#Really used all them braincells to do those blinks

[goomyloid]

What was your process for making the Noelle amv, if you don't mind sharing?

hii! im not sure how eloquently or clearly ill be able to explain it but i definitely have some pictures you can look at!

(the video)

i actually got the idea while i was away on a trip with very limited wifi -- it wasn't Trust Me that i got an AMV idea for first, but instead it was one of 4syu's other songs, There's Nobody. for such a happy sounding song it really made me so sad, to the point where if i tried to sing it to myself id get choked up by the chorus LMAO. it was baddd

but basically i was rapidly trying to find both songs on spotify so i could listen to them offline, and it only took me a few loops of Trust Me and thinking about the original MV to make me go "ohhhh. how can i make this about noelle." And so i did .

i was thinking about doing a storyboard, but in the past, i've found that doing storyboards for animations/AMVs lowkey... kills my motivation altogether... SAD... but i saw the whole video so clearly in my head, and i didnt want to make the same mistake i made before... so i went right to doing quick sketches (while still on my trip...) just so i could get the ideas out of my head

i was torn on what to do with my style at the time, whether i wanted to make it more similar to the original video, or to her canon appearance, or to MY style and how i draw her. i think it kind of ended up as an amalgamation of all three...? at the very least, her light world color palette definitely was more bland and desaturated, like i purposefully wasn't trying to do anything special with her colors.

after that point, and getting maybe a few of the actual drawings done, my motivation crashed again, and i left it all to marinate for nearly a week. it was baking, guys, it wasn't abandoned, listen to me, why are you throwing tomatoes at me,

i had up to about the "I dreamed about that again" animation done and stopped, and it wasn't until i decided to sit down and start editing it anyway that i really got in my groove again. i got all my little assets into a workable state so i could really try to sit down and make the video come to life and all

the really fun part was honestly working on the desktop backgrounds. i really wanted to limit colorpicking from the original video as much as possible, but i decided that making look as similar as possible to the original could help with the contrast i wanted to add later.

i drew these two backgrounds first. i was hoping i could somehow fit the bunker into the second one, but decided to do something different anyway. the second one's ui didn't actually change until later in the editing process.

drawing THESE were fun especially, and im happy with how they came out. i think the dark world icons are really cute still. one thing i really did know i wanted to do from the beginning was to turn the soul/undertale icon into the deltarune one.

i was worried if the shift from the Windows Field Background to the dark world would be too sudden, like you would just blink and suddenly it was all different, but i think it ended up all right...?

the not so fun part was drawing all the different boxes, lmao. it go really tedious by the end, so i tried to reuse as many of the same ones as i could.

a lot of copy-pasting and tracing rectangles for sure.

i also had to make sure the animations didnt Suck. i brute forced those things and used every last braincell i had in order to make those pictures move bros

fun fact. ive never animated hair like this before. or in any complex manner really. i had to use sooo much brain here... heres how it started vs. how it ended up

had my animator gf hype me up thru the whole thing... i was having a great time based on the filenames alone

aaaand then ummmm i edited it. i learned after effects like 1 month ago. never touched it before. i learned it for internship purposes and then used my newfound powers for evil it seems

i split the whole thing up into multiple compositions of course, but i probably could have split things up more... im sorry for having 84 layers on comp 3 its not my fault

editing a video in 12 fps was a fun change though -- very easy for my brain to go frame-by-frame, and yet still some of the timing ended up being off... tis the goomy way

like i said before, i started editing when i barely had half the drawings done, but seeing it all start to be in motion really pushed me to finish it up. and i mean Really. like i finished the whole thing maybe 48 hours after i first started editing.

and...i think that's it? i do a lot of discord art streaming to friends lately but i kinda kept this one more under wraps compared to usual, i think i just wanted to surprise everyone... look guys i remembered how to make a video! and it's three minutes! waow

sorry if this is way more than you asked for LMAO

also, the AMV hit 5k views on youtube today! ive never had a video do well like that so quickly! thank you!!

[andiftheycare]

AU where Suguru’s an overworked salaryman and Satoru keeps stealing his umbrellas as a bad attempt at flirting.

Or the you swan he frog meme but make it a fic

☂️ Part one here, and also on twt

☂️ Part two point one below (because it’s now too long and I haven’t even covered everything I wanted to cover in part two)

Highly unedited as I’m writing this as I go and using no braincells.

Tags to be aware of: AU, squint and it’s a reincarnation au (more on this in part 2.2 and 3)

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

Over the weekend, Mimiko picks up a talisman at the local temple to protect Geto from evil.

Nanako laughs at her. She’s been in a perpetual state of amusement since Suguru briefly mentioned the thief to them, “Isn’t this too much?”

“Well, we don’t know what Geto’s dealing with,” she’s just partially offended.

“It isn’t a ghost, sis.”

“You don’t know that.”

Their quarrelling is soothing and familiar, and Suguru huffs while he ties the omamori to the umbrella, which now sports a blessing and a curse sitting next to each other.

He wonders if one will override the other. A cursed object protects the same way as a talisman, after all — its energy is just stems from a different source.

At least that’s what his grandma used to say. Mimiko beams at him when she notices the new decoration embellishing Geto's umbrella, and Nanako comes back to put a star sticker next to the printed curse “Just to make it more obvious.”

On Monday, it’s raining and raining, and Suguru finds that his new umbrella is indeed an old one. Or rather, he notices it because he has no memory of walking home under it the previous week.

It just bends on one side, so his left shoulder’s uncovered, but that’s fine, really. Hopefully it’ll make it less appealing to whoever can’t be bothered to leave him alone.

“Whoa,”

Turning isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. In a scale from one to dropping out of high school — which he almost did when he was eighteen and had a peculiar, stubborn way to see his future — he’d put this executive decision just below almost not getting a degree.

Piercing blue eyes find him instinctively and immediately. “I don’t want to turn into a frog.”

“Then leave my umbrella alone.”

A client enters the konbini. Gojo and Geto briefly acknowledge them — there’s music, there’s someone clearning their throat and there’s two set of eyes moving to see this guy trying to reach the rack.

Neither of them moves.

“You could’ve, I don’t know, picked something more terrifying.”

“Because you think being turned into a frog isn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Gojo latches his hands behind his head, “There are worst faiths.”

There were. Suguru once possessed a wicked fantasy for horrible scenarios. Now his brain just produces white noises. “Like what, spending your life simmering in regrets?”

“Yikes, that’s just being a loser.”

There’s another hesitant “Sorry, I need to—" that goes to the wind and birds and gods listening to men, but not to those two.

“Then you don’t need to be cursed, do you?”

“What do you mean?” He says, slowly, but Satoru knows exactly what he means, because he winces, and his stand wavers. “You don’t know me.”

True. He doesn’t.

However.

There’s familiarity in their bickering, a warmth in Suguru’s tongue when he speaks back to him, declining his language into its informal structures rather that the safe politeness that should shield them from getting close too quickly. “You sound lame.”

Gojo Satoru is six feet tall and he pouts. What the fuck.

“I could sound lamer.”

Suguru blinks. Okay, maybe Gojo's right, maybe his instincts are all pointing in the wrong direction here. He doesn’t know him. “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“See? That’s the problem there. You don’t know I like to win.”

The konbini’s client signs and leaves the umbrella on a corner, next to the coffee machine. As an extra in those people’s life, he understands his role and he’s there, after all, just to buy dinner.

“But why would you want to—“ Suguru cuts off. “No, actually, I don’t want to know.”

The other grins widely, “For instance, I could say,” he looks around, then dips his head closer to Suguru “Take me to dinner. That's a great way to get to know me better.”

Before Suguru could even process that, Satoru takes a step back, beaming as if nothing in the world matters to him but the sound of his own voice. “See? That’s already lamer.”

“Please don’t ever ask me out again,” Suguru begrudgingly takes his umbrella, which wasn’t stolen so maybe the amulet is working.

Of course, that’s wishful thinking.

The day after, the umbrella is gone and the omamori’s left lying on the ground like a sad autumn leaf. Suguru picks it up with care, huffing, putting it in his jacket’s inside pocket so for it not to get wet in his walk back to the office.

During the night, when all the buildings surrounding him are pitch black, and his screen’s light scorches his eyes, Suguru briefly thinks about ordering online a small umbrella to keep in his drawers.

Sipping on coffee, he ponders about it, and then the thought is gone as the numbers in his spreadsheet finally makes sense.

“Christ, why are you here?”

At that point, there’s little that fazes him. Gojo leans on the ice-cream fridge wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. His suit — black, corporate abiding — is utterly wrinkled, and the man looks, for once, tired.

“I could ask you the same question.”

The other raises his shoulder. “I’m having dinner.”

“It’s past one in the morning.”

“Eh,” Gojo inspects the selection of ice creams in silence, and Geto doesn’t know what to do with this man’s silence.

Granted, they met twice, so he shouldn’t be bothered by it; shouldn’t be reading the lines of his face as if they share enough of a past for Suguru to pretend he can interpret Gojo’s spirits.

Weirdly, his stomach churns. It must be because he had barely eaten dinner too.

“You’re not having ice cream. It’s not a meal.”

“I am,” Gojo replies, unbothered.

“But why?”

At that, white hairs pops up and black lenses are directed in his direction.

“Won’t you feel like crap tomorrow? And you’d be hungry in what, twenty minutes?”

“I’ll just have another one.”

Suguru inhales. Why does he care, anyway?

“You should go home,” Gojo offers instead, fingers reaching to open the fridge. They’re long, Suguru thinks distractedly.

“You know there aren’t any trains.” Suguru says, “Besides, at this point it wouldn’t make sense. The journey’s too long.”

“So what, you’re sleeping in the office?”

A question he doesn’t want to answer. “By the looks of it, you are, too.”

“I live close by.” he doesn’t deny it, thought, which is telling. “You can crash at my place if you want.”

“I’m not—-"

Fetching for a triple chocolate diabetic threat, Gojo adds quickly “I’ll be out all night anyway so I’m not fishing for a hook up.”

A part of Suguru deflates, a bitter taste similiar to disappointment weighting his tongue.

If Geto cared about things being proper, he would’ve declined Gojo’s offer. But Geto adopted two children when he was in high school and moved all of them to a shitty flat in Tokyo as soon as he cashed his first pay check, so proper often doesn’t agree with him.

Also, he’d rather not sleep in a karaoke room that night. Or in the office.

“Yeah,” Suguru steps closer to him, closes the fridge. “I presume you’d like me to buy you dinner first, for that.”

There are few blinks, and a car crash happening slowly in Gojo’s features. He thinks that’s lamer than anything the man could’ve said or done. But he doesn’t want Gojo to know he’s somehow winning at his own self-inflicted competition, so he walks towards the drinks aisle “I’ll buy you a beer as a thank you.”

“I don’t drink!” Gojo sputtered “Give me your Line contact instead.”

“I’d rather not sleep at your place then.”

“I’ll delete it if you ask me to.” He’s eager, this man. He could and should look pathetic, truly, with those ridiculous square glasses and his all-over-the-place suit, but he isn’t. Which makes Suguru go oh, maybe he looks like this when he’s begging.

“And you could need stuff at my place. Towels and all of that.” He does a weird hand gesture that makes Suguru wonder if Gojo knows what you need to spend a night in an apartment that's not yours.

“All of that?”

“Buy yourself a toothbrush while you’re here.” Satoru continues, “but yeah, what if you need a special conditioner for your hair?”

“You use conditioner?”

Gojo scoffs, “You don’t?”

Instinctively, Suguru’s hand flies to his bun. “Should I?"

“Unfair.” Gojo hisses, completely hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on chocolate like he’s trying to hoover the dessert with his mouth.

Shades slide on his nose at the sound of Suguru’s laugh.

☂️☂️☂️☂️

A brief walk of fifteen minutes it’s all it takes to move form the jungle of office skyscrapers to one of high end flats.

Figures, the man’s dirty rich. Geto double checks the address when he arrives at the building with the floating pool.

There’s a flash of Gojo’s cocksure grin in his head. Yes. This adds up.

So Geto goes through the motions of getting in the elevator and finding Gojo’s flat, an open loft with high windows and immaculate forniture. Little attention goes to inspecting his surroundings as Geto hunts for a bed.

Code’s 241218. You’ll find fresh clothes in my wardrobe and you can use all products in the bathroom. There’s one in my room and a bigger one in the corridor. Any issues give me a call.

The space’s so neatly organised, however, that Gojo’s instructions end up being clear as a bell. He changes clothes and brush his teeth and he’s dramatically asleep few minutes afterwards.

☂️☂️☂️☂️

He sleeps until the morning and misses his first alarm, the one he set to catch the first train back home, grab a fresh suit and wish Nanako and Mimiko a good day.

Fuck.

It takes him a few seconds to match the white ceiling in front of him with his surroundings, Gojo’s voice a lingering memory in his head.

A warm blanket of sunlight bathes his body and, at seven in the morning, for the first time since Suguru has started working, the pleasure of a rush free morning sinks into his bones, and cracks something in his chest.

If Gojo was there, he’d kiss him.

He isn’t, so that’s fine.

Can I borrow one of your suits?

Suguru texts Gojo as he turns on the rice cooker, a techy model with a vast selection of settings that looks almost unused.

Suit yourself

You’re not as funny as you think you are

You’re wrong. I think you giggles and blushes reading my texts

I don’t giggle

Yet

While the rice cooker steams in a corner, Suguru inspects the content of the fridge and finds some eggs, a package of puddings and a sad looking carrot. That’ll have to do. Mirin, soy sauce and dashi powder are easy to find, and he can indulge in cutting the carrot to mix it with the eggs.

He cares little about being in someone’s else home. Maybe it’s because that flat is a liminal space resembling a showroom, rather than a real house. Suguru doesn’t investigate his surroundings — he values privacy — but he’s cognisant of how him cooking in Gojo’s kitchen blurs the lines of their acquaintanceship.

The eggs sizzles on a pan, and the door of the flat opens with a clicking sound.

“And who are you?”

Geto turns to the voice. There’s a boy standing there with a plastic bags in his hands and an annoyed, stony face. He doesn’t look a bit like Gojo, if only for being in his early twenties.

“I’m…”

The boy takes a picture of him, and quickly types on his phone with one thumb.

Suguru blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Google-lensing you.” The boy looks up, skeptical. Eyes are down to the screen again. A text pops up in Suguru’s phone.

Megumi doesn’t bite.

Bur looks like he could. Megumi scowls. “Why were you involved in an arson case?”

Suguru smiles politely, summoning some of his charms. “Would you like some breakfast?”

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello again! =D

Here's Part 1

*looks at all the remaining screenshots and sighs* I really need to learn to take screenshots more selectively-

Warning: long post 😊😅

This is the sole reason Phum chose to ride the cycle, because we all know he brought his car.

I'm not complaining though. In fact-

Peem, give this man all the hugs in this world. He deserves them. <3

HANDS!!

Aunt Pui Live Reaction

She ships them hehe

She's the best wingaunt 😭🫶🏼

Oh, it's his turn with the braincell finally hehe

Oh, that little kernel of insecurity making him question this :(

And it's Phum's turn to immediately refute any doubt about his feelings.

Oh yeah, telling him all the reasons you like him is the only reason you'll "have" to stay over at his place, Phum. It's not like you wanna cuddle him or anything. Pfft of course not.

Peem's reaction is so cute (no pun intended-) oh gods 😭

This is what told me for sure that Phum knows about Peem's feelings.

The way he framed this, the absolute lack of hesitation in his voice, the way he smiled, the way he looked at Peem.

Just because he doesn't confront Peem about it doesn't mean he doesn't know his feelings are reciprocated.

No wonder Peem's reaction looks so genuine 😭 (Pond improvised this part)

What do you do when the guy you like keeps shrugging off your hand? Keep trying of course! And then lock your hands so he can't shrug them off.

Mission Side-Hug Your Crush: Accomplished 😌✅️

Me:

Wait- WAIT, you're gonna leave the cycle right there in the middle of the driveway?! WHY 🥲😭

👀

Yep, same pic.

The moment I saw this I was like where have I seen this before- OH yeah.

See, now Fang isn't hesitating to call him out on it. Now he knows for sure Phum likes Peem, and it's okay to talk to him about it. But he still doesn't prod much, and only takes what Phum tells him.

In conclusion: Fang is a good brother. 😌

Others: Byee! Have a great time!

Chain: I'll play the guitar for you.

Let's be honest, who's the enabler here? Pun might come up with the strangest most complicated plans, but who's the first to go along with it?

ASKFDGHYTRUASKJNCHDFJ

WHAT WAS THIS KISS?!!!! AND WHY WAS IT TAILOR-MADE TO MAKE ME GO CRAZY?!!!!!

WINNYSTANG. I liked you before but to be very frank, I was kinda indifferent, but now you have my full attention. Make me go even more crazy.

Ooh they have a third brother??

See, up till this point, I was willing to ignore their parents (not what they did, but them as people, because they do not deserve any attention) but this? Stopping Fang from going to check on his brother? NUH UH. That's a line you don't cross.

So now, I'm handing Peem and Tan their weapon(s) of choice and letting them have a go at it. The bodies? Oh, don't worry about that, we'll handle those. :)

What I really love about this scene is that Peem hugs first, then asks questions.

Ah I love hugs so much 🥹🫶🏼

No. They can't.

And similarly, our parents can't always be right. They might always want what's the best for us, but that doesn't mean that what they do is always the best for us.

Also- I'm completely normal about the fact that Phum and Fang went to Peem and Tan - their respective safe zones. Very normal. 🥺

AND THOSE 'I LOVE YOU'S BY TANFANG OH MY GODS I-

I could write a whole essay about just these few minutes (of that PhumPeem hug and this TanFang moment) but I don't have that much time or energy 😭

I'll just go sob in the corner because this entire ep was made to attack my heart with fluff but this scene just broke me.

Also- we finally get actual wind-ruffled hair in BL hehe

Isn't he already Golden Retriever enough? 😭

[Also, at this point my anxiety spiked because I had 7 more screenshots, but I'd already done 25, so tumblr would allow only 5 more 😶😭]

Yes.

Peem finally getting his confidence and sass back! Hehe

That peck had me blinking and then smiling so wide and rewatching those few seconds at least four times.

He says no, and yet his face is tilted and eyes closed and he's all ready to be kissed so sweetly.

You betray yourself, Peem *smh*

HANDS!!!!

The day I stop screaming about hands is my last day on Earth.

This broke my heart, but this hug and Peem's reply put it back together. <33

He-

He said it. While he was awake. 😶

Listen, that nose boop and him telling Phum he'd done a good job the first time changed my brain chemistry so much I collected all the stray strands of my nonexistant giffing skills and made a gif just to put it as my header (replacing that scene from Cherry Magic that I've probably watched a million times now, and had changed me viscerally).

AND THEN THEY GIVE ME THIS.

They're playing table tennis with my heart 🥲

Anyways. Love this scene. So much.

BONUS: I couldn't upload the screenshot of this, but that horse riding scene is so funny to me, because Phuwin is the one who can ride, and Pond's the one a little scared (a little like that roller coaster scene except reversed hehe).

Also "I feel like a prince, riding my horse led by my servant." uh huh. no reference here. just a random line in a random series where the main leads acted in a series previously where one of them was a khun chai and the other worked for him. no reference at all.

Finally!

That's it for ep 12, see y'all next week!

If you got this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have some pancakes 🥞

All my previous We Are posts.

@inonetoomanyfandoms here's part 2 hehe

[acourtofwhatthefuck]

Fireleaf (Part Three)

Lucien Vanserra x Reader

Part One ⤲ Part Two

Hi! I wanted to get this out sooner but I have a stinking cold and kept falling asleep whilst writing lol. Anyway - enjoy!

@greeneyedivy has been such a massive help with this story so far. Those braincells deserve all the love 😉💋

Warnings: None for this part.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Beron’s announcing the engagement tonight – at the feast.”

Willow glanced up from the belongings she’d spread out over her bed. You’d seen to it yourself that she and her husband got the suite closest to yours. If your sisters were going to be hovering around for the next two weeks, you wanted your favourite one as close to you as possible.

Willow’s blue eyes studied you, her night-black hair rippling like silk as she tilted her head. “And how do you feel about that?”

Slowly, you shook your head from where you stood at the window overlooking the garden. It had been a task, in itself, to break away from the circles of acquaintances gushing over each other, to get some time alone with your youngest sister. She’d spotted you trying to rub the panic out of your chest and had made an excuse to Dion about needing to show you something in her suite.

“I feel…” Your eyes remained pinned on the lawn, bouncing over the people who were chatting and laughing and drinking. All far too wealthy for their own good. All as shallow as one another. “I feel trapped.”

There was a rustle of clothing, and then Willow was by your side, placing a hand on your arm. “I know this cannot be easy for you, Y/N.” She studied you. “But is Dion really so bad?”

You frowned, glancing down at your clasped hands. It wasn’t about whether Dion was the nicest person in the world or as much of a brute as his father. It was about you, your choices – your life. Your freedoms.

They didn’t seem to exist anymore.

“He doesn’t seem bad.” You admitted with a small shake of your head. “From what I can tell so far, he’s…polite. Kind. But I could still be proved wrong. And I didn’t want any of this. I’m not sure I ever even intended to marry at all.”

Your sister continued her appraisal of you. What her eyes were searching for, you didn’t know. But even though she was younger than you by five years…in that moment, she seemed older than you. Wiser. As if, in your situation, she would have just accepted it without complaint.

“I’m the only one who didn’t get to choose.” You quickly said, hoping to nip her thoughts right in the bud. “All four of you did – you, Molly, Clem…even Sara, who can’t choose which foods she does and doesn’t like day-to-day. Father may have made suggestions, but…your husbands were your choices. Not his. And Dion is Mama and Papa’s choice – not mine.”

Willow’s face seemed to change at that moment. A change so quick, it took you a few seconds to discern that her bright, pretty face had been shadowed by something…bleaker. The ever-present light in her eyes winking out slightly.

