#and then i got inside and immediately had to repair a light cover

[horrorknife]

i had my alarm set for 3:55 this morning (i had to be at work an hour early today) and ended up waking up at. 2:55. because my body hates me. and then just laid there until 3:52 when i decided to get up. anyway i’m extremely tired and my back is Killing Meeeee

[flurrys-creativity]

Repair work

Pairing: Shownu (Monsta X) x Fem!Reader; Genre: S2L, SMUT, kinda Romance; Rating: MDNI, nsfw, 18+; Warnings: hints of a night out, oversleeping, smut, unprotected sex, sex with a stranger, nipple play, oral (f receiving), fingering, manhandling, kisses; Wordcount: 1.636

Summary: You totally forgot the appointment with the worker, who was supposed to change a device inside of your apartment. So when the door bell rang, you opened the door - barely dressed - which grabbed his attention.

A/N: I feel like writing smut gets harder and harder because of the possibility of repitition. ANYWAY please enjoy this one shot!

You froze upon hearing the doorbell to your apartment. As if a bee stung you, you shot up from your bed nearly falling out of it in your hurry. 

As you grabbed your phone and noticed the appointment lighting up on your screen, you cursed under your breath. You had totally forgotten about the repair worker that was supposed to come today and apparently you slept through each of your alarms.

You cursed again when the doorbell rang once more. Without any more time to waste you grabbed the short dress from last night and put it on, hurrying towards your front door.

You barely covered all your private parts before you opened the door, smiling awkwardly as you apologised. 

The man in front of you - his nametag had ‘Shownu’ written on it - stared down at his pad, simply nodding before he grabbed his tool box and waited for you to lead the way. 

“Yes, of course! This way!” You quickly ran your hands through your hair, hoping you didn’t look as much of a mess as you thought you would. While you led him towards your kitchen you started fumbling with the zipper of your dress again, wishing to zip it up without the worker noticing you weren’t completely dressed.

To your dismay though the zipper was stuck and didn’t move at all.

You showed him the device and hurriedly stepped back. At the same time your eyes shamelessly roamed over the broad shoulders and narrow waist of the worker. He had his overall tightened around his waist, leaving his upper body in a simple but tight, light blue tank top.

“So, uhm, do you need anything or…?” 

Shownu placed the tool box and pad down, turning towards you. As he crossed his arms in front of his chest, underlining his strong pecs, you felt his gaze wandering over your form and halting at your fidgeting hands. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to one side. “Looks more like you could need something.”

You immediately stopped fidgeting and stared at him with wide eyes, feeling caught red handed. “I, uh,” you stuttered some incoherent sentences, pointing from your zipper into the air and back again. “I’m so sorry. This is utterly inappropriate but I’ve been waiting for this appointment for weeks and I couldn’t risk you leaving while I got presentable. So I just threw this on and rushed to the door and I probably look as wasted as I was last night when I went to bed.”

Shownu scoffed and shook his head, stemming his hands into his hips. “If that’s your wasted look then you must be some sort of goddess.”

“What?” You nervously brushed strands of your hair out of your face before you looked down at yourself, only noticing all the flaws right now. “Are you sure?”

Another scoff left his lips before a smile played over his features. “How about I’ll show you how sure I am.” He eyed you up and down again, tonguing the inside of his cheek.

You bit on your lower lip, feeling your heart skip a beat. Of course you immediately got the innuendo and you felt your insides flare up with desire from simply thinking about the pleasure you could have.

It felt forbidden, naughty and incredibly hot to fuck a stranger - a very handsome stranger - in your kitchen or any other place within your four walls.

“Please”, you whispered, dropping your hands from the zipper and to your side. “Please, show me.”

With two large steps Shownu crossed the distance between you, his hands immediately on your waist and around your neck. He pulled you into a fierce kiss and backed you up until your back hit the counter behind you. His hands eagerly groped your flesh, pushing aside the few clothes you wore.

He groaned into your mouth when he noticed you weren’t wearing any underwear at all. His hands ever so slowly pushed your dress up and over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. “You’re incredibly beautiful”, he whispered as his hands almost ghosted over your skin.

You whimpered softly, the situation finally hitting you. At the same time your core begged you for more. You wanted him to go rougher, wanted him to use you like a doll, wanted him to pound you like a little slut.

Shownu kissed along your neck and a trail down your skin, showing his appreciation to every part of your body. He kissed and licked over your breasts, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking on it until it hardened. Shownu gave the same attention to your other side, loving the soft moans and whimpers you made while he pleasured you. He kept his hands on your breasts, playing, twisting and teasing your nipples as he moved further down. He left a trail of licks and nibbles in between.

With one of your hands you grabbed the counter to stabilise yourself while the other found a hold in his hair. You threw your head back when Shownu raised one of your legs over his shoulder, littering the inside of your thigh with more kisses. Your breath caught in your throat the closer he got to your core and your heart made somersaults the second his lips met your entrance.

Shownu pushed his tongue between your folds, slowly fucking you until your legs began to quiver. He stopped using his tongue and focused on your clit instead, sucking and nibbling the little nub. 

He removed his hands from your breasts, using one to grab your leg on his shoulder and the other to tease your entrance. Shownu pushed the tip of his finger into you, groaning when it basically got sucked into your core. He thrusted his finger in and out of you, adding one more after a while. As he increased the speed he even added a third finger, nearly making you scream.

Your whole body shook and you felt your high approaching but before you got to it, Shownu stopped and stood back up. You whined loudly, feeling your high slipping through your fingers.

“Turn around”, Shownu ordered you, grinning slightly when you immediately followed his request. He pulled your hips back to his, letting your ass cheeks be flush against his hard dick. Shownu then pushed your upper body forward, practically bending you in half. “I can’t wait to fill you up.”

You whimpered in anticipation, hearing him rustle behind you. A moment later you felt his cock against your ass again, rubbing the length between your cheeks. Even though you couldn’t see it, you just knew he was big.

Shownu pushed his dick between your legs, rubbing his length along your core now and bumping into your clit with every back and forth he did. He felt your slick covering his cock more and more with every stroke and he just knew he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Shownu placed a hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down even further, giving him easier access to your core. With one swift motion he pushed into you. He let out a guttural groan, feeling how tight you were.

You grabbed onto the counter again, gasping for air while Shownu kept thrusting into you. Having him inside of you, made you feel incredibly full and for a moment you even feared being split in half, yet you wouldn’t want it any other way. 

One of your hands found its way back to Shownu, grabbing onto his tank top. Somehow you needed to feel him - feel more of him.

Shownu grabbed your arms and pulled both of them behind your back, holding you in place as he plunged his thick cock into you over and over again. Even if you wanted to do something now, you simply couldn’t - being completely immobile thanks to him.

Knowing Shownu could manhandle you so easily, drove you even closer to the edge. Your brain turned into mush and all you could think about was his dick inside of you. Begs and pleads fell from your lips like a constant mantra, adding to the almost animalistic growls coming from the man behind you.

After a few more thrusts you came undone screaming his name. All your muscles tensed up at once. 

At the same time Shownu came as well with a loud growl, spilling his seeds into you. Shownu wrapped his arms around your middle, keeping you upright despite your muscles giving out. Once he slipped out of you, he hoisted you up on the counter, grabbing a clean glass from the dish rack and filling it with water before handing it to you.

“You alright?” He asked you as you drank the water in big gulps. Shownu rubbed over your upper arm with one hand and drew circles on your thigh with the other.

You nodded slowly and placed the glass down next to you. “Better than alright”, you smiled, still feeling slightly dopey from the high you had a few moments ago.

“Okay.” Shownu chuckled and shook his head, squeezing your thigh shortly. “Then I’d say I have to repair that piece here in your kitchen and you should prepare your bedroom for when I’m done here.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, surprised he suggested something like this - but not displeased with the thought of it. 

“If you want to, of course.”

You wrapped your legs around his middle and pulled him to you again. Your arms quickly followed around his neck. “I want all of you”, you whispered against his lips, kissing him deeply.

“Then you'd better be ready in ten.”

“I’ll be ready in five”, you told him and kissed him one last time before scooting down the counter and hurrying towards your bedroom.

© all rights reserved  

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​

[greatestrival]

in celebration of star trek day (which i am. three days late to) have this star trek maxiel au from an abandoned star trek au that i won't finish until aos4 comes out. which will probably never happen. but enjoy!!!

879 words.

“Are you staying onboard for shore leave?” Daniel asks.

They’re both in Max’s quarters. Which doesn’t mean much considering Daniel’s quarters are only four rooms away. Though, everyone on the Nomad knows that Max’s quarters have been the Verstappen-Ricciardo quarters since the start of her second voyage. The medical crew would ping Max’s quarters if they ever needed Daniel, same with any urgent messages from the commanding officers. Daniel’s clothes are stacked inside of Max’s closet and Daniel’s blue uniform hangs beside Max’s red on the rack. 

“Max...” Daniel whines. They’re both lying on the bed. These beds weren’t made for two people. Even if both of them have lieutenant commander privileges, Starfleet isn’t particularly encouraging bed-sharing between personnel. They make it work. Daniel is a chronic cuddler and Max is a chronic Daniel-er. 

Daniel is lying on Max’s chest. They’re both wearing loose shirts and shorts. Both of them know that with all the privileges of being high-ranking officers, they have the responsibility of being the first people called in any emergencies. In short, they don’t have the privilege of sleeping naked anymore. 

Max already has his eyes closed and only lets out a short grunt as Daniel pokes him in the chest. The thing is, Max enjoys a good night out as much as anyone whose job is to be cooped up in a skyscraper-sized Starship. But it’s already passed the halfway point of their deep space exploration. Which means that the Nomad will need more reparations and inspections before they can come back to Earth. During shore leaves, it’s the best moment to do inspections since there’s no rush to turn on the warp core for a speedy exit. Max knows it. Daniel knows it too. 

But the thing is, it’s been a while since Max has gone out on a date with Daniel. During their last shore leave, they were running the warp core a little too much after a hostile encounter with some Klingons. Forcing them to retreat after attempting to contact any nearby vessels for aid. Starfleet informed them to dock on a nearby known friendly planet and Captain Horner declared a shore leave as the engineering and operations team worked night and day to fix everything. Safe to say, Max did not have enough time to enjoy the days off. 

Neither did Daniel. 

After the announcement, Max told Daniel that he should spend some time off too. He and his crew were running on fumes after taking care of all the injured. The planet that they docked at was known for their night markets and after a quick search, famous for their grilled—something? Daniel read out loud from an article that the flavour is similar to an Earth grilled barbeque and Max knew that it was one of Daniel’s vices. 

Daniel had taken a look at him and told him that he’d bring something nice back. On the first night of the leave, Daniel showed off all the things that he brought back and hand-fed Max something grilled on a stick. Max had been too tired to notice what it was he was eating other than the fact that it was good and Daniel was feeding him. Then Daniel proceeded to hole himself in Max’s office for the rest of the shore leave and declared himself the “Max recharging station!” whenever Max got too frustrated during repairs. 

It was safe to say that many engineers only had their heads still stuck above their shoulders because of the “recharging station.” 

(What Max doesn’t know is that the engineering department had sent Daniel a box of nuts-free chocolates.)

“Where are we going?” Max decides to say. 

Daniel rolls over him to grab his data pad off the table and the screen immediately lights up. Max scrunches his nose as he tries to cover his eyes with his arm and Daniel says a quick, “Sorry.” 

“Holy shit Max. We’re docking on a beach planet,” Daniel says.

Max mumbles an affirmative. 

“You wanna go surfing? Look, Max,” Daniel rolls back to face Max and tries to shove the data pad in front of his face. Max barely opened his eyes before he turned his body away. 

“Max, c’mon babe.”

Max mumbles—“Whatever you want.”

“Sorry I didn’t catch that babe, what’d you say?” 

Not wanting his sleep to further be interrupted, Max fully opens his eyes before rolling back to face Daniel. He’s scrolling endlessly on the datapad, more than likely just looking at what the planet has to offer. Max huffs. 

“Daniel. I obviously have no preference over what we should do. I just want to enjoy some time with you,” Max says earnestly. Daniel turns his head to look at him, smiling widely. He turns the datapad off and puts it back on the table. Then, snuggles closer to Max until their noses touch each other. 

Max had closed his eyes already when Daniel suddenly asked him, “D’you wanna know something, babe?” 

Max simply acknowledges him with a nod. 

“I like you so much.” Max still has eyes closed but he blindly throws his arm around where he guesses Daniel’s waist is to get them closer together. He uses the opportunity to nuzzle his nose to Daniel’s collarbones. 

“I like you so much too.”

[letsplaydcttrpg]

Racing With the Rats pt 17 - Another Day Another Dollar

Start this module here!

Previous part here!

Links to all posts for this module in the pinned post!

Look at you all being so responsible! (Although to the person who voted to go back home, I feel you.)

You drag your weary body into your office. Miss Tremayne is not there to greet you, though she has left you a note: "Mister Holland - the Sleepease executives' presentation is tomorrow at 3:30." The red light on your telephone answering machine is blinking again. You attempt to play back the message and get only garbled warbling. Great. For a moment, the pain in your head had subsided, but the moment you activated the answering machine it immediately kicked in again. It was almost as if the pain had forgotten to come calling this morning and had to be spurred into action by its sibling. Mr. Green has left a written note as well: "Holland, see me ASAP."

There are a couple skip points if Conditions are in effect, but they aren't ones we have! Is that good or bad?

Miss Tremayne enters your office. "Mr. Holland, the copier's been acting up again! I've called the repair men. They say that they'll be in late this afternoon. "That'll be fine Miss Tremayne, there's still plenty of time to get the packets ready for the Sleepease presentation." You stroll into Mr. Green's office fearing the worst. "Holland, give me a progress report on the Sleepease account." "Well sir, everything seems to be progressing smoothly. We selected a slogan yesterday, and Miss Tremayne just informed me this morning that the Sleepease executives are coming by for a full presentation tomorrow." "All right. We'll need a resource allocation program by that time. I want it on my desk before you leave." "Yes, Mr. Green." "And Holland...I looked over your slogan choice this morning."

Uh-oh. Let's see what he thinks of our choice.

"What is this? Did you look at the market surveys at all? I've barely looked at this data, and I can already recognize some very serious problems with your selection. What are we supposed to tell the Sleepease executives? "I'm not going to make you go over this again because quite frankly, you haven't got the time. You're going to have to make a full presentation to the executives any day now. I'm going to kick this downstairs and let product research handle it. "I just wanted to let you know that you're skating on thin ice here, Holland. Don't let it happen again. And remember, I want that resources allocation by closing." You sit down at your desk and begin to contemplate exactly how horrible your day is going to be. Plotting out an entire research strategy is a grueling and time-consuming process. And to make matters worse, the mysterious buzzing inside your head is beginning to grow in intensity once again. The only real course of action is to roll up your sleeves and get to work.

PUZZLE TIME. Surprise, you didn't expect logic puzzles did you?

So we have a selection of resources we are supposed to allocate, putting the small boxes into the large boxes to cover them. The goal is for the total amount in each large box to meet the total listed there. There's no limit on how many resources can go into each box, but there are some Rules.

Allocating an AIDE to the same arena as an AD SOLICITOR doubles the value of the AD SOLICITOR.

Allocating both AD SOLICITORS to the same area doubles both their values (for a total allocation of $60,000)

The AUDITOR refuses to work in the PRINT arena

Allocating an ACCOUNTANT to the same area as an AUDITOR doubles the value of the AUDITOR

The AIDE can handle the BILLBOARD arena all by herself

The SUPERVISOR can handle any one arena all by himself. He refuses to work if you are going to allocate an AD SOLICITOR to any other arena and refuses to work in the TELEVISION arena

BANK ACCOUNTS may not be allocated to the BILLBOARD arena

Only one resource may be allocated to both the RADIO and BILLBOARD arenas

The GRAPHICS BUDGET may only be allocated if the SUPERVISOR is going to e allocated.

