HEEEEYYY Can i also please request ANGST with Wolfram x reader with reader escaping in route with snake and bard and ‘sieglinde’
Reader tag teams Wolfram with the help of Bard, and before he attacks snake/‘siggy’ he and reader share a little dialogue mid fight (where it also seems like he’s going easy on reader… for some romantic reasons Mayhaps?) and reader speaks little German but just yells like “How could you?!” “She’s just a child!” “You crippled a little girl!”
Then maybe after his sacrifice he and reader slowly start to grow close again? MANY THANK.
MANY THANK TO YOU
when you're crying over this, remember: YOU MADE ME WRITE IT WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS
Your part in the plan to get Sieglinde to safety is because you care deeply about her, of course.
But it’s also because you don’t think WOLFRAM has the guts to point a gun at your head.
For some reason you have yet to fathom, the two of you started to bond while you and your master and friends have been here in Germany. As grumpy and rigid as he seemed, you thought there was something kind lurking under that. You wonder if he fooled you, too, with the way he showed you little glimpses of something like that.
Regardless, you’re sure he’d be fine being on even footing with just Bard. No qualms about shooting, swinging, punching, at him. At you, though? Everyone else has seen the way Wolfram looks at you. The quiet, borderline romantic moments you’ve shared.
There’s no way he could shoot at you without being indecisive, and that is exactly what this situation needs. The more you can distract him, the more times he hesitates to make a move, the more chance you have of getting Sieglinde out of this forest alive.
You’re not as comfortable with a gun in your hand as Bard is. The unfortunate truth is that the effect of this goes both ways; it’s difficult for you to aim your weapon at Wolfram. Even though you have this gun, you’re hoping to serve as a diversion more than anything. When all is said and done, as angry as you are with him, you don’t want him dead.
It wasn’t so long ago that you remember how he looked at you when you were laughing at something, as if suddenly it was the first time he’d ever heard a person laugh. Or when you woke up to him carrying you back to your bed, because you’d fallen asleep after reading to Sieglinde one night.
Your brain knows that you should be ruthless if you want to avoid the risk that he won’t let you leave with Sieglinde. Your heart, unfortunately, is very, very stupid, and still cares as deeply about this man as it does about her.
All you have to do is run and fire warning shots, enough to keep Wolfram’s attention so that Bard can set up something he thinks will stop this soldier. You’re more terrified than you’ve ever been in your life… and yet, your anger at his role in Sieglinde’s imprisonment carries you.
What was he thinking? Doesn’t he care about her? He must. He doesn’t treat her like some thing, he treats her gently.
So why? The lack of an answer gnaws at you more than anything.
This is not some emotionless warrior who wants to keep her locked away forever. What you know happened is at odds with what you’ve seen while you’ve stayed here.
You just don’t understand. Wolfram as a person embodies the concept of sweetness in simplicity. Has he just been pretending? Is he really some kind of… cold-hearted mastermind?
The explosion of Bard’s making snaps you out of your thoughts, and you think there’s no way that Wolfram could get up completely fine from it. Your gun falls from shaking hands, your heart violently hoping that he’ll stay down. Hoping that all of this is going to be over.
(You just pray he isn’t dead.)
When he emerges from the smoke with only a few scratches and singes, you can scarcely believe it. Your hands refuse to pick your gun back up, and instead you watch him tangle with your friend for what feels like an eternity.
It’s as if your whole world is spinning out of control. You thought you’d finally found someone who you might want to share your life with, someone kind who felt the same, then… he has his own secrets that have come to light, something you never could have expected. You feel betrayed for yourself, and you feel betrayed for Sieglinde who you’ve begun to view as a daughter.
And to make it worse, as betrayed as you feel, there is no part of you that wishes Wolfram to die. In fact, a very large part of you clings to the hope that he’ll repent, he’ll do something to be a better person, he’ll… turn into some fairytale prince.
You hate that your mind is even giving you the possibility of things working out. This is real life, not a story. The fact that you want a happy ending doesn’t make a difference to what’s actually going to happen.
What’s real anymore, anyway? Were his feelings real? Anything he said to you? Was the way he looked at you and said he could see “so many colors” real?
In the blink of an eye, Wolfram has broken away from his battle with Bard, and you have precious few seconds to keep him from going anywhere. The more time you can give everyone, the better. You don’t know what you intend to do without your gun, but you rush forward to stop him anyway.
Your bare hands clash against his shoulders, your whole self trying to hold him back. He can’t do anything to you. The way his eyes flash at you in surprise spell it out for you if there was any doubt: unlike Bard, you are someone Wolfram isn’t willing to hurt.
Too bad you’ve already done that by lying to me.
“How could you?!” Your voice comes out shrill, too high, and you realize it’s because you’ve started to cry. This whole situation has become too much. Although you’ve been learning German from being here, you don’t know how to accurately express every bit of your rage and pain without doing it in your native language.
