#i drew the damsel too because a friend suggested it but it was the right choice here they've both been stripped of personhood

[k20spock]

[ID: A colored digital drawing of two characters, The Damsel and The Den, from Slay the Princess. It is done in shades of gray with some red highlights. The Damsel is sitting on the ground and The Den is resting her head in her lap. The Damsel is looking down at her fondly and has an arm resting on her neck, hand buried in her mane. The Den's eyes are closed and she looks contented. End ID.]

A moment of respite for two dehumanized princesses

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary:  You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817​ because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.  

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes​

[kittinoir]

for the writing prompts, marichat for #16?

Hi hi! Sorry this took SO long - in more than one way! I got this request some time ago, and then it actually took me over three weeks to start and finish. I hope it’s worth the wait  <3

#16: ‘Not them, anyone but them!’

Chat Noir smirked as he extended his baton and vaulted over the illusory maze walls Volpina had created. Not a bad tactic, but an ineffective one once he’d discovered the ruse. Still, he could practically hear his lady’s voice in his head, if not beside him - she had yet to arrive.

Don’t get too cocky, Chat Noir. She can use her powers as many times she wants. We only get one shot.

It didn’t help that Volpina’s powers had been ‘upgraded’ by Hawk Moth; it didn’t matter whether it was real or fake, if Volpina created it, the illusion took on a life of its’ own and could no longer simply dissipate like smoke when struck. It was actually annoyingly similar to Mayura’s ability, with fewer steps.

Chat Noir analyzed the maze on the way back down from his vault. The maze had sprung up in the city all of a sudden, the walls so tall they were impossible to climb. Of course, even twenty foot walls were no match for him. He’d never actually been able to find the limit on how far his baton would extend, but he’d certainly pushed it further than this. Slowed down, maybe, but contained? Never. 

Now if she’d thought to enclose the corridors, that would be another matter.

But instead of handing her the idea by vaulting right to the middle of the maze - where else would she be? - he touched down a few rows over. His instincts were screaming at him to drop in on her, but he knew better than to follow them. That had been how he’d started it out, and also how he’d usually gotten his tail handed to him. No, if he wanted to win, he’d need the element of surprise - even if it meant going solo. Maybe Ladybug was the only one who could purify akuma’s, but it would be nice if he had Volpina subdued when she arrived. Like a little present.

Chat Noir crept closer, making sure his bell didn’t chime as he did. He took a deep breath before daring to peek around the corner of the final hedge, baton at the ready just in case he was unlucky and Volpina was facing him.

But she wasn’t. She didn’t even seem to be waiting anxiously for him and Ladybug to drop in on her. In fact, she seemed…distracted?

“…so pathetic,” he heard her say, her back to him as she idly twirled her flute. “Of course, don’t go thinking any of this was for you. It’s just a nice little bonus that you stumbled in here. But stumbling’s what you do best, isn’t it, Marinette?”

Chat Noir felt his heart stop dead in his chest. He must have heard her wrong - but his Miraculous enhanced hearing was never wrong. And if it was never wrong, then Volpina must be talking to…

“You’ll never get away with this.” Whoa, he’d never heard his usually-sweet friend sound so…venomous. “Ladybug and Chat Noir will stop you - again.”

Chat Noir bit his lip as he snuck another look around the hedge. Part of him wanted to warn Marinette not to bait this girl, to tell her that she’d once set Ladybug up to be destroyed by Hawk Moth and nearly succeeded, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying listening to Marinette tell her off. 

Of course, a hostage did put a wrench in his plans. He had no problem going toe-to-toe with Volpina, but with a civilian - with Marinette - directly in the line of fire, it was safer to wait. Ladybug’s Lucky Charm could fix any damage, but only if she transformed in time, and she had yet to arrive.

“I’d like to see Bug Eyes and Alley Cat try,” Chat Noir heard Volpina say as he drew back to check the GPS on his baton. Maybe one of Volpina’s illusions had his partner tied down. “I wasn’t ready for them the first time, but I’ve learned some new tricks.”

Nothing on the GPS. Either she hadn’t transformed yet, or Volpina and Hawk Moth had already taken his partner out of commission. Either way, he was still flying solo. He needed a new plan, fast.

“That’s the difference between you and them,” Chat Noir heard Marinette retort as he took another look. He could see now that Marinette had indeed stumbled into some kind of trap. Wooden branches had sprung up from the stone, twining around her limbs and keeping her feet just off the ground. They looked brittle enough to snap, but thick enough to be a challenge for the average person. He probably wouldn’t even need his cataclysm to get her out. “They actually have talent and skill - and all you have are tricks.”

“You know, I was going to keep you around for collateral but it’s very quickly becoming not worth it,” Volpina hissed as the flute came to an abrupt halt in her fist. “You never could take a hint. So what do you think it’ll take to make the lesson stick. How do we feel about snakes?”

To her credit, Marinette didn’t even flinch. Those pretty blue eyes of hers just narrowed into a familiar glare. It struck an odd chord in him - Marinette almost never glared. So why did it feel familiar?

“Wasps?” Volpina taunted as she began to circle her prey. “Although I suppose that’s more Chloe’s thing. Hmm. What’s it going to take to get through to you that you are out of your league - that you can’t compete with me and never could.”

Chat Noir scanned the sky line again. Any second now his partner would drop in on them. Any second now. Come on, come on.

“Oh? What!? …I mean. Of course. If you’re sure.”

Chat Noir whipped back to the scene taking place in the centre of the maze. Marinette had finally recoiled, but not from one of Volpina’s illusions or threats, but from the neon purple butterfly outline that had sprung up on her face. He watched it fade as she leaned into Marinette, one hand digging into her shoulder.

“Hawk Moth would like a word with you,” Volpina purred. Chat Noir saw Marinette pale, surely a mirror of his own skin, but she didn’t balk again.

“He can’t.” He barely heard her over the thundering of his own heart as visions of the next few minutes sprang up in his head. Of Marinette, akumatized. He’d had variations of that nightmare before, about all of his friends, but Marinette’s was the only nightmare that hadn’t come true - yet. “Hawk Moth can only akumatize someone overwhelmed by their strong negative emotions, and only one person at a time. Don’t waste your breath on empty threats.”

Right. Marinette was right. Chat Noir’s breathing began to ease - until Volpina laughed.

“Aren’t we the scholar,” she jibed as she resumed her circling. “What’s that thing you’re always telling your little reporter friend? Oh yeah - you should double check your sources.”

Chat Noir’s grip on his baton went white-knuckled. Surely she didn’t mean…couldn’t mean… but it had happened before. Not Hawk Moth, but Scarlet Moth had akumatized several people at once before.

“But I’m…I’m not feeling any strong negative emotion,” Marinette said, but even he could hear the desperation creeping into her voice. “I’m not… I’m…”

“Who’s the liar now, Marinette?” Volpina asked. She paused just behind her captive’s right shoulder and used the end of the flute to tilt Marinette’s face back. “You hate me. You despise me. That’s the dirty little secret you can never get rid of, the violent little flame that won’t go out no matter how much you try.”

Try as she might, Marinette couldn’t move her head or avoid Volpina’s piercing gaze.

He was out of time. 

Chat Noir threw his baton like a javelin as hard as he could and sprinted after it, claws at the ready. If he could just free her, Marinette could escape and he could finish Volpina. One akuma was one too many. He didn’t like the odds of two while Ladybug was still in the wind.

“Mirage!”

Chat Noir dropped to the ground, skidding across the stone, hand out to swipe the branches keeping Marinette hostage. He didn’t see the thick glass wall drop into place until he slammed into it.

A thousand and one curses in at least three different languages clamoured over each other in his head as he got his feet back under him and snatched up his baton. Volpina, he discovered, had managed to dodge it, but it did give him the advantage of getting between her and Marinette.

“How nice of you to drop in, Kitty Cat,” Volpina teased. A hardness in her eyes was the only outward sign of her irritation. “Where’s the Bug?”

Chat Noir grinned with bravado he didn’t feel. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Makes no difference to me,” Volpina said, twirling the flute again. “I don’t mind a little one on one time.”

“Chat Noir.” He let an ear flick back to Marinette. He could hear her struggling to no avail. “There’s an akuma coming. I have to get out of here.” Nothing would stop one of Hawk Moth’s creatures.

“I know,” he murmured back, breaking his baton into two pieces for close combat. “Save your breath. I won’t let anything happen to you.” Because now it was just an akuma he was dealing with: it was the very real time-limit the air-tight cage had created.

“Not even you can stop what’s about it happen,” Volpina jeered as the flute came to a halt once again. “Marinette will be akumatized, and then she will help me destroy you, Ladybug, and your precious city.”

“It hardly seems worth it,” Chat Noir said, heart pounding as he played his hand - the only bargaining chip he had left. “When I’m standing right here.”

Even the city seemed to hold its’ breath at that. 

“Are you suggesting a trade?” Volpina said at last.

“No.” Marinette’s voice was barely a whisper. He ignored her, and instead, nodded.

“What is it,” Volpina snarled, “That makes even superheroes sacrifice themselves for her. Saint Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lording over the rest of us!”

“It’s a good deal,” Chat Noir insisted, slinging his baton across his shoulders casually. He just had to get Marinette out of Volpina’s way. He would come up with a better plan after that, but step one was rescue the damsel.

“Don’t do this,” Marinette pleaded. “You can’t! You can’t give him your Miraculous!”

Chat Noir risked a glance back at his friend. “I can’t let him akumatize you, either.”

He didn’t have the time to explain that he’d never recover if that particular nightmare came to life, or to put words to the feelings that made him so reckless. All he knew for sure was that, until Ladybug arrived, he would do whatever it took to keep that butterfly from touching her.

“You for Marinette,” Volpina said, clarifying his terms. Chat Noir nodded and angled his hand so his ring flashed in the late afternoon sun, taunting her. “Hardly seems like a fair deal.”

“It is to me,” Chat Noir. He could probably cataclysm the akuma. He was eighty per cent sure it would work. He just had to get it close enough first - and make sure it didn’t have any other possible victim around should he miss. “So what’s it going to be? Me or the Saint?”

“No!” Marinette shouted. He could hear the slight pant in her voice now. “Not him! Anyone but him!”

Chat Noir stiffened at the words, so unlike the girl he knew, but he kept his face clear. The last thing he needed was for Volpina to see how much they affected him and to akumatize her anyway as some kind of twisted punishment.

But they still burrowed into his heart, easily finding a home beside the others words he’d convinced himself didn’t matter: her rooftop confession. He’d thought nothing of them at the time, but they’d evolved into something more the longer he knew the truth of Marinette’s feelings. He didn’t know what to do about them, or what to do about how he felt about it all now - or how his still-undying, unwavering love for Ladybug fit into the whole thing.

So he’d done nothing.

But it now appeared that while his feelings had grown into…something more, Marinette’s hadn’t faded, either.

Volpina’s shrieking laughter once again dragged Chat Noir back to the matter at hand - and Marinette’s dwindling time.

“Don’t tell me you finally got over your crush on Adrien just to fall for this street cat,” she jeered. She might have said more, but Chat Noir didn’t hear it; he was still caught on the first half. He must have heard her wrong. Marinette didn’t have a crush on him. Marinette barely seemed to tolerate him.

Marinette, for her part, hadn’t seemed to hear Volpina at all. “You can’t akumatize Chat Noir,” she insisted. She was gasping now, her cheeks pink with exertion. “You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.” Her eyes had become unfocused and alarm rose in Chat Noir as he wondered if she was even conscious of what she was chanting.

His hand twitched. He should use his cataclysm to destroy the glass. He didn’t know where Ladybug was. He couldn’t be sure she would make it in time; god knew he’d been caught by a surprise by an akuma before. And so he couldn’t be sure she’d be able to fix whatever damage was done.

“Deal or no deal, Volpina?” Chat Noir demanded. He had seconds to decide.

“Hmm.” Volpina tapped her chin, tilting her head to the side as she considered. And then she smiled. “Deal. You definitely come with more perks. Besides, the look on Marinette’s face when you get akumatized will be much sweeter. Mirage!”

More roots sprung up. Chat Noir barely avoided them the first time, and the second, but the third time, he stumbled. That was all it took for the roots to overtake him, pinning him to the cobblestones.

“We had a deal!” Chat Noir snarled, struggling futilely. 

“And I’m just making sure you don’t break it,” Volpina said. She snapped her fingers and the bindings and glass case around Marinette dissolved. “Reality.”

Chat Noir winced as he heard Marinette’s knees strike the stones, but she managed to break her fall somewhat with her hands before collapsing entirely. “Chat Noir…no…”

“Run, Marinette,” he instructed. “Just go. It’ll be ok. Me and Ladybug’ll take care of it.”

“…Ladybug,” Marinette repeated, shoving herself back up. “Right. Thank you, Chat Noir.”

He nodded, about all he could manage as his friend staggered to her feet and broke into a run just as a corrupted butterfly cleared the top of the hedge.

“Pathetic.” Volpina smirked at Marinette’s retreating back. “Does she even know you love her?”

Chat Noir jerked against his bindings. “Love - I don’t love her,” he said, but the words were bitter on his tongue.

“Of course you do,” Volpina laughed. “Why else would you have made the trade? So foolishly lopsided, and for what? One ordinary girl?”

“There’s nothing ordinary about Marinette,” Chat Noir said softly as the sweetest sound he’d heard all day sounded behind him, far away but getting closer: the wire of Ladybug’s yoyo. 

“Whatever you say,” Volpina said. She scowled, too enamoured by her empty victory to recognize the sound of her own defeat drawing nearer, instead extending a hand for the akuma to temporarily perch on. “Now where would you like this? Baton? Belt? How about that charming little bell?”

Chat Noir grinned. “Now that I think about it, you’re right: it is a lopsided trade. Cataclysm!” 

The branches retraining him dissolved almost immediately. Volpina staggered back, afraid to touch them and experience the destructive power first hand. 

Chat Noir got back to his feet, and a back handspring or two put enough distance between him and Volpina that he was out of danger - for the moment.

“At least you’re predictable,” she snarled. She raised the flute to her lips, but before she could play a single note, a familiar red blur knocked the instrument from her hands.

“Sorry I was late,” Ladybug said as she dropped to her partners’ side.

“No harm done,” Chat Noir said. “I kept her busy.”

“I almost feel bad for her,” Ladybug teased. “Exactly how many puns did you subject her to?”

Chat Noir smiled tightly. “Enough.” No need for her to know exactly how reckless he had been. It didn’t matter if the risk had been minimal, if it had been minimal at all. All that mattered now was that victory was in reach.

And any feelings he had for certain dark-haired, blue eyed girls? Well…he would worry that later. He’d saved the damsel. Now it was time to save the day.

“Ready, m’lady?” he asked as Volpina geared up again.

“You have no idea,” Ladybug said with a determined grin of her own. “Let’s go; Lucky Charm!”

[fericita-s]

Dance Lessons

A story in the Dangerous Secrets ‘verse, expanding on something Agnarr mentions in Chapter 28. Thanks @the-spaztic-fantastic​ for beta-ing and coming up with the term ”practice girl” and thanks to @jomiddlemarch for use of her sweet marten. And thanks @marimancusi​ for encouraging fan fiction about these two.

Agnarr

“How are you so bad at this?” I asked, but quietly, since the dance instructor was already annoyed at us ten minutes into the lesson.  I spun her around and she wobbled a bit as her hand twirled in mine. “You can climb a tree quicker than a sweet marten!”

Iduna stomped on my toe again as I drew her close, my hand again at her waist and hers on my shoulder, our other hands extended in front of us in an awkwardly straight line, like they were trying to escape the ballroom but had to stay attached to the rest of us, trapped in this lesson.  

Iduna gave a half groan, half giggle. She sucked in her breath at the look of irritation the dance teacher shot at her and lifted herself on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear.  “That’s outside.  And in clothes that are easier to move in.” She pulled at the bodice of her ballgown, one that Gerda had surprised her with this morning.  “This dress is so wide I could be wearing snowshoes under here and you’d never know.”

“Oh, I’d know.” I whispered back.  “Because you’d step on me hard enough to leave an imprint.”

