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samstree · 3 years

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and the wolf was nowhere to be found (2/3)

Jaskier pays the price of his lies. With blood and tears and a few broken hearts.

(4.3k, lying spell/potion, cursed jaskier, blood and injury, miscommunication, mutual pining)

Previous | Read on AO3

The reverse trope series: [1] [2] [3] [4].

Jaskier wakes with a crick in his neck and an aching heart.

He goes through the motion of packing, their morning routine too familiar to distract him from the heavy guilt in his chest. Jaskier wonders if Geralt is actively avoiding him—the way his back is turned at every chance can’t be a coincidence.

The only time he so much as spares a glance is when Jaskier puts the lemon cake in their rations bag, wrapped perfectly and untouched. Geralt stills for a split second, his jaw clenched.

Jaskier wants to brush it off.

Finding an excuse is the first instinct he has, thinking of a lie as to why he didn’t eat something he’s been drooling over for ages, and erase that crestfallen look on Geralt’s face, the one that is breaking his heart.

Because he can’t exactly tell the truth, which is that he’s more likely to be sick if he ate it. Another lie, however, would turn his stomach even more.

Jaskier remains silent.

Even Roach is judging him as they walk out of the stable. Jaskier bears her side eyes and annoyed headbutt without putting up a fight. The mare is too perceptive to miss the tension in the air, and her protectiveness is more than justified. She’s a smart girl. Of course, she knows Jaskier is one making her broody witcher brood even harder.

She tries to bite his doublet again, and it’s Geralt who stops her with a soothing hand down his mane, murmuring confused questions into her ear. Sweet, kind Geralt, who has been rejected by Jaskier so many times for no reason in the past few days, is still trying to defend him.

Jaskier needs to make it right.

“Geralt, look—”

“Master Jaskier!”

Someone in the distance rudely interrupts Jaskier’s nervous attempt. He turns by instinct and watches a boy in lilac doublet jog up to them. He’s so young, no older than twenty, still with that joviality and naïvety in his features. The way his matching doublet and trousers could catch the eyes of any crowd reminds Jaskier of himself in his early years.

“Sweet Melitele, I’m your biggest fan! Oh my…” the boy proclaims, awestruck. “I’ve been following your ballads for years, and now I get to meet you in person!”

Jaskier looks to Geralt and then back at the man.

“Ah, I’m flattered. It’s always nice to meet a fan, but you see—” Jaskier gestures to the horse and the man behind him. “—I’m in a hurry to leave town.”

Besides, he’s in no mood to converse right now. The quicker he can get Geralt alone, the better. With this weight on his chest, Jaskier feels so drained just talking to anyone but his witcher, let alone dealing with an enthusiastic fan.

“Oh but you must listen to my set first!” The boy looks at him expectantly. “I dream of writing a hit song just like Toss a Coin. I could be just as big—”

“I’d love to, but the circumstances won’t allow it.” With the biggest smile plastered on his face, Jaskier dismisses the guy. “I’m sure there’s promise in you, especially now you’ve chosen the correct role model—”

“You can go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier snaps his head to Geralt, confused as to what he just heard.

“We need to leave this morning, my dear. That’s the plan.” Jaskier frowns. “Remember?”

He excuses himself to the young man and drags Geralt away too quickly, too rudely—on another day he’d feel contrite ignoring a fan like this, but today he’s mind is occupied by something much more important.

Once out on the street and alone, Geralt’s befuddled frown deepens. “Why did you—”

“I need to tell you something,” Jaskier interrupts. “Before I say it, I know you will get mad at me, but you have to understand that the past year has been hard on me, Geralt. When you showed up in Oxenfurt out of the blue, I didn’t have enough time to process everything or what it would mean for us to travel together again. That’s why everything is so wrong now and I need to make it right.”

“I know what you want to say.”

The world stops.

All he can see is that pained look on Geralt’s face, the one that’s breaking his heart and making his blood run cold. Of course, he knows, witcher senses and all. As if Jaskier has ever gotten away with lying to Geralt’s face in the past.

“You do?” he breathes, the crack in his voice unmistakable.

Geralt lets out a sigh. He’s not mad. At least, he doesn’t look like he’s angry with Jaskier. “It’s been obvious in the past few days, and I… I do understand.”

“Oh.”

There’s still hope then. Jaskier just needs to come clean and apologize, and, definitely, throw whatever game he’s been playing out the window. They will be fine. The two of them, the bard and the witcher on the path, just like the old days—

“I can leave now,” Geralt starts. “With me gone, you’d be free to stay here for longer. You have so many things to see and so many people to meet. You can go back and talk to the boy. Finally, there’s someone who can wax lyrical with you. It’ll be for the best.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to say it, Jaskier. I can see now that it’s better if we part ways. Let’s not make things more difficult.”

Jaskier stares, gaping like a fish out of water. He can’t believe what he’s hearing, after all this time, after the mountain. Geralt wouldn’t do it.

He wouldn’t.

“You are leaving me here?”

Geralt looks as if he’s stricken. His shoulders tense like every time he wants to appear smaller.

“It’s for the best,” he repeats.

Jaskier shakes his head. “Wait, I thought you understood. I’m sorry, Geralt, for the past few days. I didn’t mean to… I wanted to apologize, so you know I didn’t mean it.”

The smile at the corners of Geralt’s lips is too sad.

“You don’t need to apologize. It wasn’t fair of me to ask it of you to begin with—”

“Ask me what?”

“—Us traveling together again… It was only wishful thinking. There was never a second chance and I never should have gone to find you.”

Jaskier takes a step back, swallowing the lump in his throat. Suddenly the collar of his doublet is too tight and the lute on his back is too heavy. He has to look away from Geralt’s resolute face just to stop the stinging in his eyes.

“You promised…” he mumbles. “You promised not to leave again.”

Geralt falters for a second, his hand resting on Roach’s saddle as if to steady himself. When he answers, his tone is cold, colder than Jaskier can take.

“How can I keep you when everything catches your eye, Jask? You are not made to stay... Not with me. Not after everything that happened.”

Disbelievingly, Jaskier retreats. His hand fists around the strap of his lute case, digging into his palm. “Not made to stay? Seriously?”

“It’s for the—”

“If you tell me it’s for the best one more time, I swear, Geralt…”

“Jaskier.”

Geralt calls out his name without heat like he’s placating an unreasonable child. Jaskier exhales in exasperation.

“Maybe you are right that it was only wishful thinking.” he forces the words out, his heart sinking. “For once it was actually my fault, and you can’t wait to ask for life’s one blessing again.”

“I—”

“Fine. Have at it,” Jaskier hisses. “I don’t care.”

The silence that follows is deafening.

Jaskier lands the biggest lie he’s ever told in this mess. He drags his feet to cooperate, to take him away and put some distance between him and the worst disaster that’s ever descended upon his life.

Roach neighs, but the sound is far-away. Jaskier grabs at the doublet at his chest and wonders if the witcher-shaped hole within can ever be filled.

Jaskier doesn’t stop.

He walks into the bustling crowd of the market, heedless of cheery townspeople going about their day, and he keeps walking until the noise dies down.

Jaskier stops at the riverbank with nowhere to go, so he sits down on the ground and finally lets the dam break.

Crying does very little to ease the ache, and yet when the tears bring a release for the pent-up pressure in his chest. It’s hard to feel justified in letting the pain be cried away when he’s so aware of his own faults in the once-again ending of their companionship.

After all, Geralt couldn’t wait to throw him aside on top of that mountain when he’d done nothing wrong. What makes him think Geralt will tolerate him when he intentionally fucks things up.

Jaskier gasps for air, but only a whimper chokes out. How pathetic, to regret the most precious second chance destiny has ever granted him.

Now he knows for sure that he doesn’t deserve to cry, to let himself feel even just slightly better in the wake of his destruction.

Jaskier tries to stifle the tears with a hand at his mouth, and breathes. In and out, one breath after another. It’s like trying to contain a storm threatening to wreck through his entire being.

But he manages, after an eternity.

Jaskier sniffles one last time and wipes away the tear tracks. There’s a tremor in his hands but he pays no mind. The lute case is laying carelessly in the grass where he dropped it. He slings it onto his back and realizes that in a frenzy, he’s left everything else he owns in Roach’s saddlebags.

He could laugh at the idea of going back there, tail between his legs, as if being kicked out of Geralt’s life—for good this time—isn’t humiliating enough. His only hope hangs on the possibility that Geralt may have left his packs at the inn so they don’t have to face each other. Why would Geralt want to see him anyway? The witcher should be long gone.

Jaskier doesn’t make it too far when a streak of lilac pops out of nowhere.

“Oh! Here you are, Master Jaskier. You are a hard man to track down.”

The boy still looks too chirpy for Jaskier’s liking, too bright and too carefree. His mood is soured even further.

“Look, I’m not fit for company today.” Jaskier walks right past the young man, heedless of his insistence. “Mister—what is your name? Maybe you’ll catch me at the next festival if fate allows.”

The boy ignores his deflection and stops right in front of Jaskier’s face, which successfully draws his full attention and pisses him off completely. “I said—”

“Why are you in such a hurry?” The kid doesn’t relent. “I thought the witcher is determined to abandon you for the second time. Don’t you think he’ll stick to it this time?”

Strangely, the other man doesn’t look nearly as young up close. His face is youthful for sure, smooth and unblemished, and yet there’s an inexplicable weariness in his blue eyes. Now that Jaskier notices, these blue eyes look eerily similar to his own. With just the eyes, he could be looking into a mirror.

Jaskier wants to squirm.

“Did no one teach you that eavesdropping is rude?” He pauses, startled. “Wait, a second time… You knew—”

“Oh.” The man looks sheepish. “Can’t blame a fan for keeping tabs on you, can we?”

An overly zealous fan is nothing new, but somehow, this one sends a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Jaskier says, trying to back away. “I need to get back to town. You know, where the inspirations are, so I’ll find it in me to… um, compose more of those pieces you love so much.”

“Oh, don’t kid yourself! You are not going back to him, are you? Twenty years! All the sweat and blood and singing his praises and this is what you get after all this time!”

The guy grabs at Jaskier’s arm, which he shakes off in horror.

“You know nothing about me. Or Geralt.”

“That witcher will never see you!” he exclaims. “I was there when your first ballad swept the continent off its feet, Jaskier. From that moment on, I knew you were special. What appreciation has that mutant shown you? Only insults and scorn.”

“Geralt is not like that, he—”

Jaskier freezes to the spot.

He forces his attention back to the boy’s face. His eyes are still startlingly blue, even more so in anger. There’s not a single trace of age at his temples, and yet…

“My first song was twenty-two years ago,” Jaskier states, something akin to fear creeping into his voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

At those words, the man’s face shifts. It’s like watching someone shed a layer of skin, a façade, and another being emerges. A much more powerful one.

“Does it matter?” When he answers, there's magic in the air, sizzling with power. The blue of his eyes shimmers under the surface, ever so slightly. Jaskier’s heart clenches.

Not human.

Definitely not human.

“We never got to know each other, well,” Jaskier stalls. “I think now it’s not too late.”

He has an inkling that getting away will not be an easy feat. He can hope to distract this… this creature long enough for a chance to run. His hand tightens around the strap nervously, and the man’s eyes follow the movement without a beat.

Shit.

Jaskier turns to run, to take the lute case in his hands as a weapon, but it’s too late. The next thing he knows, the case is thrown against the ground and he’s backed against a tree. The other man’s grip around Jaskier’s wrists is like a vice, securing his hands right above him.

Jaskier wants to scream, but no sound escapes his throat. His body shakes all over, out of control.

“The fae never reveal our name easily,” the creature hisses.

Those blue eyes are too sharp and there’s a scent growing overwhelmingly strong. Fae, as it turns out, smell like newly cut grass and wildflowers, like the forest.

If only Jaskier can live long enough to share the trivia.

And then, with both their hands occupied, the fae presses his forehead to Jaskier. He struggles but to no avail.

The touch is cold and something is slipping into Jaskier’s mind like an icy stream in the spring. It trickles probs at every corner of his memories.

“Oh, even now you are loyal to the witcher. You still believe he’ll save you, little songbird.”

Jaskier’s vision turns fuzzy. His soundless whimpering breaks into breathless gasps, like a wounded animal waiting for a mercy kill. At the back of his mind, he’s achingly aware of Geralt’s absence. His witcher in shining armor won’t come this time, not after all the—

“All the pretty little lies. Every single one of them, born out of love, misguided.”

However true that statement is, Jaskier doesn’t want to hear it. His love for Geralt shouldn’t be spoken with malice. He fights against the fae’s iron hold with everything he can muster.

There’s a crack of bones before the pain hits him, exploding from his wrists all the way down his arms. Jaskier sobs, the edges of his vision darkening, the shock threatening to pull him under. He still can’t make a sound.

“What can we do?” The fae’s voice comes from a distant realm. “How can we have your loyalty as the witcher does? Oh, how fierce you are, songbird. To have your voice at our court… Perhaps, more lies will do. Yes, it was your choice, what your heart desired. A gift from us.”

Jaskier can’t process anything he’s hearing. He’s too tired from the searing pain in his wrists.

“Just a few lies. They’ll be easy to roll off the tongue, and yet, such powerful weapons.” The fae retreats. “A gift of lies. Thank you for the inspiration, Jaskier the bard. We hope you enjoy it as much as we will.”

Without the brute force holding up his body, Jaskier sagas against the tree, his legs unable to support his weight. His lungs burn and his mind turns fuzzy, bereft of the fae’s presence.

Jaskier needs to move, needs to scramble away from this place. But before the sweet relief of freedom even hits him, magic seizes him again and, finally, finally, a world-ending scream explodes from his lungs.

The world goes to black soon after.

Jaskier wakes to someone shaking his shoulder, someone gentle.

His body pulses like a bruised nerve. The back of his head feels like it’s been trampled by a whole army and his neck creaks at the barest move. Jaskier’s nose is buried in damp grass and he chokes, which jostles his neck even more.

He groans miserably and tries to touch, only to be stopped by the burning in his wrists. He lets out a hiss.

Right, broken bones. Blue eyes that look the same as his. Fae.

“Careful… Fuck, Jaskier, what happened?”

A gravelly voice comes through the fog.

Geralt.

Oh, Jaskier can sob with relief. He arches his back, slowly propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes are so sore from lying on the ground face down, but the sight of his witcher is unmistakable.

Jaskier wants to call out for his witcher, but a sob is the only thing that gets out. He cradles his hands and finds his right wrist is swollen red and sensitive to the touch, but the left looks more or less the same. Only a throbbing pain tugging at his fingertips.

He reaches to the back of his head with his left hand, where the crick is prickling at his nerves, only to find a gash at his nape and hair caked with blood. He doesn’t remember hitting his head while falling. He doesn’t remember falling at all.

So, one wrist sprained, the other broken, plus a gaping hole in his head. Jaskier can cope.

If he doesn’t die from the embarrassment, that is. He whines pathetically, already exhausted.

“I told you not to move.” Geralt catches Jaskier’s tilting body. Amber gold flows with concern. “What happened to you, Jask?”

The question comes out soft, more of a whisper to the witcher himself than demanding answers. Jaskier’s lips wobble at the endearment. He needs to tell Geralt everything. Fuck his injured pride. Geralt came for him. This wonderful, beautiful, sweet man came to him after the disaster that is this morning and he’s still trying to help Jaskier.

All because Geralt is safety. He’s safety and home, and Jaskier needs to tell him—

“None of your business, witcher.”

It takes a moment for Jaskier to register what left his lips, the venom that drips from these words so foreign. He’s never aimed at Geralt before. From the looks of it, Geralt is equally startled if the tiny crease by his lips is any indication.

“You hit your head,” Geralt says patiently, hovering close to Jaskier’s face in an attempt to check the wound on his neck. “It’s bad. Here, let me see—”

“Get your filthy hands away from me!”

The words fly out on their own volition. Jaskier flinches, the same time as Geralt takes back his hand as if burned. He closes his mouth with a pop and the feeling of something severely wrong weighs down on his stomach. That’s not what he meant, not at all. The only thing he wants to do is lean into Geralt’s touch and melt into a puddle. Whyever did his mouth betray his heart? Why did he…

Why did he…

…Lie?

His mind focuses on a sing-songy voice.

A gift from us.

A gift of lies.

It’s like a bucket of ice water thrown over Jaskier’s head. He sobers up immediately. The inspiration they took from him. The fae’s gift.

The fae’s curse.

Geralt’s brows are knitted together, amber eyes imbued with hurt. He is still crouched in front of Jaskier, hands fisted at his side and shoulders taut. He’s got the look now, that lost look that only appears when a mob drives him out of town with pitchforks and stones. Jaskier has seen that look one too many times.

And now he's the one causing it.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, shocked, unsure.

Jaskier breathes hard and tastes the bile rising in his throat. Geralt doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve to have that hopeless look on his face or to be shunned by the world, by anyone, and least of all, by someone he’s let stay beside him for so many years. By the Gods, Jaskier needs to let Geralt know he’s the kindest person on earth and more human than any human. He’s Jaskier’s friend and protector, his dream, his heart—

“You are a mutant, a freak,” Jaskier feels the words slip out, too late to realize the mistake of opening his mouth. “No better than the monsters you slay.” The magic compels his tongue. He bites down on it but it’s only futile. “You feel nothing and give nothing but death to those around you.”

Jaskier recoils, tasting blood. In front of him, Geralt mirrors his movement. The entire time, the wolf medallion rests against his chest plate, Jaskier’s last hope, sitting still and unresponsive.

And Geralt…

He doesn’t defend himself.

Of course not. Geralt never defends himself against the stoning even when he can easily defeat most humans with his bare hands. There’s a faded scar near his hairline, a solid proof of men’s capacity for prejudice and violence.

Now Jaskier has joined their ranks.

Geralt looks like he’s been suck-punched in the gut, his eyes wide and crestfallen. And yet, wide amber eyes gaze upon Jaskier without accusation, only quiet acceptance. Jaskier shudders with disgust and fear, which must be the reason Geralt is backing away further.

“I’ll leave… If you—” he pauses, before standing up. “I see. This is goodbye, Jaskier.”

Don’t go!

“Get away then!”

Jaskier shakes his head, putting all the force he can muster into biting into his lips, scared of what may come out. His wrists burn but he has to force his mouth shut by pressing his palms over it.

Why can’t Geralt see that something’s wrong? Why can’t he see Jaskier?

See me! Jaskier pleads silently through the tears.

Geralt’s face falters as he spares one last glance at Jaskier.

Look what you’ve done to him, the sing-songy voice returns. This is your choice. You chose to lie, little poet. Be careful what you wish for.

Jaskier crumbles like a puppet with his strings cut. He barely contains the choked-out whimpers. The burning in his lungs is nothing compared to the anguish. He could die at this moment and it would be a sweet release. Hurting Geralt like this, it’s worse than a thousand broken bones and a million cuts on his skin. In the darkest corners of his mind, he wants Geralt to walk away from him. If Jaskier has to spew any more venom towards the man he’s loved for more than half of his life, he’d surely want to walk into the ocean and never come out.

He presses his ears to the grass and remembers the cold wind on the mountain. He was a fool to hope Geralt could come to him then. He is a fool now.

The witcher drags his feet away, one step after another, trampling the soft flora under him, and then—

And then, by some miracle, he stops.

Jaskier watches as his witcher turns around and rushes back to his side, his jaw clenched and eyes determined. His heart bursts with hope, but his fists press against his mouth harder. There’s more blood coating his tongue.

“I can’t,” Geralt states as he kneels next to Jaskier’s curled body. The betrayal in his eyes ebbs away and in its place is something…tortured.

Jaskier shakes his head, or is he trembling again? His vision swims with blood loss. He won’t be able to stay awake for long.

“I can’t leave you here, Jaskier,” he muses to himself, frowning deep. “Shit. You are bleeding again.”

Jaskier scoffs into his fist, almost hysterical.

“You are in shock, and you are about to pass out. I don’t know what happened, but your wrists are a mess. Jaskier…” The name comes out like a prayer. “I heard your wishes. Loud and clear, this time. I know you loathe my presence in your life, but… I have to make sure you’ll get better. Please, forgive me.”

Geralt tries to gently pry Jaskeir’s hands away, but he struggles blindly. Through the haze of his mind, Jaskier’s last thought reminds him to keep his mouth closed.

“Forgive me,” Geralt mutters in anguish, “I can’t let you hurt yourself because of me. Forgive me, just one more time.”

His hand makes the familiar sign of Axii, and everything turns…soft.

The pain is gone, the magical hold on his tongue too. Jaskier loses himself in the mellow sensation of giving up control. The ground disappears under his body and his head lolls against Geralt’s chest.

“I was wrong.” Regret rumbles deep in Geralt’s chest. “I was the curse that befell you. After all the hurt you’ve received by my side, Gods, and I still can’t keep myself away from you. I will not make the mistake of forcing myself into your life again, Jask. Allow me a few days to see you safe, and then... Never again.”

The vow is so wrong, but Jaskeir is powerless to protest. He catches a broken whisper before darkness claims him for the second time on the same day.

“I’m sorry, Jaskier. For my heart.”

Jaskier welcomes the oblivion that drags him under, as well as the nightmares that follow.

I'm...sorry.

One more chapter to go. Hopefully this time I won't have to up the chapter count. Some real communication and comfort are on the way! <3

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @a-kind-of-merry-war @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

#geraskier #geraskier fic #lying spell #cursed jaskier #miscommunication #mutual pining #jaskier fucks up real good in this one #and bears the consequences #geralt x jaskier #again i'm sorry #i meant to end it with geralt walking away #and thought #in this economy?#but somehow this is... worse?#hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #hurt geralt #everytime i hurt geralt's heart i go 🥺🥺

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 3 years

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The Killing Cure (Part 21)

So this is another mobile post. Will put it under the cut when I get to my desktop.

He doesn't know how he hadn't noticed promptly; Lady Dimitrescu, though she is still much taller than he, is actually quite small. He wonders if the woman is aware silent in his embarrassment he strikes his forehead with the heel of his hand, stupid stupid Salvatore, of course the lady I knows! She is a smart woman and a change so big…? Small…? Profound, wouldn't go unnoticed. It is somewhat comforting if he were to be honest. Before she was such an intimidating presence to be around. So much so that he sought to avoid her if he could help it.

But the woman who sits before him, shifting in the chair with a look of mild disgust is infinitely more approachable.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

Dimitrescu shakes her head and is hear sinks. He is loathsome, repulsive, repugnant! Of course she doesn't want anything that has been delivered by his grimy hands.

"You got any beer? I haven't had a good beer in a while." Ethan requests. "I could use one."

Salvatore nods eagerly. He hasn't had company in so long, much less company that is willing to let him be hospitable. Only Mother Miranda let's him be hospitable.

He plops a can into the man's hand. He visibly cringes when the slime runs down the side of his his palm. And for a second Salvatore thinks that he will put the drink inside. Instead he wipes the can clean and pops the cap.

"Are you sure that you don't want anything, Lady Dimitrescu?"

"To eat or drink, absolutely."

He thinks that he hears Ethan grumble, "you should eat, those vitamines are only supplements."

"But there is something else that I would like." She carries on as though she hadn't heard the man sitting next to her.

"How can I help?" He has asked the wrong question. He knows that he cannot help. He wonders why she is asking him rather than Donna or even Karl. Surely even Karl is a more desirable option.

"Winters and I are looking for his daughter. I imagine that Mother Miranda has given you a role to play? I am asking you to... reconsider your alliances."

"Betray Mother Miranda?" He squeaks. He could never! He doesn't understand how she could ask such a thing! To betray the only person who has seen his value.

"I-I couldn't possibly, Lady Dimitrescu! Mother Miranda has been good to me."

"By turning you into a gross and gushy fish...man...thing?" He chuckles to himself, "manthing." And then he clears his throat, reverting back to tealitibe seriousness, "I wouldn't call that good."

"I...well it's...nobody, mostly nobody, messes with me anymore."

"That's because you isolated yourself in a swamp." Lady Dimitrescu drums her claws...former claws upon the armrest.

Salvatore slinks back. "Mother Miranda sees my value." Even where he doesn't, she always has.

.oOo.

"She doesn't see your value, Moreau. She sees you vulnerabilities and she uses them." Just as she had used her. And how lovely it had been to believe those lies. "I see your value, Moreau." At least she hopes that she will in time. She thinks that even he can tell that she is telling pretty lies.

"I know how you look at me and my dwelling." He gestures about the place. "You want to use me."

"So then what does it matter? You're being used either way, what difference does it make who's using you?" She scoffs.

Ethan nudges her. "What she means to say is that we would really appreciate your help."

"I meant what I said, Winters!" She snaps.

Ethan inhales deeply, "I would value your help. And I wouldn't use you. You gave me a beer, we're friends now."

"Friends?" Moreau tests the word.

"You ever have a friend before?"

Moreau meekly shakes his head, "none at all, Winters."

"Well now you do and you can start by calling me Ethan."

Now Moreau looks far beyond anxious. The pathetic creature is all jittery and stuttering.

"B-but you won't like me. You'll find me repulsive eventually."

"I already do but friends look past that. I was able to look past Alcina's occasional blood baths. She smells like a corpse when she comes out of those and it's pretty awful."

Alcina clenches her teeth, cheeks coloring ever so slightly. "How dare you--"

"I look past a whole lot of that too." He jabs his thumb at the snarl on her face. "She's pretty cranky all the time but she isn't so bad once you get used to traveling with her."

"Blood and mucus are not the same. At least she's nice to look at."

Ethan smiles a lopsided awkward smile. "Yeah she's a beautiful lady. Her eyes are alluring, her face is charming, she has nice hair and a fantastic…"

"Winters, stay focused!" She demands sharply.

"Ass." He whispers to Moreau.

She shoves him off of the couch, "have some tact or sit yourself down next to Moreau, you loose lipped oaf."

Ethan rubs his own rear. "Well anyways, to show you that I am not repulsed by you I will gladly sit next to you until Alcina wants to be nice to me. She rolls her eyes as one cretin seats himself next to the other.

He does his best to keep the appalled expression off of his face even as the stench of death and fish assaults his nostrils. His eyes are watering and Alcina smirks. She must admit that the man is very good at feigning acceptance.

For a heartbeat she wonders if he is only pretending to accept her, wonders if he will stab her in the back as soon as he has his Rose back. She bites the inside of her cheek.

"So what do you say Moreau? Trade a heartless cultist for a real companion?"

"I'll consider." He twiddles his thumbs.

But she knows him, she knows that he won't want to venture beyond his comfort zone. And his comfort zone wears a bird mask.

"If you can stay the night, I will have the answer by morning."

.oOo.

It was exactly what he was hoping to avoid; staying here with the putridly smelling miasma of sea and decay. And on a makeshift hammock that is damp and slicked with what could either be mold or algae.

He doesn't want to rest which it is. He is rather content in his blissful ignorance. He can't deny that he is quite pissed that Alcina has taken the dry cot. He can't even get to sleep in a perfectly hammock and has no idea how Moreau can possibly sleep in what looks to be a large and repurposed fishing net.

He groans and makes his first attempt to scramble onto the hammock. By the fourth, he is ready to sleep on the floor.

He pretends not to hear her when Alcina slips into the room. A feat made harder by the very obvious cracking of the floorboards.

“Winters…” She looks off for a moment. “I’d like you to spend the night with me again.”

With only a sentence, his anger dissipates, "shit,I thought you'd never ask."

"After your," she coughs, "crass commentary, I wasn't going to. But I changed my mind."

"What made you do that?"

"This place is damp and chilly. You are warm."

It sounds like an excuse to him but he isn't one to question a mercy no matter how small.

This cot is even smaller than the one at House Bennivento. Ethan is certain that Alcina is plenty aware of this. She climbs onto it anyhow and gestures for him to join her.

