#I don’t know how else square wants me to take that perfume banter

[elementalsoup]

My A Team: Bisexual Disaster

[tchallasbabymama]

Instinct

Hello, fellow whores. You asked for it and I hope I delivered. I present to you: T’Challa in heat❤️‍🔥! This one had me blushing, y’all.

The next request I work on will either be sugar daddy silver fox T’Challa or Star-Lord T’Challa. I know I just threw the latter in the lineup, but apparently, people are seriously feeling the lack of Star-Lord T content here and I want to do what I can to help fill the void.

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories and oneshots, and, as always, comments and reblogs are my lifeblood! Enjoy😘

Word count: 4,903

CW: SMUT, infidelity

Instinct [instiNG(k)t] noun: an innate, typically fixed pattern of behavior in animals in response to certain stimuli.

For centuries, the descendants of the great Bashenga retained their hold on the Wakandan throne. Challenge Day after Challenge Day, they beat their opponents and were rewarded by Bast allowing them to ingest the heart-shaped herb. The herb imbued them with a panther’s strength, speed, and instincts, effectively turning each of them from an ordinary man into the Black Panther. Now, strength and speed are pretty self-explanatory, but what exactly were their instincts?

When T’Challa was crowned king and ingested the heart-shaped herb, he visited the ancestral plane and reconnected with his baba. Their reunion was one full of tears, but most importantly, T’Chaka took the time to impart his wisdom to his son. T’Challa spent hours talking to his baba about life, what to expect as king, and, most importantly, what to expect as the Black Panther.

T’Chaka had warned him about what was to come, but until it happened to him months later, T’Challa was in denial. It couldn’t be that bad, right?

Wrong. When T’Challa woke up one sunny Wednesday morning, he felt strange. He felt feverish but not sick. Like most days, his morning wood stood at attention, tenting the crisp white sheets that laid across his lower half. He looked at the clock and saw that he had plenty of time to take care of himself, so he rolled to his side and reached for the tub of shea butter in his nightstand. T’Challa bit his lip as he rubbed his hands together to melt it down, but when he reached down to stroke his length, he nearly bit clean through it. He was much more sensitive than usual, and he wondered why...then it hit him. He jumped up and grabbed his kimoyo beads with his slippery hands, and he frantically opened his calendar.

“Twelve weeks,” T’Challa groaned as he counted backward to the night he became the Black Panther (the second time.) “Fuckkkk.”

He was in heat, and it was only going to get worse. T’Challa wracked his brain for ideas on what to do to fix his problem, but all he could hear was T’Chaka’s words echoing through his head.

“You should find a partner sooner rather than later. The instinct will take over you, and it will become unbearable if you do not have anyone to aid you.”

T’Challa had been so busy trying to rebuild the kingdom that his cousin damn near broke that he had forgotten to look for someone. Sure, there was Nakia, but she had moved to Oakland and their relationship quickly fizzled out. Then, there was that one Dora Milaje after he regained the throne, but that was a one-night thing and she went back to her wife the next morning. He needed to find someone, but who?

As the king’s mind wandered through his options, sweat beads began to form on his chiseled body. He knew he’d be no good today, so T’Challa typed up a message to his family and staff that he would be taking the day off. With that taken care of, all he needed to do was figure out how to get through this heat in one piece. T’Challa looked down at his dick again. It was swollen with need, and he watched as droplets of precum escaped from his tip. He couldn’t take it anymore and decided to bear through the sensitivity. Carefully, as though he might hurt himself, he reached his hand down and grabbed it in his hand. The whimper he let out was foreign to his ears, but it was all he could do when he felt the intense wave of arousal wash over him. He gritted his teeth as he began to slowly move his hand up and down his shaft. It seemed that everywhere his hand went, it left a deep burning sensation in its wake, but he just couldn’t stop. He rutted into his hand, and as soon as his thumb swiped over his reddened tip, he came undone quicker than he ever had before. His body jerked as the milky white substance spilled over his hand, and it seemed that he had plenty to give. However, instead of leaving him sated, all that did was arouse him more.

T’Challa had made a mess all over himself and decided to take a shower, but every touch of his hand, or even the water, drove him up the walls. He needed some pussy, fast. He exited the shower and allowed his body to air dry as he moisturized his mahogany skin. Minutes passed before he noticed that he was still massaging himself, too caught up in the sensation to notice the passage of time. His dick was rock hard again, and he groaned in frustration as he attempted to stuff it into silk lounge pants. He called for his breakfast to be brought to him and spent the day in his quarters, alternating between desperately jacking off and going through his contacts to find the right person. It had been so long since he had opened that figurative little black book that all of his usuals were taken, and unfortunately for him, they were hellbent on remaining faithful for some reason. As the day went on, his hunger grew in intensity, and it got to the point where neither his hand nor his sex toys could cut it anymore. He felt lost, he felt horny beyond belief, and he felt...famished.

T’Challa looked at the time again and realized that he hadn’t eaten in hours. He placed another order from the kitchen and waited impatiently for it to arrive. It wasn’t that he couldn’t wait for the food to be brought up; he was impatient because every moment that passed without him touching himself brought him more pain. He didn’t need the poor kitchen staff walking in on him feverishly pleasuring himself, so he just sat there and attempted to focus his mind elsewhere. Eventually, there was a knock at the door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

“Room service,” a melodic voice called out, and T’Challa smiled to himself at his friend’s playful tone. It was Xoliswa. He hadn’t seen her in almost a week, and he was sure she was out of town, yet here she was bringing him his dinner. Xoliswa started working in the kitchen at the palace seven years ago, and they grew close over the years. He was even in her wedding.

T’Challa unlocked the door with his beads, and she came right on in with the cart full of more food than he usually ordered.

“Somebody’s hungry today,” she joked. Just as T’Challa was about to respond with some smartass remark, an aroma hit him square in the face. It definitely wasn’t coming from the heaping portions of doro wot and rum cake he ordered. It was sickly sweet and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention, as well as something else.

The king began to salivate. “New perfume?”

“No, just the usual,” Xoliswa sighed. “Why?”

“No reason. You just smell different today is all,” he gulped to keep from drooling at her smooth, brown legs that were always on display. His eyes traveled up to the curve of her hips and the thickness of her waist before grazing over her delicious-looking chest and landing on her plump lips. Of course, he had noticed her looks before, and they would playfully banter and flirt back and forth from time to time, but this was the first time he was really seeing her beauty. Not only could he see it, but he could smell her from across the room, and his body was reacting in ways he couldn’t control. His dick sprung up and immediately started to harden as he watched her ass bounce in her flowy shorts when she pushed the cart out to the balcony. She had gone too far away, and he felt the intense need to be closer to her, so he bolted up and made his way outside with her.

“Here, let me help you.” T’Challa quickly picked up the heavy tray before she could and placed it on the table before taking his usual seat.

“I thought you didn’t feel good today,” she crossed her arms over her chest, unintentionally pushing her ample breasts even closer together. His body burned at the sight, and he visualized his lips wrapped around her undoubtedly perky nipples. He needed her body on his, but he knew he shouldn’t. Xoliswa was a friend, a confidant, a married woman...

“I don’t,” T’Challa cleared his throat and tried to focus his mind on anything but her. It wasn’t working, though. “But, uh, it’s not what you think. I just needed a day, that’s all.”

“Want to talk about it?” Xoliswa asked as she leaned against the balcony. He was acting strange, and it concerned her. “You know I’m here for you if you need me.”

“Don’t say that,” he chuckled darkly as something flared inside him.

“Why not?” she tilted her head to the side and uncrossed her arms. He would’ve sighed in relief, but she just made it worse by stepping closer to him. Xoliswa placed her hands on his shoulders the way she always did and began kneading his bare flesh. Little did he know, he wasn’t the only one fighting back their arousal. Xoliswa had a small crush on T’Challa since the moment she laid eyes on his muscular frame. Had she not been in a relationship the entire time she’d known him, she would’ve dropped down on her knees and given him the business by now. However, Xoliswa loved her husband and wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing...except for the occasional nights where she closes her eyes and all she can see is him. All she can feel is the king.

T’Challa let out a low groan as her hands worked out his stress, and as usual, the sound made Xoliswa flood the panties that had gotten wedged between her fat pussy lips. The scent of her arousal traveled straight to his nostrils, and his pupils blew wide. He jumped up and crossed the balcony in just a few quick strides, needing to get away from her before he truly lost himself to his lust.

“Seriously, what’s up with you today?!”

“N-nothing, you just...you smell so good, and- Xo, I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Xoliswa narrowed her eyes as she tried to figure out what could possibly be wrong with him...but then her eyes fell to the large dickprint in his silk pants. She had seen him in those and similar pants several times before, and although they always left little to the imagination, she had never seen him in his full Bast-given glory. But this time? This time she could almost make out every vein through the soft fabric, which made her pussy spasm with need and release more wetness.

T’Challa could see that Xoliswa was staring right at his dick, and he knew she liked what she saw by the whiff of sweet honey that wafted his way. A low rumbling started in his chest like an engine revving as the burning need in his loins intensified.

Xoliswa spoke barely above a whisper, stunned but in awe of the man before her, “Why are you-”

“My heat,” he sighed.

“Your what?”

“My heat!” T’Challa snarled, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Any other time, he would assume he had scared her, but he knew better now. He could hear her heartbeat, he could smell her dripping pussy, and he could see her hardened nipples and the way her luscious thighs rubbed together in a feeble attempt to quell the throbbing between her legs.

“W-what’s that?”

T’Challa gestured for her to take a seat, and she lowered herself into the chair across from his, squirming in her pooled fluids. Her obedience just made him harder, if that was at all possible. He gingerly sat down across from her and just stared for a moment, her breathing getting shallower with each inhale.

“One of my newly acquired panther instincts requires me to, uh, mate every three months.”

“So...you basically ovulate four times a year,” Xoliswa joked in an attempt to break the tension, but he began to growl at her again, causing them both to shudder at the other’s arousal.

“It’s more than being a little horny and fertile, Xo. I have to- no, I need to find a release, or I’ll go crazy. My whole body is on fire, and masturbating just makes it worse. I’ve been in here all day-”

“You’ve been in here jacking off all day?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s not helping?”

“Not at all.”

“Have you tried-”

“Yes. Whatever it is, I’ve tried it. Trust me.”

Silence descended upon the pair as they both stared at each other, stuck in a lustful feedback loop, chests heaving and mouths watering. Xoliswa was the first to break, so she stood and headed for the door. She had to get out of there, the atmosphere was too thick, and she couldn’t think straight with him staring at her like a piece of meat. She couldn't stand to look at him any longer or she might do something she’d regret later, but when he grabbed her wrist and looked up at her with those pitch-black eyes, she knew she was in trouble.

“Xoliswa, please,” he begged. He knew he had no business asking that of her, but he was desperate, and she just looked so damn delicious.

She bit her lip as her eyes traveled back down to his bulge that had started leaking through the fabric of his pants.

“Shit…”

“You like what you see?” his voice was lower than she’d ever heard. It seemed like everything he did turned her on more and more. T’Challa took a deep inhale so he could know for sure, and his head swarmed with the smell of her. “Yeah, you like it. I can smell that sweet pussy; it’s dripping for me, Xo.”

He had never spoken to her like that before, and every word lured her further into his trap. She had a brief moment of clarity and pulled her wrist from his grasp, taking a step back.

“T-T’Challa, I’m married-”

“Tell your body that, then,” he grumbled as he stood and stalked closer to her. She backed up with every step he took until she was wedged between his body and the doorframe. His arms went up on either side of her, and he leaned in close enough for her to feel his breath tickle her lips. “Tell me right now: do you want me?”

Her eyes darted around, desperate to look at anything but the coal irises that would surely draw her in. “I-I-”

“Say it, Xo. I want you so fucking bad,” T’Challa growled with his face buried in her neck, imprinting her scent deep in his brain. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help but take a little bite. As soon as his teeth made contact with her skin, she let out a light moan and set his body into overdrive. He pressed his hips into her, and the heat of her skin made him whimper. The noise shocked her, and she realized just how much he needed her...as if the ten inches of clothed steel pressing into her stomach wasn’t enough of a sign.

Xoliswa had secretly wanted this for a long time. In her dreams, he’d fuck her good and deep and leave her a sobbing, leaking mess. Truthfully, if he had ever come onto her before this, she probably would have caved then, too, but she thought he was too gentlemanly to do so and pushed the dirty fantasy to the back of her mind. Boy, was she wrong. Right now, T’Challa couldn’t give a shit about chivalry and certainly didn’t care about her husband. Right now, all he wanted- no, all he needed was her body.

She pulled his curls to remove him from her neck, and he growled again at the titillating pain and the loss of contact.

“You want me?” she whispered, her lips mere centimeters from his.

“Mmm, more than anything.”

Xoliswa’s hand traveled down his body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. T’Challa’s lip found its way between his teeth again as he struggled to maintain composure, but it all flew out the window when he felt her hand wrap around his throbbing length.

“Fuck! Xo, stop playing and-”

“You need me?” she teased as she pulled his pants down over his hips and let them pool at his feet. She wrapped both of her hands around his girth and stroked him softly. He was so sensitive that he jerked away from her hand, but she grabbed him and pulled him back in. Xoliswa had dreamed of this day, so why not make her dream come true?

Suddenly, T’Challa’s self-control went out of the window as he thrust into her hands and wrapped one of his much larger hands around her throat. She stared back at him with lust clouding her eyes as he met her lips for a hungry kiss. The taste of her on his tongue drove him wild, and she felt his dick begin to twitch. She picked up her pace and gripped him a little tighter, making him stick his tongue further down her throat. She melted into him. The firm grip he had on her made her knees weak, and just as they began to buckle, he pulled his lips from hers and said the three magic words he had uttered so many times in her dreams.