It’s awful and raw and you hate it. Obviously you didn’t get a chance to really talk with Wolfram about anything, so it all comes out in the way that a pot boils over.
Much as you push against him, you know you’re getting nowhere. He’s solid muscle, too strong for you to make a dent in keeping him in place. Still he struggles against you, as if your force is doing anything.
He acts as if you’ve stabbed him when you start to pound at his chest and shoulders. His eyes widen, reflecting the betrayal that you’ve been feeling this whole time. “You helped them cripple her and keep her here!” you continue to shout, your soul leaching out into every word. “She’s just a little girl! How could you?! How could you?!”
That seems to be all you can say.
You need him to tell you. You need this all to make sense, because it doesn’t.
You’re not sure where exactly you fail, but all you know is that you do.
He gets by you, he discovers that you’ve tricked him too, and the rest of your plan goes off without a hitch.
Right up until Wolfram ends up getting shot.
You don’t know if it’s better or worse that it isn’t you who shot him. It comes right after he’s started to beg Sieglinde’s forgiveness, and whatever else is true, you don’t want to lose him.
The last thing you do, before Sebastian drags him under Ciel’s order onto the train, is to scream Wolfram’s name and collapse at his side.
Life proves, once again, that it is no fairytale.
The train ride is long and torturous. You’re not sure when you stop crying, only that after several moments, Sebastian escorts you away from Wolfram and Sieglinde so you can calm down.
You don’t really calm down, though. Not until you’re well settled into your lodgings for the night. That comes with the added benefit that a doctor has looked at Wolfram, courtesy of your host Diedrich.
He’s going to be fine, most likely, and Sieglinde was taken in to speak to him. You’ve been nervous to do so; after all, you remember saying and thinking some terrible things to him. Even though his role in what happened to Sieglinde can’t be erased, there’s no denying that he loves her.
He knows what he did was wrong. He was willing to die just so that she would know the truth. If you think of her as your daughter, she was his first.
You slip into the room quietly, lowering yourself down onto the bed. You think your heart is much less stupid than before… at least, not stupid for caring about him. All of this is so complicated, and you can’t just call him a bad man when it seems he’s as much a victim of his superiors as Sieglinde.
“I don’t know,” you muse, reaching to run a hand through his hair, “a scar or two would suit you. But I’m also glad you’re probably going to escape without any.”
A puff of air is blown through his nose, that strikes you as the closest to a laugh he can muster up right now. He mutters something in German that you don’t quite catch before switching to English. “Scars are ugly. Would suit me very nice.”
… God, that’s not what you meant at all. This poor man. “No, scars aren’t ugly. And neither are you. Not inside nor out. What you did was very brave. Thank you for making sure our girl knew the truth.”
Your hand traces down from his hair to gently cup his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand.”
“No… you understood. Not all, maybe, but you understood.” He shakes his head, though his expression clearly shows he’s melting into your touch. “I’m sorry. For lies, and… everything. Hurting you and Sieglinde… makes me very bad. It was the thing I never wanted to do, but… I did it.”
You lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “… You’re not a bad person, Wolfram. You made a mistake, you did bad things, but you are not a bad person. You know it was wrong, and you’ve apologized, and you’re going to try to do better. Aren’t you?”
He looks almost like that kiss hurt him. As if it was something so new, so pleasant, that it was actually painful. “Ja. Better. Old Wolfram was shot and died. From now, I will be someone different.”
“Well, not entirely different, no?” You reach to set your hand, lightly, atop the injury on his wrist. “The old Wolfram was the one I fell for, after all. Maybe just be a better version of yourself than someone different.”
His face colors, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. “(Name)… you still want… me?”
Your fingers twine carefully around his. “Yes. I still want you. And we’ll figure everything else out, as long as… as long as you want me, too.”
“Bitte.” His hand squeezes yours. “More than I have wanted anything.”
Maybe life isn’t a fairytale.
But somehow, you think you might get a happily ever after anyway.
shout out to @thislittlekumquat for having a recurring event in her calendar for july 19th named "wolfram g🅰️gged day" and reminding me of it every year
don't think i've ever shared this commission with anyone else but since wolfram has fans now PLEASE ENJOY happy sixth wolfram g🅰️gged day yes it was inspired by the fact yana drew him g🅰️gged twice in the manga
I cannot believe I didn't think of this earlier but.. if you're still up for one more drabble prompt, “Can I kiss you?” with Sebwolf! :3
Heck yeah! It’s high time I wrote something for them.
Sebastian himself didn’t understand why he’d agreed to give Wolf weekly tutoring in English. The man was pugnacious and stubborn, and he and Sebastian had gotten off to a rocky start, to put it mildly. Perhaps it was just a concession to young Miss Sullivan. Wolf’s handsome features and superb physique had nothing to do with it, he was sure. If Sebastian found excuses to casually brush his hand against Wolf’s and gaze coyly at him from beneath his lashes while they practiced English diction, what was so remarkable about that? He’d initially expected an angry rebuke, but Wolf just became bashful. He never pulled away, though, which meant Sebastian had no reason to end this idle flirtation.