“Yes. Well.” She murmured, stepping away from your side. She turned her back to you, returning to the items she’d spread atop the bed. “Choosing is not all it’s cracked up to be, I assure you.”

You stared at her – the back of her head. “What does that mean?”

No answer. You may as well have not been there as she separated her clothes from her husband’s, folding them into neat piles to store in the armoire. But her shoulders were tense – stiff.

“Willa.” You used her nickname, striding around to the other side of the bed to face her. “What do you—are you and Isaac not happy?”

“Drop it, Y/N.”

You blinked at your youngest sister; at her sharp, cold tone. The two of you…you didn’t have secrets. At least, you didn’t think you did. Her husband’s estate may have been a bit of a trek away from yours, but you and Willow made the effort to meet regularly. To catch up. And she knew everything about you. Everything.

Yet you could see – right now, she had a wall up. She was blocking you out in a way she never had, and it made your stomach twist with worry.

“Willow.” You murmured gently, perching on the bed. “You can tell me—if things aren’t alright with Isaac. It stays between us.”

Her hands seemed to falter on the shirt she was folding. You watched closely as she swallowed, her eyes tracking the items before her, and then flickering up to meet yours.

“We just…” She shook her head. “We had an argument, that’s all. A couple of weeks ago.”

“Okay, well…all couples argue–”

“He hit me.”

You looked up so quickly, your neck clicked. “Excuse me.”

“He lost his temper…and he hit me. He’s never done it before–”

You were already standing up from the bed. Already feeling a fire igniting inside of you, spreading through you. You were going to hunt Isaac down and deal with him yourself—

“Y/N, no.” Willow hurried into your path, blocking the door. “You’ll make it worse. It was one time, and he said he’s sorry, and he won’t do it again. Things are just still a little…raw. But they’ll be fine. I’ll be fine.”

“If he thinks he can lay a finger on you and get away with it–”

“He’s not.” Her touch on your arm was gentle. “Believe me, he’s not getting away with it. I’m not making things easy for him. He knows he did wrong, Y/N. Please, just…just keep it between us. Don’t tell him I told you. Please.”

You studied her face – didn’t know whether it was fear or desperation or both that shone in those wild, blue eyes. But whatever it was…it had you relaxing your shoulders, slinking back just enough to be rational.

It would make things worse if you stormed downstairs and confronted Isaac in front of everyone. Not just for Willow, but – but for you, too. You were sure Beron Vanserra wouldn’t appreciate such an outburst. And in front of his cohorts, no less.

“...Okay.” You relented – didn’t like it one bit, as you pressed your lips into a thin line. “ But, Willa…if he tries anything again…”

“He won’t. He won’t. But I would tell you straight away.”

You realised that was going to have to be good enough – for now. But while everyone was keeping their eyes on you throughout this gods-damn festival…you had a new person to mark. You were going to be watching Isaac like a hawk.

Scary, though – that Isaac had only dared to do such a thing once he had a wedding band firmly on your sister’s finger.

It didn’t exactly sell marriage to you any further.

⤲

It was by mid-afternoon that the more interesting celebrations had begun. The idle mingling and chatting around the estate had made way for the attractions that the High Lord had arranged — stalls of games and baked goods and the lilting caress of background music reaching out from across the green.

The atmosphere became easier with the arrival of the lesser fae, the working families. The people — farmers and land workers and pure grafters — that everyone had to thank for there even being a fruitful harvest at all. They turned up in droves, families of giggling, excitable children and their parents, aunts, uncles and older siblings who just seemed to be relieved to be doing something for fun.

You certainly noticed, however, the clear divide. That Beron Vanserra may have invited the lower dwellers of his court – the true backbone that kept it thriving – as a courtesy, a move to make himself look good and honourable – but with no real intention to acknowledge them. The cleave between your world and theirs was evident in the dull, tattered clothing that stood out amongst the gowns and tailored suits of the elite. And the way the noble members of the court watched them closely, judgingly, as though they were a smear on the landscape. As though they didn’t deserve an invite to the Harvest Festival that they had toiled to make happen.

It had you balling your fists at Dion’s side as you floated around, playing the part of the quiet, blushing female perfectly. It was a tad jarring every time he introduced you to someone as his fiancee, or placed a warm steady hand on your back. And not only did you have your family to contend with – their stares as they pretended to be uninterested in you – but Barric, also. It was clear he was acting as escort to your courtship.

He always remained a few steps behind, enthusiastically greeting people as he passed them and pretending to observe the various stalls that were set up. But he walked where you walked, looked at what you looked at — and stopped at the exact same moment that Dion pulled you to a standstill in front of a table where a High Fae female was selling homemade chocolates.

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” Dion asked you, a glint in his eye.

“I do.” You nodded, eyeing the sweets in front of you that admittedly smelled incredible. “Do you?”

“Oh, a terrible one. Chocolate, sweets, cakes — I love it all.” He turned to the vendor, his smile winning and charming as he said, “A bag of the orange chocolates for my lady here, please.”

His lady. It flowed so easy from his lips, like he’d been speaking those very words for years. You waited patiently as the expert chocolatier bagged the sweets up and accepted Dion’s coin in exchange. He fell into conversation with her, chatting and asking questions he seemed genuinely interested in the answers to. And you…you scanned the droves of people, looking for any glimpse of Willow’s husband. You may have promised not to say anything, not to act on your anger, but that didn’t mean you weren’t keeping a close eye on him, making sure he didn’t step a toe out of line—

But it wasn’t Isaac your eyes landed on. You should have been used, already, to the many flashes of red, flowing Vanserra hair around the place. The brothers were all dotted around somewhere, mingling with friends, partaking in the game stalls — but it was the youngest one your eyes found. Lucien.

It surprised you, somewhat, that he was even present. You were unable to stop yourself watching as he stopped at the small, rickety lemonade stand that a group of children were tending. Their clothes were clearly the grubby hand-me-downs that most of the lesser faeries seemed to be wearing, and it didn’t look like any noble members of the court had stopped by to humour them and buy what they were selling. Lucien Vanserra was likely the first.

He seemed to say something teasing, and all of the children broke out into a fit of laughter. And Lucien was grinning…so at odds with the contempt he’d worn when he’d looked upon you on the day of your arrival. He made a show of sniffing the pitcher of lemonade, of commenting on the aromas — and the children were loving every second of it. Hanging off every word. And you may not have been close enough to hear his words over the many voices around you, but you saw the way he ordered four cups of lemonade for himself — handed over one coin for each of the four children that were gazing up at him in pure amazement.

You were so entranced by the scene that you didn’t realise Dion was speaking to you until he was stood before you once more, a chocolate pinched between his fingers.

“Open up.” He smiled broadly. “Taste this.”

You blinked, your cheeks heating just slightly. Your eyes shot to the small gathering of your sisters and your parents, where they stood, sipping from delicate teacups and acting like they weren’t analysing your every move. A tad uncomfortable, you parted your lips and stilled as Dion pushed the small, round chocolate between them.

“Good, right?” He smirked as you took a bite. “They’re my favourite.”

They were good — there was no doubt about that, as you chewed and swallowed. The orange tangy and the chocolate creamy, it was an effort to stop your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I’ll keep that in mind for Solstice.” You said — and almost blinked at yourself. You’d only been around him for forty-eight hours, and you were already talking about buying him Solstice gifts.

He held your gaze as he lifted his finger to his lips and sucked the remnants of chocolate off.

Clearing your throat, you turned quickly. “Those children are selling lemonade. How about we buy a cup?”

He smiled widely, offering you his arm. “Lead the way, my lady.”

⤲

You’d been primed for this.

It was while you’d been pulled this way and that, moulded into the prettiest, perfect vision for the evening feast, that Barric had joined you in your suite. He’d perched himself on the chaise across the room and detailed every aspect of what you were to expect that evening. Where you would sit, how you were expected to act, even what was appropriate for you to eat.

But most of all — most of all, you were to remember to smile, to look enthralled, while the High Lord officially announced to his court that you were to wed his second-eldest son.

You thought you might vomit before you even made it to the great hall. Because no amount of priming would be enough. You realised that when you approached Dion at the bottom of the grand staircase, your long skirts – and Barric – trailing behind you.

Dion’s eyes flicked over you, alighting with…something…as he took in the dark green gown. He swallowed, adjusting his collar. “...Wow…”

You stepped down from the last stair, your cheeks heating self-consciously. “Does it look ridiculous?”

Your fiance shook his head. “Quite the opposite. You…are a vision.”

From behind you, still hovering on the stairs, Barric cleared his throat. “Shall we go in?”

Taking Dion’s arm, the three of you did just that. Your heart thudded violently in your chest as you took in the sight of the room, your eyes searching for where your family were sitting; just beside the top table, where the High Lord and his family lounged.

“You’ll be sitting beside me.” Dion said into your ear. Barric had already informed you of the arrangement earlier, but you felt a second sting of disappointment at not spending the feast beside Willow.

The giant room was full with chatter and the aromas of so many different foods, it was overwhelming. But as you walked past tables, smiling politely at the people Dion greeted, sparing a wave for your own family, two things struck you.

That the spread of food was…exorbitant. A feast, indeed, but so incredibly over-the-top, the thought of its cost made you cringe; it seemed especially tonedeaf with the amount of people who’d been wandering the estate earlier in clothes and shoes that were more or less falling apart. And that was the second thing you noticed – all the Lesser Faeries that had joined in the fun that afternoon…the children enjoying themselves and the grafters letting their hair down after a summer of hard work…not a single one of them was present.

Your eyes bounced over every single table. Every person sat at those tables. Every last one was of a noble or aristocratic background. Every one of them wore garments and accessories that could have paid the rent on the lesser faeries’ land for an entire year.

“Where are they?” You turned to Dion, frowning. “The families that were here earlier.” You didn’t want to use the words Lesser Fae out loud; something about it left a sour taste in your mouth.

Dion seemed totally oblivious to your shock as he replied. “The common folk? They’re not invited to the feasts or dances – just the daytime events.”

You gawked at him, a slither of cold outrage snaking through you that he didn’t seem to notice. You were just about to point out that the very food everyone in that room would be eating was there because of the harvesters, the workers who broke their backs and put their sweat and blood into the community – but a hand landed on your arm, and you looked up to see Barric shoot you a warning glance.

“Come,” He said. “You two must be seated before the announcement.”

Fuck the announcement, was what you wanted to reply. How were you supposed to sit and watch these people bask arrogantly in their wealth when the people toiling over their lands were probably wolfing down a dinner of stale bread and cheese? There was plenty of room in here for more tables, plenty of spaces in which those people could sit.

You had to ball your fists, to bite your tongue – you looked over to your family, found your parents staring expectantly at you. And it was only imagining them in tattered clothing, eating gone-off food, that gave you the will to tamp down on your anger. For now.

You were led to the top table and seated in a high-backed chair between Dion and Jareth. Jareth sent you a wolfish grin, taking a long sip from his wine chalice.

“Evening, future sister-in-law.” He murmured, his eyes wandering over your body. “Don’t you make the pretty plaything?”

You scowled at him, facing forward. Jareth seemed to have an entire bank of leering, inappropriate comments for any female in the general vicinity. Only earlier that day, he’d stood and shamelessly flirted with you and all of your sisters – in front of their husbands, too

You were saved from having to make a remark by Beron standing from his throne at the centre of the table. He looked over the great hall, and then squared his shoulders. Tapped a fork against his glass loud enough that the cacophony of voices died out in seconds.

“Good evening to you all.” His voice was clear– confident – as he stared forward and made direct eye contact with people. “Welcome to our first feast of this year’s harvest. An old tradition of our people that I hope we can start anew. And what a bounty of good food we have before us.”

Murmurs of agreement broke through the room. You clenched your hands beneath the table.

“Before we indulge ourselves,” Beron said. “I have a wonderful announcement I’d like to share with you – my court. My people.”

That said it all – that he didn’t consider the landworkers of his court, their families, to be his people.

“I’m delighted to share with you the joining of two families.” He continued. “You all know my second-eldest son, Dion.” A glance at Dion, a flash of expectancy in his eyes. “Dion is engaged to be wed — to the fine lady at his side. Y/N, we look forward to welcoming you into our family.”

All eyes were on you, now. You felt your cheeks redden, your skin growing tight and hot under the intense scrutiny. You couldn’t help wondering what those many people might be thinking – whether there were jealous females thinking they would have been better suited for the role. Irritated fathers who were pissed that you’d wormed your way in with the Vanserras before their child could. Stuck-up mothers who didn’t deem you anywhere near good enough.

But you smiled – like you’d been told to. Inclined your head at Beron – like you’d been told to. Allowed Dion to grab your hand and place a kiss on your cheek – like you’d been told to.

And the crowds of people cheered, just like they were expected to.

“We hope you’ll join us in celebrating the happy news.” Beron raised his glass, and everyone in the room followed. “To Dion and Lady Y/N. Let the feast begin.”

⤲

It felt wrong – to eat the food. Every bite was like ash in your mouth. The only relief was the spiced wine you washed it all down with.

After an hour or so of feasting, the rigid formality seemed to dissipate somewhat. People rose from their seats, venturing to other tables to speak to friends, or even to approach the top table and engage the High Lord in conversation — conversations that had you clenching your fists harder and harder beneath the table, as you listened to Beron’s subjects gush about how generous he had been to invite the common folk to the daytime celebrations. Some even complained that said folk should have made a better effort with their clothing.

It was that comment which had you hitting your limit. You pushed your chair back, muttering an excuse about going to the bathroom, and breezed away without a glance back. Luckily, Dion — and all the other Vanserras — were far too taken by conversation to notice.

You didn’t think you could get away with leaving the room itself — not with Barric always keeping a watchful eye on you. But you floated around its edges, the cold, draughty parts where Autumn Court banners were hung and discreet alcoves dipped off into other parts of the manor.

It was in one of those alcoves that you spotted him — Lucien.

He leaned against a wall, wine glass in hand, his eyes dancing over the tables and his feet making no move to go any closer. You hadn’t even checked to see if he’d been at the top table with the rest of his family.

But something told you they wouldn’t have noticed — or cared — if he wasn’t.

Dressed in a tailored outfit a similar shade to his russet eyes, his long hair unbound, he looked like a painting in that alcove. The kinds your mother had hung up all around your family’s estate. He cut a solitary figure like he always seemed to, but appeared to be otherwise relaxed. Appeared to be fine with just standing and…spectating. Just himself and his thoughts.

As though he could sense your intense stare, his eyes flicked to yours. Those dark red eyebrows rose when he found you, indeed, staring.

You couldn’t explain it — the way your feet began to move towards him. He’d been nothing but unpleasant to you in the short conversation you’d had with him. But something about his solitary nature spoke to you. Something that made you want to speak back.

You stopped at a drinks table, grabbing yourself another glass of wine, before subtly sidling over to where Lucien stood. You tried to relax your stance, to mimic his casualness, his ease, as you pressed your back against the wall, a few steps away from him. He watched the entire thing.

You met his eyes once more, taking a sip of your wine and nodding in polite greeting.

“Is there a reason you’ve been walking around with a face like a smacked ass?” He said.

That was his greeting.

You blinked at him, your body somehow coiling tighter than it already was.

So — that rude conversation on your first night here hadn’t merely been the product of Lucien in a bad mood, then.

His head fell into a tilt as he studied you. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once since the feast started. Is our food not to your liking?”

It would have been so easy to scowl and stalk away — to not get into this with him. And would have been wise to, also. He may have had a terse relationship with his family at best, but you didn’t doubt he’d run straight to his father with any complaints of yours — if only out of spite, fanned by this bizarre dislike he seemed to have for you.

But clearly you weren’t feeling very wise. Not as your mouth began speaking before you could tell it not to.

“It just leaves a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.” You said through gritted teeth. “That we’re all here stuffing our faces, over-indulging, and yet nobody actually responsible for the harvest has been invited.”

Lucien cocked a single eyebrow. He angled his body towards you. “This sounds interesting. Please, do impart your musings upon me, Lady. I’m fascinated to know what goes on behind the pretty face.”

Pure, pure sarcasm. He was mocking you, being rude again — and you knew that. And never had you let anyone speak to you in such a way before; never had you stood for someone so freely ridiculing you.

But did you walk away, decide not to humour him?

No. You didn’t.

“Look around the room.” You simply said, holding his gaze. Your clenched jaw was the only symbol of ire you threw at him. “Look at every damn table. Every single person here is a noble, an aristocrat. High Fae. And yet the High Lord didn’t deign to invite the hard workers who slaved over the land all year so that he could even host this feast. None of the hard-working families that everyone should be celebrating and thanking. No, they’ll be stuck at home eating stale bread and cheese and receiving no appreciation for the back-breaking graft they put in.”

The words had just…tumbled from your mouth. Pent-up from an hour of watching people gush over the High Lord. You knew you should have stopped yourself, knew you should have kept your mouth shut and later ranted to Willow, or even your damn reflection in the mirror.

Not to the youngest Autumn Court son who had an inexplicable problem with you. Who was probably delighting in the fact that you had just slipped up.

He stared at you, his expression unreadable. His lips pressed together, his eyes narrowing. His head fell into a tilt.

“Interesting.” He said, his tone quiet. Cutting. “But have you completely forgotten your own privilege, Lady?”

You balked at him. Hadn’t expected that response. “What?”

“You are a noble. You are High Fae.” His eyes travelled over you, disgust curling his lip. “And you are here, looking just as prim and proper and stuck-up as the rest of them. When was the last time you did a hard day’s work in your life? It seems to me like the pot is calling the kettle black.”

Before you could even begin to formulate a response, he was pushing off the wall. Draining his glass and striding away without so much as a glance back at you.

All you could do was stand and gawk in his wake — stunned and stung by his words. You wanted to run after him, to chew him out and tell him how wrong he was. How much hard work you had put in over the years. That he’d got you completely and utterly wrong.

But as you drained your own glass and turned in the direction he disappeared in, not even a flash of red hair remained.

⤲

You should have left it alone.

Lucien Vanserra had made his thoughts of you abundantly clear — his dislike for you. And with his mind clearly made up, there was probably no use beating a dead horse and trying to defend yourself.

But the anger that had already been there, inside you, had snowballed. You remained at the edges of the room, helping yourself to the wine and not bothering to pretend you were happy to be there. Fortunately, nobody seemed to take much notice of you, either.

You stared with narrowed eyes across the room, watching Dion, who was now engaging in enthusiastic conversation with Willow. They seemed to be getting along perfectly — you’d suspected they would — and you were thankful that she was distracting him enough, making him laugh hard enough, that he didn’t seem to be aware of your absence.

Lucien had no right to talk to you like that. He didn’t know you, had no knowledge of the kind of work you had done. He’d formed an unfair opinion of you and run with it, and in a situation that was already lonely as it was, you didn’t need the added hostility. Did it mean you were weak, to be barely three days in and hitting your breaking point? Maybe. You didn’t care. You needed someone to sound off to, to give a piece of your mind.

That was how you found yourself slipping out of the great hall before anyone could stop you. You were going to hunt Lucien down, to confront him and demand to know what his damn problem was.

Your thoughts were a tad fogged by the wine you’d consumed. There was no real method or direction to the route you travelled, probably going round in circles. You strode through the long, winding halls with purpose, passing servants who took one look at your thunderous expression and averted their gazes.

Outside. Lucien Vanserra always seemed to be outside, somewhere, loitering around trees and in the shadows. You pushed through the huge glass doors that opened out onto the veranda — the same one you’d dined on only that morning.

You’d made it only halfway across the dewy grass before you heard him — heard them. There was a trilling, feminine laugh that echoed through the night, stark and loud in your ears. Movement in your periphery. You turned in its direction.

Just in time to see Lucien press a pretty blonde against a tree. To see his hands roaming her body as he kissed her feverishly, and they laughed sensuously into each other’s mouths.

You went still. Just…just stared for a moment. Stared at the scene before you and tried to understand the bile that rose in the back of your throat. The twisting in your gut.

Only when Lucien and his lover disappeared out of sight did it strike you — the hollowness you felt. The jealousy. Nothing…nothing to do with who it was, but…the intimacy. The freedom of that intimacy.

Because it hit you like a ton of bricks that Lucien Vanserra may have been a solitary male who liked to skulk off and brood alone…he may have been the black sheep of his family…but he clearly still had freedoms that you lacked. Such a fact stung like a slap.

You couldn’t just sneak off for a clandestine fumble in the woods with a casual fling. Couldn’t engage in a spell of brief, meaningless passion, just for the hell of it. Not anymore.

It left you feeling so, so terribly lonely. You didn’t really know why.

But that fire of anger inside you winked out. Left you empty. You didn’t feel like confronting Lucien Vanserra anymore, didn’t feel like chewing him out.

You just wanted to be alone.

⤲

“I like him. Dion, I mean.”

It was nearing the end of the first week of the festival when Willow slipped her arm through yours. The moon was beating down on the Vanserra Estate, and a sizable group of people had come along to The Offering – an Autumn Court tradition that had been built from superstition centuries ago. It was said that at moonrise, anyone who left offerings for the wild creatures of the Autumn Court were promised safety and good harvest the following year. Groups of courtiers wandered through the woods, carrying armfuls of jam jars and fruit baskets and crisp loaves of bread, all to be left for creatures that may not even exist.

“Dion’s nice.” You acknowledge with a small nod. You were careful not to speak too openly with your sisters lingering close behind. And the Vanserra brothers striding ahead.

It was true – as the week had progressed, you’d found yourself enjoying Dion’s company. He was easy to talk to, a male of flowing conversation and good humour. You’d taken to sharing nightly walks around the gardens, and you were perfectly happy to listen while he regaled you with stories and shared knowledge of subjects you knew nothing about. And additionally, he seemed to have truly taken to your youngest – favourite – sister. He and Willow already had a budding relationship built on teasing each other, on affectionate bickering. It wasn’t unusual to walk into a room and find the pair of them laughing – a fact that angered Isaac, no doubt. You’d been keeping a close eye on him all week.