Not all resources have to be allocated

We lost 1 point of Sanity for dealing with this mess. Basically, the way we move on is going to the number of whichever thing we use to fill the BILLBOARD spot. SO! You can try to solve the puzzle if you want to, or you can just choose one of the answers and see what happens! (Or you can cheat. I mean, there's nothing stopping you from ignoring some/all of the rules. All of the tokens have a way to advance, even if the rules say you can't use them that way. I can't stop you. Neither can the game manual.)

Here's our setup! (Note: There's a typo, both bank accounts should say the same P#, I've checked.)

[who-scrambled-my-ocs]

Bring Hell and Waters, High

This little snippet got completely away from me. Enjoy some nonsensical sea dangers and adventure - song refs at the bottom

Word count: 5728

Swish

Blub

Swish

Glub blub

Swish

Blub

The dark liquid swished to and fro as she rocked the bottom of a bottle, holding it up to a lantern light by its neck

Swish

Blub

Swish

Glub blub

She sighs heavily, resting the bottle on her stomach where she laid inside the dinghy-boat on deck, half repaired and swinging in the quiet

“Well this isn’t real, so a swig won’t matter” she mutters to no one, staring at the bottle, rubbing the side of it idly with her thumb

A small piece of cork inside it bobbed along with the liquid, like a ship on rocky waters

Glub blub

Blub

Glub blub

The rumbling of approaching thunderstorms could be heard in the distance

It wouldn’t sink

She sighs and rolls her eyes, popping the cork on top open with her thumb

Before she can think of taking a swig however, something moves on the empty deck

She’s on her feet in a blink, cutlass in hand with the bottle attached onto her belt

She sneers into the darkness

“Show yourself. I don’t take kindly to stowaways, not even in my head. Especially, not in my head” she growls the last bit, all too aware of the havoc that’s been happening to her soul

Souls. Demons. Nasty memories

She preferred dealing with the Mer

She rolls her eyes when the image of Lucas persists in her minds eye at the thought, stretching her wrist holding the cutlass

“I stand by my point. I prefer dealing with fish guts” Abeni mutters, taking a careful step forward

A movement-

Her cutlass sings in the air with her speed and ferociousness, destroying the barrel before her to splinters

There’s a high pitched scream, more movement-

Her blade sings!

Brown eyes-!

“You-! Fuck!” The blade finds itself imbedded in the floor instead, a hairs breath away from the

Kid

Cowering on the floor right beside it, small hands covering their face, ratty hair shaking over it and their eyes

The rumbling in the distance sounded deeper, gutteral, closer

A lil cloth covered piece of glass laid at their feet, a red tinged makeshift dagger

Abeni huffs

“What the hell are you doing here? Fuck mate you know better than to be sneaking around me!” Abeni’s tone is agitated, and perhaps a bit shaken at having almost stabbed her future self

It’s the only reason she hadn’t noticed the state the kid was in, making her wince as a powerful lightning strike struck close, the thunderous sound deafening as the deck got lit up

Open scab marks, bleeding hands and open knees, broken boots drenched in an undefinable dark substance, and frame rattling in its paper thin skin

She could hear thuds on the wood, the scrapes and the groans, and she knew it wasn’t just water hitting the sides of the ship

“Najma did always say you got the worst ones” Abeni mutters, before immediately shrugging off her fancy, thick and warm coat, reaching to pick Odette right up with one arm and haphazardly tossing the coat around her

“Nah nah you ain’t fighting me, hush” she shushes, easily ignoring Odette’s slight attempts at fighting Abeni off in her lingering panic, and wincing slightly as the kids blunt nails dug into her “Yeah, just hold on”

She carries her smaller self over to the sailboat as stuttering and awful guttural moans are heard along the edges, along with the sound of something scratching the wood as she deposits Odie onto the inside of the sailboat, pulling the coat tight around her

“Stay put” Abeni huffs, stumbling back over to the other side to the cabin door, tossing it open and running up to one of the hammered in cabinets, grabbing bandages, salve, a nearly empty bottle of disinfectant-

There’s groans in the darkness-

“Well good thing I still got- ah fuck” Abeni huffs as she pulls up the bottle she’d had swinging on her hip

The cork was crumbled on the bottom, broken apart from dry heat, the same that had absolutely evaporated its contents despite the cork on top

In fact that cork was dried out as well, crumbling inside the bottle with a mere tap of her thumb, making Abeni sigh with a glance at Odette on the sailboat

“No happy-go-lucky dreams around the kid, I get it” she huffs with a roll of her eyes, tossing the now empty bottle to the side and clipping the bottle of disinfectant to her belt instead, one handedly carrying over the rest of the medical supplies as scratching and scrapes got louder in the darkness

“Would’ve probs calmed her down though but whatever. Alright show me your hands- no no” Abeni nudges the coat aside a bit despite Odette’s attempts at hiding “Hey hey, eyes on me. What’s out there isn’t real- Odie” she’s snapping her fingers in front of Odette’s face, making Odette flinch a little and look at her

“Look at me okay. Ya gotta help me with this. I only got one functioning hand and biting off bandages with your teeth sucks. So you’re gonna have to hold it for me. Keep looking here” Abeni goes to work quick, drawing Odette’s attention back sharply any time it seemed her eyes were being drawn to the sounds and shadows beyond the deck

Before long there’s a pile of bandages ready to be used, and the scratching had faded to harsh slapping waves instead, the wood around them creaking from the force

“Okay so this is gonna hurt like a fish slap in the face and then some. If you know fish scales then you know they sting. Here. You can bite my thumb” Abeni hums, unsheathing the small dagger with its wooden thumb from her prosthetic, handing it over to Odette before grabbing the disinfectant she’d prepped

“You ready? Three, two-“ she counts rapidly, quickly soaking the worst injury right before she’s done counting, making quick work of tying the bandage right after

Despite her warning Odette had barely made a peep, her flinch small and her face scrunched tight where she was biting the thumb, waiting for Abeni to be done, which makes her past self chuckle

“Tough mate huh? Well you were me once” Abeni grins wry, wiping Odette’s face but saying nothing of her tears, letting her sit up with a brave little sniff as she tossed the remains of the supplies aside

“So? Ya were fighting a zombi?”

Immediately the crashing waves beyond the deck are replaced by howls and moans, louder and hungrier than before, with nails scratching the wood like chalkboard

Odette immediately has her hands over her ears again, the makeshift dagger she’d dropped before back in one of them, the other still holding Abeni’s dagger

Weapons of two past lives, in inexperienced hands, mirrored in its uselessness for safety by how they felt in comfort

Abeni tsks

“None of that kid, it’s all fake in here. You don’t gotta be living it twice-“

“I’m not a kid”

Abeni raises a brow and snorts out a laugh “Yes you are. You’re a squirt. You barely reach my damn knee and weigh less than a sack of peas. You’re the kiddiest kid to ever kid” Abeni taunts, grinning snarkily at Odette as Odie glowers at her

The waves slap at the sides, the wood creaking ominously as water slapped onto the deck

Her fingers itch by her side, missing a familiar weight

“I’m not-!!”

“S’not a bad thing though. Kids get to be pirates” Abeni interrupts her shout, looking around some of the barrels beside the dinghy, searching for a blanket of some sort while watching Odie with a smug expression “Like me”

Blind eyes stare in the distance-

“Huh-but-but-but-!”

“Buttbutt”

Abeni snickers as Odie fumes

“But-but-Argh! Stop it!” Odie yells angrily at Abeni, annoyed by her relentless taunting and she crosses her arms with a deep glowering pout

Stormy wind whistles around them, the edges of tied up sails flapping-

Abeni cackles

“What? One of them toothless landlubbers grab ya tongue on the way in here?” She taunts with a gesture

Lightning and groaning clashing between each other

Odette breaks the stare-off first, huffing in the face of Abeni’s grinning

“Adults are pirates too. I’ve seen it!”

“Sure. They don’t get to be cool pirates though. Only kids are cool pirates. All the others are lame” Abeni snarks back with a chuckle, watching Odette frown with a hiccup

“Even-even the captain?” She asks incredulously, her brow furrowed above her eyes, pushing and prodding at Abeni’s most painful parts without a clue

She could feel those brown eyes burn a hole in her head

“Especially him” Abeni sighs dramatically, waving her prosthetic arm in a gesture “He was the lamest, dumbest, most boring, lumber-headed-“

“Lumber-headed? That’s not a word!”

“Sure it is! You sassing the storyteller? Rude” Abeni declares, grabbing and noogie-ing Odie’s head with her wooden fist, who shrieks

“Stahp! Stahp you’re pulling my hair! Ahhh!” She yells at Abeni, who snickers as she holds on a moment longer before relenting, rubbing her nose

“Yeah, especially him. Stupid lumber head wanted to become a landlubber. For dumb love“ she tsks, but there’s no real bite to it, turning quiet as she thought about her captain

Former captain

She was still stuck on that

“So because he wanted to be a landlubber, we all had to go find the best treasure of all treasures-“

She doesn’t react as Odette suddenly flinches before her, but she does huff an annoyed groan as she hears something smack onto the deck behind them, a spine-curdling screech following it as it presumably sees them

Between that and Odie’s screaming she was sure her own undeath memory ass was gonna go deaf

“Hey you stinkin’ lily-livered bilge-rat! We’re in the. Middle. Of a. Story!!” Abeni yells, turning deftly in the dinghy while grabbing Odie’s glass shard dagger out of her small hand, pulling back and tossing it full powered at the rotting face standing up beside the balustrade

It sings through the air and jabs full powered through its eye, making it shriek as its tossed right back over the balustrade it’d tried to climb on from the force of the toss

There’s already another hand reaching up-

“Well pipsqueak, guess we got company” she huffs, jumping off the dinghy and running up to the hand, yanking her cutlass from the ground on the way-

The undeath creature shrieks as its hand is chopped off the deck, throwing it off balance and falling back down with a swift kick from Abeni’s boot

“Hah! And stay down ya bilge rat-!”

Lightning thunders above

Lighting up the sea of corpses around them

She grimaces with a step back as undeath eyes look up at her, renewing their efforts to try and climb up the sides at the sight of her

“Ah shit- change of plans mate, we’re setting sail!!” She yells, holding onto her hat as she runs as fast she could to a thick rope tied on the deck, chopping another one on her way

The sails fall down just as she skids to a stop by the anchor wheel, pulling and heaving at it with a grunt

“What are you doing-?!”

“Kid! Get the last sail! Now!” She barks back at Odette, grunting as she turns the wheel “Now!!”

It takes but a second after her bark for her to hear small but rapid boot stomps rush towards the last sail just as more groans are heard from the side-

“What do I do-I dunno-!“

“Toss the rope like a pirate! Pull and heave! Heave!!” She yells just as another corpse climbs up the rope she herself was trying to loosen

A swish of her cutlass, a kick of her boot-

She hears the last sail clack open, feels the rush of the storm blow through it just as she frees the boat from its anchor

The ship surges forward and Odette screams as barrels and boxes start sliding back-

“Hold on kid!” Abeni yells, grabbing a rope and slashing it apart beneath her, lauging as she soars through the air

She lands and grabs Odette, rolling them both away from a rolling barrel and grabbing one of the mast, laughing as the barrel smashes through the balustrade and takes two corpses with it

“Look at you! Winning your first pirate fight!”

“There’s more!” Odie screams, and sure enough, more could be seen on the deck, having been tossed up by the initial surge of the ship blasting forward, with even more clambering the sides

The worst of Odette’s nightmares clambouring together

Abeni simply grins bright as lightning thundered and crashed around them, staring down at the sea of corpses trying to get to them

Hordes. Mers. Other pirates and privateers

What was the difference?

“I know! We’re in quite the pickle aren’t we? But we’ve got a few friends who can help us!” She yells over the storm and shrieks, grinning wry and almost maniacally down at Odette as she pulls up her hat

“Do you trust me?”

Odette looks scared, glancing between her and the ever approaching sea of death towards them

She swallows, and nods

“Atta kid! Now get to the bell while I hold 'em off! Ring it like your damn life depends on it mate! Go go go!” She yells, pushing Odette towards the birds nest, turning to face the horde while fixing her hat

“Like old times” she chuckles, jumping towards a box and pulling out a pistol from nowhere, cracking her neck

“BANG”

“BANG BANG BANG”

The gun is old and shouldn’t work that way, but she didn’t care

It worked because she wanted it to

“Haha!! Take that!” She cheers and cackles, taking out several more before she jumps in with her cutlass, taking out any that tried to get close to the birds nest mast

Odette was climbing, but she screams and scrunches her eyes as the wind howls around her

“Kid!! I need the backup!!”

“It’s too high! I’m-I’m scared!” She wobbles back, hugging the rope ladder tight

“Kid- ah fuck off!” She kicks off another walking corpse away “It’s fucking terrifying, but ya gotta keep going!!” Abeni yells up, tsk-ing as she sees it's doing nothing

Well it wasn’t her nightmare. She couldn’t make Odette believe her

None of them ever could

“Kid-Odie! Odie you did it for your tante!” She yells and grunts as she fights “You were brave for your tante!! You gotta be brave for us now okay?! You gotta be a pirate!”

“But-but I’m not a pirate!”

“Like hell ya ain’t kid! You’re climbing a real pirate's nest on a real pirate ship!” Abeni shouts, kicking and slashing at more corpses

Man these things reeked up close

“And you’re not alone! No pirate ever is! But ya gotta wake 'em dem lumbar-heads first!”

Odette gulps up above, staring down below with a wince before looking back up

The wind still billowed around her, the groans and shrieks still reaching her ears

“Ahahahhaha take that ya scoundrel!”

She gulps, and frowns hard as she steals her nerve, climbing the rest of the way up

“Atta kid” Abeni grins, reaching over to one of the barrels and tossing it to its side, giving a harsh kick towards a bunch of the corpses

“Take that- woah shit!” The ship lurches, tossing several off the deck and nearly her along with it, forcing her last second to stab the ground and hold on-

She couldn’t get back on her feet, and those stupid sacks of meat were crawling towards her now with their jagged nails-

They weren’t the only things

Shadowy Mer, dripping fangs

It was messing with her

She shoots, haphazard and off-aim, lurching this way and that where she held on tight to her dagger

Loosening, moving side to side with her-!

A shadow silently laughing as it tapped some more on its handle

The bell rings, like a siren through the din of groans and stormy winds, making the corpses shriek with every ding it made

Making the shadow dissipate in a shriek

“What the hell happened here-?”

“We’re under attack!”

“Who cut the anchor-?!”

“We’re in a storm!”

It’s immediate chaos on deck, person after person running out from the decks below, rising from the wood, jumping down the ropes, yelling with sword and guns in hand

Hordes. Mers. Other pirates and privateers

What difference did it make?

The crew knew what to do

She cackles amidst the chaos, amidst flying heads and rushing boots, of people flying overboard and swords singing through the air

“Abeni what the hell is going on?!”

“A battle. Now start kicking ass!”

“You couldn’t toss a blanket over it?!”

“Now where would the fun be in that!”

Abeni laughs and slaps Najma’s back, pushing her towards the horde and laughing as she gets a roll of the eyes back

Grabbing her abandoned coat back from the dinghy and tossing it half on, she finds a full bottle of rum beneath it, shining in the low light-

-She uses it to smash another corpses head in, laughing at the shards flying around-

-she runs and grabs another tethered rope, hacking it off from where it was tied and sailing up through the air as the weight on the other side rushed her up

The damage didn’t matter

She lets go, grabbing hold of the rope ladder at the last second and climbing the last bit up

“Ya did it captain! Ya woke up ya trusty crew!” She cheers as she climbs into the birds nest, grinning down a wide-eyed Odette

“Captain?”

“Yeah! You got the crew going didn’t you? You’re the captain right now!” Abeni boasts to Odette, plopping down her feathered hat onto her small head and pushing her to look to the side “Look! Even Toby’s in the action!”