"Shouldn't I get in first?"

She shakes her head, "lay down before I change my mind."

He crawls atop her and tries to make himself comfortable. It isn't particularly hard, Alcina is very pleasant and charmingly soft and kindly warm. He hesitates for a moment before resting his head upon her chest.

He feels her fingers weaving through his hair. "Comfortable?"

"Very." He confirms. He thinks that he is more comfy here than he would be in a bed of his own.

She sighs. The exhale is followed by a brief duration of silence. At last she fills it, “it has been a very long time since I’ve been in pleasant company. And longer still since that company has been a man.”

"We're there any women?" The question comes forward before he can curb it.

"Several of them have warmed my bed. Good girls, they were." She muses.

"What happened to them?"

"Well I used them for my wine, of course."

Ethan cringes and she chuckles as though she has only told a simple little joke. "I was thinking of doing the same to you but your blood was so stale." She continues to stroke his hair.

"Well that's reassuring." He grumbles.

"I suppose that it doesn't matter anymore."

This time it is he who is responsible for the silence. He as he tries to make sense of a woman who doesn't seem to, by her very nature, make any sense at all.

"Why?" He finally musters.

"Why what?"

"Why am I sharing a bed with you again?"

She furrows her brows as though he is the confusing one. As though it is he who has been sending all sorts of conflicting signals.

"It's just that, one minute I'm a stupid manthing and the next I'm a charming gentlemen." He continues. "Do you like or not?"

"You are indeed a stupid manthing and a gentleman. I wish that you would just pick one, preferably the latter of the two."

And she is dodging the more important question. "And if I decided to pick 'stupid manthing' what would you do them."

She makes a sound, perhaps something to indicate both amusement and annoyance at his audacity. "I would…" she trails off. "I suppose that it depends on the extent that your idiocy reaches."

He has to laugh at this, how can he not--it is her quaint prose and relief that she is even considering humoring dumbassery to any extent at all.

"Your antics can be endearing and entertaining sometimes." She confesses. "But they are also terribly annoying."

"So do you like me or not."

With no way to dance around it she falls back into her silence for a very long time before she mumbles, "I'm trying my hardest not to…"

"But you do?"

"I...yes. I think." This mumbling is even softer.

"Care to figure it out for sure?" He asks. Though there any enough room to contact his preferred test, he thinks that something simpler will suffice.

Her hair stroking comes to an abrupt but brief halt. "I suppose that I wouldn't mind."

"Good." He props himself up just enough to kiss the woman's forehead and then her lips, a gentle testing of the waters before he kisses her neck. And when she doesn't bat him away or shove him off of the bed he lays one on her collarbone and then her chest.

He is met with something between a hum and a purr, her fingers tap upon his back. "How was that?"

"It was well enough, Ethan." She replies. "Perhaps we can double check when we find more comfortable lodgings."

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina/ethan #ethan winters #fanfiction #ethan x alcina

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nbrook29 · 3 years

Text

love you to the moon and to saturn

This is part 4 of my Sander in NYC ‘verse. I posted it on ao3, but recently I’ve also been posting my fics on tumblr so here it is 😌

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Warnings: mild sexual content

* * *

Saturday, 10:00

His sleep was anxious, mind too preoccupied with stress to allow him to get a proper rest. The wake up was even worse as mere seconds after he blinked the sleep away from his tired eyes the memories of last night crept back in, flooding him with worry and making his brain replay the argument over and over again like a broken cassette. And then he checked his phone only to find a string of messages and missed calls, all from Sander, causing his stomach to twist with nerves at what they were going to say.

His abrupt leaving had been a dick move and if Sander was pissed, Robbe knew he couldn’t blame him. So he stalled, finger barely swiping at the screen as he was unsure whether to unlock it and face the consequences or maybe throw the phone back on his bedside table and bury himself under the covers to wait for his courage to come back and for his nerves to settle.

Heaving a sigh, he chose option number one because it was the only rational one.

He tapped Sander’s photo, holding his breath without even registering it.

Two seconds later he knew.

He didn’t need to worry.

Sunday 13:00

Robbe hides another smile into his glass at the thought of yesterday’s evening, trying to focus on what Marie is saying. She’s talking animatedly about a guy she met at her new internship, hearts almost flowing out of her eyes as she swoons on the wooden stool and sips her black coffee. She’s the kind of girl who falls in love quickly and falls out of love just as quick. Across from where he’s sitting, he sees Fien and Lucas rolling their eyes at her exaggerated lovesick sighes making him snort in his marshmallow latte.

“Weren’t you obsessed with that lanky guy from Starbucks last week? What happened to him?”

Marie shrugs, tossing her long brown hair back from her shoulders. “I decided he was too old for me.”

“Didn’t you say he was 21?” Robbe interjects with amusement, remembering their group messenger chat he caught up with this morning.

“Exactly!”

They all start bickering about the appropriate age difference in relationships, Robbe watching them as he munches happily on one of the soggy marshmallows he fished out from his cup, trying not to giggle at Lucas’ scandalized face at Marie calling 21 old. Robbe knows from the many stories Lucas has shared so far that his own boyfriend is a senior at college so his reaction is even more entertaining because of that.

It feels good to be around them again, Robbe thinks to himself. He’s been canceling on them way too often those last few weeks and he still feels guilty about it. They’re a fun bunch, their bantery dynamic established since day one when they all chose the middle row to sit in during their morning classes, and then promptly spent half of it bonding over the outrageous occurrence that was the absence of a coffee shop on the campus. Not long after, Robbe also discovered that apart from the passion for filmmaking, they all also like skateboarding. After that, the rest was history.

They were for sure a nice distraction from Robbe’s intrusive thoughts in the beginning of the semester. He lucked out, finding his group, his people, so early on in his college journey. But at some point even their goofiness and honest attempts at cheering him up weren’t enough. Not since the news from Sander came that he’s staying in New York until February and since the thing with Jens.

Now, observing them from over his half-drunk coffee, lips twitching at some of the more creative but still lowkey insults Marie and Lucas throw at each other, he realizes he has really missed them. They’re like siblings, the two of them, constantly bickering and teasing one another, but it’s all good-natured and amusing to watch.

“Oh my god, let it go, children, for the love of god,” Fien cuts in abruptly, before turning her big expectant eyes on Robbe, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger and adding innocently, “I’d finally like to hear about Sobbe’s makeup.”

Heat rushes to Robbe’s cheeks and he scratches at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden. She’s the number one fangirl of his relationship, he has learned recently, but in a cute way, not creepy like Aaron sometimes used to be with his invasive questions. She always moans about being forever single, pouting at Robbe for some fluffy snippets and claiming in faux-seriousness that he owes it to the world to share them with others for being lucky enough to have a fairytale-like love story.

Robbe has never disclosed to them how unfairytale-like some of the details are because it’s not his story to tell. But he really likes her so he always indulges her, usually after a bit of teasing. And, sue him, but he’s proud of his relationship and the fact that he of all people can call Sander his boyfriend, so even if he brags a little, he thinks he has good reasons for it.

(He’s still kinda smug when he thinks about the time when he showed the three of them a photo of Sander, a pleased little smile on his face at their reactions and playful threats of stealing him for themselves.)

“Oh yeah, I wanna know too,” Marie agrees excitedly, scooting her chair closer to him. “You’ve been all smiley ever since you came over here so I’m guessing that hottie of yours did something right,” she ends on a teasing note, her waggling eyebrows leaving Robbe no doubts she expects some saucy details.

“Oh my god, stop,” he groans as he hides his face in his hands, his friends giggling at his embarrassment. “It wasn’t like that! We just… finally talked things out.”

Saturday, 18:00 (flashback to last night)

Robbe’s been gnawing on his bottom lip relentlessly, completely unaware, to the point it’s a few bites away from drawing blood. He can’t help but feel nervous, the cursor hovering over the 'accept' button as he's rolling his eyes on himself internally, telling himself to stop making a bigger deal out of this that it needs to be. There is a bit of embarrassment clouding his logical reasoning to be honest, embarrassment about his overreaction last night.

Was it an overreaction? He's still not completely sure, but it's not like avoiding the situation is going to magically fix everything between them. Even though he'd really like that. It feels so awkward to be in this position. Robbe doesn't know what the protocol here is. They bicker, quite often even. Fight a little too, stomping off out of each other’s room grumpily but only over stupid stuff, nothing like this.

He's walking on an unknown ground just hoping he's not going to make things worse. He desperately needs their dynamic back because he's already over it.

Not being able to share the most mundane every day stuff with each other over texts to joke about it, rile the other up or just vent about something stupid like their coffees not being hot enough on a given rainy morning sucks.

So he takes a deep breath and clicks on the button before he works himself into a never-ending second-guessing.

When Sander says a soft hi and smiles at him with the usual warmth in his eyes, something akin to relief courses through him from head to toe.

He gives him his own tentative smile and a short hi, pushing himself higher against the pillows. Before Sander can say anything more, he lets go of what has been weighing down on him the entire day.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, contrite. “About yesterday. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just logged off like that without explanation. And then ignore your messages,” he adds after a pause because that’s what he feels most guilty about. He knows he’d freak out if Sander just cut him off without giving him an opportunity to talk things out, would worry himself sick.

Sander looks conflicted, brows knitted together, like a part of him wants to reassure Robbe because it's in his nature, but the other part is genuinely hurt. Robbe doesn't want compassion. Not for that, because he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Causing Sander distress is the last thing he wants.

"Yeah, it did suck," he finally admits after a moment passes, and Robbe finds comfort in his honesty. It’s a good start. They won’t get anywhere with false niceties and pretending everything’s fine. Robbe tried pretending, yesterday and most of their calls before that, and it got them where they are now.

“I mean, I know you didn’t want to talk about your problems yesterday,” pausing, he scrunches up his nose a bit, “but maybe next time just don’t log off so abruptly so I know you’re okay?” his voice tilts on a hopeful note.

Robbe just nods, feeling shameful, hating that there’s not much more that he can do when he’s talking to him through his computer, and can’t exactly reach out to cuddle up to Sander’s side or kiss the underside of his jaw as a silent apology to then stay close for the rest of the evening as they heal together.

It’s frustrating and disheartening, but it affects them both the same amount and Robbe needs to remember that. Because the truth is, Sander didn’t exactly give him a legitimate reason to doubt him or to think he didn’t miss him. Those full of hurt eyes Sander gave him yesterday at the suggestion have been eating away at him all day.

Robbe just got swallowed by his own insecurities and let the little things that bothered him consume him all instead of, well. Communicating.

Sander was right yesterday. Of course he was.

He knows he has some more apologies to give.

“I’m also sorry for not telling you earlier how I felt,” he keeps pouring his heart out, “and for, you know, assuming you don’t miss me much, and-”

“Woah, hey,” Sander stops him before he can get himself deeper into the spiral. “Robbe, I fucked up too, don’t take it all on yourself.” He adjusts his laptop and Robbe can see his face clearer now, his eyes bloodshot and tired, a clear sign of a sleepless night, and the guilt clogs his throat even more now.

“I should have seen something wasn’t right.” When Robbe shakes his head and goes back to apologizing, Sander shoots him a pointed look that makes him shut up. “I should have, don’t deny it. You know, I took a long walk yesterday after you hung up, to clear my head, but also to get a perspective on our latest talks. And I felt so dumb for not realizing you were not doing okay.”

“Sander, I don’t expect you to read my mind,” Robbe tries to joke, but it falls flat even in his own ears. But he can’t bear those big regretful eyes on him. He doesn't deserve them.

“Baby, I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you the way you needed me to. Please tell me now? What’s been bothering you, hmm?”

Robbe scrubs his face trying to collect his thoughts, to find a concise way to get everything out of his chest, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“It may take a while.”

Sander makes a show of fluffing the pillow he placed against his back and getting himself more comfortable on his bed, sighing with contentment for a better effect.

“Look, I’m in my comfy clothes, got an energy drink on my nightstand, the computer battery is full and I told everyone I’m busy so they won’t nag me with anything. I’m all yours today.” He gives him an encouraging smile, fondness etched into every crevice of his face.

Robbe’s heart does a little skip at his words, Sander’s demeanor so comforting that he feels the last pieces of apprehension ebbing away, the need to vent overpowering the hesitation of showing his vulnerability.

“I think I just found myself overwhelmed with some things,” he admits quietly, picking at his nail, an absent-minded habit when he’s nervous, as he’s trying to find the right words. “A lot has changed in those last few months, almost all at once, and I kinda have trouble coping. And like,” he scoffs at himself, “I’m angry with myself ‘cause I should be enjoying most of it, being in college and majoring in something that I actually like, and it’s great, but I can’t help but focus on all the things that are different now, things that are not so great.”

Before continuing, he flicks his gaze to Sander for a second, only to then cast his eyes back to his lap. “The last two years with you were the happiest of my life, you know? After years of bullshit and constant misery and pretending to be somebody I wasn’t I-,” he sighs, bittersweet smile on his lips,”I finally found my person, you know?”

Sander mirrors his smile, but he’s frowning a little. “But you still have me,” he reminds him softly.

“I know, but it sucks when I can’t just, I don’t know, snuggle up you and forget about stuff. It’s all your fault, by the way, you’ve been too good to me and now I have withdrawal symptoms,” he pouts, and hears Sander chuckling on the other side of the screen.

“You have no idea how much I wish virtual hugs were a thing. And kisses, oh my god, kisses too. I’m so kiss-deprived. Once I finally get my hands on you, I won’t let you go for a week.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

For a short moment, Sander manages to bring a genuine smile on his face, but it quickly disappears when the reality sets back in. There are still almost four long months to get through. He watches Sander’s smile slipping off his face slowly and he knows they’re both thinking about it.

The boy sighs deeply. “You know, sometimes I feel like it was a mistake to-”

Robbe’s eyes snap to him. “No, no, no, don’t think that, it wasn’t a mistake. Please don’t feel guilty or something, that’s the last thing I want you to do,” he stresses. Sander still looks conflicted, and fuck, this is exactly what Robbe wanted to avoid.

“Hey, I’m serious. Look, you not being here is tough, but like I said, it’s just things piling up, changing. Shit like school work that has been piling up and me getting so stressed about the end-of-the-semester project because I still haven’t figured out the details. Plus people moving away, all of that makes it difficult for me to adjust. So don’t go thinking it’s because you’re the center of my universe or something,” he ends his rambling with a feigned-offended huff and Sander easily lets them slip into their usual banter.

“I’m not?! Wow, the things a guy finds out after being such a devoted and doting and loving boyfriend.” He wipes the imaginary tear, letting out a long-suffering sigh. “Such a menace, breaking my heart in half on this lovely Saturday afternoon.” He purses his lips in offence and Robbe is grateful for Sander’s attempt to lift the mood, trying to be upbeat.

He feels a tug in his chest thinking about how if Sander was here, he’d be tackling him to the nearest surface to shut him up with tickles and loud smooches and playful jabs in the sides and how they would make much more noise than necessary, acting like the rambunctious teens they are.

That’s going to have to wait too. But he discovers this thought doesn’t hurt as much as it would have yesterday because their conversation right now, this opportunity to vent and Sander’s texts last night, all of it makes him feel better, helps him see he’s not alone.

“I love you,” he blurts out all of a sudden, and it’s something he’s wanted to say since he read his heartfelt texts this morning that almost made him cry in relief.

Sander blinks a couple times, surprised, but then his previously playful face melts into such a fond look it makes Robbe blush like it was the first time he said it.

The I love you too comes right away, soft and quiet, like he’s telling a secret, and it’s heart-stoppingly precious.

To keep himself from drowning in fuzzy feelings, he shoots him a private little smile and steers the conversation back to his friends, telling him how it sucks that it’s they all now live away and how unexpectedly difficult it is to meet up. Robbe’s used to basically having everyone at arm-reach.

“We do video call, obviously, but you know, Milan is all loved up with Ralph in Amsterdam and not that keen on leaving their love nest and Zoe and Senne keep traveling between Genk and Ghent, which with Zoe’s coursework and internship is already a struggle. I don’t think they’re doing that well, actually,” he winces, remembering their last conversation.

If during freshman year somebody had told Robbe who his best friends were going to be, he’d looked at them as if they had grown two heads. Because for real, Jana’s new friend and her roommate? And school’s fuckboy?

But life’s funny like that sometimes. Moving into their apartment in his sophomore year has been one of the best decisions he’s ever made. His number one best decision is currently frowning at him from his dirty screen.

“Oh, that sucks. Do you think they’ll work it out?”

Robbe sighs deeply, propping his chin on the heel of his palm. “Senne has been thinking about finding a job in Genk so I hope so.”

Sander huffs a laugh suddenly, shaking his head. “Wow, I wish I was in his place and there were only 2 hours between us, instead of a whole ass ocean.”

“Yeah, I think once you’re back we’re gonna have a master's degree in that long distance bullshit,” Robbe smiles at him wistfully.

“Ugh, never again though. You’re not getting rid of me, it sucks without you, Robin.” He sounds so grumpy Robbe can’t help the short giggle that escapes him, but deep down he’s happy they both share that sentiment.

They’re staring at each other now, enjoying the moment before Sander shoots him a knowing look. “You haven’t mentioned Jens.”

That sobers him up enough for the fuzzy feelings to disappear from his stomach.

Jens. There’s not much to talk about really. And isn’t that a punch-in-a gut kind of truth considering it was his best friend? Isn’t it heartbreaking that Robbe didn’t even feel like fighting for that relationship and there’s a nagging voice in his head telling him that Jens didn’t either? Just a regular heated argument was enough to finally cut that last string, to put a stop to a friendship that had been hanging by a thread long before. Not that they had noticed.

He felt awful, afterwards. More alone than ever before. But deep down he knew it had only been a matter of time. He just wished Sander had been there to pick up the pieces.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Robbe winces, going back to apologizing once he translates his feelings to words the best he can, hoping he made Sander understand.

The boy pulls a face at him, eyes narrowed as he pretends to give him a stern look. “Enough with apologizing today, okay?” He waits until Robbe nods, albeit begrudgingly, because it’s in his second nature to keep saying sorry when he knows he messed up.

He nestles against his pillows to get more comfortable as he glances to the window, registering that sometime during their call it got completely dark outside, November days getting shorter still. He can feel tiredness starting to creep into his bones, the nervous anticipation before their call he had endured all day wearing him down significantly.

There are still some things he needs to get out of his chest and Sander coaxes them gently one by one, listening to him moaning and groaning about his school course load and how he thinks he’s not skilled enough to come up with interesting ideas and being quick to cut him off and reassure him when Robbe’s words get self-deprecating. He’s so attentive and so patient with him, not even an ounce of judgement in his eyes that Robbe feels the pressure and stress that have accumulated over the last few weeks finally letting go with each word he pours out.

When the conversation eventually steers to Robbe’s uni friends and he admits sheepishly that he kinda ghosted them lately, feeling too blue to go out and have fun, Sander interrupts him mid-sentence.

“You should reach out to them, tonight.”

At Robbe’s unsure look, he continues, “If they’re as cool as you made them out to be, I’m sure they’re gonna understand you needed some time to figure things out.”

He then proceeds to cover his ears and whistle, refusing to talk more until Robbe caves and shoots a text to the group chat, trying to keep it short, but explaining things along the way and making amends. Sander’s very pleased with his persuasion skills, beaming at him when Robbe reads him the replies he gets from Lucas, Marie and Fien, wearing a small smile himself as he rolls his eyes at Sander’s smug face.

Sander then asks about his mom and it’s so sweet because he always makes sure to ask, and Robbe falls for him even more each time he does. He’s a bit reluctant when Robbe tries to make him talk about his recent days, keeps saying this call is not about him, but he gives in before Robbe gets upset about it.

Watching his eyes light up with excitement when he talks about his classes works like a balm for Robbe’s yearning heart, Sander’s genuine happiness making his own struggles worth it. It’s a nice reminder that he’s there to make his dreams come true and that it’s everything Robbe has wished for him.

When Sander talks about shenanigans with his friends, Robbe recalls the TikTok video he watched some days ago.

“Nice Michael Jackson moves, by the way,” he comments, trying to sound innocent, but it ends up coming out a little coyishly as he bites at his finger to hide his smirk.

Confusion clouds Sander’s face but only for a second. Then, his lips stretch in a wide grin and he looks very pleased with the confession. “Have you been stalking me, Robin?”

Robbe shrugs, a picture of innocence as he keeps peeking at him from under his lashes. “I might’ve seen a video or two. They’re all so thirsty for you in the comments though,” he adds, putting a note of faux-jealousy in his voice. He quickly noticed that Sander’s new uni friend is semi-popular on the app so his videos always get a fair share of comments. Ever since Sander appeared in them, the hoard of the guy’s fans has been declaring their love for Robbe’s boyfriend under every video. They mostly make him laugh, but sometimes he’ll roll his eyes at some of the raunchier ones, possessiveness that he didn’t know he had activating in his brain.

He waits for Sander’s cocky comment, but to his utter delight, he blushes deep red and scoffs.

“Shut up, it’s so embarrassing,” hiding his face in his hands, he adds, “All of my friends have been teasing me about it constantly.”

“Aww, poor you, being fawned over must be such a hardship, how do you cope?”

“Oh I don’t know, smartass, you can tell me from experience ‘cause I saw those comments under your old vlogs.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “They were nowhere near as detailed as yours!”

“What can I say, I’m irresistible,” Sander quips back and yeah, there he is, Robbe’s favorite (cocky) dork. “If I’d known you’re my TikTok fan, I’d have sent you those videos right away so you wouldn’t have to waste your time searching for them."

Robbe sighs. “They are a nice window to your life there,” he replies offhandedly, not even registering the implied double meaning to his words, but the immediate change in Sander’s amused expression makes him aware of the slip.

Fuck.

“So you noticed. That I’ve been texting you less.”

Robbe drops his gaze, pulling the cover further up his body, feeling awkward again. He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of this.

Sander shifts on his bed, scratching at his head. “I felt like I was too much, you know? I wanted to share every silly thing with you, but then, well, it was something Josh said that I should,” he waves vaguely trying to find the right words, “cut back on my ‘running commentary’ ‘cause it’s probably annoying.”

“Tell Josh he’s stupid,” Robbe cuts in with a huff, grumpily beating his pillow into submission to make it more comfortable.

The corners of Sander’s mouth twitch at his comment, but his face remains sheepish. “I think he was mostly joking, but it got stuck in my mind and made me question every message. In the end, I didn’t send like half of them,” he explains softly, voice colored with poorly hidden self-consciousness. “I didn’t want to give you the impression I don't have time for you, I’m sorry.”

And, fuck. They’re both idiots.

Sander’s brows shoot up when Robbe bursts into giggles out of the blue, clearly surprised with the reaction. But at this point, it feels like the only proper thing to do.

“So basically we could have avoided this whole bullshit if we just talk about all this sooner,” he groans at the realization, burying half on his face in his pillow to hide his heated face because he’s a little embarrassed he blew things out of proportion.

There’s a visible relief on Sander’s face too, eyes crinkling as he regards him with a dopey grin, and Robbe knows.

They’re gonna be fine.

“Here I thought we were masters of communication,” Sander sighs with a faux-disappointment, leaning back to smile at the ceiling. “Fuck, no more of assuming shit, what do you think?”

And that sounds like something Robbe can get behind one hundred percent, more than ready to leave their misunderstandings in the past and just do better. So he nods, chin digging into his collarbone uncomfortably with the position he’s lying in, but it doesn’t matter, he’s too preoccupied with staring at his happy face and swimming in his fuzzy feelings.

“Prepare yourself for an onslaught of photos and messages, I’m not messing around,” Sander warns, smiling at Robbe’s soft okay. “You know, just a few days ago I ended up at Pebble Beach, it was cold as all fucks, but the view was just,” he imitates an explosion over his head and Robbe giggles at his childlike enthusiasm. Then, Sander’s face softens and becomes a little sad. “That place is so romantic that it made me feel like shit without you there,” he sighs, and Robbe can relate. “I’ll take you there one day.”

“You’re gonna take me to New York?” Robbe asks, doubt lacing his voice as he cocks his brow which makes Sander scoff in indignance.

“Hell yeah! You don’t believe me? What do you think I’m doing here everyday? I’m scouting the best places for dates, finding the best skateparks and checking out all the museums so I can be the perfect guide for you!” Sander throws his hands, a duh expression on his face, but there’s a wide smile brewing on his lips letting Robbe know he’s not really offended or anything. And, honestly, Robbe just melts with his words.

“I can’t wait, baby,” he sighs dreamily, rubbing his cheek against his pillow as he gazes at him with what he’s sure is the softest look.

Sander narrows his eyes playfully from above the can of Redbull he’s been sipping on. “Don’t ever doubt I’m gonna go out of my way to impress you.”

Robbe blows him a kiss that morphs into a huge yawn, eyelids growing heavy, forcing him to blink repeatedly to stay away which prompts Sander to tease him a little about boring him, but it quickly dies out and he’s just looking at him fondly.

“You should go to sleep.” He ignores Robbe’s melodic neeees, giving him a stern look that was probably supposed to be intimidating, but he looks too amused to keep it up. Once Robbe gets his promise they will see each other tomorrow, Sander sends him several virtual kisses and goodnights before logging off.

Robbe falls asleep with Sander’s beaming face flowing through his mind.

The sleep that comes is unsurprisingly the calmest he’s had in weeks.

Sunday, 18:00

Sander: And?

Robbe: And what?

Sander: Was I right?

Robbe: About?

Sander: About your friends

Robbe: Kinda

Sander: So it means I was 😎

Robbe: :):):) yes

Sander: Thank you sander

Robbe: Thank you sander

Sander: See, you're so precious everybody's in love with you and forgive you in seconds

Robbe: 🙄

Robbe: Precious srsly?

Sander: So precious 🥰

Robbe: Omg

Sander: Haha

Robbe: We're good 😊

Robbe: But I don't think they are in love with me 😂

Sander: They better not be 🤨 I'll fight them all! 🗡💀🧟🤺

Robbe: Dork ❤

Robbe: I think they a little bit in love with u though 🤔

Robbe: They've been babbling all afternoon about how cute you are 🙄

Robbe: A g a i n *yawn*

Sander: They have good taste 🤷♂️

Robbe: Nah they just don't know your annoying habits so that's why

Sander: 😮 I don't have any how dare you badmouthing me like that

Robbe: 🥴

Robbe: You never wash your coffee cups right away so they lay around

Robbe: You always tickle me when you want sth

Robbe: You're full of corny jokes

Robbe: You eat my fries when I don't look

Robbe: You hog the covers

Robbe: And I still remember that Wednesday when you ate my last bag of chips 💔

Sander: Okay first of all

Sander: Wow

Sander: Don't hold back 🥺

Sander: Second of all

Sander: I THOUGHT THOSE CHIPS WERE MILAN'S I TOLD YOU!!!

Robbe: That's what they all say 💔

Sander: You're unfair, I thought I made up for that lil mistake 🍆

Robbe: Well you did 🙈 but I still remember 😝

Sander: Also you love my jokes

Sander: They're awesome 🤧

Robbe: I'm just messing around 😘😘

Sander: 🥰

Robbe: But I swear to god if I have to listen one more time to Marie waxing lyricals about your 'perfect moles' I'm gonna 🤮

Sander: What haha 😂

Robbe: I mean they are but like

Robbe: Chill girl he's not your man 🤨

Sander: That's right cause I'm your man 😏

Robbe: And don't you forget that

Thursday, 3:48

Soft knuckles brush his skin, body arching into the touch that turns his muscles into jelly and sends liquid fire rushing through him. He’s overheated in the best way possible, seeking out Sander’s tongue, but the boy denies him access, smirk well in place as he pulls back, green eyes cloudy from lust. He’s staring at him like he wants to eat him whole and Robbe almost whimpers, bones melting and lids closing when Sander takes the tender flesh of his neck between his teeth and bites at it ever so gently, but just enough to make Robbe see stars.

