#Hugging Ao3 to my chest and crying angrily

[cryoverlife]

so I decided to spoil Season four of TUA for me (aka read the wiki, watch “the ending explained” videos, and read angry tumblr posts) cause it out but I can’t watch it right now.

…

at least we have the fanfics

[fall0utboi12]

Opportunities, 1950

Percy has the opportunity for a great job, only to lose it. TW: Discrimination Part an anthology of my AO3

Percy had high hopes for this interview, he was excited for the opportunity. He wore his nicest suit and even properly brushed his hair. He had all his papers and documents organized in his folder briefcase. He felt ready and excited even. Excited to have a proper job, excited to be able to provide for his loved ones doing something he loved. He was going to be the main translator in the governor’s office, helping with relations between the French government and the refugee community.

“Good luck.” Evelyn had said before he left.

Charlie drove him an hour to the city and dropped him off at City Hall. He was meeting with the Governor’s assistant for his interview. Charlie said he’d be back in an hour to get him, needing to pick up some supplies for his carpenter shop.

Percy was so excited as he bounded up the front steps. But when he left, he was frowning and slouched over. He got into the truck, hugging his briefcase to his chest.

“Hey, are you okay?” Charlie asked, glancing at the teen as he pulled out onto the street. “How did your interview go?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t get the job.” Percy said, despondently.

“What? But you were a shoe in for it.” Charlie said. “What happened?”

“They didn’t want me because I’m… because- They didn’t want me because I-I’m slow.” Percy muttered. 

“That’s ridiculous!” Charlie frowned, visibly annoyed. “Want me to go in and talk to them?”

“Please don’t.” Percy tapped his palm rhymically against his briefcase. “I-I’m embarrassed enough. Let’s just… let’s just go home.”

“I’m sorry, Percy. But hey-” Charlie lightly elbowed Percy’s arm. “There’ll be other opportunities and they’ll wish they hired you when they could.”

Percy didn’t respond, instead looking out the window. He felt like such a failure. Everyone else in the house had jobs, even Evelyn at fifteen had a job working with her mother. Yet here Percy was, seventeen and no way of helping with the household. A few tears slid down his cheeks and he angrily wiped them away. He shouldn’t be crying right now, didn’t have a right to. Charlie drove an hour for him and Fenna talked about how proud he was of him to get his chance, and he blew it. He wasted everyone’s time.

The rest of the car ride was quiet and the moment they pulled up to the house, Percy jumped out and ran inside. Ignoring everyone who called after him as he bolded upstairs and slammed the door to his shared bedroom shut. He yanked off the stuffy suit, not caring as a button or two popped off and bounced under the furniture, and flopped down on his bed, roughly tugging the quilt up and over it. 

“Percy? Supper’s ready,” Fenna gently knocked as she opened the door. “I made your favourite; vegetable soup and meatballs. I even made fresh Challah with no yeast.”

“I-I’m not hungry.” His voice was muffled by the blanket.

“Aw, Sweetheart,” The mattress dipped as she sat down next to him. “Charlie told me what happened, I’m so sorry.”

“Why do I… why do- Why do I have to be such a-a burden?” Percy sniffled. “You took me in and I’m… and I’m too dim to do a-anything to help.”

“You help plenty. You’re always the first to offer to help around the house, even when you don’t have to.” Fenna gently started rubbing his back, just the way he liked. “You’re not a burden, Percy. Never think that about yourself.”

Percy rolled over and peeked out from under his quilt, his eyes were red and tears tracked down his face. It broke Fenna’s heart to see him like this. She opened her arms, waiting for him to make the first move if he wanted the contact or not. Percy sat up and let her wrap her arms around him, gently holding the back on his head as he buried his face into her shoulder. 

“I’m so proud of you for putting yourself out there.” She whispered, gently petting his hair. “I’m sorry you were treated so unfairly, you didn’t deserve that.”

Percy shook as he sobbed into her shoulder. She continued to gently rock him, muttering words of comfort in Dutch in his ear. Soon enough his sobs quietly down at sniffles. When he pulled away, she wiped his tears and kissed his forehead. 

“You’re meant for great things, my little treasure, I know it.” She said, gently holding his jaw. “You’ve already achieved so much at your young age. More than most could ever wish to.”

His chin quivered, but his eyes remained dry. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” She smiled, giving his forehead one more kiss before standing. “Now, you should eat something, you’ve had a lot of emotions today. Would you like me to bring it up here for you to eat?”

“No, I’ll come… I’ll come down.” He said.

“Take a moment to compose yourself and put on some pajamas.” She said, heading for the door, stopping before closing it. “I love you, Percy.”

“I…I love you too.” He said, managing a small smile. 

She quietly closed the door, leaving him alone to calm down. He wiped his face and flapped his hands as a way to get out the excess energy. Finally pulling himself out of bed, he grabbed a set of pajamas from the chest of the drawer to wear.

 When he got to the kitchen table, everyone was already there with a spot set for him. Evelyn smiled as he sat down next to her, gently bumping their shoulders together. He smiled, quickly ducking his head to start eating. There would be other opportunities in the future and he would get it next time.

[nebulousboundsofgoodtaste]

The Witcher - Lambert & Ciri, POV Ciri

CW: none, Ciri gets a hug

Also on ao3 here.

---

Ciri stared into the flames in the fireplace and did her best not to cry. It was getting really hard. She didn’t even know why, and it was driving her up the wall, adding frustration to the sadness and it just. It just made it worse.

She blinked hard to stop the tears, but one slipped out anyway, and she wiped at it angrily. She had no reason to be sad, so why couldn’t she just stop?

The door opened behind her, and she curled into herself. Maybe whoever it was wouldn’t notice her? They’d just worry, and there wasn’t anything wrong so they really shouldn’t need to. She was just sad.

“You alright?” Lambert’s gruff voice came from the doorway.

Ciri sighed and wiped at her eyes again before turning reluctantly.

“I’m fine.” She wasn’t. But what was the point in saying that when there was nothing causing it?

Lambert scowled. “Smells like a fucking lie. What’s wrong?”

Ciri scowled and felt her mouth curl into a snarl. “Why the fuck do even care?!” Okay, now she was angry, why the hell was she angry?

Lambert didn’t even blink, and Ciri’s anger evaporated in a second, leaving only a bone-deep sadness in its place.

“Okay, now you smell fucking miserable,” Lambert stated, stepping inside and closing the door behind himself. “What’s wrong?”

Ciri shrugged and looked away. Nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong. Everything was fine. Nothing was fine. The whole world was a jumbled mess of emotions, and she was drowning in them.

A finger poked her shoulder.

“Want a hug?”

Ciri looked up, and Lambert’s concerned face was the last straw. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she sniffled. “Please,” she croaked out, and in a moment Lambert’s arms enveloped her.

She buried her face in his chest like she used to when she was small, and he rubbed his cheek on her head like he used to and held her tight and rocked her gently as her tears flowed.

Eventually they slowed down, and with one last sniffle she raised her head.

“I ruined your shirt.” It was a mess, tears and snot making a disgusting mess.

“Eh,” Lambert shrugged, “I do that myself often enough. Usually stray ingredients.”

“Sorry.”

“Did I stutter? It’s fine.” Lambert’s voice was gruff, but he was looking at her with so much kindness she almost couldn’t take it.

“Okay,” she whispered and nodded.

For a moment, they just sat there, Lambert’s arms still a warm comfort around her.

“You better?” Lambert asked.

Ciri nodded, and Lambert grunted.

“Good. I’m gonna change my shirt and I’ll be back. You can sleep on me tonight if you want to.”

Ciri giggled. “I haven’t done that in ages!”

“No,” Lambert shrugged. “But you can. If you wanna.”

Ciri swallowed “I don’t know if I do. I don’t know anything today.”

“That’s okay, too,” Lambert shrugged again. “Sometimes we gotta play by the ear. You gonna be okay for a minute or two?”

“Yeah,” Ciri nodded. “Go. I’ll be here.”

Lambert nodded, and then with a glance around the empty room pressed a quick kiss to her head.

Ciri stared back at the flames in the empty room. They still danced, but somehow, they didn’t feel so lonely anymore.

In a couple of minutes, the door opened again, and Lambert entered the room, now in a clean shirt. He settled next to her in front of the fire and opened his arms.

“Cuddle?”

“Please,” Ciri whispered.

And then Lambert’s arms curled around her once more, and the flames danced in pairs. They could just stay here as long as she wanted, she knew. Maybe not such a bad thing that Lambert found her.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Nobody Left Behind

Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon

it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much

Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes

Word Count:  2935

Ohana means family.

 Family.

 FamILY.

 What a weird word.

Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.

 Remus wasn’t born.

 He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.

 Just his brother’s.

 Is his brother his family?

 By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?

 That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.

 The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.

 Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.

 The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.

 Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.

 Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.

 Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?

 When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.

 Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.

 Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.

 But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.

 …when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.

 Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.

 Only to be met with a blank wall.

 He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

 He remembers thinking that was a lie.

 But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.

 Roman was fine.

 Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.

 Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.

 Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.

 And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.

 But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.

 But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.

 But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.

 Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.

 And that was…wrong.

 Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.

 But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.

 But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.

 But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.

 Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.

 Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.

 He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.

Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.

 But no.

 Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?

 “Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”

 “Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”

 “What for, kiddo?”

 “I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”

 Remus’s chest had started to hurt.

 “The whole family.”

 The whole family.

 Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.

 His family.

 He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.

 Wait.

 Wait.

 Where is it?

 No, no, no, no—

 Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—

 The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.

 He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.

 Because Ohana means family.

 Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

——————————————————

There’s a knock on his door.

 Why is someone knocking on his door?

 They knock again.

 Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.

 The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.

 The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.

 “So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”

 Roman?

 Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.

 “Remus? Are you okay?”

 “Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.

 “It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

 Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?

 “Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”

 Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.

 “Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”

 Remus nods dumbly.

 “I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”

 Help? Why does Roman want to help?

 Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.

 “…sure.”

 “Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”

 Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.

 “Did you make them?”

 Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.

 “Don’t.”

Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.

 “I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”

 “…floor.”

 Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.

 “Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”

 Worried? About him? Remus snorts.

 “You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”

 “But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”

 Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.

 “I was with my family.”

 Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”

 Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”

 Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.

 “…are they your family, Remus?”

 “Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”

 Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?

 “Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”

 “You did forget me.”

 “I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

 Oh.

 “…you didn’t?”

 Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”

 “But everybody leaves me.”

 If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”

 “You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”

 “Oh, Remus—“

 Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—

 What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—

 “What’re you doing?”

 “It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “R-Ro?”

 “Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”

 Roman…Roman likes him?

 Roman chooses him?

 Roman won’t…leave?

 “No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”

 “No.”

 “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

 That’s it.

 Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.

 “I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”

 The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.

 After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.

 “…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”

 Roman’s smile lights up.

 “Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”

 Ohana means family.

 Family means no one gets left behind.

 Or forgotten.

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[dapandapod]

I just called to say I love you

Here we go, folks. A sappy panda writing sappy geraskier boys is a modern-ish au, but more like let-them-live-forever-kind of thing. 

On Ao3 here!

Please enjoy <3

Geralt lies on his back on the couch.

It’s been a long day and he is pleasantly sleepy, tucked in under a blanket and watching a movie. He hates being away like this.

It’s been a week since he saw Jaskier, and he misses him. Wants to hear his voice, fall asleep next to him, feel Jaskiers hand on his chest.

But it can’t be helped. The contract is far away from home, and the hotel is rather nice this time. Geralt's eyes feels heavy, and he feels sleep calling.

Then he frowns, no that is not sleep.

It is his phone vibrating on the small coffee table in front of him. He cracks an eye open and sees Jaskiers smiling face light up the screen.

Warmth spreads through him, and he reaches for it and answers it quickly.

 “Hello?” His voice is gravely, sleepy, but it feels like the world has come to rights when he hears Jaskier on the other end.

“Geralt.”

He reaches for his headphones, laying just out of reach on the other side of the table.

“Give me a sec.” He puts them on, leans back and look at Jaskiers picture on the phone.

“Hi.” He says, smiling.

“Did I wake you up?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt closes his eyes. It sounds like he is right there, and he aches.

“No, I’m awake.”

Fuck he wants to go home. Wants to hold Jaskier close.

“Liar.” Jaskier chuckles. “Bet you are falling asleep on the couch again.”

“Maybe.” Geralt admits. “Is something the matter? It’s late.”

Jaskier is silent on the other end for a second or two, and Geralt opens his eyes again and stares at the screen, studying the little crinkles around Jaskiers eyes when he smiles.

“No. I just wanted to talk.”

What they have is new.

Jaskier always wants to talk, so nothing new there, but their careful loving each other is new.

Or at least showing it is new.

“I miss you.” Geralt says, meaning it with everything he has. He strokes a finger over the screen, wanting to touch him, and Jaskiers face disappears.

 Fuck!

Immediately Jaskiers face reappears, the phone vibrating angrily in his hand, and he answers again.

 “You can’t just say something like that and then hang up on me!” Jaskier rants at him, and Geralt laughs. “You can’t get away from me, witcher! I’m not letting you escape!”

 “I love you.” Geralt chuckles.

 And then they both go quiet. Really quiet.

Geralt's heart is pounding. He didn’t mean to, it just slipped out. They haven’t said that yet, fuck, did he ruin everything now?

 “Geralt.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you fucking dare. How dare you say it first.”

“Are you crying?”

“No.”

“Liar.” Geralt smiles. “Jaskier?”

“No.”

“I love you.”

That is definitely a sob.

“I love you too. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

Warmth floods Geralt's chest again, spreading out in his limbs all the way out to his fingertips.

“I miss you too. It’s only a few more days.” Geralt says, but it doesn’t feel like it, not at all.

“When you get home I’m not letting you outside the house at all.” Jaskier says.

“What about Roach?” Geralt teases.

“She can wait. She got the other horses to keep her company, where I am severely lacking in witcher hugs.”

“Oh the pain.”

“You have no idea, my darling.”

 It goes quiet again. Geralt hums, happy to have the connection to Jaskier open even if there are no words.

 “You have to come home to me.” Jaskier says quietly.

“I will.” Geralt promises.

“In one piece.”

“Hm.”

“Geralt.”

“I will do my best.”

“You will do better than that.”

“It has very big claws.”

“And you are not helping!”

Geralt chuckles and Jaskier makes an offended sound.

 “I’m glad you called. Don’t think I would have dared.” Geralt confesses quietly.

“I needed to hear your voice.”

“I will be home soon.”

“I can’t wait.”

[cazimagines]

Never break the chain

Synopsis: You were Zemo’s devoted girlfriend, he would take you all over the world and treat you to everything you want in life however that all changed the day Sokiva fell. Consumed by anger Zemo went off the deep end trying to avenge his fallen country and you last saw him being escorted to prison. Years later you became really ill and there was only one thing that could save you. After a lot of searching you finally managed to get your hands on some super soldier serum which saved you however Zemo is now out of prison as is determined to finish what he started no matter what stood in his way.

Warnings/Tags: Bad Zemo, Mentions of guns, Toxic relationship, Almost cried while writing this, Hits in the feelings, Lots of angst, So much angst, Mentions of death

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: Hello my fellow masochists *cough* Markiplier *cough*, I for one thrive on sad moments in fics, ones that break my heart. I live off angst and I am sure I am not the only one in this so I have written this angsty Zemo fic. There is no fluff here just sadness so you have been warned. I’m going to write a really sweet and fluff filled one shot after this as an apology. Also warning this relationship is toxic so like obviously I don’t condone Zemo’s behaviour in this, he’s meant to be a dick here.

I got inspired to write this from a song so like if you want extra emotions listen to this: https://youtu.be/1A8YpV1tfsQ

This is also being posted on my ao3 account under the name Casmad

The wind blew sharply against you, the coldness of it scratching your skin. Your eyes water up slightly at the harshness of it and you wrap your arms around your body trying to warm yourself up. You looked out over the cliff, looking over now the deserted area you once called home. Sokovia. Its beautiful landscape is broken and torn apart. An echo of how magnificent it once was. You raise your hand to touch the chain that hung around your neck. A reminder of the past.

