#and when he's losing it it's pulled forwards and askew and casting a shadow over one of his eyes

[storytellering]

screenshot redraw except i got a bit carried away

[giggleandtears]

What I need

Summary: Ben has a surprise for the OC

Pairings: Benedict Cumberbatch/OC

A/N: I wrote this for my bestie that was having a bad day. Sam is the NSA agent that monitors our messages. It’s an ongoing joke ;-)

Enjoy!

Red Whip - Silencer of Men: Sam is at it again

Giggle Tea: SAM! AHHHH!!!

Giggle Tea: What he do now

Red Whip - Silencer of Men: Sent me a flight confirmation email right after I told you I need  a vacation

Giggle Tea: Dang it Sam! Stop twiddling her vacation  berries. It’s not nice

Red Whip - Silencer of Men: I hate you so much

Giggle Tea: You love me

Red Whip - Silencer of Men: I don’t

Shaking her head, although reluctantly smiling at her best friend, McKay got back to work. Their small conversations throughout the day were always a needed distraction. But inevitably they would end and she was left with her thoughts. Releasing a weighty sigh, McKay hoped it would ease some of the tension in her shoulders that was slowly creeping into her neck. She had been doing it a lot lately. God, she needed a break. 

Rolling over from another restless sleep, McKay grasped blindly for her phone. The insistent buzzing was getting to be rather annoying. Cracking an eye open to the bright display, a lazy smile rolled onto her lips. Just the sight of his name sends tingles to her extremities and a heart constricting warmth blooms in her chest. After hitting the ‘answer’ button, McKay snuggles deeper into her covers and puts the phone to her ear. 

“Hey-woah.”

Ben’s breath hitches as he sinks further into his chair. Her voice is still heavy with sleep and all too adorable. How he wishes he could witness it in person. Blankets wrapped around them. Her soft breath tickling his neck. Curls bouncing in every direction. Gently waking her by smoothing the creases on her cheek made by the pillow. And being rewarded with that lovely contented smile when she finally opened her eyes and saw him. To say he missed her was a mere shadow of the deep longing he felt. 

“Good morning, Love.” The deep richness of Ben’s voice instantly calms her. His voice is so soft, warm. It’s exactly how he sounds when he wakes her from a sweet slumber. Her eyes still shut. Cocooned in the warmth of the covers and his exposed skin. Legs tangled together amongst the sheets. His clean scent filling her nose. Soothing strokes of his finger upon her cheek. Hearing his gentle greeting mixed with the steady thump of his heart beat. Fluttering her eyes open. Smiling at spending yet another day with the most precious gift she’s ever received. Her heart aches with an inner desperation only his presence can relieve. Closing her eyes, McKay tightens the blankets surrounding her yet again, eager to be enveloped by even this small piece of him. “Did I wake you?”

“Yea,'' McKay says, with a yawn, “but I don’t care.” 

Chuckling lowly, “I know you don’t but you need your rest”. A large part of their relationship has always consisted of persuading McKay to go to sleep. She declares it’s a waste of time even when their conversations are reduced to more yawns than actual words. Although, he can’t blame her. Each hour sleeping is an hour closer to goodbye. 

“But not as much as I want to talk to you.”

“And I you. That's why I'm calling so early. Did you get the email with your flight details?”

“My what?” McKay asks, now fully awake. 

“The email I forwarded about your flight tonight.” 

The long silence on the end of the line is very telling. 

“Did you delete it again?” A smile radiating from his voice. “You do it every time I try to surprise you.”

Furiously scrolling through her trash box, “I thought it was Sam!” 

“Don’t worry, Love. I'll resend it. Take a look when you get up. You have plenty of time to get ready.”

Sadly, Mckay has an inkling that their conversation is coming to a close.

“Do you have to go?” Her voice is so small, hesitant. Ben can hear the soft rustle of her blankets. Her legs no doubt started to twitch and bounce. She’s fighting every cell in her body to not ask him for more time. She hates to sound needy and the last thing she wants to do is pressure him. 

But Ben is already silently cursing himself. This was supposed to be a happy call. “Yes. I’m incredibly sorry. I’m already late for an appointment.”

“Ok,” disappointment evident in her hushed tone.

He has to make this better somehow. Using the same hushed tone but warmed by his deep-seated affection, “Just think, my love. We’ll be together in less than 18 hours. No interruptions, no distractions. Just us.” 

