“Found in each other,” Jaskier had murmured when Geralt mentioned it.
Too wrapped up in each other to bother with negotiations, but Geralt had whispered a few small orders in Jaskier’s ear and god, he’d submitted so easily.
But now they were holding each other tight, still caught up under the covers and hiding away from the world.
“Geralt?” Jaskier said softly, barely above a whisper.
“Hmm?”
“Let’s just stay here - hiding.”
It would be so easy to agree, but he’d already been gone longer than he’d wanted.
Shit.
Roach.
“I can’t… my dog.”
“Oh,” Jaskier whined.
“I’ll need my boyfriend’s number?” Geralt asked, pressing a kiss to Jaskier’s hair.
That lured a melodic laugh out of him, and Jaskier’s arms wrapped tighter around Geralt’s chest. “You drive a hard bargain, boyfriend.”
“Hmm.”
-
With Jaskier’s suggestions, over the next year the bookshop really bloomed. The poetry and music nights were a resounding success, and there was even a book club that met once a week. Jaskier had quit his day job at the theatre and now worked full time with Geralt, manning the coffee machine and making all sorts of increasingly elaborate drinks and helping out on the shop floor.
Geralt stayed behind the till, and dealt with the finances and suppliers just like he always had. Only at the end of the day he didn’t trudge up the stairs to the small apartment that barely fit both him and Roach, no he’d take Jaskier’s hand and they’d walk out together back to their home, with Pegasus tucked into his cat carrier.
The bastard actually made a welcome addition to the bookshop, and was far less destructive than when Jaskier had left him at home. The customers loved him, and he made lunch breaks a lot less stressful, purring in Geralt’s lap as he thumbed through whatever biography had taken his fancy.
And then Geralt’s own fantasy came true as Jaskier played, a soft and romantic ballad that captivated the audience. His eyes fluttered shut as he sang, but met Geralt’s gaze as the last few chords of the guitar faded from the shop.
Geralt hummed and crossed the room to hold his boyfriend in his arms, not caring that they were flirting in front of everyone in the bookshop that they owned.
“How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do too,” he murmured into Jaskier’s ear and pulled him into a kiss beneath the fairy lights.
-
Taglist: @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @comfyswitcherblanketfort, @fontegagrilledcheese, @dani-dandelino, @dapandapod @damnbert @officerjennie @feraljaskier @geralt-of-riviass @kueble @gilberik @llamasdumpsterfire @wherethewordsare @trickstermoose67 @alllthequeenshorses @skai6
#the witcher#geraskier#geralt/jaskier#geralt of rivia#jaskier#jaskier pankratz#fake dating#wolfie's witcher writing
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kinktober day 3 -- lingerie @gallavichthings
the devil in disguise
ian has a deep appreciation for mickey's halloween costume.
beta read by @mishervellous ❤️
words: 1.3k
"when you said you wanted to do a couples costume, i thought you meant with me!" ian rifled through his closet, trying to put together a last minute costume while mickey changed in the bathroom into his costume so he could coordinate with fucking tami. ian could have been an angel, but no, that simply wouldn't do.
to be fair, ian should have seen this coming after lip decided to put in an ungodly amount of extra hours at the shop. tamietti's went hard for halloween, and this year was not going to be an exception. he cursed lip for inadvertently stealing his husband away from him for the night.
this was impossible. ian banged his head against the wall.
"you die out there, firecrotch?" mickey called, voice strained.
ian was thoroughly confused with whatever elaborate feat was going on behind the closed door.
"no," he called, hopeless. he tried again, "you need any help in there?" ian reached for the knob only to find it locked. motherfucker.
"aye no peeking!"
"are you almost done? i need your help," ian sat back on their bed, sinking into their mattress and tapping his fingertips along this thigh.
he couldn't decipher all of mickey's mutterings through the wooden barrier, but the 'jesus fucking christ fucking gallagher' was unmissable.
ian grinned devilishly. he was always in the mood for a grumpy mick.
mickey unlocked the door with a click and stepped out in a red blur, discarding his old clothes on the floor in his corner of their room as if ian's world wasn't currently being absolutely rocked merely three feet away.
it took mickey a moment to realize that his normally chatty husband had yet to say a word. shit. maybe ian didn't like this kind of thing.
he bit the bullet and faced ian head on, only to meet a love-shook caricature of his husband -- wide eyes, blushing cheeks, and mouth agape, damn near salivating.
oh.
mickey smirked and flexed his arms not so subtly, "what d'ya think?"
ian unfroze from his trance, caught. he groaned and flopped back onto the bed, lifting his head and peeking at mickey between his fingers, "you're going to fucking kill me."
because there mickey was. clad in a fucking red, silk, corset cut just for his body. the red ribbons crossing in the front, carving his figure in all the right angles.
after a moment of deep appreciation and an unexpected awakening, ian allowed his eyes to scan the rest of mickey, which wasn't bearing any better for his blood pressure.
sheer, fingerless red gloves were stretched across mickey's hands, faded knuckle tattoos still visible. the glint of his ring seemed more prominent all of a sudden.
ian's eyes made their way up his arm, chest, neck. a sequined devil horn nestled into his dark hair and reflecting the low light of their bedroom lamp, giving mickey a literal red aura.
enjoying the show, mickey spun around, biting his lip. ian continued to ogle.
red fishnet stockings covered mickey's muscled thighs under almost-too-short-not-short-enough leather shorts embroidered with orange flames. pointed wings attached with some elaborate belting situation between his shoulder blades, and an arrow tail slinking around his hips.
"i think this is hell," ian closed his eyes, willing the blood to go back to his brain by the sheer power of force.
mickey chuckled darkly. "that so? ian gallagher on the naughty list?"
ian cracked an eye open, "what are you, fuckin' santa claus now?"
mickey smacked ian's stomach as he sat on the bed next to his idiot of a partner, "fuck off, ho."
"don't you mean ho ho ho?" ian couldn't resist.
"and we're done," mickey made to stand up but ian caught him by the arm, sliding his hand down until he reached the hem of the glove, inching his own fingertips underneath and sliding against his skin. his voice went deeper in the way that he knew made mickey melt.
"lemme make a deal with the devil?"
he tugged and pulled mickey onto his lap so that he was straddling him, knees digging into the soft mattress.
"what does the mere mortal have in mind?" mickey teased, voice light but eyes dark.
"kiss me and i won't tear your costume to shreds," ian ran his hand up mickey's back, catching on the wings clumsily before tracing his silk clad skin back down to his thighs. "you're looking hot as hell." the statement carried heat behind it.
mickey's breathing picked up as he considered the weight of his options.
ian grinned, trapped under mickey's control, but waiting patiently for the signal he knew he would be allowed.
a breath. two. three.
"c'mere," mickey leaned.
ian crashed his lips against mickey's own, his mouth a fire hot cinnamon. ian groaned. did mickey really have a mint for this? motherfucker thought of everything.
ian traced his hands over the mickey's chest as they kissed, following the lines of silky ribbon crossing back and forth. back and forth. lower. lower. lower.
the textures of silk and leather and skin mixing together under his hands, grasping at whatever he could reach.
mickey's weight pinned him to the mattress, helpless.
he felt fingers caressing his hair as his mouth felt warmer as they melted into each other.
what felt like an eternity in damnation later, mickey broke them apart. they took a moment to assess their equally disheveled appearances while fighting to catch their breath behind a laugh.
ian made a grab to pull mickey back in, certain he would comply, but mickey was quicker.
he rolled off with a grunt, tossing a half empty water bottle at ian's still body and nudging his leg when he didn't respond.
"you ready to go?"
"go where?" ian picked up the water bottle and idly traced its shape with his fingers.
a flick. "the party? tamietti's? your sister-in-law? ring any bells?"
ian sighed as he nestled further into their bed, "i still don't have a costume."
mickey waltzed towards their dresser, a slight unbalance in his step, and flung an old flannel on the bed.
"lumberjack. you've already got the scruff, thank you very much." he added quiety, grinning lopsidedly to himself. he was genuinely so proud he had convinced ian to abandon the clean cut army man look and to not shave for a few days to see what would happen and dear god was he enjoying the consequences.
ian finally sat up and chugged the rest of water bottle in one go before setting on their nightstand. it took a moment for mickey's words to register, but when they did -- yeah.
"you're a genius."
ian leaned up to grab mickey again, but he side stepped ian's attempts and straightened his outfit. "no sir, you gotta get changed. we need to leave like... ten minutes ago. tami's gonna have my ass if we're any later."
"tami better not go anywhere near that ass," ian grumbled, but complying with mickey's requests.
"don't worry, logger, you're the only wood for me."
"oh mickey, now that was bad."
mickey grinned as he shimmied in his satin outfit, smoothing over the wrinkles that ian had put there mere minutes before.
ian could easily stare at this image of mickey all night. as he was buttoning up his flannel, he made a mental note to buy mickey some more red.
"i think red is your color, mick." ian let slip, shoving his wallet in his pocket.
"yeah?" mickey grinned, "you too, stud," he ruffled ian's hair and pushed him out the door.