“Darling I would be honored if you wore this for me. I have a similar one I’ll always keep around my neck so that even when we are apart, there’s a part of us that will always be together” Zemo asks nervously, swallowing and glancing from the necklace in his hand to your face.

You put your hands onto his, taking the necklace, “I’ll never take it off”

Zemo’s face broke out into a smile, his eyes shining as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He holds you closely as you close your eyes melting into his presence. He kisses the top of your forehead and rests the top of his head on yours. “My beautiful moon” he murmurs

A tear slowly slipped down your cheek as you thought back to better times. You had been so happy with him. You two had planned your whole lives out together. The Baron and Baroness.

“Would you care to accompany me to the ball?” Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

“Oh I don’t know should I?” you joke, holding your chin in your hand as if questioning it, making Zemo chuckle.

“If you do I promise you can be in charge in the bedroom tonight,” he says as he leans into you. You grin back at him, raising your hand to his suit jacket and pulling him towards you for a kiss. As you feel his lips on yours and his hand rests on your hip you smile into the kiss. As you pull back you swell with happiness seeing a rosy tint to Zemo’s cheeks.

“I suppose turning up to to a ball on the arm of a Baron has its perks”

Zemo laughs and pulls you into a side hug placing a kiss on your temple.

“What would I do without you” he hums to himself as he admires you “My moon”

Everything made sense, everything fit. You couldn’t imagine a life any different till it happened.

You and Zemo had been away visiting a local country when you heard of the news. You collapsed on the floor screaming at the tv as Zemo was on the phone already organizing a trip back home. When you arrived your heart broke seeing all the destruction. Zemo was holding your hand but he let go. It was all gone. Everything. Your whole life had changed just like that.

You wipe the tears away from your cheeks yet they continue to flow as you remembered what happened after. The madness and desire for revenge had consumed Zemo. You tried to stop him. You really did but what could you have done?

“Helmut, please. This isn’t healthy...this...this isn’t you!” you cried as Zemo was preparing his attack on the avengers

“Y/n I have to do this. There is no other way” he angrily replied, refusing to look at you.

“I can’t support this” you whisper, grabbing a hold of his arm. “I can’t watch you do this”

Zemo looks at you, his face forlorn as he watches the tears fall from your eyes. He pulls you to his chest wrapping his arm around you and kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “I’m not asking you to moon”

You leave the warmth of his arms and watch as he grabs his bags and walks out of your room, giving you one last glimpse of goodbye before he walks out of your life.

That was the last time you saw him in person. The next time it was on the news as he was being arrested. In the end, his plan had succeeded. He split up the avengers but then what? It didn’t bring anyone back. Sokovia was still dead and you were left behind while he was locked up for life.

You close your eyes, squeezing out the remains of your tears, preparing to leave this cliff looking over your deserted town when you hear the sound of a click. You let in a sharp breath of recognition. Slowly turning around your eyes adjust to the barrow of a gun and the person standing behind it.

Zemo.

He still looked the same as you remembered. Though if you stared closely you could see lines showing his age starting to appear, the bags under his eyes were bigger than what they once were however after all this time it was still him. He even wore that ridiculously over-the-top coat that you always stole from him.

His eyes however were different, when you always looked into them in the past they seemed warm, like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate. You could melt in them but now they were stone cold. Emotionless. Like he wasn’t even there.

“Zemo…” you breathed out focusing on him

“I planned to eliminate all superheroes” he states

You shake your head at him, “Zemo please”

“I’ve almost completed my plan to rid the world of superheroes, of ‘super soldiers’”

“Please let me explain,” you say starting to take a step forward to him but he quickly raises his other hand grasping the gun, holding it in both hands now and pointing it at you making you stop in your tracks.

“How could you,” he spits, his lips drawing back in a snarl “How could you become one of them!”

“I had no choice” You rasp, tears starting to flow from your eyes again, “I would have died otherwise”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THAN TAKEN IT” Zemo shouts

The colour drains from your face, your eyes widen in shock staring at him. His jaw tightens as he glares at you. You both stand there in silence taking in what he had said.

Wiping the side of your tear-stained cheek you smile sadly at him, sniffing, you step forward again resting your forehead against the gun.

“Okay” you simply say, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you utter those words

Zemo glares at you, his finger resting on the trigger. The gun starts to shake as he clenches his face in anger.

“DAM IT” he shouts, throwing the gun to the side. His hands grab onto your shoulders roughly, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Why are you doing this to me y/n. How could you do this to me” He snaps.

You were too shocked to reply to him, causing him to get even angrier. His eyes swarmed with tears and when one threatened to fall he pushed you back and turned away so you wouldn’t see.

You shakily let out a breath you were holding in and collapsed onto your knees. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and you clenched the sides of your body with your arms in comfort.

Zemo turns back around to you, hatred in his eyes. “I’ve come so far, killing so many just to be stopped here”

“Because you refuse to kill the woman you love” you implored in hope but he shakes his head, “No. Not that”

“Yes, yes that Zemo!” you say shakily getting back up off the ground. “Zemo I still love you though by gods I shouldn’t. We made a promise to each other” you affirmed holding up the chain around your neck, “We were forever Zemo”

Zemo’s finger brushed up against the chain that had been hanging around his neck for the past seven years. They wrap around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it off his neck, breaking the chain and throwing it to the ground.

You stare at the broken chain on the floor, your heart dropping. In just one notion it was like all those moments you two spent together were worth nothing. It had led to nothing.

Zemo grabs ahold of your chain and pulls you closer to him, “The truth is, my darling moon, that you don’t love me either”

You try to argue back to him but he raises his finger to your lips, “ah”

“You want to know how I know?”

You don’t say anything, staring at him confused, he leans towards you and automatically you close your eyes however he instead he puts his lips to your ears,

“You’ve been calling me Zemo instead of Helmut”

He lets go of the chain, pushing you away from him again, the force knocking you to the ground.

You think back over your conversation. He was right. When had you started referring him to his last name rather than his first name? You had always called him by his first name before.

You look back up to him, your eyes watering and noticing the tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“I spent years in that prison imaging what it would be like to finally get out. To hold you in my arms once again. To have what we once had. It was the only thing that kept me going in there. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain I felt when I found out the truth. The pain of your betrayal. I hated you. I...I” his voice cracked as he started to cry more

He keeps trying to stop letting out a sob yet his mouth can’t help but frown and his face contorted. “I thought I could stop the pain by getting rid of you but I can’t. Even though I can’t stand looking at you I can’t kill you”

He swallows and looks away from you to the chain on the ground, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

You could have said something then. Called out to him. Spoke sense to him. He might have even listened but you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to stop him. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

He turns his back and starts to walk away but stops for a moment, turning his head slightly.

“Goodbye y/n”

[sweeethinny]

Second son

Summary: ‘You ran away from home?’

‘When I was about sixteen,’ said Sirius. ‘I’d had enough.’

‘Where did you go?’ said Harry, staring at him.

‘Your dad’s place,’ said Sirius. ‘Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son.’

or

Sirius runs away from home, and we see it through Euphemia Potter's eyes.

kind of inspired by @questions-forthe-marauders perfect art! HERE

AO3

-------

December 23, 1976 - 5:25PM

Euphemia did her best not to cry when Minerva's letter arrived at her house.

‘’Mia,

I know what I'm going to ask of you is totally irrational and you have every right to ignore my request and yell at me, but I don't see any other way out.

I've been noticing for a few weeks that Sirius has been acting weird and seems to be distant from everyone. A few days ago I noticed a bruise on the corner of his mouth, but I can't tell if it was a fight with his brother or someone else, you know how boys are at that age.

Anyway, I've noticed that it's been a few months since his detention has been signed by his parents anymore, and I've tried contacting them but Dumbledore keeps saying there's nothing to worry about - you know him, he's terrible at times.

I think there's something wrong with him, and I know Sirius comes to your house during the holidays because I always hear James talking about it, so I came through this letter asking that if you notice anything strange, please tell me. Or talk to Sirius to see if you can find anything.

I'm very worried.

Love, and I'm sorry to bother you with this,

Minerva.''

It hurt her heart more than she thought it would, noticing that the signs Minnie had said were all right there under her nose. James hadn't said anything about Sirius coming for Christmas, and he'd been there for two years now, even though she felt a little bad that he wasn't with his parents on that date. And James looked weird too; he was angrier than usual, and reluctant to talk to them and getting locked in his room.

When they were at the station, Mia noticed that Sirius had got off the train alone and looked guilty, not even looking in their direction as he walked over to where his parents were - who didn't look at all happy with his presence there.

He had already told Monty a few times that his parents didn't like him going to Gryffindor, and James had once told her that Sirius didn't get along with Regulus. But Euphemia always thought it was silly things that teenagers took too seriously, but now, she felt she should have given more importance to the signs.

“Sirius isn't coming?” she asked when she saw James coming down the stairs, an unusually sulky look.

"I don't know," was all he said, walking into the kitchen and leaving her alone in the living room. Her heart clenched, a bad feeling burning in her chest.

"Didn't he tell you anything?" James always liked to talk about everything with Euphemia, Monty said he was a big mama's boy, but she didn't mind at all. As long as he was going to look for her to get her opinion, Euphemia would be only too happy to help him.

"He just said he didn't know if he was coming." James walked out of the kitchen, a glass of milk and a cookie jar under his arm, but when he threatened to go back up to the bedroom, she stopped him.

"Come here." James didn't like being confronted, he'd inherited it from her, and he used to frown when someone demanded answers from him. But Euphemia had no choice but to do that, so he was going to need to spit it out. ‘’Is something going on? Did you guys fight?” she asked, folding the letter and placing it on the coffee table with Minnie's name down, not wanting James to know she already knew. This made it difficult for him to speak.

"No." He sat up, sullen as he always was when she did that. James didn't meet her eyes however, and that was a red light for her. He was one of those people who didn't mind looking anyone in the eye unless he was lying.

‘’You know you can talk to me, don't you? I care about you two.”

"We don't…" He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the sofa cushions, the glass of milk and cookies forgotten on the coffee table. ''He was being an idiot the last few days, I don't know what got into him, but I was ignoring it because I don't know, he gets like that sometimes when he and Regulus fight, but then the christmas thing came up and I said if he continued in that mood he wouldn't be welcome here,'' James denied, pulling his hair angrily. ''I thought he'd know I was joking, of course he's welcome here, but then he got mad and told me he wasn't coming to bother me this year, and I yelled that it would be great so… I got mad, I wasn't thinking… so he got out of our wagon and went to Merlin knows where. I only saw him when we got off the train, and he was already going with his parents.'’

‘’Oh, son…’’

''I know I shouldn't have said that, but he was being an idiot, and now... I hope he doesn't hate me.'' Euphemia wanted to go to that hideous Black house to drag Sirius under her wing, force him and James to talk and make up, and bring him in with them. But Monty had already told her that this was illegal.

"He doesn't hate you, son." She opened her arms for James to hug her, stroking his hair and thinking about what she could do with the situation. "Did you say he and Regulus had a fight?"

"They...um," Of course James was too faithful to tell her about that. Too noble to betray his best friend. ‘’Kind of a fight.’’

“Does Sirius often fight with him a lot?” She remembered when they had once met Walburga and Orion at an event, and only Regulus was with them.

"Where's Sirius?" she had asked, because it didn't make sense to take just one child. And Sirius was what, twelve or thirteen at the time?

"He preferred to stay with my sister," Walburga said, smiling bitterly at Euphemia as if silently telling her not to meddle where she wasn't called.

She swallowed, thinking maybe she was seeing trouble where it didn't exist. Maybe he really wanted to stay with his aunt, she couldn't prove otherwise.

‘’Send him a letter later inviting him to our Christmas, okay? If you want,” she said, looking once more at Minnie's letter on the table.

"Fine."

December 24, 1976 - 10:54PM

It was snowing like never before outside, probably the coldest night this year so far, and the house was silent when she woke up to noises outside.

Monty jumped out of bed, wand in hand, just as she had, heart pounding in her chest and a motherly fear of protecting James at all costs from whatever was out there.

Ever since they declared support for muggleborns and as she and Fleamont began to increasingly advocate for minorities and help organizations of students who couldn't afford to buy supplies and clothing for the Hogwarts school years, they were marked as a target for the other traditional families, carrying a huge red flag where ''traitors'' was written in bold letters.

Euphemia couldn't care less about that, she was more than happy to be considered a traitor if it meant she was doing good.

“What was that?” James muttered, haunted brown eyes staring like he was going to war.

Her son didn't go to war, though, not when he couldn't even drink yet.

‘’Stay in the room, and get the portkey. Anything, use it!” She instructed him, but James seemed too stubborn to accept that. "James, enter your room now, and stay there."

“Three is better than two.” He continued to follow them, Monty further along and having already made a protective barrier between him and her and James.

‘’Not when one of them is fifteen. Now come in and stay there, me and your dad let's see what's going on.'

''Mom-''

"Don't make me need to use magic to get you to do what I want." She said authoritatively, and that caused James to fall back a few steps, looking at her startled. Euphemia mentally thanked him for that and walked downstairs, thinking that later she would apologize for talking to him like that, but that's because she wasn't risking her boy in that situation.

Monty raised his wand and opened the door, ready to attack whoever was there on the other side, but before he could, Sirius raised his arms and closed his eyes as if he too was waiting to be attacked. ‘’Sirius?!’’

‘’I'm sorry, I-’’

''What did we do on our last trip?'' Fleamont asked, and as much as Euphemia thought it was unnecessary - please just bring the boy inside he'll freeze! - she knew they were in the middle of a war.

''You tried to learn to surf with me and James, but you nearly broke your ankle when you fell.'' Sirius kept his arms raised, and she noticed that his lips were purple from the cold, and that jacket didn't seem to warm him. She didn't even wait for Monty to lower his wand and went over to him, pulling Sirius into their house and hugging him tightly, wanting more than anything to take away whatever inner pain seemed to haunt him.

He looked too terrified for a sixteen-year-old boy.

"What happened, Pads?" James ran up to them, looking worried about him too. ‘’You didn't even answer my letter and-’’

''I...I ran away from home.'' He shrugged and avoided looking her or Monty in the eye, Euphemia realized he had a backpack on his back. Her heart ached so much that she couldn't stop the tears. She pulled Sirius even tighter against her. "Mia, if I can't stay here, it's okay, it's just that I came walking-"

‘’Did you walk all the way here?! It's almost an hour and a half of walking, boy!” Monty yelled. "Someone could have tried something against you."

''It was okay, I,'' Sirius looked at James, and she knew he wasn't telling her all the details and he'd probably done something against the law to not die in the snow, but she didn't care about that now. "It was the first place I thought of coming."

‘’Of course, dear, of course. James, make him a hot bath, and Monty heat up dinner… are you hungry, Sirius?” He nodded, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''Here, come sit in front of the fireplace… And of course you can stay here, please, I don't even want to think that you thought I wouldn't accept you.'' She sighed, walking with him to the sofa and taking off the wet jacket he wore, waving her wand so that the nearly extinguished fire began to crackle again, warming the room. "You can live with us Sirius, don't worry, you don't have to go back to those horrible people anymore." His gray eyes blinked with tears, and it was probably the first time she'd seen Sirius cry. ‘’Don't worry honey, you're fine now…’’

----

‘’Minnie,

I'm so glad you warned me about this, and I understand your concern.

Sirius ran away from home last night, he didn't want to tell us what happened and I think at some point I'll know, but the boy looks terrified now.

He's not okay, but he's going to be. And I've already sent a letter to Dumbledore telling him that now anything that happens to him is to call us.

I don't think Walburga or Orion will complain, they let their son run away in the middle of a blizzard and so far they haven't looked for him. But it's better this way, Monty would probably kill them if they showed up at our door.

You know that we always wanted to have one more child anyway.

With love,

Euphemia.’’

[jaskierswolf]

An Ocean Away

Geraskier soulmate AU - A gift for my own darling soulmate @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde.

Words: 3.8k

CW:  Big mutual pining, long distance friendships, and a lot of swearing, fucking the ocean is not advised...