True enough, the blind tank of man was lifting several corpses up with a roar, tossing them at a whole bunch and knocking them all overboard in one shot, making Abeni whoop up above

Odette stares in awe, watching the literal sea of corpses be brushed back into said sea, being hacked and tossed and barrelled down-

“But- you said the captain was dumb-“

“The old captain! You’re a kid captain! A cool one!”

There’s a small grin on Odette’s face

She winces as the ship lurches again, holding tight to the side as Abeni tsks

“Looks like we’re needed back down captain! Ships needs a-steering!”

“But-but where to!? I dunno where to go!”

“Well that’s why ya need a navigator don’t ya?” Abeni grins cheekily, patting her hip “Come on, hop on! Our crew needs us captain!” She cheers

Glancing between the battle below and Abeni, Odette nods determinedly, confidence brimming as wide as the hat on her head as she holds onto Abeni, who sails them down with another rope

She winces, then grins, then laughs as they sail through the air, holding on tight to the bright blue hat on her head as they quickly reach down, jumping off and running to the wheel “I’ve got the wheel!”

“Aye aye captain! Steer us off the starboard!” Abeni yells, visibly gesturing with her arm and cackling as little Odie swung the wheel, holding on tight to balustrade beside it

“You’re sailing the seas captain!”

“I am!”

“We’ll be rid of these interlopers in no time!” She cheers, shaking her cutlass in the air as the ship cut through the tide of death around them, and the cacophony of shouts got louder than the moans and groans and shrieks of before

One shout breaks through above the rest

“Cap-i-tan! There’s something ahead!” Areshe’s voice yells through from where he stood atop the ships bow, his scarf flapping hard in the storm as he pointed

True enough, things were rising out the blood red sea, imposing and large and turning-

Tanks. They were tanks. Because of course IT’d add those too to the medley

Before Abeni can bark orders however, Odette was already standing on a box by the wheel

“Crew! Ready the cannons! Arghhhh!!!” She shouts, waving a cutlass of her own as Abeni cackles

“You heard the captain me hearties!! All hands on deck, Now!!” She shouts, laughing as she slides down a balustrade to join in on the cannon loading, landing next to tattooed blond

“You’re antagonising it, you know”

“So? It’s been picking us off one by one anyway. Kid deserves to give it a good fucking wallop, and so do we”

“Damn straight we do” Elise smirks, helping shove a cannonball into the canon with Abeni, turning it to point

“S’gonna turn Her head into a blender though”

“Eh, we can take it”

“FIRE!!”

The cannons all shoot one after the other, pairs of cannonballs blasting across the sky towards the imposing and terrifying mass of weapons ahead

But instead of impressive BOOMS and BANGS and all sorts of ear-splitting and deafening cacophony, the cannonballs implode upon reaching the tanks, exploding out a massive glittery cloud of purples and magicks

In an instant the vehicles are completely overtaken by plants, thick and strong and purple-yellow, exploding out flowers that spawn more of the plants and take out every other thing following it, sinking it down into glittery red ocean below it

The cheers on the deck are thunderous, louder than the storm clouds above and more cheerful than the groaning dread had been before

“We did it captain!”

“We won!”

“We got the interlopers!”

Odette stands victorious on her box, grin reaching from ear to ear where she held her hands up, accepting the cheers and applaus with all her heart-

The ship bucks!

“Shit what’s happening-“

“We got them all-!”

“The ships gonna capsize-!”

“What in the Davy Jones’s locker-“ Abeni looks up just in time to see a massive head breach the surface of the water, big blackened eyes set deep and glittering in the starless night, with massive limbs following as its screeches through rows of teeth-

The Kraken

Odette hadn’t been only running from her own nightmares

She had run straight into Abeni’s, as the storm had forewarned

Her own words drift by her ears

‘Najma did always say you got the worst ones’

“Oh for fucks-“

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence before one of the massive limbs races towards them all, crashing onto the deck and swiping across it

Abeni narrowly dodges it, laying flat against the side as everyone goes flying, the remaining balustrade shattering to smithereens

“Look out-!”

“Ahhhhhh-!”

Another smack and swipe, and the deck is laid bare-

“Abeni!”

She looks up to see Odette was clinging to half a wheel, the other half splintered away, staring at her for help as more limbs raise up in the air-

Something swings to the side

“Kid!! Get to the dinghy!” She yells, a bit of panic seeped into it despite herself

It just felt too real

She didn’t know how to change her own nightmare

Her own memory

She’s dragging herself to the swinging little boat as she sees Odette jump into it, dodging a limb breaking through the deck floor and using the edge of that hole to pull herself up, rushing towards the dinghy boat

‘You couldn’t toss a blanket over it?’

She lets out an almost hysterical laugh as she grabs the cover of the dinghy and tosses it over their heads

“What are you doing? We can’t hide under here!”

“Sure we can! See!” Abeni hehs weakly as the sounds of crashing limbs and roaring monster dims as soon as the cover covers them, turning their little spot dark, save for the small lantern that Abeni had placed there earlier

That felt like hours ago

Maybe it had been hours

She flinched as she hears another muffled roar, the space they were in rocking left to right on its ropes

“I don’t understand! That’s my friend!”

“Huh?!”

“In the aquarium! I met-I met an octopus and it was nice! It played with me”

Abeni barks out a near hysterical laugh at Odette’s words

“This one isn’t our friend from the aquarium mate. This one hates our land-guts very much” she says rapidly, holding on for dear life to the small boat

She hoped it’d at least stay afloat once the ship-

Something splinters and snaps outside the covers, something big

Shit. That must’ve been the sail

“What’re we gonna do?”

Hah! Hahah! Fuck if she knew!

“I-I dunno” she stammers, cursing the panic “I never meant to lead us here. I made a mistake”

Just like in real life

Doomed to repeat your failures

“I led my crew and us to our doom”

“Huh? But that’s not true”

Abeni laughs but Odette pushes on “It’s not! You said so! You said you were all searching for the euhm, best treasure of all treasure!”

“Don’t see how that changes where we are-“

“You’re the navigator! You lead the ship!”

“So??”

“So? That means that-that big monster is guarding the treasure!” Odette waves her arms, determined and utterly confident in the words she’d uttered

She was just a kid

“Odie-“

“No! I’m the captain! And-and I order you to continue us to the treasure!” She points with a determined frown at Abeni, demanding her to do her job

She was just a kid

“Do you trust me?”

Well

So was She

Abeni snorts, a definite hysterical note to it as she nods “No rest for the lily-livered pirate scum huh? Fine! Fine!! Aye aye captain- hold the lantern” she tosses it over to Odie, digging in her coat

She pulls out a map and Her Tools, slapping them on the plank seat between them and immediately got to work

This was ridiculous

She’d done stupider while drunk

“There! Fifty degree port side should get us to the X” she says, tapping the map, wincing a bit as they’re almost tossed out their seats by a lurch of the ship

Odette simply grabs the compass out of the air

“Get me to the wheel!”

“Aye aye captain!”

Grabbing Odette round the middle, she tosses off the heavy cover, yelling as the dinghy swings violently

She manages to stay on her feet, immediately turning her cutlass to stab her way up to the wheel, teeth gritted so tight she was sure they’d break

Tossing Odette the small rest of the way, she holds on tightly to what was left of the balustrade

“Turn!”

“Aye aye Navigator!”

There were holes in the deck

The sails had been smashed to smithereens

There was no balustrade left

This ship would Break before ever reaching treasure

It would not return home

“Ab-Abeni! I can’t- I can’t turn it!” Odette yells and grunts, her small bone-y arms struggling to turn half the wheel that was left

Scrambling, Abeni is behind her in a blink, holding tight above her small hands

“We’re headed straight for it!”

“The compass says we have to!”

“Then we’re charging forward!!”

Both yell loudly as the bow turns straight for The Kraken, aiming straight for its face, aiming-!

The creature screeches as it pierces through its eye, black putrid liquid gushing out-

“Abeni-!!”

The ship bucks, cracks, and explodes as a limb comes crashing down the middle, sending both of them flying

This was it

She’d usually drowned before even seeing the ship break

Flying in the air was new

She sees wide eyes staring down at her, the hat starting to fly off, the panic setting in in flailing limbs moving so slow-

She grabs her arm and pulls her towards her chest, shielding her head as they plummet down towards the water-

The cutting slap of water breaching

The rush of air bubbling past their ears

The helpless pull of the waves and plummeting debris

The darkness

Sinking

Sinking

Sink

.

.

.

..

…

….

She should sleep now

….

…

..

.

.

.

Tap tap tap

There was something tapping her shoulder

Tap tap tap

Wary eyes open to sparkling lights, blurry for a moment as bubbles-

Bubbles?

-drifted out her mouth, but no sound followed it.

Tap tap tap

Odie’s small hand is tapping her shoulder, pointing towards a sunken submarine

‘Look!’ She signs underwater, gesturing rapidly at the wreck ‘We found it!’

‘Huh?’

‘The treasure! It’s there!’ Odie signs once more, before swimming away from Abeni towards the sunken ship, turning only once to gesture rapidly ‘Come on!’ She says, swimming ahead as Abeni just stared bewildered

‘Are we dreaming?’ Abeni asks no one, pausing only a moment before swimming after Odette

She pauses by the entrance to look down, snorting and laughing soundlessly

A mantis shrimp sat there, holding two sticks, quietly knitting seaweed into a scarf

It looks up at her, and she has a feeling it was tutting at her

‘We are gonna be exhausted’

Abeni snorts again and just shrugs at it, gesturing loosely

‘You think I’m still in control here? I lost the plot ages ago’

The mantis shrimp moves as if it is sighing, before scuttling off with its little knitting needles, furiously continuing its seaweed scarf as Abeni laughs

Tap tap tap

‘I’m coming I’m coming’ she signs as her coat is tugged and tapped at, snickering as Odie grumbles ‘You know what’s happening?’

‘We’re finding treasure, duh’

‘Duh. Of course’ she snorts, following after Odette towards the middle, lit up by some light somewhere above, passing small schools of fishes as they go

They reach the mound, and Odette is already digging

‘Help me!’

‘Aye aye captain’

They start digging with their, swirls of sand dusting up the water around them until they could barely see

But once it settles there’s-

‘Treasure!! We found it, we found it!!

Shells. Little trinkets. Small bones

Crystals. A magnifying glass. A little wand

A music box. A shelled vest

A little octo plushie

Abeni chuckles as she picks the last one up

‘The best treasure of all treasure huh?’ she muses as she holds the little beady-eyed thing

‘Not so scary when you’re this small’

She sits cross legged on the sand as Odie pulls out one Treasure after the other, parading them around and cheering soundlessly in this quiet and peaceful scape of fish and sea critters

A little reef from a little beach trip not that terribly long ago

….

…

..

.

She could sleep now

.

..

…

….

—————————

“What happened to you?”

Hair sticking out in every direction with the most bleary-eyed expression possible, Sia slowly turns her head, her shoulders covered under her thick comforter where she stood

“You look like you went on euhm, what’s that word you use?”

“Blender” Sia mumbles as she takes a seat at the table, groaning a little as Neora chuckles across her “I think I was a shrimp”

“Shrimp?”

“Rainbow. Mantis” she mumbles as Evan chuckles sympathetically

“Well Yellow is out right now but he left some herbs in the cabinet. I’ll make some tea-“

“Coffee”

“Tea is healthier you know-“

“Coffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee” Sia draws out, making Neora laugh as Evan snorts in the kitchen

“Aye aye Ma’am”

“That’s captain to you”

“Pffft” he snorts as Neora continues laughing at the table, with Sia lowering her head down for just a little snooze

…

….

..-!

“Here we go, fresh brewed coffee-“ Evan says, placing down a pot of coffee “-and your mug and cinnamon-“

He’s not even done speaking before Sia is grabbing the pot, popping the lid off and chugging the entire thing

“Ahh” she smacks her lips once she’s done, grabs the cinnamon and turns to leave, waving the small jar as she goes

“I’m taking another nap” she yawns out, comforter billowing out behind her like a cape or a coat, and they can distinctly hear her humming some tune as she goes back up the stairs

…

“Did she just shotgun that whole pot and take the spice to go?”

“Yes. Yes she did”

Neora snorts, laughing with her hand over her mouth as Evan blinks at the staircase, snorting and chuckling himself as he turns to the empty pot

“Tea?”

“Please”

———————————-

“You know I still think we could’ve- we could’ve turned the ship into a robot”

“And how pray tell where you going to do that while the Kraken was tearing the thing apart?”

“Through the compass! I would’ve-wouldve put it in the euhm, slot of the wheel-“

“Slot of the wheel”

“Yes! Yes like so-“ Odette is scribbling on a page with a yellow crayon, detailing the steps as Abeni snorts “-like so! You just had to euhm, turn the wheel a secret combination and it’d appear!”

“The ship was made of dead wood”

“Yeah but the compass would be magic! And once you plopped it in, it would-it would transform the whole ship-“

“Like in warrior turtles-“

“Euhm it’s ninja turtles, and no like in transformers!”

“Transformers? You’re making stuff up”

“I’m not! I saw it on the tv! You put the power thing in the slot and the whole ship would’ve transformed”

Abeni is snickering as Odette tries hard to give her serious idea!

“Stop laughing!”

“Okay okay I just- what would’ve it transformed into?” She signs amused, watching Odette frown and tap her chin underwater

“Like euhm, like euhm, so-“ she moves back to the papers, her hair moving gently in the water as she scribbled away, her lower half floating a little in the water

She thinks she sees a cuttlefish with a red scarf scuttle by

Odie quickly shoves a completed drawing in Abeni’s hands, tapping it

“See?”

It was the ship

And Abeni’s navigator tools

Turned into crab arms

“A crab? You’d use a magic compass to turn a ship into a mech-crab?”

“Uh yeah? It can snip, walk on land and swim! It can totally fight the Kraken by-by snipping all its arms off!” She gestures rapidly with her hands

“That’s brutal”

“Eh, they can grow them back in euhm, 130 days. I read it in a brochure” Odie nods sagely before shaking her fist “That’ll teach it for being a bully”

Abeni laughs, bubbles bursting free from the force of it, hugging her stomach as Odie keeps shaking her fist

“Dang right. Alright tinker, better continue those build plans”

“Blueprints”

“Yeah yeah, smartass” she teases, poking Odie’s side as she giggles before both grab a crayon once more

“I’m gonna call it Snippy”

[unravelingwires]

Roose

Viola, who really disliked her name, trampled through the underbrush, following the scent of blood. She had read a lot of Romantic musings on British moors, but in person, they were incredibly disappointing. No wonder they knew so little mercy if this was the best their God could do for them. The blood itself was mostly uninteresting: it was just animal blood, in fact, which was disappointing considering the stories she’d been hearing. As the smell of blood got stronger, Viola began noticing bones embedded into the ground, but even these seemed off. There was no rotting flesh, no chunks of fur, only gleaming white, artfully placed, fully preserved femurs and ribs. There were no skull parts at all.

The shack—because it was undeniably a shack, not a home or a makeshift shelter—was small and dirty, but clearly carefully repaired over time. That in itself was strange. Viola thought she was searching for an extremely young vampire. How had they had the time to rebuilt their house multiple times?

A curtain hang in the place of a proper door, so Viola knocked a little to the side. There was no response. She stepped inside.

Vicyoria was hit, immediately, by the stench of roasted meat and burning hair. She slid to the side to put her back to the wall before jerking back as the shadows in the corner began darkening and creeping towards her. Viola had enough time to survey the room—one room, covered in trinkets, shelf to her left, rapidly dimming light from the windows—before something slammed into her back from above. 

Viola twisted and rolled, drawing her talwar and slicing wildly outwards in one motion. A woman, fanged, clawed, and wearing a torn but modest dress, had landed in a crouched position, almost on all fours.  “I’m not trying to harm you,” Viola said, internally wincing. That might have been more convincing if she hadn’t just attacked the woman with a sword.

