#I doubt it though since he’s around older birds who won’t let him get away with being a menace

[superfluffychickens]

Whenever Sascha feels Bullied and Afraid (which is often, the pullets love picking on him) he hides at the top of the stairs. He’s just a Little Boy after all, even though he’s taller than Pluto and all the girls, but he’ll become a Big Brave Boy someday! Whatever he becomes, I’ll still adore him with all my heart!

[handwrittenhello]

gave you wings

T, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer, 4k, modern-with-magic AU. When Geralt is woken one morning by a crow tapping at his window, he finds that it's no ordinary crow--it's a shifter, bound in animal form by a nasty spell.

read here on ao3, or below:

---

Geralt was roused from sleep by something persistent tapping at his window. With a groan, he rolled over—catching sight of his alarm clock flashing 3:48 as he did—and went to investigate.

He hoped it wasn’t one of the local kids again—lately they’d become far too fond of daring each other to throw rocks at his windows. It almost made him long for the times when witchers were feared and hated—nobody would dare risk provoking him so stupidly.

When he opened the window, though, it wasn’t kids throwing rocks—no, a crow sat on his windowsill, a pebble clutched in its beak, which it promptly dropped when it saw Geralt.

“Scram,” Geralt muttered, waving it away, but all it did was hop sideways a bit before letting out a loud caw.

Geralt furrowed his brow. “Get out of here,” he said a bit louder, trying to shoo it away again. It deftly avoided his hands, flapping a little to maintain balance on the narrow sill, before hopping onto his hands and letting out an even louder CAW.

This was no ordinary crow. Why else would it be tapping on his window so early in the morning, and so unafraid of his closeness? “Fuck,” he muttered, and left the window open while he went to brew a pot of coffee.

--

The crow seemed quite at home perched atop his kitchen counter, watching him with its beady eyes as he leaned back against the fridge and downed a cup of heavily sugared coffee. “So,” Geralt finally said, setting down his mug on the counter. “What’s so important that you got me out of bed at four in the morning for?”

The crow drew itself up and ruffled its feathers, as if readying itself for a speech. It was a strangely human gesture—Geralt was reminded that they wouldn’t get very far with the crow not being able to speak.

“Hm. Can you even understand me?” Geralt backtracked, earning himself an indignant look and a low rattling sound. But the crow bobbed its head up and down in a sure nod. “But you can’t speak.” Another nod.

The crow hopped closer, then, until it was almost atop Geralt’s hand lying on the countertop. Geralt caught a flash of something shiny around its leg—was there something wrapped around it? But when he made to reach for it, the crow skittered backwards, making another low rattle and fluffing up its feathers.

“It’s alright, I just want to look,” Geralt soothed, stilling his hand. The rattle stopped, and the bird hopped hesitantly closer. Geralt waited for it to come to him, motionless and patient. Only when it perched on his hand did he bring it closer, peering intently at its leg.

A silver chain, so fine as to be nearly invisible to the eye, wound its way around the crow’s leg. This close, he could see the barely-there, shimmering aura around it—it was surely enchanted. Likely a binding charm—chains rarely served any other purpose in spells.

Geralt whistled lowly. “No ordinary crow, then,” he surmised, though he’d already known. “Human?”

The crow rattled its displeasure at the term—so it wasn’t transfigured, then. But it was still clearly sentient—

“Ah,” Geralt said, an idea dawning. “A shifter.”

Sometimes called weyr, in the old tongue—as survived in words like werewolf—the species was exceedingly rare. Even before monsters and chaos had dwindled down to nearly nothing, one would be hard-pressed to encounter a shifter, let alone recognize one upon seeing it. In human form, they were indistinguishable from anyone else, by the naked eye or by magic. They retained their wits in their animal form, too, so unless one was careless enough to be seen shifting, it was nigh impossible for them to be caught.

Their rarity had made them a target by mages and non-mages alike—they were either hunted in hopes of harnessing their unique connection to chaos, or else were pursued by the ignorant who feared anything strange.

It was nothing short of a miracle, one showing up at Geralt’s door (or window, rather).

“Someone caught you. A mage,” Geralt guessed. Only a powerful magic user would be able to bind a shifter so thoroughly. “But why are you here?”

The crow cawed and launched itself towards Geralt’s throat. Geralt jerked his head back, but he had nothing to fear—the crow was pecking at the witcher medallion that lay in the hollow of his throat.

“My friend, you’d be far better off going to a mage. I have skill with breaking curses, but none so complex as yours,” Geralt confessed.

The crow let out an ear-splitting screech. Geralt slammed his hands over his ears. That would be a resounding no, then. He decided not to broach the matter of payment just then.

He eyed the crow, wary of another reaction. When none was forthcoming, he cautiously lowered his hands, the crow watching him intently all the while—waiting for an answer.

“I’ll help you,” Geralt decided. Well, he had decided the moment he’d let the crow inside, really, but it was easier to pretend he’d made an informed decision. “May I see the charm again?”

The crow obliged, fidgeting in place but mostly managing to hold still while Geralt inspected the chain. Though it was fine, he doubted it would be as simple as snapping it—that didn’t stop him from trying anyway, though the moment he touched it, the crow screeched and beat him back with its wings, before retreating to atop the fridge. There it huddled, fussing fretfully at its leg—and then Geralt saw, almost obscured by feathers but visible when looking for it, the dark skin beneath the chain, the blackened marks that resulted from a bad burn.

“Enchanted and cursed, then. I apologize.” The crow glared at him, not moving from its spot stop the fridge and out of reach. “I won’t touch it again. I promise,” Geralt vowed, sorry that he had caused any pain in the first place.

The crow huffed, but flapped back down to the counter. It watched Geralt, waiting for his next move.

“Come with me,” Geralt said, grabbing his jacket and keys.

--

The crow gripped the handlebars of Geralt’s motorbike tightly, the wind whipping past and threatening to dislodge it. It kept starting to open its wings, only to force them closed again, as if it was reminding itself that it wasn’t actually flying. Geralt kept a close watch anyway, afraid that if he took a turn too sharply or revved the engine too suddenly, the crow would be thrown off and crushed beneath the wheels of another vehicle.

Should’ve taken a taxi, Geralt thought to himself, but it was too late now. They were already on the freeway to Vengerberg, where a certain violet-eyed sorceress kept a summer home. He supposed he could have called ahead, but he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of cell phones—always forgot it whenever he went anywhere—and besides, Yennefer always appreciated a good surprise.

Geralt chased the sun east, watching as the horizon in front of him slowly went from indigo blue to purple to stunning gold as the sun rose. They crossed the border into Aedirn sometime mid-morning, and Geralt pulled over to a rest stop to refuel and grab something to eat.

The crow perched atop his shoulder as he entered the gas station, preening its feathers into place after being disturbed by the wind. The attendant stared openly, though Geralt was sure she must have seen weirder. He ignored it and grabbed a packet of sunflower seeds for the crow and some beef jerky for himself.

“Five sixty-eight,” the attendant said when he came up to the register, followed by, “Nice pet.”

The crow looked up from its preening and cawed loudly at her.

“He’s not a pet,” Geralt said mildly, then grabbed his food and left. While he stretched his legs out at a picnic table, the crow stretched its wings, flapping in circles above his head. Every so often, it would land briefly on the table and peck at the sunflower seeds Geralt had scattered there, before returning to its circling.

Geralt ate his jerky leisurely, and debated going back in for a soda.

--

After half an hour, Geralt felt they had delayed long enough. The crow was likely anxious to get going, and Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn’t as well. He got to his feet and whistled for the crow, which had steadily flown in greater and greater circles, and had since disappeared briefly from sight. Geralt wasn’t overly worried—until the crow didn’t show up. Geralt wished he knew what to call it—he would’ve felt stupid calling it ‘crow’.

He whistled again, louder and longer this time. Nothing happened for one second, two, and then Geralt heard it, and only thanks to his enhanced senses—frantic cawing and flapping wings among the trees behind the rest stop.

He broke out into a run, pushing aside the thin branches that snapped at his face as he fought his way through the undergrowth. The cawing was near, now, and Geralt heard tense voices accompanying.

“The cage—get the cage—!”

Geralt broke through the trees to a small clearing, stopping stunned at the sight in front of him. A silver woven net lay tangled in a heap on the ground in one corner, and opposite was a steel cage, door hanging open and waiting for an occupant. There were feathers scattered everywhere, and Geralt smelled traces of blood in the air.

And in the middle of the clearing was the source of the commotion—the crow flapped wildly above the heads of two men, talons extended and trying to scratch at their faces, while they flailed about with nets, not unlike the kind used to catch insects, though a bit bigger. A third man, older, wizened, stood apart, his eyes closed in concentration as he muttered something under his breath. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

Stregobor.

It had been centuries since Geralt had seen him, though he’d heard plenty about his latest exploits in the news—he was said to be making great strides in magical research, investigating transformative magic and its applications. Geralt had often tuned it out, but now it all made sense—if he wasn’t the one who had bound the crow shifter to a single form for some nefarious purpose, Geralt would eat his bike.

He wasted no time in instantly tackling Stregobor to the ground, disrupting the spell he was casting. The crow seemed to be holding its own against the two men with nets for the time being, though Geralt knew he needed to hurry—the scent of blood was growing stronger, the crow actively bleeding. He had the element of surprise, and didn’t waste it—he grappled with Stregobor, surprised at the strength the old mage still had even after so many centuries.

There was a sudden cry of pain behind him—Geralt thought it was human and not avian, but he couldn’t tell for sure. It distracted him momentarily, and that was all Stregobor needed to shout something in Elder that had Geralt flying backwards.

His back hit the ground hard, stunning him for half a second. Stregobor got to his feet, brushing the debris from his clothes—he still wore robes, even after all this time—and shot a bolt of light towards the crow.

It hit it in the wing, sending it tumbling out of the air in a heap of feathers. One of the men with a net—the only one still standing, the other writhing on the ground and clutching his bleeding face—slammed his net down onto the motionless crow with far too much force.

Geralt caught his breath and rolled to his feet, launching himself at the man that had the crow captive. He knocked him unconscious easily with a swift blow to the head, but that was as far as he got before Stregobor sent another pulse of magic towards him.

He dodged. It missed him by a hair, screaming past his head and exploding against a tree behind him.

“Stay out of this, witcher,” Stregobor warned, readying another spell. “This doesn’t have to concern you.”

“Let the shifter go and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Stregobor replied, and threw the spell at Geralt. Geralt dodged again, but too slowly—it clipped his arm. Hot, agonizing pain spread from the area.

If this turned into a fight between magic and witcher skills, there was no question who would win. Geralt made a snap decision, scooping the crow off the ground and darting out of the clearing, heading back towards the rest stop.

Stregobor was hopefully depleted after the many spells he had already cast—Geralt could only hope that he wasted the rest of his energy by chasing him through the brush. If they could just get to Yennefer’s…

Sure enough, as he sprinted towards his bike, Geralt heard Stregobor yelling curses behind him. Once or twice a bolt of magic went flying by, but it missed every time.

As Geralt broke through the tree line, he hoped that he had finally lost Stregobor. He straddled his bike and tucked the crow inside his jacket, hissing in apology when he jarred the crow’s injured wing. With a roar of the engine he peeled out onto the freeway, speeding east to Vengerberg.

--

Though there was nobody pursuing them, Geralt still felt hunted as he pulled his bike into Yennefer’s expansive driveway. He all but ran to her door, pounding urgently on it, regretting not calling ahead so that she knew to expect them.

Luckily, she answered only moments later. “Do you have wards up?” was the first thing Geralt asked.

“Yes. Do you know how alarming it is for that to be the first thing you say after not seeing each other for months?” Yennefer asked, beckoning him in.

“Have to be sure,” Geralt grunted. “Got a problem, and I don’t know if I was followed.”

“Would it kill you to bring flowers or wine instead of a problem every time you come by?” Yennefer sighed. “What is it?”

Geralt unzipped his jacket and carefully extracted the crow. It was no longer unconscious, but drowsy would be an understatement—it looked on the verge of a coma, eyes half-closed and breathing shallow. A few loose feathers drifted to the ground.

“Pest Services might be more apt,” Yennefer started to say, but paused when the silver chain caught her eye. “Ah. Binding spell? Friend of yours?”

“No. I’m for hire,” Geralt said, conveniently leaving out the part where he’d received no such payment. “It’s a shifter. Wanted by Stregobor—probably for research.”

The skin around Yennefer’s eyes tightened ever so slightly—he dared to call it concern for the shifter—and she gritted her teeth—and that he knew was deep-rooted hatred for Stregobor.

“Bring him to my workroom.”

He followed her upstairs, where she kept most of her magical equipment. With a wave of her hand, she cleared the books and various sundries from the worktable against the wall, and indicated for Geralt to lay the crow down on it. He did so carefully, mindful of its injuries, and hesitantly stepped back. Yennefer didn’t appreciate hovering, but he couldn’t fight back his protective instincts that had been roaring ever since the fight.

Yennefer leaned over the crow, inspecting. Her hands went to the chain, and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t,” he warned, stepping forward and reaching out as if to physically stop her.

“I know,” she snapped back. “Believe it or not, I’ve seen a binding spell or two in my time, Geralt.” But she showed demonstrably more care in handling the crow, then, lest he become alarmed again.

She moved on to inspecting the crow’s wing, then, frowning at what she saw. “This was a magical injury, yes?”

“Yes. One of Stregobor’s spells—it was a bolt of light, caught it in the wing.”

“Well, lucky for it, the damage is physical only, from what I can tell. Stregobor likely meant to stun it only. Hence the lifelessness. It’ll wear off within the hour.”

Geralt let out a sigh of relief at hearing the diagnosis. Physical injuries, those he knew what to expect, how to deal with them. Now what worried him most was the binding spell.

“And the chain? Can you remove it without hurting it?”

Yennefer pursed her lips. “No. It’s an extremely strong bond—the sort not taken as a trifle. Forging a connection like this without the shifter’s consent…” She shook her head. “It’s a violation of the worst sort, Geralt.”

Geralt’s heart thudded in his chest. He wet his lips. “So what do we do?” He gazed at the poor crow, looking so small and hopeless where it lay. He couldn’t put words to his horror—being bound body and soul, and to Stregobor, no less.

“There are… theories, things I’ve read, but you have to understand,” Yennefer said, pinning his gaze, “I don’t suggest what I’m about to lightly.”

A pit formed in Geralt’s stomach. “What is it?” It couldn’t be worse than the binding spell, could it?

“If we formed another bond, one even stronger than this, it would give us room to throw off the old one. But the strength required… it would be ironclad, unbreakable. The shifter would spend the rest of its very long life bound to us.”

Even now, some eight hundred years later, Geralt thought back to the djinn in Rinde, to the connection that had once bound their destinies together, and he knew she was remembering it too. “Yen…” he trailed off. How did he put it to words? How did he express his understanding, acknowledge that she was trying to help, while warning her of doing the same thing she’d opposed so strongly then?

But then, looking into her eyes and seeing the haunted look there, he knew that he didn’t have to. She had already had this conversation with herself, and, seeing no other option, had accepted her role as becoming exactly what she hated.

A weak croak caught their attention. Geralt looked over and saw that the crow was looking slightly more lively—it had managed to sit up, at least, though it still looked bedraggled and unsteady. “Are you feeling any better?” he asked, and received a delayed nod. Then a thought struck him. “Yen, can you…?”

“Read his thoughts? I would, but they’re too muddled. I don’t know if it’s the result of the spell or if it’s always like this in animal form. I’ve never met a shifter personally, and gods know there’s hardly any literature on them.”

The crow got shakily to its feet, and before either Geralt or Yennefer could stop it, it flew up to perch on Geralt’s shoulder, nuzzling in close to his neck. He instinctively put a hand up to cradle it in place—the last thing it needed was to fall off.

“Well, then? Clearly it’s gotten attached,” Yennefer said, arching an eyebrow.

“I don’t—I don’t know.” How could he make this decision? It was too big, too important. He held the shifter’s life in his hands, and the knowledge terrified him.

The crow nipped him on the ear. “Ow,” Geralt complained, but was drowned out by the crow cawing in his ear. He suddenly felt very foolish indeed—the crow had heard them discussing it, must have, and they hadn’t even considered asking it its opinion of the matter. “Hm. I’m sorry that we can’t give you a better option.”

The crow cawed again, softer, and nibbled gently at his ear. It’s alright, it seemed to be saying, or perhaps I understand.

“It’s your decision,” Yennefer said. “I can bind you to us—permanently—in order to break the bond with Stregobor. Or, if you’d rather, you can live out your days here, and I give you my word that no harm will you come to you—though the bond would remain.”

The crow rattled in disgust. It nipped gently once more at Geralt’s ear, then flapped-hopped over to Yennefer’s shoulder, where it began preening her hair. Geralt couldn’t believe that she would allow it, but she made no move to dislodge the crow.

“Is that a yes?” he asked nervously, anticipation curdling in his stomach. The crow stopped its preening, looked directly at Geralt, and bobbed its head up and down neatly.

“Alright,” Yennefer said softly.

--

They cleared out all the furniture for the ritual that would replace the bond. The crow watched them, perched atop the table, until they had to move that too, and then it clung to Geralt’s shoulder as he worked. Finally, the room was clear, and Yennefer drew a large chalk circle on the floor.

Geralt took his designated seat warily, nerves making his skin prickle. Yennefer sat opposite him, legs crossed, while the crow was sat in between. Yennefer dimmed the lights and closed her eyes—he copied her, relying on his other senses.

He smelled smoke as Yennefer lit the bundle of herbs she’d gathered, heard the soft susurrus of the crow’s feathers as it shifted. As she began to chant, he felt the characteristic tingle of magical energy settling over him like a second skin—the bonding had started.

Yennefer’s chanting grew steadily louder, and behind his eyelids Geralt saw the light of the candles flare even brighter. The crow’s fidgeting grew wilder, and little croaks began to make their way out of its throat.

Geralt hoped it wasn’t hurting—and if it was, he hoped it would be over soon.

He himself was in no pain at all, besides the discomfort that came with all magic cast on him. He gritted his teeth and bore it, until all at once it stopped—the candles went out, Yennefer gasped once, and the silver chain around the crow’s leg fell to the floor with a soft clink.

Geralt’s eyes flew open, and where the crow had been only moments before, there was now a pair of legs—bare—and when Geralt followed them upwards, there was an entire man—also bare. Geralt blinked a few times, mind blank, before averting his gaze.

“Well,” the shifter said, smacking his lips. “That was unpleasant.” And Geralt watched as his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, too quickly for Geralt to catch him.

“He’ll be fine,” Yennefer said, getting to her feet. She swayed a little as she stood, and Geralt ached to steady her—something she would never accept. “The bonding took a lot out of all of us—him most of all.”

Geralt hummed, gathering up the shifter in his arms. He weighed more than he looked—or perhaps Geralt was simply used to his weight as a crow. While Yennefer put her things back in order, Geralt carried the shifter to the guest room, tucking him into bed and feeling strangely fond as he did so.

“It’s the bond,” Yennefer explained, leaning in the doorway and watching the whole affair. She ambled over to the bed and sat down next to the shifter, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Can you feel it?”

He could, he realized, when he reached deep inside. Just beside the djinn’s magic that tied him to Yennefer, he felt a fledgling something, a fluttering newness that nipped and tugged at his breastbone.

“That’s him?” Geralt asked, though he didn’t need the confirmation—he knew it as surely as he knew himself.

Yennefer nodded, dropping her arm and standing up. “Leave him to his rest. I imagine he’ll need some time to acclimate to the bond—we all will, for that matter.”

Though Geralt wanted nothing more than to stay and study the shifter, watch over him until he woke, he followed Yennefer out of the room, shutting the door softly so as not to disturb him.

--

The shifter woke some hours later, after Geralt and Yennefer had eaten a late lunch and were debating if it would be worth eating dinner. The shifter stumbled down the stairs, interrupting their discussion, and said, quite plainly, “Are we talking dinner? I’m starving.”

“You’re up,” Yennefer replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” the shifter—Geralt really needed to ask his name—answered. “Sunflower seeds are nice and all, but really, nothing compares to a good hot meal.”

He was wrapped in the bedsheet, Geralt realized suddenly. Of course—he had no clothes. It didn’t seem to overly bother him, though, as he crossed the room and promptly deposited himself on Geralt’s lap, wiggling a bit to get comfortable. Geralt’s hands came up automatically to wrap around his waist.

“And your wing?” Yennefer asked.

“Oh, good as new!” the shifter replied cheerily, untangling his arm from the bedsheet and wiggling it in demonstration. “Healed right up as soon as that awful binding spell was gone.” He turned to look at Geralt. “Thank you, by the way. You didn’t have to help me—I know it was a lot of trouble.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt answered. “I wouldn’t leave you to Stregobor.”

The shifter shuddered. Geralt held him a bit tighter. “Ugh. He caught me unaware—normally I’m careful, but this very handsome man bought me a drink, and then another, and then before I knew it I was being manhandled into the back of a car. And I thought, well, can’t be manhandled if I’m not a man, but then he had that awful chain…”

“You’re not the first to fall victim to him. Though binding a shifter to him is a new low,” Yennefer said darkly.

Guilt tightened in Geralt’s gut. It was different, what they had done—but was it really? It was still a bond the shifter had been forced into. He moved the shifter off his lap, ignoring the hurt look that he flashed him. “Need to go for a walk,” Geralt grunted, and headed for the door.

“Don’t mind him,” he heard Yennefer say behind him. “Let him clear his head and then he’ll be back. In the meantime—what do you say to pasta?”

The door shut heavily behind Geralt, cutting off their voices, giving him room to think. The bond still pulsed heartily in his chest, but like this, it was muted enough for him to catch his breath.

How was the shifter so blasé about it? Surely he understood the fact that he was now permanently bound to two strangers?

Geralt jammed his hands in his pockets and started to walk, focusing only on his feet hitting the ground and the evening calls of the bird around him.

By the time his thoughts had settled and he’d made his way back to the house, the sun was setting, and a deep tiredness was settling into his bones. The early morning and excitement of the day were catching up with him.

He could hear Yennefer and the shifter inside, chatting, and hesitated on the doorstep. He suddenly felt as if he were intruding—what right did he have to storm off in the middle of a conversation and expect them to welcome him back seamlessly? Clearly they were getting along just fine without him.

The door opened suddenly and a gust of wind at his back urged him inside. Yennefer. He let her guide him to the kitchen, where the shifter stood washing dishes at the sink and she sat on the counter. “Ah, you’re back!” the shifter said, setting down the plate it was washing.

“Jaskier was just telling me about your trip here. It sounded quite exciting,” Yennefer teased.

“I like a bit of adventure, but I could do without the almost-kidnapping,” Jaskier said, leaning in closer to Geralt. “Lucky I had you there, I suppose.”

“Hm.” Geralt hesitantly lifted an arm, and Jaskier wasted no time in burrowing into his side. “Lucky.”

“And lucky you have such wonderful friends as Yennefer,” Jaskier continued, looking meaningfully at Yennefer. She raised an eyebrow, but hopped off the counter and sidled closer. Geralt let her sink into his side too, holding them both tightly, and felt the thrumming bond inside of him settle in contentment at having them close.

Lucky indeed.

[helnjk]

I Never Planned On You - C.W.

Charlie Weasley x reader

This is part of my showtunes fic list based on the song I Never Planned On You from the musical Newsies 💗 also i am SUCH a simp for Charlie it’s crazy 

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: when the twins bring their best friend to the burrow for christmas, charlie can’t keep his eyes off of her. 

Warnings: very brief mentions of death (minor character) & the war, injuries from dragons (?), mentions of food & alcohol consumption

- 

I’ve got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry

Girls are nice, once or twice,

Til I find someone new

The pub was unusually packed, Charlie noticed.

As he scanned around the crowded room, his friends idly chatted around him. This was their usual routine, every Friday they would clock out of work and make their way here for a round of drinks and some fish and chips. 

He hadn’t noticed until she was directly in front of him, but one of the girls he saw around the reserve had made their way over. 

“Hello Charlie,” She drawled, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder, “It’s so nice to run into you here.” 

Despite the freezing temperature and the fact that everyone else was dressed comfortably, having come straight from work, the girl was wearing barely anything. Not that it mattered what any bird wore, as long as they felt confident in it and in themselves. But, as she bent down to be eye to eye with him, her breasts practically spilled over from her too tight top. 

It was obvious what she was trying to do. 

His friends watched with amused glints in their eyes, already knowing how this interaction would go. Her appearance was not out of the ordinary. Despite each incident involving a different bird, they had seen this kind of thing happen quite often when they went out with Charlie. 

“Erm, hello,” He muttered, trying not to make eye contact, “Louise right?” 

Her attempt at a sultry conversation was shattered as she replied, “It’s Leanne.” 

“Right.” 

Sensing that he was not at all interested in whatever was going on, Leanne huffed and turned on her heel. She angrily strode across the room, making as much noise and ruckus as possible, just to get a reaction out of the redhead, but her attempts were futile. 

Mark, one of Charlie’s friends, let out a low whistle as the girl left hearing distance, “That one was rather presumptuous, don’t you think mate?” 

Charlie let out a soft chuckle, “I don’t understand why they all think they can pull the same move and expect me to react any differently.”

“They’re all hoping to be the lucky one that the Charlie Weasley falls for, or some other crap like that,” He winked, taking a swig of his beer. 

“Reckon that won’t happen for a long time yet, mate.” The redhead replied. 

“You never know, Charlie boy!” 

He merely shook his head and took a sip of his drink. Dating wasn’t really on his mind anyway. 

Love at first sight’s for suckers

At least it used to be

The crack of apparition sounded through the pale morning light. 

Charlie landed steadily on his feet as he appeared on the top of a hill, just on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Nothing had really changed since the last time he visited, the same silhouettes of different houses littered the landscape, the same sleepy neighbors about to begin their day. The familiarity of it all blazed in his heart like a warm fire at the end of a cold day, comforting and all consuming. 

The Burrow stood proud and tall in the horizon, and he couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips. He was home. It was the Christmas holidays, the war had ended, and he was home.  

He took his time, trudging up through the blanket of snow surrounding the house. Smoke rose from the chimney signalling that his mum was already puttering about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the army of people no doubt housed under her roof. 

“Mum!” He yelled as soon as he crossed the threshold, “Mum, I’m home!” 

As he banished the remaining snow on his boots with a wave of his wand, Molly Weasley came bustling out the kitchen door. Apron adorning her waist and a smidge of flour flecked on her fiery hair, she grinned and opened her arms. 

“Charlie,” She said as he bent down to wrap his arms around her in an embrace, “Oh love, it’s so good to see you!” 

“You too, mum.” He smiled at her, “Anyone else here yet?” 

From eldest to youngest, she listed off the plans of each of her children and where they were to spend the holidays. Everyone would be ‘round on Christmas and Boxing day, but the only ones spending the night that day, Christmas Eve, were the twins, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. The younger ones of the bunch had arrived the day prior, but were still asleep from what she knew. 

Charlie nodded his head before he was sent away to unpack his things in his old room. His mum had kept it just as he left it, even though it had been many years since he moved to Romania. She said something about not being bothered to think of anything to turn it in to, but he knew that she kept it for nostalgia’s sake. 

As he made his way back down the stairs, the commotion at the front of the house caught his attention. Fred and George had arrived, noisily announcing their appearance, taking off coats and scarves and calling out to their mum. However, Charlie could also just barely see the outline of a third person behind them. 

She was nearly a head shorter than the twins, but when she came into view, he felt the air get knocked out of him. The light streaming in from the open door behind her seemed to glow in a halo around her, her eyes lighting up at whatever the twins had said and a laugh falling from her lips. 

She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. 

The twins took notice of Charlie’s presence, as he was paused halfway down the stairs, and called out to him. 

“Oi, Charlie!” George called, making his way to his older brother, “Nice to see you, mate! How’ve you been?” 

“Good-erm, good yeah.” He managed to stutter out, head still spinning at the sight of the beautiful girl, “What have you lot been up to, then? Who’ve you brought over?” 

“This is Y/N,” Fred said, motioning to his best friend. 

At the introduction, she smiled brightly and held out her hand for Charlie to shake, “I work with the twins at the shop, nice to meet you.” 

Charlie spotted Fred and George roll their eyes playfully. 

“Oh come off it,” Fred nudged her before turning to his older brother, “We’ve been mates with this one since Hogwarts. She was usually the one getting us in trouble, though.” 

“Oi!” She laughed, “Don’t make me sound like the bad influence, I was a perfectly good student.”

As Charlie watched their interaction, he had flashes of a little girl always in step with the twins and causing mischief in the halls of Hogwarts during his last few years there. Back then, she had only been a child, bright eyed and inquisitive, but now she had grown into a woman, confident and sure. 

“Nice to meet you,” He murmured as their eyes locked, “The more the merrier around here.” 

He might have been imagining things, but he swore he could see the faint beginnings of a blush creeping onto Y/N’s cheeks. 

The ruckus made from the twins & Y/N’s entrance was enough to wake the rest of the inhabitants of the household. It seemed like the Christmas celebrations had begun early as they all clambered into the slightly too small kitchen table and had a meal together. 

For the rest of the day, Molly had them all helping out in preparation for the real celebratory meal the next day. Charlie hadn’t had the time to strike up a conversation with Y/N and instead settled with (not so) subtle glances her way. 

Once or twice, one of the twins would catch onto his game and send him knowing looks. He paid them no mind, though, being used to their antics. 

“So Charlie,” Fred began, as the family was settling in around the living room after dinner, “Y/N, huh?” 

The pair of them leant against the wall in the corner of the room, away from any prying eyes or ears.

“Shove off, mate.” He replied with a slight shake of his head and his lips barely twitching into a smile. 

The younger brother rolled his eyes playfully, “It’s alright. Georgie and I have been fending off boys for years with our Y/N. She’s quite fit, but no guy’s been good enough for her in our eyes, or in hers I reckon.” 

“Don’t you go playing the protective best friend on me now, I haven’t even done anything!” Charlie playfully shoved his shoulder against his brother’s. 

“Nah, I’d never. Just wanted to tell you that she’s never been romantically involved with anyone.” 

“Well, that makes the two of us then.” 

-

The Burrow was uncharacteristically silent as Charlie crept down the staircase. It was definitely past midnight, but he hadn’t been able to fall asleep, tossing and turning from the moment his head met the pillow. 

He paused for a moment as he reached the bottom, not expecting to see light filtering through the open kitchen door at this time of night. His heart only picked up its pace as he noticed that it was Y/N who was sat by the counter, nursing a cup of tea in her hands and staring out the window. 

“Care for any company?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. 

He noticed her body jump slightly at the noise, but when she turned to face him, the smile she sent in his direction could light up any room, “I’ve just heard from a certain redhead that around here, the more the merrier.”