And that’s what McKay did. After receiving the email with the flight details, a second email came as well. She could tell it was written in haste, probably in a cabbie on the way to a meeting. It was simple, to the point. It boiled down to, ‘I love you. I miss you. I will always need you.’ It’s exactly what she needed to hear. Her implicit love and renewed excitement propelled her through cleaning, hair washing, and eventually packing. Her flight was of course First Class with all the amenities. Ben never skipped an opportunity to spoil his woman. She is ‘The Woman’ after all. 

So much excitement and anticipation tired McKay out. She was knocked out the moment the plane reached cruising altitude. After she retrieved her bags at baggage claim, she made her way to arrivals. Her feet carried her at double time toward the man holding the placard reading ‘Mrs. Payne’. He recognizes her immediately and greets her with a wide smile. She abruptly halts. Although he’s roughly the same height and build, he most certainly is not Ben.

Extending his hand, "Hello Mrs. Payne. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m your driver for the evening." McKay takes his hand, eager to know why Ben isn't here to meet her. "Mr. Cumberbatch has just a few more appointments", her face visibly drops, disheartened. Rushing to console her, "But Mr. Cumberbatch has assured me he's not far behind."  

Mckay nods forlornly and follows the man to the awaiting car. In his conversational babbling, she learns his name is Christopher. After stowing her bags in the boot, McKay slides into the car. Sighing, she leans her head back against the headrest. 

A rumbling baritone voice is heard across from her. “Hello darling.” Adrenaline coursing through her veins, she snaps to attention searching for the disembodied voice. Peeking out of the partition is her one and only Ben. He smiles that goofy grin of his and disappears. 

“What!” McKay says, frantically looking at all the windows and doors. When the right door opens, her breath is stolen. This is not the polished Ben of red carpets and premieres. No, this is just Ben. The jeans he grabs pastries in, a random shirt of unknown origin, his favorite scarf from 4 anniversaries ago, topped with a worn tweed cap. It’s McKay’s absolute favorite Ben. She lunges for him before he’s completely in the car. They’re a toppled mess of limbs and neither could care less, desperate to touch every piece of the other. 

Once they righted themselves, Ben brushes her curls behind her ear and gently holds her face in his slender fingers. He has so much he wants to say, so much he wants to share with the world he has cradled in his hands. But each and every syllable has died on his tongue. They dissolved the moment he chose to look into her eyes then travel down to the heavenly plains of her lips. The spell was cast and he lacked the power to retreat. A simper rolled onto his lips as he slowly drew her in. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, until they remembered oxygen was a necessity. 

Pulling back, McKay catches her breath. Her entire body is buzzy and delicious. Senses heightened but somehow calm. She notices that Ben’s hat is askew and reaches to straighten it. But it’s Ben that takes it off completely. He smiles to himself, knowing she can’t resist what comes next. McKay cards her fingers through his silken tresses, thrilled when his curls spring back.

“Your hair’s growing back.” She says, with an almost holy reverence. She pulls another curl closest to his crown and giggles when it bounces back into place. Ben beams at her unparalleled joy.

“My god I’ve missed you.” He kisses her forehead and she sighs against him. McKay clutches his arm and rests on his shoulder for the remainder of their journey. 

They reach their cabin a little after nightfall. The air is crisp and clean but the short walk from the car to the door makes it clear it’s very cold. Ben uncharacteristically goes in first, quickly switching on the lights. When McKay walks through the threshold, she’s dazzled by the tiny twinkling lights strewn delicately around the living room. Blankets and pillows make every surface plush and cozy. It’s like walking into the perfect cup of earl grey.  After Ben puts the bags in the bedroom, he returns to find McKay leisurely walking around, lightly touching whatever object calls to her. She picks up a throw off the back of the couch and sinks her fingers into its soft fibers, perfect for snuggles. A familiar scent tickles her nose and she lifts the blanket to her nose. It smells of jasmine. Ben thought of every detail. Love blooms in her as she replaces the throw and looks for her husband. 

He stands in the doorway, patiently watching her take in all the small touches he thought she’d love. Each and every smile they elicit is another treasured memory. She starts to slink over to Ben seductively but loses her coordination halfway there. They laugh together as she seductively shuffles over to him. She places her hands on his chest, looking up through her lashes. 

With sincere appreciation, “It’s perfect.”