And you’d thankfully not run into Lucien Vanserra’s path. Which was good. Which was fine. You weren’t going to bother with pleasantries when he clearly had no intentions of doing so.

“Do you have any idea of when the wedding might be?” Willow asked you, gently nudging you with her elbow. Her offering of a huge jar of honey was tucked under her other arm.

“No,” You shook your head. “It’s to be discussed after the festival. That’s when the preparations will begin.”

Her gaze flicked to you. “And are you…you know…attracted to him?”

“He’s a handsome male.”

“You know what I’m asking, Y/N. Do you feel…alright…where the wedding night itself is concerned?”

You spared her the slightest glance in your periphery. She was bound to have brought this up at some point…this subject that was a giant elephant in the room. Sitting on a secret that you had no clue what you were going to do about. Try as you might to bury it, it always lingered at the back of your mind – waiting to come alive and smack you in the face.

But you squared your shoulders. Played the fool, as you said, “I feel fine about it.”

Before you could think of a subject change, Willow was suddenly veering you both to the left, tugging you around a giant tree. She checked that you were truly out of sight before she turned back to you, her face pinched. There was something…comical, in the way she tried to look serious while holding a giant jar of honey.

“Have you even thought about the situation at all?” She hissed. “Things may be sweet and innocent right now, but come your wedding night, Dion is going to know. He’s going to figure out the state of your virginity – or lack thereof – and he might not like it. I hear the Vanserras have a thing about taking pure brides.”

You swallowed, your stomach bottoming out. It was far easier to ignore when it wasn’t being pointed out to you. And you didn’t know what you were going to do about that – whether you planned to tell Dion or not.

You couldn’t bring yourself to regret that one choice you’d made for yourself all those years ago – to have Linden, one of the few people you trusted more than anything – to be the first person you had sex with. He had been kind and careful, and you’d felt good afterwards – glad you’d chosen the person yourself, and never thinking it would be a decision that would come back to bite you on the ass.

And yet here you were. Engaged to a male who likely expected you to be…intact, as you’d heard other males say, on your wedding night. A male who expected to be your first and only lover.

“I highly doubt Dion is a virgin,” You shrugged defensively. “Why should I have to defend my choice to sleep with Linden? I wanted–”

“Holy Gods.”

The words, choked with incredulity and a lick of laughter, had not come from Willow.

You looked up, your entire body – entire existence – going cold as you observed Molly gaping at you from a few strides away, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised, her back ramrod straight.

“Damn it.” Willow mumbled under her breath. “Molly–”

“You actually gave yourself to that brute?” Molly folded her arms, her eyes studying you. “Do you have no respect for yourself at all?”

Your jaw clenched. “It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t be listening in on conversations.”

Your eldest sister placed a mocking hand over her chest. “I was concerned about my sisters wandering off into the woods alone.”

You took a single step towards her, to say, to do…what, you didn’t know. But Willow was grabbing hold of your arm. Glaring at Molly with an intensity that would have even the most hard-faced people backing down.

“You better keep your gods-damn mouth shut about this, Molly.” She said through gritted teeth. “I mean it – not a word.”

Molly smirked. Oh, she was enjoying this. To have leverage against someone was like having the Winter Solstice come early. Her eyes glistened with challenge.

“Keeping my mouth shut won’t change the fact that Y/N allowed herself to be defiled by that scum with a sword.” She sniped. “How, exactly, do you plan to explain yourself to your betrothed?”

“None of your fucking business.” You snapped.

“Tetchy,” That wolfish smirk widened. “You have no plan at all, do you?”

“I–”

“Swear you won’t say anything.” Willow cut in, folding her arms.

“Are you above begging?”

“Swear,” Your youngest sister repeated, her jaw ticking as she stepped forward, “you won’t say anything.”

“Mother Above, the two of you are so dramatic.” Molly made a show of glancing at her nails. Of sighing deeply. Of placing a hand on the swell of her belly. And then she smirked again. “I swear I won’t tell anyone – if only because I can’t wait to see how this pans out.”

She offered no chance for you to respond before she was turning and flouncing away, a trill of satisfied laughter in her wake. Your shoulders slumped, but you felt no relief – you didn’t trust Molly or her word for one second.

“Bitch.” Willow murmured beside you, scooping up the jar of honey. “Don’t worry about her. She’s all talk. Let’s make these offerings before the Autumn Court creatures materialise and decide to eat us instead.”

You forced a smile. Allowed yourself to be tugged back through the trees, onto the path that groups were still ambling along, only spaced-out faelights and moonlight illuminating the way.

Ahead of you, Molly had returned to strolling at her husband’s side.

She glanced back once. And grinned.

⤲

The end of that first week was a relief. Albeit a short-lived one.

You wanted to wind the week up by doing nothing. By holing yourself up in your room and reading, or sleeping, or—anything. Anything that didn’t involve plastering a smile on your face and talking to people.

And yet here you were, on a dragging Sunday night, trying to work out how you were going to survive the last week of festivities — all while the High Lord’s personal bard played to a tittering audience, and your sisters and Dion’s brothers chatted around the table you all occupied.

You almost felt bad for the bard. Nobody appeared to be listening. Every song he had played had been drowned out by the numerous conversations happening at once.

You felt…uneasy, with Molly sitting opposite you. She may not have spoken a word of your secret thus far, but the glances she kept shooting you were in no way subtle. The exhausting week had begun to weigh on you, and you bristled every time your sister opened her mouth. Beside you, Dion seemed to notice your resigned demeanour.

His hand landed on your leg, and he leaned down to your ear. “Are you alright?”

Glancing up at him, you nodded. “I’m fine – just tired.”

“We don’t have to stay for this — I can take you back to your suite.”

Across the table, a resounding tsk came from your eldest sister. Everyone looked to her in question, but her gaze was firmly on you. On Dion, and the clear direction his hand was leaning in beneath the table.

“Now, now, enough of that.” Molly said, a smirk playing on her lips. “I’m sure the two of you would prefer to keep things clean and pure until the wedding night.”

Your jaw ticked as Dion shifted beside you. “That isn’t what I meant.” He said.

“No need to sweat.” Molly smiled at him — and then glanced at you. Directly at you, her eyes burning into yours. “We all feel temptation beckoning us sometimes, right?”

“Molly.” Willow’s voice was low, warning, from the chair at your other side. “You’re being inappropriate.”

The tension around the table could be cut with a knife. But Molly seemed to be enjoying it, as she sat back in her chair and continued to simply smirk at you. So many retorts teased the tip of your tongue, begging you to rip into her, to give in and make that scene she was so clearly angling for—

But you were saved right at the last minute by one song ending, and another beginning. The bard’s swift musical transition seemed to sweep away the tautness that stretched around your table, and as if the last couple of minutes hadn’t occurred, conversation started anew — instigated by Eris, who was happy to sit and bend everyone’s ears with heroic stories about himself.

You were just thankful that the heat was taken off of you.

Even more so that only Willow and Dion seemed to be aware when you pushed out from the table, rising to your feet. Everyone else was too entranced by Eris waxing poetic about a hunting trip he’d been on.

“Can I escort you somewhere?” Dion peered up at you. There was a strange lick of apology in his eyes, his tone, as if he blamed himself for the turn the conversation had taken moments ago.

“No,” You answered quickly — too quickly — and cleared your throat. “No, thank you. I’m ready to turn in.”

He nodded in what seemed to be understanding — and perhaps a flash of disappointment. He reached for your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to your fingers. “Goodnight, then.”

The tinge of guilt you felt was almost enough to make you sit back down and tolerate Molly for the rest of the evening, just to appease Dion. Because all week, he’d been nothing but kind to you. Nothing but polite and accommodating and understanding that this situation you both found yourselves in was a bizarre one, a tricky one, and you were trying to puzzle it out yourselves with the watchful gazes of others constantly on you.

But if you stayed a second longer, you thought you might scream. You’d barely had a moment to yourself all week, and if you didn’t take that time now, you weren’t sure what you might do. What you might say.

You kissed Willow on the cheek and bade everyone goodnight, trying to ignore Molly’s eyes on you as you hastily left the room.

But you didn’t go straight to bed, like you were no doubt expected to. The one bit of solace you’d found in this place, in this situation, was the beautiful sprawl of land around you, as far as the eye could see. You wanted to feel the chilled autumn air on your skin, to breathe in its crisp scent whilst you walked the gardens — alone — and allowed your thoughts to roam freely.

You waited, just long enough to make sure nobody followed, and then made your way outside. You weren’t dressed at all appropriately for the bite in the air, but there was something pleasant about the cold temperature washing over you. Like you were breaking the surface of water and taking great, greedy gulps of air.

You allowed your feet to carry you aimlessly, putting distance between you and the manor, the sounds of music and chatter floating out from inside. The further you strayed from the huge house, the more you relied on the accompanying full moonlight to illuminate your path and guide you onwards. Shafts of its silvery light broke through the leaves as you began to wend through the trees, the smell of damp earth and bark somewhat of a soothing tonic to you.

You didn’t realise just how far you’d wandered until you could no longer make out the lights from the manor — or the sounds. The silence of the forest at this time was deafening, the only sounds made by your shoes kicking through leaves and stepping on twigs.

That was — until you heard it.

You couldn’t immediately make out what it was — what you were hearing. A sound akin to heavy breathing, but not that of a person; almost like a creature’s snout sniffing the air.

You stopped dead on the path you were wandering, frozen on the spot. Only around twenty feet away from you, you could just discern the outline of objects sitting at the bases of the towering trees. Small jars, bigger ones, cloaks and trinkets—

The Offerings everybody had left for the elusive Autumn Court creatures. You had wandered way, way too far.

You didn’t know what to do as the strange sound picked up, grew closer. You didn’t fancy your chances at running over the uneven forest floor in your gown — and certainly not if it would just invite whatever animal was lurking to follow you.

You stood ramrod straight, waiting for it to emerge. Perhaps a wolf, or a wildcat, or—

The…creature…that inched out from around a tree was a thing of pure, undiluted nightmare.

Its head was certainly that of an animal’s — a fox — with glowing yellow eyes and a maw that pulled back into somewhat of a sneer. But its body…slender and tall…it had to be towering at eight feet at least, and walking on two legs—

You were going to vomit. Never had you had such a strong, visceral reaction to a sight before you. The way you shook had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

You couldn’t move — not as you watched the giant beast stalk towards the offerings, its nose still loudly sniffing the air, sniffing for—

Something snaked around your face — a warm hand that covered your mouth, your nose. You had no time to react as you were yanked back against a firm, solid body, and slowly, slowly dragged backwards.

“Don’t,” A voice, lethally quiet, whispered into your ear. Lucien. “Make a sound.”

You obeyed. As much as you wanted to scream your head off in pure terror. Lucien’s other hand was around your waist, and you gripped onto his arm, allowing yourself to slowly, slowly, be dragged backwards, your eyes never once leaving the creature.

You thought he must know these woods like the back of his hand, with how expertly he stepped around trees and over dips, acting like you weighed nothing more than air as he pulled you along with him.

Only when you were far enough away that the creature was just a moving blot of darkness did Lucien stop. He pressed his back against the tree. And continued to hold onto you.

His hand splayed flat against your stomach as he gradually pulled the other from your face. “Don’t scream.” He told you, his voice little more than a sigh. “And don’t move.”

You couldn’t move, aside of the uncontrollable tremors wracking through your body. You were icy cold all over, and you pressed back against Lucien, savouring his warmth, his firm presence. His chest heaved heavy breaths as he held you still.

“…What…” You dared to whisper, “What was that?”

Because the creature…you’d never seen anything like it before. These things that you’d left offerings for…they were all supposed to be mere superstition. A nightmare entity that parents used to make their children behave.

But you’d seen it before you, in the flesh. A towering, fox-like creature that walked on its hind legs.

Lucien’s fingers pressed against your stomach. “It doesn’t have a name,” He murmured. “It just is. They’re rare, but…history says they would appear for the offerings left at the trees. And they track a person’s movement. Once they’ve spotted you, you’re done for. We called them Nutcrackers, as children. Because it allegedly cracks your skull between its jaws, like a nut, before you have a chance to react.”

The shiver that wracked through you was palpable. It felt like ages that the two of you stood there like that, your bodies pressed together, waiting for some indication that it was safe to promptly get the fuck out of there. After what felt like an eternity, the dark outline of the horrifying creature seemed to slip deep into the brush, its long, slender arms clutching a whole bounty of offerings.

You knew the coast must have been clear when Lucien exhaled — and pushed you away from him.

“What the fuck,” he stormed round to face you, “were you doing all the way out here?”

You rubbed your arms, too shaken to be put out by his tone. You shrugged half-heartedly. “I came for a walk. Didn’t realise how far I’d wandered.”

Your nonchalance seemed to anger him. He was a flare of red hair and golden skin — accented by silver moonlight — as he shook his head at you, his strong jaw flexing.

“You really are as daft as you seem.” He sniped. “Count yourself fucking lucky that I was here to get your ass out of that.”

You folded your arms. “Do you want me to thank you?”

“I don’t care what you do—”

“Or perhaps I should apologise,” You cut him off, “What were you doing out here so late? I don’t suppose I was interrupting another quick fuck against a tree?”

Lucien stilled — stared at you. And you wished — wished so damn hard — that you could snatch those words right out of thin air and cram them back into your mouth, down your throat. You didn’t know why you’d even said it.

It had achieved nothing — other than making it clear to him that you’d seen him sneaking off with a female on the night of the feast.

He stepped closer to you — so close that his hair tickled your face as he leaned down. So close that his scent pushed its way up your nose, invading you, smothering you—

“Do me a favour,” He hissed, “and stay far away from the woods. Stay far away from any potential danger so that I don’t have to stick my neck out getting you out of it.” Cruel, russet eyes flicked over you. “In fact? Stay far away from me. That’s what I want you to do, Lady.”

He turned without another word. Or another glance at you, as he stormed away, leaves and twigs crunching beneath his boots.

All you could do was watch his retreating figure, trembles still wracking your body.

You should have been thinking: Lucien Vanserra is a prick.

Should have been thinking that you wanted to smack his sneer from his gods-damn face.

But you watched and watched as he disappeared out of sight. You weren’t even worried about the fucking fox-nutcracker-hind-legged-creature anymore. Not as it was just you and the trees, and the sting of Lucien’s harsh words still hanging in the air.

All you were thinking was that Lucien Vanserra smelled like a heady mix of apples, of woodsmoke, of the forest after a downpour, the earthy tones of cedar and balsam fir. The most delicious concoction that your imagination couldn’t possibly make up. It lingered in your nose, rapidly fading with each passing second.

All you were thinking was that you’d never smelled anything — anyone — like it.

That you wanted to inhale that scent greedily.

Again and again and again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[beantothemax]

(behold, Octopath2 x Darkest Dungeom crossover fic. Mostly with just the sillies)

“So let me get this straight. The Moonshade Order is basically a cult trying to revive Vide…who would go destroy the world and plunge the world into darkness?” Asked the Highwayman.

“That seems to be their goal,” said Temenos. He rummages further into the boxes, finding more records of under the table payments to the owner of the arena. “Unfortunately however, we don’t have much record in who their members are and you know how I feel about the Sanctum Knights. Can’t go to them for help.”

Dismas grimaced. “Ah cops. Truly the most corrupt of all brigands.”

“Don’t forget royals and all the messy politics of the court!” Sarmenti piped up. He pulled Hikari from his pile of papers, bells jingling with him. “The only exceptions are our little Prince Hikari, the gendarmerie-turned-vigilante William, and our beloved former King Baldwin. Those three are the pinnacle of human decency.”

Temenos blinked. While he knew that the 20 outlanders were all of different backgrounds, he didn’t expect one of them to be of royalty. Shame they won’t be able to connect him to a specific city, as the exact origins of where they came from are still blurry. 

A former king though. Hm. That would be why Baldwin would often find company with Hikari. He always thought it was due to the man’s personality, after all he did go and saw Baldwin and Dismas exchanging notes on poetry more than once.

“And what of Barristan?” Asked Josephine. She put her papers in front of Audrey, much to the Grave Robber’s complaint. “He’s the leader of an army, even if now it may or may not exist. Is he an exception?”

“Hm. Was too annoying with tactics yesterday. He doesn’t count anymore.”

“I’m sure he would be heartbroken to hear that the approval of a Jester who killed an entire royal court has withdrew his approval,” she deadpanned.

“And I’m sure he would love to hear that the friend-turned-pillager defended his honor after…hm. What was it? Oh yes. After trying to kill us all about 3 times.”

Immediately Dismas put himself in front of the two of them. “Now now. We’re all criminals here. I doubt any of us have clean hands. We’re all trying to be friends right now and whatever happened between us can be discussed later. When we aren’t in the Tournament Office and trying to find possible secrets. Got it?” 

Josephine and Sarmenti only glared at each other.

Dismas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If you two stop fighting for the whole night, drinks are on me.”

Both of them brightened up. “Well why didn’t you say so Master Dismas? Miss Josephine, we are best friends are we not?”

“Why of course my good friend Sarmenti. Come, I believe I found some more ill-gotten Leaves that seemed to have gotten. Ahem. ‘Lost’. Let us split the spoils?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

And off the two went, retreating near the bookshelf that Temenos already searched…and apparently had 10000 Leaves in one of the books??? He was sure he checked all the book’s insides thoroughly, how did he miss that?

Audrey looked at Dismas. “You know, they’re both probably just playing you like a fiddle to get free drinks right?”

“You don’t have to remind me,” groaned Dismas.

ouh….. Kiwi you do banters like these REALLY well. remembering back in the 4 braincell au days where you made little banters for the gang there too and. gah. you write in a very specific way that scratches my brain nicely :]

I know half of the people here but I like them…. I need to get into darkest dungeon the fellas very much intrigue me

[saph-writes]

Living Together (New Situations, Old Habits)

ao3 link:

Summary: A series of stories following Shidou and Sae living together for the first time. Along the way, they both begin to learn more about each other, and maybe a little about themselves.

Words: 2421

Sae should've thought twice before agreeing to move in with Ryusei. It's very rare that he finds himself thinking that. Usually, he makes every decision with careful consideration and thought. Mistakes are a rare occurrence, as that would require a lapse in judgement. Then again, he did end up giving Ryusei his number years ago, and regretted it immediately when he was awoken early the morning with a text asking for dick pics. He swore up and down later that it was just a joke (a flirty tease apparently) but that didn't make Sae any less irritated. Not to mention that once they started going out, Sae started to see more and more of how Ryusei is really like and to no surprise, he is just as much of a demon off the field than he is on it.

Despite all that, he had somehow been able to convince him to buy an apartment for the two of them, with Sae's money of course, and move in together.

If only he could travel back in time and warn his old self. Actually, maybe he should go back even earlier and make sure he never found out about the blue lock project in the first place, and Ryusei would've never become a problem. Or maybe before then, when he got his first ever offer to Spain. Blissful ignorance actually seems preferable right now.   Sae finds himself questioning everything that has led up to this point as he stands by the door in their new apartment, keys in hand, and stares with a deathly glare at a bobbing head in the kitchen. The kitchen that had been squeaky clean before he left, but now lays as a complete mess.

Everywhere is absolutely filled to the brim with dirty dishes and containers, trash, bits of food literally everywhere (how the fuck did he get some on the ceiling), and unopened bags. Sae shuts the door behind him and sets the keys on the table. The blonde head of hair standing in front of the stove pipes up and turns excitedly. "Sae-chan!" "What the fuck are you doing." Ryusei grins and playfully shakes the spatula in his hand around in the air. "Making dinner for a special someonee... You wouldn't know him though, he's super shy." The spatula throws a bit of dough onto the counter. Sae can feel his eyebrow begin to twitch. "I clean this entire kitchen before I left, how the fuck did you fuck it all up in a few hours?"

Ryusei seems to be feeling extra giddy today, because he just gives Sae a sly smile and shrugs, giggling to himself as he turns back to stir the pot. At least 3 others were piled beside it on the counter. "Dunnoo, maybe someone casted a spell here to curse us... should I put in soy sauce or tomato?"

Ryusei looks thoughtfully up and contemplates. He settles the dirty spoon down on the counter, the white counter, and begins opening the cabinets. His lips twists into a frown. 

"Saee, we don't have-"

"I already bought it. It's in one of those bags." Ryusei grins and Sae catches him moving to open the bags."-Wash your hands first. Disgusting."

Ryusei blinks and notices his hands, all dirty with dried sauces and spices stuck on. While he puts them under the sink, his head bops from side to side, and he's humming a joyful tune. It sounds vaguely familiar to that obscure music Sae always hears him listen to. He turns back to Sae. "All done~"

"Okay, now help me clean up."

"I need to finish our special meal first though." Sae is more than willing to eat takeout for the fifth time that week, but he complies nonetheless. 

"Alright. And how long will that take."

"Hmm.." Ryusei playfully taps his chin and closes his eyes, as if he was deep in thought (as if he had more than two braincells). "Welll.. if you're nice, maybe another hour. Then, as the chef, I can graciously welcome you to my kitchen for our special dinner."

"You mean my kitchen?"

"Our kitchen," Ryusei corrects, shooting him another toothy grin.  He grabs the soy sauce out of the bag and dumps some of it into the pot, splattering bits on the stove.