He sighs as he feels a ghost of touch on his nipple, Sander leaving a trail of kisses down his sternum as he’s moving so teasingly slow to his final destination, and he doesn’t even hesitate, spreading his legs wider around Sander’s hips in a blatant invitation, blushing hot pink when Sander sends him a fox-like grin, mouthing at his inner thigh.

The details get fuzzy for a few seconds, Robbe blinking rapidly to get his surroundings and finding himself on top of Sander, and there’s an inkling at the back of his brain telling him something’s messed up about the logistics here. He decides to ignore it, focusing back on the moment and Sander’s glistening, kiss-swollen lips, on his eyes transfixed on the place where they’re connected, and he leans down, his tongue sweeping over his Sander’s bottom lip before he starts pressing soft, spit-slick kisses into his mouth. He pushes Sander’s hands up over his head and intertwines their fingers, arching his back as he takes over, the rush of pleasure almost overwhelming him.

“Ohmygod, Sander,” Robbe breathes into his mouth. His hands are trailing all over Sander’s chest and stomach now, squeezing and rubbing almost like he’s his personal plaything.

It’s not long before Sander’s warm hands draw him back towards his chest, lips ghosting along Robbe’s, teasing, always teasing, but not granting permission to properly meet, making Robbe impatient and whine in desperation only for Sander to grin wickedly at him. He feels nails dragging along his spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake, stopping at his cheeks, massaging them to his heart content while Robbe can only pant, rocking back and forth and biting his bottom lip to keep from coming.

He’s an oversensitive, blissed out mess, trying to keep his eyes open to take a mental snapshot of Sander’s lust-blown pupils as they watch each other, Sander fucking him slowly and punching the prettiest sounds out of Robbe’s mouth.

Hips stuttering, he drops back down on his elbows to crash his lips against Sander’s, feeling his body tensing he’s so close and-

Eyes shot wide open, blinking harshly against the darkness of the room. His first instinct is to reach out to the other side of the bed, snuggle closer to the source of heat lying next to him, but his brain catches up with his hands quickly and he stops himself mid-reach, groaning as he flops back on the bed, disappointed. He kicks his covers down grumpily, letting cold air hit his overheated skin, frustrated and too awake to go to sleep now.

Fuck.

Thursday, 13:08

*photo attached*

Sander: Good morning x

Robbe: Heeyy sleepyhead 😘

Robbe: You look cute

Sander: I had very interesting dreams last night

Robbe: Oh yeah?

Sander: Yeah I'm still affected by them 😏

Robbe: Stop it I'm at a coffee shop with the guys!

Sander: I'll have to tell you about it tonight then 😈

Robbe: Can't wait 😘

Sander: Today at 16 my time right?

Robbe: Yep :)

Robbe: You know

Sander: Hmm?

Robbe: I might have some of those dreams too last night

Sander: 🥵🥵🥵

Sander: Do tell

Robbe: 🙈

Sander: Now I’m super intrigued 😈

Robbe: How about I tell you tonight

Robbe: With details

Robbe: Lots of them

Sander: Tonight can't come fast enough 😩

Sander: Looks like I will though 😏

Robbe: Omg you're such a dork 😂

Sander: Did it get u hot

Robbe: No wtf 😂

Sander: ☹🥺

Sander: Kay

Sander: I have to get up now

Sander: I'm late 🙄

Sander: Robin it's raining I don't wanna go out 😩

Robbe: Haha get your pretty ass out of bed and go be a good student!

Sander: Ugh fine 🙄

Sander: I love you ❤

Robbe: ❤

Sander: Hey no, not an emoji, tell me you love me ☹

Robbe: Haha

Sander: Come on

Robbe: 🤐

Sander: Robbe

Robbe: Gotta go 😌

Sander: Okay then 😔💔

Robbe: I love you too idiot ❤❤❤💯

Sander: Yesss 🥰

Sander: Hey that's my emoji 😏 so you like it after all

Robbe: 😂 go to class!!!

Sander: I'm going I'm going

Friday, 19:00

Robbe checks his phone for time again, not wanting to be late for his call with Sander, but there’s still about half an hour until he should get going. It’s been a pleasant evening and a while ago he would have never called any time of the day spent with his father ‘pleasant’, but there he is. Enjoying his dinner not only with him but also with his girlfriend of six months that he met in July when the first attempts to salvage the relationship with his dad have been made.

And it’s all because of Sander. The fact that he’s even here speaks volumes about his skill of persuasion. If it hadn’t been for his boyfriend, Robbe would have continued to stew in his own juices and ignored his dad.

“How is Sander doing? New York is a jungle.”

Robbe huffs a laugh. “He’s good, he fits in well in the city vibe. But, um, he needs to stay a bit longer, till February actually ‘cause the school postponed the art show.”

He goes for another bite, frown on his face at the mere reminder of the change of plans.

“You probably hate it, huh?” his father questions.

His only response is to throw him a duuuh look, making his dad snort.

“You should visit him.”

Robbe looks up from over his spaghetti, expecting to see his dad laughing or winking at him, but both him and Margaux are looking at him with unsuspecting smiles, like the suggestion is the most obvious thing in the world.

He exhales a short dad in a laugh, glancing at them back and forth. “I don’t have a spare several thousand euros lying around waiting to be spent on a trip to New York,” he explains, slight exasperation in his voice.

“Oh I don’t think you’d need that much, Robbe,” Margaux smiles at him as she puts away her fork and reaches for her phone. “A few months ago I was actually backpacking with my friend through the East Coast and, wait, let me check, I have everything saved on my AirBnB account.”

Robbe gets back to his dinner as she scrolls on her phone, trying to squish the building hope in his chest away because even if it’s cheaper than he thinks, there’s still no way he can afford it; his equipment and books for school have eaten all of his savings.

“There it is! Look,” she scoots her chair closer to him, his dad peeking at the phone from the other side. “We stayed in Brooklyn for 98$ a day for a double bed, in Bedford to be exact and the conditions were really nice, plus the train station was close by. I’m sure you could find something half as cheap since it’s just you and the room can be tiny, just to sleep really.”

“That’s a reasonable price, I think,” his dad joins in, and then proceeds to ask her questions about her other expenditures while in the city and the flight prices, debating whether it’s better to drive to Frankfurt and take a direct flight from there or maybe decide on a layover flight from Brussels.

They are so into the planning and discussing the best options that they both jump slightly when Robbe speaks again, clearly forgetting he’s sitting right next to them, a picture of confusion.

“Guys, guys, wait. It doesn’t matter if it’s 1500 euros, or even 1000 euros because that’s still a 1000 euros more than I have to spend on a trip anywhere.”

His dad is so enthralled into checking different flights that he barely raises his head from above his phone, replying offhandedly, “I’ll pay for it.”

And, okay, no. Robbe gapes at him like he grew two heads, spluttering, because hell no.

“No way, I won’t take your money, dad.”

His vehement tone finally makes his father properly regard him and he sighs after a second. “Robbe, please don’t treat it as an attempt to buy you or your feelings.”

Straight to the point, his dad, always has been. It definitely is one the reasons for his refusal, but it’s not only that.

Robbe takes a deep breath to calm down. “Look, dad, it’s still lots of money. I can’t-”

“I’m many things, but irresponsible with money I’m definitely not. So if I say that I can pay for it, it means that I can afford it and it won’t affect me.” He gives him a pointed look. Before Robbe can argue again, he continues. “We can treat it as your Christmas gift. And next year’s birthday gift. And last two Christmases gifts as well.”

Robbe thinks about the packages he received from his father those holidays, and how he sent them back without even opening. Then, it definitely felt like buying his affection.

“You’ve been doing good at school, got into the university you wanted, you’ve been more responsible those last few years that I could’ve ever asked from you. Then you worked during the summer because you were adamant about paying for school stuff yourself. I think you earn it, Robbe. If you don’t want to go for other reasons, then that’s fine, but if it’s just about the money, please let me give you this.”

“New York is the kind of place everyone should visit at least one,” Margaux says gently. She has a warm smile that immediately made Robbe like her, despite really trying not to for obvious reasons. “And I think Sander would love for you to come visit too.”

Robbe has been torn before she spoke, but the mention of Sander reminds him of their videocall a while back, Sander telling him about places he was going to show him one day, being his guide and taking him to his favorite spots in the city. He can see it all vividly now when the opportunity is at his fingertips, can’t stop the excitement filling his body at the thought of seeing Sander before that dreadful February, even though he’s still now sure what to do.

While he’s been lost in his thoughts, trying to come to some conclusion, Margaux has been typing away at her phone. “Dates around Christmas are very expensive, but what would you say about, let’s say, December 8th? Til December 17th?”

Robbe wouldn’t even consider Christmas because there’s no way he would leave his mom alone for the holidays, but… the dates Margaux offered seem kinda perfect. His main project is due on December 4th so he wouldn’t have to worry about that and it’d be fine if he missed classes for those several days. Completely unaware, he finds himself making plans in his head before he even made a decision to accept his father’s money, but when his eyes snap to his dad’s, the small smile he gives him lets him know he already knows Robbe’s answer.

December 7th, 22:00

His excitement has been uncontainable the entire day, making him so giddy he had to cancel his regular call with Sander because his boyfriend would figure him out in seconds. And that’s the last thing he wants.

He’s still in shock that he somehow managed to keep it from him, planning a surprise in his head ever since he agreed to his dad’s help and working extra hard at uni to afford missing those 8 days of school. There’s apparently been one close call when Younes almost spilled the beans to Sander during their Zoom, but thank god for Yasmina who managed to effortlessly salvage the secret, improvising and coming up with an easy lie, leaving him unsuspicious of any ploy going on.

And Robbe just. He just can’t wait. He’s been counting hours since last week, his lips yearning to be kissed by his favorite person, body pining for touch and caress.

Lost in the dreams of their reunion, Robbe’s startled by a ping from his phone, lips stretching in a wide smile when he sees a notification from Sander’s instagram. He opens it, curious, melting when he’s greeted with a graffiti sign saying ENKEL LIEFDE, Sander’s style easily recognizable to him. Underneath, there’s a heart and his own handle and that shit never fails to make Robbe heart stutter. There’s a DM from Sander waiting for him as well, the same photo, but Sander’s caption says The High Line needed its own version of my love declaration for you, but unfortunately I couldn’t find enough space for a redo of your gorgeous face Robin :( So I did this :) You like it?

He replies with a bunch of red hearts, likes the post and adds another heart in a comment because there’s never too many of those. Then he flops back on his bed, a smile glued to his face.

Nineteen hours.

#wtfock

32 notes · View notes

kyoties · 4 years

Note

do you have any headcanons for akaza x sakura?

I sure do!!! These aren’t so much headcanons as they are a string of headcanons basically written with a plot??? If that makes sense??? kdjfoiwhgow bear with me though??? This is NOT a fic just some thoughts I really wanted to write down and share lol

Akaza brings her to Muzan 80 years prior to the story’s main timeline. Muzan believed her to be a descendant of the doctor he killed and that she had information on the blue spider lily, but had no direct proof to confirm it. So, while she was walking at night, Akaza retrieved her without any questions.

Sakura isn’t sure, but she’s aware that her ancestors had many special treatments that were passed down with each generation. Muzan asks her if she knows or not – he doesn’t want a ‘possibility of its existence’, he wants answers.

Sakura admits she’s never heard of the blue spider lily. Muzan wants to kill her, but he’s reluctant to do so due to his past mistakes. He’s desperate for a lead and this girl could quite possibly be his second chance at conquering the sunlight. For now, even a pathetic human was a better lead than nothing.

Muzan also knows that Akaza doesn’t eat or kill women and leaves her in his care. He tells Akaza she must travel with him and their assignment – on top of wiping out the Demon Slayer Corps – will be to find the blue spider lily. He keeps her human so she can continue her work during the daylight for now, but warns her that she can’t afford to make mistakes or he’ll kill her.

In the beginning, Akaza orders her around a lot, however he’s not cruel. Sakura stands up for herself, though. She’s not a doormat, so they’re butting heads all the time in the beginning of their ‘mission’. He appreciates how strong-willed and tough she is.

At one point in time, Akaza uses Sakura as bait to attract some low-ranking demon slayers so he can eat (she isn’t aware those are his intentions until he kills them, she was just going to them to ask for directions because he told her to). He plays it off, but she’s really upset about it. He doesn’t promise anything, but he never uses her like that again. When he’s hungry, he goes hunting alone.

In the cold months, he’ll hunt animals for her or catch fish. She’s very grateful for it and always invites him to eat with her. He refuses.

The first time she’s sick, he feels uneasy and doesn’t understand why he’s so anxious. While she’s sleeping, he’s constantly pacing around her. She’ll wake up and he already has water for her to drink. ‘Why are you being so kind to me?’ she asks. He doesn’t answer. She’s only sick a handful of times, but he hates it when she coughs. He yells at her to stop because it bothers him so much. They bicker about it, but she ends up falling asleep and he goes back to his pacing.

She still does her work during the day which exhausts her as they have to travel at night, too. Akaza, after a few weeks of her doing this, carries her on his back so she can rest at night unless he needs her. Muzan, being a demon for so long, disregarded that part of her needs (or maybe he just didn’t care). When dawn comes close, he’ll find a nearby cave and she’ll walk to a nearby town to get some clues from any doctors/healers/ANYONE there about the blue spider lily.

During the summer, they stumble upon a village festival. Sakura is happy to join in and they both go around in the night. She plays festival games while he receives a bunch of nervous stares. One of the stands gives her a mask to wear. She puts it on Akaza even though he growls about it. Fireworks start up. Sakura remembers the fireworks in her village and expresses how much she misses them. She takes his hand in hers and he feels the urge to grip it tightly, but pulls away from her and walks back to the cave.

That night after she’s gone to sleep, he feels a bit of regret, wishing he’d held her hand. He’s overwhelmed for the rest of the night, overthinking.

He reads through her journal – apparently she was carrying it back when he kidnapped her. She used to write about the boys in her village, how she can’t wait for her birthday, things so boring and ‘human’ to him. He goes to the present day. She writes about nobody knowing what a blue spider lily is, about how she misses her family, about how she’s thankful that she’s travelling with a demon that’s capable of being kind on rare occasions. He closes it.

Once, while Akaza was summoned by Muzan about their progress, he was nervous about the repercussions she would face. Muzan was pissed they didn’t have anything, but Akaza told him that he firmly believed they were on to something substantial and apologizes on her behalf. After Muzan dismisses him, Akaza returns to her. She welcomes him in and he realizes his feelings for her are much stronger than he anticipated. He doesn’t understand love, but he definitely wants to protect her.

But Sakura doesn’t feel that hopeful. During the day, she often cries her eyes out. Because something like the blue spider lily just doesn’t exist today. It can’t. It’s so absurdly impossible to find that she doesn’t even bother asking. By now, it’s been three years. She wants out, but she knows that she doesn’t have a real future even if she escaped. Muzan would find her at some point and, if he didn’t kill her, he’d make her go try and find it again. Maybe he’d torture her or turn her into a demon. She didn’t want to experience that. It’s hopeless to her. But she keeps smiling at Akaza and making him believe they’re really on to something. She’s afraid of dying. She’s afraid of facing Muzan with nothing to show for it.

It gets lonely on her own for so long, so I’m sure even without reciprocating his feelings, Sakura yearns for human affection and allows him to hold her. She needs it after going through all she has. But she’s dreading the day when she has to tell him that there’s no flower. There probably won’t ever be one.

She wakes up to him snuggling her and calls his name. He backs off, but she immediately coaxes him back to her. She kisses him.

After a few months with absolutely NO LEADS (not even fake ones), she sits with Akaza and is ready to tell him the truth. He stops her and tells her VERY SERIOUSLY they’re going to find it. She argues that nobody knows what it even is. It’s hopeless. Akaza says that Muzan knows it exists, so it has to be somewhere. Even if they have to travel outside of Japan. She’s going to find the flower and Muzan will be able to conquer the sunlight.

‘After that,’ he says, ‘I’ll keep protecting you. Lord Muzan might even give you his blood and make you a demon.’

‘I don’t want to become–’ Akaza grabs her hand before she can finish. She doesn’t speak again and goes to bed. Obviously, deep down, Akaza knows there’s no flower either. He knows. But he would never outright think it because his loyalty to Muzan is unwavering. Whatever Muzan believes to be true, he will believe, too. It’s why she’s still here after all.

They find somewhere safe from the sun, she goes out in the daylight, he stays behind until nightfall, he hunts. When he returns, he crawls into her arms while she sleeps. He knows she doesn’t love him, but it feels good to be close to her. They both find something soothing about it.

Five years. FIVE YEARS. Nothing. Muzan hasn’t called for them yet. Five years is just a speck to him after being alive for as long as he has. Akaza is thankful for it. Sakura is safe.

And she’s older. 23 years old. He thinks about how she could have been married to some nobody with a nice dowry. She could have had one or maybe two children by now. It’s dark. She barely has the energy to go to villages and ask around anymore. Akaza usually doesn’t make her unless she hasn��t done it in a while. She’s not the same. She doesn’t smile as much anymore. But she walks with him at night now. Daylight makes her eyes hurt.

They’re confronted by demon slayers. She warns them to stay away, but they never listen. She still cries when he kills them and never stays around when he eats. While passing by a large village after no hints or clues about the blue spider lily, they see fireworks again. They stop to watch them and he involuntarily reaches for Sakura’s hand.

He tries to kiss her, but she pulls away from him.

It’s not unusual for Akaza and Sakura to be confronted by demon slayers. However, the crows that accompany them have given the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps some intel that a human girl with pink hair is accompanying an Upper Moon. Ubayashiki gives demon slayers permission to kill her along with Upper Moon Three.

They’re surrounded by demon slayers. Akaza can sense a group behind them, attempting to flank them and attack. But he’s under the impression that they’re still willing to save Sakura and kill him. He kills the group to his front and prepares to kill the rest until he hears Sakura scream. She’s being held by a demon slayer, a blade to her neck. The Pillar in their ranks tells him to surrender. Of course, Akaza laughs at the thought. He mocks them until one of the demon slayers threaten to kill her. He bluffs, asking if they’re really willing to kill their own kind. He says that he’s kept her this long to lure out any idiots. It’s an easy way to get food.

They don’t believe him. They know that he has other intentions for her. Something that has to do with Muzan. They stand firm. Either he dies or she does. Akaza hesitates. He looks at her then to the group of twelve – half with their swords directed at her and the remaining towards him. They demand he surrenders so they can cut off his head. He senses more behind them. Reinforcements – that’s new. They’re getting closer. Less than twenty.

Akaza was fast. He could kill them and–

Another Pillar approaches from behind and Akaza dodges effortlessly to avoid the attack. He was fast, but not fast enough. The reinforcements are attacking in a group after Akaza strikes the Pillar down. The Pillar, holding his gut, yells out beyond the cries of his fellow demon slayers.

‘Kill her! Then kill the demon!’

Akaza’s feet never touch the ground as he goes through several demon slayers’ bodies, severing pieces of them into the trees or splattering them on the ground. One slices into his arm. Akaza retaliates by breaking his jaw. A blade breaks against his ankle. Akaza is fast. Akaza is fast. Akaza is–

He kills the man behind Sakura. His head lopped off like a flower’s. The Pillars, the weaklings, everyone. They’re all dead.

Sakura is crying. She’s holding her neck. Her eyes are on him as she reaches out . There’s blood on her fingers.

Akaza’s body feels heavy. The Pillar with the original group laughs, shortened by a few heavy coughs. ‘It serves her right. Turning against her own kind – it serves her right!’

Akaza stomps on his head.

He scoops her up. She’s pale, unable to speak. He looks at her then to the gaping wound where his hand used to be. He didn’t even realize it was missing. That didn’t matter. The wound was closing fast.

He holds her closer. ‘Sakura-san,’ he says, ‘Sakura-san, I’m giving you my blood.’

Blood drips over her face. She turns away and Akaza holds her still, forcing her mouth open. ‘You’re not dying like this. Lord Muzan still needs you! You need to stay! Keep your damn mouth open!’

Her hand weakly pushes against his forearm. He’s growing manic as he makes her ingest his blood. He reopens his wound. She needs more. A little more. He makes sure it enters through her wound just to be absolutely certain.

He kills the occupants of a cave that were camped out overnight and takes over one of the beds for her as dawn creeps closer. He sits there with her resting in the back of the cave, clutching her journal. Dawn breaks. Her legs twitch. Her back arches. She gasps.

She’s covered in sweat. The wound on her neck is covered by a black band tattooed over her neck, just like his. She looks at him, out of breath. He can see her fangs as her mouth hangs open.

‘Sakura-san–’ She ignores him, running to the fresh bodies.

She immediately grabs hold of a severed arm and begins devouring it.

Akaza walks over and squats down as she continues to eat. He drops his hand onto her head and combs his fingers through her tangled hair. A bone crunches and she moves on to the next piece of her meal. Akaza continues to stroke her hair adoringly. She’s alive and safe because of him. He protected her. That’s all he needed.

It takes a week or two of one-sided conversations for her to start speaking. She doesn’t remember anything.

A year passes. Sakura is different. She happily kills demon slayers and hunts humans with Akaza. She eats with him and stays awake in the night. She doesn’t cry anymore. She smiles all the time and listens to whatever he says.

They walk out of the forest with the lights of a village glowing in the dark. A night market or festival, maybe. Akaza ignores it. Sakura stops and stares.

‘Do you remember?’ he asks, when he realizes she isn’t following him. ‘As a human, you liked going to them.’

‘Akaza-kun, how many humans do you think are down there? I’m getting hungry.’

Akaza regrets it. He hates looking at her for too long. Seeing her eat pisses him off. Seeing her kill whatever weak humans that cross their path pisses him off. He rereads her journal obsessively. He shows it to her, explains that she used to write a lot as a human. She smacks it out of his hand, saying that she has no idea what he’s talking about. She wants nothing to do with whatever her human self wrote about. He destroys it.

Muzan meets her in-person. He appreciates her devotion to the cause and praises Akaza on his choice to turn her into a demon. He dismisses them to continue their search and kill as many of the Demon Slayer Corps as possible.

They go out at night: eat, kill, search. Sakura picks fights with him constantly. Akaza wishes he’d let her die instead. She never wanted this and he went against her anyway. Why did he do it? If he hadn’t underestimated the demon slayers and– she’d still be alive and human.

Death would have been merciful. And he took that away.

Time passes. The feelings of regret wither away. Sakura’s clinging to him more and more. She’s happy to be in his company. Akaza doesn’t care.

He enjoys finding strong opponents and fulfilling Muzan’s plans.

She dies at his feet by a Flame Pillar – Rengoku’s – blade. Akaza manages a retreat after killing him, but not without taking a sword through his chest. He leaves behind three other demon slayers. Muzan is utterly disappointed by his failure. Akaza feels numb.

They’re summoned to Muzan’s fortress with the remaining members of the Demon Slayer Corps. His head is cut off. He can hear his father’s voice. He can feel Koyuki’s warmth on his skin. Muzan’s cells are tingling in his body. It’s not worth it anymore. They won. But he can’t go where Koyuki and his father are.

Someone stands beyond his vision. Pink hair. Akaza walks slowly towards her then breaks out into a run and grabs hold of her. So many apologies he’s already given. So many mistakes he’s made. He’ll apologize again for her. He was selfish. He took her life away and left her to die without caring at all.

Sakura holds him. They go to hell together. At least they won’t be alone.

#akaza x sakura #akasaku #knyverse #demon au #Anonymous #long post #my art

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

Text

The Convenient Groom: 11/14

I'm back! I know it's been a month, but I had things in real life that required my attention. To make it up to you, I give you about 4,700 words that I adore. I hope it was worth the wait! I also have the next chapter half written, so hopefully I can get that to you much sooner.

Summary: Killian Jones just happens to be there when Emma Swan gets the phone call that changes everything: her fiance is leaving her at the altar. The thing is, it could also mean the end of her career. Convenient that Killian has nothing better to do that day. Convenient that he’s secretly in love with her. Not that Emma has to know that. Written for @spartanguard .

Rating: M

Also on Ao3

Tagging: @snowbellewells @whimsicallyenchantedrose @kmomof4 @let-it-raines�� @teamhook @bethacaciakay @xhookswenchx @tiganasummertree @shireness-says @stahlop @scientificapricot @welllpthisishappening @resident-of-storybrooke @thislassishooked @ilovemesomekillianjones @kday426 @ekr032-blog-blog @lfh1226-linda @ultraluckycatnd @nikkiemms @distant-rose @optomisticgirl @profdanglaisstuff @carpedzem @ohmakemeahercules @branlovestowrite @superchocovian @sherlockianwhovian @vvbooklady1256 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @delirious-latenight-laughs @jennjenn615 @snidgetsafan

Killian Jones really needed to stop giving Emma more reasons to find him adorable and sexy. Like playing blocks with two year old Leo in the middle of the Nolan’s living room.

“Wow, lad! This is a super tall tower! Do you think we can add this last block?”

He was on his stomach, guiding Leo’s hand ever so carefully to add one last wooden block to their creation. Killian scooted up on his knees and grinned at the toddler.

“Now are you ready for the best part?”

Leo bent his knees and did a funny little bounce with his bottom sticking out. His grin was wide and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Okay,” Killian said, putting an exaggerated tough expression on his face, “ready to dinosaur stomp?”

Killian swung his arms a bit and “stomped” on his knees while growling. Leo did the same, scrunching his face up adorably as he growled. Then both of them let out a loud roar, and Leo swung his arms at the block tower, knocking it over with a satisfying crash. Killian cheered for the boy, and Leo grinned broadly as he launched himself at his “Uncle Killy.” Killian caught him, but fell backwards as if Leo was too strong for him.

“Oh no, it’s the tickle-saurus-rex!”

Liam’s giggles were so infectious, Emma found herself laughing too as he attempted to tickle Killian. She left the couch to join them, helping the toddler to tickle Killian.

“Not fair!” Killian gasped between bouts of laughter. “The giganta-saurus can’t help the tickle-saurus!”

“Hey!” Emma retorted. “Watch who you're calling gigantic.”

“You gi-unt. Leo wi-tul,” the two year old explained, jabbing Emma with a pudgy finger.

“I guess you’re right, Leo. You’re little, and I’m giant.”

Killian shrugged from his spot on the floor. His hair was a mess, and it was way sexier than it had a right to be.

“You can’t argue with the boy’s logic, can you, Swan?”

“Alright kids,” David teased from the dining room, “it’s time to eat.”

Emma scooped Leo up as she stood and balanced him on her hip. Killian stood, groaning as he did. Emma laughed at him.

“Feeling your age, old man?”

“Maybe,” Killian groaned, rubbing at his lower back.

Emma reached out to fix his disheveled hair. She couldn’t help herself. Besides, he didn’t want to look ridiculous in front of his old friends. Right?

“Thanks, love,” he told her softly.

Emma paused with her fingers just behind his ear. “No problem.”

“Hurry over here before the fish gets cold,” Mary Margaret called out.

Emma yanked her hand away, and Killina cleared his throat awkwardly. Mary Margaret gave Emma a look she couldn’t quite read as she approached the table. She deposited Leo in his booster seat, chatting with the little boy so she wouldn’t have to face whatever look Mary Margaret was leveling at her.

They all settled around the table, passing around food and chatting amicably. David had grilled some striped bass he had caught just that morning, and Emma held back a moan at how delicious it was. The fresh fish around here was one of the perks she had grown to love. She had never had anything like this in Manhattan.

As usual, she and Killian had to keep up appearances, so Killian’s hand would every so often land on her knee, or he would press a kiss to her cheek. When the plates were all clean, and they were simply enjoying the conversation, Killian leaned back and slung his arm around the back of Emma’s chair. He doled out casual affection so readily in a fake relationship, she wondered how attentive he would be in a real one.