Ben wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. Nuzzling her nose, “You’re perfect.” 

McKay bounces on her toes and places a loud kiss on his neck. “So, what’s next.”

“Well Mrs. Cumberbatch”, he never tires of calling her that and she never tires of hearing it, “would you like to eat a venable feast that I will prepare or would you like to take a moment to relax with the bath of your dreams?”

“Bath. Definitely bath.”

A knowing smile graces Ben’s lips. “It’s already running. Go relax my love.” McKay can’t wait to see what awaits her in the bathroom but realizes Ben has no intention of joining her. She pouts. Tipping her chin up with his knuckle, “Never fear. There’ll be plenty of time for that.” He kisses her nose sweetly before releasing her but his tone was anything but.

Yes, Ben started the bath but he said nothing about the pillar candles flickering, soothing music echoing, or decorative bowl of bath bombs. He even laid out a pair of soft jammies beside her towel. Her whole bath experience was perfect but she had a hankering for a certain ginger. Also, she was hungry. 

Coming into the living room, she surveyed the scene and found she wasn’t quite ready to disturb it. Ben sits on the couch, book in hand. The flames from the fire he’s started dances along his reading glasses. He gently turns a page, lolling his head to the side in concentration. Oh, to be that book. A perfect curl falls onto his forehead. He tries to swipe it away but the gesture is futile. He must be using the products McKay recommended. 

A contented sigh rolls from her lips, catching Ben’s attention. He looks over the couch, a smile springing onto his lips. Looking at the woman leaning against the door frame, his face drops. She is not wearing what he laid out. The blue silk top and shorts hang elegantly off her figure. On any color chip this blue could be overlooked as ordinary or basic. Ben would agree. But this is his favorite shade. It's not about the color itself. It's about this particular shade of blue against her porcelain skin. She becomes a mythical creature only found in the most imaginative minds or in pages of ancient texts. She’s a fairy or nymph glowing brighter than the fire before him. Ben never believed in magic until he met her. 

Swallowing, he offers his hand. “Join me.”

She walks over to him, never feeling as beautiful as when Ben looks at her. He slides onto the floor and Mckay sits between his legs. On the coffee table before them is every sweet and savory horderve she could ever want, paired with two different wines. They eat and drink, talking of everything and nothing. Ben laughs heartily into her back when McKay falls in love with a particular cheese, although it's rather ordinary. 

“What? It’s really good!” She proclaims. 

Ben absentmindedly draws small circles on her thigh. He hasn’t said much but has that derpy grin on his face. He loves to listen to her talk. Her ideas about the world, her balance of compassion and justice, her creativity. Ben wants to hear it all. He hears a good portion but before long, McKay draws him out. Now it’s her turn to be in awe. Ben speaks of the projects that he’s most excited about. He tries his hardest not to drop any spoilers but it’s inevitable when he gets excited. There are two charities he’s thinking about supporting but he’s doing his research and due diligence first. 

“Hey, switch with me.” McKay says, after the food is mostly gone and they are both in that relaxed, satisfied post-food coma. McKay sits against the couch and Ben lay his head in her lap. She lovingly outlines his chiseled jaw with her finger. Tippling his chin up, McKay kisses along his jaw and cheek. Ben smiles, taking in every touch as if it’s their first. HIs heart begins to beat faster and faster. It always does. Once she finds his lips, his pulse skyrockets. McKay feels it ricocheting under her palm as she grabs a fist of his shirt. She explores with a hunger of refined skill and precision. Ben can only hold on for dear life. But once he buries his hand in her curls, changing the angle to deepen the kiss, Mckay loses all grasp of reality. 

Fireworks crackle behind her eyes and she could swear she was floating. Slowly pulling back and unfurling his shirt from her hand, they both pant softly. “Now, what were you saying?” Smiling up at her, he continues. Before long, Ben stops mid sentence, a moan rolling from his lips. This woman is trying to kill him. McKay started massaging his scalp. Through thorough experimentation, she found the perfect amount of pressure and rhythm to make Ben come undone. She eases up a little so he can continue speaking. 

When her hands completely still, he looks up to see her eyes brighten in wonder. Gasping, she eases Ben off her lap and scampers off the floor. She trips on the side of the carpet with a yelp but rights herself before she gets to the window. The night sky swirls with indescribable colors. Greens bend into pinks and purples into oranges. They shimmer in unison with the skill of a well practiced painter. Who knew you could see Aurora Borealis from the Swiss Alps? Ben did. Of course he did. 