“Fred tell you that?” 

Her laugh was a sound he knew he would never tire of hearing, “And I see cheekiness runs in the family as well.” 

“Nah,” Charlie shrugged, taking the seat across from her, “It’s our good looks that you should be watching out for.” 

He flicked his wand and the kettle began to boil once more as a mug floated its way towards the counter. The pair of them had settled into a peaceful silence, taking in the comforting atmosphere of the winter night. 

It was Charlie who finally broke the silence, “So, how’s it been working with the twins at the shop? They drive you mad yet?” 

She gave him a knowing smile, “When you’ve spent nearly seven years in close quarters with them, you tend to get used to it. Plus it’s good to have steady company, especially when it comes in the form of Fred and George.” 

“What about your family? How’re they spending the holidays then?” 

The moment the question escaped Charlie’s lips, he knew he had made a mistake. The light in Y/N’s eyes seemed to dim and her grip on the mug in front of her seemed to tighten.

“Oh I’m sorry, you don’t have to–” He began.

“No it’s alright,” She assured him, “My parents died in the war. I was going to spend the holidays alone, but the twins refused to even entertain the thought.” 

“Well, I’m glad they brought you along this year.” He sent her a timid smile. 

“Me too.” 

But I never planned on someone like you

Christmas comes and goes in a flurry of cable knit sweaters and too much food. Y/N and Charlie found themselves tucked away in a corner or out in the snowy landscape taking a walk together more often than not. A quiet conversation at the dead of night did wonders for their budding friendship. 

It was as if they were magnets now, drawn to each other in a way that couldn’t be explained. 

Sooner than he’d like, Charlie found himself in one of the Ministry offices, hand tightly gripped onto a portkey. 

As he settled back into his daily routine at the dragon reserve, his mind often wandered to Y/N. The way her eyes lit up when she saw the snow fall, how her smile bloomed at any of the twins’ (albeit not so funny) jokes, the little crinkle in her nose when she had a particular thought in mind. 

“Look out, mate!” 

He only had a second to react as he saw one of the younger Welsh Greens open its mouth and shoot flames in his direction. Charlie had been so distracted by his thoughts that despite his best effort and his exceptional flying skills, he still felt flames lick his skin and singe his clothes. 

Full of adrenaline, he managed to land his broom properly before rolling onto the grass and performing the protocol for accidents such as these. Mark reached him quickly, as the rest of the team he was with went to settle the dragon down. A quick aguamenti charm at the still burning areas of Charlie’s clothes got rid of the remaining flames, but he still suffered a few burns and scrapes. 

“You alright, mate?” Mark asked, helping the redhead get to his feet, “I think we’ve still got to get you to the infirmary for those burns.” 

“Nothing I haven’t gone through before.” He smiled, wincing slightly as his clothes rubbed against the new burns on his skin. 

-

As it was protocol for the reserve to inform next of kin of serious injuries, Molly Weasley received an owl detailing the accident and the procedures done to make sure that Charlie was well taken care of. 

When she received it, she just so happened to have Y/N over for some tea. As the matriarch of the Weasley family couldn’t help but be drawn to children who had lost their parents in unfortunate circumstances, she made it a point to have her over every once in a while. 

“Charlie’s hurt?” Y/N asked, concern leaking into her voice. She had peered over Molly’s shoulder to see what could be so urgently delivered from Romania. 

Molly tried to hide her smile as she noticed how much Y/N cared for her son. She wasn’t the only one who took note of how quickly they were drawn to each other over the holidays, and she was thrilled at the thought of Charlie finding someone to love. 

Of course, she knew it wasn’t love just yet.

“Got a few burns from one of their younger dragons, it says,” Molly clarified, “He’s confined in their infirmary until further notice. Usually we’re allowed to visit them when we get a notice like this, but I don’t think I’d have the time to go this week… And I don’t want to bother Arthur, he’s been so busy these days with the Ministry as well.” 

Having been around Molly for much of her Hogwarts years, Y/N knew exactly what she was doing. But she couldn’t deny the flutters in her stomach when she realized that the person she looked up to as basically her second mother was trying to push her into the arms of her second eldest son.

“Molly,” She began, already set to turn down the offer. 

Mrs. Weasley was quick to the chase, however, “Oh I hope he wouldn’t feel too bad, being injured and not having anyone come to visit him.”

A small chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips as she shook her head, “I’m sure he’s got friends over at the reserve.”

“Oh Y/N, but I know he’d love to have you over!” She protested, “And I know the twins would let you go and visit him as well. I would be truly grateful if someone from the family could visit him and come home with news.” 

Y/N’s resolve faltered as she noticed that Molly had said she was family. The Weasleys had been practically her second family the moment the twins took her under their wing, but hearing the family matriarch say it so casually moved something in her heart. 

“Oh alright.” Y/N smiled, “I’ve never been to Romania, might as well go and see what all the fuss is about.” 

-

The infirmary wasn’t new to Charlie. 

Working with dragons was a little more high risk than his mother would’ve liked, but his love for magical creatures overrode whatever concerns she might have had. It helped that everyone working in the place was a top notch healer and got him patched up in no time. 

Still, he found himself on bedrest for at least the next few days as he waited for the various balms and soothing creams applied to his skin to work. 

Just as he began to feel a little stifled and antsy, a knock on the door rang and the familiar head of one of his healers popped in, “Looks like you’ve got a visitor, mate.”

Charlie furrowed his brows, “But, my mum said she couldn’t come ‘round and visit–” 

“Sorry to disappoint, love.” 

The sound of her voice was enough to fill his heart with immeasurable joy. In that moment, he forgot all about the uncomfortable sting of his burns and the itch he had to get out of the ward and onto the field again.

“Y/N?” He asked, as she stepped into the room, looking as radiant as when he first met her, “What’re you doing here?” 

“Molly said that you were injured,” She shrugged, nonchalant, “Just thought I’d keep you company while you recovered.” 

“You came all the way to Romania just so that I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind?” 

“Well when you say it like that, it sounds like I went through loads of trouble! I just got the next portkey out of Britain.” 

Despite all appearances, the two of them bantered with each other with rapidly beating hearts. Charlie couldn’t believe that his own mum had sent the bird he was pining after to visit him in the infirmary. Y/N couldn’t believe that she had actually gone through with the plan and was going to be around the boy who caught her eye. 

As soon as she took a seat next to his bed, though, their conversation flowed from where it left off. No awkwardness or uncomfortable pauses, just the two of them chatting as if they were still back in the Burrow, nursing warm mugs of tea and watching snow fall outside the window. 

Y/N had to avert her eyes when the healer came back to redress his bandages, not because she was embarrassed to see him practically naked in front of her, but because seeing the burns nearly made her gasp out loud. She knew that he was a dragon tamer, but she hadn’t known the severity of what accidents on the job looked like. 

Of course, he noticed and once the healer had left them again he said, “I’m alright, love. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be all patched up in no time!” 

“Yeah,” She nodded, “I just wasn’t expecting that.” 

Without thinking, she reached out and took his hand in hers. The both of them looked at their intertwined hands atop the stark white bed sheets. His skin was calloused and rough, she noted, but tender and gentle too. It was evident that he enjoyed what he did and he did it with a lot of care. 

“Tell you what,” He stage-whispered, finally meeting her eyes, “I know what’ll help me feel better.” 

“Oh yeah? What?” She raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to him and playing along.

“For you to go on a date with me once I get out of here.” 

“You are something else, Weasley.” Her eyes glimmered as she shook her head, and Charlie felt his heart hammering in his chest, “If you weren’t injured, I would’ve shoved you off this bed.” 

“You didn’t give me an answer, Y/L/N.” He replied, hoping that he didn’t come off as too eager, but still squeezing her hand to show that he was serious.

“Of course I will, you silly man!” She rolled her eyes, but pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. 

She relished in the way that simple gesture brought a rosy pink tinge to his skin. 

[lottiebagley]

Have you ever been in love? - Cedric Diggory

The Diggory family had lived next door to her family since she moved house when she was only 4. He had been in his garden on a kids broom, his parents sat on the patio in front of the grass watching him play, when the new next door neighbours had burst into their garden.

It was like life itself injected into the small and quiet village. Twin boys, maybe 7 or 8 with loud laughs and boisterous attitudes. A young girl who had a desperation to keep up with her brothers running out after them.

The parents had talked over the fence and Amos invited the family over for dinner, insisting that after the stress of the move they shouldn't be cooking.

The daughter ended up being only 2 months younger than Cedric and immediately they were joint at the hip.

They grew up together. Swimming in the lake in hot summers, cuddled up under blankets whilst drinking hot chocolate at Christmas. They made promises of a lifelong friendship in the small village and neither had any intent to break it.

The boy was the epitome of kindness. He was caring and sweet. Always patient with her when she got into stupid situations and loyal as they come.

She was just different enough it worked. With two older brothers who she always wanted to impress she was brave, some would say to the point it was stupid. She could be reckless but she was also passionate. If she cared she would do anything for someone and she really, really, cared about her best friend.

It was no shock that they were placed in different houses. It was also no shock to anyone that knew them that they stayed best friends. Joint at the hip.

He grounded her and cared when she felt like no one else would.

She stood right by his side through anything.

It was natural. The love that blossomed in her heart. He had grown up to be an attractive boy. With perfectly tousled hair and a tall stature. Milky skin with bright eyes and a sharp jaw. But he was more than that to her.

He was warm smiles and easy laughs. He was her rock. The one thing she could always rely on. Of course she fell for him. Fell  hard. It was only ever natural.

"Ced!" Her voice sounds through the hall, she leaves the Weasley twins' side, they were her closest friends in her own house.

He can't help the wide smile on his face when he turns to see her jogging down the corridor to catch up to him. His dorm mates rolling their eyes and calling him whipped jokingly before continuing on their way to breakfast. Leaving him to be with his best friend.

"Morning love," he grins down at her when she reaches his side, his arms wrapping around her. She can't help the blush on her cheeks at the pet name. "You sleep well?" He asks, his arm stays tightly wrapped around her as they walk to the hall.

"I slept okay. Angelina has a cold so she was snoring which kept me up a bit," the girl admits. Rolling her eyes when she sees the worry over taking her best friends features.

"You should have just come and slept in with me," he reprimands gently

"Oh yes Mr. Prefect, let me just break those school rules with you," she teases

"Since when did you care for the school rules?"

"I don't want to bring you down with me,"

"Ah. But you're the only one I would let drag me down," he laughs

"Seems like your reputation will stay crystal clean then,"

"You're a pretty bad bad influence," he chuckles giving her a tight squeeze "I mean it though. I never mind you staying in my bed," he smiles lightly.

"Thanks Ced," she grins. They arrive at the hall and she drags him to eat breakfast with her at the Gryffindor table. He pretends to protest, knowing she will never let him actually not come. The love-struck grin on his face lets everyone near the pair know that he could never say no. Even if he wanted too.

The pair talk easily over their breakfast, playing footsie under the table like it's a thing all friends do. He makes sure she's eating a balanced breakfast and she laughs calling him a mother hen. Both of them mistake the love in the others eyes to be platonic.

"Sorry love birds but y/n we have to get going. We have Herbology," George smiles down at the girl waiting patiently for her. Trying not laugh at the bright flush overtaking both their features at the name.

"I'll see you in divination?" She asks the Hufflepuff in front of her.

"See you there love," he grins. She smiles pressing a kiss to his cheek over the table. Before flouncing out of the hall with George.

If she had looked back she would have seen the smile he can't wipe off his face. The way his hand subconsciously touches his cheek. The way he laughs at himself quietly. You got it bad Diggory. He can't get the thought out of his house as he watches her laughing figure turn round the corner.

**

"You're playing with fire you know," George mutters to the girl as they stand working on a mandrake in a  tucked away corner.

"What on earth are you talking about Georgie? You must have inhaled some fumes," she jokes

"Flirting with Pretty boy Diggory. You're only going to get yourself hurt if you are with him all the time and don't tell him you feel," he states "I mean you're clearly in love," he adds on the end, laughing when her face turns beat red.

*

Y/n sits with Cedric in the library. It's late, the library will close within the hour,  and a  Friday night. Most students are having a night off and relaxing but the girl had vowed to finish all her homework by midday on Saturday, freeing up all day Sunday to spend with Cedric.

He had asked in divination if she would like to sneak into the Hufflepuff common room, something not uncommon for her, and join him and some of his friends in a games night. She had politely declined, too embarrassed to say the reason she wanted to get all her work done tonight, instead telling her friend she was behind.

Ever the good friend, he had decided to join her in the library. With their OWLs being at the end of the academic year their was always work he could be doing. He would rather be studying with her than having fun without her in any case.

He's noticed she's been distracted ever since breakfast. Arriving in their shared second lesson and slipping into a seat next to him, in some form of trance, lost in her own thoughts. He wishes he knew what it was making his best friend so stressed. Wished he could help.

"Ced?" She questions into the silent room. Looking up to see her friend peer at her from behind the book he's copying notes from.

"Yeah?" He replies, placing his quill down and smiling gently to her.

"Have you ever been in love?" She asks.

See it wasn't the idea of it being dangerous to be close to the boy she was crushing on. She knew that. Knew she was setting herself up for a heart break. It was the word love. Was she in love?

"Yes," he answers without a doubt. No question in his mind. He was in love with the scared looking girl in front of him. He had never seen her look scared before.

"Really?" She questions mouth agape. She tries so hard to ignore the ache in her chest. The feeling of her heart splintering. The way her whole world crashes down. "How did it feel?"

He is worried. Who did she think she might be in love with? The pair are practically inseparable. What boy had captured her heart whilst he had sat next to her blissfully unaware she was being snatched from him?

"It feels nice. Like home," he starts. He's nothing if he's not honest. He prides himself on that. He will help his friend through what she's feeling, he would always help her. "She's the only girl I ever want to see. Only person I ever want to see. I wake up and she's my first thought. If she's okay? If she slept well? When I'll see her?" He admits.

She nods. That fits. He is always her first thought.

"I don't stop thinking about her all day. She just occupies my head without even trying. Anytime I hear a joke I think of her laugh. When something upsets me if vision her hugging me to cheer up. When I'm in the same room as her I can't pull my eyes away," he continues.

That fits. Doesn't she always turn to see if he's laughing at a joke? Always relies on him no matter what.

"She's the first person I tell when anything happens in my life,"

That one hurts a bit. That there's some girl out there finding out the ins and outs of Cedric before she does.

"I would do anything for her. Break any rule. I'd move earth if she asked. All I have to do is vision that smile and I'm putty in her hands," he finishes.

It all fits. And it hits her like a ton of bricks. She's in love with Cedric.

"Have you?" He asks. Trying so hard to swallow his jealousy. Maybe it one of the twins. He could come to accept that. They're good to her. They would be worthy of being her first love, stealing the title he has been dreaming of since they were 11 and she broke into the hospital wing in the middle of the night to check on him.

"I think I might be," she admits. Not looking at him. It's even harder to hear than he had imagined.

"Really? Who?" He asks. God why is he torturing himself? He feels helpless. The last thing he wants is to hear and yet he just has to know.

"I don't want to tell you. It's silly," she whispers.

"If there's a boy on this planet who could have you and would choose not to then he is stupid. If he's stupid you don't want him in the first place," he's never been so sincere. What boy could ever say no to her?

"He's not. He's beautiful. And he's kind. And he's smart. I know he loves me. I just-well- I think it's platonic," she admits. There's something about how she says it. About how she's looking at him that makes hope spark in his chest. He squishes it down. This is painful enough without letting himself think it could ever be him.

He doesn't say anything. Doesn't know how to form words. Doesn't know what he can say that won't let her know she's just broken his heart.

She doesn't say anything. She is so certain he knows she's talking about him, that she'd made it so clear. And kind, sweet Cedric is trying to think of a nice way to reject her.

"We don't have to do this. You don't have to say anything," she whispers. Gathering her books grabbing her bag. "Night Ced," she tries so hard to smile but there's tears pooling in her eyes as she slips out of the door.

His heart snaps. Grabbing his own bag and leaving the book on the table chasing her through the quiet corridors.

"Love, just wait, hold up. Just-" he calls out for her. She stops in her tracks. She can never bring herself to walk away from him.

She blinks rapidly before turning around, the moon shining through the window the only thing lighting the pair. He can't help but think how ethereal she looks, the moon illuminating her.

"What's going on?" He asks, hands holding her arms, rubbing gently with his thumb in an attempt to comfort her. Heart breaking at the tear dripping down her cheek.

"Look Ced, you don't have to. Yknow- say it. We will be fine. Just- I need a bit of space. Not for long- just- just for a bit," she steps out of his hands. She can't let him comfort her right now. Not when she's so in love and only just realised. Not when he's breaking her heart.

He is confused now. Why they would need space. Why she doesn't want him to say anything. It all falls into place and he struggles to say it. Maybe it's true. Maybe it's his desperation causing him to see things that aren't there.

"Who are you in love with?" He whispers. Scared to talk any louder.

"Are you really going to make me say it?" She questions, trying to bite back the sob "I just- if you're going to force me to hear you reject me you don't have to make me say it," she whispers. Refusing to look at him.

His heart explodes. He's in front of her in two steps. One arm wrapping around her form keeping her there. The other hand cupping her cheek, the thumb reaching out to dry a tear.

"I've been practicing asking you out in my mirror since I was 13," he admits. Her eyes widen in shock before he presses his lips to hers. Kissing her with so much passion and desire that there's no doubt in her mind. He feels the same.

She's desperate for more. Kissing back with as much fervour. Grabbing at his school shirt to pull him closer, impossibly close. She can feel him everywhere as her hands squeeze the fabric. His arms hugging her whilst he kisses. They pull apart panting.

"Can I take you on a date?" He smiles "I wanna do this properly," he admits, if it was anyone else he would feel shy. Not with her.

"Sunday?" She asks, she couldn't be more glad she had cleared the day. He nods a beam on his face.

"I know you want to this properly and I do too. But please tell me we get to kiss again before the first date," she smiles, he chuckles

"Whatever you want love," he grins, his lips pressing a gentle kiss on hers now.

"Love?" She whispers against his lips. He's called her it forever but it means something so different now.

"I love you," he states. No one can ever question it, not when he says it with that much confidence,

"I love you," she repeats. "Merlin, we really have done this in the wrong order," she laughs

"Whoever said proper had to be what everyone else does," he smiles back.

He's right of course. It was just right. It was them.

**

Masterlist

[yanderesimps]

"Twenty years too late"

/Keigo Takami x Reader\

(Tw: references to rape, kidnapping, reference to forced pregnancy)

The house had been filled with laughter for many hours now, something she never though she'd hear in a place that she held such contempt for. Or perhaps it had always been like this but she'd been too blind to see it, too consumed by her ever-growing hatred of the former number two hero. Her swallowed anger and smothered pride had tainted the bright walls and subtle sweet smell that wafted through the halls.

She ignored the laughter, the chatting and how the voices would grow slightly quieter whenever she would hum to calm her shaking hands as they guided a knife. The clatter of the metal as she sliced through the vegetables that sat upon the cutting board before spilling them into a pot.

She couldn't focus on anything else but her working hands. They had grow old, not elderly but age had taken it's due. Her once smooth skin now held the occasional wrinkle as subtle crows feet clung to the corners of her eyes and faint laugh lines cursed her lips. It was a wonder she even had laugh lines but perhaps her years of faking smiles had grown all too practiced and actually left their mark. Fine grey hairs were visible now, more than average for a woman of her age but after decades of kidnapped enduced stress it was a miracle she still had hair.

The sound of the kitchen door opening caused her hand to catch and her posture to straighten suddenly. The flutter of wings could be audibly heard. She prayed, pleaded and begged to whatever divinity existed in the cruel wretched world.

Don't let it be him

Don't let it be him

Don't let it be him

"Mom...do you need any help with dinner?" Tears of relief threatened to fall from her eyes right there and she almost felt her legs give way. Whipping her head around, she spyed her youngest who was still an adult now nevertheless. Their eyebrows were knoted together in subtle confusion, perhaps they saw her heavy breaths and shaking hands. "No...no, it won't be long now"

Maybe once she would've given a more convincing answer. Maybe once she would have given a more genuine answer but after years of fighting for her life where each action could've been a cause for punishment, she was no longer a woman of many wonders. Turning back to the cutting board, she could feeling the lingering eyes fixated on her back and the unspoken questions that lingered in the air like a cancer.

But no questions ever came, only the sound of the kitchen door closing once again. She didn't know why her heart was pumping out of her chest right about now, would she have even given an answer to such a question? Through the years it had been less question and more accusation. Tears spilled and arguments made about how she was a terrible mother. Neglecting her children since the day they were born and avoiding them like a plague as they grew older.

She had only done the bare minimum since that's all what keigo allowed. Change them when needed, feed them when they cried but in the end, all her attention must be focused on him unless she wanted to explain to her children why they lost a sibling.

That almost made it sound like she loved her children which she did in a sense. Loving them like you may love a gold watch, only ever seeing the materialistic value in it. Taking it to get fixed, cleaning it when it was dirty and protecting it from damage. Pure maternal instinct but nothing more than that.

It was the eldest of her children who had brought up her years of distancing herself from them. Saying that if she didn't want them then she shouldn't of had children. She could still remember the look of shock on their faces as she laughed, a bitter and hate filled laugh before she muttered something along the lines of "as if I had a choice in the matter" which keigo didn't like at all but that was a victory, one of the few she'd gained over the two decades she'd spent locked in this prison of obsession.

Now her life was a big joke constructed by keigo, a sour reminder that it wouldn't be just him that would look for her if she were to ever escape again. Unspoken gloats shown through opened windows and unlocked doors, something she would prayed for in her youth. He knew and took pride in how he had broken his little house wife and moulded her into whatever he desired.

She stopped cutting the vegetables, her mind growing blank as a single question ran through her mind.

What was the point?

He had her wrapped around his pretty finger despite how she resisted falling into Stockholm syndrome and never stopped resisting behind closed door.

The wedding band strapped around her finger now felt like it was burning her flesh. It acted not only as a sign that she was taken but to show her that she would forever be his and his alone.

Her hand gripped the knife tighter. She glared down at the sharp glint of the steel. The knife could be a escape. How long would it take them all to find her fallen body? Perhaps when the food would start to burn. How long would it take keigo to fly across the city with her in his arms and get her stitched up and discharged without a single word of refusal? Even despite the occasional greyed feather, he was still the fastest hero in Japan.

She placed the knife down with shaking hands, taking a moment to leave the dinner behind but not before remembering to turn down the stove. She blocked out the chatting as she neared the backdoor, gripping the handle and pulling it open to be greeted by the early afternoon sunlight. She bathed it in, taking a deep breath of the clear air as she gazed out at the city that sat upon the horizon. Another one of keigo's jokes. A city in the distance which made an hour of running seem child's play if it meant her freedom. Alas, she could never escape the house despite how hard she tried. Her last escape attempt when her youngest had turned five was still etched in her mind and her arm. The broken glass of a window sliced up her joints which left a pretty trail for her capture to follow.

Taking a step forward felt like breaking through a brick wall and taking another step felt like walking through the remnants of that wall. Years of a past life which her mind held at back flashed past her eyes.

What was her mother's name?

Did she have a sibling?

Was it her grandmother who had given her that birthday present on her 18th birthday?

Who was that boy she occasionally saw when walking through UA? Was he a hero now?

The heels that clung to her feet touched the grass of the yard. Images of a dozens of birthday parties, screeches of children and an arm clutching her hip all burned her mind. Each birthday marked a rape where keigo's need to breed her was successful. Each candle marked a year that held countless more rapes. Each flame blown out showed her dimming defiance that was swallowed by obidience. When was the last time she had audibly disagreed with the bird captor?

She broke into a run, leaping over the yard fence as years of instilled hero training cracked free from the slacked chains of keigo's torture. The wind tore at her skin, feeding the adrenaline that had set her heart ablaze. Decades of memories unleashed themselves upon her, each children first word that had always been "mama", each drawing they would happily hand her even if she would turn away and refuse it without a word.

Her mind begged her to turn around, attempting to persuade her that all those sweet nothings that keigo whispered we re true and all the torture he inflicted had been fabricated. She didn't listen. She only wondered how far she would get before hearing that beat of six pairs of wings.

With each step she felt liberated, with each second that the distant buildings seemed to grow made her heart quicken even more.

For now, she was free. She wasn't a mother, a wife or a victim. She was a saviour. The saviour she pleaded for through nights of tears and blood. She was the one that would save herself and break that cage that she'd been encased in for so many days and nights.

It was too late to go back now. Even if she returned they would notice the sweat on her brow and the heave of her lungs as she breathed. For now she ran with all her might, the pleas of twenty years pushing her further, screaming at her to run faster.

There was no doubt in her mind that keigo would find her but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing it without a fight.

[iamdeku]

Civilian: Prohero!Deku x Reader

I know, revolutionary, a fic that I didn’t name after a song. I did have to stop myself from naming it after Dress by Taylor Swift though because that song sort of fits this story PERFECTLY. Anyway, this was a request from the lovely @thetruthunspoken, and for some reason Tumblr won’t let me post their submission on desktop but this is inspired by a TikTok from Deku cosplayer @/fourmonthsold. It should be right above this post on my blog!

Warnings: None. Reader flirts with Hawks who is like, 7 years older I guess??? Everybody is an adult though.

You loved being Izuku’s friend-date to things. It had started out as a fun thing when you were kids. You had both complained about how nobody would want to invite you to school dances and had come to the conclusion that it was better to just go together. You had suggested it, since Izuku was too shy to ask any of the 1-A girls at the time and you weren’t getting asked by any of the gen-ed guys. No pressure to get a date if you were just going with your best friend.

Over the years though, the reasons had changed and so had the parties. Now you appeared with #1 hero Deku to keep the thirsty girls off his back, and the parties were far bigger and more lavish. Not that you were complaining, since Deku provided your wardrobe. There was really only one downside.

You had made the fatal mistake of falling in love with your best friend, and he wouldn’t even be seen with you in front of paparazzi. You were a great buffer for all of the women who had noticed how handsome he was, but that was all you were to him anymore. Part of you wanted to scream that you had seen him first, had noticed how perfect he was long before all the muscles and heroic stunts, but you knew that would be pointless. You had missed your chance a long time ago, if you had ever had one.

Even so, tonight you had pulled out all the stops. Usually, Izuku had some kind of request for the dress depending on the event, but this time he had just thrown some money at you and told you to go at it, and go at it you did. Your long red dress was backless, a slit up the side racing up to your hip to show off your legs. Even if he wasn’t going to appreciate it you might find another hero to get with. You heard the winged hero, Hawks, was going to be here tonight and he was notoriously popular with the ladies. Maybe out of your league, but not in this dress.

When Izuku picked you up, you saw his eyes go wide.

“Wow…you look great. I mean, you always do of course, but this is something special. Did I miss something?”

You laughed a little bit.

“Nope. Just felt like dressing up.” You shrugged.

Izuku didn’t ask any more questions, despite being suspiciously quiet on the way to the party. When you got there you scanned the room, trying to see if the rumors were true. Sure enough, Hawks was over by the bar.

“I’m going to go get a drink,” you told Izuku, eyes never leaving your target.

You leaned your elbows against the bar, conveniently near the pro-hero you had your eye on. You ordered a drink for yourself, knowing Izuku probably wouldn’t want anything this early in the night. It always took him a minute to loosen up.

“Now what’s a beautiful young lady like you doing here all alone?”

You smirked to yourself before turning and resting your hip against the bar.

“Just doing some bird watching.” You shrugged.

“Is that so? Aren’t I a little old for you?”

You leaned in teasingly. “If you were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl.”

“I can see that. You know, if you’re not busy later-”

“She is.” A familiar voice spoke as an even more familiar, scarred hand wrapped possessively around your waist.

“Oh, Deku, this one is yours? That makes sense. I thought I’d seen her around before. Your…best friend, right?”

“That’s me.” You kept your confident smile in place, despite the racing of your heart at Izuku’s warm touch.

“So, you guys aren’t an item?” Hawks verified.

“Nope. Never have been.” You didn’t have the heart to say you never would be.

“So why come to these?” Hawks seemed genuinely curious.

“The dresses. He buys me a new one every time he wants something. It’s almost a shame we aren’t a couple. I’d probably own more of these gorgeous dresses.” You sighed theatrically, looking back at Izuku. “If only you were mine.”

Izuku frowned slightly but seemed to shake off whatever was upsetting him with an easy smile.

“Baby, I’m a hero. I can’t be your boyfriend.”

You felt a spark of annoyance at this newest excuse. I mean, that was just insulting. He was really going to use his job as an excuse not to date you?

You decided to put the power of your dress and the newfound confidence that came with it to use. You leaned back into his chest, placing a well-manicured hand along his face to tilt his head closer to yours. Anyone watching might have confused you for lovers.

“I know, I know. You’re the #1 now. Can’t be my boyfriend. You’re too busy being a big strong hero. Just like All Might.”

Izuku laughed nervously, sounding a little breathless. Maybe you had laid it on a little too thick.

“Maybe I could be, but I don’t know if I should be.”

You frowned, turning to face him better in your confusion.

“What is that supposed to mean?” It was a genuine question, all of the anger sapped out of you.

“Well, it’s dangerous being a hero. I probably shouldn’t date anyone until I retire. Actually, I always kind of accepted I wouldn’t be able to have a love life as a hero. Anyone who gets close is a target for villains. It’s why I always try to keep the paparazzi off of you. I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt.”

“Wait…that’s why you’re never seen with me?”

Hawks found somewhere else to be just then, conveniently enough. You heard him get out of his seat behind, leaving you to your secluded little part of the bar. No doubt he decided not to be involved in whatever argument was about to go down.

“Yeah. I thought you knew.” Izuku frowned.

“No.” You stared up at him, mouth open in shock. “I always thought you were ashamed of me.”

“What?” Izuku grabbed your arms, pulling you closer so you could look into his bright green eyes as he spoke his next words. “I have never been ashamed of you. Ever. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like that. I had no idea.”

He ran a hand through his hair, letting go of you to pace in place. He began mumbling under his breath, too fast for you to understand what he was saying. Meanwhile, you felt shocked tears well in your eyes, overwhelmed at this sudden discovery and the emotions pooling in your chest.

“All of these years I’ve been in love with you, thinking you just kept me around to keep girls at parties off your back.”

Izuku stopped dead at that, whirling around to face you.

“You’re-”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, horrified that he had heard you.

“Forget I said anything. I didn’t mean to tell you that. I’m so sorry Izuku. I don’t know what your reasons for keeping me around are, but it’s honestly not my place to ask. You were always very clear that we were only ever friends, and whatever I feel isn’t your responsibility.”