“So,” Mary Margaret said as she hoisted Leo out of his booster seat, “when did Walsh leave you high and dry?”

Emma’s mouth dropped open, sure she had heard her friend wrong. Mary Margaret just waited for an answer while she wiped Leo’s face and hands with a baby wipe.

“Please tell me he at least gave you 24 hours,” added David.

Killian’s arm dropped away from her shoulder with a thud as he exchanged a shocked glance with her. Emma blinked rapidly, hardly able to process the turn the conversation had taken.

“I’m sorry. Who?”

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes. “You two don’t have to fake it with us. We know Walsh was your fiance, Emma. This building is old, the loft is right upstairs, and the walls are thin.”

David eyed them both as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So what’s going on?” Emma and Killian both released long sighs.

“Look, I was at Killian’s shop checking on the wedding arbor when Walsh called and dumped me.”

Mary Margaret gasped. “The day of the wedding?”

Emma nodded, then glanced at Killian again with an expression that said help!

“So, uh,” Killian began to explain, “I sort of . . . offered to stand in.”

“So this is a fake marriage?” David’s eyebrows arched.

“No!”

“Yes!”

Emma shook her head at Killian, and he ducked his head and scratched behind his ear. She had to tell him to quit doing that. Surely she wasn’t the only one who had figured out it was his nervous tick.

“What Killian means is, yes it’s a real marriage in that the wedding was real and there’s a marriage certificate and everything. It’s legal.”

“But,” Killian clarified, his face already turning red, “Emma means that we haven’t . . . that is to say it isn’t . . . “

“Consummated?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma choked on the sip of water she had just taken. Killian’s face turned positively crimson.

“So that’s a no, thank God,” David muttered.

“Excuse me?” Killian blurted.

“You’re not my dad,” Emma muttered.

“David, seriously,” Mary Margaret scolded.

David lifted both hands in defense. “I just want to be sure Killian isn’t taking advantage of the situation.”

“I didn’t pimp myself out to him, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Emma snapped.

“Nobody is saying that,” Mary Margaret assured her.

“I would never assume . . . “ Killian stuttered, “I mean . . . “

His face might remain red for the rest of his life.

“David,” Mary Margaret announced decisively, “take Leo in the living room. Emma’s gonna help me with the dishes.”

“But -” David protested even as his wife thrust the toddler into his arms. Mary Margaret gave him a look, and he sighed and rose from the table.

“Killian?” Mary Margaret asked pointedly.

“Yes ma'am,” Killian told her, hanging his head and following quickly after Davd.

Emma laughed. “You use that teacher voice well.”

Mary Margaret shrugged as she started gathering plates. “Whatever works on third graders also works on men is what I’ve found.”

Emma helped her clear the table and take everything into the kitchen. The building was old, and except for the third floor loft apartment Emma had rented, it was the opposite of an open floor plan. She and Mary Margaret were tucked away from the men where they couldn’t overhear their conversation. Oh, Mary Margaret was good.

“Okay, spill it. Why did Killian Jones agree to marry you at the last minute?’

She also wasn’t subtle.

Emma avoided her gaze as she ran the hot water and squirted soap on the pile of dishes. “I don’t know. He said he hoped I could help his brother and his wife with some marriage issues.”

Mary Margaret snorted. “And you believed that?”

Emma scowled at her, but when Mary Margaret gave her a pointed look she sighed. “Killian honestly confuses me. I thought he was inconsiderate when he was just the carpenter downstairs blaring loud rock music. When he was making my arbor, I thought he was nothing but a shameless flirt. But now . . . I don’t know what to make of him.”

Mary Margaret tilted her head, regarding Emma in a way that made her blush. She looked quickly down into the sudsy water and started scrubbing at a saucepan.

“Are you falling for him?”

“You two really need a dishwasher,” Emma grumbled, scrubbing harder.

“Don’t change the subject.”

Emma looked up at her friend in frustration, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. “We have an agreement, okay? Nothing more. We fake this marriage for a year, then we part ways. Killian even says I can spin it in my favor.”

Mary Margaret frowned. “You mean paint him as the bad guy? Emma, that’s awful!”

��I’m not saying that’s what I’m going to do! I’m just saying that we went into this agreeing to no strings, know what I mean?”

Mary Margaret took the clean saucepan and began to dry it with a dishcloth. She said nothing as Emma started washing the plates, but Emma could tell something was bothering her.

“Spit it out,” she finally groaned.

“I don’t want to see my friend get hurt,” Mary Margaret admitted after a beat of silence.

“I won’t.”

“I wasn’t talking about you.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “It was his idea.”

Mary Margaret put down the dish she was drying and turned Emma to face her, ignoring the sudsy water dripping from Emma’s hands and onto the floor. She cupped Emma’s face in her hands.

“Why do you think he offered, Emma? You can’t be that oblivious, you're too smart for that.”

Emma blinked and sucked in a sharp breath. Mary Margaret couldn’t mean that Killian had serious feelings for her. Could she? Sure, the man could kiss, and he had come to be an actual friend she could talk to, but that didn’t mean he lov - had feelings for her.

Emma shrugged Mary Margaret off and turned resolutely back to the dishes.

“We’re being careful.”

“I don’t see how you can be,” Mary Margaret muttered, “living together, pretending to be married, and all those little touches he was giving you tonight.”

“We had to keep up appearances. We didn’t know you had figured it out.”

Mary Margaret kept talking, ignoring Emma’s explanation. “I’ve also just never seen him this happy.”

Emma dropped a handful of silverware into the sink with a splash. She recovered her composure quickly and fished them back out of the water.

“I think you’re exaggerating.”

“You didn’t see him after Milah died. He was a mess. He sold the house they had been renovating for way less than he should have, bought that little cabin from Liam, then shut himself away. Then he started drinking too much. If it hadn’t been for Liam and David, I don’t know what might have happened.”

Mary Margaret’s words caused Emma to freeze, a sudsy plate in her hand, dripping water all over her jeans. What the hell had she gotten herself into? Mary Margaret pried the plate from her hand silently and started to dry it.

“I’m not trying to break his heart,” Emma whispered.

Mary Margaret looked at her gently. “I know that. I also know he’s a grown man who did this of his own free will. I guess I just can’t help worrying.”

“You’re a good friend.”

“I’m your friend too, Emma, so can I give you a little advice?”

Emma bit her bottom lip, the answer “no” on the tip of her tongue, but she finally found she couldn’t resist Mary Margaret’s earnest expression. “Fine, bring it on,” she answered with a teasing smile. “I don’t want anyone to say I can dish it out but can’t take it.”

“I know Walsh hurt you, and it may seem like building a wall around your heart is the wise thing to do. And that wall of yours might keep pain out, but it will keep love out, too. Just . . . open your eyes when it comes to Killian?”

Emma swallowed nervously as she turned quickly back to the dishes in the sink. She never did tell Mary Margaret yes or no.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So how long have you been in love with Emma?”

David Nolan was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

Killian groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “Is it that obvious?”

“You standing up in a tux sure was. Why else would you do this?”

“I’m a nice guy?”

David laughed. “No one’s that nice.”

Muppet Babies was playing on the tv to keep Leo occupied, and the two year old giggled at something Gonzo said. He shifted on David’s lap, and Killian noticed the boy’s eyelids drooping. David brushed a kiss across the child’s blonde hair, and Killian’s heart clenched as he looked away. The words Emma had him repeat - “it wasn’t my fault” - replayed in his mind. Yet he also realized that he wanted what David had more than he had been willing to admit. For the first time, hope for the future flickered within his heart instead of regret for the past.

“Seriously, though,” Killian told his friend, “I didn’t want to see her hurt and humiliated. Not to mention what it would have done to her career.”

David turned away from the dancing Muppets to level Killian with a look that he had seen before. David had given it to him every time he had tried to hide away or drink himself into oblivion after Milah died. Every time he lied and said “I’m fine,” David would give him that look. The look that basically said he wasn’t buying Killian’s shit.

“And you had absolutely no hopes for anything more?”

Killian rubbed wearily at his temple before answering. “I confess I hoped we might get . . . closer, but don’t forget, she was left at the altar. I have to proceed with caution.”

Leo had fallen asleep the way only children can - with no preamble. He was limp in David’s arms, his neck bent at an angle that no adult would be able to endure. Somehow, he was already sweaty. David moved with agonizing slowness to grab the remote and mute the cartoon. Then he turned to Killian with a serious expression on his face.

“Are you prepared for her to leave when this is all over?”

The thought kept him up at night, especially now that Emma shared his bed. He had to admit, he was falling harder every day. And yet . . . He met David’s gaze with resolve in his eyes.

“When I win her heart, it won’t be through any trickery or manipulation. It won’t be because I’m convenient. It will be because she wants me. If she doesn’t, I want her to walk away. All I want is her happiness. I mean that, David.”

His friend nodded. “That’s all I want too. For both of you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Killian sat in the audience of The Tiana Show, sticking out like a sore thumb. Every other audience member was a woman.

He was amazed as well to see how small the stage was. On tv, it looked much bigger.

Not that he regularly watched The Tiana Show. He had little interest in “swoon worthy” male celebrities, fashion trends, or segments on “how to feel confident choosing a gynecologist.” He had only suffered through a handful of episodes with Emma while she prepped to be a guest.

The stage still looked bigger on tv.

Tiana herself came out on stage for a sound check and a walk through of her marks for the different segments. The crowd cheered, and she waved. She saw Killian, and her face brightened as she rushed over.

“I am so glad you could join us, Mr. Jones,” she told him, giving him a firm handshake.

“I’m happy to be here,” he told her. And he was. Emma was successful, smart, and cared deeply about her clients. She deserved all of the recognition she could get. “But call me Killian, please.”

“Okay, Killian. Did my team prep you on where the cameras would be?”

“Yes, and they made it clear I wasn’t to look at them.”

Tiana pointed a finger at him, “You might just be made for tv, Killian. God knows the camera loves you!”

Killian, unsure what to say, just chuckled nervously as he scratched behind his ear. Tiana winked at him, then returned to the stage where she would give her opening monologue. She addressed the studio audience, getting them pumped up to applaud before they went live.

Killian didn’t pay much attention to her monologue or the cooking segment that had something to do with a new diet fad. Finally they went to another commercial break, and Tiana moved to the other side of the stage where her interview couch was set up. She winked at Killian as she got settled. He assumed it was a “are you ready for this, proud hubby?” kind of wink and not a flirtatious wink.

“And we’re back from commercial in 3, 2 . . .”

“Alright, ladies,” Tiana announced, “are you ready for some tough love in the relationship department?”

The audience clapped and cheered loudly as they had been prepped to do during the commercial break.

“That’s what I thought! Well, today I’ve got a fantastic guest for you. She’s the author of the best seller Seriously, Ladies? , and is releasing tomorrow her new book Ladies, It’s Not Just About the Wedding. She’s got five hundred thousand followers on Instagram, and her videos on YouTube have hits in the millions. Ladies, give it up for relationship expert Dr. Emma Swan!”

The audience applauded, and Killian joined in enthusiastically. Emma smiled at the audience, and gave a little wave. He was probably the only one who knew this wasn’t her favorite part of her job, and he only knew because he’d been living with her for two months.

“Thank you for being here,” Tiana said to Emma as soon as the crowd quieted.

“I’m happy to be here.”

“We’re going to get to your new book in a moment, but first I have to ask you: how is marriage? It’s been two months, right?”

“Yes,” Emma answered, her smile widening as she caught Killian’s eye, “and I have to say it’s been an incredible two months.”

There were “awes” from the audience, and Killian knew there must be cameras on him. He blocked that out, though, and just kept his gaze on Emma. He didn’t have to fake his smile, though. Looking at Emma always made him smile. She looked especially beautiful today, her glorious blonde hair curled and pinned to one side with a gold barrette. She wore a bold, dark floral dress with a flared skirt. Simple gold bangles on one wrist were her only jewelry. He was seriously lucky to be married to this woman, even if it was only for a year. Who wouldn’t want to be her cheering section?

“Well everyone on social media loves him already.” Tiana gestured to a screen above them where Instagram and Twitter comments appeared. “Right here, lovestruck84 says If I can get man candy like that following Emma Swan’s advice, take my credit card, Swan! darcywaitsforme says Where’s Emma Swan been for the past two months? Are you kidding me? If I married a guy who looks like that, I’d disappear for two YEARs. But I think my favorite is hearteyes4ever91.”

The audience laughed as that particular Instagram comment filled the large screen. Killian had started blushing from the get go, but now his face burned even hotter.

“If you can’t see this in the back,” Tiana laughed, “it’s just a row of drooling emojis.”

When the audience quieted, Emma responded with poise. “Yes, he is handsome, and I am a lucky woman. But I hope everyone realizes that good looks isn’t what makes a man a great catch. That’s one of the things I address in my new book.”

“Yes,” Tiana agreed, “I was so impressed with your book. I was highlighting like a mad woman. It’s interesting that you wrote it before your wedding. Do you find yourself wanting to change anything now that you’ve settled down?”

“No, not at all. Many of the principles of dating apply to marriage as well. Any relationship requires work, communication, care, and respect.”

“Can you give us an example of that within your own marriage?”

Emma’s gaze turned to Killian again, and the tenderness in it took his breath away. He had no idea what she was going to share, but the look she gave him told him he had nothing to worry about.

“Everyone’s been going on and on about how handsome Killian is, but they should have seen the way he took care of me when I was sick a couple of weeks ago.” The audience once again melted with a collective awww. Emma pulled her eyes away from Killian’s and back to Tiana. “And believe me, I was not looking sexy one bit, nor was I the nicest patient. Marriage means seeing each other at your worst, so don’t say I do to a man who isn’t willing to hold your hair back while you puke.”

The audience laughed, and Tiana nodded. “Wise words.” Then she looked straight into the main camera. “And when we come back, we’ll hear more from Emma Swan as she fields questions from our studio audience.”

Tiana and Emma both relaxed a little on the couch and chatted in soft voices. A producer came out and explained to the audience how the Q & A would go. It would look like Tiana was choosing people at random, but they had actually been chosen ahead of time. The producer reminded those women not to change their questions and made sure Tiana knew where they were sitting. Emma, however, had no knowledge of what the questions would be, and he could see the worry lines on her face. When she caught his eye he winked at her. She rolled her eyes in response, but now she was smiling.

“And we’re back from commercial in 3, 2 . . . “

“Welcome back to the Tiana Show, everyone,” Tiana said, her relaxed posture replaced by one that was ramrod straight and bordered on regal. “Today we have Dr. Emma Swan, relationship expert, to talk about marriage. Emma, before we get to our Q & A portion, I’ve been dying to know: what exactly made you leave New York City. Was it just love for a certain carpenter?”

Emma smiled graciously. “Storybrook is where Killian’s family lives, but he’s very supportive of my career. He would never ask me to move if it wasn’t right. No, the real reason I moved is because I wasn’t satisfied in New York. I mean, I love the city, but my career there just wasn’t what I had set out to do.”

“How so?”

“Well, it got to the point that the only people who could afford my therapy were the super wealthy. I was seeing celebrities, socialites, politicians. I was giving advice to my followers online, but I still sort of felt like a fraud. I keep my past private, but I will share this: I didn’t grow up with a lot. By moving to Storybrooke, I can live more simply and have a smaller, less visible clientele.”

The audience applauded, and Killian joined them. He knew Emma was being one hundred percent genuine. She had told him the same thing before. He also suspected that Walsh hadn’t been completely on board with the move to Storybrooke.

“That’s beautiful, Emma,” Tiana said, reaching out to grasp her guest by the hand. By the tears glistening in the woman’s brown eyes, Killian sensed she was genuine as well.

“I’m not trying to be a savior or anything,” Emma laughed. She shrugged. “I just want to make a difference as much as I can.”

“Shouldn’t we all? Now, the moment our studio audience has been eager for! Are you ladies ready to get some free advice today?”

The audience responded with loud cheers. Tiana asked them to raise their hands if they had a marital problem they wanted Emma’s help with. Tiana’s show wasn’t shock tv, so Killian assumed the questions would be common ones and fairly innocuous. Nevertheless, Emma had expressed to him her nerves about this part. He found her gaze again and gave her an encouraging nod. Soon, the first woman was speaking into a microphone.

“Hi,” the dark haired woman said timidly, “I’ve been married for two years, and I had a question about some advice my mom gave me.”

“Okay,” Emma said calmly, nodding at the woman to continue.

“Well, she always tells me not to nag my husband, but it’s really hard. We both work, so we divided up the chores, but he always waits until the garbage is overflowing to take it out. It drives me crazy! How can I get him to take it out if I’m not supposed to nag?”

Emma nodded her head, her face neutral. Killian had never seen her do therapy, of course, but this gave him a tiny window into her professional life. She was giving this woman her full attention, with no trace of judgment or even humor on her face.

“First of all,” Emma began, “no offense to your mother, but this is one of those long held pieces of marriage advice that can be really harmful. I mean, it’s kind of sexist if you think about it. Do you ever hear people telling men not to nag?”

There was a ripple of laughter through the audience, and Killian smiled. They were hanging on her every word.

“I think we need to define the word nag. If you mean constantly yelling at someone or constantly reminding them of their failures, then yeah, you shouldn’t nag. No one wants to be talked to that way - not a friend, not a coworker, not a child with their parents. Unfortunately, so many women have taken this advice to mean you should never ask your husband to do anything or remind him of things or express your feelings. That is very dangerous because a relationship can’t work if you aren’t able to communicate your wants, needs, and feelings.”

“So how do I get him to take out the garbage?” the woman asked, and the audience laughed.

Emma smiled. “Well, first you have to tell him that it’s bugging you. He may have no idea that it bothers you. Have you told him?”

The woman wrinkled her nose sheepishly. “Um, no.”

“Then start there. He may think it’s totally fine to wait until things are falling on the floor to take it out. It may never have occurred to him that it bothers you. That actually may solve the whole issue.”

The audience clapped and the woman sat down with a smile on her face. Tiana looked at Emma and tilted her head.

“Now I know men. What if her sorry husband just keeps on being lazy with the trash? I know my boyfriend just keeps cramming stuff in there, and I’m like do you not see stuff falling all over the floor? Am I right, ladies?”

Emma chuckled. “I never said communication would fix your partner. The important thing is that you are open with your feelings. Another part of strong relationships is having patience with one another’s flaws and accepting the person just as they are.”

“So who’s the messy one in your house, Emma?”

Emma’s cheeks flushed as she glanced at Killian, then she stared at her hands in her lap and chewed on her bottom lip. Tiana threw her head back and laughed.

“Oh I see how it is,” the hostess quipped, then she turned to Killian. “Mr. Jones, who’s the messy one?”

If there was one thing Killian knew how to do, it was turn on the charm. He cocked an eyebrow and flashed a lopsided grin.

“Well, Tiana, let’s just say I will happily pick up Emma’s shoes and wet towels for as long as we both shall live.”

Another chorus of awww swelled through the studio audience as Killian winked at his wife. His bloody brilliant, amazing wife.

#cs ff #cs modern au #cs marriage of convenience #slow burn #humor #and some angst #for spartanguard

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scrivenerofmossflower · 3 years

Text

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

Word Count: ~2.8k Summary: Four new friends decide to celebrate their recent meeting by doing some light breaking-and-entering at the local cemetery. They're looking for a ghost. They accidentally come out with the seeds for a YouTube channel. In which Gonff has done research, Rose brought the video camera, Martin's a little too comfortable with this, and Columbine wonders how a pre-med like her wound up stuck with two theater geeks and an enigma. read on ao3 Notes: Human AU, College AU. Un-beta’ed, all mistakes are my own. I’ve been sitting on this for like, over two years and the fact that the ‘verse is still bothering me and I still remember all the details to the set up means that I’m just going to have to exorcise it. Have a Halloween fic the day after Halloween.

The cemetery was on the western edge of town and looked not as a cemetery usually does, with neatly kept graves and graveled paths and mown lawns, but as a cemetery should. With the sun just below the horizon and night falling quickly, the overgrown graveyard with it’s off-kilter, lichen covered headstones and crumbling mausoleums looked like something right out of a horror movie.

“Hollywood called, they want their set back,” Rose said. All four friends were leaning against the iron gates at the entrance, nerving themselves up to go in.

“Oh, come on, this is B-list horror fodder at best,” Gonff countered. “More like Haunted Mansion or Hocus Pocus than—are you recording this?”

“Yep,” Rose said. She turned her phone towards him, zoomed in and out on his face, and stuck out her tongue. “You know how big a wimp my brother is about the spooky stuff, so I was going to send it to him. Congratulations, he just found out you’re a massive Disney geek.”

“Everyone likes Hocus Pocus—”

“Are you seriously going to do this?” Columbine interrupted, and rolled her eyes when Rose turned the camera on her.

“Scared?”

She sighed. “Of getting arrested for trespassing? Yes.” She reached out and made a swipe for the camera, but Rose avoided the grab. “Especially if you’re going to be recording us breaking the law—Martin!”

While they’d been talking, Martin had swung himself onto the top of the chest-high wall and sat straddling it with one leg to either side. “What?” he asked. “It’s not that high.”

“That’s not really her point, mate,” Gonff said. What was chest high on Martin was shoulder high on Gonff, and between that and a bit of extra pudge, it was a bit more of an undignified scramble up. Martin snagged the back of his shirt and heaved when it looked like he wouldn’t quite make it. “Thanks. C’mon, Columbine, you’re up next.”

She sighed again, but took both their hands and let them haul her up between them, with a neat little twist that left her sitting on the wall, feet on the outside.

“Here, catch,” Rose said. She tossed her phone up to Martin and waved off their assistance, bracing her hands on the top of the wall and hopping up, accepting her phone back with a grin. The group paused again on the top of the wall. “So,” Rose said, dragging out the vowel and turning the camera on each of them. “What do you think we’re going to find?”

“I was poking around in the library this afternoon,” Gonff volunteered, drumming his heels against the wall, “and turned up a couple of specifics. Apparently there was this chemist—and I use the term loosely, he wasn’t trained and it was the 1700s, I think—but when he died he said he’d be back.”

“And was he?”

“Well, he was exhumed at some point, and the body was unsettlingly preserved. Though I suppose saying the tomb was broken into would be more accurate; a curious medical student tried to cut off his head.”

“And you say it’s the theater geeks who’re weird,” Rose said. “When has a theater geek ever tried to cut off someone’s head in the name of science?”

Columbine just raised both eyebrows in Rose’s direction. “Really? We’re really going there?”

“Okay, but when has a medical student willed their skull to a theater so it can be used in a production of Hamlet?” Martin asked, and ignored how all three just looked at him in bewilderment. “Go on, Gonff. The body was unusually preserved, the student tried to take its head.”

“Which I contest, honestly,” Columbine interrupted. “You could get as good a sample without desecrating the corpse like that.”

“Anyway,” Gonff said. “As he was putting the head in the sack he’d brought with him, he heard whispers coming from the corners of the tomb.” He gestured, describing the scene with relish. “Whispers at the edges of reality, seeping through the cracks. When he turned around, there were shadows writhing and twining in the corners, reaching out as if they would pull him into the void itself.”

There was a beat of silence.

“And this tomb is in this graveyard?” Rose said, scanning the layout of the ground below them.

“Yep. The student ran, of course, and left the head behind. It’s probably still there, kicked into a corner by a panicked foot.”

Martin and Columbine exchanged skeptical looks. “Guilty conscience, obviously, and probably wind through the leaves,” Columbine said. “Look, there’s trees all along the wall, and there’s grass and stuff, too. When was this?”

Gonff blew out an exasperated breath. “I don’t really remember, a few years after the guy died?”

“So call it the 1810s at the latest,” Columbine said, crossing her arms. “Way before electricity was harnessed for things like flashlights. If he had a lantern or an oil lamp, those shadows were probably caused by the unsteady light source, and obviously an overactive imagination.”

“Speaking of which, anyone else have a flashlight?” Martin asked. “First quarter moon won’t be up for another few hours.”

There was another, longer silence.

“We are really bad at this,” Gonff said finally. “Martin’s the only person who brought a flashlight? Seriously?”

“I was just going to use my phone,” Rose said. “But that’s going to eat my battery, especially if I’m recording at the same time.”

“Lesson learned. When poking around old graveyards after dark, everyone in the crew brings a flashlight,” Columbine said, shaking her head.

“We’ll keep it mind for next time,” Rose decided, and hopped down into the graveyard without further commentary. “Come on, let’s go find this tomb. You remember which one it was, right, Gonff?”

“Yeah, it’s in the north corner. I’ll lead the way.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Martin said as he helped Columbine down off the wall, “I swung by earlier today to talk to the groundskeeper. Ghost hunters aren’t new to him, and we’ve got permission. As long as we don’t break anything, leave trash around, make too much noise, etcetera, he’s fine with it, if a little resigned.”

“I’m beginning to think you’ve done this before,” Columbine said, half joking, half accusing.

Martin shook his head. “No, I just don’t see any reason to take unnecessary risks.”

Gonff laughed from in front of them, and turned around to walk backwards and still face them. “Matey, I’ve known you for a week and I can already say with full confidence that that’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told.”

“I did say unnecessary risks,” Martin said with complete calm. “Besides, I haven’t been that reckless around any of you.”

“Yes, because jumping two flights of concrete steps is perfectly reasonable,” Rose said, giving him a very disappointed look.

“I was running late and took the landing on my shoulder like you’re supposed to.”

The deeper the four friends passed into the graveyard, the older the headstones became. What names and dates had survived the years were obscured by green-gray or orange lichen. At the very back were a row of small marble buildings, some with long fractures in their walls, some with craggy domes, some in eerily perfect repair but with the iron grate hanging askew. The casual back and forth banter grew quieter as they approached, until at last the muffled sound of shoes upon gravel swallowed it up entirely.

“That’s it,” Gonff whispered, nodding towards a mausoleum built into a low hill, the dark space where its door should have been framed by ivy and brambles.

Rose took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Break my phone and I’ll curse you,” she said, and thrust it into Gonff’s hands.

“Wait, what are you doing?”He fumbled it, checking the camera and keeping it trained on Rose. The image was becoming grainier as the light faded, but it was still enough to film, for now.

“I’m going inside,” Rose said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

“Oh, no, not without me you’re not,” Gonff said, shoving the phone at Martin. “Here, you hold this.”

“I’m pretty sure this violates the 'don’t break anything' request we got from the groundskeeper,” Columbine said, rubbing at her forehead.

“Do you want to go in to explain every ‘experience’ they have, or shall I?” Martin asked. The video wouldn’t show the fond grin he wore, but it was clear enough in his voice as he trained the camera on Columbine, equally fond for all her exasperation.

“You’ve got the flashlight,” Columbine pointed out, waving him on. “I’ll stand guard on the off chance someone comes to run us out.”

“We can jump the wall and make for downtown if that happens,” Martin said. “Always have an exit strategy.”

“You’ve definitely done this before.”

“No, that’s just general life advice.”

They were interrupted by a low call from Gonff from inside the mausoleum. “Martin! Flashlight?!”

Martin fished the penlight out of one pocket with one hand, keeping the camera steady on the door as he approached. He knocked on the jamb with it. “Hello? Sorry for the disturbance, but we were just hoping to look around for a little bit, if you don’t mind the company. We’ll leave you in peace again soon.”

He flicked the light on, and startled back when it illuminated Rose, who was far closer than he’d expected. She also backed off with a pained protest. “Warn a girl before you do that, will you?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Martin said, angling the light a bit lower.

She rubbed at her eyes. “Were you talking to the ghost just now?”

“Look, if there is someone in here, just because he’s dead doesn’t mean we have to be rude,” Martin pointed out, following Rose into the crypt. “How’d you feel if someone came poking around your room without even apologizing for it?”