“On your knees.”

Xoliswa fell to the ground and looked up at him with her mouth opened wide for him to use. And use it, he did. T’Challa was surprised she could take all of him without any training, but he guessed her husband might have been around his size.

Her husband. He had a married woman on her knees, slobbering up and down his shaft. He had Xoliswa on her knees…

Just the thought of how wrong this was turned him on even more, and as if the same thought had occurred to her, Xoliswa started sucking harder. The spit foaming in the corners of her mouth and running down her chin soaked her chest, and the king longed to see more. He reached down and ripped her shirt down the middle, freeing her breasts from the confines of modern clothing. T’Challa grinned when he saw that not only was she not wearing a bra, but her nipples stood erect like two Hershey’s kisses ready for him to devour. Just the way he liked.

Xoliswa didn’t care that he had ruined her shirt; all she cared about was making her king cum. She wanted to taste him and swallow everything he had to give, so she grew impatient and turned it up a notch, fondling his balls in her hands as she sucked on him. Her tongue swirled around his tip, and he gripped her locs in his fist to hold her down on him as he exploded into her mouth. Splashes of him coated her throat, and she swallowed every last drop he gifted to her. She blinked up at him with those innocent-looking eyes as she sucked him like a straw, milking him for all he’s worth. Normally, he would get overstimulated at this point, but that seemed impossible. Xoliswa gave him the best head he’s had in a long time, but it still wasn’t enough to sate him.

T’Challa pulled her head off him, and the bridge of spit that connected them was a sight to see. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, kissing her once more to taste his saltiness on her tongue.

“You still...want...this pussy?” Xoliswa asked between kisses.

“Mmmmhmmm,” he grunted as he pushed up on her again.

Xoliswa pushed him away, and he looked at her like she had betrayed him. His face relaxed when he noticed the feral look in her eyes and the way her pheromones filled the air.

“Take what you need.”

T’Challa saw red, and the next thing he knew, he was buried deep inside her as he pounded her into the mattress. The arch in her back deepened as he fucked her rougher than her husband could have ever dreamed of. Xoliswa struggled to see as she reached for the sheets to hold onto, but he wouldn’t let her. T’Challa pinned her hands behind her back and continued to plow into her as she screamed.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that, baby! Ooooh, T’Challa-”

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“Then take it. Fucking take it!” he roared as he released inside her, but neither was ready to stop. Xoliswa loved how his cum felt dripping out of her, making her pussy even wetter than it already was. Keeping it juicy for him to do whatever he needed to do to her body.

“This tight fucking pussy, Xo,” he groaned as he slowed down and grinded into her, stirring her insides. His heavy hand came down on her ass, and she let out the most adorable squeak. He smiled and did it again and again, her pussy tightening around him with every strike until she couldn’t take it anymore. Xoliswa’s body convulsed as she came all over the king’s dick.

“T’Challaaaa!” she wailed, and he stopped to massage her cheeks.

“Too much?”

She looked back at him and smiled mischievously with a glint in her eye. “No, my king.”

“I’m your king?” he teased while rubbing her clit, making her hips circle on his dick as he stood still and let her work.

“Yessss,” she whined.

“Then cum for your king one more time. I have another load for you,” he whispered in her ear with his teeth firmly gripping the lobe. His fingers tickled the underside of her clit, and she bucked her hips. “That’s your spot, huh?”

“Y-yes, my king!”

He alternated between circling her clit and strumming the underside for barely a few moments before her pussy began to grip him again. T’Challa leaned back and watched the way her pussy spasmed on him. He couldn’t hold out and exploded inside her once more.

“Mmmm, baby, I love when you do that.”

“You love when I cum in this pussy?”

“Mmmhm,” her voice grew higher in pitch the more she felt him twitch inside her.

“Good, because I’m not done with you yet.”

T’Challa pulled out slowly, and she moaned as his bulbous head dragged across her g-spot. He flipped her over with ease and slid right back into her slippery canal. She loved how full he made her feel, how he stretched her walls and beat the breaks off her pussy. But this? This felt so good.

His hips moved slowly as he stroked deep into her and gazed into her eyes.

“I just need one more, babygirl. One more, and I think I’ll be good, ok?”

“Whatever you need, my king,” Xoliswa whispered against his lips and pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss. She wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, and he chuckled darkly.

“You want me in there deep, don’t you?”

“As deep as you can go, baby.”

“You’re filthy. Does your husband know what a little slut you are?”

Xoliswa released all over him again.

“Oh, you like when I talk about him when I’m in these guts? You like being reminded of how naughty you are, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Xoliswa nodded with tears threatening to fall from her eyes from how good it felt to have T’Challa inside her.

“Let me ask you something,” he leaned in close to her ear and thrust harder. “Does he fuck you like I do?”

Xoliswa frantically shook her head, “N-no!”

“Then you come to me whenever you need a taste of what a king can do for you.”

“Yes, baby!” she keened as he picked up the pace and dropped his weight on her.

“You know this pussy is mine, now, right? He can use it if you want him to, but this shit belongs to me. You’re fucking mine, Xoliswa.”

“T’Challa-”

“Mmmhm, say my name, babygirl. Tell them who owns this tight little pussy,” he punctuated those last three words with thrusts so deep she swore she could feel it in her ribs. “Who owns you?”

“T’Challaaaa!”

His eyes rolled back in his head at hearing his name fall from her lips. Her voice was shaky and hoarse, but she screamed his name over and over again as his hips pounded into hers, the curve of his dick angling just right to keep her creaming all over him.

“Fuck, baby, here it comes. You ready?”

Xoliswa looked him dead in the eye and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Cum in your pussy, Black Panther.”

He hadn’t expected her to call him that, but it lit something within him, and he came harder than he ever had before. He bit into her neck as he spasmed inside her, pumping her full of his essence. She came from the feeling of him releasing so much and putting it right where it belonged. Their bodies fed off each other, and when one would spasm, it would trigger the other to cum. T’Challa peppered sweet kisses all over Xoliswa’s face and spoke to her in hushed tones, “Thank you, babygirl.”

Xoliswa couldn’t speak; she could only moan incoherently. Minutes passed before their bodies began to tire of the constant state of arousal, and they slowly pulled apart. She whimpered as she felt their fluids escape her and drip slowly down her crack, and he could only watch in awe. He had never produced so much, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of Xoliswa or his heat or a combination of both. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready to give it up just yet.

“Call Abdul. Tell him you have to work tonight,” he rasped, making a devilish smile appear on her face. She knew she was in for the night of her life, and just the thought of what was to come had her playing with her overstimulated clit. He swatted her hand away and replaced it with his own. “Call him. Now. Make sure your camera is off.”

T’Challa kissed from her neck down to her chocolate nipples and took a bite, making her yip at the sensation. “Be quiet, or he’ll catch you. You don’t want that, do you?”

“N-no, my king,” she stuttered out as she pressed Abdul’s contact card and called him.

“What’s up? Aren’t you supposed to be working? Or are you slacking off with T’Challa again,” he joked, and Xoliswa locked eyes with a smug T’Challa as his tongue swirled around her nipple.

“N-no, I’m at work,” she struggled to speak as T’Challa trailed his tongue down her body and suctioned his lips around her clit. She snapped her legs shut around his head, making him pry them open with a menacing growl.

“What was that?” Abdul asked.

“What was what?” Xoliswa chuckled nervously.

“I thought I heard something. Anyways, what’s up, sweetie?”

“I, uh-” she stopped herself and muted the call for a moment to let out a moan from the pits of her soul as T’Challa showed no mercy on her. His tongue masterfully maneuvered around her clit like he designed it himself, and the three slender fingers curling inside her coaxed another orgasm out of her.

“Take him off mute right fucking now,” T’Challa ordered with a mouth full of pussy.

“Hello? Xo?”

She scrambled to unmute the call and calm her breathing down as the king nibbled on her labia and sped his fingers up inside her.

“I’m here, baby. I-have-to-work-late-so-I’m-staying-at-the-palace-tonight!”

“Wait, slow down. I can barely understand you. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok,” she giggled as T’Challa nibbled on her inner thighs. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“Oh, no problem. Don’t let T’Challa work you too hard, ok?”

“I won’t!” she squeaked.

“Good. You get back to work, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Tell him you love him,” T’Challa whispered against her pussy lips, and Xoliswa couldn’t help but oblige.

“Abdul?”

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I-I love you.”

“I love you too, Xo. Call me when you get off,” he blew her a kiss through the phone, and she hung up right as T’Challa started chuckling.

“You almost got us caught!” she fussed.

“You liked it. Don’t lie.”

Xoliswa bit her lip to hide her smile, but it didn’t work.

“Maybe a little.”

“Mmmhm. Nasty slut, letting me use you like this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Xoliswa’s pussy jumped, and T’Challa couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Maybe you should teach me a lesson,” Xoliswa moaned as she ground her hips on his fingers, and his dick hardened right back up. “Or punish me.”

“Fuck, Xo, where have you been all my life?” he groaned and pulled his fingers from her, lining the head of his dick up with her entrance.

“Married...to my husband,” Xoliswa teased. T’Challa’s nostrils flared, and she knew it was on.

She wouldn’t be getting any sleep that night.

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @nahimjustfeelingit-writes, @dersha89

[vibraniumwing]

wildest dreams.

a steve rogers x fem!reader wherein the reader falls in love with the super soldier who can’t seem to let go of the past. 

WARNING: angst, one-sided relationships, set four years after the snap. 

A/N: hello !!! this is the first marvel fic i’m posting and i am very nervous about it aha. i hope all of you would like it though !! i’m kind of back into the flow of things for writing (since im on a one week break from school) but im still trying to maneuver through it. this is inspired by wildest dreams; complementary tissues are here if needed.

word count: 3.7K.

---

Your attitude died the same day your little brother turned to dust in your arms four years ago. The fear and pain his face had was burned into the back of your mind, haunting you on a daily basis; his cries echoing in your head.

But things seemed to change when your aunt introduced you to the talks the remaining Avengers had weekly for the people who were still struggling with the sudden loss of their loved ones; seeing and meeting people who were going through the similar struggle as you helped a lot in coping with the eternal torture that you had. 

That’s when you met him; the man who held your heart in the palm of his hands. Steve Rogers. 

---

“How come you’ve only started going to these meetings after four years?” Kenzie, a girl who’s a few years younger than you asked, causing everyone in the meeting circle to look at you. Your eyes widened at the sudden question, feeling a slight tinge of pink creep up on your cheeks at the attention you’ve gained. 

You bit your lower lip as you contemplated whether or not to answer the question, “I- I had a hard time accepting my brother’s gone since he's my only family. I locked myself up for the last four years, rarely talking to anyone until my aunt forced me to get into these types of things and well now I go here whenever my days get really bad. I had to move on somehow.” You answered, tone laced with truthfulness, giving her a small smile. 

“Well we’re both glad and proud you’re here and that you’ve decided to move on from what happened.” Steve spoke up, making everyone look at him, including you. His blue eyes peering into yours, giving you a small nod which you reciprocated, the eye-contact causing the others words of agreement and encouragement to be drowned out. 

The rest of the meeting flew by as normal as the superhero continued to talk about how everyone should move on from what happened一  accompanied with the occasional stolen glances Steve gives you一 and soon enough, everyone was giving each other hugs and bidding their goodbyes until the next meeting.

You were grabbing your jacket when someone tapped your shoulder, looking back you saw the super soldier look at you with a somewhat nervous glint in his eyes, “You’re Y/N, right?” He asked, showing you a small grin as he pushed his hands inside of his pocket. 

“You have the right person, Mr. Rogers.” You answered, unsure of why he would suddenly come up to you.  It didn’t even take you a second to register the rather homey smell of laundry detergent and a hint of a manly perfume you couldn’t put a name on that he sported. 

“I’ve been seeing you a lot in these sessions一 I, I was wondering if you would like to go grab some dinner sometime?” He asked awkwardly, unsure of how to sentence the thoughts that were inside his mind. 

Your eyebrow quirked at the male who was normally eloquent and sure of his words, is now fumbling over how to ask you out for dinner but who were you to say no to such a rare opportune to spend some time with the male, “I… I would love to.” 

And that was the start of it all. 

--- 

At first he was worried about the situation the both of you had, fearing that you might be hated for once the word goes out to the public that you were dating him so you compromised, telling him that no one has to know what the both of you do; that it was okay for him to keep you as his secret, admitting that all of this gave you a thrill.

Until eight months later, Steve had finally said he had enough of hiding and offered to take you to the Avengers compound where he introduced you to the rest of the heroes who were working hard to keep everything intact after the tragic event that happened a little well-over four一almost five一 years ago.

“Steve, do you think they liked me?” You had asked him, eyes trained to the ground as the both of you walked around the Facility, hands tucked behind your back as the cool air of the setting sun wafted around the both of you. There was silence on his end before he spoke up, “Nat wouldn’t have choked on her drink at that joke you made if she didn’t.” 

You looked up at him, a hopeful smile adorning your lips, “So does that mean I’m accepted here, then?” It was kind of ridiculous to ask that question after hearing him just say that Natasha laughed at your joke, but all he did was nod and wrap his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in. 

“Even if they didn’t, they have no choice. You’re stuck with me.”

The mere memory made you smile as you drove into the facility, having the intention of surprising him with a gift you had made him; a painting of the first photo you two took together, at Time Square.

You and Steve were on another spontaneous road trip; he was free for the day and had asked you to accompany him to drive around New York and before you could even decline, he was already knocking at your apartment door, ready to pick you up. 

The day was filled with quiet laughter as you introduced him to newer music and those timeless masterpieces that he missed out on during his 70 year freeze. “I can’t believe you don’t listen to Queen! That band is a whole icon!” You called him out as you started to play Bohemian Rhapsody in the background. “I’m introducing you to the basics.” 