The woman just laughed, leaping forward out of her crouched position to claw at Viola’s face. Viola switched sword holds around to smack the woman with the spiked hilt, sending her stumbling back. The woman lunged again, and Viola lazily flicked the sword to block her. Even if she was older than Viola thought, this woman clearly hadn’t picked up any abnormal reflexes or speed. Viola slid backwards enough to get out of range, then sheathed her sword. 

The other woman didn’t calm at the disarming. She moved forwards to strike at Viola’s shoulders, clearly trying to prevent further swordplay. When this didn’t work, she flung herself into the nearest shadow, which obligingly darkened enough that Viola lost track of her.

Viola slid to the center of the room, the shadows lengthening after her but never quite touching. She focused, but all she heard was a whisper on the wind before a hand that grabbed her by the neck and shoved her against a wall.

“Should have kept that sword out,” the woman whispered. She wasn’t as strong as Viola would have expected, but she was strong enough to just begin to crush Viola’s windpipe.

Viola felt her own trademark rising inside her. Even to herself, the outlines of her arms became indistinct and blurry. She felt the weight shift as the woman seemed to become confused before she was unceremoniously dropped to the ground.

“What in—” the woman blinked. Viola took a step to the side, another, and watched as the woman’s gaze failed to follow her.

“Sister,” Viola said as neutrally as she could, “you’re clearly more experienced than we expected. I apologize for my interruption. As you need no initiation, I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait, stop—” the woman called. “I don’t know—initiation?”

Viola blinked, lessening her trademark slightly. “You have been one of us for half a century at least.”

The woman’s gaze snapped to her. “I’m… what?”

“A vampire.” Viola took half a step forward. “When were you turned?”

“I… don’t remember, but it must have been half a century already, perhaps more.”

“Half a century.” The woman was gaunt, now that Viola was really looking at her, and ludicrously pale, like she didn’t drink often enough. She had gentry airs, but barely, like she’d given up on conscious posturing and all that was left was habit. They were in Britannia. “Half a century, and you never met another vampire?”

“I thought I was a witch,” the woman said, voice dazed but focused. “I thought I was…”

“My name is Viola. Victor, if we’re in company.” 

“Cat. Catriona.”

[etherealxwitch]

Fair Play

Pairing: Eddie Munson x AFAB!Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie and reader go to the fair for some much needed fun ;)

Warnings: Smut (minors DNI), pet names, v fingering, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), spit, cum play, public sex, spanking, cream pie, some fluff

WC: 2.4K

(this is a filthy one! Reminder: feedback is greatly appreciated!)

It’s officially summertime in Hawkins. Summertime means everyone out and about, hot sunny days, and the annual fair. Hawkins wasn’t a town that had much going on, so we all looked forward to the fair. This year was no different, everyone was waiting for the fair to happen waiting for some fun.

This year you boyfriend, Eddie, got a job helping set up for the fair. He needed some extra money to repair his guitar. Luckily, him helping with the fair means that you two got in for free.

The crowd was buzzing, everyone seemed so stress free walking into the fair. It was odd to see everyone in Hawkins happy for once. Hawkins was never an easy town to live in.

You walked through the entrance and your eyes lit up, “thank God we got in for free, I did not feel like covering that fee.” Eddie smiled at how happy you seemed and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close.

You felt his soft lips on your forehead, and you sighed with content. “Food first, rides second?” Eddie practically pulled you to one of the food stands, “I’m starving after setting this all up.” The both of you ordered food and quickly scarfed it down, “I’m so full, but now the rides are calling our names.”

Watching Eddie beam with happiness just warmed your heart, he deserved to be happy.

Eddie pulled you into one of the roller coasters long lines. He hugged you from behind, his lips pressing light kisses against your neck, “Eddie, can you keep it in your pants just while we’re out?” You laughed at your horn dog of a boyfriend.

“I can’t help it, baby. That little skirt you’re wearing is absolutely killing me,” you could tell he was smirking just by the tone of his voice. “If you aren’t careful, might just have to take you out to the van and give It to you like I know you love it. Eddie’s voice was right next to your ear, and you couldn’t help but let out a little gasp.

You didn’t have time to react as it was your turn to get on the coaster finally. The coaster cart wasn’t the biggest, yours and Eddie’s knees bumping against each other. Eddie helped you get buckled in before buckling himself in. “You excited?”

Eddie nodded his head, “of course, you know what a thrill seeker I am.’ He rubbed his hands together in excitement and you couldn’t help but laugh.

As the ride started, you felt Eddie’s cold hand on your thigh. You tried your best to ignore it, but the more the coaster moved forward, the more his hand moved up your thigh. The smirk on his face was huge. You couldn’t deny the wetness pooling in your panties, you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you and not stop.

Just as the ride went faster, Eddie pressed a finger to your clit before sliding it into your now soaked cunt, and you bit your lip to keep your moans quiet. He knows just how to move his fingers, hitting that soft spot inside you immediately. What got you though, was his fingers paired with the vibrations of the coaster. All of it together had you rolling your head back, trying to hold it together. Eddie just kept curling his fingers upward while his other hand spread your legs as much as he could.

“Look at you taking my fingers like a fucking whore. I’ve taught you so well, haven’t I?” A small moan escaped you and he chuckled next to your ear, “feels so good that you can’t even speak?”

To anyone else on the ride, it just looked like two lovebirds having fun, but little did people know was your boyfriend was making you cum on a fucking coaster.

Right as the ride had ended, your orgasm hit you fast Eddie’s name softly falling from your lips. “What a good girl you are, for me.” Eddie whispered, pulling his hand out from under your skirt and licked his finger clean, looking you dead in the eye. “And you taste so sweet too.” He was going to be the death of you.

You quickly stepped off the coaster, Eddie having to help since your legs were a little wobbly. Eddie laughed from behind you, “Already so weak, huh?’

The glares you gave him were enough to make him act wounded. This man cannot help himself when you are around him.

He pressed his chest to your back again and you could feel his very hard cock, “Who knew that a coaster would get us so horny.”

“Eddie, I swear to god if you don’t take me out to the van-,” Eddie grabbed your hand and led you towards the funhouse. “Don’t you worry I set this place up, I know a good secret spot.”

He took you in through the back, straight to some room. Once he locked the door you were on your knees. Your hands quickly went to palm his cock through his jeans, you could feel the groan that escaped vibrate through his body. You looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes and your best smile. “You treated me, now let me treat you.”

Eddie lifted his shirt and you pressed kisses right above where his jeans were, letting your teeth at his soft skin. “Oh, you’re gonna be a tease?” All you did was shrug your shoulders, beginning to unbuckle his belt, “I’ll be whatever I want to be.”

Just as you were about to pull down his pants he stopped you, “open your mouth baby.” You did as he demanded you to do. You felt him spit right down your throat. “God, I got the biggest slut as a girlfriend, and I love every bit of it.”

He watched with proud eyes as you swallowed his spit and quickly pulled down his jeans and boxers. “Just wanna suck your cock.” Before Eddie, you were never really one to give head, but this man had changed you. You were addicted to the feeling of his heavy cock in your mouth.

You couldn’t help the moan you let out as his cock bounced in your face before hitting his lower stomach. Drool fell from your mouth at the sight of him, you’ve never seen a more perfect cock. Eddie’s cock was just so inviting. You wrapped your hands around it (as much as your hands could fit) which caused him to buck his hips slightly. You just giggled and leaked at his leaking slit, “Fucking shit, you can’t do this to me.”

What took Eddie by surprise, stopping all the talking he was doing, was when you kissed down his shaft before putting his balls in your mouth. Every part of him needed your attention. You hummed against them and giggled a little hearing Eddie moan out. You used a hand to pump around his cock as you kept sucking. Drool was around your lips, making a noise with every suck.

Big brown eyes stared down at you and a shiver went down your spine. Eddie was a god and you wanted to worship him.

Finally, you kissed your way back up his shaft. Eddie carded his fingers through your hair and grabbed at the base of your neck. He pulled you forward, using his free hand to tap the head of his cock against your wet tongue. “If you’re just gonna be a teasing slut, I’m just gonna have to take what I want.” He slid his cock down throat, causing a tear to fall from your eyes. “Love it when you cry for me.”

You quickly bobbed your head up and down his cock, using. Eddie shivered with pleasure when you kitten licked right under the head of it. You knew all the spots to make him weak for you.

He thrusted his hips and you couldn’t help from the obscene gagging. Eddie’s cock made your throat burn, but you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted to feel his thick, hot cum flow down your throat. “H-holy shit, such a good mouth for me, fucking perfect.”

One of your hands slid up his thigh and cupped his balls. Just as he felt your hands give them a couple of squeezes, his hips came to a sudden halt. Right before he could cum, he pulled his cock from your mouth. A pop sound echoing in the room.

“Wanna cum on that pretty face of yours.” You felt his balls tense up, “God – I’m,’ his words were broken up as he coated your face with his cum.

Eddie leaned down to lick his cum off your face and gave you a smirk. Immediately you knew to open your mouth so he could spit in it. “Such a dirty cumslut for me.”

You stuck out your tongue and showed him his spit mixed cum. “That’s my girl,” you swallowed and gave him a smile.

“You taste so good, Eds.”

“Yeah? Well, I fuck better.” You knew he fucked good but hearing him say that made butterflies swarm in your stomach. This man could go absolutely hours, his cock was always hard for you.

Eddie pulled you up off your knees and turned you around, so your ass was facing him. He bunched your skirt up around your waist before ripping your panties off.

You gasped, “you owe me a new pair of panties, dammit.” He didn’t answer, just slapped his hand against your wet cunt. The slap made you lunge forward, causing you to brace yourself against the door.

He ran his fingers over your slit, barely making any contact. “Did me getting you off in public make you this wet?” The only thing that left your mouth was a tiny whimper, but that seemed to satisfy him enough.

“I’m gonna fuck you like the whore you are. M’gonna make sure everyone in this fair knows that you’re getting fucked.”

You felt the familiar sensation of the tip of his cock rub your clit, “Eds please, need to cum around you so bad. Wanna feel you so deep inside me.” The neediness you felt was taking over your body, you just wanted him so bad.

Eddie slid in, quickly bottoming out deep inside you. You slammed your hand against the door, “you are absolutely soaking me, baby.” He grabbed a hold of your hips, hard enough to leave a bruise. “Gonna give you everything I got.”

“P-please, Eddie. Love the way your cock fits so perfectly inside me.”

He pulled his cock all the way out before sliding back in. His balls hit your clit with each thrust of his hips, causing you to throw your head back. There was that familiar burn, but it only made the pleasure better.

A familiar sting of Eddie’s hand spanking against your ass sends electricity through your body. “Love the way your ass bounces for me, so nice and round.” Eddie’s favorite body of yours was by far your ass. It was the perfect shape, and he could never get enough of it. He spanked harder, enough to have a handprint welt on your cheeks, but you didn’t complain. You let out a string of profanities.

“Goddamn, Eddie.” The sting of the spanks felt so good, only adding more fuel to the fire inside the two of you.

The moans that were leaving your mouth were borderline pornographic, he was just hitting every spot so good. “I-I can feel in you my stomach, fuck me.”

The sounds of your wetness and skin slapping together were echoing off the walls of the small room you were currently in. It was making everything so much filthier.

“Look at you taking my cock so well. You’re dripping down your thighs and soaking my fucking balls.” Eddie threw his head back and pulled your hips back against his cock. “This pussy is mine, isn’t it?”

“All yours Eddie, all fucking yours.” Your eyes were rolling in the back of your head. The pleasure was so much and not enough all at once.

“Wanna fill you up so much, baby. My cum is gonna be leaking out of you. My little slut.” Eddie was snapping your hips so fast, and you were seeing stars. What brought you over the edge though was Eddie pulling your back against him and wrapping his hand around your neck and squeezing just enough to cut off some of your air. “That’s it princess, cum for me.”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Legs shaking and your body on fire.

Feeling your walls tighten around him as you came caused Eddie to cum right after you. All you could hear was him grunting and groaning as he rode out both of your highs. “Always wanna cum in this pussy, always wanna make you feel good.”

Sure, enough after he pulled out his cum started to leak out of your pussy. Eddie couldn’t have that, so he scooped up what leaked out of you and shoved it back inside, “C’mon, don’t let it go to waste.”

You stood up and tried your best to not fall over. “I will never get over your cock.” You leaned up and kissed his lips and he bit at your bottom lip. “You always know how to make me feel so good.”

“You won’t ever get over it, I can promise you that.”

Aftercare wasn’t on your mind tonight as you had to hurry up and leave the room before anyone could catch you.

The both of you quickly got dressed and walked outside, people giving you judging looks. You didn’t think people could really hear you over the music playing, but I guess you were wrong. Eddie and you couldn’t help but laugh with each other.

You can check doing it somewhere in public off the list now. Never thought it would be at a fair, but neither of you could complain.

“Now, let's see how innocent we can be and actually do something other than each other at this fair.” You didn’t know why you said that as Eddie’s warm cum slowly dripped down your thigh, but you did your best to agree.

Eddie just laughed and held your hand, “I’ll win you a stuffed animal for being my good girl.”

The two of you were webbed into each other’s bodies. There was no untangling going either of you.

[uglypastels]

idk if anyone’s requested this one already but for your Spotify Wrapped thing!!

Eddie Munson + #88 (Edge of Seventeen)!! 👀

i sure am taking my damn time with these oh lord. but i feel like I'm slowly coming back so please be patient everyone <;3

with this, i kind of went off with the vibe the song gave me. I mean, that's usually what I go off, but like, specifically, the energy I felt of the story the song tried to portray-- anyway, no one cares. I hope the fic is good

warnings: mentions of not-so-happy home life. angsty but more comfort in the end.

masterlist. || join the Stranger Things taglist

The first time you saw Eddie Munson was in the summer before Junior year. It was an unforgettable summer for many reasons. One of many being how sweltering the days were and how slowly they seemed to pass. When you were younger, you wouldn’t have wished for it to be any other way. Weeks of the sun going up and down slowly. School couldn’t be further away. 

But now, you were stuck outside for hours, helping your mom repair the trailer. The sun was burning at your shoulders, sweat dripping down your back. You were covered in paint, and everything smelled like the burning rubber of the broken grass mower you had tossed aside after it failed you once again. 

That is how he found you— if he had even noticed you, that is. 

You heard him before you saw him, though. The car drove slowly across the gravelled road, sputtering and roaring until it stopped at the trailer next to yours. Mr Munson opened his door moments later, greeting the newcomer. The boy that stepped out of the car was a complete stranger. Wearing a black tank top and ripped jeans, his hair was much shorter than these days but already messy and a cause for concern in any “proper” suburb. The two greeted each other, somewhat somberly, you noticed. 

Now, it wasn’t your intention to stare, but for once, something new was happening around the trailer park, so your interest was immediately spiked. You watched the boy pull out the duffel bag from the car and head inside after Mr Munson. He left the door open. 

You didn’t see him for the rest of the week but knew he was there by the loud music he played inside the trailer anytime Mr Munson left for work. The guitar solos would blast through the thin walls at any hour of the day or night. At first, you thought it was annoying, as he played it in the middle of the night, and you tried to sleep, but eventually, you got used to it. Over time, it became a comfort. Especially when the noise inside your own home got too much. It was nice to focus on something else from time to time. 

Of course, it was not appreciated by all neighbours. The times someone came out in their bathrobe and slippers to bang on the Munson door were more than you could count. And each time, he would poke his head out of the window, no point in going to the door, endure the annoyed yelling, just to reply with a smirk that the shouting was more of a nuisance than he was.

‘People are trying to sleep, ma’am,’ he’d smirk, ‘please, try not to be so loud.’ And he would sneak his head back inside, close the window, and lower the volume—just a little. You could still hear it. 

Another few days went by before you learned his name. Inside your trailer was getting a bit too much for you, so you sneaked out to get some fresh air. Most of the lights around you were out. The sun had gone down hours ago, so it must have been late. You sat on the steps in front of your door, looking up at the stairs, catching a few deep breaths when you heard something rustling in the grass. Curious and a bit scared, you turned in the direction of the sound. Someone was walking around, their silhouette illuminated by the moonlight; you could just about make out the action they were performing. It was undeniable– with a thin strip at his lips, and the smoking rising around him as he walked… 

However, he was making his way back home now and saw you sitting down. 