The teacher stopped clapping a rhythm and began to use his walking stick to pound one on the floor. “ONE, two, three!  ONE, two, three!  Twirl and a-GAIN!”

Iduna stopped even trying to do the dance and twirled away from me, spinning like a leaf falling from a tree in autumn, her hair floating behind her and her eyes merry. She collided with a column and laughed.  “Pardon me, good sir,” she said, bowing to it.  I laughed and the teacher threw his cane on the floor.

“Sixteen and fourteen!  You’re both acting like toddlers. I’ll not waste my time,” he said in the strange cadence he had, like he was counting out a dance with his very words.  He swept out of the room and slammed the door shut behind him.  

I could hardly believe my luck.  

But then, good things always happened when I was with Iduna.  

She looked at me, her eyes wide.  “Are we in trouble? Did I just get you in trouble?”

I shrugged.  “Maybe.  But I’m not worried. I think we learned enough.”

She walked over to me, lifting her voluminous skirts and kicking off her shoes.  “I bet I could do better without these shoes on.  Let’s try again.  It will be easier without him yelling and trying to crack the floor.”

She hummed a melody under her breath and we returned our hands to the familiar positions, recreating the waltz.  It was easier without the teacher yelling at us, even fun. Her waist under my hand felt warm and small and she was smiling.  I wondered if she was enjoying it as much as I was, and lifted my hand to spin her around.  When I spun her back towards me, we went too fast and she crashed against my chest.

We stopped for a moment, frozen in place.  She wasn’t smiling anymore and instead was looking at me with a confused expression, like I had just changed the dance without her knowing. 

I felt a flutter in my chest and had a wild desire to tuck her hair behind her ear, to rub it between my fingers to see if it felt as smooth as it looked. 

She cleared her throat and stepped back.  “I think we mastered that one.  How about a new one?”

I shook my head, trying to clear away these new thoughts and feelings that were making it suddenly difficult to concentrate on what she was saying.  “New dance? Do you know one?”

She clapped her hands and put her nose in the air.  “The disrespect!” she shouted, imitating the cadence of the dance teacher perfectly.  “I will teach you a new dance that only the very best dancers can perform!”

I laughed, the feelings that had risen just a moment ago gone as I again looked at my friend, certain she was about to make me laugh. “Let’s see then,” I said.  “What’s it called?”

She drew herself up, back straight and hands raised above her head in an approximation of...antlers?

“It is called ‘the reindeer who has to pee really badly, but is stuck inside a fancy ballroom,’” she said, hopping from one foot to the other and ducking her head low.  

I laughed and copied her and we pranced around like the wild animals we wanted to be and I didn’t think a ball could ever be as much fun as we were having right then.

Iduna

I saw Agnarr less after I was living in the castle than I had when I was living in my cottage.  Neither of us knew how to be just friends after months and months of being so much more, but we nodded awkwardly in the long corridors as we passed each other and made up reasons to leave the library or kitchens if we found ourselves there at the same time.

It will be over soon, I told myself. 

Soon he would meet Runa and he’d marry her or some other princess.  When I saw him married, a queen on his arm, then I would be able to move past this paralysis his love had cast over me.  Like I was trapped in a mist of my own making.

Gerda suggested we practice and arranged for a violinist to come to the ballroom the night before the Vassar delegation was expected to arrive.  My ballgown was getting some final alterations so I wore a simple dress, one that Agnarr had already seen me wear a million times before.  

Runa probably never wore the same dress twice.  She probably never complained about ballgowns either, had probably never caused a dance teacher to quit in frustration out of hopelessness at the likelihood of imparting any knowledge.

The violinist started a waltz and Agnarr offered a slight bow, his hand extended to me.  I took it and he gripped me firmly about the waist.  I put my other hand lightly on his shoulder, even though I wanted to grip him tightly and bury my face into his chest.  

To be so close to him was torture.  

“I don’t want to do this,” he murmured, his mouth inches from my ear.  For a moment I was crushed, thinking he meant dancing with me.  But then he continued.  “I don’t want to meet her.  Not when-”

I cut him off. “It will be fine! It’s for the best!” I had to get him to stop talking.  I couldn’t bear to hear him say he loved me. “Maybe she’ll be really nice!”  I forced a smile, hoping the tears that were building in the corner of my eyes could be mistaken for bright merriment instead of sadness.  “At the very least, she’ll be a better dance partner than me.”

“Not a chance,” he said. His hand lifted mine to spin me perfectly, effortlessly, and I thought of the last times our fingers were entwined, the two of us in my cottage, our bodies pressed together and no words spoken as we said goodbye.

"Give her a chance!" I said as the bile rose in my throat. “She could be your friend too.  Your friend and queen.” I almost choked on the words.  It was what I wanted to be.  But this was all I could be.  The practice girl.  The girl who readied him for other girls, other women, more suitable. 

He shook his head and smiled.  “No one can possibly be as good of a friend as you are to me, Iduna.” And just as the wild thought was rising in my throat to shout I’m your enemy! I’m a terrible friend! I’ve been lying to you! he put a hand on his head and - was he making antlers? I smiled before I meant to and he laughed.

“Perhaps that should be the secret sign I give you to show that I need to be rescued.  That I can’t take any more of the princely duties.” He reached for my hands again and we were dancing once more, matching the melody of the violin as it echoed across the empty ballroom.  

“Crown Prince in distress doesn't have quite the same ring to it as Damsel in Distress.  Must not happen as often.”

Agnarr nodded, considering.  “Must not have someone as wonderful as you to rescue them.”

He gripped me tighter at the waist and my breath caught, the familiar nearness of him too much.

“It's true.  You have already rescued me,” he whispered.

“Agnarr.  Stop.  Please stop.”  I stepped back from his arms, already missing their warmth and wondering if it would be the last time we touched and thinking of the first time we touched, when I had rescued him.  But he couldn’t know that.  And now he never would. I crossed my arms across my chest and rubbed at them with my hands.

He put his hands out, reaching for me, trying to calm me like I’d seen him try to calm a stray dog.  Like I was a  wild thing, unpredictable.  “No, our friendship, not even what came next.  Being your friend saved me and I don't know if I can stand to stop being your friend.”

“I don’t know if I can stand to keep being your friend,” I said, barely above a whisper.  He looked at me with pain in his eyes and I was so used to comforting him when he looked that way that I took a step forward before I shook myself and stopped.  

The violinist stopped playing.  “Another tune? Something more lively?”

Agnarr’s eyes were on mine and I didn’t know what secret sign to give him that would tell him what I wanted but what couldn’t be. “No thank you,” I called out.  “I’m just leaving now.”  

I turned and left and was in the hallway before the tears started to fall. It will be over soon, I told myself again.  You made a new start before.  You can do it again. 

But I wasn’t sure I believed it.

[giant-sketches]

Oh my gosh! This part is so long that I drew a total of four sketches for it instead of the usual three. I’ve been changing up my writing a bit so I do hope you enjoy it still. 

Again if you would like to be added to the tag list down below just send me an ask or comment and I’ll make sure to add you.

Disclaimer: past trauma, crying, mention of eating people, people being treated like toys, swearing/cursing, pain, innuendos

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

In the valley:

Roman: “VIRGIL! VIRGIL PLEASE WAKE UP!!! VIRGIL!”

Remus: “Hush now, your prince has fallen into a deep slumber thanks to my sleeping spell.”

Roman: “REMUS! What sleeping spell, you stomped on him until he passed out!?”

Remus: “It’s an original, I call it Stompus Knockoutus!”

Roman: “Ugh, whatever! Just let me down this instant you dirty marauder!”

Remus: “Woooo! Marauder, I like that. Thanks for the darling nickname Princey!”

Roman: “Aaaahhhh! What are you even going to do with me?”

Remus: “I’m taking you back to my little hole in the wall so we can play together like old times.”

Roman: “Li-like old times?”

- Roman shuddered at the memories of when his brother and he would play ‘games’ before the destabilization occurred. Once Roman and Remus had split from the same trait they stuck together still as brothers who had no idea how to be separate people. Those days started out pleasant with their creative minds expanding everyday. Roman imagined far off lands, magnificent castles, heroic adventures, and more. Remus, on the other hand, imagined tentacle arms, vomiting spiders, eyeball spaghetti, and more disturbing imagery.

- It quickly became obvious to the others that Remus was beginning to unravel once Roman started distancing himself from him. It’s all he could do as Remus’s thoughts were too extreme for Roman to take in as their imaginations interfered with one another. In response, Remus became a recluse and locked himself away to drown in his own madness. Roman tried desperately to talk with Remus, to find some kind of solution so they could stay together, but to no avail. Then one night a large crashing sound shook the fort awake. Roman dashed to his brother’s room in a panic and swung open the door, only to find a now 150 foot tall giant grinning menacingly at him.

Remus: “I’ve found a solution to our problem brother! If I simply take you away from here then we’ll never be separated again.”

Roman was petrified with fear and had no strength left to flee as Remus’s giant hand snatched him higher and higher into the air. There was no tenderness in his touch as Roman’s bones cracked and he yelped in pain.

Remus: “Singing cheers of our reunion all ready? Glad to hear them, keep it going!”

Remus squeezed even tighter as he violently pumped his fist in the air, with Roman in hand. Roman screamed loudly in pain and tears began to well up in his eyes.

Remus: “Tears of joy as well?! Oh brother, you really do know what I like!”

- Now fully enjoying his new stature Remus cheerily skipped away from the fort, into the forest and up the mountain to a cave that could fit him. For the next month Roman endured a variety of Remus’s ‘games’ and was treated like a plaything. He would be punished if he misbehaved and he was kept in a drawer with only a small hole where the knob should be for air. Eventually, Patton and Logan were able to find him when Remus was away and promptly rescued him. However, the experience left him traumatized.

- That’s why it had been so hard for him to adjust to Virgil being one of them. Luckily, with time, he realized that wasn’t true and that Virgil was special. He was special to him. Roman could feel his consciousness fading as he was still exhausted and slowly passed out as Remus carried him off into the mountains. He was simply too tired to fight back or stay awake. Roman could only hope his friends would be able to find him soon. --------------------------- Back at the fort:

Patton: “ROMAN’S BEEN KIDNAPPED!?”

Virgil: “I’m so sorry Pat. Remus snuck up on me while Roman was sleeping and I-I couldn’t do anything. I was too scared.”

Patton: “Oh Virgil, there’s no need to beat yourself up over it. We’re together now, so let's go get our boy back!”

Logan: “My thoughts exactly Patton, but we need a plan. Virgil, do you have any idea where Remus might have taken Roman? Last time he hid out in a cave up in the mountains, but that ridge is vast so it will take too much time to scan all of it.”

Virgil: “I think he’d still be hiding the same way honestly. I remember him bringing me to this one cave he had all decked out with all sorts of weird clothes and tiny buildings.”

Logan: “Promising, do you recall where that cave was?”

Virgil: “Yeah I do since it was just a couple of months ago.”

Patton: “Why did he take you there anyway?”

Virgil bit down on his lower lip as he decided whether or not to answer Patton.

Virgil: “Ugh, he wanted me to play with him...but he said we had to go out and find some toys first.”

Patton: “Toys!? Yo-you don’t mean...people?”

Patton was mortified at just the idea of people being played around like dolls. Virgil freaked out and responded quickly,

Virgil: “Woah hey! I never agreed to it. I never liked playing with that guy so I just shrugged him off and found a corner to read in instead. You don’t think I’d actually go out people-snatching with that loon do you Pat?”

Patton’s eyes softened.

Patton: “Oh course not kiddo, but the idea was really scary to think about is all. I know you don’t see us like that.”

Virgil sighed in relief and smiled. Logan coughed a bit to suggest they get a move on quickly in order to rescue Roman.

Gently, Virgil laid his hand on the ground and motioned for Patton to climb on up. Patton hopped right on enthusiastically as he was lifted up to Virgil’s shoulder. Logan reached out his arms to help Patton climb on and they held hands to keep each other steady as Virgil stood back up.

Logan: “One more thing before we disembark on our mission, Virgil, I suggest you increase in size substantially in order to better traverse the mountain terrain.”

Patton: “I agree with Logan. If you get bigger it will help finding Roman easier.”

Virgil: “Okay, you both hold onto my shirt collar then. I don’t want either of you falling off.”

Logan and Patton: “Got it!”

- With that Virgil shifted dramatically to a whopping 500 feet tall instantly. As they were being flung up rapidly, Patton and Logan hugged onto Virgil’s shirt for dear life until the shaking stopped. Both of them peeled their eyes open again to find their new view spectacular! They could see everything from the town, lake, valley, forest, and mountains. Neither of them had ever been so high up before. The entire experience was completely indescribable as they both stared in awe.

Virgil: “You both okay?” he whispered.

Virgil’s sudden question snapped Patton and Logan out of their starry eyed daze and back to reality. They both hastily answered,

Logan and Patton: “Yes, we’re fine!”

Virgil: “Alright, I’m going to start moving then. Prepare yourselves.”

- Instinctively, Logan and Patton both gripped onto Virgil’s shirt collar tightly and braised themselves. This was going to be a long trip as each step Virgil took, no matter how delicately, jostled the two of them around like wet noodles. ----------------------------- Now in the caves:

Remus: “Wakey, wakey sleeping beauty. Your tower awaits.”

- Roman was in a daze when he awoke to find himself lying on what appeared to be a play mat with the design of cobblestone printed on. Immediately, he remembered where he was and with whom. It took even less time for him to realize he was no longer wearing the clothes he previously had on as well. He was now donning a poofy pink dress, white silk gloves, and a puffed up blonde wig with a tiara attached. His face had been painted on with a fake beauty mark near his eye and plump red lips. Overall, he looked ghastly!

Roman: “Oh my gosh, did you undress me in my sleep?!”

Remus: “What’s a little nudity between brothers? Honestly you have nothing to be embarrassed about. You make a darling little damsel!”

Roman: “Damsel? Is that what this tacky dress is all about? You want to play damsel in distress with me?”

Remus touched his nose in delight.

Remus: “Bing bong! You got it!!!”

Roman: “Then are you supposed to be the prince or something?”

Remus: “Come now brother, do I look like a prin-”

Roman: “No.”

Remus: “Ouch, you didn’t even let me finish. Now I’m left all limp.”

Roman winced in disgust at that remark.

Remus: “No your prince is the brat I left out cold in the valley. I’m taking up the role of the big scary monster who's taking you hostage in my tower.”

Roman: “I’d hardly call this cave a tower.”

- Remus smirked as he flicked his pointer finger in the direction right behind Roman. A shiver ran down his spine as he cautiously turned around to face the looming figure of a tower, a real tower. It wasn’t something Remus had made, but stole from somewhere. Roman didn’t even want to think about what else Remus might have destroyed in the process of acquiring it, then an even more frightening thought flashed through his mind. Frantically, Roman looked around the room to see if Remus had snatched any people up as well.

Remus: “Now, now brother there’s no need to worry. You’re the only toy here and that’s because you’re so special to me. This game is just for the two of us, that is until your tiny friends find you.”

Thank goodness Roman thought as he sighed in relief. No one else had to suffer the way he had all those years ago. He had finally started to relax a little when Remus suddenly began poking at his backside.

Remus: “No time to waste princess! Time for you to get into the tower and start the game.”

Each poke was more forceful than the last, until Roman found it hard to keep his footing. He toppled over in pain to Remus’s dismay.

Remus: “Hey! Don’t ruin the dress, it’s my favorite.”

That was the last straw for Roman. He wasn’t going to be Remus’s plaything, not again.

Roman: “ENOUGH! I’m not playing your games anymore Remus! Not now, not ever! Screw you, this ugly dress, this stupid play mat, and the idea that I’m still afraid of you after all this time!”

- In a fit of rage Roman chucked the dress and wig off his person and hurled the gloves towards his brother in a challenging manner. Luckily, it seemed Remus had only removed his shirt as he was still wearing his pants and boots. Using his arm he wiped off the paint on his face and scowled at Remus. Remus was not pleased.

Remus: “It would appear you’re in need of some punishment in order to correct that boorish attitude of yours.”