“You don’t even believe in ghosts,” Gonff pointed out, squinting around. The three of them drew closer together—ghost or no, they were in a small space with a dead body after dark, circumstances creepy enough to raise the hair on the back of anyone’s neck.

“I prefer to hedge my bets,” Martin said, sweeping the penlight slowly around. It was mostly empty, but for a few dead leaves in the corner and a low, rectangular construction in the middle of the room—the tomb itself. “I don’t see anything in here. Should we go a bit deeper?” They were huddled near the door, the blue-bright LED penlight aided by the distant starlight and the sickly yellow glow of a nearby streetlight.

“Yeah, why not,” Gonff said. His voice was a bit higher than normal, but he slid one foot forward, then another. Rose trailed behind him, looking closely around the room.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go in front?” Martin asked.

“You’ve got the camera,” Rose said.

“Right,” Martin muttered, not sounding too pleased with that. “Of course.”

“I’ll curse you, too, if you break my phone—” Rose started, only to cut herself off with a gasp. “Did you hear that?”

“No?”

Another long moment of tense silence, before all three heard a rustling sound from beyond the tomb.

“I heard that,” Gonff said, this time with an almost manic sounding giggle. “It sounds like he doesn’t like curses. Maybe don’t talk about that right now?”

“Right,” Rose said. She swallowed. “Sorry.”

“There’re a lot of dead leaves in here,” Martin said, directing the penlight towards the corners. “It was probably the wind, or an animal. Something like—huh.”

The light illuminated a misshapen lump closer to the entrance, a bundle of something that looked like it might be cloth. The trio stared at it for a moment.

“Do you think that’s the head?” Rose whispered.

“It’s definitely something,” Gonff said. All three drew closer together until their shoulders were touching.

“You know, I sort of thought the head would’ve been moved, or missing, or eaten by now,” Martin said.

Gonff blanched. “Eaten?”

“Well, yeah. Animals, scavengers, that sort of thing. What, did you think I meant cannibalism?”

“No…”

“Well, only one way to find out,” Rose said. She squared her shoulders. Each step forward echoed hollowly in the empty mausoleum, and when she spoke, both Gonff and Martin couldn’t quite suppress a jump. “Martin, will you stop moving the light around? I’m nervous enough as it is.”

“I’m not moving the light, Rose. And my hands are steady, before you ask,” Martin protested, eyes on the video to make sure this was the case.

Rose halted without turning around. When she spoke, her voice was forcibly calm. “If it’s not the light, what’s making the shadows move?”

“Martin, are you getting that?”

“I’m recording the shadows acting like shadows, yes,” Martin said patiently. “They’re moving because you’re moving, Rose, and you’re between the light and the—oh,” he said, as the shadows trembled again and moved up the wall.

There was a crash of stone on stone from behind them, loud in the sudden stillness. All three screamed, Gonff and Rose both latching onto Martin’s arms. Martin had dropped the penlight to free one hand, and the light swung wildly about the mausoleum, chasing spiky shadows and weird shapes up the walls.

“I think we should get out of here,” Gonff said, already backing out and dragging Martin along with him.

“Good idea,” Rose agreed, matching Gonff pace for pace. “Great time and all, really interesting, but we ought to, you know, go analyze the footage, see if we got an EVP—”

“Not find out what that was?”

“A ghost angry about a joke about curses.”

“Don’t joke about curses, I was cursed once and it offends me,” Gonff agreed with another high pitched giggle.

“This is just for practice anyway, next time we’ll go investigate,” Rose said.

There was another rustling, and the penlight caught the reflective gleam of eyes at the other end of the room.

They broke and ran, bursting out of the mausoleum and almost bowling over Columbine.

“What, what did you—”

“Eyes, dark, something—”

“Just run!” Rose said, pushing the both of them ahead of her.

“Over the wall?” Martin asked the group.

“Yes, fine, just away!”

This wall was conquered far more easily than the first, the fear adding extra speed to all four friends’s flight.

“You really saw a ghost?” Columbine panted.

“No,” Martin said, at the same time Gonff said “Yes!”

“There were eyes, mate, actual, glowing eyes!” Gonff continued. “And the shadows, you saw the shadows!”

“I saw shadows move that weren’t caused by Rose,” Martin said.

“And the crash? And the rustling?”

“Coincidence. Dead leaves. There wasn’t a ghost in there.”

They stopped a dozen blocks away, Rose clutching a stitch in her side, Gonff with his hands braced on his knees, gasping for breath.

“Then what was it?” Rose asked, leaning her head against the wall of the closed coffee shop.

“I don’t know,” Martin said. He was breathing deeply, deliberately slowing his breathing back to normal. “But it wasn’t a ghost.”

“That’s… because… it was a fox,” Columbine said, also bent double and panting for breath. She waved her phone, which the other three only just noticed in her hand. “I saw it come out about two seconds before you did,” she said, straightening as her breath came back. “Snapped a few pictures. He’s a cutie, you probably scared him.”

“We scared him?” Rose repeated, scandalized.

“Oh, let me see,” Gonff said, leaning over her shoulder as she swiped through the handful of pictures.

“Wait, let me get a shot of this,” Martin said, a grin beginning to steal over his face. He raised Rose’s phone again, getting a good angle on Columbine’s. “Aw, he is cute.”

“What about the eyes—?”

“Probably a family,” Columbine said. “I mean, that’d be a great place for a den, wouldn’t it? Sensible people don’t go in.”

“Did I ever claim I was sensible?” Gonff asked her, turning to look at her indignantly with his chin still propped on her shoulder. “Did Rose? Did Martin?”

Rose shook her head, beginning to laugh. “So our first ghost… was actually a family of foxes,” she said.

“Apparently,” Gonff said.

“Stepping through leaves, knocking something over, moving around so that there were shadows,” Martin listed. “And our imaginations did the rest.”

Columbine shot them all a grin. “Good thing I didn’t come in with you guys, then, or I wouldn’t have evidence,” she said, waving her phone in Gonff’s face.

“Well, you’ll have to figure out a way to get evidence from the inside next time,” Rose decided. She put out a hand and wiggled her fingers. Martin passed her the phone.

“Next time?” Columbine repeated.

“Absolutely,” Rose said, and panned the camera around the group. “After tonight, we’ve got to find a real ghost. This is too embarrassing a note to leave on, don’t you think?”

#my fic #redwall #Late LateRose Channel AU #one-shot #Martin the Warrior #Gonff #Columbine #Rose #look I don't remember where this came from #but I love it #please love it too

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royalbluehues · 4 years

Text

Come Back to Me. Pt. 2

Title: Come Back to Me. Pt. 2

Author: royalbluehues

Warnings: None.

Pairings: William Schofield x Reader

Author’s Note: It’s here, lassies. The second part. Next part should be coming soon.

Would you want to see a second part of I Promise? Let me know!

I love seeing your kind words and thoughts! They make me happy! :) A drabble with Tom is currently in the works, so keep an eye out for that.

Part 2: Dressing Down

“You girls will be aiding the nurses in making beds, handing out food, caring for the injured, sterilizing the instruments,” Matron Carter spoke, “tasks such as those will be executed professionally.”

The middle aged woman sat her clipboard down on her small desk, “If you remember the contract you signed back home, you will keep in mind that the Red Cross does not tolerate any unprofessional behavior. You came to care for the sick and the dying, not to be lollygagging.”

She looked to Kitty, one of the English girls, who was looking down and twiddling her thumbs, “Is there something you would like to say, Miss Stanton? You’re fidgeting quite an awful lot.”

Kitty’s green eyes look up in guilt, and you bent your head forward with eyes furrowed to look at the girl.

“Of course not Matron Carter. Not at all. Just nervous to begin is all.” Kitty spoke languidly, despite her nervous twitches.

“And you,” the Matron spoke, whipping her head to where you were standing, “I’ve been told that you were walking about unsupervised. What do you say for yourself?”

You straightened your back, eyes wide as you looked at the matron with contained panic. All eyes were on you now, and Kitty’s head was bent to look at you in the same fashion you had with her. Matron Carter’s grey eyes sized you up quizzically, waiting for your response.

“I was just going for a walk,” you told her honestly, wishing you could turn your head to snap at the other girls to stop looking at you, “To clear my head.”

“To clear your head?” The Matron Carter repeated, “Girl, you are near the front lines. A few miles north and the Germans are there ready to shoot down anything that moves in sight.”

You felt your cheeks redden deeply, “I apologize Matron Carter. It won’t happen again.”

You narrowed your eyes, too embarrassed to meet eyes with her. Kitty and Shannon had told you and Lila about how severe the Matron was.

“Had she been a man,” Kitty once told you as she pinned her hair in place, “she would have met all the requirements to be a drill sergeant.

Now you were receiving the sting of the statement.

“That goes to all of you,” the head nurse peered over to the other girls, “I’ve a tight ship to maintain. Kitty and Lila, I’ll be requiring you to help with the kitchen today, allow the boys working there to rest a bit. The two of you,” she spoke to you and Shannon as she lifted a paper up from the clipboard, “will be fixing the beds in the medical tents and rolling bandages. See to it that you assist any of the surgeons or doctors if they need help.”

She picked up her pencil, scribbling away at the paper, and all four of you stood ramrod straight, waiting for her next instruction.

You would estimate that you waited for a solid two minutes.

She peered up at you all from her activity, “Well?” She said coldly, “Go on then! You’re wasting time!”

You were the first one to exit the tent, hands clasped as you let out a sigh of relief from leaving her proximity.

“The kitchens!” Kitty bemoaned, “What am I to do at the kitchens?” She grumbled when she was far enough where the matron wouldn’t hear.

“I hear they have a lovely assortment of turnips at the moment,” you put in, smiling cheekily to her.

“Oh hush,” Kitty told you, jutting her bottom lip out, carefully stepping around a pile of mud that had formed from the rainfall only hours before, “You know what I can’t fathom?” She asked, not waiting for a response, “We’ve come to help doctors, not bloody cook.”

Lila frowned at her companion, “Kitty that’s not nice, what if we were the ones in the trenches? Besides,” she told her, lifting her skirts to hop over the pile, “I’m sure we’ll make a better meal then the ones the boys have been cooking up.”

Lila, who came with you on the ship to England, held a sweet heart, always looking for the positives in situations. She had come from Cincinnati, and had easily befriended you upon meeting.

“Cheer up Kitty,” Shannon piped up from behind you, “You might catch yourself a suitor.”

Kitty whose head lolled to the side, nodded, “Well I suppose you’re right. Well, I suppose we won’t be seeing much of each other until the day becomes night. Tooda-loo.”

She offered her arm to Lila, who hooked her arm with hers, and smiled at you and Shannon. “Take care ladies.”

“To you two as well,” you responded, beginning to walk in the opposite direction, “Don’t tire yourselves out.”

“Kitty’s got a point you know,” your British companion told you, “about actually helping. Not doing menial tasks.”

“Shannon,” you said sighing, “I don’t think the nurses will ever truly accept us. They just see us as help, not actual trained nurses.”

“But we are!” She exclaimed dishearteningly, “I had to go through classes to get my certificate!”

“I suppose it isn’t good to complain about such things now. We’re here and that’s all that matters.” You replied, looking around at the bustling activity.

You heard Shannon mutter about your ‘American enthusiasm’, but you ignored her.

Upon reaching the tent, you began your work. Changing the bedding, replacing it with the new ones, fluffing pillows. You made small chat with Shannon and was introduced to the head doctor.

Your time passed slowly, and the gust of wind did little to alleviate the cold you were feeling. By now, it was nearly midday, and you and Shannon were sitting on opposite sides of the large tent, with baskets full of bandages at both your feet.

You were too concentrated on your task, rolling each bandage and tucking it in itself, laying it neatly in a small pile beside you. You shivered as the wind crashed against you.

You failed to hear your name being said in a low murmur, but heard Shannon plainly say, “She’s over there.”

You looked up mid-roll, seeing the tall man from the night before. You smiled brightly in greeting, “William.”

He came to you with his helmet held between his hands, reminding you much of a boy being scolded for getting caught, “Hullo.”

“How’s the day faring you?” You asked as you finished rolling the bandage, and then looking up at him through your lashes.

He shifted his weight and hooked one finger to ring the sweater at his neck, enthusiastically saying, “It was fine!” He turned red, clearing his throat, “I- uh, it’s been fine, thank you.”

You stood from your chair, moving the basket to the side, “That’s always something lovely to hear,” you told him, looking down as you fixed your white apron.

He took a step back, allowing you space, “I wanted to apologize for not coming earlier.”

You shook your head, “It’s unforgivable, lance corporal. Truly unforgivable,” you jokingly quipped at him, stepping aside as you gestured towards the chair, “Sit, please.”

He moved to sit, a small smile tugging at the upper corners of his lips. “Now let’s see here,” you mumbled, moving his chin up and to the side.

The young man watched you with alert eyes, noticing the way the small curl by your right ear bounced in the wind. He held his breath as you moved closer to inspect.

“A nasty gash.”

“Just a scratch,” he countered, “Nothing serious.”

You moved to reach for the wet rag lying in a bowl of water, ringed it, and began cleaning his neck, “I’ve been trained to take any form of injury seriously, William.” When dirt gathered on the rag, you went back to rinse it, ring it, then come back to clean once more. “You’ve any other gashes?”

He sniffed, “Well there's one on my arm, but-”

“But nothing.” You interrupted, “I need to be thorough with my work.”

“Alright then,” He said, the same small pull of his lips returning.

“Tell me more about your home,” you told him, stepping back from your work. You avoided meeting his eyes, feeling them on you as you uncapped the made Dakin’s solution. You wet the small piece of cloth at your fingertips.

“What would you like to know?” He asked you quietly, in a softly spoken manner.

You hummed, “Tell me about your picnics with your mother.”

He shifted in the chair, tilting his head up when you moved in with the antiseptic, “Well, Mum really enjoys cooking. She’d pack meat pudding for us to eat. That was dad’s favorite.”

You dabbed at the cut, watching as he did the slightest of flinches that could have gone unnoticed had you not been studying him. He suddenly smiled, a genuine smile that made his eyes crinkle around the edges.

“There was one time Mum had packed our meal the night before, and I managed to sneak into it. She enjoys baking, and she had just made a batch of biscuits. But not just any biscuits,” he told you, eyes rounding as they met yours, “she made her shortbread biscuits, and I managed to get my hands on them. She was so mad that she told me that she’d never make them for me again. Nearly threw a fit, I did. But she still made them after. That day she had another tin hidden and took it with us. When we’d go, she’d put down a sheet, one with flowers all around it. She’d take a book with her and read, and if she wasn’t in the mood to read then she’d take her knitting with her.”

“And what would you do?”

“Oh, I’d play. At that age you can find entertainment in nearly anything. I’d climb the willow tree that resides just by the river. Sometimes I’d watch the boats sail by, or see if I could see any fish.” He scratched at his chin, looking off, “Dad made me a boat out of some spare wood he had. I’d play with that, too.”

He had absentmindedly taken off his jacket by know, rolling up his shirt to show you the long scratch running up his right arm. “Is your father at home?”

He shook his head, “No. He died a few years ago. He got sick.”

You frowned, both at his words and at his cut, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not your fault.” He let you lift his arm and tap around the wound, “What about you?”

You paused your movements, “What would you like to know?”

“Tell me about your home.”

You gently set down his arm and nodded. “When I think about home, I like to think of how my apple tree is faring. She’s a beautiful thing, just outside my bedroom window. Around spring time I’d purposefully leave my window open so when I’d wake my entire bedroom floor was covered in petals. Have you ever seen an apple tree in bloom?”

He stayed quiet, but only for a moment, “Yes. I’ve seen cherry blossoms as well.”

You dabbed at the cut with solution, “Well, at home we only have apples. I’ve never seen a cherry tree before, but I can imagine they’re similar.”

“Yes,” He replied quietly, “Quite.”

The tone of his voice made you look up, “Are you alright?”

He lifted his eyebrows, looking at the irritated area around the cut, “Yes, I’m alright.”

You eyed him thoughtfully, noting the way his demeanor became despondent. “What else would you like to know?”

He inhaled deeply, speaking as he exhaled, “Do you have someone waiting for you back home?”

You let out a small laugh, “Other than my mother and father and brother, no. Nobody special if you mean it in that regard. And you?”

He shook his head, “No. I’ve no one either.”

You wrapped his arm in a light gauze, pinning it securely and then shimmying down his sleeve. “On that note, you’re all patched up.”

He looked as if he did not know what to do, only looking down where your fingers pulled at his jacket, “Oh.”

He then looked up at you, “Can I meet you later? When you’re alleviated from your duties?”

It was your turn to blush, “Oh, I’m afr-”

“No she cannot.”

William watched the color drain from your face. You moved to stand ramrod straight, clasping your hands behind your back, holding the rag soaked with solution. “Matron Carter.”

“Was is it that you’re doing?” The nurse asked you, eyeing William sitting in the chair.

“I was cleaning his wounds, ma’am.” You told her quickly.

“And what of this meeting later on?” She asked you coldly.

You shook your head cheeks deepening in color, “Oh, no, ma’am. I was just about to tell him that due to protocol-” Your words died away under her stare. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish that has been plucked from water.

The stout woman frowned in disapproval, “I do not need to be constantly reminding you girls that you cannot stray from your duties, nor can you begin affairs with the men.”

You were taken aback, eyes widening in horror, “Matron Carter you are severely mistaken-”

“It was my mistake,” The man behind you piped up, standing to stand beside you. “I did not know that the nurses were not suppose to mingle amongst us.”

“Well best keep it in mind, lance corporal. While you’re at it, you can inform the other men.” She glared up at him with a stony look. “The volunteers have enough work as it is.”

She walked away, leaving you astonished.

“Forgive me,” William apologized once again, “I didn’t know.”

You blinked, moving to take the wrapped bandages, “Don’t be silly. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It was, though. I’ll keep my distance. Thank you for helping me.”

You said nothing, still mulling over the head nurse’s words. Just thinking about it made your throat tighten in anger.

When you finally processed his, however, and when you had turned to face him, he was already gone.

Masterlist

Tags: @sexyskywalker @aathepenguin

#william schofield x reader #william schofield #william schofield imagine #lance corporal schofield #1917 fanfic #george mackay x reader

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

TO THE MOON AND BACK - ft. ???

You feel winded and you're not sure why. Like you'd been walking on cloud nine and were now falling through the atmosphere, plummeting toward the ground at incredible speeds. When you speak, it doesn't really sound like you. "Yes." Because he was exactly right - you were a hopeless romantic. Always had been. It was hard not to be when your parents were childhood sweethearts and love was the thing you'd been chasing your whole life.

alt summary. You use your one brain cell for love. It doesn’t always end well.

pairing. who knows, honestly. the obvious ones are kim taehyung and jeon jungkook, though.

tags. blind date, strangers, strangers to friends, strangers to lovers, getting to know each other, alternate universe, alternate universe - modern setting, romantic comedy.

rating. general (for now?)

word count. ~4500

chapter 2.

Because Taehyung's already gone.

You try not to take it personally when you realize his chair is empty and you can't see that familiar bob of tousled black in the swirling crowd of people. After all, you were a stranger to him - just someone he'd happened to be paired with for a one-time thing. He didn't owe you anything, not a thank you or even a goodbye and certainly not a minute more of his time.

It doesn't work well.

When the same assistant from early is handing you garment bags, you can't help but feel a little reluctant to take them. It's your own clothes, neatly hung and strung across fancy wooden hangers, but it feels wrong. You know if you take them, you'll need to leave and you're not sure you're ready for that. Still, you smile, bowing graciously as you accept the bags, draping them over your arm.

"You can change down the hallway - there are actual dressings room there."

You don't immediately understand what she's saying, blinking owlishly at her from behind your thin gold frames, and she stifles a laugh. She's so sweet that you don't even bristle, only burning scarlet when she gestures toward your worn sweater and bare legs.

"Oh!" Embarrassment flares across your cheeks, licking over your face and down the column of your neck. "Yes. Right. Thank you." You're bowing once again before turning on your heel and moving in the direction she'd indicated. You try to keep your steps measured but you want to break into a full sprint.

Get it together, Jiyeon!

You're all but grumbling under your breath as you weave past the people milling about, carrying chairs and speaking into their headsets without a care in the world. You nearly stumble into someone - a tall man carrying a boom mic over his shoulder - and spin just in time, narrowly avoiding an accident between your head and said mic. To your relief, he laughs and steps aside, nodding kindly at you while you mumble an apology.

You push past the heavy entryway with your shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief. There's no one else in the hallway, only pale oak doors that line each side. All are ajar, revealing softly lit dressing rooms that sit empty. You figure you can pop into any of them.

Slipping inside the nearest one, you carefully hang your clothes on the rolling rack and begin to peek through the bags in search of the outfit you'd worn there. You find it on your third try, unzipping the garment bag all the way to reveal comfortable-looking denim and a roomy long sleeve. You exhale a breath of relief, eager to get back into something that doesn't make you feel quite so exposed.

The shorts drop followed by your sweater, both neatly folded upon the nearest chair before you're tugging your jeans on.

You get the button through the hole on the first go, adjusting the additional buttons along the side until they're cinched neatly around your waist, elongating the long line of your legs. You readjust the same closures at your ankles, snapping them to the tightest button. You leave your socks as is, sliding them back into the high-topped black Converse you'd worn with your first outfit. You loop the shoelaces around your ankles once, twice, knotting them with an exaggerated bunny loop.

Next comes your shirt, pulled over your head with a jerk of your arms. The hem is tucked into the tops of your jeans. You inspect yourself in the mirror, pushing your glasses further up your nose before sliding thin fingers through your dark hair. It sticks out at odd angles from the way you've been doing outfit changes and you try your best to flatten it, cursing the fact you don't carry a brush with you.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?"

You're talking to yourself so you don't expect the other voice, muffled by the door. "Cho Jiyeon?"

You don't mean to scream but you do anyway, nearly toppling the chair behind you. You immediately regret it when the laughter filters under the door and through wood grain. Because you recognize the stupid, adorable laugh - you'd just spent the afternoon wrapped up in it.

"Kim Taehyung?" You're wrenching open the door like a giddy schoolgirl because suddenly you're elated, ecstatic. He hadn't left! If you were in a fairytale, you're sure you'd hear birds singing and the slow swell of background music.

"I wasn't sure if you'd left already."

He looks every inch your prince in shining armour or rather, knit Moncler. You spy the logo just beneath the lapel of his coat - the same camel one he'd worn in the beginning. One hand is stuffed in the pocket of his trousers, the other curled around the hanger hooks of garment bags hung over his left shoulder. He looks almost bashful when you look at him, his glasses looped around the collar of his Celine shirt.

You fight the urge to spill your soul at his feet, biting back the admission that mirrors his. Instead, you go with an easy smile, as if your heart wasn't about to burst out of your chest. "Nope. Still here."

The two of you stare at each other for what feels like too long, neither of you saying anything. The same dumb smile stretches between you, a silent challenge for the other to continue.

"Do you want to exchange numbers?" He relents first.

You don't hesitate. "Yes!"

He fishes his phone from his trouser pocket, all but shoving the device into your hands. It feels heavy in your palms when you accept it, like it's a piece of priceless treasure and not just a thin black iPhone in a silicon case.

You must seem reluctant because Taehyung clears his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He's got that sweet, boxy grin pulling his eyes into narrow crescents. He's so cute like this. "It can't read your mind," he teases around a mouthful of laughter and you're blushing once again, all your nerves lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I know that!" You hiss, the sound pouty and shy. He snickers again and stares at you expectantly.

You have half the mind to shove the phone back at him but you know you won't do that. Not when you want this just as much as he seems to. You bring yourself to his contacts, adding your name and phone number without a single typo, you note proudly. A selca is snapped, much to his amusement, and you set the somewhat blurry photo as your contact photo before handing his phone back to him.

"Don't forget to use it," you say, very seriously.

"I won't," he promises. You believe him because you want to and because he says it so simply, as if he has no other option. Then he's backing away, nodding politely. "I'll see you soon."

"Okay." You wave before he turns, heading back the way you'd came. You don't miss the way he looks back once, his own fingers wiggling sweetly as he disappears through the double doors. When he's gone, you can't help but squeal, dropping into the plush armchair, legs kicking in the air like some sixth-grader that's just had her first kiss.

You were going to see him again!

They're waiting for him at the restaurant when he walks in, the table already littered with banchan and half-empty soju bottles. All four men chorus their hello's as Taehyung slides into the booth, grateful when Jimin presses himself closer to the wall to allow more space, peeling his jacket off in one fluid motion.

"Where are Yoongi-hyung and Hobi-hyung?" He asks around a mouthful of mixed rice and kimchi. He'd forgotten to eat lunch before heading to the studio so he was famished now, his stomach flipping at the first taste of something solid and delicious. "Is it just us tonight?"

A head of off-lilac bobs up and down as Namjoon nods, carefully finishing his bite before speaking. "Yoongi's at the studio and Hobi's teaching a class. Or with that new girl he's seeing." He shrugs, as if he's not entirely sure. "Maybe both? I don't know what their deal is."

They were all close - had been since they'd found each other in high school - but they didn't keep tabs on each other's lives. Not that closely, at least.

Silence settles over their group as they grill assorted meats, the youngest diligently turning strips of samgyupsal and jostling bulgogi when it looks like it's getting a bit charred. He does it for the good of the table and not out of the kindness of his heart - because otherwise Kim Namjoon would be burning the whole place down.

"How'd it go, hyung?" Jungkook asks once he's satisfied with the browning, sharp scissors gliding easily through the rendered fat and crisp meat. "Was she cute?"

He'd been with Taehyung when the latter had been approached on the street. He'd also been the one to convince the uncertain brunet, rattling off all the reasons it would be cool. After all, it wasn't every day you were asked to go on a blind date that was going to be filmed. What was there to lose, anyway?

"She was pretty."

There's something secretive about the way Taehyung answers, as if he's not quite ready to share. But his friends are having none of that, emboldened by the liquor that flows freely between them and driven to rebuff his short reply. Jin's hand is gripping his shoulder lightly, shaking him as the others chorus, egging him on for more information.

"Tell us about her!" Jimin prompts, ever in love with love. He was always soft, the first to indulge the other men in any sort of skinship and preening at praise, whether from his closest friends or strangers.

Taehyung figures it would be rude to not, so he begins, slowly, carefully. He's remembering each quality about you in as much detail as he can. "She's got dark hair. It's long, half way down her back. She has freckles and she laughs like you, Jimin-ah." That infectious sound erupts, layered together with the laughter of the others. Yeah, you definitely laughed like him. "She sometimes wears glasses," he gesticulates to the ones nestled into his own crown of black. "She's pretty tall, but shorter than any of us. Maybe 165cm?" A hand is rising, smoothing thoughtfully across his chin as he tries to recall where your head had stopped. You'd spent most of your time together sitting, so he couldn't be sure. "She's an art student. I'm not sure what else she does." The realization brings with it a frown - he'd have to rectify that. "I like the way she dresses. It's cute. She's a hopeless romantic. She lives in Hongdae, too."

"Wait - what did you say her name was?"

The interruption surprises him and he meets the maknae's wide, doe-eyed stare.

"I didn't." On purpose, too. Once he speaks her name, you won't be a nameless, beautiful stranger to them. You'll be a fully-formed person and he's not quite sure he's ready for that. Right now, you're a lovely silhouette in their minds and he quite likes it that way.

"Is her name Cho Jiyeon?" Taehyung doesn't miss the way Jungkook says your name, like it's precious.

"You know her?"

It seems like Jungkook's now the one reluctant to answer, instead opting to shovel a spoonful of stew and rice into his mouth. He chews for what seems like an eternity before nodding, swallowing thickly. There's a sheepish quality to his words, the tips of his ears steeped in crimson. "We had classes together. We were both in media art." He doesn't mention that he's had a crush on you for the better part of the four years he's known you, one that had crept up on him over late nights in the library and long walks through quiet neighbourhoods in search of inspiration. "She's doing her graduate degree in composition now."