#kinktober#gallavich#gallavich kinktober#gallavich kinktober 2021#GK2021#my posts#mickey milkovich#ian gallagher#shameless#mickey x tami
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Pretty Smitten | Kuroo Tetsurou
Harry Potter x Haikyuu!!
Summary ◇ it's like second nature for Slytherin's beater Kuroo to always find something to tease you about, until his best friends Bokuto and Tsukishima make him realize it might hide something more.
Genre ◇ hogwarts au! Slytherin! Cocky Kuroo x Hufflepuff f!reader, mentions of Bokuto, Tsukishima, Hinata, Oikawa, Daichi etc...
◇ ◇ ◇
Thwap!
You duck out of the way just in time to evade the bludger that zips across your head, so close you feel it brush against your ear as your broom zooms you out of the way. The wind isn't making it easier as it tugs at your clothes, weighing you down while you keep on flying around the court with eyes as alert as a Hawk's for the disappearing snitch.
In truth, you don't really enjoy Quidditch all that much. It was merely due to the captain of the Hufflepuff Team, Daichi, who cornered you upon having accidentally caught sight of your flying skills one winter afternoon. He'd grown to be one of your close friends though, which always makea it hard to pull out and whenever you do mention that maybe it is time for the team to take in a new Seeker, he'd instantly change the subject.
And you wouldn't have been so adamant on trying to force your way out of the team. If not for a particular raven-haired Slytherin Beater.
Speaking of the devil. There he is, that familiar crooked smirk dangling upon his lips as he lazily flies over to you.
"Y/N, aren't you a little laid back!?" He calls out and you roll your eyes, pushing yourself forward to fly as past away as possible.
Too late. He catches up quickly enough, grin widening as he continues, "I know we said it's a practice match but come on, could've put some more heart into it."
Throwing him a scowl that would've scalded anyone but himself, you accelerate your speed. As expected, he follows, "so I heard from Kenma that you failed your Potions midterm. Not that I'm surprised really, you never really had a talent for--"
"How is that any of your business?" You mutter, adamantly fixing your gaze on Daichi so as not to accidentally push Kuroo off his broom.
What a nice thought indeed.
"Aha, that's where I come in. Fortunately for you, I am quite adept at Potions see. I could teach you," from your peripheral you notice him wriggle his brows and you roll your eyes, "for free."
Your knuckles turn white as they tighten around your broom handle.
"No thanks."
"You sure wanna pass this up?" He suddenly leans a little closer, smirk widening, "you could totally exploit this sexy brain of mine."
"What do you want from me, Kuroo?"
"Nothing much, just your dear old grumpy self," he replies cheerfully.
Your scowl deepens. But the offer is tempting. Potions is the only subject that you cannot get your head around and while you are aware of Kuro’s ginormous, self-inflated ego, you also know from a few of his classmates -- Daichi and Suga-- that he is quite the prodigy at Potions.
But you don’t want to give him that satisfaction. You don’t want to give him more reason to get cocky and start another round of endless teasing where you’ll never hear the end of it.
So you just press your lips together and mumble out a, "we'll see."
"Atta girl," and he waves a goodbye, but not before reaching over to ruffle your hair until your ponytail is barely hanging together, and you yelp in anger, having half a mind to really push him from his broom this time only to see him fly away just in time, that crooked chesire cat smile on his face.
Idiot.
◇ ◇ ◇
"Hey hey hey,” Kuroo knows without looking that this voice belongs to none other than one of his two best friends, Bokuto Koutarou. It was a surprise really, that him and Bokuto had stuck together throughout all these years, considering that Bokuto was a Gryffindor, and him a Slytherin.
An arm drops onto his shoulder, his best friend’s grey strands tickling Kuroo’s cheek, “I saw Y/N today. She looked cute.”
The Slytherin Beater snorted, “Cute is an overstatement.”
“Ah Kuroo, seems you’re as oblivious as always,” Bokuto let out a heavy sigh as he plopped himself onto the library bench next to him, “do you realize that you spend more time in the library just so that you can see her?”
“Bullshit. I come to the library to study,” the raven-haired man gestures towards his Defence of Dark Arts book currently sprawled out before him, which causes Bokuto’s eyebrow to raise in curiosity, “like hell you’re actually studying. Now tell me,” he leans closer, voice dropping to a murmur, “do you like her?”
Kuroo’s brain actually backfires. He bursts out laughing, “what?!” he exclaims so loudly that it earns the pair a few glares thrown their way, to which they silently bow their heads in apology.
Bokuto turns back to him, “Wow, Tsukki was right. You are thicker than you seem to be, despite that brain of yours.”
"What?” Kuro frowns as he protests, “I’m not thick. And--you guys talk about me behind my back?!”
“Of course we do,” Bokuto rolls his eyes as if it’s obvious before settling his chin into his palm, “especially since we’re curious as to why you enjoy spending your time with that little Hufflepuff mouse of yours--”
“She’s not mine, and I definitely don’t enjoy spending time with her,” Kuroo can feel the heat travel all the way to his face, blossoming through his cheeks as embarrassment curls in his stomach, “I just--”
“You just like seeing her face.”
Both men turn towards the new alto to see the Ravenclaw prefect, Tsukishima, pull out a chair to sit himself opposite Kuroo before taking out his piece of parchment and ink.
“Not you too?” Kuroo groans, head dropping to his book.
“Also, you might want to stop flirting with her while we’re on the Quidditch pitch,” Tsukishima continues nonchalantly without looking at him, long fingers turning through the pages to find the section he’s looking for, “I almost got my arm torn off by that Bludger, no thanks to you.”
"I wasn’t flirting with her.”
“I don’t care. Just don’t do it during practice. It’s annoying,” the blonde smirked at Kuroo’s frustrated expression.
“I was only asking whether she’d like some help with potions. Kenma told me she failed her last midterm. I was trying to be nice.”
“Oh? Not because you actually wanted to spend more time alone with her?” Bokuto wriggled his brows suggestively, cackling like a crow when Kuroo responded by shoving his shoulder, “no! I don’t even see her that way. She’s not my type--”
“Oya oya oya, speaking of the devil,” Bokuto’s hand plonks onto Kuroo’s hair before twisting it in the direction of the library entrance. A second later, you appear looking a little disgruntled, if not mad.
Realizing that Bokuto’s hand is still weaved into his hair, Kuroo bats it away with more violence than necessary, which gets him a pointed look from Tsukishima’s golden orbs that he responds with a scowl of his own. But before he can voice out how annoyingly invested the pair seemed to be in his love life, he feels a hand tapping him on his shoulder.
Surprise causes him to frown at the sight of you.
“If it isn’t my dear little Hufflepuff,” Kuroo’s mouth widens in that signature smirk while crossing his arms over his chest, “what can I help you with?”
“Kenma told me that you’d be here,” you say.
“Mhm?”
“And I--” you bite your lip before averting your eyes and something in Kuroo stirs because goddamn he’s quite excited about what will fall from your mouth next. But he keeps his silence, waiting for you to battle it out with your pride, “I was wondering whether the offer still stands. For--tu--tutoring.”
Your cheeks are blazing red at this point but Kuroo finds it somewhat adorable, what with the fact that you are dressed in an oversized Hufflepuff sweater that basically swallowa you whole.
He forces his expression into a somewhat amused smirk, a little coy, just enough for you to get flustered, “what made you change your mind?”
“My grades.”
In the background, Tsukishima snorts. You flush a deeper red if that’s even possible.
“Alright, sure,” Kuroo grins up at you, mischief swimming in those golden feline orbs, “but on one condition.”
“I thought you said it was free.”
“I decided it’d be more fun to have you indebted to me.”
Letting out a heavy sigh, you press your lips together, “what then? What do you want?”
“I’ll let you know the details later,” he grins at you, “still haven’t figured it out yet.”
A few beats of silence pass between the two of you as you consider his offer, and he can certainly see the way your own pride measures up against your desperation, the way your orbs display your uneasiness as clearly as crystal water. It’s impossible for you to lie, but Kuroo hasn’t noticed how endearing it is, up until now.
And then, he hears Bokuto’s voice in the back of his mind:
Do you like her?
Kuroo blinks. Of course he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
He doesn’t. He does not.
Right?
“Fine,” your voice brings him out of his inner turmoil, “we have a deal.”
◇ ◇ ◇
If someone had ever told you that one day you’d be sitting by Kuroo’s side to spend more than three hours sticking your noses into your Potion’s back, and actually enjoying it, you would’ve burst out laughing in their faces.
But that is exactly what you are doing right now. And no one is laughing. Definitely not you.
To be fair, Kuroo is not that bad of a tutor. He actually gets pretty into it once he calms down from his teasing high, which is quite a surprising feat considering that you have never seen him serious whenever you were around. It’s always about pricking you with his comments, saying stuff that will get under your skin just enough to get a reaction out of you.