“Of course it is! You haven’t been just my friend for years! I’ve loved you since our third year. I just never thought you wanted me back, and when I became a hero I didn’t think you’d want to accept the danger of that kind of relationship. But…I was too selfish to let you go, and I’m sorry for any pain I caused you.”

“You love me?” The only words you really heard, you repeated them breathlessly.

“Yes.”

Throwing caution to the wind, you grabbed Izuku’s tie and pulled him down to your level, planting a reckless kiss on his mouth. He tasted warm and faintly spicy, like cinnamon. The smell of his cologne enveloped you as you breathed him in briefly before pulling away.

“We can talk about your stupid belief that I wouldn’t want to date you because your job is dangerous later. I’ll make a PowerPoint to remind you that I wanted to be a hero too, and just because I wasn’t accepted into the hero course doesn’t mean I didn’t learn how to fight. But right now? Right now, I have other things in mind for you, me and this dress.”

Izuku blinked before looking you up and down. “I am so glad I bought you that dress.”

 Bonus:

“I told you I could get them together.”

Miruko rolled her eyes at the winged hero. “If you’re about to credit yourself for that, I will hurt you.”

“All I had to do was pretend to flirt with the little birdie, and her jealous boyfriend came running over. Look at them now!” Hawks was entirely too smug.

“Whatever you say, Keigo.”

[belettewrites]

Of salve and summer rains

Jaskier hasn’t played the lute for a week, and Geralt worries. No warnings, almost 3k words, link to AO3 here 

***

It had been a week since Jaskier had last played the lute.

They had passed through two towns, he had been asked to play multiple times by travelers they had met, and still his lute had stayed in its case. He had taken it out to take care of it, making sure that it was fine, that the strings were not damaged, but other than that – it had been a week since Geralt had last heard his bard playing, and it worried him.

Playing was Jaskier's way of being himself; he still sang, little ditties on the road to divert himself, soft lullabies at night as he braid flowers into Roach's mane, but the lute had stayed silent.

The weather had been bad, this past week, and Geralt had tried to stay near towns so they would be able to sleep indoors. He didn't mind sleeping outside, though having a roof over his head was nicer than waking up soaked; but it was mostly for Jaskier, who might be immortal but wasn't as resistant as Geralt. And it was better for his lute to stay in dry places – or so had Jaskier said when Geralt had asked whether it was worth it to run to the next town before nightfall.

They were currently staying at an inn, and were nonchalantly looking around them as they were waiting for their food to arrive. Well, Geralt was; Jaskier was slumped against him, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed, clearly tired from walking. His breath was tickling Geralt's neck, but he endured it stoically. He would have faced anything, really, for Jaskier to be able to rest just for a bit, apparently at peace with himself and the world.

The tables next to theirs were full; people were talking loudly, spilling their ale over as they tried to emphasize a point. He could hear a couple arguing in a room upstairs, angry and teary voices harmonizing in a tune that made him want to go back to the quietness of the forest, to soft lullabies barely louder than the crackling of the fire.

The candles trying to warm the room with their yellowish light, flickered every time someone in a hurry walked near them, and the front door which was regularly opened was letting in a cold draft that twirled around Geralt's legs.

Jaskier yawned, and straightened up to grab Geralt's ale, making Geralt miss his warmth. Nights weren't supposed to get this cold around this time of the year, but the rain and the wind were enough to make temperatures drop even though the leaves in the trees outside were still green.

Maybe it’s the weather, Geralt thought, that is making him feel sad. Though ‘sad’ was not exactly the right word. No, Jaskier was more… Well. He sang, but somehow it didn’t feel like it always did, as if it came from the heart of an innocent and joyous bard. He was far from innocent, Geralt knew that, but he still behaved in a way that made it look as if he wasn’t older than he appeared to be. Now Jaskier was – not looking like his age, but the dreariness of his behavior was sure making him look older. Not wiser, it was still Jaskier after all but – yeah, older.

Geralt directed his attention from the buzzing tavern around them to Jaskier, and the way he winced when he grabbed the ale to drink it. Geralt watched as Jaskier tried to school his features, putting the ale down, then wriggling his fingers only to grimace. He glanced up and Geralt wasn’t quick enough to pretend he hadn’t been looking. He grabbed his own ale, internally sighing with relief when the innkeeper arrived with their food. One awkward moment of questions dodged.

So it wasn’t an emotion thing; thank Melitele, because Geralt wouldn’t have known how to deal with it. No, if it only was something about his hand, then – maybe Geralt would be able to do something. Though it made him feel uneasy, that Jaskier hadn’t told him that something was wrong. He knew Jaskier didn’t owe him anything, knew that he was free to do whatever he pleased – birds only sung when they were free – but it still hurt. That Jaskier wouldn’t tell him. It was stupid to feel hurt over this, even more as emotions were a weakness you can’t afford, Geralt, but – still. He would have to ask him, at some point. The question was: how?

He ate his gruel in silence, and tried to be discreet as he looked at the way his bard took his fork in his left hand instead of the right one, how he awkwardly put it down to grab the ale – how his right hand rested on the table, unused, barely moving, fingers bare of any rings.

They left town the next morning and Geralt still hadn’t managed to find how to ask.

***

He tried to be more observant, though. He’d glanced at Jaskier occasionally, almost always finding him clenching and unclenching his fingers, a distant look in his eyes.

So something was wrong with his hand. It couldn’t be broken, Geralt mused, because Jaskier could move it, and certainly would have made it known that he was hurt.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He hadn’t said anything, though he clearly was in pain if he hadn’t been playing for a week.

Have I failed? Geralt asked himself as he and Jaskier went on, walking on a path made muddy by the vicious rains it had be facing. The sky was still threateningly dark, and Geralt looked far ahead as his thoughts went back to Jaskier.

Had he been acting in a way that had made Jaskier believe that he couldn’t tell him if he was hurt? He had always tried to make sure that Jaskier wasn’t in pain – the bard wasn’t the one who had to suffer between the two of them, Geralt thought, and it didn’t bother him to buy salves for Jaskier that he would have never bought for himself. Jaskier deserved the best, and so Geralt did what he could to try to give it to him.

“I’ll find us an inn for tonight,” he said after a silence that had been particularly long, “so your lute won’t have to face humidity again. Though I doubt it’ll rain again.”

“Oh, it will,” came Jaskier’s tired voice, “it will, my dear. Trust me.”

Of course Geralt trusted him. He wouldn’t be in love with him if he didn’t.

“Hmm. An inn it will be, then.”

Based on the way Jaskier used his hand, it had to be sore muscles, or something like that. Maybe he had sprained it, but couldn’t get a hand on a cast? Or maybe he just didn’t want to tell Geralt. Either way, Geralt couldn’t stand seeing him in pain. He’d find them a room in the next town, then would leave to find a healer that would be able to sell him something that would help Jaskier. Yes, he would do that.

Satisfied, and a bit reassured that he finally had a plan, he let himself smile when Jaskier started to sing again, even if it lacked the lightness that it usually carried.

***

“I- bought you this. For your hand. The healer told me it would help.”

Geralt kept his eyes cast on the ground, stupidly afraid of what Jaskier’s reaction would be. He was an idiot for being nervous – he and Jaskier had traveled together for many years, had seen the other in embarrassing positions; and yet, gifting Jaskier this small salve smelling like peppermint to apply on his hand felt more intimate than all the time they shared a bath to save money.

Jaskier was sitting at the table of their room; it wasn’t a great room, but it had a dusty window, under which was the table, and as soon as they had arrived the bard had started to take his journals out of his bags, probably wanting to work on a new song. It was where Geralt had left him when he had gone out to find a healer, and where he had found him again when he had come back thirty minutes later.

He heard Jaskier take the salve and open it; the smell of peppermint intensified, and Geralt tried not to flinch – it attacked his nose and made him want to sneeze, and it covered Jaskier’s scent of honey and wildflowers. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t his favorite scent in the world; though if smelling it meant that Jaskier didn’t hurt anymore, well, Geralt was ready to compromise, because what was love without little sacrifices?

Just when the silence had almost reached the limit between awkward and extremely awkward, Jaskier seemed to remember how to talk.

“My hand – you noticed?”

Geralt tried not to wince; he deserved that, after many years of not paying enough attention, of not caring enough for-

“What are you frowning about? Come sit here next to me, darling,” Jaskier gestured to the other chair, “don’t stand here, you’re making me feel small.”

“You are,” Geralt replied, half-smiling, as he hesitantly sat on the chair, still not looking at Jaskier.

They stayed there, still not talking, Geralt waiting for Jaskier to say something and Jaskier – well, Geralt didn’t fucking know what Jaskier was thinking. The salve was on the table between them, ready to be used.

Then, because Geralt was a man of action, he grabbed it and put some of it on his fingers. Before thinking too much about it, he delicately took Jaskier’s hand, grip loose enough for Jaskier to be able to remove it at any time, and started to apply the salve on the knuckles – they were swollen, and Geralt gulped. How long had they been like this? How did he not notice? Was he that worthless of a man, to not notice when the person he loved the most was hurt?

What he had just done dawned on him. Oh no. It was way too out of line, he shouldn’t have done that – Jaskier was going to hate him, and he was going to lose his companionship and-

“You’re doing it again,” Jaskier remarked calmly, as if Geralt couldn’t hear his heart racing, “the frowning.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, not trusting himself to speak, not knowing what to say, confused because Jaskier wasn’t running away from him, clenching his hand against his chest as if Geralt’s touch had burned it.

Jaskier sighed, and Geralt tensed.

“Darling- you don’t have to do this, you know? The- buying me salve, and then- then applying it yourself-”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier to find that his bard was blushing. But looking at him meant risking eye contact, so he stared down at the hand he was currently holding in his own – it was strange, how good they fit together. He wondered what it would be like, to get to held it in his, to feel Jaskier’s calloused fingers around his own, squeezing, not letting him go, a single point of contact between-

But he couldn’t let himself think about it.

“Hmm. I know. But I still- want to.”

He forced the words out, for Jaskier.

“It’s been a bit more than a week, and you haven’t played the lute, and the path- the path has been silent,” he admitted, “and when I found out you were hurt…”

He looked up, yellow meeting blue.

“Who did this to you, Jaskier? Who hurt you?”

Jaskier laughed, his hand shaking a bit in Geralt’s, who returned to his task, which seemed okay with Jaskier. Relieved that he hadn’t just fucked up one of the most important things in his life, and soothed by Jaskier’s laugh, Geralt let himself relax.

“Oh, darling, no one- well- you won’t be able to fight the rain, so don’t bother.”

“The rain?”

“Oh, it’s- I never told you? No, I supposed I haven’t,” Jaskier mused. “Well, it’s very stupid, but a long time ago I hurt my hand, and now every time it rains a lot, it hurts. That’s why I knew it’d rain again tonight” he shrugged, looking outside at the rain that had started to pour just after Geralt had come back.

“Only the right hand.”

“Yes- you really did notice, didn’t you,” Jaskier sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, ashamed.

He saw Jaskier’s hand still, and he felt a weight settle in his stomach and on his chest, making breathing a bit difficult. Then he was no longer holding his hand – Jaskier grabbed his hand.

“Oh, darling – what are you apologizing for? You’re not the one who caused that, nor are you the one in charge of controlling the weather-”

“For not noticing sooner,” Geralt cut in, “for letting you endure one week of this before realizing that it was because your hand hurt, for- for not-”

Not being good enough, when you deserve the best.

“Geralt darling, I need you to listen to me,” Jaskier started, his tone so commanding that Geralt had no choice but to obey, “I hid it. I don’t like it, so at first I ignored it, then when it really started to hurt I thought that behaving as if the pain wasn’t here would make it go away – that’s when you understood, I think. So – I’m not angry at you, darling, I wouldn’t, not over something so stupid – I’m angry at myself, because I hate the fact that it hurts.”

Geralt didn’t reply anything – he didn’t know what to say.

“So don’t you worry – you’re actually the best traveling companion a bard could ever ask for! Buying me meals, then salve, then taking care of me? I don’t deserve you, darling.”

“It’s not true,” Geralt protested, because he had to say something, couldn’t let Jaskier say that when he was right there, when he was the one undeserving of Jaskier’s presence. “You deserve – everything.”

Jaskier smiled a half-smile; it was full of sadness, and Geralt – Geralt didn’t know what to do, because it wasn’t a look that was supposed to be Jaskier’s.

“You do,” he insisted, “You deserve hot summer afternoons spent doing nothing but playing, you deserve – soft things and fine clothes, and- and- and more,” he concluded lamely.

It was something scary to say, to admit that he cared so much. Jaskier had to know, to some extent, that he was dear to Geralt, but this – this was just like Geralt declaring his love or some shit, the whole thing made even more intimate by the closeness of their hands.

The air was still smelling like peppermint, but even it wasn’t strong enough to mask the sudden wildflowers of Jaskier’s happiness.

“Oh, Geralt,” he sighed, “I would- would you mind- may I kiss you?”

Too numb to speak, Geralt nodded, not really believing what was happening. Jaskier got up, and walked the three steps that separated him from Geralt, letting his hands go. It left Geralt feeling cold, but soon Jaskier’s hands were on each side of Geralt’s face, and he found himself being kissed, the warmth of it replacing the one that he had just lost.

Jaskier sighed into the kiss, and Geralt put one of his hand on his hips. The angle of the kiss was awkward, but he couldn’t get enough of it and found himself feeling lost when it ended.

Jaskier settled on his lap, and he put his arms around him to prevent him from falling. Jaskier laughed, hiding his face between Geralt’s neck and shoulder, and Geralt rumbled happily.

“If I had known that it was all that it took, I would have done that ages ago, darling.”

Geralt huffed a laugh and then, because he could, kissed the side of his head.

“Just so this is clear, Geralt – we deserve each other. I- I love you, and-”

“I love you too,” Geralt whispered, “I have for so long. And- it’s not your fault. Don’t be angry at yourself because it hurts.”

Jaskier kissed him again, a soft, tender thing, just at the corner of his mouth, and Geralt smiled.

“Next time you’re hurt – tell me? So I’ll tell care of you. I don’t- I don’t like seeing you hurt, Julek.”

He felt Jaskier smile against his shoulder.

“I will,” the bard promised. “But for now, I think your salve helped, do you think you could-”

“Of course,” Geralt agreed hastily, reaching to grab the salve that had been forgotten on the table, “give me your hand again, but tell me if it starts to hurt, I’ll stop.”

They rearranged themselves to a more comfortable position, then Geralt took Jaskier’s hand, kissed it, and started to massage it again, careful not to press too hard, admiring how warm it made him to be able to do this.

He couldn’t believe he got to have this, to be allowed to care for Jaskier in ways he hadn’t thought he’d get. But they had all of eternity to spend together now, Jaskier sometimes getting hurt and Geralt always there to take care of him. Jaskier’s heart was beating steadily, its comforting rhythm lulling Geralt into a relaxed state. Here, alone with his bard, with Jaskier, everything felt right, as if he had finally found where he belonged – next to Jaskier, whether it was on the path or not. He smiled, and Jaskier kissed him, and Geralt knew without a doubt that the future would look bright for both of them, just because they had each other.

[inupibaldspot]

金継ぎ | KIN-TSUGI [ A Fruits Basket Fanfiction ]

Chapter 8

Upon hearing news that Isuzu was once again admitted to the hospital, Tsubaki went to visit. The hospital did not have fond memories for Rin yet she always ends up back here.

"305...305..." Tsubaki walked through the hallways as she check for the room Rin was in. Upon finding it, she smiled as she knocked the door and opened it. "Isuzu, I came to visit-"

However Tsubaki noted that she was not alone, she was visited by Honda Tohru. Tsubaki beamed at the visitor. "I see that you came to visit, Tohru-san!"

"Yes!" The girl twirled as she smiled. "I brought some jelly for Isuzu-san. Please help yourself with some if you want."

"I'm good." Tsubaki refused as she looked at Isuzu. Their relationship was rather awkward but there wasn't a doubt that after Tsubaki jumped after Isuzu when she was pushed by Akito, the zodiac member warmed up to her. "I bought some puddings as well."

Isuzu perked up as she looked at Tsubaki immediately. The woman smiled at her nervously. "You loved them a lot as a child. Do you still like them...?"

Isuzu pinked as she turned away. "I don't mind them." Her response made Tsubaki laugh as she put the puddings in the fridge.

"Actually...." Tohru started in an unsure tone. "I actually came here to ask something."

Noticing Tohru's hesitant voice, Tsubaki could guess what she was going to talk about. "Why don't we talk as we walk outside?" Tsubaki looked at Rin. "I'm sure Isuzu can use some fresh air."

As the group walked along the nearby park, Tohru started. "Akito-san told me that her existence is equal to that of God. I also heard about your story from Yuki-kun as well, Tsubaki-san. And that all zodiac members and Tsubaki-san will live with Akito-san. "

"Live in the same place, enduring. Is that bond the curse?" Tohru asked.

"We have no memory of the curse but God made that promise...many many years ago." Isuzu explained as Tsubaki simply listened quietly. "A promise to be together for eternity."

"No matter how many times reborn, we continue to be together, never to be separated, forever and ever." Isuzu explained. "We're bound by that promise. It may seem beautiful to others but to us it is nothing but a burden."

"That's why it's a curse."

"Is there no way to break the curse?" Tohru asked.

"I doubt even if Akito knows how." Rin replied. "Even if Akito knows, he has no reason to tell us."

"I expected someone close to Akito might know so I asked Gure-nii..." Upon hearing Shigure’s name Tsubaki stiffened, the said man was indeed very intelligent. Tsubaki doubts that he already suspects Kureno's curse being broken. "But he said he doesn't know."

"What about Kureno-san?" Tohru asked.

"He is no use." Rin huffed as she turned away. "He's no use since he only follows Akito's orders."

"Please don't say that he is no use." Tsubaki smiled at Tohru's reply but it only further irritated Rin as she said. "I'm only saying what is true."

Then the two became quiet as they slowly turned to Tsubaki, making her laugh. "I don't know how to break the curse as well." Making both Tohru and Rin droop in disappointment.

"But I'll tell you this...Not once has there been an occasion where all of the zodiacs, servant and God been born in the same era, till our turn there was never a complete banquet after the very first one." Tsubaki continued. "Also some of our forms are quite different. Hatori is a seahorse rather than a dragon...Kureno is a bird rather than a rooster."

"Slowly but surely the bond has been weakening. Sometimes I think to myself, if the reason for a complete banquet for our nearing farewell." Tsubaki smiled, her heart hurted as she explained. She wondered if it was the sound of the servant saddened. "Maybe not in this lifetime but this bond is sure to break..."

"That's not alright! If that happens then... Then..." Kyo-kun will leave...  Tohru then flushed as she apologized. "I'm sorry for acting rude."

Tsubaki chuckled. "Don't worry I didn't mind." She then tilted her head. "But then why do you want to break the curse?"

Isuzu as turned to look at Tohru. "The curse has nothing to do with so yet... what is it that you can't give up? What is it that is most important to you?"

Tohru opened her mouth to reply yet no words came out. She stood still as if even she was shocked at her hesitation.

Isuzu quickly noted Tohru's hesitation. "You don't have to tell me..." She continued. "Just don't go running off to see Kureno by yourself."

"If you're going to tell me not to overdo on my own." Tohru smiled at Rin. "Let's team up!"

Rin's eyes widened before she turned away and walked away from Tohru. "I don't need an unreliable partner like you."

Tsubaki smiled at the two girls, as her heart warmed. Isuzu has become much more kind...

 ......

 When people hear the word servant, in the Sohma family, it was to be looked with pity. Mainly due to the fact that the servant, if their God was not born, lived only till their fifties.

They would die very young since their soul's owner did not exist with them so they would desperately try and leave to go back to their God. They would die by accidents, take their own life or simply die a natural death. The servant was more fragile than anything else.

Imagine the uproar when people learned that the servant was born into the head family. Tsubaki heard that her father cried day and night, apologizing to the newborn baby who was yet to understand the world.

"I'm sorry I gave you a life where you would leave before you could fully enjoy the beauty of life." How ironic it was that he was the one who died young.

Her mother frowned but she did not weep like her father. "That's unfortunate."

The family who the previous servant belonged to was deeply insulted. The reason being the previous servant had died by hanging himself. The young servants born prided themselves and felt immense joy as they waited to serve their master and when they knew their God would not be born their heart will fall into abyss.

Tsubaki continued to play the instrument as she finally came out of her thoughts. Maybe it was due to the fact that they were in their new year’s banquet, Tsubaki felt quite sentimental as she pulled the last string of her kōtō, ending the beautiful performance of Hatori. After that their feast commenced and after they were done eating ,the banquet became less formal as the zodiacs members indulged themselves in small talks.

Tsubaki who was looking at the group noticed Yuki was in deep thoughts even though he was sitting beside Akito.

Akito turned to look at Yuki as she smiled. "You didn't run away this time? I'm happy you returned back to me so I'll forgive you..."

"It’s not the matter of forgiving or not." Tsubaki heard Yuki say, as her eyes widened. Did he just say Akito was wrong? "I'm sick of blaming others. I have become aware of my faults and areas I can improve."

"If I always blame someone or something, I’ll never change." Tsubaki stood up from her seat as she could feel those words meant Yuki has changed. And change meant leaving a part of ourselves behind so we can embrace a better part. Change meant leaving...

Before Tsubaki could interrupt, in a blink of an eye Akito stood up and hit Yuki with the sake bottle making it break into small multiple pieces.

"Yuki!" Tsubaki ran to Yuki who had blood dripping on his face as Kureno stood up and immediately restrained Akito who kept shouting at Yuki.

"Apologize! I said apologize!" Akito would have sure hit Yuki if Kureno had not retrained her. Tsubaki stood up to get Hatori who went outside.

"Sorry..." Yuki did as told. Apologizing to Akito was always the easy way out. Tsubaki returned with Hatori as they both went to Yuki's side.

"Because of you, my head hurts." Akito let go of the broken sake bottle as she walked away.

"Yuki, press this on your head!"

Akito turned around hearing Tsubaki's voice. Did she not hear me? I said my head hurt... Her older sister sat beside Yuki with a worried expression on her face. Shouldn't you be prioritizing me, Tsubaki?!

Akito winches as she feels another throbbing pain due to her headaches as she walks away

 .....

 "I don't want to talk with those people ever again...." Akito complained.

Tsubaki sighed beside her. "It can't be helped, we have to keep this up for formalities." Akito and Tsubaki had returned from a meeting with some of the people belonging to the main family. There, the head and the rest would have some tea simply for the sake of formalities. Akito hated these things.

"We'll return to you room now as Hatori will be coming soon for your checkup." Tsubaki explained as she walked behind Akito.

"Is there anyone I will be meeting after that?" Akito asked as she kept walking. Upon receiving a 'no' as an answer, Akito continued. "Then bring Kureno to me after that."

Tsubaki ignored the sudden pain in her chest as she nodded. "Of cour-... Hatori?"

Akito stopped walking as she stared in Tsubaki's directly. Along the long hallway, there was Hatori standing as if he was talking to someone and the next moment a hand reached out for Hatori making both Akito and Tsubaki stiffen.

"Hatori!" Akito cried in panic as she immediately rushed his side as she pushed him away. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your distance from her?"

Hatori shook his head. "Akito, it’s not like that. She was only saying hello."

"That's right, I was only saying hello. What's so wrong about it?" The door further opened as the owner of the voice walked out. It was Sohma Ren.

Akito glared. "You leer at any zodiac man you see..." She took a step forward as she shouted. "Go back into your room!"

"If you continue to speak like that they won't like you anymore." Ren ran her hands through her hair as she something caught her attention. "You're here too, Tsubaki."

"Good evening, mother..."

"Mother is sorry for saying those things last time... So come to me later, we can catch up okay?" Ren took one step towards her, as her hands reached out to cup her face. But then it was slapped away.

"Stop meddling with our bond!" Akito once again stepped in. "We are connected in a world that you can't reach!"

"What nonsense!" Ren scoffed as she mocked Akito. "How many time do I have to tell you that those bonds aren't real love? That eternally unchanging concept you cherish is fake! It's just a fantasy..."

"I pity Tsubaki and the zodiac members who have to put up with you..."

These words snapped something within Akito, as in a flash she grabbed Ren by her collars pushing her through the numerous sliding doors and into the rough courtyard.

Hatori and Tsubaki ran after them. Akito glared at Ren as she sat on her, strangling her mother. "How about you tell me what real then?! Parental love?!"

"That is not perfect! Lots of parents abandon their children like most of the Sohma parents! Like you!" Hatori successfully pulled Akito away as Tsubaki held Ren who was coughing from the lack of air. The maids nearby upon seeing the commotion ran in.

Akito kept shouting as she tries to pull away from Hatori, ready to kill Ren. "Who are you to define what's real or not?! No has the right to deny the bond between me and the zodiacs or our eternity!"

Ren glared as she walked towards Akito, however Tsubaki quickly grabbed onto her but then it did not stop Ren from shouting. "The real thing exists! Akira-san and I have the real bond."

Akito tightened her jaw as she shouted on top of her voice. "I'll kill you!"

"Go ahead kill me." Ren opened her arms. "When I die, my soul will be in heaven with Akira-san! I have no need for any of you!"

"What are you doing?!" Tsubaki shouted at the maids who were nearby. "Do you think this is a show for you to spectate?! Take mother away from the head of the family!"

At Tsubaki's raised voice, every one stiffened. The maids gulped as they rushed in and escorted Ren away.

"She is cruel..." Akito cried. "Why is she so cruel...?”

Tsubaki walked towards her and embraced Akito. "We are here Akito...The bond still exists with you being in the center of all of it."

She felt Akito grip onto her kimono as her little sister kept crying. "We didn't leave you. We never will since our bond is for eternity..." After a while, Akito calmed down.

Tsubaki stepped away as Hatori then picked up Akito and carried her back to her residence.

 .....

 When Akito was young... When Sohma Akira was still alive, Akito was a lively child who really adored her sister.

Young Akito would always cling onto Tsubaki and Tsubaki would always tend to spoil Akito a lot, often she would get lectured by the head maid for that. This was a memory from way back...

So why was Akito acting like that in the present as well? Akito refused to let Tsubaki out of her side, often making her work in Akito's room.

A ring of a phone intruded the silence between Tsubaki and Akito. Akito looked up from her book as she stared at Tsubaki. "Answer the phone. Don't leave the room..."

Tsubaki was confused but nevertheless she nodded as she looked at who was calling her. It was Rin's homeroom teacher.

"Hello Sohma-san?" The person from the other side of the phone spoke. "This is Sohma Isuzu's teacher. I wanted to inform you that Sohma Isuzu did not attend her graduation ceremony."

Tsubaki's eyes widened. Akito clicked her tongue as she approached her. Rin's teacher continued. "I wanted to ask if I could get-" Akito snatched the phone away from Tsubaki as she then turned it off and went a step further to delete the contact.

"Akito, this was an important call." Tsubaki frowned as Akito went back to her seat as she flipped through a book.

‘'You know how I feel about Rin..." Akito muttered. "I don't want to hear about her so better also not call that person back!"

Tsubaki sighed but she listened. A few days later Tsubaki got another call. It was Hatsuharu.

Tsubaki was still with Akito. The latter raised an eyebrow as she muttered. "Who is it?"

"It's Hatsuharu." The answer gave satisfaction to Akito as her attention was no longer on her.

"What is it, Hatsuharu?" Tsubaki went straight to the point. "It’s rare for you to call me."

"Tsubaki-nee." Haru started. "Do you know which Hospital Rin is admitted in?"

Isuzu? Hospital? What was he talking about? She was totally confused. Tsubaki was never informed on such matter. "What do you mean?"

"Huh? You didn't know?" Hatsuharu was even more shocked. Tsubaki always kept tab on the zodiac members whereabouts more focused on Rin as the girl was reckless.

He sighed as his final hope was gone. "If you don't know then never mind. See ya~"

"Wait! Hatsuharu-" Before she could even inquire more, the call ended. Tsubaki then immediately stood up as she walked towards the door.

Akito shouted. "Where are you going?!"

"Akito..." Tsubaki let out a breath. "Apparently Isuzu has been hospitalized. I haven't gotten any words on the matter so I wanted to go check."

"Ahh~" Akito smiled. "I heard about it. I was told to inform you but I forgot. Apparently she is fine so you don't need to go check on her..."

Tsubaki turned to face Akito. "But still, I think I should visit her once-"

"Are you leaving me?"

Tsubaki bit her lips. "Of course not! I'll return as soon as I check up on her..."

"So you are picking her over me..." Akito walked up to Tsubaki as she slowly wrapped her arms around her. Akito then whispered close to her ears. "How cruel..."

"Stay with me... You know I love you more than anyone else. My heart breaks that I'm no longer your top priority." Akito spoke in gentle a gentle manner. "Choose me, Tsubaki Onee-san..."

Tsubaki's hands fell beside her all limb. Inside she knew she needed to go, something about this situation was weird and even Akito was acting suspicious. But then every time she tried to move, her body felt heavy as she ultimately fell into Akito's submission.

Days after that as similar to the day before. Akito still held Tsubaki close to her and would not let her go anywhere along. As Tsubaki flipped the pages she was reading, the door to the room was suddenly opened gaining the attention of both Tsubaki and Akito.

Hatsuharu stood by the door with a furious expression. The head maid showed up a second later as she shouted. "Hatsuharu-san,you may be a zodiac member but you can't barge in like that."

"Shut up." Haru muttered. "Get out of here, hag"

Tsubaki immediately stood up as she approached Haru. "Hatsuharu, you're being rude!"

Akito smiled as she then stood up from her seat. "It seems that Haru is here for me to speak something important." Akito dismissed the maid. "Now go ahead."

Haru lowered his eyes as his hands tightened to a fist. "Why did you push Rin?"

"Me? Push Isuzu?" Akito asked. "First time I've heard of it. Who told you that?"

"An oracle."

Hearing his response Akito giggled to herself. "As usual you're being stupid."

"Stop laughing." Akito in return glared at Haru. Haru seemed to get more furious as time went by. "Why did you do it? Were you trying to kill her?"

Akito hummed as she then turned away. "You believe in an oracle yet you don't believe in me, your God. You've always been kind to her. Why? Do you pity her?"

Tsubaki flinched as Haru punched the wall. "Because I believe her!" As he kept shouting. "You already know that yet you purposely keep asking me that. Where is Rin?"

Akito scoffed as her back faced Akito. "What a worthless conversation? Where did you get such ideas?"

"You always treated Rin coldly... not only her but to all girls." Haru asked as he took a step towards Akito. "You say and do cruel things without blinking. If you’re supposed to be God then-" Haru raised his voice as he walked towards Akito.

Tsubaki stepped in as she stood in between Akito and Haru. "Hatsuharu, back off. “ Tsubaki glared.

Haru stood his ground. "Why are you still by Akito's side? She always tormented you as well."

"I said back off, Hatsuharu!" Tsubaki raised her voice.