That stirs the other members of the table to attention, particularly Namjoon, whose head cants to the side curiously. "Cho Jiyeon? I think I recognize that name." He's considering it, turning the syllables over and over in his head before it comes to him in the form of snapping fingers. "She's interning with us. Yoongi says she has a natural ear."

Taehyung's trying to wrap his head around the fact that somehow three of his best friends know who you are when Jimin interrupts, sullen. "When do we get to meet her?" He doesn't like being left out - not that it happens often. He was the one most of them went to first, if only second to Namjoon.

The latter for advice, the former for comfort. That's how it'd always been.

"I want to meet her, too," Jin pipes in. "She won't be able to resist me, Mr. Worldwide Handsome."

Whatever preoccupation Taehyung had been dealing with melts away as they all double over in laughter, leaving Jin to scoff in mock indignation. He's berating his juniors in a ringing voice, sputtering like he hasn't dealt with this for the past decade.

"She's really nice, hyung." Jungkook is speaking quietly, fixing his gaze on his elder with a small smile. Beside him, Namjoon says nothing, just stuffs another piece of lettuce in his mouth and chews thoughtfully. Jimin is still laughing, growing louder and louder as Jin continues to jokingly berate him.

"She seems really nice," Taehyung agrees levelly.

The raucous laughter to his left has settled significantly, fading into nothing but the sound of chewing mouths, scraping chopsticks, and the occasional clink of shot glasses. He indulges for once, joining in on not one, but two, shots before shaking his head at the offer of another.

No one presses him, used to his distaste for liquor. Instead, the others indulge, years of friendship drawing forth inside jokes and causing conversation to flow as easily as the spirits they ingest. Taehyung grins and slumps against the worn leather seat of the booth, wholly satisfied with the meal they'd had and ready to head home.

He doesn't even mind when he's tasked with hailing a jumbo cab and ushering his liquored companions in. He gives his address to the driver who peers into his rear-view mirror, taking stock of the four other men chatting amongst themselves, laughter edging into the conversation at random intervals. They didn't seem very drunk but the smell of alcohol lingers upon them, mingling with the faint smell of barbecue.

"They'll be okay," Taehyung promises, flashing his trademark smile. The older man doesn't seem to find this very reassuring, though he offers one of his own, the wrinkles setting in at the corner of his eyes.

Once they're moving, slowly but surely, laughter fades to off-hand comments and mumbled responses, eventually turning to silence. Jungkook is scrolling through his phone in much the same way Jimin and Namjoon are while Jin's head bounces, lolling side to side as he slips in and out consciousness. It only stops when Jimin shifts, straightening his posture and allowing the eldest's temple to settle against his shoulder.

When his dark eyes meet Taehyung's in the mirror, they share a short smile.

Then, all too quickly, they're back home. Taehyung takes responsibility for payment as the rest the group file out of the van, propping themselves up against each other on the side of the street. The fresh air seems to do them all some good as the chatter picks back up.

Namjoon's shaking his head, hands held up and mimicking the motion. "I'm going home. I've got an early day tomorrow and need some sleep." No one tries to persuade him when he waves and begins down the road. They knew when he said he was done for the night, he meant it.

"Jin-hyung, what about you?" Jungkook's wide-awake, bouncing from foot to foot.

The eldest is already steps away, falling in line with Namjoon when he answers. "I'm heading home, too. Don't stay out too late!" Then the two towering figures are rounding the corner and out of sight.

"Should we play Overwatch?"

It comes from two mouths at once, causing Jimin to round over in a fit of laughter. It bubbles up and shakes his shoulders, spurred on by the slight buzz he still carries in his bones. "I guess you're coming over then, Jungkookie."

The next morning comes in ebbs and flows of consciousness for Jimin, the after effects of the previous night evident in the dull ache behind his eyes and the fact that he feels like he's just eaten ten cotton balls. He swallows thickly, pressing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets as if to dislodge whatever cymbal-clashing monkey is living there.

"I drank toooooo much." He's whining to himself, falling back against his pillows like a fish out of water, arms splaying at his side. He stares seriously at the stuffed yellow dog on his chest, as if it'll answer him. Instead, it remains steadfastly silent and Jimin huffs, rolling onto his side.

A hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, unplugging it with deft movements before tucking himself back beneath his cocoon of sheets. The screen reads 8:01 am which is, frankly, far too early.

Damn his too-good internal clock.

Still grumbling to himself in the quiet of his bedroom, he begins swiping, intent on occupying the time with catching up on emails and scrolling through Instagram. It doesn't last long, though, because most people aren't up so early on a Sunday morning, and he's finding himself bored in a matter of minutes.

At least he won't be bored alone, he reasons as he pulls up the group chat.

He notes it's been silent since last night when Jin had advised everyone he'd gotten home safely.

( 8:10am ) park jimin: is anyone awaaaaake

( 8:10am ) park jimin: i can't sleep

( 8:10am ) park jimin: i'm hungry

( 8:10am ) park jimin: we should get breakfast

He spams the chat without a moment's hesitation, pleased when he sees the little numbers next to his messages descending.

( 8:12am ) kim namjoon: Where?

( 8:13am ) kim taehyung: where?

( 8:14am ) jeon jungkook: :(

( 8:14am ) jeon jungkook: i need water

( 8:15am ) kim namjoon: Yoongi says sure. Jiyeon too lol

( 8:15am ) kim taehyung: what

( 8:15am ) jeon jungkook: WHAT

( 8:15am ) jeon jungkook: you're talking to her????

( 8:16am ) park jimin: i think you broke jungkookie

Suddenly, the chat is silent, although the indication that people have read the messages is still there. The glowing "3" stares up at Jimin and he wonders just what is going through his friends' minds.

He can practically feel Jungkook's nervous energy through the phone, imagining the maknae shaking the device as if that might draw a response out of it. He figures Taehyung's significantly more at ease, though he notes the solitary "what" Namjoon's words had elicited.

( 8:20am ) kim namjoon: Just kidding lol

( 8:21am ) park jimin: lol

( 8:21am ) kim taehyung: lol

( 8:22am ) jung hoseok: who's jiyeon?

( 8:23am ) park jimin: taetae's new girlfriend lol

( 8:23am ) jung hoseok: what?!?!?!?!

( 8:24am ) jeon jungkook: not his girlfriend

( 8:25am ) kim namjoon: Lol

( 8:25am ) jung hoseok: explain

( 8:26am ) park jimin: we'll explain at breakfast!! I'M HUNGRY

( 8:26am ) park jimin: usual place in a half hour

He doesn't feel bad about shutting down the chat, rolling out of bed in one fell swoop and nearly screaming when he catches sight of himself. His shirt is backwards and his hair is contorted in all directions, the soft grey sticking up at all angles.

Well, there goes his plan to leave without a shower.

Pulling some clean clothes from his closet - he doesn't have time to really consider what's what - he darts out of his bedroom, narrowly avoiding his roommate. Steam bellows out from the door directly across from his, curling around Taehyung's shoulders and filling the hallway with damp warmth.

"Better be quick," he quips, swiping the fluffy white towel through his dark hair. He allows the smaller man to sidestep him, snickering when he shouts.

“Yah - you left a puddle!” One Jimin's nearly slipping in, his bare feet skidding across the heated tile before he catches himself on the edge of the counter. Fingers curl around the basin of the sink, steadying himself as he curses internally. “Could’ve broken my face,” he mumbles as he brushes his teeth with one hand and strips out of his backwards shirt and boxers with the other, allowing the clothes to fall to the floor in a discarded heap.

From there, he’s rushing through his usual routine, wishing he’d brought his phone into the bathroom with him. He knew if they were late, they’d never let him down. After all, he’d been the one that not only woke everyone up but also set the time.

There’s a knock on the door as he’s unplugging the hairdryer. “Are you ready?”

“Let’s go!” Jimin pulls the door open with a flourish, expression falling when he notices the way Taehyung's eyes flick to his wrist. 8:58. Even if they ran, they were definitely going to be late. "We can take our bikes?" He offers helpfully, following the other when he turns and heads toward the door.

"I already told them we were running behind."

Whether he's predictable or not, Jimin appreciates that his friend knows him so well. "I bet we won't be the last ones there," he says, as if that's a comfort, even though it's a blatant lie. Out of their entire friend group, he was always the last one out the door. Only recently had that changed, with Jungkook occasionally squeaking in behind him.

"Keep dreaming," Taehyung teases as they fall into step with one another, warmed by the early morning rays that filter through the spaces in buildings and branches of trees. He seems perfectly fine with it, despite his idle mocking, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized coat - grey with black buttons and tartan at the underside of the lapels.

"You never know," Jimin returns with a hum, his mind already turning to what he's going to order. It happens every time, his indecision rearing its pretty grey head whenever he has to decide what to eat. Did he want to get the souffle pancakes? He could never finish them, not that it was ever an issue with Jungkook there. Or maybe he'd try something new - like the omelette he'd seen someone else get the last time they'd been there.

So preoccupied with potential meal options, he nearly passes the storefront, only stopped from doing so when Taehyung's hand curls in the collar of his cardigan and pulls him back with gentle motion. He squeaks, allowing himself to be yanked backwards and following dutifully through the doorway once he's readjusted the soft knit across his shoulders.

"Over here!"

The sandy brown of Hoseok's hair sticks out among the group, a stark contrast to the black of Jungkook's and the lighter shades of Namjoon's and Yoongi's. It's enough to catch Jimin's attention, even as they're being waved over.

There's a chorus of good morning's as the two latecmoers slide into their chairs, filling the six seat table. Jimin immediately disappears behind a wall of steam, sipping gingerly at the lukewarm coffee and sighing contentedly when the bitter taste spills across his tongue. He settles comfortably into his seat, surveying the others.

Jungkook looks like he hasn't slept enough, his inky strands a powder puff on his head from lack of styling. His coffee cup sits empty in front of him and his fingers tap an erratic rhythm across the tabletop, as if that'll translate to 'more coffee' in Morse code. Both Namjoon and Yoongi look well-rested or as much as they can be, given how early they'd both woken up. Still, the older producer doesn't look as irritable as he normally does and that's a feat in and of itself. Then there's Hoseok, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sunshine spilling out of every pore.

"So, new girlfriend?" Not one to beat around the bush, the brunet quirks a brow, leveling Taehyung with a leer.

"She's not his girlfriend." From the half-asleep bunny at the far end of the table.

Hoseok's barely deterred. "Okay, so new not-girlfriend?"

"They went on a blind date," Jimin supplies before giving his order to the waitress that's standing politely to the side, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. He can't help but giggle to himself when she flashes him a grateful smile, jotting down the rest of the table's orders. Then his attention is back to the conversation at hand. "Sort of."

"What? Sort of?" Hoseok feels like he's growing more confused every time someone answers a question, his brow furrowing tightly. "What's a 'sort of' blind date?"

"It was for a video." With a sigh, Taehyung's finally answering, carding a hand through his sable strands, tucking ends haphazardly behind his ear. "They approached me a few weeks ago. It was for some pseudo-fashion dating segment."

"He's interested so he's being shy." It's the first time Yoongi's spoken all morning, a cheeky smile spreading across his lips like syrup.

"Oooooh." This seems to placate Hoseok, who nods sagely, tapping at his chin. "Show me."

"You have a girlfriend!" Jimin now, smacking the other's shoulder in between laughter.

"I can appreciate beauty, you know," his hyung sniffs, swatting his hands away as the rest of the table observes them with varying levels of amusement. Almost ten years of friendship and yet nothing has changed. It's nice at times like this - a reminder of their bond.

Distantly, the bell above the door chimes and something close to a yelp escapes Jungkook's lips. The sound draws everyone's attention except for Namjoon's, who is instead staring in the same direction as the maknae, looking for the source of his surprise.

"You can see her in person," he's drawling, barely concealed pleasure colouring his tone and threatening to push words into laughter. The tension in the room is palpable, so thick he's certain he could cut through it with a knife. It's almost funny, the way half the table is suddenly on high alert, deers caught in headlights.

All because you've just stepped into the bistro, tote bag slung over your shoulder and AirPods shoved into your ears.

notes. it's going to be a bit of a slow burn from here, interspersed with different POVs and interactions with the boys.

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originlist · 3 years

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i just wanted to write laurel having Caring and being real mad about it @caimkairos

It’s not like Laurel does much in terms of getting into situations she can’t find her way out if without dying, but she does have an ego that leads to biting off more than she can chew sometimes. Combined with not having a contracted Servant and it ends in there being some unfortunate missteps. But! She is not entirely alone. Friends come in handy. Laurel waltzes down Chaldea’s hall, a pleased spring in her step at avoiding danger, with her latest partner in crime alongside. “You saved my skin out there, Bei,” she says with a merry hum.

Bei deflects promptly. “It’s my job, and I’d like to keep you out of trouble.” It’s probably for the best she doesn’t die.

“Nah, you did great!” Laurel isn’t going to fall for it. She hops a bit. “And we pulled out all a-okay, which is a new one for me. It deserves a celebration. You get to pick. It’s been a while since I cooked and magic takes calories, I’m gonna make snacks. Whatcha want?”

Bei thinks a moment, and when they speak it’s with careful syllables. “Something with meat… would be nice.”

Laurel pauses a step for that, a moment of surprise, before she carries right on as to keep things casual. “You like meat? How come you didn’t say anything?” She hardly eats it, out of incident ended up pescatarian at best, so if Bei likes meat and all the food in Laurel’s dorm she offers is mainly vegetarian, then that means… has she seriously been doing a bad job feeding them all this time?

Bei shakes their head to deflect immediately. “It’s not a big concern, don’t worry.” Sheesh, they even clocked that she was going to make a deal out of it. But still, they also sound hesitant, awkward, like they’re worried about how their words are going to be weighed, as if there’s something other than the face of the matter. “I can eat things that aren’t. I simply… feel fuller with meat”

Oh, so there was. Laurel stops fully now, turning to face Bei with her hands on her hips to make them directly acknowledge her expression, a mix of appalled and offended. “And you didn’t say anything?” They didn’t just ask?! Aren’t they friends?! She can’t even feed them properly! Bei’s protesting, flustered and self-conscious, trying to say something about how it’s strange, they don’t want to be strange, but— too late, Laurel’s grabbed them by the lapel and is dragging them off like taking a troublesome child to time-out. Only she’s doing so gently.

Laurel realizes she has no power whatsoever compared to Bei and isn’t even pretending. She also knows that they’d follow along with her when she wants. “I have to make up for what, so many bad snacks? This is an emergency.” If anyone’s in the kitchen doing whatever it is they do, they won’t be for long. Laurel is a one-man storm of misdirected emotional maladaption and she’s going to get her way.

What ‘her way’ is would be storming the kitchen, seating Bei down at a table that’s within talking distance from the nearest stovetop, and kicking out anyone who happens to be in earshot. It might have been a long time since she last made most species of meat food, but by God she’s not going to be shown up now. She ends up freeing a wrapped pack of bacon and something else she hasn’t expected yet from the group fridge (it was probably for someone, but she’ll pay them back later, or something, burn that bridge when she gets to it) and setting at least the former to sizzling on a pan.

She was distracted enough by it that she’d stopped talking, but now that all she’s doing is waiting to cook, it’s coming back. At least she’s a little quieter, and does the favour of being quiet until a batch of cooked bacon that’s only mildly burnt (it’s easy, okay, she’s not a professional) is plonked down before Bei, who’s been fidgeting.

Alright, she’s fine. Normal. Mostly! Bei eats and almost immediately tears up shoving a piece of bacon into their mouth, as if it’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for them, and that makes Laurel feel a whole host of things all over again. Eurgh!

Their heart is full of… stuff? Feelings? It’s gross, whatever it is, and Laurel slaps another batch of bacon on the frying pan. “I can’t believe this whole time you were just sitting there and eating whatever without even saying it sucks. There’s a limit to being polite! If you can’t do it for you, think about how embarrassed I am, since I’ve apparently been feeding you shit and calling myself a host. You’re allowed to tell me the bacon sucks, too, I know it’s burnt, don’t lie.” And there’s the open explanation (in part) for this whole tirade, that she’s embarrassed that she never asked or knew, and now even more so that she’s not even good at cooking something as simple as bacon! For her friend! Argh! Shitty hosting, this is! Being embarrassed is the worst! The worst! Even redirecting it to this ridiculous reaction isn’t helping.

Bah! Laurel flips the bacon with an exaggerated grumble. The betrayal… the lying and making her think she has her shit together with having friends over even in Chaldea… it was all false! Couldn’t even do the basis of providing good snacks. “You!” She points the tongs she’s using accusingly at Bei, which is lacking threat mostly because the stove is separated from the seating area by an island and decent distance. She’s within ranting range, not accurate throwing tongs range. “Do you even like tea? Don’t be polite to save my feelings, give me a solid yes or no as to if the tea I give you is shit.”

Saying it was shit would probably make her even more exasperated, but she would follow through and procure better supplies. Laurel is nothing if not dedicated. At least this time, Bei nods quickly (hopefully not still lying to make her less whatever-she-is-right-now). They swallow a little too fast, hold back a cough, and nod again. “Yes! Yes. Don’t worry. Your tea is great. You don’t oversteep it and there’s always sugar on hand, so it’s good.”

Hmm. A moment, then: “Okay! I’ll take that!” Good enough, she’s going to take that as honest and pin her continuing pride on it. Good enough to keep Laurel from continuing to talk shit while she cooks. Bei’s free to go back to eating whatever she puts in front of them, including the burnt things. Laurel is, quite frankly, impressed.

She manages to cook the entire pack of bacon before she takes a break, and stops by sitting on the table next to Bei, watching them scarf food. They still look emotional about it and once they’re done they turn to her with eyes large, already stumbling out a thanks for her. Laurel just sighs, leans slightly against them so her face isn’t easily seen. “God, dude, you’re just so fucking… sad.” That’s probably not a good thing to say out loud. Redefine, clarify: “I don’t mean it like, pitiable or anything, you just. I used to be a pretty fucked up kid, y’know? You remind me of me when I was real little, before I turned into an angry bastard, only you’re even worse off, where I don’t think I can even say that we compare. And it makes me so sad.”

Everybody’s so fucked up. Especially here. Laurel’s got nothing on this and she doesn’t even know what ‘this’ is exactly, but there’s so many stories with Servants that make her feel like she can’t even claim she relates to some fucked-up-childhood story. But here she is. Probably projecting. Still, right now she sees somebody who was at some point told ‘hey. You don’t get to ask for things. You don’t get to have people who love you,’ and she can’t let that sit.

She can at least give this stupid idiot magic cat-goblin as much meat as they can fit in their body. “Y’know. I haven’t told anyone in Chaldea this, but like.” Why’s she talking. Laurel doesn’t even know, it just keeps happening. But it’s fair, right? She clicks her tongue. “Growing up for me sucked, and I have a baby brother back home. Well, not baby, he’s thirteen. I’d do anything for that brat and he knows it. It’s a lot, and dangerous, to get around my other blood relatives, and I miss him like a motherfucker— two birthdays he’s had where I couldn’t call him now, and it breaks my heart— but it’s because I decided I wasn’t gonna let anybody I care about get stepped all over or hurt because of their position. I don’t want kids growing up like I did. You acting like that, like you get stepped all over, and then letting me not even do the basics of feeding you properly while you’re saying shit like ‘it’s fine, I’m happy with the bare minimum’, it just makes me…”

She gestures vaguely trying to find the words. Nothing comes up, and she frowns at middle distance in annoyance at its lack of helping her. “Argh! It’s sad! You know what I mean.” Good enough! It’s not eloquent. She tugs Bei’s head over into a hug where she can rest her cheek against the top of their head, speaking in a grumble. “Just, look, you’re allowed to speak your piece to me and if anyone ever hurts you I’ll kill ‘em.”

Laurel lets that sit for a moment or two, still not letting Bei go. They can go back to eating in a second, she’s having a moment, by which she means she needs to recover from the earlier moment and act like nothing happened. There’s a sniffing sound. Man, she really hasn’t said any of that shit out loud to anyone but Ash back home…. That’s wild. “Don’t tell anybody I have feelings or I’ll smack you,” she mutters, completely not serious but still sounding a bit miffed at having said feelings, before she lets Bei go and steps back.

Inhale. Exhale. Hands go to her hips. Recovered! Back to being fun and pretty and not feeling weak things like sadness or embarrassment. “That’s enough of me being a sap. Not my best look. Alright. You like fish? I can cook the hell out of some salmon. How ‘bout eggs? Do those count as carnivorous food? They’re protein, yeah?” Back to chatter and back to the stove. She’ll cook until Bei’s full (and some for herself) or tells her to stop, it’s fine. She can do that! Regain her ‘being a good host’ title.

#mun writes #misc : laurel #drabble : laurel

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carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich · 4 years

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9, 12, 14, 25, 28, 30, 31, 34, 37, 40, 41, 42 and 50 for the Diabolik Lovers Ask Game please! By the way, I love your blog SO MUCH. ♡♡♡

From this ask game.

Thank you for the ask anon, I’m really glad you like my blog :)

This got kind of long so I’ve put my answers below the cut.

9. Do you hate anyone in DL?

Hate is a very strong word, but if you saw my recent post on Shuu’s CL route then you’ll know that I am not the biggest Karlheinz fan. Richter and Cordelia are also fairly awful but I can’t help but feel some sort of pity for Richter as it seems he had a pretty miserable life and while some of the things Cordelia did are just horrible, my negative feelings towards her have somewhat lessened since we got a bit more of a glimpse at her backstory in DF. Menae must have died before Cordelia could really remember her, and we have to remember that she was heavily manipulated by Karl. Like yes, Cordelia is dreadful, but I still think Karl is the big bad of the series. He does so so many awful things and no matter which game you look at, I can’t help but feel that his reasoning is always pretty bleh (even if that probably is just due to not great writing).

Also after that Subaru LE ending Seiji Komori can eat dirt.

12. What do you think of the fandom?

Hmm... While I know some people hold negative views of the DL fandom at large, I don’t think any fandom is entirely unproblematic. My personal experience has generally been pretty good but I will admit I have seen some fairly terrible behavior in the 3 and a half years I’ve been seriously into DL. Then again I also haven’t been this deep in any other fandom and, sadly, I think that is just the nature of the internet.

Still, there are some amazing and very talented people in this fandom, and I feel extraordinarily lucky to have been able to interact with them, so I prefer to focus on that over anything else.

14. Sub or dub?

Sub all the way. When I first started watching anime, I initially just watched dubs, but after I started learning Japanese, I switched to subs to try and pick up some more vocab and now I can’t go back. Also I really like a lot of the Japanese voice actors in DL ^^

25. What do you think of DL haters?

I generally hold the attitude of “live and let live”. If someone doesn’t like DL because of the triggering content (and the way it deals with it) or the sometimes questionable plot then fair enough, it’s not like I think the series is without its problems. The only time I will have any issue at all is if they actively attack fans of the show. If someone is just minding their own business and not hurting anyone then under no circumstances is it okay to blindly attack them over a work of fiction. So yeah, you do you as long as you’re not being a twit about it.

28. Would you ever show your parents DL why/why not?

For anyone who remembers some of the random stuff I post, you’ll know that my mother is indeed aware of Shin’s existence (and Carla’s) which perhaps would have been difficult to avoid given that he’s plastered all over my bedroom wall and I talk about him A LOT (I am just as bad irl folks), but I’ve never gone into the details of the series with her as I feel like she’d be fairly disturbed at some of the content (and it’s for this reason that I would never show her the anime).

You will understand then, why I was slightly horrified when she told me she’d read the wiki because she wanted to know more about the characters I loved so much (like bless her, but also O.o). Apparently Carla is “a baddie” but she thinks Shin is okay.

My parents are also aware of the existence of this blog but, fortunately for me, have no interest in reading it.

30. What do you think of Yui?

I like Yui (I mean what is there to dislike?), she’s a lovely character and has a really good impact on the boys. I’m not as invested in her as perhaps some of the fandom but that’s because I am unapologetically here for the dumpster fire that is the boys.

I prefer writing reader inserts over Yui x diaboy fanfics, simply because it’s fun to see the boys in a slightly different relationship dynamic to that we get in the games (like if you look at my most recent Shin drabble, Yui would never tease Shin like that but I would so reader insert it is).

31. What is your favourite Dialover song and why?

What do you mean I have to pick just one??? Gahhh I love love love Kessen no Dies irae, because it features the Tsukinami bros and it’s just my sort of music but I think my favorite might actually be I.M.I.T.A.T.I.O.N.G.A.M.E. I’m not the biggest Kino fan but Maeno’s singing voice is phenomenal and it also brings back happy memories of when I finished Shin’s LE route for the first time.

34. Tell us your top three routes! Why are they your favourites?

Hooo boy, this is a tricky one because we all know my bias at this point ^^;; I’ve limited myself to one Shin route because otherwise this list would just be me waxing on about Shin and goodness knows I do that enough already.

1) Shin’s Lost Eden Route

While I like his DF route, I love that Shin’s LE route pays a bit more attention to his feelings towards Yui than his complicated relationship with Carla. I love that it really stretches him as a character and we get to see him relying on Yui, like I don’t know who came up with that plot but BLESS. I think the pacing is very good and the bad endings are just so tragic (and I love really angsty bad endings). And some of the scenario chapters from this route just make me melt.

I also love this route for personal reasons. I’d only just fallen into Shinhell when LE was released and I remember seeing the CGs for his route but there was no information on the plot in the English speaking side of the fandom and it was driving me nuts because I just wanted to know that he was okay. It was at this same time that I had a bit of spare money so I... bought a PSVita and a copy of Lost Eden so I could find out what happened (I was planning on getting a Vita anyway just maybe not THAT soon). I’d only been learning Japanese for 6 months (I am nothing if not horribly ambitious) but I didn’t let that stop me and played through the route. And I loved it (even if I struggled a little with the language) and I was so happy to find out what happened to him. So yeah, I just have warm memories of it.

2) Carla’s Dark Fate Route

While I like Carla’s LE route, I think the pacing and plot of his DF is just a bit better. I love that it gives us the best glimpse at the backstory of the founders (I will take any and all Krone and Giesbach tidbits I can) and I think the progression of Carla and Yui’s relationship is really well handled (even if he is dreadful towards her at times). Also I like Carla, I think of all of the diaboys, he’s one of the ones I’m most similar to so I find it easy to empathize with him.

3) Subaru’s Dark Fate Route

It’s been a while since I played this route but I remember having a really good time when I did. The Vampire Ending is incredibly sweet, as are some of the scenario chapters and I thought the plot was fairly well structured. Plus Carla and Shin are in it so bonus points there.

37. If you could change one thing in your favourite Diaboy what would it be?

I never want to answer questions like this because I love Shin as he is, I don’t want to change him.

I mean I would like for him to see more value in who he is than just his bloodline and get it into his skull that he is not inferior to Carla but only as gradual changes based on environment (or just idk talking to Carla but goodness only knows that won’t happen unless Carla’s on his deathbed again).

40. Your thoughts on Karlheinz?

See above. But yeah, not a fan, would not be sad if he became the victim of a bizarre fishing accident and never again appeared in the DL franchise but I think that’s a bit too much to hope for. Sorry Karl fans but I can’t get over the stuff he’s done (and also I have had enough of “and it was Karl’s fault all along” coming up in the games).

41. Would you buy the games if they were released in English?

I’m a little torn on this one because I love supporting Rejet and otome game localisations but I own all of the games aside from VC already so there wouldn’t really be any point. I think if I had a LOT of money to spare then I would, but as my finances stand at the moment then it’s a no.