Without warning, Roman was forcefully grabbed and lifted high up towards Remus’s face. While startled, Roman wasn’t going to keep quiet like when he was a kid.

Roman: “Just try me! There’s nothing you could do that would affect me anymore.”

Remus: “That’s what you’d think, but I’ve had a long time to come up with better punishments. I actually had an epiphany the other day that I think will work quite nicely in turning you docile.”

Roman gulped loudly. What could Remus be thinking of doing to him that he hadn’t already done?

Remus licked his lips.

Remus: “You know brother, at my size it wouldn’t be too hard to swallow someone whole. I’ve been playing around with the idea for a while now. I used to lick you all when I was a kid, but now I think it might be fun to try for something bigger than just a taste.”

Roman’s eyes went wide with fear. Remus wouldn’t actually eat him, would he? He must be bluffing, right?

Roman: “Woah, hey Remus, yo-you couldn’t actually be entertaining the idea of e-eating me would you?”

Roman was now visibly shaking and his throat had gone dry. The thought of being eaten alive was just too horrifying to imagine.

Remus: “I am actually, after all you look like such a taste morsel.”

- Remus stuck out his tongue tauntingly as Roman squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel himself being lifted up slowly towards Remus’s mouth as his putrid breath wafted over him. He really was going to be eaten, he thought. Miraculously, a familiar loud cry echoed from outside the cave,

Virgil: “ROMAN!”

Roman gasped as he flung his eyes open towards the cave entrance with excitement. He was saved!

Remus: “Looks like the party crashers have arrived! Ahead of schedule, but after this disappointing first act I’m looking forward to the clim-”

- Before Remus could even finish a massive hand launched itself into the cave and pulled him out into the night sky. Startled Remus was not at all prepared for what he would see next. He was now, somehow, locked in place by a giant fist and staring up at a now massive sized Virgil. Never in his life had he seen something or someone bigger than himself. In this moment Remus for once felt completely helpless and small in Virgil’s stern grip.

Remus: “Wh-what is this? How are you this big all of a sudden? I-I...this isn’t right.”

- Previously, outside Virgil had asked Patton and Logan to wait behind him as he went up ahead at max size. He needed them to stay a safe distance away as he confronted Remus head on. They both agreed and waited in the forest for his and Roman’s return. Virgil then walked a considerable distance away before shifting to double his current size, his limit of 1000 feet. This is where he stands now with Remus in his clutches and pissed off!

Virgil: “Let him go.”

Surprise, by such a suppressing voice coming from the once tiny Virgil, Remus completely missed what he just said. He was now overcome with fear he had never experienced before. He was now the weakling.

Remus: “Wh-what?”

Virgil: “I said let him go, now.”

Virgil repeated himself as calmly as he could. He was fuming with rage right now as he spotted Roman still being held tightly in Remus’s hand. Although, he did take pleasure in seeing Remus afraid of him for once. Still, Virgil couldn’t help thinking about what he had become if even the monsters feared him.

Remus: “O-okay….”

- Cautiously, Virgil raised his free hand up towards Remus in order to have a safe place for Roman to land on when released. As Roman fell out onto Virgil’s palm he gasped for air as Remus’s grip knocked the wind out of him when they were both pulled out of the cave. Concerned, Virgil gingerly lifted his hand up to his face to get a better look at Roman’s condition. He appeared physically okay, except that he was missing his shirt. Virgil wanted so badly to comfort him, but knew at his current size it would be too dangerous to try. He didn’t want another kissing incident after all.

- He decided it would be best to set Roman down for now while he dealt with Remus, however, before he started to move again the image of Roman running towards his face stopped him. Suddenly, Roman was clinging to the arch of Virgil’s nose and sobbing. All the stress and fear he had bottled up in order to put on a brave face melted away the moment he was safe on top of Virgil's hand. Virgil had previously been worried about Roman’s reaction to his now gigantic size after hearing about what happened to him as a child from Patton and Logan on the way here. It appeared his concerns were unwarranted as Roman felt safest when near Virgil.

Roman: “Virgil, oh my gosh Virgil, I was so scared!”

Virgil: “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m here now. You’re safe with me”

Roman: “I-I know, but he….he tried to eat me. I thought I wa-was going to die. I’m so glad you showed up when you did!”

Trying his best to keep himself from yelling,

Virgil: “He tried to do what?!”

Remus groaned as the fingers surrounding him suddenly tightened.

Virgil: “Oh I’m sorry did that hurt? Good! How would you feel if I tried to eat you right now?”

Remus chuckled, Remus: “That’d be one hell of a french kiss monsieur monstre.”

Virgil scoffed in disgust while Roman frowned at Remus calling Virgil of all people a monster.

Roman: “The pot calling the kettle black, I see.”

Remus: “You think I’m a monster? Have you been completely ignoring the behemoth you’re standing on? He was so small back in the valley and now he’s somehow ballooned himself to such a size that even my butthole clenches in fear.”

Roman: “Geez, did you have to use the word butthole?”

Remus: “It’s my word of the day in that I use it every day, all day.”

Virgil and Roman both groaned at this weasel's meaningless antics.

Virgil: “What should I do with him? Any ideas Roman?”

Roman: “Usually we use Logan’s dimensional splitter to just send him and Deceit back into the dark realm. I assume you left him and Patton somewhere safe so I guess that’s not an option right now.”

Virgil: “Actually, even though I’ve become a resident of the light realm I should still have the ability to form rifts still.”

Roman: “Really?! Then hurry up and do it before this guy does anymore damage. We still have to locate which town he stole that tower from.”

Virgil: “He stole a tower?!”

Roman sighed,

Roman: “Yeah...somewhere in the realm, there’s a big mess for us to clean up later.”

Virgil: “Okay then, no more waiting. It’s time to send Remus back where he belongs.”

With that Virgil created a rift big enough for him to toss Remus into with ease.

Remus hummed as he flew into the rift,

Remus: “I look forward to the third act another time!”

Roman: “Good riddens!”

Virgil had now bent down to place Roman on the ground as he started shrinking down to a more manageable size.

Virgil: “You can say that again.”

- He rested on 200 feet in order to comfortably hold all three of them once Patton and Logan were retrieved. Roman told them about what happened as Virgil concentrated on getting everyone back to the fort. Once there, it was definitely time for bed. Before Virgil headed back to his room for the night he was stopped by Roman.

Roman: “Hey Virgil...I know you’re really tired and probably rather sleep in your own bed after such an eventful night, but do you think you could sleep with me instead?”

Virgil: “You want me to sleep with you for tonight?”

Roman: “If that’s not too much to ask. I’m...still really shook up from what happened. Even though in my mind I know Remus is gone I can’t help feeling I’m not completely safe yet.”

Virgil: “I don’t mind at all Roman.”

Roman: “Really?! Thank you so much! Come one, I’ll lead you there.”

Roman cheerful took Virgil by the hand and led him to his room. Inside the walls were covered in Disney posters and theater playbills. There was pink glitter on the ceiling and the bed covering was of a unicorn jumping over a rainbow. Overall, it was super colorful compared to his.

Roman: “Come on in!”

Roman had already tucked himself into bed and was waiting patiently for Virgil to join him. Sheepishly, Virgil climbed into bed and laid his head down on the plush pillow facing Roman. Roman did the same and smiled softly towards him.

Roman: “Thank you for saving me Virgil.”

Virgil looked away.

Virgil: “Even though I was completely useless at the valley?”

Roman reached out his hand to stroke Virgil’s face.

Roman: “Now you listen here. That wasn’t your fault and anyone else in your position also would have been knocked out cold if a giant stomped on them suddenly.”

Virgil chuckled as he lifted his hand up to touch Roman’s and leaned into it.

Virgil: “You’re right, sorry. I accept your thanks.”

Roman: “Good. Now for your reward.”

Virgil: “My wa-”

- Without warning, Virgil found himself locking lips with Roman in a passionate kiss! Stunned, Virgil simply let himself enjoy the moment until Roman pulled away slowly. Both of them were fully satisfied with the exchange and blushing deeply with embarrassment.

Roman: “We-well goodnight Virgil!” he stuttered as he hid himself under the covers.

Virgil: “Ye-yeah goodnight Roman!” he also stuttered as he turned to face the wall.

Neither of them could manage to face the other for the remainder of the night. Even though they had kissed in the valley when at the same height it was somehow more intimate.

To be continued.

@paranoidgurl​ @pattonvirglsanders​ @suckedinfandoms​ @crystalk17​ @gentlegiantdreamer​ @enby-phoenix​ @sanders-sides-virgil​ @just-some-gt-trash​ @notkolaidoscop​ @bluegreeninbtwn​ @lgbtqiaemo​ @avenirunknown​ @rainbowbowtie​ @ncanspeak​ @maryann-draws​ @himeperson​ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare​ @daydreamburritoworld​ 

[crowleyellestair]

Could you write a Geralt x healer!reader where she is tagging along with Geralt & Jaskier. Over the time she has spent tending to his wounds and on occasion, saving him, Geralt begins to develop feelings for her but he doesn’t understand them (obvs) so he pushes it aside. But on one particularly awful part of their trek, she falls through some ice and plot twist! He has to save her now. The terror he feels when seeing her so close to death makes him realise what she means to him🥺

AN// Had fun writing this!! Let me know if you want a part 2!

Masterlist

 Jaskier was the one to convince Geralt that she would be a great asset to their team. The Witcher could hear the bard’s voice ringing in his head as he sat there in silence. His chin was laying on his clasped hands that were propped on his knees. Geralt hadn’t left that spot in roughly a day and he was willing to stay for as long as he needed to. He scolded himself, hating that his mind replayed the bards voice on loop.

“The Dynamic Duo turned Terrific Trio,” was said with as much gusto as Jaskier could muster. Geralt had rolled his eyes at the comment, but didn’t disagree. Jaskier was known to leave him for periods of time to focus on monopolizing the music community in any given area. Geralt had just assumed at the time that the same would be said for Y/n. He knows now that that was a fatal mistake.

He had been convinced she wouldn’t be a burden as their first encounter had involved her saving him. It was a ‘wrong-place-worst-time’ scenario that she had quite literally walked into. Y/n had left the apothecary through the back door and into a skirmish that was forced onto the man. Some radical townsfolk had thought it wise to try and pick a fight with the ‘abomination’ known as Geralt, and normally he would have been fine. But it was seven against one in hand to hand combat. Geralt couldn’t use a weapon to dispatch them, as that would fuel the rest of the town to take arms against him as well. He had taken out five, but the sixth member was really sucking his attention.

The woman had walked into their fight, the ruffian pushing her out of the way and onto the ground. Geralt gave a look, showing that using force against her had pushed a moral line of his. He laid a hit directly on the man’s nose, and he stumbled back far enough for Geralt to turn to finish off the last man. Y/n had regained her bearings, and noticed the sixth wasn’t completely taken care of. He quietly stalked up behind the Witcher, pulling out a small shive. Geralt had taken care of the last man, but she knew he wouldn’t turn fast enough to catch the aggressor. She jutted her leg out in front of the radical, effectively tripping him. He let out a loud gasp and he threw the knife rom his hand to safely catch himself. Geralt had finished him off before giving a silent look towards her.

They had stayed there in silence for a moment, Geralt breathing heavy and looking down at his surprise savior. She rolled her eyes before pushing herself off the ground.

“No, thank you for needing help.” Her hands went down to pat the dust and dirt off her pants. She let out a soft curse as she swung her satchel forward, taking inventory and praying none of the vials had gotten broken. Geralt just watched with a quirked brow before releasing a mechanical and awkward,

“No, thank you?” Her gaze snapped to him, giving a genuine, humor filled smile.

“You’re welcome. Safe travels.” She gave a halfhearted, friendly salute before walking away. Jaskier had pushed himself from his hiding spot, clearly and loudly criticizing the warrior.

“Geralt, that was plain rude. Even a cute girl can’t get you to show gratitude. You truly are lost sometimes.” Geralt had given a displeased, guttural noise in response.

 They had met again when he was given the task to liberate a small camp from a horde of wraiths. It was a few towns over, about a month from when they first met. He had been outnumbered tenfold, and when it seemed that he was exhausted and losing, a loud crash could be heard. His amber gaze raked the floor, finding four broken vials and a material quickly going airborne. He held his breath, but the odd shimmer was all too familiar. At first, he was impressed, thinking it was the bard who had come to aid, but when he turned to find the woman from before, he was taken aback.

His surprised gaze was met with an expecting one, and when he didn’t move, he finally heard the melodic voice that he couldn’t let go since the first encounter.

“Are you going to finish them off, or did I throw those in vain?” He had shifted immediately into action, swinging his sword and delivering fatal blows. He had sheathed his weapon as she approached with two empty vials in hand. She crouched down, gathering wraith dust in them, before straightening and meeting his gaze again.

“Why are you here?” He was confused at her innocent gaze and gesture to the vials. She had shown knowledge of dispersing dark creatures, and yet, she stood before him with purity in her eyes. She shrugged as her nonverbal reply didn’t receive a continuation of conversation.

“I didn’t think there would be twenty, I thought there would be like two. I was planning on using the bombs, pierce them with my sword, then collect the remains. I need it to help relieve a boy who caught yellow fever. I’m a healer, you see.” He gave a hum of acknowledgement and he started to walk back into the direction of town. When she followed, he gave only a questioning side glance. “Well, we both need to get back to town, so why not walk together? I didn’t catch your name before.” It was a fib, as she had heard Jaskier that day, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“That’s because I didn’t give it.” He was being honest, but quickly felt a tinge of guilt, as the phrase is usually used in a dismissive and rude context. She scoffed, and he gave her another side glance.

“Okay, that’s a little much. Heroes shouldn’t be shown such an attitude, but I’ll let it slide, Bartholomew.” Geralt fully looked to her, eyes furrowed. She matched his gaze with a playful smile. “Well, I need to call you something. Especially since it seems like you are my personal ‘damsel in destress’.” He looked forward, but after a moment, a quiet “Geralt,” passed his lips.

Her smile grew and gave a curt nod of content. They walked in a comfortable silence back to town, Jaskier waiting for his friend right outside of the tavern for his friend to return. When his gaze fell on Y/n, he looked to Geralt and smirked.

“Well, if it isn’t the lovely lady you failed to fully thank from before.” He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to place a kiss on her knuckles. “Let me give you thanks for him- tenfold because of the delay.” She laughed, but Geralt was surprised to find the usual blush women had to the bard’s tactics was missing from her cheeks. It seemed to him that she genuinely found Jaskier’s attempts funny. She dropped her hand, and smiled.

“Charming, but I’m going to have to pass.” She gave a polite and small bow to the bard. She turned to bid them a farewell, when Jaskier’s voice shrilled out of worry and surprise.

“Geralt, you’re hurt- how’d you get hurt?” Y/n’s gaze shot up to meet the man’s, before looking him over. Her brows drew in confusion, but she then stalked to the other side of him and lifted his arm. Her brows flew and her hands started pressing and prodding, trying to assess the damage. Gently dropping his arm, she gripped his wrist.

“Follow me back to my tent, I can patch you up.” She looked down; her next expression spoken in a hushed tone. “Why didn’t you tell me after I mentioned I was a healer?” Geralt threw a glare at Jaskier who shrugged, but returned a stern look. When Geralt looked back to the woman, who was solely absorbed in his injury, his gaze slightly softened.

She had never marveled or spat at the fact that he was a Witcher. Anyone who dare call themselves a healer knows about Witchers. They were born of magic, science and pharmaceuticals and revolutionary to the world of alchemy. Nothing she said was ever borne of awe or disgust. The only things to fall out of her mouth were friendly jests and inquiries. Even Jaskier wasn’t passive about Geralt’s true nature.

And since they first met, he hadn’t forgotten those facts.

So, when he caught his gaze softening, he was confused. This was the second time they had met, and the man had already lost self-control over his expressions around her? Geralt thought it uncomfortable, to say the least. His gaze hardened again, explaining,

“I don’t need help. I’m a Witcher.” Her gaze shot back to his again with an unconvinced and uncaring look.

“I can see that. The wound is deep- I won’t make you pay if that’s what you’re worried about.” That too confused him more, making him try to dissociate from the situation.