Hatsuharu let out a breath. "Just tell me where she is..."

"How persistent..." Akito muttered. "Stop asking. Stop always making me the bad guy every-"

Akito was cut off as someone entered the room. "We sent her to the hospital." It was Kureno. "Hatori nii-san took her by a car. She wasn't fully conscious but don't worry. I was told it wasn't life threatening."

"Huh?" Tsubaki let out a sound. "But Akito you said she was already in a hospital few days ago. What does Kureno mean by this?"

Kureno walked towards Akito. "You mustn't do things like that. No matter who you are there should be a limit to what you shouldn't do."

"Where was she?" Haru asked.

Kureno turned and looked at Tsubaki who had her eyes still widened with her face getting paler. "She was locked in the Cat's place." Akito gasped as she grabbed Kureno claiming her had betrayed her.

Before anyone could move, Haru grabbed Akito by the collar. "Cut the bullshit, you little bastard! Were you trying to kill her again?"

"What I was! It's because you choose her over me." Akito hissed. "You're the one who dug her grave."

Wordlessly Tsubaki placed a hand on Haru's as she separated them. Akito gleamed. "Tell him I'm right Tsubaki...Tsubaki?"

Tsubaki was crying. Tears were falling through her empty eyes. She shouldn't have trusted Akito so blindly. All she got in return was betrayal. She shouldn't have loved Akito.

"I'm sorry..." Tsubaki said as she walked away from the group. "I want some time alone."

Akito gasped as she quickly held onto Tsubaki's waist. What if Tsubaki left and never returned back to her. "No! Don't go Tsubaki..."

Tsubaki pulled herself away as she turned to Akito one last time before she left the room.

"You can't expect love in return when all you do is hurt others, Akito..." Tsubaki cried. "I'm tired of this...I'm so tired..."

 Next Chapter: "You Fought Well..."

masterlist

[yukipri]

On Thatch & Marco - A One Piece Mermaid AU Text Headcanon/Story

So I’ve gotten quite a few asks regarding Marco and the Whitebeards, and while this isn’t a response to a specific ask, here’s a little story on them!

~~

It's only been a few weeks since they've left Dawn Island, and they're still in East Blue but they've somehow already more than doubled the number of brats on board. And while the Moby Dick is far from boring, Thatch has had more adventures in this short timespan than he's had in years, and he's thriving.

Sure, he still feels little twinges of guilt for basically ditching his duties, but he's growing, in ways that the stability of an established Yonko crew hadn't allowed, and he knows that he'll be a better, more useful man to Pops and the others by the time they've caught up in the New World. Honestly, he's wondering if he should suggest these kinds of experiences for all the commanders, and wonders how Pops would feel about that.

But it's on one of these days and brief moments of calm when Thatch is daydreaming about his family in the New World when he spots a blue seagull circling far above them. It's weirdly shiny, and Thatch immediately recognizes it as a species native to an island in Pops' territory, and one that is unusual all the way here in East Blue.

Which means only one thing: Marco's checking in.

A quiet whistle from Thatch is all it takes for the seagull to come spiraling down, and Thatch remembers to take a quick glance around deck to make sure Luffy hasn't spotted it; he's learned the hard way what it means for a bird to land on deck when the ever-hungry mermaid is feeling a bit peckish.

But the bird lands safely on the rail close to Thatch's arm. It's by no means nearly as brilliant a blue as Marco, but certainly more beautiful than most birds you can find out at sea. Thatch still remembers the first time he found Marco making friends with the things, remembers laughing hysterically and making all sorts of bird jokes as Marco, then still a teen, looked more and more like the constipated old man he eventually grows up to be.

Well, jokes aside, the birds are now incredibly useful, serving as Marco's personal messengers to their allies across the world. Which, huh, Thatch supposes that includes him now, which is kind of an odd feeling.

And while Thatch wants to feel flattered that Marco's checking up on his favorite Thatch, he also knows that Marco's checking up on their littlest little brother, and the little brother of that little brother (baby brother^2, Thatch and Marco had fondly dubbed her, when Ace first told them about her). Because while Thatch's definitely accompanying Ace and co for his own selfish reasons (and he also swears it's not just so he could encounter the love of his life, darling Luffy), he also knows that Marco and Pops had ulterior motives for letting Thatch go, beyond just allowing Thatch to stretch his legs.

When Ace had asked, uncharacteristically shy, if he could still be one of Whitebeard's sons without formally joining his crew, and when Whitebeard responded with an affirmative--Thatch wonders if Ace really understands what that meant. A good parent, a good father is definitely a foreign concept to him (and unfortunately for Luffy too, Thatch has found, and knows that Pops will adopt her the moment he meets her if he hasn't already). And the Whitebeard pirates don't take the bonds of family lightly.

So while yes, Thatch is here for his own adventures, he's also very aware of what he represents, both to his family and to the world. For his family, his presence on board maintains the connection between the Whitebeards and Ace. Ace is still so very new to their family, and while no one doubts his competence, he still has much to go in terms of learning to rely on them, on learning that the Whitebeard pirates will ALWAYS have his back. And well, East Blue is kinda far away, too far for a shout to be heard on the Moby. So Thatch is here acting as their representative, and he couldn't be more honored to have the role. He is, if nothing else, excellent at being a nagging older brother, and it's the role he's easily found himself fitting into here.

But the other reason is that Thatch is the Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeards, and no one who knows anything about pirates would fail to recognize him, and the weight of his presence. He knows people won't immediately make the connection that this crew has already been adopted, or even what that means because it's not quite the same as ally, but Thatch's presence establishes an undeniable connection between them and one of the Four Emperors. Thatch knows that when he makes eye contact with the marines and they balk, it's not just him they see: it's the huge, looming shadow of Whitebeard himself. And until the world learns to see that shadow behind Ace, behind all of the ASL pirates, well, Thatch will stay right here.

The blue gull on the rail looks at Thatch expectantly, and Thatch lets it perch on his shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. Sanji glances up in surprise and squints at the bird, but doesn't say anything as he returns to preparing dessert for the ladies (it's a reminder that Thatch should be doing that too, or else the snot-nosed cook will one up him in earning the favor of Luffy, or at least her stomach). Thatch decides to make this quick, and grabs two cookies from the hidden cookie jar, as well as some parchment and a writing utensil.

Thatch knows Marco wants to know how they're doing, but well, the timing of the gull is awfully convenient, so he's taking advantage.

Dear Blue Chicken Sauteed in Pineapple Sauce, Thatch writes, taking advantage of the opportunity to write in "code," despite the lack of confidential information and low risk of one of Marco's blue gulls being stopped. He'll take every opportunity to tease, thank you.

The stove on this ship works great, and the fish is beautiful. Thatch's pen moves before he really thinks about what's coming out. She's stolen my heart, I think I want to marry her. Thatch pauses...huh, well, honestly he's not exaggerating, is he? He'll let Marco guess how serious he is. (he's suddenly uncomfortable because he's not sure how serious he is himself, but that's a thought for another time)

And now, the most important part of the letter: PS - I dropped my hair wax in the ocean. Can you send me an extra from my room?

Because, tragically, Thatch had--and now his beautiful pompadour is a sad mess that's tumbling down his shoulders. Thatch knows he could pick up another tub of hair wax on any of the islands they’ve stopped at, but he has standards, and he needs his special wax that he’s used for decades, which is unfortunately only found in the New World.

Which makes his current situation stuck in East Blue quite tragic, except it isn't quite as heart-breaking as Thatch had thought it'd be, once he realized how much Luffy likes playing with his loose locks, and the sheer number of times Thatch has been finding himself overboard recently would have made putting his hair up again after every time a pain--but well. It'd still be nice to have the familiar weight of his hair wax in his pocket again.

Thatch decides to omit the major change with himself since he last saw Marco that resulted in the hair wax being lost in the first place: the fact that he's eaten a devil fruit. Because that's a surprise. Thatch wants to see Marco's face when he realizes how badass Thatch has become, controlling Darkness of all things. (well, Thatch has to actually get good at it first, and stop almost drowning. It's coming along)

Thatch wraps one cookie in the letter, tying it into a neat parcel, and feeds the other to the bird as thanks for his services. The bird takes off as soon as Thatch opens the door.

Well, now Thatch has a lovely mermaid to feed, and a baby cook to outclass.

~~

Thatch sees the next blue gull a week later, damn those things are fast. It's carrying a parcel this time, and Thatch reaches out gleefully, because he doesn't remember the last time he's had his hair down for this long and he can't wait to have his signature hair style once more.

The bird doesn't stick around this time, and instead just drops the parcel into Thatch's hands before wheeling back the way it came.

And...huh. The parcel's not the right size, or weight to be Thatch's hair wax.

Thatch squints suspiciously, as Ace comes to stand by him, staring after the gull. "Marco?" he asks, and Thatch grunts, already feeling grumpy and just knowing he's not gonna be thrilled by whatever Marco sent.

He opens the parcel, and inside is a little blue bauble, wrapped in Marco's infuriatingly precise, fancy shmancy handwriting.

Dear Soggy Bread, congratulations on graduating from a baguette. May you evolve into a better bread next time. PS - The stone's for baby brother^2.

Ace ignores Thatch's enraged yowl and plucks up the stone--before cursing and dropping it. Thatch's reflexes manage to catch it before it hits the deck--and he immediately knows why Ace dropped it in the first place.

The stone immediately feels weird, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that distinctively reminds Thatch of the sea. He's familiar with what the stone is, but not how it feels, and is reminded once again of his relatively new status as a devil fruit user. At Ace's questioning (and wary) look, Thatch explains, as a good older brother should.

It's a special stone made on Fishman island. There's a piece of seastone at its core, and then it's wrapped in a mix of glass and crystal. It's a luxury trinket popular with a lot of young mermaids, because it's pretty, but also feels like the essence of the ocean is in it, which can be immensely comforting to most merfolk and fishmen.

While not the purpose, the glass and crystal casing also ensures that devil fruit users can touch it without feeling weakened, though they can still sense the sea from it, hence why it feels weird.

Thatch hates, hates to admit it, but it's a ridiculously thoughtful (and expensive) gift for a mermaid devil fruit user who can't enjoy the sea directly, damn Marco for thinking of it first! The bastard's definitely teasing Thatch by trying to woo his crush from half a world away. Marco hasn't even met her, this is just a game to him, but Thatch's serious, damnit!!!

Thatch wishes he could be petty enough to lie and say the bauble is a gift from Thatch, but he can't, because as much of an asshole as Marco can be, Thatch still loves him. Sigh.

Luffy chooses that moment to slide across the deck to them like a playful sea lion, slamming into Ace's legs and snaking up him in a split second to peer over his shoulder at whatever her brother's looking at in Thatch's hand. Ace isn't fazed and doesn't even twitch.

Thatch sighs dramatically. Adorable little brothers and their adorable little brother^2s, damnit.

Thatch dutifully presents the little stone to Luffy, as Ace warns her not to drop it, it's gonna feel a bit weird ok. Thatch lets Ace take over rattling off the information he'd just conveyed, doing his own duty as Older Brother, and is instead transfixed by the way Luffy's eyes widen in wonder as she rolls the shiny thing from one hand to the other.

While Luffy's not really the type for jewelry or trinkets, it's clear she's enthralled by the stone, the way she is with few inanimate objects other than food. Thatch belatedly notices that the stone's a brilliant crystal teal, with shards of gold obscuring the dark seastone center, the same color as someone's Zoan form. Bastard.

"Who's it from?" Luffy asks, and Thatch knows he's told her about his crew before, but she's unlikely to have remembered any names.

He may not lie about who the gift's from, but it doesn't mean he can't take revenge.

"A pineapple man who can turn into a burning chicken," he says with a straight face, ignoring Ace's frantic gestures to abort.

Thatch finds out why moments later, as Luffy's eyes widen impossibly more, and he belatedly realizes that to Luffy (and probably only Luffy), he'd just made Marco sound like the coolest person on earth.

Thatch meets Ace's furious eyes apologetically even as Luffy's COOOOOL!!!!!! rips across deck, and they both sigh.

They're not looking forward to Luffy meeting Marco

~~

~~

Hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated and encourage me to create more for this AU! ^ ^

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

Read the next part: Marco’s Bauble, Part 2

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[flowercrown-bard]

To Rest Their Weary Wings

sort of a prequel to As Though They Were Nightingales but can be read alone

Something was changing. Geralt wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it was there. Knew it like he had always known when the first snow would fall and drive him from Jaskier’s side for the winter. There was no snow now and it had been decades since they had spent their winters apart. So why did Geralt feel like there was something changing between them?

He wanted to stay with Jaskier for as long as he would let him. The gods knew, there was nothing he wanted more than to stay. Jaskier wanted the same. He said so often enough. With words. With the way, he would cling to Geralt’s arm and point out the shapes of the clouds or some pretty flowers along the path to make his days less grey. As if any day with Jaskier could be grey. He was colour, he was sunshine and laughter.

And he was Geralt’s. Jaskier had said so, declared it to the crowds he was singing to, sighed it in the quiet morning hours, when he woke up with Geralt’s arms around him, when the nightingale’s song was replaced by the lark’s. He said it without words, when he took Geralt’s hand and asked him once more to go to the coast with him. And Geralt told him he was Jaskier’s, when he let Jaskier wrap his arms around him from behind, as they rode Roach until finally they dismounted and felt sand beneath their feet.

Oakwood was a quiet village; it had nothing of the exuberance of Novigrad or the other bustling cities Jaskier always favoured for his performances. Neither did it have many monsters, apart from the occasional siren troubling the waters when a fishing boat drifted too far.

Oakwood was almost insignificant in how calm and ordinary it was. And yet, when Jaskier had tentatively asked Geralt to come here, there had been an unspoken weight to his words. A weight that had become heavier with every step they had taken and that had finally seemed to lift when Jaskier had stood on the seashore, breathing in the salty air with closed eyes. For a sweet moment, Jaskier had looked truly happy.

Slowly, the look had faded into calm determination. Not immediately. Not for days. But by now, it was unmistakable.

Something was changing. And this thing was Jaskier.

He was still himself, still brightening at the prospect of a story, still looking at Geralt with that gleam in his eyes, still bringing happiness to people with his tales of adventure. Still making Geralt’s chest warm with every smile he sent his way.

And yet. There was something missing. Though the way Jaskier spoke of adventure still held that wonder he had shown years ago, he had slowly pulled away from them. No longer did he insist on accompanying Geralt on his hunts. No longer was he ready to climb mountains and trudge through moors to seek the next thrill. Instead he spent the time when Geralt was fulfilling a contract performing in taverns.

Geralt could almost pretend that it was like it had been at the beginning of their acquaintance, when Jaskier had a hunger for adventure, but the memory of the elves’ knives on their throats had been fresh and sharp enough to want to watch from a safe distance. This was nothing extraordinary. Jaskier didn’t have to follow him everywhere. It was fine. More than fine, when it meant that Jaskier was safely tucked away at an inn, performing and laughing and being happy. It was all Geralt could ask for.

But even this slipped through Geralt’s fingers without him noticing, too fast to close his hand and hold onto.

More and more often, Jaskier would rather sit and watch some townsperson with a fiddle or a cheap lute. He would smile when his own songs were sung, but rarely was he the one performing. He would hum along, but he wouldn’t jump up and dance anymore. He would still spin fantastical stories that had Geralt shake his head fondly, but seldom did Jaskier write melodies for them.

Geralt had fought monsters that would frighten the most hardened of men. He had stared death in its cold eyes more times than he could count. But never had his heart sunk with a weight as it did when he asked Jaskier why he wasn’t performing anymore.

Jaskier laughed, leaning into Geralt and for a moment, Geralt could pretend he had only imagined the shift in Jaskier.

“As loathe as I am to admit it, but she is better than me,” Jaskier said, gesturing to the young woman who was giving a soaring rendition of one of Jaskier’s earlier works.

Geralt stared at him, unable to form words. Never had Jaskier listened to others sing his songs without at least three points of criticism. There were no better bards than Jaskier, everyone knew that. No one knew it better than Jaskier himself.

But at Geralt’s grunt of disagreement, Jaskier only tilted his head and patted his hand. “Don’t look at me like that, my dearest. If I were a few years younger, she would not stand a chance against me. But as it is, her fingers are quicker than mine. Her feet nimbler in a dance and she has a face people enjoy looking at.”

Geralt knitted his brows, taking Jaskier in as though seeing him for the first time. “Why would people not want to look at you?”

Jaskier was beautiful. Always has been. Even more so now, that Jaskier threw his head back laughing as though Geralt had made a joke. Geralt had been serious.

“I can’t imagine not enjoying looking at you,” Geralt tried again. It was a clumsy attempt at a compliment and despite the sincerity of the words it sounded stilted. But Jaskier’s smile softened and he gently reached for Geralt’s hand.

“I know, dear. But you love me.”

Geralt nodded, the lump in his throat dissipating. It was a relief – it always was – that Jaskier understood his sparse words for what they were supposed to mean.

Jaskier sighed and turned his head once more towards the would-be bard belting his ballads. “But you can’t deny I have changed. Look at me! My hair is almost completely grey now!”

Something pricked at Geralt’s heart. Jaskier used to be so excited about the grey streaks in his hair. “We are going to match now!” Jaskier used to say with a radiant smile, accompanied by a quick kiss that was broken when they both smiled into it. Geralt would run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, plant kisses on it and put flowers behind Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier would smile and say the colours contrasted beautifully with the grey.

“Don’t tell Yennefer, but I know I can’t hide the crow’s feet any longer,” Jaskier continued, as though the lines weren’t witnesses of years spent smiling until his eyes crinkled. “I am not like I used to be.”

“Your eyes are still blue.”

Jaskier was quiet for a moment, just looking at Geralt, thinking, searching. “Most people’s eyes become blue when they get old.” There was something in his smile that seemed not quite wrong, but…wistful. “Your eyes will stay golden. Always young.”

“I am older than you.”

Instead of answering, Jaskier turned back to the girl who was just striking up some sea shanty. Humming along, Jaskier closed his eyes and leaned against Geralt, who was unsure what else to say. What was there to say? This didn’t feel like banter or teasing. This felt heavy. Laced with hidden meaning that Geralt was unable to understand.

They didn’t talk about it anymore. Days passed by. Jaskier got to explore the town and Geralt finished the contract, helping some fishermen with their siren-problem. It was time to move on.

They didn’t.

--

“What is this place to you?” Geralt asked.

When Jaskier had asked Geralt to go to the coast with him on that mountain it had sounded like a throw away thought. Years and years had passed and Jaskier hadn’t mentioned the sea again. Not until he had asked Geralt about it a few weeks ago and Geralt had begun to realise that there was something more to it.

Something in Jaskier’s tone had made it seem like it was the most important thing to him and yet, he had not been scared of rejection. Instead, Jaskier had looked at Geralt like he was convinced that this time Geralt would come with him without hesitation. Geralt’s heart had stuttered. Despite how it had gone before, Jaskier still had trust in him, as he had had the first day they had met, when the then-young bard had had no doubt that Geralt would get them out of the elves’ captivity alive.

Geralt hadn’t been convinced he deserved such utter trust back at the edge of the world. Now, standing next to Jaskier at the edge of the sea, he would do anything in his power to make sure he did.

“Oakwood?” Jaskier lifted his eyebrows and thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I’ve never been here before.” He trailed off, letting his eyes drift to where the sea gently kissed the land, as he had once called it. “But the coast reminds me of my time in Oxenfurt. It was always calming to me; safe. It is different here, though.” He blinked, as though trying to shield his eyes from the salty breeze. There was the slightest hint of hesitation in his words. “Oakwood is nothing to me yet, but I hope it could become home.”

“Home?” Geralt wasn’t sure what that emotion was that coloured his voice unbidden. It might be hope. Whatever it was, it was battling with a well-known urgency not to linger, to keep moving. Go to the next town. Find the next contract. The world might still need you.

“I won’t force you to stay with me, of course,” Jaskier said quickly, as if having read Geralt’s thought. As if he had spent most of his life getting to know Geralt and being able to read him as easily as a children’s book. “I know you are not one to stay in one place for too long.” A seabird’s cry interrupted Jaskier and he took a moment to watch it land on a dry patch of sand. “I wouldn’t keep you here. I am not that selfish to hide the world from you.” He could never be. Jaskier was his world. His home. “But …  you could be like a bird sitting down on a branch after a long flight to rest their weary wings, so when it’s time to keep on flying, they are rested for a new adventure.”

“And what about you?”

“You want me to continue with the bad metaphors?” Jaskier let out a bemused laugh. “Fine. I am a bird flying south for the winter. I know that I won’t be able to soar through the sky as I used to any longer, but I have found my south.”

Geralt scowled. He had spent enough time with Jaskier to know that it was easier for him to speak in metaphors and painted words. It didn’t make it any easier for him to understand.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly. “I meant, won’t you be alone if I ever go on a hunt again? I don’t have to do that. I can change with you.”

“Never change.” The words were almost whispered, but they held an unknown urgency. “Never for me.”

“For you, it would be worth it. I could stay with you. I don’t have to leave. This could become our home.”

“That would be beautiful.” A dreamy look settled on Jaskier’s face, smoothing the creases between his brows and giving him back his years. “We could sit together in front of a small cottage and watch the sunset. We could stroll along the shore every day and we could collect shells to decorate our home.”

Geralt’s heart clenched. It was a beautiful dream. It was a life Jaskier deserved. “I could give this to you.” He reached out, took Jaskier’s hand in his. “We could have this.”

Jaskier was quiet and Geralt’s heart skipped a beat, his words and thoughts coming faster than he could control, desperate to give this dream a shape he could hold onto. “You always told me that I should retire eventually. So why not now? Why not with you?”

“Because now I understand why you always said you wouldn’t do it.” A smile stretched Jaskier’s lips and it looked so loving, so proud. “It’s not about the monsters or some witcher code that’s been forced onto you. That I would ask you to give up in a heartbeat. But retiring would mean the same thing for you that it does for me. My songs used to make people happy. I used to make people happy. And you- “ Jaskier turned fully to face Geralt, resting his free hand on his cheek. A thumb brushed against the corner of his lips. “You are helping people. With everything you do, you help people. That is who you are and I can’t take away that from you. Stay with me, love, for as long as you can. But when you grow restless and need to go, promise me you’ll do that.”

“What about you?” Geralt repeated, leaning into the touch, pressing a soft kiss against the fingers resting against his lips. “You always said there were more places you wanted to see. It doesn’t have to end here. We don’t have to go on hunts together, but I could show you the blossoming hills of Dol Blathanna in spring or … or if you wanted to go to more festivals we could or –“

Jaskier’s hand squeezing his silenced him. “Geralt.” It sounded to tender. So undeservedly grateful. “You showed me more of the world than I had ever been able to see on my own.” A laugh escaped Jaskier. “And I believe I took you to more festivals than you would have seen in a lifetime if it wasn’t for me.”

“I didn’t mind. I would go to one again. With you. We still haven’t seen the harvest festivities of Corvo Bianco.”

Jaskier didn’t answer. Instead his eyes dropped to their joined hands.

“Jaskier?”

“You’ll have to tell me about the festival if you ever go there,” Jaskier said quietly. “But I’m afraid I can’t come with you anymore.” His lips twitched upwards in a teasing smile. “You might flatter me, saying I am still beautiful –“

“You are.”

“But I am no fool. I am getting old.”

“You can be both.”

“Naturally.” Jaskier’s lips twitched and he bumped Geralt with his shoulder playfully. “But that doesn’t change the fact that travelling has become exhausting. I can’t ride long distances and I definitely can’t walk for hours on end.” With a teasing wink he added “Even if I were to follow your oh so wise advice and buy some proper walking boots.”

“Then we will find other places to visit,” Geralt said softly. “I am sure there must be beautiful spots near-by.”

“I’d love that.” Jaskier’s eyes shone as he lifted their hands to press a kiss against Geralt’s knuckles.  “We have time to find them all.”

They had time. Not as much as Geralt wanted, but more than he thought they did when they had started travelling together. It has already been decades more than he had thought would be granted to him. Every moment with Jaskier was something precious and he would make sure that Jaskier knew.

Something had changed. Witchers didn’t plan their lives. There was nothing to plan. They went out into the world, they slayed monsters, they hoped to get coin. Nothing more to it. But here Geralt was, a witcher standing at the sea, making whispered plans of settling down with his beloved.

When Geralt would inevitably ride off to follow the path for a while and bring back stories for Jaskier, he would do so alone, as witchers were meant to be. No, not quite. Witchers were meant to be lonely. And that, Geralt would never be. He hadn’t been for a long time. How could he be lonely when he knew that someone was out there, waiting for him to return? How could he ever feel truly alone, when the man he loved would always be there with open arms and a bright smile, welcoming him home?

A wave crashed against the shore, spooking the seagull which had hacked at the sand, chasing it off into the sky. Geralt felt Jaskier sigh and lean his head against his shoulder. One day, Geralt would go out there into the wide world and the path again. But for now, he would rest.

Things would continue to change, he knew. Jaskier would continue to change. And he would be there with him, every step along the way.

[queenof-literature]

Hyrule

Hi all! Time for the Hero of Wild series update! I hope you enjoy!

I also remembered I haven’t been updating my Masterlist. Whoopsie. Sorry about that. it’s updated now. 

Wild was getting restless, Hyrule could tell. Wild had been with them for about a week now, and Hyrule could see it was starting to get to him. He knew the look, because he was the exact same way. Based on what little Wild told them about himself, Hyrule knew they were similar. Both travelers and wanderers, both far more comfortable away from cities, both loving to explore the world around them.

Not to say the other Links didn’t love exploring, Four and Wind would accompany him during dinner sometimes. Wild and Hyrule however always seemed to disappear by the time Twilight and and Warriors would turn around. It started with Hyrule when he first joined the Links, it was difficult to simply stay on the trail. Sometimes he would wander off without really realizing it. In one moment he would be looking at the local plant life that was absent in his own Hyrule. In the next moment he would be getting dragged by the scruff of his tunic by Legend. And Wild was the same way. 

Obviously they couldn’t drag him back by the scruff of his neck, Wild didn’t let anyone touch him in any way. But Hyrule and Wild always ended up wandering off, and Hyrule truly wanted to get closer to his fellow explorer, but he didn’t know how. 

Exploring seemed to be a common interest, but how did he ask the other to explore with him? Did he just… ask? He didn’t really know how to ‘properly’ interact with people. His Hyrule wasn’t exactly where someone would want to go for a vacation. He loved parts of it but it was lonely. Legend had found him deep in these thoughts a couple of weeks in, before Wild had joined.

“Am I a bad person?” Hyrule had asked quietly when he heard his fellow Link approach. He always knew who it was based on their footsteps. 

“Why would you say that?” Legend had responded. 

“What if I don’t miss my Hyrule as much as I should?”

“You’re not a bad person for not liking certain aspects of your Hyrule kid.”

“But… what if I don’t want to go back when the time comes? Not that I hate my Hyrule, but you guys are nice. I’m just… tired.” 

“If Hylia thinks she’s tearing us apart after sending us on this hellish cucco chase she has another thing coming.” Legend had finalized. And Hyrule knew he meant it. 

Hyrule glanced up at the sound of footsteps, stifling the urge to laugh as Twilight led a disgruntled Wild back to the traveling party. His humor disappeared when he saw the look on Wild’s face. It was restlessness, the desperate need to get away. Not in a way of anger, but exhaustion. The absolute bone tired feeling of being around too many people for far too long. Hyrule felt that many times, and would usually wander off when it got too bad, pleading with Legend to not bring up his absence. 

It wasn’t Twilight’s fault, he didn’t know. Besides, this was a Hyrule no one knew, it wasn’t the best idea for Wild and Hyrule to be wandering around while the others were moving. Perhaps once they made camp Hyrule could work up the courage to actually talk to the boy. 

~

Wild missed his Hyrule, and he missed traveling alone. Wild didn’t exactly have a home like the others apparently did, but he still missed his Hyrule. Sure he had a house in Hateno that he loved, and he was extremely grateful for when he needed a free place to sleep, but it wasn’t always home. The wilds were his home. The woods with secret birds nests, the oceans with rocky coats to jump from rock to rock, the different domains with different obstacles and different beauties. That was his home. He loved Hateno, but he felt out of place among the residents. He never felt out of place in nature. But he certainly felt out of place here. 

The other Links were nice and welcoming, but Wild never missed the long glances towards his scars, or the annoyed huffs when he came back from exploring off the path. But another boy, Hyrule, he explored too. Legend would always drag him back with a fond smirk and the rest of the group let him be. Was it because Wild was new that they seemed to walk on eggshells around him? Maybe. That didn’t change the fact he missed traveling alone. The thought made him feel slightly guilty, everyone had been doing their best to include him into their group. But still Wild just felt like a piece that didn’t fit.

He also felt guilty Zelda didn’t know. They rarely traveled together, Zelda was happy to work in labs for now while she grew accustomed to their new Hyrule a century later. But he missed exploring with her too. He liked seeing her happy, and his few memories proved she liked walking along beaten paths and open fields as well. He wanted more time to do that, but based on what Time had said, he would be on this quest for the foreseeable future. 

Oh well. He would deal with it. He had been in worse situations before. At least this time he remembered who he was when in a strange world. Still, something in him ached to be away from all of this, to simply shield surf down a mountain, or tame a wild stag, or create a giant fire and fly where no one could reach him. He doubted the others would appreciate that though. 

Hyrule seemed to have a similar mindset. He wished he could talk to the boy, but he didn’t seem interested. Wild was already new, he didn’t want to upset or annoy anyone with his lack of speech. He was painfully aware how exhausting it was to communicate with him, especially when the people trying to talk to him had to put up with his language that was completely different from theirs thanks to the different timelines. And yet they made name signs for him. They asked his opinions on things. They asked him how to sign things to better understand him. Four gave him a journal to help him share his thoughts. They were all so kind and Wild was so, so confused.

~

Hyrule needed to work up the courage to talk to Wild. Soon. After almost a week of traveling with a group, Wild seemed to be really stressed. He was pacing around near Epona, trying to find something to unpack around camp to distract himself. He appeared to be moving his lips, having a silent conversation with himself, his hands ringing and reaching up to scratch lightly at his neck. Hyrule had noticed Wild had a multitude of nervous habits, some of them similar to his own. Epona also seemed to be worried, if her quiet huffing and nosing at Wild’s hair was anything to go by. Hyrule worried that if he didn’t approach Wild first, Wild might run off on his own before the day was over. There wouldn’t be a better time anyway. The older boys were washing tunics and the younger ones were swimming in a nearby creek. Hyrule gulped down his nerves and got up. 

He slowly approached Wild, popping his fingers absentmindedly. Wild glanced up at him, eyes filled with suspicion and curiosity. 