The first time you met up in the library, you had mentally prepared yourself so that you wouldn’t murder him halfway into the lesson. Your Hufflepuff counterparts had definitely been surprised, not just because your personalities and houses couldn’t have been more different if they tried, but because Kuroo had a reputation of a playful troublemaker, the kind that you usually stayed away from at all costs.
“Are you sure this isn’t a trap, Y/N?” Your other close friend and classmate, Nishinoya Yu, had lifted his knife into the air with an aggressive swipe, “I can come with you and stab him if ever he does something--”
“Noya-kun I think I can stab him myself,” you reassured him through a mouthful of cereal.
“Kuroo’s not all that bad,” Daichi had suggested tentatively, though you’d snorted in response. Yeah right, not all that bad? That was a word you could not associate with Kuroo Tetsurou.
“If he pisses you off too much just ignore him,” Kenma had simply stated when you sought out his point of view on the matter, which seemed quite logical, a suggestion that you definitely took into consideration as you’d marched towards the library doors.
But all your efforts had been in vain. Sure, Kuroo had been his usual teasing self, ruffling your hair too many times that you could count and constantly snickering into his palm whenever you got your potions and terms all mixed up. But to your ultimate surprise, he’d been quite attentive to your needs and constantly fact-checked whether you’d understood the concept before continuing his explanation. More often times than none, you had found yourself gazing at his features as a realization settled deep into your mind; that Kuroo wasn’t all that bad looking after all, and that there was some kind of charm to his messy bed of raven hair and that smirk that seemed to infuriate you to no end.
He’d even accompany you back to your dorm whenever you ended late albeit the fact that Slytherin and Hufflepuff weren’t that far apart. The chivalry touched you, despite it coming from the Slytherin Beater.
“Who would’ve thought the almighty Kuroo would be walking me to my door,” you comment on the first night it happens as you reach the said portrait leading to the Hufflepuff dormitory, “how surprisingly romantic of you.”
You look up at him and your eyes can’t help but trace the span of his shoulders, taking note of his height and-- has he always been this tall? He’s a giant in comparison to your tiny figure of one hundred and sixty-three centimetres.
He merely chortles at your statement, “please, romance comes naturally to me,” he gestures his hands with extravagance to prove his point.
"Sure, big guy. If reciting off science puns at me counts as being romantic.”
“Oi! They’re funny okay!? You laughed.”
“Yeah, ‘cause you’re pitiful.”
He shoves your head to the side playfully in response and you yelp, hands flying up to fix your ponytail for the nth time that night, “stop touching my head or I might think it’s your fetish or something.”
“Even if it was, yours would be the last I’d be attracted to.”
You chuckle, “try harder Kuroo. Your comebacks suck.”
“Oh shut up midget.”
“Who’re you calling a midget?!”
Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been spending a lot of time in Kuroo’s presence that he grows on you, or maybe it’s the fact that he might not be as bad as you thought he was. But it turns out to be more comfortable to spend time hanging out with him, familiar in ways and yet exciting, thrilling. He’s a jungle of adrenaline and filled to the brim with jokes that are more lame than funny, and yet there’s some kind of comfort to know that he isn’t as unapproachable as you first thought him out to be.
True to his word, Kuroo is quite brilliant at potions, and quite brilliant at sharing his knowledge in a way that actually makes sense. His natural flair of leadership and sympathetic understanding -- minus the jokes and the incessant teasing -- makes you wonder why he hasn’t been chosen as Quidditch Captain.
When you ask your question out loud during one of your study sessions, Kuroo only smirks, “are you complimenting me?”
“Just answer the damn question, Kuroo.”
"Jeez, aren’t you a little aggressive for a Hufflepuff?” he peeks at you from behind his raven bangs, “or should I call you..huffie puffie?”
You flick his forehead and he yelps, “lame,” you deadpan, “answer me.”
"They did ask me,” he says, leaning back to stretch out his long arms while you try not to focus on the sinewy veins of his forearms, “I refused.”
His answer surprises you, “Why?”
“Because Oikawa wanted it. You know him right?”
Who didn’t know of Oikawa? He’s a walking prince, struts around Hogwarts like its’ his private garden with his endless servants in tow.
"That’s it? That’s your reason?”
“He’s my friend. Wouldn’t be fair to him if I stole the limelight.”
“...are you sure you’re not secretly a Hufflepuff?”
“You mean a huffie puffie?”
He ducks just in time to avoid your slap, cackling like crazy until one of the prefects swat you with one of their books upon passing by.
“No, I assure you I’m not a huffie puffie,” his smirk mellows out into a grin before his chin comes to a rest upon his palm, “and plus, I’m not cute enough to be in that house.”
Heat springs through your cheeks. Is that a compliment or an insult? You’re not quite sure.
You decide to play along anyway, “yeah you’re right. You’re not cute enough.”
That does nothing to deter him however, as he keeps gazing down at you with those molten gold pupils half-closed with tenderness, almost lazy, which makes you feel like squirming in your seat.
“What?” you bark out as you look away, “stop staring. You’re acting like a creep.”
Chuckling and clearly not flustered by the fact that you’ve just caught him red-handed, the raven-haired Slytherin leans even closer, relishing in the way your face turns a bright scarlet. You lean away, slightly panicked, "wh--what do you think you’re doing?!”
“Oh nothing, just...” and with movements too quick to comprehend, you feel his fingers gently brushing against a stray strand of hair previously stuck to your lip.
“So, as I was saying before you interrupted me,” and Kuroo proceeds to drone on about the equal amount of hair needed for the polyjuice potion, not minding the fact that you are practically burning as red as a fire engine while your heart seems to be racing like you’ve just an entire lap around the Quidditch field.
I’m tired, you chant inwardly, I’m just tired.
There’s no way your heart can be beating for someone like Kuroo Tetsurou.
◇ ◇ ◇
Kuroo is in deep shit and he knows it.
To be fair, he wouldn’t have been if not for an annoyingly stubborn Gryffindor paired with the dry sarcasm of a particular Ravenclaw that would constantly pass him subtle remarks about the indefinite amount of time he seems to be spending with a certain Hufflepuff Seeker.
“Did you tell her yet? When are you gonna tell her?! Can we be there?! Can we--” Kuroo groans and hides his face a little deeper in his arms at the breakfast table, knowing full well that reprimanding his friend will only cause the latter to double his volume. And granted, Kuroo does not want an audience, not this morning. Especially not when he is minutes away from facing you in the Quidditch field.
And as if that’s not bad enough, Tsukishima has this obnoxious smirk on his face ever since he’s joined them at the table, eating his cereal with unreasonable gusto for someone who finds eating troublesome.
"I’m surprised you figured it out this fast,” the said blonde had stated last evening as the trio sat, huddled around a makeshift magic fire in the Boy’s Prefect Bathroom. It had become their usual hiding spot over the years.
Kuroo had opted for sipping onto his beer as he recalled the particular moment where he’d felt like he was floating on cloud nine. It had been that very morning itself where you had just gotten back your Potions test and without an ounce of hesitation, had bounded up to the Slytherin table during lunchtime, for once not minding the fact that there were a troop of Slytherins engulfing the raven-haired man on each side.
“Kuroo!” You’d shouted with such enthusiasm that your voice was almost unrecognizable, “Kuroo!”
But Kuroo had recognized it, turning just in time to catch your excited figure in his arms. Surprise flitted over his face at your bold move but it didn’t seem like you cared at that particular moment, practically squealing while shoving your test in his face.
“I did it! I got a B minus! That’s the best I’ve ever done in Potions so far!” you babbled in excitement, “you should’ve seen Snape’s face!”
“Uh--that’s great, Y/N--” good lord, his hands had slipped onto your waist, right along your hip bone and his breathing stuttered at how close you were, “g--good job.”
At this point you had probably realized your compromising position but before you could scramble out, a teasing alto rung through the air:
"Got yourself a girlfriend, Tetsurou?"
Both your heads snapped at none other than Oikawa, whose eyebrows were raised in amusement, a smirk painted over his lips. You pinked as Kuroo barked out, "shut it, Oikawa."
"S--Sorry," you moved away so quickly that coldness swooped in through Kuroo's fingers, though he wished he could pull you right back.
And that, that had been like a slap in the face. Cold reality rushing through him as his heart throbbed.
Uh oh.
"Don't be such a wimp Kuroo," Bokuto'a alto brings him back to reality and Kuroo blinks, faced with none other than his best friend's grin, "where'd your confidence go now that you actually have a chance?!"
Kuroo doesn't bother replying. It's hard enough to face you without melting in a puddle of heat, how is he supposed to confess at this rate?
As the trio make their way to the Quidditch pitch, the Slytherin Beater’s eyes easily found you amidst the swarm of Green and Mustard yellow and he raised his hand up in mock salute, heart melting slightly at the shy nod you replied him with before looking away, cheeks flushed.
So cute.
“Now now, Tetsu-chan, not the time to be flirting with your girlfriend,” he feels a hand slap him on his back a little too harshly, causing him to throw a scowl at his Captain. Oikawa merely pulls out his tongue in response, before motioning him to take his place.
