#also love ghoul falling off a horse

[ramblingoak]

The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 6: The Newlywed Game

~~ Please visit The Outlaw Brides Masterpost to catch up and read more stories from this world ~~

Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster!  Lots of other amazing people have done fanart of Cowboy Copia so please go check it out: @meowsaidmissy (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335  here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing​ here, @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2) and from valkyrieinpink on twitter.  Also a huge thank you to @kissingghouls for aggressively holding my hand and letting me scream at her about cowboys.

Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: alternative universe, slow burn romance, blood, eventual smut, NSFW, 18+ only MDNI, 9,100 words for this one 

“He’s going to beat the shit outta me.”

“Stop being so dramatic and just do it.”

Swiss groaned but took a few steps towards where Copia and Princess were before stopping and spinning around. 

“Why did you put her in my shirt again?”

“I am so tired of being around all you dense assholes.”  Sunshine grabbed Swiss’s shoulders and spun him back around.  “For the last time, the boss just needs a small push.  A little jealousy will do the trick.”

“Yeah, but you remember how badly he reacted in Denver though, right?”  

“Yes, I do.”  She shoved Swiss forward, laughing as he stumbled and nearly fell to his knees.

“Which you deserved by the way.”

“Ok, fair.”  Swiss straightened up and adjusted his hat before looking over his shoulder at her.  “You’ll make sure he doesn’t kill me, right?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

“Very reassuring.  Fuck, ok. You owe me.”  

Sunshine just gave him a thumbs up and watched as he wandered over to the pair.  She jumped when Mountain cleared his throat behind her. 

“What are you up to?”

“I’m helping love blossom here, Mountain.  Take some notes.”

“Isn’t that what you said in Denver?” 

“I said a lot of things in Denver.”

“Yeah and a lot of those were being said behind the bars of a cell too weren’t they?”

Sunshine turned and hissed at him, but jerked back around when Copia started shouting.  She triumphantly raised her fists when Copia slammed his forehead into Swiss’s nose, laughing when both him and Swiss quickly fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. 

“It worked!  Take that you loveless assholes.”

Mountain shook his head, sighing as he jogged after Aether and Rain who were already running to break it up.

“What’d you do now?”  Dewdrop hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground, laying back with his hat covering his face.  “And don’t say ‘making love blossom’.”

“Dewdrop, someday you’re gonna fall in love and not know what to do about it.”

“That’s possible.”  He pulled his hat off to glare at her. “I sure as shit won’t come to you for advice though.”

Sunshine ignored him, focusing back on the fight. When she saw Aether take an elbow to the face she winced. He was gonna bitch at her about that later. She groaned when Mountain had to drag Copia away and Princess just watched him go. When the tall Ghoul let Copia go he shouted at Rain and then headed straight to the horses. The girl watched him go for a moment before turning and going over to Swiss.

“Satan’s dick.”  She ignored Dewdrop’s cackle of ‘I told you so’ and kicked some dirt at him. “Fucking Denver all over again.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“Is this completely necessary?”

Copia groaned behind you, muttering something in Italian under his breath.

“Principessa, we’ve been over this.  You need to be able to protect yourself.”  When you turned your head to respond he placed a finger over your lips.  “There’s not always going to be a frying pan handy.”

“I seem to remember causing you some damage without a frying pan.”

“Ehh those were lucky shots.”  You narrowed your eyes, throwing an elbow back to dig into his gut.  Copia managed to jerk back in time and you just smiled innocently when he glared at you.  “Si, si fine.  You’re very dangerous.  Now pay attention.”

When he came up behind you again and fitted against your back you let out a slow breath.  This was actually what you were talking about, the closeness.  Not that you minded all that much.  You liked having him close, you weren’t afraid to admit that to yourself anymore.  Even when he still teased you relentlessly to the point your face was as red as his duster.

Even when he still desperately needed a bath.  

His touches just seemed more intimate now, like they had more purpose.  You had felt on edge since his comment that morning.  Every time you caught his eyes it felt like your heart skipped a beat and like there were butterflies swirling in your stomach.  Then when everyone stopped for lunch he decided it would be the perfect time to teach you how to shoot a gun.  He had seemed far more concerned with teasing you than actually talking about shooting.

The sound of raised voices at camp caught your attention and you glanced over to see Sunshine and Swiss arguing about something.  The two Ghouls had been acting odd all morning, whispering to each other while they traveled at the back of the group.  You had asked Mountain if he knew what was going on but he just recommended that you ignore them.  To be honest you had hoped Sunshine would ride near you that day.  You needed a distraction from the gathering clouds ahead of you.

“Having a nice day dream?”  You startled at Copia’s voice in your ear, turning to glare at him.  He just chuckled and reached around to adjust your fingers on the gun again.  “Thinking about anyone in particular?”

“Copia what are we going to do during the storm?”

“Principessa, stop worrying, everything will be fine.”  He squeezed your shoulder and you nodded, trying to put a brave face on.  “Rain’s going to ride ahead and we’ll find somewhere to wait it out.”

“Of course, you’re right.  I’m sorry.”  You felt a little embarrassed bringing the storm up, it seemed like such a silly thing to be scared of.  Especially considering everything else that had happened to you recently.  Not to mention the company of wanted outlaws you were currently traveling with.

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize, ok?”  Copia placed a few fingers under your chin and turned your head to face him.  He was close enough that you could see the freckles on his face.  Close enough you watched his eyes trail from your own down to your lips.  A throat being cleared snapped you both out of what was going on and Copia groaned before turning to who had interrupted…whatever was about to happen.

“Is there something you needed, Swiss?”

“Nope, just wanted to see if you needed any help.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, the look on his face making you think something was going on.  When you glanced behind him towards camp Sunshine and Mountain were looking your way.  Something was definitely going on.  Copia tightened his grip on your hip briefly before he addressed Swiss again.

“Does it look like I need help?”

Swiss glanced at you, looking you up and down and you couldn’t help but blush.  Copia hadn’t moved from where he was pressed against your back.  He dropped the hand covering yours on the revolver and placed it on your shoulder.

“Eh, not really, but we both know I’m the better shot so maybe it’s best if I teach her.”

There had to be something wrong with you that Copia’s growling made your heart beat faster.  He took a step away from you and you immediately missed the heat of his body.  With the clouds rolling in the air had cooled quite a bit and you found yourself longing for the heavy layers of your dress.  Although having Copia so close to you wasn’t bad either.  

“The better shot?  Remind me, Swiss, who was it that couldn’t take out a single one of Saltarian’s men last month?”

“Aww that’s not fair Cardinal, my rifle jammed.”  Swiss smiled and crossed his arms over his chest.  “Besides I don’t remember you taking out very many either.”

“Si, because I was too busy hanging onto the side of the train trying not to get shot by them.”

“Well it worked out in the end didn’t it?  We got the money.”

Copia said something in Italian and you watched as Swiss’s eyes widened for a moment before he held his hands up and took a few steps back.  

“Alright, alright!  I’m sorry, just trying to help the Princess out.”  His eyes moved over to you and he shot you a wink before they roamed over you briefly once more.  “My shirt looks good on you by the way.”

Your mouth fell open at his comment and you glanced back over to where Sunshine was still watching you closely.  There was no doubt in your mind she had planned this all along.  After a few moments when Copia hadn’t said anything you glanced his way and found yourself wanting to take a step back.  The look on his face rivaled the steely glare he always had in his wanted posters and it was directed solely on the Ghoul in front of him.

“Mi scusi?”  He took a threatening step towards Swiss, but the Ghoul held his ground.  His smirk had definitely wavered a bit though.  “Care to repeat that?”

“Uh you know, just noticed she was wearing my shirt.”  Swiss was starting to look more nervous, coughing to clear his throat.

“Is she now?”  Copia stepped directly in front of Swiss and grabbed a handful of his jacket.  “Say it again.”

“Look boss, it was just a complement!”  Swiss’s hands came up to grip Copia’s wrist and tried to pull him off, but the man didn’t budge.  Their argument had attracted everyone else’s attention and you could see Aether slowly start to wander over while Sunshine had a hand over her mouth trying to hide a smile.

“Say.  It.  Again.”

“She looks good in my shir–ow fuck!”

Copia had slammed his forehead against Swiss’s nose, blood instantly pouring out of it.  It didn’t slow the Ghoul down though, he wrapped an arm around Copia’s neck and brought his other fist into his stomach.  Copia coughed out something in Italian, you assumed a curse word, and kicked at Swiss’s knee.  At that point Swiss lost his balance and fell over, dragging Copia with him.

They both landed in the dirt right next to you and you yelped, jumping back to try and get out of the way.  Both men continued to grapple with each other in the dirt, rolling around back and forth as they both tried to get the upper hand.  Aether, Mountain and Rain had rushed over, with the taller Ghoul positioning himself in front of you.  When you glanced up at him he smiled and muttered ‘just in case’.

More shouts and groans brought your attention back to the two men on the ground, their fighting not having even slowed down.  You could barely tell who was who anymore, both of them covered in dirt and blood.  When Swiss was able to roll over and get on top of Copia Aether reached out and grabbed him trying to pull him off.  Swiss had chosen that moment to pull his arm back to throw a punch and his elbow ended up slamming into Aether’s face.

“Shit!”  Aether fell back onto the ground, one hand covering his mouth.  “Goddammit Swiss!”

“Oh fuck, Aether I’m sor–unholy shit, Copia!”

In the brief moment Swiss had been distracted with Aether, Copia had managed to free himself from under the Ghoul.  He flipped the man onto his back and drove an elbow into Swiss’s crotch.  Your hands flew to your mouth as Swiss cried out, clutching himself and rolling away from The Cardinal. You glanced back towards camp but Sunshine was too busy doubling over and laughing to bother with the fight.

Copia got to his feet and looked about ready to go at Swiss again, but Mountain took a step forward and grabbed him.  His long arms wrapped around the smaller man’s waist and dragged him away, Copia kicking and shouting the entire time.  You tentatively took a few steps forward towards Swiss and rested them on his shoulders.  He looked up at you, a big smile on his face despite the blood still coming out of his nose.  Swiss managed to wink at you despite an already swelling eye and you sighed as you took the rest of the damage in.

Cowboys were strange. 

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~   

The one good thing about the rain was that it was hiding your tears.

Copia and Rain had left shortly after the fight to scout ahead.  You weren’t sure what was going through his head at the moment.  He refused to let you look at the reopened cut above his eye after you helped Swiss’s nose stop bleeding.  It wasn’t like you were encouraging the attention Swiss was giving you.  Sunshine seemed to be the one doing that and whenever you tried to ask her about it she’d just smirk and ignore you.

But all that was hours ago.  It hadn’t been long before the storm clouds had finally rolled in.  At first it was just sheets of rain but it quickly became nearly impossible to see with how heavy it was falling.  The thunder and lightning began to make riding anywhere dangerous so Aether had led the group to a small patch of trees to try and stay out of the wind.

Everyone was miserable, including the horses.  Yours seemed especially restless as the storm got worse.  Every time the lightning flashed it was startling and attempting to move around and away from the others.  It was at this point that you had started crying.  You were scared, soaking wet and quickly tiring of trying to keep your horse under control.  For the first time in days you found yourself wishing you were home in Missouri.  

That thought only made you cry harder.

You didn’t even notice when Copia and Rain came back.  It didn’t help that your horse had wandered away from the group a bit and no matter what you did you couldn’t get it to turn back.  Right when you were about to just get off the damn thing and walk over a bolt of lightning struck nearby, the thunder cracking loudly overhead.  You cried out when your horse reared up but an arm quickly grasped you around your waist and pulled you off.

“Easy girl, easy.  I’ve got you.” 

Copia yanked off his duster and draped it over you, carefully tucking you under it and out of the rain.  You wanted to tell him it didn’t matter since you were already soaked to the bone but the simple action made you feel so safe you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.  Instead you wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned into his chest as you sat sideways in front of him.

You held on tighter when you felt Brizio start to move, your ear pressed right over Copia’s heart.  The steady thump was reassuring against your ear and you focused on that to try and relax.  When a hand reached under the coat and grabbed one of yours you looked up, peeking briefly out from under his duster.  He flashed you a smile and then leaned in close, his lips brushing against your forehead as he spoke.

“We found someplace to stay tonight, don’t worry.”  He squeezed your hand before dropping it and you instantly missed the feel of the leather against your skin.

The brief press of his lips against your forehead definitely made up for the loss of his hand though.    

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Mountain and Aether quickly got the old barn door open, everyone hurrying inside out of the rain.  Copia slid off of Brizio and then helped you down. As you looked around you didn’t see any animals besides the horses you had brought with you.  The barn was mostly full of old looking equipment and assorted furniture.  You jumped a bit when Rain walked from behind you, patting you on the shoulder as he went by.

“Might want to start getting comfortable, Princess.”

You gave him a brief smile and nodded then started to pull your arms out of Copia’s duster.  It was heavy with water so you tried to shake it out a few times before hanging it on a nearby pole.  A chill immediately settled into your skin and you shivered.  All the blankets everyone had with them would be soaked as well and you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.  You weren’t looking forward to sleeping in wet clothes on hay, but it was definitely better than being outside.

Aether and Mountain had busied themselves with spreading supplies out to help them dry and you started to walk towards them to help before the barn door opened again. An older man and woman rushed in, both of them holding a stack of what looked like blankets.

“Look at all of you!  Soaked to the bone!”  The woman dropped her pile on the ground and then grabbed the stack from the man with her, piling those on top of the others.  The man wandered over to where Copia was talking with Dewdrop and Rain so you took a few steps toward the woman to help her.

“Oh!  I didn’t realize you had a lady with you.”  You offered her a small smile when she walked up to you with her hands held out and you quickly wiped yours off before placing them in hers.  “My name is Ethel and that’s my husband Harold.  Now, we can’t have a pretty thing like you stuck in this old barn with all of these dirty cowboys.”

You had to bite your lip to keep your laugh in when you heard Sunshine’s ‘hey!’.  Dewdrop couldn’t stop his own laughter though and you promptly heard him grunt, probably from a smack on the head by the Ghoulette.  You focused back on the woman and shook your head.

“It’s ok, I don’t mind.  These are my friends.”  Honestly though, the thought of sleeping in a barn wasn’t incredibly appealing.  Especially with how the storm continued to get worse.  

“No, no I insist.  You’ll stay in the house with Harold and I.  We have plenty of room.  Harold!”  

There was no way to stop the smile from breaking out on your face while you watched Ethel wander over to where her husband was talking with Copia.  A bed!  The thought of sleeping in an actual bed after so many days of sleeping on the ground was amazing.  You bounced on your heels a few times, watching as Ethel and Copia laughed at something before they both turned and headed back your way.

“You see?  That’s settled then.”  Ethel reached up and patted your cheek before grabbing some of the blankets she brought with her.  “Let’s get everyone as comfortable as possible and then we’ll get you two settled inside.”

You froze at her last comment, shooting Copia a look when he cleared his throat.  He was busy getting Brizio’s saddle off and you walked over to him after Ethel went to help spread the blankets out.

“Copia, what does she mean by that?”

“Eh?  By what?”

You narrowed your eyes, following him when he pulled the saddle off his horse and went to set it down.

“She said ‘you two’.  Why did she say that?”  When Copia turned and started back towards Brizio you reached out and grabbed his arm.  He looked down at your hand for a moment and then back up to your face with a raised eyebrow.  “Don’t give me that look, what did she mean?”

When he started to walk away once more you couldn’t help but give his arm a vicious pinch through his shirt.  He hissed between his teeth, pulling his arm away and glaring at you.  

“Watch it, Principessa.”  Copia caught your hand when you reached out to give him another pinch, keeping a firm grip when you tried to pull it away.  “I thought you’d be happier at getting to sleep inside the house.” 

“Trust me I am, but why does it sound like you’re coming too?”  

Before he could answer you heard footsteps behind you and you turned your head to see Ethel’s kind face.

“You two remind me of Harold and I when we were younger.  That man couldn’t keep his hands off of me.”  She smiled and gave you a quick wink.  “Still can’t some days.”

Copia tugged you closer and then slid an arm around your shoulders.  Your mind was so busy trying to process what was happening that you didn’t even protest, easily fitting against his side.

“Well Ethel, who could blame him?  Especially marrying a woman as beautiful as yourself.”

Ethel blushed, giggling as she smoothed her hands over the gray hair pinned up on her head.

“Oh you are trouble, Mr. Emeritus.”  She looked at you and gave you another wink.  “I hope you keep a close eye on him, my dear.”

She didn’t wait for you to answer and made her way over to the door of the barn.  You took the opportunity to look up at Copia, studying his face for a moment.  He was biting his bottom lip like he was trying to hold in laughter so you couldn’t help but pinch his side.

“Copia what the fu–,”  Your angry whisper was cut off by Ethel’s voice, but what she said finally gave you the answer Copia had refused to.

“Alright, time for the newlyweds to follow me!”

Your head whipped around, your eyes wide and your mouth open as you looked at her.  Did she say newlyweds?  You quickly looked back at Copia who was looking down at you with that smug smile he used so much.

Copia started walking towards the door, pulling you along with him.  Your mind was going a mile a minute trying to absorb what was happening.  He grabbed his duster from where you had hung it, shaking it out before putting it on.  You were tucked back against his side when he was done and he held his arm above your head to be ready to block as much rain as possible.

“Shall we?”

Newlyweds?

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

As soon as you got inside the farmhouse Ethel was on the move.

She practically tore Copia’s duster off of him, making him take off his leather jacket as well.  Once she had those she swiftly hung them on a hook by the door to dry and then immediately pointed at your shoes.  Copia’s thumped heavily against the floor, the spurs jingling as they went.  Your own shoes were a bit of a struggle and you were a little afraid they’d just fall apart as soon as you took them off.  They were not meant for the life of an outlaw.

“Mr. Emeritus, your wife needs better shoes than these if she’s going to be traveling with you.”  She tsked at the state of them when she took them from you and Copia muttered an apology under his breath.  “You’re lucky because I think she and I are about the same size.  I have plenty of old things we can set her up with.”

“Ethel, thank you, but I couldn’t possibly accept anything.  Especially after you let us stay in your home.”

“Nonsense, we all need to look out for each other in the west.”  She smiled at you both, her hands clasped together.  “Besides I only ever had boys so it’ll be nice to find some use for my old things.”

She quickly spun around, waving for you both to follow as she disappeared down the hall that led out from the main room.  You found yourself distracted as you walked through her home.  It was so unlike where you had grown up.  That house had felt cold and uninviting, but here every small nook and corner felt full of warmth and love.  Knick knacks and mismatched furniture were tucked in everywhere and there were lots of paintings on the walls.  

This place was an actual home.

“Now I know you two are probably tired from your journey so I’ll let you settle in while I gather some things for you.”  She stopped in front of the last door at the end of the hallway, opening it and ushering you both inside.  “There’s already fresh water in the basin so feel free to get some of the dirt from the road off.  I’m going to grab some dry things for you to wear for the night until we can get your own things cleaned up.”

Copia turned and was speaking quietly to Ethel, but you couldn’t focus on what they were saying.  As the woman went on about her plans all you could focus on was the room itself.  It was small, not that you had expected anything grand.  It was decorated much like the rest of her home and for a brief moment you fantasized about having a bedroom like this, in a home like this.  Some place where you could be yourself and not have to worry about following any unspoken rules.  

But then you saw the bed.

The small bed.  The bed you and Copia would have to share.  Together.  Because this sweet woman thought you were married.  

“I know the bed is a little small for two, but I’m sure you’ll make do.”

“No need to worry Ethel, my wife here is a cuddler.”  You gritted your teeth as they both laughed behind you.  “Isn’t that right, Polpettina?”

You know what, two could play this game.  You put the fake smile you always used back in Missouri and spun around.

“Can you blame me, Ethel?  With how handsome he is?”

Ethel actually giggled, looking up at Copia’s face because she clearly agreed with your statement.  When you glanced at Copia you expected an irritated look, maybe narrowed eyes.  Instead what you saw on his face nearly made you cry out in triumph.

He was blushing.  

“Alright, let me leave you two alone for a moment and I'll be right back.”  

She walked forward and patted you on the cheek, winking briefly and giving you a small smile before turning and walking from the room.  You instantly narrowed your eyes at Copia as he groaned and stretched his arms out.  The blush was gone already and was replaced by his usual smug look.

“What does ‘Polpettina’ mean?”  Copia ignored you and walked towards the bed, taking his hat off and hanging it on one of the posts.  “Well?”

He shrugged, keeping his back to you as he pressed his hands down into the mattress.  You watched as he climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the pillows, his eyes landing on you.  

“Just an endearment.”

“What, like ‘Principessa’?”

The smirk on his face told you that it absolutely was not like ‘Principessa’ so you crossed your arms and glared at him.

“It’s just something fun to call my darling wife.”

You sighed and turned to look around the room again.  Maybe you could ask for some extra blankets and then make some sort of nest on the floor.  The bed was too small to share, definitely too small to share with Copia.  Your cheeks were heating just thinking about it.  You froze when you heard him let out a quick whistle and turned to glare at him.  He had somehow reclined even more and was patting the empty spot next to him with a grin on his face.

“There is no way I’m sharing a bed with you.”

“Why not?  We’re married now.”

“We are most certainly not married and I never agreed to pretend to be married to you to begin with!”

It was Copia’s turn to roll his eyes and he turned so that he was on his side with his head propped up on his hand.

“I thought you’d be more excited.”  

“Are you pouting?”

“You know there are a lot of girls out there that would kill to be in your spot right now.”

“Oh like the girl in Denver?”

“What’s the matter, eh?  Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“What do you mean ‘what I wanted?’”

You knew by the smirk on his face you weren’t gonna like what he said next. 

“You’re the one that’s been dreaming about me, Principessa.”  He got up from the bed and sauntered over to you. “I would think pretending to be married to The Cardinal would be, what do they say, ’a dream come true?’  Besides, I didn’t want to leave you all alone in this house.”

Wait, what?

“Why not?”

“Eh, I figured they’d be asking a lot of questions.  Thought it would be best if I was here to help.”

“Help with what?  I can answer a few questions.”

Copia groaned and took a few steps back to sit on the bed again.

“It can be tough to think on your feet.  To keep your story straight.”

“And since I’m a stupid, naive city girl I wouldn’t be able to handle it?”

“Look, I had to think fast when she mentioned she was bringing you up to the house.”  Copia ran his hand through his hair and sighed.  “It’s not like you have experience lying, Principessa.”

“You really have a warped idea of what my life was like, don’t you?”  It took all of your self control not to close the distance between you and punch him in the nose.  “I lied all the time back home.”

“What could you possibly need to lie about?”

“Everything!”  You took a deep breath to try and calm your breathing before you continued.  “If I told my father or mother how I really felt about things or what I was really doing in my spare time they would’ve locked me away in my room all day.”

“What were you doing in your spare time eh, Principessa?”  Copia leaned back on the bed with a smirk on his face.  “Staring at wanted posters and fantasizing about spending the night with The Cardinal?”

“Just because yours was the only poster you found doesn’t mean yours was the only poster I had.” 

The look on his face was priceless, but your smirk dropped when he stood up and closed the distance between you.

“Is that so?  Well who else were you looking at while you had your hand under your nightgo–merda!”  

Copia groaned and fell back onto the bed when your knee connected with his crotch.  He gritted his teeth, glaring at you for a moment before he jumped up and reached for you.  Right as he yanked you against his chest there was a knock on the door and Ethel poked her head in.

“Oh!  I’m sorry to interrupt.”  She stepped in, her arms full of what looked like clothes and blankets.  “See I knew you two would want some time alone.”

You laughed, pushing away from Copia as roughly as you thought you could get away with to take some of the things out of her hands.

“Thank you, Ethel.”  

“Of course, dear.”  She dropped her pile onto the bed and then turned to smile at you and Copia.  “You too really are just so sweet with each other, it’s wonderful to see.”

Copia chuckled and you stiffened when he walked up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Thank you, signora.”  He squeezed your shoulders and you glanced up at him, sighing when you saw that smirk of his.  “I just can’t help myself, look at how beautiful she is.  I knew I had to snatch her up.”    

The bottom fell out of your stomach at his words.  Once again someone was treating you like a pretty decoration.  Like a doll.  You had told him this before, that day at the creek.  That you hated being treated like this.  Even if he was just saying this for Ethel’s sake it still hurt.  It still felt like every other time you had been reduced to nothing of worth by everyone around you.

You were so tired of it.

“Well how about we let your lovely wife get changed and you go out with Harold to bring some more things to your friends before the storm picks up again.”  Ethel picked up one of the pieces of clothing she had set on the bed and held it out.  “I know it’s not very fashionable, but here’s an old nightgown of mine you can wear tonight dear.”

“Thank you for everything, Ethel.”  You tried to give her a convincing smile as you stepped away from Copia, walking over towards the bed and sitting down.  Copia was giving you an odd look and you did your best to ignore it, silently willing him to leave the room so you could try and collect yourself.

“Alright, Mr. Emeritus, let me give you some more things and then you can head out with Harold.”  She patted Copia on the arm and started walking towards the door, turning at the last moment to give you another warm smile.  “Then you two can have the room to yourselves.”

You looked down at the nightgown in your lap and traced your finger along the embroidery stitched into the collar.  After a moment you looked up and met Copia’s mismatched eyes.

“I can’t wait.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

“I’m not going to bite you know?  Not unless you want me to.”

You continued to ignore him, taking the pillow and quilt and placing them on the floor.  Hopefully Ethel didn’t waltz in again anytime soon, you weren’t sure how you were going to explain this.

“I’ll sleep over the covers and keep my hands to myself.”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you do it away from me.”

“You know if anyone should be worried about hands it’s me.” 

You turned around and glared at him, the bastard had come back from checking on his friends and immediately laughed at your borrowed nightgown.  The white fabric covered you from your neck down.  The only things exposed were your hands and feet.  After he was done laughing he had promptly started taking his clothes off and you had yelped and turned away while he changed.  You didn’t need to see his face to know he had been smirking at you the whole time.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Maybe you start dreaming about me, eh?  Maybe your hands start wandering…”  You heard his footsteps get closer to you.  “I mean, not that I’d mind, but still.  What if Ethel hears us?”

You growled, turning and shoving him away. He fell back onto the bed with a laugh.  

“Just stay on the bed and I’ll stay down here.”

Copia sighed and blew out the candles on the small table nearby.  The only light left to illuminate the room were the occasional flashes of lightning.  Ethel was right, it was picking up again and seemed to be worse than it was earlier.  You grabbed the quilt off the end of the bed and lowered yourself onto the floor.  As you tried to settle and get comfortable your back already began to protest the hard wood beneath you.  Somehow it was less comfortable than it was outside on the ground.

“Let’s be serious now.  I’m sorry for teasing you.”  Lightning flashed and it reflected against his eyes, the white one gleaming briefly.  “I promise to be a gentleman.”

You snorted and turned your back to him.

“It’s either you or me, dear.”

“What are you even mad about, eh?  I thought th–”

“You thought that a dumb city girl like me wouldn’t be able to handle herself.”  When Copia didn’t say anything you kept going.  “I should actually thank you for reminding me, I forgot that all I’m good for is decoration.”  

“Principessa, that’s not what I mea–”

“No, you know what?  I don’t want to hear it.  I don’t want to hear anything from you right now.”  You hoped he didn’t notice how your voice was trembling.  The lightning was flashing so much now the room was nearly continuously bathed in light so you took a deep breath and glanced over your shoulder at the bed.  Copia was looking right at you so you gritted your teeth to keep your gaze steady as you looked back.  “Goodnight, Cardinal.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

If Copia had fallen asleep you weren’t sure, but you hadn’t been able to sleep a wink so far.

The whole house seemed to shake with each rumble of thunder.  It might not have bothered you so much if you had been in the bed, but on the floor it was a constant vibration.  You had thrown the quilt over your head to try and at least block the lightning out, but you could still see flashes through the fabric.  

You should have just ignored Copia’s teasing and slept on the bed.  It’s not like you hadn’t been close to him before.  You’d been practically in his lap numerous times now while on his horse.  Just that morning he had his arms around you while showing you how to shoot.  Not to mention the moment when he arrived back in camp after Mary’s ambush…

An echoing boom rattled the window and you couldn’t hold back a gasp.  The desire to cry was growing and you didn’t even know what the main reason for it was.  Once again you felt overwhelmed with emotions, most of which you couldn’t even explain.  A few tears slipped down your cheeks and you sniffled.  You took a few deep breaths to try and calm down, but the thunder was as relentless as your racing thoughts.

“Principessa?”  The bed creaked and you heard footsteps next to you followed by a hand on your shoulder.  “Hey, you under there?”

You snorted and pulled the quilt off, hoping that he wouldn’t be able to notice your tears.

“I’m fine, you should go back to sleep.”  Please don’t.

“Hard to sleep when my wife is on the floor crying.”

You groaned and tried to put the blanket back over your head, but he wouldn’t let you.  Instead he threw it off to the side leaving you laying in front of him in your borrowed nightgown.

“Copia!  What are you doing?”  The only answer you got was his arms sliding under you and a grunt as he lifted you up.  “Put me down!  Put me down right now!”