“Hey Wild. Do you want to go exploring? You seem like you like to and I like to and it's been a while since I’ve gotten away and being around people for too long kinda makes me nervous and it seems like it does you too. Erm, I mean I obviously don’t know that for sure but we could leave a note and get away for awhile and go explore?” Hyrule rushed out and mentally face palmed at his own rambling. Good job Hyrule. Glancing up at Wild, the boy seemed slightly shocked, but thankfully didn’t look offended. Wild took out his journal and quickly scratched out a response. 

‘Sure. You’re right. I’m used to traveling alone.’ Scrawled out in neat, small letters. 

“Alright!” Hyrule smiled happily, which Wild hesitantly returned. “Would you mind if we used your journal to write a note? I don’t have anything to write on.” Hyrule asked. Wild looked sad for a moment at tearing out a page from his gift, but figured the sooner they left the better while the others were distracted. He carefully tore a page from the back and wrote out a quick note as Hyrule watched, adding in when he saw fit. 

‘Went exploring, we’ll be fine. Need a break. We won’t go far.

~Wild and Hyrule’

After adding a large smiley face he knew would piss off Legend, Hyrule led Wild away from the camp, being sure to leave the note in an obvious place. They decided to go the opposite way of the river to avoid any stray Links. The trees around them were a bit taller than Hyrule remembers Wild’s trees being, the sun peeking through the canopy above. A few flowers bloomed sparingly in the grass, Wild stopping to take pictures with his slate. Already Wild looked more relaxed, and Hyrule felt himself decompressing as well. 

Before they could stray far from camp however, they ran into the smallest Link. 

“What are you two doing?” Four asked, eyebrow raised, green eyes shining in the peeking sunlight. 

“We could ask you the same question.” Hyrule spoke for both of them, copying Four’s expression. 

“Very smooth Hyrule. Amazing distraction.” Four fired back, seeming far more amused than angry. 

“Please just pretend you didn’t see us. We both need a break we’ll be careful and we left a note.” Hyrule pleaded. Four had to admit, the pleading expression on both Hyrule and Wild’s faces were hard to deny. Not that he was planning to anyways, but he was definitely going to give them shit for it. 

“Fine.” Four sighed out dramatically. “But do me a favor and try to stick in the area. Maybe Northwest as much as you can. Just so we know where to look when you to inevitably find trouble.” Four teased. 

“We’ll do our best!” Hyrule promised happily, rushing forward. 

‘Thank you!’ Wild signed quickly, rushing forward to catch up to Hyule. Four chuckled lightly. He could already tell those two would be the definition of chaos. 

~

“Sooo. What do you do for fun in your Hyrule?” Hyrule asked, slightly desperate for conversation. Normally he would be content to sit in comfortable silence, but he wanted to get to know this new Link with no one else around, and who knew when he would next get the chance? Hopefully Wild didn’t hate him too much for trying to break the silence. Wild contemplated for a moment.

‘Cliff jump.’ Hyrule snorted.

“A little hard to do that here.” Hyrule laughed.

‘Shield surf.’ Wild signed, fingerspelling it slowly when Hyrule made a confused hum.

“Shield surf? What’s that?” Hyrule knew by Wild’s betrayed expression that he would learn soon.

~

“Where’s Wild?” Twilight asked soon after the boys returned. 

“And Hyrule?” Wind questioned. 

“Hyrule probably ran off again. Did Wild as well?” Sky asked the group. Just then, Warriors noticed a page of Wild’s journal resting on top of a tree stump. Warriors quickly approached the page, slightly concerned it would end up being a ransom note. Picking up the note and reading the short writing, Warriors had to stifle a laugh. 

“What is it?” Time asked.

“Went exploring, we’ll be fine. Need a break. We won’t go far.” Warriors read out loud,

turning the page around to show the large smiley face and the two bokoblins who signed it. 

“That little shit.” Legend growled, looking at the taunting smiley face drawn on the note. 

“Those little shits.” Twilight corrected. He had yet to talk to Time about his friendship with Wild. Was it a friendship? Twilight still needed to ask if this is how a mentor felt. He felt towards Wild like he did towards the kids in Ordon, but this was a little different in ways Twilight couldn’t explain, but wasn’t really mad at.

“You’re right, Twilight. I’ll kill ‘em both.”

~

“So, I just stand on this and ‘surf’ down the hill?” Hyrule questioned, slightly nervous about his certain tumble down the steep hill they managed to find. Wild nodded, eyes brighter than Hyrule had seen them in days.

‘Do you want me to go first?’ Wild signed. 

“Yes please. I guess I just don’t understand how to do it.” Hyrule rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, slightly embarrassed. Wild just smiled gently, and summoned a shield out of his slate, jumping on the back of it. Hyrule watched in fascination as Wild gracefully sped down the hill they had chosen, weaving around small obstacles. It only made Hyrule more nervous. Not for the surfing itself, no, that looked fun! He just didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of their newest member. Wild was up the hill in no time. The hill was steep, but not long and steep enough to make it hard to get back up. According to Wild, it was almost perfect. Hyrule wanted to know what Wild’s definition of ‘perfect’ was. 

‘Ready’ Wild signed with a large smile and carefree eyes. If Hyrule wasn’t going to surf before, he would have to now that he looked at Wild’s bright face. 

“Yeah, but don’t make fun of me when I eat grass and dirt for lunch.” Wild laughed silently, shoulders shaking. If Hyrule listened close enough, he could hear soft puffs of air escaping from the teen. 

 ‘You should have seen me when I first tried it, Hyrule’ Wild signed. Recently he had been trying to incorporate the other’s name signs more into his sentences, trying to get used to the signs they had given each other. Hyrule was quite fond of his sign, he loved the combination of wanderer and magic. 

“Yeah I’m sure that was interesting for everyone else to watch.” Hyrule snorted, laughing at Wild’s playful glare. This was nice. 

‘I’m ready, Wild.’ Hyrule signed to the best of his ability, trying to brush off Wild’s awe stricken face at the fact Hyrule had signed a simple statement in his language. Hyrule couldn’t sign much, but the look on Wild’s face was worth potentially embarrassing himself. 

‘Try to keep up.’ Wild signed, summoning another shield out of his slate for Hyrule to use. It was absolutely gorgeous. Gray metal with raised gold, creating the symbol of Hyrule with decorative accents surrounding it. 

“Erm, isn’t this a little too nice to use for shield surfing?” Hyrule questioned, not wanting to ruin a perfectly beautiful shield. By the look on Wild’s face, Hyrule knew that was a silly question. For all he knew, Wild could have ten more in that slate of his. 

“Okay so I just get on the back and try to balance as I ride down?” Hyrule clarified, not admitting to himself he was stalling. Wild nodded.

‘Maybe you could sit. Never tried it.’ Wild signed, fingerspelling words Hyrule couldn’t understand or couldn’t remember. 

“Nah I’ll stand. Together?” Hyrule confirmed, placing the shield on the ground before him, knowing the other boy was about to leave him in his dust. Wild was talented enough to not need to put the shield down before him, Hyrule had seen him flip onto it like it was second nature. Hyrule would need a bit more of a base. Wild nodded brightly, waiting for Hyrule to start in case the other needed help. The boy got on top of the shield, wobbling a bit at first before balancing out. Wild felt slightly guilty he couldn’t force himself to balance the other boy out, that would require contact and he couldn’t make himself do that, no matter how nice Hyrule seemed. 

When he found enough balance, Hyrule kicked off gently with one foot, not expecting how fast he would be going right as he did it. Hyrule let out a small yelp as he slid down the hill, arms flailing out in a desperate attempt to keep balance. Hyrule glanced over and saw Wild staying beside him, even though this was definitely much slower than he was used to. Pushing down the panic and desperation to stay balanced on the grassy hill, Hyrule let out a laugh. It really was fun! Hyrule could see why Wild liked it so much. Except he should have been paying more attention. 

In the blink of an eye, Hyrule’s shield launched out from under him, flinging itself into Wild’s legs. All Hyrule heard was a raspy sound coming from the other boy sounding like a yelp before both of them tumbled down the hill, rolling uncontrollably all the way to the bottom. Hyrule could feel scraps and bruises forming on the way down. Certainly not enough to maim or kill him, but enough that it stung and Legend would make him drink some potion later. Hyrule finally stopped rolling, taking mental count of how many injuries he had. No broken bones, no concussions, nothing serious. He sighed in relief, before he remembered his fellow escapee.  

“Wild I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I hit your legs hard?” Hyrule asked frantically, rushing over to where Wild landed. The other boy was flat on his back, and had probably gotten the air knocked out of him. Oh Hylia, nice job Hyrule! Now Wild would hate you forever! Hyrule got his healing magic ready as he approached Wild, ready to jump into action. Only stopping when he saw Wild… laughing?  

 Hyrule looked on in shock as Wild was laughing. Not completely silent this time either! It took him being close, but Hyrule could hear some soft and raspy giggles coming from Wild’s throat. That one threw Hyrule for a loop. The others had suspected that Wild could perhaps physically talk, but the scars on his neck left that question unanswered. No one knew why he couldn’t talk. If it was physical, mental, or emotional. Not that it really mattered, Wild was Wild. But still, Hyrule was happy he actually heard the boy laughing, if extremely softly. 

“Wild? Are you okay? I’m sorry I promise I didn’t mean to.” Hyrule knelt down next to Wild, but kept a few feet of distance. The last thing he wanted to do right now is freak him out. That’s also why he refused to bring up Wild’s laughter, desperately hoping he wouldn’t grow embarrassed and shut down again.

‘Nice landing.’ Wild signed up, eyes bright and carefree. 

“Pfft. You too.” Hyrule laughed, almost offering Wild a hand to help him up. It seemed polite to offer, but he decided to stay still until Wild got up himself.

‘Again?’ Wild asked, face the definition of excitement and mischief. 

“Obviously.”

~

The entire afternoon was spent with two boys surfing down a hill, bumping shields and laughing like little kids all the way down. Hyrule was slightly worried that bumping shields, and occasionally shoulders, would bother Wild. But it didn’t seem to affect him too much, it must have been different in a more adrenaline induced setting. 

The two of them surfed until the sun began to set. Challenging each other to odd ways of riding down once Hyrule was better. At one point, this led to Wild attempting to make it the whole way down on his shield in a handstand. He didn’t make it very far. 

Another challenge led to them racing down the hill once Hyrule was more confident in his skill. Hyrule still ended up tumbling down the last quarter of the hill. Wild claimed foul but Hyrule claimed they never said how they needed to make it down.

By the time the sun began its descent, Wild and Hyrule were absolute messes. Twigs, grass, and leaves were tangled in their hair. Grass stains and dirt covered their clothes, along with blood from the countless cuts and scrapes they had collected along the way. And large smiles adorned their scraped and slightly bleeding faces. 

“A couple more times and then we’ll go back?” Hyrule asked, looking at the distant sun. “I think the group is so spoiled by your cooking we’d have a hard time without it.” Hyrule teased, chuckling at Wild’s embarrassed face. 

‘A couple more times. Try the spin’ Wild confirmed. Hyrule was getting better at jumping onto the shield, not being able to flip like Wild, but progress was progress. Wild could even jump and spin while he was surfing! He told Hyrule how to do it, and showed him a few times. Wild told him it was easier if he used the momentum from a small bump in the hill to get enough speed to rotate. 

“Okay I’ll try!” Hyrule beamed. Wild and Hyrule could go at the same time now, Wild not needing to give Hyrule a head start as the evening progressed. “One. Two. Three!” Hyrule called out, jumping on the back of his shield. He balanced out and leaned forward as Wild taught him, keeping an eye on the quickly approaching small hill he planned to launch off of. Hyrule bent his legs a little more, then twisted his hips quickly as soon as he hit the hill. He bent his elbows to the side, making sure to keep his back as straight as he could. He managed to make a full rotation! Before landing and having the shield slip out from under him. Hyrule rolled the rest of the way, but his successful spin made it hard for him to care. When he got to the bottom, his eyes were closed, doing another mental check to see if he had any broken bones. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a very unamused pair of bright blue eyes belonging to a certain wolf.

“Uh oh.” Hyrule glanced over at Wild, who also looked like a deer in the torchlight. Wild signed something that Hyrule assumed the wolf couldn’t understand. He was intelligent, but Hyrule doubted the animal could understand sign .

“He says we left a note.” Hyrule translated. 

~

They must have been quite the sight. Two bruised and cut Hylians covered in grass pouting as they followed a hulking wolf. They would have escaped the wolf’s fury, but he absolutely would not let them out of his sight. If one of the two got an inch too far, the wolf grumbled in his throat and glared. A wolf glared at them. Wild at least, knew the wolf was not just an animal. But that only meant he would be the one to get lectured by an angry Twilight later tonight. Wild and Hyrule were pouting, but they still snickered whenever they thought about today. It had been fun. Really fun. Wild didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore, he felt more content. 

“Here we go.” Hyrule muttered, seeing a small fire in the distance. Wild glared down at Wolfie when he noticed the smug look in his eye. The wolf couldn’t wait to see them get scolded. Wild would get revenge later. 

“Where have you two idiots been?” Legend yelled as they got closer.

“What in Hylia’s name happened?” Sky asked, rushing over to check their cuts with Warriors, keeping their distance with Wild. 

“Wild taught me how to surf on a shield!” Hyrule told them the story happily, brushing off Sky’s and Warriors’ fussing. 

“Awesome! Wild teach me next!” Wind ran up to stand next to Hyrule. The two could see Four hanging back, being suspiciously quiet. Hopefully if they didn’t throw him to the wolves for knowing, he would cover for them later on as well. 

‘Where’s Twilight?’ Wild signed innocently, resisting the urge to smirk down at the wolf beside him. 

“He’s scouting the area for monsters.” Time lied easily. “Wolfie, go get him please?” Wolfie glared one last time at a smug Wild, before running off to ‘find Twilight’. 

“Now.” Time began, and Hyrule and Wild glanced at each other, silently communicating that they were indeed fucked. “What were you two thinking running off like that?” Time asked. He didn’t really sound mad, he sounded more curious. He knew those two wouldn’t purposefully cause issues, especially with how shy they tended to be. Hyrule and Wild glanced at each other before Hyrule spoke up. 

“We just needed a break. We left a note so that you guys knew we were okay, but we both just needed time to unwind in the woods.” Hyrule explained sheepishly. Wild nodded along, keeping his head down. He really hoped Hyrule didn’t get in trouble. Even after all the work they put into learning his sign, Wild thought the group would ditch him in a random Hyrule any minute. He didn’t want to see his new friend get in trouble because of something they both did. If he needed to Wild would take the blame. Better just he get in trouble than both of them.

Time sighed, looking at their guilty expressions. He should have expected this, both of these boys spent most of their lives completely alone. Time thought back to his adventures. He loved exploring Hyrule on the back of Epona. Could he really fault these boys for exploring away from a group? Hyrule was getting better with being in a group, but he still struggled. And Wild has only been in their group for a week, he certainly wasn’t used to traveling with others if his fear of touches were anything to go by. Most of the boys said he ‘didn’t like’ being touched to soften the words and not offend the new Link but they all knew the truth. Something had given Wild a deep rooted fear of even being around Hylians. How could they expect him and Hyrule to be happy when constantly surrounded by others. Time was just glad they had found solace with each other. 

“I understand.” The two teens perked up at that, surprised. They barely noticed Twilight coming from beyond the surrounding trees. “I know exploring away from the path is fun, but Hyrules we don’t know are dangerous. I know I’m not gonna be able to stop you from doing it, but be careful. And come back with less scrapes and bruises next time.” Time teased, not missing the way they both relaxed, Wild especially. Hopefully the boy’s wariness would ease as the journey continued. 

“That’s it? They ran away!” Twilight complained, but the others could tell it was mostly in good fun. Wild however could tell the man was trying to get back at him once again. 

“You’re right. Wild make dinner. Hyrule, fill the water jugs. There. Karma complete.” Time smirked at Twilight exasperated look towards Wild, knowing full well he would need to chase after him in the next few days. Good, hopefully Twilight will learn how Time feels.

~

That night was spent the way many of their peaceful nights did, casual chatter and plans for tomorrow. Wild participated a little more this time, which the group was all grateful for. Legend grumbled and made them booth drink a little potion, no matter how much Wild refused. The rest of the night was spent with the group milling around or all grouped around the campfire. Four however, were beckoned over by Hyrule to have a private conversation. 

“What’s wrong?” Four asked, looking at Hyrule’s troubled face.

“Thanks for covering for us. We needed that.” Hyrule thanked before he moved on. “I’m worried about Wild.” Hyrule bit his lip now that his thoughts were out in the open.

“Why?” Four’s eyebrows furrowed. “He looks better than he has in a while and you two seemed to have fun.”

“We did have fun, but Four he laughed. Like with his voice.” Hyrule glanced over to make sure the boy in question was still making dinner. “It was quiet but I heard it. I think he can talk, Four. I mean I think he could maybe physically talk if he practiced. But I think he’s embarrassed? Or scared? He doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to and I don’t want him to feel forced, but what if he wants to talk and he’s scared?” Hyrule finished. Out of the many things Four had been expecting, it wasn’t that.

“I think… that that’s a very real possibility.” Four started, there was no reason to lie. “But you’re right, he might just not want to, or it could be mental. Or a combination. The truth is we don’t know. I’d say for now let’s worry about things we can control and feel out the situation with Wild.” Four reached up and patted Hyrule’s shoulder. Like all the Links, Hyrule put too much responsibility on himself.

“Okay Four. Thank you… that helps.” Hyrule smiled, looking much better.

“No problem buddy.”

~

That night Wild slept a tad bit closer to the group than he had been. It wasn’t much, but it was progress they were all silently grateful to Hyrule for. Time was on second watch, but Twilight had stayed up to talk to him.

‘Pup, did Wild talk to you that night he woke up with Wolfie?’ Time had overheard a small portion of Four and Hyrule’s conversation. He had been coming back from the stream and didn’t stay long, not wanting to eavesdrop, but he heard enough to connect the dots of what Twilight had been avoiding talking about the past few days.

‘He tried.’ Twilight signed back in their shared sign. It hadn't changed too much from Time’s Hyrule to Twilight’s Hyrule, and they didn’t want Wild to overhear their conversation. 

‘He tried?’ Time questioned silently.

‘It was rough, Time.’ Twilight signed, glancing back at the boy curled up in his thin bedroll. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Time whispered, placing a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. Wild was one of them now.

[samwritesforyou]

For me

fandom: yuri on ice!!!

pairing: viktor x yuuri

word count: 6.4k

genres: established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff

description: our favourite couple for the first time since s1 makes it both to the tournament, both as ice skaters this time. yuuri is sent to rostelekom cup, whereas viktor was selected to skate on the china cup. how will they sort out their separation and what will happen on the grand prix? will they finally debut as lovers-opponents on ice?

“What?!” Yuri exclaimed, his eyes flushing open even more violently than they were before, his gaze shooting from Viktor and back at the tv in the living room.

“Well, you heard it, I got selected to participate in China Cup and you in Rostelekom Cup, Yuuri,” his husband shrugged with a light smile, leaning in for another kiss as they were laying both on the sofa, cuddling under the same blanket.

“Nononono, how can you be so calm about this?!” Yuuri pulled away from him, intensely continuing in watching ice-skating news.

“We still have Grand Prix to attend together, I doubt either of us won’t make it there, dumpling,” he mused, at least brushing his lover’s cheek with his fingers.

“Are you going away from each other for at least a week then?!” yelled Yuuri’s ballet teacher from the armchair behind them, quickly hopping to their side.

“I don’t know! Apparently!” yelped dark haired guy, now being violently shaken by Minako.

If you didn’t know, currently the worldwide famous couple Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov were on a short holiday from all the training and skating, residing at Katsuki family house, just enjoying their time together.

Because both of them were often abroad, they left Makkachin here, since Yuuri’s family takes an excellent care of him and a happy doggo has a lot of space to run around the place.

So now he was loved by these two over the moon, being kissed and patted all the time.

Ever since they returned they were always surrounded by Katsuki family, the only time when they were truly alone was when they got out of the house and went for a walk in nature or at night in their shared room.

It might seem like a lot, but they were doing just fine, everything was perfect.

Viktor was talking about “debuting” together both as ice-skaters at the tournament for the first time and Yuuri got fired up by the idea as well.

They foolishly believed that they would be able to do it even before Grand Prix.

But destiny has its own way and now they’ll have to wait.

So that’s why the younger man was so emotional about the news, while Viktor was just sure that their “debut” together will happen a bit later than they anticipated.

He was calm, when Yuuri was worried, he was angry when his partner was reassuring. They were really the perfect couple.

.

.

Soon enough it was time to part as they arrived at the airport.

“Babe, why did you go with me this early?” Viktor smiled tenderly at his partner, placing a light peck on his cheek, “Are you forgetting that I’m the one who’s accustomed to flights and not you?” he kept smiling sweetly, looking at his husband, eyes filled with love and affection.

Yuuri was hardly listening to any of the things that were being said to him, his eyelids basically glued together, blue-ish bags under them - clearly all this rolling around in bed wasn’t because he was dreaming about something, he simply wasn’t sleeping.

Viktor’s flight was at 4am, yet he looked like he was just freshly out of the spa salon, hair on fleek, light make-up made, outfit styled.

Yuuri’s flight was, on the contrary, at 9am, so he could easily still be sleeping in their cosy bed, but he really wanted to be with his love as long as he could.

“You’re adorable,” Nikiforov said, chuckling to himself and then hugged him tightly, only then letting his guard down and actually biting his lower lip, eyes filling with sadness, “I’m going to miss you, Yuuri,” he sighed near his ear.

The man in his arms got a bit more wide awake by that, clutching his coat and trying to get closer to him, even though their bodies were already pressed firmly together.

“Viktor.. best of luck. I love you so much,” he said quietly, breathing his familiar scent while being snuggled in the crook of his neck, eyes closed.

“I love you too, baby,” he answered and pulled away, encouraging smile already plastered on his face.

He wants to give all the strength to his husband so he doesn’t have to worry about him.

“You need to go already, come on..” Yuuri nodded at him, shooing him away, trying to fight tears.

It’s just a week, come on!.. he thought to himself, wobbly smile threatening to fall any second.

“Okay, okay. See you very soon,” he leaned in for the quick kiss and then pulled away, dragging his silver coloured luggage by the handle, waving and sending air-kisses, not letting their eye-contact fall until the very end.

Yuuri felt tears rolling down his cheeks and he let himself have this little cry in the middle of the airport at 4am, after a while just waddling towards the closest chair and collapsing there, falling asleep.

.

.

Both of the parties made it safely to their destinations, settling into hotels and making themselves comfortable.

As soon as Viktor was free, Yuuri felt his phone ring and immediately jumped to it from his bed, hitting answer with a camera.

“My love, how did Saint Petersburg welcome you?” Viktor asked excitedly, for some reason with a glass of champagne in his skinny hands.

The man on the other end was instantly reminded of the memory of numerous insisting taxi drivers offering him a ride to wherever he needed for a cheap price, then some older women bickering in the public transport, but most importantly one little girl that recognised him as a “famous ice skater who married our Vitya Nikiforov” and wanted to take a picture with him. To which he obliged happily, even though he was tired from the road.

“Wonderfully,” he answered with a warm smile, looking at his phone screen, wishing the man he’s seeing was right next to him right now.

“Amazing to hear that,” he sipped on the bubbly liquid and smiled, even though his eyes were clearly indicating how much he’s battling sadness.

“Viktor?..” Yuuri started, kinda nervous. He wasn’t the confrontational type, really.

But he felt like his other half was trying to put on a brave face just so he doesn’t have to worry, but Katsuki did feel all his sadness even miles away.

At that, Viktor’s blue eyes shifted to look at him directly.

“Look.. I’m sad that we can’t be together right now, especially during the tournament time,” Japanese said, rubbing his hands in front of himself, “but I feel like you’re trying to act that it doesn’t bother you that much, maybe.. for me not to worry about you?”

Nikiforov’s thin brows knitted together, glass being slowly put aside.

“But you don’t have to do that. We can be.. I don’t know, sad together? I still see your longing in the eyes, you can’t really hide that,” he concluded softly, smiling almost apologetically, that he had to make this into such a big deal.

It looked as if some weight was literally lifted from Viktor’s shoulders, as he just plumped himself onto the couch he’s been sitting on, phone firmly in hand, placed above his face.

Suddenly his brows started to go up and Yuuri saw first tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I just miss you,” he said quietly, wiping them off with the free hand.

“I miss you too,” Yuuri said, his own eyes watering as he laughed a bit at how ridiculous they were being.

It was less than a day without each other.

“You know what, Yuuri Katsuki,” said Viktor, laughing already as well, but not being able to stop crying just yet, “being in a relationship with you is the most wild thing that ever happened to me,” he finished, shaking his head with a wide smile on his face.

“I know right?” his partner answered, filling the audio with laughter.

.

.

When Yuuri’s phone rang, the whole room was still dark, the sun didn’t even think of getting up, so why the hell should he?..

It kept ringing, sending a lovely melody through the space.

Caller was a stubborn one, that’s for sure. And ice-skater was almost entirely sure of who that might be.

“Good morning, my not so early bird!” literally sang into the device Viktor, mood thousand times better than what Yuuri was experiencing in the current moment.

“Not so early?.. Did you forget about the timezones, because here it’s 6am!” Katsuki sighed in disbelief, making himself sit on the bed, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Oh.. that’s true! I completely forgot,” Viktor laughed, which made Yuuri involuntarily melt into the warm smile, despite his half-awake state.

“I was just wondering, Yuurochka, do you want me to guide you through St. Petersburg? Because our choreographies are well learned and I believe you can sometimes go into that lovely city!” Viktor smiled at the camera, blue eyes flicking from one side to another.

What was he looking at?..

“Uhh.. yeah, sure! Sad that we can’t be here together, but even through the phone it’ll be nice, I think,” Yuuri smiled sleepily, putting his phone on the stand on the bedside table and opened his luggage where he packed just some clothes, charger, earphones, costumes for the performance and figure skates.

They often did this with his husband, just video call together and each of them doing their own thing, kind of a simulation of their normal life when they’re next to each other in flesh.

“Darling?” black haired boy looked up at the camera, in hands with his picked outfit for the day - grey sweater and dark denim jeans.

When Viktor saw that he has his lover’s attention, he smiled sweetly, “I noticed you have two zits on your face, so apply some cream on it, will you?”

Yuuri blinked a few times comically and then yelped, running to the bathroom to see for himself. And he was right.

No, wait. He wasn’t.

Japanese skater had three zits, it’s just that Viktor probably couldn’t see the other one due to the camera quality.

“Thank god,” Katsuki sighed and then returned in front of his phone.

“I will,” he said and started doing it right away, pushing out some white cream out of the tube that his husband specifically bought him. Probably something expensive, as most things from him were.

Then he didn’t really give this any thought, but he started undressing right in front of his phone as well, putting glasses aside, stripping off the white tee and then pulling over his head some black shirt and then grey sweater.

Once he was also done with the bottom half of his body he heard a whistle from the other end of the line.

His hazel eyes immediately shot up to the screen where Viktor was watching him intensely, smug grin on his face.

“I was glad to witness your dressing up session, babe, such a shame I can’t be next to you right now,” he sighed theatrically loudly, putting slender hand to his forehead, making it seem as if he’s fainting from the longing.

Yuuri, on the other hand, was more and more turning violent crimson, mumbling something indecipherable and putting on his glasses, taking the phone in his hand so now ice skater Nikiforov could only see his husband’s flustered face.

“Shut up, Viktor, let’s head out,” he said, furrowing and making the man on the other end laugh heartily.

Then it was time for the handsome man with platinum hair to be surprised and blink comically.

“Uh... head out?” he asked, not really getting it.

“Well, it’s not gonna be fair if I’m the only one who’s going out to see your city when you’re sitting comfortably inside, is it?” now Yuuri was the owner of the mischievous smirk, looking at his partner with pleased face expression.

“Ah, you’re so smart sometimes, baby,” Viktor teased and then went to change his clothes as well, but as it turned out he didn’t have any clothes under his robe, so Yuuri had to quickly avert his gaze to prevent any undesired “excitement”.

After all, Viktor’s body was always such a treat, even thousand miles away.

“Aw, you weren’t looking?” said Russian in a pouty manner, when he turned back to face the camera.

“W-what?! Of course not, let’s go,” Yuuri mumbled, putting a scarf a bit higher to cover even bigger portion of his face.

He didn’t really experience winter in Russia yet, but he was prepared.

.

.

When Katsuki was out and about St. Petersburg’s streets, Viktor had absolutely no problem guiding him through all of the corners that he knew and that normal tourists don’t get to see, all of that while he himself was striding through completely unfamiliar Chinese neighbourhood, every once in a while being called by fans and had to stop to take a picture and give autographs.

Nobody noticed Yuuri outside, maybe it was because he wasn’t that popular yet, despite being Viktor’s husband, but most probably it was because his face was a literal mess.

His brownish scarf was covering half the face and his glasses were foggy most of the time because he kept breathing into the cloth and thus all the air was brought back onto the surface of his lenses.

Viktor made Yuuri go all the way to his most memorable café of all times and he also recommended him to order his favourite dessert there, leaving the beverage choice up to him.

Younger man of course trusted Viktor’s tastebuds and got himself a relatively small cupcake, decorated astonishingly with cream in form of leaves and a rose on top of that.

He bit right into it, tasting all the magical flavour of the dessert, making Viktor melt into a warm smile while watching him munch on it.

Nikiforov himself had to go into some Chinese café as well, to make it seem as a date, as if they’re really together. And it kinda worked, he was full of love for his partner, rarely thinking about how much he’d want to see him in real life instead of the phone screen.

.

.

As the days went on, both of them spend a lot of time training, sometimes even on the call when practicing, looking at each other’s progress and cheering one another.

Every once in a while their schedules met and they could go on a “virtual date” of sorts, Yuuri being navigated by his lover’s voice through the streets of St. Petersburg and Viktor finding himself some spot in the Chinese corners as well.

And on one of those walks Viktor led his husband to one of the prettiest parks, covered in snow, making Yuuri speechless from the beauty all around him.

“Hey, you!” he suddenly heard a voice that wasn’t coming from the phone, but rather somewhere behind him.

Japanese skater turned around and his eyes widened in light surprise as he saw a familiar figure in front of him.

“Baby? What’s up?” said Viktor from the device, being able to see now only Yuuri’s lower part of the face, because he put his phone instinctively closer to his body.

“Why aren’t you training, huh?” said younger lad, blonde hair covering half of his face.

There wasn’t a usual scowl planted on his features, rather just an arched brow in the question.

“I’m just.. taking a break! That’s healthy too,” Yuuri answered, smiling at his friend.

Ever since Nikiforov and Katsuki got officially married, Yurio lay off of his aggressive behaviour towards the latter one, accepting him as a part of his close friends circle now.