42. If you got to design the 14th Diaboy what would he be like?

Oh this is a difficult one, ideally I’d like to see someone who was a member of one of the other demon races but I don’t think you can really have a diaboy without the blood-sucking, so I guess I’d make them half vampire half adler (as I think they’re the race we know the least about). As for personality... It’s tricky because I feel like the diaboys already cover a pretty wide spectrum. I’d probably make him a cocky jerk because I love cocky jerks and I’d make him fairly witty too but more logic than feelings orientated. I’d have him kidnap Yui because he wants to use her as a pawn against the diaboys in some nefarious plot (that I’m not going to think too much about because this post is not meant to be an OC planning session) and not because he has any interest in her or plans for her himself. I guess he’d sort of be a cross between Kino and Carla?

I’d give him a vendetta against Karlheinz too because I can :D

I had to cut this short because I started coming up with a backstory an everything but I think that’s too much ^^;;

50. Do you think Richter should have a route of his own?

Honestly? No. It’s not that I wouldn’t be interested to see the story of Richter with someone who is not Cordelia (even if he is not my favorite dude from the franchise) but more that I can’t see Rejet dropping Yui as a heroine and RichterxYui? No thank you. After all the stuff he’s done in the games and his obsession with Cordelia? I just don’t feel comfortable with that pairing, sorry.

#reply #ask game #I'm always super happy/surprised when people say they like my blog #because I feel like it's kind of chaotic but if you guys like it then I must be doing something right #character hate #?#I feel like I've been relatively polite but just to be safe #I have half tried to proofread this but it's so long #bless you if you made it to the end

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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Toons for Our Times: Ducktales: They Put a Moonlander on the Earth!

At Glomglast, Glomgold Glomturns! Flintheart Hero of Earth Glomgold continues riding his wave of good PR from helping save the earth in the manner you’d expect: With a dangerous attention seeking pr stunt/ferris wheel/half-ased plan to murder scrooge. Naturally Dewey is first in line for it. Meanwhile Webby tries to convince a wound up Penumbra to stay and enjoy earth so she can get a new alien friend who she relates to and her brothers can get a new step mom, while Launchpad is awkward because his coffee with Pennumbra went worse than the one he had with the gas cloud. The Glom Knight Glomturns under the cut.

This one is late for both good reason, I didn’t want to hog the wifi while my nieces were trying to remote school, and not so good I.e.... I entirely forgot an episode was today because I’m not used to the new schedule, as in the past the show’s either aired on saturday like usual for a disney show, or as a cluster of episodes throughout one week, so even if it wasn’t something I was used to, I was tuned to stay in. The new schedule is weird and my brain is stupid is what i’m saying. Now i’ve covered my butt on with the review! This week focuses on Penumbra, and explains exactly what happened to the Moonlanders after Moonvasion. For Penny at least she’s apparently been living in the McDuck hangar, or somewhere near it, and working on rebuilding one of the bigger ships to get her people home. Della, while not missing the opprotunity to point out now Penny’s the one living in HER garage buliding a rocket home, pitches in and we see things have clearly changed. At least with Della, Penny’s let down her guard and now openly considers her her best friend.. and perhaps more because the romantic tension is so thick here you could cut it with a sword. Granted I may have swords on the brain because of this.

Which if your not up to date on your x-men comics, is an event where our Uncanny X-Men, now having their own nation of krakoa where all mutants are welcome, which includes apocalypse so he’s on THEIR SIDE in that shot, must fight ten other mutants in a ritual sword duel with some of the strongest swords in the mighty marvel canon, and loosing means the other mutants, many of whom are the CHILDREN of apocalyspe from centuries ago he thought lost, get to invade earth with a demonic horde. And if NONE of that made you curious, let alone want to read that, I just.. don’t get you.

Back to the gays, yeah the ten sword thick sexual tension is broken by the fact that Penumbra reveals she tried SOME earth culture and did get that coffee with Launchpad, with Della baffled.. I mean look at those abs. Though it’s probably less “Launchpad really?” and more “Why not me first? Is he sexier? Dammit he is. “ It went about as well as you’d expect.. with Penny storming out suddenly saying this is terrible and running off. Eh not the worst first date i’ve seen in animation this year. I’ve seen a woman go on a date with a man conjoined to his ex.. and not like their siblings it’s a medical procedure. Because close enough is pretty fucking insane and let’s keep it that way.

But yeah so Penumbra’s not sold on earth and Della’s attempts to get her to go with the kids, get to that in a minute, fall on deaf ears. But the thing is. her people are. When meeting with gibious and zenith, if you don’t remember the married moon couple we saw back in “The Golden Spear”, Penumbra finds out she’s the only one who wants to go home. Her people like it here...the happy couple even got adorable new outfits, a job with Glomgold in Gibbious’ case, and an adorable new dog named good boy. Look at them.

I would die for either of them. I hope we see Good Boy again. And that the show introduces Bolivar, donald’s dog at some point. Or even his ostrich hortense. I just want the duck to have a pet dammit.

Point is their happy here and while Penny wants to go back to the old routine of them all on the moon and her saving them.. their fine if she wants to go home but.. their staying here. And it’s easy to see WHY they want to: The moon was harsh, filled with monsters and much like us humans right now with earth, they only stayed in their clusterfuck of a home world because they had no way out. It’s probably why Lunaris sold hte invasion so easily: With his pitch they were just taking a nicer world from a bunch of mean asssholes who refused to share it and whose sole representative had seemingly betrayed them. Without any reason to hate the earthlings and, outside of once incident later in the episode, the earthlings accepting them with open arms and forgiveness, why wouldn’t they stay on a nice, sunny world, in a large city willing to house them and give them jobs, with delicious foods and all sorts of fun shit to distract you from the bad parts of living here that the moon lacked.

Penny’s issue is while THEIR lives were miserable.. her’s wasn’t. She was a hero, a super hero really.. I mean she’s dressed like a kree sentry, she protects the helpless and she’s a fearless warrior whose now a fish out of water on a world she never could’ve expected but grows to love. Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, the Mar Vell one, Warlock, Adam Warlock and yes their separate characters, Supergirl, not superman because while he is an alien he grew up here.. all aliens who immigrated here and grew to love and protect it and see it as their home. Penny just hasn’t got to the “love and protect it” part yet and while the rest of her people have new purpose, new homes and new lives and still meet once a week to party she finds herself, theri greatest champion an outsider, desperately wanting her old life back but not accepting it’s gone. She can go home but she’d be the one person on a desolate moon clinging to the past. Penny here honestly reminds me of jasper in steven unvierse future: Both are old soldiers who find their empire gone, their entire way of life uprooted and have no way to cope and desperately hoping things will collapse back to THEIR normal, not realizing the new one isn’t going anywhere and is better for their people. They need to move on but their too proud and too scared to try.

However Penny refuses to admit defeat to her people and that she can’t have “earth fun”, and left with no other choices, decides to take the kids up on their offer after all. To explain that we quickly wrap to the top of the episode, where Webby, bored and having trouble finding anyone, finds Penny and after Penny dosen’t want to hang out finds Dewey and Louie. I assume since their absent this episode, Huey is introducing Violet to Gyro, Fenton and Boyd, Beakly is buying groceries, Donald is courting Daisy and Scrooge.. is trying to get fethry’s hands, feet and head out of pickle jars because he thought they’d preserve him and Donald is busy for once so he’s the only one left to do it. Louie and Dewey plan on just laying around and biinging old ottoman empires, I can relate, but the news gives them a better option. A GLOMGOLD OPTION. Oh me mow how i’ve missed this big beautiful man. Seriously Glomgold is easily one of the best parts of the reboot and Keith Fergeuson brings an utterly delightful manic glee to the guy any time he shows up to eat the scenery whole. While I get holding back on him since he had an arc last season, it’s still nice to have him back in all his hammy glory. And naturally being glomgold he has a scheme going: After gifting a rolelrcoaster previously, over water and with sharks because his brand’s nothing if not consistent, he’s now offering the flintferris glomwheel, which is shoddy, dangerous, secretly a plot to kill scrooge, and is very likely to kill a child.. so in other words it’s Glomgold himself roleld into a ferris wheel. Dewey is psyched to go because he let another kid go first for Glomgold’s last PR Stunt/Nightmare and that kid got all the glory and as such is now Dewey’s new nemisis. So after asking his mom “If we can go ride a death wheel so I can get famous’, which of course Della says yes to, our heroes end up taking Penny along. Launchpad drives and gets his subplot for the episode, being awkard around Penny because the date went bad and not sure if this makes then enimies and avoiding her. He tries going to dewey for help, and while Dewey is out of his element, he does actually give good advice to just talk to her.. Launchpad just takes it while he’s driving because it’s launchpad. Thankfully webby can drive. He spends the rest of hte episode getting into shenanigans before, after helping her with the climax, phrasing, being honest and apologizing. And i’m also covering the plot to get her answer out of the way now: Penny admits he’s fine, thery can be fight buds, he’s a good warrior sh’es just “Not interested in an earth..male” her exact words.

I mean.. there’s no real subtly here. Even if she’s not into Della, which all evidence suggests is the case, Penumbra is CLEARLY into women. I mean Frank is basically saying as loudly as his mousey overlords will allow “SHE’S GAY FOR DELLA”. Wether this goes anywhere, I dunno. While Lumity started ramping up this year, that property’s not based on Disney’s classic canon and STILL had to fight tooth and claw to make Luz bisexual and her love intrested a girl. Disney won’t even let this show use Mickey and almost didn’t let them use the rescue rangers, the odds are against them.. but I also never thoguht we’d see violet’s gay dads on screen, or so many previously comics only characters, so frank’s said screw the impossible before. Now probably is no different.

Back to the main plot, and to the return of Glomgold whose great as ever. Glomgold made the moonlanders and some of duckberg think he was soley responsible for saving the world.. how many people besides the non-penny moonlanders think he actually did it is up for debate but he DID genuinely help save the world. Also his scheme to get his company back somehow WORKED despite not being legally binding, as he’s now back in his tower, back to scheming and has an actual assitant instead of a professional career woman he treats like one in a bit that didn’t age all that well even a year later. Gibious is now Glomgold’s sidekick and in a nice contrast to Owlson instead of being fed up with his crap Gibious, buying into Glomgold’s own ego, lavishes praise on his new boss, treats him like the god he thinks he is, and is genuinely sweet and helpful. It’s a nice dynamic giving Glomgold someone who ACTUALLY and genuinely likes him as a person and wants him to suceed and trusts in his insane schemes and leads to some great bits like Gib genuinely calling the safety inspector when Glomgold makes an airquotes remark about it and at the end Glomgold admitting “I can’t stay mad at you” to his new lackey/Best friend. Frankly Glomgold needed a 21 to his Monarch, and i’ts a delight to see it and Paulson and Ferguson have real chemistry. Meanwhile in the A-Plot, Webby tries to get Penny to enjoy earth, first with a street performer she tosses in the water ,as you should, then with a shooting range which ends with her massacering a clownhead to the children minus webby’s horror and tears. We were one more frame away from this really.

Also we get the ducks feeding.. ducks, a gag Frank’s apparently wanted to do for three seasons now, and with Penny being as confused as the audeince. but non of this, including roller skates really works. So while Dewey goes off to get in line to one up his rival, Webby gets honest with Penny about why she’s so invested and this episode goes from good.. to truly fantastic. While webby fangirling over a mighty and gay space warrior makes sense, there’s a personal reason she wants to help here that really tugs at the heart strings: Webby was like her once. Like Penny she spent her whole life honing herself into a weapon, sealed in her own tiny world, For Penny it was her moon village for Webby it was the mansion. And being thrust out into it was .. frightening. We saw webby struggle to adjust in “Daytrip of Doom!” and part of her wanted to plunge back into the mansion and her saftey net at times. But she didn’t.. with the help of her family, and her friends, she found out just how wonderful the world is and how as scary as the world is.. it opened up new parts of her. Duckberg webby was just as great as mansion webby if not better. So Webby wants to do the same for penny and what really clinches the scene is how she does it: a Hamburger, the symbol from the pilot of what webby was deprived of all her life, given to a new friend as a symbol of what the world offers. And it works at first, even without cheese. But then Penny gets a brain freeze, and Glomgold, needing a distraction from the saftey inspector rames her as going beserk because he’s an asshat in every other way let’s add racisim to it.

A chase insues, Penny’s determined to flee.. but she gets a second wind when Dewey, who rushed in to get the first ride and webby get trapped. Sadly dewey’s new enemy gets all the attention, and as we find out is aware he one upped Dewey and brags over it, but Penny has now gone from fish out of water to shark on the hunt, and with Launchpad’s help to get past Glom and Gib, and the roller skates from earlier finally has some earth fun by skating into the air, climbing the Ferris wheel and saving the kids. Penny FINALLY found something she likes about earth; That she can Still protect people, including her people and do what she loved there and the danger here is WAY more intresting.. I mean on hte moon itw as just the usual monsters she was used to. Here she had to rocket into the air, and climb an megalomainics cannon armed ferris wheel to save two adorable children. In short she’s become a super hero and like those I mentioned, has grown to care about earth. So basically this is like captain marvel was an episode of Steven Universe. I likes it. But it’s a nice character arc, as Penny realizes the outside world, and her new friends/future stepchildren, have b eauty and worth. And she will protect their kind, she will protect them. I mean duckberg already has about 4 other superheroes if you count lena, which with that outfit last time I dooo, but frankly with how much disaster it faces on a daily basis, and how much Fenton needed a goddamn break, and with Darkwing leaving for st canard soon, they could probably use her.

So the day is saved, Glomgold is buired in fines but has a new minon, Dewey is dewfeated and Penny is happy again. We end on Penny recounting everything to Gibious and wife, and Good Boy obviously, along with Della who casually admits she really shoduln’t of let her child go but sooths him anyway over his loss. Penny is happy and deciding to stay, and her and her new best buddy laucnhpad are going to go tear the ship apart with her carrying della along. I swear when they finally do do it she’s just going to.. carry a willing della to her bedroom and throw her down on that thing.. everything after is up to you Id ont’ write porn here. Nothing wrong with it just not my bidness. So with a hopeful new future and a neat t-shirt, Penny finally finds her place in the world.

Final Thoughts: A very good, very gay episode that’s just as good as last weeks and gives penumbra a hell of a character arc, while also being an utterly hilaroius episode, from penumbra’s destruction, to glomgold’s hilarious as always antics to dewey’s attention whoring reaching self endagering heights of stupidity and ego, this was a great one and keeps up Season 3′s quality streak. While the plot progression may be slow for now, everything else is at an alltime goddamn high.

Next week, it’s the HALLOWEEN EPISODE BITCHES. Nuff Said. Until then you can check my blog for more reviews, as we have some halloween stuff coming up. Sadly with Loud House going silent, it seems this is our only weekly coverage but expect more reviews of various shows, and some very spooky ooky ones coming very soon including some brucie bonus episodes and until we meet again, go team venture! Play us out glomgold....

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#ducktales #they put a moonlander on the earth!#penumbra #della duck #dellumbra #webby vanderquack #dewey duck #louie duck #Flintheart Glomgold #gibious #reviews #ducktales spoilers

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

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Worthy

Prompt: #65 & #142 for anon – “I don’t deserve to be loved.” + “My favourite person in the world is standing right in front of me.”

Anonymous said:

Drabble request: 65 & 142 with Kihyun from MX?

Pairing: Yoo Kihyun x reader (ft. Lee Minhyuk)

Genre: friends to lovers au / angst / romance / self-growth

Warnings: complex relationship and personal feelings make this a little more mature than I usually write.

Word count: 3506

Stirring, you glanced at the time on your phone and inwardly cursed, you had fallen asleep after all. Glancing at the man behind you, following his outstretched arm all the way to where his hand rested over your waist loosely, you gingerly lifted it, attempting to slide out of his grip.

He groaned and pulled you closer, nestling into your bare back. “Don’t go.”

“I have to get home, I have work in the morning,” you explained quietly, but your words were enough to interrupt the remnants of his slumber, his eyes opening with the heavy sigh that fanned across your cheek.

“You know we could solve this issue of ours.”

“It wouldn’t be an issue if I hadn’t have fallen asleep,” you replied, but he held you still, not accepting your premature departure. Kissing your shoulder softly, he then kissed his way back up to your ear.

“Why don’t you just store some things here?”

“As in..?”

“You could move in with me,” he offered demurely, and a cold panic consumed you. Pulling his arm off with less care as before, you immediately reached over the side of the bed to collect your strewn garments.

He watched you from behind. “Why don’t you want to move in with me, baby?”

“I like having my space.”

“I’m not home all the time.”

That had been something you liked about this connection. Jake travelled a lot and so you didn’t feel as if you were weighed down by any expectations.

Until now.

“I’m happy living where I am.”

Jake attempted to capture your gaze but you avoided him, ducking for your socks and placing them over your feet roughly. He sighed again. “Are you scared to move in with me?”

“No, because I don’t want to.” Your defensive tone stunned him into silence and despite how much your heart was thudding in your chest, you tried to ease your approach. “We’re not really in that kind of relationship, right?”

“What kind of relationship is this meant to be, Y/N?” Jake wondered you stared back at him, chewing your bottom lip in thought.

It was meant to be one where you wouldn’t feel entrapped. You were no good at relationships and so you had been picky about who you spent your time with. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jake, he was a great guy. He helped fill the void of loneliness but left you with enough independence that you could do your own thing. It had been working this well for eight months now, without any established role to what this exactly was. Clearly, he had been on a different wavelength than you had been.

Smiling weakly, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek before departing his bedroom and apartment soon after. You could already feel the end of your connection before you left the apartment complex.

You chose to remain alone after everything fell apart with Jake. He had tried one more time to convince you around, and you had fled altogether, messaging him that it was no longer working for you.

It never did.

You didn’t want to admit that you were afraid of commitment, but that was exactly your problem. You had experienced the feeling of being in love. True, vulnerable, and soul-completing love. And instead of meeting your happily ever after, you came home to find a friend in your place in the bedroom, horrified that the people you had trusted with every part of you could shatter you into a thousand pieces so easily. You vowed to never allow a man your heart again. The only person you could trust to care for its fragility was yourself and so you had adopted a belief that being single suited you just fine.

And then you would get swept up in the throes of passion with someone, enjoying the feeling of in that moment being the only person they craved. You had tried to accept that someone else might not break you again, yet every time someone tried to define what they had with you, or progress further into living together like Jake had, you ran as fast as you could. The panic wouldn’t settle until you were safely away and alone again.

You didn’t like that you couldn’t commit but you weren’t prepared to drop your standards either. You had long lost the respect for your childhood dreams of meeting the man of your dreams and experiencing a fairytale love.

Because that didn’t exist in this lifetime.

“Are you seriously going to be alone forever?” your friend Minhyuk exclaimed, shaking his head disapprovingly at you. “Y/N, you’re a great catch!”

“I don’t want the mess that comes with relationships,” you told him pointedly and smiled up at the person who placed your drink in front of you.

Kihyun shunted Minhyuk before sitting down. “Y/N isn’t a fish.”

“You know what I was meaning, both of you do,” he chided with a roll of his eyes and you smirked at Kihyun before taking a sip of your drink. Minhyuk groaned. “Why do I have two friends who are useless in the love department?!”

“Hey! I’m not useless!” Kihyun cried and you laughed.

“And I don’t care for love unless it’s self-love. Then you can load me all up!”

Minhyuk scoffed loudly. “You’ll regret that when you find yourself as a miserable maid when all your friends are married around you. Even Kihyun will eventually find someone and-”

“WOULD YOU CUT IT OUT?!” Kihyun smacked Minhyuk around the back of his head and you erupted with laughter again.

You didn’t need to find someone to cure the loneliness now that you had these two in your life. Moving cities had been daunting, as had your first day in the office of your job. Being seated between Minhyuk and Kihyun had eased all your concerns. Minhyuk was the energy maker, keeping you laughing throughout every shift. And Kihyun was the best to work on projects with. You had established an easy working ethic that had stemmed into a reliable friendship. You hadn’t felt this validated as a human in years.

But you weren’t ready to risk all the work you had done so far getting to this point with your old habits either.

With a few more drinks in your system, and Minhyuk’s incessant whining about your lack of dating skills, you let out a heavy breath, pointing vaguely in his direction. “Enough! I don’t deserve to be loved. Focus on your own love life!”

“What rubbish is that?!” he wailed back, slinging his arm around Kihyun’s neck and shaking the silent man roughly. “Did you hear that?”

“Mm, Y/N doesn’t deserve love.”

“But she does!” Minhyuk flailed his free hand around dangerously and you watched it, moving your head along with the vigorous action. “You do!”

“If I did, he wouldn’t have cheated on me,” you admitted, the liquid courage lending you the words you had craved to speak up to someone over all these years. It felt liberating to finally utter it to someone without any judgement. “I was a good girlfriend!”

“And you can be again, I know it!” Minhyuk agreed, looking at Kihyun for back up. The other male simply stared at you, expression unreadable.

You hiccupped and shook your head. “I won’t ever take the risk of trusting another man with this heart of mine. They don’t deserve it!”

“Even if they will look after it well?” Kihyun finally spoke and you glanced back at him, realising he wasn’t nearly as drunk as you and Minhyuk were. His gaze bore deep inside of you, searching for the answers your brain couldn’t quite bring forth in your current state. You blinked slowly, feeling panicked by the way he watched you.

And just as quick as he had turned his attention to you, Kihyun smiled and pulled Minhyuk up to his feet. “We’re drunk. Let’s go home, hm?”

Nothing was said about your confession when you were all lucid. Yet over the weeks since uttering it, you felt things between you and Kihyun change. It wasn’t obvious, the subtle nuances cropping up when you least expected it. He had always been courteous towards you, and had you not been treated poorly in the past, you would have recognised his charms as a man. Minhyuk was forever teasing his friend because he wasn’t actively seeking out a girlfriend whenever he had free time to like he was. But you believed Kihyun was definitely interested in finding someone.

She just had to be the right match.

“Minhyuk’s ditching us again,” you told Kihyun in the elevator on the way down to get coffees for the department and Kihyun glanced at you, smirking.

“Why does it still surprise you? He’s got it into his head that he’ll meet the love of his life and be married with kids by thirty-five. He needs to find her soon if he wants to keep to his structured timeline.”

“I actually admire his life plan.”

“Did you ever have one?”

Glancing at Kihyun, you thought back to how that had gone for you. Smiling sadly, you nodded. “Once.”

“The one you talked about that night?” With another look in his direction, he gave you a wry smile. “I remember. Did you want me to forget it?”

“It was the first time I told someone why I avoid relationships,” you stated softly and stepped out onto the ground floor. When you were both out of the building, you sighed. “I’m glad you remember.”

Silence walked between you both, neither saying the words needed to continue the topic. Just as you saw the coffee store come into sight, Kihyun stepped in front of you, giving you one of his eye-reaching smiles. “Do you want to do something tonight? We could go see a movie or get food.”

“That awfully sounds like a date,” you teased and Kihyun gauged your reaction, no humour evident in his face. Your smile waned. “Is… is it?”

“It doesn’t have to be anything other than what I said it as, a movie to watch and food to eat.”

You hesitated, looking up into his warm eyes. Kihyun always made you feel comfortable in his company. Smiling, you nodded. “I’ll buy the popcorn.”

It had been a bad idea.

Once seated in the darkened theatre with Kihyun, you felt your heart begin to pound in your chest, anticipating a move made by him. You were used to this, meeting up with men at a movie normally ended up with more caresses of hands in places than eyes on the screen watching the show. It was a stone throw away from ending up back at his house or yours, with mouths entangled as clothing fell to the floor. You swallowed; it had been all too long since you had done such a thing.

And yet, Kihyun did nothing to entice you to his side. He smiled at you when his hand reached into the popcorn at the same time as yours and then back to the movie, more interested in that than you. You weren’t offended, nor were you relieved. It was hard to judge what reaction you should have in such a foreign atmosphere.

You realised you hadn’t done anything with a friend in forever. Then again, when your ex had cheated on you, it had been with one of your closest friends. You had shut the door on them just as much as you had on love.

You sighed; this wasn’t how you had wanted to spend your life.

“The movie was good, huh?” Kihyun suggested afterwards and you smiled weakly up at him, nodding once. He wasn’t convinced. “What was your favourite part?”

“I uh….”

“You can’t tell me because you weren’t present in that theatre room, you know,” he mentioned, stepping off ahead of you a little. You jogged to catch up, now stepping outside into the darkened night air.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, I’m not very good at being a friend sometimes.”

“I think you are,” Kihyun corrected, turning to face you. He placed his hands on your shoulders and gave them a squeeze. “I think you’re capable of being so much more than you allow yourself to be too.”

Was this his way of hitting on you? Your mind was confused and you didn’t know what to expect anymore. Things would be much easier to decipher if Minhyuk was here.

“Do you wanna skip the food? I’ll take you home,” he announced, unlocking his car.

The ride was silent as you sat there overthinking everything. What was Kihyun’s motive? Friendship? Something more? Had he really just wanted to spend time with you since Minhyuk was busy? Or would he have suggested this even if your mutual friend was available too?

You decided you had no idea of how to control anything in this world you now lived. It was different in your last home. You had intentions and you fulfilled them. When you came here, you assumed you would continue on that solo path through life. You hadn’t expected to make friends with Minhyuk or Kihyun so effortlessly.

And that’s why you were misconstruing everything about tonight.

The car came to a halt outside your apartment complex and you unbuckled your seat, however, you remained unmoving. “Kihyun… what did tonight mean to you?”

“It meant a movie and maybe some food, why?”

“So as friends?” He let out a shaky breath which garnered your attention, and you turned to look at him. Those were eyes you had seen before in other men. You couldn’t tell if you liked the expression that resided there or not. “Something more?”

“I like you, Y/N,” he confessed simply, nodding to himself as he smiled sadly. “But you don’t like yourself enough to let me in.”

“I like myself,” you responded, a little surprised by his conclusion. “I just don’t trust others.”

“Because someone who didn’t deserve your love hurt you, I get it. But I’m not him, I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured and as you stared into his eyes, you knew he believed in his statement. You smiled; Kihyun would definitely make someone giddily happy to have as their boyfriend. You then let your smile fall away.

You couldn’t let him be your boyfriend.

“I had a nice time.”

“You were waiting to see if I would make a move, is that how you used to do things with men? Expect the horse to rush out of the gate from the get-go?”

You gaped at him, unsure where the confidence came from within him to address you like that. He smiled sadly once again. “As I said, you don’t like yourself.”

“You have no right to pass judgement on my life, Yoo Kihyun.”

“You’re right, I don’t. Nor do you have to categorise me like the men before me either. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” he told you simply, shrugging before placing his hands in his lap.

It infuriated you, even more so that his words were making you feel weak. You hadn’t been aware of how much you longed for someone to take care of you like this. To speak to you as he was. It was charming and before you recognised the desire to, you were kissing him passionately. Kihyun caught your movement well enough, stabilising you against him as he kissed you back.

You tasted the longing he had endured over the past eight months of knowing you. Perhaps, some of that stemmed from your own desires. You had painted Kihyun as the nice guy one too many times in your mind, the type you would date in a heartbeat if you weren’t so messed up.

You honestly believed you hadn’t been his type.

Yet as his lips continued to press into yours, begging for more, you wondered why you had been so blind all along. He had been always there for you. Ready to help you solve any issues, to wipe away your tears even if you couldn’t tell him why. He made you smile more than you could count, and he was incredibly comforting to be around.

You couldn’t lose this.

Jerking back your head, you then shook it, clambering out of the car and towards the apartment complex. Kihyun managed to get in front of you, gasping noisily from how much air you had sucked out of him and from his haste to ensure you didn’t get too far away so quickly.

“Is that it? You’re going to run away after one kiss?”

“Why, do you want to come upstairs and sleep with me and find out how much of a mess I am when I decide you’re too good for me then?” you countered and he cursed lowly, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m not too good for you.”