He forces your face out of his mind while climbing onto his broom, momentarily closing his eyes to focus on the cheerful chants coming from the bleachers. The Quaffle is thrown into the air, followed by the whistle.
He kicks off so quickly from the ground that he’s a mere blur of silver and emerald zipping through the air, bat at the ready while his eyes dart back and forth. Kuroo spots a Bludger heading straight for one of his chasers and quickly veering off in the same direction, he swings his bat back, lunges forward--
Thwap!
The distant ache reveberates through Kuroo’s arm, but the smirk of satisfaction is obvious on his face. He proceeds onwards, forcing himself to keep his concentration on the balls so that his thoughts aren’t invaded by your presence, by the way you smile, or the blush on your cheeks--
Focus! He shakes his head. He swears he could use a good bashing on the head. He’ll never hear the end of it with Oikawa if he doesn’t do his job right.
A yell tears through the pitch.
“Watch out!”
Kuroo’s head whips around on instinct. He doesn’t even have time to react as he spots the Bludger flying from the other end of the pitch and heading straight towards--
You.
No. Blood drains from Kuroo’s face. He doesn’t think, doesn’t even second-guess his movements. He pushes forward onto his broom against his protesting muscles, against the voices that shout out his name in protest as the entire pitch turns into a cacophony of horrified yells and cries to get out of the way, get out of the way before--
A sickening crunch is heard and horror strikes him straight in the chest the moment he sees your body crumble, lips parting in a silent scream.
Kuroo’s heart shatters into a million pieces.
◇ ◇ ◇
Warm.
It’s so warm. You don’t feel like waking up. But instinct kicks in and you groan, an echo of pain jogging through every muscle in your body. It feels like you’ve just been run over by a truck and forcing your eyelids to peel open against the drowsiness, it takes a few seconds for you to register that this isn’t your room.
Fresh laundry sheets, the sound of disinfectant in the air...This is no doubt the Hospital Wing.
You try to sit up but a muffled groan echoes through your throat when pain flares up on your right side. Jesus christ, you did really get run over by a truck.
That’s when your gaze suddenly falls upon a mop of dark raven hair, feel the warmth of a calloused palm holding onto your free hand.
And suddenly, you’re wide awake.
With the dark emerald cape hanging off his back and with his tousled bird’s nest of hair, it’s almost shockingly obvious that this is Kuroo. His face is currently buried in his other arm, which gives you the courage to reach out to gently rest your hand upon his head.
As if sensing your movements, the said raven-haired Slytherin lets out a soft groan of his own. Your hand instantly whips away and you watch, with a mixture of confusion and surprise, as his golden orbs blink away the sleep before they slowly come to focus.
His breath hitches as you murmur out, “hey?”
"Y--You’re awake?” He murmurs so low you barely make sense of his words, and before you can respond, the man has grabbed hold of your hands before bringing them to his lips, “Jesus christ, Y/N, I--I seriously thought--”
Your pulse only quickens, heart tugging with emotion when you catch sight of the wetness in Kuroo’s golden orbs. What?
What is going on?
This Kuroo is not the one you are used to, looking like he’s unraveling at your very feet. In any normal circumstances, you would’ve definitely taken this advantage to tease him mercilessly, but that’s clearly impossible. You can’t do that to him, not when he’s gazing down at you like you’re worth a thousand paintings.
The thought makes your heart quiver in your chest. Warmth curls through your stomach.
“What...” you rasp out, “happened?”
“A bludger. Came out of nowhere. Headmaster thinks it got tweaked somehow, some stupid prank,” he is searching your eyes, reading your facial expressions like he’s worried you might drop dead any second.
“Kuroo," you call him gently, “I’m fine.”
And to your utmost surprise, the raven-haired Slytherin’s eyes flutter towards your hands, lips peppering a rain of kisses along your knuckles. They leave a trail of heat that causes your breath to hitch in the back of your throat, “Wha--”
“I thought I'd lost you, Y/N. Don't--" his voice chokes up, gaze running up to lock with yours, "don't ever scare me lile that. Fuck, kitten, what would I have done--"
Your own breath hitches. Your eyes grow wide.
Kuroo seems to realize the same thing, hand slapping over his mouth in shock.
"What--" you splutter out. Suddenly, all your pain is forgotten, "did you call me?"
Kuroo swallows thickly as the silence settles between you two.
Then, he breaths in slow and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before opening them back to lock eyes with yours.
What swims in his golden feline pupils makes your breath catch.
"I like you," he murmurs, "I've liked you for a while but was too much of a coward to say it. And I guess-- seeing you so hurt scared me. I don't think I've ever been so scared before."
Your skin is basically burning at this point, a volcano of feelings bursting inside you that makes you want to crawl into a hole and hide there forever. But Kuroo's eyes, despite having the slightest tinge of blush littering his cheeks, is still latched onto your features. Unwavering, probing. Questioning.
He likes you.
He likes you.
"You mean--like? As a--"
"More than a friend," he simply says.
Your mouth opens into a small silent Oh.
You don't know what to say. What to do.
Because in truth, if you really have to be honest with yourself, your heart definitely beats for this particular Slytherin. For god knows whatever reason, he’s been on your mind and in your heart for a few weeks now.
You wish to say something. Anything. But your throat is dry. You cough it out, swallow and slowly let out a soft breath before your orbs slowly flutter to your lap, to your hands that Kuroo has grasped so tenderly in his hold.
“The feeling--” you gulp back your pride, “the feeling is mutual, I guess.”
You don’t have to look at Kuroo to know that there’s a huge grin that blossoms across his face and not even a second later you’re rewarded another rain of kisses upon your knuckles. Gasping slightly at his boldness, his grin mellows out into that teasing smirk you know so well, though it does bring about a few butterflies roaming through your stomach.
“Ooh, mutual now is it?” Kuroo’s smirk broadens like a cat about to go for a chase and you squirm in your bed, hating how quickly the tables have turned, “weren’t you the one blushing like an idiot just a few seconds ago?!” you splutter out as a miserable defence.
He merely cackles though, leaning in so close that you yelp, “remember about my condition for tutoring you?”
He’s so close that your noses bump into each other. It doesn’t help your heart from running an erratic race inside your chest.
You scramble for coherence, “w--what about it?”
“I figured out what it is.”
"What?”
You try -- and fail -- to lean away when Kuroo’s hand slips up to cradle the side of your cheek, and your body reacts like wildfire, troops of butterflies erupting in your stomach at his tender caress.
“Let me kiss you?” Kuroo mumbles out with a hoarse alto, so hoarse it makes you shiver and your toes to curl in delight, spurred on by the words that have just left his mouth.
Gold pupils meet yours. Then, your head dips into a shy nod.
Kuroo’s mouth is warm, and soft, and pleasant. He kisses you slowly, gently, like he’s afraid you’d run away if he pressed on too quickly. You’re not used to it, but you feel like it can grow on you. The way your body relaxes into the kiss has the raven-haired man more confident. His thumb traces your cheek while he slants his head a little more to capture your bottom lips with his own, sucking slightly.
You gasp at the sensation and he smirks -- just barely -- and proceeds to kiss you a little deeper. Deep enough, firmly enough that you can’t help the whimper that escapes you.
“Cute,” Kuroo mumbles against your lips, retracting so that you can breathe. You haven’t realised up until now, that your hands have made their way to the back of Kuroo’s cloak to tug him closer, or how the said man is literally half-sprawled across your hospital bed.
That is, until you hear a certain voice shout out:
“Oya Oya! What do I see here?!”
#kuroo x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsurou#kuroo tetsurou oneshot#kuroo tetsurou x reader#kuroo tetsurou x you#kuroo x you#kuroo tetsuro headcanons#kuroo tetsurou imagine#kuroo scenarios#kuroo imagines#kuroo tetsurou fluff#haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu headcanons#haikyu x reader#haikyuu oneshot#nekoma#nekoma imagines#nekoma x reader#tsukishima scenarios#tsukishima x reader#bokuto x reader#bokuto koutarou x you#daichi x you#kuroo fluff#kenma#kageyama#oikawa tooru#hinata shoyo fluff
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It Was You (Part One)
A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?
A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3371
Series Warnings: break up; angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.
I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.
The slight chill of a Vancouver December morning roused you from a peaceful sleep, making you snuggle further into the down blanket and comfort of your plush bedding. It was two weeks until Christmas and the weather was supposed to be a balmy high of 32 degrees today, so you had planned to stay in, do some shopping online, and stay by your cozy fireplace with every holiday movie you could find. Willing yourself to get five more minutes of shut eye seemed like a helpless feat as the wintry cold seeped into your apartment. You opened your eyes to the gentle prisms of light floating in through the adjacent window, the sunrise indicating it was time to get up for the day.
Sitting up to perch on the side of your bed and grabbing your wide-rimmed glasses from the nightstand, you slid your chilled toes into the warm slippers waiting and shrugged on your fuzziest sweater. It may be time for that fire sooner than you thought.
Padding into your kitchen to get a much-needed caffeine fix after last night’s dinner and drinks with the rest of the cast and crew, you took your favorite mug from the cabinet and loaded the coffee maker, making an extra cup or two for you and any visitors you might have a bit later.