‘Hey,’ his voice was deep but soft, raspy from the smoke he had inhaled. 

‘Hi.’ You tried to smile, and make your first impression somewhat decent. Hopefully, the dim light coming from inside your trailer didn’t expose your tear-stained cheeks. It didn’t matter, though, did it? You could hear every note that he played; he must have heard every word that was being screamed around by your parents. 

‘Would you like to come inside?’ He pointed back at his own trailer. ‘I was about to eat something, so–’

‘I would like that, yeah.’ You got up, brushing the dust off. As you stepped inside and he turned the lights on, you still had not introduced yourselves. You were greeted with a cosy-looking living area, the top of the walls covered in mugs and hats, and plenty of blankets thrown about the couch. The kitchen was dirty, but in a just-used way, with a heap of plates filling the sink. 

‘My uncle made shepherd’s pie yesterday so I was just going to warm that up, is that alright for you?’

‘Yeah, sounds great.’ So he was Mr Munson’s nephew, one mystery solved. 

While he heated up the food in the microwave, you looked around a bit more. The trailer felt so warm. Not because of the summer heat still leaving its mark all around the air, but– well, you couldn’t describe it exactly. It was something about how comfortable you felt around just standing there, looking around at all the trinkets. 

‘Eddie,’ he handed you your plate, confusing you.

‘Sorry, what?’

‘My name… it’s Eddie.’ He smiled awkwardly, but you smiled right back and introduced yourself. That was another mystery solved. 

The two of you sat down on the couch as you ate your late-night meal. No words were exchanged until you were both done eating. You contemplated just saying thank you and heading back, but something also pulled you back in. this was your chance to get to know Eddie a bit. 

‘So…’ you tried to quickly think of something to say that sounded casual enough but would also get some of your million questions answered, ‘are you staying here for the summer?’ Was that maybe too much? 

‘No, actually, I just moved in here, so will probably stay for a few years. Probably until I can afford a place of my own.’ Eddie picked up his and your plate to bring it back to the kitchen, right on top of all the other dirty dishes. 

‘Ah, that’s really nice of your uncle, to let you stay here. How are you finding it? I mean, new home and stuff.’ You had no idea where you were taking your sentences anymore. 

‘I mean, Hawkins is nothing new, I lived on the other side of town, and when I was younger I stayed with my uncle for a bit as well… it’s nice to have my own room, though.’ You noticed the open door in the back of the trailer, walls already covered in pictures and band posters. He was clearly quick at making himself feel at home. ‘What about you?’ He asked back. 

‘What about me?’ 

‘How’s the trailer life treating you?’ As your next-door neighbour, he probably knew exactly how it was treating you, the question was a mere formality, and you weren’t sure what to think of it. 

‘It’s fine. The limited hot water is a bitch, though.’ You laughed, and Eddie, thankfully, did too. He sat back down on the couch. 

‘I’m not gonna say that it’s all going to be fine, because I for sure as hell know that it feels like that couldn’t be further from the truth, but if you ever need anything– just to get away or something– my window is always open.’ 

‘Well, you should close it, you’ll attract all the moths.’ Thank god, he laughed at that too. ‘But thanks, Eddie, I appreciate it.’ You added a sincere thanks afterwards. 

‘It’s nothing.’ He shrugged. 

You spent the rest of the night on that couch, just talking and laughing. You only realised what time it was when the sun started to shine through the window and the door of the trailer opened– mid Eddie’s sentence. The two of you looked at Mr Munson walking inside, his eyes opening wide, more so in confusion, at the sight of you. 

‘Good morning,’ he said, taking his hat off and putting it on the shelf among the many others.

‘Good morning, Mr Munson.’ You said, and a yawn immediately followed it up. It seemed the door did not only let in Eddie’s uncle but also the sleep you had been fighting all night. ‘I should probably go. See you around, Eddie.’ 

‘See you.’ Eddie waved, sinking back into the couch. As you were walking away, you could hear the uncle scold his nephew for leaving the dishes. How many times did he have to tell him to clean those damn plates again? Eddie apologised, half asleep already, as you opened your own door. 

The rest of the summer was far from lonely, as you spent almost every day with your new neighbour. Mostly in the evenings, when his uncle was off to work, you could use his room as an escape pod. You finally got to listen to the music without the barrier of your walls. Turned out, most of it was Eddie’s own doing. He played you his favourite song, butchering the lyrics from time to time on purpose to get you to laugh again. 

He showed you his favourite movies, lent you his favourite books, and eventually, he pulled out a large book from underneath his bed. With it, he loured you into the world of Dungeons and Dragons, and there was no more way out. You were hooked from the get-go. 

In the end, that summer certainly had its ups and downs, but years down the line, you would always look back on it fondly. It was the year you met one of the most important people in your life—a person who would change your life forever. You just hoped you had a bit of that effect on him as well.

If only Eddie had the nerve to admit just how much impact you had on him. Just how you managed to save him out of his darkest pit. 

thank you for reading! please support your (not so) local writers with comments and reblogs <3 it means the world. also, I love to hear what you thought of the fic. asks are always welcome

consider leaving behind an anonymous review :p

(non angst) taglist: thank you all for your support <3

@spiderrrling @theglitterymess @dorianelizabeth @theletterhart @pastel-abyss-x @ghoulsgraveyard @prettytoxix @lovesickollie @xbreezymeadowsx @meaganjm @yourmommilf @mischiefmanagers @capybergara @brother-lauren @h0sh1verse @ghostlyreads @croweaterr @ladyapplejackdnd @bilesxbilinskixlahey @kbakery @sleeping-willlow @liltimmyst @escape-in-time-x @miscelaa @sweetpeapod @eddiemunsonbby @wh0re4munson @eddiesdingus @zoeyquinn94 @mydearzero @overthewhiteclouds @wroteclassicaly @stitchity @celestialsxturn @hoe4eddiemunson @inanausomewhere @witchyrivers @scoops-harrington @fluffyharrington

[stardew-atlantis]

Three Taps (Harvey/F!Farmer oneshot)

I saw that post about the unrealistic mechanic of stardew spouses going to sleep before their farmer gets home from the mines, and I remembered that I actually wrote something like that.

Summary: Harvey waits for SJ to return from the mines, but she's too exhausted to talk to him. [Takes place in Year 2.]

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: None, lmk

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

Even underneath the warm blanket of a soft bed, Harvey felt uneasy. He tried to force himself to think about something else, reading from his journal of 'Tendon Dynamics' by the light of his bedside table lamp, but he couldn't help glancing at the clock every so often. He tried not to worry too much. She promised to be home by midnight. It was only 11:30.

SJ often told him not to wait up for her, insisting that he go to bed, and she would be home by midnight at the very latest, but he found it difficult to sleep on the nights she went to the mines.

Harvey sighed with relief when he heard the front door to the farmhouse creak open, feeling as if he could finally breathe again.

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

It was just after 1am when SJ finally got back to the farmhouse, moments away from passing out. Exhaustion had crept in long before she reached the front door. After a dreadful day in the mines, she wanted nothing more than to go straight to sleep and try to forget the fact that she came home practically empty-handed. She dropped her backpack to the floor the moment she stepped inside, shrugging off her jacket and laying it on top of the bag, too tired to bother hanging it up on the coatrack.

Rocky was nowhere to be found, most likely asleep in Zephyr and Elliott's room. He preferred sleeping upstairs. The position of the windows allowed him to lay in a sunbeam in the mornings, and their bedroom was right above the living room, so the floor was always delightfully warm from the rising heat of the fireplace.

...

SJ was surprised to find Harvey still awake when she entered their room. His eyes flicked to hers and immediately went wide with concern.

"You're back! Are you alright?" He asked, looking like he was ready to jump out of bed and perform first-aid, if necessary.

She nodded weakly, the dull ache in her head throbbing a little bit more as she did so.

"Long day?" He asked, knowing the answer.

She nodded again, shuffling to the bathroom to change into her pajamas. Despite how tired she was, she wasn't about to subject her future-self to changing the sheets if she climbed into bed with her slimy, soot covered clothes.

...

"Find anything interesting today?" Harvey asked, as SJ re-emerged in her pajamas and slowly walked around the bed to her side.

She responded with a noncommittal shrug as she removed her glasses, not even bothering to fold them before setting them down on the nightstand.

She peeled back the covers and collapsed into bed, the muscles in her back finally giving out as her head hit the soft pillow.

"Wow, that bad?" Harvey asked, his tone softening as he realized she was in no state to make conversation.

With her eyes still shut, she slid her hand across the bed to find his.

The two of them had developed a system for non-verbal communication where SJ would hold his hand and tap her thumb to respond to his questions. One tap meant yes, two meant no. It proved to be rather useful during times like this, where she was simply too tired to speak.

"Of course," Harvey said, realizing what she was trying to do, and taking her hand. "Is this better?"

One tap. Yes.

"So you're okay? You're not hurt?"

Two taps. No.

"Is that... no you're not okay? Or- sorry, should have just asked one question. Are you okay?"

Yes.

"Good. I'm glad. Just tired then?"

Yes.

"I see. Did you find any more iridium today?"

SJ had recently been tasked by Willy to help repair his boat. In order to do this, she needed a ridiculous amount of iridium to replace the old anchor. She had been going down to the mines up to four times a week in search of all the iridium ore she could find. Unfortunately, today, she didn't find any.

No.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find some next time."

She gently stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. It was the most she could manage in terms of affection.

"Um. I know you want to go to sleep but... Are you... too tired to cuddle for a little bit?" He asked, hopefully.

SJ sighed. So that's why he was still awake.

Harvey often suffered from insomnia. Cuddling was his (and SJ's) favorite way to fall asleep. He always waited up for her on the nights she went to the mines, but it was usually SJ who crawled into his arms before Harvey had the chance to ask. She knew how guilty it made him feel to ask for things, which was why it hurt so much to say no to him. As much as she wanted to, she thought that if she moved at all, the room might never stop spinning. She hoped she would remember to tell him that in the morning.

SJ paused before reluctantly tapping his hand once again. Yes.

"Oh... alright."

She didn't even need to open her eyes to see the disappointment on his face. The ache in her heart from his response was almost worse than the pain in her head.

SJ gently squeezed his hand, an attempt at an apology.

"It's fine. Another time then."

Yes.

"I'll let you get some sleep." SJ felt him press a kiss to her hand before he let go. "Good night, love."

She heard the click of the lamp as he turned it off, and the rustling of blankets as he laid down next to her.

SJ stretched out her arm again, reaching until her hand was resting flat against his chest.

"What are you doing?" Harvey chuckled.

She tapped her fingers three times. Another gesture she taught him one day while they were walking through town together, holding hands.

Harvey let out a content sigh, covering her hand with his. "I love you too."

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

Also on Ao3

[odysseusdiesatdawn]

About half-way between West Egg and New York the motor road hastily joins the railroad and runs beside it for a quarter of a mile, so as to shrink away from a cer­tain desolate area of land. This is a valley of ashes—a fantastic farm where ashes grow like wheat into ridges and hills and grotesque gardens; where ashes take the forms of houses and chimneys and rising smoke and, finally, with a transcendent effort, of men who move dimly and already crumbling through the pow­dery air. Occasionally a line of gray cars crawls along an invisible track, gives out a ghastly creak, and comes to rest, and immediately the ash-gray men swarm up with leaden spades and stir up an impenetrable cloud, which screens their obscure operations from your sight.

But above the gray land and the spasms of bleak dust which drift endlessly over it, you perceive, after a moment, the eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg. The eyes of Doctor T. J. Eckleburg are blue and gigantic—their retinas are one yard high. They look out of no face, but, instead, from a pair of enormous yellow spectacles which pass over a non-existent nose. Evidently some wild wag of an oculist set them there to fatten his prac­tice in the borough of Queens, and then sank down him­self into eternal blindness, or forgot them and moved away. But his eyes, dimmed a little by many paintless days under sun and rain, brood on over the solemn dumping ground.

The valley of ashes is bounded on one side by a small foul river, and, when the drawbridge is up to let barges through, the passengers on waiting trains can stare at the dismal scene for as long as half an hour. There is always a halt there of at least a minute, and it was because of this that I first met Tom Buchanan’s mistress.

The fact that he had one was insisted upon wherever he was known. His acquaintances resented the fact that he turned up in popular restaurants with her and, leav­ing her at a table, sauntered about, chatting with whomsoever he knew. Though I was curious to see her, I had no desire to meet her—but I did. I went up to New York with Tom on the train one afternoon, and when we stopped by the ashheaps he jumped to his feet and, taking hold of my elbow, literally forced me from the car.

“We’re getting off,” he insisted. “I want you to meet my girl.”

I think he’d tanked up a good deal at luncheon, and his determination to have my company bordered on violence. The supercilious assumption was that on Sun­day afternoon I had nothing better to do.

I followed him over a low whitewashed railroad fence, and we walked back a hundred yards along the road under Doctor Eckleburg’s persistent stare. The only building in sight was a small block of yellow brick sitting on the edge of the waste land, a sort of compact Main Street ministering to it, and contiguous to abso­lutely nothing. One of the three shops it contained was for rent and another was an all-night restaurant, ap­proached by a trail of ashes; the third was a garage­—Repairs. GEORGE B. WILSON. Cars bought and sold.­—and I followed Tom inside.

The interior was unprosperous and bare; the only car visible was the dust-covered wreck of a Ford which crouched in a dim corner. It had occurred to me that this shadow of a garage must be a blind, and that sumptuous and romantic apartments were concealed over­head, when the proprietor himself appeared in the door of an office, wiping his hands on a piece of waste. He was a blond, spiritless man, anæmic, and faintly hand­some. When he saw us a damp gleam of hope sprang into his light blue eyes.

“Hello, Wilson, old man,” said Tom, slapping him jovially on the shoulder. “How’s business?”

“I can’t complain,” answered Wilson unconvincingly. “When are you going to sell me that car?”

“Next week; I’ve got my man working on it now.”

“Works pretty slow, don’t he?”

“No, he doesn’t,” said Tom coldly. “And if you feel that way about it, maybe I’d better sell it somewhere else after all.”

“I don’t mean that,” explained Wilson quickly. “I just meant——”

His voice faded off and Tom glanced impatiently around the garage. Then I heard footsteps on a stairs, and in a moment the thickish figure of a woman blocked out the light from the office door. She was in the middle thirties, and faintly stout, but she carried her surplus flesh sensuously as some women can. Her face, above a spotted dress of dark blue crêpe-de-chine, contained no facet or gleam of beauty, but there was an immediately perceptible vitality about her as if the nerves of her body were continually smouldering. She smiled slowly and, walking through her husband as if he were a ghost, shook hands with Tom, looking him flush in the eye. Then she wet her lips, and without turning around spoke to her husband in a soft, coarse voice:

“Get some chairs, why don’t you, so somebody can sit down.”

“Oh, sure,” agreed Wilson hurriedly, and went toward the little office, mingling immediately with the cement color of the walls. A white ashen dust veiled his dark suit and his pale hair as it veiled everything in the vi­cinity—except his wife, who moved close to Tom.

“I want to see you,” said Tom intently. “Get on the next train.”

“All right.”

“I’ll meet you by the newsstand on the lower level.”

She nodded and moved away from him just as George Wilson emerged with two chairs from his office door.

We waited for her down the road and out of sight. It was a few days before the Fourth of July, and a gray, scrawny Italian child was setting torpedoes in a row along the railroad track.

“Terrible place, isn’t it,” said Tom, exchanging a frown with Doctor Eckleburg.

“Awful.”

“It does her good to get away.”

“Doesn’t her husband object?”

“Wilson? He thinks she goes to see her sister in New York. He’s so dumb he doesn’t know he’s alive.”