Sae was nearly fed up. "I'm going to kill you-" However, before he has the chance to strangle him (though he doubts Ryusei would count that as a punishment), his pocket starts vibrating and sending a obnoxiously loud ringtone. He grabs his phone out of his pocket and glances at the caller ID. Then, taking a deep breath, Sae calmly walks towards the door. "Oh? I thought you were going to kill me?" Ryusei says. He has a look of amusement, like he is excited to see he got a rise out of the usually calm and calculated Itoshi Sae. Sae gives him another death glare. "Clean this up before I come back in." "Will do~" Sae gets a final look at Ryusei turning back to the stove and jumping cautiously before he closes the door. Two days in, and he is already regretting moving in with someone with the mental intelligence of an 8-year old. But, he does do what he is told, and always seems weirdly happy about it, something that made Sae tolerate him a little bit more. At least more than other people his age. The phone is still ringing. Sae leans against the hallway of their apartment building, rests his head on the wall, and answers the call, discarding all those unnecessary thoughts and concerns that floated around in his head. ~ He ends up being out much longer than expected. The call lasted for about an hour, dealing with important matters from the club, and afterwards he was forced to help out an old lady move in some boxes. (He tried to get out of it, but this lady was tone-deaf or something because she kept insisted repeatedly. Sae was about to tell her to fuck off when he realized that Ryusei had locked the door with his keys inside, because of course he did.) By the time he finished, it had been nearly 2 hours, and Sae is ready to come in and see another mess even worse than the last. He is already mentally preparing to get the cleaning supplies he had brought a few days before just for this very occasion. Bracing himself, Sae violently shakes the doorknob to their apartment. The door flies open. There appears Ryusei, leaning against the doorframe with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. He even has the audacity to give him a wink. "Hey there, you come here often pretty boy?" "Let me in." As expected, Ryusei does as he was told. He has on the apron he had worn while cooking, even though it was technically Sae's, and his back hair is pulled back behind a headband. The apron is covered in dark stains and powder and so are parts of his sleeves and t-shirt appearing underneath. At least he has the decency to wear casual clothes beneath his apron. Sae steps into the apartment. However, as he looks around the place (their place), he raises an eyebrow.

The apartment isn't in shambles. The furniture is still standing, and nothing is on fire. The kitchen counters are perfectly clean, along with the stove and table. They look like they have been wiped down and the bits of trash that have been scattered all over have all been thrown away. Even the dishes and pots are washed, leaving the sink completely empty and organized. Sae moves towards their small dinner table for two that sits in between the kitchen and tv area. A skinny glass vase stands in the middle, perfectly distanced between the two chairs. In it, a single red rose. Sae didn't remember buying- Two arms wraps around his waist.

Sae jumps. His body goes on edge, tense, until he looks down and spots two familiar blond hair strands out of the corner of his eye. A head leans on top his shoulder gently, pressing a light weight on his back. "You've been gone all day," Ryusei whispers. "I thought we'd eat dinner together, just the two of us."  His voice is so uncharacteristically soft that Sae has to repeat his words again in his head to fully register it. For a moment, he wonders if Ryusei was acting this way because he wants something. It wouldn't be the first time it had happen. But something about the way he holds his arms loosely around him and his movement rocking them back and forth tells him he was being genuine. It would explain his giddiness from before, too.  Sae leans in against him. "That's because you decided to kick someone during practice and got yourself suspended for a week."  "What else what I supposed to do? I was getting bored, no one there could make my heart explode. Not in the way you can, Sae.."

Of course they couldn't.. Sae thinks, but doesn't say. Ryusei doesn't say anything either.

The two of them fall into a mellow silence.

Ryusei shifts to position his head, and begins to hum a rhythm, presumingly the same song he had been humming just a few hours earlier. Sae is able hear it clearly right against his ear, where Ryusei is leaning his head against Sae's neck.

It is so clearly out of tune, not following any beat whatsoever. Completely disorganized, appearing in absolute disarray. And yet, a richness lays beneath the melody, one that if Sae listens closely, he could feel the notes as if they are coming right off sheet music. Then it came to him that Ryusei probably isn't trying to imitate the song he has in his head, but is instead adapting it to his liking. Changing bits and pieces of it in his own, unique way. 

It is a rhythm made solely for him, one that he is sharing with Sae at this very moment. 

As if he knew what Sae is thinking, Ryusei holds him closer, and hums the rich tune just a bit softer.

This isn't the same kind of flirty touch Ryusei usually gave when they were alone. Sae could tell that there is no underlying desire in his embrace, but rather a kind of comfort and protective hold containing nothing but affection. It is a touch that lives for the moment, for the simple wish of having him in his arms. They could've been there, laced together, for a few minutes or hours, it doesn't seem to matter, only that his arms were around him. That is all the two of them needed.

It is a feeling that lingered even after Ryusei pulls away and steps in front of him. He has a large stupid smile on his face. "My, my, who do we have here? You want me to pull the chair out for you, pretty boy?" Sae bares no reaction to Ryusei's usual flirtatious antics, but a smile inevitably escapes him. And like that, it was enough for Ryusei.

Ryusei grabs his hand and tugs him towards the chair. Sae decides to play along and sits down. Now that he thinks about it, he actually curious to see what Ryusei has made. The last time he cooked their meal, it was nearly inedible. Sae held that over his head for ages while ignoring the fact that he can't cook either. After all, it had been amusing to see Ryusei try to disprove him.  Sae looks at the table's surface, which already has plastic utensils placed in each of their spots. He knows damn well that they had metal spoons and forks in one of drawers. But as he stands up to get them, he was pushed back down into his seat. "Hold on, I'm almost done."

Irritated, Sae taps his fingers impatiently against the table. There are sounds of shuffling occurring behind him and footsteps moving up and down. Eventually, a presence appears right behind his seat and he sees a plate come down from above his head to be settled before him. It is a white ceramic plate, and on it is golden-colored noodles, glistening with a sauce poured all over. It is complimented with the typical side of white rice and vegetables covered in soy sauce. It even contained mushrooms, which were one of his favorite foods. In fact, he realizes he greatly enjoys all of the foods Ryusei has picked for tonight, and Sae can only faintly recall a time where he has mentioned it at all to him. Perhaps around the time they had started texting, years ago, when Sae had told him about his particular notions towards food. Ryusei sits across from him with a very similar plate. He sets down two glasses filled with red wine for the two of them and takes a sip from his glass. His apron is gone and he has even somehow had the time to change into a cleaner shirt. Quiet, ambient music plays in the background. In the just the span of a few hours, Ryusei has been able to turn their bare apartment into a place Sae thinks he would never want to leave. 

He catches Sae's eye and shoots him a winning smile. 

"What, you too impressed to speak?" That flirty tone is back, and combined with the earlier realization still turning in his head, Sae looks away. He takes in a large forkful of noodles and swallows hastily. After all these years, Sae could still feel flustered from something Ryusei did or said. It was like magic, a spell casted upon him to make something that has never existed before blossom inside him, like the rose that sits between them. It's a feeling he doesn't think he's felt since he's been thrown into the world-stage as a young teen. As Ryusei and Sae comfortably sit and eat ("the rice's overcooked." "aw you love it~"), talking about their day one moment and sitting in peaceful silence in another, Sae finds that he no longer regrets his decision.

This progression of events that has led him up to this point feels like it has always been met to happen. It's as natural as the setting sun and rising moon, a seed taken away from its dying mother to be planted again, a slow but worthwhile act of something lost being found. In fact, he thinks it's the best one he's ever made.

[phoenixcatch7]

Had a very strange encounter this morning. Knock on the door from a family of four, very Victorian boarding school crossed with 40s housewife, youngish boys looking like they'd rather be anywhere else but there but resigned. All overdressed for the heat.

The father immediately starts talking about society.

For some context, I had been up till 1am moving boxes in my parents attic, which had barely any floor reinforced enough to put weight on and nowhere high enough to properly even sit upright, not to mention all the exposed fiberglass. I hadn't eaten breakfast yet, in fact I hadn't eaten or drank in nearly fifteen hours. I had had a sort of plan for if I was ever in the sort of situation I was suddenly flung into now, but before breakfast is not a time I can use braincells.

So he starts on with some opening spiel I'm genuinely not registering, and out pops the inevitable question.

'Do you think our society now is good or bad? With everything going on, Palestine...'

Now this is a question I know the answer to, I think excitedly! My lone dreg of grey matter is very pleased to be able to contribute to the conversation.

I say, 'Good'. Just one word.

And it completely shuts him down. Him and his wife are taken aback. They don't have a conversation tree for this, that they can push against, commiserate with. They look expectant, they wait for me to elaborate, to say 'well there's some horrific stuff happening, but -' that they can restart the conversation with. Not a single thought passes through my mind.

He tries again, fiddling with his leaflet. 'Well, what do you think is going to happen in the future, with all these awful things going on around us, do you think the people in charge are going to agree -'

And I interrupt him, because that is an awfully long sentence to process when part of my liquified grey matter is finally starting to ring cult, I say 'human rights'.

They look at me in total silence. In the background the toaster pops with a rattle and immediately starts drying out. I am unblinking.

'You think human rights are getting better,' the man says, in the tone of someone who's never put those words in a sentence together before. I look to his wife for a cue, and when she doesn't give it, his kids. They're not looking at me, but they don't seem to really care, either.

'I do,' I say, uncertain but unwilling to give them an inch. My internal script, having finished its if statement, returns null and puts its hands up.

I want my toast. There is a long, long silence as we all seem to grasp that I've set the conversation tree on fire.

Finally, the man presses restart on the entire thing and picks up from where I should have agreed that the world was bad and miserable. He stutters. He glances away. He shifts and restarts his sentence, his paragraph. I am genuinely not processing a single word, and I don't think I blinked then either. I catch a mumbled 'jehovahs witnesses' which is great, because I couldn't decide between that and mormonism. My brain wasn't enough to tell me what it was but it was a similar word.

The dog sprints past. Everyone jumps out of their skin. In the second it takes to step out enough to scruff her, running unexpected animal apology script, the door slams behind me in a sudden wind, loudly enough to make the mother shriek. I have enough brainpower to envision the next ten minutes before I realise with relief the door remained unlocked (it rarely does). I return to Greeting Stranger Position. The dog is banished.

'I'm so sorry,' I say. My toast is definitely stale, and it was the last in the loaf. Not even a crust remains.

The man fumbles. Most of my attention is on the lady, at this point, expecting some polite commiseration, or just some sort of Situation Deescalation noise. I'd take a clearing of the throat at this point, because there's two adults at my door and only one has talked. Neither have checked on their kids once. She stares my doorbell in the ding button. The man continues like this is going anywhere. I can't parse it into words.

Finally, he hands me the leaflet, points out the phone number and a casual 'if you ever feel alone or if you want to call-'. It's not an area code I recognise, but I'm also fairly sure I wasn't processing the written word at this point either.

They make noises of starting to go, and my brain perks up again - script! - and enthusiastically hammers the 'farewell visitors (standard)' button. I spring to life like a freshly animated corpse, a spark in my eyes as I commiserate about the heat and wish them good things for the rest of the day.

Normally the people I talk to respond in kind automatically, but the woman only sort of dips her head when I talk about how nice the unexpected sun is and to be careful not to overheat (a very common farewell this far north in sunny weather lmao). The kids don't know how to react to being addressed (you take care!) and the man keeps unconsciously trying to make eye contact, talking a steady stream of noise in the full assumption that I'm talking solely to him, which is not part of my script - genuinely something I've never encountered before - and thus I don't adapt at all. I admit, I'm used to the mother being in charge in local family units, or at least equal with the man. They turn away - I close the door - the man spins around and finally seems to realise he received a quarter of the farewells and is expecting the closed conversation to shift back to him.

I'm shaking from hunger.

My toast is indeed stale.

I don't know. It surprises me, post meal, that people who gather into these super restricting 'we will give you salvation' outsiders excluded cultish groups are so shocked at the idea of genuine faith in the world. It's what they're hawking. They knock on the door of a stranger who thinks people are generally good, actually, no notes, and that scares them. But well, I suppose that's the point, isn't it? They can't believe that or they'd leave.

Though I suppose my unblinking stare didn't help. I wish I could have been in a state for a smoother interaction, but it is what it is. Nobody got hurt, but I hope the kids get out safe. The whole family was in deep.

[decemebercircus]

To Teacher, a Lesson

(Or Teach her a lesson depending on your pronunciation)

Notes:

This is a sort of a promise fic and I have another one to keep-- but since this is short this is simpler.

I'm not good at getting characters accurate so if you feel it's ooc then sorry, I did my best. Oh yeah, I am not very fond of x reader fanfics reading them when they are good/interesting I will do. Write them? On most cases I will not.

So this is a OC who is technically gender neutral. But I leave that up to you.

I also changed the glasses.

This fic was suggested by @mlk082

With their post: https://at.tumblr.com/mlk082/704789841502666752/4pd1vov4cspz

Story:

"Aw man! another flunked Alchemy test! Professor Crewel lives up to his name 'cruel'" Venice complained and tried to follow up with a pun.

"That was a bad joke. Venice," Ace complains.

"Says you who came up with a worse joke about Riddle this morning." Venice retorted.

Jade smiled coyly. "I'd be happy to offer my services to tutor you"

Ace looked around "alright where's your dorm leader?"

"This isn't a deal. I'm doing this of my own free will" Jade remarked. "More specifically for Venice-san if you dont want to take this opportunity." Jade closed the book he had on history.

"Yup I'm leaving," Ace dipped.

"Bye Venice!" He called running out of the classroom.

"Dammit of all the days for Ace to have the braincell..." Venice deadpanned.

"Shall we meet in the library?" Jade asked.

"Oh! Right! Sure!" Venice nodded.

***~~~***

"Jade why are you wearing glasses-- are those AZUL'S?!" Venice asked.

"These are a spare set. Azul will not miss them for a hour or two," Jade said as if that cleared that up.

"I dunno Jade the glasses kinda draw attention to your eyes..." Venice commented

"Why thank you" Jade smiled. 'Was that a genuine smile?' Venice blinked. Most of them have a 'shady mushroom fanatic' vibe or 'curiously too interested in "opportunities'" much like his dorm leader. Venice however was mainly surprised that he seemed genuinely happy.

"Shall we get to the lesson?" Jade picked up a pencil.

"Yup! I'm ready!" Venice commented displaying the thick notebook and the alchemy study guide with its companion workbook. The idea of the study guide was actually just a logbook full of terms, phrases and various ingredients and what they could be substituted for. However Venice had a beginner's study guide which was noticeably thin and like did not have much info.

Jade made a mental note of that.

An hour and a half later, Venice had a full twenty pages worth of notes to study from.

"Let's get a snack!" Venice commented eagerly, seemingly proud of themself for remembering the information Jade told them.

"I already have that arranged. Floyd should be here soon--"

"Hiya Jade! Kurage-chan!"

"Hi Floy-- why do you keep calling me that?" Venice's eyebrow twitched.

"I brought snacks!" Floyd remarked instead.

"Oi" Venice stared at the large sub sandwhiches. Decorated with what they could see to be tomatoes, prosciutto, ham, purple onions mushrooms-- of course. Venice nearly facepalmed.

"Jade you look all scholarly with those glasses," Floyd commented.

Jade nodded. "Thank you Floyd" he grabbed for the sandwich closer to him.

"I don't really like it" Floyd continued.

"Thank you Floyd" Jade remarked before taking a bite of the sandwich. Venice looked between the twins.

"Hey Jade gimme half of your sandwhich" Floyd said after a brief moment of silence.

"Sure" Jade said and in a flash he twirled his lavender gem studded pen and uses some magic spell to slice the sandwhich. Floyd picked up his half then seemed to remember something.

Lifting the bread he found six mushrooms. Jade smiled innocently. Floyd had a change of mind. "On second thought I'll go back to the lounge"

You aren't going to eat your sandwhich?" Jade called after him.

"NOPE!" was the reply as Floyd left the library.

Venice happily munched on the sandwhich. But Jade, whether due to his brother's comment or otherwise, took the glasses off.

When lunch break was over the time to hit the books returned. Jade redonned the glasses.

"Oh hang on a sec so if I come up with the chance to use this I can substitute it for its ground powder form and the potion won't be affected?" Venice asked not long after they started again.

"Of course. As long as you measure accurately it will be fine. You can even use herbs and roots that stem from the same family. Provided the required precautions of safety are in place" Jade reassured.

"Got it" Venice commented writing the helpful information down.

When the study session ended, Jade removed the glasses again. I look forward to future sessions Venice-san Jade smiled.

"Say why'd you offer to help me anyway?" Venice asked as they left the library.

"Why indeed" Jade replied with another genuine smile.

[sanguine-salvation]

This might be a question you’ve gotten before I’m not sure, but what drew you in with a character like Zsasz specifically?

[ What's one thing you've been dying to ask the mun? - ACCEPTING ]

I actually don’t think I’ve gotten this one before, or if I did I forgot answering it, so!!!

You know, I’m not sure what got the little bitch in there so hard when I first played the Arkham games, but boy he latched onto my single braincell and probably bit it. I think part of it was I didn’t actually know about him prior? I had seen him in I think Crimson Mist, one of the Batman Dracula books, but that’s so blink and you’ll miss it that I barely count it.

But yeah, I guess with him being the only rogue I didn’t recognize, I was like “oooh wtf are you, you’re one fucked up lil fella, scruffing you now let’s go”

So I started reading his appearances. He’s more of a mental threat villain, which I always enjoy a lot because it engages the detective part of Batman more. While he canonically can keep Batman on his toes for a pretty long while physically, he’s a talker first and foremost. He was based on Hannibal Lecter quite a bit from what I understand, though since he evolved from being a one-off monster of the week, that’s evolved, too.

But yeah, in his first appearance, he doesn’t fight until the very very end, he mostly talks. He gets in Batman’s head, gets in Jeremiah Arkham’s head, and uses it to pit them against each other so that he can scamper out and do murders while they’re busy. He thinks he’s doing good, he thinks killing people is helping them escape pain and nothingness. His whole philosophy is FUBAR, but it’s one of those things like the other rogues, you can at least see the path they took to get to that conclusion, even if you don’t endorse it in the slightest.

Also he’s an interesting foil for Batman in how to deal with loss, grief, and how it changes the way you interact with the world when you hold really hard onto it. Neither of them took what I would call the healthiest route in dealing with their emotions, but one is definitely WAY WORSE for sure. And it makes whenever they go on a “you’re more like me than you want to think about” speech more bitey. He broke the camel’s back on giving Batman an existential crisis once, it was great.

But then I got kinda frustrated that most writers stopped really using him as a talker-then-SURPRISE!STAB threat to Batman, and kinda used him as a background knife goon when they needed to pad the body count without hitting the big name rogues too soon. So I was like, “hmmmmmm oh no who left this here, mine now I guess :3 yoinkarooni and cheese” and now I’m just exploring this fucked up little creacher and making up all the other parts as I go.

Also Zsasz has this really funny habit of being interpreted SO DIFFERENTLY in media and ngl I kinda??? Love it??? From the OG Hannibalesque, to Gotham’s funky little goblin, Arkham’s dreamy-toned feral weirdo, BoP’s territorial hitman boyfriend. I pull bits and pieces from all of them for mine, but there’s a horrible hellbeast for every flavor, I guess?

[writing-frenzy]

Misadventures of a Unknowing Tired God, an Unlucky Adventurer Cinnamonroll, and the Feral Good Boi

Summery: (Or, Three different types of Dumbasses against the world, all sharing the braincell at a time.)

So.... I did not expect my story to blow up like it did. I am so glad everyone liked it, so I figured I’d share this one as well. Again, I was inspired by the SAGAU, with the works of @nicebonescomrade and @i-put-the-yan-in-polyandry being so awesome. Though this time, I also put in my own headcannons and worldbuilding, so I hope you guys don’t mind! This story is full of some light hearted, funny adventures of our best boys with reader, though there is some angst here and there. All the same, I hope you all enjoy it!

------------------------------------

Weapon Training

“Here we go, one of these should do the trick.” Bennett says, dumping out a whole lot of books and funny orbs. “Though, you’ll probably at least need to read the magic guide first before you actually start with any spells, and maybe give a few of the apprentice notes a look through.” The seasoned adventurer says, before picking a few of said books out and giving them to you to ready.

“Are you sure I can use these?” You can’t help but ask rather dubiously, picking up one of the books, blinking at how warm it feels to the touch. Razor blinks with you, sniffing one of the books he’s holding as well, before sneezing. You can’t help but laugh when you see the disgusted face he holds, dropping the book back onto the pile without a care.

You had asked the boys about you possible learning a weapon a bit ago, though unsure where to start, not really wanting a blade, but feeling no where near confident with a bow. But after hearing about your hesitance, you really weren’t expecting what Bennett suggested.

“Yeah, Catalysts, especially grimoires and tomes, can be used by anyone as they usually pull on the magic in the book itself and the mental energy of the person using it. Vision bearers are just able to cut down even more on cost of power by using the elemental energy as well.... Hmm, like comparing a Treasure Hoarder Potioneer with Klee; both Catalyst users that focus on exlirs and compounds, but Klee will have them beat in power and stamina usually because of how she has Three energies she can use to impower her weapon, compared to the Treasure Hoarder with only two and a body not as enhanced.” Bennett explains, making you blink.

Huh. So, you’ll never be as scary as Lisa or Klee, but you might be able to run away faster if you ever need to. (you’ve already ran from the purple witch, you do not want to have to ever again. you don’t even want to think about the adorable arson child being after you, ever.)

Looking over the books, you read over them, Bennett answering what he can, while Razor some, someway, builds a fort of books all around you guys. (When did you ever have that many books?)  

But as it is, armed with knowledge, you grab an apprentice note, just in case of any mishaps so that you three can take care of, and say your first spell.

“Whoa!”

“Grrrrrrh”

....

Somehow, the book fort is both on fire and freezing over. Every attempt after that....

“Ah! Hot, Hot!”

“Flowers, lots of flowers.”

Welp... apparent earth can melt, and wind can go more green then you expected.

“Ah, pratice makes perfect, right?’ You can’t help but say to Bennet’s and Razor’s exhausted stares.

(Your practice is now every other day, and you have to feed the two a good, meaty meal afterwards, even as the two teens look half-dead from exhaustion from the day.

More then worth it, after you were able learn to shield your friends from some Treasure Hoarder attacks, even able to heal them a little.)

--------------------------------------------------------

A bit of a Reach

“I’m telling you, I can reach it!” You can’t help but say, even as you glare at how Razor is facing off with the ameno slime, the two seeming to have a conversion with their eyes.

“Watch. Careful. Make sure they no fall.” the wild child actually cautions the slime, to which the creatures bobs their body to, those wide, orange glowing eyes ever so serious.