Ben comes behind her, wrapping her tightly in his arms. They both stand in awe of the magnificence right outside their window. But Ben is infinitely more in awe of the woman in his arms. He traces her exposed shoulder with his nose. McKay squirms a touch at the sensation. He leaves butterfly kisses on her shoulder and neck, feather light. She releases a breath at the intimate gesture, the inner sting of yearning slowly starting to ease. 

Mckay turns in his arms, nuzzling against his cheek. “Thank you for this. It's literally exactly what I needed.”

“A romantic getaway?”

“No.” She says, pulling away. “You. I just need you.”

Ben places his forehead against hers.

“And I, you. My love.”

[professordrarry]

Shadow Cast 3

Part one, Part two 

Luckily for both of them, the opening notes of the shadow cast introduction began and they stood in their seats as everyone around them settled down. Well, not down. No one really did anything calmly at a Rocky night. It was basically his favourite thing about the theatre. The jeering and the swearing. The complete lack of any propriety.

Tonight, there was tension in his shoulders. What the fuck he had been thinking by inviting Draco Malfoy, king of proper and buttoned-up wit, he would never know. He held his breath through the Virgin announcement, waiting for Draco to storm out. A part of his brain did realise that as Draco was standing beside him nearly naked, there was likely more to him than he currently knew.

An intriguing thought, he had to admit. 

Draco turned to him when the on-stage Brad called for the virgins in the audience to do a quick hip thrust. The look on his face was mirth mixed with intrigue, and as he put his hands on his hips and shoved his hips forward, his eyebrow rose. Harry’s brain short-circuited for the second time in twenty minutes as Draco laughed and let the ridiculous pose drop. “You know,” Draco said in that loud, low whisper people reserved for loud places, “I didn’t think it was going to be possible to lose my virginity again, but I have to admit, I’m already enjoying this immensely.” The grin he wore was wicked, and Harry quickly realised he had made a grave miscalculation. Draco Malfoy was fun. Not only was he fun, but he was also laid back, adventurous, and downright cheeky. And, Harry was suddenly absolutely certain, he was gay as the day was long. 

Now Harry usually refrained from making this assumption; his ‘gay-dar’ was not good. He’d been informed of this by enough people to make him sheepish. But as giant red lips took to the screen, and the people in fishnets on stage started gyrating ridiculously, Harry was so positive that he had made the right call inviting Draco here, of all places, that he grinned a huge grin. 

Draco knew at least half of the things people were shouting. He had a fairly decent memory and Pansy had made him study before coming so he didn’t make a complete fool of himself. He probably would have been doing better at the remembering if Harry weren’t glued to him like a strange, extra-sticky magnet. Even when he wasn’t looking straight at him — rare, if the number of side glances he’d managed was any indication — Harry’s body seemed to be connected to him. Draco could have been imagining it, of course, but it was very difficult to ignore either way. 

/

The Time Warp brought Draco back to reality. He laughed the entire time he did the ridiculous dance. He hadn’t been so happy in a long, long time. This place was electric, addictive. Everyone knew the rules, everyone knew the steps. No one cared who you were or who your father was. No one was questioning whether or not you were throwing your life away, or if you should be further along since you were technically an adult with Responsibilities. All they cared about was if you remembered to call Janet a slut and if you were having fun. 

He threw himself into the pelvic thrust, let his legs go to jelly when his knees fell in tight, and positively went insane. The last chorus found him out of breath and laughing like a lunatic. He turned to Harry to share his joy and found Harry staring, mouth agape, similarly out of breath. His chest above the corset was red and flushed, the wig on his head was slightly askew, and the wildness that stood in front of him made Draco’s heart stop beating in his chest. 

On the stage behind him, the audience was being introduced to their evening’s Frank N Furter, a tall man who was clearly ginger beneath all the black hair dye. Draco didn’t notice. The audience was shouting “Say it, Frankie, Say it” before he even managed to move again, breaking eye contact with Harry as his eyes instead shifted down his chest. He took a deep breath. Now or never passed through his mind, which was ridiculous, obviously. 

Still, he threw himself forward. 