So Tom Buchanan and his girl and I went up together to New York—or not quite together, for Mrs. Wilson sat discreetly in another car. Tom deferred that much to the sensibilities of those East Eggers who might be on the train.

She had changed her dress to a brown figured muslin, which stretched tight over her rather wide hips as Tom helped her to the platform in New York. At the news­stand she bought a copy of Town Tattle and a moving­-picture magazine, and in the station drug-store some cold cream and a small flask of perfume. Upstairs, in the solemn echoing drive she let four taxicabs drive away before she selected a new one, lavender-colored with gray upholstery, and in this we slid out from the mass of the station into the glowing sunshine. But im­mediately she turned sharply from the window and, leaning forward, tapped on the front glass.

“I want to get one of those dogs,” she said earnestly. “I want to get one for the apartment. They’re nice to have—a dog.”

We backed up to a gray old man who bore an absurd resemblance to John D. Rockefeller. In a basket swung from his neck cowered a dozen very recent puppies of an indeterminate breed.

“What kind are they?” asked Mrs. Wilson eagerly, as he came to the taxi window.

“All kinds. What kind do you want, lady?”

“I’d like to get one of those police dogs; I don’t sup­pose you got that kind?”

The man peered doubtfully into the basket, plunged in his hand and drew one up, wriggling, by the back of the neck.

“That’s no police dog,” said Tom.

“No, it’s not exactly a police dog,” said the man with disappointment in his voice. “It’s more of an Airedale.” He passed his hand over the brown washrag of a back. “Look at that coat. Some coat. That’s a dog that’ll never bother you with catching cold.”

“I think it’s cute,” said Mrs. Wilson enthusiastically. “How much is it?”

“That dog?” He looked at it admiringly. “That dog will cost you ten dollars.”

The Airedale—undoubtedly there was an Airedale concerned in it somewhere, though its feet were star­tlingly white—changed hands and settled down into Mrs. Wilson’s lap, where she fondled the weatherproof coat with rapture.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” she asked delicately.

“That dog? That dog’s a boy.”

“It’s a bitch,” said Tom decisively. “Here’s your money. Go and buy ten more dogs with it.”

We drove over to Fifth Avenue, so warm and soft, al­most pastoral, on the summer Sunday afternoon that I wouldn’t have been surprised to see a great flock of white sheep turn the corner.

In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

“Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been un­usually communicative in a reserved way, and I under­stood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, pre­occupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quiv­ering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infi­nite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If per­sonality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that reg­ister earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This respon­siveness had nothing to do with that flabby impression­ ability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short­ winded elations of men.

* * *

My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradi­tion that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware busi­ness that my father carries on today.

I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office. I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm center of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.

The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weatherbeaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.

“How do you get to West Egg Village?” he asked helplessly.

I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighbor­hood.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was be­ginning over again with the summer.

There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Mæcenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the Yale News—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all spe­cialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epi­gram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual forma­tions of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. They are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical re­semblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. To the wingless a more ar­resting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every par­ticular except shape and size.

I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. My house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. The one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hôtel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swim­ming-pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and gar­den. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gen­tleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neigh­bor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.

Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashion­able East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.

this is such a good passage i love this book. a must reread.

Antinous just kind of… listens, for once. He’s been so scatterbrained with Penelope on his heels (for good reason) that he’s just.. tired. So he listens, and seems surprisingly attentive, muttering something about ‘I like this Gatsby fellow’ before nodding off.

[poorlytunedukulele]

Prompt 27 - Baby, It’s Cold Outside

October 30, 2959; Eventide Ruins, Rathmore Chaos, Europa

“Close the door!  Close the door!” Azra shouted.

Cayde did.  The sound of the howling wind was cut off.  Azra crouched on the floor, hugging her knees to try and conserve heat.

It wasn’t going to be enough.  It was nighttime and -200 Celsius on Europa, and Azra’s heating system had crapped out. This refuge they’d found protected them from the wind, but it was still much too cold.  Azra was going to freeze to death.  It would hurt a fair bit.

“Hang on, I got something to try,” Cayde said.  He took a knife from his belt and flipped it casually once in his hand. With a flare of orange light he plunged it into the floor.  Out bloomed a Well of Radiance- no 10-foot affair, just a cozy campfire’s worth of light. Azra hastily scooted inside, immediately relaxing at the warmth.

It wasn’t completely out of the blue- she’d been in Wells before.  It was a new technique some Dawnblades were playing with nowadays.  But Cayde pulling one out of his bag of tricks was unexpected, to say the least. Azra looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, like you couldn’t pull a Stormtrance if you wanted to,” Cayde scoffed.

Fair enough.  Azra shrugged acquiescence as Spark set about fixing her climate control.  While they waited, Azra studied their surroudings.

They’d found some settlements on Europa before- mostly residential housing, common spaces, a few manufacturing centers.  People understandably hadn’t been lining up to move to an icy, harsh, ionized moon, even back in the Golden Age.  But this…

This was something new.  The ceiling was high, with rounded edges.  The walls (what parts of them weren’t caked in ice) were painted with stylized depictions of Human anatomy- lungs and hearts and brains.  The lights were off, but Azra could still make out the logo proudly displayed at the far end of the hall- a curve with two almost wing-like shapes jutting out from it, forming the suggestion of the letters C,B. Clovis Bray.

“What is this place?” Azra asked.  Clovis Bray facilities?  On Europa?

Cayde beside her was frozen stock-still.  He wasn’t even breathing.  Spark finished his repairs, just in time- the Well flared and then died, leaving just a knife lodged in the floor.

“Cayde?” Azra asked.  She put a hand on his shoulder and he started.  “Do we need to go?” she asked gently.

“No,” Cayde said quickly.  He gathered himself for a second and then shook his head.  “No.  We can- we should poke around.  Quietly.”

“You’re the boss,” Azra said.  Obviously they’d found something important, something Cayde hadn’t been expecting. “You know I’m all sorts of good with being quiet.”  Code for I’m not going to go blabbing about this if you don’t want me to.

“Well let’s still be careful and not activate any security systems,” Cayde said. “Don’t want this place waking up.”

“You think you know what this is?” Azra said.

Cayde hissed.  “I’m almost hoping it’s not what I think.”

Azra stood up, almost slipping.  The ice on the floor had melted with Cayde’s well and then re-frozen into a slick sheet.

Ice.  She paused, staring at it while her brain put together the pieces.  Ice.  Clovis Bray. Pictographs of the parts of the human body.  A book with a golden tree embossed on the cover.  The dark tower on the field.

“Shit,” Azra said.  Cayde had been looking for the Deep Stone Crypt for years.  For a lifetime.  Had they not been dicking around Rathmore Chaos, if Azra’s heater hadn’t broken and forced them to find cover, they would never have even been here. “You don’t think?”

“Let’s go find out,” Cayde said.

AO3 Linky!

[katecake]

Scars

I needed me a Jaskel Soulmate AU where Jaskier knows his soulmate’s a witcher, but he also knows it’s not Geralt. After wondering how that would happen, I finally came up w/ this!!

__

Imagine a world where soulmarks exist. While not exactly rare, they’re still fairly uncommon.

Little Jaskier’s soulmark is on the inside crook of his elbow. The face of a fierce silver wolf. For as unrealistic and stylized as it is, it’s still undeniably a wolf. His parents sneer at it. The servants and teachers are all uncomfortable when they see it. Little Jaskier, though? Oh how he loves it. He doesn’t know what it is, doesn’t know what it means, doesn’t know its significance. But he loves it nonetheless.

Jaskier’s only five years old when he learns what a Witcher is. He’s only five years old when he’s taught to fear Witchers.

Jaskier’s twelve and he’s being held down as he begs and pleads and screams. He screams as the other boys bring a knife to his soulmark, laughing all the while. Because, what soulmate could a monster have than another monster?

Jaskier’s twelve when he makes the connection between his soulmark and Witchers.

He runs away less than a week later, wound still fresh, and ends up somewhere outside Oxenfurt. He decides to stay there, study there. The injury scars. He keeps it covered at all times with black cloth. Sometimes, it’s so tight it hurts. He never shows anyone his mark ever again.

–

Jaskier’s twenty-three when he meets Geralt, and he immediately recognizes the medallion. It’s the spitting image of what his soulmark looked like. He feels some residual anxiety from meeting a Witcher, but has learned humans can be just as monstrous as they claim Witchers to be. The black strip of cloth on his arm is proof enough.

So he takes a gamble and follows Geralt. And he continues to follow Geralt for years to come. He learns everything he was taught was a lie (something he’s suspected since the moment that knife touched his mark). He makes it his goal to change the world’s mind about Witchers. And if he hopes, deep down, that if he continues to follow Geralt he’ll meet his soulmate? Well, that’s his secret fantasy.

–

Years pass and eventually Geralt invites him up to Kaer Morhen for the winter. Jaskier says yes in a heartbeat. He’s as giddy as he is nervous and babbles the whole trip up.

When they get there, Eskel’s the one to greet them at the gate, not that Jaskier notices. He’s too busy still babbling nervously about nothing at all and removing his packs from his horse. He struggles to hold everything as he goes over to the two, intent on introducing himself to this new witcher. Except when he finally looks at Eskel, his breath catches and he drops everything he’s holding. He can do nothing but stare, pale and shaky, at the scarred face in front of him.

He doesn’t register how the man shifts so he stands with his scars less on display. He doesn’t register Geralt’s defensive and angry tone. He doesn’t register the third, angry, man who threatens him for making his brother uncomfortable in his own home. All Jaskier can think about is the shape of those scars.

Lambert’s outright hostile to him, not that Jaskier blames him. Geralt’s also cagey and defensive. Even Vesemir, despite keeping the peace between the wolves and the bard, makes his disappointment of Jaskier clear.

It takes another two weeks before Jaskier manages to catch Eskel alone and apologizes. He wants to explain himself, but every time he tries, his throat tightens and the words die on his lips. So instead, he works to befriend Eskel in earnest.

The first time Eskel smiles at him, really smiles at him (an entire month later), Jaskier feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. The way Eskel’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the way his lips curl awkwardly, the way his whole demeanor seems to light up. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. He can’t keep the dopey smile off his own face the whole day.

Eskel smiles more after that, and it seems to be enough for the others. Lambert’s no longer actively hostile and Geralt’s back to himself. Vesemir no longer looks at Jaskier with disappointment either. And if Jaskier scratches at the crook of his arm, that’s no ones business but his own.

Until, one night when Jaskier has long since stumbled off to bed, Lambert asks. It's just the three of them, Lambert, Geralt, and Eskel, still drinking in the kitchen.

“So what’s,” Lambert pauses to hiccup, “what’s with the bard’s arm?” He asks.

“Hmm?” Geralt grunts squinting at the cards in his hand.

“That damn bandage of his,” he continues motioning at the crook of his own elbow. “Wears it when he– when he fucken bathes too.”

“Maybe it’s covering a scar,” Eskel offers, “or a weird birthmark.”

Lambert scowls. “He’s got plenty other scars.”

Geralt snorts. “And weird birthmarks too,” he adds thinking about the vaguely cock shaped birthmark Jaskier has on his shoulder.

Lambert grumbles as Geralt and Eskel continue playing their game of gwent.

“What if it’s a soulmark?” He eventually asks.

“Humans don’t present them as easily as we do,” Eskel says at the same moment Geralt says:

“Not a chance.”

The two stare at him, clearly wanting an explanation.

Geralt grumbles and downs what’s left in his mug. “Jaskier’s a hopeless romantic,” he explains. “Wouldn’t shut up for weeks when he saw mine. And then he wouldn’t shut up for the better part of a godsdamned year after we finally met Yen,” he pours himself another drink and downs that too with a shudder. “Believe me, if he had one, we’d know.”

A few hours later, when Geralt’s fighting to stay awake, Lambert slams his mug on the table. It startles Eskel and Geralt enough that they’re more awake than they were an hour ago.

“I wanna know,” Lambert growls.

“Then ask him,” Eskel says.

Geralt yawns. “He always changes the subject.”

Lambert nods vigorously as Eskel frowns. “Then leave it.”

“But I wanna know!” Lambert complains.

Eskel gets up. “I’m not doing this,” he groans. “I’m going to bed.”

Lambert calls him a bitch as he leaves and grumbles into his drink. He and Geralt continue drinking for a few minutes before Lambert asks, “You grab him and I pull that damn cloth off?”

Geralt, too drunk and too tired to think about all the times Jaskier’s flinched when grabbed by the elbow, nods.

It surprisingly takes them a few days to catch Jaskier alone. He’s confused when Geralt grabs him but otherwise doesn’t struggle. It’s not until Lambert pulls at his sleeve that he panics.

Jaskier thrashes in their grip the moment he realizes what they’re doing. Decades old panic grips him as he screams and begs for them not to hurt him.

Lambert and Geralt stay frozen as Jaskier fleas down the hall. Vesemir is there demanding to know what happened while Eskel runs past them to catch up with Jaskier. Lambert and Geralt can only stare in the direction Jaskier fled, the stench of his fear hangs heavy in the air around them.

Geralt knows what Jaskier’s fear smells like. It’s hard not to when Jaskier often gets too close to a monster, but he has never smelled of fear because of a Witcher before. Not when he’d first seen Eskel. Not when Lambert threatened to gut him right after. And not even when the snow had finally blocked off the path down the mountain and he was subsequently trapped in the keep with four unwelcoming witchers.

They don’t see Jaskier for a solid week after that. They know he’s still in the keep, they can smell him in the kitchen, in the baths, through the halls, but they don’t actually see him. Lambert’s on edge, quicker to anger, and Geralt’s quieter, more prone to get lost in thought.

They both try to apologize, in their own way, standing outside Jaskier’s door. Jaskier doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a sound. The only reason they know he’s in there is because his heart’s racing and he smells of anxiety and residual panic.

Eventually Eskel’s able to coax him out and he tentatively resettles into the routine he’s established for himself. Jaskier now has a constant underlying scent of anxiety to him. He smells of panic whenever someone focuses on his arm too long.

It all comes to a head one evening. Vesemir reaches to touch Jaskier’s elbow to get his attention. Jaskier flinches so hard he nearly throws himself into the hearth they’re sitting around. He doesn’t smell of fear, but his panic is palpable. Vesemir apologizes but Jaskier assures him it’s fine, even as Lambert storms away shouting abuse and Geralt slinks away miserably.

Eskel cracks that night. It’s late, the others have all gone to their rooms in their attempts to avoid Jaskier, and it’s just Eskel and Jaskier in the library. Jaskier’s leaning against him, fighting to stay awake as Eskel simply enjoys his company.

“What…” Eskel asks tentatively. “Happened to your arm?”

Jaskier tenses against him, heart rate picking up as his hand goes to cover the spot. He sits up slowly, stiffly, and Eskel immediately kicks himself. “Sorry,” he says quickly, “I shouldn’t have asked.”

But Jaskier shakes his head. “No it’s okay,” he says weakly. “It’s stupid really. It happened so long ago, almost thirty years,” he laughs shakily, voice impossibly quiet. “But I guess I still get scared someone’s gonna finish carving off my soulmark at times.”

Eskel feels like he’s been punched in the throat. Soulmarks are special. They’re Destiny’s will. All Witchers have soulmarks. Something about the trials make them emerge, almost like Destiny herself is desperately trying to preserve their humanity. Eskel knows his own soulmark all too well. Four little yellow flowers floating down a stream painted on his ribs. At times, if he just focuses on the general shape, they look like music notes. He knows the mark ties him to Jaskier. It’s why Jaskier’s initial reaction to him hurt so much.

“I’m sorry,” Eskel says lamely, because what else can he say? He could demand the name of the people that hurt Jaskier, but that won’t repair the damage. He could go after Geralt and Lambert again for their stupid stunt, but they’re suffering enough as it is and Jaskier doesn’t really hold it against them.

Jaskier barely shakes his head. “Don’t be. I’ve… actually wanted to show it to you for some time,” he admits quietly. His hands shake as he rolls up his tunic sleeve.