“Ahhh, come on! Bennett, you know I can- Don’t you pretend to be asleep on me!” You try to at least try and reason with Benny, who can at least get Razor to do what he wants more easily, only to find the boy cuddled in a slime pile, him and the slimes all pretending to be asleep.

Rather terribly at that, seeing how they open an eye every now and then to check if your were watching.

Sometimes, you regretted sharing the joy that is slime pillows with the boys... (But honestly, scenes like this, where you see them being so cute, is honestly worth it.) 

But you will not let this adorableness get to you today! You can climb up this tree, and you will be able to gather eggs for today’s breakfast! You’ve climbed in worst situations, heck, you’ve had to sleep in a tree before. Sure, you’ve fallen from a cliff, which Razor saved you from by catching you before continuing to climb up... But that is different! The tree is not that high!

(In the end, grumbling, you let the large slime follow you up the tree, having to hid your smile a bit; still, it’s nice to know someone cares so much.)

--------------------------------------------------------

Unexpected Hiding Spots.

“This... Will work?” Razor asks question, even as you try and hide your panic.

“We really have no time! The guards will be around here any minute now!” Oh, why did you think it would be such a good idea to wander so close to the city, you know those guys have it out for you since your last ‘visit’. (Not as bad a Liyue at least, but yeah...)

As it is, the best you can do right now is hide in a Barrel and hope for the best.

“Maybe a tree would be better at least maybe? Or we could distract-” Bennet also tries, even as you fit yourself into the barrel as best you can.

“No time! But yes, please distract the best you can!” You can’t help but yelp as you fall in, only to blink as you feel something soft.

Huh?

On Bennet and Razor’s parts, both try and act natural, playing cards on their new ‘table’ as the guards approach.

To the boy’s misfortune, they are apparently suspious, the guards insisting to look in the barrel, while the boys try to do all they can for them not to open it. It unfortunately fails, for the guards to reveal the-

Whooosh!

-Ameno slime stuck in the barrel.

“...Ah, look, I know slimes are cute and all boys, but that doesn’t mean you can keep them as a pet; we’ll look it over this time, but don’t let us catch you trying to barrel another one.” The guard scolds the two dumbfounded boys, who mechincally nod at those words before the patrol leaves.

Just as the slime spits you out.

Windy slime- one interesting texture, that’s for sure. (Though oddly enough, it smells really good.)

-------------------------------------------------------

Nightmares

Each of you have your own inner demon to fight; times where you wake up in the night, sobbing as you remember all the hateful eyes that once stared at you,  from Characters you spent so much time and love on. How the nightmares twist it even so, making it seem like even Razor and Bennett leave you as well.

Those days, you tend to cling a little harder, before you fear you’re going to make them hate you for that too. Bennett always has a too understanding look on his face those days, easily holding your hand, never letting go even as you go about your day. Razor merely takes every chance he has to feed you, gently pinching your waist before frowning, muttering too thin and such at times.

One night, after a nightmare of mobs from the three nations seemed to combine together, your voice hoarse from your screams, Bennet heats you a warm water bottle while Razor covers you with blankets, the three of you quiet for a long time.

“Somedays, I wonder if my luck will get so bad... that no will want me around.” is what breaks the silence, making you look over into such hurt, hollow green eyes, you can’t help but gasp. “That I won’t even have a home to call my own.”

“That all of the adventure guild, that the entirety of Mondstadt will throw me out, and tell me to never come back. That they didn’t want something as unlucky as me to stain their home.” Bennett cried, the memory nightmare still haunting him even as he told you about it. You and Razor drag him over, both you and him teary eyed, Benny started to hiccup as he did.

“Lupical... dead.. gone. Human Lupical and Wolf Lupical... Fighting forever.” Razor whispering, no tears in his own eyes, but oh, the pain in them shining like blood in his ruby eyes, the wound seeming to be rubbed with salt.

It is how you three go to sleep that night; tear stained and tangled around each other, feeling let out and heard in the open.

(No way do you feel healed; more like something drained some pus from an infected wound of sorts, some probably still needing to be pushed out... but it is a start.)

--------------------------------------------------------

Rain Dancer

You watch, eyes nearly alight as you consider the clouds rolling across the skies, the hum of thunder distant but all the more felt as grey covers once blue skies.

“Ah, looks like your luck couldn’t last forever.” Bennett looks so sheepish, rubbing the back of his head, even as green eyes worry over the sight of the coming storm before them. Razor is merely sniffing the air a bit, before motioning you two over to follow, his nose and memory already probably mapping out all the safe places around.

You have thought it once before many a time, but by Teyvat are you glad these boys are the ones traveling with you. (You don’t deserve it, don’t deserve them, but goddamn does someone need to punch whoever gave Bennett his luck, and it might as well be you and Razor.)

But even as you all go to one of the many caves Razor seems to know about, with a friendly Hilchurl Camp nearby even, (probably by the talent domain for Mondstadt then), you can’t help but look out at the incoming rain.

You have an idea; probably a stupid one... A really stupid one.... but an idea.

“Hey, you okay?” is asked, Benny’s voice breaking you from your thoughts, even as you look over to the teen, looking into those ever so warm green eyes, so welcoming and kind, like the warmth of a home’s hearth. (Eyes that see you and do not judge, do not hate, and have only ever been so generous and kind and understanding to you.

“Somedays, I wonder if my luck will get so bad... that no will want me around. That I won’t even have a home to call my own.” 

“Hey Benny, you ever danced in the rain?” You can’t help but ask, watching as lightning of surprise dances through those eyes, before with a laugh, and the Pyro User’s yelp, you drag the other into the storm, the rain gentle on the skin, with no lightning around besides that caught in the green eyes before you. 

The two of you don’t really dance, more like you’re just twirling around, occasionally slipping every so often before you catch each other. You’re pretty sure you’ve at least seen Razor sigh at you two, even as he goes about setting up the cave’s camp. (there was a reason you could consider him the one who mostly holds the braincell.)

But feeling this moment, the cool refreshing feeling of the rain on your skin, the warm hands holding yours, Bennett’s laughs and whoops of joy as you twirl him before he returns the favor, you can’t help but grin. 

You could feel like you can sing; in fact, you do. You don’t remember all of the song, but... that doesn’t matter here.

“~It’s not always rainbows and butterflies, it’s compromise that moves us alooooong!~” You start, your eyes closed, missing how Bennett’s grown wide, how the entire world around you seems to take a breath, Razor’s own eyes wider at the scene before him.

“Wao...”

“~I told you so many times and darling I want mooooooore! I don’t mind spending everyday, out on the corner in the pouring rain, ohhhh!~” the rain almost seems to mist around you, a little circle that seems so peaceful, crystalflies of all elements coming out, a rainbow of color surround two from all around.

“~Look for the girl with the broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while. and she wiiiiiiiiill be loved.~” Bennett can even see other beings braving the storm, the Hilchurl Camp at the side watching, their bodies relaxed, no weapons in sight as they do. Slimes of all types and sizes seem to hover as close they can, seeming to try and listen in as closely as possible.

And the one at the center of it all, a beautiful, heartfelt smile on your lips, sing to you soul’s content, regardless of all who are listening, before you sing the final verse of what you know.

“~and she will be loooooved!~”

(Just in time too, for the rain to end, and a beautiful rainbow to appear behind the wave of crystalflies.)

--------------

Bennett and Razor: Both smart people in their own ways, both not at all idiots, even with their luck and feralness.

Also Bennett and Razor: Don’t realize just how strange it is that the world loves reader.

XD but yeah, More of my bias is shown here, as one can see. But I was struck with the thought that honestly, unless these two boys take Reader to Wolf Boss, they probably would never, ever realize that Reader is God of Gods, because how they grew up is completely ridiculous.

For Bennet: Oh, the world seems to hate me, why not have someone it loves?

Razor: God of Gods? Food? Lupical?

And Thanks to them, Reader is now also under the impression that they look really similar to this ultra God or something... (And wondering what their ancestors were up to... hopefully nothing like Zesus)

But yeah, I hope you all enjoy it, thank you all for the kindness with this story.

[sukirichi]

Breakfast: ingredient 64 + sugar 5 for inumaki

Okay, but like- what about inumaki's first kiss? His mouth is a very sensitive area and his first kiss would be a very intimate act, so here's what happens: reader and him are mutually pining BUT all everyone else sees is the sexual tension between them.

Somehow itadori manages to lock them in a dark small space, where they share their first kiss, yet they don't speak about it and to each other for a long time. At some point itadori (i swear this kid is a matchmaker) points out how y/n and toge can't even glance at each other and inumaki breaks. Late at night he shows up at reader's dorm, pins her to the wall and kisses her like no tomorrow. After they eventually have a rough make out with toge's shirt coming off, they lay on her bed where reader tells him she really likes him and he grabs her chin to stop her rambling and she looses it when she sees so much love and lust swirling in his eyes (they maybe have a third make out round 👀) and in the end they come to the conclusion they love each other and that they should have acted sooner on it.

I don't know if make outs count as nsfw and i read that you can write only sfw for inumaki, so it's okay if you can't complete this request. Just let me know you if can't.

Also get prepared to be spoiled spammed with asks.

— 🍰 strawberry shortcake anon

delicate

the first kiss with inumaki toge is as delicate as he is.

meal order: ★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki

warnings: nothing really, just make out sessions and implications of smut, also UH soft dom inumaki toge, i guess? unedited as always

song i listened to while writing: I.F.L.Y. by Bazzi

note: 🍰 anon TYSM for this request, my heart was legit doki doki the whole time. this totally reminds me of why inumaki was my first crush and he’s the reason i came to watch jjk lol i love him so much <3 i hope this is what you’ve been looking for and that you like it! i had a lot of fun writing this one!

“Yuuji, don’t!” You tried to scramble against the strawberry haired boy’s grip, but he was far too strong, and it didn’t help that Nobara’s riled up self was helping him push you back inside the storage room. “Yuuji, Nobara, I’m your senpai, have some respect—” You don’t get to finish your words before you’re pushed inside, landing on the floor with a thud.

“Yuuji!” You banged your fists on the door once you’ve recovered, screaming at the top of your lungs. From outside the door, you heard the underclassmen giggle and run away, leaving you with your crush, Inumaki Toge, of all people.

Falling down into a squat, you wrapped your arms around yourself, refusing to look at him. You were only thankful that it was dark so Toge wouldn’t see how your pupils blew wide, your body responding at the soft scent of his perfume and laundry detergent. He’d been your crush for who knows how long now, and your first memory of meeting the cursed speech user burns at the back of your mind to remind you that it’s been years, and yet you’ve barely spoken to him.

Unlike the other students, your cursed technique wasn’t the most useful in combat. Your technique allowed you to nullify the abilities of others, but the downside of it was that it didn’t have much advantage against curses, so you had to rely on your physical strength to exorcise.

On the bright side, though…

“So,” Toge begins, shuffling away from the dusty wall and closer to you. Your heartbeat raced when his knees brushed against yours, thighs pressed against one another. “You’re a victim of them too.”

“Hmm, guess so.”

Neither of you speak for a while. Toge himself wasn’t much of a talker, and he barely batted an eye when Maki and Panda hauled his ass inside the storage room. He was so calm and placid that your mind was in mess – both because you were comfortable and happy in his presence, but at the same time, your palms were so sweaty and the room was so stuffed you could barely breathe. It didn’t help that Toge was humming too, reassured that he wasn’t going to hurt you with his powers.

“Uhm,” you started nervously, fiddling with your fingers. The silence stretched out thick and cordial that you couldn’t bear it anymore, and you turned to Toge with wide eyes, blinking back rapidly when he faced you as well, his deep purple eyes like a painting before you. “Do-do you know why we’re locked in here?”

Your palms grew wetter with each ticking second; Toge taking his time to answer.

Nobara had eavesdropped on you gushing to Megumi on how Toge looked so cute during breakfast this morning, and the girl immediately ran off to tell her best friend, Yuuji; the two of them sharing the same braincells.

Before you knew it, everyone split into two groups, your classmates dragging Toge away while Nobara and Yuuji manhandled you, hissing into your ear to man up and fess.

As if it was as easy as that! Inumaki Toge – albeit approachable and kind – was still the light of your life, the apple of your eye, and he barely acknowledged your presence the whole two years you’ve been with him. He was much closer with Maki and Panda while you got along more with the younger ones (although you wouldn’t hesitate to redact that statement after doing this to you), so the chances of you ever striking up a full conversation with him were low.

You only admired him from afar, sighing dreamily into your hands while he trained with Panda. Megumi seemed to be the only decent one, silent and bored as ever while you rambled on tirelessly on how much Toge looked so buff under his uniform yet had the face baby, stating over and over again he was born just to drive you crazy.

You should’ve known someone would find out one way or another, but heavens forbid, not him. The both of you were barely friends to begin with – you didn’t want to shatter whatever mutual respect you had for each other just because you crushed on him hard.

Mind running back and forth over the different ways Toge could reject you, because obviously someone had told him, or obviously he knew already – why else would he be locked here with you if your friends didn’t know something? It was getting hard to read his face from the darkness; the only thing you could make out were his long lashes and lips visible with his collar down.

“I don’t know, to be honest,” he avoided your gaze, and you swallowed audibly at the sound of his husky voice; unused to speaking this much. “But…but we’ve got nothing to worry about. Gojo-Sensei or Nanamin will come around soon.”

“Okay,” you nodded at his words, cursing inwardly that this was your perfect chance to confess or at least try and be friends with him, but your whole body was burning, feet frozen in your place that you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You watched from the corner of your eye as Toge rocked back and forth in his heels, cheeks puffed out, and your eyes zeroed in on the snake tattoo beside his lips.

Toge rarely ever let his collar down to muffle his voice, so seeing him expose his lips like this almost felt intimate. He looked so pretty, long lashes fluttering on top of those warmed cheeks and strong arms wrapped around his knees.

He was just an arm’s length away. This was the closest you’d ever gotten with him, and maybe it was because you’d kept your feelings a secret for so long that it suddenly burst through. Faster than you could take notice of yourself, your arm reached out to cup his cheeks, thumb swiping against the tattoos. “Pretty,” you murmured, Toge stiffening up under your touch.

His eyes skewed over to yours, wide and unreadable, but there was something there – something burning. He had to bite down his cheek as you caressed his face absentmindedly, and it wasn’t until his fingers came up to your wrist that you realized what you were doing.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, the warmth of his skin now searing because of your embarrassment. “Toge – I-I didn’t mean to – I’m so sorry! It’s just, your tattoos look so pretty and I’ve always—”

Your words are thrown right back into your mouth when Toge tugged you forward, sending the both of you toppling to the ground. Toge’s hands were delicate, just as delicate as your touch, when he cupped your face, his lips moving with yours. You were stunned for a moment before pleasure and fireworks exploding everywhere burst within you, prompting you to kiss him back in urgent fervor.

Toge’s lips tasted like candy, his sighs into your mouth melting your insides until you’re crumpling his shirt, eyes shut so tight in fear that maybe this would all disappear the moment you opened them.

Your hands travelled everywhere – from his shoulders, to his neck, his jaw – before it settled into his hair, the satisfaction of finally getting to run your hands through them has you weakening in his hold. Toge keeps his grip on your waist firm, almost possessive even, and he held you up both, sitting up while your arms wound around his neck.

A curse must’ve possessed you because you moaned into his mouth when he nipped at your bottom lip, tugging it inside his mouth so he could taste your cherry chapstick.

He wasn’t in a better state than yours. As the cursed speech user, his mouth was one of his most sensitive parts, and it took all energy it had in him to not kiss you senseless right then and there, your lips swiping over his mouth in such a mind-numbing sensation.

It felt like his body was on fire, the heat licking up from his toes to right where you were pressed on him. Your lips on his was scorching, the soft sighs and moans you gave him only adding to the fuel.

Toge groaned as your nails subconsciously pulled at his hair, making him grind you down into the V of his lips, pressing your chest firms against his until there was no more space. Through the darkness and nearly airless atmosphere of the room, Toge still managed to take your breath away, your lips moving in synch and you were falling, falling, falling.

He effortlessly held your weakening arms up before he pulled away, both your chests panting at the sudden heated kiss. His eyes trailed down from your lust-filled gaze to the bow of your lips, where the flesh was plump and abused.

Toge’s thumb swiped over your lips that had you frozen solid because he looked at you so gently, delicately, almost as if he didn’t want to hurt you. But he never could – you nullified everyone’s powers and allowed him freedom in your space. You’d let him come again and again, welcoming him with open arms if he wanted so, and in that moment, you believed he did.

Although why would he want you?

Fears and insecurities struck a chord in you and you scrambled away from his lap, leaving Toge all alone in the ground. You ducked your head down to ignore the confused and hurt expression on his face, turning back to the door instead. “I’m so sorry,” you rasped out in one breath, “I-I didn’t mean for that kiss to happen and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Please just forget this ever happened and I really wish you and I aren’t awkward for this. Okay, good night. See you around.”

Pulling your phone out of your pocket after cursing yourself for not thinking of texting Megumi sooner, you speed dialed the younger boy, begging him to unlock the door.

Megumi came around a few minutes later. Toge had long settled behind you, silent but still catching his breath from your previous lip-locking. His presence unnerved you and you rubbed your hands up and down your arms, praying to whoever divines self that Toge would forget about this as well. The moment Megumi came around, you leaped out of the room, leaving two confused boys – with one of them unknowingly shattered.

The next few days were hell.

You and Toge hadn’t talked much at all before, but now, you both pretended as if the other didn’t existed. During class where there had to be pairings, you immediately sided with Maki and pushing Panda to Toge’s way, the latter frowning behind his collar every time you avoided his gaze.

You just couldn’t handle being anywhere near him after that kiss. You feared that your heart would combust and you’d further embarrass yourself in front of him, as if you weren’t embarrassing enough with how excited you were as you kissed him.

Gosh, what would Toge think of you now?

You bet he found you so weird, and your suspicions were only confirmed when he’d resorted to avoiding you as well. No more polite and cheery good mornings! in the hallway or asking what he had for lunch, no more random texting of memes at 3am because you both didn’t have friends outside the institute.

Pure silence from the other side.

It should’ve comforted you – you wanted to stay away from him, right? – but you only grew restless. Your focus dwindled with each passing day, finding yourself at the back of Toge’s head longingly when he wasn’t looking, then sighing as you chastised yourself from being stupid.

To be honest, that kiss only made your feelings multiply tenfold.

Now that you knew how warm and comfortable Toge was to the touch, how his lips tasted and how his hair felt under your touch – you crushed on him impossibly harder than before.

You reached a point where you tossed and turn around in bed, unable to fall asleep; completely unaware that just a few doors down, he was doing the same. It had you thinking back to that day all over again, wondering why did he kiss you? If he liked you, why did he never talk to you? He never even noticed you before and you were always the first one to strike conversation, but because the others were always around, chats were limited, one-worded, and awkward.

That cursed technique of yours was still useless, after all.

“Would you please stop moping around?” Megumi slammed his book down on the table next to you, and you jumped in your seat, clutching your pencil to your chest. “I’m tired of you eye-fucking Inumaki-senpai.”

“Wha – ? No, I wasn’t, what are you talking about?”

“You’ve both been acting weird,” observed Yuuji who stopped fighting with Nobara over who would win in an arm wrestling fight without special abilities: Gojo-Sensei or Nanami. Nobara nodded beside him, stealing Yuuji’s crisp chips before speaking. “You both can’t even glance at each other. All of us can feel that something’s wrong between you two.”

“They probably fucked in the storage room.”

“Nobara, keep your voice down!”

“Why should I?” she smirked, jabbing her thumb to an asleep Toge lounging on the field with Panda. “Your precious crush is asleep. He won’t know. But whatever, what did happen when we locked you both there?”

“You all humiliated me, that’s what happened!”

“What do you mean humiliated?” Megumi asked this time around, and you buried your face in your arms, glancing over at Toge again. He was slumbering peacefully, his body shaded from the sun under the tree, and your fingertips itched with the urge to hold him close again.

“He doesn’t like me,” you concluded with trembling lips, sending one last longing glance at Toge. “And I think I just absolutely ruined everything.”

No matter how much your underclassmen tried to cheer you up, your spirits were never lifted. You trudged back to your room that night, tired and drained from all the events that you just buried your nose in your textbook, studying about curses for next week’s exams.

The words began to blur and you sighed on your seat, glancing at your phone. It was nearing midnight and the dorms were oddly quiet, but you guessed everyone just had a long day.

Soon, you brushed your teeth and moved to retire for the night when three soft knocks came from your door. Your hand stilled on your blanket, brows furrowed at who could it be this time of the night. After fixing your hair to make yourself presentable, you swung the door open, ready to hit Yuuji if he came here to drag you down to the movie room and force you to watch horror movies again when you were harshly pushed, the stranger kicking the door back.

You gasped as warm lips came crashing down to yours, your hands pinned above your hand with just one arm.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it was Toge who’d placed a knee between your legs to prevent you from falling; your knees already turning to jelly before you even registered it was him. The familiar taste of something sweet like candy and cough syrup coated your senses and you moaned in his arms as his hands ran under your shirt, making the hairs on your body prickle up in anticipation.

Toge took advantage of your moan, his tongue slipping inside before it clashed with yours. It was too much – his overwhelming scent, his tongue tasting yours, his hands squeezing your breasts tenderly – you were on the verge of falling apart.

Fire burned all over your body, pure instinct dominating your conscious mind as you pushed him back, Toge falling down with you scrambling above him.

He grunted at your sloppy actions of trying to tug his shirt over his head, but he complied, reaching up at the same time you leant down for another wet, heated kiss. The kiss this time around was far less gentle and more urgent; your mutual pining for one another tipping over the edge until all hell broke loose.

You settled into his lap as if it were a throne and he encouraged you to take it, to claim him because he considered you the queen of his world.