Read on AO3

___________

Jaskier stared at his phone and sighed loudly. Geralt was still asleep and really Jaskier should be working but he missed him. How that was even possible he wasn’t sure, they’d never even met. Geralt was all the way across the other side of the fucking ocean. Jaskier hated it. The soul bond had snapped into place on Jaskier’s birthday. He’d waited up until midnight, shaking with excitement. He’d known there was a chance his soulmate was younger than him but he didn’t care, his soulmate would be worth the wait.

Luckily for him, Geralt was a couple of years older. 

Unluckily for him, Geralt also lived in America. 

He sighed again and thumped his head against his desk, earning a withered glare from his boss across the room. God, he really needed to get out of his job. He was an artist, a musician! He shouldn’t be stuck in an office inputting data. 

‘Geralt….’  He called out mentally, hoping to reach his soulmate in his dreams but it was no use. Geralt was down for the count and probably wouldn’t wake up for several hours. 

Instead, Jaskier sighed loudly for the third time and remembered their first conversation with a fond smile. 

‘Helloooooo’ he called out, fidgeting with his bedsheets. ‘anybody there?’

‘What the fuck?’ a gruff response came and Jaskier could just about make out the image of some kind of restaurant if he focussed hard enough, but that wasn’t what had caught his attention.

‘You’re American?!’ he wanted to cry. He couldn’t afford to fly out to America, not unless he followed his sisters into the family business and regained access to the Bank of Dad. 

‘Fuck.’

Ah so his soulmate was a man of many words. He grinned a flopped back onto his bed. ‘I’m Jaskier, by the way, I’m from England.’

‘I’m at work, can this wait?’ his soulmate growled. 

Jaskier’s heart sank. ‘Right, yes, yes… of course. I umm… well I need to go to sleep. I’m bloody exhausted. Wake me up when you’re finished?’

‘Hmm.’

Geralt hadn’t managed to wake him up. Although he still maintained to this day that he’d yelled out as much as he could without actually yelling aloud, and Jaskier had slept through the whole damn thing. Geralt’s mind was pretty quiet. He didn’t often project his thoughts unless they were actively conversing. Jaskier on the other hand kept up a steady stream of thoughts, showing Geralt the pretty flowers that he saw on the way to work, or humming new songs just for his soulmate to hear, anything that he thought Geralt might find interesting. 

He pressed the home button on his phone again. Barely five minutes since the last time he’d checked. It wasn’t even time for lunch yet, let alone time for Geralt to wake up. He hoped they’d have time to video chat before Geralt had to go to work that evening but he was pretty sure that his soulmate was on an early shift. He groaned, and reluctantly started angrily jabbing at his keyboard. The endless stream of emails and shitty clients were not helping his mood. Why couldn’t Geralt be on a closing shift? At least then they’d be able to talk properly before Jaskier had to go to sleep. 

“Would you stop being so pathetic, Julian?” Valdo sneered from the desk opposite Jaskier’s. 

“You’re just angry because your soulmate hasn’t made contact yet,” Jaskier snapped back. 

They were both twenty-four and Valdo’s soulmate was either ignoring him or was still underage. Jaskier almost pitied the man; almost. 

“Just get on with your work, Julian and stop clock watching.”

Jaskier muttered a few rather inappropriate for work words under his breath and turned back to his computer. He managed to get one whole email dealt with before losing focus again. He shifted in his seat so he could sit cross-legged on the chair, and then tried again. After another few emails his feet started to tingle. 

“Oh bollocks,” he whined and jumped off the chair, hopping around the office. 

“For god’s sake, Julian!”

“My name… is Jaskier!” He snapped “and I’ve got bloody pins and needles!”

‘Jaskier?’ Geralt’s voice was bleary and slurred in his mind.

He squeaked and promptly fell on his arse, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from grinning madly. “Geralt’s awake!” he announced to the office. 

“Take your lunch early,” Tissaia sighed “God only knows you won’t get anything else done until you’ve spoken to Geralt.”

Jaskier beamed at his boss. Fuck he could kiss her. She was so understanding and wonderful and… 

And he still hadn’t responded to Geralt!

‘Geralt, darling, hello!’ he trilled happily in his mind, spinning his chair around so he was sitting backwards. 

‘Are you ok?’ Geralt hummed ‘Felt angry.’

Jaskier squeaked, unable to contain the swell of love in his chest. God damn it he just wanted to hug Geralt. It wasn’t fair. Priscilla and Essi had only lived two towns away from each other. Triss had grown up with Yennefer, and yet Jaskier was stuck with a soulmate on the other side of the fucking planet. 

‘Fuck the ocean,’ he grumbled

He heard Geralt’s laughter, echoed with a phantom feeling of mirth that wasn’t his own. ‘Fuck the ocean’ he agreed. 

‘I’m moving to America, I’m going to invent portals and I am never letting you go,’  Jaskier sighed. 

Geralt hummed again. He was tired, Jaskier could feel it. ‘Go back to sleep, darling.’

‘When’s your lunch break over?’

‘I have half hour.’

‘I’ll wait.’

Jaskier smiled dopily at his phone. There was a picture of Geralt and his horse, Roach, on the lock screen. He unlocked it quickly to check his clock app. He knew the timezone difference by heart at this point but he still needed to check. It was a habit that he had yet to break. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Jaskier felt like crying. He just wanted to hold his soulmate. He wanted to know whether that love was platonic or romantic or what? He just… he knew he would love Geralt with every fibre of his being, and would be happy no matter what. That’s how soulmates worked after all. They were your match, and not everyone’s match was romantic. 

Oh but how he yearned.  He was pathetic. 

‘I miss you.’

‘I miss you too’ Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt an ache through the bond that wasn’t his. He smiled sadly. He wasn’t the only one being pathetic. 

They fell silent, Jaskier gazing longingly at his lock screen, trying desperately not to fall apart in the middle of his office. Maybe he should go for a walk. Maybe he should just quit his job and move to America. His soulmate was American so he wouldn’t have to worry about visas as long as he could prove Geralt was his. He just…. 

“Fuck,” he groaned and buried his head in his arms. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes and there was a lump caught in his throat. “Sorry, Tissaia. I’m, I’m, well, I’m going for a walk.”

He practically launched out of his chair towards the door. Not even bothering to grab his coat. He closed his eyes and reached out to Geralt, feeling a phantom embrace as Geralt reached back. It wasn’t as good as a real hug but no real hug could soothe the ache of having to live so far apart from his soulmate. 

‘Jask?’

Jaskier practically ran away from his office, down the road towards the woodland that surrounded the campus. His hands were pulling at his hair and he muttered nonsense under his breath. He counted every step that took him away from the building. He liked to imagine that every step brought him closer to Geralt but really he wasn’t entirely sure. 

‘I miss you,’ he hummed again. ‘It’s not fair.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ve never even met… six years Geralt! Fuck it, fuck this shit, fuck this job,’ he kicked at the ground. ‘I don’t even want to work in an office. It was supposed to be temporary.’

‘Then quit?’

Jaskier snorted. ‘I can’t afford it.’

His father’s face flitted in front of him. He could afford it if only he weren’t so bloody stubborn. He could work in his father’s company and he could go to America to see Geralt. Why couldn’t he just accept that? Why was he insisting on making his own way?

‘Jaskier, no. It’s not worth it,’ Geralt’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket. ‘Don’t compromise on your dreams for me.’

‘But I love you!’ he whined pitifully. 

‘I know and I love you too, but you’ll only resent me.’

Jaskier huffed and slid to the ground, his back resting against a tree. He rest his forehead on his knees and began to cry. Soulmates weren’t supposed to live apart for this long, it was too taxing on both parties but destiny had been cruel to them. He sobbed helplessly, his body shuddering as he dug his nails into the grass, tearing up chunks and throwing them away. 

It was only when he heard his phone ring that he managed sort of pull himself out of it. He wiped his eyes and peered at the phone. 

Geralt.

Of course it was, Geralt. His soulmate was video calling him. He swiped the screen to pick up and sniffed loudly. He didn’t need to sniff as loudly as he did, and he didn’t need to pout pathetically at the screen as he picked up… but he was sad and dramatic. He wanted extra sympathy points from Geralt. 

“Hi,” he whined, still pouting and widening his eyes slightly for added effect. Geralt’s room was dark, just a small light turned on just out of the camera. It was a shame because he couldn’t ogle the other man quite as much as he would normally like. 

Still, Geralt looked adorable. Stubble was starting to grow on his cheeks and his hair was a mess, falling in front of his eyes like rays of moonlight. “Hi.”

“I love you,” Jaskier whined as if he hadn’t already told Geralt that a hundred times today already. 

Geralt, the bastard, just laughed at him. “I know, love.”

“I know. I know… but… I love you?”

“I love you too,” Geralt sighed, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

Jaskier still hadn’t managed to work out whether Geralt’s eyes were really that colour or whether it was just some trick of the light. In all the photos and video calls they looked golden, but Jaskier had never met anyone with golden eyes before. He hadn’t even realised it was possible. It was like something out of a fairy tale. Then again, he’d seen Eskel and Lambert, Geralt’s brothers, and they also had the same molten gold eyes. 

Between Yennefer and Geralt’s family, Jaskier felt very plain. He was attractive enough but in such a normal way, nothing compared to Geralt’s silvery hair that made him look like he’d been blessed by the spirits of winter, and his swirling amber eyes that blazed like the sun, and then Yennefer with her locks of raven hair and piercing violet eyes. 

He chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. God, why was he surrounded by such beautiful people. Brown hair, blue eyes and a dead end job. 

“Hey?” Geralt’s gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You’re important to me.”

Jaskier smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck. He wasn’t entirely sure what emotions he’d been channeling through their bond but it was obviously enough for Geralt to be concerned. “I love you.”

Geralt tilted his head at the camera and smiled fondly, it was obscured by the darkness and the terrible quality of Geralt’s phone camera but it still managed to melt Jaskier’s heart. Stupid, dumb, soulmate. Why did he have to live in America?

“I have a plan?” Geralt said quietly, looking around his room and not meeting Jaskier’s eyes. 

“A plan?”

“The restaurant I work at has live music nights,” Geralt mumbled.

Jaskier frowned. He already knew that. Geralt had mentioned it before. Normally when he was complaining about the quality of the music. Jaskier adored him for that. He loved to judge other people’s music, and he rather smugly loved the way Geralt had only ever said nice things about his own songs. 

“Right?” he asked slowly, not quite understanding where Geralt was going with this.

“I spoke to Dad,” Geralt paused, licking his lips. Jaskier swallowed. It wasn’t fair. How could one man be so unreasonably attractive? He tucked at the sleeves of his jumper whilst he waited for Geralt to finish his thought. The cuffs had holes in and were fraying but it was soft and made the work day more bearable. If he gave a shit about his job he might wear nicer clothes but he’d rather be comfortable. 

“Vesemir?” Jaskier prompted gently. 

“He could help pay for the flights, a loan and we’ll have to pay him back,” Geralt mumbled, still not making any sense. “My apartment isn’t very big but you’re welcome to share until you find your own place? If you want your own place. I’m not making assumptions. I don’t expect you to share just because we’re soulmates but it would be cheaper and the restaurant wouldn’t be able to pay that much at first. You’d be playing music for a living though, and I know that’s what you really want to do,” Geralt cut himself of with a sharp sniff, letting out a low snarl. “Actually forget it, it’s a stupid idea.”

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s heart was racing. It almost sounded like Geralt was asking him to move to America? More than that, his own family was offering to help pay for the flights that neither of them could afford on their own. 

“I said forget it,” the phone snapped off and the screen went blank but Geralt was his soulmate and it wasn’t quite that easy to runaway. 

‘I don’t want to forget it,’ Jaskier told him, trying to push all the love he had for Geralt through the bond. ‘Are you asking me to move in with you, Geralt?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Geralt,’ he admonished gently. ‘I can’t quit my job on a maybe.’

‘Yes.’

Jaskier grinned. ‘I’ll resign after lunch.’

Jaskier had been tempted to just grab his bag and leave the office for good, but Tissaia had been good to him. She’d put up with his moping for the last three years and even allowed him flexible lunch breaks so he could talk to Geralt when he was awake. Not all bosses would be so forgiving. So he worked his notice. She hadn’t been surprised in the slightest when he announced his plans, if fact she seemed more surprised that it had taken so long to make the plans. He supposed most soulmates did move to be closer at the first available opportunity and he’d been pining over Geralt for six long years. 

Valdo had been his usual grumpy self, sneering that Jaskier hadn’t been able to cope with the job, but there was something in his eyes, a sadness that Jaskier hadn’t expected. They had known each other since university and their rivalry was almost an act these days, but he’d thought that Valdo would be pleased to see the back of him. 

His friends organised a wonderful goodbye party for him. Yennefer pulling out all the stops to make sure he had the best send off. If it weren’t for the pull of Geralt and his soulmate, he’d almost be tempted to stay. England had been his home since he was born and his life was there, his friends were there. 

But Geralt was not. 

And there was the promise of a career in music on the other side of the pond. It was too much to resist. So Jaskier packed up his flat. He pack a rucksack full of his favourite clothes and picked up his guitar. 

Then he drove to the airport, leaving England behind for good. The flight had been almost unbearable. It was long and cramped. He spent most of the time wittering to Geralt, not that his soulmate had responded much. The lucky bugger had been asleep whilst Jaskier tried desperately to block out the noise of screaming children. At one point he started singing a popular Disney tune to try and calm the children but it had only made them more excitable and he’d earned several disapproving glares from their parents. He’d been more than relieved when the plane started its final descent towards the airport.

And then the nerves kicked in. 

Six years of talking through their bond, text or video call… 

What if Geralt realised he didn’t like Jaskier once they met in person? 

Surely some soulmates didn’t get along. Not everyone could be that lucky… could they? 

He was currently waiting for his guitar case to come round the carousel and he was panicking. He should have packed more clothes. He should have brought more belongings. He should have, he should have, he should have. 

‘Jaskier!’ Geralt called and the effect was instantaneous. The tension melted from his shoulders and his fingers relaxed by his side. 

‘Sorry,’ he shot back ‘just nervous.’

He’d feel a lot calmer once he had his guitar strapped to his back and Geralt in his arms. He chewed anxiously as he followed the pieces of the luggage belt with his gaze. He’d always enjoyed watching the way they shifted around as they trailed like a conga line around the airport terminal. His eyes kept flickering to the entrance of the carousel where luggage was pushing through the large rubber drapes. 

“Come on,” he muttered, hopping from one foot to another.

The anxiety began to rise again with each new suitcase that wasn’t his guitar, but he could feel Geralt’s presence warm and constant in the back of his mind. It was stronger now. He’d not expected that. No one had told him that the bond would be stronger with less distance between them. They could already communicate perfectly well from across the world but now he could almost feel Geralt’s heartbeat in harmony with his own, he could feel each breath that Geralt took if he focussed on it. He could even smell the stale scent of coffee from the shop that Geralt was waiting in. 

It was almost too much, overwhelming. 

He could have had six more years of this if he hadn’t been a coward. 

He was so caught up in the new sensations of their soul bond that he almost missed his guitar case travelling along the belt. He squeaked and had to push passed a family that was blocking his way. “Sorry! I’m so sorry, umm, excuse me!”  he yanked the guitar from the belt and ran to the nearest bench. He unzipped the case quickly and inspected his precious instrument. 

There wasn’t even a scratch!

He laughed brightly and hugged the instrument to his chest. One thing down, one to go. Next stop… Geralt! 

He zipped up the case, flinging it onto his back along with his rucksack and then ran as fast as he could through the airport. It gained him a few strange looks but he was done. He’d had enough of waiting. He stumbled a few times as the case fell down his arm but he was persistent. He bustled through the last security check with nothing to declare and then he was free.

“Geralt!!” He yelled, scanning the sea of people for a shock of silver hair. 

He saw himself through Geralt’s eyes and turned on his heels until he spotted his soulmate gazing back at him with open arms. He was here. Geralt was here. He stopped frozen to the spot for a second whilst the world seemed to slow to a halt. 

Geralt.

In the flesh.

And he could hug him. 