Eskel catches his wrist, stills the movement. “Stop,” he breathes. “You don’t have to.”

Jaskier leans towards him, his forehead coming to rest against Eskel’s. “Please,” he whispers.

Eskel reluctantly lets go. He watches as Jaskier halting works the black cloth off. There’s red marks across Jaskier’s skin where the edge of the cloth dug in too tightly. But Eskel’s breath and attention is immediately stolen by the mark. He feels fury and an unimaginable sadness wash over him in equal measures.

It looks exactly like the wolf school medallion. Or it would were it not for the angry scars distorting the right side of its face.

Eskel runs a thumb over it before he even realizes what he’s doing. Jaskier shivers at the touch and Eskel can smell the tears the bard is desperately trying to hold back. “I’m sorry,” Jaskier whispers, voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to upset you when I saw you. It’s just…”

“The scars,” Eskel murmurs. “They’re identical.” He has a sick feeling that Jaskier’s mark was defiled the same day his face was slashed.

Jaskier explains himself fully that night, as he cries in Eskel’s arms. It feels strange to finally show his mark again after almost thirty years. He’s not sure if he’s scared or relieved or if its even good or bad. It just is.

The following morning, he’s understandably exhausted and spends breakfast tucked against Eskel’s side. Lambert and Geralt get to the kitchen and try to leave before the even enter it. Jaskier reeks of tears and misery and Eskel. Eskel asks them to at least stay for breakfast. Lambert still wants to run but seeing as how Geralt pitifully sits down, he refuses to be the only one that runs and sits down too. Breakfast is awkward with how exhausted Jaskier looks and smells, they’re both happy to go off and do their chores for once.

Jaskier spends most of the morning sleeping in Eskel’s room. When he emerges for dinner, it’s almost like nothing’s happened. He’s back to his loud and carefree self. The smell of anxiety is almost unnoticeable now. Vesemir claps him on the shoulder and Geralt’s less quiet.

Lambert’s still unsettled, though, still easy to anger and prone to snapping. He doesn’t believe the bard’s act for a second. That level of fear can’t just be forgiven that easily. It has nothing to do with the fact that it was his plan that caused that reaction and made his brothers upset.

His brothers and Vesemir tell him the bard’s fine. Even Jaskier himself assures him that it’s okay. He doesn’t believe it for a second. No amount of chattering with Geralt, or helping Vesemir in the library, or spending nights with Eskel will convince him.

But maybe seeing how Jaskier lets Eskel settle a hand over his arm helps. Seeing how Jaskier smiles all shy and happy when it happens helps. Seeing how Eskel returns the looks helps. Seeing how Eskel doesn’t shy away when Jaskier touches his scars helps.

Maybe seeing and smelling how happy the two are helps ease the guilt. Because what else could be under that black cloth than a scarred over soulmark?

[theradioactivemess]

A story where Made by me and @sofimoon27 where Lucas gets fucking rabies- I came with this idea of out of fucking no where this morning soooo Yeah enjoy the Chaos!

The day had been an awful one, Nobody could get stuff done and Lucas, of the outcasts, had been acting weirder than normal. He was constantly itching and having headaches and Nausea. Archie of course was the first to notice, “Papa..? Are you okAY-“ Lucas, Startled by Archie Tried to bite him, it was an uncontrollable action. Once he realized what he had done he Immediately tried to hold Archie and Apologize, But Archie ran out of the room. Later in the day Chase, Blair and Lucas were all Hunting for things they needed to repair some parts of the base; When Chase Noticed Lucas excessively Drooling and he staggered As he walked. Chase asked: “uhhh boss? Are you okay-“ “I'M FINE!” The wolf whipped around and yelled, Chase flinched back, it used to his leader that he adored so much snapping at him. “I…sorry..” “it’s alright…” Blair piped in: “Lucas hun are you sure you okay..?” “I’m fine B…” “if you say so…”

Later at the base Lucas walks into the living room where multiple people were and Started to get immediately over stimulated by the lights, (this in it of itself is odd behavior for him because he’s the Demi-god of The light and the Zodiac sign Gemini) Lucas covered his eyes and ran out to his room. Archie Walked to his room later and knocked on the door. He asked: “Papa! Are you okay?” “I-I’m Fine darlin! Papas okay! Just- A little- Off his rocker today okay?” “U-Um okay..Is there any way I can help?” “I appreciate you wanting to help me Archie but I can take care of this myself okay?” “Okay papa, Cya!” “Cya lit-len!” Lucas went a few days without exhibiting any weird/off behavior so everyone thought he was okay again, But ohhhh boy did things get worse…

Moony came by for a visit, as she often did. As she flew down the mineshaft's entrance, she could immediately tell something was very wrong. Usually, her brother tackled her with a hug as she came out, but this time, he didn't. She followed the sound of worried people, arriving at Lucas's door, where the group stood.

"What's going on?" She asks, the attention all immediately turning to her. "Where's Lu?"

"He hasn't come out of his room in days! Not to eat, nothing! And we can't get in!"

Moony looked inside the room, yep, he was in there, she could sense it. He seemed very down however, that much she could tell. Being his sister, and also the overpowered being she was, she was able to unlock the door.

This, brought a reaction from the wolf.

He jolted from the bed, glaring at whoever entered his territory and growled: "I TOLD NO ONE COMES IN!!!"

"Lucas, it's me. It's Moony!" She tried to de-escalate. "What's going on? You rarely isolate yourself like this!"

"GET OUT! IM FINE!" He was foaming from the mouth, angry, but also clearly in pain. "GET OUT!! GET OUT NOW!!"

"Lucas, stay still please?" Moony used her health vision. As she did, she realized what was wrong. "... Lucas... What the fuck..."

"What?! What's wrong with him?!" Archie worriedly asks her.

She sighs, holding back a chuckle. "He's got rabies..."

Calvin Picks up Archie and looks at Moony, “he has WHAT?!” “Yeah sadly…but I Believe it can be cured, Can it?” “Well I mean…there’s no effective treatment..” Chase Said.

"When there's the relative of a reality goddess in the room, there's an easier way!" She stated proudly, reaching into her hoodie pocket and pulling out a small medical kit, but inside there were several liquids and strange herbs. "Oookay! So. The good part is, there's a cure! So mister grumpy-pantd over there..." Lucas growled at the nickname. "Will feel better and not get rabies anymore. The bad and likely to be annoying part is that we'll have to give him a shot."

Moony pulls the potion/medicine she had prepared into the syringe, at the sight of the instrument, Lucas instantly has his hairs raise.

"FUCK OFF WITH THAT!! NO WAY!! IM FINE!!"

"Lucas, you're not. You're dehydrated and can't swallow and you look and feel miserable. I have max empathy. I can literally feel it." Moony shoots back.

“GET THAT SHIT AWAY FROM ME!!!” Lucas had tears well up in his eyes, He hated needles and most people on the room knew why. “Please little brother.. It will make you feel better I promise-“ “NO! THE LAST TIME I LET SOMEONE GIVE ME A SHOT I TUNRED INTO A MONSTER!!” Lucas jumped to the corner off the ceiling, He was drooling and foaming at the mouth more by now and it was dripping to the floor. “Papa please..!” Archie pleaded, “Just take it! It won’t change u in any way! It will just get those awful rabies out of you…!” Calvin chimed in: “Plus you’ve been snapping at people! What would you do if you snapped at Archie and hurt him huh?” Lucas’s Ears Went down. “Exactly! You don’t like that idea do ya?! Just take it Lucas please just take it!” Calvin was obviously getting impatient, “Love, How about you go to our room? You seem to be getting a little agitated.” Calvin sighed; “fine..but if he snaps you tell me…” Calvin then sat Archie down and left…

Moony approached her little brother, passing the syringe to Dakai. "I know it scares you Lu, I do! But it's *me* who's doing it, and I swear it will not hurt you! Just a small sting and bam! Over! You won't be feeling bad anymore and you won't risk hurting anyone on accident anymore!"

She crouches right in front of him, holding her hand out. "Come on. Do you trust me?"

Lucas was hesitant, People always betrayed him in the past, That was something he knew and knew well, But this was his sister talking. “Y-yes sissy…” Lucas slowly floats down and onto his bed, Archie holds his hand As Dakai puts the shot in him, Lucas roared and it took everything in him not to punch someone, Soon it was over though And he felt tired and a little dizzy. “Are you better now papa..?” “I-I think so darlin…” Archie smiled a hugged Lucas, Snuggling up to his side. Lucas happily hugged him back.

Chase sighs in relief, “Glad that’s over” “same here, let’s just hope it stays like this.” Blair added. Izzy chimed in, “yeah, Come on guys it’s dinner time, I’ll cook!”

Moony pat her brother head, "good job little brother! You did so so good! I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeah! Good one Lu!" Dakai also congrats, packing the syringe away to be thrown out.

"Okay, now, you gotta rest for a little. Here, drink this, you should be able to now." She hands him a bottle of water, the sines of it looking like little crescent moons. "It's moonwater! I enchant it to heal!"

He takes it and pretty much chugs it till there's nothing left, then he yawns, leaning down and falling asleep. Moony covers him gently with his favorite blanket, putting a few of his comfort plushies near, which he was quick to cuddle with. She brushed his hair from his face, cleaning his mouth gently from the dried spit. Then kisses his forehead.

Dakai heads out to get dinner, meanwhile Moony sits on a beanbag chair and pulls out a book to read.

She'd be there when he woke up.

She always is.

[supernaturalgirl20]

hi baby! if you’re taking requests might i indulge you in the scenario of Din where he captures you, the bounty, and you try to persuade him to let you be his “mechanic” instead, but like y’all wind up fucking 🙈🙈

You can choose how everything goes and add anything else you’d like love 💜💜

Thank you my dear for this delicious ask 🥰 I had loads of fun writing this 😏

Mechanic

Pairings: Din Djarin x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, p in v smut, blowjob, Lil bit of dark!Din, cursing.

A/N: this is pure filth and I’m not sorry 😏 blame @anaaaispunk for fuelling the fire 😉

Sitting in the cantina, you scan your surroundings for immediate threats. Realising your ok, for now at least, you let out a sigh of relief. You’d lost count of the number of weeks you’ve been on the run, and for what, killing some ex empire general or something. You did them a favour really, pity no one else saw it that way. So here you are on another planet hiding. God I hope this isn’t going to be my life. It’s exhausting. You make your way to the bar and order another spotcha, the door to the cantina opens, nothing note worthy except the whole place goes dead quiet. Intrigued, you look to see what’s grabbed everyone’s attention. It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, except it’s not a ghost, it’s a man covered in a silver armour. Fuck! They sent a fucking mandalorian, they must be desperate now. You try to act normal, grab your drink and sit back at your table. Shivers run down your spine as he walks past. Closing your eyes, you wait, wait for him to point a blaster at your head, but it doesn’t come. Opening your eyes slowly, you see he walked right past you to another booth. He doesn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he’s not here for me after all. I’m just being paranoid.

***

It’s late when you finally leave the cantina, walking slowly back to the inn. There’s a tiredness in your bones and you can’t wait to lie in bed and finally get some sleep. Entering your room you switch on the light. When the room becomes illuminated you let outa scream.

“Jesus, what the fuck Mando, you scared the shit out of me. How did you know this was my room? Actually how did you get here before me, when I left you were still there sitting, stiff as a board.” You snigger at that.

“Are you done?”

“Oh lighten up, Tin can.”

You both just stare at each other, daring the other to make the first move. He’s on his feet and has you pinned to the door quicker than lightning.

“Not so smart now, are you?”

“Hhmm, I like where this is going, Mando, how did you know I like it rough?” You have a sly smirk and you quit laughing your eyebrow at him. You can hear him let out a sigh.

“We’ve been doing this for too long, you’ve had your fun, enough is enough. Time to bring you in.”

He lets go of you and stands back slightly.

“Get your things, your coming with me.”

He can see your shoulders drop a little, “fine you win.”

He’s stunned. Eyes wide in shock that you haven’t resisted harder. He’d expected you to. Silently hoped you would. Not that you could see, his face hidden behind the helmet.

“Do I have to cuff you? Or will you behave?”

“I promise I won’t run.” Pushing you in front of him, “walk.”

***

Walking towards the crest you ask Mando if you can freshen up. Pointing you in the direction of the fresher, he makes his way to the cockpit setting the coordinates. He doesn’t feel right about this, bringing you in. As far as he’s concerned you did the galaxy a favour. One less imp to deal with. Your worth a lot of credits though and bounties have been slow lately, the ship needs some repairs. He’s lost in his own head when you make your way towards him.

You slipped into something more “revealing” , a dress you’d picked up on tattooine. You put your hand on his pauldron and he looks up at you through his visor.

“Mando, do you really have to bring me in? I mean I’m a nobody, you could pretend I got away?” He is scowling at you under the helmet. “Ok I know, I wouldn’t get away from you, not believable. You killed me then?”. If you could see his face you would see the awe in his eyes. It’s like you can read his mind. You slide into his lap and straddle him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t touch you. You adjust yourself so your right over his hardening member. You swear he lets out a growl. Leaning into him you whisper beside where you think his ears are.

“You know, you could keep me….here..with you. I work as your mechanic, you need one right?”

“Do you even know anything about ships?”

“Eh..well no, but I’m a fast learner.”

“No.”

You slowly grind your hips over his cock. He grips the seat a little tighter, smiling to yourself you let out a low moan. He’s completely hard now, you can feel him at your core. Then an idea strikes. Biting your lip you lean into him again.

“I’m sure you could think of something for me to do. You know…like you!” His hand grips you hard, stopping you in your movements. His voice is harsh now.

“Enough!”

You slowly lean back so your face is directly in front of his visor. You need to try something else!

Slowly, you lift up your dress, revealing your dripping cunt to him. You hear him take in a breath. Placing two fingers in your mouth you suck on them before moving them downward. Once you reach your aching core you slip them inside, moaning at the sensation.

“Oh god…yes…just that like that Mando…yes….fuck me so good.” Without warning he pulls your fingers out, brings them to his helmet, lifts the bottom revealing his mouth. That mouth, Jesus he has a moustache. He sucks them clean before placing the helmet back down fully. Suddenly he stands, gripping your ass tightly. You wrap your legs around his waist as his walks towards the ladder. Putting you down, “go down, put these on, and wait.” He hands you his magnetised cuffs. Unable to speak you just nod in understanding.

Once you secure the cuffs, your suddenly drenched in darkness. What the? A hand grips you around the neck, pushing you towards the wall of the ship. Your arms are placed over your head and secured to the wall. “Think you can tease me do you, that you can fuck your way free, is that it?”

His voice it’s so deep, even without the modulator. Then it finally dawns on you, he’s helmet-less. His stubble is rough against your skin, sending heat straight bro your core. You try moving your hips against him, but he grips your waist tight stopping you.

“Ah ah, you’ve been a bold girl, bold girls don’t get to come.”

“Do you think you deserve to stay here with me, for me to forgo my credits on you?”

“Yes, Mando please, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m going to release your hand now, your going to be a good girl and get on your knees.”

When he releases your hands you drop straight to the ground. He pulls his pants down, grips you at the back of your head and brings you toward his cock. “Your going to take my cock in your mouth aren’t you pretty girl? Show me how badly you want to stay with me!”

He tilts his head back and groans as he feels your hot, wet mouth take him in. You run your tongue up the length of him and tease around the tip. He’s desperate for release, having you tease him all night, so he shoves his cock further into your mouth and begins fucking your face.

“That’s it pretty girl, your doing…so well….taking my cock like that.”

He comes down the back of your throat and you swallow it all. He steps back, stripping completely before he lifts you to your feet. He moves you to his cot and rips your dress off you. You let out a slight squeal as the cool air hits your bare skin.

“Can you take off the cuffs please?”

“Only if you promise not to touch?”

“I promise.”

Once he removes them you go to rub the skin on your wrists. He stops you and brings them to his lips and gently kisses around them. “Did I hurt you?”

“No it’s ok, I’ve had worse.”

“I bet you have.”