“Hey I don’t have as much free time as you, you know.” Steve said, stepping on the gas as you two finally entered the rather empty streets of Times Square. 

Your day was filled with laughs and banter as you continued to introduce him to newer songs, occasionally playing some older tunes that he could enjoy himself and talked about how his life was before he was dunked into the ice. “Must’ve been a real hard time for you to grasp on to everything suddenly being so modern.” You commented, looking up from your phone to give him a small smile. 

“Oh trust me, it gave me quite the shock waking up to see everything so… new and foreign. But I had to learn一adapt even to what happened.” He started off, slowing down the car for him to look up at the large skyscrapers. “I had to move on or else I would still be miserable until now.” He said, tongue clicking at the top of his mouth. 

The car came into a full stop making you look at him in confusion. “Why’d you stop the car?” But he didn’t answer, instead he got out and jogged around the car to open the door for you. You stepped out, brows still furrowed. “We didn’t have the luxury to take that many photos back in the day and I would regret it if I didn’t have one with you.” He said, rubbing the nape of his neck. 

Breaking out into a smile, you agreed almost instantly and pulled your phone out, quickly opening the camera. “This is a selfie, alright?” You said, not forgetting to tease him, earning you an eye roll from the male. “I’m not that outdated!” he retorted, pulling you into him as he motioned you to take the photo. 

You were snug in his arms as you put the phone up, “To more memories with you, Captain.” 

You were all smiles the moment you parked your car and grabbed the canvas from the trunk, heading inside the compound where Nat instructed you to go around when you bumped into Rhodey who was quick to recognize you, “Hey you’re Cap’s girl, right?” which made you shake your head hesitantly, causing the other to look at you with a bamboozled expression. “What do you mean ‘no’?” 

“Well, Steve hasn’t asked me out officially but that’ll change soon enough. I made him this gift and will actually ask him. A bit odd I know, but if neither of us would make a move then this would probably drag on.” You confessed, grinning at the soldier excitedly who now had an amazed expression on his face. “Alright then. He’s in the office with Romanoff so knock yourself out.”

You were nearing the office when you overheard the conversation between assassin and Steve. 

“So when are you officially going to ask Y/N out?” The female asked, making your heart race in anticipation and hope that he might actually ask you to be his soon. However, the quietness that followed made your excitement go down and your heart to drop to your stomach; the giddiness you were feeling was replaced with worry as negative thoughts started to infiltrate your mind. 

A sigh was finally heard from the other end, “Nat, I haven’t been completely honest with you. I… I don’t think I ever will.” The latter started off, heaving another sigh as a shuffle of feet was resonating through the quiet room. “It’s just… Y/N’s a great girl you know? I thought I could love her but she’s一 she’s not like Peggy.”

You could hear Nat scoff lightly, probably in disapproval, “Then why’d you lead her on like this? That’s an asshole move from you, Steve.” and you couldn’t agree more. Your mouth was held over your mouth as you tried your best not to make any sound, wanting to hear more from his side before you make your presence known; in foolish hopes that he might be able to move on and be with you instead. 

“I… I honestly don’t know how to bring it up to her. She seems so happy with me and I don’t have the heart to tell her I don’t like her the same way she does with me.” He answered, voice laced with regret and guilt that he made you believe in something that wasn’t even possible in the first place.

That’s when your dreams of being with him was shattered; the visions you had of being in a family with him and living the rest of your days together were turned into dust. You were aware of the history Steve had with the woman; how he met her before subsequently falling into the ice that would freeze him. He made you feel so loved and convinced you that what you were feeling was reciprocal to his but you were wrong. 

So damn wrong. 

Suddenly, the promises he made of being with you until time permits became a blur to you, those late night talks of imagining what could happen if he and the others were to save the world and him bringing back your younger brother seemed like a far-fetched dream which shattered you even more. 

So with every strong fiber that you had left within you, you re-emerged from your hiding spot and looked at the two heroes, Steve being the first one to see you, the color from his face drained. “Y/N I could expl一” 

“Save it. Delete my name from your contacts, Rogers. I’m sorry I was foolish enough to think you would like me.” You told him, walking over to where he was to give the painting you worked so hard on, shoving it into his hands and mustering up the courage to look at him again. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry I couldn’t be your best girl.” 

And then you ran, pretending not to hear him calling out for you; you ran all the way to the parking lot and by the time you could lean onto the door of your car, you were breathless and choking on the tears you fought hard to not spill but it was all too much. 

As you drove away, a part of you hoped he ran after you but you were foolish enough to even hope so because he never did.

---

You sat by the window of your brother’s room, looking out into the empty streets of Manhattan. After the incident with Steve, you were left to fend for yourself again and it left you feeling lonelier than ever. He never contacted you, not even once after everything the two of you have been through. It seems like you were just a memory that was easy for him to forget. 

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes once again when you heard something swoosh from the other side of the room. Snapping your head to the side, you could see something or someone form from dust and that’s when you realized it was your younger brother. 

Rising to your feet, you sprinted over to where he was, “Xavier?” You whispered, choking up on tears as your little brother’s doe eyes looked up at you in disbelief and fear. He was only five years old when he disappeared into nothing and it looks like he hasn’t aged even a day. His arms immediately sprung up to ask for your embrace to which you complied with. 

You scooped the toddler up in your arms and hugged him tightly, fearing he might disappear again. Then you heard it, the streets outside were filled with screams of confusion and terror as people started forming again one by one, chaos ensuing outside of your quiet home; but you were tranquil, because you knew Steve had kept his promise of giving you your brother back, of making everyone else return. 

---

It's been a good week since everyone has gone back, people still trying to process everything that has happened. Families were and still are reconnecting, businesses and government officials are trying to get a hold of things together. 

Your life was slowly going back to normal. Your little brother was back meaning the small house you live in is starting to be filled with joyous laughter again as the little tyke's energy was bursting at the seams. 

You and your aunt watched as Xav played with the teddy bear she got for him upon her visit, "Everything seems so much lighter with the little troublemaker around, isn't it?" She asked, glancing at you as she continued to knead the dough of the cookies she's making for you and your brother. 

"It definitely is. Suddenly this place feels like home aga—" Your sentence was cut in the middle when a loud knock came from your door making your brows furrow. 

"Oh were you expecting anyone?" Your aunt asked, you shook your head in response but before you could answer her your brother's voice resonated through the house. "I'll get it!" but what you expected next was the last thing you could have ever expected. 

“Y/N! It’s- It’s Captain America!” Xavier’s voice was a pitch higher due to his excitement upon seeing the superhero then his laughter soon followed. Your aunt gave you a surprised yet knowing look, motioning you to go to the door. “You better go and ask the man what he wants from you. I’m not listening to your excuses, go.” 

You knew better than to argue with the woman so you slowly made your way to the front door where you saw Steve who sported a few wounds to his face carrying your little brother, his smile wide as he answered questions the child asked. “I think Cap has had enough questions to answer, Xav. Go back inside.” You told him, much to the five year old’s dismay. 

“But Y/N! I haven’t asked一” “I’ll be back later to answer those okay? Go listen to your sister.” Steve was the one to answer now, setting Xavier down and patted his head. He gave the super-soldier a thumbs up and ran inside, giddily telling your aunt that he got carried by the blonde. 

The two of you stared at each other quietly, before you decided to speak up. “How about we go to the backyard and speak there, yeah?” You offered, making some room for him to enter the house, to which he agreed with, entering your humble home. Upon closing the door, you whispered a quiet “let’s go” to him and led him to the back of your house. 

You sat down by the lone tree that stood in the middle of your garden, patting down the space next to you. “So what brings you here?” You asked once he sat down, turning to the male with a small yet hesitant smile. 

“I’m returning the infinity stones tomorrow but before that I want to apologize.” Steve started off, looking into the distance as he couldn’t bring himself to look into your E/C orbs that he once found comfort in, fearing that it might be filled with hatred for him. “I’m not sure how much you heard that night but I have… no excuse for what I did to you. I thought I could love you, that I could move on but I guess I’m still stuck in the past.” He admitted, tone quiet and soft like the rustles of the leaves that hovered above the both of you. 

“I came to you because you reminded me of Peggy. It was selfish of me to even approach you with that intention in the first place but I can assure you that every moment we shared together is something that I cherish deeply. Even一 even the first kiss we had right under this tree right here.” He finished, a sad sigh following his sentence. 

It was a cool night and you were drifting off to sleep when you heard something tap the windows of your room, causing you to sit up and walk towards the source of the noise to see Steve gathering more rocks. Opening the window, “Steve? What on earth are you doing here?” You asked, amused at his antics that seemed too out of character even for him. 

“I came to see you! You aren’t going to the session tomorrow, right?” Steve said, motioning you to come down. His smile was big as the moon shined over him, defining his facial structure even more despite the darkness of the night. 

You shook your head in disbelief, you had told him that you weren’t going to attend this week due to the fact that it was supposed to be your brother’s tenth birthday today and you had every intention to celebrate for him. “Go to the back! I’ll meet you there.” You told him, motioning to the garden at the back of your childhood home. 

You quickly threw on a pair of pajama pants and headed down, grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen pantry before heading out to the backyard where you saw him sitting down by the tree and waved for you to come on over to him. 

You plopped down next to him and his arms were instantly around you, “How old is your brother by tomorrow?” He asked, squeezing you to him gently as he placed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. His familiar scent greets your senses, causing you to completely ease up in his touch. 

“Xav’s supposed to be ten tomorrow. I promised him I would take him to the beach for this tenth birthday so I have every intention of doing so even without him here.” You answered, the familiar feeling of sadness forming in your chest at the idea of spending another birthday without him; it was too painful for you. 

Comfortable silence then wrapped the both of you before he spoke up again, “I promise I’m getting your brother back. I don’t know how we can do that, but I promise you I will.” Determination was dripping through every word, making you look up at him as hopefulness filled your eyes. Your gaze met before you leaned in to connect your lips with his for a quick kiss. 

Realizing your actions, you looked at him in shock as a hand hovered over your lips. “Steve I’m so sorry” but you were quickly silenced when his plush tiers met yours for another kiss, this time longer and filled with more emotions. The both of you kissed until you had to break away due to the lack of oxygen, resting your forehead against his. 

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N.” 

You chuckled softly at the memory, a sad smile on your lips as you decided to speak up, “Did you ever regret meeting me, Steve?” You questioned, staring off into the distance as the feeling of defeat consumed you. There was a shift in his position as his hand cupped your cheek, making you look at him. 

His brows were furrowed as he shook his head, “No, I could never regret meeting you. The only regret I have is with myself. For making you love me when I couldn’t even love you back.”

You leaned into his touch as tears flowed down from your eyes, your sobs following as your heart broke more. There was no denying you had fallen for him, that you had fallen quite hard for him but you couldn’t keep him to yourself; not when he’s still in love with the woman he met decades ago. “Thank you for giving me a chance to love you.” You whispered, thankful for the time he spent with you; for making you feel like he was yours for even just a fleeting moment. 

No words left his mouth as he leaned in to give you another kiss. Unlike the many you’ve shared, this one was chaste and had guilt written all over it. “I have to go.” He then said, hugging you for the last time as he stood up. 

Your hand stopped him from going any further, he looked back down at you with a curious gaze. With the last strong thread that you had, you mustered up a big smile at him. "I hope you still remember me; us. Even if it's just in your wildest dreams." before letting him go. 

“I’ll always remember you, Y/N.” 

---

TAGLIST: will be fixed soon!

[secretsfromwholecloth]

💋⚡️⛺️❤️(👀👀👀👀xD)🔞?

(From these asks.)

💋: favourite romance?

Like 85% of Lann’s romance is aimed squarely at me, and the rest is certainly nice enough to enjoy in its context. Like I said on Discord, it’ll probably continue to be my comfort romance that I go for when I have no other plans, like Tekēhu in PoE. That said, I’ve also quite enjoyed what I’ve seen of Arueshalae and Daeran’s romances over the virtual shoulders of you and others on Discord, and they’re both very much in my queue. (Especially Arue, who I saw the first part of anyway when Ounai blundered into flirting with her—time to see the rest!)

⚡️: favourite (or current) mythic path?

Gold Dragon is delightful, especially if you like being nice and helpful enough to want to play Be Nice And Helpful: The Mythic Path. (And Hal’s a great dad, plus he comes with some fun dragon aunties and uncles.) What I saw of Angel on the way there I really liked, and I want to ride it out all the way to the end one day for additional himbo time, if nothing else. Azata would be awfully saccharine in isolation, but within the context of the otherwise rather grim events of the game, it’s a lovely breath of fresh air, and its Friendly Hug spell is the closest thing to a hug button I’ve seen in any RPG I’ve played, plus Aivu is terminally adorable. I’m also looking forward to ripping out my own heart and stomping on it with Aeon, plus maybe giving Trickster and Legend a look at some point. We’ll see which path I end up using for the secret ending.

⛺️: what’s your favourite camp banter?

Oh dear gods, there are so many. There is so much of everything in this game, it’s huge. a) Nearly all of the intra-party dynamics are delightful, and b) there’s so much it all kind of runs together, so it’s really hard for me to single one out, though Woljif’s jealousy banters (plus his one where he’s so desperate for family connections that he speculates that his demon grandfather may have been a cousin of Arue’s and she tells him it’s for the best that he takes after his human side more), Nenio expounding on her “high fluffiness quotient and aesthetically pleasing hue”, and Greybor grousing about how he’s turning into a goody-two-shoes crusader all leap to mind. Also Regill grouchily declaring his utter lack of interest in either naked people or people faking desire for him put a huge smile on my face for obvious reasons.

❤️: any npcs you liked, or even wished you could romance?