“Oh fuck,” tears were already falling down his face, a waterfall of emotions. “Geralt.”

The only word he had left, echoing through the bond, and then he was running again. His bag and guitar case dropping to the floor just in front of Geralt as Jaskier leapt. His arms flung around Geralt’s neck and his legs wrapped around Geralt’s waist. Geralt’s hands supported his weight with ease as Jaskier buried his face in Geralt’s neck, one of Geralt’s hands threading into his hair. God, he even smelled divine. That just wasn’t fair. 

“I love you,” Geralt murmured in his ear. 

The first words he heard his soulmate say in person, and fuck. If he hadn’t already been crying then that would have pushed him over the edge. He was a complete mess but he’d never been happier. He was here, with Geralt. He sobbed into Geralt’s shoulder until his soulmate lowered him gently to the floor. His legs felt weak and Geralt had to keep his arm wrapped around Jaskier’s middle to stop him from falling to the floor. Fingers brushed his cheek, wiping away some of the tears. 

“Hey?”

Jaskier looked at Geralt through a sea of tears. “Hi,” he laughed weakly. “I love you.”

Geralt pressed his forehead against Jaskier’s “I love you too, fuck… I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I’m here,” Jaskier laughed. “Holy fuck, I’m actually here, and you’re here, and the world hasn’t fallen apart. Oh bloody hell, stop fucking crying, Jask!” he snapped, pulling away from Geralt just enough so he could wipe his face. He smiled sheepishly and gazed at his soulmate through his eyelashes. If it weren’t for the bloody ocean on his face, then he would have tried to be seductive, but that ship had long sailed. “Can… can I kiss you?” 

Geralt’s ridiculously gorgeous and actually golden eyes softened. He nodded, hand still cupping Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier almost fainted on the spot. He hadn’t been expecting Geralt to agree but he was too weak not to ask. He couldn’t even close the gap to finally kiss his soulmate, too stunned that Geralt even wanted it. Luckily Geralt still had his wits about him. A rough calloused finger stroked Jaskier’s cheek and then they were kissing. 

It was magical. He felt everything, and more. Geralt’s lips on his, Geralt’s love in his heart and his own love weaving into the fabric of Geralt’s soul. It felt so strange, after all this time to actually be here. If the emotions weren’t quite so intense then he’d almost think he was dreaming. 

‘I love you’ one of them sighed happily as their lips moved together, breaths mingling, souls completely entangled. 

I love you, I miss you, I want you, I love you…. The thoughts never stopped as they clung to each other in the middle of a shitty airport terminal. 

It was the end of Jaskier’s life as he knew it, and the beginning of a new life with Geralt by his side.

[sidespromptblog]

A Close Friend: (1/2)

Two

Warnings: Suicidal Ideal (Logan), Hurt/ Comfort, Angst, Logan is not okay, Roman is trying his best, and Crying (Logan mostly). 

Summary:  Roman goes to Logan in order to vent and ramble about everything that had happened about Thomas, Patton, and Janus. But in the process finds Logan dealing with his own bottled emotions, as well as an uncomfortable thought that Logan has been dealing with as of late that leaves Roman scared for Logan’s own safety. So he decided to help, in whatever way that he can.

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 2,783

With an angry buried snarl of outrage Roman rose up into the mind space, and away from Thomas, Patton, and the lying side that caused this ruckus of emotions to take over inside of him. The outrage he felt right now was all consuming, to the point where he felt like putting his fist through any number of walls right this very second. His very fists shook with the idea of it and the pain that it would cause him to do such a thing, he contemplated it, it would be an outlet for all of his complicated emotions… even if it wasn’t necessarily a healthy one at that. Although he could pretend that it was Deceit’s face the entire time, just to sooth a little bit of the pain in his body and heart.

“This is ridiculous.” Roman snorted, more to himself rather than anyone who would listen to him. “I’m not punching something just because of that.. that liar!” Roman angrily kicked his boots off, rather satisfied with how one went flying in one direction and the other thumped against the railing of the stairs narrowly avoiding their family photos that Patton had insisted they have.

Roman could only scowl at those photos now, even if most of the people in them had no idea right now just what he was so angry about.

Would they even understand if he were to tell them? Would they get it? Would they even listen to him to begin with?

Or would they just say he was being too dramatic?

Virgil certainly would, he almost never went to the emo to vent about anything to him. It was almost always the other way around. Virgil rambling about the things that worried him, and things that he was scared would happen in the future. If he were to vent about anything to Virgil, he was almost certain that he’d be stopped and told he was just making the other side’s anxiety worse by bringing the things up. Not that it was entirely Virgil’s fault, he couldn’t help it if things triggered that anxiety. But just once…

He like to have someone to vent to, and not be the constant emotional whoopie cushion for everyone to overlook unless they needed something from him.

He needed someone who was…

Less emotional than the others.

Someone who…

An idea raced across his mind in a flash, “Logan!” He shouted, tearing his way upstairs and towards the logical side’s room, his bare feet skipping the steps of the stairs in an effort to get there faster. “You are not going to believe what happened today!” The overwhelmed sensation that had been flooding his chest finally gave way to something that felt like relief, as he stood outside of the other’s door.

Logan would listen, he'd listen objectively, but he’d still listen to him.

“Logan-”

Roman stopped dead as his hands had pushed open Logan’s door, he had never bothered to knock in the past and now was no exception. But the sound that had graced his ears made his heart drop into his stomach, and fear tangle his inside.

It was…

Sobbing.

Muffled sobbing, so silent that had he just been walking by he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was only by stepping into Logan’s room that he’d heard it all, his heart twisted at the sound. He’d never heard Logan cry, unlike the others whom he had comforted many times after their own nightmares, emotions, and turmoils… Logan had never come to him for anything like this, if anything, Logan had never come to him at all. The silence of the other’s cries spoke volumes as to why, the logical side was probably used to bottling things up and forcing himself to stay as quiet as possible to not alert everyone around him about his own turmoils that he must’ve been going through.

How many times had Logan done this, and nobody was the wiser of it?

How many times had Logan bit his tongue when they had said something cruel to him, just to cry like he was now?

“Logan?” He saw the logical side’s back stiffen almost immediately upon hearing Roman’s voice, his jaw clenching shut as he attempted to quiet the heaving of his lungs. “What’s wrong?” Almost immediately the thoughts of venting to Logan went right out the window, he had been angry and overwhelmed yet, but right now… Logan needed his help, he needed…

A hero.

Logan sniffled, inhaling and exhaling in a way that told Roman he wasn’t getting enough air in him to stop from heaving. The logical side clenched the pillow that was stained with the evidence of his tears, his knuckles were a stark white contrast against the deep blue pillowcase. But nevertheless Logan turned slightly to face Roman, the stains of already shed tears lining his cheeks, the redness of his puffy eyes made Roman wince in sympathy.

He’d certainly been there before.

“Logan-”

“I heard you,” Logan’s voice cracked with the simple three words that he muttered out almost sourly, “I was debating on whether I should answer honestly or not.” Logan licked his lips, that were red from hours of biting them in an effort to not make a single sound while he lost himself to his own sadness. “Which would you prefer? You obviously came here wanting something from me, and it wasn’t to comfort me while I wept like an overgrown baby.”

Roman winced at the unintentional sharpness that Logan wielded even in this state, although unlike before, it wasn’t wielded towards Roman with the intent to hurt the creative side… but rather to hurt Logan.

For being caught crying? Roman didn’t accurately know, but even so, he didn’t like the thought of it.

Self deprecation was Virgil’s thing, not Logan’s.

He inched forward towards Logan’s bed, his hands raised slightly in a peaceful manner that told Logan he held no ill intent towards the other side. An action that made Logan huff almost sarcastically, as if he didn’t believe the creative side for a single second. But not before smooshing his face into the pillow, a minor attempt to hide from the creative side while he still could, and still protect his emotions that were vulnerable for anyone to see.

Roman sat on the edge of Logan’s bed not touching the logical side, at least not yet.

“I’d prefer it if you were honest with me,” Roman spoke softly, his voice much quieter than usual. “I’d like to know what’s wrong, and… if I can help in any way.” He did… gods did he want to help, but for someone like Logan.. he had no idea on how to even start. The other side was far too jaded and cynical  for the usual things that worked for Patton and Virgil.

Patton could be soothed by a simple hug and food, with bodily contact enough to calm down whatever he was feeling in that moment. Virgil was tougher, but even he enjoyed the occasional hug and any kind of distraction that Roman could pull out of his sleeves at the time. But for Logan…

He had no idea.

A rough raspy laugh pulled him out of his musing, “You want the truth?” Tears brimmed on the corners of Logan’s eyes, and for a second Roman felt a bolt of panic,  as if somehow he had once again messed things up. But Logan only scrubbed at his eyes, as his bottom lip wobbled with another onslaught of emotions. “I’m so tired Roman, I just want to sleep.” His breathing hitched as a whimper crawled its way up his throat, the warm comforting touch of Roman’s arms around him only seemed to make his tears come faster and faster as he buried his face in the creative side’s shoulder. “I just want to sleep and never wake up, so that I won’t be treated how I am anymore! I don’t want to wake up!”

Guilt twisted Roman’s insides at the acute reminder of just how both he and Patton had treated Logan’s interjections, Logan hadn’t even been there in person and yet…

They had treated him as an after thought, Patton had even chosen to ignore him when Logan had spoken up once… giving Deceit the perfect chance to butt in and take Logan’s place when he was out of the picture.

Roman had chosen ignorance over Logan… time and time again.

Logan’s fingers helplessly clawed at the back of Roman’s shirt, his breathing just getting more and more erratic the more he sobbed and less air he was taking in. It made Roman’s stomach clench painfully at the guilt that he was once again faced with, this was… his fault. Just another thing added to the list of things he had done wrong, they were supposed to be a family and yet-

“I know that it’s not just you,” Logan rambled on, cutting his inner musings short. “It’s just everything over a long period of time, and its unfair of me to just unload everything onto you at once, you don’t deserve to be at the center of my stupid emotions, and you certainly don’t deserve to stuck here. It’s just everything, ever since the beginning… I just.. I just…” Logan thumped his head against Roman’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to get his words out, “It's not your fault that I’m like this,” Logan admitted, almost as if he could feel the very thoughts that had been going through Roman’s head. His guilt and his shame had always been so obvious, at least Logan. “I’m just so… tired… of everything.”

Thomas wasn’t listening to him, even Patton hadn’t even stopped to consider how Logan would feel when he skipped him. His points were considered optional at best, to the point where the others felt happy that they could choose to not listen to him.

If that was how they felt about him… then what was the point of even showing up? What was the point of even trying anymore? What was the point in existing as a side for Thomas to listen to?

Sleeping forever, and not having to deal with anything like this sounded heavenly. It would stop the hurting, and it would stop everything that made these tears possible.

Roman gripped Logan tighter, his fingers bunching the back of Logan’s shirt as he buried his face into the other side’s hair. He felt a little better to know that this breakdown wasn’t entirely his fault, but… that didn’t stop the guilt that wormed its way into his heart regardless. He was still responsible in some way, be it his nicknames, how he responded to Logan’s facts, or even how he treated Logan sometimes. He had still hurt Logan in some way, even if the other had done the same… Logan didn’t always know that it was in good spirits, he had taken it seriously.

He knew that too, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t use it to his advantage.

So he needed to fix this, before he got anywhere close to being able to just pop in on Logan and vent about his day. They weren’t friends, he had never treated Logan like a friend, even if they were both somewhat responsible for that.

But first… he needed to help Logan out of the suicidal-idealation he was spiraling into.

He’d seen it enough in Virgil, when he was in one of his really bad attacks, as well as in Thomas when he was in high school during the peak of his closested streak.

At least he could help with that.

“Logan,” Roman softly hummed into the other side’s ear, as he gently rocked the other back and forth, his hand gingerly patting the other’s back in comforting rhythms. “Do you want to sleep with me?”

A sputtering sound erupted from the side in his arms disrupting the hitching sobs that had been coming from him, and it took Roman all of two seconds to realize just how that sounded coming from him. Or rather how it would sound coming from anybody, at least without a little bit of context first.

“Not like that!” He blurted out almost immediately, a rosy hue burning his cheeks with a vengeance, as embarrassment and awkwardness boiled in his stomach making him want to run away and never face the logical side ever again. “I meant, would you like to sleep in my room!” He quickly amended, his face getting redder by the second, even if he refused to relinquish his grip on Logan, who had gone very still. “I could use a nap after the day I’ve had, and it sounds like you need one too.” His voice softened for a moment, “You’ll have nothing but good dreams, and when we wake up… we’ll do something, just the two of us. You can have a day off, and just… relax. How does that sound?”

He could in the very least give Logan a sleep that he would wake up from, while ensuring that the logical side wouldn’t go off and do something reckless to ensure an endless slumber for himself. Plus…

It had been a very long time since he’d done anything with just the two of them, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spent time with just Logan without Patton having to force him to take the logical side along.

It might be nice, a chance to show Logan that for now, things would be okay and that Roman would be there for him.

They could just talk, and do things… without the worries of everything around them weighing them down.

A soft sigh left Logan’s lips, as the logical side gently rested his head on the creative side’s shoulder. “Sleep…” He began tiredly, the exhaustion of letting out so many emotions making him feel a little more than drained. “Sounds amazing…” It did, and even though he would wake up from this sleep, he would have something to look forward to, something to do that hopefully wouldn’t make him feel worse than he already did. A spark of gratitude welled up inside of him, had Roman not come along…

He probably would have just stayed here, crying and thinking things that would only lead him further into turmoil and sadness.

Until…

Logan’s body swayed as soon as Roman rose up, the creative side’s arms remained securely wrapped around Logan. Only jostling him slightly as the creative side almost too easily picked him up and sank out of Logan’s room, had he the strength Logan would have made a remark about how Roman was choosing to carry him or even given a small laugh about it. But instead he merely went limp, not putting up a fight as he rested his head against the other side’s chest  and closing his eyes as soon as he felt the impossibly soft mattress of Roman’s bed touch his back.

But that didn’t stop his hand from darting out, almost as soon as Roman’s warmth left him.

“It’s okay,” The other side gently told him, his voice soft and reassuring to the logical side’s ears. “I’m just going to get on the other side, I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be right here.”

As nice as that sounded, Logan shook his head. That wasn’t it.

The logical side cracked open one of his eyes, the blurry world around him telling him that Roman had already taken off his glasses for him. “Roman,” He mumbled tiredly, the effect of Roman’s room already working to put him into a beautiful dream just for him. “Thank you,” His grasp on the other’s sleeve was already going slack, but he needed to let the other know before he lost himself to unconsciousness. “Thank you for caring about me, even if.. even if I make it hard sometimes.”

A warm and feathery softly blanket draped itself over Logan, and the fuzzy softness of sleep encroached more.

But just before he lost himself to it, Logan heard the sad chuckle from the other side grace his ears as a weight settled next to him and an arm laid itself over his chest. And a velvety soft voice murmured right next to his head:

“You don’t have to thank me Logan… you never have to thank me for listening to you.”

And just like that, Logan sank into the dream that Roman had created for him, a smile curling on his tear stained face.

Within moments, Roman had joined him as well, his exhausted body tucked against the logical side.

Protecting him from anything else that would cause him harm.

[q-gorgeous]

Wish You Wouldn’t Lie

fanfiction

ao3

After an argument with her now grounded son, Maddie wishes that Danny wouldn't lie to her-and Desiree overhears. prompt by @ectopal

word count: 1184

moreeeeeeee

“Danny, for the last time, where were you?”

Danny growled. “I was just late getting home! There’s not much else to it.”

Maddie pulled her phone out of her suit pocket to check the time, and turned the screen to face it towards Danny. “It’s two hours past curfew! That’s not just ‘late getting home’. By that point that’s a conscious choice, and even if it wasn’t, if you’d actually carry your phone on you when it wasn’t broken, you’d know what time it was!” 

“I don’t know what you want from me when I’m telling you the truth!” Danny threw his hands into the air. 