“Toge, I,” you rambled after every peck, unable to form a complete sentence because you kept wanting to kiss him. It was nearly impossible to pull away now that he held you so close, making you feel like home and driving you absolutely insane. “I can’t do it anymore, mmhm, I want you so much – always have – I don’t want to avoid you and I just want to—”

He stopped your rambling by grabbing your chin forwards, his lips molding over yours again and dancing with it like two perfectly syncopated performers.

Toge’s curious hands ravished every crevice and dip of your curves as he sucked on your tongue, tasting it fervently like a traveler memorizing his path. You shuddered when Toge’s nimble fingers travelled down to cup your ass to lift you upwards, pushing you closer and deeper into his mouth.

None of you cared about anything anymore. You could barely focus on anything but letting your hands roam free down his chest, Toge rutting up to you when your cold hands brushed over his nipple.

Needing air to breathe, you pulled away first, panting as your forehead pressed against his. You stared at each other, lips swollen and wet from the hot make-out session. You were sure that your adoration for him was clearly evident in your eyes, that your feelings for him sparkled and radiated like the bright sunshine’s warmth he always made you feel.

But that wasn’t what drove you crazy.

It was the fact his expression mirrored yours; only his had lust swirling around his dark eyes, an unexplainable plethora of emotions flooding through them. You were breathing hard and so was he, his soft pants warming your lips that were still sore from his hungry ministrations.

Now was the time.

It didn’t matter that maybe he didn’t feel the same way for you; you liked him so much. Your feelings poured over the glass and your eyes glossed over with how your heart frantically chanted his name, wanting nothing and no one else but him.

“I love you,” you confessed, “I fucking love you.”

To your surprise, Toge chuckled, pulling you forward until his chest was flushed against yours. He captured your lips for one last kiss, delicate this time around as his hands cupped your jaw. You tilted your hide to the side to deepen the kiss, and you sighed while Toge rubbed soothing circles at the sides of your jaw then down to your neck.

“You better,” he mumbled through your lips, “Because I fucking love you too, and I don’t want to play this game of push and pull anymore.”

It was your first time to hear such dominance in his words, to witness such need and possessiveness shine back through his eyes, his lips travelling to the sides of your face. Submissively, you arched your back to him and allowed him access to your neck, head lolling to the side. Even as Toge slowly but surely left little love bites to mark you as his, he was gentle and delicate, soft yet hard, bitter but sweet like the longing you had for one another.

Even as he had you trapped under his arms, his heat nestled into the deeper, intimate parts of you that only welcomed no one else but him; your lover was absolutely delicate.

And you only fell for him harder than you already have.

[twsthoodstar]

Jujutsu Sorcerer MC ⛩ pt. 1

Stolen from the darkest depths of the Jujutsu world, you emerge as a sorcerer from Japan brought into Twisted Wonderland. How would the others handle your dark power? What sort of chaos will you bring?

MC w/ First Years

As Yuji Itadori

Another singular braincell has just joined the party! 👏 While you don’t mean to cause any trouble it just can’t help but find you; as the first years often drag you into all sorts of shenanigans. That upbeat attitude of yours just makes it all the more annoying to some, yet you have a brave heart that won’t stand by while others are in danger. Deuce, Epel, and Jack respect you for that but that’s all you’re getting from them.

You spoil Grim unconsciously despite all the bickering you two get into, but you refuse to admit how cute Grim is when he curls up in your lap late at night.

It was quite unsettling to hear that you were the incarnation for the so-called King of Curses. How could someone like you be possessed by a psychotic cursed spirit from 1000 years ago? Needless to say meeting Sukuna was terrifying: it was all thanks to Sukuna that Riddle was defeated in the blink of an eye. However, it appeared you releasing him was not your own doing.

The raw embodiment of fear enveloped everyone’s hearts and minds as Sukuna turned and smiled. Obviously intrigued by your little friends, but he didn’t have much time. Thank goodness you regained control moments after because everyone thought another fight would be on their hands.

After that encounter, the headmaster has been keeping a closer watch on you if this spirit is really as powerful as you claim. There’s no telling what will happen should Sukuna be unleashed on a brand new world. While your reasoning behind your strength and Sukuna was no doubt noble, you were nearly executed for such an act. Sebek is the first to express his worries, but deep down they all know it’s still the same you underneath.

As Megumi Fushiguro

More than once are you the voice of reason, and more than once are you always dragged into unnecessary situations by the One Braincell Trio. While outwardly stoic and even a bit unfriendly, your wish to protect people overpowers your cold persona and sometimes you can’t help but feel for them. Especially Deuce; you two often talk about your delinquent days and how you can better yourselves for everyone around you. You two are the closest and it makes for good closure.

Grim is absolutely terrified of your Demon Dogs! Whenever he throws one of his “I am mightier than thou” speeches at you, you simply snap your fingers and those big teeth shut him up instantly. Which is kind of hilarious as the Demon Dogs think Grim is a playmate and often try chasing him around.

Although you often use them to scare some Savanaclaw students or anyone else that seemed to have a problem with you, but it was all the more irritating when you walked right past them without a care in the world. People like that just aren’t worth your time, but it’s not like you’ll back down if they’re really asking for it. Training is no joke and everyone can just feel the intense aura pouring out of you.

Epel thinks you’re the coolest person in the world despite your cold behavior. Despite you two being the same age, you can’t help but look out for him more due to his appearance. However, you know better than to let his pretty face fool you, after the literally punched you for believing he was a woman on first meeting. You two and Jack are workout buddies now.

Despite being new to Twisted Wonderland you don’t really talk much about your life except for the Tokyo Academy. Vigorous training and Gojo’s antics are all you really mention, however you did bring up once that you had an older sister. Although despite everyone’s questioning, mainly Grim’s, you seem to care a lot about her and speak of her with sincerity.

As Nobara Kugisaki

For once Ace is the one getting knocked around and Sebek swears he won’t elive the enxt day every time he encounters you. Some days it’s just a screaming match between you and Sebek over who’s more powerful: you or Malleus. There isn’t a day that goes by where they aren’t utterly terrified or in complete awe. No one would dare say anything to your face though, unless they want to get pummeled into the pavement.

(Ace is Idiot A and Deuce is Idiot B, Grim always gets peeved when you call him Dumb Cat)

Mixed signals are always coming off you as it appears you’re only looking out for yourself. As a strong willed young woman, you don’t really care that the school is full of guys and you actually find it rather fun when you get to beat the crap out of any delinquents getting in your way. It’s even earned you a few admirers, but you have better things to do.

When it comes to power you’re downright scary, and those creepy dolls and hammer around you carry don’t help much either. Even in the face of an Overblot, you are absolutely fearless. Plowing down nails left and right before delivering a final blow with your Straw Doll technique. Needless to say Leona’s impressed. But hey at least it’s easy for you to fix that annoying floorboard in the kitchen.

You often beg Epel to take you to Pomefiore just so you could check out all the interior, or just so you could get a glimpse of Vil and ask him about makeup. Your taste in fashion is actually pretty decent in his eyes so he doesn’t mind your hyper attitude, although he doesn’t approve of how brash you are. Who knows, one day you might endure the same training as Epel, but you love yourself both ways so you don’t really mind.

[mishkakagehishka]

Horrortober Day 2: Decision

Repost from my old blog

I actually really like how this one turned out, especially the final few paragraphs, though I feel like overall the yandere-ness comes across a bit too subtle. Here are the prompts.

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto / GN Yuu Word count: 1768 Quote given: “It’s your decision. Choose wisely.” Summary: They say there’s a student in Night Raven College who can grant any wish, for a price. Shouldn’t you at least hear his demands out when you’re in need of help and no other way in sight?

Disclaimer: this goes without saying, but I feel like I should say it all the same - yandere is just a synonym for toxic, unhealthy and abusive. I do not condone any such behaviour, I simply find it an interesting horror trope, and I try to portray it as something scary and scarring, not romantic or as something to aspire towards.

It was always something with those three. The lovingly (or not) dubbed ‘single-braincell trio’ managed to make a bigger mess of Ramshackle Dorm than it already was. The Prefect was running just a few minutes late to their planned study party, but they stepped into a Dorm they couldn’t recognise as their own. The common room was in a state of disarray; the coffee table overturned, the couch singed, a broken window (and the glass left on the floor – a hazard), and perhaps the most worrying change: a gaping hole in the ceiling and upper parts of the wall looking towards the entrance. The destruction didn’t even seem to be contained to the common room, as the Prefect had assumed from seeing Deuce yelling at Ace and Grim, who were still at each-other’s throats on top of the stairs leading to the beast’s shared room with the Prefect.

“Do you- are any of you going to explain what happened?!” the Prefect loudly announced themselves, gesturing towards all the destroyed parts of the dorm, fury apparent in their movement. “What did you do?!” It took a moment for Ace, Deuce and Grim to realise they were caught red-handed, before they started yelling and talking over each-other. Grim’s voice overpowered theirs, just for a moment, “Ace started it! He took my tuna and didn’t wanna give it back, an’ then he made fun of me!” “But Grim’s the one who started using magic! He burnt down the whole place, not me!” “I tried to stop them! But I lost my temper when that idiot used wind magic against fire, again.” “Oh, I just know you’re not calling me an idiot, cauldron summoner!” “The hell’d you call me?! Ya wanna come closer an’ say that to my face?!” “I did say it to your face, dumbass!”

The Prefect was at a loss of words. They blinked twice, looking over the state of the Dorm again. On top of all else they have to deal with, to think they would be stuck babysitting boys who were surely old enough to know better. “Ignoring that fighting with magic is against the rules… couldn’t you have done it outside, Ace? And not destroyed the place where we are supposed to sleep, Grim?” “We would have been caught by a teacher or somethin’ like that…” “There’s a hole! In my roof! The forecast said the storm season is starting! And I’m dead broke!” “You can sleep in Heartslabyul, Riddle will allow it if we ask him,” Deuce interjected, “at least until you- we help you fix up the roof.” “Yeah! You and Grim can sleep in our room, even. Sam probably has a sleeping bag or somethin’ in his shop,” Ace added. Really, they were just trying to get on the Prefect’s good side to avoid being told on and punished. Grim bounced around a few times. “Doesn’t that sound alright?” he asked the Prefect, still careful. Being glared at reminded him that he also messed up and should probably be quiet. “I mean,” he continued anyway, “it’ll be like a sleepover! Kinda.” “What, and how long are we supposed to stay there? The wall, window and roof needs repairing, I still don’t have money. Crowley doesn’t even give me an allowance, Sam pays peanuts and… and…!”

“Well…” Ace started, somewhat uncertainly, “Have ya met that Octavinelle prefect yet?” “I have. Azul, right? I talked to him a few times, but…” the Prefect trailed off. They wanted to mention how off-putting he is, how they sometimes catch him staring at them from the other side of the courtyard, or how he always seems like he knows so much more about them than they’d ever told him, but stopped themselves. “This is just a rumour I heard from some upperclassmen, uh, supposedly, that Azul can grant anyone’s wishes with just a snap of his fingers. Maybe…?” “I heard that those granted wishes come at a great price, though.“ Deuce tsked. "Is that really a good idea?” “It couldn’t hurt to try and ask. I can always back out if I don’t like the price. I don’t have the best feeling about it, but… I guess I’ll give it a shot. I don’t have many other options.”

And that’s how the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm found themselves in the VIP room of Mostro Lounge, sat on the sofa in the centre of the room, with Azul opposite them and the odd, terrifyingly tall Leech twins standing behind them, one on one side, the other on the other. The atmosphere was tense, and the Prefect swallowed the lump in their throat, before beginning the explanation for why they were there. “I see,” Azul nodded. He closed his eyes, fingers lightly tapping his temple as he thought. “I have just the contract for you,” he smiled. He stood up, leisurely strolling towards the desk situated in front of a large safe. From one of the drawers, he took out paper and a quill. He was quickly back, seated once more opposite them, with the paper set on the coffee table between them. The Prefect watched as the quill moved, on its own, yet following the waves of Azul’s fingers. The contract wasn’t long, but it had a couple of pages to it. Though it was being written by magic, the Prefect couldn’t help but wonder just how it was that Azul managed to come up with an entire contract so quickly after hearing their dilemma? Did the rumour mill work that fast in this school, that he had heard of what happened to Ramshackle and already had an idea, just in case? Was he just that quick-witted? Either way, the Prefect supposed that that is precisely what made his business so successful, the talent and inability to be taken by surprise by anything.

He slid the contract across the table, turning it around in the process. “Since you told me you want to prioritise rebuilding your Dorm, but would not reject a place to stay in the meantime, I formed the contract around those two wishes. Now, I don’t even have to say this, but having two of your demands granted in one contract… well, the price will be just a little steeper.” Azul pushed his glasses up before placing the quill on top of the contract, in the perfect position for the Prefect to take, and sign the contract. “Not to worry, I don’t ask for much! I never do. Really, you won’t even notice giving anything away! Usually, I ask for a little magic, or a skill, something my client takes pride in. However, this being an emergency, I even gave you an easier sacrifice to make…” he trailed off, his eyes squinting a bit as he watched the Prefect read over the contract. They seemed to be very careful. “My, how refreshing!” he sang, “You see, a lot of my past clients were still so immature; they hadn’t even read the contract properly before signing! But I can assure you, there is no catch in my contract, no tiny print or hidden disadvantages for my clients. After all, Octavinelle was founded on the mercy of the Sea Witch, and I take pride in honouring her by offering mercy to poor, unfortunate souls in need of it, just as she did. What sort of Octavinelle prefect would I be otherwise?” “Yeah, I get it,” the Prefect muttered, reading over the, frankly, complicated sentences that littered the contract. They really understood why people would have lawyers reading contracts for them before signing them. Still, between the mercy of the Sea Witch, and Azul’s own promises… surely, they could trust this student? He wasn’t some rotten lawyer either, so, even if he did hide a disadvantage, how horrible could it be? How hidden could it be? “So, what should I give you as payment? I didn’t make a decision yet, just asking.”

“Of course, of course, no need to rush business! Now… the repairs themselves could take a lot of time, and a lot of money. I’ve already seen the damage, it’s nothing to sneeze at. As you’re here because you don’t have money in the first place, as per the contract, you will be paying off this part of the deal by giving me your free time.” By making sure you don’t have any more time to hang around anyone who isn’t him. “… In other words, by working in the Mostro Lounge. Physical errands, unboxing deliveries, cleaning, really, it’s not as daunting as it seems.” Only meant to exhaust you, preventing you from leaving his side even if you wanted to. “It won’t get in the way of your studies, not to worry. Even the hours are negotiable, as you can see right in this section, we can talk the hours over, come to a compromise that suits as both.” That suits him, those twins will threaten you until you agree to bend to his will. “And should you choose to take on more hours – not a lot, really, just a little overtime – I’ll even make sure you have a place to stay, both you and that beast that hangs around you.” The Octavinelle Dorm does have a free room, and what better way to keep you close to himself even after work hours? “Really, the only thing I want to warn you about is that you shouldn’t try to quit before the repairs are over, as that would be a breach of contract.” But he’s the one controlling the repairs, he can make them last for as long as he wants you under his thumb.

“That sounds… pretty good, actually.” The Prefect nodded along to his speech, not managing to find anything wrong. The smile on Azul’s face, the same wooden smile he held since the beginning of their meeting, twitched for a mere moment. The twins, with no words, placed a hand each on the Prefect’s shoulders, comfortingly, encouragingly. “Doesn’t it? So, what do you say?” the smile turned into a grin. “Do we have a deal?” “I… want to think it over.” And the grin turned into a sour smile again. “I understand. One should never rush into business, after all. The contract won’t wait for you eternally, however, so I urge you to come to a decision quickly. That said,” he sighed, putting up his hands, though his eyes didn’t show a single sign of defeat, “it is your decision.”

The twins’ grips on the Prefect’s shoulders turned painful, their nails digging into muscle and bruising nerves. “Just make sure you choose wisely.”

[zhongliologist]

Shibari + Zhongli canon compliant nsfw

Pairing: Zhongli x Gender Neutral!reader

Genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 

Words: 3.9k

AN: Hi anon!! Sorry this took a while! THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS ONE!! I’m glad I had experience writing something like this before skajdha I decided I can’t fit this into a small drabble, so here’s like a really long version lmao my two itty bitty braincells are now in no-brain mode, so this might be full of typos or errors. 

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

***

When Zhongli first heard the word while on a stroll late one night, he had realized that there was indeed an artform he had yet to encounter or at least heard of. His curiosity peaked, it was only a matter of time before he finally had to give in and ask you what it was.

“YN, if I may,” he began, settling the cup of tea to the table. “There is something I wish to know.”

Attention caught, you raised your brows at him—surprised that there was actually something Zhongli has yet to know—as you took a mouthful of wonton noodles.

“Sure, ask away,” you replied, chewing.

“Well, this was several nights ago,” Zhongli recounted, his deep voice serious. “I was passing by a group of shipbuilders and I couldn’t help but over hear their conversation.”

You hummed, prompting him to continue while stuffing another serving of blackened bass in your mouth.

“Their discussion involved an artform popular in Inazuma, and apparently has spread all over Teyvat as well,” he continued. “Unfortunately, I have yet to hear about this certain artform. Could you care enlighten me please?”

Leaning your head to the side, you wondered what it was. There wasn’t any popular art trend nowadays which Zhongli doesn’t know, so you became to grow curious as well.

“Did you catch the name of it?”

Zhongli nodded. “Yes. It’s called shibari.”

You almost choked on the food you were eating.

“Are you sure that’s what you heard?”

“I believe it is what I have heard,” he replied. “Is there something wrong?”

Sighing, you were going to have a lot of trouble explaining it to him. It was painfully obvious how Zhongli is so out of touch from the pleasures of mankind.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you decided it was best for him to know, before he does something unexpected.

“It’s kind of a sexual play,” you told him, but despite your words, Zhongli only glanced at you, eyes blinking.

Watching him, you noticed he had placed his hand over his chin—a habit he had whenever he was thinking. Whatever comes out of his thoughts, you were beginning to become nervous.

“I see. So, performing art during intercourse…interesting,” he mumbled to himself. “It is not too far off considering the fact that intercourse could also be deemed as a form of art, wherein it takes specialized honed skill to elicit a pleasurable result. To take two art forms and combine them in one act…I am astonished at the inventiveness of man.”

You took a bite from a dumpling, eyes jaded. “It’s not that grand, you know.”

“Now that I am aware of its existence,” Zhongli continued, paying no heed to your comment. “I wish to experience it myself. YN, I must request for your assistance.”

The dumpling you were eating fell back to your plate. “…what?”

“This…this shibari. I wish to partake in this now popular art form,” he repeated, but you only became more flabbergasted.

“Didn’t you hear me say that it’s a sexual play?!”

“I did. That is why it must be you,” Zhongli replied, taking your hand and placing it over his smirking lips. “You are my lover after all.”

Flustered, you had no choice but to agree. You knew of Zhongli’s immense curiosity and nothing is going to stop him from finding out what he wants to find out. Moreover, you wouldn’t really want him to experience it with someone else.

“F-fine,” you conceded, still nervous. “But give me a month to prepare. You should also ready yourself.”

Wondering why he had to wait and ‘ready’ himself, Zhongli leaned his head to the side. “Very well, but why a month?”

You scratched your nape as you averted your gaze somewhere. “I don’t have the right stuff, and I don’t have enough knowledge to do it properly. So give me some time.”

*

It had been a month since that conversation had occurred, and Zhongli began to feel a little bit antsy as the day drew near. It wasn’t common for him to feel this nervous energy, always maintaining his calm and composure. But it was different this time.

Since that discussion with you, you had banned any sort of sexual act from sex to masturbation, all except from small kisses; and as someone who had gotten used to your presence in his arms at night, Zhongli instantly felt withdrawal symptoms cloud his dignified countenance.

Zhongli inhaled sharply as soon as you entered his room, anticipation deeply running in his veins. You took a shower right after him, making him wait and allowing his imagination to run rampant inside his head.

“Sorry, did I make you wait?” you asked, making your way to the bed in nothing but a bathrobe.

“No, it’s alright,” Zhongli replied, his long hair now freely flowing after he had taken off his ponytail when he was taking a shower.

Running your hands through his dark hair, you admired the way they slipped against your skin as if they were made of silk. Absentmindedly, you began to braid his hair in a lose coif, making him relax underneath your touch.

“Um…er…YN, are we going to—”

You hummed, interrupting his words as you smiled. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“I fear that I may longer be able to contain my anticipation,” he confessed, feeling your hands on his back through the thin robe he was wearing.

Grinning, you knelt down and embraced him from the back; giving his temple a small kiss. “It seems like I don’t have to ask you if you’re sure about this.”

Loving how you felt so warm around him, Zhongli smiled as well as he intertwined his fingers between yours. “I do feel nervous, but it was I who wished to know; thus I must see it to the end.”

“Well, that settle’s it then,” you replied as you removed yourself from his shoulders. “Before we start, I need to remind you that we can always stop if you can no longer handle it, ok?”

Zhongli sighed. “I am confident that I can handle something like this.”

“Please stop being so stubborn,” you retorted back, annoyed that he really has to insist he wouldn’t need it. “Since it will take you forever to decide, I’ve picked one for you. It’s Rex Lapis. Say it when it gets too much.”

He scoffed. “You retaliate in the most absurd of ways, yet very well, I’ll keep it mind. Nonetheless, that does not mean I will use it.”

You grinned. “You’ll take that back soon enough.”

As you said those words, you shifted from your seat and faced him; hands cupping his chin. There was a look of surprise in Zhongli’s expression as soon as you tilted his head up to meet your eyes—too slow to react at the situation.

“Now, from here on out, I’m the one in charge. Any misdemeanor will warrant due punishment,” you began, voice firm and authoritative. “Are we clear, Zhongli?”

It took him some time to adjust at the sudden shift in the air; stunned at the tone you were giving him. This was probably the first time he had seen you take the lead, and it might’ve given him some sort of whiplash.

“Answer me,” you demanded, which made him jerk his attention back to you.

“I—uh…yes…”

“Very good.”