“I heal faster than humans. I’ll be fine.” He watched as she rolled her eyes and dropped his writ. Y/n planted her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest.

“Fine. I am looking to hire a Witcher to escort me back to my tent. As I am a healer, the only payment I can give is tending to wounds.” He squinted his eyes, the only reaction he could muster from the confusing emotions swirling inside.

“I decline. There is no danger here.” She leaned in, matching his squint with one of her own.

“I heard wraiths were running rampant in these parts.”

“Luckily for you, I just took care of the horde. You should be safe getting to your destination.”

“Unlucky for both of us, you didn’t let me finish. I heard men were also quite despicable here, just like every adjacent town. I heard you had a run in a month ago, so you should understand where a simple woman, like me, is coming from.” Geralt was impressed- and so was Jaskier for that matter. He didn’t know how, but this was definitely worming its way into a song or poem.

 Geralt hadn’t known that, when she successfully convinced him, he would be convinced again and again for the following year. After Jaskier’s suggestion on their third run in, Y/n stayed with the boys to travel. Geralt often gave up his bed roll for her or let her come along to hunts without argument only because he just did. He simply let it happen. He didn’t know why or when it started, but he never thought about doing it when he made these decisions. Geralt seemed to stop thinking when she was around, and all he had left were his instincts. It seemed to him that instincts said to bathe her with temporal affection. He hadn’t tried- no, hadn’t wanted to dwell on the meaning behind the instincts. He had reflected on how it never got to the extreme level it was at, ever with Jaskier. And he was sure Jaskier would be jealous if he really knew how much Geralt spoiled Y/n, in his own way, of course. The only other person to make him have this effect was… Yen. But he constantly thought about his feelings with Yennifer, and how if they did stay together, it would be too toxic. It would implode at any second, and Geralt didn’t have the inner strength to go through that.

Time and time again, Y/n saved Geralt in more ways than one. She would help out when he found himself stuck in battle, she would tend to his every wound, and she would keep him company even if all they did was sit in silence. He had just assumed that this was the making of a true friend, and he never dwelled on it passed that line of logic.

The trio had split up earlier in the week, Jaskier staying in Aar Carraigh. Y/n was planning on travelling to Aedd Gynvael, a fort close to Kaer Morhen, so they could continue traveling once winter had passed. The fort wasn’t too far past Kaer Morhen, so Geralt had offered to escort her there safely, especially since the terrain was treacherous. It was only a week into winter, but since they were so far north, ice and snow covered everything the eye could see. The only way to the fort from Aar Carraigh, where they had dropped the bard off, was to pass over Gwenllech River.

It was complete ice, and the crossing bridge was too far out of the way to get to in a timely manner. The two were doing great until something hit the ice from under them.

“What could have possibly done that?” Y/n’s tone was short and tense. Her arms were held out for balance, and her feet splayed. Her eyes were pinned to Geralt, who was trying to decide what it was. Sadly, he couldn’t come to a conclusion.

“It doesn’t matter. We only have a couple feet left.” She nodded and took a step towards the other side. The ice ratted again, and to keep her balance, she had to slide back, out of Geralt’s reach. From this pressure from under, the ice began to crack. Geralt knew he’d be fine on his own, but Y/n would need to carefully pass over the unsafe terrain. While he was confident in her, he wsn’t confident in the surface. He couldn’t pass to help her as one pass could break the ice, and they wouldn’t be able to get back over. Or, if it was structurally sound then, both of their weight passing over it surely would send them into the water. Gwenllech wasn’t known to be a passive body, and there most likely was a fierce current.

It seemed to the Witcher that Y/ had realized she was on her own by the look of terror on her face. She swallowed hard and looked down to the cracks. Geralt reached an arm out in a comforting way while trying to meet her gaze.

“Look to me, and only me. It will be easier that way.” She nodded with her eyes closed and took a deep breath. Her eyes, which the Witcher had grown quite fond of, instantly found his. She didn’t lift her feet off of the surface, slowly and gently making shuffling movements to close the distance.

Geralt hadn’t blinked- he wouldn’t dream of breaking the eye contact, but in a second she was gone. His gaze dropped just a hair too slow to find her body disappearing under the ice. Luckily, she had known to throw her arms up, instead of trying to catch herself. He was there in an instant, his hand piercing the water’s surface, and grasping her outstretched hand. He pulled her out as fast as she went in, but it was enough to have the ill of winter set in her bones. Being closer to Kaer Morhen, he simply brought her there.

Eskel would pop in every hour to check on Geralt in his quarters, but Geralt refused to leave the room. So, they sat and chatted, the brunette trying to get the significance of the girl out of the ashen haired one. Geralt saw Eskel as a brother, but he had yet to figure it out himself, only telling him it was complicated. Lambert had caught that end, pestering him, trying to understand if it was like the Yennifer situation.

Geralt had felt sour discussing the witch with Y/n in the room. The only emotion he could pin it closest to would be guilt. But why would he feel guilty? It wasn’t lost on him that she went out of her way to tend to Geralt’s every need. He was sure that if he were to receive a paper cut, she would still give him full treatments. Y/n had a pure heart, treating everyone to the best of her abilities, but it had never reached the level it had with anyone else. She would help Jaskier with blisters and callouses from playing his lute for too long, but he knew that if Jaskier would receive a paper cut, she would probably jest, and go they’d all about their day. Jaskier knew this too, constantly giving him nudges and suggestive shoulder or brow raises when Y/n would do something that qualified as ‘cute’. And it wasn’t that she hadn’t done something that qualified as that because she did- every damn day, just by being herself.

Friends could think the other is cute, dote on their every movement, and instinctively give them all the other had to offer, right?

Right?

Fuck.

 When Y/n had woken up, the first thing to catch her eyes were the wall to wall decorations. Different skulls and pelts were found littering every space of them. She would most likely find it off putting if her senses weren’t being berated by her favorite scent: Geralt. It was leather, metal and celandine flowers. Most wouldn’t assume that from a Witcher, but he was constantly around them as they were ingredients for a lot of the potion’s Y/n would make for him. They didn’t have an overbearing or really distinct scent; she was only familiar since she worked so closely with it. Y/n wouldn’t have it any other way, being convinced that no other scent would match him best.

When she shifted to her elbows, her eyes continued to inspect the place. She sort-of jumped in place when she spotted the crown of white hair at the base of the bed. Geralt hadn’t been facing her, and had settled on his knees to meditate. She felt bad, assuming this was his room. The only place he ever really considered a permanent home. And she was taking up his bed. Y/n pushed out to find that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. A Geralt-size shirt hung low enough to cover her small clothes. A blush crept up her neck, and she looked to the bed. The only disturbance was where she left from the middle of the bed. There was a mountain of blankets and a fire raged in the corner of the room in a small hearth. The moments before her passing out rushed to her, and it all fell into place.

Walking in front of Geralt, but a few paces out of reach, she called to him. She had learned that touching him or being too close alarmed him, as all he could process was something disturbing him. And while he didn’t have a ‘swing first, ask questions later’ mentality, it would still be jarring.

His amber eyes opened to her, and it immediately raked up and down her form. She thought she made it up when she heard a faint grunt of approval, but he small smile that graced him when their eyes met, told her otherwise.

Y/n felt her stomach drop when his smile wiped from his face. He felt that twinge of guilt again seeing her tense, but it suddenly came across Geralt that somehow, he would have to tell her his feelings.

Fuck.

 Part 2 is up - Called Geralt's Problem

[tenpointstoq]

Come back for me

For @hey-there-hunter because of beautiful art they drew and because they let me yell about fic at them all day long. Here is a cute fluff piece based on the aftermath of the Djinn episode. No anti Yen please. Just some solid fluff while I take a break from writing my big AU fic.

JaskierxGerlat

1845 words

Fluff, angst, comfort, gayyyyyy

Come back for me -

After the whole Djinn situation with the almost dying, crazy witches almost killing Geralt with collapsed roofs and trying to do whack magic; some of which caused Geralt to ruin his reputation in the closest town, Jaskier took it upon himself to take matters into his own hands. So when Geralt returned back at camp, somehow entirely unscathed and looking far more relaxed than he had any right too, Jaskier launched into his plan of attack.

‘I am so glad the master of the mighty Djinn was able to join us once again. Finally free of the sorceress then hey?’ He chimed, rising from his spot beside the campfire. Lifting a flower crown woven from lavender and camomile from his hair he smiled, resting it delicately upon Geralt’s head. ‘So this is the start of an entire plan I have worked out, to help you get proper rest and end that insomnia that’s plagued you and caused you to do so many reckless things, meaning we can never return to that town ever again.’ Jaskier explained with his usual flourish, waving his hands in the general direction of the town.

Geralt looked at Jaskier somewhat incredulously answered with a simple ‘How many of those do you have in your hair’. Eyes trailing across his best friend in their deep Sapphire and ruby silk outfit. Jaskier gave the man a wink before skipping back over to the fire. Geralt followed him slowly, eyeing Jaskier with a sense of distrust.

‘The flowers actually help aid sleep. I am brewing you a tea of chamomile and valerian. If neither work I even have a source who could help us to get poppies. We will have you sleeping sweetly in no time.’ Jaskier chirped, standing beside a collection of vials and a basket filled with flowers, fruit and other oddities.

Geralt found it sweet the way Jaskier often wished to look after him, however the Bard tended to go overboard whenever he tried, leading to more disaster than good. He was also a terrible cook, even tea seemed like a very bad idea If prepared by the Bard. He should have mentioned that he had found a way to solve said issue, however the idea of explaining that he’d had sex with the woman who had scared Jaskier and caused the Bard to believe he was dead, didn’t seem like the best idea right now.

Jaskier had been preparing for this as soon as he was able to leave the castle. Seeing Geralt busied himself with the finer things in life, which Jaskier couldn’t fault him for, after a near death experience who wouldn’t want to fall into the arms of a beautiful damsel? To make sure Geralt didn’t end up relying on said Damsel who had almost killed them and seemed like very bad news, he needed to work out this insomnia issue on his own. Consulting women in the village Jaskier took the all or nothing approach. Though the vial of lavender oil he had stashed away in his bag continued to nag at him, while he had more than once helped Geralt with wounds and even undressing when his armor became an issue, it was a bit different from straight up suggesting a massage with scented oils in a purely friendship orientated way. Not that it being something more was an issue exactly, he was just rather sure Geralt would not be a fan of that. While Jaskier had gotten himself into trouble across the entire gender spectrum Jaskier had only ever seen Geralt bed women, which was completely fine. Each to their own after all, it just made having tempting thoughts about his best friend a little more difficult.

Geralt leaned over the pot, nose wrinkling as he tried to give Jaskier what he hoped was a look of encouragement, though the way the Bard seemed to crumple a little didn’t point to a win there. “Jaskier, I do appreciate-“ he waved his hand around at their own very messy campsite. Picking a piece of Lavender that fell into his hair, breathing in the scent for a moment, eyes falling shut as it flooded his senses. Jaskier was beside him, tucking another flower behind Geralt's hair, his fingers so gentle, whispering in their touch. Looking up Geralt noticed the blood that still stained Jaskiers shirt. As the younger man made to move back Geralt caught the material between his fingers, his eyes hard.

Jaskier caught a little off balance braced his hands on Geralt’s shoulders, looking down at him in confusion. Geralt had never been touchy feely, unless it was to slap the bard upside the head for some idiot comment or throw him over his shoulder to get him the hell out of a mess that was almost always Jaskiers making in the first place. The pain in Geralt's eyes made Jaskiers own heart clench, “Hey now.” He murmured, moving to kneel, bringing the two eye to eye. Geralt’s gaze didn’t shift, fingers caressing along the bloodied material. “I never even liked this shirt that much anyway, it’s a good excuse to go shopping next time you make us some coin from our next monster hey?” Jaskier tried to joke, his voice soft, brushing his thumbs along the hard line of muscle beneath the material of Geralt's shirt. Wishing he could massage the anguish from his friends form, all the way out of his very soul, Geralt already carried so much pain, the last thing he wished to do was to add to it.

“I did this.” The words came out roughly, his eyes flickingdown in shame, hands still fisted into the shirt, keeping both only breaths apart from the other. “You almost died, someone else actually did.” The pain in his words had Jaskier acting before he could properly think it through, reaching down he took Geralt's hands in his own, pressing them to his throat, his head shaking gently. “You didn’t know, you had no way of knowing. Come now, I am just fine, you got me to a healer, you saved my life old friend.” Jaskier felt the way Geralt's fingers trembled beneath his own, hating the way so many saw this man as a monster, the kindest he had ever known. Yet here he was, coming undone at the sheer idea of hurting Jaskier.

“Come on Geralt, I straight up wished for someone’s death when I thought the wishes were mine!” He laughed, holding Geralt's hands beneath his own, reaching out slowly, his fingers brushing beneath the man's chin, tilting it up so he couldn’t look away. “I’m right here sweet thing, I’m safe, alive, I shall sing another day, all because of you.” He smiled gently, wrinkling his nose in that way he did when he wanted to make Geralt laugh. “Worry not, I know you never meant me any harm.” While Jaskier had never found the truth a particular issue, it was different with Geralt. Sweet nothings didn’t work on him, Jaskier knew from previous generally drunken experience, yet as he opened his mouth he couldn’t leave the man to sit here, looking so broken. “Why would I go to such efforts to help you if I was angry? You don’t scare me White Wolf.” He murmured, a crooked smile falling across his lips.

Geralt was finding it hard to breathe, watching Jaskier explain it all away as if Geralt’s very own words hadn’t almost killed him only a day earlier. He wanted to move, to escape the guilt, go and hunt something for dinner, throw his senses into the hunt and push the rest of it away, yet with Jaskier so close, the smell of flowers and smoke lingering on his skin, so warm and very alive beneath his hands. He couldn’t leave, couldn’t walk away from the beautiful man he came so close to losing. “I should.” He replied, with no true heat to it, never good with words, that was always Jaskiers job, until it almost never was again.

“Stop that.” Jaskier chided, “Don’t give me cause to reprimand you Geralt, I will have none of your self loathing. I have spent far too many hours writing songs that sing your praises to see it all undone by a genie in a bottle of all things.” Jaskier was having none of it, tapping Geralt on the tip of his nose in a way that elicited a very confused look from the other that pulled a bark of laughter from his lips. “We both lived to fight another day, tonight you will sleep, one way or another and then we will be off to slay more monsters for me to create masterpieces about, as it will always be.” Now that was possibly a little bit of wishful thinking on his part, for once Geralt didn’t send him a snarky response telling him to fuck off, or that their alliance was only temporary. Instead he looked up carefully, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll be the death of you.” Though to anyone else it would sound like he was protesting Jaskier knew this was Geralt's own form of rather twisted humor. Giving the man a grin he collapsed, resting his head against Geralt's chest, a hand to his forehead dramatically, a long sigh leaving his lips as he settled into Geralt's lap. “You like me too much to let that happen my dear Witcher, plus who would get you into all of those amazing parties? Women, wine and food, we all know they are weaknesses of yours.” Jaskier joked, settling comfortably in front of the fire against his friend.

While guilt still hung in the shadows of Geralt's mind, Jaskiers way of driving the painful from his chest with his soft huffing laugh, his eyes bright as breaking waves in the firelight lifted a weight he had grown so akin to carrying. The bard had a way of softening everything at the edges, even when it was just the two of them, no crowd to charm, no coin to be made, the simple joy of sharing such company while still oddly new to Geralt was beginning to suit him. Parts of himself that rarely dared to hope whispered that he may just grow used to this, to love it even.

[dreamingsushi]

The Untamed - Episode 39

Omg. So much in so little time. Lan Zhan and Wei Ying can’t get a hold of Xue Yang and the only thing Wei Ying think to do is to provoke him. At least, we already know that Wei Ying is pretty good at doing that, but they only managed to hurt him a little. Then, Ah Qing helps them by telling them where Xue Yang is hidding. However, before Lan Zhan’s sword pierces him, Xue Yang manages to stab poor Ah Qing.  Wei Ying runs to the poor lady (damsel in distress and Wei Ying, hero complex, you know the drill). Xue Yang tries to kill Wei Ying, or Ah Qing, not sure, but Lan Zhan chops off his arm. Again, pretty bad special effects.