“I want you to tell me the actual truth!” Maddie yelled. “I wish-”

Danny’s ghost sense went off. “Mom, wait-”

She gave him a look and continued anyway. “I wish you wouldn’t lie to me.”

She watched Danny shiver and look around the living room with a look on his face similar to Jack’s when he’s searching for something in the lab. 

“Danny.” She said sternly. Danny’s gaze traveled back over to her, his posture tense. “Why were you so late coming home?” He stood and stared at her a bit, his lips pursed together before his voice finally spilled out.

“You wanna know why I’m always late coming home and missing curfew?” He asked and Maddie nodded. “I’m Danny Phantom and I’ve been fighting ghosts for the past three years and they don’t exactly follow my office hours.”

They stared at each other for a few moments before Maddie scoffed.

“That isn’t funny. I said I wanted you to tell me the truth, not tell me a joke.”

He ran his hands angrily through his hair. “It is the truth!”

“If it’s the truth why wouldn’t you have told us before now?” Maddie shouted. “You realize how that’d be such a convenient excuse right?”

“I wouldn’t have told you before now because you are ghost hunters! You hunt ghosts! You hurt and dissect them, and have talked about wanting to dissect me! And, maybe, I’m telling you right now because you let the w-i-s-h words slip when there’s regularly a genie ghost in town!”

Maddie just looked at him in disbelief, disappointment on her face. 

Danny stared right back into her eyes. “Fine. I’ll prove it.”

A bright flash of white appeared around his waist and Maddie stumbled back as she watched the rings travel around her son’s body. Phantom’s jumpsuit appeared underneath them and Maddie could finally see the very familiar stitching on it. She stared at him in horror. 

The rings disappeared and Phantom stood in front of her, an angry expression on his face.

“I’m gonna go catch that ghost.”

He turned intangible and flew through the ceiling and away from the house.

Maddie stared at where he disappeared, panic starting to rise. What happened to her son? Did he die? Was he dead? Did Phantom do this to him? How was this even possible?

She ran and grabbed an ecto-gun and hurried out the front door, slamming it behind her. Who knows how hurt he could get! Actually, she knew very well how hurt he could get. 

Guilt flooded her stomach and she started running up and down streets, checking the ghostly hot spots in town. She ran past the high school without stopping. The ghosts never bothered with showing up there when school wasn’t in session, so Danny wouldn’t be there.

She ran through downtown and to the park when she saw it. A light glow sitting on a picnic table near a tree. As she got closer, she could Danny sitting on the table with his knees pulled up to his chest, face tucked into them. 

Maddie slowed to a walk, trying to get her breathing under control before walking up to him. She reached a hand out to him before hesitating but finally placed a hand on his shoulder. 

He tightened up further at the contact, hands gripping his arms tightly.

“Are you going to dissect me?” Danny whispered. 

Her heart broke at the sound of his voice, how defeated it sounded.

“Dear, no. Danny.” Maddie pulled him toward her and into a hug. 

All the tension in his body slipped out and he wrapped his arms tightly around Maddie. His breath hitched and Maddie could hear him sniffle as he started to cry. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Danny.” She ran a hand through his hair. “You don’t have to apologize for this.”

“Why?” He looked up at her. “I lied to you guys for years.” She wiped a tear off of Danny’s face. “It’s like what those posts online say. Don’t come out unless you know you’re safe or have stability to be on your own.”

“That’s different though.” Danny said.

“That it is.” She whispered. 

They sat in silence for a moment before Danny spoke up again.

“I got that ghost. She’s in the thermos now so her powers wore off.”

“That’s good.” Maddie took a deep breath. “I think it’s time we head home. You need some sleep and we can all talk about this tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Danny stood up, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s a lot you guys need to know about now I guess.”

“It can wait until your dad’s awake. But when we get home, I don’t want to find out that you went off into the night again chasing something. Wake one of us up instead.” They started walking out of the park.

“But mom-”

“No buts.” Maddie cut him off. “This should never have been your responsibility. You’ve been doing this since you were, what, fourteen?” Danny nodded. “This is something your father and I should have been more vigilant about, but clearly we weren’t doing a very good job with our work.”

“But some of the ghosts are so strong. What if you got hurt?” 

Maddie stared at him with wide eyes. “What if we got hurt? What about you, Danny? A teenager should not have to go through everything we saw Phantom go through. What we put you through. It’s not your responsibility to keep your parents safe. It’s the other way around.”

“It feels like my responsibility.” Danny mumbled. “I was the one who turned the portal on. If I hadn’t none of the ghosts would be here.”

Maddie stopped him and grabbed Danny by the shoulders. “Did you build the ghost portal?”

Danny’s brows furrowed. “No.”

“Was it your idea to build it?”

“No?” Danny sounded confused. 

“It would have eventually turned on. Your dad and I could have figured out what was wrong, we could have taken it apart and built it again. It would have been turned on at some point. It’s not your responsibility, it’s ours.”

Danny was silent for a moment. “I guess.”

They walked up to the front of their house and Maddie opened the door. Danny transformed back into his human form and began heading up the stairs.

“Well, I'll see you tomorrow then.” Danny said.

“Goodnight Danny.” Maddie waved at where he stood on the steps.

He smiled. “Goodnight, mom.”

[taaroko]

Kid Loki fic: Love Is a Dagger

Loki spoilers through episode five!

Summary: Loki and Sylvie have made it past Alioth thanks to Old Loki's sacrifice. Three more people Kid Loki has lost, but he's pretty much used to it by now.

Between "I killed Thor," Old Loki fulfilling his glorious purpose, Lokigator being the absolute goodest boy, and that glimpse we got of Mjolnir and Throg, "Journey into Mystery" left me feeling very inspired. I hope you like it! 

Word count: 1131 Characters: Kid Loki, Lokigator, Throg

(Here’s the Ao3 link, or you can read it here.)

Loki should have helped them. He should’ve gone back when the old man did, but he was too afraid. He’d been running from Alioth for what felt like half his life—just the sort of existence he deserved after what he’d done.

“Hah! You fell for it! ...Thor? Thor! Stop it! The dagger was only a joke! Brother, get up!”

His throat grew tight and he scrubbed the back of a hand over his eyes. He bent down and picked up the battered helmet that was all that remained of the old man. Alligator Loki let out a wailing growl.

“I know,” said Loki. “I’m going to miss him too.” He’d met dozens of versions of himself down here, and he would be happy if he never saw most of them again, but the old man had been a friend. They’d looked after each other, and he didn’t treat Loki like a helpless child. The two new ones hadn’t been so bad either. He hoped they succeeded, wherever they were now.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here in the open.”

He got an inquisitive growl in reply.

“If they haven’t already killed each other, yeah.” He wasn’t deeply attached to the bunker where they’d been staying, but it was as decent a place as any to stay safe from Alioth. They could at least check to see whether the other Lokis were still there. Maybe set a trap in case they tried to come back.

They trudged across the fields of detritus. Alligator Loki got tired of walking before long and let Loki carry him. Loki didn’t mind. A lot of new things had fallen here since the last time he’d been out this way. He decided to have a look in case he could use any of it, which would give the other Lokis time to finish each other off if they were still fighting.

He found a functioning vehicle that looked like it could handle rough terrain pretty well and some interesting circuitry he might be able to rig to explode. Alligator Loki found an entire refrigerator full of meat that was still edible. Loki shrugged and heaved it onto his shoulder to load into the back of the vehicle. Once it was secure, he was about to ask if they should call it a day when he heard a quiet sound nearby. Like muffled croaking and something tinkling against glass. Alligator Loki looked up from the pieces of meat he’d been making short work of, a bit of one still dangling from the side of his mouth.

“I’m not sure,” said Loki. He held a finger to his lips, ducked down low, and conjured a dagger. They approached the source of the sounds slowly. Nothing jumped out at them to attack, and the sounds led them to a small ridge of rubbish. Loki looked at Alligator Loki, who nodded his big snout. Loki braced himself, then leapt out from behind the ridge.

There was nobody there. He frowned and looked down. His eyes widened and the dagger vanished from his hand. “Mjolnir?” he said. He had only seen the warhammer once before, when Father had shown him and Thor the relics in the Vault. According to stories he’d heard from other Lokis, the hammer was meant to be Thor’s, if he lived long enough to wield it.

Loki wished he hadn’t come this way. He could handle the endless copies of himself, but a Thor? He’d sooner let Alioth catch him than face one.

“Brother, please wake up! I didn’t mean it I swear!”

“Let’s get out of here.”

Alligator Loki didn’t move. He made an odd chirruping sound and bumped a glass jar with his nose. This resulted in a series of frantic croaks and ribbets. Curiosity overcoming his desire to leave, Loki grabbed the jar. Inside was a frog dressed in a winged helmet and full armor. Royal Asgardian armor.

He froze while the frog continued to beat webbed fists against the glass. Alligator Loki swiped at Loki’s foot and yipped impatiently. Heart pounding, Loki twisted the lid off the jar and reached in to scoop out the angry frog. The moment his fingers touched the slimy skin, he received a moderate zap of electricity—bad enough to be slightly painful but nowhere near enough to do real damage. “Hey!” he protested. The frog hopped out of the jar and landed on Mjolnir, still croaking angrily and stamping his webbed feet.

Alligator Loki lost what remained of his patience and bit Loki lightly on the leg. It was obvious what he wanted. Loki shouldn’t do it. He should run straight for the new vehicle and get as far away as he could. The ache in his chest wouldn’t let him. He raised a hand and felt for the enchantment around the frog. It wasn’t a spell he’d ever personally cast, but shapeshifting was easy, and apparently doing it to someone else wasn’t that much different. It took him a few minutes to study the spell. He found the loose threads of seidr in it and pulled. Green light engulfed the frog, and then a blond adolescent boy was standing in front of him.

“It’s about time you undid your stupid spell!” he shouted, his face bright red. “Were you really that jealous Father gave me Mjolnir that you had to ruin—” He broke off. “Are you crying, Loki?”

Tears were indeed pouring down Loki’s face. He fell to the ground and pulled his knees tight to his chest. “I’m sorry, Thor,” he said, his voice cracking horribly. “I’m so sorry.” Why was he being so stupid? It wasn’t even his Thor!

“I’m very glad you’re sorry for turning me into a frog,” said Thor, “but Loki, what’s going on? Why do you look two hundred years younger than you did this morning? Where are we? Why’s there a little alligator in a horned helmet hugging my leg?”

Loki wiped his eyes and accepted the hand Thor was holding out, letting himself get pulled to his feet. He stared up at Thor’s earnest, confused face. He was at least a foot taller than the Thor Loki remembered, and his hands and feet were far too big for the rest of him, but he was looking at him just the same as he always had. Suddenly it didn’t matter to Loki that this wasn’t his Thor. (And judging from the way Alligator Loki’s mouth was hanging open in a silly grin, it didn’t matter to him either.) “I can explain everything,” he said, “but it’s going to take a while and we need to get somewhere safe first.”

Thor bent to pick up Mjolnir (the weight of it made him sway a little; he obviously wasn’t used to it yet) and beamed at Loki. “Lead the way, Brother.”

--

I can't believe I made myself cry writing about a character who's only had ten minutes of screentime. I love this show.

This is most likely staying a one-shot, since I'm already 200K+ words deep into my other alternate timeline Brodinsons fic and it does not need competition for my creative energy, but it miiiiight end up being a couple chapters longer, because there are one or two more things I'd like them to do, especially if the final episode doesn't do anything else with Kid Loki.

[miss-1ng]

If I could make a request, could I have Hubernie with kiss prompt number 70??

(this is petraswyvern from my main hehehehe)

Of course you can!! It was a joy and a pleasure to write this, thank you for submitting the request <3 <3 There's a minor mention of stitches in this fanfic (not too sure if that's a trigger, but just want you to know) but other than that, it's just soft Hubernie.

This will also be posted additionally to me Ao3 (miss_ing) if you'd like to read it there.

--

Maybe I am selfish, Hubert thinks while watching Bernadetta from the corner of his eye. Bernadetta, who is sweet and caring and lovely in her own shy and reclusive way. Bernadetta who is beautiful, sweet grey eyes so scared yet so confident. Their little time spent together has been a blessing . Selfish enough to want this.

Though even if he does want this, he knows he can’t have it.

His father’s words ring true in his head. “You are Lady Edelgard’s servant. She is your duty. Not anything else.” His voice, cruel and malicious hisses in his ear, voice alike a knife scraping on metal. “That is all you are here for.”

“Hubert,” Edelgard says behind him. He turns with a stiff nod, following her without question into the Cardinal’s room, placing himself next to her and the professor as their meeting begins. “Our next course of action is Tailtean plains.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air and all thoughts of Bernadetta slip out of his mind as the meeting commences. Hubert himself has known of this for a while, more than the rest of the Black Eagle Strike Force have. What that information does for him however is not much, except from an advancement in knowledge of their plan of attack.

“This will be a hard battle,” Edelgard continues. “But with our might, we can push through!”

Her words do little to improve the morale, but the small smiles a few of the Strike Force wear must be a start.

Hubert lets his eyes flick over everyone in the room – all the generals, the soldiers, their friends – before they fall on Bernadetta, cowering in her chair, her knees pulled up to her chest, her body so visibly trembling. He fights the tempting urge to walk over to her and give her a hug. He clenches his gloved hands into tight fists to try and restrain himself.

“T-Tailtean Plains?” she squeaks, flinching and hiding her face when many pairs of eyes turn to her. “Ah! I mean, um, when-when are we leaving?”

Edelgard presses her lips together. “Two weeks.”

Many people speak up at once, a series of “What?” and “That’s not enough time!” and “What if the weather doesn’t clear up in time?” and more “WHAT?!” get sent towards the three at the end of the table.

The volume in the room rises up rapidly, so loud Hubert can’t even hear his own thoughts, usually so loud in the silence of his own company.

Out of the corner of his narrowed eyes he sees Bernadetta duck out of the crowd who have all stood up and dart out of the room with the speed of a fox chasing it’s prey.

And Hubert watches, his heart rattling against his chest as he does.

--

Two weeks passes far too quickly for Hubert’s liking.

He’s spent the entirety of those two weeks devising tactics, helping Edelgard with the upcoming battle, thinking about Bernadetta and those feelings he tries to hide, and drinking tea (coffee for himself, however) with Ferdinand, with whom he has begun to become… friends… with.

Somehow, they wind up to talking about the topic of ‘courting’ and ‘love’. How they have gotten there, Hubert barely recalls, though it seems it is too late to back out now.

“Hubert, you must tell me who!” Ferdinand exclaims loudly after taking a delicate sip from his cup. “There has been someone on your mind lately. I can tell. You have been a little more distracted lately.”

It feels like someone has dunked his head in a bucket of ice. His brain, his thoughts feel completely numb. But in perfect Hubert fashion he feigns ignorance and says “You must be mistaken. I am focused on the upcoming battle.”

Ferdinand raises an eyebrow. “Even in the battle strategy meetings?”

“It’s on my mind. I’m very busy.”

“I can see that, but-”

“Ferdinand.” He slams his cup of coffee on the table. “That is enough. I will take my leave now.” He stands up, leaving Ferdinand be.

--

The battle is here. Rain belts down on Hubert, drenching him from head to two. The ground has turned slippery and muddy, water pooling at his boots.

Besides him, Bernadetta shivers in the cold, her whole body trembling. She seems to feel his eyes on her because she shrieks and stumbles back a few, almost about to fall over when Hubert reaches out, gripping her hand and pulling her back up.

He feels his face heat up, and just knows that the tips of his ears are going red by the sudden unexpected contact. “Th-thanks,” Bernadetta murmurs. “B-Bernie wouldn’t want to be-be all muddy before this b-battle.”

He nods, unable to form any words for a moment. He’s almost relieved that the tension gets resolved when Bernadetta speaks again. “I’m so scared.”

If he was any other person perhaps he’d console her, saying “It’s okay” or maybe “There’s nothing to be scared about” or even “I’ll make sure you’re okay,” but he’s not, and the words that leave his mouth are “Lady Edelgard will bring us to victory,” his father’s words echoing through his mind.