“Okie dokie.”  A squeak left you as he dropped you onto the bed and you glared up at him when he shushed you.  “You better be quiet, Ethel seems like the type to tease if she hears too much noise in here.”

“I hate you.”

Copia snorted, reaching down to grab the pillow and quilt from the floor.  When he turned he dropped them onto you and then shoved you further towards the wall.  

“Come on, make room.  Should’ve known a city girl like you would hog the bed.”

You huffed but moved over, crawling under the covers.  Copia stretched out next to you, on top like he had promised.  He had his eyes closed already with his hands resting on his stomach.  The lightning was still flashing enough that you could study his face, your eyes tracing his features in the sporadic light.  When he didn’t move for a while you assumed he had fallen asleep so you burrowed deeper into the bed and closed your eyes.  

“You know you’re more than that don’t you Principessa?  To me?”

His words washed over you and the tears you had been fighting started to well again.  You took a deep breath before opening your eyes to look at him.  

“More than what?”

He sighed and opened his own to look up at the ceiling.  A moment later he stretched his hand out towards you, palm up and waiting.  You stared at it for a moment before pulling one of yours out from under the covers and sliding it into his.  He closed his fingers over your hand and pulled it over to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss into your palm before finally looking at you.

“A decoration.”  You smiled at him and squeezed his hand in a silent thank you.  “You’re much too loud for that anyway.”

You groaned and yanked your hand away, ignoring his laughter.  The damn cowboy just couldn’t help himself could he?  But despite his teasing you did find yourself feeling better and you decided to take his words as the apology he meant them to be.  When you looked at him again he was watching you, a small smile on his face.  You meant to return it, but a yawn suddenly overtook you and you heard him laugh again.

“I think it’s time for the city girl to get some sleep, eh?”

“Wait, there’s something I wanted to ask you.  What does ‘Polpettina’ mean?”  When he bit his lip, trying to stop his smile from getting wider you immediately became suspicious.  “Copia.”

“Little meatball.”

“Are you serious?!”  When he snorted you growled and reached over to pinch his side.  “You’re horrible.”

“I thought it would be a good nickname for you.”

“A nickname for what?”

“If you stuck around.  You can’t be an outlaw without a nickname.” You hoped he didn't notice your blush.  The fact that he was thinking of that made you feel…you weren’t even sure. “How about ‘Patatina’?”

“What does that mean?”

“Little potato.”

He flinched away when you kicked him, but you saw his smile when lightning flashed again.  

“A potato isn’t very threatening.”

“Ah, this is true.  Let’s see, what else could we call you?”  Copia mumbled a few things under his breath before speaking again.  “Mostriciattola.”

“I don't want to know.”

“Little monster.”  Copia yelped when you pinched his arm, grabbing your hands when you tried to do it again.  “You’re very picky for an outlaw.”

“Maybe I’ll stick with Principessa.”  You yawned again, your eyes finally getting heavy despite the storm raging outside and the feelings Copia was stirring in you.  There was only a sliver of space between you both and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You felt him rustle around as sleep began to claim you, your eyes closed and your breath evening out.  There was a ghost of a touch along your cheek and you felt him tucking some of your hair behind your ear as he spoke again.

“Si, I think I will too.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~       

You woke up slowly, the sun hitting your face and warming your skin. 

At first you thought you were back at home in Missouri.  It felt so strange to be in a bed after spending so many days sleeping on the cold, hard ground.  You kept your eyes shut and let your mind drift back to your dream.  Once again you and Copia had been laying in a field of wildflowers, your arms wrapped around him and your head on his chest.  You sighed and snuggled back into the warmth surrounding you, ready to fall back asleep.

“Did you know that you snore?”

Copia’s voice startled you so badly you nearly let out a scream.  Your eyes flew open and you pushed back against the body you had been wrapped around, against Copia’s body.  When you looked up at his face he just gave you a lazy smile.

“What did you do?”

“Me?  Principessa, I didn’t do anything except lay here innocently trying to sleep.”  He turned on his side and gave you another smile.  “As I predicted you were the one who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“Why didn’t you push me away?!”

“Eh, seemed kind of rude.”  He reached over, poking your nose before you could bat his hand away.  “Plus you look so cute when you’re asleep.”

You groaned and buried your face into your pillow. He was never going to let you forget this. 

“I must say though I am curious about something.”  You turned your head so you could look at him, narrowing your eyes when you saw his wide smile.

“What?”

“What were you dreaming about?  The things you were whispering, well…”  You continued to stare at him, dreading what he was going to say next. “They even made me blush.  Are all Missouri girls like this?”

He let out a yelp when you kicked him and then a few curses when you ripped the blankets away and crawled over him to get out of the bed.  You tripped over the nightgown, stumbling and falling to your knees.  The bed creaked behind you and you felt his hands slide around your waist to help you up, but you jerked away from him.  

“What is the damned problem, eh?”

You finally got to your feet and spun around to jab a finger into his chest.

“The problem is you won’t stop teasing me!”

“Oh but I like seeing you get all riled up.”  Copia grabbed your hand and entwined his fingers with yours.  “Your face gets red, kind of like when I make you blush, but all over.”

“You do not make me blush!”

“There are also these little wrinkles right here.”  Copia reached out and poked right between your eyebrows. You tried to bat his hand away with your free one but he just grabbed that one too.  “They only appear when you’re mad.”  

He moved even closer to you and you held your breath. 

“You also clench your little hands into fists.”  Copia brought both of your hands up to his mouth and gave each a kiss on the back.  “Like all you can think about is punching me in the nose.”  

“I’m thinking of doing that right now so if you do—“. 

A brisk knock on the door interrupted you, Ethel calling out as she opened it. You attempted to take a step back from Copia, but he let go of one of your hands and slid his arm around your waist to tug you against his chest.  When you looked up at his face to ask what he was doing you were met with his lips pressing into yours.

“Oh!  I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt!”  

Copia chuckled as he pulled away, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know he was grinning.  Honestly you couldn’t even remember closing your eyes.

“No need to apologize, signora.  Mia Polpettina just can’t help herself in the morning.”

You gritted your teeth at the sound of their laughter, finally opening your eyes to see Ethel pouring some more water in the basin on the dresser nearby.  She had a handful of clothes in her arms as well, walking over to place those on the bed when she was done pouring.

“Well I have some breakfast set out, but Harold had to go check on some things outside.  There was some damage from the storm.”    

“Ethel, I'd be happy to give your husband a hand.”  Copia turned so he had your back against his chest, both of his arms wrapped around your waist.  “Let me get dressed and give this one a proper goodbye and I’ll be right out.”

“Mr. Emeritus, that is so kind of you, thank you.”  Ethel gave you both a warm smile before gesturing to the clothes she had left.  “I’ve got your things from last night cleaned up and dry, but I put a few old things of mine for you dear.  They should fit much better than those clothes you were wearing last night.”

You smiled at her and gave her a quiet thank you.  The kiss had you so flustered you didn’t really trust your voice at the moment.  Ethel gave you and Copia a wink before she turned and left the room as quickly as she came in.

“Well Polpettina, would you like to help your husband undress?”

Copia grunted when your elbow connected with his stomach and you shoved yourself away from him.  You could just strangle him; he was so infuriating!  Once more you found yourself jabbing your finger into his chest.

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Mi dispiace, but I could’ve sworn you’ve been wanting a kiss from The Cardinal.”

“Right now the only thing I want from you is for you to leave.”  Copia rolled his eyes and wandered over to the pile of clothes to grab his pants.  You whipped around when he started to pull off the pants he borrowed from Harold to sleep in.  “Besides, if that kiss was supposed to impress me you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.  That wasn’t much of a kiss.”  Copia didn’t respond so you walked over to the basin, wetting a cloth to wipe your face with.  “You like to mock those city boys of mine but they have much better kissing skills than the cowboys I’ve met.”

“Oh been kissing a lot of cowboys have you?”

His voice sounded a little closer but you kept your back to him and continued talking.

“Just the one, but that was more than enough.  Unless…”

“Unless what?”

“Well, maybe I could give one of the Ghouls a try.”  You smirked and turned around.  “I bet Swiss wou—“

“You bet Swiss would do what?”

Copia had snuck up right behind you so when you turned around you nearly smacked into his chest. His eyes were dark as they looked down at you and you attempted to take a step to the side to walk around him. He shot an arm out and rested it on the dresser behind you, blocking you in. 

“Quit that.”  You tried to move his arm but it didn’t budge.  “Fine!  I bet Swiss would be more than happy to kiss me.”

Copia didn’t say a word, he just moved his hands to your waist and then lifted you onto the dresser. You couldn’t help but squeak as he plopped you down, his hands resting on either side of your legs so you couldn’t move away.  Your knees were pressed against his thighs as he got as close as he could to you, leaning his head down so your eyes were level.  You took a nervous breath before you managed to speak.

“What are you doing?”

“I have a reputation to uphold Principessa.”

You opened your mouth to tell him off again, but the look in his eyes kept you silent.  They were dark and intense as they stared into yours.  He hadn’t reapplied the makeup after the rain had washed it away and it made looking at his face this close seem even more intimate.  Your body was starting to react to his closeness and you took a trembling breath when you realized why.

You wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your heart was racing wildly in your chest as you watched him, waiting for him to do something.  You slid your tongue out and wet your lips while you glanced at his own and that seemed to be the invitation he was waiting for. His mouth descended on you, a warm pressure that immediately stole your breath away.  Your trembling hands came up to grip his biceps and you clung to them as his lips moved against yours.

When he brought one of his warm hands to your cheek you couldn’t help but whimper and that seemed to egg him on.  He slid his hand further back into your hair and tilted your head up a bit so the angle was better.  His other hand moved to your thigh, running up until it was at your hip.  His thumb rubbed circles over your hip bone and your mouth fell open in a gasp.

Instead of stopping he captured your mouth again and swept his tongue inside.  You whimpered, trying to copy his movements, tentatively touching your tongue to his.  Copia groaned at the contact and pushed closer, your knees spreading to accommodate him. You moved your hands from his arms to his chest, one hand gripping his shirt and the other you let rest where the collar was open.

His skin was warm under your hand and his chest hair was coarse against your fingers as you tangled them in it.  The noise he made went straight to your core and you whimpered again into his mouth.  You felt dizzy with desire, with longing.  You never thought you’d be here actually kissing The Cardinal, kissing Copia, the man you had fantasized about for so long.

This was so much better than anything you had ever imagined.    

You weren’t sure how long you had been kissing at that point, but slowly Copia started to pull away.  He gave you a few final swipes inside your mouth with his tongue before he stopped and leaned his forehead against yours.  You both panted into each other's mouths for a moment, neither of you able to speak.  His hand left your hair and joined the other at your hip, both moving to rest on either side of your thighs.  It was Copia that finally spoke first.

“How was that Principessa?”

You took a few more deep breaths, trying to collect your thoughts. 

“Better.”

Copia smirked, but for some reason there wasn’t the usual smugness behind it. His lips were swollen so you could only imagine what yours looked like. You brought a hand up to your mouth and touched shaking fingers to your lips.  His eyes were gazing into yours, but he kept glancing back down as if he was thinking of kissing you again.  He finally groaned and leaned back a bit however his hands remained on your thighs.

“I should go and check on Harold and the Ghouls.”

“Yes. I should um, get dressed. And find Ethel.”

“Si.”

“Ok.”

Neither one of you moved a muscle for what seemed like an eternity. You had no idea what he was thinking, but your own thoughts were still racing.  All you could think about was the kiss and how good it felt.  How good his hands felt on you and how good his body felt under your own hands.  Copia let a slow breath out and you bit your lip, waiting for him to turn and go so you could collect yourself.  Instead he groaned and moved close again, spreading your legs even farther so he could fit right against you.

You weren’t sure which one of you moved first but it didn’t really matter.  All you cared about was that Copia was kissing you again and you never wanted him to stop.

Everything else could wait.

Go to Chapter 7: The Ministry

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[leonanette]

The Man in the Pearl Mask Masterlist

Summary

The Valryan gods foresee what destruction Lucerys Velaryon’s death will bring and decide to intervene. They cannot stop the dragons from dancing but they can change the tune.

Lucerys comes back from the dead thanks to Balerion’s intervention and decides that, since he failed to help his mother’s cause as himself, he should become someone different - the masked, mute, mystery dragonrider known only as Lord Velaryon.

The gods aren’t content with intervening in just one person’s fate, however. Other gods set their eyes on Aemond and work to set him on a different path.

One day, Lucerys and Aemond’s paths will cross again and, when they do, they will be very different people.

Main Fic Chapters:

Divine Intervention

Spectre at the Feast

Death Denied

Tessarion's Work

Brothers Reunited

Grounded by a Ghost

Death to the Greens

The Return

Becoming Indispensable

The First Battle

Blood and Cheese

The Bridge Again

Storm's End Again

The Papers

Syrax's Best Work

Chaos in King's Landing

The Morning After

The Road to Battle

The Miracle at Duskendale

Facing the Music

Many Councils

The Night Ghouls

The Red Fork

A Plot is Hatched

Madness and Mutiny

Rhaena Rises

The Mercies

The War Sept

Changing Course

The Trap and the Lance

Tumbleton

The Negotiations

A Secret Meeting

Larys Returns

A Debt Repaid

Shipbreaker Bay Again

The White Worm and the Woodswitch

A Letter from an Enemy

The Princess Returns

The Chase

Cloak of Gold and Cloak of Silver

The Search

The Awful Truth

The Punishment

The Highgarden Ball 

Silence and Defiance 

Family in Name Only

The Deep Breath

Harrenhal's Revenge 

Ride of the Golden Dread

The Last Few Miles

Night at Acorn Hall

High Heart

Harrenhal Again

The Golden Tooth

A Storm Passing

No Way Out 

The Trial

Meleys' Best Work

Plots and Counterplots

Ultimatum

The Last Battle

Epilogue

The Valyrian Gods

Character Profiles

Syrax

Balerion

Tessarion

Vermax

Vhagar

Meleys

Family Tree and Creation Myth

Spin Offs, Deleted Scenes and More

Portrait of Lord Velaryon by hrgves

The Blue Poppy Dreams

Vermax used the last of the blue death poppy to allow the dead to contact Aemond through dreams. This is the counsel they have to offer him.

Deleted Scenes

Stuff and nonsense too good not to write but not good enough to make the fic.

How Vermax Won His Wager

Alternative title: Valyrian Gods Behaving Badly

There's nothing more dangerous than a bored Valyrian god and Vermax is getting very bored in King's Landing indeed. So, when his friend, Gaelithox, offers up a friendly wager, he can't resist the opportunity to cause chaos among the greens.

Be prepared for a maiden made of clouds, a King getting turned into a horse for five minutes and all sorts of other godly hijinks.

Policy of Truth

Alternative title: What would have happened if I wrote the fic after watching Episode 1 of Season 2.

An AU within the 'Man in the Pearl Mask' AU, taking place around Chapter 15.

The Valyrian Gods are working to turn Aemond against his family by showing him the ugly truth about them. But, Vermax is saving the ugliest truth until last because he knows that seeing his mother and the man he once admired having a sordid affair would break him. And, Vermax also knows that he can use that to his advantage...

Playlist

This is an ever-growing playlist made up of my ideas and suggestions from my lovely commenters. I'll always open for more suggestions so please don't hesitate to comment with yours!

Fire and Ice by Nerdout (suggested by RoAKing0fShadows)

Back from the Dead by Skillet (suggested by RoAKing0fShadows)

The Dominoes Fall by Dario Marianelli

Mirage by OneRepublic (suggested by RoAKing0fShadows)

Firestarter by The Prodigy

(spoilers for Chapter 19 incoming) No Bullets Fly by Sabaton

Night Witches by Sabaton

Molossus by James Newton Howard

No Light, No Light by Florence and the Machine (suggested by cryptid_corvid)

Silly Tumblr posts

Just a collection of stuff and nonsense.

Chapter 16 in GIFs

My Snarkiest Author's Notes (without context)

The Valyrian Gods during Chapter 35 of The Man in the Pearl Mask

Me being a Sabaton fan in ‘The Man in the Pearl Mask’ - Part 1

The Valyrian Gods betting on what Luke will do next

Details

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Fandoms:

House of the Dragon (TV)

A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Relationships:

Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra) ; Cregan Stark/Jacaerys Velaryon ; Baela Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen

Characters:

Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra) ; Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen ; Balerion the Valyrian God (A Song of Ice and Fire ; Syrax the Valyrian God (A Song of Ice and Fire) ; Valyrian Gods (A Song of Ice and Fire) ; Aegon II Targaryen ; Alicent Hightower ; Helaena Targaryen; Daeron Targaryen (Son of Viserys I) ; Alys Rivers of House Strong ; Jacaerys Velaryon ; Cregan Stark ; Daemon Targaryen ; Otto Hightower ; Laenor Velaryon ; Rhaenyra Targaryen ; Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon ; Baela Targaryen ; Rhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon) ; Tyraxes the God (ASoIaF) ; Vermithor | Jaehaerys I Targaryen's Dragon ; Silverwing | Alysanne Targaryen's Dragon ; Corlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon ; Erryk Cargyll ; Floris Baratheon ; Borros Baratheon

Additional Tags:

Fix-It ; Secret Identity ; Ghosts ; Shakespeare References ; Slow Burn ; Eventual Romance ; Other Additional Tags to Be Added ; Body Horror ; Blood and Gore ; Vermax the Valyrian God ; Tessarion the Valyrian God ; Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra) Lives ; Aged-Up Character(s) ; Not Beta Read ; Nightmares ; Minor Cregan Stark/Jacaerys Velaryon ; Sabaton References ; Minor Baela Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen

[feralmorty]

~Introducing~

🖤Monty L-420🖤

Alrighty SO this is Monty! He is the titular feral Morty of my blog.

Personality:

He loves the occult and wants to become a proficient wizard. Once he masters fire ball, he will be unstoppable. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons are incredibly interesting for him, and he often begs to visit dimensions where they exist. He enjoys high fantasy, and in one adventure, was bitten by a vampire. Rick healed him of the affliction but left him a few cool powers. The ability to summon bat wings has gotten him out of a few nasty situations.

Another passion of his is racing of any kind (cars, motorcycles, snowmobiles, horses, spaceships, etc). Growing up, he was forced to be highly competitive and it’s stayed with him. He often gets himself into bad situations given how eager he is to challenge people. Unfortunately Morty H-5112 is incredibly keen on supporting Monty and is often swept up in his dealings. This aggressive competitive nature can also bleed into other things, such as with bets or dares.

Monty is a hopeless lovesick romantic, which doesn’t fare well given he has no charisma and zero game. Being bisexual means he gets rejected twice as much. He is incredibly down bad, as a simp online for twitch women. He got into gaming as a way to meet and impress gamer girls. It doesn’t work and he isn’t good at any of them, but that won’t stop him from trying.

He likes pop music or EDM but his favourite kind of music is anything with a rage or sadness behind it. Mosh pits and heavy drinking at a sketchy concert is his version of a good time. As an avid juggalo he is frequently blowing out speakers in his room and car.

Style wise he enjoys dark colours and lots of accessories, but he is flexible in style. He is very fond of his hair and tends to keep it well maintained. He often reeks a little too much of cologne, but it’s not bad if you stand up wind. He enjoys the casual appearance of ripped jeans and a t shirt but doesn’t mind dressing up or down. His favourite colours are a dark red and neon green although he wont wear both at the same time. He has to hold his jeans up when he runs or else they’ll fall down. Additionally, when he runs he makes a jingling sound’s because of all his chains and jewelry.

Monty is incredibly kind hearted and understanding to the people he loves. He often gives thoughtful advice or lends a listening ear to his family members. Within his family he plays a support role, and is able to lend a hand wherever needed given how well rounded he is. In contrast, he has to actively remember to be nice to strangers or people he meets, as he can come off aggressive. Trying to unlearn his stand off behaviour is difficult for him and often leads to misunderstandings or being labeled rude.

Pre-found family:

Born as Morty Smith, he came from a more affluent family background, specifically old money as opposed to new money. None of his family members were particularly good people, and instead put immense pressure on him to excel in his studies as well as maintain a high well rounded social standing. His parents often pitted him against his sister, who they valued as the golden child and heiress to the family fortune. He started referring to his sister as Winter given how much of a frigid bitch she could be, and the nickname stuck. As he grew older, he was unable to compete with Winter and became increasingly desperate to please his family. Everything he did was to get in their good graces, and he fought hard for approval. Eventually the pressure caused him to snap, where he embarrassed himself at a massive party full of influential people connected to his family. In a rush to flee the situation he ended up falling down a massive flight of stairs, landing himself in the hospital. The Smiths berated him for bringing shame to the family and causing a scandal. His Rick suggested that he be brought to the Citadel for a sort of reprogramming, which Morty agreed too.

For the next while, he went through rehabilitation in the citadel and was loaned out to various other Ricks to serve as their Morty. Confused at the lack of clarity on when he could return home, as well as his frustration with the other Ricks, he decided to escape. When he returns home, he finds that Rick L-420 had replaced him. When confronted, he learned that the Smiths were also aware of the change. There was no reprogramming or good intentions from his family, they had simply lied to be rid of him. He had been given away, in favour of a new Morty.

At this point he was roughly 14 with severe trust issues, deep rooted self loathing, and intense rage. Having only ever lived to do whatever his family asked, this betrayal broke something inside him. Whenever he was placed with a new rick, he would fight, try to escape, or simply be apathetic enough to be returned. This cycle would go on for years, with occasional stints of hiding out in random dimensions to avoid capture by citadel guards. As time went on he tried to distance himself from being a Morty, so he started to change himself. For example, dying his hair black, wearing different clothes, and asking to be called Monty. Eventually having gone through 17 Ricks, he landed himself in a detention centre awaiting a new placement.

Post-found family:

When he was assigned to Rick B-1225, this was his last chance before he would be considered unfixable, and sentenced to termination. Having a deep mistrust of Ricks, he was uncooperative and stand offish, but made no attempts to leave given the severity of his situation. Eventually he grew to enjoy being around Rick B-1225 and Tiger, and he started to join them on adventures.

One day when Rick was given jury duty in the citadel, Monty decided to join him for the trip. One of the guards familiar with him mistook this visit for Monty being returned, so he was arrested and sent for processing before termination. Monty was able to send a distress message from his cell, but he was not confident anyone would come for him. He resigned himself to his fate and decided he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of killing him. He managed to knock himself out by hitting his head off a wall.

Rick having gotten his message, rushed to retrieve Monty, before he was hurt. Upon entering the building and fighting off guards, he saw one guard carrying Montys unconscious body away and immediately shot him in the head. When home safe, Monty realized he could trust this Rick, and they verbally established a father/son relationship. This was an important moment for them, as Monty often doesn’t feel loved or cared for without a tangible example. This act of rescue was enough for him to fully trust his new family, and proved that he was wanted. Monty’s trust is hard to earn but once it’s there, he is loyal till the end. Given that jerry never really bothered with him as a kid, he gladly accepted Rick as a father figure.

Unfortunately when returning home, Tiger was nowhere to be found. The two would search for her for months, across dimensions. Monty started to heal from his trauma and grew to consider this family his home. This helped fuel his urgency to find Tiger as well, since he knew in the opposite situation, she wouldn’t stop till he was safe.

When Beta and Morty H-5112 came into the picture, it still took him some time to trust them. With Morty H-5112 though, they had a lot of similarities and grew to be incredibly close. They have a brotherly bond and are often referred to as the twins. Monty often asks Beta to train him to fight and it’s helped them become close as well. Monty eventually fully accepts Beta, Rick, and Tiger as his parental figures with Morty as his brother.

[createuntiltheendoftime]

Love is Found in Violence, and Humanity is Found in Inhuman Acts

    this is my secret santa for @silverswordthekilljoy

I'm sorry it took so long, I spent my whole day writing it cause i finished it then reread it and hated it so i rewrote it. I hope you like it!

“There is no way in fuck I am letting you leave the Zones!” Jet snapped.

    Party stared hard at him. “Why the hell not! What if there are other ‘Joys? We could build an army, free the City, like we’ve always wanted.”

    “Or you could find nothing.” Jet half-turned away. “An’ starve to death. Or die of radiation sickness.” 

    “C’mon. You and I both know very well that I’m gonna die of radiation anyway. Do you really think that BL/I was just happy with California and Nevada? That they wouldn’t control the entire world if they could? If you believe that, you are lying to yourself.”

    “Don’ tell me what’s truth, Party.” Jet snarls. “Don’ tell me what you think is real, because you grew up in the city! You’ve got no idea what it was like being alone out here! I know what BL/I wants to do. I saw it first hand!”

    The door to the Diner opens, and Kobra and Ghoul walk in, laughing at some joke one was telling. Both their smiles fade as they see Jet and Party in the middle of an argument. “What’s up?” Ghoul asked cautiously.

    “Nothin’, Party jus’ wants to run a suicide mission.”

    “It’s not! It’s a chance to end this.”

    “You asked him?” Ghoul looked surprised, and a little hurt.

    “You knew about this?” Jet rubs his face. “I’m goin’ to bed, and we’ll talk about this in the mornin’.” Jet turns and stalks down the hall.

    “What was that about?” Kobra looked at Party suspiciously.

    “We intercepted a transmission from outside the Zones.” Ghoul says.

    “We do have intel that BL/I is tryin’ to take a seventh Zone.” Kobra glanced sideways at Ghoul.

    “Not like that. Like Killjoys. Plus the expansion won’ happen for another six years at the very least. Ghoulie and I wanna check it out.”

    “As in, go outside the Zones? Hell no! There’s a reason the expansion’s goin’ to take years, it’s because a prospective Zone Seven’s completely unlivable.”

    “But there are people out there.” Ghoul protested.

    “I am not letting you two idiots die. The rest of the Zones will never know what happened to the two Crash Queens from Zone Six. An’ what if you go out there, an’ you die, an’ leave me an’ Jet alone. You wanna do that shit?”

    “Kobra—”

    “No. Come back to me when you don’ wanna be a dumbass.” Kobra turned and followed Jet’s steps down the hall.

    “Godammit!” Party yelled, and stomped out the door, into the desert.

    Ghoul sat alone in the Diner for a while, staring out a window, before deciding to follow Party. The back of his throat itched, and he suppressed a light cough, climbing up to the roof, where Party and him liked to hang out. “Hey Party.”

    “Hi.”

    “Are we still going?”

    “‘Course.”

    “When?”

    Party sat up, that stupid light in his eye, and looked out at the desert horizon. “We go now. Mom an’ Dad’ll never know what hit ‘em.”

    “Wait, you’re serious?” Ghoul grinned.

    “Yeah, dead serious. Pack your shit. We’re goin’.”

    Ghoul started down the ladder, Party following after him. “What about Kobra and Jet?”

    “We’ll be gone before they think we’re ghosted.” Party smiled, and the pair headed down to the ground.

* * * *

    The Trans-Am started up a lot quieter than Party had thought, still blaringly loud in the desert night, but Kobra and Jet didn’t come running out, so he figured they were good. They climbed into the car, turned the radio up, and headed out.

    Ghoul glanced out the window before looking back at Party. “We so did not think this through. No gas, no food. This is gonna go Costa Rica.”

    “Calm thy tits. We got some extra Power Pup, full tanka gas is gonna give us 200ish miles. When the pup runs out, we’ll eat lizards, and there are so many gas stations in the Zones, they gotta be outta the Zones too. We’ll be fine.”

    After an hour and a half, Party slowed.

    Ghoul put a hand on his ray gun. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s the edge of Zone Six.”

“Let’s go then.”

Party sped up again, and the edge of Zone Six flashed by. Ghoul coughed again, cursing himself for sounding so weak in between sucking breaths. Party glanced at him sideways, then glanced back at the road. “You okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We could go back.”

“No.”

Another hour and a half later, the radio starts to die. The music fades out, crackling and messy. “Party…” Ghoul says nervously. “There’s nothing around. No gas stations, no body bags. There ain’t shit.”

“Do a transmission.”

Ghoul nodded and pulled out his long range radio. “Name’s Fun Ghoul. ‘M with Party Poison, and if you believe in freedom, we’re lookin’ for you. If you’re BL/I, get off my goddamn frequency.”

He says this multiple times, over multiple frequencies, and by the last one, it’s lost it’s magic. Well, Ghoul’s voice was not lost on Party. That would be impossible. But the message was less dramatic the eighth time around. Party looked over worriedly as Ghoul started coughing again.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fuckin’ fine, leave me alone.”

Party reached over a hand and felt Ghoul’s face. “You’ve got a fever, dumbass. Drink some water or I’m turning around.”

Ghoul grabbed Party’s wrist and threw it back in his lap. “I said I’m fine goddammit, shut up about it.”

“Drink the fuckin’ water.” Party grabbed the bottle and threw it at him.

“Party. We can’t turn around.”

“No, we can’t, so drink.”

“No, I mean check your rearview mirror.”

Party glanced in the mirror, and slammed his foot on the gas, causing the RPM needle to go up alarmingly. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit!” Party’s cussing caused Ghoul to grab his gun and stare at Party, currently scrambling for the reverse. “Fuck it! Get down, Ghoul!” He threw the car into drive and stepped hard on the pedal.