“Kihyun, I’m a mess, you pointed it out. Don’t get involved with me.”

“Why not? My favourite person in this world is standing in front of me right now and she just kissed me too. Am I not allowed to fight for this?”

“Do you have some kink about fixing broken girls?” you spat and he shook his head honestly. You sighed; you were so quick to break anything before it began. Tears welled in your eyes and he reached for you then, hugging you softly. You clung to him, burying in deep. “I’m scared.”

“I know you are.”

“I like you too,” you mumbled into his neck, feeling safe despite your worry. This embrace couldn’t ease your heart even though you want it to. “But I can’t be with you, not like this.”

“Come to me when you can then.”

It wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be to go to the office on Monday. Kihyun smiled at you as he always did, and Minhyuk was non-stop chattering about some girl he met at the singles night he went to. It felt as if everything had slipped back into the way they always had been, the forbidden kiss not spoken of for the rest of the week. In fact, three weeks passed and Kihyun continued to be how he had always been with you. He worked on projects with you, laughed with you and supported you when you needed it.

It bothered you that you didn’t have the confidence to talk to him about that night the longer time slipped between you.

You decided to seek help. After all, the way your brain was conflicted over him, you needed to do something. Talking to Minhyuk about it would end with him locking the pair of you up together until something happened. And whilst that was a proactive approach, you knew you needed to make this one on your own.

Having someone to talk to about your past, about the pain you had inflicted on yourself was empowering. You had started to heal. Of course, it was early days, but you had actually started to love yourself properly. All these years you had believed you did, your protection towards your heart seeming as a sign of just that. But it was stunting your ability to grow from the experience.

“Minhyuk’s busy with his girlfriend tonight,” Kihyun mentioned in the elevator with a sigh and you glanced at his pouting face. “I guess I’ll have to spend another night alone watching Netflix. Don’t get a roommate that you’re not prepared to share with someone else, Y/N.”

You giggled, poking his arm playfully. “You have other friends, hang out with them.”

“None of them like my taste in movies.”

“I do.”

He arched an eyebrow, the ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. “The last movie we watched just you and I was a complete failure.”

“So you do remember.”

“How could I forget? Remember, you’re one of my favourite people.”

“I distinctively recall you saying I was your favourite person, Kihyun. Since when did I have to share the spot?”

Kihyun grinned, stepping outside into the sunny mid-morning. “I’m not sure if you get to keep that top spot when I’m not yours.”

“Who says you’re not?” you asked, stepping in front of him and placing your hands on your hips. “My favourite person in the world is standing right in front of me.”

“Is he just?”

You nodded dramatically. “Except, he didn’t just kiss me, so maybe he’s not worth fighting for.”

“Rude!” he quipped and you fell back into step at his side, glancing down at his hand swinging loosely at his side. You reached for it, entwining your fingers with his. Kihyun glanced down at your linked hands and then smiled. “No kiss?”

“I’m all about taking it slow these days, how do you feel about that?” you offered, feeling giddy from just holding his hand. Kihyun squeezed it gently, letting you know just how much he liked it as well.

“As long as I’m with you, we can take all the time in the world.”

_________________

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mcheang · 4 years

Text

Feng Jiu’s revenge against Lian Song

This was meant to be a short fic but somehow escalated to this...

Feng Jiu can understand him not helping her when she was a handkerchief, if even Zhe Yan left her behind, but did he have to eat her fish too and taunt her about Cheng Yu’s health? It just left her hungry and worried. Not a good combination.

So what if, instead of Lian Song bringing just Ali to see his Cousin, he also brought Cheng Yu.

Cheng Yu immediately greets Jiu Ge as an old Friend. Feng Jiu numbly returns the greeting.

Upon seeing them, and after pinching Dong Hua’s leg twice, Lian Song mentioned that he brought these 2 pining friends to distract them from their worry over Feng Jiu.

Feng Jiu just shot the prince a mischievous smile. Turning to Cheng Yu, she inquired after her health.

Cheng Yu: I’m fine now that I can finally rest.

Feng Jiu: oh, I am so glad. I’ve been so worried ever since some rascal told me you were bedridden with a terrible headache and had fallen into a coma. I would have come to visit you, but that same rascal stole my supper and I was too weak to come find you.

There is only one person who Cheng Yu calls a rascal.

As Feng Jiu continued to enjoy her meal, Cheng Yu slowly turned to glare at the sweating Lian Song. What did he do to deserve this? Wasn’t the fox queen being kind of petty?

Cheng Yu cracked her knuckles menacingly. “That rascal indeed deserves to be punished. How dare he curse me to fall ill and steal a hungry girl’s food?”

Lian Song gave a weak laugh. “Come now, aren’t you both being too hard on this fellow. Maybe he was joking and didn’t mean any harm by it.”

Feng Jiu gave him a look. After all the torment she went through, she cannot get back at Dijun, but she can get back at his accomplice. “Ah, but this fellow knew how much I had already suffered. He knew that a weirdo was bullying me.” Dong Hua looked at Feng Jiu. She stared back unabashedly. After all he put her through, she had no qualms repeating the insult.

This whole time, Jiheng had been trying to serve Dong Hua soup but he ignored her in favour of the show in front of him.

Lian Song quickly took advantage of the situation and tried to appease Feng Jiu.

“Princess Jiheng, you don’t have to worry about Feng Jiu’s cooking. I’ve had her food before and it was the best meal I’ve ever had. Right, Dong Hua?”

Dong Hua turned to look at his buddy. “That is true. Now that she and I are neighbours, I can try her cooking. Considering the last time Xiao Bai cooked for me, you even ate my share.”

Lian Song’s brain: Oh come on. Now you are holding a grudge too?

Noticing Xiao Yan’s desolate expression, Feng Jiu leans over to whisper to him. Deciding to cheer him up, Feng Jiu decides to head to the kitchen to order more food for their new guests and ones that will suit Xiao Yan’s tastes.

Ali, Cheng Yu and Xiao Yan want to follow her but she gives them her bag of cakes instead. Then gives Xiao Yan’s share to Meng Shao and Jie Lu instead.

Feng Jiu tells Xiao Yan not to worry as she will order his favourite dish. If they can’t make it, then she will make it.

Dong Hua spills his soup.

Seeing Jiheng care for Dong Hua, Feng Jiu doesn’t have to worry about him and so goes over to the kitchen.

While the four of the guests enjoy the delicious cakes, Xiao Yan watches miserably as Jiheng tries to offer Dong Hua more soup. Lian Song is just miserable today.

Meng Shao and Jie Lu praise Feng Jiu’s cakes. Ali and Cheng Yu puff up like proud parents. Ali even mentions Feng Jiu was best at making sorrowless cakes.

Lian Song: What? She made those sorrowless cakes?

Cheng Yu gave Lian Song a too sweet smile. “Yes. And she also told me what happened the last time you tried it.” Her expression turned cold. Dream on, it said.

Lian Song: things are making more sense now.

Dong Hua already suspected Xiao Bai was the culinary maid from Tai Chen Palace. He wasn’t that surprised.

Meng Shao expresses a wish to try those cakes.

Dong Hua is getting annoyed because he didn’t get to try a cake. The soup is not appealing to him, even if it is favourite.

Feng Jiu returns, promising new dishes that are to Xiao Yan, Cheng Yu and Ali’s tastes.

When the dishes arrive, Dong Hua notes which one is for Xiao Yan. He accidentally causes the soup vessel to hit that dish, spilling all over poor Xiao Yan.

Feng Jiu fusses over him, making Dong Hua’s mood blacken. Lian Song doesn’t dare taunt Dong Hua now.

Jiheng leaves, disappointed her soup was wasted.

Seeing no way for Dong Hua and Xiao Yan to have a civil dinner together, Feng Jiu offers to treat him to a dessert place, Cheng Yu and Ali should come to. Dong Hua and Lian Song don’t have to strain themselves, Feng Jiu has heard how they enjoy spending their time alone, without the bustle of noisy youths. Meng Shao and Jiu Ge are welcome to join them though.

The prince and princess wisely and politely decline.

Lian Song and Dong Hua unhappily stare after the group of 4 romping happily to the dessert shop.

Lian Song: I did something nice today and this is the thanks I get?

Meanwhile, Feng Jiu is hugging her BFF and Cousin fiercely, crying about how hard Dijun has made her life.

Xiao Yan reminds her that she is only in this competition because of Dong Hua.

Cheng Yu refutes Xiao Yan’s nonsense. Of course Feng Jiu should not forgive Dong Hua so easily. He owes her too much. This favour can be counted towards that debt.

Cheng Yu coddled the abused fox queen, promising to teach Lian Song a lesson for being mean to her.

When they get back, Cheng Yu keeps her word and chases after Lian Song to give him a beating. When they return, Lian Song is sporting a large bruise and offers Feng Jiu his sincerest apologies for depriving a starving maiden of her food.

Once they leave, Feng Jiu turns to Dong Hua and huffs before stomping off without a good night.

Dong Hua’s eyebrows rise. Cheng Yu is a bad influence on Xiao Bai.

Anyway, training takes place as usual, with the kiss and ointment scenes.

When the tournament arrives, Ali and Cheng Yu are also present. Cheng Yu is infuriated that the fruit was stolen and goes to confront Dong Hua, dragging Feng Jiu along. When they learn from Xiao Yan/Jiheng that he returned to Taichen Palace, Cheng Yu tells Feng Jiu not to worry. She will get her that fruit; by hook or by crook.

In short, she gets Lian Song to bring her back to Taichen Palace where she confronts Dong Hua. Cheng Yu explains the real reason Feng Jiu wanted the fruit. If he wants to make peace with Jiheng, use some other treasure. But that fruit belongs to Feng Jiu.

Realizing his mistake, Dong Hua agrees to return the fruit to Xiao Bai and brings Cheng Yu with him back to the valley.

Lian Song decides to stay behind and question Si Ming.

They find Ali consoling his Cousin and doing his best to stop her from doing anything rash. Mostly by tying their hands together. Xiao Yan is also there comforting his good Friend, irritating Dong Hua. How annoying that his fruit theft backfired on him badly.

Dong Hua apologizes to Feng Jiu. He can’t explain the reason he stole the fruit in front of the others. It wasn’t the right time. Feng Jiu politely accepts his apology but thanks Cheng Yu wholeheartedly.

Cheng Yu already scolded Dong Hua but Xiao Yan still wants to give ice face a piece of his mind.

To change the subject and avoid offending Dijun, Cheng Yu suggests they might as well eat the peaches while they wait.

Dong Hua stays behind, trying to figure out how to get Xiao Bai to stop hating him.

Lian Song stops by and tells Dong Hua the whole story.

Dong Hua looks like he has a headache. He had just realized he liked Xiao Bai romantically, only to learn that he had seriously wronged her in stealing her fruit. He thought Xiao Bai had a bad impression of him for the whole handkerchief issue and thereafter, but they had been improving until the fruit issue. Now Lian Song is telling him Feng Jiu was his beloved fox who had been horribly neglected, not to mention how much she had done for him already.

Feng Jiu had done so much for him, but he had wronged her so much. He now realizes how much he likes her, and how much reason she has to hate and reject him.

What can he do?

Feng Jiu will want to return home now that she has the fruit...

He has the amnesia potion but Cheng Yu will help remind Feng Jiu what went down.

Lian Song’s advice: tell Feng Jiu the truth and apologize.

In any case, clear up that misunderstanding about Jiheng. Lian Song will take Ali and Cheng Yu home so Dong Hua can get closer to Feng Jiu without interference.

For more advice, remember the advice he gave Ye Hua?

1. use natural good looks to charm her....won’t work in this case

2. Be the hero and save her again....yeah, he owes her too much now so there won’t be any debt anyway

3. Injure self so she will nurse you...he will have to be truly injured since illusions don’t work on immortals

Feng Jiu could have returned with Cheng Yu but decides to wait because she wants to bid Meng Shao and Jie Lu a proper goodbye.

After their friends leave, Dong Hua visits Xiao Bai. He struggles to explain the situation again. He didn’t want her to have the Saha fruit because he was jealous of Yan Chiwu getting pastries from her. Feng Jiu is confused.

“I thought you were jealous because of Jiheng.”

Dong Hua confesses that he likes Xiao Bai, not Jiheng. But Feng Jiu can’t believe that so easily. She has suffered so much already because of Dong Hua.

Dong Hua asks what he can do to convince her of his feelings.

The thing is...Xiao Bai is not sure what to do if his feelings are sincere.

Dong Hua admits he knows what Xiao Bai has done for him.

Feng Jiu: Are you confessing your feelings because you feel guilty? Don’t worry. It’s all in the past. I have long decided to move on.

Dong Hua: I really do like you. It is not because of guilt. I liked you before Lian Song told me all you have done for me.

Feng Jiu just stares at him, speechless.

Dong Hua: Xiao Bai, what do I have to do to prove my love for you?

Feng Jiu looks torn about wanting to leave but Dong Hua is holding onto her hand.

After a moment of thought, Feng Jiu offers, “Carve out your heart for me. My aunt told me that is the sincerest form of expressing your love....but you don’t have to do it. I just can’t think of any other act right now.”

This could work for Dong Hua....

The next day, Feng Jiu is horrified to see Dong Hua heavily injured because he had actually cut his heart in half.

Feeling guilty, Feng Jiu agrees to nurse him back to health. During which time, she sings him lullabies and makes him toffee.

To prevent loss of face, Dong Hua’s injury must be kept secret. Which means Jiheng isnt allowed to see him.

Actually Dong Hua is exaggerating his pain...but hey, the dude’s shameless.

Anyway, Dong Hua gives Feng Jiu the ring. She has no choice but to accept the gift.

It will protect her from Miao Luo.

Ok, so Feng Jiu reluctantly believes Dijun likes her....but that doesn’t mean she wants to be with him!!!!

Dijun just asks to let him court her. Feng Jiu unwillingly agrees.

But there isn’t much opportunity to court her in the valley. Not to mention Feng Jiu misses Qingqiu where Dong Hua can’t exactly stay with her constantly since they are not engaged. Granted, he can be shameless but he doesn’t want to offend her family.

Upon leaving, Feng Jiu bids farewell to her new friends and clears the misunderstanding with Meng Shao. (Im following the drama so I have no idea why Jiheng was absent)

Feng Jiu returns to Qingqiu and at least clears off the blind dates once she makes it clear she accepted Dong Hua’s courtship.

Dong Hua decides to take her to the Mortal Realm first for a festival. There are many worlds, one of them probably has a party right then.

Soon it becomes known that Dong Hua is pursuing the Qingqiu queen and that all other suitors should avoid following his lead lest they face his petty vengeance.

Some wonder if the mighty Dong Hua was under a love spell. Ridiculous.

Others wondered if he was just obsessed with red foxes.... first he had a pet, now a lover....

Zhi He heard the news and rushed back, demanding to see her brother. Dong Hua wasn’t back yet, but Chonglin kicked her out because she wasn’t invited.

Despite taking her out on romantic dates and making her happy, Dong Hua still hasn’t received Feng Jiu’s acceptance.

Lian Song inquires via Cheng Yu who had already asked Feng Jiu.

It turns out Feng Jiu wants a man who will be beside her in danger and comfort her when she’s sad. Dong Hua hasn’t done any of those things much.

(To be fair, she was fighting Miao Luo to save Dong Hua.)

Lian Song warns Dong Hua not to stage a threat to Feng Jiu as Cheng Yu will see right through it and blab.

Then the opportunity comes during the Bing Cang ceremony.

Nie Chuyin appears and wins a fight against Feng Jiu. Because Dong Hua is not married to her, he cannot fight against the demon in the ceremony.

Nie Chuyin was instructed by Miao Luo to retrieve that ring! She wants Feng Jiu’s protection removed.

Once Feng Jiu passed it over however, Dong Hua promptly stole it back. When asked why he stole it, Dong Hua said the ring was an expression of love. He does not want the demon boasting about possessing Dong Hua’s token of affection.

Nie Chuyin leaves in humiliation.

Anyway, Feng Jiu already fulfilled Nie Chuyin’s wish and proceeded with the ceremony.

Dong Hua comforts Feng Jiu over her loss, reminding her that it was an unfair fight.

Feng Jiu remembers how Dong Hua helped her through her grandfather’s test and actually asks him to dinner.

It is the first time she has made a move. Dong Hua happily accepts.

Feng Jiu is finally ready to accept Dong Hua romantically and is given back her ring.

They go out on a few more dates before Dong Hua asks her to be his queen. She accepts.

Dong Hua literally gets them registered before the actual wedding.

Zhi He returns and is again kicked out.

Jiheng tries to interfere and be a maid at the palace but Dong Hua just cuts her off from his life by getting her Brother to accept her back. Meanwhile, Xiao Yan and other guards are ordered to guard her in Fanyin Valley and make sure she stays there. (In the book, she was dying but in the drama she was still alive but her poison had worsened.)

They have a happy wedding. Cheng Yu takes all the credit despite Lian Song’s protests.

Miao Luo is irritated because without the blood tear and red qi...she can’t escape. And she can’t give Nie Chuyin more power without either.

Nie Chuyin tries to sabotage the other demon lords but he is held in contempt for his interruption of the Bingcang ceremony.

#eternal love pillow book #eternal love of dream #三生三世枕上书 #lian song #cheng yu #eternal love of dream fanfiction #eternal love of dream fanfic #eternal love of dream fic #eternal love pillow book fanfiction #eternal love pillow book fanfic #eternal love pillow book fic

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dredreadsdrawing · 4 years

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OC-Tober Day 24: Opposites

*flops while screaming* im not explaining this one, just read aaaaaaahhhhh

A hare joins a group of scientists. He’s a prodigy that’s been sheltered his entire life by his family and community. He’d only ever met fellow herbivores and only heard horror stories of terrible things happening with carnivores. How they used to hunt herbivores. How they find children’s meat like a delicacy. And how, even though peace treaties have been signed and they’ve moved towards eating only non-sentient animals, they can change at a dime. They are never to be trusted.

Welp the first face he sees on this expedition as he walks into the lab he will spend a year on is a tiny dog’s. He’s fascinated and terrified by it.

It’s tiny, it’s friendly, and it always follows protocol and orders. But it could slip up anytime.

Hare stares too much and the office suspects something is up. One of them strikes a conversation with Hare about it, acting sleazy, but Hare turns it from romance to uh. Bigotry. “Why is there a carnivore with us? Aren’t they all impulse driven? Am I the only one scared by this?” The team-mate is like ‘Oh shit, I didn’t realize we had a racist with us’ but he explains, the dog has proven himself to be intelligent enough to join. He has lived his whole life with herbivores, has gone through all the carnivore training, and to top it off, he comes from a family of dogs all known for their cooperation with herbivores. They are safe. Still, Hare isn’t so sure. Meanwhile, Dog has been steering clear from Hare, picking up on how tense he gets when he’s around. Living with herbivores, Dog is used to this. He knows it’s better to just stay away and not cause a fuss. But then they get sent to a mission outside.

At it, something goes wrong. Everyone escapes but Hare was hit with something and is bleeding from the shoulder. Dog is the only one that stayed behind with him. Dog has a medkit and tries to reassure Hare to let him use it. Hare is nervous, so Dog muzzles himself as a sign of good faith.

Dog manages to clean the wound and seal it up. He never showed any signs of wanting to bite Hare. After repairing Hare, they have to hold hands through (idk a blizzard? Something like that) to get to the lab/ship again. They make it and the crew is impressed. It’s only after this that Hare puts down his wariness and picks up an obsession instead. Dog saved his life. He wants to study the Dog.

Now everywhere and doing anything, the Hare is glued to the Dog’s side. The Dog thinks it’s because he helped the Hare, and while everyone in the ship finds it amusing if annoying at times, the Dog likes it and doesn’t mind it. He begins thinking it’s cute. Dog also breaks down the boundaries more by initiating more touching, asking Hare personal questions, and following Hare like he does when he is ordered to do something else. The more Dog shows genuine interest, the more Hare is floored with sudden feelings. Rationalizing them is proving difficult; but he still won’t admit it’s attraction. Doing so would be a death sentence… surely? Relationships like those never last….

(There’s a cute instance where Hare is put on another field mission and they panic about it. Dog sees how terrified they are, and though he had to stay in the ship for this trip, he manages to switch work with someone for the day to help Hare calm down. They pretty much hold his hand the entire time.)

Dog eventually confesses to Hare with a smile one day while they were alone. All he says is “I like you”, and that was it for Hare. All his anxiety, his denial and his fear go out the window. Hare goes for a kiss, and doesn’t let go until there’s tongue involved. Then Hare nicks theirs against dog’s teeth and there’s blood. A lot of blood. Hare surprisingly gets into it but Dog is concerned immediately. Dog has to push back Hare as they both gasp and look at one another. Dog sees Hare shaking and thinks he’s ruined things by scaring the sheltered herbivore again. Hare looks at Dog with their blown out pupils, heckles raised, and blood dripping from their mouth and thinks, “I’m okay being eaten by you.” So hooray for vore haha cries.

Dog makes sure to take everything slower now in the few more months they’re together, being very careful not to hurt or make Hare feel threatened. Needless to say, Hare is very impatient and finds himself thinking more and more of the taste of his blood. The feeling of teeth. He’s uh, going down a bit of a spiral. But this crashes with a nightmare of Dog’s waking both up. Dog had a flashback to a terrible childhood memory where they hurt someone. In real life, he did it out of necessity (some bully), but still, he was severely punished. In his dream, there was no one to punish him. And he just kept going. And he loved every moment of revenge.

Dog’s description of his violent dream sent Hare back a lot. Made them snap from their fantasies and go back to the fear they were so used to. Dogs are dangerous. Carnivores are dangerous. What used to be his delight became shameful. To run from confronting himself, Hare instead began blaming it on Dog. He became a victim in his mind. His jumpiness and avoidance of Dog returned the next day.

Then there’s an accusation that Dog messed with the test subjects, now found horrifically maimed and dead in their chambers. The accusation is taken seriously, even without proof.Dog insists that he was with Hare at the time, Hare’s heart starts to feel cold at the accusation. And his sheltered prejudice springs back up with the rest of the team spouting nonsense. Of course it was the Dog that did it. No herbivore could be that cruel. He doesn’t vouch for Dog, instead joining the team with stories of his own. On how creepy the dog could get sometimes, how he noticed Dog brought meat snacks into the ship, and the dream. He told them all about the dream. Dog was locked inside his room as they waited for the authorities to come in a few days. They were far from civilization afterall. But on the very first night, Dog finds a way to escape and run away. Into the frozen wasteland. This only solidified their guilt in the crew’s eyes. Hare felt disgust for the rest of the two days.

The police arrive. Even without Dog around ,they need to investigate the entirety of the lab for evidence against him in order to persecute him legally. The more thorough investigation quickly brings up facts that pile up better than rumors. Dog was right, it couldn’t have been him. It was the head researcher, who wanted to test new drugs for the sake of it, went too far, got drugged herself and went on a rampage. She didn’t even have to frame the Dog in the next morning, no one had noticed the blood on her shoes. She’s dragged away, and the team is left with guilt at jumping so readily onto prejudice. They were all biggots. The authorities search for Dog but nothing turns up. He’s disappeared.

Hare is a wreck. In his sheltered mind, he had felt so justified to quickly turn on him, but now it was clear. Hare was wrong. He has been the whole time. He only has himself to blame… or atleast… a part of himself. Again, his brain shifts the blame. His instinctual jumpiness. His growing up in a herbivore society. His fantasies. The problem wasn’t that Dog was a predator, it was that Hare was a herbivore and he couldn’t understand. He needs to fix this. Then he needs to find Dog. He has to be redeemed.

So in his twisted mind as time rolls on, he will conduct experiments.

Years later, Dog has been living in a cold, secluded European town. He had miraculously found a fishing boat near the ice and snuck inside. No one noticed him until they reached their town. He was cold, hungry, without a dollar and emotional. He explained his story after a cup of coffee and his first taste of jerky. The town was kind and full of carnivores. They agreed Dog was done dirty, and was right to run away. He was welcomed in. They are glad to have Dog, particularly as company for one of their own. The town is mostly made up of older folks, with a newer generation now born, but only one person Dog’s age. They are eager to get along and help Dog, and they become inseparable. Dog feels valued here, and unafraid of being himself for the first time. But still. If there’s one thing he’ll always hate, it’s the cold. Cue it being winter time again.

“AAUGH I HATE THE COLD!” He yelled at no one as he shivers and stumbles in the snow to go back home. They’re covered head to toe and they still feel cold. Even his tail has a cover! His outburst caught the interest of a new stranger that was having a conversation with a local. He turns to look at the small figure shuffling by, obscured by all their layers of clothing. But his ears never betrayed him. To the old lady he was questioning, he reassures he’s just passing through and bids them farewell. The old lady gives him a look as she sees him slink off. She doesn’t feel right about this. He’s following the person that made the sound.

Dog shakily opens his door and barely steps in, sighing with relief at the warmth, when he feels arms around him. The door behind him closes. He drops his keys. Not alarmed at first, he suspects who it is. “Artemy?” The hare’s name isn’t Artemy. Hare squeezes harder and whispers this to Dog’s ear. Dog is startled as they remember the voice, and he scrambles away, his groceries also dropping to the floor. They look at eachother, Dog on the floor and Hare standing tall. Dog in a panic and Hare overjoyed.

Hare kneels down and straddles Dog as they remain speechless. “Let’s see what you look like now.” He hums as he’s taking off layer after layer, Dog’s body betraying him and letting him. Dog shivers once he pulls the last turtle neck. Dog glares up at him and Hare awws. Hare comments Dog has gotten fluffier. Cuter. But still so vicious. Hare goes for another hug, kissing Dog’s neck. “I missed you so much.” Dog isn’t buying into this. He finally gains back control and pushes Hare away. He gets up, picking up and putting back on his turtleneck.

Dog tells Hare to get out. That Dog is innocent and they’re not going back to be prosecuted. Hare shakes his head. He tells Dog he’s already been cleared once the police came in. That it was the head researcher all along.

Dog laughs. Hare doesn’t.

Hare asks why Dog left if it only made him look more suspicious. Dog said they knew what happens to carnivores in a herbivore court system. They just get blamed.

Dog looks at Hare, eyes still hard. Hare should leave, before they see what happens to herbivores in a carnivore court system. Hare shakes his head.

He’s not there to cause trouble. He came to apologize. Dog growls. Apology not accepted. Dog will never forgive Hare. Hare flinches and gets up. He starts his words slowly but Dog is moving away. Hare yells his immediate thoughts instead. He’s redeemed himself! He can prove it! Just… hear him out…

Dog turns around and sees the baby eyes. He hates how effective they still are.

Dog sighs. Fine. Dog picks up his strewn groceries and goes into his kitchen to make some tea. Before it’s done making, Hare better finish explaining. Hare wastes no time and goes into a tangent about how he knew his herbivore roots failed him. How he realized the problem in their relationship always stemmed from his insecurity in being born prey. So he had to correct this. To better get to know Dog. He slowly goes to Dog and Dog takes a step back. He reaches for Dog’s hands, takes them, and opens his mouth. The Hare has fangs now. He places the Dog’s thumbs to touch them, though the Dog only does so for a second before retrieving his hands and washing them off. “Okay so you modified your teeth. So what?”

It’s not just that, the Hare promises. Dog stares at him, still unconvinced, as the tea kettle begins to whistle. Time is up. Instead of leaving, the hare moves to the bag of groceries and picks up a packet. Pork. Hare smiles. He asks if he can stay for dinner. He’d love to taste Dog’s cooking.

#Oc tober #Oc-tober #October #Ocs #Furry #Furry ocs #Furry dog #Furry hare #Hare #Dog #Digital art #Traditional art #Sketches #I'm a duckin dumbass cries #im soooo behiiiiindddddd #why did i take so long on this? becuase im stupid

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