/

Harry wondered, not for the first time, if Draco Malfoy were actually capable of reading minds. He’d been staring at him, gasping for breath, for almost an entire song. His body was frozen, completely incapable of forward motion, as it wrestled with the possibilities. On the one hand, they were surrounded by people who would not give a flying fuck if he positively ravaged this man in front of them. There were no coworkers or tricky history or friends to judge. If not now, then when? On the other hand, finding someone attractive was not a good enough reason to kiss them. Draco had never quite shown anything but indifference to Harry, but he was also standing here shirtless, staring right back. 

Before he worked out what side of this internal battle he was going to land on, Draco had reached out, taken Harry’s hand, and pulled him close, until their chests were flush and their height difference unimportant. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, unless you stop me. You can stop me, of course, but I don’t think I can deny that I want this much longer. You’re killing me slowly with that corset.” 

Harry opened his mouth to— do what, he didn’t know. “That’s your fault,” he said instead. “I want to do far more than kiss you when you are standing in front of me fully dressed for work. I haven’t been able to think since you showed me your costume.” “Why am I here,” Harry?” Draco whispered in his ear. “Am I here for this?” 

He trailed his hands down the boning in Harry’s ribs, tugging the bottom edge of the corset as he went. “Or is it for this?” he asked, stroking his fingers over the pearl beads and therefore brushing Harry’s clavicle. “Or is it for that?” he said gesturing vaguely. “Because I’ll tell you what. I’m here. I don’t have much beyond that. I’m here and I don’t know why, and if you don’t kiss me soon, I might lose my nerve.” Harry moved so fast that he knocked Draco back, unused to his high boxer’s boots. Harry grasped him by the hips and held him close, his mouth ghosting over Draco’s lips. He’d wanted this for so long. It was unreal that it was going to happen. He let himself slow down. The noise settled to a din as Draco’s hands ghosted on his back. 

Then, he gave in. 

Their neighbours whooped and catcalled, and a second later, they were pelted with bits of water leftover from the rain scene. 

Neither of them much noticed. 

- END - 

This self-indulgent ficlet is dedicated to my Rocky family, who quite literally saved my 16-year-old life. At a time when the world was not as accepting of weird or off-centre, the Rocky shadow nights were a place of solace. For the first time, I saw accepted, open-air, non-traditional, non-hetero relationships.  A few of my shadow fam are now in hilarious 9-5 jobs with 2.5 kids. A few have managed to stay weird. A few are no longer with us. I love every one of them still. And every day, I am grateful that smartphones were not yet a thing when I was in highschool, and there are therefore no photos of me at a show... Embrace your weird, kids. 

Love, PD

[task-fr]

C o n t r o l  (Chapter 2/?)

(From left to right: Eultupe, Dregs, & Pthisis. Note: Dregs uses it/its pronouns. )

@fusefr @deadwapiti-fr

Eultupe ran for his life, limbs stretched out beneath him as he fled across the courtyard straight for his father Dregs’ lair, attracting attention and alarm from several dragons going about their business. He failed to notice how one of them quietly chose to slip into the shadows behind him and follow.

Dregs turned to meet his son’s arrival with a smile, but its expression quickly faded into concern when it saw how out of breath Eultupe was. Dregs’ mate, Pthisis, was with it, clearly in the middle of a conversation. “What is it, my son? What is it that bothers you?” Dregs asked gently, reaching out instinctively to straighten the Wolf Cape hanging askew on Eultupe’s shoulders. 

Eultupe pulled away from his father’s touch to check the doorway for listeners, pulling the curtain attached above the open door to disguise their presence before turning back to Dregs.

“It’s Nettle. She’s done something..awful to the twins. They aren’t themselves anymore.” Eultupe struggled to elaborate on what had happened, gesturing frustratedly, but his father got the message, its expression darkening. “So she’s..put them under some sort of spell?” Dregs inquired, its voice soft. Eultupe nodded. “Yes, it was some sort of sigil..I couldn’t read it but it glowed pink, so it had to be Arcane.” Dregs eyes widened in alarm. “If she’s experimenting with Arcane magic..none of us are safe.” It murmured, leaning against Pthisis for support.

Pthisis, scowling fiercely, hissed under his breath. “I should’ve known they’d do something like this. But to their own children? Disgusting.”  He laid a comforting claw on Dregs’ shoulder, who appeared to be shutting down.