“Hands over you head, remember no touching.”

He kisses around your neck, slowly kissing his way down, over your breasts, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking hard. You moan at the sensation of his stubble on your bare breasts. He moves down again, begins kissing your inner thighs, your a writhing mess below him. He licks a strip over your folds before shoving his tongue inside. Your body is tingling all over. There’s a heat in your core threatening to combust. Hey sucks on your clit before pumping two fingers inside you. He takes you over the edge and…pulls away.

“No! Why did you stop. Please please I need you Mando. Fuck me.”

He hovers over you and kisses you gently on the lips.

“Din.”

“Hmm what?”

“My name….it’s Din. I want you to know what to call me when you come.”

“Din, it suits you. Now fuck me.”

He lines himself up and fills you completely with one thrust.

“Fuck….so tight….take me…so well.”

He grabs your leg and wraps it around his hip, giving him a better angle. His thrusts are hard and fast and you come screaming his name.

“Fuck, Din….yes.”

You move your hands down to gently hold his face and he freezes. You forgot yourself, caught up in the moment, forgetting he asked for you not to touch him. You reckon it’s something to do with his creed. Worried he will pull away from you, you go to pull your hands away.

“I’m sorry, no touching.”

He kisses you gently on the lips. Grabbing your hand in his own, he slowly brings it back to his face. He closes his eyes at the feeling of you there. Something he hasn’t felt since he was a child. “It’s ok.”

He kisses you again before thrusting into you again. He’s slower this time and you feel all of him now, every ridge, every vein, it’s so intimate even though you can’t see him. Your coming hard again in no time, cunt clenching him tight as he spills inside you. He rolls off you and pulls you into his side.

“So does this mean I can stay?!”

“I suppose. I might need more convincing.”

You laugh as you straddle him, “you better buckle up so, your in for a long night.”

Tagging:

Everything: @lunaserenade @day-off-inkyoto @librariantothejedi @seasonschange-butpeopledont @elinedjarin @maievdenoir @pascal-rascal424 @kirsteng42 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @asta-lily @absurdthirst @ikinmahlen @javierpinme

Din Djarin: @agingerindenial @covidihateu

[keyboardthenerd]

DMC OC Week 2022: Day 3 - Past & Future Part 1

I actually refuse to get better at writing these opening paragraphs. Y'all are just gonna have to seethe and mald about that.

Did you know that if I leave my window open in the summer, the cat will climb onto the roof and bring moths into my room?

Did you also know that I hate flying insects? Anything that can manoeuvre in a 3D space better than I can is an immediate threat.

This... is not relevant. Stay mad.

Roman Eques Laurel: King of Doubling Down

Reference Sheet by andy.rea (instagram)

Past

Operatio Redemptionis. A demon-lead project to produce hybrid nestlings capable of “paying for the sins of their parents''; Demons and their descendants hunted down for the sole purpose of sending a human woman in to attempt to produce some sort of child, who could then be raised, brainwashed, and used against their parents one day, if they are successful.

Edora Laurel. Not much is entirely known about the human woman used for this project. Perhaps she was just not an interesting human before the project. For all intents and purposes, it may have been better this way. Edora was given a warm home, large enough to care for all of her children. Seated inside an old cross-dimensional phenomenon, often referred to as a “Hell Tunnel” or “Hell Bridge”; an area of nomansland that’s neither The World of Darkness or the World of Light, but acts as a very hard to close doorway between the two. An artificial demon called Uri was “gifted” to Edora to act as an eyes and ears for the demons running the project. Uri and everyone else involved with the project would use the Hell Tunnel to pass in and out of Hell. Anything Edora could possibly need was taken care of to the minimum effort, all Edora had to do was produce and raise at least one successfully manipulatable hybrid nestling.

Roman is the 2nd oldest biological child of the human Edora. This quickly turned into being one of eight hybrid children. Being born and raised on the line between The Mortal Plane and Hell makes for a complicated upbringing. Used as the scapegoat for most of the siblings' mistakes, as Roman was the most outspoken about their mistreatment under Edora and Uri. Often pitted against their other siblings in an attempt to curb their temper, they spent most of their upbringing isolated from their siblings, but not the rest of the world.

At around eighteen years old, one of their half-siblings had since been considered “successful”, and been taken into hell to theoretically continue their brainwashing. Since then Edora had disappeared, but Uri hadn’t. And unfortunately for Uri, she had perfectly crafted an entity willing to kill her. With a rock-paper-scissors match to decide which sibling got the short end of the stick, Roman was left behind to deal with Uri while Sadie and Tobias made an early getaway. And after disposing of Uri, “repairing” the Veil Piercer, and creating the Afterthought, Roman left the manor too. Unbeknownst to them, while Sadie and Tobias turned left, running into the city further into mainland, Roman ran right, heading for some dingy little city called Redgrave, and eventually even further, to some strange island called Fortuna.

Future

Roman has a long future ahead of them, while there are many timelines in which I can imagine an angst filled death, their canonical timeline leaves them living a long and healthy life… eventually… 

At the end of it all, all the Spardas are able to live happily and healthily together. Roman does not work directly with Devil May Cry, but pitches in to help whenever anyone asks them to. They much prefer spending their time cataloguing the different underground Demon Groups around the region. The largest cache of information is, of course, on the Order Of The Sword, which is still their biggest special interest.

Part #2 covering AUs will be out and linked shortly. Roman is part of many AUs, so it was very hard to pick just one. But I think I've got something that y'all will like.

[jaskierswolf]

Mayhaps a wild take : Geralt folds the corners of his precious, centuries old, valuable beyond compare, bestiaries. Jaskier sees and loses his marbles. ( Then gifts geralt a book mark with pressed.. somehow familiar flowers... 👀 )

Hi, hello... So... I got carried away? This is 2.1k? I hope you like it!

CW: mentions of injury (on Jaskier)

________

Monsters mutate. They adapt, change, grow. Geralt was clearly a very skilled witcher with decades of experience, and Jaskier never grew bored of watching him fight, on the rare occasions he was actually allowed to watch that is. Most of the time, he had to make do with second-hand stories told by Geralt himself, which just wasn’t the same. But, sometimes, just sometimes, Geralt would deem the contract safe enough for Jaskier to trail along with a silver dagger gripped in his hands, and sometimes... Geralt got it wrong.

Jaskier was poking at his bandaged thigh where the drowner had bitten him, already beginning to stain red as the blood oozed from the wound. It hadn’t needed stitches but it still stung. The fight, however, oh the fight had been surprisingly spectacular. It was a small drowner nest just outside of town, attacking nearby fisherman along the beach, nothing that Jaskier hadn’t seen before and certainly not ballad worthy, but he’d tagged along regardless. He never wanted to pass up the opportunity to see Geralt in action. The witcher was just so beautiful, dancing with his sword in hand, all grace and elegance and fury. Jaskier was entranced every time. It was truly a miracle he didn’t get hurt more often.

The drowners had been fast, faster than they should have been, and now Geralt was muttering about mutations and skin pigments as he scratched words into a worn out copy of a bestiary. The witcher has borrowed one of Jaskier’s least expensive ink sets to update the centuries old book. It broke Jaskier’s heart to see such a beautiful book treated so poorly but he understood that it needed updating to keep his witcher safe.

The poor book though.

Academics at Oxenfurt would kill to get their hands on it. It would have been treated with the utmost respect, kept away from the grubby hands of the first and second years, only allowed out for special projects, and here was Geralt, covering it in his appalling handwriting, bloody fingerprints and dirt smudges in the margins.

“Oh bollocks,” Jaskier hissed as he jabbed at the bandages a little too hard, his restless energy getting the better of him. The witcher always told him off for picking and scratching at his bandages and scabs, but he couldn’t help it. They were just so scratchable, and the itching drove him mad!

Geralt sighed, glancing up at Jaskier with an exasperated expression. He took one look at Jaskier’s bandage and…

And he fucking folded the corner of his page before closing the book.

Jaskier saw red. He stammered and pointed at the pages, gaping as he tried to find the right words to express his utter outrage. “You-You… Geralt!” he whined.

The witcher’s brow furrowed and he looked between the book and the bard, obviously completely confused by Jaskier’s sudden change in mood. “What?”

“You did not just fold down the pages!”

“Yes?”

Jaskier scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Oh, dear witcher, you and I are taking a trip to Oxenfurt immediately!”

Geralt scowled, looking at Jaskier as if he’d grown a second head. “Why?”

“Geralt, please. Don’t make me suffer your cruelty any longer,” Jaskier pleaded.

The witcher rolled his eyes but didn’t argue any further. He just took Jaskier’s hands in his, keeping them away from the bandages. Jaskier blushed, the gap between them suddenly feeling too small and yet too far all at once. He swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden swell of nerves in his chest, and laced their fingers together, smiling shyly up at the witcher.

______

By the time they reached Oxenfurt, Jaskier’s limp had almost entirely gone. He still got tired quickly and by the end of the day he had to lean on Geralt or ride Roach until they found a suitable camping spot. Geralt had been ridiculously caring, obviously looking out for Jaskier at every opportunity, their days were shorter and well… Jaskier had actually been allowed to ride Roach. That was new. Holding hands had now become almost normal, and Geralt was just so gentle when he took care of the bandages, making sure the bite wound wasn’t infected. It made Jaskier’s heart do all sorts of acrobatics in his chest.

If he hadn’t been in love with the witcher, then he certainly would be after all of this-this… nonsense.

When Geralt wasn’t looking then he crouched at the side of the road, picking up a variety of buttercups and cornflowers and slipping them inside his heaviest poetry book. The supplies he needed from Oxenfurt were specialist ones. He hadn’t made bookmarks in ages, not since his days at the Academy, but he used to make them for all his friends. It was something to do with his hands that didn’t feel like work, and he had always enjoyed giving gifts. He was looking forward to getting back into his old hobby.

“Why are we here, Jaskier?” Geralt groused, glaring around the town with his scary witcher face. Jaskier felt a little bit bad for dragging Geralt back into a busy city but it was important.

He scoffed and waved a hand at the witcher. “You’ll see,” he said with a grin, and booped Geralt on the nose. “Don’t be nosy.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier hummed back, sticking out his tongue. “You know your way to my rooms at the Academy?” Geralt nodded. “Excellent! I will see you there in time for dinner, but I have shopping to do. Did you need any potion ingredients?”

Geralt cocked his head, his brow furrowing as he thought. “Blowballs.”

Jaskier grinned and brushed his lips against Geralt’s cheeks before he could chicken out. “Be good, darling, no scaring my colleagues.”

The witcher smirked. “Unless it’s Valdo?”

Jaskier laughed, “Unless it’s Valdo.”

And then they went their separate ways. Jaskier easily navigated the streets of Oxenfurt, basking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was alive and thriving, as if it had a beating heart of its own. The witcher may hate the city but Jaskier lived for it. He was a bard, a man of the people. He needed to be seen, loved, adored. The bookshop was in the same place that it had been when he was a student, tucked away in the backstreets, only known by the students and professors. Jaskier grinned and slipped inside, the bell ringing as he pushed up the door.

He let his fingers trail along the leather spines of the books, inhaling the musky scent of paper and old parchment. It smelled like home, and a warmth settled in his heart. He knew this shop like the back of his hand, and he easily found the supplies he needed. The pressed flowers from the road would be fixed onto a soft leather strap, and then Jaskier would cut the end into smaller strips, creating a kind of tassel. He also planned to engrave an inscription into the leather, something lyrical, something poetic… something for Geralt to remember him by when they were apart.

“Gods, I’m pathetic,” he mumbled as he worked. His tongue flicked between his lips as it so often did when he needed to concentrate. Each letter took time, a delicate process, and he sat in the little corner at the back of the shop, just as he had in his youth. After an hour the owner, now an old man with a thick grey beard, brought him a cup of herbal tea. Jaskier smiled up at him, and gestured to his work.

“How’s it looking? I’m, well, I’m a little out of practice,” he hummed, scrunching up his nose.

“It’s beautiful, and it’s good to see you back here, Jaskier. It’s been too long. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten us.”

“Oh, no. I would never!” Jaskier reassured him, “and thank you. This one is special.”

The shop owner chuckled. “You used to say that every time.”

Jaskier grinned sheepishly. “This one is extra special.”

He stayed later than he intended, past the closing time of the bookshop, and certainly past dinner time but he just lost track of time, too focused on his task. By the time he finished, Geralt’s bookmark was a work of art. The inscription was written in his finest calligraphy, and the flowers were arranged just perfectly. It had been made with love.

He just hoped that Geralt liked it.

When Jaskier made it back to his room, Geralt was perched on the corner of the bed, a needle and thread in his hands as he made repairs to his armour. His silver hair was loose and falling in front of his eyes, and there were the beginnings of a beard growing on his cheeks. The witcher’s golden slitted eyes were almost completely black in the dim light of the room, and Jaskier was once again envious of his friend’s ability to see in the dark. It was a handy skill, and he looked almost ethereal as the light bounced off his eyes, making them glow.

“Dinner was two hours ago,” Geralt murmured, not looking up from his sewing.

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat up and he scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, umm…, yes, well…”

“Jaskier.”

“You know how I get?”

“Hmm.”

His friend finally looked back up at him, giving Jaskier a soft fond smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. Jaskier stuck his tongue out, “Don’t hum at me, witcher, I’m fluent in Geralt speak!”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being obtuse, and don’t you dare…” Geralt hummed again. “Stop it! You bastard. I’m not giving you your present now.”

“Present?” Geralt cocked his head, looking stunned by Jaskier’s revelation.

“Ha! That got you, oh shit, cock it. It was meant to be a surprise. Fuck!” he groaned and buried his face in his hands. The bookmark was tucked away in his bag but it seemed to be taunting him, and he was suddenly struck by the fear that Geralt would hate it.

Fucking buttercups.

He was an idiot.

Why would a witcher want flowers on a bookmark?

“You got me a present?”

Jaskier nodded “I made you a present, Geralt.”

The witcher looked completely taken aback, a blush painting his cheeks. He set his needle and thread aside, and reached out for Jaskier. It was almost instinct at that point to reach back, taking Geralt’s hands in his. “Can I see?”

Jaskier glanced at his satchel and sighed. “Yes, yeah. Yes, of course. Umm, wait here.”

With shaking hands he plucked the cloth bundle from his satchel and handed it to Geralt, mentally preparing himself for the worst. At least he was already in Oxenfurt, he wouldn’t have to travel alone when the witcher inevitably decided to dump him. Gods, he was such a fool.

Geralt gingerly unfolded the dark blue cloth, humming as he picked up the bookmark. “Buttercups?”

Scratching the back of his neck, Jaskier cleared his throat. “Yes?”

“To my dearest, Geralt. May your days be filled with Destiny, heroics, and love. Ever yours, Jaskier.” Geralt read the words aloud and Jaskier wanted to sink into the floor. It was ridiculous. They weren’t even that good. He was supposed to be a poet for Lilit’s sake.

“It’s shit. I’m sorry, I’m tired, what with my leg healing and the rush to get here, but I just… you fold down the corners of your page, Geralt. I could not sit by and let that happen, and I-I… ah fuck it. I wanted you to have something to remember me by, you know,” he gave a flick of his wrist, one hand resting on his hip, “when you’re stuck up in that mysterious witcher keep of yours, and well, you probably don’t remember but I-I said you smelled like-”

“Death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak, I remember.”

“Oh, umm… well yes. Death and heartbreak seemed a bit… dramatic? So, I-I changed it… to love.”

“Thank you, Julek,” Geralt murmured, cupping Jaskier’s cheek and pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss that was over before Jaskier could even process what was happening.

He stared wide-eyed up at his friend, his heart racing and the whole universe shifted until Geralt was at the centre, burning brightly in the dark. Jaskier cupped the nape of Geralt’s neck and pulled him back into another kiss, and this time they didn’t break apart, their lips moving in tandem. It was slow, lazy even. There was no rush, just the two of them against the world, their breaths mingling and their hearts beating as one.