Bernadetta nods. “I-I know,” she whispers, though she doesn’t sound so sure.”

At the start, things go off without a hitch, Dedue’s demise leaving the King of Delusion in a wild rage, screaming out Edelgard’s name to anyone who would listen along with threats he will not carry along because Edelgard will win and-

He’s caught off guard, his thoughts getting in the way of his fighting, his plans, his-

Something sharp slices through his abdomen. He doesn’t say a word, just stares at the sword protruding his stomach, his face going slack. Someone shrieks his name, but he can’t-can’t…

Hubert’s eyes close as the sword gets pulled out angrily, his head falling to the ground, smacking on the mud before everything goes… goes dark.

--

He wakes up from so quiet they’re almost silent sniffles.

His eyes catch Bernadetta’s who gasps, letting go of his hand which feels rather warm and crying out, “H-Hubert? You’re awake?”

He manages to croak out a “I am,” and Bernadetta’s eyes light up as if she hadn’t believed him the first time.

“You-you scared us all so much,” she whispers, reaching out before snatching her arm away again. “You almost died; Bernie was terrified-”

“Bernie doesn’t need to be terrified, does she?” he asks, his voice dropping low and going soft. “I’m fine.” He can feel his face go red but hopes, hopes she doesn’t notice because if she does he’s not going to-

Bernadetta suddenly lunges forward, cupping his cheeks in her small, cold hands and her lips catch on his.

Stunned by the action, Hubert almost jolts away from the kiss. Her eyes are shut firmly tight. Then she suddenly steps back with a yell. “I’m-I’m so sorry, that was out of turn, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m-”

Despite the sharp spike of pain that his body gives when he stands up to walk over to her, he cups her soft cheeks in his hands and presses back. He has to lean down, and his back seems to be getting sore from the position he’s found himself in, but- but-

He’s kissing Bernadetta, and things could not be getting better.

The once soft gesture of adoration has become stronger, the two moving along with the kiss, pressing down and- All that’s going through Hubert’s mind is her. The girl he’d fallen in love with ever since their bond had strengthened. Ever since she had opened up to him. He loves her. He loves Bernadetta.

They break apart, cheeks flushed and panting.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, then winces as his body spasms after feeling a tug from the stitches sewn into his gut.

“Hubert!” she exclaims and rushes him over to the bed he collapses on. “I shouldn’t have done that! You need rest not kissing someone like m-”

He presses a kiss to the back of her palm which shuts her up immediately, her cheeks turning bright red from the kiss. “Oh… I… um… th-thanks?”

In his haze of pain he looks up at Bernadetta. Maybe I am selfish, a voice in his mind murmurs. The grip Bernadetta’s pressing on his hand is soft and gentle and most of all warm. Her eyes are filled with compassion with the underlying message of fear, though Hubert couldn’t have it any other way. But this is a lovely thing to be selfish for.

[havenoffandoms]

Just Fine (Aiden/Lambert)

Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses Prompt List

Read on Ao3

Prompt:  “Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.”

Summary: 

Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Warnings: mention of amputation, modern AU

“So, today’s the day, huh?” Eskel smirks as he watches Lambert positively vibrating with excitement where he’s sat on a chair opposite Eskel. The coffee shop is mostly empty, save for another couple in the corner exchanging kisses and giggling carelessly as they rejoice in their puppy love. Lambert chose this place because it’s closest to the airport, but admittedly the place isn’t half-bad and the coffee doesn’t taste like piss.

“Stop that, it’s creepy,” Lambert grouses as he stuffs another forkful of chocolate cake into his mouth. When he notices Eskel’s confused frown, Lambert rolls his eyes and adds pointedly, “you, being all excited on my behalf. That’s unnatural. Stop it.”

“Whatever.” Eskel takes a sip of his tea - because Eskel is the kind of person who likes to drink tea for fun - before levelling Lambert with a look that the latter knows all too well. “You’re allowed to be excited about his return, you know? It’s been a year since he-”

“I know,” Lambert quickly interrupts before Eskel has a chance to finish his sentence, “I am excited.”

“Tell your face, then.”

“Shut up, prick.”

“It’s gonna be fine, Lambert.” Eskel reaches across the table to squeeze Lambert’s clammy hand. “I know you’re worried because of his injury, but you’ll both figure it out together. You don’t love him any less for it, right?”

“Of course not,” Lambert snaps in response as he snatches his hand away, angry at the mere suggestion that his feelings for Aiden would disappear for something as superficial as a physical injury, “of course I don’t love him any less for it. It’s just…”

Eskel doesn’t press him, and Lambert is grateful for that. Truth be told, he’s not entirely sure why he feels so anxious at the thought of seeing Aiden again. It’s been a long year without his boyfriend there to warm his bed and his life. Aiden is the life of Lambert’s entire life, and a year without him felt like the longest time. A whole year went by since Aiden was deployed and has been fighting overseas, taking part in a war that has lost all meaning. He missed birthdays, holidays spent with family around a hearty meal, milestone anniversaries... A year of Lambert staying up late at night, calling Aiden whenever his connection permitted it or writing letters to send his boyfriend when speaking to him proved too difficult. A year of Lambert switching the TV or radio on every morning before heading to work, listening for the announcements and hoping he wouldn’t hear Aiden’s name listed among the soldiers that perished as part of this senseless war.

Just over a week ago, Aiden called Lambert from a military hospital overseas a short two days after he was involved in an explosion that cost the lives of hundreds of civilians and soldiers alike. While Aiden survived the blast, he sustained a considerable injury to his leg. The doctors couldn’t save it, Aiden told Lambert over the phone, the leg had to come off. Lambert remembered crying on the phone that night, not because he mourned the loss of Aiden’s leg - they were tears of relief because Aiden came this close to dying in the blast that killed so many people. Lambert came this close to losing the most important person in his life. Come home, baby, Lambert remembered begging Aiden over the phone, I need you to come home. Today is the day. Lambert knows he should feel more excited at the thought of his boyfriend returning home, to the safety of Lambert’s embrace, but he can’t help the anxiety building inside him and twisting his stomach in a way he doesn’t care for in the least. As a result of the injury he suffered, Aiden had to retire from the military early. While Lambert was happy to have his boyfriend return to him, he knew that Aiden struggled with the thought of retiring at the prime of his career. Not only is he out of a job, but his job prospects are not looking too bright, either. Aiden will have to spend time in physiotherapy, physical rehabilitation courses, counselling… Lambert knows the next months will be tough on his boyfriend.

Lambert knows that he should be excited, but the sentiment is tarnished by his crippling anxiety, and he feels like the worst boyfriend in the world.

“It’s gonna be just fine, Lamb.” Eskel sounds so sure, so confident, that Lambert is almost inclined to believe him. “I promise, brother. You and Aiden will be just fine.”

“I hope you’re right, Kel.”

The drive to the airport is longer than Lambert remembers it being. The car is filled with the sound of heavy rock and heavy metal, the loud emphatic beats and distorted guitar solos washing over Lambert in calming waves. His brothers call him weird for finding this kind of music ‘soothing’, but it works for him, so his brothers can kiss his ass. The sun is beating down on the world below, forcing Lambert to crank up the A/C in the car. He drives along miles of barbed wire, “KEEP OUT” signs and parked aircraft. Lambert checks the time on his dashboard and realises that he’s a whole half an hour early. It isn’t exactly unheard of for soldiers’ families to arrive early and prepare for their loved one’s arrival - either by setting up signs, powdering their noses or getting the children to practice a welcome home song to celebrate their parents’ triumphant return. Lambert usually just waits in the shadows until Aiden comes into view, at which point he pulls his boyfriend close to him so they can get reacquainted away from prying eyes.

Lambert pulls into the airport multistorey parking complex, and thankfully he doesn’t have to spend ages looking for a parking space. As he pulls up into a tight space, Lambert’s heart sinks in his chest. Aiden will probably be travelling in a wheelchair - and he will be using one for a while, at least until he gets his prosthetic leg fitted. There’s no way in hell that Aiden will be able to comfortably step into the car if Lambert stays parked in this spot, but what other choice does he have? He doesn’t have a disabled parking permit yet, but Lambert guesses that’s something they’ll have to think about now. Until then, all he can do is park further away from the door and hope that no one will use the bay next to the passenger side so Aiden has enough space to move comfortably. So that’s precisely what he does. Shit, is Lambert overthinking this? Is he looking for problems where there are none? The last thing he wants is to tiptoe around Aiden’s disability. The last thing he wants is to make Aiden feel like things have changed because he lost his leg.

Shit. Why is he crying now? He should be excited, goddammit.

Lambert angrily wipes the tears and steps out of the car. They’ll be just fine, that’s what Eskel said. Eskel sounded so confident, so sure of himself, but hell, what if he’s wrong? What if Aiden leaves Lambert? What if Aiden pushes Lambert away? It was probably a mistake to read up all those army wives’ blogs and the nightmarish stories about husbands shutting down and falling into depression after sustaining a serious injury. Shit, what if Lambert isn’t good enough? What if Aiden thinks that Lambert is a lousy boyfriend who can’t take well enough care of him?

Deep breaths, Lambert. In, out. In, out. In-

Shit, why are there so many people in this fucking airport? Lambert stands in his usual corner, shying away from the crowds, averting everyone’s eyes as he stares at his phone. He shoots his brothers a text in their group chat - Have I ever told u guys how much I h8 crowds? - hoping that they will understand and distract him from the panic welling up in his chest. As he waits for an answer from either Geralt or Eskel, Lambert switches to his Facebook app and scrolls through his feed. He doesn’t have to wait long until the group chat pings with Geralt’s response.

G: You’ve mentioned it once or twice… or 100

Lambert snorts as he shoots a sassy comeback.

So mentioning it 1 more time won’t hurt. I fucking h8 goddamn crowds.

A quick glance at the arrivals screen tells Lambert that Aiden’s plane landed a few short minutes ago. Not long before they are reunited and able to hug it out in the middle of the airport. At this point, Lambert doesn’t give a shit anymore about what other people think of them. He almost lost Aiden, so he will go on his knees and hug him, wheelchair be damned. Lambert looks around him and sees many families and loved ones itching to welcome the soldiers back. Some of them brought flowers, or the puppy they bought last week as a welcome-home present, and even newborn babies. Lambert wonders if he should have bought Aiden a gift to commemorate the beginning of his retirement. He feels like that would be in bad taste considering Aiden’s feelings on the matter.

The first soldiers start to filter through the door, eyes scanning the room and lighting up when they land on familiar faces. Many people cry tears of joy and relief, others manage to keep a modicum of composure, and some even let out shrill cries of joy as they are finally reunited with the people they love and cherish the most. There is still no sight of Aiden and part of Lambert worries that something happened to him in the week it took the military to organise his repatriation. Feeling the panic well up in him again, Lambert pulls out his phone and opens the group chat window. L: What if he doesn’t come back?

It doesn’t take long for his phone to vibrate with Eskel’s response.

E: As if he’d pass up an opportunity to come back to his pain in the ass boyfriend.

L: Ass.

G: He’ll come back, Lamb. He’ll come back and he’s not leaving again.

Lambert takes a deep breath as he lets these words run through his mind. Aiden is coming back. He’s coming back. He’s-

“Why, hello there,” a familiar voice breaks through the storm raging in Lambert’s head, “come here often?”

Aiden looks so… so like himself. He’s sporting that familiar cocksure grin and his eyes shimmer with all the emotions he can’t bring himself to voice. His voice sounds so self-assured, even though Lambert knows he’s only a breath away from losing it and crying tears of relief. His hair is slightly longer and Lambert can make out the familiar dark curls he loves so much. Aiden looks so much like his old self that Lambert forgets, for a short minute, that he’s missing the lower half of his left leg entirely.

“Aiden. You’re here.”

“No place I’d rather be.”

Lambert doesn’t feel himself fall to his knees until they hit the solid surface of the airport floor, cracking in protest at the impact. He lunges forward and wraps his arms around Aiden’s middle, squeezing tightly and burying his face in his boyfriend’s stomach. He’s unable to bite back the tears this time, and if Aiden notices that the soft material of his t-shirt is soaked right through, he doesn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he cards his fingers through Lambert’s short hair, softly shushing him and whispering heartfelt reassurances in the air pocket between them.

“I’m here, baby,” Aiden tells him over and over, “I’m back. I’m here, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I missed you,” Lambert hears himself say, “I missed you. I was so scared, Aiden, you don’t understand-”

“I’m here, Lamb. I’m here. You don’t have to be scared, anymore.”

They’ve got so much shit to figure out, Lambert knows. They need to think about all the adjustments they need to make to their lives, all the paperwork they’ll have to fill out, therapy sessions they have to book and medical insurance they need to update. All these things that terrified Lambert a few hours earlier, all these plans that made panic well in him and want to run for the hills… all these worries weighing him down disappear the second Lambert feels Aiden’s arms around him, squeezing him, comforting him.

“I’m not scared,” Lambert assures Aiden, pulling back and straightening up so he can place a soft kiss on Aiden’s lips. They still feel the same against his own, they still taste the same, too. Nothing has changed. Aiden is still Aiden. “Not anymore.”

“Anymore?” There’s a teasing edge in Aiden’s voice, a mocking grin tugging at his lips. “Ah, kitten. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I gotcha. Now shut up and kiss me again.”

Lambert happily obliges Aiden’s request. Their lips slot against each other like they didn’t just spend a year apart. Their kiss is tender and soft at first, but Lambert is quick to deepen it by licking Aiden’s bottom lip. Neither of them cares about the potential eyes on him - nobody is likely to pay attention to them, not when they’re all lost in the joy of being reunited with their own family members. Lambert breaks the kiss briefly to whisper a soft ‘I love you’ to Aiden. His cheeks turn red as he speaks those three words which still feel too intimate to be loudly proclaimed in public, even after all these years. Aiden steals another kiss before reciprocating the sentiment, his breath ghosting over Lambert’s lips and sending a peasant shiver coursing through his body.

They have lots of shit to figure out, but Aiden is here and he’s not going anywhere. Aiden is here, and neither of them has to deal with the situation on their own. They’ll be just fine. Everything will be just fine.

[dapandapod]

40 with dad vesemir and one of the wolves? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

40. post-nightmare hug

Sure thing my dear! I might have gotten a bit emotional about it, I must confess, and I do love Papa V and Lambert. My brain is vaguely offline, but here, have a hug-ish! Please enjoy! <3

Warning: Baby witchers at Kaer Morhen, meaning they are having a shitty time. Hight toxcixity, potion overdose mention, nightmares, Lamberts immature insults. He is working on it.

Enjoy <3

Send me a hug prompt? On Ao3 Hug collection here

Toxicity can be rough for an adult to handle.

For a child, it’s even worse.

Vesemir has seen it so many times, and it hits each child differently. Some get violent, some get tired, some become catatonic.

His child of surprise, Lambert, was always angry. He lived through the Trial of the Grasses, he lived through the harsh training and he lived through the cold winters of the keep.

All this time, Lambert voiced his anger and defiance, roaring his rage to anyone who stood in his way.

Vesemir, being the one who put Lambert on the path, has always received the brunt of it.

But tonight, Lambert overdoses on his potions for the first time. His young body strains and fights against the toxins, his veins and eyes black as the night sky, his skin sickly pale and tacky with sweat.

As with everything else, Lambert recovers, but for the first time Vesemir finds him silent.

There are very few boys his age this year; the other wolf cubs are a few years older than him, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Lambert never allowed them to comfort him. He doesn’t trust them, doesn’t trust the adults, doesn’t trust the world to keep him safe. Rightly so, Vesemir thinks, believing distrust will hopefully keep him alive while on the path.

But tonight, that is worrying. Lambert’s silence is uncharacteristic and Vesemir has learned to watch out for it.

From the shadows, he follows Lambert, watching him sneak away to the barn and curl up in the hay.

Restless sleep and twitching limbs, his child tosses and turns as nightmares take him. In time, he will learn to repress the dreams, but for now they torment him.

Lambert startles awake with a muffled shout before he gets his bearings.

Crying children is nothing new behind the stone walls of Kaer Morhen, but Vesemir feels the responsibility weigh heavily on his shoulders.