Eultupe suddenly felt very helpless in spite of it all. It wasn’t like he openly supported or was against his mother’s rule, but the way she treated his father and those below her like pawns for her own personal gain..it was becoming harder to survive every day. Dregs’ head suddenly snapped up, causing Eultupe to snap out of thought. “And Baal? What of him? How did he react?” 

Eultupe hesitated before answering. “I..couldn’t tell. He was too far away to read.” Whatever spark of hope was in Dregs’ eyes was extinguished, and Eultupe felt progressively worse. Pthisis sensed how dark the mood in the room was getting, and led Dregs over to a rough hewn table sitting in the corner of the lair to sit down. Eultupe followed and sat across from his father, Pthsis choosing to stand next to Dregs for comfort. 

Dregs leaned forward on the table, its head in its claws. “I..I can’t lose any more children. It was worse enough not knowing the fate of you and your nest mates when Nettle cast them out into the Wasteland. I thought it was over with this last nest, especially when you came back.” Dregs lowered its claws and clasped them onto Eultupe’s own talons. It looked at him with tired eyes. “I can’t lose you again.” 

Eultupe didn’t know how to answer to the most soul bearing conversation he’d ever had in his difficult life. He couldn’t promise he wouldn’t die under his mother’s & Sorrow’s rule. But he’d try. Eultupe looked directly into his father’s eyes. “You won’t.” Pthisis laid a claw gently on Dregs’ arm. “Come, Dregs. You should rest.” Dregs sighed, and dragged itself to its feet. “You’re right. I am tired.” It leaned heavily against Pthsis’ shoulder as Eultupe trailed after them, unsure what to do.

As Pthisis got Dregs settled a burst of flapping wings could be heard outside the lair. All three dragons froze, unsure what to think. “A spy?” Pthisis whispered, his jaw clenched. Eultupe nodded and snuck to the doorway to peek behind the curtain, but found nothing but the sight of the setting sun over the abandoned courtyard.  “No one’s there,” he sighed, causing Pthisis to further tense up. “Go. You should leave. It’d be suspicious if anyone else found you here.” Eultupe ignored the slight sting of his words and found himself agreeing with what Pthisis said. It was too late to stop the news now.

[unbottledchaos]

The Greater Good | Ch. 9

Push and Pull

CW: 18+, sex—if there’s anything else I should add please let me know

Previous Chapter: x

Ao3

This is full of sexual tension so enjoy xx

The sun was slipping below the horizon, there was just moments before it would dip completely below. But for now, it was illuminating the willow tree where Jaskier sat; its golden light illuminating the leaves and casting a shadow over the makeshift combat training grounds. He watched two of his favorite people in the world show him how to engage in combat, though he had a feeling he was in for a show.

He pulled at the grass beneath him, filled with worry that his days were numbered with his loved ones, whether that meant his time in the universe was soon to be over or theirs was. He wondered about Ciri. Like Juniper, he thought about her everyday. While Geralt was his best friend, Ciri was a very close second.

“Hey!” He spoke up, but Juniper and Geralt were lost in combat, the sound of their swords ringing in his ears as they connected. They looked angry, like two lions about to kill each other. He wondered what had changed between them. Despite the new animosity, they were still unable to be kept apart. He thought back on the last few years with Geralt, but he was always somewhere else, always thinking about Juniper though he tried not to talk of her often. Everything he felt, he kept inside.

“Hey!” He yelled again, this time standing. They stopped, panting, and turned to him, both of their expressions the same, brows furrowed, jaws set, fists clenched. “How am I supposed to learn anything if all you’re doing is grunting and grumbling?” He set his hands on his hips, then chuckled. His chuckle grew to a laugh. He glanced at his shoes abashedly. “Do you two always plan your outfits?”

Juniper looked down at her own sweat-soaked and dirt-covered clothes, then glanced at Geralt; Jaskier was right, they were wearing similar black shirts and pants, even the boots looked the same. Geralt smirked, but Juniper only ground her teeth in irritation, wondering if her choice of clothing had anything to do with the parts of her that were more Geralt than herself.

“You want to learn, Jaskier?” Juniper called, still looking at Geralt. “Always keep your eyes on your opponent but use your peripheral vision to keep watch of their feet so you can learn to predict their next move.” At that moment, Geralt lunged but Juniper dodged effortlessly, pirouetting away and swinging her sword around. It collided with Geralt’s and the sound rung in her ears.