Then the masked person comes and takes the left part of the Stygian tiger seal before leaving. Neither Lan Zhan or Wei Ying manages to catch that dude, once again. Too powerful. Xue Yang is now all alone. Get rid of him please. Lan Zhan noticed that the mask dude is both familiar with Gusu Lan clan techniques, but also Lanlin Jin clan too... The young ones come too and they are afraid of Song Lan, but Wei Ying tells them he is back being himself and takes Ah Qing away, leaving Song Lan to take care of Xue Yang. Get your revenge.

And he does. He kills Xue Yang.

There’s another flashback. Xiao Xingchen just stabbed Xue Yang. Xue Yang tells him he got revenge on the Chang family because before, when he was just a kid, while he was chasing for candy, he was ignored, to the point that his hand was rolled on by a carriage and reduced to pieces his little finger. I hope it’s more complicated than that? Anyways, that was Chang Ping’s father, so he took revenge on the whole family. Xingchen tells him that’s a little going overboard. But then Xue  Yang babbles along, lost in his madness and finally tells Xiao Xingchen how he used to trick him in killing innocent people. And here. Can we say how good is that actor? We don’t even see his eyes but his face still tells so much. That’s just... amazing.

Of course, he doesn’t want to believe he did such a thing. Xiao Xingchen that baby is to nice. But then Xue Yang uses Song Lan to make him believe it. It destroys Xingchen as he recognizes his friend through the characters graved on his sword. So Xiao Xingchen then kills himself. Omg. This is so bad, this is so awful, I am at a loss of words to describe that rushing pain. When I just started to get really attached to him. Well I knew he died because we saw his corpse earlier but still... Poor him.

Then Xue Yang lose all composure, he obviously didn’t expect him to commit suicide. But he comforts himself by saying he can control him better now that he’s dead. But no matter how he tries, Xingchen won’t wake up.

And then there’s another flashback of how as a kid Xue Yang wished that someone would give him candy everyday, so while he was living with him, Xingchen gave candy to Xue Yang everyday. Now I understand why he wants him back so bad: he doesn’t want his daddy to be gone. (Sorry for those who ship XueXiao, it’s the love between a father and a son)

Awwww. That Lan Jingyi is so cute. He’s crying so sadly over the death of Ah Qing. Jin Ling is like: if Fairy was here, I would make her bite him to death. As if it was worse than just dying, they are too cute.

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying go back to Yi city and meet with Song Lan. They give him the remnants of Xingchen’s soul and he thanks them. As Wei Ying wonders if SongXiao will ever reunite, his eyes meet Lan Zhan’s eyes. That’s such a strong moment. They were almost the same once and got to meet again.

They open a coffin. And the body inside is none other than Nie Mingjue. I can recognize his saber.

Back at Yiling, the kids make fun of Sizhui for looking at some toys. However, it seems like it resonates with him. Then he asks Jingyi if he remembers at all anything from before he was three. Jingyi says only playing at yunshen buzhichu, stuff like that.

Then Wei Ying sees a little boy and he thinks back of Ah Yuan. Ah Yuan TT that was the cutest little boy ever, I miss him too. When he looks at Lan Zhan, he sees him next to a lantern on which is drawn a rabbit. Obviously, Lan Zhan likes it (because once Wei Ying drew a rabbit for him on a lantern) so Wei Ying suggest they buy and Lan Zhan agrees.

When they get back at the guesthouse, Lan Xichen already got there. As he learns that they found Nie Mingjue’s corpse, he looks really sad. Of course, they were sworn brothers. Then he takes back in the sword that got his real appearance back. Wei Ying then asks him if he knows of a person familiar with the Gusu lan practices and knows Lanling jin practices. Xichen’s face becomes really surprised hearing that. Oh so they are already doubting Jin Guangyao. MAKES SENSE TO ME. But Xichen says he would never do something like that. YOU FOOL! There’s an emoji using Wen Chao’s nostrils to spell “fool” I want to use it right now. He denies that it could be Jin Guangyao by all means.

Sizhui and Jin Ling are having a small fight. Jin Ling is really upset about people cultivating by devious ways and criticizes Wei Ying. Lan Zhan wants to go, but Wei Ying stops him. His eyes were teary.

HAHAHA. Even Lan Xichen knew Mo Xuanyu was actually Wei Ying. He calls out his name when he’s about to go. Wei Ying apologizes for not respecting etiquette and asks of Lan Xichen to rethink a little bit, because it’s not a coincidence that the sword was left at Mo village where he came back to life.

And the eeeend.

Next please.

[cutegirlmayra]

Hi I'm really enjoying ready a lot of your prompts. I'm not sure if you have answered something similar before but my question to you is if you could explain why do you think Amy is in love with Sonic and possibly why do you think Sonic 'might' like Amy in return. Thank you so much and I really appreciate it if you could answer these questions.

I would love too! It’s been a long while, so I might as well collect ‘new evidence’ right? :)b Also, thank you so much! I’m sorry everything is on shutdown (except Commissions! Rules link: x Pay link: x ) but I’m always excited to write a prompt when I get around to it! lol

Let’s start with the beginning. According to her creator, Amy was made with many “Fingers in the pot” and one of the main traits he mentioned was that he wanted Amy to be cute and have her focus set on Sonic. Since Sonic is always moving towards the next adventure, not really focused on anything else, he needed someone who would be completely concentrated on him. In Japanese culture, devotion/loyalty is an endearing characteristic, and it’s clear that Amy exhibits a sole fidelity to Sonic. This was intentional but perhaps mistranslated when interrupted by American culture.

Rosy the Rascal was meant to, based on fan speculation, set up the world’s perception of Sonic. He was famous for his heroic deeds, but in Sonic Adventure, we learn that he never considered himself a hero. He tells Shadow he’s just a guy who loves adventure, and according to the Canon Timeline, Amy was the first ‘friend’ Sonic ever had. His first ‘saving the damsel’ act, that defined a hero (especially in those time periods) was set up by him saving Classic Amy Rose.

She, therefore, has a small backstory explaining how she admired his heroism, used Tarot Cards to find out where to meet her ‘destined’ and was soon kidnapped and rescued by him. This only solidified her feelings for him, showing that not only did Sonic have a fan, but now he had a devoted self-proclaimed girlfriend in the process as well.

It was important that Amy was ‘self-proclaimed’ because besides being ‘shy’, Sonic is also not one to demonstrate a lot of emotion. This correlates with the ‘cool’ image that is reflective of Japanese young heroes. So, Amy set up that Sonic was a popularly recognized hero and even had fans, but she also revealed that most found Sonic attractive in his deeds and personality. “He’s so cool!” kind of stereotype. But besides being a rising star, Amy fell in love with him for his good deeds and risking so much to save her.

This is stage 1, let’s move on through the timeline.

As Amy kept reappearing (after Sonic met and befriended Tails and even Knuckles) she asserted herself into his circle to be closer to him. She gained a new strength, the Piko Piko Hammer and drew new expressions out of Sonic that normally wouldn’t have been seen before. Because Sonic doesn’t show many personal emotions, Amy has emotion enough to spare between the both of them. It’s relevant that this behavior, common in Japanese anime stereotypes, is frowned upon in the American fandom, but it’s actually praised and regarded with admiration in the Japanese fandom.

Another Sonic official on Twitter stated that if Sonic didn’t have a boy’s heart(A.K.A, wasn’t a young boy), he would probably choose Amy. I believe that’s because “The one who stays in the race, finishes the race” is true in this regard. Because Amy chases Sonic (A healthy part of any romance) she is constantly there (In sight, in mind.). So it’s safe to say one of the reasons Sonic could be more fond of her than he lets on is because he recognizes that she’s always there. She won’t abandon him nor her feelings for him. This level of devotion is praised in Japanese culture, and I would imagine he reciprocates this.

He rewards her efforts for this loyalty time and time again. Not only by saving her, but by also allowing her to do as she pleases. He never really goes against her. He never fights back with her. In fact, in Sonic Adventure and Sonic Adventure 2 battle, directly resulting after the Classic Era, it shows Sonic’s consideration for her feelings.

“Amy…. Take care of yourself.” In the Japanese version, Sonic pauses a considerable amount of time as Amy expresses the horror of his supposed sacrifice to protect her. He gives her one last cool pose, preparing for whatever may come, and reveals that in his heart–he felt it was his job to take care of her.

This correlates with Classic Sonic’s feelings, although not fully expressed in words and mostly done through deeds.

Amy’s feelings only grow stronger after this point, resulting in her being even more forward about wanting to marry Sonic, as it is her way of saying she’ll be his forever, and love him for all eternity. It is stated by SEGA that Amy can never get over Sonic, there will never be a ‘another love interest’, though they have explored Sonic being charming to other girls. Due to his already stated ‘attractiveness’ because of his heroic deeds, many girls have swooned over Sonic, and he’s treated this with patience and a heroic smile. He comforts girls, but he always returns to Amy’s side. Why is this? You may say, “Well, it’s because you just said she’s devoted to him, so he’s returning the gesture.” Well, you’re half-right, but it’s only half the tale.

In later additions, Sonic is shown to also get exasperated with Amy’s overly energetic flirtations with him. It’s actually more an anime stereotype once again, where the boy is embarrassed by the girl’s forwardness. In Japanese culture, the demure girl is praised as the most attractive quality for a woman. Amy is the stereotypical opposite, due to Sonic’s aloof nature, she has to be bold in her declarations of love for him. You can see the ‘demure’ type of girl found in Cosmo, Vanilla, Elise, Shahra, and even some in Blaze. Rouge is the stereotypical ‘older matured woman’ to put it lightly, but Amy is the energetic girl in anime stereotypes, bold and quick to anger or at times bossy.

In a Japanese translated bio online, Amy is stated to ‘cheerfully embarrass men’ which is shown in many incidents in Sonic X and the video games. In this regard, we could deduce that Sonic silently enjoys the praise as well as reciprocates her devotion. She loves him because he won’t hesitate to do what’s right (Heroism) and always follows his heart (cool and willful personality) while Sonic stays relatively close (in spirit) and is always devoted to protecting or being there for her.

These are the biggest traits that define Sonic and Amy’s feelings for each other. Mostly demonstrated in Sonic X, we see Sonic returning home to Amy, their telepathy ability when Amy is thinking hard about Sonic, and revealing that Sonic was thinking solely about rescuing her. We also see it in Sonic saving Amy from drowning, and Amy diving in to save him from the Metarex. There is also stated attraction on Sonic’s end for Amy during the ‘dress’ scene (But Amy is canonally stated to be a ‘pretty girl’, which is subtly expressed in the Video Games as well. Silver stating this world is beautiful, but pausing to blush and look away when Amy tilts her head while the sun highlights her is just an example. Sonic flirting with The Lady of the Lake and having a date with Amy is another example from Sonic’s POV.)

So, to conclude this little essay, I’ll say that the real answer is- “Sonic returns to Amy because she’s his perfect match. Her devotion is of course included in the mix, but it’s also because she expresses her feelings for him so openly, it’s touching how she’ll risk everything for him and he would willingly do the same.” They both care so much in such different ways, and the different ways they express it is perfect for how the other wants to be loved. Sonic doesn’t always like the forward attention, but he appreciates that he never has to question her devotion to him. Amy loves Sonic because although he’s shy, he finds ways to still show he cares deeply about her.

Although these two are still very much children, they have a foundation of mutual fidelity and trust that can’t be broken. (Sonic won’t destroy Omega, Sonic protectively defends Amy against Jet, and Sonic accepts Amy’s bracelet for him, A.K.A shows he accepts her feelings for him.)

Many in the fandom argue that Sonic can be inconsiderate of Amy’s feelings, which is true. He’s still a young boy and makes mistakes, but there is supportive evidence to suggest he does this in the presence of Eggman or others. I also support the theory that he doesn’t want her to get hurt because of him, so he keeps his distance during crowds, but as it is often player choice, he also goes on dates off and on with her from time to time.

In conclusion, these are just some things that result in Amy’s love and Sonic’s crushing. I say ‘crushing’ because Sonic isn’t quite fully there yet. He’s devoted but rarely speaks his honest opinion of her.

Even Omochao states in Sonic and Mario Winter Olympic’s: “No one knows if Amy is or isn’t Sonic’s girlfriend or not.” He never tells. Could this be because of his fear of her getting hurt by his enemies? Or his shyness? Possibly the fact that he never does say how he thinks about Amy?

Ever notice that?

But he constantly thanks Amy, and I think that subtle, “Thanks, Amy. I appreciate it.” Is honest. It may not be “I love you” but it’s something along those lines. Amy’s “Marry me!” Is her way of saying it, but moreover, what she wants to say is– “I don’t want to give you an ultimatum, because how you live your life is wonderful! But at least let me and my love for you be a part of it!” Which I believe he does return in full freedom of allowing her to love him in the way that suits her best.

He may refuse her advances, but he never has refused her heart.

She may not like it when he doesn’t consider her feelings, but she will always believe in him.

This is what I believe Sonamy is today.

There is plenty more, but I believe this is what needs to be stated, and perhaps this is too long already, so that’s how I’ll leave it for now ;) Thanks for the ask!

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Seven

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I’m getting this update out a couple days later than planned due to a very busy week but I didn't want to wait until Monday to post it. I know I ended the last chapter on a pretty big cliffhanger (and just might do it again...) so I didn't want to delay the resolution for too much longer. Thank you, @lassluna for your beta assistance with a few corrections.  They were much appreciated!  Thanks again to @cocohook38 for the beautiful artwork above and to everyone involved with the @cssns event! I was hoping to have this finished before the summer officially ended, but real life delayed things a bit so it looks like we’ll run into Halloween season.

Anyway, when we left off, Emma had just learned that her mother, Ava, was Cora's sister making her a cousin to Regina and Zelena. It's not a surprise she's going to take lightly...

Read from the beginning on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

AO3    FF.net

Anger.

Betrayal.

Confusion.

Emma's emotions were reeling and amplifying with every second that passed. Ruby wanted to say something but she didn't even know where to begin so she chose to remain quiet, close by should Emma reach out, but also just out of reach should her friend decide instead that she needed to punch something.

They had to have known.  Regina and Zelena had both been old enough to have known that Ava was related to them.and David had to have known that his step-mother had also been their aunt.  Why would they have kept something this important from her?

Emma had so many questions swirling inside her head for her newfound cousins and even more for her brother, questions she wasn’t even sure how to ask.  All she knew right knew right now was that she was seething and then she heard the voices echoing from the stairway.

“Everything is set up,” she heard Zelena announce, but Emma no longer harbored any interest in the planned rituals for the full moon or even for anything related to magic in general.  She was hurting and the secrets that had been withheld from her were the cause.  

The moment Regina’s visage rounded the last corner and came into view, Emma lashed out, holding up the photograph that had tumbled out of Gold’s book. “When were you going to tell me?” she growled, practically shoving the picture into Regina’s face.

“Tell you what? Zelena just said that everything was ready.  Let’s get upstairs…,” Regina responded, barely glancing at the old photograph.

“Seriously?  I’m not talking about your damned rituals!” Emma glared as she waved the photo into Regina’s line of sight again. “This!  When were you going to fill me in on this little secret, cousin?”

“Cousin…,” Zelena repeated knowingly, although she was more than happy to fade into the background and allow her younger sister to take the brunt of Emma’s ire.

“Emma…,” Regina began, hands raised before her defensively as she sought to defuse the situation that they had indeed created.  “Emma, we always intended to tell you when you were ready…”

“When I was ready?” Emma scoffed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?  Why would I need to be ready to find out that we were related?   Why did it need to be such a secret for me to find out who I’m related to around here?!”

“Okay...that’s my cue to leave,” Ruby said shyly as she threw her crimson cape on over her shoulders as voices raised which was probably going to lead to tempers flaring. She flipped the hood atop her brunette hair and eased her way back a few steps past Zelena. “I’m outta here…” she whispered, grimacing at the thought of what was to come.  “Em, call me later if you need to chat…”

Regina ignored Ruby’s exit as she attempted to plead her case. “You needed to be more confident in your magic first,” she explained. “You needed to trust us as your teachers so that when the time came, you’d understand…”

“Understand what?  I don’t understand anything right now except that all of you lied to me!”  Emma shouted back angrily. “This doesn’t have anything to do with magic!  You knew that my mother was your aunt and that I was your cousin the moment we met.  Why would you keep that from me?”