Smiling at his response, you removed yourself before him and sat just beside him with an easy expression. “Well then, why don’t you take off that robe? Just the robe though, leave your underwear on.”

Brought on by the awkward situation and the fact that you just ordered him to strip, Zhongli’s face immediately heated up to a few degrees. It was strange that he was feeling it for some reason—was this the actual appeal of the performative art form? Or was this simply one of your whims?

As he removed the silk tie tying his robe shut and slid it on the floor, you instructed him to quietly kneel down on the bed before you; hands neatly placed on top of his lap.

“Y-YN…? What is this…?” he asked, confusion marring his youthful face. It was embarrassing to sit on the bed that way, wearing nothing but his underwear, his dick beginning to form a tent.

Yet you only smiled at him.

“Don’t worry. We’re getting to the actual act,” you replied, crawling towards him before placing your hands on his bare chest. “If you can hold on till then, I might actually award you, you know?”

Leaning down, you immediately captured his lips in a deep kiss, moving softly yet sensually against his. Cupping his cheeks, you pushed your tongue inside and easily played with his. For some reason, this felt way hotter than the kisses you previously shared, with Zhongli unable to keep his hands to himself and began to wrap his arms around your waist.

You broke off the kiss with a click of your tongue; your thumb still on his swollen lips.

“YN…”

“What did I say about touching?” you asked, eyes holding nothing but pure mischief.

As soon as he heard you, Zhongli knew he had made a mistake and instantly rescinded his embrace; eliciting a chuckle from you.

“I—uh, forgive me…” he hurriedly told you, his voice beginning to lose their strength as he stuttered and tumbled at the words he used to be so eloquent with. As someone who has prided of his calm demeanor, Zhongli felt a surge of embarrassment at how he easily succumbed to your touch.

It was so adorable to see him like this; all flustered and nervous, making you want to see more of those reactions you have yet to see.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back,” you told him and stood up; an idea forming in your thoughts.

The moment you left; thoughts of things he might’ve done wrong kept repeating inside his head. He was scared that he might’ve crossed something which he shouldn’t have—the sounds of you rummaging through your belongings only exacerbated the nervousness that was already in his system.

However, you were not gone for long. He could sense you behind him, daring not to move or look back, and as soon as you draped a cold silk cloth over his eyes, he instantly realized what he had eagerly signed up for.

For one, as the Geo Archon, it was unimaginable for him to be in such a position, but for some reason, Zhongli found it incredibly arousing to have him at your mercy—to be restricted and ordered around; to be at the other end of the spectrum from what he was used to?

This is strange indeed…

“Don’t you agree that everything feels more vivid when you’re blindfolded?” you asked, now back on his lap; and despite being robbed of sight, he could tell you were smirking. “Does it feel good, Zhongli?”

“I…I cannot be certain…” he replied, the feeling of your intense stare sending shivers down his spine. “I haven’t experienced something like this before…”

At his hesitation, you could only giggle and gave him a small kiss. “Well, there’s a first for everything, but this one here…”

Your voice trailed off, your hand effortlessly finding his half hard dick and pressed on it harshly; eliciting a strangled moan from him. “It’s been feeling good for a while now, don’t you think so Zhongli?”

“I…I—!” He was at a lost for words; the pleasure he felt intoxicating his mind. You were right, the blindfold seemed to heightened his senses to such degrees of vividness.

“I can’t blame you really,” you told him, still toying with his member with your finger but not fully committing on pumping it up and down. “I did tell you to hold off for a month, of course, you’d be unusually sensitive and horny.”

If Zhongli thought his face was hot enough before, he hadn’t anticipated for it to feel full out burning as if his blood was set on fire. He tried holding off the sounds he was making whenever you pepper kisses on his shoulders, but to no avail. He was gradually becoming heady at the immense pleasure your hand was giving. By the time you continued talking, he was already panting heavily, skin flushed and hands balled so tightly into a fist, his knuckles turning white.

“Y-YN…” He wanted to say ‘too much’, but he didn’t want to stop you either.

“I’m impressed you can keep your hands to yourself,” you remarked playfully, rewarding him with a love bite just underneath his jaw. “Why don’t we move on to the actual thing itself?”

Even with the blindfold, Zhongli could feel you standing up; anticipation once again beating wildly against his chest. What were you going to do to him this time?—that was a thrill he had never expected to feel pleasure from.

You returned once more to his side, now with the appropriate items you needed, and brilliant grin on your lips to top it off. It was weirdly exciting for you as well, finally doing something as erotic as this to a dignified gentleman such as Zhongli. Which is why, you couldn’t help but talk him through it.

“I did tell you that shibari some sort of sexual play, right?” you began, as you seized both of his hand and pinned them on his back. “It involves tying someone up with rope, in patterns that are not only visually pleasing but are also designed to make you feel good.”

Zhongli could feel the roughness of the rope cling to his skin as soon as you tied his wrists together before doing various knots up his torso and down to his legs. It was incredibly strange—you were only tying him up but for some reason, he felt so exposed and so turned on.

“The reason why it’s so popular is because it gives a sense of security if you will,” you continued, remembering the patterns you had religiously practiced over and over again for the past month. “As if you were surrendering everything to that one person, trusting that they can give you security, give you pleasure. That is what this art form is.”

Every time he felt your soft hands brush against his damp skin as you tightened the rope around his body, he would control a shudder that kept on surging through him like a multitude of waves. This was beyond the ordinary, a situation Zhongli had not anticipated—you were right when you told him to prepare himself. He definitely did not heed your advice, and it came to him with a price, especially when you finally wrapped some rope around his dick as it stood straight and hard between his legs.

“If only you could see yourself right now, Zhongli,” you told him, pressing firmly on the ropes around his member before nibbling on his earlobe. “Aah, I just want to eat you up.”

With your sultry voice directly sending shockwaves down his lower parts, he could only dig his fingernails on the palm of his hands as the hemp ropes dug deeper in his skin. Even though they were not too tight, the restrictive sensation enveloping his body, plus the way you were touching him now was making him lose his mind.

“YN…YN…p-please, I—!”

He spoke between gasps as he felt your lips suckle on a sensitive point on his neck, his dick twitching as he tried to jerk up.

You hummed amusingly. “What is it, love? Where do you want me to touch you?”

Raking up your fingernails up his toned chest, you smirked as he groaned, unable to find any sort of friction he had been seeking for some time now. The way his long dark locks stuck to his skin because of how much he was sweating, or the way he trembled and shivered at every touch of his skin—you loved them all. As much as how Zhongli was intoxicated by pleasure, you were also heady with the power you had over him.

Not waiting for his answer, you crept your hands up and suddenly pinched his nipples—making him jolt straight up at the abrupt stimulation with a loud moan.

“Do you like it here?” you asked, now lavishing your tongue over a hardened nub; relentless and teasing.

“Ahh…! YN…! Wait, please!”

All of his thoughts had already vanished, replaced only by the sensations of your tongue on his now sensitive nipples, of the ropes wound tightly around him, of how painfully hard his dick was. It felt good, he had to admit it. It felt incredibly good.

“Do you want me to stop? I can always stop,” you asked, smiling. “If not, tell me where else I should touch you.”

Breathless as his chest heaved, Zhongli tried to find the words he wanted to say even as his lips trembled.

“Um…please touch….m-my…”

He was blushing furiously, the word seemingly unable to pass through his lips.

“Your what, Zhongli?” you asked him again, almost cooing but inwardly laughing at how he just can’t say the word ‘dick’.

Biting his lip to stop it from quivering too much, it seemed like he really has to throw every sense of dignity he had in him just to relieve his arousal.

“M-my…pe—ahh!!"

You pinched one of his nipples, pouting. “Don’t you dare call it penis, or else I won’t let you cum. Now, as you were saying?”

If only his head wasn’t too hazy from all the sensations stimulating him simultaneously, he would’ve made a mental note to make you suffer at a later date, but right now, his brain was being ran by his dick.

“P-Please…YN…! My—my…d-dick…I can’t…” he forced between pants as his sweat made the ropes feel even tighter and his underwear feel even more sticky.

Smirking at your victory, you pressed a kiss on his lips, your hands finally removing his dick from the constraints of his underwear. You could feel him groan on your lips as you began to move your hand up and down, and making sure to reach his most sensitive spots.

“Look at you, getting this hard after being tied up,” you whispered to his lips, a grin plastered on your face. “I didn’t know you were this dirty, Zhongli.”

“I-I’m…not!”

He tried to deny it but you kept his mouth shut by squeezing his cock tightly.

“Really now?” you asked, voice low as you kept on pumping him, his voice becoming nothing but dirty noise. “Are you about to cum?”

“YN…!” he growled, the ropes keeping his legs folded biting on his skin. “T-too much….! I’m…!”

Mercilessly, you continued to jerk him off as he crept closer and closer to climax. However, there he realized that the ropes around his member had gotten tighter, and the painful throbbing he felt was because he couldn’t cum.

“Oh? Did you find it out?” you asked, chuckling at the look of desperation so evident in his face. “If you can endure this in a few more minutes, I’ll reward you. How about that?”

“N-no, no….! YN…p-please, I c-can…no longer….” Most of his words were incomprehensible, affected by the pleasure and the pain on his cock.

You hummed playfully once more. “Do you want me to stop then? You can always say the safe word, you know?”

“No! W-wait…please! I n-need…I can’t…!”

“Then endure,” you replied, an idea blooming in your head. Your free hand then reached for the blindfold covering his eyes and unraveled it, allowing him to finally see.

However, he did not have time to recover when you immediately caught his attention.

“Look how hard you are, Zhongli,” you told him, his amber eyes blow wide by his current state. Yet strangely, the thought of him so aroused and at your mercy, only made him harder.

Laying down on the bed with your chest on the mattress, you looked up to him, his dick on your hands; your eyes reflecting mischief. “If you can hold on for a few minutes, I’ll let you cum, alright?”

Zhongli only gazed down on you, face as hot as the sun and as red as beet. He watched as you took his dick in your mouth and began sucking him off. At the sensation, he instantly threw his head back. This was totally different from your hands. This was just incredible.

With lustful eyes, you watched him convulse before as you assaulted him with your tongue—sucking and licking at every sensitive point you knew. The underside and the tip were particularly sensitive and that was where you concentrated.

“A-ahh…! Oh…shit…YN!” he groaned, his deep voice and the way he was now cursing sent you reeling as well. “T-too good…I’m…f-fuck…!”

You chuckled, the vibrations on your throat making his dick twitch as you kept on bobbing your head. Gazing up, you both exchanged glances as you kept on sucking the tip; his eyes tightly closing at the intensity.

“Are you going to cum?” you asked before diving in once again, your hands secretly making their way underneath his underwear and finding his hole. “I’ll help you.”

“W-wait…! T-that’s!” he jolted up yet unable to do anything but feel your fingers brushing around the rim.

Prodding at his hole, you enjoyed watching the pained yet lustful expression he was making on his otherwise stoic face. His eyebrows furrowed, his cheeks flushed pink, his mouth ajar as drool poured down his chin. It was fascinating, addicting. You can’t help but tease him endlessly, relentlessly as he kept on moaning your name again and again as if under a spell.

“P-Please….let me…I can’t…I’m going to….Y-YN…!”

Deciding that this was finally the limit of his first time, you cleverly untied the knot on his back which kept the rope around his pelvis secure, allowing it to loosen.

Still sucking him off and poking on his hole, you could feel him twitch inside your mouth, an indication that he was close.

“YN…! I’m….ughh…c-coming!”

In a few pumps, Zhongli climaxed in your mouth; his warm cum on your throat. It was a bit too much, and a little thick so you were unable to swallow everything, allowing it to drip down your chin.

Released from his high, Zhongli couldn’t believe he just had his biggest nut of his life after being tied up. It was in every ounce, shameful and embarrassing but it just felt too good for him to resist at all. Maybe it wasn’t too much of a bad thought to do this once in a while.

Eventually, you loosened the ropes that were still on him and took note of the rope markings on his skin, reminding yourself to give him that special balm you got for this exact purpose. As soon as you released him, you pulled him to a deep kiss which he gladly reciprocated.

Unlike your previous ones, this kiss was one of concern and care—asking and answering questions that were difficult to convey. As your lips moved against each other, your chest began to warm and float, glad that you were able to deliver his request. When you both pulled away, the normal Zhongli was back; his eyes warm and lively.

“I’m glad it felt good,” you told him, cupping his cheek. “I was afraid I might hurt you or something.”

He only chuckled and gave you a pat. “I did tell you I can handle it.”

You sighed in relief, loving the way he was touching you. “So, how about we sleep—"

Zhongli however interrupted you, pushing you down the bed, pinning your wrists. He was smiling but you definitely knew you were screwed.

“I reckon it is time for me take my revenge,” he gazed at you, eyes turning feral. “No one will be sleeping tonight.”

[volleychumps]

Hello dear!!! imma make a tooth rotting fluff imagine request in which kenma, sakusa, wakatoshi and kageyama(you can add others if you want uwu) have a secret relationship with reader chan and somehow their team finds out and they start to freak out since their relationship is a secret? lol this is too long but im just craving fluff. thankk youuu!!!!

I saw your requests, goregous- sorry it took so long!! I love you, hope you guys enjoy!! 

Thank you for 2.5k followers-you guys make me want to combust (in a good way)!!!

Getting Found Out in a Secret Relationship  (Kenma, Sakusa, Wakatoshi, and Kageyama)

“Experiencing the Unexpected” 

-------------------------------

Kenma 

“...You’re positive no one’s going to come in?” 

“Relax. Kuroo left the clubroom keys with me, and everyone knows I skip today’s practice.” Kenma responds quietly, leaning his head on yours as you stop looking nervously at the door, your boyfriend swiping his thumb over your conjoined hands to calm you down. You fiddle with the pastry in your hand as Kenma chews the other half, content with finally getting some private time with you. Avoiding you or at least pretending to care less about you was more straining than he thought. 

“Why don’t we just tell him? Kuroo and the team wouldn’t bother you forever-”

“Then you clearly don’t know them well enough.” The setter huffs as you bite back an amused grin, planting a small peck on Kenma’s cheek as the setter’s eyes widen mid-chew, glancing down at you smiling a cute smile to yourself. 

“Then whatever you’re comfortable with, love. I won’t rush you.” 

“Can I say something?” Kenma mumbles shyly, finishing off his half of the pastry and basking in the quiet of your environment as you lick some frosting off your thumb, turning towards him with an arched brow. 

“I really really like you, Y/N.” Kenma says quietly, and your eyes widen a fraction before a huge smile breaks out onto your face- he only ever had to say the most heart-wrenching things at the randomest moments. Your smile only grew when a timid hand cups your cheek, your own hand running through Kenma’s long hair affectionately as he shyly peppers kisses across your cheek- 

your giggles apparently loud enough for both of you to fail to hear the fiddling of the lock. 

“Kenma, you bastard! How many times-?” 

You shove Kenma off right away, a red hue to your cheeks as you catch sight of the rest of the team standing behind their captain wide-eyed and bewildered at seeing their anti-social setter in a locked clubroom kissing a girl- 

Through your blushing haze, your mouth hangs agape at Kuroo not even reacting, winking at you once with a grin in greeting before grabbing Kenma by the collar.

“You’re skipping practice again?!” 

Yaku sweatdrops. “Oh. So we’re pretending like Y/N wasn’t locked in a room with Kenma voluntarily?” 

“Were they...cuddling?” 

“Lev, I’m sorry I didn’t shield your eyes on time-” 

“...you knew?” Kenma ignores his idiotic teammates, more focused on the fact that Kuroo hadn’t even batted an eyelash before the captain simply shrugs, spinning his own set of keys on his finger. 

“I have my ways.” 

“That means you stalked him.” 

“I prefer the terms, quietly followed-” 

“Can we please focus on the fact that Kenma was showing genuine human emotion to a girl out of his league-” 

You turn to your boyfriend amongst the bickering teammates, lopsided grin on your face as Kenma groans into his hands. With your own red hue on your cheeks, you hug him, observing the chaos before kissing his cheek- sending the team into another gasp of shock as Kenma sighs, looking at you with a why? expression on his blushing features. 

“Cat’s out of the bag then, huh?” 

“...a pun. We just got found out and your first reaction’s a pun.” 

Sakusa

“You didn’t have to wait up for me.” 

“I know! I did because I want to.” You shoulder your bag with a small greeting smile on your face- one that had the stiff boy’s chest tighten just a little bit as Sakusa merely nods once. You arch a brow at the high rise of his chest, coy grin tugging at your lips-

“Did you run here?” 

“Of course I didn’t.” 

You laugh a little, taking note of his still-wet hair and sloppily shoved gym bag, walking up to him to straighten his mask for him. “You’re teammates aren’t the least bit suspicious?” 

“Ha. Those idiots don’t know how to be suspicious.” Sakusa says, thankful they had all gone home already as you sit down on the nearby bench to help re-pack his gym bag that you knew was obviously bothering him. You laugh a little, knowing where to put what in the way Sakusa liked- and a rare tender feeling spread across his chest as he tugged his mask down before he could convince himself otherwise. 

“Y/N.” 

“Hm?” You question, not looking up from sorting his towel from his shoes before pale fingers gently tilt your head upwards- taking you off-guard as Sakusa makes an exception and plants a chaste kiss on your forehead, clearing his throat and tugging his mask back up quickly. You smile, cherishing the rarity of the moment before-

“I CALLED IT.” 

“Bokuto-san, he might hear us!” 

“...He definitely heard you, are you slow?” 

Sakusa hangs his head, a slow burn on his cheeks as he tugs you behind him from your seat on the bench, glowering at the floor as his three annoying teammates pop their heads timidly around the corner of the practice gym. 

“Oh heeeeeey Sakusa.” Atsumu laughs a little too loudly as Bokuto follows in suit, looking around as if he were lost as Hinata mimicks him, and you peek over your boyfriend’s shoulder to muffle a laugh into the back of his jacket. Sakusa glances at you, eyes softening a little at your actions. 

“Fancy seeing you here!” Hinata waves to you mostly as Sakusa sighs, eyes looking up darkly. 

“You’re all vermin.” 

“What, it’s not like we followed you because we were suspicious of your secret rendezvous with Y/N even though I totally called dibs first-” 

Atsumu clamps his mouth shut at the glower in his friend’s eyes before clearing his throat. “A joke. It was a joke.” 

“Waaaa Y/N, we’re your friends too! Why keep it a secret?” Bokuto whines, suddenly next to you as Sakusa wonders just when the excited ace made his way over, holding you by the shoulders as Hinata clenches his fists, orange eyes asking in the same fashion. Atsumu blinks, suddenly all alone as you stutter- attacked at all angles at once. 

“You would mess with Kiyoomi at practice if you knew.” You scold, and all three take on an offended expression that had you giggling. “What? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.” 

“No use, Y/N.” Sakusa tugs you out of the herd, finally reaching his limit for the day. “Let’s just go home while we can still count our braincells-” 

“Wait. You two live together?!” 

“Show us your place! Show us your place!” Bokuto and Hinata chant as Atsumu crosses his arms with a winning smirk as you put a hand on your boyfriend’s chest, pouting all the while before Sakusa facepalms. 

“Fine. Bring your germ-infested pets into the flat, Y/N.” 

Ushijima

“You’re tense.” 

“Yeah? Wouldn’t you be?” You look at the entrance to the gym a second time before Ushijima shrugs, holding you a little closer as he nuzzles his face into his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to keep you a secret, but it was crucial that no press ever found out and harassed you about the details of the intimate life he wished to keep hidden. 

“Practice doesn’t start until another hour. They have no reason to come in here yet.” 

“Still, it’s risky- we can just...” 

“Y/N.” You stop fidgeting at the authoritative tone of your boyfriend’s words as Ushijima’s arms tighten around you a little more, and you blush at the position. Your back was pressed up against the broad boy’s chest, sitting in between his legs comfortably as he simply soaked in your presence while mumbling into your hair.  

“I haven’t seen you in awhile. Did I miss you more than me? Is that why you’re more focused on my team walking in on us than this time we have together?” 

You groan at the tug of your heart, pouting up at your boyfriend as you turn a little to do so. “Come on, don’t guilt trip me like that!” 

“Cute.” 

“Stop.” You whine, and the corners of Ushijima’s lips tug a little before he gently cups your jaw upwards, brushing your nose with his as you gulp at the proximity. 

“You missed me, didn’t you?” 

“S-Stop stating the obvious.” You blush, agitated look in your eyes as Ushijima simply allows a small smirk onto his lips- your cute response prompting him to close the distance. You smile into the kiss, feeling his arms hold you a little closer as you basked in the rare affection you ever got to share away from prying eyes- 

The sliding of the door had you shoving out of your boyfriend’s hold as your now-widened eyes caught sight of a head of red hair. A familiar one, at that- as you hide your face into Ushijima’s neck. 

“Tendou. I saw you.” Your boyfriend’s voice wasn’t even embarrassed as you hear the door creak open again, his friend’s voice filling the gym in a slightly teasing tone. 

“I didn’t want to interrupt, carry on!” 

To your horror, a second voice sounds as Semi Eita kicks the redhead out of the way. “You’re perverted and annoying? The good traits just keep coming, huh?” 

“S-Semi-senpai, is that not assault?” 

“It’s only assault in any other case that isn’t Tendou.” Shirabu responds to Goshiki as the team all file in, and you blink at the fact that your boyfriend didn’t look the least preturbed at the situation- merely sighing as if this were a minor inconvenience as he rubs your thigh, attempting to calm you down but simply making the situation worse. 

Shirabu takes a purposeful step in front of Goshiki with a sigh as Tendou over-dramatically gasps, prompting you to shove Ushijima’s hand away as Semi crosses his arms, the only one still seemingly sane. 

“Y/N L/N’s your girlfriend, Ushijima?” 

You feel his head nod. 

“Cool.” Semi shrugs before going to set up the net as Ushijima finally releases you, and you stand before bowing deeply in apology- for what at the time, you didn’t know. 

“You’re...cute?” 