Thunder rolled as the engine grew so loud it sounded like it was going to explode, blasts flung through the open windows, and a low hum started to pierce his ears, then all of a sudden, the car slowed and stopped. “No! Fuckin’ shit!” Ghoul yelled.

“Be ready to put up a fight!” Party snapped.

“It’s an EMP. Our guns won’t work.”

“Theirs won’t work either,” Party growled, pulled a switchblade from his pocket.

Ghoul tensed as Dracs approached the car. “Fuck, this’s gonna hurt.”

In the split-second hesitation before the pair jumped out and rose hell, the doors opened, and the Dracs drug them out. Lightning flashed, illuminating Ghoul’s face, and sending flashing shadows across the Dracs’ faces, and fear shivered down Party’s spine

Ghoul sucked in a breath to start yelling, but he hit the ground with another coughing fit, and Party punched the Drac, trying to get away. “Get off me you fucking pig!” Party hissed.

Ghoul snapped his head back into the Drac’s face, looking smug for a moment before getting a faceful of raygun, the Drac slamming his raygun into Ghoul’s nose.

Party cringed at Ghoul’s yell, and the blood pouring out of his nose, the Dracs letting him go unsupported as he kneeled on the ground. 

A black haired SCARECROW stepped out from wherever they were hiding, a smug smirk on his face that Party longed to punch. “What are you two little Zone Rats doing out here?”

Party rolled his eyes, partly stalling because he couldn’t remember the Crows name. Flare? Fire? Something along those lines. He knew it started with an F at the very least.

“C’mon Flare.” Ghoul said. “Haven’ you had enough of stalking me? You know I’m no’ indo you thad way.” His grin and slightly muted broken-nose voice made Party’s heart flutter.

The resounding thud dropped his stomach, and Ghoul was on the ground, breathing hard. Flare kicked him in the side, and then again in the face. But Ghoul tried to stand, making it to his knees before swaying harder to stay upright. He got to his feet, then Flare kicked at his knee, sending him back to square one with a pained yell.

Party wrestled with his Drac for a second before snarling, “you don’t touch him.”

That was a mistake. Ghoul shook his head, and Flare smirked, “is that so?” He grabbed a handful of Ghoul’s hair and lifted his chin. The blood down his face and throat almost hid the bruise blooming over his cheekbone.

Ghoul grinned up at Flare and spat at him. Flare seethed, and twisted his hand, causing Ghoul to cry out. Party slammed his head into the face behind him, using Ghoul’s distraction to get the upper hand and knock one out. The next one came at him, and he grabbed its head, bringing it down to meet his knee. He turned to Flare, still holding Ghoul hostage, holding the knife close to his throat. His voice was steady, but his hand shook.

Flare laughed, “you don’t even trust yourself.”

Party smiled, a sweet, innocent smile. “It’s not me I need to trust.” He opened his hand, and the knife fell straight into Ghoul’s grip, who shoved it into Flare’s chest. Flare stumbled back, and fell off the knife, literally kicking Ghoul away. Ghoul hit the ground hard, the knife skittering across the rocks, and Party grabbed it, standing to face the Dracs.

Lighting and thunder accompanied his attempt at escape, and Party made short work of them; their guns were completely useless, so they didn’t actually have a weapon. Briefly, Party wondered why they didn’t carry knives, but then Ghoul groaned, and Party dropped down next to him. “Are you okay? You’re not lookin’ so hot.”

“I’m fine, ya bastard.” Ghoul snapped. “Where the hell is Flare?”

“He’s gone.”

“As in…?”

“Disappeared.”

“Thank fuck.”

Party pulled off his bandanna and held it to Ghoul’s face, and Ghoul put his hand over Party’s, taking the bandanna. There’s a huge flash, and everything goes white.

* * * *

    Party cracked his eyes open. The same desert light filtered through his eyelids, and stung as he got his eyes all the way open. “Ghoul?” No answer. Maybe he was still unconscious. Something knocked them out and—There’s no Ghoul. There’s no Trans-Am, and there’s no Drcas. “Where the hell am I?” There’s nobody around, but it looked like he was laying on some kinda road, an old dirt road, but the dirt looked freshly turned, like it was still being used. So Party stood, and he started walking.

    The air slammed out of Ghoul’s lungs and he gasped, the ground warm against his back. For a second, he just laid there, trying to get air into his lungs. After a moment, he rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to make it to his feet. “Party?” He yelled. Nothing. There’s no sign of him, or the fight they were just in. Party’s bandanna is still in his hand, so it wasn’t a dream. “Party!” Still no answer. A tiny-looking town is on the horizon, and it’s all Ghoul could do to stumble into it, and the moment he did, he stared.

The streets were dirt, and every building was wood, the sidewalk cracked and broken from various things. The women were dressed in dresses, like, actual ankle length dresses, and the men were dressed in pants and vests. Ghoul looked down at his own green vest. At least he was sort of in the right clothes. There were carriages along the street, horses tied up to various posts. Horses. Real live horses. Ghoul’s jaw dropped. “Phoenix Witch!” He walked up to one slowly. Party had told him about horses. He only had vague memories from before the Helium Wars, the four-legged animals in fields, with swishy tails. Party knew from what they had told him in Battery City.

Someone crashed into him and he turned, ready for a fight. The kid jerked back, his hands curled into fists.

“The hell’d you do that for?” Ghoul snapped.

“Who messed up your face?” The kid looked as ready to fight as Ghoul felt.

“None ya business.”

“Well ya crashed into me.” The kid leaned back on his heels and regarded Ghoul cooly.

“The hell are you on! You crashed into me ya fuckin china doll!”

“What does that even mean?” The kid looked at him like he was nuts.

Ghoul rolled his eyes. “If you really wanna know, it was a dude named Flare.”

“Messed up name.”

“Messed up dude.”

“C’mon. You look like you need some help.” Ghoul followed the random kid, and while he was aware that following the random kid was never a good idea, and never turned out well, he still needed answers as to where he was. “Wha’s your name? I’m Liam.”

“Ghoul.”

“What kinda names do your people have?”

“Okay, first of all, Flare is not ‘my people’. And we choose them. Well, Flare didn’t. But I did. And so did Party.” Ghoul followed him, all the way to a two story wooden building, titled “Home for Young Boys.” A newspaper vendor sat just outside, and Ghoul caught a glimpse of the date.

June 8th, 1899.

Ghoul’s mind raced. That’s impossible. But it made sense. Actual, standing buildings, weird clothes, weird slang, horses. He had time travelled.

“Who’s that?” Liam yanked him out of his thoughts, and forced him to keep going.

“My friend. He disappeared.”

“Outta thin air? That ain’t possible.”

“No, we came here, and he disappeared.”

“Fuck.” Ghoul looked at him in surprise. He didn’t seem like the type to cuss like Ghoul would. “Normally I wouldn’t say that, but ‘round here we’ve been havin’ some problems.”

“What kinda problems?” Ghoul asked.

“The kid-stealin’ kind.” Liam opened the door to the boys home and motioned him inside. “Six kids’ve been taken in the last two weeks. Looks like this Party is the seventh.”

“He wouldn’t let that happen.”

“C’mon. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No, you don't get it.” Ghoul grabbed Liam’s shoulder. “Party’s the best Killjoy we got. He’s gotten his way out of plenty of claps before, and I guarantee they’re a lot worse than whatever plastic flower’s out here.”

“You talk so strangely.”

* * * *

    When Party finally made it to a town, it was dark, and the lights of the town are gas lights in the windows.

    There’s a scream, and Party’s fight or flight went directly into overdrive, and as normal, skidded violently past flight and into fight mode. He raced down the alley, where a kid his age, dirtied up and angry, fought hard against the guy who was grabbing him.

    “Hey! Let him alone!” Party yelled. He ran towards the kid, before someone else caught his arms, and held him back. The guy who was going after the first kid punched Party, and he gasped, feeling the blood trickle into his mouth. “What gave you the right to hurt a kid like that?” Party snarled.

    “What gave you the right to interfere in my business?” The guy hit him in the stomach and slowly Party sunk to the ground. He coughed weakly, and thought about Ghoul and his coughing fits, and his fever.

    “Ghoul…” Please be alright.

    The guy punched him in the face and his head snapped back. Slowly, the lights faded, and the world turned black.

    When Party came to, he was in a room with seven other kids, all dirty, all around Party’s age. “Hey. Um… Where are we?”

    “Dunno.” Someone responded.

    Another person pressed close to him and whispered, “thanks for trying to help.”

    “I wasn’t gonna stand by and let him take you.” Party muttered.

    “Who—Who’s Ghoul?”

    Party turned bright red, he could feel it. “Ghoul—Ghoul came with me here. I think. I don’t know where he is.”

    “Who is he? To you?”

    “I don’t—”

    The door opened, and someone dumped a plate of food on the ground. All seven kids scrambled for it, racing to see who got to it first. Party leaned back against the wall.

    The kid Party tried to help came back, with a scrap of bread. “You didn’t go for anything.” He observed.

    “There isn’t enough, and I’m not gonna take from kids who need it.” Especially since he had a lot of experience in starving from the Zones. “Besides, I’m used to it.”

    “Nobody should have to say they’re used to starving.” The kid tore the bread apart and handed one half to Party.

    Party paused, before taking it. “My situation is different.”

    “So what are you gonna do?”

    “I need to get out of here.”

* * * *

    “The police have been searching everywhere for these guys, but I think I know where they are.”

    Ghoul, Liam, and two other boys sat in a circle in a room full of bunks. They had explained to him what they were, and the whole boys home thing. They were newsboys, sold papers on the street, and most were orphans, so they lived in the boys home. Liam said they could get you anywhere and anything.

    “Where?”

    “There’s an old ghost town not far from here. I think that's where they are. It’s not even four hours ride.”

    “Ride?”

    “A horse?”

    “Oh.” Ghoul didn’t know how to ride a horse. “When do we leave?”

    “Now, I guess. We’ll have to borrow some horses, but we’re ready. Do you have a gun? Or a knife?”

    “Yeah. Although what good it will do.” Ghoul pulled out his raygun, checked the battery, and sniffed happily. “Yeah. It’ll work.”

    “What is that.”

    “It’s my gun.” Ghoul, very clearly, wasn’t gonna say anything more about it.

   

    Fifteen minutes later, Ghoul, Liam, and the two others, Gavin and Jeramiah, who insisted we call him Jem, had four horses, each on borrowed, except for Gavin’s who saved up an entire years wages to get a horse. He said he wanted to be a cowboy. Ghoul waited until everyone was already on their horse before trying to get up, hoping that he would be able to figure out how to do it. Finally he got up into the saddle—and almost fell off the other side. “Fuck! Fuck!” Liam laughed as Ghoul forced himself back up. Ghoul huffed, and they set off. Ghoul was super wobbly, almost falling off several times.

    “When we start trotting, we’re gonna have a problem, I think.” Jem says with a smile.

    “What the fuck is trotting?” Ghoul asked.

    Simultaneously, Jem, Gavin and Liam, started at a faster, bouncier pace. His horse started following them, and panicked, Ghoul grabbed the piece of leather sticking out of the saddle, Liam called it the saddle horn.

    All three started laughing, and Ghoul glared at all of them. “You know what you guys, shut up.”

    “Okay, we’ll lope then.” They started going even faster, but this time it was smoother, but Ghoul still felt himself sliding out of the saddle.

    “Heels down, pockets touching the saddle!” Liam yelled.

    “What does that even mean!?” Ghoul yelled back, right before he hit the ground. “Motherfucking shit!” Ghoul gasped.

    The three circled back around, Jem grabbing the reins and handing them to Ghoul as he stood back up. “That's gonna hurt tomorrow, Ghoulie!”

    “Don’t call me that!” Ghoul snapped. Only Party called him that. He hauled himself back into the saddle, and they all continued on, this time Ghoul stayed in the saddle.

* * * *

    Party stood as footsteps came to the door, and he darted behind the door. The second he opened it, Party slammed it forward, and heard a thunk as it hit his head. He threw the door open and kicked the guy in the balls, then punching him in the face. The kids cheered, and Party turned. “Shhh. You guys gotta be quiet or they’re gonna hear us. Any of you have somethin’ sharp?”

    None of them nod, so Party leads them out, slowly, and quietly. The first room he came to, a desk stood, and he searched every drawer, eventually finding a letter opener. “This’ll work.”

    “Listen, I’m going to take it one hallway at a time. I’m gonna go first, and I’ll clear it out. Then you guys will come with me.”

    There was no one in the building. Party saw his switchblade on a table and grabbed it, tossing the letter opener to the kid he had helped, who was the second oldest, as far as he could tell. “This your audition?”

    “What?”

    “Is it your first fight?”

    He nodded.

    “You’re gonna do fine. Move before you think you need to, okay?”

    “Is this your first fight?”

    “Not even close.”

    The group made it out unharmed, but that was when everything changed. There were two men guarding the door, and Party managed a strangled “stay there!” while he took them down, a lot bloodier than he’d like. “Don’t look.” Party muttered as he led the group into the desert town’s air. They looked a lot dirtier in the bright sun.

    “Get down!” Someone yelled, and Party automatically hit the ground, pulling down the other kids with him. There was a hail of gunfire, and pounding hooves. “Party?”

    “Gavin! Get to Strings and get us a sheriff! Go! Run!”

    “Ghoul?” Party yelled. More bullets hit the wood above him. “Guys, you have to listen to me. Do not stand up. Otherwise, you will die. I’m serious.”

    Some of the kids looked scared out of their minds. Party was okay with that. He grabbed the gun dropped by the guards outside the door just as one of the kids stood up, looking about ready to take off and run. A half-second later, he was writhing on the ground. Blood bloomed on his dirty shirt, and he screams as Party pulled him to safety.

    “Ghoul, we got injured!” Party yelled. “Alright kid.” He said softly, pulling off another of his bandannas. “You’re gonna be okay, but this is gonna hurt a lot,” the poor kid whimpers, and as Party pressed down on his wound, and he screamed louder than Party had ever heard someone scream. “You’re gonna be okay, kid, I swear. Ghoulie an’ I, we ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to you. I swear to Destroya.”

    “Party!” Ghoul screamed, sounding terrified.

    “Listen, listen, press down here. Don’ let go for the goddamn world.” The boy nods, and Party snuck around the side of the box, to see Ghoul, a knife at his throat, gun across the street.

    “Drop the gun!” The guy with the knife yelled.

    “Don’ move, Ghoul!” Party yelled. He aimed carefully, and with a bang, the guy fell behind Ghoul. Party started to run to meet him in the street, but something stopped him. Something being a loud crack, and a scream. It felt like he had been punched in the gut, but there was no one around him.

   

    Ghoul watched Party get shot, watched the yellow Keep Smiling on his shirt turn to red. “No!” Ghoul sprinted over to him, catching him as he began to fall. “Party, Party, please don’t do this.” Party was completely oblivious.

    “Ghoul… tell Kobra I’m sorry.”

    “No! No, you’ll tell him yourself, you stubborn bastard.” Ghoul tried not to think about how eerily similar Party’s blood was to his hair. 

    “At least I get to die here with you.” Party looked up at him with glassy eyes.

    “You’re not gonna die. I swear to the Phoenix Witch.”

    “Ghoulie… Ghoulie, are you crying? Didn’t know you cared so much.” It was true, Ghoul’s tears carved tracks in the dirt on his face, and the two were blissfully unaware of the firefight going on above them.

    The police had come.

    “Party you fuckin’ idiot.” Ghoul sniffed. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

    “I know, Ghoul. I have too.” Party whispered. His voice wavered, and he fell heavier into Ghoul’s arms.

    “No. No, please don't.” Ghoul leaned down and kissed Party, and Party kissed him back albeit weakly. Ghoul pulled away and wiped Party’s blood away. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here.” Ghoul pulled him closer, and Party’s eyes slid glassily to meet Ghoul’s.

    “Don’t… leave.”

    “I won’t. I’m staying right here.” Party’s head drops, and his eyes stare past Ghoul, somewhere far away. Ghoul buried his head in Party’s shoulder, before resting him on the ground and grabbing his gun. Ghoul stood up, glaring at the guys who had shot Party. He got a few effective shots off before he felt a hard hit, then again. He looked down, and his chest was colored red. “Fuck.” He fell next to Party, the lights already fading. “It’s alright. I’m here.” He took Party’s hand, and the world disappeared.

* * * *

    Ghoul woke up on the floor.

    The world was bathed in a dark red, and everything was fuzzy. There was a creaking, like a rusty wheel turning, and a figure came into view. They were covered head to toe in feathers, and hovered a few inches above the ground. The creaking was the squeaky wheel of a cart she was pushing, filled with masks. Killjoy masks.

    “I know who you are.”

    Ghoul’s voice echoed in the silence.

    “Do you now?”

    Her voice didn’t echo.

    “Yeah. I do. The Phoenix Witch. You’re her.” Ghoul looked up at her mask. “Why are you here?”

    “Because it’s not your time. You still have work to do where you’re from.”

    “What do you mean? How are you here? What’s gonna happen to those kids?”

    “Killjoys didn’t create me. But you believe in me. That gives me power. And I can be with you. I am with all of you, always. Even in a different time. A different dimension. As for the kids, that’s the past. It’s not about what will. It’s about what has.”

    “What happened?”

    “The boy who got shot didn’t survive. The rest went back to their old lives.”

    “Why us?”

    “Because you’re the hope for the future.”

* * * *

    Party woke up to Ghoul’s breathing. They were surrounded by dead Dracs, and Ghoul’s bloody nose was still bleeding. Everything that had happened in the last two days, had disappeared. Party pulled up his shirt. There was a scar where he remembered being shot. He remembered Ghoul’s kiss, and remembered how much it hurt to die. “Ghoul?” His voice cracked.

   Ghoul woke with a start, almost immediately breaking into a coughing fit, sucking in breath after breath. He stared at Party for a moment, disbelief in his eyes. Then he hugged him hard, and kissed him harder.

    “Ghoul, what happened?”

    “You were shot. You—You died. Right there in front of me.” Ghoul paused. “Party, I met the Witch. The Phoenix Witch.”

    “What did she say?”

    “They made it. The boys made it. Except…”

    “The kid who got shot.”

    “Yeah. Party, I’m so sorry.”

    Party didn’t look at him for a long while. Then, “we have to get back. Can you walk?”

    Ghoul tried to stand, then shook his head. “Not without you.”

    “Alright. Come on.” Engines sound, and Party groaned. “Please not more Dracs.” Instead, it was two motorcycles, and as they got closer, Party realized it was Kobra and Jet. “‘Joys. It’s Kobra and Jet.”

    “I’m half broken, not fuckin’ blind.”

    “What the hell are you doing?” Kobra shouted, jumping off his skidding bike in true Motorbaby fashion.

    Ghoul let go and leaned on the Trans-Am, and Party pulled Kobra in for a hug, not looking like he was letting go any time soon. Kobra pulled away, stared at his brother for a moment, before punching him. Hard.

    “I deserved that.”

    “Yeah. Ya did. You disappear in the middle of the fuckin’ night, you get yourselves in a clap, you’ve both got the shit kicked outta you, and you expect me not to be mad!”

    Now Jet breaks in. “You dragged Ghoul into this, and now he can’t even stand straight.”

    “Jet, you have no idea. He didn’t even drag me into this. I aske—”

    “Ghoul, it’s fine. You guys are right. I never shoulda even considered leaving the Zones. It’s my fault. All of it.”

    Ghoul knew he was talking about the kid. “No. It wasn’t.”

    “Forget it.” Jet snapped.

    “We’re going home.” Kobra said. “And staying there.”

[missn11]

Night Road specifically for the meme!

@ryttu3k aw yes thank you :D

blorbo (favorite character, character I think about the most)

Lettow for sure, I love his character, his romance with the courier (though I wished it was longer XD) and how he is one of those decent Princes in the WOD (though he is still very much a grey character cause of all the fucked things he's had to do for the sake of all the Kindred under his care.) I really need to do some art and fics of him sometime (just Night Road in general XD)

scrunkly (my “baby”, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped)

Vani,Elena and Raul are so important and good and I love them and their side quests and wished I could be even better to them in their romances.

I would also say the same for the wolf famulus too, I haven't played too much with them but from what I've seen they are so cute and goofy! XD

scrimblo bimblo (underrated/underappreciated fave)

Dove for sure, while she's not completely ignored by the fandom she's not talked about as much as Lettow and Julian. I really love the romance/friendship you can have with her and also that you can have a poly route with her and Lettow too. :D

glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week)

Shout out to Miguel for trying to be a good ghoul only to get killed :( and Giselle for having a ironclad will enough to still be using her magic even when blood bonded and having a neat t-shirt

poor little meow meow (“problematic”/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave)

Julian, who else? XD I really love how interesting of a character Julian is, he isn't wrong, one day the masquerade has to fall but he's also kind of a screw up and a huge risk taker even how smart and powerful he is. Will he succeed in his plans or fall harder than he has ever before? We'll have to see, at least he isn't rushing it and his plan will take decades to build before it can be launched. Does he care for the courier even when he's using them? I would like to think so, and it brings a lot of angst to the table.

horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason)

Donati, I don't think I would torment her for fun but damn its always fun to dominate her into dropping her weapon and have her be mauled by Lettow or made to jump off the roof by Julian. She's a hell of a foe that I like taking down! XD (one day I'll figure out how to side with her right)

eeby deeby (character I would send to superhell)

Jasper Knowles, thought to be fair Julian already sent him there! XDDDD

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Always a Place For You

also on ao3 

fair warning, this one is long

Initially, when they run into another Witcher on the road, Jaskier is thrilled. He’s been dying to hear more about Geralt’s adventures and hopes that having a familiar companion will make him more amenable to it. And maybe cheer him up a little. It's been a slow couple of weeks and while they've adjusted to it - and have certainly had worse periods - Geralt has been a little low lately. So when the other man walks toward them, arms stretched and a goat at his side, Jaskier is delighted.

His name is Eskel and he seems equally as enthusiastic to meet Jaskier as Jaskier is to meet him. Geralt makes a muttered comment about how it’s only because of the song and Eskel elbows him. Jaskier loves him immediately.

"Maybe I could write you your own song," he suggests and behind him, he can hear Geralt's snort of derision.

But it's fine. Geralt's never really grumpy with him about flirting - even, he suspects, with other Witchers - and how else is Jaskier supposed to learn about them? Every piece of Witcher knowledge he has, unless gleaned from his years with Geralt, is tainted with bias and fear, and he would very much like to know the truth.

Eskel is, in fact, far more forthcoming than Geralt ever has been, though this is likely a side-effect of Jaskier being Geralt's companion. He can't imagine Eskel would be so willing otherwise. And he can understand that, having overstepped with the wrong person and wound up in trouble more than his share of times.

The pair of them chat as they make their way along the road, heading toward Eskel’s camp. It’s not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes how quiet Geralt has been the whole time. It’s not as though he’s the chattiest person he's ever known, but Geralt has been talking very little today - even for him - and when Jaskier starts asking questions about their childhood, he shuts up entirely.

At the edge of Eskel’s camp, Geralt tethers Roach next to a black stallion who seems none too impressed with the company, then quietly comes to sit with them. He sits on Eskel's other side, staring intently into the fire and continuing to add nothing to the conversation. A couple of times, Eskel starts to say something, but a single look from Geralt is all it takes for him to switch tracks.

Eskel stays with them and Jaskier does his best to take a step back and not focus too hard on every interaction between the two Witchers. They spend a couple of days camping out before the weather turns wet and miserable and Geralt directs them toward town. Jaskier knows it's for his benefit mostly and he feels guilty for them having to change course, but Geralt won't take no for an answer. It's out of the way - they'd been heading toward Rinde and a sizable reward for killing a pack of ghouls - but it's the closest town to them, even if it's barely large enough to have an inn. But it does and once the horses and goat are housed for the night, that's where they head.

"We need a room for the night," Geralt says and Jaskier interjects with a hurried, "two rooms." Geralt turns to him with a confused frown, but Eskel lays a hand on Geralt's shoulder and he relents.

Jaskier tries not to think too much about what that means or why Geralt relents so quickly, but he fails. As he makes his way up to his own room, all he can think of is the way Eskel's fingers pressed into Geralt's shoulder, squeezing gently in a way that, apparently, was enough to reassure Geralt. He wants to be able to offer that kind of reassurance, for Geralt to feel that calm in his presence.

He's unpacking his things, hanging those that got wet to dry, when there's a knock on the door. Jaskier doesn't even have a chance to cross the room before the door opens and Geralt strolls into the room like it's his own.

"What's wrong?" he asks, which Jaskier supposes is polite, but he's so blunt about it that he almost sounds angry.

"Nothing," Jaskier offers, turning away to finish emptying the contents of his pack.

"Jaskier, you've barely said a word all day.”

“I composed an entire song before we reached the city walls."

"But you haven't spoken to anyone but yourself."

Jaskier opens his mouth to mention talking to the stable hand, but the look on Geralt's face tells him that won't go over well. Not that he understands why Geralt is so concerned about his silence, all of a sudden. There have been days when he's all but prayed for Jaskier to shut up. He should be happy about it.

"I'm just... not feeling well," he says, realizing the fault in his lie before he even finishes speaking it. Geralt's eyebrows knit together and he gives Jaskier a quick once-over before evidently deciding he's fine.

"You're lying to me. Jaskier you never lie to me. Why?"

"You can tell when I'm lying?"

"You smell like deceit, don't change the subject."

Jaskier doesn't know what to say because he certainly can't tell the truth. He goes with the one thing he knows Geralt won't want to talk about any further.

"I had a lover here once," he says quickly, "she dropped me quite quickly when she found out about my other lovers. I was quite hoping not to have to come back, but here we are."

It's close enough to the truth, and something realistic enough that Geralt should believe it. And he does, though he doesn't seem happy about it. He stiffens and Jaskier just sighs softly as Geralt turns back toward the door and leaves him alone again.

For four more days, Eskel travels with them. He leaves on the fifth morning, and watching him go is bittersweet, the weight of some unnamed pain sitting heavily on Jaskier's heart. Geralt shows no sign of sadness or regret, but Jaskier can feel something different about him as they turn and head in the opposite direction.

If Jaskier thought things would go back to the way before, he's sadly mistaken. And it's his own fault, really. Geralt, shockingly, returns to normal fairly quickly, falling back into their old routines, but Jaskier can't stop thinking about him and Eskel. When they're alone at night, he pretends not to be cold because he can't bear the thought of Geralt's arms around him if he's thinking of someone else.

But things do eventually get back to something like normal, aided by Geralt's silent persistence. For the first time in their relationship, Geralt is the one pushing boundaries, encouraging Jaskier to do things he doesn't necessarily want to do. But even when Geralt has wormed his way back to his proper place in Jaskier's life, Jaskier can't stop thinking about him with Eskel. So he flirts less - at least with Geralt - and he distances himself a little bit at a time because he wants Geralt to be happy.

They're up north when the weather starts to cool and out of the blue, Geralt broaches the subject of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier's sitting next to the fire, his lute case open next to him but untouched and he's prodding at the coals with a stick. Geralt comes and plops down next to him, staring directly ahead and not meeting Jaskier's eyes.

"I wonder if you would come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter." It's not a question, not really, and from Geralt's perspective, things have been good - exceptionally good - so he probably isn't expecting Jaskier to turn him down flat.

"No," Jaskier says and the look on Geralt's face tells him he's surprised about it. "I'm going to Oxenfurt."

"You'll freeze before you get there." Geralt says and he sounds a little irritated about it, so Jaskier smiles to ease the awkwardness.

"Well then," he says, "you had better come along and keep me warm."

It's supposed to be a joke, but Geralt agrees easily and Jaskier’s chest tightens. The night that follows is cold and Geralt is more distant than he has been, but he curls up around Jaskier next to the fire and pulls the extra blanket over them both.

For a little while, Jaskier almost thinks things could be okay again, but he's never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He wants Geralt, but he also wants him to be happy and there doesn't seem to be a way to have both - not if Geralt loves Eskel.

A couple of nights out, they're camped on the edge of a lake and Jaskier is struggling to get the fire lit. His fingers are so cold he fumbles with the flint and drops it into the placed sticks carefully. Geralt isn't around to help, having gone off to find something for them to eat, but Jaskier does eventually get the fire lit, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sits next to it, waiting for Geralt to return.

When he doesn't, Jaskier gets worried and hauls himself to his feet. He can't see much in the dark, his eyes having adjusted to the light of the fire, so he heads off in the direction Geralt left. It doesn't take long to figure out where he went; barely two minutes from camp, Jaskier hears the sounds of a fight and hurries toward it.

Geralt has his sword drawn, surrounded on all sides by a pack of drowners. Without thinking, Jaskier rushes into the fold, tugging the dagger from his boot, and launches himself at the closest creature. He gets his blade lodged in its neck, but it stumbles as it collapses, dislodging Jaskier from its back and as he bumps into another and finds himself thrown sideways into the lake.