Yes, my dear, we all love the himbo. I’m not, like, desperate for a Hand romance or anything, but if there were one it would’ve gone right into my queue—he’s our friend, despite that one bit where he Does The Thing, and intense friendships the way I understand and experience them generally map best onto romances when it comes to RPG relationships. Beyond him, I love Aivu very much, Anevia and Irabeth are great and I’m so glad I got them a happy ending on my first run, and I sure do love Red Mask for reasons that definitely don’t involve the word “aspirational” at all, where would you get that idea. *eye-twitchies* 

🔞: do you have any nsfw headcanons, either for ocs or canon characters?

...I don’t not have them? It’s not the sort of thing I think of until I know a character quite well, and I have specific tastes that tend towards the “deadly boring” end of the spectrum, so I’m not the best source unless you’ve got specific questions. Besides, I get pretty uncomfortable about telling on myself publicly, so anything I post will be very vague. That said (putting a cut here to spare my readers’ delicate sensibilities):

Everything about celestials is beautiful, down to their bodily fluids smelling like perfume and looking like liquid gemstones and body parts that aren’t aesthetic-looking on anyone else somehow being so on them. Whether aasimar get a touch of this is down to the genetic lottery, I suppose. (Ounai got just enough to be weirdly alluring even when she’s objectively a filthy mess.)

Speaking of celestials, if the Hand is half again to twice as tall as your typical human, then assuming average proportions, it ought to be on the far upper end of what you find in human-sized humans. Do with this information what you will.

Back in the late ‘90s or thereabouts, I read someone’s homebrew D&D supplement online—I want to say it was “The AD&D Guide to Sex”, and you know it was the ‘90s because the AD&D label was still a thing—that included a feat where high-level paladins would urinate pure holy water. Was it probably put there by someone with a piss fetish? Yes. Is it hilarious enough that I immediately adopted it as my personal headcanon despite that? Also yes.

I remain mostly agnostic on the Lann genitalia controversy except that I put my foot down about him having scales on there, because ow. Human skin only, please.

Speaking of Lann, I’m sure dating norms aren’t the only thing he does intensive research on before his romance finale. I leave as an exercise to the reader who exactly he asked what questions.

Riftmarked tieflings are supposed to be fucking weird-looking. Where are my tentacles, Owlcat? Visekot could be using them for such delightful things. Just imagine. I’m not even going to try pinning down her genital situation, either. Enh, she and Lann will figure something out.

[19tozier]

wish you were sober (richie tozier)

warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex, angst, pining, reader is an unreliable narrator at best

inspired by the song wish you were sober by conan gray

[losers + reader are 16+]

if someone were to ask you when you fell in love with richie, you don’t think you’d be able to answer them.

was it when you met him, thirteen and wild and so magnetic you couldn’t stay away from him? was it when you followed him into a sewer, endlessly terrified but trying to be as brave as he made you think you could be? was it when you looked at him and realized he had grown up right in front of you, and you hadn’t realized? or was it all the little moments in between, the mundane and the electric all in one?

you have no clue. all you know is this: you’re in love with richie tozier, and there’s nothing you can fucking do about it.

you bring your cup to your mouth, the edge of it pressing into your bottom lip. you don’t take a drink from it; you’re already a little buzzed, and you’re reluctant to get any drunker. you don’t want to do anything you’ll regret.

across the room from you, somehow perfectly visible despite the mass of dancing bodies separating you from him, richie leans against the wall, his arm around the waist of his girlfriend, who isn’t you.

you exhale as slowly as you can. inside of your chest, your heart feels like it is poised to shatter.

it shouldn’t shock you anymore. richie has a new girlfriend seemingly every month, a revolving-door of pretty girls that giggle when he kisses them and wear his jean jacket around school but ultimately never stay long. richie never offers explanation as to why they break up and you never ask. you’re afraid of whatever it is he might say. you’re afraid of knowing you’re not good enough for him if all of them weren’t.

you sigh. you’re such a fucking cliche. falling in love with your best friend, silently pining away as if it’ll make him notice you? you’d gag at the thought if it wasn’t your life.

a shoulder brushing against yours distracts you from your thoughts, and you glance over to see stan’s expectant face. he raises an eyebrow at you. “you alright?”

you want to scream. no, you’re not alright. you don’t think you’ve been alright since before you were officially a loser. but you can’t say that to stan, not without being perfectly honest, so you arrange your features into something resembling a smile. “what’s up, buttercup?”

stan scoffs. “you’ve been spending too much time with richie.”

will it ever stop hurting, the constant reminder of how close you are with richie but never close enough? “or he’s been spending too much time with me,” you say, sniffing arrogantly. the facade you put on sometimes is easier than breathing.

stan rolls his eyes. “sure, that’s it.” he pauses, squinting at you. “are you sure you’re okay? you look… upset, i guess.”

you snort, taking a sip of your drink as an excuse not to respond right away. your heart is in your throat at the idea of being caught. “you guess? gee, thanks stan.”

he narrows his eyes at you, his nostrils flaring slightly. behind him, bill is jumping onto mike’s back, laughing loudly. “shut up, you know what i meant. are you alright? seriously.”

you don’t give yourself time to hesitate. stan has a sixth sense for when he’s being lied to and won’t stop pestering you until you tell him the truth, and you’d like to not confess to him tonight. “yeah, stan,” you grin, feeling the lie like sawdust in your mouth. “i’m all good.”

he gives you a skeptical look, searching your face, but eventually he just sighs and nods. “alright, fine. if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

you nod back, glad you managed to escape that. “thanks, dude. hey, i’m gonna go grab a different drink, i’ll be right back.”

you don’t wait for him to say anything, or for anyone else to come with you. you just slip away, using the hordes of drunk teenagers to your advantage until you manage to get to the kitchen.

your shoulders slump, the smile you’d painted onto your face slipping away. slowly, you pour the rest of your shitty beer down the sink, opening the fridge and rifling around until you find a soda, stealing it before you can talk yourself out of it. whoever’s house this is won’t care, and besides, you think you need it.

when you leave the kitchen, your eyes fall to the spot where richie had been leaning. the wall is empty now.

pathetically, your eyes fill with tears. of course you know richie has a lot of sex, considering the self-satisfied smirk he’ll wear after getting fucked combined with the rumors that follow him like the perfume of whatever girl he’s seeing. the worst part is they aren’t even bad rumors; you’d lost count of the amount of times you had heard of how good a lover he is, or how his dick is as big as he’s often bragging, or how he does this thing with his mouth that feels like absolute heaven—

you’d heard enough. too much, probably. and it burrowed into your brain like the most insidious of weeds, sprouting thoughts you never should have let take root.

but of course richie was off fucking his girl. she was gorgeous, after all, easily one of the prettiest girls you’d ever seen, all smooth tanned skin and long blonde hair and hourglass figure. the kind of girl that richie deserved to have on his arm. the kind of girl that you would never be.

you knew this would happen. still, the pain of it takes your breath away.

you manage to stumble your way back over to the losers, greeting them with a smile that feels entirely too wooden. you play the part, laughing with bev and leaning into ben’s shoulder and gossiping quietly with eddie. you stick to your script, even when richie stumbles down the stairs sometime later with the girl tucked under his arm, both of their clothes in disarray and richie’s curls a wild mess. you’re such a seasoned professional that you barely miss a beat with eddie, even when your eyes find the hickey sucked under richie’s jaw and stay there.

for the rest of the night, you do your best to stay away from richie, always at least one loser between you two. you doubt he notices, too wrapped up in his girl. you think her name is sandy. she’s so beautiful it hurts.

eventually, you think it’s probably late enough that you can leave without raising much of a fuss. all of the other losers are still there, but bev’s already dozing against ben’s shoulder and bill is fighting a losing battle with his own drooping eyelids. you can probably slip out now, you figure, before you fall apart.

you manage to say your goodbyes as quickly as possible, waving as you turn to leave. you drove here with the others in stan’s car but it’s not too far of a walk. besides, the cold might do you some good—

a hand wraps around your wrist, jerking you back against a broad chest. when you turn, you come face to face with one richie tozier.

god, years later and he’s still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. his jawline is sharp and square, his shoulders broad and sturdy, a whisper of the strength he will carry as a man but no less impressive now. gone are the days of the dorky kid you first met; he’d long ago traded in his hawaiian shirts for jean jackets and ripped jeans, silver rings glinting around his fingers and a chain hanging into the open collar of his t-shirt. again, you are reminded of the rumors that constantly follow him. you’re just angry they didn’t think he was hot from the very beginning.

“where are you going?” he asks, his words slurred. he’d been downing the shitty spiked punch earlier like it was his job.

you sigh, tilting your head back to look at him. there’s another hickey just to the left of his adam’s apple. “home,” you say, simply. “i’m tired.”

he frowns, stepping closer to you. the heat radiates off of him. “but i haven’t gotten to talk to you all night,” he whines, pouting ridiculously. “i missed you.”

it shouldn’t affect you. richie flirts like breathing, with anyone who will entertain him. it’s just how close you two are that means his flirting is usually aimed at you. “sorry, rich,” you say, and you find that you mean it. “next time, okay?”

his fingers release your wrist, only to catch on the curve of your waist and pull you close. the heat of his hand burns through the flimsy material of your top. you’re so focused on trying to stay upright just from that simple touch that you almost miss what he says next.

“can i come with you?” his voice is low, rough, more of a growl than anything else.

you blink, stupefied. usually you’re quicker than this, able to keep up a banter with him that’s rivaled only by him and eddie. now, you’re left tongue-tied, the endless wanting inside of you threading around your throat and choking you. “what?”

“can i come with you?” he repeats, looking down at you with his pretty eyes. his glasses slide down his nose. you fight the urge to push them back up. “we can take my truck. this party’s kind of a bore, honestly.”

you swallow, feeling your heart stutter. “what about sandy?” your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.

richie shrugs, casual as all hell and infuriatingly attractive. “she can last without me for a bit. i’d rather hang out with my favorite girl.” he grins at you, his dimples curving into his cheek.

it makes you want to scream. he says things like this all the time, calls you doll and baby and love like he has the fucking right, constantly says you’re the most important person in his life. and yet, he doesn’t feel the same way for you as you do for him. and he never will.

still, you’re a sucker for him. your lips curl into a weak smile. “sure, rich,” you whisper; any louder and your voice will crack. “let’s get out of here.”

he doesn’t even stop to say goodbye to anyone else, just crowding against your back and walking behind you the entire way out the front door. he’s so close that his chest brushes against your shoulder blades, his fingertips grazing over your hip. you focus on not tripping.

once you’re outside, you hold your hand out, not looking at him. “keys,” you command.

he laughs, full and bright as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “yes, nurse ratched,” he teases, dropping them into your hand. “right away, nurse ratched.”

you scowl at him, turning away to stomp your way down the block to where richie parked. it’s not a long walk but the late autumn night is chilly, especially through the thin material of your top and your skirt. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself.

before you can really react, richie’s shrugging off his jacket, settling the heavy denim over your shoulders. he’s just wearing a plain black t-shirt underneath, the cotton clinging to his biceps and chest, and you can’t tear your eyes away, even when he murmurs, “should’ve said you were cold, doll.”

the jacket smells like him: the apple of his shampoo, the warmth of his deodorant, the smoke from his cigarettes. it shouldn’t be a pleasant scent but it is, because it means comfort. it means home. it means your best friend and the love of your life.

your shoulders slump, your hand trembling when you finally reach his truck and reach for the driver’s side handle. “thanks, richie,” you breathe, climbing into the car before he can answer.

you don’t really know what he had in mind when he asked to leave with you, but you’re too overwhelmed to handle being alone with him for too long. already, having him this close is fogging your brain. you need to get away from him so you can fall apart in peace.

you decide to just take him home and walk from there. it proves to be the best choice, because not even a minute into your drive his chin is dropping down to his chest, his eyelids closing in longer and longer blinks until finally, he’s dozing in the front seat, big body curled in your direction. it fills you with so much warmth you think you are burning from the inside out.

it should be ridiculous, how much you love him. you should be at your limit for how much you have to give, capped out a long time ago, but everyday you fall for him a little bit more. whenever he does something particularly sweet, or funny, or attractive, you feel a little more of yourself crumble away to lay at his feet. at this point, you’re more fracture than glass, crushed into a fine powder under richie’s foot.

by the time you pull into richie’s driveway, he’s snoring lightly, his glasses knocked askew on his face. part of you wants to let him sleep, but the bigger part of you knows you need to get him into the house. you already slack on your best friend duties by secretly being in love with him, you don’t need to leave him out in the cold too.

sighing, you turn the key and shut the car off, getting out and walking around to the passenger side. you shake his shoulder, gently at first, then rougher when he doesn’t respond. he grumbles, swatting at you. you can’t help but laugh, shaking him again.

“rich,” you croon, shaking him with both hands. he groans, scrunching his face up. you snicker. “c’mon asshole, you’re too heavy for me to carry.”

he pries one eye open, glaring at you. “or you’re too small to even try,” he taunts back, sticking his tongue out.

you roll your eyes, tugging him out of the car. he goes easily enough, stumbling a little bit leaning into your side as you lock the car behind you.

you weren’t kidding when you said he was heavy. he’s just so much bigger than you, tall and broad and undeniably masculine. you try your best to take some of his weight with an arm curved around his waist, but you don’t think you’re really doing anything.

the lights are all off inside, richie’s parents gone for the weekend at some conference for his dad’s work. it makes you feel better about how you two stumble around in the dark, knocking into the walls and tripping over the stairs. finally, without much incident, you make it into richie’s room, depositing him on his bed before he can fall and brain himself on his table. his desk light is on, throwing the room into shadow but just light enough for you to see his face.

his curls spread around him on his pillow, his eyes already closed. he’s on top of his covers but there’s not much you can do about that. the only thing you can do is untie his boots and pluck his glasses from his face, letting him get as comfortable as he can with his clothes still on.

you stop, looking down at him. he’s almost angelic in his sleep, peaceful and quiet for probably the only time in his life. he’s so gorgeous like this, vulnerable, unguarded. it makes you feel like a creep to be looking at this without his knowledge. or his approval.

biting your lip, you turn to the door, only stopping when you realize you still have his jacket. carefully, you shrug it off, going to lay it on his bed when his voice stops you.