It was a nice change and Yuuri finally got the opportunity to get to know the teenager better, talking to him without bickering.

“Yurioooo, I can hear you all the way from China!” suddenly a loud statement was heard in a singing manner from the phone that Yuuri was holding near to his stomach and then he flipped the device in his hands so that both of the Russians could see each other through the camera.

Viktor was waving at his younger friend enthusiastically, apparently walking through some Chinese park as well.

“Yo,” blondie said, way less enthusiastically, just nodding into his direction, ��kinda sucks that we didn’t meet on Rostelekom cup,” he added, adjusting his scarf so it’s less in his face.

Harsh Russian climate will make even Plisetsky wear something warm, huh.

“It’s okay, we’ll meet on the Grand Prix~” Viktor answered, not even for a second doubting any of their victories.

“That’s true,” Yurio smirked.

“Well, since you two met like this, why don’t you guys go and have lunch together? Would be a nice bonding time,” Nikiforov mused, his smile wide and pleased.

Yuuri was ready to start protesting, since he knew that the guy standing in front of him wasn’t a fan of companies, when his companion surprised him.

“Yeah, why not,” Yurio shrugged and then turned around, probably ready to guide him towards some restaurant.

“How splendid!” Viktor clapped his hands and when Yuuri finally turned the cellphone back to his face, he looked at his husband, “Have fun with Yurio, alright?” then he sent an air kiss to the camera and their hours-long call ended.

.

.

The week of the tournament was already at close, bringing the day of performances to light.

Both Yuuri and Yurio landed all their jumps, flips and quads, gaining best results, younger skater getting a bit more points for the artistic lifts of his hands, making the choreography difficulty higher.

Katsuki was trying to dial Viktor’s phone right away but the number was unavailable, so he sat in front of the tv in the changing rooms, watching intensely to see the results of the China Cup.

“And we can see here the winners,” said moderator’s enthusiastic voice as the camera zoomed in on the pedestal with three people standing on it, Viktor with a smile waving from the highest level, then taking his gold medal in hand, kissing it.

Yuuri melted into the warm smile, his eyes filling with tears.

Of course they’ll meet on Grand Prix. Of course. It’s Viktor Nikiforov we’re talking about, after all.

“Viktor Nikiforov standing proudly with a golden medal,” was the only thing Japanese skater registered from the tv before his phone rang.

“Darling,” he heard his lover’s voice, full of contentment, “I will see you on the Grand Prix, right?”

“Of course, Viktor..” he answered, smiling almost shyly, getting up from the bench and only then realising that he can still see him on the screen, “wait! how are you talking to me when—“

“You see me on the tv? Magic, my sticky bun, it’s not live, if you noticed,” Yuuri’s eyes immediately drifted to the corner of the screen, which indeed said ‘prerecorded’, “the ceremony was held like an hour ago and after that I was literally bombarded with interviews of all kinds. As soon as I got the chance I called you,” he concluded, Katsuki could practically feel his husband smiling into the device on the other end, all the way in China, “What’s your score, baby?” he asked in the end.

“I.. you’ll see it soon, we’re going for the broadcast in about ten minutes,” he said nervously, clutching the phone closer to his ear.

“Hey..” almost whispered Viktor gently, “even if it’s not gold, I’m so proud of you,” he then hung up, leaving Yuuri shaking from the tears he was trying to surpass.

I love you so much, Viktor... I want to show you so much more of what I can do...

And with these thoughts he wiped his watering eyes, making his way towards the ice ring, to the pedestal where he stood next to Yurio, on the second level, receiving a silver medal.

.

.

Next reunion of the loving husbands set place in Vancouver, Canada.

They welcomed each other with a warm hug and passionate embrace, Yuuri rushing towards Viktor from his flight that was slightly delayed, so the older one had to wait for him way longer than they first anticipated.

“I really missed you,” said Nikiforov, gently kissing the golden ring on his partner’s finger, making his other half blush.

“I m-missed you too,” he whispered back, kind of anxiously looking at the front seat of a car they were riding in, at a taxi driver who was just minding his own business.

The younger man still had quite a hard time in expressing their romantic affection in public, feeling almost ashamed for some reason and Viktor had countless talks with him about it, assuring him that everything is okay and that in comparison to him, Katsuki family supports him.

But he never got angry at him because of it and just didn’t push any actions further once he noticed that Yuuri was nervous in public again for any reason.

“Hey, babe, it’s okay,” Viktor just gently took his hand in his, squeezing reassuringly in a silent ‘i love you’ in his ocean eyes that Yuuri knew so well.

He replied with a wide grin, feeling the warmth of their connected palms.

The whole world seems complete when they’re together.

And in a few days the miracle couple started relentlessly training on the ice ring, alongside their friends and rivals like Yurio, JJ, Otabek, Chris and many others.

It was filled with a lot of different emotions, frustrations and happy moments, all mashing together in a big pile.

“Are you sure you want to do this flip?” said Viktor, gracefully doing a round slide on the ice, leaning towards the left side, making it look like what he was doing didn’t acquire any effort.

When these two were practising, all eyes were on Nikiforov. He was just brilliant on trainings and very rarely fell or did some kind of mistake, even in the absolutely new choreographies.

“Yes, I really do,” Yuuri confirmed, his gaze not shifting from his partner’s blue eyes, his own hazel ones filled with determination.

“Alright,” Viktor stopped practicing his own routine and skated closer towards his lover, once again showing him all the moves required for the action he wanted to try.

“Okay, I got it,” said Katsuki and then did the steps just like Viktor, after a moment spinning in the air like nobody dared before and when the landing came, he didn’t count with the speed and fell hard on the ice, feeling an instant crack somewhere in the leg.

“Yuuri!” Nikiforov slid towards him immediately, helping him to get up, but his husband only yelped in pain, “I told you it was too difficult for you yet!”

His tone was stern and soaked with worry as he helped him get up, Yuuri hissing in discomfort and putting his hand around Viktor’s shoulder, being dragged out of the ring.

.

.

One week later was the Grand Prix that they all trained so hard for.

Every corner was buzzing in the training wing. Figure skaters were talking together, some were watching tv that showed the judges that were discussing the whole event, having usual speeches, some people were listening to music and doing their regular stretches on the yoga mats, coaches were trying to hype their skaters as much as they could... It was lively.

It was everything that Viktor loved so dearly, his heart was beating for this atmosphere. He knew every participant and everyone in turn was awaiting his show. Everything was perfect.

Except next to him sat silent Yurio, angrily drinking from the water bottle, lion shirt on top of his beautiful costume.

“Don’t be so fucking sad,” he growled at him, finishing his drink and putting it on the floor with force, his green eyes piercing at the tv in front of them.

“Whatever,” Viktor answered quietly, standing up and slowly making his way towards the available yoga mat, stretching his muscles. His whole body hurt, he didn’t sleep well last night.

Of course, sleeping without Yuuri by his side was a new thing to get used to. Even Makkachin was all the way in Japan, not being able to keep him company.

It wasn’t unusual for Viktor that his emotional state went to the pits of hell, it was quite normal for him to experience burnout since he was present on the ice skating stage ever since he was 14 - just like Plisetsky, by the way, no wonder he’s so angry all the time - and the thing that kept him going was that burning passion for skating no matter what.

But ever since he took that break for one season to train Yuuri, his main motivation has become his partner, funnily enough. Even now, when they were supposed to be opponents, he still found himself demotivated by the fact that he is not participating due to suffering an injury and is now currently in the hospital.

“This was supposed to be our debut as opponents and lovers!” he clutched his fist and hit the wall, making everyone stare at him, room getting silent.

“What are you looking at?!” yelled Yurio at everyone, putting the attention on himself, stripping from the lion shirt, revealing his breathtaking costume for the show, “You all better look at me now, I’m going to skate first,” he said, making his way towards the ice.

Viktor mentally thanked his younger friend for drawing the attention away from him as he lost his control for a second, now retrieving to the staircase of the building, not wanting to be seen like this.

When you’re in love you really take all the good and the bad from the attachment to the person.

.

.

Katsuki just finished watching Yurio’s routine from the tv that was by request put into his hospital room where he was alone. Viktor paid for the more expensive service even though Yuuri said that it wouldn’t really matter to him where he was spending time if it’s not with him on the ice.

He felt incredibly sad, guilty and angry at himself for trying that reckless jump on the training, resulting in him injuring his left leg.

It wasn’t actually anything serious, but he needed to rest the muscle. So that meant no Grand Prix. No skating with Viktor for the first time.

He could only imagine what his husband was feeling. Trainings always got more intense right before the competition so the last time when they heard each other was about a week ago when he shortly called to simply ask about his well-being.

Just as he thought about it, though, his phone rang and Yuuri visibly flinched, not being used to receiving any calls lately.

He didn’t even look at the caller ID, automatically going with, “Viktor?!”

“You dumbass, it’s Yurio,” the agitated voice on the other end said, clearly still partially out of breath from the show that he just skated.

It was incredible.

“Oh!” he blinked a few times and then regained his composure, quickly saying, “I just saw your routine, it was amazing! Good job!”

“Yeah-yeah, whatever,” he said, gritting his teeth, continuing, “I’m calling because of Viktor. He’s.. in bad shape,” his voice grew quieter, “so you better cheer him the fuck up. Understood? I don’t know how, but do it quickly,” he was speaking seriously, probably clutching the phone in his hand with all his strength.

Then, before the Japanese had any time to reply, he hung up, leaving Yuuri to listen to the beeping on the other end.

Bad shape?..

His thoughts, everything in his mind speeding up and racing back and forth.

I need to fix that!..

During his time while he was in a relationship with Viktor, Yuuri has learned a lot of things. One of the more fundamental ones were.. being creative.

Sometimes they would have fights and he had to come up with a way to surprise him to both make him speechless and want to talk to him again, not being angry anymore.

So he really did master this skill of being creative and now he’s going to put this to use.

A plan came up to his mind almost immediately and he instantly pushed a red button for calling the nurse into the room.

.

.

A few skaters already had their go, Viktor was supposed to show himself right in the middle of the tournament but he felt like in this state he won’t reach even his usual score.

Is this it? Has love ruined Viktor Nikiforov’s incredible talent and years of grind with hard work?..

His eyes were wide open as he was watching young Otabek finishing up his routine flawlessly, getting a second place right after Yurio, who was currently sitting on the top.

He felt how someone patted him on the shoulder and looked behind himself, spotting Chris with a warm smile, extending a hand towards his friend with a phone.

“It’s your husband, Viktor,” he winked at him flirtatiously and Russian took it hesitantly, all thoughts mixed up together.

“Viktor!! I couldn’t reach you on your phone, so please turn on the tv on the channel two right now!” he almost yelled in the device, making his partner furrow his brows together.

“What?..” Nikiforov said, confusion written all over his expression.

“Please, I’m so sorry that I ended up with an injury but it should’ve never affected you, любимый*!” at the last Russian word Viktor just bit his lower lip, tears threatening to fall down his face.

“Don’t hang up, Yuuri, whatever you came up with, I want to be with you at least like this,” said the older man, putting Chris’ phone closer to his ear, as if shortening the distance between the two of them.

As the reply he just heard a hum in affirmation from his husband.

He quickly took the remote of the tv and changed the station from the official tournament broadcast, making the majority of the people in the room questioningly turntheir head towards the genius skater again, but he didn’t care.

On the tv he saw Yuuri in normal clothes, not a hospital robe, standing behind some white wall, clearly nervous and with a microphone in his hand.

Once Viktor saw this, he couldn’t control his emotions and just ran around the whole wing, turning every single screen to show channel two, now Yuuri looking at him from every corner.

“At first I would like to apologise for disturbing your preparations for the tournament, competitors, but as you all know I badly landed one of the jumps at practise and ended up with a moderate injury, resulting in me being unable to participate,” he took a deep breath before continuing, still looking somewhere at his feet, “and I suspect that Viktor Nikiforov, who once used to be my coach and who is now another one of my opponents in the competition.. I think he’s not doing well, because we promised each other that we would skate together on the Grand Prix no matter what,” he now lifted his hazel eyes, wobbly smile on his face, “Who knew, huh? Well.. I am here to lift your spirits, Viktor. Even if I’m not there,” he smiled broadly, cheeks heating up, becoming slightly pink.

Japanese cleared his throat and proceeded.

“Whatever I wouldn’t do, my life is always bringing me back. Back to you,” his eyes were now filled with determination and love, “Before I met you, I didn’t know what love was, I didn’t know what it meant when you couldn’t breathe in your normal tempo without the other person anymore. I didn’t know that this could ever mean so much to anyone,” he slowly lifted his engagement ring on his finger, fighting the stinging sensation in his eyes, “before you, I was just a lost boy, lost person, lost life. You made me find myself professionally and as a person. You made me whole. I know, I don’t say there things often and especially in public when we see each other, so hearing it like this is probably even more frustrating to you, but.. I want you to win. Don’t you let my absence discourage you,” he furrowed his brows together, not stopping “You were so open about me and your feelings, I think it’s time for me to finally pay you back. Viktor, you once captured my heart and it stays perfectly still in your hands, forever,” Yuuri put his hand with the golden ring on his chest, on his beating heart,

“Please, win. For me.”

The broadcast ended after this, everyone turning the screen back to the original channel as Viktor stayed in place, wide-eyed.

“Viktor?..” he heard Yuuri close to his ear now, gently bringing him back to reality.

He sighed deeply, a smile slowly appearing on his face, “Babe... Watch me,” he said, voice full of so well known hazard for skating the routine well.

From all his excitement he didn’t even notice all the commotion on the other end of Yuuri’s side as they exchanged a few more phrases and then hung up.

“That was a long ass call,” said with a pleased grin Chris as he got his phone back, “You guys are my favourite couple. I hate to encourage my opponent, but go get that win, Viktor!” he yelled at Nikiforov’s back already, as the Russian skater made his way towards the ring, ready to capture gold.

.

.

Metro at this hour was full with people and Yuuri did his best to spectate Viktor’s performance on live tv and to watch where he’s going.

Despite the recommendations of doctors at the hospital he said he needs to be there with him, so he was now rushing towards the skating ring, his stamina now being able to withstand longer distances, ever since he started training with his partner.

He’d have to push through the endless crowds of people, someone recognising him and immediately wanting an autograph or to talk, sometimes his leg would send a pang if pain right through his whole body, making him grunt on his journey.

But he was determined. Yuuri wanted to see his husband on ice as he’s winning a medal. Because he just knew, Viktor is winning one. There was not a single doubt about it in his heart that beat so much faster and more passionate for this particular Russian skater.

Finally, when he made it to the arena, he sprinted through the training area, making multiple coaches and participants look up at him in awe, fully realising what the fool came to do.

He was here for Viktor only, and everyone knew that. Their love towards each other was unstoppable.

As the skinny, incredibly beautiful and elegant skater gathered up strength and lifted his body off the ground like a feather in his signature flip, the whole world was watching. Everyone caught their breath, not daring to move, awaiting the landing and therefore the result.

Not a lot of people knew this, but the only thing that Viktor was thinking about at that moment was his husband, Yuuri. How he clutched his hand to his chest, where the heart is, golden ring shining into the camera.

So much emotion and genuine agitation over the fact that they can’t yet make their debut as partners on ice... all mixed up in a beautiful whirl of tears slowly falling down Yuuri’s face, and when Nikiforov landed, he did it perfectly.

The execution of his last move in the astonishingly difficult choreography was nailed perfectly, without a single error, his body bending in a curve for the last burst of the ending posture, before the music stopped.

When the top skater let himself breathe again, his cheeks and nose was red, throat and nostrils almost not catching up to the speed of his breathing.

“Viktor!!” suddenly he heard the desired voice so clear as if they were the only ones present for miles and whipped his head towards the source, ocean eyes wide, threatening to start getting filled with tears.

“Yuuri!” he yelled right back at him, forgetting all the gifts on ice behind him, with an incredible speed closing in to his husband.

And when their bodies touched in the sudden hug, chests tightly pressing to each other, Viktor let himself lose it. He started sobbing, clutching the back of his partner’s coat, trying to get even closer than they already were.

“You... how did you make it here?” the pair pulled away from each other only to look into their faces, eyes meeting and creating an entirely different reality between them, it seemed like.

“I’m so proud of you, Vitya.. Я люблю тебя,**” he said with a blush on his cheeks and a terrible accent, but the Russian skater’s eyes just watered even more at that, him jumping into his arms once again.

“Господи, а я тебя как люблю! Напугал меня со своим ушибом, а сам знаешь-ли пришёл всё-таки на муженька посмотреть!***” the word vomit from his husband in foreign language made absolutely no sense to Yuuri as he just confusedly nodded, caught off guard.

“Baby, I’m so glad you’re here..” Viktor finally said in the language that he could understand, with far less volume than everything that’s been said before.

“I just needed to see you live, not on the screen..” murmured Yuuri into his shoulder, “Doctors were against it, but.. here I am,” he laughed nervously, just snuggling in closer into the cloth with his nose.

“But I think if I remain resting at home and I’ll have someone taking care of me, then I wouldn’t need to stay at the hospital during the recovery,” he continued, pulling away to just smile at Viktor.

“Of course, jesus. You’re not staying there but since I’m pretty sure I just won another Grand Prix in my career, we can go anywhere to relax together for a bit,” he answered, getting quieter towards the end of his sentence, his fingers instinctively reaching up for Yuuri’s lower lip and opening his mouth a little, squeezing on the skin.

“Only you and me, honey.. You have to pay me off for not showing up to the competition, “ suddenly Yuuri felt a hand on his back, firm on his ass.

He started blushing, nervously chuckling and just nodding, accepting defeat. After all, he wouldn’t really mind anything that Viktor has probably planned for them to do.

And just like this, Viktor Nikiforov skated back to the ring, towards the pedestal with the winners, stepping onto the first place, soon enough already pressing his lips gently to the gold metal, then meeting brown eyes of his husband, looking at him with his azurites full of love.

*my love

**i love you

***jesus, and how much do i love you! you made me worry with your injury, but of course you came to see your lovely husband perform, right?

[chrichri-chan-18-love]

Monsters are real (Yandere Hawks x Reader) Part 9

Hawks was expecting some kind of change in your attitude after that little date...and since he DID give you to Akira and gave an explaination, he hoped that you’d at least change your attitude a little.

Unfortunately, you didn’t.

Hawks had given an explaination but you doubted that he was completely honest. You knew that despite his outgoing nature and seemingly laid back attitude, he was sneaky and could come up with some pretty good schemes. Which made you suspect him of doing something without your knowledge and that he was simply pretending that he was a good hero and a good boss.

“Come on (Name), I promise that I didn’t do anything that I shouldn’t!”

Hawks whined over and over and you simply kept on ignoring him while doing your work. However he was seriously starting to get on your nerves.

“Listen here, you stupid egg head, I said it before and I’ll say it again. I wouldn’t trust you even if you were the last man/bird on this planet. So take your whining along with that miserable excuse of an attitude and go patrol!”

Hawks flinched at your cold tone and your hatefull glare. But it wasn’t entirely out of fear, somewhere deep down, a part of him loved the mistreatment... that bossy attitude would have seemed monstrous a few months ago... but now it was so unbelievably sexy!

He wondered if that was what an Alpha female was like... yeah, you were totally and Alpha female, a strong mate that would defend what was hers, no matter who was her opponent. Surely, you’d make a good mother... though he’d have to teach his children not to be as mean when dealing with people.

“But... ugh, okay fine. However I am not going to let this go.”

Your scoffed at that, turning back to your computer to finish your current work, mainly sending replies to various agencies that had asked to work with Hawks, he had agreed to all of them... and that meant a ton of work for you.

Meanwhile Hawks was thinking back to that wonderfull moment Hawks had with you, the smooth skin under his touch, those moans that had escaped you, the serene expression you had, the taste of your mouth... oh, he wanted to experience this feeling again. He wanted to have your body again... but that would have to wait, he hadn’t made any progress when it came down to how you saw him. He watched as the civilians walked around town, everything seemed fine... but then a speciffic figure caught his attention. It was your brother, Ryo and he was being followed by a gang of older boys... Hawks eyes narrowed, perhaps your brother could help him understand you more. 

He followed them until they turned around and entred an alley. Ryo turned around and looked at them with a cocky smile. Hawks could see the resemblence between the two of you.

“So what do you lot want from me? I don’t like wasting my time on worms, so make it quick.”

The boys growled and glared at him. Hawks became worried, he didn’t know if Ryo had a quirk or not... and he didn’t know if it could be used in combat either.

“Don’t get cocky you brat!|”

“Yeah! All your family has is money, without it, you’re nothing!”

“Actually my family has more than what you losers know. Then again, thanks to my mother, your parents can no longer find work, so I guess envy is to be expected.”

At that the boys charged at him, Hawks was about to jump in to stop them when he saw Ryo stretch his arm, before anyone knew what was going on, the boys were pressed on the ground, they weren’t moving but Hawks could tell they were alive. He came closer and looked at Ryo.

“W-What is that?”

“It’s my quirk. I can take away one or all the senses and natural abilities of a person. Sight, hearing, taste, speech, touch... I can take away any of them, leaving them in this state for as long as I want.”

“That’s really a dangerous quirk.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve recently entered Shinketsu Academy, so I won’t be around for long. I just had to settle a few things here and there before I go.”

“You’re going to become a hero?”

“My idol is Eraser head. He’s not into the spotlight but has some good moves.”

Hawks was surprised but ultimately relieved by what he had discovered.

“Good for you, I guess.”

“So is there a reason for following me?”

Ryo’s tone was mild, showing no agression but no interest either. Hawks relaxed and decided to spill the beans.

“I have been trying to get your sister to open up to me, to see me as a friend... but honestly, everything I’ve done haven’t led anywhere.”

“She probably has a good reason for not trusting you. Besides our family has taught us not to show any form of weakness to outsiders. And given my sister’s quirks, I think you can understand why.” 

Ryo’s words made Hawks understand a few things and in a way, the teachings that were forced on you, ultimately had the purpose of protecting you from people that could and would try to take advantage of you.

“But I don’t want to take advantage of her! I never had that intention!”

“She doesn’t believe you and neither do I. Despite your appearance, you’re sneaky and your quirk alone, is a threat.”

Hawks sighed, Ryo’s attitude wasn’t as bad as yours but it was clear that he too had his guard up.The two of them ended their chat there and Ryo left, as soon as he was out of the alley he returned the senses of the boys and went home.

Hawks however began to realize that it wasn’t you or Ryo that he had to get close to, for now at least. The person he had to get close to was your mother, from everything he had experienced, she was the dominant one and that meant that getting her on his side, meant that you he could influence you. But for now, there was another matter at hand, to get rid of Akira. 

He knew that you were protecting Akira using your quirks, so he couldn’t get involved directly, like he had originally planned... meaning he had to ask someone to do it instead.

And he had a good idea about who would be a good choice for that.

[pricetagofficial]

Ghost -Part Seven

Warnings: Language, angst (lots of it), light bending of cannon

Masterlist

Word Count: 3.3K

Tag List: @kishony-the-geek @idkmanicantenglish @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @spxder-mxns @river-bottom-nightmare @screennamealreadyused @woahjaybird​ @bikoncon​

A/N: There are some more familiar faces here! Maybe a few new ones? 

Rory opened her eyes with a groan, the sedative that Bruce had given her was brutal. It made her body weak and her head hurt. Slowly she sat up and saw that she was in one of the cells they kept in the cave for times they needed to hold someone like her there.

There was a shuffle outside her cell and she looked through the glass panel to see someone she did not recognize.

He was sat in a chair playing a game on his phone while he tapped his foot. From the first observation, she could tell that he was older than Damian but not much younger than herself.

She narrowed her eyes. "Did Bruce take in another stray?"

The person in front of her jumped and looked at her. "Oh, hey you're awake. Bruce wanted someone down here to keep an eye on you and they are all out right now, so I took the job," he explained.

"How long have I been here?" she asked.

"Only about twenty-four hours, he gave you a big dose. Said something about you being dangerous or something." he shrugged and looked back at his game.

"I'm locked in one of these cells, pretty sure that means I'm dangerous to Batman's standards." she snapped.

"Well, dangerous or not I doubt you can get out of this cell," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Rory looked him over. Maybe this kid wasn't so bad. "I like you, what's your name?" she asked.

"Duke, Duke Thomas. You?" he asked.

"Ghost."

"So when you were born, your parents named you Ghost?" he grinned, looking at her again with a smile on his face.

"Yup. It's how all of us assassins are born. Fully grown and equipped with weapons ready to kick ass." she chuckled.

Duke laughed at her comment. "At least you laugh like a human, there was a theory that you were from another planet."

Rory bit her lip to try and keep herself from laughing. Even though she had her mask on still, Duke could see what she was laughing. "Another popular theory is that you are from the future, that's how you kept slipping away."

Rory leaned forward. "I am not an alien, nor am I from the future. Who even came up with those?"

"Jason and Steph," he replied. "But of course, after he met you Jason changed his mind. He's actually been really grumpy since then."

"Well, that's because I shot him in the leg." she chuckled.

Duke laughed at her statement, he couldn't see why the rest of them were on edge around her. So far she made no moves to escape and was holding a pleasant conversation, but then again he was on the opposite side of the glass door. Who knew what Ghost would try to do to him if he pissed her off.

Rory was about to open her mouth to speak once more when a bike pulled into the cave. She held her breath, this was what she was not looking forward to. Dick took off his mask and looked over, his expression neutral upon looking at her.

Yeah, he was still upset with her. What did she expect, that he and Jason were going to forgive her? Rory had a feeling that Roy would forgive her, but she had crossed lines and things weren't going to be the same between them.

"I see you're finally up. Batman has questions to ask you." Dick said.

"You could at least look a little happy to see me, Richard."

"Let's go back to last year and sure, I'd be happy to see you. Ro- Ghost, you've murdered people across the globe. That doesn't just go away." he said.

"Oh, but it goes away for Jason when he slips up or just flat out ignores Bruce's rule. You still accept him." she snapped.

Duke sat in his chair quietly, watching the two of them fight. He might have only been around for six months, but he had never seen Dick snap like that at someone; ever. Not unless they did something to hurt his family. Looking at the girl in the cell once more, the pieces started to click.

Dick knew her, and he knew her well. But what was it she did to make him so upset at her?

Dick clenched his jaw, there were many things he wanted to say to her. Most of them consisted of yelling at her for what she did to Tim, dumping him, and then dropping off the face of the earth. It was something he wasn't ready to forgive her for, and from where he was standing it didn't seem like she regretted it at all.

Rory glared, he might not be able to see her face but it was obvious how she felt. Her body was as stiff as a board and her hands were clenched tightly on the edge of the cot she was sitting on.

Neither of them spoke, only glared at the other leaving a very confused Duke in the middle. Several minutes had passed before he went to open his mouth. "Is anyone hungry? Because I am starving," he asked.

"I would love something to eat, I've been locked in a cell for twenty-four hours. At this point, I would eat anything," Rory said, her gaze not leaving Dick.

Duke quickly got up from his seat and went up to get some food, once he was gone was when Rory spoke again.

"Why don't you tell me what this is really about Grayson? I'm sure there are many things you want to say to me, and nows your chance." she taunted.

"You don't want to know what I have to say, it's not very nice," he said.

"Oh, afraid that you'll make me cry?"

"No, afraid it'll make you change your mind and want to stay."

Rory raised a brow at him. "Why would I want to stay in the hell hole of a city?" she asked.

"The same reason you did the last time, but I am not going to let you hurt my brother again. Not if I have anything to say about it."

There it was. Dick was worried that she had come back for Tim, or at least try to talk to him. Little did he know that that was the last thing she wanted to do. Seeing him in Venice was hard enough, and he was distracted. Rory came to Gotham for one reason, and one reason only. She was going to find Samantha Wilkins and stop her.

"That's not the reason I'm here."

"Then what is?"

The two of them looked behind Dick and saw Bruce walk in, the cape swaying behind him. Damian was off to the side with his arms crossed, looking over at them.

"I was wondering when you would get back Bruce, Dick over here has been keeping me company. Along with that new kid, Duke.  He seems smart, resourceful." she commented, getting to her feet.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone stiff and firm. It was clear that he was not going to let up on any of this until he got the answer he wanted.

"Relax Brucie, I'm not here for the reason you think I am. I won't go anywhere near him, I don't want to." she clarified.

Damian's eyes narrowed from across the cave. This situation with Ghost was getting weirder and weirder; she knew their identities and Grayson and his father both seemed to be at least kind of comfortable around her. It was like they knew she wouldn't seriously hurt them, but didn't want to push it anymore than they had.

"Then tell me, why are you here Ghost," Bruce questioned, narrowing his eyes at the girl in front of him.

"That's my business, next question."

"Why were you in Venice?" Dick tried.

"Again, I had no idea he was there." Rory huffed as she began to pace in front of the glass door.

"Why were you in Venice?" Bruce snapped. "There was a League base there, and you were seen inside it. Why were you there?"

Rory stopped pacing and stared at him from where she stood. "Do you really think you can intimidate me?" she laughed. Bruce really thought that he could scare her into talking, but Rory was smarter than that. From all the things she had seen in her life, Batman was not at the top of her list. Hell, Deathstroke no longer scared her anymore. Not after he was locked in Belle Rev Prison and she had almost killed him, it was almost poetic how she had quite literally conquered her fear that night.

The thing Rory feared the most, she couldn't get away from.

"I'm beginning to understand why you locked me in here, and it wasn't for your safety." she grinned. "I was for mine, to make sure none of them or you would try and beat me up for what I did is that right?"

Bruce's glare darkened, she was as smart as he remembered if not smarter. The Rory they all knew a year ago was long gone, she was a completely different person now. It was like she enjoyed seeing the pain on their faces, knowing it was her that had caused it.

"Come on, why don't you let me out? I've learned a few tricks, let's see how long it takes me to kick your ass."

"Why the fuck is she here!?" Jason took off his helmet and stormed over, his face contorted in anger. Rory was the last person he wanted to see, especially in the cave. He had been out of town for the last few days and didn't know that she was in Gotham, but when he saw her white suit from across the cave he got pissed.

"Jason, don't," Dick said, moving to stop his brother.

"Did you forget what she did, what she said to him? Or the fact that she shot me? Does any of this ring a bell in that bird brain of yours?" he asked, knocking Dick on the head with his knuckles.

"No none of us forgot, but this isn't the time for grudges. There's a reason she is here, and the quicker we find that out, the quicker she can leave the city." Dick said, trying his hardest to hold Jason back. He was physically bigger than him and could easily throw Dick over his shoulder if he wanted to.

Damian listened to the whole conversation, looking up when Duke came back with two plates and a sandwich on each. Duke decided it was not a good idea to get tangled up in all of that and thought it was a good idea to wait by Damian. He set the sandwich that Alfred made for Ghost down and began to eat his own, watching as Bruce, Dick, and Jason tried to get answers out of her.