“You may not believe us, but we did it for your own good,” Zelena interjected. “It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, but you had to be ready for the truth…”

“My own good?  You sincerely expect me to believe that?  Hell, why should I believe anything that either of you tell me now? Did you only sign on to tutor me in magic because I was your cousin?”

“It’s not like that, Emma…,” Regina sighed exasperatedly. “You being our cousin was only a tiny part of the reason we agreed to tutor you in the magical arts. Storybrooke’s future depends on it…”

“What?” Emma asked in confusion.  How was anything in Storybrooke dependent on her?  “You’re making absolutely no sense…”

“We can explain…,” Zelena offered, but she knew Emma was aching far too much and wasn’t in the most receptive mood at that moment.  There was too much history to explain.  So much that Emma would need to be educated about before she’d understand and this night wasn’t going to be near enough.

“Oh, I’d love for you to explain it all to me, but not right now,” Emma spat  “Right now, I can’t even look at the two of you without wanting to punch you in your faces, and I still have to decide how to go confront my brother about his role in all of this!” She snatched Gold’s potion book from the stool she’d rested it on and tucked everything that had fallen from it back inside the leather bound cover. 

“Don’t be too hard on David,” Regina stated dejectedly, lowering her chin to avoid eye contact. “None of this was his decision…”

“Doesn’t make him any less complicit,” Emma reminded her cousin as she tucked the book beneath her arm before stabbing an index finger into Regina’s face with a stern warning. “We’re not done with this conversation.  All of you owe me some answers and when I calm down enough, I’ll be back for those answers.  Right now, I’m getting out of here before I do something I might regret!”

She stomped up the steps into the mausoleum and stepped out into the moonlit graveyard with Regina on her heels.  Regina could plead for her to listen all she wanted but Emma had already tuned her out.  All she wanted right now was someone she could vent to - someone who wasn’t family and who wouldn’t jump to judgement.

Only one person’s name came to mind and she could only hope that he’d answer his phone at this late hour.

**********

Emma didn’t even bother heading back to her car in her haste to escape the cemetery and the growing frustration gnawing away in the pit of her stomach.  She’d ended up taking a very brisk walk toward the harbor, wishing that the evening air would help clear her head and calm the maelstrom building within.  Nothing she’d done yet had been successful to quell her fiery temper  so she was pinning her hopes on someone else. 

Killian Jones had answered her brief late night call seeking a drinking buddy and, sensing her unspoken yet audible distress, had agreed to meet her at the dock.  Something was definitely not right with his new friend, the deputy, but he was chivalrous enough to lend a damsel an ear and allow her to vent all she needed.

“Is everything alright, Swan?” he asked stupidly, mentally kicking himself for such a ridiculous query when she was obviously visibly upset.  “You sounded quite vexed when you phoned so I’m concerned…”

“Vexed would be a severe understatement right now,” she grumbled as she neared.  As she drew closer to his position, even in the pale glow of the moonlight, he could see that her eyes were reddened and her cheeks dampened with trails of fallen tears.

“Why don’t we take a stroll away from here and find somewhere private where you can relay to me everything that’s weighing down your heart, Love?” he offered. “I believe you are in need of a patient, singular audience right now, not a noisy, crowded tavern…”

“As long as there’s alcohol involved, I don’t care where we go… I’m good with heading down to the Rabbit Hole, but if you have a better suggestion… I just want to drink until I can’t feel the betrayal anymore…”

He slid his hand inside his hip length black leather coat and withdrew a little piece of history - a weathered, dark brown glass flask topped with a cork plug. “There’s a small park that’s perhaps a five minute trip from here, right down by the beach.   The sea has always been a calming influence on me.  Perhaps tonight, it will be for you as well? I’ve plenty of rum here for whatever level of numbness you desire.”

“Rum, huh?” she chuffed. “Should have known you pirate types would have rum around…”

“Shall we then?” he offered, tucking the flask safely away until they reached their destination while simultaneously gesturing to the boardwalk that led away from the docks and down to the waterfront. “You can freely relinquish whatever is on your mind tonight, Emma.  You’ll find me to be an excellent listener.”

As they sat side by side on a concrete park bench, Killian proved true to his word, allowing her to air her gripes without commentary, breaking her monologue with only a few questions here and there for clarification.  Simply having him here by her side had already done wonders to lighten Emma’s mood, and although she was still bitter, Killian Jones had managed to temper the sting of betrayal with his mere presence. Most of the men she had encountered in her life had been dismissive - her former bosses, former lovers and even her brother at times, but Killian had shown a keen interest in all she had to say, no matter how trivial her ramblings might seem. Neal’s interest had been purely physical, as had most of her one night stands that came after that failed relationship so it was unexpected to have a man who actually wanted to hear her thoughts and legitimately cared about how she felt.

He’d patiently allowed her to unload everything on him as she relayed the tale of how she had grown up wanting to know all about her absent family and how she’d always felt she had a much larger lineage, despite her mother’s denial. She told him how she’d come to find David through her research and made the decision to move from Boston to Storybrooke, hoping she’d learn more once she could immerse herself into her birthplace. Then, she admitted for the first time tonight that she never imagined that the rest of her family would conceal the truth from her. Regina and Zelena could have told her that she was their cousin, but the simple fact that they hadn’t left her to only wonder what else they might be keeping from her.

“Do you think I’m overreacting?” she finally asked him directly after bombarding him for nearly thirty minutes with her woes, fingers tapping nervously atop Gold’s book that rested on the bench to her right. 

“Well, I suppose it comes down to precisely what their reasoning for withholding the information  from you may have been. I’m not privy to their thought process, Love, but perhaps they felt as though they had your best interests at heart?” Killian replied with a shrug of his leather-clad shoulders.

“Best interests of what?” she retorted. “What interests would it serve to not reveal that I was related to them?”

“I wish I could answer that for you but I think you know that only your family will be able to provide those details for you.”

Emma sighed in defeat as she slumped back against the bench, taking a pull from Killian’s flask of rum - and damned good, strong rum it was.  In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart still burned and she wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough yet to desire another confrontation with Regina or Zelena. Or to confront David for that matter.  She was probably angriest with him right now because they’d been working side by side and even living under the same roof for months and he hadn’t even dropped a single hint that Emma might be related to the Mills sisters. There was absolutely no way that he hadn’t known as a child that his stepmother was a member of the most powerful family in town.

“I suppose I’m not going to have a whole lot of options except to confront them, am I?” she asked rhetorically as he wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders, eliciting an involuntary shudder from her at the unexpected, yet not unwelcome touch.  His eyes met hers for a second, ready to apologize and pull away from her, yet she responded with a smile and leaned into him instead. “Thank you for letting me rant like a madwoman tonight.”

“Anytime, Love, although if I may be honest, I’m actually surprised that you contacted me   I would have thought that you’d have reached out to a friend in this situation, not to someone you barely know…”

“I don’t know… That’s the thing, I guess. I don’t have a lot of friends here that I feel like I can turn to.  I feel like no one really knows me around here and yet there’s a part of me that feels as though I’ve known you forever. I feel like you probably know me better than anyone else and maybe it’s because you haven’t lied to me yet.”

“Why would I lie to you, Swan?  I want to get to know you - the real you - not push you away.  I can’t speak for the others, but there are times when honesty becomes a double-edged sword.  I’m quite certain that your family held what they believed were valid reasons for not being upfront with you. When you’re ready to ask them, I’m certain they’ll provide you with the answers you seek.”

“I suppose...,” she replied, sounding both dejected and hopeful at the same time. “But not tonight.  Tonight, I just want to not think about anything… Oh - and I guess I’d better figure out a place to crash.  I don’t want to see David’s face tonight or I might punch it and assaulting the Sheriff, even if he is your brother, is probably frowned upon.”

“You’re welcome to join us on the Jolly Roger, if you wish.  You can have my quarters and I’ll bunk with with the crew…”

“As lovely as that offer sounds, I really don’t need the town talking about me spending the night on a ship full of sailors.  David already thinks you’re a bunch of dirty pirates so I’d rather not give him ammunition. I’ll probably just go sleep on the sofa at the station.  Even though Graham’s working tomorrow morning, he won’t care.”

“As you wish,” Killian replied with a mock curtsy before snatching his flask back from her hand and frowning when he discovered it to be nearly empty. “One might wonder who the pirate is here…” he commented with a sinful smirk as he took a swig.

“It’s good rum,” she stated with a dismissive shrug.  “I’m usually more of a beer and whiskey girl but that stuff isn’t half bad.”

“And more than half gone,” he scoffed sarcastically before bursting into laughter.  Even in her slightly inebriated state, she couldn’t help noticing how his blue eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Forget whatever ritual Regina and Zelena may have had planned, here was the real magic of the full moon and her drunken little soul almost didn’t want the night to end.

**********

Even though she was feeling only slightly tipsy, Emma consented to allow Killian to walk her to the Sheriff's station, recalling only as she was fumbling for the key to the building’s rear door that she had left her car parked over by the cemetery. Oh well, it would be fine there for the night.  She’d go get it tomorrow after she sobered up. Everyone knew that the beat up old Volkswagen belonged to the Deputy so there was no fear that anyone would dare steal it. 

At least she’d been alert enough to remember to grab Gold’s potion book before they’d left the park. She was already questioning the veracity of his actual ownership of it and had added the shady pawn shop owner to her list of people she needed to confront over the course of the coming days.  Before settling down on the break room sofa, she placed the book safely inside her locker with the incriminating photograph and letter still pressed beneath the cover. Had it been merely a fluke that those telling items had fluttered out of the book when she’d dropped it?  Did Gold know they were inside already, sending her on a hunt to locate that specific volume intentionally? 

Those were questions that would have to wait until daybreak though as she yawned and stretched out on the faux leather sofa, pulling the royal blue and dark red plaid woven blanket off of the back to cover herself.  It didn’t take long for her to drift off to sleep, replaying the night in her mind.  She knew she’d probably regret some of the evening’s actions when the sun rose but she dozed off believing the hangover would be well worth it.

As Emma was making herself comfortable in the station’s break room for the night, Killian Jones was taking a leisurely pace on his short trek back to his ship at the harbor, grinning like a complete fool the whole way. He has no idea what to expect from his burgeoning relationship with Emma Swan but he fully intended to relish every moment spent in her company.  He tried not to think about the fact that he’d be setting sail in a few days, not looking forward to the departure.  He could only hold onto a glimmer of hope that should Emma reciprocate his increasing fondness for her, he would immediately start planning his return voyage to Storybrooke.

By the time he scaled the gangplank well after the midnight hour, he knew only a handful of crew would be awake so it wasn’t at all surprising to find the top deck of the Jolly Roger deserted. He crossed to the hatch above his quarters in a few long strides as he felt the growing chill apparent in the sea breeze.  Stooping to raise the hatch, his fingertips scarcely grazed the handle before finding himself struggling to breathe. Eyes widening, he frantically scoured the deck to find the owner of the unseen hands tightening around his throat but found himself still alone under the moonlit sky. He struggled against his invisible assailant, attempting to claw away whatever might be strangling him but to no avail. Unable to even shout for help, he succumbed to the darkness, falling unconscious atop the unopened hatch.

[seeroftodayandtomorrow]

A Musical Affair

Chapter 4

Read on AO3

“Smythe.”

It took a few seconds until Blaine understood. Then, every bit of desire he might have felt evaporated like mist, and like mist, it left behind only cold.

He didn't immediately say something. It was probable he wouldn't be able to, anyway; it felt like his voice would stick in his throat.

In a way, he thought, it was a relief. Between Kurt and all that he was trying to do—or rather not to do—since his life had changed so drastically, he didn't need the complications that a fling in the gardens of Lady Susan's townhouse might bring.

“You...you are the new Earl of Dalton,” he managed eventually, when he noticed the other man looking at him expectantly.

Smythe drew a gallant bow, apparently pleased that he had been recognized.

Well, it would have to be seen if that smile stayed on his face.

“Until about six months ago,” Blaine said slowly, “I thought that one day, that would be me. My father was Lord Richard Smythe. I am your brother.”

Smythe took a few steps back, his face an expression that, in other circumstances, would have been funny in its dismay and surprise.

“Well,” he said after a long moment, “that rather does put a damper on things.” He bowed again. “Have a nice evening.”

He left the balcony, closing the doors behind him.

“Wait!” Blaine wanted to shout. “Wait! Don't you want to get to know me? I am your family!”

He didn't, though. He remembered all too well the words of the solicitor, that the new earl had no desire to meet that side of the family, but wished instead to claim his inheritance as fast as possible.

He had no desire to be rejected by this man.

He stayed outside for a long while after this, watching night settle in over Lady Susan's gardens. Then, when he thought he couldn't put it off any longer, he went back inside. The bright lights of the ball room seemed unreal to him. He smiled and answered when Lady St. James hooked her arm under his and asked where he had been, but it didn't seem like he was really there.

It didn't appear right that the world just went on turning when he had just been brazenly approached and then discarded like so much dirt by his own brother.

But it did, and so he did his duty, like he always did. He smiled, talked, and danced, and in the end, he escorted his mother home, answering her questions about his evening with monosyllabic, yet pleasant remarks about the charming ladies and the lively music.

But the whole time, he thought about how unlikeable he must be if even his brother wanted nothing to do with him.

But that was his life now. Tedium, duty, boring clothes and being stared at at parties—such was his life, and who knew how long that might last.

He managed a laugh at his self-pity, but that didn't mean it was over.

And it really was his life for the next few days. He made polite conversation at meals with his grandmama, he took his mother shopping and sometimes rode in the park in the mornings. He watched clerks on the way to work, nannies who took their little charges to outings, ladies and gentlemen on their way to some engagement or other. All of their lives seemed more interesting than his and infinitely preferable.

Worst were the words on his lips every time he was in company of his mother. I met my half-brother, he wanted to say. I would like to know him, but he didn't even look me in the eyes. And he wanted to ask, Did you never suspect? Did you never think there might be another woman in my father's life?

He didn't, though. His mother was happier now than he had ever seen her, though prone to occasionally bitterness about her loss of wealth and status. It would do no good to anyone to rip open those wounds. And, his parents' marriage had not been a loving one; as far as he knew, there might have been more than one other woman in his father's life, although he hopefully had not married those.

Anyway, a few days of this, of questions, doubt, and tedium, sufficed to make him feel like he was going mad.

But when he woke up on Wednesday morning, Blaine felt different. It wasn't immediately clear to him why, but he was looking forward to the day.

Then he remembered, and smiled. Today he was going to another of Lady St. James little musical affairs. Kurt would perhaps be there. And although he remembered their first meeting with more than one cringe of embarrassment, he had hopes that today would be less awkward. If he could manage to conduct himself with a modicum of human behavior.

At breakfast, he was unusually talkative and was even capable of charming his grandmama into a benevolent smile that only flickered a little when he mentioned the standing invitation of Lady St. James.

He changed into one of his more outgoing waistcoats, then walked to Sir Jesse's grand town house. It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the streets he walked along and the houses he saw seemed more picturesque than usual.

Or maybe that was just because he was going to see Kurt.

He shook his head about himself. His infatuation with the beautiful singer was getting out of hand; there was no cause for him to think that way about him after one meeting, not to mention that whatever his thoughts might be, they would never lead anywhere.

On the other hand, there was little enough good in his life right now, and he enjoyed falling asleep to thoughts of Kurt a lot more than to thoughts about why his brother didn't want to know him or where his life was going.

When he arrived, Lady St. James's little affair was in full swing, but Kurt wasn't there. Blaine tried to hide his disappointment as well as he could, but he couldn't help being a little more quiet than usual.

He must have been more obvious than he thought, because, as he once more was looking over his shoulder in the direction of the door, Rachel whispered,

“He will come. He doesn't want to see everyone at once, so he will wait until most are gone. Just stay long enough.”