He's underwater before he realizes what's happening and the icy water bites into his skin. He struggles against the weight of his own body, kicking his legs and searching for anything to push off of. He's not even sure which way is up, at this point and he knows Geralt is too busy to come after him; this time, he's going to have to save himself.

But he can't. He's already losing feeling in his limbs and even with his eyes open and stinging, he can't see anything in the dark, so all he can do is kick his legs and hope for the best. And then, as if like a beacon, an arm thrusts down toward him, scrabbling around until a hand curls around his collar and hauls him upward. Jaskier is helpless as he's hauled up onto the bank and he gasps to catch his breath as warm hands, slowly cooling against his skin, grab at him.

He's tugged up into strong arms and his mind is still struggling to catch up as Geralt lifts him into his arms and starts back toward camp. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and rests his chin on his shoulder, he looks back behind them. The entire horde of drowners is dead on the ground, the grass dark with their blood. Jaskier shudders at the sight and Geralt holds him closer, mistaking his shock for cold.

As soon as they're back at the fire, Geralt drops to his knees next to it, shifting to cross his legs and pull Jaskier into his lap. He has both their blankets and the one Jaskier was wearing and he pulls them around him now.

"Take off your clothes," he says and Jaskier stops, his head jerking up to meet his eyes.

"I-" he starts and finds he can't form the words.

“Jaskier, your clothes.”

“But I thought- Eskel, he won't mind?"

"Jaskier, you're going to freeze to death if you don't get out of your clothes, no one is going to mind." Jaskier hesitates just for a moment and Geralt sighs in frustration, reaching for his shirt himself. Geralt gets Jaskier out of his doublet before Jaskier's mind catches up and he fumbles with his shirt.

"I've got it," Geralt says softly, and Jaskier ducks his head. He still hasn't quite managed to catch up to the severity of the situation and he shifts awkwardly as Geralt lifts his shirt up.

"Geralt you shouldn't- I can do it. I don't want things to be complicated because of me, I- I know you and Eskel- and I want you to be happy so I can do it myself." He doesn't look up until he's finished speaking and realizes Geralt hasn't moved. He's frozen in place, his hands wrapped around the hem of Jaskier's shirt. As soon as Jaskier lifts his eyes, Geralt's snap up to meet them.

"That's what's been bothering you? Jaskier, that was months ago." He curses softly under his breath and tugs Jaskier's shirt up over his head. He quickly rids him of the rest of his clothes and bundles Jaskier up against his chest.

They sit together in silence and Jaskier leans further into him than he should, soaking up Geralt's body heat. He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck and a warm hand slides up his chest, wrapping him tight. It's a little weird being fully naked out in the middle of nowhere and pressed up against Geralt, but he likes the warmth of him against his back.

"Eskel and I," Geralt says suddenly, "it's not what you think."

"Dunno what else it could be," Jaskier mumbles, "you with your head between his legs and all. Though that explains why you were so weird about me meeting him." Geralt's hand makes its way up to his head, sliding into his hair.

"I didn't want to tell you," he admits and Jaskier huffs against him. "Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I didn't want it to change things. Obviously, it did."

"How long?" Jaskier asks, though he's not totally sure he wants to know.

"Always." Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's, looking out into the fire. "We were kids the first time, cold and alone in that huge keep with no one but each other. It started as a distraction and just grew into something... else."

It feels like all the breath has been sucked from his lungs and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath. He had hoped that it was just a relationship born out of necessity, but that's not what it sounds like.

"You're upset," Geralt realizes, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Just cold."

"And lying." Jaskier says nothing and Geralt tips his head forward, pressing against the back of Jaskier's head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, I want you to be happy."

After a moment of silence, Geralt sighs. "You know I care for you, Jaskier." Jaskier's heart does a weird little flip that he can't quite describe, but it doesn't feel good.

"No, actually. You do quite a good job of pretending you don't." He's feeling raw and he wants to pull away, but his hair is still dripping and there's a real chance that he could actually die if he slept out in the cold tonight.

"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, dropping his chin so his nose bumps against Jaskier's ear. "There's no need to be jealous of Eskel. No one could ever replace you."

Jaskier hates being placated and he squirms in Geralt's arms, turning to frown at him. But Geralt's expression is soft and he almost looks like he's smiling. Jaskier's frown deepens, but Geralt holds him closer, looking at him silently for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's temple.

Jaskier freezes as soon as Geralt moves and Geralt doesn't draw back, not entirely. He presses back in, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's, and when their noses bump against each other, Jaskier inhales slowly. He tips his head, pressing forward again and Geralt meets him halfway.

Geralt's mouth is hot against his own and he turns Jaskier in his lap, pulling him as close as he can without letting the blankets slip away. And it takes him a minute to realize Geralt isn't going to pull away, but when he's sure, Jaskier slips his arms around his neck, risking the frigid night air to wrap himself around Geralt.

He's not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other by the fire, but at some point Jaskier drifts off, his face pressed into Geralt's neck.

They change course in the morning, turning back toward the mountains.

The following morning is frosty and Jaskier dresses as quickly as he can to avoid any more loss of heat. When he's fully clothed, he works on getting his own things together, but Geralt comes over with a large swatch of fabric draped over his arm. As he gets closer, Jaskier realizes it's his cloak but he doesn't have a chance to ask what he's doing before Geralt is wrapping it around him, fastening it around his neck.

"It'll keep you warm," he says, fastening the clasp and Jaskier's heart is beating so loudly he can barely think over it. He suspects Geralt can hear it as well and that's what the little lopsided smile is for. He presses a hand to Jaskier's shoulder and pauses for a moment before sliding the same hand up to the side of his neck and drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry you were miserable for so long, I should have realized."

"No," Jaskier insists, but Geralt is already leaning in for a kiss and Jaskier shuts his eyes. For once, he's happy to leave something in the past.

"Will it be okay?" he asks as Geralt breaks away. He's still only a breath away and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to him. "Me coming to Kaer Morhen with you, I mean."

"If you're worried about Eskel, don't be. He knows."

"What?"

"He knew before I did," Geralt grins, stroking his thumb across Jaskier's cheek before turning and returning to his task. Jaskier is left speechless again and desperately wanting to know how he came up when talking to Eskel. Maybe if things go as well as Geralt says, he can ask Eskel himself.

They're a week out from the mountain pass that Geralt keeps talking about and Jaskier can't help but wonder if he was always expecting to take him to Kaer Morhen. He certainly wasn't expecting to be told no. But none of that matters now, especially not with Jaskier in the saddle and Geralt pressed as close behind him as he can be, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.

The cloak is sufficiently warm, but he likes when Geralt touches him and his hood keeps blowing off anyway. Despite the cold wind, Jaskier likes it because Geralt will lean in and kiss his head and press his nose into his hair. Out in the wild, Geralt is careless with his affection, has been even before Jaskier realized what it was, and he can't blame him. If Geralt has been holding everything in for even half the time he has, it can't have been easy, even for a Witcher.

But Geralt likes to touch, likes to get his hands on whatever part of Jaskier he can reach and at times it proves to be frustrating. During the day, Jaskier lets him keep an arm around him and nothing more. He'd already learned the hard way that anything more than that affects him more than it should. Too many nights alone and too long on the road doesn't lead to anything good. And he's wanted for so long that his body overreacts to even the slightest touch. And the worst part is that Geralt seems amused by it, the bastard.

It's not until evening on the fifth night that Jaskier says something about it. They're sitting on the ground next to the fire and Jaskier is in Geralt's lap, watching the flames die down. Geralt has his hands on Jaskier's hips, slowly sliding down his thighs and back up again. His nose is pressed against the back of his ear and Jaskier decides there's nothing wrong with it tonight; it's just the two of them and nothing around for miles, so what does it matter?

Only tonight Geralt doesn't stop with soft, innocent touches. He slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric and Jaskier lets out a little gasp when he slips higher than before. His cock twitches in his trousers and he tries to stifle a groan, but it doesn't work. Geralt presses forward, letting his lips brush the curve of Jaskier's ear.

"Jask," he breathes, "we can't do this here." Jaskier groans and arches his back against him.

"Why not? You’re the one who started it."

"You'll freeze."

"You can keep me warm," Jaskier hums, already pressing up into the touch.

He turns his head to kiss Geralt's mouth and Geralt hums against him, still doubtful even as his fingers slide over his crotch. Strong fingers curve around him, stroking him quickly to full hardness and Jaskier whimpers as he bucks up into Geralt's palm. It's a tease and nothing more, but when he pushes back between Geralt's legs, it doesn't feel like he needs any encouragement.

In fact, he doesn't even have to say anything more before Geralt's fingers are tugging his trousers open. Jaskier gasps as the cold air hits his skin, but Geralt's hand is hot and quick to wrap around him, stroking slowly down to the base and squeezing his way back up. He's smooth and precise, his motions speaking to years of practice - a thought which makes Jaskier's skin prickle and his heart beat faster.

"Touch me how you like it," he whispers and he can feel Geralt's breath stutter against his skin.

"Okay," he breathes and his fingers spread along the underside of Jaskier's cock, his thumb and forefinger circling the head.

Geralt continues, his speed increasing just slightly as he works over Jaskier's cock. Jaskier whines, panting against Geralt's neck. The thought that this is how Geralt touches himself is overwhelming and he kisses his neck, running his tongue along the underside of his jaw.

Already, Jaskier's getting close. He's denied himself too long and he's wanted this for so much longer than that. Geralt's hand is hot and quick and Jaskier breathes in his scent, shutting his eyes against the pulsing need of his cock. His hips jerk forward unbidden and he mumbles into Geralt's skin.

Geralt's palm slips up his chest and neck, turning Jaskier's head so he can kiss him properly and then he's pulling off of Jaskier's cock and lifting him in his lap. He turns him around so Jaskier's straddling his thighs and before Jaskier can even adjust to the new position, Geralt is fumbling with his own trousers.

He strokes himself quickly, tugging Jaskier against him and his hand closes around both of them, holding as tight as he can as he thrusts up against Jaskier's cock.

"Oh. Gods, Geralt, yes." Jaskier snaps his hips in quick sharp bursts, pressing himself as close against Geralt's cock as he can. Geralt's hand slips from their cocks, both arms curling around his waist and he ruts against Jaskier rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts.

"Fuck, Jask," he huffs. His hands slip down, fingers pressing into Jaskier's ass and forcing the roll of his hips. Geralt's strong and enthusiastic and Jaskier shudders and groans as his own arousal burns through him.

He pushes up against him, so hard it's almost uncomfortable, but this position and their location aren't exactly conducive to comfort, not that Jaskier cares. Or Geralt, by the way his hand slips up, tangling itself in Jaskier's hair and tugging gently. Jaskier lifts his head obediently and as Geralt's eyes meet his, he feels his body release and before he can even warn Geralt, he's coming hard, spilling between them.

His hips stutter and his thighs shake and Geralt holds him, grunting softly in his ear as he continues the increasingly uneven roll of his hips. Jaskier's body feels heavy where it's sprawled over Geralt's chest, but his head is floating, empty and airy, the only thing still tying him to reality is Geralt's body wrapped around him. Geralt's cock digs into his hip and Jaskier's body shudders above him.

It's too much, but it's so good and Jaskier just goes limp, pressing his mouth against Geralt's neck and kissing him lazily. Geralt mumbles against him, breathing his praise into Jaskier's shoulder and he's never been so talkative. Jaskier can only hope he's always like this when he gets off.

When Geralt comes, it's with a low, rumbling growl that could almost get Jaskier hard again. His arms slip a little but stay firmly wrapped around him, and when he nudges Jaskier's cheek with his nose, Jaskier tips his head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss.

"You're incredible, darling."

Geralt huffs his amusement and tips his head back to kiss Jaskier's forehead. He doesn't speak, and Jaskier shuts his eyes, listening to Geralt's heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal. He's not sure what the rest of the winter has in store for them, but he's thankful for this one moment alone, even rushed and cold in the forest.

After a little while, he peels himself from Geralt with a significant amount of effort and flops onto his back, staring up into the dark sky. Next to him, Geralt sits up, smiles down at him softly.

"We have to get cleaned up," he says lightly, "get changed before we sleep. We'll have washing to do when we get to the keep."

Jaskier groans dramatically, but he pushes himself up and leans in to kiss Geralt. He strips and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, careful not to take too much off at once because now that his mind is clear again, the air is bitterly cold.

When he's dressed again and wrapped in a blanket, he lays down on his bedroll, watching as Geralt goes through the same motions, changing out of his soiled clothing. It was rough and it was messy and Jaskier wouldn't change it for anything. He pulls Geralt close to him, breathing softly against his ear. In the morning, they have to get up and go, but for now, Jaskier is content to let Geralt wrap around him and kiss his neck as he drifts off into a pleasant slumber.

The rest of his night doesn't go nearly so well. After waking up three times and still shivering despite having the extra blanket wrapped around him and pressing in as close to Geralt as he can, he gives up trying to sleep at all. So, hours before dawn, Geralt packs their entire camp up and hoists Jaskier up onto Roach's back, setting back out along the road.

Jaskier has no notion of time as they travel, drifting in and out of consciousness up until the moment they arrive at the gates. Geralt helps him down as they approach the stables and Jaskier resists the urge to lean into him and fall asleep. He helps remove Roach's tack, though Geralt takes it from him so he can guide Roach into the empty stall next to Eskel's horse. Geralt leads the way up through the courtyard and into the mess hall and Jaskier follows quietly, taking in very little of it.

Kaer Morhen isn't what he expected it to be. Not that he's had much of a chance to see it; as soon as Geralt got him inside, he ran through introductions and got him upstairs into a hot bath. In which, Jaskier promptly fell asleep against Geralt's chest. Since he's woken up, he's found the keep to be surprisingly warm and comfortable and nothing like the cold, dark dungeon Geralt has described to him time and time again. Then again, he thinks, living here as a young boy in training to be a Witcher must have been a very different environment. But he seems happy enough now.

That night, the pair of them head down for supper and Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Eskel. He feels bad about all the things he thought about him before, but now isn't the time to bring all of that up so he just smiles cheerfully at him. There will be time to talk later.

Later, they make their way up to bed together and there's a moment of quiet hesitation once they're alone before Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and leads him toward the bed.

Waking up next to Geralt, warm and safe in bed, is the greatest thing Jaskier has experienced thus far in his life. By the end of the evening, all hesitancy is gone and after a meal and drinks with the rest of their companions, Jaskier finds himself hauled upstairs and pressed into cold sheets. He's fairly certain the entire keep hears how easily Geralt pulls pleasure from his body, but it doesn't matter. The only person who matters is Eskel, and apparently, he already knows.

For the next couple of days Geralt shares his bed and then, on their fifth night in the keep, he pauses when Jasikier suggests heading to bed.

"Go to bed," he says gently, "but don't wait for me."

Jaskier smiles relieved that Geralt is comfortable enough not to lie about where he's going or what he's doing. "You don't have to come to bed tonight if you'd rather stay with Eskel."

Geralt's lips twitch up in a soft grin and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier sighs and as he opens to him, Geralt presses closer, slipping his hand into Jaskier's hair. He hums softly and Jaskier can feel the restless energy in him and for the first time since the first time tonight, he's a little bit jealous that he's not the one accompanying him. He breaks away first, leaning back in for just a second to press a final kiss to Geralt's lips.

"Have a good night," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Jaskier."

Sleeping alone in a big, unfamiliar room is odd, but Jaskier wraps himself up in the blankets and burrows in. He tries not to think too much about what's happening just down the hall, but it's not jealousy that has him trying to divert his thoughts.

Jaskier adjusts to sleeping alone and he adjusts to Eskel's soft closeness with Geralt during the days, appreciates it even. Geralt doesn't get enough affection in his life, as hard as Jaskier tries, so it's good to know someone else is there when he isn't. And he likes Eskel. More than he ever expected to, especially considering the circumstances. But Jaskier isn't a greedy person and if Geralt's happy, so is he. And considering what Geralt has told him of Eskel, maybe he should have expected him to be as welcoming as he is.

He never makes any attempt to draw Geralt away and any time Jaskier comes across the two of them alone, he's easily integrated into the conversation. They get along well and Geralt seems happiest when he's between them or when everyone's together in the mess hall, so even if Jaskier didn't like Eskel, he'd be willing to put up with him for Geralt's sake. But he does like him, though it isn't until midnight a week later that he really starts to appreciate him.

It's a warmer night than it has been, so Jaskier isn't missing Geralt's presence so much tonight. He's perfectly comfortable on his own and while he would be happier with someone to keep him company, he's not lonely. And all through the evening, it had been oh so clear how Geralt and Eskel were just waiting to slip away from the group and be alone. As he lies in the dark, he wonders if that's how he comes across when he slips into Geralt's lap and whispers in his ear. Maybe, but he doesn't mind and he's sure at least Eskel understands.

Jaskier shuts his eyes, wiggling deeper into the mattress as he tugs the blanket up to his chin. He could get used to spending the winters here if Geralt is willing to bring him.

When he wakes, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Jaskier doesn't remember crying out, but the knock on his door makes him think he must have. No one would be checking on him, otherwise.

"I'm fine," he calls, but he finds his voice hoarse and too quiet. It's been a long time since he's had nightmares this frequently and he doesn't know what's brought them on again, but he'd like it to stop.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, starting toward the door. Whoever knocked hasn't responded, so he pulls the door open, not expecting to see Eskel standing in the doorway.

"You alright?" he asks and Jaskier nods. "You cried out and I didn't want to wake Geralt, but I know he'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Geralt used to have terrible nightmares, too. Do you want to talk about it?"

Immediately, he wants to say no because Geralt's lover is the last person he wants to go complaining to. Especially a Witcher who has led a much harder life than he has. But as he's contemplating, he realizes Eskel's hand has found its way to his shoulder, warm and comforting and he doesn't want to be alone right now.

He tells Eskel about his dreams, though he doesn't go into detail. No one who cares about him wants to hear about all the gruesome ways Jaskier watches Geralt die in his dreams. But Eskel seems to get the gist of it. They head out onto the balcony where they're less likely to wake anyone and Eskel doesn't move when Jaskier leans into his body to keep warm.

"We've all been through it," he says, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders, "even Lambert, though you'd never get him to admit it. What do you dream about?"

"Geralt, mostly," he admits. "Sometimes I dream about dying, but mostly it's him."

"Understandable. Geralt lives a dangerous life, I'm still surprised he lets you follow along."

"I wouldn't say he lets me," Jaskier huffs, quirking his lips just slightly as he looks up at Eskel, "but he's never tried very hard to stop me."

Eskel huffs a soft laugh. "No, I can't imagine he did."

They talk for a while longer, but when Jaskier gets too cold, Eskel ushers him back into the keep and back to his room. When they reach the door, he offers his own bed that it might be more comfortable if he wasn't alone, but as much as Jaskier is happy to let Geralt and Eskel do their thing, he's not sure he wants to be that close to it. He declines the offer politely, ensuring that Eskel knows how much he appreciates it, and retreats into the room alone.

Now, at least, when he settles into bed, he falls asleep without any trouble.

It becomes a ritual, of sorts. Jaskier's dreams don't come every night and some nights Geralt is there to curl around him and ground him in the present, but when he's not, there's Eskel. And after a while, it's not just about the nightmares. If Jaskier is having a down day and Geralt is busy, Eskel is the one he turns to for comfort (gods know Lambert won't give in without a fight). Things are good between them and Jaskier regrets the way he acted the first time they met, but love can make people do stupid things and jealousy is worse.

Geralt spends most of his nights with Jaskier, even if they're just curled up together in the dark. The rest of the time, Geralt is with Eskel and as the weeks pass, Jaskier starts to feel the still-lingering discomfort shift. He's not jealous because admitting he's jealous would mean he has a problem with the way things are between them, or admitting that maybe Geralt isn't the only one he has feelings for. Which is absurd.

But he is closer to Eskel than he is with the others and more and more often he finds himself seeking him out, looking to bask in Eskel's warmth and understanding. But it's just because he's kind and understanding and willing to listen. Because Geralt has so few good things in his life. How could Jaskier even consider taking one of them away?

They're all drinking together one night and Geralt and Lambert are playing Gwent. Geralt gets too far into it every time he plays, so Jaskier keeps his distance, watching from his perch on the table, lute in his lap. When Lambert turns in for the night, Geralt frowns at the empty space across from him before glancing down the table at Jaskier.

"Do you want to play?" he asks and Jaskier scoffs.

"Maybe if you get me another drink?" he asks, smiling brightly down at Geralt. He gets a soft, bemused smile in response, but Geralt pushes himself up from the table and Jaskier watches as he leaves the room.

Jaskier is just drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm all over, the very few inhibitions he possesses lowered. Which is probably why, when Eskel slides down the bench to sit between his knees, he doesn't move. His heart beats a little quicker, but it's probably just the wine. Eskel lifts his arms, resting his elbows on Jaskier's knees and he tips his head to one side. Already, Jaskier is struggling against the swell of emotion that fills his chest, and the soft, lopsided smile Eskel gives him doesn't help.

"I hope Geralt realizes how lucky he is," he says and for a second, Jaskier is sure his heart stops. When Eskel's eyes flick up to his, curious, almost surprised, he's sure of it. Considering the amount of stuff Geralt overhears that he's not supposed to, Jaskier's just settled on the assumption that Witchers can hear everything. Including his heartbeat.

"You have a beautiful voice," Eskel continues and Jaskier fights a losing battle to get his body under control so he doesn't give himself away. If it's not too late already.

"Thank you," he chokes out, amazed that his voice is still working properly.

He doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. With Geralt it was simple; do nothing because it won't be well-received - or so he thought - but with Eskel he's sure he could just... lean in a little, press a little closer. But where does Geralt stand in that situation? Would he be upset, worried that maybe they'd go off together and leave him? Nevermind that Jaskier's been desperately in love with him for a couple of decades now. So once again, he does nothing and he shoves the feelings down and pretends like it's fine.

But he wants to kiss him and he can feel Eskel's body heat. And Eskel doesn't seem to share any of his concerns, letting his fingers slip over the side of Jaskier's thigh and tracing invisible patterns in the silk of his trousers. Jaskier startles when Eskel rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of Jaskier's hips and like this, they're barely a couple of inches apart and Jaskier can feel Eskel's breath on his face and he wants. But he can't, so he shuts his eyes.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Eskel asks and Jaskier has a witty remark right on the tip of his tongue, but then Eskel's mouth is against his own, kissing it away.

After kissing Geralt for the first time, he didn’t think anything as simple as a kiss would affect him this way, but as Eskel's lips part against his own, Jaskier can feel it all the way down to his toes. He lets out a soft sound as Eskel's arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. Eskel breaks the kiss a moment later, only pulling back far enough to look at Jaskier.

"Come to bed with us tonight," he breathes.

"Will Geralt be okay with that?"

"I hope so," Eskel chuckles, leaning back in and pressing his lips against Jaskier's jaw. "It was his idea." Oh. "I didn't think you'd want to."

"How could I not? Who wouldn't gladly climb into bed with two handsome men like you?" Eskel snorts and pulls back to look at him, but Jaskier just smiles.

The clink of bottles against each other signals Geralt's return and Jaskier instinctively leans back a little but Eskel leans in close, breathing against his ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, "he likes it."

And Jaskier knows they can both tell the way his heart beats a little quicker, but he can't help it. He leans back further as Geralt comes to kneel behind him on the bench.

"Do you?" Jaskier asks, offering his most charming smile, "like seeing me with him?"

"Mmm," Geralt hums, cupping a hand under Jaskier's head and turning him just slightly to kiss him. When he draws back, he looks up to Eskel. "I do."

It takes Jaskier a moment to realize Geralt is playing with his shirt and it's not until he shifts that he realizes he's got it untucked from his trousers. One warm hand slips up under the fabric, fingers brushing over the bare skin beneath it and Jaskier shuts his eyes with a hum, shifting to lean back against him. As far as he's concerned, they could stay right here all night and he'd be perfectly happy with it.

Eskel's hands find his thighs, pressing down as he leans forward and catches Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss. Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise but leans into it, and once Geralt gets him out of his doublet, he slips his arms around Eskel's neck. But the kiss doesn't last long and Eskel ducks his head, dragging his mouth down Jaskier's throat and down to press kisses into his chest.

Jaskier lets himself be moved and shifted into position, hips pulled forward so his body is flush against Eskel's. And Geralt climbs up behind him, knees on either side of his hips so Jaskier is pinned perfectly between them. His fingers slip into Eskel's hair, sliding through the strands as Eskel continues his exploration down Jaskier's stomach, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he goes. And if the sounds from behind him are anything to go by, Geralt does very much enjoy watching them together.

When Jaskier's shirt is entirely undone and Eskel has moved on to removing his boots, Geralt tugs the fabric from his shoulders. And Jaskier's pulse spikes as two sets of hands slide over his skin, then Eskel's settle on his waist, teasing the hem of his trousers. Jaskier is hardly ashamed to be half-hard already - anyone would be in his position - but his breath catches as Eskel's thumb brushes over the bulge of his cock. He tips his head back, intent on finding Geralt's mouth with his own, but when he looks up at him, he pauses.

Geralt is transfixed, paused mid-motion. His teeth pressed into his bottom lip, eyes focused on Eskel's hands where they tease at Jaskier's growing erection. Oh. He really does like to watch. Well, if that's what he wants, Jaskier isn't going to disappoint him.

He wiggles his hips enticingly and Eskel makes quick work of removing his trousers. With the last obstacle out of his way, Eskel presses in close, near enough that Jaskier's cock slips against his own - close but maddeningly separated by Eskel's clothes. Jaskier groans his disappointment, but in one surprisingly smooth motion, Eskel drops back to his seat, his fingers slipping over Jaskier's bare thighs and gripping around him. Jaskier tips his head down to watch as Eskel nuzzles between his thighs, thick stubble grazing against skin.

It's rough and a little bit ticklish, but the closeness and the way Eskel presses his face against him makes Jaskier's breath catch. He's been transfixed by Eskel for weeks now, his arms, his thighs, his lips, but now he's facing the very real possibility of having those lips wrapped around his cock and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt presses against him, kisses the back of his neck, and slides a hand down his stomach.

He curves a hand around his cock, only vaguely touching him as he slips up the length of him. It's maddening in its teasing and Jaskier drops his head back against Geralt's chest with a groan, but then Eskel's lips press against his heated cock, following the path of Geralt's hand and Jaskier goes limp between them.

Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's sides, steadying him as Eskel's lips slide over him and Jaskier leans into his warmth. Eskel's hands join Geralt's, fitting around Jaskier's hips and softly rubbing against his skin as he sinks down on him. It's never been a mystery why Geralt got involved with Eskel, but if this is what he's always like when they're alone, Jaskier can certainly see why he would keep coming back for more.

He groans as his cock bumps against the back of his throat, but Eskel doesn't let that stop him, pressing his nose into the curls at the base of his cock and swallowing around him. Jaskier is sure he's going to pass out when Eskel just stays like that and he wonders vaguely if the mutations took away his gag reflex because that could prove interesting. He bites his lip with a groan, failing miserably at an attempt to keep his hips steady. But Eskel doesn't seem to mind, guiding his hips with every little thrust. And Jaskier isn't sure he'll survive being treated this way.

He slips one arm back around Geralt's neck, steadying himself as the other slips into Eskel's hair. It takes all his concentration not to roll his hips up, slide his cock down Eskel's throat. His whole body shudders and he lets out a shuddering moan, mumbling softly as Eskel shifts and bobs in his lap.

One warm hand presses against his cheek and when he turns, Geralt catches his lips in a heated kiss. It's hot and possessive and Eskel groans at the way Jaskier’s cock throbs in response. The angle is a little off but Geralt nips at his lips and kisses him so deeply that Jaskier nearly forgets about the mouth around his cock until Eskel pulls off.

The little whine of disappointment is lost to Geralt's lips and when Jaskier eventually breaks free to look back down at Eskel, he has to remind himself not to be greedy. But it's hard when Eskel's looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes and a faint smirk on his lips.

He rises to his feet again, pushing a hand through Jaskier's hair and cupping his jaw. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he presses forward instead, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

"Don't start without me," he mumbles and then he's pulling away, stepping over the bench and crossing toward the door.

Despite the fire, the room feels suddenly cold without Eskel pressed against him and Jaskier cuddles back against Geralt, tugging his arms around him and shifting to kiss his neck. Geralt grabs his hips, holding him firmly and turning him in his lap. He pulls Jaskier against him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and drawing his head back to look at him.

"You look good with Eskel," he breathes, "very good. But I have to know you want this. I don't want you to do it for our sake."

"Our sake?" Jaskier asks and Geralt's hand slides to the back of his head.

"Eskel's become... fond of you."

"And you're alright with that?" Jaskier asks, hopeful.

"Why wouldn't I be? I... care deeply for both of you, why wouldn't I want him to want you, too?" He presses his lips to Jaskier's just briefly and when he pulls back, he's smiling softly. "I know you want him and I want you to. He wants you, too. We both do."

Geralt ducks his head, kissing his neck and sucking at the spot right under his jaw. He slips one arm around Jaskier's waist, tugging him closer as his other hand snakes between them, wrapping around his cock. He tugs firmly, pulling a startled gasp from Jaskier as his fingers tighten around him.