"Do you know who she is?" he asked, leaning over towards Damian.

"I have my suspicions, but I want to wait before I voice it. If I'm right, she's an old friend." Damian said, closing his eyes and dropped his head. "But this one time, I don't want to be right."

"Who you think she must be, was pretty important to all of you then?" Duke asked, taking a bit of his sandwich.

Damian gave him another nod. "Yes, but to no one more than Drake. She was his beloved, and about a year ago now she broke his heart and left. None of us has seen her since."

"What if you're right, will you tell Tim at all?"

Again, Damian shook his head. "It's better he doesn't know what became of her."

"Not to be that guy, but that sounds kind of fucked up. Shouldn't he be the first to know, considering that they were a thing as you said?" Duke asked, his brows raised in confusion.

"You didn't see what had happened after she left. Father brought you in several months later, Thomas. The Manor wasn't the same and we all felt it."

"So why do you think she came back then?"

"An excellent question, but I think I can find the answer." Damian pushed off the wall he was leaning on and walked over to the bat computer and began to type things into it, trying to find what it was Ghost was following that night.

Before she had said that she had business to attend to and that they needed to stay out of her way. What he wanted to know, was what exactly it was that she was doing. Whether Ghost was Rory or not, that didn't change the facts that were laid out in front of them.

She was going around, killing members of the League of Assassins. The ones with links to drug trades, trafficking, and other shipments across the world. Damian had already informed them all of this connection, but things got a little weird when she went to Venice, Italy. Up until that point, she had been hunting ring leaders and not attacking bases.

Drake had gone there to try and get some information, hoping that Ra's was in a good mood and willing to cooperate. He wasn't of course, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that she was there for another reason, but why?

Scanning the footage, the voices of his father and two brothers were drowned out as Duke stood there and watched. Damian's eyes didn't leave the screen, let alone blink afraid that he might miss something if he did. There had to be something that gave her away, there had to be. Watching the footage as he followed her, was when he saw a car. It had been in every shot of his footage and Ghost was going in the same direction.

Tracing the license plate, he found who the car belonged to and tracked the name down. Printing the paper, he grinned to himself and walked over with it held tightly in his hand. Pushing past Jason and Dick, he pressed the picture to the glass.

"Who is Samantha Wilkins and why are you following her?" he asked.

"Where's my food? Duke said he was going to get me something to eat," she answered, looking him dead in the eye.

"You'll get it once you answer the question. Who is Samantha Wilkins and why are you following her?" he asked once more.

"Listen here kid, bring me my food and I might talk. I haven't eaten in over twenty-four hours and I am starting to get a little pissed." she crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one leg with a triumphant look to her stance.

Dick turned to look at Duke and waved him over. "Bring the assassin her sandwich," he called.

"One sandwich for the scary-ass assassin coming up," Duke said and slid it through the flap in the door.

Rory's mouth salivated at the sight of the food in front of her, she went to pick it up when she stopped mid grab. The mask she wore covered her entire face, there was no way she was going to eat and keep it on.

Slowly, she looked to the side and glanced at the people who stood in front of her. Most of them already knew who she was, and if Damian hadn't figured it out yet then he wasn't paying much attention.

"I know who you are Sonnet, just take the damn mask off and eat the sandwich." Damian snapped, crossing his arms and glaring at her.

Rory let out a sigh and unclasped the mask from her face, her vision going from the red of the lenses to the natural coloring of the real world. Her hair was a mess of tangles and loose strands hung in front of her face, as she tried to blow them away.

She looked worse for wear than the last time Dick and Jason saw her. The bags that hung under her eyes were more prominent and, there was no life to her face. Her cheeks were sullen and her lips seemed to be in a permanent frown. This new life she led was kicking her ass and slowly killing her, but Rory wasn't going to stop until the job was done.

Setting the mask to the side, Rory sat on the cot and ate her sandwich. They were all watching her, she could feel their gazes without looking up. After taking a few bites, she let out a sigh. "Samantha Wilkins is my next target," she answered.

"So you're here to kill her?" Dick asked.

Slowly, Rory nodded her head refusing to look up. "Yes, but there is more to it than that. She is more than what she seems, Samantha has ties to the League of Assassins and is not a very nice person." she took another bite. "I have no idea how dangerous she really is, but a person with those kinds of connections is not good."

"So you've been trying to take down the League of Assassins then?" Jason questioned.

Rory stayed quiet, that was only partially true. Yes, that was what she was doing, but it wasn't why she was doing it. It was why she left Gotham in the first place, and it was ironic that it was the reason she came back almost a year later.

"You're not going to answer that one?" he asked.

"You won't like my answer, and the fewer people know the better," she said shortly.

"That's bullshit, you just don't want to tell us." he snapped.

She took a deep breath before finishing her sandwich. "I told you before, there's more to this than either of you know. I can't explain because it would only put a target on your back."

Bruce stood there silently, going over the evidence in his head. Rory was smart, smart enough to avoid them all for a year. If she said that there was more to this than they knew, and it was safer that way. It had to do with the League, but she was the one who started hunting down the League members first.

Or, were they the ones hunting her?

That group of assassins from the night before seemed adamant to take her out, but why?

The sound of two more bikes pulling in snapped them all out of their trance. Every single of them turned to look at Tim pull in with Stephanie behind him and they were laughing about something that had happened.

Hearing his laughter, Rory dove for her mask only knocking it to the floor with a loud clatter. Tim stopped laughing and looked up at the cell, dropping the items he held in his hands.

Everything about her was different, from the color of her hair to the color of her eyes but he would know that look from anywhere. She always had that look about her, she wasn't looking at you or through you even. Her gaze was locked inside you, taking in every bit of information she could as she listened. Looking at her now, how could he have not noticed who she was before?

He had spent the better part of almost three years with her, to the point Tim had her body memorized in his mind's eyes. It was either the time away, or the pain she had left him in that pushed those memories away not wanting to make the connection to protect his heart from her.

Stephanie was frozen in place as she stared at the girl behind the glass and then looked back at Tim who wore the same shocked expression she did.

Tim swallowed and opened his mouth. "Songbird?"

[belettewrites]

Listen to the melody

In which Jaskier finds a puppy, immediately adopts him, and Geralt becomes the “dad didn’t want a dog//dad and the dog” meme. Oh, and some self-esteem issues from a certain white-haired witcher that lead to some hurt until they finally talk to each other. 

cw: the dog gets hurt but I promise he’s fine.

Around 8k words, link to AO3 here!

And a big thank you to @potatofu-art for giving the dog his name! Go check their blog, you won’t regret it (no seriously, do it, trust me)

Geralt and Jaskier had met again when the cold breeze had been replaced by a warmer one, when trees were starting to wear bright green leaves again and fields were blooming with small and fragile flowers.

A few months had past, spring leaving in favor of a warm summer, and they had not parted ways yet. It was something that they usually did, because sometimes Jaskier needed to go to a bardic competition that took place where Geralt would never be able to find a contract, or because Jaskier was requested to play somewhere Geralt would never be able to follow. It wasn’t really parting ways, actually it was more Jaskier leaving, but Geralt told himself that it was something he was fine with. The bard did find him again after, or Geralt did, and they would start traveling together again, Jaskier sharing gossips that Geralt pretended to care about.

He was… fond of Jaskier, and that was why when the bard stopped following the path that would lead straight to the village they had planned to spend the night in, Geralt stopped to wait for him.

The sun hadn’t set yet and wouldn’t for at least an hour, but cicadas were already singing around them, the luminosity dim even though night hadn’t fallen yet. They were just at the edge of the town, and so they had time.

Geralt turned around to see what Jaskier was doing; surely the bard had found a flower that he deemed worth picking, and- 

Jaskier wasn’t on the road anymore. He had jumped in the ditch by the side of the road, and was currently cooing at something. Now that Geralt thought of it, he could hear two heartbeats in that ditch.

“Jaskier?”

He didn’t draw his sword – there was no need – but readied himself for whatever he would find. He walked closer to the ditch, trusting Roach not to run away; the mare snorted but didn’t move.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, it’s just – can you hold him for me while I get out of here?”

Geralt looked down. The ditch was quite deep, Jaskier would no doubt stain his doublet to get out of it, as he had his boots when he had jumped in it: a layer of mud covered the bottom of the ditch. But that was not the part that interested Geralt at the moment; not, what made him pause was what Jaskier was currently cradling to his chest – a puppy.

It was not a small one; his legs, covered in mud as the rest of his fur, showed that he would grow into a big dog, the kind that kept herds of sheep in the mountains – not the kind that was left alone in a ditch by the side of the road.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked, his tone impatient, and Geralt reached out without thinking about it, taking the puppy in his hands.

It squirmed a little but let itself be carried. Geralt put it on the ground next to him, and helped Jaskier to get out of the ditch.

“Thank you, dear,” Jaskier smiled, before his attention returned to the dog. He squatted down to take it in his arms. “The poor thing wasn’t even making a noise,” he said, his smile turning sad, “and he’s shaking. He must have been in here for hours – why would anyone do that?”

Geralt looked at the puppy. His long brown and black fur was in a poor state, hairs matted together by the mud.

“He’s missing a leg,” he stated, and Jaskier frowned.

“And?”

“And people don’t want dogs with only three legs,” Geralt shrugged. It was stupid, but humans often were.

Jaskier’s eyes somehow got even sadder, and Geralt felt helpless. He didn’t want Jaskier to be sad, but there wasn’t anything that he could do to make humans stop being prejudiced against things that weren’t how they expected them to be.

Then determination shone in Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt suddenly felt afraid of what he would say next.

“We’re keeping Butterscotch.”

“We are not keeping him- you gave him a name?”

Jaskier scratched the dog behind his ears, and the puppy closed his eyes.

“Well it’s not as if anyone was going to,” the bard replied, and Geralt suddenly felt extremely tired. “Besides, I found him. I get to name him.”

“We can’t keep him,” Geralt said again, because it was something that Jaskier needed to understand.

“But he’s helpless,” Jaskier almost pouted, “and you said it yourself: people won’t want him. I am not going to leave him here all alone, ready to be eaten by wolves.”

There weren’t any wolves in the area, but Geralt decided against saying it. And of course they wouldn’t abandon him like that.

“His previous humans didn’t want him,” he said instead, “we can find him another family.”

The puppy yawned, which was the most noise he had made since they had found him, and tried to lick Jaskier’s chin. The bard smiled at him, a fond thing, and Geralt suddenly couldn’t tell Jaskier that a young dog wouldn’t survive on the path for long and that they couldn’t exactly afford to feed a puppy on top of their needs.

“No,” Jaskier said, still holding the puppy in his arms. Fuck, but he was cute. The dog – Butterscotch – tried to lick him again, and Jaskier laughed.

Fuck.

They were now doing what he had no choice but to call puppy eyes at him.

This was a bad idea. There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea – a dog would need care and attention, and Jaskier’s life was chaotic enough as it was. And of course, dogs didn’t exactly like Geralt. Neither did other pets; cats avoided him like the plague. He didn’t want an animal to be near him all the time – that would cause it distress, and Geralt knew that Jaskier would choose to leave sooner than he usually did.

But one important thing that Geralt couldn’t push aside was that what he wanted most was Jaskier to be happy, be it by his side or on his own.

“He can stay,” he finally conceded, trying not to let it show that at this point there was nothing he would be able to refuse Jaskier. “For now,” he warned pointlessly, acutely aware that the dog would be with him on the path until Jaskier decided that he had had enough of following a witcher around.

He turned away, warmed up by the smile that was currently lighting up Jaskier’s face. He tried to hold onto that happiness when the thought that Jaskier would leave inevitably came. They started walking again, Geralt leading, Jaskier right next to him.

“We’re going to have so many adventures together,” the bard said to the dog that he was still holding in his arms, “and we’ll have a fantastic time. But for now, Butterscotch, let’s go back to the inn and get you a bath. I’m sorry to tell you, you poor thing, but you absolutely need it.”

***

Traveling with a dog wasn’t that much different. Butterscotch was a silent one, never barking at birds or other dogs, which was a relief; the last thing Geralt needed was a small animal broadcasting their location to every single monster around. Even if Butterscotch wasn’t exactly small anymore.

They had found another town and had decided to stay there; Jaskier had performed at the tavern, earning a fair amount of coin, and they had retired for the night when his set had been over.

Geralt was already under the covers, watching with half-opened eyes as Jaskier was getting ready to go to bed. His boots were already by the bed, his doublet folded nicely on the table. 

Butterscotch put his front leg on the bed, near Geralt’s face, and currently sniffed him. His whiskers were tickling Geralt’s nose, and he glared at the dog, who – tried to lick Geralt’s face. The witcher resisted the urge of hiding himself behind the cover.

"He's not sleeping on the bed,” he warned.

“Of course he is sleeping on the bed, we'll need the extra heat. And he's adorable, Geralt, how can you say no?”

The so-called adorable dog was currently making puppy eyes at Geralt, as if he had understood what was going on and was trying to convince him too.

“Because he'll get fur everywhere, and my pants and armor are already covered in them.”

Because that sounded petulant, he added.

“The inn will charge us double.”

Jaskier sighed, but Geralt knew he had to win this one. If he didn’t, then the dog would just take a bad habit, and they would end up regretting it when he would be fully grown. The puppy was already bigger than when Jaskier had got him and it seemed that he was not going to stop. He looked like a shepherd dog, and Geralt wondered how the fuck he had ended up in the small town in which they had found him.

In which Jaskier had found him. Butterscotch was Jaskier’s dog, not theirs.

“But he’ll get cold, and lonely, and he’ll think I don’t love him-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted his friend before it turned into a proper lamentation and it was too late, “the d- Butterscotch loves you already, he follows you everywhere. He won’t mind sleeping on the ground, especially since dogs like him are used to sleeping outside.”

“You’re- you’re right. And we’re right here, it’s not as if he’ll miss us!”

It’s not as if he’ll miss you, Geralt thought. I don’t think he cares much about me.

It was already a miracle that the dog could stand being near him. They usually ran the other way, but this one was surely soothed by Jaskier’s calming presence, always here to talk to him or pet him, or even carry him – Geralt had told Jaskier that he would regret it when the dog would be older, but the other man had ignored him.

“Hear that, Butterscotch? No sleeping on the bed for you. But you’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

He heard Jaskier whispering to the dog for a few minutes, and let himself smile, knowing that the other man would never see it. It was nice to see Jaskier so happy; Geralt had given him some coins so he would be able to buy a brush for the puppy, and the way Jaskier had smiled still haunted him.

He heard more than he saw Jaskier slipping under the cover, yawning.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he whispered, and Geralt hummed his reply.

He discovered in the morning that Butterscotch had slept on his bag, successfully shedding fur everywhere. Jaskier had gone downstairs to get them breakfast, so he allowed himself to say to the dog:

“You’re a menace, little one.”

Butterscotch wagged its tail and nudged Geralt’s hand. Well. You couldn’t win them all.

***

The wind was howling outside, the sky was getting darker, and people were hurrying to get inside before the night fully settled. However, Geralt and Jaskier were too busy arguing to notice that.

“I’m telling you, Jaskier, you have to stay here for this one. It’s too dangerous.”

They had been arguing – calmly discussing – for a good ten minutes about Geralt’s next hunt; the witcher didn’t want Jaskier to come with him because it was too dangerous, while the bard absolutely wanted to come because it would “make a great song”. Geralt tended to disagree – he couldn’t exactly see the appeal of songs describing him fighting against monsters.

Plus, the fight would take place in a forest, at night, so it wasn’t very likely that Jaskier would be able to see anything, and extremely likely that Geralt would have to end up running for his bard’s life, because the other man was too busy taking notes to notice his surroundings. Though the night would prevent him from taking any notes, as would the rain that the dark clouds were announcing. There really was no point for Jaskier to come with him.

“Well what I am telling you is that-”

Butterscotch whined, effectively interrupting Jaskier in whatever he was going to reply.

They both looked down at the dog who was laying at their feet, his ears back on his head. Jaskier squatted down to take him in his arms.

“You’re going to regret that when he’ll be older,” Geralt warned, as he did every time Jaskier went to hold the puppy. Jaskier was strong, but not strong enough to hold the eighty pounds that the puppy would one day weigh. Somehow, Geralt knew that he was going to have to hold the dog when he would want to, and the thought itself was enough to tire him.

“We’ll see,” Jaskier replied like he did every time. “He doesn’t like when we’re fighting,” he added, showing the puppy to Geralt, who barely resisted the urge to pet him. Butterscotch’s ears had perked up now that Jaskier was holding him, and he and the bard made quite an adorable sight, not that Geralt was ever going to say that out loud.

It didn’t seem like Jaskier was going to change his mind soon, if the way he was frowning was a good indication of it. If the wind, the rain threatening to fall, and his possible demise weren’t enough to deter Jaskier from following him, it was time to change tactics. Jaskier might be the bard between the two of them but Geralt too knew how to wield words, though he didn’t choose to do it often.

“We can’t let him here,” he said, shoulders open as a proof of sincerity. Because he did mean it.

“I’m sorry?”

“Butterscotch. You can’t leave him here all alone. He’s still… young, it’s too dangerous.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow at Geralt, who felt like he needed to go on if he wanted Jaskier to actually yield.

“He might get injured, I won’t be able to defend the both of you.”

And between you and him, I would choose you. Even if you’d hate me for not saving your dog.

Jaskier’s face seemed to fall, but he nodded, reaffirming his hold on the dog.

“You’re- yes, it would be safer for him.”

“For you,” Geralt insisted, because it was something that he needed to say. Butterscotch was a means to an end here, a way for him to make Jaskier stay in their room instead of running to his doom. And if it meant protecting the puppy, well. It was as they said, with the birds and the stone.

Geralt clumsily patted Jaskier on the shoulder before turning around to check if he had all he needed. It was easier than to see how his friend was looking now, his eyes too sad for Geralt’s liking. But it was something that he would do again – Jaskier’s safety was more important to him than what the bard actually thought about him.

He glanced at his things, quickly scanning what was in his bag: potions, a shirt that Jaskier had insisted had to be there, the stick that Butterscotch had given to him – wait.

He took the stick out of his bag, deciding against throwing it away, not because it was something that Butterscotch had given to him, but because… because. He could feel his swords against his back, their light weight a reassurance that everything was going to be okay – that even if he didn’t make it for a reason or another, Jaskier and Butterscotch would be safe here.

“I’ll go now,” he said to Jaskier, who had put the puppy back on the ground and was currently taking his lute out of its case. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Be careful, dear,” Jaskier replied, barely taking his eyes away from his lute.

Butterscotch tried to follow Geralt as he walked towards the door, and the witcher had to quickly close it to prevent the dog from escaping. He heard a whine coming from inside the room and Jaskier’s soothing voice who tried to calm him.

Shaking his head, Geralt walked downstairs, ignoring the way hearing how sad the puppy was made his heart clench.

Jaskier was reading when Geralt came back, thankfully uninjured, though damp because of the rain that had finally started to fall. The bard was already under the covers, his lute safe in its case, papers safely tucked away in his bag. A single candle was lighting the room, and Geralt was left once again to wonder about Jaskier’s powers. Could he see in the dark? Maybe that was why he had wanted to come with him despite the night.

“You’re back,” Jaskier smiled at him, not closing his book. “Do you need help with anything?”

“No,” Geralt grunted, putting his bag and swords down. He had already cleaned them, knowing that Jaskier would already be in bed and not wanting to disturb him.

He started to unbuckle his armor, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw what was currently sleeping on his side of the bed.

“Is Butterscotch-”

“Sleeping on the bed? Yes, I think he is. He’s cute, isn’t he?”

Geralt sighed.

“I thought we had agreed not to let him sleep on the bed.”

“I know it’s going to teach him terrible habits, but you were away and he was looking so sad-”

“It’s unsanitary,” Geralt said, finally getting out of his armor. Quickly changing into a new shirt – one that wasn’t full of fur –, he woke the dog up by petting his head. “Hey,” he murmured, trying not to think too much about why he was so gentle with him, “get off the bed.”

Butterscotch slowly stood up, stretching and yawning, but finally jumped off the bed in one smooth motion. He immediately went near Geralt’s bag, curled up into a ball, and promptly fell back asleep.

“Hmm.”

“See? He listens, he’s well-educated,” Jaskier said, closing his book and putting it away.

“He was afraid of what I might do to him,” Geralt retorted while getting under the cover. “I don’t think that counts as listening.”

Jaskier blinked a few times, his face growing serious.

“Butterscotch isn’t afraid of you, Geralt.”

“He obeys me because he sees me as a predator. He’s afraid.”

“Is that- Geralt, that couldn’t be further from the truth. Didn’t you hear him when you left? He was sad because you were leaving without him.”

“You’re disillusioned, bard,” Geralt snarled before blowing out the candle. To think that a dog – that anyone, really – would miss him when he was gone was beyond stupid.

Jaskier stayed silent, the only sound in the room the deep breaths of the dog.

“Goodnight, Geralt,” he finally said, his voice small.

Geralt didn’t reply, too busy hating himself to notice how Jaskier’s breaths became more irregular, how the air suddenly smelled like salt instead of them.

Butterscotch kept on sleeping, undisturbed.

***

Geralt hadn’t known how to apologize about that incident so he didn’t, and they kept on moving across the continent for a few weeks, Butterscotch still proudly walking beside them, following Jaskier or staying near Roach who, the traitor, seemed to like the dog just find, never minding when he walked near her.

Jaskier hadn’t mentioned the incident either, so Geralt simply thought that it had been forgotten. He hadn’t made any other remarks after that, and Jaskier hadn’t tried to pretend that the dog loved them both equally when they both knew it was a lie.

It didn’t stop Geralt from thinking back about that night and the day that had followed, how Jaskier had talked but not really talked, how it had seemed more like a defense mechanism than a true desire to share every thought that came across his mind.

Butterscotch hadn’t been allowed to sleep on the bed again after that night though he kept on trying, and Geralt was left to wonder how exactly the presence of a dog had changed their dynamics so much. Or maybe, he thought as he watched Jaskier braiding a flower into Roach’s mane, maybe it didn’t change them as much as it revealed that they had already changed. Jaskier was getting older, and though it didn’t show, Geralt knew that the time for him to finally settle down somewhere would come.

He had mentioned the coast, once, how he would have liked to go there when he would be older, and Geralt knew that it was only a matter of time before Jaskier would leave him, taking Butterscotch and all the happiness in Geralt’s life with him.

But it was not something Geralt had control over; still, he couldn’t help but think about it, about when Jaskier would eventually leave, when he would be all alone on the path once again. He had forgotten how it was to truly be alone. Even when he and Jaskier got separated during the year, he knew they would find each other again. But to know that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him anymore would change the colors of the path from bright and lively to dull.

It was difficult not to think about it right now. They were sleeping outside, in the woods, because the weather was nice and they were too far away from any villages anyway. They had set camp early and the night had just fallen on them. Jaskier and Butterscotch had left for a walk, as they always did on evenings, and Geralt had stayed behind, as he always – no. That was not true. He should stop thinking like that.

He added another log to the fire, and sighed. He could hear them still, Jaskier walking on twigs and Butterscotch running around, but he felt… lonely. Which was ridiculous. He never used to feel like that before.

They were coming back, just in time to eat the rabbits that Geralt had been cooking. He had made sure to add spices to Jaskier’s part.

Butterscotch ran straight to him, his lack of a front leg not deterring him. He stopped right by him, and Geralt petted his head. The dog had surely smelled the rabbits, which would explain why he was letting Geralt pet him. Or maybe – but no. Dogs didn’t like him.

“He whines when you’re not here, you know,” Jaskier said as he sat down next to Geralt. “Which was cute when he was small, but now – I swear, he’s always silent when you’re near but when you’re gone? Gods, the only way to soothe him is to give him one of your shirts.”

That would explain why he kept on having dog hair on his stuff even when they had been safely packed away in his bag.

"Hmm," he replied, trying to ignore the way the dog wagged his tail as he pet him. It meant nothing.

He stopped petting Butterscotch to take the rabbits out of the fire, and the dog nudged his arm.

“He didn’t like how you stopped petting him,” Jaskier remarked, an amused smile on his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, but resumed his previous task. Butterscotch sat down and put his head on Geralt’s tight, who tried his best to refrain the wave of affection that overtook him. Maybe – maybe the dog trusted him, after all. Maybe Jaskier had been right, the other night, when –

He quickly glanced at his friend, who looked the other way when their eyes met. Great.

Geralt hated it, hated the way they were right now – but he couldn’t say anything. It was too late. He should have apologized right after his outburst. But Jaskier had acted as if everything was fine the next morning and it had been too easy to follow his lead, to not think about what he had said, how it might have hurt him.

“We should eat,” he said, if only to break the silence. “And maybe – you must have a song or two, for after,” he added hesitantly.

Jaskier’s face cleared up, a sparkle of mischief lighting up in his eyes. It made Geralt want to smile.

Instead, what he did was take his share of the food and eat it slowly, giving as discreetly as possible pieces of it to the dog that hadn’t left his side. If Jaskier saw him, he didn’t say anything; he was talking about the latest gossip in a court whose name Geralt had forgotten.

Listening to his laugh as he recounted the misfortune of some nobles made it a bit easier to forget that this, that them being together and sharing a meal, was not something that was meant to last. Jaskier played soft tunes that Butterscotch fell asleep to, laying down at Geralt’s side, and Geralt closed his eyes. He never wanted the moment to end.

***

The day had been nice; the weather had been kind to them, the sun warming the streets of the town they had decided to stay in because Geralt had taken a contract there and because the inn looked “just perfect for me to perform in, Geralt”. So they had rented a room, Jaskier had given the innkeeper his word that the big fluffy dog that was with them wouldn’t hurt anyone and would keep silent, and they had spent the rest of the day preparing for their respective evening activities.

The fight wasn’t one Geralt was worried about, and it went without much problems. Jaskier and Butterscotch had stayed behind, as they did most of the time now, and Geralt had tried not to think about it too much. Because that was what he had wanted, right? But he couldn’t help but feel as if it were a sign of Jaskier’s soon departure, a proof that Jaskier wasn’t interested in staying with him anymore. It scared him, and the fact that it scared him scared him even more.

He managed to refrain from sighing wearily as he opened the door. He was ready to eat whatever was left of supper and to go to bed, because hopefully his dreams wouldn’t be plagued by thoughts of Jaskier and Butterscotch leaving him.

“Geralt!”

His name, said with so much angst and worry, made Geralt almost drop everything he had been carrying – namely, his swords and his bag of potions. Eyes wide open, suddenly perfectly awake, he all but ran to Jaskier, worried out of his mind. The last time he had seen him, Jaskier had been working at the table of the room, happily humming, the dog laying at his feet, playing with one of Geralt's shirts.

Now Jaskier was standing beside the door, eyes full of tears, while Butterscotch was nowhere to be seen.

“Jaskier, breathe,” he said, as gently as he could manage. “What's going on?”

Jaskier grasped Geralt's arm, his grip almost painful.

“I- it's Butterscotch. He's- he's not doing well, I brought him to the town's apothecary and they said to come back with payment, but I don't think I have enough coins and I don't even know if he'll be okay and-”

Geralt put his bag down and gathered his friend into his arms – to ground him.

“-and I don't usually panic but you were late and- oh, Geralt, what if something happens to him?”

That was exactly why Geralt hadn't wanted the dog to stay with them. Not because he was a liability and another way to waste coin – but because this exact situation could happen. Because loving a being as fragile as Butterscotch was the best way to end up hurt. He tried not to think about Roach, and the Roach that had been there before.

That also was why he had tried his best not to attach himself to Jaskier. Because the bard would die one day, and it was easier not to have friends than to have to face the pain of losing them. Though that line of thought had been cut short when Jaskier had casually said that he couldn't exactly die, and though Geralt didn't exactly know how that particular thing had happened, he couldn't say that he didn't like it. Now the only thing that would stop him from being with Jaskier – as a friend − was the bard deciding that Geralt wasn't worth his time and affection anymore, which would hurt too, but Geralt comforted himself by thinking that at least Jaskier would be alive.

“I have money,” he said at last, not knowing how to comfort Jaskier who was crying in his arms. “We should go there, and listen to what they say.”

He had no idea what had happened to their dog, but it must have been bad if Jaskier was in such a state. The bard loved so freely, it was sometimes worrying.

“Yes,” Jaskier nodded, “Yes. Do you think- do you think we should bring him his shirt?” he added tentatively, sniffing.

“I don't know when my shirt became his, but yes,” Geralt tried to joke just to make Jaskier smile, to bring back the spark in his blue eyes.

It worked, somehow, Jaskier smiling thinly, eyes still brimmed with red. How long had he been crying, alone?

“Come on, Jask. No need to stay here when they need us there. I have enough money, take the shirt, and we'll see how our dog is doing. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Jaskier nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yes, you're right, yes, I- I'll tell you what happened on the way.”

They left the room without looking back, and Geralt, worried about Jaskier and about the dog that had somehow forged a way into his heart, let Jaskier take his hand. He needed the comfort, Geralt thought, and it wasn't hurting anyone. And there was nothing that he could really refuse Jaskier – the mere presence of Butterscotch into their life was proof of that.

Their brown and black dog was in a poor state, his breaths laborious and his eyes glassy.

“I gave him something against the pain”, the apothecary explained, “but it's going to take a few more days until he'll be fine again.”

Geralt felt Jaskier squeeze his hand.

“But he is?” the bard asked, his voice hoarse, “Going to be fine, I mean.”

The apothecary smiled.

“Yes, worry not,” they assured. “Make sure he doesn't eat anything like this again, though.”

As Jaskier had explained to Geralt on the way to the edge of the village where the shop was, he had taken Butterscotch outside for a walk right before the night had fallen, because he had planned to spend the evening playing for the townsfolk and the day was just too beautiful to resist a short stroll.

Since the dog didn't need a leash, Jaskier had let him wander around, keeping an eye on him but not worried. Nothing bad had happened, but right as they were going back into their room, Butterscotch had eaten something that had been left right in front of their door, and had started whining soon after. Jaskier had dropped everything to run to the town’s apothecary, Butterscotch in his arms, worried out of his mind and not even thinking about who could have done it.

It made Geralt's blood boil with rage. He could understand people being prejudiced against him, not liking him and fearing him. But to think that someone had willingly tried to poison his dog – it made him feel furious and guilty. What if they had decided to hurt Jaskier instead? 

“We brought him something,” Jaskier said, taking out the black shirt that was covered in fur, “Can he have it?”

The apothecary sent a knowing look Geralt's way but smiled at them. Jaskier hadn't let Geralt's hand go.

“Of course. I can keep him here for a few days, if that's alright with you.”