“keep it.”

you look up to see his eyes half-open, locked on you. the lamp throws his face into sharp angles and shadow, but the expression on his face is soft. his fingers stretch towards you.

“it looks good on you,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “you should wear it all the time.”

you don’t know what to say, frozen at the foot of his bed. it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted, before you remember that he’s drunk and out of his mind. he probably thinks you’re sandy. there’s no way he’d ever say that to you.

but he keeps going, his voice rough, smooth velvet over steel. “you look good all the time. makes me feel insane. just wanna touch you but i can’t.”

your heartbeat is pounding in your ears. through trembling lips, you manage to get out, “what about sandy?”

he shrugs, a tiny movement that feels unsure. you’ve never seen him shy like this. the fact that sandy’s likely the reason makes you burn inside. “she’s cool and all, but she’s not you. you’re my best friend, (y/n). i love you.”

you gasp softly, nowhere near loud enough for him to hear. your heart feels like it’s being pulled in two. “i love you too, rich. more than you could ever understand.”

but he shakes his head firmly. “no, you don’t get it. i love you. you’re my—you’re my other half. my partner in crime. i’d be lost without you.” before you can respond, he sighs and whispers, “wish you were my girlfriend. not sandy.”

his eyes slip closed the next instant. as you stand there, simultaneously turned to stone and burning alive, he gives a soft snore, his features relaxing in sleep.

you stare down at him for what feels like centuries, suddenly too old to move. you look down at the jacket in your arms, then back up to him. a loose curl lays against his forehead. your fingers itch to push it behind his ear.

“i wish you were sober,” you whisper. he doesn’t twitch.

you leave the jacket laid at the foot of his bed when you go.

(part two)

[tsrookie]

Illicit Affairs

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Alyssa Brooks)

A/N: Hey everyone! So this is my first time writing a fic and... I’m pretty nervous😅 Massive thanks to @kaavyaethanramsey and @ohramsey for pre-reading this fic. Thanks so much for your support you guys!

Song Inspiration: Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift

Word Count: 2463, so yeah, I went a lil overboard😬

Warnings: One curse word. Pretty tame besides that.

Summary: My version of what might’ve went on in MC’s head after the kiss in Chapter 8. And uh, excuse the Taylor Swift references😁

——————————————

Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you’re out for a run

You’ll be flushed when you return

She watched the lights of Boston city pass in a blur as her head reeled from what had just happened. Ethan Ramsey had kissed her. Not the other way around like it had been for a very long time. She was still flushed from the encounter and had no idea what to make of it.

She got out of the cab and walked to her apartment in a haze. “God I hope no one’s still awake.”, she thought to herself as she was about to open the door. But as fate would have it, Jackie was curled up on the couch with her phone. “Where on earth have you been?”, she asked, as Alyssa’s mind struggled to give a proper answer. She’d told Sienna about her whereabouts and had hoped that she would’ve given the others an explanation. “Just went for a walk. Needed to clear my head after that match.”, she finally said. Jackie skeptically raised an eyebrow at her but didn’t ask anything else. She was grateful for that, as she had enough on her mind already.

Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

She flopped down on her bed as her heart raced. “Why? Of all the 7 billion people on the planet I could’ve fallen for, why did it have to be my boss? Anyone, just about anyone else would’ve been great.” She hated herself for this reason ever since they first kissed in Miami. Her heart always aspired to rise higher, but the more she had to lose along with it. Be it in her career, or a relationship.

She knew that it would be hard for her family to see her leave for Boston, since her brother had also left a couple of years ago to London and could barely get enough time to make a call once in three months. She didn’t blame him though, he was her big brother and she loved him no matter what. But it broke her heart to see the looks on her parents’ faces when they found out that she was going to leave Cedar Cove too. They’d always been a tight-knit family and her parents had hoped that she would find a good job somewhere close by. But getting matched to Edenbrook was her dream come true and they didn’t want her to give up on it as they’d supported her from the moment she’d decided that she wanted to become a doctor.

She didn’t want to lose them. She was scared that she wouldn’t be able to stay in touch with them if she left, but thankfully, she managed to squeeze in some time every weekend to make a FaceTime call.

Then came Ethan Ramsey. Her medical hero, her inspiration for becoming a doctor, the reason she applied to Edenbrook. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that she would spend the second year of her residency working under him in one of the most prestigious diagnostics teams in the country, and possibly, even the world.

But ever since she first saw him for just Ethan, and not the world famous Dr. Ramsey, her heart longed to fill that missing void in him. She saw past his name and saw him with all his flaws and imperfections. The real Ethan Ramsey was nothing like the man she’d idolized throughout med school. He was an utter mess. But he was the mess that she wanted. She could’ve let go and focused only on her life anytime she wished. But she didn’t. The path of dating a superior was always avoided and forbidden, but she didn’t care. She wanted to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.

And that’s the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It’s born from just one single glance

But it dies and it dies and it dies

A million little times

Her mind wandered back to the night Ethan returned from the Amazon.

One look into his ocean-blue eyes and she was a goner. Two months of trying to bury her feelings, all wasted in one moment. And she knew he felt the same way too.

She’d mentally cursed herself for staying past last call with him as she walked with him into the beer garden. She knew that he’d missed her like hell from the longing glance he’d given her when she had run her fingers through his new beard. “I know I’m getting rejected, so why the fuck am I trying to have a conversation with him?!”, she’d reprimanded herself while she tried to get him to say why he hadn’t stayed in touch with her for two whole months. “How am I supposed to push you to be everything you can be if I...” Those words broke her heart all over again. He’d trailed off like this in the exact same way back in Miami. Her heart shattered for the millionth time since that first kiss, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She put on a brave face as she walked away from him, having no idea how she was supposed to ever look at him again without longing and pain evident in her eyes.

Leave the perfume on the shelf

That you picked out just for him

So you leave no trace behind

Like you don’t even exist

The day after the board had decided to solicit high-profile patients was one of the worst days of her life. He hadn’t said a single word to her since he came out of the boardroom. She was consumed by guilt. Not because she’d found a way to save the team and the hospital, but the fact that she had hurt Ethan and broken his trust in her in the process.

The next few days were hard. June and Baz were being as supportive of her as they could, but even they just barely skirted around Ethan, as no one wanted to face his wrath. He was an absolute monster to the poor interns, and she felt terrible knowing that it was all because of her. Sothy in particular, had only asked Ethan as to whether he had seen Dr. Rosario, and was chewed out in the atrium in front of everybody for it. Needless to say, Elijah was pretty upset for the rest of the day and it took a lot of convincing to get him to go on his planned date with Phoebe that evening. Alyssa felt horrible that everyone around her had to suffer Ethan’s harsh behaviour ten times fold because of her.

She had to, quite literally, run out of the office once a team meeting got over so that she didn’t have to be alone with him. And she only did her paperwork at home and in the doctors lounge, since she didn’t want to hurt him by leaving any traces of her work in his office. Ethan pretended as though they were never something special. He never treated her in any way less than any of his other colleagues, but his blue eyes that once filled her with warmth, now reserved a coldness that was meant just for her. Quite a few days passed with him not even acknowledging her. She felt like she didn’t even truly exist to him anymore.

Take the words for what they are

A dwindling, mercurial high

A drug that only worked

The first few hundred times

Leland Bloom’s case was something she personally loathed. Ethan had almost reverted back to his normal self when this case was assigned to the team. Then it was back to square one. But she wasn’t afraid of facing him anymore. The look of his face when she called him out for being a spoiled child would forever be etched in her mind. She was proud of herself for it, and deep down she knew that he was too.

His mood constantly changed whenever the team discussed Leland’s case. But he at least didn’t look at her like a criminal anymore, and that lightened her heart a little.

She would be forever grateful for Leland’s work ethic though, as it finally gave her a chance to openly talk to Ethan on the yacht, a task they’d both been avoiding for weeks. He’d tried to maintain an indifferent facade, but of course she’d made sure that he miserably failed. When he’d told her that she made it incredibly difficult to stay focused, she had almost laughed out loud in joy. That was a clear indicator that his walls were coming down, and that they were back to their old banter. He had made hundreds of reasons and excuses to push her away in the past, and he was slowly running out of them. “You can only run away so many times Ethan.”, she’d thought to herself as she looked at him fondly, glad that he wasn’t angry at her anymore.

And that’s the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

Her mind came back to the present as she remembered the kiss they’d shared a few hours ago. The kiss he’d initiated. A few weeks ago if someone had told her that this would happen, she would’ve probably told them to go for a mental health checkup. But it had actually happened. “Ethan Ramsey took the initiative to kiss me.” She let those words finally sink in.

She was supposed to be ecstatic. She was supposed to be jumping like a maniac in her room. “So why am I not?”, she thought to herself.

The answer was simple: she was scared. Scared of being pushed away again. Scared of Ethan lying to himself and to her by saying that it didn’t mean anything.

She was done with the whole “stolen stares” and “painful glances” thing. They’d both shown their true feelings tonight, and she was not going to go back to the start again. “I only hope that he feels the same way and doesn’t run again.”, she sighed as she thought back to her first day at Edenbrook...

And you wanna scream

Don’t call me “kid,” don’t call me “baby”

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else

“You. Rookie. Get in here.” Those were the first words he’d ever spoken to her. She was feeling a little insulted at being called a rookie at that moment. She never thought she would miss that nickname so terribly ever since her second year started. Sure, it was undermining her in the beginning, but she knew that it became a term of endearment for both of them as time passed.

She’d realized how much it actually meant to her the night she visited his apartment after her suspension. She knew that he was trying to being distant as soon as he called her ‘Brooks’.

There were plenty of guys who had hit on her in the past. Heck, Bryce and Rafael had pretty obvious crushes on her too back in her intern year. But none of that mattered to her after Miami. She just couldn’t look into anyone else’s eyes other than Ethan’s clear blue. Those eyes made her feel like she was flying miles above the ground. They made her feel like she was at home. Sure, to everyone else, those eyes would only show harshness. But ever since she’d gone with him to follow his mother, she’d seen nothing but an uncharacteristic tender look in his eyes that he had last given her when she’d won her ethics hearing. She definitely wasn’t complaining about it.

Don’t call me “kid,” don’t call me “baby”

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language I can’t speak with anyone else

Her eyes filled with tears as she recalled the day she’d found out that Ethan had left, or rather, fled, to the Amazon forest. She was beside herself, sick with worry in hopes that he would be alright, and hurt beyond measure that he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.

She’d felt like an absolute fool. An idiot, who believed that they would be alright, as long as they just focused on their patients. She was broken, to find out that he had taken such an extreme measure to put distance between them.

“I am so so sorry Alyssa. I told him not to go, but he was very insistent.”, Naveen had tried to console her when she had marched up to his office as soon as the announcement of Ethan’s departure had been made in the atrium. She didn’t blame Naveen though. Ethan was as stubborn as a mule, and there was nothing that could’ve been changed even if she had known beforehand about his decision.

Sienna had tried, in vain, to set her up with some cute guys, but her heart just said no to every single one of them. Whenever she tried to give them a chance, her heart just kept telling her, “He isn’t Ethan.” No one could ever have even a small part of her heart since it completely belonged to him.

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times

Her heart hurt worse than ever. But surprisingly, she liked the pain. She wasn’t the kind of person who liked an easy answer. That was why she admired Ethan. He loved the challenges of being a doctor. He loved the puzzle. And so did she.

She pondered over her thoughts as a query struck her mind: “Do I love him?” She always knew that her feelings for him were strong and something special. But she’d never thought of the L-word before.

She thought about why she came to Edenbrook. She wanted to become the best doctor she could be. She wanted to make a difference for the people who had nowhere to go. But now, she was stuck in a situation where she was willing to risk it all for her boss. “I think I do love him...”, she thought. “No, I know I love him. He’s worth the risk. I’m not going to ruin my career by being with him. I will fight for this. For us.”, she said to herself with a determined mindset. She loved Ethan Ramsey with all her heart, and she was not gonna lose him no matter what. As exhaustion finally overtook her, she closed her eyes with the knowledge of her promise. She was going to fight for them, she definitely was.

———————————

Hope you guys liked it!😊 Let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist. And any constructive criticism is much appreciated! I have an idea of making this into a series, so do let me know if you wanna see more song-inspired fics🎶

Taglist: @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey @aylamwrites @caseyvalentineramsey @starrystarrytrouble @dxnicaramsey @decadentwinnerjudgedream @nithya @mrsmatsuo @choicesolivia @rookiefromedenbrook

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Do You Know Who I Am?

I love assassins, and I love the idea of a cross dressing Jaskier, so here you all go. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think? I might make this into something. We shall see. Maybe give you some exploits of what happens when Jaskier is a way. Thank you Nerdynix for the beta.

Jaskiers alias actually has a meaning. Ill tag it in the tags.

Oh the smut is at the end and doesn't have to be read to enjoy the story. its denoted by: xXxXx

Rated M or E depending on where you stop.  Murder obviously.  Cross posted at AO3 to SennexTheAssasinKingOfLight

________________________________________________________________ Do You Know Who I Am?  

Geralt has been looking for Jaskier for a week. Ciri is studying with Yen and he finds the silence on the road to be suffocating now. He won't admit it. Not ever to anyone, but he misses the sounds of company. Specifically he misses Jaskier. They had parted ways a while back, on mutual terms. Jaskier to go to some competition, where Geralt learned later he had won, unsurprisingly. And Geralt took Ciri to Yennefer. Yennefer had portaled him and Roach to Jaskiers last known location at his not so subtle suggestion. Both Girls had laughed as he had left.