Jaskier lets him for a moment, before shifting so they're facing the opposite direction. He pushes Geralt back against the table, shifting onto his knees and he bends over him, quickly running his mouth up the Geralt's length through his trousers. He mouths at him through the fabric, taking special care when he reaches the head and Geralt's hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rise against Jaskier's mouth.

The door creaks open but Jaskier is only distantly aware of it until he hears Geralt's muffled moan. Jaskier pushes himself up to find Eskel bent over Geralt, kissing him as Geralt's arms wind around his neck, fingers pushing through his hair. In that moment, he knows exactly why Geralt likes to watch.

Heat sears through him and he barely resists wrapping a hand around himself and getting off just like this. But he catches a glint of a vial in Eskel's hand and his heart thuds a little heavier in his chest. As Eskel pulls away, Geralt's hands fall to his sides and Jaskier can't help but smile at the soft expression on his face.

When Eskel steps away from him, Jaskier realizes he's hard, his cock straining hard against the front of his trousers. Fuck. And that fucking codpiece isn't doing anything to help matters. Jaskier climbs up, straddling Geralt's hips and rocking gently against him as he reaches out for Eskel, drawing him close with two fingers in the collar of his shirt. Eskel grins as Jaskier pulls him into a firm kiss, but he doesn't linger, even as one hand slides down to settle on the swell of Jaskier's ass.

"I think it's time we made our way upstairs," Eskel rumbles and Jaskier grumbles as Geralt asks,

"Vesemir?"

"Mm," Eskel confirms, "I don't think we need another lecture about bodily fluids." Geralt just huffs a laugh and pushes himself up, slipping a hand behind Eskel's head to guide his mouth to his own.

Eskel squeezes Jaskier's ass and dips to kiss him before pulling away to collect his clothes. Jaskier reluctantly slips from Geralt's lap and the three of them make their way upstairs toward Geralt's room.

As soon as they're in the room with the door shut, Jaskier finds himself pressed against it, a hot mouth against his own. The only way he knows it's Eskel is the scent of him. In time, he's sure he'll learn the differences in their touch, but right now he's already overwhelmed and not at all bothered with who is touching him.

He's lifted off his feet, legs snaking around Eskel's waist as one arm slips under his ass. Eskel's tongue slides between his lips and Jaskier groans, shifting his hips against him. He gets a little huff of a laugh from Eskel and is promptly deposited on the bed with Eskel on top of him. He never once breaks the kiss and Jaskier reaches up, encouraged by the press of Eskel's cock against his thigh. He tugs at Eskel's shirt, loosening it from his trousers and tugging it up over his head as Geralt joins them on the bed.

With Eskel free of his shirt, Jaskier reaches down, toying with the ties on his trousers. He gets a hum of approval and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from Geralt. He shifts above Jaskier's Jaskier, then, once he's settled, gently lifts Jaskier's head into his lap as Eskel moves back down his body. He gets his mouth around Jaskier's cock again, sucking him down as Jaskier whimpers under him.

It's not the first time Jaskier's gone to bed with more than one partner - far from it - but Jaskier more often than not finds himself in control in those situations. Tonight, though, Eskel has taken charge right from the start and Jaskier has never been happier to let himself be led. He writhes as Eskel's lips seal around him, squirms as his hands slip up over his thighs. Geralt's fingers wind through his hair and when Jaskier tips his head back he realizes Geralt is watching, his eyes focused on Eskel's mouth around him. And he's hard.

Jaskier lifts his head as well as he can, curling a hand around Geralt's neck to pull him into a kiss. It's a bit of an odd angle, but Geralt kisses him deeply, rumbles low against his lips and Jaskier arches off the bed. He feels Eskel chuckle around him before pulling off and climbing up over him. He kisses his way from Jaskier's chest up to his jaw and Geralt withdraws, letting Eskel claim Jaskier's mouth in a bruising kiss. He rocks his hips and Jaskier groans into his mouth. Eskel is thick and hard where he ruts against him and Jaskier desperately wants to get his mouth on him. Or Geralt. He isn't picky, but he is very impatient.

He's not sure if he'll get this opportunity again, so he pulls away regrettably sliding out from under Eskel's weight and leaving him with Geralt. And Eskel busies himself getting Geralt out of his shirt, something Jaskier finds difficult to tear his eyes from.

Geralt lets himself be manhandled much in the same way he does with Jaskier, but while it feels incredibly intimate and important when it's happening to him, there's something thrilling about seeing it from an outside point of view. The way Geralt lets himself be pushed and pulled into position, lets Eskel climb up over him and slot their bodies together perfectly.

Geralt reaches an arm out to him and Jaskier lies down next to him, kissing him when he turns his head toward him. Eskel hums, shifting so he and Jaskier bracket Geralt in, both pressed against his sides. And Jaskier takes his chance while he can, slipping a hand up the length of Geralt's cock through his trousers. He gets a soft groan in response, muffled against his lips, and squeezes a little firmer as Eskel's hand comes up below his.

Geralt bucks against them, rolling his head back and Jaskier takes advantage of the position to press his lips to Geralt's neck, sucking lightly as his fingers slip to his trousers, picking at the buttons. Eskel's strokes speed up a little, his hand bumping against Jaskier's every few seconds, but Jaskier still manages to undo the buttons and slip Geralt's cock free of its confines. Geralt groans as bare fingers wrap around him and Jaskier pulls from his mouth, kissing his way down to the head of his cock before licking a stripe up the side of him.

There's a muffled sound of pleasure from above him but Jaskier is focused on his task now, wrapped up in the taste of Geralt on his tongue to worry about anything else. He sinks down on him, sliding up and down his length with ease as Geralt moans above him, each sound muffled by Eskel's mouth against him. The thought of them together spurs him on and he slides one hand up Geralt's thigh, and up his chest as he flattens his tongue against him.

He's been paying attention to what Geralt likes, committing it to memory every time they're together, taking notes on what makes Geralt moan and what makes him writhe and arch off the bed. He's learning quickly. Geralt likes to be teased, even if he would never admit it; likes when Jaskier sucks him nice and slow, letting his tongue drag along the length of him, his lips slide delicately over the head. And Jaskier likes to take his time with Geralt, so it works out nicely.

Geralt groans and Eskel kisses the sounds from his mouth shifting against him and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to watch. He's not above admitting that watching them turns him on and if he's allowed, he may as well take advantage of it. But Eskel does something and Geralt whines against his lips, hips jumping forward to press his cock against the roof of Jaskier's mouth. He shudders as Jaskier sinks back on him and wraps an arm around Eskel's neck, pulling him closer.

Jaskier wants to watch, but he gets lost in the rock of Geralt's hips, the heady scent of him and he shuts his eyes and slides one hand up Geralt's chest. He teases at his nipple, rubbing it firmly, spurred on by the way Geralt twitches beneath him. He doesn't even realize Eskel's got his cock out until he hears a rumbling groan and looks over to find him with a hand around himself, leaning in so he's rutting against Geralt's thigh and that's certainly something.

Heat sears through him and Jaskier aches to get his mouth around him. He doesn't think he could, but he desperately wants to try. Eskel slips the hand from his cock to reach out, brushing his fingers against Jaskier's cheek and lifting him from Geralt's cock.

"Get him ready for me?" he breathes and Jaskier nods before he's pulled into a sloppy kiss.

It lingers longer than Jaskier's expecting and he finds himself pulled into Eskel's lap and he only just manages to snake a hand between them, wrapping around the head of Eskel's cock before Eskel's pulling away again.

He doesn't mind much when he considers the idea of watching Eskel fuck Geralt and he pulls away, running a hand up Geralt's thigh.

"Roll over for me?" he asks and Geralt is quick to comply, though he tugs Jaskier down against him. He smiles as he kisses him and Jaskier is loath to move, but he wriggles out of Geralt's grip nonetheless.

He shifts to straddle his hips, kissing a line down Geralt's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass. Jaskier squeezes the flesh, bending down to nip at him gently and he settles between Geralt's thighs. He feels when Eskel slips up behind him, but he tries to focus on Geralt, bending low to kiss him before pressing between his cheeks.

He licks a stripe over his hole and Geralt shudders under him, reaching back to grab Jaskier's hand and hold it. It's absurdly romantic when Jaskier has his face in his ass, but he loves it and he squeezes back hard. Jaskier starts off slow, with soft kisses and gentle touches, but Geralt rocks beneath him, pushing back against his mouth and it's hard to deny him exactly what he wants.

He presses his tongue against him, letting Geralt relax under him before pushing against the muscle. Geralt is surprisingly giving and Jaskier pushes into him without much effort. It's a heady feeling, the way Geralt trembles under his touch and squeezes his hand, thumb tracing circles in his skin. Jaskier fucks into him slowly, licking around his rim before pushing in again and Geralt whines as he pushes deeper, fucks him quicker.

When Jaskier gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Geralt arches off the bed and Jaskier almost thinks he could make him come just like this. And he's sorely tempted, even as Eskel presses up against his back, slipping a bottle of oil next to him.

"I want to see him come on your fingers," Eskel growls, low and rough against his ear and before Jaskier can even answer Eskel's nosing at his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear. Jaskier leans into the touch, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the oil. He has every intention of following through with Eskel's command.

He slicks his fingers and presses one back between Geralt's cheeks, vividly aware of Eskel leaning over him, watching every movement. And he's as determined to please Eskel as he is Geralt. He works one finger into him, leaning low again to lick around the intrusion and Geralt mumbles into the pillows and he rolls his hips.

It's' not long before he can get a second finger into him and Jaskier crooks both fingers, pressing deep and seeking out that certain spot. When he finds it, Geralt whimpers and Eskel nuzzles against his neck. It makes it hard to concentrate, but Eskel seems unworried, wrapping one arm around his waist and slipping a hand down to wrap around his cock. Jaskier keens, jerking into the touch.

"Needy," Eskel hums. Which. It's hardly his fault. Eskel rocks against him and Jaskier is tempted to ask him to fuck him instead, prep or no.

He bends over, pushing his hips back against him and grinds back against Eskel's cock as he works into Geralt. His rhythm is a little unsteady, but he's been hard for so long he can barely help the way he rocks between his hand and his cock. It's a miracle he can even think enough to keep fingering Geralt. But he does, and when he gets a third into him, Geralt is panting and rutting against the bed.

"Jask," he groans, "please-"

"Are you gonna come for me?" Jaskier asks, his voice shaking as Eskel's cock slides against his hole. He's pushing close to the edge too and he's not sure Geralt coming won't tip him over.

Eskel's fingers tighten around him and Jaskier pushes through with a groan, thighs shaking as he shoves his fingers deep and presses against his prostate. Geralt squeezes his hand so hard Jaskier thinks he'll lose sensation in his fingers and he pushes his hips back against him, encouraging the press of Jaskier's fingers.

"Fuck, he looks good like this, doesn't he?" Eskel hums. "We're so damn lucky." He's still working at a spot on Jaskier's neck and he knows he'll have a mark in the morning and something about the fact that it's from Eskel makes it all that much more thrilling.

He tries to lean back into Eskel, but then he's being pushed forward. Eskel keeps him steady, but Jaskier's overwhelmed. He pushes Geralt's hand up, shifting to lean low over him, rutting into Eskel's fist. He rubs into Geralt and he can feel that he's close. Geralt's hips twitch shakily under him and he pulls Jaskier's hand under him, kissing his palm and pressing his nose against it.

"Jask," he breathes and that's as far as he gets before he's coming, shuddering through his orgasm.

Jaskier keeps his fingers inside him, thrusting lightly as Geralt rides through it. Geralt squirms under him, rocking back onto him even after he's come down and when Jaskier moves to pull away, Eskel intervenes. He pulls Jaskier back against him, propping him up on his lap and Jaskier is too overwhelmed to do anything but slump against his chest, head rolling on his shoulder as Eskel jerks him quick and hard.

He comes in a matter of seconds, arching off of him and crying out. Eskel stokes him through it and when a second set of hands rest on his hips, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt sitting in front of him. He tips forward to kiss him and then, as he slumps back against Eskel, Geralt leans in to kiss Eskel too.

"Still wanna fuck me?" Geralt mumbles and Eskel huffs against his mouth.

"Gods, yes," he breathes. "Lie down for me."

Geralt does as he's asked, settling on his stomach, and Jaskier scoots out of the way, sprawling out next to him. He presses his nose into Geralt's side, inhaling the scent of him. He knows Geralt and Eskel will both have another couple of rounds in them, but he's already tired and quite happy to just cuddle up against Geralt's side.

Geralt's eyes drop shut and he breathes softly against Jaskier's lips, groaning as Eskel presses into him. Jaskier watches the way pleasure washes over his face and Eskel groans in time with him which is enough to have Jaskier's cock twitching again. Geralt flops against the bed, pulling Jaskier close to kiss him softly, even as he's jolted by Eskel.

Geralt is beautiful in the way he writhes against the bed and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off him. He shouldn't be getting hard again already but he's obsessed with the way Geralt moves and the sounds Eskel makes as he fucks him. Jaskier rolls onto his back, pressing against Geralt's side as he runs a hand down his own stomach. He slips down, wrapping a hand around himself and strokes slowly, feeling the way his cock swells under his touch. When he looks up, he finds Eskel watching him, a soft smirk on his face and Eskel reaches down, pushing Jaskier's hand away to jerk him off himself.

Jaskier slumps but his hips jump up. He's sensitive, but Eskel's hand feels incredible and he can't help but press into the touch. He groans as he leans into Geralt tipping his head to kiss his cheek, but Geralt shifts onto his elbows, leaning over to kiss him properly. He nips at his lips and Jaskier groans, reaching for Geralt and cupping his face.

He holds him close and Geralt kisses him hard, lips parting to deepen the kiss, shifting so he's closer, one arm draped over Jaskier's chest. Geralt's thumb brushes against his nipple and Jaskier whines against his lips, squirming against the bed. Eskel just squeezes him harder and slides his hand to the base, dipping down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," Jaskier hisses, "Fuck, Eskel please-"

Eskel flicks his tongue at him and sinks down just far enough to press his tongue against the underside of the head and Jaskier whimpers.

Eskel pulls off abruptly, running a hand up the inside of Jaskier's thigh.

"What if Geralt sucks you off?" he asks and Geralt hums as Jaskier groans.

"Would you like that?" Geralt asks, drawing away to kiss his neck. "Do you want to come again?"

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes and Geralt hums against his lips again.

"Sit up, Jask, let me see you."

Jaskier pulls himself upright, scrambling to his knees and shifts to kneel in front of Geralt. He gives himself a couple of quick strokes and catches Eskel's eye over Geralt's head.

Eskel gives him a short smack and Geralt grumbles but he presses his head into Jaskier's stomach and Jaskier is so desperately in love with him. He reaches down to brush Geralt's cheek, smiling at him as Eskel does something particularly delightful behind him and Geralt shoves his hips back.

"Fuck, Eskel," he groans and Jaskier runs a soothing hand down his spine.

He meets Eskel's eyes just for a moment, the heat in them burning straight through to his core. His cock twitches just as Geralt ducks his head, his nose brushing against him. Jaskier's mouth drops open. He's trying to be patient because Geralt has been so fucking patient with him, but it's difficult when he's rock hard and Geralt's breath is so hot against his cock.

With a groan, he slips a hand around himself, watching as Eskel's face presses between Geralt's cheeks and the way Geralt jerks and groans under his attention. Jaskier sits back on his heel and Geralt drops with him, pressing kisses against Jaskier's thighs and moving up to suck his cock into his mouth.

He swallows him down in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows. Jaskier drops back, knees pressing apart instinctively and he presses a soft hand to the back of Geralt's head. He pushes his fingers through his hair, dropping his head back and following the motion of Geralt's as he takes Jaskier's cock all the way down. He's quicker at it than Eskel, slipping right back up to press his tongue under the head. And fuck if he isn't good with his tongue. It's one of the few things that really surprised Jaskier when they introduced sex into their relationship and he shudders now as Geralt winds his tongue around him.

"Oh," he groans. Eskel looks up at him again and whatever he does next has Geralt pitching forward, swallowing around Jaskier's cock as he shoves his hips back hard.

Jaskier nearly doubles over and his hips give a sharp thrust forward though Geralt doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he moans deeper and Jaskier feels the vibrations of it around his cock.

"It's okay," Eskel hums, "you can fuck his mouth, he likes it."

Lust swells in Jaskier's chest as Geralt gives a grunt of assent and he runs a hand through Geralt's hair, testing his reaction as he rolls his hips. The response he gets is unequivocally positive and Geralt's hands slip under his thighs, holding him like that as Jaskier rocks his hips a little harder.

Jaskier rocks forward, pressing into the wet heat of Geralt's mouth. He's still so sensitive and the occasional graze of Geralt's teeth sends sparks up his spine. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, tugging gently and winding through it.

Jaskier can feel when Eskel thrusts into him, the way Geralt's body sways with the motion, pushing forward onto Jaskier and backward onto Eskel. It's intoxicating to see Geralt this way, giving himself up completely to the pair of them. He's always been giving as long as Jaskier's known him, and in bed, he's no different, but this feels so much bigger than his usual caring demeanour and Jaskier is a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trust Geralt must have in them.

In a rush of emotion, Jaskier withdraws and when Geralt looks up at him, he pushes Geralt up to his knees, shuffling up close to wrap his arms around his neck. He twists the fingers of one hand in Geralt's hair, reaching down with the other to stroke him slowly. Geralt keens under the touch, rocking his hips slowly with a soft groan against Geralt's lips.

"Tell me how he feels," Jaskier breathes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck. He nips at his skin and kisses over the marks as they fade.

"Good," Geralt groans. "Really good."

Jaskier hums and flicks his eyes up to meet Eskel's. In an instant, he's tugged forward and Eskel's mouth crashes against his own, tugging his hair and biting softly at his lower lip. One of Geralt's arms slips around his waist and Jaskier presses forward, eager to be closer to both of them.

His cock aches where it's trapped against Geralt's hip and his hips shift as though of their own will, sliding through the dip of Geralt's hip. He moans softly, stuttering against Eskel's lips and then Eskel pulls away. He leans over Geralt's other side, whispering against his ear.

"On your back," is all he says as Geralt complies, Jaskier shuffles out of the way, watching the way his hair splays out around his head. Geralt truly is beautiful and when Jaskier looks up to Eskel, it's clear he's having the same thought.

Eskel gets his knees under Geralt's thighs, slipping two fingers into him and thrusting quickly. Geralt groans as he lifts his hips, pushing back onto Eskel's fingers. Jaskier watches with fascination, sitting back on his heels and absently stroking himself to the scene in front of him. He'd be happy to spend the rest of the night just like this, happy enough to have been invited to bed with them in the first place, but Geralt apparently has other ideas.

Eskel withdraws his fingers, smoothing up Geralt's side as he presses into him again and Geralt shuts his eyes and rolls his head back. He reaches out, running a hand down Jaskier's thigh before curling a hand around his wrist. He tugs him forward and Jaskier lets himself be pulled on top of him, straddling Geralt's hips.

Geralt kisses him and Jaskier drops onto his chest, winding his fingers through Geralt's hair as he deepens the kiss. A warm hand slides down his back and he arches into it, his cock slipping against Geralt's skin as he does. Eskel's hand slips over his hip, fingertips brushing along his thigh and dragging back up to his ass. Eskel's not subtle, not at all, but when his fingers press between Jaskier's cheeks, slick and probing, Jaskier whimpers.

Geralt's hand slips into his hair and he draws back, letting Jaskier bury his face in his neck. He groans softly, kissing Geralt's skin as Eskel works a finger into him. It's hot and tight and wonderful and Jaskier can't help the way he ruts against Geralt's stomach, pressing his cock into the soft flesh of his stomach. But Geralt evidently doesn't mind, cupping his ass with one hand while the other pushes through his hair.

"Feel good?" he asks and Jaskier groans a response as Eskel thrusts into him again.

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes, "gods, yes."

Eskel makes quick work of opening him up and Jaskier is disappointed when he withdraws. Eskel's fingers are thick and talented and he'd have been happy to come on them. He groans his dissatisfaction, rocking his hips back, but then Geralt's hands are on him, guiding him down onto his cock.

Geralt's hips stutter as he bumps against him, but Jaskier is hot and overstimulated and impatient. He pushes back onto him with a groan, sitting up to lean against Eskel's chest. Eskel's arm winds around his chest, holding him close as Jaskier rocks forward, adjusting to the stretch of Geralt's cock. He settles with Geralt fully sheathed and Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips down as he shifts, pushing off of Eskel's chest.

He drops his head back on Eskel's shoulder, moaning softly against his neck and reaches down to stroke himself, fingers slipping through pre-come to tease at the head of his cock. He's so close and being caught between the pair of them is doing nothing to stifle the need searing through him. And Geralt bucks under him, fingers digging into his skin as he arches off the bed. Jaskier braces himself on his chest, rubbing circles with his thumb until he's unceremoniously tugged back down.

Geralt kisses him hard, arms wound tightly around his shoulders and Jaskier just goes limp against him as he fucks him hard. When Geralt comes, he digs his fingers into Jaskier's scalp, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier whimpers as Geralt thrusts deep.

For a moment they're still and then Eskel shifts behind them and Geralt makes a little groaning sound as Eskel pulls out. Geralt follows after him, loosening his grip and shifting to withdraw. He runs his hands up Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the way Eskel leans over him, kissing his neck. He's still not wholly sure how he wound up wrapped up in not one but two Witchers, but he certainly doesn't regret it. Eskel is soft and sweet and apparently, excellent at making Jaskier lose his mind and Geralt is. Well, he's Geralt. Jaskier was lost on him from the very first moment.

"You didn't come," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier is just about to tell him it's fine when Eskel bends low over him, nipping playfully at the back of his neck.

"Can I fuck you?" Eskel breathes and a whole new wave of arousal engulfs Jaskier. He whines and pushes back as Eskel's cock presses between his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jaskier gasps, "yeah, please."

Eskel doesn't waste time, draping himself over Jaskier's back and pushing into him. He's bigger than Geralt and there's some resistance, but when Eskel groans against his ear, Jaskier nearly goes limp with it. He drops onto his hands, planted on the bed on either side of Geralt's head and presses his forehead against Geralt's. Two sets of hands hold him steady as Eskel bottoms out.

He's careful, moving in shallow movements and normally Jaskier would appreciate the thought with a cock like that, but he's already slick and fucked loose and he just wants to come again. He shoves his hips back hard, prompting a deep groan from Eskel, but it seems to get his point across. Eskel holds his hips, rutting into his before withdrawing and thrusting hard.

He picks up the pace and Jaskier's skin prickles with the pleasure of it, though he goes limp, draping himself across Geralt's chest and burying his face in his hair. Geralt's legs are still wrapped around Eskel's and he pulls him closer as he kisses Jaskier's temple, brushes the hair from his face.

"Oh," Jaskier whines and Geralt kisses him so softly, a stark contrast to the way Eskel fucks him, quick and hard.

They're both drawing close. He can feel it in the way Eskel's form falters, the way his hips stutter just the slightest bit, the way he presses deep and sprawls over Jaskier's back, content to rock into him. It's constant pressure against his prostate and Jaskier whimpers. His cock drips against Geralt's stomach and he's so fucking close but he can't tip over that edge. Eskel's breath is on his neck and he kisses his neck. It's obvious that he's not going to last much longer, but he nuzzles against Jaskier's shoulders.

"Still good?" he asks and Jaskier manages a weak nod.

"Close," he mumbles and Geralt hums from under him.

He gets a hand in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss as one hand winds around Jaskier's cock. The desperate moan is lost between Geralt's lips, but Jaskier is pushed forward with each of Eskel's thrusts and it doesn't take long before he's spilling all over Geralt's chest, forehead buried in his neck.

Eskel follows shortly, pulling out gently before flopping onto the bed next to Geralt. Jaskier tries to move, but he's held in place by a firm arm around his waist, and when Geralt kisses him, he lets himself relax.

Geralt gets an arm around Eskel's neck, drawing him closer and as Eskel shifts, he throws an arm over Jaskier's waist, fingers brushing lightly over Geralt's forearm. The last thing Jaskier knows is Eskel leaning in for a kiss before sleep overtakes him and his eyes drop shut.

It's dark when he wakes again. The middle of the night, he suspects. There's a soft moan from next to him and a heavy weight around his shoulders - Eskel - and he shuffles toward his warmth. But a sharp groan startles him to wakefulness and it only takes a second for him to realize Geralt isn't where he left him when he fell asleep.

A quick look around puts Geralt on his knees at the foot of the bed, his head between Eskel's thighs. Eskel groans again, shifting to arch off the bed and Jaskier smiles to himself. He's still exhausted, and while the thought of joining them makes his cock twitch with anticipation, he'd rather sleep for a few more hours. Let them have their fun.

These two are going to kill him one day, but at least it will be a good death.

[tg-headcanons]

Nsfw alphabet with naki?

HORNY HOURS WITH IDIOT (affectionate)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): he’s never quite sure what to do right when it’s over and will probably just wait for his partner to do something. He’ll follow their lead for the most part, but what he really wants is praise and cuddles. He’s one of those ghouls who really needs the post sex cuddle sessions to avoid the emotional drop

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): on himself he likes his teeth, on his partner he doesn’t like anything in particular. He’s demisexual and when he is attracted to someone sexually he doesn’t really break down what specific things he likes into parts. He’s content to just like their body as a whole

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): he needs his partner to be patient with him since he doesn’t come very easily. It takes him awhile to get there and he can’t finish without his kakuhou being touched, some ghouls are just built like that but he’s a little embarrassed by it

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): though he’s more used to quick and careless rough stuff, what he really wants is to be pampered. Tell him he’s pretty, touch him gently, fuck him or ride him. Let him lay back and be taken care of, let him know that he deserves it. He’s a pillow prince at heart

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): he has experience, but it isn’t all good. In the past he’s had partners ranging from distant and pushy to downright cruel. Some have been alright, he’s hooked up with people like Miza and Hooguro and really liked it, but others weren’t as kind. Plenty of people have slept with him without caring if he enjoys it, plenty have fucked him through his heat and left him to deal with the emotional drop alone, and Jason in particular was among the worst when it came to downright brutal sex. Naki wants people to give him affection and attention, but sadly Aogiri isn’t the best place to find safe and respectful partners. By now he thinks of sex as something that’s usually painful but can earn him some praise. His partner will need to be very gentle and soft with him at first, he needs to learn that he can set boundaries and that his pleasure is just as important as theirs

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): if he’s bottoming he likes missionary, He’s used to being bent over things in any abandoned building or broken into house he and past partners could find and unceremoniously fucked so being able to look his partner in the eyes and kiss them is amazing. When topping he likes doggy, he hasn’t had much of a chance to be dominant before, and he really likes the feeling of control from time to time

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): he’s not going to joke around, and if his partner is joking he probably won’t notice

H = Heat (what are heats like for them? How do they handle it?): some ghouls get lucky and have brief, mild heats, and others get very unlucky. Naki is among the ladder. They’re absolutely horrible, he was unfortunate enough to end up with a heat hormonal disorder and no way to treat it so he suffers with them. They last a whole week, he has horrible cramps, fevers, nausea, unrelenting muscle weakness and insomnia. In the past he’s handled them by trying to find a decent place to hide and wait them out, but most of the time they break him and he resorts to sleeping with anyone to relieve it. It isn’t safe and the type of ghoul who would fuck someone in heat without talking it out with them beforehand isn’t the type to be kind and respectful. His partner will need to sit him down and talk about how he wants to go about it before it happens to be sure they have a plan and don’t cross any of his boundaries, and he’ll honestly be grateful for the sense of security that comes with a safe place to get through it. Just keep him from overheating, bring some painkillers, be gentle with him and maybe ask around among rich ghoul circles for doctors who can treat heat disorders and he’ll fall in love all over again

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): he’s very intimate. He always holds out hope that sex will be romantic and kind and even with the kind of people he’s been with in the past he hasn’t given up on that fairy tail Candlelight-And-Velvet sex he wants. Tell him how pretty he is and kiss him and he’ll be melting in your arms

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): considering that he’s homeless, roams with a pack of people, and that it takes more for him to come than it takes others, for Naki jerking off takes more planning than you’d think. He needs to wait until he can find somewhere that he can go in private between missions, often rooms in unoccupied buildings where the White Suits are staying, and then he can relieve himself. Since he needs his kakuhou touched he rubs up against something to stimulate it. If he’s lucky he can find a living room or bedroom with pillows he can use, but if he can’t he’ll fold up his jacket. Between touching his cock and rutting his kakuhou against the pillows he’s able to get himself off every so often before slipping back into the group and hoping no one has questions about where he went

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): blindfolds. You know how when vets treat horses and deer they cover their eyes to make them less nervous? The same thing works on Naki. He’s a little uneasy when getting started and oddly enough, if he’s blindfolded and unable to anticipate movements, that fades away. All he has to do is focus on the sensations of being touched and words of praise, and any anxiety is replaced by euphoria

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): bedroom. For most that seems normal but for him that’s a luxury. A comfy bed? A door for privacy? Lights that can be turned off? That’s living like kings right there

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): genuine affection. Nothing gets him hard like assurance that he’s loved and wanted through the simple kindness he craves

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): Naki has some trouble with setting boundaries, he assumes his partner will be mad and needs the assurance that there’s nothing wrong with not being comfortable with things. He’s not quite sure where to start so he’d have to say that he doesn’t like anything too rough or mean. Things like bottoming unprepared, impact play or degradation. Biting and hard grips are fine since that’s normal for ghouls to enjoy but things that are purposefully sadistic are off the table. He’s getting better at speaking up when something hurts physically or emotionally, and it feels good to be able to say no without feeling guilty about it

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): he prefers to give. Because he’s a ghoul, Teeth Near Dick is a valid fear and one that he’d rather avoid. Though he isn’t opposed to being the one giving head

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): he can take a lot, but prefers for his partner to be gentle and slow when he’s bottoming. Though when he’s on top, he’s pretty quick, not so much that he’s trying to be rough, rather he gets caught up in feeling good and ends up fucking like a rabbit

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): he hates them. He knows that “quick fuck” = “not enough time for him to finish” = “not enough time for post sex cuddles” = “huge emotional drop.” He needs to have time, he needs to have the right touches, and he needs to have decent aftercare. Quickies don’t allow for that so he isn’t too keen on them

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): he doesn’t really like to. He knows his comfort zone in regards to sex and he knows that he doesn’t do well with pushing its boundaries. He’d rather stick to doing it inside, and if there’s anything new his partner wants to bring into the bedroom it would need to be gradual

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): he lasts a hell of a long time. He goes a round or two before being tapped out, but with how long it takes him to come those rounds can be awhile

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he doesn’t have any. He wouldn’t be opposed to some being used on him as long as they don’t hurt though

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he doesn’t like teasing and he doesn’t like to be teased, he doesn’t see the appeal

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): I’m sure this comes as no surprise but Naki cries during sex. He does it when he’s in pain, he does it when he’s feeling amazing, he does it with any strong sensation at all so no matter what it’s just going to happen. It’s normal for him to let a few tears fall while he’s fucking, along with some pretty loud moans. What is surprising is that he’s one of those rare ghouls who purrs during sex. He doesn’t always do it because he needs to feel very safe and very good, but with the right partner he’ll be purring like a kitten

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he likes wearing things that his partner gives him. It’s a task that he can obey, it’s a physical reminder that they care enough about him to decorate him, it’s something that shows everyone who he belongs to. Whether it’s a collar or a suit he jumps at the opportunity to wear something that marks him as theirs

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): 7.5 inches, life may have screwed him over but at least his meat is huge

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): a little below average. Sex isn’t as important to him as romance, rather it’s another expression of romance, so only doing it a few times a month is enough for him. Though he’d be okay with doing it more if his partner wants to, he likes doing anything as long as it’s with them and sex can be amazing

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): he doesn’t fall asleep after sex unless he’s sure he’s somewhere safe. He’s used to having to immediately fix his clothes and leave whenever it’s over, but if he has a partner who cares about him, a room that’s safe, and some cuddles to put him at ease, he’ll slowly drift off

[erzvolnes]

Today’s DnD! A lot happened.