Geralt could feel Jaskier's hesitation, though he didn't know what caused it.

“I have coin”, Geralt told them, and he felt Jaskier relax next to him. “It's not going to be a problem. Please just... make sure he doesn't suffer too much?”

Jaskier squeezed his hand again, and Geralt squeezed back to let him know that everything was going to be alright.

“I will,” they promised, “He's lucky to have people as loving as you two are.”

“He's... good,” Geralt said, not really knowing how to answer that. He glanced at Jaskier, only to find that the bard was already looking at him.

“Thank you for taking care of him so late in the evening,” Jaskier yawned, and oh, right, it was well into the night at this point. Geralt hadn't even realized. “We'll be on our way,” Jaskier added, and Geralt took it as his cue to give the apothecary the amount of money they had asked for. “Thank you for taking care of Butterscotch, we'll be back tomorrow to visit him.”

They bid their goodbyes and walked back to their room. Jaskier was silent on their way back to the inn, which was weird but understandable; he seemed to be thinking about something, his scent betraying his sadness and his anxiousness. And if Jaskier's hand found Geralt's again, well, neither of them was going to comment on that.

***

“It's weird, not having to tell him not to climb on the bed,” Geralt remarked a little while later, as they were both trying to sleep, candles blown out a few minutes ago.

When Jaskier didn't reply, he opened his eyes to look at him. Jaskier avoided his eyes, and Geralt frowned.

“I'm worried about him too,” he said, “but they said he was going to be okay. You should try to sleep, Jaskier. It won’t change anything if you stay awake.”

Jaskier sighed, a sigh so sad and so full of anguish that hearing it made Geralt's chest hurt.

“I know, it's just- you aren't going to leave him here, right? After he's well again? Because I know we're both just liabilities to you,” Jaskier went on without caring about Geralt's stunned silence, “But this was my fault and he shouldn't be punished like this – because between you and him I don't know which one I would be able to choose, because choosing you would mean losing him and I think I would hate you for that, but choosing him would mean losing you and I- I can't afford to lose you, Geralt.”

To say that Geralt didn't know what to fucking say would be an understatement; he went for the thing he was the most familiar with.

“What?”

Jaskier sat up and so did he. He cast Igni absentmindedly, thinking that it was a conversation for which they needed to see each other clearly and not in the darkness of an unlit room. It was a mistake, though, because seeing Jaskier's desperate look in the light made Geralt feel... he didn't know what the feeling was, but it was not a good one.

“I mean,” he tried again, “Why the fuck would I leave him here? He's our- I mean, your dog, and you love him, why would I- I would never do that, Jaskier, I-”

A thought occurred to him.

“Wait, what do you mean you're both liabilities?”

“What I mean,” Jaskier said, “and don't you dare deny it, is that I know I don't bring much to you, and that Butterscotch at best amuses you sometimes. And-”

“I love him, Jask,” Geralt interrupted. And I love you, he didn't add.

“Oh,” Jaskier replied, clearly not expecting such an answer. “Well, that's-”

“And you’re not liabilities,” Geralt went on, because that was something that he needed to say, that he apparently should have said sooner if Jaskier was able to say it with so much confidence.

“Geralt, you need to feed him, I’m useless in a fight, and I mostly make you end in problems which you would have been able to stay away from if you had been alone.”

That was… true. Not that Geralt cared.

“Jaskier, you don’t- I was alone. And you decided to be my – friend,” he managed to say, trying not to show how much it scared him to say it out loud, lest Jaskier denied it, “and I don’t mind paying for your dog, or for our food, it’s- it’s how I can take care of you. So. I don’t mind.”

He was the one trying to avoid Jaskier’s gaze, now. The mutations made sure he wasn’t able to blush, but boy did he feel like he was. Eyes cast to the side, he tried to say the last thing he had on his mind, because it felt like it mattered.

“And I- I’m happy that you’re here. On the path with me, I mean. And you’ll be welcome for as long as you want. But you don’t have to feel- obliged to stay,” he choked out, because now that it had been said, Jaskier would surely leave, no matter what he had told before. Geralt thought of the coast, of a blue-eyed man laughing on a beach, throwing a stick for his dog to fetch. “I know you’ll want to leave, and when that time comes I’ll make sure to bring you to safety, not because I don’t think you couldn’t handle yourself but because I know I- I know I would want to- to travel with you one last time.”

Silence fell on the room, but not the right kind of silence. It was not a comforting one, not the kind of soothing silence that seemed to wrap you in a hug, the kind that felt like balm gently applied to a burn; no, it was an burning one, a silence so loud that it hurt, and Geralt found that it was hard for him to breathe. He had said his piece, and now Jaskier knew.

The flame flickered and shadows danced around them, and he found himself wishing that it had been a windy night, because at least that sound would have filled the silence that was suffocating him. Geralt was still waiting for Jaskier to reply something, anything, to yell at him or to let out a relieved smile that would mean Yes, finally, I am free, but Jaskier’s face was completely blank and Geralt didn’t know what that meant.

“Or- or if you don’t want that,” he scrambled to say, suddenly understanding why Jaskier was always talking to fill the silence, “I wouldn’t accompany you, I don’t want you to-”

“Is that why you’ve been so odd lately?” Jaskier interrupted him, frowning, his blue eyes clear despite the low luminosity. “Because you think I want to leave?”

“Yes,” Geralt admitted, not daring to speak too much when Jaskier was finally saying something – and wasn’t that ironic.

“Geralt,” Jaskier started, and the seriousness in his voice almost made Geralt shiver of anxiousness, “the only reason I would leave would be if I wasn’t wanted anymore. Which, if I’m being honest” he added, lips stretched in a bitter smile, “was what I was thinking was happening.”

Jaskier closed his eyes, and to Geralt’s horror he saw tears making their way down his face. He ached to tenderly wipe them out, but knew he couldn’t.

“Jaskier-” he said, suddenly desperate to get the words out, to make this right, to make them right again, “about the other night- when I snapped at you because you said that Butterscotch liked me- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

His friend sighed. It was a tired sigh, a weary one.

“That’s the thing, Geralt – you never mean it,” he smiled, but his smile was as happy as his sigh had been. “But whether you mean it or not, your words, the very few of them that I’m blessed enough to hear – they hurt.”

Geralt could only stare helplessly as Jaskier went on, tears still streaming down his face.

“You are my most precious friend, Geralt, and that’s why I have- why I didn’t say anything. Because you mean well, you’re a good person, and just being around you makes me – it makes me happy, Geralt, to be able to care for you, to give you the few things I have, because with you everything is just – better. And in the end,” he added, wiping out his tears with the back of his hand, “in the end the way I feel when I’m near you is worth the pain your words put me through. You are worth – everything, Geralt of Rivia.”

How had they arrived here? How, after years spent traveling together, could Geralt have been so blind about how he made Jaskier feel?

To learn that he had caused so much anguish and pain to the person he loved the most was making Geralt ache. His first reaction was to dismiss what Jaskier had just said about him, but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? 

“I-,” Geralt tried, tried to be honest and to show more than just aggression for once, “I don’t think of myself that way, so it’s difficult for me to- to think that anyone would. Especially-” he gulped, fighting to get the words out because it felt like if he didn’t, he would lose Jaskier for good, “Especially someone as- as- perfect as you. And it was easier to just dismiss it and push you away than to think about how much – how much I care about you. Because caring about people is – dangerous. Gives them power over you, gives your enemies something to use against you.”

Jaskier was looking at him, hands on his tights; he wasn’t crying anymore, but tears were threatening to fall once again. Geralt hopped, prayed, that it wasn’t because he was hurting him again.

“But you have to know that-,” he started, then stopped because he didn’t know how to say it. “I- I don’t know how to tell you,” he finally admitted. “It’s- like- despite how dangerous it is, I- I let myself care about you, and I- I don’t regret it. I will never regret it, Jaskier, because you are – a blessing. You are a beautiful, perfect thing that my hands don’t know how to touch without breaking it.”

He ached to reach out, to take one the hand that he had been holding earlier.

“So it’s- it’s easier to-”

He had no choice but to say it, hadn’t he? He couldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore, he wouldn’t lie to Jaskier anymore – though was it a lie, to keep the truth silent? He was being a coward and he knew it, but being Jaskier’s friend was better than to confess and to lose his warmth entirely. Though he had been a bad friend to the bard, and – well.

“It was easier to act as if it meant nothing than to admit that I love you,” he mumbled rapidly, afraid that his courage would fail him.

Now that the truth was out in the air, he didn’t dare to glance at Jaskier. What would the look on his face be? Disgust? Pity? Or, somehow worse, just a blank look, synonym of the doom of their already fragile relationship?

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed out, and his voice sounded teary but the sadness from earlier had disappeared. “Is that how you’re thinking? That love is a – liability? That loving me is a liability?”

“That’s how I used to think,” Geralt corrected him, “before I realized that I was wrong. And that’s why – that’s why Butterscotch scares me. Because he’s young, but he will die, and I know that it’ll hurt and-”

“Darling,” Jaskier interrupted, moving on the bed to be sitting next to Geralt, their tights pressed together. Geralt could hear his heartbeat, knew that the other man was nervous, but the closeness felt like acceptance and maybe, maybe, requited love. A hand found his, and Geralt squeezed it without thinking. “Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, “Why do you focus so much on what is going to happen? It prevents you from enjoying life, darling. Butterscotch will die one day, yes, and I know that it will bring me pain, that it will hurt us both. But is that all that you’re thinking about when you see him playing in the dirt? When he sleeps soundly next to you? When you hear a song, darling, do you think about its last notes or do you listen to its melody?”

“I-”

“I’d be a hypocrite,” Jaskier’s voice dropped lower as if he was sharing a secret, “if I didn’t admit that when we meet up in spring, I can’t help but think about the day we’ll go on our separate ways, because it might be the last time I’ll see you. But then I- I force myself not to think about it, because at least six months of the year will be spent next to you, next to the man I love, and-”

“You love me?” Geralt interrupted him, turning his head to look at Jaskier. His red-rimmed blue eyes had never looked more beautiful.

“Of course I do, Geralt, how could I not?”

Jaskier dropped his head on Geralt's shoulder. Geralt didn’t know where their conversation was going, didn’t understand what had just happened – he had been this close to losing Jaskier, had felt the bard closing off, and now they were next to one another, Jaskier’s hair tickling his cheek.

“So that means I- you- forgive me?”

Jaskier stayed silent, but didn’t draw away.

“Yes,” he finally replied, and Geralt frowned slightly.

“I’m not sure I deserve your forgiveness,” he started, squeezing Jaskier’s hand when he felt that the other man was about to say something, “but I will do my best to deserve it. I will – I will be more careful with you, Julek,” he swore.

They stayed silent for a bit, but this time Geralt didn’t feel as though he couldn’t breathe. The room around them felt more welcoming, the orange light from the candle warmer than it had been earlier.

“What does that mean for us?” Jaskier asked, and he sounded – hesitant, but hopeful. It was a question easy for Geralt to answer, because he had always been better at acts than at words.

“It means that we’ll stay as long as Butterscotch needs us to, and then we’ll go on with our travels. Maybe we’ll stay near the coast, there are always villages that are in need of witchers there. Butterscotch will go play in the water and I’ll complain when he’ll shake himself, but I’ll give him treats when you won’t be looking.”

A pause, then.

“But he still won’t be allowed to sleep on the bed.”

Jaskier snorted, and Geralt felt relieved beyond measure.

“For now, though,” Geralt added, “I think we should sleep. I did just come back from a hunt, after all, and it is quite late in the night.”

“My poor, dear witcher,” Jaskier smiled, and Geralt tried not to let it show how much it pleased him to be called Jaskier’s until he remembered that actually showing how he felt was important, “you must be exhausted. No kiss for you, then, only resting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier who was looking at him, mirth lighting up his eyes.

“I’m not that tired,” he objected, and Jaskier chuckled.

“Aren’t you? Then I guess I could be convinced to kiss you goodnight.”

Their kiss wasn’t mind-blowing. It just – was. Jaskier’s cheeks were still damp from his crying and their kiss tasted a bit like salt and the angle was weird, but Jaskier sighed in his mouth, a happy sigh, and Geralt found out that he couldn’t wait to do that for the rest of their lives.

Soon they would leave this place and travel, and Geralt would get more injuries and Jaskier would write more songs; but he tried not to think about it, and found it not so difficult to focus on the moment when Jaskier kissed him again.

It was a short kiss, a chaste one; it was a promise for more to come, for sunny days spent in laughter and gloomy evenings spent next to each other, for arguments and reconciliations, and for a life in each other’s company. Just him, Jaskier, and their dog – and Roach. 

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 9

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna say thanks for all the kind messages/comments you guys have been sending me on tumblr and AO3. I really enjoy writing this fic, and it makes it all the better when I know you’re enjoying it too. So thanks again for the support. Means the world to me <3

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

FORANGAL CASTLE

THE DINING HALL

“I’m afraid there’s no shortage of Danes in Wedenscire, Aegenwulf.” Raedan said as the two conversed across the table. “Over these past few weeks, I’ve been seeing more and more of them crawling all over the place. It’s almost as if they’re migrating like a bloody flock of birds. It makes you wonder whether these Danes are local, or if they come from somewhere else.”

Aegenwulf took a sip from his goblet. “No Dane is local to England, my friend. They are all invaders; all outsiders.”

Bishop Hundwerth raised his cup in agreement. “Very true, my lord.”

Raedan furrowed his brow. “Well, unfortunately, regardless of wherever they may hail from, it seems that the Northmen have planted their roots rather deeply in our lands. I doubt they’ll be leaving anytime soon.”

“Any ideas on how to get them out?”

The thegn shrugged. “You know the vikings as well as I do. Those bastards are as fierce in political dialogue as they are in war. It won’t be easy to drive them out of this kingdom. The only language they understand is battle.”

“Then we would do well to keep our tongues as sharp as our blades.”

Lady Moira joined in. “Please, Raedan. Save the discussions of politics for the war room, and let us enjoy this meal that Aegenwulf’s people have been kind enough to prepare for us. We’ve all had a long journey, and I think we’d like a moment to rest.”

Her husband stepped down from his conversation, letting out a sigh. “Ah... forgive me, my love. My head is filled to the brim with warfare nowadays. I fear I have forgotten how to engage in casual chatter. But you’re right. We’ll have plenty of time to worry about all that later. For now, let us feast on this fine food that they’ve lain out for us before I become some bare-chinned ponce.”

The ealdorman chuckled. “Still the same Raedan, even after all these years.” He raised his goblet. “To your health, old friend.”

Raedan smiled warmly at that. “Thank you.” 

Clinking their cups together, the two Saxons engaged in a friendly toast and downed the rest of their drinks, merrily enjoying each other’s company.

Meanwhile, Edric and the twins sat at the other end of the table and talked with Moira and her children, sticking to their own conversation as the food slowly vanished from their plates. 

The gathering wasn’t quite as riveting as Edric would’ve liked, and Algar’s presence at the table admittedly worried him somewhat, but it was still more enjoyable than being stuck in the war room all day. He had grown tired of the constant debates and discussions of death, so it was a pleasant change of pace to take a break from all that.

He only wondered if Sigurd would decide to join them.

“So tell me,” Moira said, delicately cutting into a piece of meat, “how have things been in Forangal? Everything is going well, I hope?”

“As well as they can be, I suppose.” Edric replied. “Our people are strained due to the war, but we’re doing our best to push through it.”

“That’s good. And how have you been faring, Edric? I’ve spoken to your siblings quite a bit already, but you and I haven’t had the chance to catch up. Are things well for you? I imagine you’ve acquired an abundance of new responsibilities now that you’re older.”

The young man chuckled. “An understatement. These days, I spend most of my time joining my father’s side at the war table. If things keep going on like this, I may even join him on the battlefield soon.”

Edlynne cocked her head at him. “I certainly hope not. I’d feel much better knowing you were safe within Forangal’s walls.”

Henry gave a timid nod of agreement. “As would I. You’re dear to us all, Edric. I’d hate to see you thrown into the midst of all the chaos out there.”

A sour look spread across Moira’s face. “Well, it definitely doesn’t help when you have a Norseman wandering around the castle. Are you certain it’s wise to keep... oh, what’s his name -- Sigurd here? You’re sure you can trust him?”

Edric had a feeling this would come up sooner or later. “I know you didn’t get the best first impression of him, Lady Moira, but I assure you he means no harm. He is a good man.”

“I just think it’d be best if you found a man of Christ to protect you,” she countered, “rather than someone from such a questionable background. I mean, where did you even find him?”

Edlynne jumped in. “We didn’t find Sigurd. It was a fisherman in Agenbury who saved his life.”

“Saved his life?”

“Aye,” Edric said. “He was wounded when he washed up on the shore; barely breathing, in fact. A man named Wilfred rescued him, but his treatment wasn’t enough to keep Sigurd alive. So, we brought him back to the castle in order to let Linette take care of him. He’s been eager to repay us for our help ever since.”

Moira’s expression flattened with skepticism. “Hmm. Well, as long as he’s doing his job. Still, I’d advise you to be cautious. The vikings aren’t known for having a protective nature, after all.”

Edric decided to stifle his frustration for the moment. “...Of course, my lady. I--” he paused for a second, perking his head up in interest, “--well, speak of the Devil. Here he is.”

Turning around to face the door, everyone in the dining room brought their attention to the entrance upon hearing Edric’s remark, only to find Sigurd himself strolling through the archway. 

He wasn’t wearing any armor like he normally did on a day-to-day basis, and it appeared as if he actually made an effort to clean up. There didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt dotting his face, and a fine tunic had replaced the shell of metal that usually covered his body.

Edric beamed brightly at Sigurd, welcoming him with a smile.

“Sigurd! You decided to come.”

The viking took a hesitant step into the room, clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable. “I did.”

Edric gestured to the spot next to him. “Well, have a seat then. I’ll pour you a drink.”

Walking past the guards as he ventured further into the hall, Sigurd’s eyes briefly flicked to the opposite side when he noticed Gjuki slipping in through another pair of doors, sticking to the shadows. The room had gone completely quiet ever since their arrival, but it didn’t look like anyone had caught on to what they were doing just yet.

Odin willing, it would stay that way.

Sitting down beside Edric at the table, Sigurd quietly observed the people around him and shifted awkwardly in his seat, admittedly feeling incredibly out of place. Even though he was more familiar with Forangal’s occupants nowadays, he couldn’t deny that Raedan’s family put him on edge -- even with Edric at his side.

They were nothing more than a set of new faces to Sigurd, after all. Raedan’s name meant nothing to him in this war, and it was obvious that his wife wasn’t too fond of him either. 

He supposed he would just have to get used to it.

“You’re very tall.” Sibley suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Edric poured some wine into Sigurd’s cup, chuckling at the comment. “He is, isn’t he? A proper giant, this man. Still, you look nice this evening, Sigurd. You clean up better than I would’ve expected.”

The compliment allowed him to relax a bit. “You think? I guess there is hope for me, after all.”

“So it would seem.”

Moira’s beady gaze instantly locked onto the viking. “...Ah. Sigurd. You and I met briefly at the main gate yesterday. I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here after our... introduction. What brings you here tonight?”

“Edric invited me.”

“Did he?”

The young man spoke up. “Yes. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

The woman’s lips pursed in annoyance, and she threw a side glance at Sigurd. “No, of course not. So long as he minds his manners.”

The viking returned the comment with a glare. “The same could be said for you, my lady.”

Edric froze at the retort, already regretting this situation he had created.

“Sigurd...!” He whispered in a cautionary tone.

The other man let out a quiet sigh, deciding to hold himself back for the moment.

“...Forgive me,” Sigurd apologized, his voice stiff with reluctance, “I fear I can be rather... hasty with my words sometimes.”

Moira’s stare only seemed to sharpen in response to the apology, but she decided to drop the conversation nonetheless. Despite her husband’s silence, she could see that Raedan was unhappy with her animosity towards Sigurd, and she did not wish to cause a scene in front of her children. 

Algar, on the other hand, couldn’t have been more amused by the display.

“Have no fear, Lady Moira,” the housecarl joked. “Sigurd may look intimidating, but in truth, he’s about as harmful as a newborn pup. You and your family will be just fine.”

Initially, Sigurd planned to ignore the taunt and simply carry on with his meal, but once he noticed Gjuki approaching Algar from the shadows, he knew he had to keep the man’s attention away from him, lest they both be killed.

“Is your life so devoid of purpose that you must resort to taunting me all day, Algar?” He asked, distracting him. “Or is this simply a new hobby of yours?”

Algar chuckled. “Struck a nerve, did I? I apologize. It’s unbecoming of me to attack a man who’s already down. After all, I know you can scarcely lift a sword these days.”

“Neither can you, it seems. It appears that your foes have a habit of... getting back up.”

Edric finally snapped.

“Enough, both of you.” He said firmly, setting his cup down on the table. “Is it so hard to look past your differences for one night? I invited Sigurd here because I trust him as a friend. He is here at my behest, and I would not see him disrespected. Now, please...” Edric let out a breath, “...no more bickering. We’ve got plenty of that outside of these walls already.”

Backing down from their heated altercation, both Sigurd and Algar decided to put the matter to rest for now and quietly returned to their meals, still eyeing each other from across the table.

Meanwhile, Gjuki gently snuck a hand into the pouch hanging from the housecarl’s belt and quickly patted around it, only to take out a peculiar-looking object once he found what he was searching for.

It didn’t resemble any key Sigurd had ever seen in his life, and the shape was undeniably rather odd, but the bard seemed to recognize it, so he assumed it must’ve been the same one mentioned in that mysterious note.

Gjuki gave the viking a subtle nod and began heading out the door, beckoning Sigurd to follow him once he had the chance.

“Sigurd?” Edric said privately, tearing the man’s gaze away from his hidden friend.

“I-- yes?” He replied, his tone now coated with a hint of urgency. “What is it?”

The nobleman examined him for a moment. “...Are you alright? You seem... distracted.”

Sigurd brought himself back to the current gathering and pushed his thoughts to the side, attempting to conceal his eagerness to see what Gjuki had discovered.

“I’m fine, Edric. Just... tired from the day is all.”

The Saxon didn’t seem to notice Gjuki. “Well, I don’t blame you. I know things have been tough for you lately. But put all that aside for now. Tonight, we feast. Let us cast aside our worries, and simply enjoy the evening.” He raised his goblet in the air. “To our loved ones, and the hope that we may see them again someday.”

Sigurd smiled at Edric, picking up his drink. “Skål.”

Tapping their cups together, the two of them emptied their goblets in a lively toast and carried on with the night, doing their best to stay in high spirits despite Algar’s presence. Even though Sigurd was mainly there to act as a distraction for the housecarl, he couldn’t deny that he genuinely found joy being in Edric’s company.

The man was just... everything he wanted. He made Sigurd feel like he mattered. He made him feel safe.

There were many things the viking found himself worrying about nowadays, but with Edric there to help guide him through it, Sigurd honestly wished he could’ve stayed in Forangal a little longer. And that frightened him.

These people were supposed to be his enemies; his targets. They were the ones responsible for the destruction of his clan, and yet... Sigurd couldn’t bring himself to hate them.

Of course, he wouldn’t object to seeing Algar’s head on a pike -- and he had his own grudges to hold when it came to Aegenwulf -- but everyone else in the castle struck him as no more than regular civilians. They were just other human beings trying to survive in this godforsaken war, and a part of Sigurd’s conscience shriveled up in remorse at the idea of harming them.

They didn’t deserve death, nor did they deserve Eivor’s wrath. But Sigurd knew that without the chance to witness their compassion face-to-face, his brother would be less inclined to show them mercy.

He would have to find some way to bring them to an understanding. He had no doubts that Eivor’s wounds remained fresh after everything that transpired in Ravensthorpe, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught in the middle.

There was good and bad on both sides of this battle, and he prayed he’d be able to make Gjuki see that. That man was the one thing keeping the brothers in touch, and in the end, Eivor’s impression of Forangal depended on him.

He was the only reason Eivor had any idea of what was happening in Wedenscire, and Sigurd could only hope that his messages weren’t being twisted with malice. 

Otherwise, he dreaded to imagine what awaited them in the future.

~~~~~~~~~~

ONE HOUR LATER

SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Stepping gently through the lengthy corridors, Sigurd followed the amber glow of the flicking torches as their flames danced softly against the walls, dimly lighting the floor so that he could see where he was going.

It had been a few minutes ever since the feast ended, and Gjuki all but vanished from the dining hall after stealing the key, but upon taking his leave, Sigurd found a note telling him to return to his chambers.

He didn’t know if something was wrong, or if the invitation was a trap, but regardless of what awaited him in the near future, Sigurd knew he’d have to face it eventually.

Everything he and Gjuki had worked for thus far was riding on this plan, and if something had gone awry, he wished to figure out what it was sooner than later. There was no telling what would happen if Algar learned of their schemes after all, and the last thing Sigurd wanted was to be caught with his hands tied.

“...Gjuki?” Sigurd said quietly as he walked into his quarters, opening the door as subtly as possible. 

There weren’t any guards patrolling in the vicinity at the moment, and most of Forangal’s people seemed to be asleep by now, but the viking still wanted to be cautious. Algar could’ve been lurking around somewhere in the shadows for all he knew, and he didn’t fancy the idea of bumping into him again.

“Ah, there you are, Lone Wolf,” the bard replied from Sigurd’s bed, free from the confines of his helm. “I thought those Saxons would never let you go.”

The other man shut the door behind closed him, keeping his voice low lest it seep out into the corridor.

“You found the key, yes? Did anyone notice you on the way out?”

Gjuki smirked, holding the key in the air for Sigurd to see. “Not a single soul. It’s as if I was never there. Honestly, the most difficult part of the theft was having to endure Lady Moira’s bleating. How anyone deals with that woman is beyond me.”

Sigurd sighed. “Well, I’d rather take her over Algar any day. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is you were able to find the key. Do you know where to use it?”

The bard stood up from the bed. “I have yet to find an exact location, but there is enough in Algar’s note that I should be able to track it down. Apparently, this crypt of his is somewhere near Forangal, but hidden well enough that most people simply stroll right past it. It’s difficult to find even when you know what to look for.”

The viking stepped next to Gjuki, observing the key in his hand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gjuki thought for a moment. “Hmm. Not much, I’m afraid. All I would ask is that you proceed with your life as compliantly as possible. Do what the Saxons say. Follow their commands. Keep your head down. I know it’s... an unfavorable approach, but if I’m going to rummage through Algar’s belongings and find out what he’s hiding, I’ll need you to make sure that his suspicion stays low.”

Sigurd nodded, admittedly somewhat annoyed at the thought of having to take Moira’s insults without fighting back. “...If that’s what you need, then I’ll do it.”

“Thank you, Sigurd. I promise, I’ll return to you as soon as I discover something. Just keep an eye on that pier I mentioned. When I’m ready to meet you again, I’ll light the brazier. I think it’s best if we go over Algar’s secrets in private.”

“Understood.”

Gjuki slipped the key back into his pocket, striding towards the door. “Good. Then I best be off. In the meantime, I’ll also prepare for Broder’s return.”

The viking raised a brow. “Broder? Who’s that?” 

“Oh, I never told you his name, did I? Forgive me. He’s a Dane aiding me in this investigation. He too comes from East Anglia. I sent him back to report to Eivor on the day I first met you, but I imagine he’ll be making his way back now. I’ll tell him of what you and I have accomplished here.”

A thought suddenly crossed Sigurd’s mind, causing him to stop Gjuki in his tracks.

“Wait, Gjuki. Before you leave...”

The bard glanced over his shoulder. “Hm? What is it, Lone Wolf?”

“Earlier, back in the courtyard, you told me Eivor was planning to attack Forangal Castle. That he wanted revenge.”

Gjuki nodded. “Yes, but it’s going to take some time. He’ll need more allies before he can muster the strength necessary to assault this fortress.”

A concerned look spread across Sigurd’s face. “Well, when you get the chance, let him know that there are good people here. Tell him that not all of them deserve to be killed, and that not everyone here is our enemy.”

The other man chuckled and crossed his arms. “...You truly believe that, don’t you?”

Sigurd shrugged, confused about Gjuki’s reaction. “And why shouldn’t I? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

The bard lowered his voice to a whisper, speaking in a manner similar to that of a snake.

“I see the way these Saxons look at you when your back is turned to them. I see the way they mock our gods, and twist your mind. They would lock you in a cage next to their dogs if they could, and yet, they chain you with an illusion of friendship because that’s the only thing that’ll keep you from retaliating.”

The viking shook his head. “You have the wrong idea, Gjuki. Even though there are some people here who would see me dead, there are also those who would defend me. Like Edric and his siblings.”

The bard laughed. “You don’t even realize that you’re being indoctrinated, do you? I know you care for Edric, but he is not your friend, Sigurd. I heard your conversation with him in the courtyard. You haven’t even been here for a month and he’s already asking you to convert to Christianity. Don’t you see what he’s trying to do? He’s trying to turn you into a thrall.”

Sigurd placed his hands on his hips, growing somewhat concerned about Gjuki’s paranoia. “No, he isn’t. Edric asked me to consider Christianity, yes, but he’s not forcing me into it.”

The other man wasn’t convinced. “...Not yet.”

Gjuki looked Sigurd directly in the eye, practically piercing through his gaze.

“Listen to me carefully, Lone Wolf. Even though I know my words will carry little meaning in a time like this, I still think you need to hear them. Before I met your brother, I was a slave to a Dane called Rued who used to reside in East Anglia. He was an argr rat, and spoke with a forked tongue. He did the same thing that these Saxons are doing to you. He displayed enough brutality so that we would stay in our place, but offered us the occasional ‘reward’ to keep us obedient. He was our friend from time to time, but mainly our oppressor.”

“This...” Gjuki continued, gesturing to the room around them, “...is your reward. And that...” he pointed to Sigurd’s suit of armor, “...is your leash. So take my advice. Break free from the binds that they have put on your hugr, and be ready to strike when the time comes. These Saxons are nothing more than vipers, and you’d do best to remember that. Trust me, I would know.”

Putting their conversation to an end, Gjuki decided he had said enough and began making his way out the door, leaving Sigurd with one last piece of advice.

“I know none of this is your fault, Sigurd, but do not forget where you come from, nor what started all this. You are only here because the gods were kind enough to spare you, not because these Saxons wanted you to live. So the next time Edric offers you his friendship, remember, his father would’ve killed you in a heartbeat if everything went according to plan. A hatred like that doesn’t disappear just because you raise a sword in his name.”

Gjuki pulled the door open, suddenly trapped in an uncommonly dour mood.

“Farewell for now, Sigurd. I pray that the gods will be merciful in the days to come, and I hope that you and Eivor will be able to reunite soon. It isn’t too late to recover from this mess yet, but time waits for no one. And it certainly won’t wait for you.”