It wasn’t that funny, he thought, but then perhaps they both knew how he felt for the bard. They were keen like that. He growled lowly. He and Yennefer were reconciled enough that they could do what needed to be done, and had become quite amiable friends. And now that the dust had settled and Yennefer had up and portaled her and Jaskier away for a few hours things were very good between them all. He still didn’t know what they had talked about; but when they had come back, Jaskier despite his obviously red and puffy eyes, was smiling and laughing at Yens jokes. He accepted it for what it was. Their banter on the outside seemed harsh but it was like the two of them had some kind of understanding. They knew their boundaries, and stayed within them. 

Geralt smiled at the thought. It had taken him a while to reconcile with Jaskier, and it was thanks to Cirilla, really, that it had happened at all. It had gone like this. He was low on coin so he left Ciri at the inn to go on a hunt. Paid the innkeeper's wife to keep the girl fed and safe while he was away. Said she was his niece come ward. She had agreed, and Geralt reluctantly left to deal with the creature. It would only be a night. “She'll be fine” he had thought.  It took two. When he returned he found Ciri at the darkest most secluded table in the inn. She had picked that up from him, and with her was Jaskier. Neither seemed to notice his arrival so he stood out of sight where he could listen.

“C- sorry, Fiona he’s been gone two days and it was what?”

“Vampires I think.”

“Oh Melitele's sakes, he’ll be fine.” 

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, probably he had to track down a few stragglers.”

“Oh.”

“Chin up sweetheart, he’ll be back soon.”

“I trust you Dandelion. Thank you. It’s good to have a familiar face around.” “It’s good to see you too, Little lion. Have you had supper?” The rustling of fabric, a shook head.

“Well then why don’t the three of us eat.”

“Three?

“Oh yes, Geralts, just listening in and brooding.”

“What? Really? Where?” Ciri said looking around.

“How’d you know?” Geralt asks perturbed that the bard had noticed him but not said anything or given himself away. Had he always been this observant, this sneaky, he had wondered.

“The atmosphere, dear witcher, always changes when people notice you. My job is to be aware of my audience.” Jaskeir responded not looking away from Ciri who was making a face at Geralt.

“You said one night! Liar.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll just go order food.” Jaskier left the table.When he returns to the table he doesn’t sit. He looks at Geralt with a very particular look. There is anger in it. He taps the table and Geralt meets his eyes. He nods and stands.

“We’ll be right back dear one.” Dandelion winks at Ciri and leads Geralt into the back alley. It’s late. The sun has set. They stand there while a cart pushes past the mouth of the dimly lit alley. Jaskier gave one more look around and Geralt is about to ask him what he wants. Because he’s angry and guilty and relieved all at once and can’t process it.

“YOU! YOU!” Jaskier drops his voice from a shout to a low, dangerous tone.

“You fucking arse! What the hell were you thinking leaving a fourteen year old girl alone in a seedy tavern inn! Not just a fourteen year old girl. Princess Cirilla! What if someone had noticed her. Recognized her! Geralt you are a fool if I ever met one. What the bloody-” he cuts off, takes a breath and gets in Geralt's face.

 “Do you even know what could have happened to her? Do you? Slave trade. A crime lord who saw a pretty little girl and decided he needed her. What the fuck Geralt.” His voice is dangerous and low, his eyes wide and full of rage, hurt, pain.“What if I wasn’t me? What if it was someone else who had sat beside her and was able to convince her that he was a safe person? She knows me. I’ve played in Cintra since Pavetta and Duny. Do you ever think? Oh nevermind, we know the answer to that. You don’t. You just fucking act. Consequences be damned. Then you don’t take responsibility for them, but if something had happened to her it would have been your fault and you’d have no one to blame. What then? That's it, like it or not I’m going with you. You obviously can’t be trusted with her well being.” He crossed his arms in challenge without leaving Geralt's space.

He hadn't spoken. Just swallowed and gave a stiff nod. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by Vesemir during training.

“Oh no. No. You're going to tell me you understand you big oaf.Your going to tell me it won’t happen again and then you’re going to make sure it doesn’t or I’ll run you through with your own sword. Poison you with your own damned potions. Am I clear?”

He blinked, who was this man? “Yes, Jaksier. I understand.” He nods, transfixed by the man in a sea of colors before him. “ It would be good of you to join us.” 

He wasn’t sure what had changed for the bard, but he was fiercer and this anger was genuine and righteous. What was he to do? The bard would come with him asked or not. He turned towards the door.

“Oh, and Geralt.” Voice softer now, heart rate just as even and steady. “ It’s good to see you.” 

He’d stopped and turned to him then,“Likewise. I- I’m glad you’re well. And…” silence hangs between them, Jaskier arches an eyebrow at him waiting.

 “I’m sorry. You’re right… not just about this, but me, my faults.”

“We’ll work on it.” Then the bard had brushed past him and swept into the tavern. Shortly after that he’d managed a real apology for the mountain incident. Jaskier had laughed, called him a fool and forgiven him all in a single breath. Ciri clung to Jaskier like a life line and so it was good that he had stayed.

Roach snorts bringing him from his memories. They are nearing a new city. Jaskier had left the other one and Geralt hoped from what he gleaned that he would be here. He missed him. He really did, though he’d not say as much.The town had a fair going. Of course it did, or some kind of large gathering. A festival. He shakes his head and wrinkles his nose. The scents are overwhelming. 

It takes a while before he finds an inn with a free room available. A little one on the far end of town from where he had entered. It's better than nothing he supposes. Roach is happy in the town stables so he starts looking around. The town had just started this celebration, it was for the harvest. The main square was a bustle of colour and loud noise. Vendors from all over selling their wares and catching the attention of any passerby they can. The market smells of food and sweat and ale. The perfumes are strong and many. There is no way he will be able to scent Jaskier out if the entire town smells like this. Every inn and tavern had. He looks around still breathing deeply, and gods forbid Jaskier changed his perfumes. He growls. The best he can do is check out taverns at night, watch the square and its musicians by day. Keep his ears open for any mention of or sound from the bard.

He’s walking towards the music when he whips his head around suddenly. He’d caught the slightest hint of a familiar scent, but it was too muddled to make it out. He scans the area. There is much to notice, much more to ignore. Something does catch his eye though. A woman with broader shoulders than most. Her hair is shoulder length and blond, done in curls using hot tongs. A hat sits atop her head with a peacock plume in it. This is what caught his attention. One is white the other is colored. She stands with the other woman by this silk cart and smiles, turned just enough from him that he can’t quite make it out. He does a double take. He stares but the woman doesn’t turn towards him. Instead she walks the other direction arm in arm with another lady. An amber and midnight blue silk shawl in her other hand. He huffs, annoyed and continues on his way. He can feel eyes on him, but that's nothing new, so he ignores it.

He stays in the town two days. He keeps hearing whispers of Jaskier playing, but never seems to be in the right place at the right time. The city is large and over crowded. There are people in tents filling the field outside the city gates. The festival is large and there is a ball two days from now at the house of the nobleman who rules over the city. One needs an invitation to get in, and yet he intends to go despite that. If Jaskier will be anywhere it will be there. 

As he walks back to his inn, he keeps to himself and takes the alleys. Even these are crowded. It’s late so there is more room. Most of them are unlit which isn’t a problem for him. What is a problem is a woman with long brown hair braided down one side being chased into his path by a shouting group of men. She runs past him, knocking against his side in the dark. She stumbles.

“Where’d the bitch go?” 

He hears one of them shout.“Down the alley!” Another says angrily. Without thinking he grabs her arm and pushes her against the wall, effectively blocking her body from their view.

“Don’t scream.” He whispers in her ear. “I won't harm you. Play along.” He keeps his voice light as he can. She nods. Blue eyes down cast. Are they blue? He can’t tell. It doesn’t matter. He leans into her. Lets a hand rest low on her waist, the other on the wall behind her. She buries the fingers of one hand in his hair. His breath ghost her neck. She smells strongly of spice and too much chamomile. Medicine. He wrinkles his nose. One of the spices making him want to sneeze with its strength. She lifts her skirt above one knee and leans into him hiding her face in his shoulder. The men start to pass, one of them stops.

“A girl run past here?”

“Busy.” He snarls. The men move on. Only when he can't hear them does he move back to the other side of the narrow alley.

The girl lets her hands fall to her sides, then keeping her face down cast plays nervously with her braid.

“You alright?” He asks voice its normal level of gruff. He rubs at his nose. His eyes water. She nods fervently.

“What was that about?” The girl swallows. Her voice is pitched a little high and it grates on his ears. He shakes his head.

“ ‘ook eh loaf o’br'd from me M'ster, for me brotter sir.”

He nod’s satisfied.“Don’t get caught next time.” 

He starts for the mouth of the alley way. He can hear her follow but doesn’t look back. She goes the opposite direction from him. He sniffs. His nose is dead to the scents around him and it makes him angry. He quickened his pace and rubs at his ears.

When he returns to the inn he washes his face three times and changes but the scent is still there. It seared to the inside of his nostrils. He send his clothes to be washed. He glares at the ceiling. He knows Jaskier is here. He just can’t find him. He keeps catching his scent, hidden, buried, weak but there. He keeps hearing whispers that a well known bard is there, but he can’t seem to be in the same place. He growls. He knows that the ball is his best shot. He just needs to figure out how to get in.

The following afternoon, the day of the ball, he’s in one of the side squares. There's a fountain in the middle and children play in its water. It’s unusually warm for an autumn day. He continues to look for signs of his friend. Because that he will admit. Jaskier is his friend. He watches as all members of society move around the smaller square. He notices a woman who looks familiar. A peacock feather in her hat. She walks with the grace of all noblewoman. She’s pretty, he notes, a little flat chested. She pales her skin with powder and colors her lips a purple. It suits her. It happens very quickly. 

A man, a thief grabs something of hers and she yells. The guards can’t get to him from their locations and he looks as though he will make it out of the square with whatever it is he had grabbed. He smirks. This is his chance. Catch the thief and maybe a grateful noblewoman can get him into the ball. Casually he moves into the thieves path and stares him down.

“It doesn’t suit you. Give it here.” The thief steps back, looks for an alternate escape. He's about to change course.

“Don’t make me maim you.” Geralt says, still smirking, hand reaching for his sword. The Thief looks up at him, lip quivering. Geralt gives him a meaningful look and his shoulders slump. He hands the items out to him.

“Please here. Take them, just let me pass. Please.” He begs quickly. Geralt takes the items, considers it a moment and says,

“If they catch you you’re on your own.” Then he steps aside. The guards give him an incredulous look and chase after the thief. Carefully he approaches the woman with the peacock feather. Smiles just barely. Trying for human, trying to use every trick Jaskier had taught him. He can hear the bard lecturing him in his head. “Yes, there's a good smile. No teeth, keep your eyes soft. There. That's the one. That's how you should smile at balls and towards people in general.” It was hours of practice with Jaksier poking and prodding his face Ciri laughing beside them at night. The lady hides her face behind her fan, keeps her eyes turned down.

“These belong to you. I believe.” He bows slightly holding a gold necklace and a broach out to her.

“Thank you, kind witcher.” He startles some. He shouldn’t be surprised that she knows he’s a witcher. But there is something prickling on his skin. He trusts his instincts, but he needs into the manor.

“Of course my lady.” She holds her hand out to him palm down. He understands, takes it in his free hand and kisses it lightly. She giggles a bubbly laugh from her throat at the act. She smells strongly of Lilac and Daffodils, he can just barely make it out. His nose is still dead from the night before.

“I am Lady Narcissus Oszust. Thank you for retrieving these.” She takes the items with her free hand. “The necklace was my mothers’ and the broach, my grandmothers.” 

Her voice is a little deep for a woman but he doesn’t question it. He’s been around the continent enough to have met many people that seemed odd. Men with voices like women, women with faces like men, women with hair short as a man and men with hair as long as a woman. He lets it be without much thought. He’s seen many things.

“How may I repay this debt?” She asks lightly. He smiles a little. He feigns uncertainty for a moment.

“Oh, well. Perhaps, My lady... You see, I am looking for a friend of mine and I have reason to believe he may be at the celebration tonight, and I find myself, sadly, without an invitation.” He will suffer one night at her side if it means finding Jask. He hopes however, that she will simply have him added as a guest of hers and that will be the end of it. She flicks her crystalline blue eyes along his body, but never meets his gaze.

“Do come better dressed than that. And I expect at least one dance from you.” Then she turns.

 “Oh I suppose I need your name for the list.” She adds over her shoulder, face hidden by a curtain of blond curls.

“Geralt of Rivia.” He grins, a little too sharply.

“I’ll see you tonight, White Wolf.”

He makes his way back to the inn with determination. He orders a bath. He has a few hours to kill before the celebrations begin. He takes his time, treats his hair as Jaskier would insist. Dressed in clean clothes, the set Jaskier insisted he keep in his pack should they need to infiltrate a noble estate, he ties his hair back. It goes against all his instincts but he leaves his swords. Instead he places a dagger at his waist, neatly hidden, it's a thin blade, and a knife in his boot. His instincts tell him there is something amiss. He meditates. And when the sun is low enough he makes his way towards the manor. 