He parts from the shadows, approaching Lambert and makes deliberate noise as he does. The child rushes to his feet, a knife in his hand in the blink of an eye, and Vesemir’s heart swells with pride.

“What do you want, asshole?” Lambert says, wiping his tears angrily with the heel of his hand.

“I have been thinking about something for a while,” Vesemir says calmly, walking up to Lambert and promptly plopping down on the hay.

“What,” Lambert asks, eyeing him suspiciously. The dark circles under his eyes are not only the remnants of the toxins.

“Sit down and I will tell you. And put away that knife before you poke someone’s eye out.”

Lambert grumbles but sits down without complaint. Again, not like him.

“What,” he repeats.

Vesemir eyes him right back, and then nods to himself.

“I have been wondering who would wear my hat better. You or me. But I still think I would do it better. So I’m keeping it.”

“You are so dumb.”

“The opposite. This hat has some splendid qualities and I’m not sharing.”

“Good.”

“Really? Not even if I let you try it out?”

“I don’t want to try your stupid hat.”

“Hm. What I heard is that you want to try my beautiful hat. Ok.”

Vesemir shoves his hat on Lambert’s head despite his protests, and then scoops him up in his lap and holds him tight.

“Hey--! You--! Asshole, let me the fuck go, you stinky… bearded- nasty!” Lambert fights him, but he is exhausted, and finally gives up, just accepting Vesemir's grip stiffly.

“Fine. Fucking fine. You got me, I’m wearing your fucking hat, what do you want?!”

“Yeesh, those words in your mouth,” Vesemir snarks, and wraps his arms more securely around Lambert.

It’s not a hug. Witchers don’t hug.

It is merely...a comforting wrestle.

They sit in silence for a few minutes until Lambert sniffles.

“Let me go,” he croaks.

“No.”

“Let me go!”

“You know, when I was your age, I hid in the stables.”

Lambert falls silent.

“Nightmares suck. But I don’t dream anymore.”

“No?”

“No. They can’t touch me. I’m too strong.”

“That sounds fake,” Lambert says, his voice wobbly and muffled under Vesemir's arms.

“You doubt my strength?” Vesemir asks, smirking and tightening his grip.

“Ugh, no, yuck, no, stop it, fine! I believe you!”

“Good. And now I am going to be super strong all over again and fight your nightmares too.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I absolutely can.”

“How.”

“Just close your eyes and let me do the rest.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to. But you can keep the hat for tonight. It keeps the bad memories away.”

“Really?”

“If you believe it, it will,” Vesemir says, slowly letting go of Lambert's small body, watchful of a vengeful elbow. But it doesn’t come, and Lambert doesn’t move away from his lap. He leans back against Vesemir’s chest, fiddling with the brim of the hat between his grimy fingers.

“Don’t tell the others.”

“I won’t if you won’t.”

Lambert does fall asleep. As soon as the nightmares start to creep in, Vesemir soothes him, petting his arms until he settles again. At some point, he falls asleep too, but pretends not to notice when Lambert stands up, waking him out of his sleep. Lambert places the hat on his head, and sneaks away.

Vesemir remembers his first night with too many potions in his system. Toxicity can be rough for an adult to handle.

For a child, it’s even worse.

[sweeethinny]

He and Harry had a fight last week... James said he didn’t like him anymore.’’ Ginny looked at her mother, looking a little sadder now. ‘’Harry cried.’ Would you consider writing their fight and then James Sirius apologizing? I was (re)reading this today and I just love it

thank you anon! you can also read it on AO3, if you want :)

the last part, is the content of the letter that james wanted to send to Harry, i hope you liked it! <3  PART 1, i think? idk, but the fanfic that anon referred to

Ginny didn't quite know what was going on when she got home, exhausted from yet another tiring day at work, with sexist coaches who didn't listen to what she had to say in the interviews, and other journalists who didn't care about the ideas she had proposed.

She did not expect to feel so miserable when she agreed to work on the Prophet.

But either way, she was happy that Harry managed to cut the workload that month, spending more time at home with the kids, especially now that James was six and started going to school, Teddy had just gone for Hogwarts, Albus was at a stage where he just wanted to be with his father, and Lily had her teeth born and was in a bad mood.

They hadn't had much of a problem with James at school so far, he had adapted, made friends, done homeworks, and was well controlled with his own magic, occasionally exploding or making things fly.

Nothing too dangerous and that they couldn't fix.

In the last week James' classes were suspended when 7 of the 12 children caught lice, luckily James was not one of them, so the boy seemed a little anxious about the sudden change in routine.

But today it looked like a war had broken out in the middle of their living room. Lily was taking all the clothes out of the clean laundry basket, Albus was on top of the trunk where they kept some old things, with his knee shredded and looking like he was waiting to make a dressing, while Harry and James argued beside him.

Ginny knew that the combination of her and Harry would make children easy to explode, but she realized that James had an extreme facility in getting Harry off track, much more so than Lily or Albus did. Albus knew how to irritate his brothers, and Lily only irritated them with her loud crying and childish antics like throwing things, but James was at that stage where he challenged his parents to find out how far he could go. Teddy had been there, too, but it was with Ginny that he could do it most easily.

However James seemed to know exactly what to do to have an angry Harry.

'James,' Harry asked, eyes closed as if asking for patience, it probably wasn't the first time they had had that conversation.

'I just wanted to fly!' James shouted angrily, his cheeks red.

'And didn't I tell you that you couldn't do that?' Harry countered, running a hand through his hair. 'How many times have I told you that neither you, or Albus, could fly alone?'

'But Albus was there because he wanted to! I didn't tell him to follow me.' The little one looked as furious as his father, his arms crossed in front of the small body just as Ginny did when she argued with someone. 'Why can Lily fly and I can't ?!'

'I was with her, she was not alone, you know that very well. I said that we could fly later, and that I would go with you- ’

'But you worked all day, and then the night would come and we would not be flying! Again!'

'James... You could have hurt Albus! Or hurt yourself.' Harry pointed out, looking as alarmed as if it had actually happened. As far as Ginny could see from the entrance to the Living Room, only Albus was a little hurt, and he didn't even seem to want to cry or anything.

'Oh, of course, if something happens to the precious Albus, it's the end of the world!' James threw his arms up, as if giving up, and before Harry was able to answer him, he shouted; 'I hate you!' And he ran off, tears streaming down his face as he climbed the stairs as fast as he could, his little legs not helping him to be too fast, but Harry didn't follow him either, which helped James get to the room and slam the door.

Harry sighed, hands on his tired face, and Ginny was still a little paralyzed at the door, thinking about what had happened. 'Mum!' Lily shouted, now sitting in the empty clothes basket, making the other two look at her.

'Hello my loves.' Ginny smiled going over to Albus and kissing him on the cheek, realizing how scared he looked. 'Hi my love, how are you?' She preferred to act as if she had just arrived, looking at his grated knee, still a little dirty with grass.

'Fine, I just fell.' He smiled, the little children's teeth a little dirty from what looked like chocolate.

'It'll be okay,' Ginny promised, casting a simple healing charm and placing him on the floor, before of course, she kissed the small scar that remained. Nothing too serious, but it was a tradition that helped them to be less afraid of when they needed to apply potions or other healing spells that were stronger.

They were a Weasley-Potter, after all, they were always falling.

'Hi my other love,' She smiled at Harry, hugging him, but realizing that he seemed a little reluctant to speak. He just smiled awkwardly, kissing her forehead and letting her go to be hugged by Lily, who had managed to topple the basket of clothes to be able to crawl out and run into her mother's arms. 'And my other love.'

'Hi mommy!' Lily cried awkwardly, hugging Ginny back, and hanging from her neck so she could be picked up.

'And where's my other love?' Harry sighed at her question, waving his wand and causing all the clothes to levitate, to be folded, and to go back into the basket.

'Up there,' Harry murmured. 'Do you take care of them? I'm going to prepare dinner.' Ginny nodded, lowering Lily to the sofa when Albus asked her to play with him and the Lego castle he had won from Percy.

‘Mommy, come and play with us!’ Albus asked, seeming not even to remember the fight between his father and brother anymore, amused by the pieces and teaching Lily how to stack the blocks too - even though she seemed willing to just destroy everything.

‘I’m coming, okay? Let me just go and say hi to James, and I'll be back here, okay?’ She promised, crouching in front of them, drawing all the attention to herself. ‘No mess and fights, Mom will be back.’

'Daddy and James fought,' Al whispered, as if it were a secret.

'Bad James,' Lily added, crossing her arms as she could, to look like her brother.

'They are just stressed, and he’s not bad. Now, I'll be right back.' Ginny left the room and went up to the second floor, still listening to the conversations between Albus and Lily, and the sounds of pots and dishes, much louder than usual, and she imagined that Harry was more angry at what he looked like while fighting with James.

Ginny knocked on the door to their eldest son's room, the photo hanging next to her made her smile, a picture of when they went ice skating, a few days before Teddy received the letter from Hogwarts, he and James were smiling from ear to ear. ear, while she and Harry still needed to hold hands to keep steady and not fall.

She hated it when she or Harry lost patience with their kids, when they got carried away by the tantrum. They should have known that the best thing to do when it happened was to just get away, let the kids scream alone for a few minutes, before they came back calmer and managed to talk to them.

'Hi my love,' Ginny murmured, opening the door and entering James's room, it was colder than usual inside, and maybe he had done accidental magic for this to happen and he could be hidden under the covers. 'It's Mommy.'

'I don't want to say anything.' James' voice was muffled by the pillow and the covers, but she could still tell that he was crying.

Ginny sat on the bed next to him, her hand on what she imagined was his shoulder. 'I heard that you and Daddy had a fight, is it true?'

'He hates me.' Ginny smiled sadly, denying and sighing.

'He doesn't hate you my love, and hating someone is a very strong thing to say, I promise you, he is just tired, and you need to help him a little too.'

'But he wasn't going to fly with me, and I just wanted to fly.' James uncoveredlooking at Ginny with brown eyes wet with tears. 'He only cares about Lily and Albus, he doesn't even love me anymore.'

'James, of course not, your father loves you very much, which is why he was concerned that you might get hurt. You know you can't fly alone, it's very dangerous.' She held out her arms for James to crawl onto her lap as if he were still a baby - for her, he always would be - and put him against her chest, cradling her body a little from side to side to calm his crying. 'Dad was just worried that you would get hurt. Besides, you are the older brother, and Lily is still very small and needs help to do a lot of things, just as Albus still needs more help. You are my big boy already, and you have to help them, and not go flying without authorization.’

'But he yelled at me.' James sobbed, holding Ginny's shirt in his hands, hiding his face like he did when he was a kid.

'Look, what Dad did was not right, but you didn't make it easy either. Both are wrong… Dad is having dinner, go take a shower, okay? I promise that tomorrow we can fly together.' James nodded, still glued to his mother, like a sloth clinging to a tree trunk. 'I love you my baby.'

'Me too,' he murmured, without further tears.

[...]

Dinner had been… tense, to say the least. Proving that he was Harry's son, James spent the whole dinner in silence, sullen, without even looking straight up, just as Harry was, determined to eat the lasagna without saying anything.

If it weren't for Albus chattering, and Lily trying to imitate him, they would have eaten entirely in silence.

After all the children were in their beds, sleeping soundly, and the house was quiet for another reason, Ginny lay on their bed, waiting for Harry to get out of the bath. They hadn't talked much, and he didn't even want to go shower with her, so she just waited, sitting on the bed while pretending to read the last pages of the romance Angelina gave her. Of course, the words didn't make much sense in her head, she couldn't concentrate, but she had to hide her nervousness.

When Harry finally got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, damp, messy hair, and still that sullen look, Ginny couldn't take it anymore; ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

Harry looked at her quickly over his shoulder, before entering their closet and disappearing, still in silence. Ginny can hear the drawers opening and closing, and then she can see Harry coming back from there wearing old shorts that almost didn't stop at his hip anymore. If he wasn't so sullen, she would try to ease the tension he carried on his broad, bare shoulders.

'He and I had a fight.' That was all he said, throwing himself on the bed next to her and covering himself, looking like he was about to go to sleep.

'It's not me you're mad at, don't be an idiot.' Ginny dropped the book on the nightstand, not turning off the lamp beside her, staring at Harry with determination.

He sighed, sitting up too. 'I was taking care of Lily, now that she is coming out of diapers it looks like she wants to pee every minute, and I asked him to keep Albus playing. They were in the garden, and James had already asked me to fly with him, but I was solving ten problems at the same time and making sure our daughter didn't pee on the couch, so I asked him to hope that later on maybe we could fly… But he is your son, after all, and he managed to break the lock on the shed and get a broom.' Ginny shouldn't laugh, she knew that, but she smiled, a little proudly. 'When I went down with Lily, I could only see Albus flying too, unbalanced, not much more than a meter from the ground, and James going up without control. There was no time and Al fell, but I had to make James levitate because the broom was very uncontrolled and he was unable to get it down.’

‘Harry…’

'It was my fault, I know, I shouldn't... I should have put a different lock on or I don't know, and,' He stopped, hiding his face with his hands again, denying. 'And I lost my temper because I had said that he couldn't fly alone, and Albus was crying on the ground and James looked scared when he realized he was too high... I shouldn't have screamed.'

'You were angry,' Ginny reminded him, realizing how sad Harry looked at this. ‘And worried.’

'But I should have known that when I forbidden him, he would try to do exactly what I said not to.'

'He's a child, Harry, of course he's going to do everything we say he can't.' She said what he usually said to her, when Ginny was worried about Teddy at Hogwarts after he spent two weeks without sending letters, even after she asked him to update them every week.

'He said he hates me, Ginny.' Harry finally looked at her, his eyes watering. Again, her heart broke.

‘Oh, Harry, of course not.’ This time, she didn’t wait for him to come to her embrace, as she did with James, Ginny preferred to hug Harry herself. 'He was just nervous.'

'I did everything wrong,' Harry denied, crying even more, as if he had held his emotions up until now, as if just inside their room was a safe place for him to finally let go. 'He didn't say it like it was nothing, I saw Gin, I saw that he was upset, he meant it.'

'He didn't want to, of course not..Look at me, no, no, Harry, look at me...He doesn't hate you, and you didn't do everything wrong, I probably would have done the same thing, you're just tired.' Ginny stared at him, forcing him to look at her too, her hands holding his face, tears streaming down his cheeks. 'You are the best father they could have, the best I could have chosen to be their father, you will see, tomorrow you will be calmer and everything will be fine.'

'I hate to fight with them.' Harry hid his face on her neck, tears wetting Ginny's skin, his hands tightening on her waist as if to make sure she stayed there, with him. ‘I don’t like them to cry because of me.’

'It's the side that nobody tells you about being parents, love.' She laughed softly, trying to calm the mood. 'But he doesn't hate you, I promise you that... I'm sure you are still his hero, and the person he loves the most in this whole world. You are not a bad father.’

[...]

The next morning, Harry got up first, he heard noises downstairs and knew that probably one of the children was already awake and wanting to make a mess. Passing through the rooms just to check, he saw that Albus was still asleep, and that Lily seemed far from waking up, but James' bed was empty, which wasn't too strange, since the boy seemed to still be keeping up with his early morning routine to go to school, even in that week of recess.

He heard footsteps as he approached the kitchen, an owl hooting loudly at the window, and low murmurs. ‘Stay still.’

'James?' Harry watched as his son tried to tie the letter to the animal's leg, which was trying to get away from him. James was on top of a chair, leaning over the counter, trying to pull Pandora’s closer.

‘Dad!’ Pandora flew away with his cry, without the letter, seeming to frustrate the boy.

'What are you doing? Who do you want to send a letter to?’ Harry was careful to move towards James, but he was happy when his son accepted his arms to come down. He still felt guilty.

'Hm... for you.' James looked at the floor, looking embarrassed.

'Me?' Harry knelt in front of him, staying in his line of sight. ‘Why don’t you just give it to me?’

'I thought it would take you longer to wake up.'

'I heard you coming down the stairs,' Harry said, looking into his son's eyes.