So Blaine had hope to see Kurt after all, but it also made him feel all the more intrigued about the man. If these were his friends—and Rachel had strongly suggested that they were—why was he so hesitant to see them? Why would he not come back for a long time although everyone would be happy to see him?

Despite these questions, however, he was now able to actually enjoy himself instead of being torn between disappointment that Kurt wasn't there and the irresistible urge to look towards the door to see if he might not be arriving.

Some of the present people were very nice and seemed eager to deepen their acquaintance. He had a pleasant conversation with Miss Tina Cohen-Chang, who was a good singer and a spirited talker and made him forget Kurt for moments at a time. Mrs Evans and her husband were there as well, for the last time, they explained, before their departure to the country the day after tomorrow.

Blaine was sorry about that, for he liked them both; Samuel especially, he felt, could be a real friend to him if circumstances were different.

“You could come visit in a few weeks,” Sam offered. “It would be nice to see familiar faces where we live then, and it would be a shame to leave this new acquaintance as it is.”

“I should like that very much,“ Blaine said gratefully.  “I would like to see you both again, and it might be nice to get out of the city.”

He had loved his childhood days on his family's country estate. Even without any friends, there had been countless possibilities to spend the day, and most of all, escape his father's stern face and his mother's depressed one except for meals. Those days were lost to him now, as was the estate.

“You could even bring a friend, maybe,” Sam said and winked. Blaine smiled. It was unlikely he would find a friend to bring to an extended visit without causing a scandal, but he was thankful for the offer all the same.

Finally, when everyone but Mr and Mrs Evans were gone, Kurt appeared. To Blaine, he looked anxious and ill at ease, but there was no reason for it from the way he was received. Their hostess and the other guests swarmed around him the moment he stepped through the door, exclaiming how glad they were to see him and how wonderful it was that he was here. So it took a little while until Blaine had a chance to talk to Kurt, and until then, he had passed his unease and it felt like he was at home there.

Kurt came over to Blaine and offered him a hand shake and a smile. “Mr. Anderson. I'm glad to see you again.”

Blaine felt a giant smile take over his face as he took the offered hand. “Mr. Hummel. I'm very happy to see you.”

Mr. Hummel. Blaine had thought of him as Kurt since he had first met him; it felt strange to remember now that their relationship was not one to justify first names. He imagined their relationship to progress to that point and would have smiled if he hadn't already.

They didn't talk much. Kurt was asked to sing and did, although he jested that he usually was paid for it. Blaine was only to glad to listen to him, equally mesmerized by his voice as he had been at the concert.

Lady St. James’s Wednesday morning went much longer than usual, but at some point she announced there was only time for one last song, since her husband was about to return and they had guests in the afternoon.

“You should offer Kurt to accompany him,” she whispered to Blaine as everyone was taking their leave. “He won't take a cab, and it is a long walk.”

Blaine thought that Kurt would probably not appreciate the offer of an escort as if he were a damsel in need of protection, but he was eager to talk more with him, so he thought of a way to word the offer so it might be acceptable.

“Would you allow me to walk a little with you? It's a beautiful day, and I don't want to go home yet.”

The last part was true, definitely, though if it was a fine day was debatable. As fine as you would see in London when there was no pea soup fog and little rain. It was good enough.

Kurt looked him over and smiled. “You’re dressed colorfully, but not too fine, I see. That is good. You may accompany me.”

[iatethepomegranate]

Blue is the New Red Chapter 47

Masterlist (including AO3 and FFNet links)

Rated: M for torture, flashbacks, trauma reactions, PTSD, sexual assault of minors, consensual sexual content and related freaking out about it, drug references, non-consensual drug use, possibly underage drinking, homophobia and biphobia, references to self-harm, suicidal ideation and attempt. Chapter warnings:  animal cruelty, hints of PTSD, agoraphobia-liked symptoms related to PTSD

Main Pairing: Birdflash

Status: Multiple chapters, in progress

Overall summary: Nightwing has finally made his return to the Team, but he finds the events of the past two years aren’t quite done with him yet.

Chapter notes: The Team have a few surprises to contend with, and Nightwing encounters something he never wanted to see again.

Additional notes: I borrowed Sitka from Batman: The Animated Series

Chapter 47: A Bonus Mission

“Everybody stay calm,” Nightwing said.

“We’ve got at least one animal down here,” Superboy relayed to the rest of the team. “Be quick.”

A panicked chatter swept through the dozen-or-so scientists.

“We will hurry,” said Aqualad. “Be prepared to hold the animal off to allow the scientists’ escape. Superboy can break into the elevator shaft afterwards if you need to escape. Zatanna spotted a hatch on the bottom of the elevator you can access from outside.”

“Everyone stay close to the elevator,” Nightwing instructed. “As soon as it opens, hurry inside. We’ll keep this thing off you.”

“These things are super predators!” said their female scientist friend from earlier. “We made them to hunt humans.”

“We’re humans,” said one of the others.

“My two friends here are metahumans,” Nightwing replied. “And I was trained by Batman, which is just as good. We’ll keep you safe. Do you have access to the control signal?”

“No,” another scientist replied. “The soldiers took our devices.”

Great.

“No matter,” said Kid Flash. “We got this. Any tips?”

“The current on their robotic parts can be sensitive,” said one of the scientists they freed from the room.

Nightwing grabbed one of his electrified escrima; they were still having trouble maintaining a power supply for a whole night of patrol, so he used them sparingly. “Thanks. I can work with that.”

The nearest door flew off its hinges and slammed to the floor. An enormous jaguar prowled over the metal. It drew back its lips and snarled, revealing sharp yellow teeth. Light glinted off his metal rear legs.

“Superboy, keep its front busy,” Nightwing said. “KF, get me to those legs when it’s distracted.”

Superboy rushed to engage the jaguar, jumping backwards as it lunged. Kid Flash scooped Nightwing up and, in a rush of air, deposited him behind the animal. Nightwing turned on his escrima. The jaguar spun so quickly that Kid Flash only had a moment to drag Nightwing out of the way of its jaws. Ooh, wow. Its eyes had been replaced by fake glowing ones. That wasn’t freaky at all.

“Hey!” Superboy yelled. He kicked one of the metal legs. The jaguar rounded on him and clamped its jaws on his arm. He grunted but only made a token attempt to break its grip.

“This might get you, too,” Nightwing warned him over the link, and jammed the stick into the mechanised hip joint. There was a loud zap and the jaguar convulsed and collapsed. Superboy gritted his teeth and shook his arms out.

“Ow,” he said, glaring at Nightwing.

“Sorry.”

Kid Flash crouched beside the fallen jaguar. “Maybe we can take it for testing.”

Superboy sighed. “That’s going to be my job, isn’t it?”

“Aqualad,” said Nightwing, “we took down a partially-mechanised jaguar. KF wants to take it for tests. Thoughts?”

“Bad thoughts,” said Superboy. “Damn thing bit me.”

“Are you okay?” asked Miss Martian.

“I’m fine. Can’t even see anything. Nightwing’s electricity hurt more.”

“I said I was sorry.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Leave it where it is,” said Aqualad. “The League can collect it themselves if they wish. I will inform Batman. We are coming back down. Be ready to board.”

Nightwing had to admit he was relieved they weren’t taking the thing with them.

“Okay, we’ll leave it,” Nightwing said aloud, mostly for the scientists’ benefit. “It’s the League’s problem now.”

The elevator doors slid open and everyone piled inside. Nightwing didn’t appreciate being jammed against other people’s bodies, but now was not the time to be precious about it… even if he was feeling a little sick. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The scientists were too busy worrying about getting out to think about him, and Kid Flash and Superboy knew better than to bother him.

The doors slid open and Nightwing made a valiant attempt not to look like he was rushing to get out. The two groups of scientists merged into one again and the team escorted them to the front of the facility. The two Green Lanterns were already there, along with Wonder Woman and her invisible plane.

“There’s a specimen downstairs,” Nightwing told them. “You can get in, but not out on your own unless you break the elevator.”

“Batman’s on his way to secure it,” said Wonder Woman. “We’ll see about getting these people somewhere safe. Get back to the bioship. Unless you hear otherwise, return to base.”

The Lanterns and Wonder Woman divvied up the scientists. Wonder Woman could only take two, but that was two the Lanterns didn’t have to carry on their hard-light platforms.

They flew off and the team trudged through the snow towards the bioship.

Miss Martian probed Superboy’s arm. “You were right. No marks.”

Superboy rolled his eyes, but he was almost smirking under the attention. “I told you.”

Nightwing pulled Kid Flash’s arm over his shoulders. “Thank you for gallantly saving me, good sir.”

“Ah, you know saving damsels and kicking ass… all in a day’s work.”

“I am not a damsel.”

Kid Flash snickered, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Oh, I am very aware of that. Doing okay?”

“All good now. Not a fan of being a sardine, but there are worse things in the world.”

“You were kinda weird about the elephants in the system, too. And those tapes.”

“I’m over it now,” Nightwing replied. His nose was cooling in the icy air. “We had elephants in the circus. Guess I’m still nostalgic after yesterday.”

Sometimes he missed the circus terribly, especially the elephant he’d grown up with. Sitka. She’d almost been like a sister to him, in a way. He used to pester the elephant trainer to let him learn tricks with her. She was still with the circus last he heard, but she didn’t do as many tricks these days. Animals in circuses were no longer fashionable given the animal rights issues involved. Nightwing had never known Sitka to be mistreated, but he supposed her accommodations couldn’t have been as good as she needed given they were part of a travelling circus. It was his understanding most of the animals didn’t travel with the circus on tours at all anymore. They were only brought over when the circus was setting up shop in one place for a long period of time.

He ended up telling the team about the time he’d broken his leg as a kid near the elephant enclosure and Sitka had broken down the fences to get to him and carry him back to his parents. The adults had been both grateful and horrified. It was just as well Sitka was such a nanny, and not given to aggression. She wasn’t the only elephant in the circus, but she’d been the one he was closest to.

That story held them over until they reached the bioship and strapped themselves in.

“How’d you like your first mission?” Miss Martian asked Batgirl as she brought the ship into the air.

“I missed all the excitement downstairs,” Batgirl replied.

“Most of us did,” Zatanna replied. “Maybe you’ll get to check out the animal when Batman brings it back to base.”

“Where do you think he’ll take it?” asked Kid Flash. “Mount Justice? Watchtower? Batcave?”

“Or a safehouse in Gotham,” Nightwing added. “He might not want to risk taking it anywhere sensitive until we know what it’s capable of.”

“He won’t want it in Gotham, either,” said Robin.

“Maybe somewhere remote, then.”

As if he heard his name, Batman’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “Batman to team. Do you read?”

“We read you,” Aqualad replied.

“I have another mission for you,” said Batman. “I’m picking up some strange signals from a warehouse just south of your location. Check it out. Rescue any hostages if you can do so safely. You’ll have backup as soon as it’s available.”

“Understood,” said Aqualad. Batman closed the link.

Nightwing was starting to feel warm. “Hey, Miss M, have you turned the heat up in here?”

“No,” Miss Martian replied, sending the ship into a gentle dive. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I… think so. Just feeling kinda warm.”

“Maybe you should stay on the ship,” Kid Flash suggested.

“Like hell.”

“Keep us updated on your condition,” said Aqualad, because he was both responsible and reasonable. “If you begin to feel ill, we’ll send you back.”

“Yes, boss.”

The ship touched down and the team disembarked. Nightwing’s skin flashed even hotter than before. He wasn’t burning up, exactly, but it wasn’t the most comfortable sensation. He didn’t feel weak. No joint aches or other flu-like symptoms. Just random hot flushes. He didn’t know what to do with that. The jaguar hadn’t bitten him or anything.

Kid Flash stuck close to his side as they left the ship. There were laser turrets on top of the warehouse. What the fuck?

Artemis took one out with an arrow while everyone else scattered. Kid Flash zoomed up and punched out another. Superboy took out the next. Zatanna exploded two with a spell. Nightwing and Robin teamed up with their batarangs/wing-dings to take out the last one.

Rocket put a shield up around the group once they’d come back together. “Just in case.”

They headed for the warehouse, and heat flashed over Nightwing’s skin again, even more intense this time. He tried to keep his reaction off his face, but Kid Flash was giving him worried looks anyway.

Nightwing let Robin take out the biometric scanner that barred the way. Hastily-installed, it went down without a fuss and the large garage doors rolled out of the way.

The team entered, almost on tiptoe. The factory floor was deserted, but for a set of metal stairs leading underground.

“Miss Martian, scout ahead,” said Aqualad. She headed off. “Nightwing, are you well?”

“Yeah, all that’s happening is this weird temperature thing,” Nightwing replied. “I’m not about to keel over. I promise I’ll tell you if it changes.”

“This is probably another Ra’s al Ghul base,” said Zatanna. “Could you be reacting to a Lazarus Pit?”

“I have no idea.” The thought hadn’t occurred to him. He hadn’t encountered a Pit since the one that brought him back to life. Could there be a Lazarus Pit in such a cold area? They certainly generated their own heat, Nightwing remembered with an unpleasant lurch in his gut.

“Let’s hope not,” Kid Flash said. “We’ve got enough to deal with.”

“Batman to team.”

“We read you,” said Aqualad. “We have reached the warehouse and have found stairs leading underground. Miss Martian is scouting ahead.”

“Superman is heading to your location as soon as he can,” Batman said. “Let me know what you find. Batman out.”

Superboy had a weird look on his face. Nightwing was under the impression they’d been working on their relationship, but maybe things were still awkward.

“I found more scientists,” said Miss Martian. “They’re trapped in a lab. There may be gas valves inside.”

“We’re on our way,” said Aqualad. “Nightwing, Superboy, Kid Flash, Zatanna… get below. Batgirl, Robin, explore that office over there. Rocket, go with them. Artemis, find a vantage point in case we have company. I will wait for Superman.”

Nightwing rushed down the stairs with his squadmates. The stairs were metal mesh, which met a walkway made of the same stuff. Nightwing glanced below, and there was a green glow that made him want to vomit. God damn, why did Zatanna have to be right about this?

Kid Flash steadied him with a hand to the elbow and they forged ahead down another set of stairs and another. Miss Martian was floating in the leftward section of a fork in the walkway. She led them to a door set into rock. The door was secured with a traditional lock, so Nightwing grabbed his picks and got to work.

“Flash figured out how to unlock doors by vibrating at the right frequency,” said Kid Flash. “God, I need to learn how to do that.”

“I’m concentrating, KF.”

“Right, sorry.”

Nightwing got the tumblers right and the lock clicked open. The scientists spilled out, coughing, and Kid Flash led them up the stairs. In the absence of a task, Nightwing could feel the heat across his skin again, and a strange buzzing sensation in his head. Fuck, he didn’t need this.

“We released the scientists,” said Miss Martian. “Kid Flash is bringing them to you. The rest of us will keep exploring.”

“Zee, I think you might’ve been right about the Pit,” said Nightwing.

“What can we do about it?” asked Zatanna as the squad returned to the fork and then down another set of stairs.

“Not much. They’re unstable. Lots of potential energy. Ra’s has tried to use them as bombs before.”

There was another room on this level, packed full of scientists beating against the door. Nightwing picked that lock open, too. The scientists spilled out, more than one vomiting over the railing as they went. Miss Martian led them up to safety and Kid Flash replaced her.

They kept going down. There were more rooms of scientists, more locks to pick. Each group looked worse than the one before.

“Aqualad, we’ve got a problem,” said Nightwing. “There are more rooms of scientists, and it looks like they’re being gassed. I’m picking locks as fast as I can, but we need more options.”

“I can break down some doors,” said Superboy.

“Do it,” said Aqualad. “Anyone else?”

“I’ll magic some locks,” said Zatanna.

“I’m good with locks,” said Robin, “and we’re not finding much down here. Batgirl can handle the computer stuff.”

“Good. Everyone get moving. Bring survivors up as you find them.”

They hurried down more and more steps, people peeling off as they found rooms. The heat against Nightwing’s skin was almost painful now, the buzzing in his head damn near drowning out everything else. But he still had his balance and could pick a lock in his sleep. That was enough. These people were counting on him.