They are expecting him. No one stops him as he makes his way up the main entrance on rounded steps. A fountain, shaped like a siren sending spray into the air at their base.Once inside he makes his way to the main hall. It opens into a garden behind the large mansion. A cool breeze blows through the open doors, it’s pleasant against the warmth of bodies pressed into the confines of the room. It brings with it the scent of fresh cut flowers, and autumn air. The golden glow of the sun cast long shadows across the marble floor, it’s fading quickly. He remains at the edge of the room, in the shadows, watching, waiting. He sips at an ale that he takes from one of the many servants. There is no sign of Jaskier among the musicians or nobles yet. So he waits. It would be much easier if it weren't a masquerade.

“Find your friend yet?” He turns to look the woman over. Narcissa is standing to his left, blond hair done up without a hat. The amber and dark blue shawl cover her shoulders, the sleeves of her dress are long and flowing. The gown itself is deep midnight blue, or perhaps it more closely resembles the ocean at midnight. Amber thread binds it together and there are golden accents like stars on the sleeve edges and the corset. It stirs something in him. Her face is hidden behind a mask, half like a burning sun, half like a slumbering moon. Two halves of the whole.

“Not yet.”

“Perhaps, you could tell me his name. And here, I forgot to mention this affair was a masked ball.” She hands him a mask, in the shape of a wolf's snout. Its white, and soft. She sips some wine. She wears delicate gloves also of white. Geralt realizes this woman is a complete mystery. If pressed he isn’t sure he could describe her face. The jaw is strong up close, but also slightly round, innocent looking. The chalks make it look thinner, more feminine. He furls his eyebrows and nods, donning the mask.

“That’s better. Now his name?” She smiles at him behind her mask.

“Jaskier. He's a bard.”

“ And a Lettenhoven.” He narrows his eyes at her behind the mask.“ Don’t worry. I know Julian quite well. Though, I cannot say with certainty that he will be here.” She frowns. Geralt let out a sigh.

“Will you be staying the duration of the evening?”

“Only until I am satisfied he won’t be here.”

“Then perhaps I should claim my dance now.” He clenches his jaw and then aquiessaces. They move to join the dancers. Narcissa is an exceptional dancer, and he finds that he enjoys dancing with her. So when she asks for a second, he agrees. They don’t speak much but she occasionally bats her eyelashes at him, squeezes his arm, or lets her hands brush against his hair, down is back. Finally another Lord wishes to dance with her and he returns to his spot on the wall. He finds it difficult not to watch her. 

There is something ethereal about her, too mysterious and his senses are telling him something isn’t right. She’s not a vampire. He can tell that much, even from here. He begins going through a list, but is pulled from his thoughts when the clock strikes the tenth hour. He’d leave if he weren’t so concerned about what Narcissa is. It's obvious the bard won't be here. He knows he’s spent too many days here. But he had been certain. He added that to the list of confusions in his mind. He watches Narcissa for a while longer. Occasionally she makes eye contact with him across the room and smiles.

Just after the eleventh bell, one of the lady’s collapses in the middle of the dance floor. Instantly the comotion begins. Someone shouts for a doctor, others go rushing towards her, trying to help. Geralt recognizes her as the woman who had been with Narcissa the day at the market. It's blurry but he’s almost certain of it. He looks around swiftly and catches the train of her dress sweeping across marble leading into the hall. 

He navigates across the room, blocked far too often by some person or another. He straightens his shoulders and people move for him. He casts the mask to the side, and that hasens his pace as people actually part for him. A witcher on the hunt. When he enters the hallway no one is there. He growls. He continues onward, he can barely make out her scent. He follows it straight out the front door.

Neither guard looks up from their game so he presses onward into the brisk night. He follows, breaks into a run even. She can’t have gone far, but she is fast. She takes all the alleys, avoids the main streets and well lit places. He stops abruptly. Her scent at the door of his inn. He swallows and enters, a cursory look around reveals that she isn’t in the main room.

 He follows her scent up the stairs, slowly. He removes the stiletto blade from his waist. Or he tries to. It’s gone. He reaches for the knife in his boot. Carefully he pushes the door to his room open. He steps inside. Narcissa sits on his bed, legs crossed, her chin propped on her hand, elbow on her knee, curled in on herself, completely relaxed and pouting. In her other hand lies his blade. He inhales sharply. There is excitement in the air, radiating from her. Familiar. The room is lit by a few well placed candles and the fireplace stoked hot and bright. It casts shadows about the room, but Geralt can see Lady Narcissa clearly.

“Do you know who I am?”

“An assassin.” She leans back on his bed, supporting her weight on her hands. Exposing herself to him, almost playfully. She’d known where he was staying and had fled there. He clenches his jaw. ‘What does she want?’

“Oh Geralt. Of course I am, that’s a part of me trained from birth. But it’s not what I asked. Do you know Who I am?” She moves and he moves faster. His only weapon is the knife in his hand. He won't need it though. They fall backwards, his knee between her legs, arms locked above her head in one hand and his blade at her throat in the other. She looks up at him from beneath the mask, smirking, and laughs. He goes ridgid. He knows this laugh inside and out, blind, would know this laugh, deaf he would know this smile.

“Jask?”

“This has been a fun game of cat and mouse. Tell me love, do you like me all dolled up for you?” He swallows and looks down at swirling blue eyes. They meet his gaze for the first time.

“Jask?” he asks again.

“Geralt?” With an unsure hand he pulls the mask off. He doesn’t shift his position or lose his hold.

“Hello darling. Do I look good in a dress?” He licks his lips.

“Yes.” It falls from his mouth before he can stop himself.

“What about pressed against the dark wall of an ally?” Geralt stares at him confused. Jaskier pouts.

““ ‘ook eh loaf o’br'd from me M'ster —”

Geralt stands abruptly and stares at him wildly, face contorting in an array of emotions. Finally he whines,

“You fucking destroyed my nose.” He rubs at it instinctively, the memory causing it to burn.

“Only temporarily, Geralt, nothing permanent. I just couldn’t risk you catching my scent.”

“What the fuck?”Jaskier stands and goes to the washing basin. He wets a rag and sets to work removing the makeup.

“Subterfuge me friend. Lady J— and her family were getting rather pesky. I was asked to resolve the issue.” He says like it's not a big deal that he’d just killed a woman.

“How?”

“A concoction of nightshade and hemlock in her wine. Very effective, no mess, easy enough to slip to her.”

“But why?”

“Because I was asked too and had access.”

“No I mean. Fuck. Jaskier when did you..”

“Oh this, I’ve always been able to. Part of my training growing up around nobles, you learn quickly how to deal with enemies. I just happen to be an actor and I didn’t want it connected to the Lettenhovens in any way. It would ruin my reputation.” The bard smiles cheekily at him, face clean.

“Why...” He gestures at the gown and swallows. Something about it being Jaskier in the gownhas him reeling. He pushes it aside, he can’t let it in.

“I’d be recognized or noticed if I’d been a man. People would think I was trying to court her… to many variables. A new female friend at court that came from nowhere and disappeared, much harder to trace.” He smirks at Geralt from the dresser.

“When did you take my dagger?”

“Second dance, when you were trying to figure out what kind of monster I was and not rip my hands off for taking liberties.” He winks. Geralt tears his jacket off in frustration.

“You've been in this town the entire time dressed as a woman.” He seethes.

“You looked right at me. I just couldn’t tell you anything. I thought you’d get a clue from my color scheme. Daft as always.”

“What?” He looks at the bard again.

“Blue and amber? The color of our eyes.The peacock feathers? Oh you foolish man.” Jaskier frowns at him. Geralt can only stare in disbelief.

“Is this what you were doing? Is this where your courage came from?

”“I’ve always had it. I just didn’t think I’d ever need to use it on you. Then I did.” Jaskier pushes off the dresser and glides towards him. He stops short, chest inches from Geralts and looking up at him through his eyelashes whispers,

“Get me out of this dress, witcher.”

xXxXx

Geralt looks at him, stiff and unmoving. The dam in his mind breaking free, dislodging well hidden thoughts. Jaskier tilts his head, hair falling off it and exposing his neck.

“Or am I mistaken?” 

He asks with false shyness. Geralt doesn’t miss a beat. He launches forward and kisses Jaskier hard on the mouth. The Bard smiles into it, fisting his hands into the witcher's shirt. He pulls away to catch his breath all too soon.

“I swear to every god, if you rip this gown or my corset I’ll make you beg for me.”

 Geralt promptly spins him around picking up one of his knives in the process and cuts through the laces of the corset. He pushes the sleeves of the dress from Jaskier shoulders and kisses them instead. Jaskier pulls the corset from around his chest and lets it fall to the ground. He shrugs the rest of the dress off. 

Geralt tugs at the fabric of the chemis and pulls it roughly over Jaskiers head. The bard laughs.

“Why the hell are there so many layers?” He whispers, dragging his teeth across Jaskiers neck. The wig came undone and Jaskier tosses it to the side.

“Virtue?” He deadpans as he turns to face Geralt in nothing but his underclothes. Jaskier tugs at his shirt and Geralt kisses him again, deep and wanting. He can feel Jaskier working the buttons of his shirt. He breaks the kiss only to pull it over his head, and then he’s licking back into Jaskiers mouth. It tastes sweet, like the wine from earlier. He explores, threading his fingers through Jaskiers hair while the bard undoes his trousers. He tugs sharply when he feels them get pushed down and Jaskier moans. The bard pulls away and pushes more urgently at the pants.

“You’ll get as good as you give if you keep that up.” Geralt growls, low in his throat and kicks his trousers to the floor. Then they kiss again and Jaskier pulls at his hair just as hard. He groans into it. He lifts Jaskier and feels his legs tighten around his waist. He moves his mouth to suck at his throat and the bard throws his head back and moans. Geralt bites down. He knows Jaskier will tell him to stop if he goes too far or if he hurts in any way, but the way the other jerks against him says he doesn’t have to worry. He knows Jaskier, knows he doesn’t have to be as gentle, as careful as he does with the others he’d taken to bed in the past. He settles Jaskier on the bed and tosses his dagger to the floor. Neither of them needs to be stabbed with a real blade.

Jaskier tugs at his hair again, frantically and squirms. He understands. Standing he removes the last of his clothes and Jaskier does likewise, kicking them off the edge of the bed. He looks down at the bard, fully undressed and aroused below him. Jaskier makes eye contact with him, and makes a show of stretching out to be seen.Geralt licks his lips and takes a step back towards the bed. Then he stops.

“You're sure?” Jaskier laughs at him, that heavenly sound that Geralt wishes he could put in a bottle to listen to at his convenience.

“I don’t sprawl myself out for just anyone.” “You do.” “Haven’t in years.” “Oh.” Jaskier sits up, leans on his hands, “Seriously? Really? You oaf. Get down here.” 

And then they’re crashing against each other and it's glorious. Jaskier rut’s up against him and doesn’t make any attempt to be less vocal. Geralt lets him, shivering in delight when he adds a hand to the mix, deft fingers working in all the right ways. He lets out a soft moan against the newest bruise on Jaskiers collarbone.

“Fuck me.” He says against the bards neck.

“Is that an option?” Jaskier asks, completely surprised.Geralt looks at him, all innocent curiosity on his face and fire burning through the lust in his eyes.“It is now.” He says and Jaksier is pushing him up and backwards and he lets himself be manhandled. It’s been a while since he allowed someone this control, but Jaskier. Jaskier has control of every other part of him,whether he knows it or not so why not this? He looks up at the smaller man.

“You're sure?” The bard copies. He nods.

“Say it, Damn it Geralt. Use your words.” He flushes at the command.

“Yes Jaskier. Please.” A glint in the musicians eyes.

“Please what?” Geralt groans as hands position his legs just the way they’re wanted.

“Fuck me.”

“Hmm…” a pause “uhm.” Geralt looks up at him confused and exasperated. He’d like to get on with it. The abruptness of the pause is grating and not at all like he expected from Jaskier.

“Oil?” Jaskier asks.

Silence.

Geralt leans back into the bed and laughs almost hysterically. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful from the way they’ve been touching and teasing. Jaskier leans over him with a quirked eyebrow and a deadly expression on his face.

“I will kill you if you don’t shut up and suck.”

There are fingers near his lips, he grins and teasingly takes them into his mouth. Jaskier maintains eye contact the entire time. He sucks each finger individually, coating them thoroughly in saliva, runs his tongue up and down each one, sometimes catching them with his teeth. He Moans when Jaskier pushes more than one into his mouth at the same time. He watches through half lidded eyes as Jaskier swipes his own precum down his cock, uses his own spit to slick it. 

Finally he pulls his fingers free from Geralt's mouth, trails his pinky also soaked down his chest, his abdomen, around his cock and down to his entrance. He tenses and takes a steadying breath. He forces himself to relax. Jaskier watches him, waits until he’s comfortable and presses his index finger inside. It's been sometimes since he was so vulnerable and Jaskier seems to know it. The bard leans forward and peppers kisses along his thigh, his hip bone, anything he can reach. After a while he adds a second and a third. He teases Geralt's cock with his tongue and occasionally his other hand, he never takes more than the tip into his own mouth, giving soft sucks as it pleased him too. 

Abruptly Geralt lets out a gasp as his hips twitch. He feels Jaskier smile against him.

“Jask, please” he says horsley. 

The bard obliges, makes sure that he’s as well slicked as he can be without proper lubricant and presses against the witcher.

“How are you this tight.” He chokes out, pressing in at a painfully slow rate. “Will you relax please, Geralt.” 

The witcher does as he’s told. Finally Jaskier is seated inside him. It satisfied something in him that he hadn’t realized he was missing. They stay like that unmoving for a moment, catching their breath. Jaskier leans over and kisses him, and he groans into it, the movement pleasant as it forces Jaskier a little deeper. Slowly, the bard begins to rock against him, he doesn't move all the way out, not at first. It's a rhythmic rolling of hips against hips. Eventually they pick up speed and if anyone were outside their room the only thing they would hear was the obscene sound of skin against sweat slicked skin, erotic moans of pleasure, the words, “More, harder, fuck, Jask, shit, and gods above Geralt”.