“When were you going to tell me about our little bond?” She said through clenched teeth, their faces close, so close she could see exactly when Geralt swallowed, the muscles of his throat contracting and relaxing, his skin slick with sweat like her own. His eyes fluttered to her unbuttoned shirt, to the lone drip of sweat rolling down between her breasts. It happened quickly, but it was long enough to distract him. Juniper smirked to herself.

She made her next move knowing she caught him off guard. “Always be one step ahead, Jaskier.” She lectured as Geralt just barely countered her swing.

“What are you talking about, June?” Geralt said calmly, going back to her earlier question.

“When I healed you,” she grunted, blocking a swing at her calf. “When you were dying that night,” She breathed, sliding backward, her boots kicking up dust as the gravel crunched beneath her feet. “Have you known this whole time that we’ve been connected ever since?”

Something flickered across his face as their swords collided once again. They were a perfect match, in more ways than one. “June,” he signed. “what’s the problem here?”

“The problem,” she started but was cut off as Geralt striked, this time catching her off guard. He hooked his arm around her neck and kicked her sword away as it dropped to the ground. He held her arms behind her back, his large hands easily gripping her wrists. She couldn’t look at him, but she could feel his gaze—hot and burning from underneath dark lashes and through the top of her head. “The problem, Geralt, is that none of this is real.” She could feel his strong chest against the back of her head, rising and falling fast with each breath. The intended lesson for Jaskier was long forgotten.

“Of course it’s real.” He growled angrily. His anger came from a place where he had wondered the same things. He wondered if his feelings were real, or hers, if the last four years spent thinking of her constantly was a waste. “Taking on parts of me, all of me, how could you love all of that?” His voice was quiet and low in her ear as his thick arm tightened further around her neck, pressing against her throat just enough that she was struggling to catch her breath.

It had been a long day for the both of them under the sun. Their hair was frazzled, and their dusty clothes were clinging to their sweaty skin. If you looked at them now, it would look as if Juniper was losing, that she was about to withdraw. Her muscles were tired from being in her garden all day, her skin was sunkissed and hot under her clothes, the freckles on her nose revealing themselves. Her hair was barely being held up by her hair tie and it threatened to fall loose at any second.

Without thinking, she ducked, spun around and used her leg to trip Geralt onto his back. She breathed heavily as she towered over him as he lay on his back, dust clouds settling around his figure. He looked up at her in surprise, rubbing the back of his head.

“Who said anything about love?” Her voice rang clear in the silence of her victory. The two stared at each other for a moment, Juniper’s gaze never softening, but Geralt looked up at her tenderly as the weight of her words sunk in. Her eyelids fluttered as she looked away from Geralt and to Jaskier. “We’re done for today.” With that, she spun on her boot and marched toward her garden shed, her sword in one hand and her shovel in other. She walked away, putting distance between her, the Witcher on the ground, and Jaskier clapping triumphantly under the willow tree.

“Encore!” The bard shouted. If combat was filled with that much sexual tension, he might find himself quite good at it.

Geralt jumped to his feet, gravel coating his backside, his fists clenched at his sides. “Just walk away June,” he spat. “It’s what you do best!”

Juniper stopped in her tracks but didn’t look back. Her ears rang with the absence of Jaskier’s applause. Heat crept up her neck and her heartbeat was the only sound echoing in her ears. Just as fast as she stopped walking, she started again. She ground her teeth together, the muscle in her jaw flexing. She flung open the door to her garden shed and threw her tools to the ground. Her hands gripped her worktable as she rocked on her heels. She hunched forward, cradling her head in her hands and stood like that, unable to form a coherent thought as anger coursed through her veins.

"Now that wasn't very nice," Jaskier said to Geralt who turned to the bard and sighed knowing he was right. 

The sound of the door creaking open behind her startled her for a moment as it broke her concentration. She turned to see Geralt’s towering silhouette backlit by the evening light. He had to turn sideways for his broad shoulders to fit through the doorway and to step into the shed.

Juniper rolled her eyes, dropping her hands at her sides. “What do you want, Geralt?” Her voice sounded defeated. The hard work of the day hit her all at once and she was suddenly unbearably exhausted. From her argument and inevitable break-up with Triss that morning to her back-breaking work in the garden to the combat lesson, and now this.