“Why would you say that in a disbelieving tone, Tendou-” 

“I...I need to get a girlfriend to become the best ace...!” 

“I’d appreciate it if you all don’t let the public find out.” Ushijima ignores the strange antics of his team as they all shrug and nod, and their captain glances down at your still shocked figure before turning you to face him seriously. 

“...They know about us.” 

“Oh really? I couldn’t tell.” 

Kageyama

“Tobio! You did so well-!” 

Your eyes widen a little when the blue-eyed boy picks up the pace towards your waving figure in the halls of the tournament, sighing as he leans his forehead on your shoulder, hands still shoved in his pockets as the upper half of his torso is now parallel to the floor. His gym back drooped with his movement as you still in shock at the public display- when your whole relationship had ever happened behind closed doors. 

“Someone might see...” You say softly, and Kageyama grunts in reply, basking in the feel of you as you blush, running your hand softly through his raven hair. 

“Tired?” 

“You have no idea. When I saw some asshole talking to you in the stands during my game and I couldn’t-” 

“Breathe.” You laugh a little as Kageyama lifts his forehead off your shoulder to stare at you seriously. “Where’s your team?” 

“In the stands over-eating.” He shrugs, hands snaking around your waist, causing you to yelp a little as the blue-eyed boy buries his face in your neck. “God, I missed you.” 

“You can miss me in a more private place, you know.” Your eyes dart everywhere before smiling into Kageyama’s hair, relaxing the slightest bit as Kageyama brushes his lips against your cheek as he pulls back. 

“I want to show you off. Why do I want to keep this secret again?” 

You blush at the affectionate words, wondering if the time you had to avoid each other was taking a toll on him, before cupping his cheek carefully- 

“That’s what we’d like to know, Romeo.” 

“Ooh, that rhymed Ryuu.” 

You watch as your boyfriend’s face slowly melts into one of realization, his head slowly turning to see all of the Karasuno volleyball club staring with some sort of food in their hands- watching as if this were the most interesting film of the year. 

Kageyama’s soul seems to slowly leave his body, and you offer a wave of your hand a bit awkwardly as Tsukishima nudges Hinata with his shoulder, chewing on a granola bar snarkily. 

“I told you so. Cough up five bucks.” 

“How does Kageyama-Kun have a girlfriend?! Does she even know him?!!” 

“Is...is that a legitimate question, Hinata?” Yamaguchi, mostly dragged along in the plan of following a suspicious escaping setter after they won their match, scratches the back of his neck. 

“Now, now- Don’t crowd.” Suga laughs, walking up to you and slinging a friendly arm over your shoulder before lowering his voice. 

“But in all seriousness, you’re not in danger or anything- right?” 

“Suga!” Daichi tugs his friend back as Kageyama puts his face in his hands before taking a deep breath, and for a second you think he’s really going to handle the situation really well- 

You blink when he grabs your hand.

“Run.” 

“Tobio, we don’t have to-” 

“Run.” 

------------------------------------

General works: @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles @takemetovalhalla @yams046

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

"I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met." memory loss angst? 👉👈🥺

anon... fam, this turned into an emotional rollercoaster and totally stole my braincell.

3.8k words. angst with a happy ending. 

tw: memory loss, minor anxiety, repressed memories, idiots to lovers, whump, angst with a happy ending, angst with a fluffy ending

---

It’s been three hours, five minutes, and forty-two seconds since the frigid breeze whipped Geralt’s angry words at him, shattering his fragile, stupid heart to pieces. Every syllable rings through Jaskier’s head over and over, slamming into him from all directions and crippling him with a bone-deep pain far worse than anything he’s ever felt before. The ache ebbs and flows, lancing through him with every step. Not even Geralt’s first frustrated blow to his abdomen had been this terrible.

Geralt… That’s the problem, isn’t it? He hadn’t been smart enough to get out of the gorgeous Witcher’s long, silvery hair soon enough. He’d overstayed his welcome, fallen in love in the meantime, and is now very out of sorts (and also alone in unfamiliar territory). The bard laughs but it’s a hollow sound. Jaskier has reached the edge of hysteria, his intelligent blue eyes now vacant and unseeing. Even as he stumbles through the underbrush, all he can picture is the snarl on Geralt’s face as the Witcher yells at Destiny to take Jaskier off his hands. 

Jaskier’s own hands are covered in sap and splinters from pushing tree branches away from his face as he traverses the darkening forest. His hair is full of debris and his clothes are torn and dirty; Geralt has all of his emergency supplies, still. Jaskier is pretty sure that his lute is still strapped over his shoulder but he realizes, with no small amount of surprise, that he doesn’t actually care.

He doesn’t have the capacity anymore. 

He can’t care… caring hurts too much.

If only Destiny had taken him off Geralt’s hands. Maybe then it would be okay. Maybe then, if Geralt was well and truly free of him and his irritating presence, the Witcher could be happy. He and Yennefer will surely come back around, they always seem to, and Ciri will be joining them soon enough it seems. 

There’s no need - no room - for a humble bard anymore.

Only five hours, thirty minutes, and twelve seconds after Geralt’s outburst at the top of the mountain, Jaskier’s delicate human body succumbs to the stress of the day.

He drops to the forest floor without a sound, grateful for the darkness.

---

Yennefer finds the bard in a heap a few miles away from the previous night’s elevated campsite. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead she yanks it away almost immediately; he’s burning up, and his skin is clammy and sticky with sweat. The feathery bangs he flicks about and preens so much are stuck to his forehead and temples. He’s on the verge of shaking apart and Yennefer tosses her head imperiously, swearing.

“Damnit, Geralt. You and your incredibly foolish need to be alone all the time so you can brood and self-flagellate. Me, an ageless sorceress from one of the greatest magic schools on the Continent? I can handle a thorough tongue lashing. Fuck, I’m older than you and I’ve seen far worse but this… oh, you great lummox. You absolute bastard…” Yennefer mutters to herself as she assesses the bard’s deteriorating state of health, ranting to an invisible Geralt all the while. “You’re absolutely going to be hearing from me about this, Wolf.”

--- Three days, one hour, and fifteen minutes after Geralt dismissed him forever, Jaskier wakes up with a loud gasp and a violent shudder. He blinks slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light streaming in through a window. Whatever he’s lying on is comfortable and the sheets smell fresh and bright, like lilac and freesia. A hint of gooseberry lies beneath it all, delicate and sweet. He glances around the space and finds it to be relatively bare; a guest room, perhaps. Maybe he’s a servant at some noble house? 

Jaskier only really knows that his name is Jaskier and that he plays music. He’s also rather talented with floral arrangements. 

Shortly after he’s finished purveying his (borrowed?) chamber, the very image of grace, beauty, and terror enters the room. The woman, whose coppery skin and enchanting violet eyes practically glow in the midafternoon sun, smiles down at him in a way that toes the line between Motherly and Shark-like. 

“How are you feeling, Jaskier?”

“I’m alright. And you?”

“Just fine. Geralt really did a number on us, huh?” she asks, a playful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. He has the feeling that something isn’t right; she shouldn’t be looking at him so kindly. 

Her expression changes from friendly to horrified to confused in an instant, as soon as Jaskier manages to ask: “Who’s Geralt? And, pardon me, but I feel as if something is rather amiss. Who are you, my Lady?”

Whoever the gorgeous and terrifying woman is, she grimaces briefly. Then, as if by magic, the comforting smile returns. “I’m Yennefer, of course. I saved your life a few years ago, remember?”

Jaskier wracks his brain but cannot call the occasion to mind. “Unfortunately no, I don’t remember your no doubt heroic deed. Although I suppose that means I’m in your debt, doesn’t it? Do I work for you? Is that why I’m here?”

The woman blinks a few times, slowly, and then nods. “You’re my gardener and personal musician.”

Jaskier brightens, happy to have found himself in a safe environment. 

“But you’ve had a nasty illness and your mind is clearly fatigued. Rest another day or two and then we can see about getting you back into the fresh air.”

“Thank you, my Lady,” Jaskier nods.

“Yen is fine.”

“Thank you, Yen. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” he grins. 

---

Yennefer turns away to hide her pained expression. You’d probably still be with your beloved Witcher. 

She makes her way to the kitchen to fix Jaskier something to eat. He must be hungry after spending three days in a deep, healing sleep. She hadn’t been expecting the amnesia, though; it was an unexpected but not unsurprising turn of events. Heartbreak had done stranger things than a little bit of fever-induced memory loss. When she’d delved briefly into his mind she hadn’t seen any sign of Geralt. His face was absent from the bard’s consciousness; she would have needed to dig to unearth those memories. Whatever the Witcher had done was grievous, especially if Jaskier’s mind compensated with something as dramatic as burying Geralt completely to save itself from further harm.

No matter, she decides, the bard can stay here as long as he likes. It’s the least I can do for all the upset Geralt and I have caused him. Where is that idiot Witcher, anyway?

The sorceress quickly clears her agenda and her mind before returning to her guest room with a large tray of food, a bottle of Toussainti red under her arm. “Jaskier, darling, let’s get your convalescence started in style!”

---

2 months later

---

Jaskier watches a strange man ride up the long path to Yennefer’s manor, the hilts of his twin swords glinting in the sun where they’re slung over his shoulder. He has long white hair and the most devastating jawline the bard/gardener (or ‘bardener’ as he says to irritate his darling employer) has ever laid eyes on. He’s clad all in black, from his plain linen shirt to his tight leather trousers; Jaskier thinks he’d also look rather lovely in dark blue or perhaps forest green.

In front of him, wrapped securely against his chest by one strong arm, sits a little girl with ashen hair and frightened eyes. Haunted eyes. Jaskier’s mind fills with ballads, some familiar and some oddly dreamlike, their lyrics half-obscured and hazy. Ciri, he thinks for no reason. Her name is Ciri. And she is a Princess.

The brunette scurries from the garden alongside the house to the kitchen, searching for the familiar cloud of Yennefer’s strong perfume. “My Lady?” 

“Darling?” the sorceress replies, coming around the corner. She raises her perfectly maintained eyebrows and her lips quirk up into a smirk. “Did you sprint all the way from the west lawn?”

“There’s a- strange man- on the- drive!” he huffs. “White hair- horse!”

“Oh,” her eyes go wide with surprise. Then, in a split second, they narrow to slits. “Oh.”

“Do you, uhm, know him?” Jaskier asks, twiddling his fingers. “He’s rather handsome, Yen. Is he a former lover?”

“Unfortunately,” she growls. “I can’t believe it’s taken him two fucking months to get here. He’d better have a damned good excuse.”

By now Jaskier can breathe normally again and he straightens up, shaking his long, shaggy hair from his eyes. “He had a child with him. She looked scared, Yen.”

“Cirilla!”

Yennefer dashes for the front door and Jaskier follows instinctually. They’re always together and he can’t bear to let her confront this man alone. He’s spent every waking moment with Yen since he awoke that first day and she has grown to be his dearest friend; he’ll protect her even unto death. “Yenna, what’s wrong? Who is he!?”

“Geralt of Rivia,” she snarls. The name seems familiar; maybe from a ballad or story? Perhaps Yen has mentioned him before? 

“What about Geralt of Rivia?” a low, rumbling bass asks from the front hallway. Jaskier and Yennefer arrive in the doorway together and the man, Geralt apparently, takes a shaky step back. He recoils a bit, as if he’s been slapped, and Yennefer’s smile grows cruel. His voice, still incredibly low but now with a slight tremor to it, stutters out; “Wha- Yen, what is he- Jaskier? I only came to ask for help with Ciri, I didn’t know- I didn’t-”

Geralt’s stammered speech tapers off into silence and Yennefer’s brow furrows a second time. When the sorceress sets eyes on the child, who cannot be more than twelve years old, her expression softens again. Jaskier watches the most imposing woman in the world kneel, taking one small, pale hand in both of her own. “My name is Yennever of Vengerberg, former Sorceress of Aretuza. I am honored to meet you, Princess Cirilla. Geralt has come seeking protection, no doubt, and it is easily granted. I will do everything I can to help you.”

“Thank you, Lady Yennefer. And, uhm… Ciri’s fine,” the girl replies. Her voice is high and reedy, shot through with anxiety. She’s so young, Jaskier frowns. And yet she seems to have weathered an incredible storm.

“Ciri,” the bard bows from the doorway, low and dramatic. He sweeps his arm out to the side and bends his knees as awkwardly as possible, “I am Jaskier, private troubadour and gardener extraordinaire, under the employ of the magnanimous and dangerous Lady Yennefer, here. It is my greatest honor to make your very mighty and very royal acquaintance.”

“You’re silly, Master Jaskier,” the child giggles, hiding her mouth behind her hands. Geralt’s eyes grow wide and dart between Jaskier and the girl. Yennefer makes meaningful eye contact before nodding toward the door. Jaskier looks down at Ciri again when she asks: “Do you grow lots of flowers in Lady Yennefer’s garden, or just herbs and things for magic?” 

“I grow lots of things all over the property,” the brunette man steps forward and offers Ciri his hand, gesturing towards the front door with the other. “Would you like to come and take a look? I know all the scientific names, you can even quiz me if you like.”

“I know some,” she smiles shyly, accepting the offered hand. “May I go take a look at the gardens, Geralt?”

“Go ahead,” the Witcher nods dumbly. “Jaskier will take good care of you.”

“That I will. Now, let’s take a look at the flowers and let these silly adults have a chat,” Jaskier grins. He winks at Yennefer and disappears out the door, exiled Princess in tow. 

The two lively companions have toured through all the medicinal herbs and are halfway through Yennefer’s large collection of rose variations when the two other members of the party approach. Geralt looks sheepish, his eyes downcast. Yennefer looks triumphant; she is radiant in her victory as always. 

Geralt steps forward, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Jaskier, I’ve come to apologize for what happened when we parted.”

“Excuse me?” the bard chuckles, raising an eyebrow.  "I don’t know what you’re apologizing for, exactly.”

“When I yelled at you after the dragon hunt. It was only two months ago, Jaskier, surely you remember?”

Jaskier blushes, glancing anxiously between Geralt and his friend, whose violet eyes are stormy with emotion, “I'm truly sorry, but I don't think we've ever met."

Geralt gasps sharply and takes a step back, as he did in the entryway. Jaskier winces, seemingly on instinct, and shies away from the larger man. “You don’t remember me?”

“No…” Jaskier sighs. “I really don't. Should I?”

“You don’t… You don’t even remember Toss a Coin?”

“Oh, that ditty from town?” Jaskier perks up. “I know that song! It always gets stuck in my head.”

“You… You wrote that song,” Geralt’s face crumples. “About our first adventure together outside of Posada. With the elves and the sylvan...”

“I’ve never been to Posada,” Jaskier laughs, waving his hand dismissively. “They hate bards. They prefer troupes of traveling play-actors. Posada is far too serious for my tastes.”

Geralt seems to be in agony. His chest rises and falls unevenly, as if he’s on the verge of tears but unable to shed them. Can Witchers cry? 

How does he know that Geralt is a Witcher? Is it the two swords, the scars, or the strange eyes? How does he know that those are common Witcher traits?

His stomach lurches and he turns away from the group in case he needs to be sick. The ground spins and shivers in little ripples around him, unstable and impermanent beneath his feet. Yennefer is calling his name from somewhere far away and a pair of warm, strong arms are looped around his waist. Still, he can’t seem to breathe. Or focus.

There’s something missing. 

He starts to hum, trying to remember the words of that damned song.

The rest of the world fades in and out around him, finally disappearing altogether.

---

He’s gorgeous. 

Jaskier shoves another roll into his pocket. His eyes are focused on the man in the corner. He has long, snow-white hair and his shoulders are hunched forward protectively, as if he can hold the world out by sitting by himself. He’s glaring the table into submission, one fist clenched around his tankard. 

I want to write him a thousand ballads. I want to know what his hair looks like when he wakes up in the morning, before he brushes it out again. I want to know if he snores. I want… he stops himself. 

He makes his way across the room with eyes only for the stranger. “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

The man looks away and Jaskier notices that his irises are gold. “I’m here to drink alone.”

Gods, his fucking voice… Velvet and gravel all at once. Melitele, does Jaskier want. “Good, yeah. Good. No one else hesitated to comment on the quality of my performance… except for you.”

The man, the Witcher, Jaskier realizes, rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he wheedles, sitting down across from the gorgeous stranger. “You don’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting. You must have some review for me, three words or less.”

The man’s face stays stoic, expressionless. “They don’t exist.”

He realizes shortly thereafter that this man is not just any Witcher but the infamous Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He could try to disengage himself from such a daunting character; he could easily make some kind of excuse and disappear back to the troubadour’s path, heading towards civilization, but it’s already too late. He doesn’t want to leave Geralt’s side ever again; he wants to write all those ballads he was thinking about earlier, when he glanced across the room. 

Jaskier has fallen head over heels in love. ---

Geralt cradles Jaskier against his chest and presses his nose deep into those chestnut brown waves. “Wake up, Jaskier. Come back to me, bard, it’s been too long.”

“Don’t you usually go all winter without seeing him?” Yennefer asks from the doorway. 

“It’s hell,” he replies easily. There’s no point in hiding his feelings from her. “I miss him every minute of every day.”

“Verbose this evening,” she remarks, taking a seat by the fire. “He’s dreaming, you know. He’s remembering you.”

“He’d forgotten?”

“He’d repressed it all,” she shrugs. “When I found him that day, feverish and nearly dead on the side of that godsforsaken mountain, he was barely coherent enough to open his eyes. He just kept asking for you, Geralt. Over and over he called for you, reaching his arms up, weak as they were. Gods, it was pitiful to watch.”

Geralt swallows. 

“I thought you were going to come back sooner. I was surprised when his memories didn’t resurface after two or three weeks. Short-term memory loss after a fever isn’t uncommon but repressing twenty years worth of feelings and experiences-” she whistles lowly “-it was impressive and tragic, all at once.”

“He forgot me?”

“Entirely.”

Geralt glances down, shame-faced. He adjusts Jaskier in his arms, holding him close and pillowing the bard’s head against his shoulder. “I deserve it, Yen.”

“He’s remembering now, though. He’ll probably be a little less than pleased to see you when he wakes up, but he knows who you are.”

“When will he wake?”

“Can’t say,” she shrugs again. “After I brought him back from the mountain it took three days for him to wake up. The first day was magically induced but after that it was just him… exhausted and heartbroken to the point of self-induced amnesia.”

“Fuck, Yen,” Geralt groaned, pressing his forehead into the soft warmth of Jaskier’s cheek. “How can I make it up to him?”

“Stay.”

“Hmm?”

“When he wakes up and he’s angry and upset, stay. Don’t stomp off or blow up or freak out,” she instructs. “If he asks you to leave, go, but otherwise… prove yourself, Geralt of Rivia. You wanted to be a knight once, didn’t you? Now’s your chance to play Prince Charming. Get down on your lovely knees and beg and apologize.”

“Hmm. How’s Ciri?”

“Fed, bathed, and put to bed. I’ll take care of her for as long as it takes you two morons to make nice again. Good luck, Geralt, I’m sure he’ll forgive you too easily for my tastes.”

She stands from her seat and leaves just as efficiently as she entered, carefully closing the door behind her. Geralt lays Jaskier back on the bed and takes a seat beside him on the mattress, kneeling just within touching distance, should Jaskier reach out for reassurance in his sleep. Geralt closes his eyes and slips easily into meditation. 

The Witcher is pulled from his trance a few hours later when Jaskier makes a startled sound and tries to sit up. Geralt opens his eyes and splays one warm, broad hand against Jaskier’s chest, forcing him back against the goose down pillows. “Stay still, Jaskier. You’re feverish and weak.”

“I’m still dreaming,” the bard grumbles, reaching to rub at his eyes with the heels of his hands. It’s adorable and Geralt grins widely, warmth spilling into his chest from some newly discovered fount of happiness. “You’re being too nice to me, Witcher.”

“I’m so sorry, Jaskier, for everything.”

“What’s everything, Geralt?”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away when I was angry and confused instead of communicating with you. I’m sorry for hurting you with my brash words and foolish actions; you have always deserved so much better and I’m so afraid that I can never give that to you. I take the wrong step at every turn, it seems, and yet you stay by my side. I didn’t want to risk hurting you the way I’ve already hurt Yen and Ciri, by tying us together against your will.”

“Darling Geralt,” the bard sighs. The Witcher scoots slightly closer and Jaskier lays a gentle hand atop his thigh. “It has always been my greatest pleasure to travel the Path with you and write of our adventures. I appreciate your concern for my agency and wellbeing, dear heart, but I am quite happy spending my entire human life in your presence.”

“Hmm,” the Witcher frowns. “You’re going to die someday.”

“And? So are you. So shall Yennefer, maybe.”

“Not likely,” Geralt jokes. Jaskier grins and the sight of it is so heartwarming that the Witcher wishes he could break down into tears. At least then Jaskier could see just how deeply his feelings ran. “I’m sorry, Jaskier, for blaming you for things that I brought upon myself. I love you dearly, and I hope that someday you can choose to travel with me again.”

“Excuse me?”

“I hope that you’ll-”

“No, the other bit.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“Oh. Yes, I-” Geralt clears his throat and looks Jaskier in the eyes, gold and blue locked together, “I love you very much, Jaskier.”

“Fuck.”

“May I kiss you, Jaskier?”

“Yes,” the bard breathes.

And then Geralt is lifting him up into his lap, one hand cradling Jaskier’s skull so so fucking carefully. Geralt’s other arm supports his waist, holding him steady. Their lips come together softly, carefully, and Jaskier’s soul spirals up to the ceiling with joy, his body abandoned. He is merely a vessel for the happiness that comes with kissing his Witcher. When they pull apart, both men are grinning like fools. “Oh, dear heart.”

“Yes, my love?”

“Never stop calling me that.”

“I swear I won’t, my love.”

From downstairs, Geralt hears Yennefer mutter, “Fucking finally.”

It takes twenty-two years, seven months, and one day, but Geralt and Jaskier manage to figure things out.