It doesn’t take long for the foreignness of it to push Geralt over the edge. It’s a good new, something he could get used to; something that he enjoys. His own release brings Jaskier over the edge just as quickly, he pulls out just in time to spill on his hand and Geralt's chest. The witcher just laughs and pulls him against the mess between them and kisses him breathless again.

“You should wear Lilac and Daffodil more.” Gealt whispers against his ear when they’ve cleaned themselves as well as possible, and curled together under the blankets. “Lilac is Yennefer's scent...” Jaskier trails off looking up at him from the circle of his arms, chest to chest. “It smells better on you.” He says meaning it, and gives the poet a pointed kiss. He isn’t great with words, so he hopes it's enough.

[notgoingtohappen]

Revenge, Interrupted (Part 12)

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A/N: shoutout to @mysterolineheart444world for helping me with a plot point for this chapter!

Stefan watched affectionately as Caroline did a small jig around the pool table as she exclaimed “I won, I won, told you I’d win!”

And then he wiped the smile off his face as he could practically hear Lexi’s voice in his head: pathetic, Stefan, stop looking so whipped.

And the Lexi in Stefan’s head was right. He still had to figure it what was real and what was part of the pretence, but he wasn’t going to go and develop a crush on her and make the whole situation awkward. The fact that he really couldn’t distinguish between what was real and what wasn’t meant his “feelings” were nothing but the after-effects of a drunk hook-up. She was adorable, as a friend, he told himself.

Caroline was next to him again and looked up smiling, her hair coming undone, eyes bright, cheeks flushed and panting a little.

“Tired from your victory dance?”

“Being a winner. It’s exhausting.”

“So is being serious. I wouldn’t know, of course.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure.”

“I plan to pay you back for that game, by the way.”

They stood there smiling at each other and on an impulse, Stefan reached out to tuck a lock of hair falling in her eyes behind her ear. 

Their friends were around, after all. It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been wanting to do that for days.

Her cheeks seemed to get redder and she looked down. He stepped back quickly and was just about to open his mouth to say they should get back to the others when someone else beat him to it.

“Caroline Forbes?” came a voice from behind him.

The accent wasn’t exactly British but something about the voice was strangely familiar. Caroline froze and Stefan turned around to see a light-haired, lean man walking over to them, grinning from ear to ear.

“Klaus, hi.” Caroline mumbled.

“Hello, love. Fancy seeing you here!”

“You too…”

“I was certain the next time we would run into each other would be at the Palace of Versailles—one of my favourite locations in the world, of course—under a painting we both admired greatly and stopped to marvel at…” he trailed off with a slightly manic smile.

“France, huh? Maybe someday.” Caroline said, clearly at a loss for words.

Who was this dude? Stefan realised that his name was kind of familiar.

“Splendid! How are you doing, then?”

“Good, good… graduated, got a job.” Caroline wasn’t chatty for once and it struck Stefan as surprising, and he moved slightly closer to her.

“Excellent! And who is this fellow?” he motioned to Stefan.

“Stefan Salvatore.” He held out his hand.

The man shook it, somehow looking both pleased to meet him and annoyed that he was standing protectively next to Caroline. Then his eyes widened and he clapped Stefan on the shoulder. “Young Salvatore!”

Stefan looked at Caroline, perplexed, and she shrugged with a don’t-look-at-me-man-I-don’t-know look. “Excuse me?”

“Klaus Mikaelson! Do you not remember? It was high school, I believe, when I first made your acquaintance.”

Everything came back to Stefan and he wanted the ground open up and swallow him, and Caroline didn’t look that different.

“Oh god, yeah, sophomore year, you were a senior and my-“

“Supplier of herbal sensory enhancers, yes.” Klaus cut in. “A self-made businessman at so tender an age, no wonder I control my family’s fortune.”

Caroline looked from Stefan and Klaus and then back to Stefan, dumbfounded.

“Er, you can call it that.” He said.

Her mouth fell open slightly. “Wait, herbal enhancers… were you… his drug dealer?”

Stefan cringed and he knew she instantly knew the answer.

“Ah, that is so base and crude a term, love. The profession is far more than that.”

“Uh… okay then.” Caroline didn’t look like she wanted to contradict him.

Stefan turned to Caroline. “After my last summer there, I lost touch with V but whenever I wanted some, Klaus sold it to me that year.”

Klaus smiled fondly at Stefan. “How shattered you must have been when I graduated. My sincerest apologies.”

“No, it was good, I got sober pretty quick after.”

Klaus nodded, looking moved. “Good for you, friend.”

And then he turned to Caroline. “You, my dear, are light. I have not forgotten that night at the fraternity house’s annual party. If you ever want something more, do come to me, for I will show you the allure of art and culture and passion and darkness and you shall be a queen among women.”

Stefan felt incredibly uncomfortable listening to this and was growing increasingly more annoyed at Klaus. He was aware of the urge to punch him but instead turned to check on Caroline, who looked mortified.

He hadn’t said anything before because this guy seemed to be an ex of some kind, but her expression made him step ever closer to her. “Back off, man.” Stefan looked Klaus squarely in the eye.

She moved so close to Stefan she bumped into his side and slipped her hand into his. “Actually, Klaus, I’m with Stefan, and I told you the last time, I was drunk and mad at my ex-boyfriend and it was nothing.”

Klaus nodded gravely. “I understand. Nothing gives me greater joy than to see two dear friends deeply in love. I wish you all the joy. I have only one request, invite me to the wedding. Farewell.”

He turned around and left, leaving a stunned Stefan and Caroline in his wake.

Caroline sighed, sounding relieved, and her head slumped against his shoulder as loosened her tight grip on his hand.

“What the fuck was that?” Stefan said, astounded.

“Wedding?” Caroline spluttered.

“Paris?” Stefan added.

“I cannot believe you bought drugs from him!”

“I can’t believe you… you know, had sex with him!” He hoped his cheeks weren’t red as he remembered that they’d almost had sex last night, and probably would have if no one had knocked.

“He was just this guy at the party who kept checking me out and telling me nice things and seemed like a bad boy…”

“Still, him?” Stefan was aware that on some level he was jealous but a part of him was relieved they were back to their easy banter again.

“I was new to college and mad at Tyler, okay? Might I remind you Stefan, you let him sell you drugs.”

“I missed getting high after that summer with Vicki, okay!”

She stared at him and then they burst out laughing and couldn’t stop. They looked drunk but it was amazing how they didn’t even need alcohol to laugh hysterically.

“Oh my god, what even was that?” she gasped, visibly trying to stop laughing.

“I have no idea.”

Stefan rubbed his eyes and then led her back to the table, holding hands.

“Hey guys!” The others greeted them.

“Don’t you look chipper.” Enzo commented.

“Your phone was buzzing like crazy, Steffy.” Damon said.

Stefan grabbed it, read the email and his face split into a huge smile. “I got the job!”

Before he knew it, Caroline’s arms had flown around his neck and he was holding her, her perfume that reminded him of flowers at the estate and now her, sent a pang of longing through him. What for, he wasn’t sure.

She landed on his feet and pulled back. “Congratulations!” she said softly and then he did what he’d wanted to all night. He cupped her face and pulled her close with his other hand, and kissed her. Again. In front of the others. Again.

For show, of course.

He could hear some hooting and laughter from their friends but all he could think about was Caroline. The way her fingers snaked into his hair, the way she gently pulled him closer, her kisses that he could never get enough of.

They finally pulled away and sat down with their friends.

Stefan was kind of relieved that kiss had been a far more casual one than the previous few. He had been starting to fear he wasn’t capable of kissing her without it turning into a full-blown makeout session. 

“Uh, congratulations, Stefan.” Elena patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“Knew you had it in you, mate.”

“Awesome news!” said Bonnie.

“I’d hug you, but you still look dazed,” Damon smirked. “You and Blondie are interesting, to say the least.”

Stefan shot him a puzzled look, aware of Caroline’s gaze on him.

They were supposed to be believable, not ‘interesting.’

“What do you mean?” he asked his brother.

“Well, for starters she’s not insane like Katherine, or annoying like Valerie, or dull like Ivy, or my type like Rebekah.”

Stefan scoffed, relieved. “Wow.”

“Or mean like Lexi.” Enzo muttered.

Elena laughed. “You just think she’s mean because she rejected you that time when she dropped by to visit Damon.”

“It was unkind.”

“You were being an idiot. And everyone could tell you liked Bonnie.”

Bonnie and Enzo smiled at each other.

“She was taken then.”

“I’m taken now too. By you.”

They kissed and Damon rolled his eyes. “Never stops being weird. It’s like seeing my parents kiss. Anyway. I’m just saying. It’s different.”

“Don’t worry, you’re cute!” Elena reassured them.

Caroline smiled at Stefan and the hint of nervousness didn’t escape him. It was an odd thing for Damon to say. He moved closer to her and put his arm around her to somehow ease her.

“DAMON! BONNIE! ENZO!” Elena yelled suddenly.

They all stared at her, a little alarmed.

She looked elated, grinning at her phone. “Liam and Nadia and Kai are gonna be in town tomorrow!”

Damon looked like he was going to pass out from excitement, Bonnie was giggling with Elena, and Enzo sat back with his arms crossed, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

“You okay?” Stefan asked him.

“This Kai, he was always hitting on Bonnie. I loved the gang, but never particularly him.”

Caroline, also excluded from the excitement, leaned over. “You have nothing to worry about Enzo, take it from her best friend. She’s crazy about you. Go and enjoy, I would give anything to have my college friends in town.”

“I would give anything to have Lexi in town.” Stefan muttered.

“Not helping.” Enzo sighed and then cheered up when Damon mentioned something about Liam and the four went outside to talk to him on Damon’s phone so they could have the “best signal possible”.

“Who is Lexi?” Caroline asked him curiously.

Stefan grinned. “She’s my best friend.”

“Enzo said she was your ex, right?”

Stefan looked at her, shocked, and then started laughing. “What?”

“Yeah, he said, “Or mean like Lexi” when Damon was listing your exes.”

Understanding dawned on Stefan. “Oh, he didn’t mean anything. He probably just said that because she’s the first girl most people associate with me, but she’s like my sister.”

Caroline nodded quietly, and sipped on her coke, looking around.

Wait, why was she asking? Like, she remembered Damon and Enzo’s exact words on his ex-girlfriends. Was it interest… or maybe jealousy?  

He pushed the thought away, chalking it off to wishful thinking.

And it became even clearer it was nothing of the sort when she leaned over and softly asked him something that made him feel far more uneasy than he should have.

In fact, he shouldn’t be feeling anything, least of all uneasy or sad.

“Stefan, I was thinking, what if we meet someone we actually want to date?”

Stefan swallowed his feelings and forced himself to answer, wondering if seeing Klaus had inspired this. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just a hypothetic scenario. We should cover all our bases, right? I mean, you should see the way that girl is checking you out.” She nodded to a dark haired, leather jacket clad girl who was sitting at the bar and sipping a martini.

She looked a vaguely familiar, and he tried not to stare as he racked his brains. He realised it was because she looked like Katherine and looked away.

Caroline had been watching him and her expression was different, more vacant. She wasn’t cheery anymore.

He hated not being able to gauge what she was thinking.

“I guess we… date them in secret? Until this is over.” he said, wondering if Caroline wanted to date some guy she’s seen at her interview or maybe the building or mall or- wow, he needed to chill.

She nodded and he could feel her pulling away somehow, the dynamic between them shifting from playful to something far less intimate.

He was about to say something so things would feel normal again when someone behind him cleared their throat. He turned around and it was the girl from the bar.

“Hey.” She said confidently, looking at Stefan from behind her lashes. She was pretty, but weirdly resembled Katherine, which unnerved him a bit.

“Hi” he replied.

He found himself thinking Caroline, with her wavy hair like sunshine and bright, expressive blue eyes and easy smile, was so much more beautiful.

“I’m Rayna.” She held out her hand.

He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. “Stefan.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you free tomorrow night?” she asked.

So she was direct.

He hesitated, wondering if he wanted to go out with her. She wasn’t really his type… if he had one. His ex-girlfriends had nothing in common. She was hot, but…

He looked at Caroline without meaning to.

Caroline saw him looking at her and seemed to think hard about something for a few moments and then turned to the girl, her expression resolute. “He’d love to, he was just telling me how hot he thought you were.”

The girl smiled seductively at Stefan her smile reminded him even more of Katherine. “Great.” She said, handing him a napkin. “Here’s my number. Call me.” She said and then walked right out of the bar.

Stefan turned to Caroline. She’d really wanted him to go on that date for some reason. She obviously didn’t feel anything for him, and he owed it to himself to give it a chance. And he probably didn’t feel anything for Caroline either. If you spend that much time with someone cute and pretend to be a couple, some confusing feelings are bound to emerge. He was just going to have to get a grip until this was all over and they could go back to being just friends.

Maybe he’d like Rayna anyway. Maybe he’d like her because she reminded him of Katherine. It had been years anyway. Who knew?

“I’ll totally help you sneak around,” Caroline said, her expression still serious.

He was supposed to be the serious one.

“Okay, thanks.” 

“Pinky promise.” She added and held out her little finger.

He gazed at her. 

Who was this adorable? 

His last pinky promise had probably been when he was three, with Damon over not confessing to spilling kool-aid on the sofa.

He held out his pinky too. “Same. If you want to date Klaus, my help is at your disposal.” He said dutifully, trying to make her smile.

She looked at him incredulously and then laughed. “What? No! Have you seen him, Stefan, or heard him? Honestly, my taste is way better, give me some credit.”

He’d succeeded in making her smile and in making things normal again, but that’s not why his mood shot up.

13