Jensen’s apartment was down the hall, and if you knew him, he’d still be sleeping, but he’d probably wander over at some point this morning. Cradling the mug in your hands warmed them slightly and sent a shiver down your spine. Even your warmest pajamas and the heat from the thermostat did little against the Canadian winds. Laughing slightly to yourself, you’d thought you’d be used to it after six years of winters here.
You wandered towards the windows of your living room to pull back the long curtains. It was a favorite spot to have your coffee and gaze at the sights of Vancouver. Settling on the window seat, you felt a warmth spread through you as you noticed it had snowed in the night, and from the looks of it, it was a depth of fresh, soft powder – a type that you rarely saw growing up in Texas. People were bundled up tightly as they walked the streets, but a few people, adults and kids alike, were already out playing in the thick blanket of snow.
As your coffee began to warm you through, you couldn’t help the giddy feeling of joy that rose at the sight – it made the holiday season and the spirit of it even more intense than just viewing the lights of downtown and the large decorations everywhere. For some reason, snow just sealed it all up in a nice little bow.
Sure enough, about halfway into your second cup of coffee, you heard a key in your door and Jensen shuffled in, still wearing his pj’s with tousled hair, but he had thrown on a thick sweater too.
“Good morning.” You called, still seated at the large window.
“Mornin’ sweetheart.” He replied with a quick wave as he tossed his keys on the counter and waltzed into your kitchen in search of his mug, his voice still thick and gruff with sleep.
He mixed his cream and sugar and took a long sip, letting out a contented sigh after the steaming liquid entered his body. He was notoriously grumpy without his coffee, but he always met you with a sweet greeting when he came over. Walking around your kitchen island and into your open living room, he slumped into the recliner across from you and pulled the leaver to release the footing, allowing him to lean back with his feet up. He adjusted himself to get comfortable, careful to not spill the mug in his hand.
“What time did you get in last night?” you asked, taking another sip from your own cup.
He covered his eyes with his free hand, still obviously tired. “About 2:30. You know how Jared gets when we break for hiatus, he never wants the party to end. He was still talking to me as I was shutting my door.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Jared was the most social person you’d ever met and knowing that he wouldn’t be back to Canada and on set for a month, he would always soak up every little bit of time he had with the cast and crew. Even though Jensen was griping about it now, you knew he also didn’t mind. He’d probably be missing everyone, especially Jared, about four days into the break. You didn’t get home until about 1 a.m., and that was only because you were beginning to doze off in your cocktail.
“Tell Cliff thanks again for driving me home last night. I just couldn’t cut it.”
“Yeah, I know… Lightweight.” Jensen teased.
“Hey, you didn’t have a 5 a.m. set call yesterday like some of us.”
Jensen huffed a small laugh from his seat, still resting his hand across his closed eyes. His sweatpants hung low on his hips and his green Henley stretched across his biceps as he rested his coffee on his thigh. A slight 5 o’clock shadow and the bedhead he was sporting all combined into a handsome image. He may be your best friend, but you could still appreciate the looks the man was blessed with.
Seemingly close to falling back asleep, you called to him in a hushed voice, “Jay. If you want to go back to sleep just put your coffee mug on the table, okay?”
“Hmmmph. No, I’m up.” He fibbed, as evident from the way he blinked widely once he opened his eyes again. Forcing himself to stand, otherwise he would really fall back asleep instead of just resting his eyes, he walked towards you with his cup, dragging his feet slightly as his legs sluggishly pulled him across the room. His head was down and his shoulders were wilted, but he was trying to get his body moving.
When he reached you, you felt his chest bump your shoulder before he rested his cheek on the crown of your head, his arm dangling by his side as he slumped. He took a deep breath before rubbing his hand across your back and standing, smiling as you peered up at him with a grin.
Licking his lips, he finally peered out to the streets below and his eyes went wide, “Y/n!” he practically shouted.
You flinched, “What? What’d I do?”
“You didn’t tell me it snowed!”
Giving a huff and a giggle, you couldn’t help but be sarcastic, “I’m sorry, was I supposed to while you were falling asleep in my chair?! Besides… it’s Canada. It’s not like snow is very rare here.”
“Y/n! That’s, like, snow! The kind we used to wish for when we were kids!”
“I know, I thought that too.”
“Well, c’mon!” he said, setting his cup down on the ledge. “We gotta go!”
“What? Go where?”
Jensen was already halfway through your living room and heading for the front door but paused to turn and point a finger in your direction, “You, me, snowman. Now.”
“Jay,” You whined. “It’s cold and its early. You sure you don’t want to just watch Netflix?”
“Y/n!” he said once again, looking as excited as a 12-year-old on a snow day from school. “Snowman! Please?” he begged, waving his arms frantically as he gestured outside.
“Okay, okay. Fine. No need to use your puppy eyes on me. I’ll meet you outside in 15 minutes.”
With that, a huge grin broke out on his face and he took off down the hall, leaving you to go in search of your heaviest ski jacket.
Jensen knocked on your door soon after you shrugged into the puffy coat, dressed in thick snow pants, his own jacket, and a black beanie and gloves with a small bag in his hand. Straitening your scarf before locking your door, he barely gave you a moment to put on your knitted pom beanie before he was pulling you by your hand towards the elevator of your building and pushing you out of the revolving doors into the frigid air. Heading to the side where a large park sat adjacent to your complex, he looked around before tugging you along to a spot with a large open space. He nodded to himself, as if to say he’d found the perfect place for his snowman-building escapade. As your boots crunched beneath you, you each began gathering handfuls of snow to make a large base, then packed and sculpted two more spheres. Though you initially protested, you had to admit that it was fun, and the coldness against your cheeks wasn’t bad after a bit, particularly after seeing how happy Jensen was when his finished product towered over yours. He’d managed to gather the majority of the snow within about a six-foot radius of where his snowman stood before piling it high.
“Hey, hey… look at that. An accurate height difference!” He touted, teasing you.
“Oh, hush you. It’s not my fault that you were given the extended version of the human body.” You glared at him playfully.
He laughed as he bent to rummage in the bag he’d brought, producing two carrots. He wiggled them in his hands before handing one to you. He was just about to place it in a very telling place when you grabbed a handful of snow and threw it in his direction.
“Jensen!” You berated. “That’s not where the carrot goes! There’s kids out here!”
He stood up slowly, turning to you with a serious smirk, “Did you seriously just throw a snowball at me?”
Wiping your hand on your pantleg quickly, you gave him a mischievous grin, “Who, me? I’d never.”
“Oh, its on!” he declared as he bent to scoop up the little bit of remaining snow in his reach, that which he hadn’t used for his snowman.
Ducking behind your own, he threw and missed, sending the snow flying passed you. A quick grab from around you produced another snowball that you chucked from behind your shield, hitting him square in the chest. The fight lasted for a good while, the two of you trying your hardest to target the other as many times as possible and receiving some laughs and glances from passersby as they walked along the sidewalk. Finally, Jensen gave up and took off towards you, chasing you in circles before he tackled you into the plush ice, pinning you beneath him as he tried to bury you both.
“Jay! Oh my God, stop! Its freezing!” you yelled through your laughter.
“Truce?” he asked, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.
He was still on top of you, his nose and cheeks a bit flushed from the wintry air. He still had that devilish smirk on his face, but his green eyes were soft and something beneath them made your heart flutter slightly in your chest. He scanned your face quickly before glancing towards your lips, but you were quick to snatch another fistful of snow to smash onto his head. Scrambling out from underneath him, you ran as he said something about you being a cheater before he jumped to his feet.
After the war ended and a truce was finally declared, you both put the finishing touches on your snowmen after you found sticks for the arms and coerced Jensen to put the carrot in the right spot. He stood back proudly, admiring your handiwork.
“Hey.” He gestured to you, “C’mere.”
A bit warry that he was going to tackle you again, you came to his side as he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned on the camera. Pulling you into him, he said, “Gotta have evidence of our masterpieces.” He reached around your waist and tugged you in close, framing both of you and your snowmen in the background. The cold air made the tip of your nose and the apples of your cheeks change in color, and there was still some snow in your hair from when Jensen wrestled you, but both of you smiled widely. Feeling the scruff of his short beard against your temple and his arms wrapped around you made you think about the way his eyes danced across your face moments ago, but the thought was quickly dismissed as he stepped away from you slightly after he made sure the picture wasn’t too blurry.
“Oh, crap. Is that what time it is?” he said, alarmed, looking at his phone screen. “I have to meet Stacy in an hour.”
Stacy was his publicist and agent, but he usually didn’t meet with her during the hiatus. “You’re meeting Stacy today? What’s up?” you asked, a bit confused.
“She wants to talk to me about this movie. Some sort of romantic drama she thought I may be good for.”
“Oh,” you replied, “that’s great! You didn’t tell me! Would you have to cut back filming the show?” While you were a bit surprised, you were genuinely happy for him.
“Stacy knows Supernatural comes first, so I hope not.”