Geralt made his way towards Juniper, ducking his head to avoid hitting the wooden beams on the ceiling. It was dark and cool in the shed. The faint light at the other end of the shed coming in from the greenhouse made it difficult to see, but Geralt’s eyes quickly adjusted. He took in the state of the woman in front of him, her small frame and muscular shoulders screamed exhaustion from her golden hair falling from her hair tie and frizzing in all different directions—much like his own—her rosy cheeks smeared with mud, her buttoned shirt askew on her torso, the hole in her pants revealing a scraped and bloody knee, to the missing lace on her boots.

“I’m sorry, June, about what I said.” Geralt said quietly, looking at anything but Juniper.

She sighed. “Don’t be sorry. You’re right. Running away is the only thing I’m good at.”

“That’s not—” He started, but Juniper interrupted him.

“Did you even try looking for me?” Her voice was a whisper, she looked up at Geralt trying to read him, but it was impossible.

Juniper’s greatest fear was to be alone, to be perpetually by herself. But she set herself up for a lifetime of loneliness because she was always, always pushing people away, out of her life. Eventually, she knew they would be gone; they would leave or they would die. The thought of her own company made her skin crawl, but it was easier, she avoided being hurt by staying alone, yet she was always seeking companionship. Juniper was stuck in the perpetual cycle of wanting the presence of another and trying to run away from them.

His features softened; he took one step forward. “Of course I did. I looked every day. I never stopped.”

Juniper opened her mouth to speak, but wasn’t sure what to say. Geralt took another step forward, he was close now, their belt buckles dangerously close. Juniper backed up but collided with the table behind her. “I don’t know if I was more afraid of never seeing you again, or what would happen if I did.” She spoke quietly. She knew that Geralt could hear her heart pounding in her chest, she was absolutely vibrating with nervous energy. For a moment, she didn’t understand why she shared something so vulnerable with him, but then she remembered the bond they shared. But this time, she wasn’t so furious about it.

Geralt took one last step towards Juniper, pressing himself against her and pinning her against the table. He cradled her head in his right hand, and gently ran his thumb over her lips. He leaned in, their noses touching. Juniper looked into his eyes, searching them. His fingers tangled into the loose hair at the back of her neck, his thumb grazing her throat. Juniper shuddered.

“What are you afraid of?”

Juniper drew in a breath. “This,” she breathed.

Just like that, their mouths met and Geralt’s strong hands were holding Juniper’s head with a gentle ferocity as he let out a satisfied sigh between kisses. Juniper’s hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt in an attempt to bring him as close as she could. She slipped a hand underneath his shirt and dug her fingertips into his back, he moaned and grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged, exposing her throat. His mouth was sloppy but intentional on her neck, then he licked at her jaw, tasting the salt of her skin as he did. He gripped onto her sides and lifted her onto the table, pushing her legs apart, gripping her knees and pulling her to him. She nearly fell off the table, she laughed as she caught herself.

Geralt smiled against her mouth and kissed her once, quickly, his hands pulling apart the buttons on her shirt revealing her bare breasts. They stopped for a moment and stared at each other.

“I’ve been waiting four years for this.” He breathed, kissing her chest. He cupped one breast in his hand, while his mouth found the other, his tongue flicked against her nipple quickly and he held it between his teeth gently. Juniper tossed her head back in pleasure, she was sure the tattoos on her body were coming alive.

Her hands found Geralt’s belt and she tugged, when she fumbled with the buckle, Geralt took a step back and unbuckled it himself, looking at her with a devious hunger in his eyes. Just as he was about to undo his pants, he stopped at the sound of the door creaking open. They froze, staring at each other. Juniper hopped down and wrapped her shirt around herself, crossing her arms. Geralt turned his back to the door and fastened his belt regretfully, he reached in his pants and adjusted himself, so he was less conspicuous about how hard he was.

The stranger who had interrupted Juniper and Geralt was whistling, seemingly unaware of what they had almost walked in on. Juniper laughed to herself and looked to Geralt who was smiling too. She was about to leave, but she stopped when Geralt’s hand shot out and grabbed her elbow.

“I’m not finished with you.” He said under his breath, his gaze smoldering as they left the shed together. Juniper pursed her lips slightly and elbowed his side.

The sun had set completely and the light from the full moon bathed the willow tree in a blue hue, the stars twinkling above Geralt and Juniper as they walked through the garden, one in front of the other coming down from their lust-filled high and settling into a calm satisfaction similar to the feeling you might get when the two puzzle pieces you had been looking for had finally come together.