We wake up in the barn. Our rogue is STILL a statue. My notes read “Epithet is still made of stone /: Grow up.” 

We get breakfast. Everard the artificer hides a boiled egg in Epithet’s hood for them to find later.

We set off! A very big, very jolly man named Fortunat gives us a ride in his cart. Everard sits up front. I’m in the back with our statue’d rogue. I make one-sided conversation with them to block out the sound of Everard flirting with our driver. 

Epithet comes back to life! They seem pleased and surprised that we took care of them while they were petrified. They also find the surprise boiled egg hidden in their clothes. 

We camp, and our DM blesses us with a lovely description of an aurora filling the sky overhead. We discuss explosions, both magical and non-magical.

The next day comes, and I notice that the cart we’re riding in has some ‘weird sand’ in it. It’s gunpowder. I immediately, for some reason, assume our driver is going to fucking murder us. 

I warn the other party members in private and I’m glad we seem to be getting along quite well! Things fall apart very quickly when I tell our artificer that I don’t think he’s funny. He throws this back at me multiple times during the rest of the session. 

A horse charges at us from the fog, and upon investigation we discover a corpse and three ghouls! Cue 30 minutes of grossed-out sounds from the party at our DM’s descriptions. We win!

We have an honest talk with Fortunat about the gunpowder. Turns out dude is just smuggling and not planning to kill us (though he promises to treat our bodies with respect if he DOES for some reason choose to murder us.)

We discuss a new fighting technique we call “the reach-around.” We also decide that if danger comes while we’re sleeping, whoever is on watch will shout “reach-around” as loud as they can, to alert everyone. This somehow makes sense. 

We go to sleep. Feeling bad about their little falling-out, Wilhelm wakes up Everard for his watch by shaking him, saying “You’re pretty funny, huh, fucker?” and storming off to bed. 

This was a super fun session & I think we’re really starting to settle into the game! My face hurt from laughing by the end of it fejhsb

[fatbottombucky]

A Past Life *Geralt of Rivia x Reader*

Summary: could you write a female reader x Geralt who has PTSD due to past abuse and he accidentally triggers a flashback. It’s okay if you feel uncomfortable writing this, thank you for your time

Characters: Geralt & Jaskier

Pairings: Geralt x [F]Reader

Warnings: Nothing, except for Geralt yells at Reader and it triggers past memories of a man who was not so kind to her- she also flinches when he steps forward to help, makes the whole thing very angsty. They aren’t together in this, although I can do another part where they are because I have an idea for a sequel to this

“Look at us,” the sprightly voice interrupts the quiet, “three best friends, out and seeking adventure in this land.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, looking over your shoulder at the bard- who had hired you as an armed bodyguard whilst he sought adventures to sing about. What you didn’t expect was his ‘best friend’ to be a Witcher, especially The Butcher of Blaviken. 

“Hmm,” came the grunt of Geralt, on top of his horse, Roach, “you’re not my friend.” 

The comment completely aimed at Jaskier. Although, what you’ve seen from these two it’s just their norm if anything. Jaskier annoys Geralt, Geralt, for some reason, puts up with Jaskier and sometimes even humours him. 

“Excuse me?” Jaskier exclaims, “you’ve known Y/N, what, a day and she’s your friend over me? The bard who, not only, writes lovely ballads about you BUT,” he strides ahead and starts to walk backwards to look up at Geralt’s face, “but, I may add, spends his free time helping you on the road and aiding you in trying times.” 

Geralt looks down at Jaskier for a brief moment, expressionless and releases a deep exhale through his nostrils. 

“Yes.” Is the one-word answer he gives Jaskier, casting a downward gaze to Jaskier, “she doesn’t talk… or sing.” 

Jaskier looks at you, a scoff leaving past his lips. You raise an eyebrow with a proud smirk, befriending Geralt seemed like an easy task- you wondered if he actually did have a lot of friends, due to the limited demands. Jaskier fell silent and walked beside you, clearly wounded from the encounter and a little pouty. 

You cast a glance to Geralt, clearly unphased or doesn’t care. “He’s playing you, Jask,” you elbow the bard, “clearly you both are friends because he could've run off to get away from you but he hasn’t, has he?” 

“Ha!” Jaskier grins, “that is true, Y/N, Geralt clearly loves me. He just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, I mean, you’re new and he’s clearly uncomfortable around you.” You hide your smile, till you look at Geralt who is looking at Jaskier with a raised eyebrow, disbelief written on his face. “Don’t worry Geralt, you’ll get used to Y/N, just takes time getting used to her ‘tis all.” 

You smile at Geralt who only slowly blinks and looks away, ahead and into the forest you’ve been walking through for Geralt’s next contract. You like to think you’d be useful, but you’re not well versed in slaying monsters, especially the ones that Geralt goes after. Sure, you’ve killed a few Ghouls in your time but anything three times your size. 

You had never gone up against anything like a Bruxa though. In fact, most of your life has been dealing with the worst kind of monsters: men. They hide their true intentions with cheesy lines and charming smiles, they lurk in the open and gain trust, they make you believe you’re wonderful and special. The worst type of monsters is the ones that hide so plainly in sight. 

“Maybe I should write songs about you,” you let a small exhale and shake your head, “the girl who doesn’t fear The Witcher.” 

Jaskier looks pleased with himself, almost going to strum on his lute, “There’s a lot of girls who aren’t exactly scared of him.” You smirk with a raised eyebrow, the indication of your words not going unnoticed by either, “plus there’s worse to be afraid of than some monster slayer.” 

“Hmm,” comes the grunt of Geralt, his language of ‘leave me the fuck alone’ or ‘continue’, in this case, it’s the latter. 

“Men,” it’s a simple word but it makes them both look at you, then one another, “people who hide their intentions and cast shadows on your life. I know a monster slayers beast, but people, well, they hide theirs and that’s… far worse; a surprise attack.” 

It goes silent between you three. 

The dull thud of Geralt hoping down from Roach, he ties her reigns to a tree and looks Jaskier for a moment and then you. You raise an eyebrow, apparently, you’re meant to understand that look, but you don’t and that makes Geralt of Rivia sigh. 

“Stay beside Roach,” is his response, “least I need is to look out for you two.” 

You huffed a little, you may not be a “monster killer” but you can look out for yourself. You don’t need some brute man keeping you safe, especially since past ones haven’t been so good at it. But you’re hired to look after Jaskier, to go where he goes and therefore you remained beside the bard. 

Geralt disappears through the thick brush, swords on his back and not making a sound; not even with his feet. He can’t have been gone for more than two minutes before Jaskier loudly sighed. 

“How am I meant to write songs about him and his fights if I can’t see them?” He crosses his arms, lute on his back and shaking his head, “not like he’s extremely talkative after a fight either, grunts and one-word answers, half the time I have to make up details.” 

You felt for Jaskier. He only wanted to write about real adventures, real stories, you’ve heard his old songs and listened to him write his new. He’s improved and Geralt doesn’t seem to realise how important he’s played in that. 

“What if…” you trailed off, “I go and watch? I’ll keep out of sight and I’ll tell you what happened?” 

Jaskier looks torn, “I’m not sure… Geralt, he can be very, I think it’s best we stay here.” 

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, “I can look out for myself, Jaskier. Besides, he'll be too concerned with the Bruxa than I.”  

Keeping a firm hand on your steel sword you walk in the direction Geralt left in. It’s dark and silent, which has you wondering just how far Geralt is, but then you hear it. The slight shriek in the distance, the grunts that distinctive of Geralt. You quicken your steps and crouch down, finally in view of the fight. 

Your heartbeat quickens and for a brief moment you think Geralt knows you’re here, he looks around briefly as if sensing you but quickly goes back into defensive mode. The Bruxa is not what you expect, it looks human and naked, long dark hair and fingers that finish into sharp nails. It’s ugly but powerful. It disappears from sight, still attacking Geralt, who looks different than before. 

Dark eyes and veins, paler than usual. His whole stance is oozing with intimidation and the focus; it almost makes you wonder why you aren’t scared, it almost makes you understand why people do fear him. You watch in amazement at Geralt fighting, how agile he is despite his size. You revel in just watching him fight, although you feel bad because it feels almost intimate- like you’re catching him at his most vulnerable, despite it being the complete opposite of. 

But the moment of revelling is cut short, the Bruxa vanishes again and instead of attacking Geralt it goes silent. He stalks around the woodland floor, sword in hand, dark eyes casting in every direction and listening intently for his moment to pounce. 

You frown because nothing is happening. For a moment you think it might’ve runoff, how you wish it would have. A twig snaps behind you, you stand to full height and swiftly turn around, the sword being pulled effortlessly from its sheath. Before you can swing, it hits you and it’s claws scratch your arm causing you to also fly backwards. 

“I told you to stay away,” his voice is coarse and deep, cuts through the tension like a silver knife. 

You sit up as he stands before you, back towards you. A purple circle encompasses him and he fights the Bruxa with efficiency, the cloaking of the Bruxa gone and he’s able to see it’s every movement. He picks up your forgotten sword when rolling out of the way, it’s sights set on you once again but before you can even begin to stand two swords pierce its stomach; slicing in opposite directions and cutting it in half. 

A long-awaited breath of relief leaves you, you sit up and hold your sliced arm. 

“Igni,” Geralt holds a hand over the body and it sets alight before you. He whistles twice and a moment later you hear the galloping of Roach approaching, also a very confuddled Jaskier trying to keep up with her. “I told you to stay away,” Geralt directs at you, although not facing you. 

“It’s my fault, Geralt, I should’ve-” Jaskier tries to defend but is cut off. 

“You could’ve gotten killed,” you shakily stand up, brush yourself off and trying not to look like you’re in pain because it’ll only make the situation worse. 

You shrug one shoulder, “I’m fine. I’m also sorry, I didn’t think it knew I was there.” 

Geralt huffed, his face almost back to normal but it only makes him look angrier somehow, “Fuck you are. You’re bleeding and Bruxa scratches are painful, especially when not treated properly. No wonder you’re afraid of men, you haven’t seen any part of real life to know you should’ve been too afraid to even be around here.” 

The mocking words slice through you, you narrow your eyes at The Witcher. But instead of retaliating you compose yourself, knowing already that getting into any sort of conflict with a man, especially this man, could result in much worse circumstances.  

“It’s done now. You’ve killed it, I got in the way. I’ll patch myself up when we go back to the village to collect your reward.” You think it’s over, well you hope it is. You begin to walk in the direction Roach came from. 

“No!” Geralt’s stern voice stops you, you turn on your heel and look at him wide-eyed, he’s angry. “It isn’t done. You put yourself and me in danger, you can’t just-” he steps forward but you step back, breathing heavily and you fall to the floor,  trying to capture your breath. 

Past memories of your life before this one. A life filled with loud yelling, stern stares and even crueller hands. Of a man, not even Geralt’s build, more like Jaskier if anything. Sparking fear into you, instead of the love he once promised to forever give you. A life of threat and pain. 

A life you longed to forget. 

You shut your eyes tightly, praying to the gods that you don’t look like an idiot. You feel someone settle beside you, snapping your eyes open and met with amber ones, he lifts a hand but instinct takes over and you shrink away from him. Almost cowering before him, you thought you’d gotten over this. The evidence clearly states you haven’t. 

A gentle touch is placed upon your shoulder, no words spoken as he keeps a small distance but a hand still comforting you. You eventually return to normal, finally looking at Geralt with teary eyes and a watery smile to accompany it. 

“I’m sorry,” is all you can mutter and Geralt shakes his head, a little ‘hmm’ leaving him. 

Geralt is silent, kneeling beside where you’re huddled, conversation not exactly his strong suit. You watch as he thinks over his words, a more refined ‘hmm’ leaves his body like he’s thinking of how to word something. 

“Please tell me the one who caused this is dead,” you exhale through your nose in amusement, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, “otherwise I’ll have to make another stop.” 

You shrug a little, “It was a long time ago, I’ve been running from that life. I do not need a Witcher to kill for my revenge,” Geralt tilts his head at your words. “I’m a fucking idiot. A guy yells and I cower before him, how am I expected to protect anyone?” 

“Because you know, more than anyone, what it’s like to be put into a position you cannot break out of.” 

The words hang in the air for a second before he stands up, taking your hand and pulling you up gently. He looks over your wound, grunting at the look of it, the adrenaline is fading and it’s starting to prickle in pain. Jaskier, for once, is quiet but concerned about you. Geralt even helps you onto Roach, leading the horse through the woods. 

Sat in the Inn with a couple of ales and Geralt patching you up in the candlelight. You recount the ordeal to Jaskier, who is smiling now with a belly full of bread. After being told countless times by Geralt that you’ll be fine, it was nice to see he actually cared about you. 

“You know, I might just write a song about you,” Jaskier informs you, sitting back with a smug smile, Geralt raises an eyebrow. “We make a great team, don’t we. Where shall we go next?” 

You frown a little, “I think, I’ve gotta chase up an old life.” Geralt snaps his eyes to you, though doesn’t say anything. “I left a book open, it needs to be closed. We all have to face our monsters at some point,” you sigh and sip your ale. 

“It’s a good thing you’ve got a Witcher as a friend,” Jaskier states and nods at Geralt. 

You don’t miss the gentle ‘Hmm’ from Geralt.

Part Two

(Lmao this is over 2K words, wtf! Hopefully, this is okay. I didn’t make this romantic, but if you want a second part I will make it romantic, I already have an idea for it. Just let me know- Rosalie)

[jaskierswolf]

A Storm Raging on the Horizon

They were in the middle of nowhere when the rain began to fall, days between the last town and the next. Geralt swore under his breath. He should have known that the storm was coming. The humidity had been almost suffocating all day and the black clouds had plunged the world into darkness. He cast Axii on Roach as she started to get restless, the last thing he wanted was to be thrown off his horse and into one of the muddy puddles that were forming on the path.

He glanced up at the sky thoughtfully.

At least the rain would smell good. Geralt loved the rain for that reason. It was only troublesome when they were so far away from proper shelter. There was no way to dry out their clothes until the rain stopped and Jaskier got cold quickly, especially if they couldn’t find proper firewood that wasn’t soaked. Not even Igni could help if the wood was sodden.

Geralt flicked the hood of his cloak and spurred Roach forwards with a gentle kick.

“This is just fucking brilliant.” Jaskier moaned and trotted to keep up with him. “You wouldn’t happen to have another cloak hidden away would you, only the rain is a teensy bit cold?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighed. “What about shelter? Any towns nearby? Caves, preferably not inhabited by any ghouls or anything?”

“Ghouls don’t live in caves.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Werewolves then!” Jaskier threw his hands up.

“Werewolves tend to live in villages, houses just like any other person.” Geralt reminded the bard.

“Oh fuck off.” Jaskier grumbled and ran in front of Roach, walking backwards so Geralt could see his unimpressed expression. “You’re always so pedantic, you know that right? And you still haven’t answered the question.”

Geralt smirked and tilted his head. He pulled on the reins and cantered around the bard. “There’s no shelter. We’ll have to make camp.”

Jaskier groaned. “Are you sure there’s no abandoned cottages close? You could make nice with a hedge witch. We both know how much you love witches.”

Geralt ignored the jab. “No cottages.”

“Bollocks.” Jaskier sighed.

The sky lit up brilliantly as electricity sparked between the clouds. Geralt always enjoyed watching the lightning. There was something quite mesmerising about watching it streak across the sky with the calming patter of rain in the background.

His companion clearly did not share his love of storms. Jaskier jumped and yelped as thunder rumbled up ahead. Not more than two seconds after the lightning, the storm was close. The bard’s scent soured and left a bitter taste in the back of Geralt’s throat.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked slowing Roach to a stop.

“Ah, yes. I’m fine.” Jaskier stammered.

“Hmm.” Geralt furrowed his brow. He could hear Jaskier’s heart pounding in his chest. He dismounted Roach, landing on the ground with a squelch. He grabbed the back of Jaskier’s doublet and spun him around so he was facing him. The bard’s blue eyes were dark, pupils dilated and his hands were shaking.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hands in his to try and stop the trembling. Jaskier stammered unintelligibly and fidgeted, looking around at the sky.

“You’re afraid of thunder?” Geralt asked in a low voice, the one he used to calm Roach when she was panicking.

“Thunder, lightning, the whole ensemble really.” He squeaked just as another flash of lightning crackled across the sky, and Geralt suddenly found his arms full of trembling bard.

He frowned but wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s back, one hand stroking through his chestnut brown hair. It was already wet from the rain but Geralt hoped the motion might help to calm Jaskier’s nerves.

“There, there.” He grunted.

Jaskier whimpered. “Are you sure we can’t find somewhere? Maybe we’ll run into Yennefer and she can portal us out of here. She does have a habit of just popping up out of nowhere.” Jaskier mumbled into Geralt’s neck.

Geralt scowled and continued to stroke Jaskier’s hair. His heartbeat was still too fast and he reeked of fear. Geralt wondered if he should use Axii to calm his friend, it worked on Roach.

“Do you want me to…” He vaguely gestured with his hands, not that Jaskier could see with his face still planted firmly in Geralt’s neck.

Jaskier mumbled something that Geralt couldn’t make out. He rolled his eyes and pulled the bard off of him.

“Axii?” He asked with a tilt of his head. “It might help.”

Jaskier gaped at him and prodded him firmly in the chest. “No! Do not use your witcher magic on me.” He paused. “But thank you for asking.”

“I want to help.” Geralt huffed.

Jaskier pulled him into another hug as the sky lit up and there was a loud rumble up ahead. The rain was now pouring heavily and they were both soaked through, the water streaming down his face and catching in his eyelashes. He blinked hard to try and clear the rain from his eyes.

“Jaskier,” He murmured in the bard’s ear. “We need to set up camp.”

Jaskier’s scent sweeten slightly at the words, a faint whiff of honied chamomile.

Interesting.

“I need you to let go, Jask.” He hummed in a low voice.

Jaskier shook his head.

“Come on, Jask.” Geralt soothed. “It’ll be better once we’re under shelter.”

“What if the lightning hits the tent?” Jaskier grumbled.

“I won’t let that happen.” Geralt assured him.

To his surprise Jaskier managed a strained laugh. “White Wolf, you are capable of many things. Controlling lightning is not one of them.”

“How do you know?” Geralt teased. “Some ancient witcher magic.”

“Oh fuck off!” Jaskier groaned and then squeezed tighter as the lightning flashed around them.

Which gave Geralt an idea. He fumbled blindly in Roach’s saddlebags, trying to find an old shirt or bandage or something. It wasn’t easy with Jaskier clinging onto him. Eventually he pulled a scrap of fabric from his bag and pulled Jaskier off of him.

The bard protested but Geralt just spun him around and tied the bandages tightly around Jaskier’s head. He waved a hand in front of Jaskier’s face. “Can you see?”

“Can I see?” Jaskier asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh I don’t know, Geralt. Can I see? No of course I can’t see, some brute has blindfolded me!” He snapped.

Geralt grinned. “So you can’t see the lightning?” He asked slowly.

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

“That’s what I thought.” Geralt smirked and manoeuvred the bard so he could hold onto Roach. “You two. Stay.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

“I need to make camp, quickly. If you hadn’t noticed there’s a storm and we need to get a fire going before it’s too late.” Geralt said firmly.

It didn’t take long to set up the tents under the trees near the path. He was hoping that if the lightning did choose to hit nearby then it would go for the trees rather than the shelter. An empty cave would have been ideal but he knew the area well and any caves around here would be occupied. He knew that one in particular was home to a family of trolls.

It took longer to find some firewood that hadn’t been soaked through but eventually he found some hidden in the roots of a tree. He could hear Jaskier singing loudly to Roach as the thunder continued to rumble in the sky. The ground shook underfoot and Geralt frowned. The storm really was right on top of them.

He was almost proud of his bard. The man clearly had an intense fear of the storm but he was handling it surprisingly well. It was… brave?

Geralt hadn’t thought of the bard as brave before. Stupid? Yes. Reckless? Absolutely, but never brave.

And yet Jaskier had not only let Geralt blind him, taking away one of his most vital senses as a human, but he’d also not completely freaked out when Geralt had left him alone with Roach. He watched Jaskier run his hands through Roach’s sodden black mane with newfound respect before walking over to them. His bard and his horse.

He took Jaskier’s hand gently. The bard didn’t even flinch.

“Geralt?”

“Yeah. It’s me. Come on.” Geralt murmured and took Roach’s reins in his other hand so he could lead them both to the camp.

The fire was crackling and Geralt had to keep blasting it with Igni to keep it from going out. By the time the storm had finally cleared, they’d stripped out of their wet clothes and huddled under a blanket from Roach’s saddlebags, perching at the edge of the tent. The sun had set about an hour ago and Jaskier was still blindfolded as he leant against Geralt’s shoulder, humming under his breath.

Geralt’s throat felt dry. He had been talking almost constantly since they’d sat down, trying to block out the sound of the thunder. He’d noticed that Jaskier’s scent warmed whenever he spoke. For some crazy unknown reason his voice seemed to make Jaskier less afraid.

It had taken a while to get used to Jaskier’s insistence on hugging him, even without their clothes on. The bard had no shame apparently. Geralt had tried not to look at his friend but he hadn’t quite managed to keep his eyes away from the surprisingly muscular torso, covered in thick brown hair. He’d felt a pang of guilt for looking when Jaskier was blinded but he couldn’t exactly take it back.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly.

Geralt frowned and realised he’d stopped talking.

“The rain’s stopped. You can take that off now.” He grunted.

Jaskier tilted his head and squeezed Geralt’s arm tighter. “Can you do it?”

Geralt was stunned by the vulnerability in Jaskier’s voice. Normally the bard was all quips, sarcasm and charm. Geralt nodded before remembering Jaskier couldn’t see him. “Alright. Turn around.”

Jaskier let go of his iron grip on Geralt’s arm and spun round. Geralt swallowed, his eyes roaming over the bare skin of the bard’s back. He still couldn’t quite process how Jaskier managed to hide all that muscle under doublets, how he managed to appear so small when in reality he wasn’t much leaner than Geralt.

He resisted the urge to kiss Jaskier’s exposed shoulder but he did lean forward to scent his neck. He told himself that he just wanted to make sure that Jaskier’s fear was gone, to make sure that only Jaskier’s natural honey and chamomile scent remained.

The bard tilted his head back as Geralt brushed his nose under Jaskier’s jaw.

“Geralt,” Jaskier sighed. “As surprising and delightful as this is. I would like to be able to see you again. I miss your grumpy face.”

Geralt scoffed. “Maybe I should have tied it around your mouth instead of your eyes.”

Jaskier laughed. It was melodic and beautiful, all traces of fright were gone. Geralt had never been so happy to hear the bard’s laughter. He reached up and pulled the knot loose. The blindfold fell into Jaskier’s lap.

“Ah fuck.” Jaskier groaned. “Has fire always been so bright? Geralt save me!” He spun round and buried his face in Geralt’s neck.

Geralt froze. Jaskier seemed to have either forgotten about the lack of clothing between them, or just didn’t care. Geralt guessed it was probably the latter. He sighed and let the bard cling onto him.

“Are you feeling better?” He asked softly.

Jaskier nodded. “Much. Thank you. I’m sorry.” He paused and pulled back to look Geralt in the eyes. After hours of not being able to see Jaskier’s eyes, Geralt was almost stunned by their beauty. They were glittering in the light of the fire. “I’m always a burden on you.” Jaskier smiled sadly.

Geralt huffed a laugh. Normally he would agree. Jaskier didn’t always make things easy on the path. Geralt had to adjust his whole routine to make sure the bard didn’t freeze to death or get mauled by a stray bear or monster, but in that moment Jaskier didn’t feel like a burden at all. He was just a man, who had been afraid of something as mundane as a storm, and he’d allowed Geralt to be there for him when he was most vulnerable.

He’d trusted Geralt.

He’d been less afraid… because of Geralt.

He stared back into Jaskier’s shining eyes so full of hope and wonder.

Geralt wasn’t good with words, not in moments like this, not like Jaskier was, or could be. So he did the only thing he could think of and cupped Jaskier’s face in his hands, pulling the bard into a kiss. Jaskier hummed in surprise but quickly wrapped fingers around the back of Geralt’s neck to stop him from pulling away.

Geralt smiled into the kiss. He’d not really known what to expect when he’d kissed Jaskier, he’d hoped for a favourable result but he was still amazed by Jaskier’s eagerness.

They would talk about it in the morning by the light of day, when their clothes had hopefully dried out and the magic from the fire had turned to embers, but for now he was just happy kissing his friend and letting all their fears and worries fade away.

[queenxxxsupreme]

soft ask for Lambert

Requested by @mazakeen: Hi I was wondering if you could write for soft lambert where his lady love saved his life but got hit and now had major fever and lambert is freaking out but takes care of her?

A/N: This came in funny so I had to fix it babe. Also I know it’s unrealistic that a human survives the bite of a ghoul but just bear with me please

***

Time stood still as you collapsed to the ground. The body of the ghoul that just bit you lay in two pieces beside you. 

Lambert had watched helplessly as you fell, unable to move. He heard your gasp in pain when the creature’s teeth pierced your skin and he heard the way your heart began to race, trying desperately to fight off the toxic venom left behind by the necrophage but this only made the venom spread quicker. 

The shrill cry of the only remaining ghoul stole Lambert’s attention from you. He turned just in time to dodge the creature, then he spun and sliced its head off in one clean swipe. 

He looked up from the dead monster, lips parted as he breathed heavily. His eyes found you. 

“Y/N!” He called, sheathing his sword as he sprinted to you. “Y/N!” Lambert tried again, falling to his knees at your side. 

Your eyes were open but not focused, staring blankly at the sky. 

Lambert took ahold of your chin, turning your head to him. 

“Y/N!”

“Yelling won’t do you again good.” Eskel knelt down beside him. 

“She’s-She’s-,”

“She’s in shock.” Eskel  cut him off. 

“Eskel, she’s shaking!” 

“Hand me a vial of Golden Oriole.”