“Well, let’s get inside so you can warm up and change. I was going to make my mom’s chili and cornbread for dinner tonight, if you want to join me after your meeting.”
The excitement on his face was palpable as his eyes lit up the moment you said it, “You know how much I love your mom’s chili. We’re just meeting for coffee near her office, so I’ll bring the beer.”
As you were walking back into the building, your phone rang. It was Stephen, your boyfriend of three months.
“Stephen, hey.” You said as you entered the elevator, not missing the slight eyeroll that Jensen gave.
“Hey, honey. How are you? I didn’t want to call too early, just in case you were still sleeping after last night.”
“I’m good, thanks. Actually, just got done building a snowman with Jensen.”
A short silence followed, until Stephen spoke up again. “Oh, that’s nice.” He said, his voice noticeably clipped. “Well, I’m going to take my lunch break soon. Would you like to meet up? I can come to your side of town.”
“Uh, sure. I’ll meet you at that café on 3rd in about a half an hour?”
“Sounds great. See you there.”
Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you ignore Jensen’s stare as the elevator climbed to your floor.
“So…” he pressed. “Stephen?”
“Yeah, Stephen. We’re going to meet up for lunch while you have your meeting.”
“Hmph.” He huffed.
“Jay, we’ve known each other our whole lives and to this day you’ve never liked a single guy I’ve ever dated. What’s wrong with Stephen?”
“I don’t know. He’s just kind of… meh.”
He wasn’t lying, if you were being truthful. Stephen was meh. He was cute and had nice eyes and dimples, but he didn’t make you laugh. He was a bit dull and your sense of humor didn’t mesh with his well. Still, you thought that it might get a bit better once you got to know each other and began to understand one another more. Your relationship was still very casual, but maybe it could go further? You weren’t really sure, honestly.
“What about you and Laura?” you asked, quickly changing the subject.
“I told you… that was nothing.” He quipped as you reached your door. “We went on like three dates.”
“Yeah, the last one being just this past week.”
“Yeah, and it just didn’t go well.”
You let out a small sigh. Discussing your dating lives wasn’t really something the two of you loved to do with each other. Maybe when you were teenagers, yeah. You’d asked each other for advice and gossiped a bit about the people in your high school, but as you grew into adults it just became a subject you both steered away from besides the occasional, hey I’ve got a date conversation. Neither of you had ever really found a person that the other approved of, each finding a reason to be picky every time.
“I’m sorry, Jay. I’m just deflecting.”
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I was pushing.” He said sincerely with a small smile. “Well, you enjoy lunch. My meeting’s at 1:30 across town, so I should be back by 4 at the latest. Pick out a movie for us, okay?”
“Sounds great. I will.” With that, he kissed you quickly on the side of your head and went into his apartment as you ducked into yours. You freshened up quickly and changed, grabbing a different peacoat, hat, and scarf as your others were still wet.
It was a short walk to the café, and they had good sandwiches. You were surprisingly hungry, so you were glad to see Stephen waiting outside for you. He gripped your hand tightly and gave you a quick kiss in greeting before leading you into the restaurant. You were seated and ordered quickly, knowing that he would have to return to work soon.
“So, how has your day been?” You asked as you shrugged off your coat, hanging it on the chair behind you.
“It’s been… good.” He muttered.
“Uh oh,” You said, getting his attention as he looked away from you. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, really. I was just surprised to hear that you were with Jensen today. You had mentioned you were going to stay home.”
Stephen smiled, almost in an attempt to let you know that he was trying to be lighthearted about it, but you could tell it bothered him.
“Yeah, when he saw it snowed last night, he just really wanted to make a snowman.” You laughed, trying to steer away from the subject. Stephan wasn’t overstepping, but he also wasn’t going to prevent you from spending time with Jensen. The two of you had been inseparable since, well, practically since birth. Your parents had been the best of friends, so you were pretty much raised together.
“Have you, um…” Stephen began, hesitantly. “I know you’ve been friends forever, but have you ever had feelings for him?”
His blue eyes shown with a slight jealousy as you felt a slight pang to your heart.
“No, of course not.” You managed to say with a steady voice and a smile as you picked up your napkin to place in your lap.
It was a lie, one that you’d been telling for years. At one point in your life, you were in love with Jensen. But, the past was in the past. If Jensen didn’t even know, why should Stephen?
Stephen seemed satisfied with your response for the most part, and the two of you had a pleasant lunch. When you stepped away to use the restroom, your phone chimed. Stephen tried not to even look towards your side of the table where your phone sat, but when he saw Jensen’s name, he read the text quickly before the screen dimmed.
Hey, sweetheart. Finishing up here soon and then I’ll be heading home. Do you need me to grab anything from the store?
Stephen knew the two of you were a package deal, and thought he could honestly be alright with it, but between working together and spending practically all of your time together, he was starting to wonder where he fit in in your life. He busied himself by checking his Instagram as he thought about what he should do and found that Jensen had tagged you in a photo from this morning. The caption was simple, just a few words about the filming hiatus and the first snow of the season, but the two of you were so close. Stephen found himself wishing that you could reserve a smile like that for him, but he had yet to see it.
It hurt, but he knew he couldn’t play second fiddle to Jensen. He cared about you, but perhaps it was better to bow out now.
“Hey, sorry about that.” You said brightly as you got back to the table, smiling. It still didn’t reach your eyes, though.
Stephen leaned forward on his elbows with a sigh, “Y/n, I think we should talk.”
To be continued...
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Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright
Written by: @alliswell21
Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]
Teen and up
AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot.
Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed.
-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)
Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock!
KPKPKPKP
“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.
The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.
I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”
Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths.
It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then.
Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird.
They were starting to scare me, really.
“There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?”
“Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”
“You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?”
The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if we have no victim,”
“But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”
“Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”
Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”
I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”
Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”
I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy.
Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it.
———————-
I was 11 when our world pitched upside down.
Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed.
Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy.
I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site.
I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.
I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it.
Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground.
Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him.
Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb.
My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated.
He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg.
The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me.
I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.
I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers.
The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.
But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’.
Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty.
I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell.
With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone.
I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster.
Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.
“Get out of there, Seam brat!”
I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door.
A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.
I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason.
Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face.
A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!”
The boy scurried by with his head down.
My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction.
I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck.
When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!”
Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us.
“No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.
Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while.
When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.
Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways.
All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg.
While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me.
After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow.
“Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.
“You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.
“I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”
I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”
After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless.
——————-
One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise.
A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare.
I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.
“Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was.
From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin.
“I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly.
“Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”
I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy.
“My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.
“Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”
I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion.
Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes.
I felt smug and satisfied.
I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk.
“Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe.
“It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”
Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.
I nodded.
“So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”
“Same.”
He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,”
Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!”
I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game.
——————-
Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it.
He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them.
Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama.
My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability.
He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.
By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd.
Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly?
Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me.
I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.
One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.
“Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh.
Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed.
“Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.
I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world.
I nodded.
Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,”
Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.”
“Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.
“For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”
“Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?”
Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body.
“Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”
I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”
Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”
From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage.
————————
“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”
The other girls hummed their yeses.
“Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!”
There were gasps all around.
It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.
I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.
“What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody.
I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree.
‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with.
“Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”
A big “Oh!” Swept the room.
Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all.
Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them.
Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on.
“That’s awful!” Said a girl.
“I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.
“I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.
“Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”
“Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one.
I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker.
Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?”
My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.
“Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.
“Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”
“It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.
“Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises.
I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate.
Still…
“No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning.
“Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”
“Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly.
———————-
Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals.
The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…
It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me.
Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily.
Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain.
It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too.
We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.
It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup.
Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me.
I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone.
“There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me.
“I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate.
Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address.
After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe.
Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“
“What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears.
Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit.
First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself?
“Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.
I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest.
“What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.
Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered.
“He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.”
I turned 16 that spring.
I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back.
I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?
—————————
“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”
I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”
“Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”
After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass.
“And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”
“That’ll take weeks!”
“Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!”
“Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.
“What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.
“Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”
I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”
“I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”
I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes.
Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.
I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody.
I gasped. That had never happened before.
“How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically.
“Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”
I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly.
“What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.
One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there.
Whatever happened, was bad.
“Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced.
“No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot.
Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad.
“Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.
Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,”
“We’ll see.”
The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by.
“Look!” Gale shouted.
A shaky “D12” appeared under my message.
A relieved gasp left my mouth.
“District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.
Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2”
We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him!
I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”
The answer came back faster. “S H”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned, “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.
“Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.
The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such.
“Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”
“He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”
Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”
That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”
“Mmm… asking has been working so far,”
“Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,”
“You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”
“Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”
“There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”
I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,”
“You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.
Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”
“YES NE”
“North East! I told you it’ll work!”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”
“K”
With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district.
“Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!”
There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy.
“Anybody here?” I called again.
A weak cough answered in the distance.
I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone.
“Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me.
“Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.
I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks.
I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…
“Well, don’t step on me!”
I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain.
I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue.
“Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.
“I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.
My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way.
“How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.
“Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again.
I was momentarily frightened.
“Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,”
His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?”
I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”
“Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.
Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree.
“And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice.
He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.