'Are you still mad at me?' James asked quietly, holding the letter tightly in his hand.

‘No, my love… I’m sorry for yesterday, I didn’t want to yell at you, I was nervous and I was worried that you might get hurt.’

'I'm sorry for flying without permission, and I didn't want Albus to have followed me for this either, I didn't see him.' James said. Harry felt so bad all night, unable to sleep in peace, conscience weighed down by having yelled at James, thinking about how sad he looked when he said he hated him.

'It was very risky, you could have been seriously injured.' The two looked at each other, Harry pulled his son close to him. ‘I don’t want you to do it again, okay? You can fly, but only with me or mom, never alone.' He whispered against the boy's hair, hugging him tightly, as if that alone could heal the pain he had felt.

'I didn't mean to say that I hated you, either.' James hugged Harry back, looking sly. ‘I don’t hate you.’

'I love you, Jamie. A lot.' He planted a kiss on his son's head, not caring for the tears that seemed to want to appear in the corner of his eyes.

‘Me too, Dad.’

-----

''Dad,

I'm sorry for yelling at you, it wasn't my intention. I don't hate you, I was just nervous, I'm sorry again.

Love you

James.''

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Mystery Of Pixie Hollow by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 6/11

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche @jonesfandomfanatic @winterbaby89

Chapter 6: Lady Bell

Killian cursed his decision to go to the carnival on his own. He stuck out like a sore thumb, a single man wandering around a children’s carnival alone.

He could feel eyes on him from all directions as he dipped his head, pulling his jacket collar up around his neck. Looking behind him he felt as if he was being watched. He walked faster, disappearing behind one of the buildings at the back of the carnival. He looked over his shoulder and saw that he was alone. Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned back toward the sound of children laughing and playing near the rides.

“What have we got here?” he heard the voice behind him.

“Just looking for the restroom, gotta take a piss.” He laughed.

“’Fraid you’re in the wrong place for that.”

“Guess I am, I’ll just head back this way and…”

The man grabbed him by the jacket. “Don’t think so. Seen ya around a few times now…boss is gonna want to talk to you.” Killian jerked away from the man only to feel a sharp pain on the back of his head as his vision swirled to black.

Peering through slanted eyes he could make out shapes in a darkened room. He sat up, grabbing his head as he winced in pain. “Bloody hell.”

Standing up he realized he was in a trailer, one of the offices most likely behind the carnival. As much as he wanted to meet this Peter, he knew that this was not the way to do it. He wasn’t helping Alice by being reckless and getting caught. He should have never come here alone so soon after the last time. He was behaving irrationally.

He dug through the drawers looking for anything he could use to escape from his prison. Before he could finish his search he heard a noise at the door. The knob jiggled suddenly and then stilled. Killian backed himself into the corner of the room, reaching for a nearby lamp, holding it over his head as he crept behind the door.

The door squeaked open slowly and he held his breath waiting to strike. A shadow stepped into the room and Killian lifted his arm to swing before the intruder’s hair caught in the light, blonde streaks shining in front of him. She spun around to face him, raising her arms in front of her.

“Killian.”

He dropped the lamp to the ground. “Swan? What are you doing here?”

She shrugged, “Checking out the carnival. Thought maybe I might be able to find something, and then I saw Felix. I didn’t know what to do when he dragged you in here. I waited until I saw him leave and came looking for you.”

He looked at the door. “How did you get in? I checked the door; it was locked.”

“I picked the lock.” She said matter-of-factly.

“How did you know how to do that?”

“Everyone has something in their past they aren’t proud of.” She shrugged. “I think we should get out of here; don’t you think?”

“Good plan, love.”

Emma followed behind him in her bug as he drove back to his boat. They walked in silence across the dock, neither saying a word as they entered the small living quarters below.

Walking over to the cabinet he pulled out two glasses and sat them on the counter. He poured rum into each and handed one to Emma as he walked to his sofa and sat down, tipping the glass into his mouth as he welcomed the warmth of the liquid.

He watched as Emma hesitated before tipping the glass back and taking a swig of her drink. She looked at his wall, walking over and running her fingers along the photos hanging there. “She has your eyes.”

“Aye. Her mother always said she had my attitude as well.” He tipped his glass toward her and took another sip. “And what of your lad?”

“He has his father’s eyes and my attitude.” She laughed.

“Is his father not around?”

She frowned and sat down on the couch next to him. “Neal Cassidy remains not only the biggest mistake of my life, but also the biggest disappointment.” She shook her head with a light laugh. “He’s been out of my life since I found out I was pregnant with Henry.”

“That must have been hard.”

“He was a low-level criminal who thought he was big time. Grade A loser, but I didn’t exactly do a good job resisting him either. If it weren’t for my friend Will, I probably would have ended up in prison right next to Neal.”

“You? Prison?”

She snorted, “You don’t learn how to pick locks because you’re an upstanding citizen.”

“Seems it was a useful skill tonight.”

“I was supposed to go on a big job with Neal the night he got caught. I had just found out I was pregnant, and I thought if we just had enough money, he’d walk away from that life, start a family. All I needed to do was meet Neal at the docks, but Will showed up instead. Convinced me that Neal was never going to change and took me home.”

“What happened to Neal?”

“He got busted that night, apparently it was a setup, the cops knew her was coming the whole time.” She sipped her drink again. “Neal did his time, two years up state, I sent him pictures of Henry, wrote to him once a week, and when he got out of prison, he left me a hundred bucks under my door mat and I never heard from him again.”

“Sounds like it was for the best.”

“Doesn’t make it any easier.” She frowned. “But I’m sure you understand that.”

“Aye, raising a child on your own is never easy.”

“But still rewarding.” She added.

“Aye.” He sighed. “Seeing her the other night, she’s grown so much.” He heard his voice crack and he paused. “I was so close. I almost had her.”

He heard the woman beside him sniffle and looked up to see tears coming down her face. “I’m so sorry Killian. It’s my fault she’s still out there.”

“Love…” She looked up at him. “It’s not your fault. You were right. It’s not just about Alice anymore. How many other kids has he taken? How many other Alice’s? If we don’t find them all, we still lose.”

“What if we never find them?” She sobbed and Killian found himself sliding next to her, his arms wrapping around her back as he pulled her against his chest.

“Don’t give up hope, love.” The woman melted against him, her body shaking as she continued to cry. Killian found himself running his fingers into her golden locks, trying to sooth the woman in his arms. “I promise you; we’ll find our children. I won’t stop searching until they are home safe.” He closed his eyes, leaning into the woman, enjoying the warmth of having her in his arms.

It had been so long since he had held a woman, much less one who seemed to need him so desperately. He didn’t want to release her until he knew she no longer needed his embrace. The way she was clinging to him made him collect her into his arms even tighter.

~*~

Emma woke to a banging noise above her, and a man’s arms wrapped protectively around her back. She heard a groan beneath her and opened her eyes. She was currently laying against Killian’s chest, his arms hugging her tightly.

She heard the bang again and Killian stirred beneath her. “What the bloody hell is that noise?” He groaned and Emma felt a stir in her chest at the tenor of his voice as he woke. His eyes opened wide as he recognized the awkward situation they currently found themselves in. Another bang above them.

“I think someone is upstairs.” She said softly, brushing her hair away from her face as he released her, and she sat up with a yawn.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He stood and climbed the stairs toward the noise above them.

Emma adjusted her clothing, standing up as she looked around the room. They must have fallen asleep in the evening. Emma remembered crying into his chest as he promised her that he would find their children. She looked at her watch, it was nine in the morning. She had slept through the night. She heard voices above her, and she walked toward the stairs, climbing a few steps in order to hear the conversation above her.

“I thought my lawyer was clear yesterday that I wasn’t speaking to you.” She heard Killian’s voice.

“We had a few more questions to ask.” Emma recognized the voice as Officer Nolan’s.

“I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

“Do you recognize this girl?” The man asked and she heard a rustling of papers.

“I have no idea who she is.” Killian answered.

“She went missing last night at the carnival.” Emma put her hand to her mouth. Another little girl missing.

“I already told your boss, I don’t recognize her.”

“And what about her?”

Another silence and then she heard Killian cough. “What is this?”

“Do you know her?”

“That’s Alice.”

“We believe she’s the one who took the girl.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Killian…”

“Get out of my house.” She heard Killian yell angrily.

“We just want to know what happened too…”

“Either you arrest me or get the fuck out of my house.” He yelled and Emma flinched.

“Alright, we’re going. But trust me, we’ll be back. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”

“I doubt it.” Killian responded and then she heard the door slam and a crash above her. His footsteps stomped until they got closer to the stairs and their eyes met as he came into view.

He paused his steps. “We need a new plan.”

“What happened?”

“Another child was taken.”

“I heard you say Alice’s name...” She said softly as he descended the steps, walking away from her and crossing to the other side of the room.

“They think Alice took the child.”

“That’s not possible.” She exclaimed, stepping closer to him and tentatively running her hand across his back..

“If she is, it can’t be by choice. We need to do something a bit more…” He exhaled. “Drastic.”

He spun around and faced her as Emma gulped nervously before nodding her head with a new determination. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

~*~

Alice looked around the dark room at the faces of the children staring back at her. It was as if they were waiting for her to say something, anything to make them feel better. But Alice didn’t have any grand words tonight, not after she spent the evening ruining the life of another young girl. She sighed and sat down in the corner, wrapping her arms around her knees.

She hated what she did. Taking the young blonde girl by the hand and telling her that she had a secret place to explore in the fun house, that only she could come to. She lied to the child, she lied and led her into the belly of the beast. She may not have been the one to put the chloroform over her mouth, but she may as well be the one responsible for destroying her childhood.

“Are you ok?”

She turned her head to see Henry approaching her, she shrugged as he took a spot beside her on the floor. “Look at her.” She turned her attention to the new addition, the young child crying on the dirty mattress across from them. “She hasn’t stopped crying since we got here.”

“She’s scared. We all were when we got here.”

“Yeah but this is different, she’s different. Somehow…” She said softly trailing off. She didn’t know how the girl was different, or perhaps she was different because this time, she was responsible for her being here at all.

“You know this isn’t your fault? You had no choice but to go with Tink.” The boy said forcefully.

“We always have a choice.” She frowned. “My father would be so disappointed in me.”

“Don’t say that.” He demanded. “I’m sure that your father would understand.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“No, but if he’s anything like my mom, he would love you no matter what you did.”

She sniffled and pressed her chin closer to her knees as she squeezed herself with her arms. “Sounds just like my dad, actually.” She laughed for a moment and then paused. “I miss him so much.”

“We’re gonna get out of here, I just know it. My mom will never give up.”

She smiled at him sadly. “You’re still new, eventually that hope and optimism will be replaced by sadness and longing.”

“Don’t give up.”

“I know, but I just don’t have it in me to hope anymore.”

He smiled. “Then I’ll just have to have enough hope for both of us.”

She nodded and brushed a hand through his hair. “Deal.” Taking one last look at the girl on the mattress who seemed to have finally cried herself to sleep, she stood up and offered a hand to the boy beside her. “Come on, you’re going to need all the rest you can get if you’re going to keep up that positive energy.”

~*~

“Are you sure about this? Last time you got pissed ‘cause I punched her in the face, now you want to kidnap her? Don’t you think someone might notice if she goes missing? Pretty sure that might bring about more questions than a black eye would.”

Killian stared at the black street in front of him. “We’re running out of time to play it safe. If they’ve got Alice mixed up in what they’re doing, we don’t have time to worry about who might ask questions.”

Emma sighed beside him and returned to staring out the window. “I know.” She responded softly.

“We’ll be careful, we just need more answers and she’s our best chance at getting them.”

Killian knew that going after Tink was a risk, but it was one he was willing to take ever since he saw the photo of Alice. If she were helping in the abductions, he knew it would never have been by choice. Alice was an agreeable child, always wanting to please, but he knew she would never willingly do something that was wrong.

He could hardly imagine what the girl had gone through for the last five years. It broke his heart knowing he had been unable to find her, to save her from whatever hell she was currently going through. Knowing that Emma’s young son was now wrapped up in the same nightmare made him sad, he only hoped this his Alice could comfort the boy if they were in the same place.

He tried not to imagine what type of child his Alice had grown into. He had missed five years of her life. Five years without her father could easily have changed her from the energetic, happy, optimistic girl he had raised. He hoped that whatever her fate may be, that she would have the chance to find that person once again.

“Wait, slow down.” He was pulled from his thoughts suddenly as Emma grasped his arm. “Back there.” Killian slowed his truck and looked around anxiously at the buildings around them. “Park over there. I think I saw something a couple buildings back.” Killian pulled over, putting the truck into park. He leaned over and reached into his glove box, revealing a pistol as Emma gasped beside him. “Is that necessary?”

“Do we have any idea what we are dealing with?” He stared at her. “We don’t, Swan. For all we know they have guns too.” He climbed out of the truck, slipping the pistol into his jeans at the small of his back. He knew it was a risk having a gun on him. He wasn’t legally permitted to handle a firearm since leaving prison, but he couldn’t take any chances right now.

“Have you ever used that thing before?” Emma inquired anxiously.

“Of course not.” He exclaimed. “Well, I mean, not this one in particular.”

“Then why do you have it?” She questioned, stopping suddenly.

“Look, you have no idea what my life has been like. Being a convict, spending time in prison, things change after that. I didn’t make a lot of friends on the inside and people don’t forget who you are once they know your name. I’ve survived all this time by being smart, and I’d like to make sure it stays that way.”

“Sorry, I just…”

“I get it, Emma. You’re scared, someone took your son, the cops don’t seem interested in doing anything about it, and you met this guy you know nothing about. But try something new Swan, it’s called trust.”

“You think I don’t trust you?” She answered immediately.

“Is that not what this is about?”

“Of course I trust you, you’re the only person out here doing a damn thing to help me right now. I already lost Henry, but if something happens to you, what will I do then? I can’t lose you too?”

“Well, love you don’t have to worry about me. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.” His thumb traced her jaw lightly. He tried not to smile, now wasn’t the time for whatever he was feeling toward the woman in front of him. He cleared his throat. “Come now love, let’s get our kids back.”

He turned toward the alley beside them, catching the motion from the corner of his eye. Instinctively he wrapped an arm around the woman in front of him, dragging her toward the building and out of sight of the person entering the alley. He put a finger to his lips to warn her to stay silent and she nodded nervously.

He peered around the corner of the building, watching as the transaction took place at the end of the alley. The two spoke quietly next to a rusted dumpster, the woman looking over her shoulder before passing a bundle to the shady man. The man coughed, reached into his pocket, and shoved a white bundle into the woman’s hand.

The woman had her back to them as the man skulked toward them. Killian turned toward Emma staring down at her. He had to think quickly before the man reached them. She stared up at him with anxious eyes. He could hear footsteps to his right, the sound getting closer and closer with each beat of his heart. He pressed forward, his hand on the brick wall behind Emma’s head as his mouth connected with hers in a searing kiss, a shocked cry squeaked from her mouth as he swallowed the noise, his tongue sliding into her mouth until her shock was replaced with a hungry desire.

He barely registered the disgusted grunt the man emitted as he passed them, mumbling to himself something about needing to “get a room” before he continued on his way.

Killian let the kiss linger for a moment longer than he knew he should once the danger had passed, suddenly caught up in the woman’s mouth, the way she gripped the collar of his jacket tightly, as if releasing him would somehow cause her to float away.

Reluctantly he broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against hers as he tried to resume a sense of calm. Her eyes were still closed as she bit her bottom lip. A smile formed on his face. “He’s gone.” He whispered.

“What?” She returned softly. He turned his head, staring at the retreating form of the man who was now turning the corner at the edge of the building. “Oh yeah, right.” She stammered. “Let’s go.”

He pushed away from the wall, peering down the alley again at the woman who was still facing away from them. They walked quietly to the end of the alley, careful not to make noise as they approached the busy woman, her head tilted toward the sky as she reveled in the feeling of whatever high she was currently enjoying.

Killian stilled Emma beside him, clearing his throat. “Evening, Lady Bell.”