“If she ingests it, she’s going to die-,”

“If we sit here and do nothing, she’s going to die.” Eskel looked up at his brother, finding the young wolf’s frantic gaze. “I need you to listen to me for once, Lambert. I’m trying to help Y/N. I can’t do that when you’re panicking.”

Lambert nodded his head, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

“Golden Oriole.” He repeated, standing to his feet and sprinting to where he’d dropped his satchel just on the other side of the clearing. 

While he was gone, Eskel tore the material of your tunic sleeve to reveal the wound. The skin around the bite mark on your forearm was turning black and your fingers trembled. 

“Lambert.” You choked out his name, turning your head to the side. 

“He’ll be back in a second, Y/N. Meanwhile, you’re stuck with me.” Eskel spoke calmly, offering you a little smile when your eyes found him. He wasn’t sure that you were actually looking at him though. You were dazed. “How are you feeling, Y/N?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your fingers curling into a tight fist. 

“It-It hurts.”

“I know the bite hurts. Does your chest hurt yet?”

“Can’t-Can’t catch my....” You trailed off. 

Lambert returned shortly with the vial. He took the cork out and got down on his knees by your head. With one hand, he lifted your head from the ground and with the other, he poured the thick golden liquid into your mouth. 

You coughed and sputtered, gagging on the horrible taste. 

“I know, bug.” Lambert dropped the vial and brushed his hand over your hair. “I know. Tastes horrible, but hopefully this helps.”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and you went limp. 

Lambert froze, your name getting caught in his mouth. 

“She’s okay.” Eskel spoke, knowing that Lambert thought the worst had happened. “Her heart's still beating. We need to get her somewhere stable.”

“If-If we move her, she-,”

“Lambert, you’ve gotta trust me, brother.” 

The young wolf looked up, eyes meeting Eskel’s. He held his brother’s gaze for a few heartbeats, then nodded his head. 

“Get on your horse. I’ll give her to you. There’s a town about a half hour behind us.”

***

You could feel a cold hand on your forehead. Someone was next to you. 

“Her heart isn’t beating so fast anymore.” Eskel’s voice spoke. He was the one next to you. 

“I don’t like that I can still smell the poison in her veins, Eskel.” Lambert’s voice was distant and quieter than usual. 

“It’ll fade away as she fights it. That’s why she has such a high fever. That’s more likely to kill her now than the bite.”

Lambert cursed under his breath. 

You tried to move, to shift around on the uncomfortable surface you were laying on, but your body felt as heavy as a dozen stones. You couldn’t even move your fingers. 

You opened your mouth, croaking out Lambert’s name. 

Someone’s hand brushed over your forehead, swiping your hair back. 

“Right here, bug.” His voice came from where Eskel’s had previously been. 

You forced your eyes open. At first your vision was blurry, but slowly it focused. You could see Lambert leaning over you. 

“Hey, bug.” He smiled a little in relief. You were awake. You could speak. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. 

“It-Lambert- Hurts.” You choked out, unable to get your voice to work. 

“I know, bug.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead. “I know.”

“I’m going to, uh, to step outside.” Eskel said quietly, wanting to give you both some time alone. He knew Lambert needed to be comforted right now, but you were the only one who could do it. 

Your eyes remained on Lambert’s teary ones. He brushed his hand over your hair as if to comfort you.

Silence fell between you both. Neither of you knew what to say– not that you could speak even if you wanted to. Lambert knew that if he said something, he’d lose what little composure he had. 

He leaned forward once more to kiss your head. He wiped away a tear on his cheek as quickly as it appeared. 

“Don’t…. cry.”

He snorted, shaking his head a little. 

“Thought I lost you.” He muttered. 

“Can’t…. Can’t get rid…. of me-,” You broke off in a ragged cough. 

“Don’t try to talk. You need to just keep your strength for getting better.”

“I’m…. fine. Just tired.” Your eyes started to flutter shut. 

Lambert’s breath caught in his throat.

“You better not die on me.” He almost growled. 

A little grin tugged at the corner of your lips. 

“Lay with me.” You rasped. 

He didn’t need to be asked twice. The witcher climbed up onto the bed with you, careful to not hurt you or put his weight on you like he usually would. 

He tucked his face into your shoulder and instead of putting his arm across your torso, he held your hand. 

“I love you.” Your words were barely a whisper nearly lost in your heavy breathing. 

“Love you too, bug.” He murmured quietly.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox@wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration@shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa@disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys@wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343@permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife@reaganjenelle@theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher@badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an--actual--human--disaster@rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles@awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24 @she-wolfoftheinquisition @titaniafire

[walpurga-nacht-academy]

Isle of Phantasmagoria

Located near the Isle of Sages, the Isle of Phantasmagoria is the home of Brocken and Walpurga Nacht Academy. Considered a site of great magical energy, its culture and history were largely shaped by the multitude of unusual events that have taken place there. 

Geography & Population

The Isle is rather small, being only about 33 square kilometers in size, and being for the most part overtaken by vegetation with only a few particular spots being inhabited by humans. It has a mild climate where the winters are comfortably cold and the summers tend to be humid, but pleasant. The lowest temperature recorded on the isle was -10 degrees Celsius, while the highest was 25 degrees. It seems to be primarily characterized by an autumn and spring aesthetic, with winter and summer passing by rather quickly. Precipitation is an unexpected phenomenon, with warm showers starting without warning and ending just as quickly. The flora is surprisingly diverse with a variety of flowers and plants being native to the island, yet its famous fertility means that anything planted here is likely to take root. The same cannot be said for the fauna, as mammals tend to be quite small in numbers. Instead birds and fish seem to be rather plentiful which has influenced the gastronomy of the place as well. 

In regards to demographics, humans are the majority, with a smaller number of beastmen and other races living there. Fairies, however, are unfamiliar to the Isle and have never settled there as far as records show. Currently the island population is 18,738.   

Culture

Despite its small size, the Isle is a place teeming with customs and festivals, making for a very lively atmosphere. Its people are famous for their hospitality and easy-going nature so many sailors who had the fortune of being washed onto its shores ended up taking residence there. The Isle has been ruled by the Tauros family since olden times, though their exact aristocratic title is unknown. 

Origin Myth

Locals often claim that the very first inhabitants of the isle were pixies, small little fairies that would command the weather and welcome in the seasons with their dances and songs. They were said to fly above in the sky and sprinkle drops of dew on every flower and stem to help them grow and bloom. Due to this the earth became so fertile that when the first humans stumbled upon the island, they were able to plant anything there and even the smallest seed would produce bountiful harvest. 

Modern science has discredited this claim as the product of intoxication at the hands of a type of mushroom unique to the isle. It seems that consumption of the fungi causes one to experience potent hallucinations which require a few days to wear off. It is most likely that the locals consumed the mushroom and in their haze, aided as well by the refraction of light, they mistook the native Sylphs living on the isle for pixies due to their seemingly colourful appearance.

Interestingly enough those very mushrooms have been shown to help fertilize and make the soil richer in nutrients. Mushroom rings are thus quite common on the island, and it is considered bad luck to uproot or cause them harm. 

The King on the Bald Mountain

A mythological figure that is said to have ruled over the island back in ancient times. Locals claim that the King would wake up every year and along with his congregation of witches would torment the souls of the townsfolk of Brocken. Though it is a popular folktale on the isle, the existence of such a creature is still under question as very few sources can be found regarding its authenticity. 

Wine

The most popular alcoholic beverage on the island. Wine is considered the official drink of Phantasmagoria and is present at every celebration as a result. Due to the extensive orchards that have made the isle famous, wine from this place is considered a luxury and one of the most expensive brands in Twisted Wonderland. Every year, the Tauros mayor donates a huge casket of wine for the Cydalise Rite.

Thistles and Orchids

The official flowers of the isle. It is said that back in ancient times, the flowers of the island were blessed by fairies so they were able to walk and dance together in harmony. The flowers were also rumoured to be the favorite of the first Tauros mayor and his wife, and thus they were emblazoned everywhere. Official letters from the island all sport a stamp with a drawing of a thistle and an orchid intertwined. 

During wedding ceremonies it is considered traditional to have the venue decorated with these flowers so that it would bring the newlyweds good luck.  

Ostrich, Hippos and Elephants

Characters in the popular “Dance of the Hours” play. It is unknown how exactly the legend came about to exist, as none of the animals are native to the island. The Tauros mayor who is credited for the creation of this story said that the image came to him as he was napping in a ring of mushrooms in the Golden Pasture. The play became such a success that it was made an important part of the Cydalise Rite. 

A point of consternation for the locals is deciding which one of the three animals should become known as the official representative of the Isle. This debate has been going on for at least 1.000 years and is no closer to being resolved.     

Festival

The Cydalise Rite 

The most anticipated event of the year, the Cydalise Rite is the festival that celebrates summer and good luck. The Rite is said to have existed for centuries, its main purpose being to cause disruption and merriment so that the King on the Bald Mountain and his minions would be driven away from the homes of the locals and back on the Bald Mountain where they would be caged in by magic. Though few believe in the legend anymore, since the construction of the Selene mansion and later the Walpurga Nacht campus has demystified the area, the festival continues to be held every year in honour of that old tradition. 

In the past it used to involve a parade of horses going through the main street of Brocken, following the path through the forest and heading straight into the Pasture where the event-goers are able to enjoy a little masquerade play called the “Dance of the Hours”. It is a romance piece about three sisters (an ostrich, a hippopotamus and an elephant)  who wander into the palace of alligators by mistake. As they try to escape the dangerous place, the middle sister falls in love with the leader of the fearsome group and vice versa. The play ends in a marriage, after which all the spectators are invited to join the dance to celebrate future good tidings. A huge casket of wine is broken open by the mayor’s wife for all to enjoy. The festivity lasts until dawn when all those present are given special lanterns lit with magic crystals found only on the island and proceed to return to the town in a column singing in celebration for the coming of a new day. 

Ever since the founding of Walpurga Nacht however, it seems that the task of leading the parade of horses through Brocken has been awarded to the students as a show of good faith on the town’s part. The leader of the parade is usually the Prefect of Monarchia, who, along with her dorm members, lead a blessing of unicorns and Pegasi dressed in the dorms’ colours. Due to the rarity of such creatures on the island it has become one of the most anticipated sights during the Rite, with people usually gathering around the parade route to take pictures and sing loudly.      

History

Few historical sources detailing the early history of the island remain, however from what historians have been able to piece together it seems that the island has existed for a long time. The main argument in favour of this theory are the large animal bones that have been discovered all over the island, and which are believed to belong to a primitive species of dragons that has since gone extinct. The first settlements on the island precede the discovery of magic around the world, but the first concrete piece of evidence that proves that the isle had been inhabited for a long time are the mentions of the annual meeting of witches on the Bald Mountain to honour their King. References to this event can be found in the grimoires that the Eight Witches have passed down to their followers, along with several anonymous texts written by natives of the island. 

More recent discoveries have also found a journal kept by a member of the ruling Tauros family, which mentions that these annual meetings would cause great havoc among the population of the island. Among the effects he described were the “raising of foul ghouls from the depths of the earth, the theft of souls from among [our] village and the horrific calls of harpies, vultures, imps and firewomen as they danced around his monstrous figure.” In response to the threat posed by the emergence of the King from the mountain every year, the townsfolk would be forced to keep vigil together at night and guard themselves from the evil spirits with lanterns powered by pure magic.

Years later, another Taurous aristocrat would mention the commercial exchange that had taken place between them and a member of the famed Selene family of magicians in regards to ownership of the mountain. Having acquired property rights over the site, the Selene noble built a mansion at the very top and restricted all outside access to it. This building would later fall into disrepair once the aristocratic family fell from power and were forced to abandon most of their dwellings. Another member would repurpose it later and transform it into an education center, rather elevated to the rank of international boarding school and institute for magic.  

Notable Locations

Brocken

The only large settlement on the island. A pleasant town that is considered a wonderful tourist spot, Brocken is well-known for its welcoming attitude and laid-back atmosphere. The people there enjoy a ‘stress-free’ life in which they work, eat and sleep at their own pace. Siestas are recognized officially on the island as mandated periods of rest.

The town’s economy revolves around fishing, vinification, agriculture and tourism. It is a popular spot for location weddings and something of a cultural landmark due to the existence of places such as the Bald Mountain and the Golden Pasture. Tourists who often come here are able to make use of special programs which offer them housing, food and the opportunity to participate in some of the town’s vinification and fishing business.  

Because it is difficult to gain access to the island, Brocken has become rather isolated from the rest of the world. Thus its technology is considered old-fashioned by modern standards so things like television, mobile phones and cars are quite rare and seen as luxuries.

The Bald Mountain

One of the most well-known landmarks and the home of Walpurga Nacht Academy. The mountain is perhaps the oldest point of interest on the island, and legend has it that it was and still is the prison where a King of demons is said to slumber. Every year he would awake for one night to cause havoc on the island, aided by his congregation of witches. 

Now the mountain is associated with Walpurga Nacht, a world-famous institute of magic. 

Due to old legends and rumours surrounding the mountain, locals are known to keep away from it for fear of being cursed. Among the most popular beliefs is that anyone who dares come across the school at the top of it will be immediately struck mad. This is a concept that has been inherited since ancient times when the Eight Witches were said to dance in revelry in that spot and their fury at being glimpsed by strangers was so great they would curse them in retaliation.

The Mad Mage’s Tower

An old derelict tower, hidden far into the wilderness. It is said that there once lived an old magician whose years of isolation had driven him mad so he enchanted the objects around him to come to life and do his bidding. Though the mage had long since died, the objects still seem to be capable of sentience and continue moving around unhindered. Sylphs can be seen circling the highest point of the tower at dawn and dusk. 

Another rumour regarding the tower is that the magician might have had once a goblin apprentice that as revenge for the poor treatment he received bashed his head in with a rock during the middle of the night. 

The Golden Pasture

An idyllic sight, the pasture is one of the most famous locations on the isle. Considered a natural wonder due to its extensive flora, the Pasture is a site beloved by all citizens of the Isle, but due to the increased littering among tourists has been closed off to outsiders. It is also the location where the Cydalise Rite takes place every year. 

An interesting rumour regarding the Pasture is that those who dwell in it for too long are liable to experience hallucinations. Among those, the most commonly reported sighting was that of dancing flowers, colourful fairies, spinning mushroom rings, performing goldfish, flashing lightning and, more terrifyingly, erupting volcanoes.

[dragonsinkwell]

Snippet #75

Who's ready for an early 00's flashback via songfic? I hope you are because I got struck by this scene last night like absolute lightning after working on a request and a ~surprise~ all day and trying to stop to rest. So, obviously, I had to bang it out to find my peace, lol. Real talk though, let me dance with Haise, I love him so much. I will scoop him up into my arms and onto my noble horse and we'll ride off into the sunset!!

As Haise unlocks the front door to the Chateau, he is expecting to be met with silence. He's planning a very quiet couple of days. Everyone is either out for the entire time, or simply busy enough that they're leaving early and not returning until well after dark. That's okay, though. More time for him to get things clean and reorganized, outside of everyone's rooms, of course. While the young man typically enjoys the chaotic environment that's been cultivated here, all the better to occupy his mind, a little bit of peace and quiet is nice too.

"-going anywhere but home. Too gone; I have always been a rolling stone."

Except, what meets the Investigator's ears isn't the peaceful 'nothing' he was expecting. No, what greets him is the shuffle of a person dancing and a song, one sung without music. Even had the voice not given its owner away, which it clearly did, there is only one person under this roof known to sing and dance all on their own. The picture in Haise's mind as he walks toward the kitchen, the location of the noises, causes a warm smile to grow on his face.

"I'll play along if you pretend. Indifferent. Went around the globe-"

He's very careful when he approaches, not wanting to interrupt you immediately. While you do like to entertain yourself during chores, you're also known to be a little shy about it, always nervous about bothering other people. Haise wants to tell you he enjoys it, that you have a pretty voice, and it brings a sense of warmth here to the Chateau, but he admits he has no idea how to do it. No one taught him how to interact like this, and it is so much more difficult than he's ever read.

"Spectacular. It's in the air like lavender."

You're sweeping, or, well, you were sweeping the floor, judging by the broom in your hand, but now you're reduced to dancing around the kitchen, eyes closed, bluetooth headphones on your ears as you sing,and grooving to the music he can catch a slight hint of under your voice. One fun thing his ghoul nature grants him.

There is a shift in your dancing a couple moments after you stop singing. A new song, he guesses, only to be proven right when you resume dancing, but this time to a new beat. It's faster, this one, but you take it up with natural ease.

"Remember all the memories, follow like a ghost. Were you here-"

Mm, those lyrics sting, despite the cheery tone you sing them in and the upbeat pace of your dancing, and after a sharp moment of thought, Haise nearly turns around to leave before he's grabbed and pulled into the kitchen. On instinct, he almost snaps into fight mode, but the young man catches himself. Especially once he's greeted by your warm and mischievous smile. How does he struggle against that?

"-with the summer? Is that why I am alone?"

Despite having no idea what song you're listening to, Haise manages to fall into the beat between the shred of the song he can hear and echoing your movements, sporadic as they seem to be. You certainly aren't following any proper dance moves, merely dancing as you see fit, and while he definitely isn't a good dancer, Haise likes to believe he's quick on his feet.

Plus... he always has wanted to dance with you.

"In retrograde. No serenade. No comfort-"

Though, why are you singing to such a melancholy song, as warm as the song's tempo is? Is it something he doesn't understand? You're beaming at him, like the sun in spring, but the words falling from your lips are of loneliness and loss.

"I say I don't mind, but I'm way out of line. If they knew, oh, hummingbird, without you-"

Haise wants to keep dancing with you. He feels like he's floating in a way. It's such a win for the young man, getting to catch you here in the 'wild' and with your guard completely down. Plus, no worries for being interrupted; he has you all to himself.

"-my hummingbird's in another room."

Haise wants to hide, too. The song you sing makes him think of his own memories. Or, rather the lack thereof. The blank slate and the howling demon that accompanies it. What has he forgotten; who had he been? He doesn't like to wonder, despite how often he does.

"Cigarettes and asphalt, smells like seventeen. Smells like all the memories-"

Even so, he finds himself unable to stop, only letting you pull him closer to you, an arm wrapping around his waist. It makes the dance moves a little more stilted, but Haise likes it. He thinks it feels like a hug. He's always wanted to hug you, too. Properly, more than the instant ones that get thrown around when everyone is leaving for the day.

"-leaves. Winter's been a decade, never turned to spring-"

There is a second in which Haise doesn't immediately notice your other hand has vanished from his hold, but when he does, the young man panics a little, wondering if he's scared you off somehow. It's a natural fear of his, as a ghoul. Despite the fact you, technically, aren't that far off yourself now as a Quinx, Haise still worries. What if you decide he is too much? Was he acting too weird? Is he that bad at dancing?

"Skipped right to the summer, scorching everything."

But your purpose is shown swiftly, when he feels something by his ear and takes a proper look at you. You're now missing one of your headphones and though it takes a moment before it clicks in his mind, he realizes that was what you've done: gone to give him one of your headphones. It's a little rough to do while dancing, but he helps you slide it onto his ear, granting him a better idea of the song.

And it sounds very nice; the singer's voice is warm and feels genuine, not to mention the music itself is well put together. Haise can see why you like this artist.

He's so caught up in listening to him and trying to decipher the meaning of what is going on, Haise misses you trying to get his attention.

"Sassan!"

Oh, that definitely isn't a lyric, and he knows that for certain now. But did you really want to talk mid-song? "Y-yeah?"

You smile at him differently now. Just as warm as earlier, but softer, with a thread of sadness in it, and it hurts Haise to see. You look like you're grieving, in a way.

You look like you miss him.

"Good days can leave, right? And melt into nothing more than memories?"

A bullet strikes through his heart. That question hits so hard, Haise feels himself stumble a little, having trouble keeping up with your steps, even as he thinks you're slowing down for him. "Mhm." He can't bring himself to speak. It hurts, and he doesn't really want to admit that kind of truth. Hearing it implied by the song was bad enough, but to hear you ask that question is extra painful.

You'll leave too, some day, won't you?

He'll miss you, then. And badly.

The hand that left his earlier to give him the headphone moves to cup his cheek, and Haise stumbles again, though this time for a different reason. "Then, you know bad days can leave too, right?"

He opens his mouth, ready to answer on instinct, before he chokes himself on how unsure he is of what to say. That is... not really something he'd considered, to be honest. It so hard to look past the cloud of fear in his head, for all that he's grown skilled at putting on a smile over it. But...

"Yeah," Haise forces himself to admit, unable to dance around your question. Not when you look at him so honestly. Not after you've danced with him so lovingly. "I worry they might not, though."

"We'll just have to fight them off then, won't we?" Your smile brightens a little, and the sight relaxes him. "And win, like we always do?"

Haise can't help but laugh a little here, held in your arms, dancing to a song he can barely hear over how badly he wants to hear your voice at all times. The current days can't be all that bad if you give him memories this warm to keep, can they? "Yeah. Sounds like a plan to me."

"Good!" you exclaim, beaming at him as you sweep him in a full circle, forcing him to tighten his hold on you. "Then, dance battle time!"

As soon as his feet hit the ground, he notices a new song, slower but your moves are more pronounced, and Haise can't help but beam back, meeting your moves with a little confidence. Not the normal kind of dance battle, still being caught up in your arms, and he definitely doesn't know the songs well enough to lead, but he didn't get to this rank for nothing. "Deal!"

[radioactive-synth]

#FOOCtober2020 - Oct  19 - Defining Moment OR Faint 

a day late but here we go, a small part from the fic i need to write about my oc Vaughn Zander

under read more:

'I don't think it's worth all the trouble for just some memory banks', Nick said, surveilling the area.

They were above the cave where the old submarine resides. DiMA suggested either sneaking in or joining the Children of Atom. Vaughn was not keen to join in, and Nick knows too well that his lover is too clumsy to sneak.

'Come on, Nick. You know we need to find out more about DiMA's plans. We just need to sneak in and-'

'Remind me last time you successfully sneaked somewhere, doll', Nick said, turning to look at his partner.

Vaughn let out a sigh and turned to look Nick in his eyes.

Yes, he was right. He was never good at sneaking. Be it in a dangerous zone, or even in their own house, he always trips over something and alerts everyone in the area.

'Don't give me that look, I'm sure this time I can do it.'

'Famous last words.'

Vaughn elbowed Nick into his shoulder.

'If you are done, let us figure it out how to get in', Vaughn said, getting a bit closer to the edge. 

Down there, there were three armored people, weapons in hands, and two other people, in rags. They can't make it out what they are talking about, but it doesn't seem like a friendly meeting.

'We just wait until they are gone and th-'

Vaughn felt his left leg giving up, and slipped from the edge, landing on the platform underneath. He landed on his left side. 

‘Vaughn! I’m coming!’, he heard Nick saying.

Vaughn groaned in pain, and lifted himself on his knees, and put his right hand over his left arm.

'Fuck me… I will feel this tomorrow morning', he murmured. Why does it seem that his left side is the most unlucky? Scars, bruises, even his leg was shot. 

'WHO IS THERE? SHOW YOUR FACE', a man's voice is commanding.

So much for sneaking. 

Vaughn reached into his waist bag and pulled out a stimpack, and implanted the needle in the left arm. It should soothe the pain for a while. He looked up, but Nick is not anywhere to be seen. Is he on his way?

'I said, reveal yourself, stranger,' the voice insisted.

'I'm coming', Vaughn said, descending the stairs. 

One of the armored ones has told the other two in the rags to come with them, as the other two focused on Vaughn. One of them spoke:

‘What are you doing here?’, he asked, getting a few steps closer, ‘Did Far Harbor send you?’

‘N-no… umm, I umm… we came here on our own’, Vaughn said, unsure on what to answer.

‘We?’

‘My partner should umm… arrive in a bit’, he said, looking behind. No sign of Nick yet. ‘But what is the issue with the people of Far Harbor?’

The armored man looked at him in suspicion, but spoke: ‘Those heathens persecute our missionaries and use profane technology to steal lands that belong rightfully to the Atom. And I want to know if you are here to do their bidding… you are your imaginary partner’, he said, gripping on his weapon even more.

Vaughn felt how the panic overtook him any moment. He has no other solution but to convince them that he wants to join in.

‘Vaughn!’

He turned behind, and Nick came running to him, his pipe revolver in his hand. He made a sign to lower his weapon and to come next to him.

‘So I see that you weren’t lying about a partner. Looks alike with that damn synth from the mountain. Are you sure you aren’t from there too?’, the armored man asked, eyeing Nick.

‘What are you doin-’

‘Just trust me’, Vaughn whispered, taking Nick’s hand.

‘No. We came from the Commonwealth. We want to join the Children of Atom’, Vaughn said.

He felt how Nick squeezed his hand, but he answered by running his thumb over his partner’s.

‘The Commonwealth? That’s quite a journey. So, you think you deserve a spot among Atom’s children?’

Nick gave a glance to Vaughn, but said nothing. He knows that Nick will give him morale later, but he needs to play their game now.

‘Yes. Sign us up.’

‘The decision on who will enter our family will be left to the Atom. Prove yourself worthy, and you may enter. You need to perform a ritual first.’

‘Sure.’

‘There is a small spring not far from here. Those chosen by Atom drink and are granted something. A token. An experience. Those not chosen… rarely return.’

Vaughn glanced at Nick. He knows that look: ‘You better know what you are doing.’

‘We will do what Atom requires.’

‘Then let us hope He deems you fit. Go to the spring there’, the armored man pointed out, ‘drink, come back, then we will discuss joining us. Also, consider to give up of that mask.’

 -----

'Look, I don't think you should drink from the spring. Just say whatever you think off, and pray that we are let in', Nick said, looking at the running water with an unnatural yellowish color.

'Praying is not what I do, feggari mou. And besides, how much rad-x I took, it should not affect me at all', Vaughn said in a confident tone.

'Had you forgot the old man's warning? The fog can play tricks on your mind', Nick said, the words of Longfellow still ringing in his head.

'Yea but I don't think I saw anyone on this island taking rad-x… or even hearing about it. Nicky, my love, you know I'm a doctor. I will be fine!', Vaughn said, putting his arm around Nick's shoulders. 

Nick let out a sigh, and looked at him. 'For a doctor, you sure don't think of the danger you are putting yourself into.'

Vaughn let out a chuckle. He then leaned in to kiss Nick on his cheek. 'I got you if I get hurt. I taught you well, didn't I?', Vaughn said with a warm smile on his face.

'Yes. And you make a very grumpy patient.'

'Yea yea, Vinnie used to say that doctors made the worst patients. I still don't know what he meant.'

'We sure do', Nick said with a huff.

Vaughn gave him a short glance to his love, then looked at the spring.

'Well, not like that will drink itself', he said, letting go of Nick's shoulders. He put his hand over the running water. It was clearly not pure at all, and he felt it unnaturally warm, even underneath his glove. He looked back to Nick. 'Cheers', he said before taking a sip from the water.

The taste was the worst that he ever felt. It felt like rust, copper, expired medicine, all at once. He started to cough violently, his vision being blurred. He heard Nick's voice, but he can't make it out what he said.

'FOLLOOOW MEEEE', he heard a woman's voice, gravelly, yet very soothing.

Looking up, he saw a figure in the shadow. The voice seemed so familiar, yet very scary. But the figure… it also seemed familiar.

'Maná?', he asked.

But it can't be her. How can she be here? Unless…

He followed the strange figure into the woods. 

'WAIT! DON'T GO! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?', he asked the figure. 

Around him, it seemed like a nightmare. The sky became a dark green, with lighting coloring the clouds, and strange figures appeared. Were those radstags? Horses? Big salamanders? He can't figure it out. 

'This is not real!,' Vaughn said to himself, but also he doesn't seem to have control over his body. He felt his left leg aching, yet he can't stop following the figure. 

-----

‘THIS IS WHAT I WANT TO ASK TOO!’, Nick yelled after Vaughn, but no use.

He was running after him for two minutes into the woods. He was amazed at how fast Vaughn can be. 

‘VAUGHN!’, he kept calling his partner. God knows what can hide in these woods, and if he can’t reach Vaughn in time…

He felt his fans working faster, as to keep up cooling off his body. He does not know what is more terrifying: the fog crawlers that can appear in any moment? Any feral ghouls around? Or that his lover can collapse anytime and he can’t properly help him?

He saw Vaughn stopping on the road, looking at a nearby building. He heard him asking something, but he can’t make it what. He stopped too, trying to ‘catch a breath’. His fans were working at an alarming speed, as his internal processor notified him. 

But he couldn’t rest for more than a few seconds, as Vaughn collapsed on the ground. 

‘Vaughn!’, he called, and walked towards him.

He heard snarls and growling around the bushes and the rusted cars nearby.

‘No, NO! VAUGHN, GET UP!’, he yelled, falling to his knees and putting his arms around Vaughn’s shoulders, lifting him a bit.

But his efforts were in no avail, his partner was out of cold. He looked around, as the ferals started to sense them and came in their direction. He could feel how fear starts to settle in. He can’t lose Vaughn… he can’t lose the one he loves the most.