One evening, while Wolf struggled through a passage from a textbook procured by Sebastian, the demon’s advances grew bolder. The sight of the gruff, simplehearted man earnestly toiling to improve himself was oddly affecting. A devil’s spirit burns with a cold flame, yet it was an inexplicable warmth that compelled Sebastian to take Wolf by the hand, interlacing their fingers. Wolf’s recitations fell silent. A sweet, tentative smile appeared on the man’s face, and he cautiously tightened his grip, as if Sebastian was delicate as glass. Sebastian had to hide his amusement—there was hardly any danger of a mortal harming the likes of him! Still, he became keenly aware of how dainty his hand was compared to Wolf’s larger, calloused one. Damn, why was his heart racing?
“Sebastian, I…uh…ah…” Wolf’s face scrunched as he rifled through his brains for the desired words. Finally admitting defeat, he resorted to his native German.
“Can I kiss you?”
Speak to a man in his mother tongue, and you speak to his heart. Instead of chastising Wolf for not using English, Sebastian heard himself reply in German, “You most certainly may.”
He’d expected the other man to be rough, but the kiss Wolf gave him was shy and light as a feather. Paradoxically, that was precisely what made Sebastian feel almost delicate beneath his touch. Mostly unseemly for a demon.
“More,” Sebastian whispered huskily, still in German, and he melted when Wolf’s lips met his.
Left with not much else to do for once after having put his Young Master to bed and gone on a thorough sweep of the hallways, both top and bottom, Sebastian decided to go visit the guest that had been.. well, overstaying a bit more than they’d thought they would.
He headed back down the dark hall to the second guest bedroom, and knocked rather firmly, even for him.
Perhaps he was feeling a bit of aggression tonight.
He finally overheard a grumble from within, and then the door creeked open to reveal the slightly extra scruffy looking Wolfram Geltzer. He’d removed his formal jacket and had his shirt open a few buttons as well, and his hair was rather ragged, too.
But after only a second his eyes widened as he realized who was before him at his doorstep.
“Uh, j-ja, Liebling?” He asked, voice soft as if being careful with his greeting to the butler he’d grown gradually more enamored with. “Is there something you need?”
Once again just hearing the big, gruff man speak; acknowledge him so sweetly, had the demon’s mouth curling into such a tender smile against his will.
“Only your company, dear. I fear this night will be very long, and I’ve already made the last rounds necessary around the house.. So I thought I’d spend some time with you.” He had the audacity to lift his brows and give the other man a bit of a pout. “Is that alright?”
Wolfram was still so very flustered around the other, smaller man. He didn’t know half the time what to do with himself!
“Ah, ja! Of course! Please, come in.. and uh, you can sit where ever you wish..?” It ended in a bit of a question, as the ex soldier still wasn’t sure what else to provide his newfound love.
The least he could do was offer comfort, for surely the butler had been on his feet all day! It was rare to see him sitting for any reason at all.
“Danke, love.” Sebastian purred and waltzed right in.
The next thing he knew, though, was that this would only lead to him sitting on Wolfram’s lustrous, comfortable bed, jacket off, tie undone and even shoes off... only to be all alone as the man was across the way, sitting at his little writing desk and still studying english. As well as a few recipe books to try and learn how to properly cook for his young Mistress.
The moment he leaves, I’ll burn them and blame Bardroy.. Sebastian grumbled, getting irritated the longer he lounged there, legs a little open and spread, head tilted back and almost resting against the headboard with his neck very exposed, and yet not a single BITE!
“Wolfram, dear, surely you don’t mean to study all night, do you?” He asked as sweetly as he could.
This had made the big man hunched in the chair perk up a bit, and remain that way...
“We-well I wish to.. know English just as well as I know German, Liebe. So that I can always communicate properly with you and others and-”
“Oh now, now, you know it’s unnecessary to go to this extent. Knowing English is important, yes, but... it is not learned over night.” Then the liethe man in the bed gave a soft chuckle, almost melodic, “Plus I think you and I have communicated with each other perfectly, lately. Don’t you?”
From this angle, Sebastian could not see the color blossoming in the candlelight on the man’s scruffy face. Could not see the beads of sweat instantly forming..
“Of course, m-my dear... I... I just want to... to..”
Suddenly, and without warning, there were long thin arms, only draped in white cotton, wrapping around the hunched figure in the chair.
“Wolfram.” Sebastian nearly growled, this time. “Come to bed... and pay attention to me instead of those books.” And then there was hot breath and a wet tongue lapping at his ear peeking out from behind all the scruff.
“J-J-Ja mein Liebe!” The man practically barked out, and even then, found himself nearly dragged out of his little chair and to the awaiting bed.