It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional.
“Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”
“Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”
Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly.
I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,”
He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…”
“Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”
“I’m so tired, Katniss,”
“I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”
“I can’t go back to my house though—“
“You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely.
I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming,
“Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated.
And that was that!
——————————-
“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.
My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline.
“My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“
“Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer.
“My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.
“That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”
“After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.
Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away.
“What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.
“The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple.
I caressed his arm to sooth him.
He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”
Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.
“How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius.
Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”
Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?��
“Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head.
“Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers.
Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?”
“I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.
“Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“
“The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”
The officers stared at me, flabbergasted.
Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me.
Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers.
“Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook.
“Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.
Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!”
“No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“
“It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,”
Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”
“‘kay.”
“Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly.
Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.
We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned.
I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”
“Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”
I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which.
“So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string.
I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods.
“Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”
“Like the sunset,” he finished for me.
Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already.
He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”
I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,”
He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”
My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,”
“Thank you for finding me,”
“Thank you for leading me to you,”
We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.
“Katniss…”
“Mmm,”
“We are soulmates.”
I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.
Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,”
I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff.
“If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”
“It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips.
My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course.
“Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed.
After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief.
I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had.
“I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”
“I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”
He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.
“Just close your eyes;
The sun is going down.
You’ll be alright;
No one can hurt you now.
Come morning light,
You and I’ll be safe and sound...”
When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up.
“I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie.
“Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed.
“Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?”
I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness.
The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement.
Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons.
Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants.
Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help.
The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure.
The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope.
It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.
Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves.
“I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once.
After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18.
Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips.
On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control.
My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul.
After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.
“You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”
“Real.”
He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?”
“Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.
“Just close your eyes;
You’ll be alright;
Come morning light,
You and I’ll be safe and sound.”
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Blind Betrayal: In Defense of Elder Maxson
(I have no idea what prompted me to go full Elder Maxson Defense Squad late at night, but I’m having thoughts on this that won’t leave me alone, so here goes...)
Picture this.
You are Arthur Maxson.
You’re a member of a famous family line known for leadership, courage, wisdom, survival, tactical genius, accomplishing feats of glory in battle, and so on and so forth.
You are also the last member of that family line.
As a result, you have not only been saddled from birth with Expectations of Greatness, but with the terrible knowledge that if you fuck it up, you have doomed your entire bloodline to extinction and potentially placed the future of your faction - your home, family, friends, comrades, and whole way of life - in severe jeopardy.
No pressure.
You’re also twenty years old.
You were orphaned as a child and were quite shy, but you were also quite bright, creative, maybe a bit of a daydreamer. You liked to write stories and thought Liberty Prime was cool. The Scribe caste might have been a good niche for you. Unfortunately, you are Arthur Maxson, Last of His Line, and any control that you might have had over your own life has already been overridden by people older, wiser and more powerful than you. They’ve decided that you had to learn how to be a Knight and go charging into battle to perpetuate your family’s glorious reputation in combat, but also not to get yourself killed or else Your Whole Faction Is Doomed (again, no pressure).
So you learned to be a Knight, and probably got kicked up the ranks a little faster than most teenagers because not being a child prodigy was not an option for a Maxson. Luckily for you, you were able to live up to at least some of the hype, pulled off some brilliant tactical and diplomatic moves to crush Super Mutant invasions and incidentally reunite a rogue chapter, which became disillusioned on ideological grounds and left years ago, with the rest of your faction.
Nice job. Your fans will probably fill in the gaps with a little extra stardust and hype, so if you flubbed your lines once in a while, it’s probably not going into the Codex.
And now you’re Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. Your entire faction looks to you for leadership and relies upon you for survival. You have quite a large army at your command and have cultivated an impressive reputation, and have now decided to leave your usual stomping grounds; you’ve embarked upon an ambitious campaign to liberate humanity from the sinister clutches of The Institute and the army of synths that they’re hoping to replace actual humans with. People expect nothing but complete and total victory from you. This is no time to screw things up.
(Did I mention that you’re twenty? Most guys your age are still finding their way around their Power Armor, goofing off in the barracks, chasing after girls, getting into hijinks on shore leave, and so on. But you are Arthur Maxson, and you have Responsibilities. No slack whatsoever will be cut here, and failure is not an option. If you go down, the Brotherhood of Steel falls with you and it will be your fault.)
Everything appears to be going well, the new Pre-War recruit is exceeding expectations and even grumpy Knight Rhys appears to merely resent their existence. All is going according to plan...
... until you find out that one of your men, Paladin Danse, a highly respected field officer of many years’ standing, is not what he appears to be.
You have long been impressing upon your crew the need to completely eradicate any and all synths because they are The Enemy and will destroy mankind, but one of them has infiltrated your senior command and knows all kinds of key strategic stuff about your faction, classified stuff, military intelligence, and other things that you really do not want The Enemy to know. If he’s been reporting back to them, they will soon know how to destroy your faction from the inside out.
He has also gone missing in suspicious circumstances and you think your new recruit, who was training under his wing, knows - or can at least find out - where he is. You’ve made efforts to keep this quiet while you tried to verify this intelligence with the rest of your senior officers - checking and double-checking, because holy shit, how could this have happened? This can’t be true. You don’t want it to be true. You trusted this man as a fellow officer and as a friend, and always spoke of his abilities and character in glowing terms. But this is not only a personal betrayal - it’s a professional one, with potentially far-reaching consequences. After all, how can your judgment be trusted if you confided in someone who was sent as an enemy agent to infiltrate and betray the Brotherhood? This could potentially destabilize the Brotherhood of Steel’s entire command structure and spell doom for yourself, your men, and possibly even humanity itself.
So now your faction is unexpectedly in mortal peril and the shit has hit the fan. Word has gotten out about this revelation and people are talking. Whispering, in fact. All the while, looking to you to see what needs to be done about this problem.
It’s clear what has to be done. However much you liked Paladin Danse, he is potentially a traitor with too much important information about your faction, and he cannot be allowed to run loose - or, worse still, report back to the enemy which placed him in your midst in the first place. So you send your new recruit after him, with the strict instruction that he is to be terminated.
You are, naturally, very pissed about all this and want the problem to go away as soon as possible. A threat to the safety and integrity of your faction, which has already splintered off into rival groups once, to disastrous effect, over disagreements with the general direction and trustworthiness of its leadership, is an unacceptable existential threat. You are not about to let the Brotherhood disintegrate on your watch. You can’t. You have no choice but to keep this together.
Unfortunately, there is a problem. Danse is very sincerely professing to know nothing about his true identity and claims to have always served the Brotherhood with unfailing loyalty. Your new recruit is inclined to believe him and is refusing to follow through on their mission objective.
You have no idea if he is telling the truth, or if he has been programmed to say this convincingly - so much so that he possibly even believes it himself. You are most likely incredibly pissed off by this whole situation, but there are greater things at stake here.
Like humanity’s future. And your faction and family legacy not being torn apart by internal division, with great risk of harm and death to the people who rely upon you for protection, justice and their very survival.
You can order that Danse be killed and know, whatever happens, that your faction will be safe from betrayal to its sworn enemy, even if the poor guy didn’t even know that he was being sent to spy on the people he was taught to call his brothers and sisters. You are very aware that this is a horrible outcome if he proves to be an unwitting party and genuinely unaware of his origins, but also acutely aware that if you start recanting your own statements about synths being The Enemy, you run the risk of undermining your entire campaign, losing the trust and respect of your men and your senior command staff, and possibly even being deposed as Elder. You were appointed Elder after a succession of unsuccessful candidates followed in the Lyons’ wake, and it’s very likely that whoever will take over from you will be - at best - a lesser candidate, and at worst, a potentially disastrous choice who will lead the Brotherhood into ruin, despair, madness, death, etc, etc. You know damn well that weak leaders don’t last long in the wasteland, and neither do leaderless factions. This is potentially a choice between Danse’s survival, or the Brotherhood’s - you can sacrifice a single hapless soldier to appease the threat of Scylla, or opt for Charybdis to try to spare him and risk having your whole ship pulled out from underneath you, condemning yourself and countless others to a terrible fate.
Or... you’ve been given a potential out. You can declare the former Paladin dead, but spare him by way of permanent exile, upon pain of death should he ever return. Only the new recruit will know the truth. Danse will still potentially be running around as someone who Knows Too Much about the Brotherhood’s military secrets, which is obviously a less than desirable state of affairs, but he will no longer be in a position to continue to spy and report back, so that aspect of the (perceived or actual) threat has, at least, been permanently removed. This option is merciful and, if you’re really honest with yourself, you probably prefer this one because it lets you off the hook to a degree and you no longer have to kill a trusted officer and friend. However, it also requires you to assume a great deal of personal risk, particularly to your reputation as a leader. What are your men going to say if they see the “dead” guy running around the Commonwealth and it becomes clear that you have not only failed to execute a traitor, but lied about it to everybody in your faction? How are you going to explain why you refused to kill someone who was planted in your organization’s ranks by a sworn enemy?