He lays Vaughn easily on the ground, and pulls out his secondary weapon, a small size modified assault rifle. The pipe revolver won’t do any good now.

----------

Vaughn woke up with a headache, and a pain in his left arm. He could feel that he is somewhere inside, given the closed air he feels. As he gains more of his senses, he can feel his back against Nick, and one of his arms around him. He looked to his right, and saw their bags, alongside ‘Ares’, his power fist, and ‘Athena’, his shield. He lets out a small sound, and moves his legs a bit.

‘Don’t move yet’, he heard Nick saying. ‘There is still rad-away in the bag, so stay put.’

Nick’s voice was unusually neutral, which surprised Vaughn a bit. What really happened? All he remembers is that he followed a shadowed figure that looked very similar as his mom. Yet the voice was not really hers. 

He put a hand over Nick's arm. 'My love?', he croaked, feeling his throat dry. 

'What?', answered Nick in a firm tone.

'Are you… you ok?'

'You asking me if I am ok?', Nick answered, letting out a nervous laugh. 'Do you even remember what you did?'

Vaughn didn't answer. Nick rarely was angry, but when he was… it was scary.

'I told you to not drink from that water, but have you ever listened to me? No, you just think that if you have a degree in medicine, you think of yourself invincible!', Nick's voice became louder.

Vaughn felt his heart plummeting in his chest. Nick was right. But he always felt bad when a loved one sounded disappointed in him. 

'I'm so sorry', Vaughn murmured to him.

'Sorry for what? For not listening to me? For almost being ripped apart by ferals? Had you forgot you have a child at home, waiting for you? How do you want me to tell Oliver that his dad drank poison and was killed by ferals?', Nick's tone was harsher than usual.

Vaughn felt his partner's arms tighter around him, and his head into his shoulder. Vaughn responded by rubbing his free hand onto Nick's arms.

'I don't want to lose you', Nick said, his voice being muffled into his lover's shoulder. 

Vaughn felt his eyes with tears.

'I finally feel that I belong somewhere. That I belong with you. I can't lose you…', Nick let out a sobbing noise. 'I love you… so much', he said, now crying into Vaughn's shoulder, his own shoulders shaking.

'My love…feggari mou… '

Vaughn straightened his back up, as best as he could, careful to not rip off the needle from his left arm, and used the other arm to pull Nick into a one-arm hug. His lover put his head into the crane of his neck, his arms being tight around him. Vaughn let out his own tears to fall on his face.

'I'm ok, my love. I'm alive, and that's… that's important', Vaughn said, running his hand over Nick's back. He seemed to calm himself down.

Nick pulled out of the hug, and Vaughn could have seen that he too had tears coming out from his eyes. Well, not exactly tears, as it seemed to be coolant, but… he never thought that Nick could cry. This broke his heart even more. 

Vaughn put his hand on Nick's face, wiping away a tear.

'I'm sorry, love. You were right. And I was too stubborn. I'm so sorry', he said, leaning in to kiss Nick's cheek. It tasted like coolant.

'Just… don't put yourself in danger like that. When I saw you collapsing on the ground, with all those ferals coming…', Nick said with another sob.

'Hey, I'm here now. Thanks to you', Vaughn said with a smile. 'I told you that you know what to do if I'm hurt, right?', he let out a chuckle, and gave Nick a kiss on his lips.

Nick smiled against Vaughn's lips. 'I had a good teacher', he said before kissing Vaughn again.

[jj-lives]

Sing to Me: i can hear you open up to breathe

Song is Shake it out by Florence + The Machine if anyone hasn’t heard it. I imagined tempo and acoustic similar to the Glee rendition of the song. Naya Rivera’s voice haunts me in the first verse. Highly suggest this version, don’t be snobs cuz it’s “Glee” lol.  Enjoy. I may have a part 2 or 3 planned.

ao3 link

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The crowd’s booing echoes long after the man trudges off stage. They’re not being fair. She thinks he wasn’t horrible. Maybe not on par with the other talent before him, but not horrid. Drinks flow steadily from behind the bar. Verbal jeers rising as inhibitions drop. Fate would have been kinder to showcase him first, before the crowd became bold with alcohol filled bellies. 

“Poor guy.” Ever the empathetic one, Ruby is quick to applaud, though she’s the only one.

“Don’t encourage that.” Their other friend speaks up from her right. “He was horrible. I saw no breath control, and he was so -pitchy.”

“Not everyone can be classically trained like you!” Ruby shoots back. “Who could control breaths while crying. I swear there were tears in his eyes as he ducked behind the curtain.” 

Their bickering continues, muffled now by the shouts for the next performer to take the stage. The set is early. They don’t care that they chased the last one off ten minutes early. 

Servers hurry to replace empty glasses; tributes to placate the ravenous horde, but their hunger is for entertainment not drink. Yang wonders if their demands now turn for more blood. The one constant ringing true throughout history - men are never sated. Always they want more, and more. Having a taste of viciousness, would anything curb that appetite now?

She spares what little empathy she can for the next performer, wishing it into the universe in hopes to protect them, even but a bit, from what’s to come. Ruby worries for the wrong person, his embarrassment although tragic is now over. 

“Here we are now, entertain us.” It rings over and over, so much so Yang can’t tell which are the true roughened lyrics and which are the reverberations from the rafters.

A girl rushes from side-stage, skidding to a halt a few paces in. It’s obvious from her deer-in-the-headlights look that she’s been rushed, pushed up there, like a lamb to slaughter. A simple acoustic guitar hangs from her white-knuckled left fist. She wears simple clothing, no fancy dress or designer jeans, no blazers or grunge band shirts hang off her frame. There’s nothing to indicate this girl’s trying to make an impression. Nothing saying she wants to be seen. The opposite in fact. She wears simple black jeans, blue converse and a long sleeved grey shirt. No gaudy jewelry or bold make-up marr her skin to grab the audience’s attention. Her hair is pulled back in a simple bun at the back of her head. Fingers tremble as they slide across her temple, tucking a wayward strand of ebony behind her left ear. Higher up, two points flatten as she takes the half a dozen strides to collapse on the stool awaiting her at center stage.

The horde goes silent, staring slack-jawed.

She’s a faunus.

Yang’s muscles all tighten. Only noticing the way her hands grip the table when a splinter wedges underneath a nail bed. She sucks in a breath, releasing her grip on the wood, claw marks a visible indicator of her instant unease. Faunus don’t showcase here and there’s a good reason for that. She searches the crowd for a manager, a bouncer, a goddamn server would do. Someone has to get her off that stage. A sharp tug at her elbow yanks her back into the booth. She doesn’t even remember standing.

“Where are you going?” Weiss glares at her, jaw clenched. 

“Someone has to do something.” Already murmurs are rising up. Scornful, racist slurs whispering all around her. “They’ll slaughter her.”

“No one can stop this.” Weiss’ voice drops, saddened, resigned.

“A manager.” She stands again, determined to do something.

“Who do you think shoved her up there, Yang.” Ruby’s voice is opposite of her friend’s. All scorn and hatred. She’s never heard that tone from her sister before. “She’s a barback. I saw her earlier when I went to get our drinks. She works here.”

Yang falls heavily back into her seat and stares in horror at the uneasy flick of the girl’s ears. Ears that now have the attention of every racist blowhard in the joint. Her obvious nerves will prove her downfall, they aren’t something a drunk, malicious pack will ignore. She’s become their prey, at no fault of her own, or even under her own decision. She’s been forced into an impossible situation against her will. 

Yang growls aloud.

Weiss’ cautious stare flicks from her to Ruby. “We should go.” She says at last. And Yang knows her reasons. She doesn’t want to see what’s coming, doesn’t want them to see what they all know is about to happen. Ruby releases a breath and Yang can see her nod in her periferal. 

“Yang l-”

“I’m staying.”

“But-”

“You can go if you want.” Yang’s eyes haven’t left the stage. She watches as the girl busies her trembling fingers by tuning the instrument in her hands. The pickguard wears many scars and the body is faded where her forearm comes down to rest. Each chord plucked ends with a nod, meeting her approval. 

“Are all faunus this’low?” A man slurs from somewhere off to Yang’s left. “No wonder they can’na keep any good jobs.” A roar of laughter ripples the air.

“Yang, let’s go.” Ruby pleads.

“I’m not leaving.”

“You can’t do anything.” Weiss reasons.

But they’re wrong. “I can stay.” They hover, concern in their eyes. Yang feels it. “Go, I’ll be alright.”

Doubt hangs in the air but it’s not spoken. Finally Weiss pulls Ruby from the bar by the wrist. They weave between the tables at a brisk pace. Yang watches the door swing closed when they leave. 

Then she starts to sing.

“Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play”

She starts without accompaniment of her instrument. Voice: soft and fragile but with a haunting strain, she sings the first verse. Yang’s never heard anything like it. For the first time she wishes for different ears -like hers- if only to hear her better.

Her wrist moves, playing softly as her voice strengthens.

“And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

I like to keep my issues strong

It’s always darkest before the dawn”

The once rowdy crowd is silenced, hypnotized by her. Eyes glued to her as hers remain on nimble fingers running along the guitar's neck with practiced ease. She doesn’t spare a glance to the patrons and hasn’t since she first took her seat, but the way she keeps returning to worry her bottom lip between piercing teeth relays her fear. 

“And I’ve been a fool and I’ve been blind

I can never leave the past behind

I can see no way, I can see no way

I’m always dragging that horse around

Our love is pastured, such a mournful sound

Tonight I'm going to bury that horse in the ground"

So enraptured Yang is, she doesn’t notice the whispers rise again. All her senses are focused on the beauty on stage. A brow furrows as she sings through the first chorus. Shoulders stiffen as a note is missed. Delicate eye’s slam shut and her voice quavers for the briefest of moments. 

She plays on.

Mutterings of ‘faunus, animal, savage’ finally reach her. Yang curses them all to the deepest pits of hell. This girl’s not a savage or an animal. She’s an angel.

“And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

And given half the chance would I take any of it back

It’s a final mess but it’s left me so empty

It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

Yang hears laughter off to her left and she’s sure it’s the same table the man hollered from earlier. Dying down to snickers, Yang tears her eyes from the stage with a pain almost physical. There’s a group of men, boys really, goading one of their own. Elbows jab at him teasingly as they whisper into his ears. Yang knows it’s coming, knows it before he sports a determined mask, before he lifts his mug to chug back the rest of the courage it contains. He stands.

“Look boys!” His booming voice carries, “Guess you can teach ‘em beasts a trick o’ two.” 

Yang turns to the stage, hoping -in vain she knows- that he’s remained unheard on stage. A human might have been blessed in ignorance, but not her. Not when she can hear and see so much more than they. Yang watches her flinch, sinking lower on her stool. Her eyes shoot to the side, seeking help they both know won’t come. 

The man continues, emboldened by his mate’s prodding. “They taught’er ta sing. Wonder if she can dance too.” Whistles rise up, taunting. “Give us a jig-” he hiccoughs through his laughter. 

She stops playing, staring at the crowd. Pleading with them. 

Yang turns to grab a server rushing passed. Glares daggers at her until eyes avert with a sad shake of her head. No one is going to help her. They’ll make her dance for their entertainment.  

But she’s proud, or scared, and doesn’t move from her stool. After an eternity she strikes the cords in the same tune. 

Yang prays it’s the end. Even as the same man steps out of the booth, she prays. She urges him to just leave it, to be headed home or even the restroom. His lumbering steps carry him in a wobbled zig-zag to the stage. Her fist throbs as it hits the table. She stands, moving before she processes what her next move will be. He’s intercepted not far from her abandoned table, the alcohol has made him bold, but also slow.

Yang anchors herself in his way. He tries to sidestep her. “I don’t need another drink, honey.” Her hand plants on his chest as he tries again to pass her.

“What you need is to go sit down.” Her voice is low, dangerous, but he misses the warning resting within her words.

“I’m just havin’ fun, she’ll be lucky ta dance with a real man.” He motions with one trunk of an arm to his goal. To her. “This’ll be a treat. After all ‘em savage brutes rutting up on her e’ery night she’ll enjoy-” 

Yang hears a crack and she’s not sure if it’s his nose or one of her knuckles. But she stands where he crumples, unconscious to the beer soaked floor. Adrenalin pumping, Yang spins looking for her next target. Instead she’s met with boisterous laughs. They hoot and holler. And a few close enough pat her shoulder. 

“Taken down by a girl,” they yell. His friends' angry looks are the only thing she contends with as they drag his limp body to the exit. 

Behind her the guitar picks up and the girl begins to sing again, continuing where she left off. Yang stalks to the bar to order another drink, needing to calm her racing heart. Fists clench with a need to punch something or someone else. Whoever served up the faunus buffet is first on her list. A beer is placed before her. She looks up and sees the bartender smiling gratefully at her. “On the house,” he says. His eyes flick to the stage. 

She forces a smile through still gritting teeth and turns, listening again to the girl’s angelic voice. It’s not her guitar she stares at as she sings this time. It’s Yang.

“And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t

So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road

And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope

It’s a shot in the dark and right at my throat

‘Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me

Looking for heaven, for the devil in me

Well what the hell I’m going to let it happen to me

Shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

Shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, ooh whoa”

When the song ends she’s called off stage. It’s the first thing Yang’s grateful for all night. She stays to finish her beer. It’s the reason she tells herself. It would be rude not to finish the offered beverage, but when a cold cloth is placed over the knuckles of her right hand and she looks up Yang knows; she’s waited for her.

“Thank you.” Her voice is soft, careful. Unable to make eye contact with her now that only a bar separates them instead of a crowd. Her eyes dart everywhere except in her direction. She avoids her corner of the bar at all costs. Yang’s just happy to watch her. They don’t speak, but Yang’s gaze follows as she completes her duties. Her beer is replaced when empty, her money refused again. The girl looks up from filling the ice bucket and smiles softly at her boss, witnessing the transaction, or lack thereof. All Yang wants is to be the recipient of that smile, just once. She could die happy.

Hours later as she’s wiping down the bar Yang reaches out to touch her wrist. Her hand is snatched to her body with practiced reflexes. It breaks Yang’s heart. She deserves more than this fear humans instilled in her. Their eyes meet and Yang feels herself smile, genuinely, for the first time all night. 

“When are you off?” Careful to keep her voice low. She doesn’t want to scare her. Yang hates that she’s already been responsible for that telltale constriction of her pupils. 

“Why?” Her voice is just as careful as Yang’s, skeptical of her reasons.

“Do you-” Yang lifts her hand to scratch her nose, flustered by the amber that’s studying her now. “If you’d allow, I’d like to walk you home.”

“I don’t need supervision.” She turns to stack the clean glasses another faunus has brought out in a grey tub.

“I know, but I’d like to.” She watches Yang stretch her right hand, watches the wince Yang can’t completely hold back. No one has ever studied her as hard as the girl across the bar is now. “Just in case.”

“I’m off in an hour.”

“I’ll wait.” Yang nods as if sealing the deal. The girl grabs the empty tub and makes to disappear into the back. “My name’s Yang.” She blurts before she’s out of sight. “Can I please have yours.”

Without turning she answers, “Blake.”

[boxoftheskyking]

Something Good, Part Five

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four.

In which there are water ghouls.

---

There are water ghouls in Caiyi Town. This is apparently not a new phenomenon, and dealing with them is common enough that the senior disciples can use it as a test of sorts. Lan Wangji has also decided it will be an educational experience for the junior disciples to observe. In reality this is an end-of-the-first-month test for Wei Wuxian called “Herd eleven children down a mountain for two hours.”

They are tired. They are thirsty. Lan Feifei has lost her shoes. Ouyang Zizhen got an extra turn on Wen Ning’s back and it’s not fair. Lan Ting is allergic to some kind of leaves, but will not stop touching all of the leaves. Lan Jingyi is… consistently Jingyi.

Wei Wuxian does not believe in having favorite children—he and his siblings suffered enough under their parents’ favoritism and expectations. And, anyway, these children are far too different to compare. Zizhen is sweet and asks for adventure stories every night and looks at Wei Wuxian like he created the heavens and earth. Lan Feifei has her head in the clouds and the cutest little dreamy smile right before she falls asleep. But Jingyi is truly a child after Wei Wuxian’s own heart.

He’s not the only orphan left after the ambush that Wei Wuxian was blamed for, but he’s the youngest by far and still wakes up crying in the middle of the night. Wei Wuxian rearranged the dormitory so Jingyi now sleeps cuddled up with Lan Sizhui, which seems to help a bit. Wei Wuxian isn’t sure what Sizhui’s story is—he assumes the kid is also an orphan, but occasionally he spends extra time with Lan Wangji that’s never been explained. Perhaps he’s a close nephew or cousin.

But Jingyi is the most un-Lan Lan child of the bunch, and Wei Wuxian is very invested in keeping him that way. He doesn’t remember being four—his memories are fuzzy before life on the streets of Yunmeng, and even that is more images and impressions than any full events. Except for the dogs. But he thinks that four-year-old Wei Ying must have been like this child—excited, curious, incapable of looking before he leaps (off a table, off a step, into the underbrush, into a puddle), only taking a break from asking “Why?” in order to ask “Why not?”

Wei Wuxian loves it, and it drives him nearly off the ledge. Knowing Lan Jingyi as he knows himself, he spent an evening hand stitching extra ribbons into the back of Jingyi’s robes, reinforced around the waist so it doesn’t tear or pull or pinch when he grabs them. Far from being offended or annoyed the first time Wei Wuxian yanked him back on track by his handy leash, Jingyi simply crowed “I’m a horse!” and threw his whole weight forward against Wei Wuxian’s grip, little boots scuffing uselessly against the dirt. 

Without a golden core and after months in the Qishan prison he’s felt weak, scrawny and uncentered in his body. But lately, arms full of laundry and children, hands calloused from work instead of swordplay and more often than not tucked into scruffs of necks or latching onto misbehaving elbows, he’s starting to feel like a person again. Something solid, ground for building on.

Right now, Sizhui is on his shoulders, absently patting little fingers along his hairline, and Jingyi is being dragged along behind him like a dead fish.

“A-Yi, are you going to walk at any point today?” Wei Wuxian sighs.

Jingyi holds on to the leashes and flips himself around so he can look upwards. “Can I run?”

“No you cannot.”

“Then no.”

“Lan Jingyi!” Sizhui calls down from his perch, swatting a low-hanging branch out of his face. “You should behave better. You’ll be all dirty when we get to town and you will get in trouble!”

Wei Wuxian squeezes his chubby knees and turns around to wave the older kids forward.

“Wen Ning! Come here my friend, take this bag of turnips into Caiyi Town. Try to get a good price for it.” He swings Jingyi over and Wen Ning hauls him over his shoulder

Jingyi smiles as he bounces along upside down, singing, “Turnip turnip turnip” to himself all the way down the mountain.

Before they enter the town proper Wei Wuxian does his best to line them up properly and pick stray leaves out of hair.

“Now, young masters and ladies, remember you are representing the GusuLan Sect. Yes? Heads up, hands to yourselves.” The kids shuffle mostly into position. “The Lan Sect is very important to Caiyi Town. You understand? The town depends upon Lan cultivators to take care of problems like these water ghouls. So when the people see you, you want them to be confident in your abilities, yes? We are proud of where we come from. Lan Hua! Eyes front. You’re not just representing your humble Wei-qianbei, you know. You are representing our Hanguang Jun!” At that, shoulders snap back and grumbling ceases. Wei Wuxian feels a rush of fondness and gives them a grinning salute. “Very good! We want Hanguang Jun to be proud of us, yes?”

“Yes, Wei-qianbei!”

“Very good! On we go!”

Wei Wuxian feels like a mother goose, wrapped in grey servants’ robes and leading his white flock through the streets, Wen Ning bringing up the rear. Sizhui holds onto his hand, hopping every third step to keep up. Normally, Wei Wuxian would happily pick him up, but today is about being dignified. He’s glad for the firm little grip on his fingers, though. It’s been a lifetime since he’s been out of Cloud Recesses, and part of him expects the townspeople to spit at his feet. No one recognizes him, though. Passersby stop to watch the procession pass, bowing respectfully to the disciples. Wei Wuxian feels an odd warm pride unfurl in his chest, and when a mother in the crowd meets his eyes and gives him a knowing eyebrow raise, he lets himself laugh. Feast your eyes, everyone! Eleven children!

By the time they reach the edge of the lake, the senior disciples are already out on their boats near the center with Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen, having flown down on their swords earlier. Nothing exciting seems to be happening so far, but there’s a tense hush in the air that can be felt even at the shoreline. It’s just Wei Wuxian and the children at the water’s edge, townsfolk having decided it’s not worth the risk even to get a good look at cultivators in action. Wei Wuxian arranges the children around an ancient tree, roots and branches gnarled and grasping towards the water, so they can rest their tired legs and still have a decent view. Sizhui tugs on his robes until he lifts him back up on his shoulders.

“What’s happening, Wei-qianbei?” Lan Feifei pipes up from beside him.

“Hmm. It looks like Hanguang-Jun and the senior disciples are waiting for the water ghouls to appear. Perhaps they’re seeing something moving in the water.” He wiggles his fingers and puts on his most dramatic voice, and Feifei gasps appropriately.

When it happens, it’s sudden and almost anticlimactic. A boat flips, tossing one of the senior disciples into the air and the other straight into the water. Lan Wangji flies over immediately, hauling the first into a waiting boat and grabbing onto the other’s arms before he’s pulled completely under the surface. Almost immediately there’s a great rumbling sound and the surface of the lake starts to roil.

Wen Ning runs to the edge of the water. “Wei-qianbei! Someone needs to help Hanguang Jun!”

“This isn’t just ghouls,” Wei Wuxian mutters to himself, though he can see some of the creatures moving, just breaking the surface like sentient seaweed, swirling closer and closer to Lan Wangji’s hovering form. “It’s an Abyss.”

If he’s seen it, then certainly the two Jades have as well. He can’t tell what they’re doing from here, but the remaining boats seem to be regrouping, pulling away from the forming whirlpool. Lan Wangji and the drowning disciple are swept up in the tide, pulling closer to the shore where the juniors stand frozen, hands over tiny, terrified mouths. Bit by bit, Lan Wangji is starting to rise from the water, arm now locked around the disciple’s chest. His normally pristine hair and robes swirl around him, soaked nearly all the way through. The walls of water rise and fall around their bodies as the whirlpool increases in size and intensity. Suddenly, a dark tendrilous form rises from the wall of water, reaching towards the men from behind. Before it can make contact, the water whisks it away, but others begin to rise in its place.

“Wei-qianbei!” Wen Ning calls. “The ghouls!”

Wei Wuxian sets Sizhui down and hurries to the water’s edge. “Hanguang Jun!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Lan Wangji, get your sword up!”

Whether he’s unheard or ignored, he’s not sure, but Lan Wangji does not react. 

“Lan Zhan!” he shouts, and he can feel the children behind him gasp as Lan Wangji’s head whips around towards him, just in time to duck another ghoul. There appears to be three of them whirling around, closing in little by little as the whirlpool increases in ferocity. From the corner of his eye, Wei Wuxian can see action from the other boats, Zewu Jun leading the disciples in a spell that makes energy crackle across the misty air. But he only has eyes for Lan Wangji and the ghouls.

“Wei-qianbei, do something!” Yao Hualing cries, grabbing onto his sleeve. 

Wei Wuxian shakes her off and grabs his talismans out of his robe. Time doesn’t slow, exactly, but he feels his brain sharpen and focus. He bites at a hangnail on his thumb, ripping into the skin, and brushes a few hurried characters of negation in blood along two of the talismans—one meant to repair broken objects and one to put out fires. If he had his golden core he’d only need a few gestures—or, better yet, he’d have a sword and could fly into the fray—but this will have to do. 

Lan Wangji ducks another ghoul, and Wei Wuxian rethinks his plan. He rips his talismans into three and opens his cut further, drawing out more blood to repeat his characters on each torn piece. Then he pushes them away from him in a burst of energy, directed at the low-hanging tree branch to his right.

With a great crack the branch shatters into three pieces, all of which burst into flame and arc through the air to collide with each ghoul. There is a series of terrible screams and a smell of burnt grasses, and the ghouls sink below the surface. Lan Wangji rises up out of the water, the now-unconscious disciple wrapped in his arms. As he hovers, the whirlpool suddenly moves back across the lake, seeming to be pulled by a great force. 

Wei Wuxian misses whatever Zewu Jun is doing to address the Abyss. He probably should be paying attention to explain it to the children, but the gaping emptiness in his gut feels no smaller than the whirlpool Abyss itself. He finds himself on the ground, hands holding his body up, gasping in the wake of spiritual power. All humans have a reserve of some power naturally, but without a golden core to focus and grow it, it’s like a spark that never catches tinder. 

He feels a collection of little hands on his back, in his hair, a buzz of worry surrounding him as he coughs up blood. He’s just getting his breath back when one of the children screams, then another, then there’s a mighty roar that shakes the ground and almost forces out the rest of his breath. He shoves himself back onto his heels to see a wall of black-green water, taller than the tree beside him and advancing like a storm. 

“RUN!” he screams, shoving whoever he can reach behind him, picking up Sizhui by the back of his robes and throwing him at Ouyang Zizhen. He manages a step forward, arms held out in front of him, but there’s nothing inside him. No power, no fire, no anything. Even if he could get a spare talisman out, it’s nothing against the mass of water. He reaches instinctively for any resentful energy in the area, whistling out a tune of power and spitting out blood. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

Every town has a certain amount of latent energy—both spiritual and resentful—due to generations of living and dying on the same patch of land. But it’s not enough, barely anything, a few wisps of black smoke that he desperately weaves into the thinnest barrier, a blanket unable to keep out the cold. It’s not enough.

If this is how it happens, he thinks, his mind sinking into calm, at least I tried.

The last time he almost died, his mind was shrieking, desperate, clawing at the world and trying to hold on. But now, all he thinks about is the children. Run, please, run. And then, from nowhere, Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I tried.

He closes his eyes and braces for impact.

It doesn’t come.

He feels a cold spray against his face and the skin of his chest where his robes have pulled open. When he opens his eyes, the water has subsided and Lan Wangji is standing in front of him, guqin hovering in the air before him and humming with an undeniable power.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Wuxian breathes, struggling to his feet.

Lan Wangji turns to him. “What did you call me?”

“Hanguang Jun. I—”

“How dare you summon resentful energy in Gusu.”

Wei Wuxian’s hero worship dies down as his hackles raise. “What was I supposed to do? Let the children drown? Not even try?”

Lan Wangji glares at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching so violently Wei Wuxian is reminded of Jiang Cheng.

“I don’t think anyone saw,” Lan Wangji says, finally, turning back to the lake.

“What?”

“My brother and the others. I don’t think they saw you.”

“I—” 

But he’s gone, sailing out over the lake to the boats at the center, white robes flapping behind him like the wings of a swan.

“Fucking—” Wei Wuxian mutters, but he cuts himself off and wipes his face on his sleeve before turning back to the children.

“My disciples!” he shouts cheerfully, pasting on a smile and holding out his arms. “How brave you all are!”

---

They commandeer an entire inn for the night. It’s been a long day; the children are exhausted, and a storm has been gathering at the edge of the horizon that promises lightning and torrential rain. The children packed into a few rooms upstairs, senior disciples on the ground floor, and Wei Wuxian has ended up with his own small pallet in what was probably once a storage closed. After the children are fed and sent to sleep, he wanders back down to the dining room.

He won’t sleep tonight. He’s tossed between so many emotions—thrill from the adventure, fear for the children, triumph at his successful talismans. But above all, the ache, the emptiness. 

Useless, useless, useless echoes inside him, screams into the dark canyon under his ribs. Completely useless.

It’s one thing to give up puppet armies, raising spirits and casting bolts of dark energy into a battle. It’s another to encounter himself at the moment of crisis, the moment he is truly needed, and to find himself just another man. Mediocre. To face the imminent death of the children he’s grown to adore so entirely. To stand with empty hands before the deluge.

I’m completely useless.

The innkeeper is leaning against the bar, absently reading over a scroll.

“Sir?” Wei Wuxian asks politely. “Can I trouble you for some wine?”

“Indeed, young master!” the man crows, jumping to attention. “Some Emperor’s Smile? The finest liquor in all of Gusu. No, in all the world!”

Wei Wuxian smiles slightly, not quite bitterly, remembering a night on a roof under a clear moonlit sky. The taste of sweet liquor and the smell of sandalwood.

“Ah, I’m just a simple servant. Whatever you have that is cheap will do me just fine.”

The innkeeper narrows his eyes, looks over his damp and rumpled appearance. “Were you with those cultivators that banished our water ghouls today?”

“I was— Yes, I was with them.”

The innkeeper grins, showing three shining gold teeth. “In that case, the drink is on the house. Please, enjoy with our gratitude.” He holds out two delicate white jugs tied with lace ribbon.

I don’t deserve it. I did nothing.

Wei Wuxian grins. “Your generosity will not be forgotten!” He bows and takes the wine back to his closet.

Useless.

With a rumble of thunder that shakes the foundation of the inn, the sky opens above him.

Part Six