You have to choose one or the other. You’re the leader of the Brotherhood and this is a particularly shitty dilemma which you would really prefer not to be in, but you were appointed because these kinds of impossible decisions frequently arise in times of war, and you know that effective leaders sometimes have to make deeply unpleasant choices, opting to sacrifice one man in order to protect many more.
Either way, there’s going to be a downside and you’re either going to be regarded as a complete asshole (even if people are forced to reluctantly agree that you didn’t have much choice in the matter and acted out of concern for the safety of the Brotherhood and the success of your mission), or you can risk a great deal - perhaps far too much - all for the sake of a man you’re no longer sure you can trust, because good leaders are merciful and Danse has never steered you wrong before, even though he’s had plenty of opportunity to do so in the past.
It’s a hell of a decision and not one to be made lightly, but you have to make it nonetheless. You may be twenty years old, but the world is depending on you all the same, and there’s no way out of this one. The fates of you, your men, your mission, Danse, and all of humanity are potentially at stake and riding on that one decision.
Choose wisely, Elder.
#Fallout 4#Blind Betrayal#Elder Maxson#Arthur Maxson#Paladin Danse#Danse#Fallout 4 spoilers#Brotherhood of Steel#Fallout 4 lore#between a rock and a hard place#cut Maxson some slack you guys#there's a lot riding on that decision#sometimes good leaders have to be the asshole#but I suspect that he secretly prefers being persuaded to spare Danse#even if he will never openly admit it#BoS discourse#I expect to get flamed out the ass for this one#but oh well#such is life
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Man’s Best Friend
Allen, walked the streets of downtown Boston. His breath was slightly visible and frost-covered everything he could see. It would have been beautiful to anyone, but him. The frost reminded him of the feeling in his soul, cold and sharp.
His year had not been a good one. He had started welding school, but though his skills were on point, the classes were much more difficult than he realized. Each lecture and the remembering of various formulas left him cursing. Studying felt like learning a new language, while tutors felt out of reach.
To save money he decided to remain with his family in the south side of Boston, but the stress they caused made him not want to be there. Every day felt like another fight between him and his brothers. First, he and Oliver, were constantly going back and forth over things like his choice of school and his lack of a stable dating life. It wasn't his fault the ladies just fell at his feet.
His brother Matt and him were always just angry with each other. Allen could not pinpoint what started their fighting, but whatever had caused it, created such intense animosity they both acted like fighting dogs. Sizing up each other up before going in for a chance to kill.
The only one he was on some decent ground with was his brother François. Sure they fought a lot too. Moments of insults and crude language had become common between them. Despite that at the end of the day, Allen found comfort in his grumpy brother. Allen thought it was because François was the only one that would actually give some kind of feed back that was not an insult.
The more his thoughts lingered on school and home life, the more cold Allen could feel himself become. The fighting was taking its toll, and school was starting to become a chore. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. He felt himself getting close to sna-.
Woof
Allen's head rose, brown hair shifted with the shake of his head, his thoughts were temporarily forgotten. Was that a dog? Most of the strays he had seen seemed to live by a code of silence. Always watching but never barking. For all he knew it could be a stress induced hallucination.
Again a deep woof resonated along the empty streets.
With the second bark Allen realized it was no mere hallucination. Almost against his will, Allen moved toward the source of the barking. He walked a few feet into an alley.
It was dark, cold, and there were many different trash cans along the way. Some were silver and metal, others were green and plastic. Trash was thrown in various clumps along the walls. The smell around it made his nose wrinkle. By this point the dog had stopped barking. Its silence made him think that the dog had moved on until it barked again.
He had come this far, he might as well continue on to find it. In his mind, Allen told himself at least it was an excuse as to why he stayed out so late.
As his feet moved down the alley he noticed it was shorter than it first appeared. It quickly let out to an old train junction. It was gray in the late fall air and as he heard another bark, he changed his course.
Stepping over the dark steel train tracks, he heard the barking increase in intensity. Then as soon as it started, he heard it change into small whimpers and howls.
The juncture had been abandoned and in its run down state, Allen had to avoid various holes left from its neglect. As he drew closer to the now whimpering dog, he noticed its source seemed to be in one of the holes he had worked to avoid.
Looking down, Allen saw a huge dog. It had a dark coat, but it was covered in globs of thick dark mud and small splinters of wood. Allen assumed it was stuck due to the steep walls that prevented an escape.
The sight alone made Allen's heart clench. This was man's best friend and it was left here to rot. Without a second thought, Allen was crouching down by the hole. Clicking his tongue Allen stretched his tan hand toward the beast of the hole.
It looked at him, before lifting its head to smell the outstretched hand. With no other reaction than the sniff, Allen took it as his go-ahead.
His hands reached down and grabbed the beast by its scruff. The dog growled for just a second, but once Allen started lifting it stopped. With a couple of grunts and heaves of his toned biceps that dog was out.
With its tail wagging and tongue panting, the dog hopped around. Allen chuckled as the dog continued its romp and looked back up at him. He stood up, brushing the mud from his clothes.
"You're free buddy."
He gave a firm pat to its head as he turned to walk away.
It wasn't more than a few steps before Allen realized that he was being followed. Doing what most people do, he turned and attempted to shoo the dog away.
The dog just stopped and looked at Allen. It's head cocked and showed confusion. Allen tried again and shooed at it. Instead of leaving it came closer and wagged its tail.
Allen sighed. The dog was kinda cute and it was cold outside. Maybe he could house the big idiot for the night. Then find it a good home, or its owner. Allen wasn't sure if the dog was microchipped and he didn't recall feeling a collar.
He patted his thigh as he turned back to walk home. The dog quickly followed wagging along side his savior.
Their walk was quiet and as the sun set the street lights took over and casted a harsh golden gleam. Allen's once barely visible breathe turned into dragon's smoke as he and the dog moved silently in the streets to his home.
Allen could see his home in the distance. Its red brick walls and white shutters made him groan. He knew he had to reach the house eventually, but he wished it wasn't so soon.
Looking at his new furry friend, he gestured.
"This is it, my gateway to hell."
In tandem they walked into the house. It was quiet and that was never a good sign. He felt the heavy stare from blue swirled eyes. Looking around Allen saw those eyes again in the corner of the living room. It was his older brother, Oliver.
"Allen, you're finally home... and you brought a disgusting mutt."
Allen could feel the vein in his forehead twitch. Clenching his jaw, he breathed out.
"He ain't disgusting. Just covered in mud. I'm gonna bathe it and find it a home."
Oliver snorted at his attitude. Did Allen really think that it was ok to bring such a filthy animal into his home.
"Allen, take it outside."
"No."
"Why not."
"It's cold and it maybe hurt."
Oliver rolled his eyes, he could careless for the mongrel and if it died so what. It was dirty and Allen should be listening to his elder.
"Allen I am going to ask you one more time. Refuse and be punished. Now, take it outside."
"No, it has a right to be here too."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver threw a punch at Allen's stomach. Though smaller than him, Oliver's punch left him winded. The grunt spooked the dog and caused it to start barking.
Oliver looked over not amused. He thought it would be best to shut it up, after all Matt was out drinking with François and Allen didn't have the skills to save it. He'd make it quick and save them both the trouble.
As Oliver reached for his knife, the dog pounced on him. Knocking them both on to the floor and the knife from Oliver's hand. It landed somewhere in the room.
Oliver held eye contact with the beast as it growled and something in those eyes made him freeze.
"Allen get this MUTT OFF ME!"
Allen having recovered some from the punch, looked amused at Oliver's fear. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to that condescending attitude from moments before.
"Well Ollie, I could. But you said the dog was dirty. I guess I shouldn't touch it."
"ALLEN LIBERTY JONES! YOU GET THIS MONSTER OFF ME THIS INSTANT!"
Allen smirked at his yelling. It sounded shrill and panicked. He enjoyed having this power over his brother. Tapping his index finger to his chin, he thought.
"Hmm... If you allow me to keep it, I'll help."
"WHAT?! I thought you were gonna rehome it"
Allen explained that had been his original plan, but he just got too attached. How could he ever part with such a sweet doggy. After all Oliver and the big guy were getting along very well.
Oliver's eyes widened before narrowing into slits. Without turning his head toward Allen, Oliver attempted to spit curses at him. But before a full sentence was out, the dog growled louder and snapped its jaws.
"Alright! Fine, you can keep the horrid beast."
With a grin Allen stood and whistled. There was no hesitance from the dog as it stopped growling and walked to its new master. This behavior caused Allen to smile. What else could he have this dog do?
With a quick thanks to Oliver, Allen took the beast up to his room. Even in the dark of the room, Allen and the dog walked calmly into his black stone bathroom and started the cleaning process.
It was no easy feat, but as he washed that dog he finally checked the gender.
A male.
That means his scary dog privileges just went up even more. With a chuckle he leaned back and looked at the damp animal. With its eyes covered it kinda reminded Allen of a small bear and the growling from early helped set the image.
"I'm gonna call you Makwa. My bear."
Allen smiled and the dog gave a happy bark. This was going to be a great friendship.
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