Kid Flash couldn’t get the locks open, so he escorted Nightwing’s scientists for him. The floor was visible from the platforms now, and the final steps led to a glowing green Pit Nightwing had hoped to never see again. There was some strange machinery around it, and wires. Lots of wires.

“I found a Lazarus Pit,” Nightwing said. “Something’s not right. There’s wiring. I need to check it out.”

“Be careful,” said Aqualad. “Superman is here now. I’ll send him down to help you. Everyone else, how many more rooms?”

“Maybe three,” said Kid Flash. “They’re not looking so good. We have to get them out now or we could have some bodies.”

“Do I need to—”

“We have enough people to get them out, Nightwing,” said Aqualad. “Check out that Pit. We need to know if it is a bomb.”

Nightwing slid down that last staircase, almost landing on his face. The buzzing was unbearable, and it took everything in him not to claw his ears open. The heat on his skin was awful, but it was nothing compared to the heat the Pit blasted in his direction.

“Block it out,” he muttered. “Focus.”

The wires were coiled together and fed into a large metal tube sitting in the Pit. The other end connected to a tablet computer resting on a nearby rock. Rushed, but possibly premeditated. Maybe Ra’s knew people were coming and had enough notice to set up a bomb, but not enough to make it as sophisticated as he would’ve liked.

“Nightwing.” Superman swooped down beside him. “What are we looking at?”

“Bomb.” Nightwing gestured unhelpfully to the whole setup. “Can you see into the tube?”

Superman focused on it and nodded. “There are spots of lead, but not enough to impede my view.”

Nightwing looked at the tablet screen. There was no countdown. However, there was a big red stop button. He didn’t trust it, and without a countdown he had no idea how much time they had. This explosion could take out at least a mile of land, possibly more.

“What’s going on down there?” said Kid Flash.

“Got a bomb,” Nightwing replied. “Superman can help me find the right wires to cut. Focus on getting everyone else to safety. He can get me out if he has to.”

“But—”

“Make that an order,” Aqualad said. “Keep moving. Good luck, Nightwing.”

“Superman,” said Nightwing, “I need you to find the wires I can cut. Can you find the blasting cap?”

He squinted. “Got it.”

“Which wires do I cut?”

“The black one, to start.”

Nightwing produced a set of wire clippers and cut the black wire from the tablet.

“There’s also another power source.” Superman nodded to the humming generator beside the Pit. The buzzing in Nightwing’s head had drowned it out. “Cut the blue.”

Nightwing cut the blue wire. His hands were shaking. Adrenaline? Fear? PTSD? Who knew?

“Is that all the wires?”

“The blasting cap and the power source, yes.”

“I need you to fly me over to the cap. I’ll take it out, so we don’t have any accidents.”

Superman scooped him up and carried him over to the metal tube. Nightwing pulled out a pocket knife and found the cap. He had to go carefully, or he’d blow both of them up, along with all the scientists and the Team.

He took a deep, shaky breath and carefully slipped the blade into the compartment. The lid opened, revealing the cap. He tugged it out and clasped it in his hands. His skin felt like fire, and the buzzing would’ve deafened him if it hadn’t been coming from inside his own head.

Superman set him back on solid ground. Nightwing took a gasp of air in, mostly relief that the buzzing had died down a touch. He pulled a vacuum tube from his belt and slid the cap in there, activating the tube. It couldn’t go off without oxygen.

“I’ll take the bomb into space,” Superman said. “Is it safe to move?”

Nightwing nodded. Even with his head stuffed full of bees, he knew his bombs.

“Okay. Can you make your own way out?”

“I’ll be fine. Deal with the bomb.”

Superman floated over to the bomb and tugged it from the Pit, green acidic water dripping from the bottom.

“Don’t let that stuff touch you,” Nightwing warned. “It heals the sick and hurts the healthy. I have no idea what it’ll do to you.”

“I’ll be careful.” Superman flew backwards along the stairs so the water wouldn’t drip on him.

“Superman’s taking the bomb out to space,” Nightwing told the team, painfully aware that even his brain-voice was shaking. “I’m on my way up.”

“Need help?” asked Kid Flash. “It’s a long walk.”

“I’ll manage.” Nightwing needed to compose himself. The buzzing and the heat were bad enough, but the adrenaline was flowing thick and fast through his veins. His heart was beating in his head. He shook out his hands, letting shaky breaths fly in and out of his body until he could think straight.

There was an invisible tether between him and the Pit. The green burned into his eyes, the acidic bubbles bursting in the water and his soul. The buzzing almost felt like words, like it was beckoning to him. Fuck that. He shook his head like a wet dog and started up the steps. Kid Flash met him a few levels up anyway and helped him the rest of the way. He didn’t ask questions. Yet.

[shannaraisles]

A Rose By Any Name - Chapter 8

In which Alistair displays something of a backbone, for possibly the first time in ten years. Banner created by the superb @kagetsukai.

[Read on AO3] OR [Read from the beginning]

Fire and terror, the bulk of the dragon rising above him, screaming that terrible scream through his heart and mind, paralyzing him where he stood. Blood dripped over the planes of his armor, wetting the hand that gripped his sword, soaking into leather and cloth to mingle with the cold sweat of fear. The smell of burning all around him ... the tug of Dem's hand against his shoulder ... pulling at him, whining ...

Wait ... whining? Dem never whines about anything.

Alistair's eyes opened, forcing away the vestiges of the old familiar nightmare to focus on the rumpled pillow pressed into his cheek. His jaw cracked as he yawned, blinking eyes that felt gritty as the tug on his shoulder came again. Not a hand, but a paw ... Lady, his favorite mabari, trying to get his attention as gently as possible.

He raised his arm, rubbing his palm over her blunt head as she whined.

"What's wrong, love? Did you have a nightmare too?"

The look he got in return was about as withering as a dog could manage. Mabari were very smart dogs, and a just woken up Alistair was not very smart at all. He snorted with laughter at her expression, heaving himself off his stomach and onto his side, half-upright, to glance around the room in case of imminent danger.

What he found was what he had woken up to every morning for over ten years - the royal bedchamber of Ferelden. Oh, it had changed in that time, as he had grown comfortable enough to assert his own personality on the space, but there was something still intimidatingly lacking about the rich furnishings and portraits of former kings on the walls. The bed was, admittedly, luxurious; the biggest he'd ever seen, much less slept in, before the crown was placed on his head, and with the new mattress the Inquisitor had recommended he have delivered direct from Antiva City, it was actually comfortable, too. Even in the dark, he knew the place like the back of his hand ... the result of several long nights' study when he'd first been installed here that had included four broken toes, a smashed mirror, and an extremely suspect bruise on his posterior that had made sitting on the throne hell for a week.

No, there didn't seem to be anything amiss. Nothing apart from Lady, who was now pulling the blankets from his legs in a very business-like manner.

"Now what's got into you?" he asked, rubbing a hand through his hair wearily. "There's nothing here, love."

Lady wasn't having it. She heaved herself up to bounce her forepaws against his thigh, springing away to paw at the door, producing that worried whine of hers again as she sniffed the air. Despite himself, Alistair sniffed with her, frowning as he caught the scent of ... nothing. Nothing but the vaguely musty smell of his own sweaty bedsheets, anyway.

Then something else found its way into his conscious mind ... the sound of barking from the kennels outside drawing his eyes to the window, where the faintest suggestion of flickering light seemed to indicate ...

"Maker's blood!"

The palace was on fire.

Alistair sprang from the bed - a move that would have been quite impressive if he hadn't still had one foot caught in the blankets, sending him sprawling over the cold stone face first with a dull smack. Forgetting to reach for even a shirt to cover his bare chest, he scrambled to his bare feet and out through the door, breaking into a run with Lady bounding ahead of him, startling the guards on night watch as they sped past.

"Rouse the household!" he yelled over his shoulder as they made an attempt to look alert. "There's a fire!"

Down the stairs on bare feet that stung with the aching chill of the grey stone beneath them, he rounded the corner on the floor where the ladies had been quartered, coughing in the swirling smoke that had begun to ghost from the open door to the ladies' quarters. Servants were clustered around the door, already organizing a bucket chain of water from the nearest pump to douse the flames; the flash of velvet and silk drew his eye to where Ceridwyn of Kirkwall was dry retching, Callista and Ciara trying to help her calm her hoarse breathing. Delphine was also with them, but she seemed far more concerned about her belongings than anything, certainly not interested in the fact that one of their number had clearly inhaled too much smoke and was suffering for it. Maria caught sight of him, rushing from the knot of ladies to thump against him.

"Mr. Kingness, the princess went back in and she didn't come back out!" she wailed to him, clinging on tight as he automatically hugged her close.

"Why did the princess go back in?" he asked, gently unhooking the child from his waist to crouch before her as the leather buckets bearing water finally made it to the doorway and beyond in the care of guards and servants alike. At his side, Lady was whining, butting at Maria's arm as though worried about the little girl.

"Because, because Lady Leelee and Lady Mandy didn't come out when Ceri got everyone up, and then Ceri got sick, and the soldier men said no one should go back, but the princess did her princess thing and just went, and now she's gone!" Maria was very close to tears, frightened for her favorite friend among the adult women she had been living among for the past week or more.

"Then I will have to do the king thing, won't I?" Alistair assured her. "Lady will stay with you." Rising to his feet, he gestured to the nearest noble. "You, ser ... Bann Ranthenn, isn't it? Please see the ladies settled in temporary quarters on the royal floor. And you there -"

The guard he had called to turned, his sooty face ashen with shock. "Yes, your majesty?"

"Fetch the mage healers to the royal floor," Alistair ordered, surprisingly in his element when it came to mild chaos like this. "And have someone rouse Arl Eamon, Teryn Cousland, and Teryna Mac Tir!" he added, already striding past the elves and humans manhandling buckets through the wide doors to the ladies' quarters, waving a hand before his face to clear some of the smoke out of his way.

"Wait! Your majesty!"

He ignored the voice that called after him, quick to note that the fire seemed to have originated in the one room that had been vacated almost immediately - formerly the room assigned to Lady Marguerite. The hearth should not have been lit in there at all. Was there an assassin somewhere in his palace?

A hand on his bare back made him jump, glancing sharply over his shoulder to find Lady Ciara handing him a wet cloth to place over his mouth and nose. She had one of her own, and a handful of others.

"Lady Ciara, you should not be here," he tried to tell her, muffled through the cool cloth.

"The princess is my friend, your majesty," the shyest of his prospective brides informed him, her gaze as defiant as it could be in the circumstances. "And you may need help to gather the others, too."

"It's just ... there may be flames, and ... well, you're not exactly dressed for ..." he gestured helplessly to her loose nightgown, feeling awful when her flushed cheeks grew darker still in a deep blush.

But to his surprise, shy-as-a-Chantry-mouse Lady Ciara rallied. "Your majesty," she said rather coolly, given the shouting chaos not five feet away from them, "you are barefoot and bare-chested. I rather think you are the one not dressed."

Alistair goggled at her, suddenly embarrassed at the realization that she was absolutely right. Neither of them was dressed for a rescue, but here they were. Oh, well, nothing for it. He drew himself up as best he could, and nodded to her. "All right, then ... which one is Lady Leona's room?"

The girl before him seemed to grow with his sudden confidence in her, nodding toward the door to his right. "In there," she told him. "Amandine is a little further along - I'll go and check in there."

"Ciara ... be careful."

As she nodded and hurried off to the appropriate room, Alistair found himself reassessing his opinion of the shyest of the bunch. There was a backbone of steel hidden under all those nerves. It was rather attractive, really. Stop admiring her backside and rescue the damsel, you buffoon. He pushed open the door she had indicated, frowning when it seemed to catch on something. With a rather harder shove, he got it open, easing inside to peer around. His bare foot set down on something soft that tried to pull away, making him lurch backward in surprise.

To his horror, he found Lady Leona of Starkhaven stretched out on the floor behind the door. Oh, sweet Andraste, I hit her with the door. And trod on her! Cringing at his own clumsiness, he knelt swiftly, fingers seeking her throat to make certain she was only unconscious and not dead. The last thing he needed was dead visitors to his court. She moaned softly as he found her pulse, unaware of the deep sigh of relief that rose from his chest at this sign of life. With little trouble, he lifted her slight form into his arms, kicking the door open with his foot to step out into the smoky corridor.

There, he found Ciara supporting Amandine in a slow shuffle toward the relative safety of the main stairs. The lady from Tantervale was pallid, wheezing with every step, but at least she was still upright. She raised a hand, gesturing back along the passage.

"Fe ... Felicita ..."

Alistair felt something in his chest contract painfully. "Where is she?" he demanded, harsher than he had intended to be.

Amandine swallowed, wheezing harder as she tried to draw the words together, but Ciara answered him. "We couldn't rouse her," she told him worriedly. "She's in Amandine's room - we left the door open."

Later, Alistair couldn't have said why he reacted the way he did; why the panic that gripped him at the thought of the princess left unconscious in the smoky halls was quite so sharp. He could justify it with logic - that the death of the Antivan princess in Ferelden while under his protection was a disaster, that no one deserved to be left to suffocate in such a way. But there was no real justification for why he didn't just send someone else to fetch her out.

"You there!" he snapped to the nearest guard, jerking his head to summon him out of the bucket chain. "Take the ladies to safety on the royal floor."

"I ..." The guard didn't manage more than one syllable before Leona was carefully placed in his arms, lolling against his chest. He looked helplessly to the other women, who were already shuffling past the firefighting crew. "Yes, your majesty."

Satisfied, Alistair spun on his heel, ignoring the rug burn on the sole of his foot to run back along the passageway, seeking that open door. Come on, come on ... they left the door open, she's got to be in one of these rooms ... Ah! He skidded to a halt next to the door that stood open, ducking inside to look around wildly.

"Fabs?"

There was Felicita, sprawled half on the steps to the bed dais, the loose folds of her white nightgown a stark contrast to the spill of black hair over her shoulder. She wasn't moving, and for a moment, his panic deepened at the thought that there was no breath in her, either. He all but tripped over his own feet to reach her, falling painfully to his knees on bare stone, brushing her braid out of his way to smooth his fingers over her bare shoulder to her throat. Please, he found himself praying. Please don't be ... The flood of relief at the sensation of blood pulsing beneath his fingers made him almost laugh, drawing an ill-advised breath too deep. Coughing, he grabbed the blanket from the bed, gently wrapping her in the soft folds to lift her up into his arms. Her head lolled onto his shoulder, fingers grasping weakly at the blanket he had cocooned her in, but she was alive. And she would soon be safe.

Well, as safe as she could be. Alistair could feel himself frowning as he hurried through the lingering smoke toward the open landing. The fire was out, but who had set it? What had been the purpose of setting it? Did he have an assassin in his palace? They were troubling questions, made more so when he realized that not all the ladies had been recovered from their assigned quarters.

A harried-looking guard captain found him as he stepped out of the thick smoke. "Your majesty, the fire is out," he began, but Alistair was ahead of him.

"Where is Lady Rosamunde?" he demanded, already moving to the stairs that lead back up to the royal floor.

"Uh ... she was not in the ladies' quarters, your majesty ..."

"Find her," Alistair snapped over his shoulder. "Search the palace immediately!"

"Yes, ser!"

Mounting the steps, he was not surprised to find the usually deserted hallways of the royal floor bustling with people - servants tending to the ladies who had experienced such a dreadful awakening, mages applying their healing magics, a plethora of guards standing at each entry-way. Cormac, his personal secretary, was waiting for him by one of the open doors.

"This way, your majesty," the man called, gesturing for him to come inside and deliver his precious cargo to comfort and safety.

It took a moment to realize that this was the official Queen's Apartment, but at the moment, the location really didn't matter to Alistair at all. With a nod to the mage waiting to tend to the princess, he moved to the bed, careful to lay Felicita down as gently as he could. She coughed softly, a grimace on her face at the pain that must have caused her, and for a moment, Alistair felt a novel sense of reluctance to leave her side. He hesitated, his hand curled into hers as the mage stepped forward, hands already a-glow to heal the damage caused by her foolish bravery.

As he watched, she stirred, the sweet dimple in her left cheek showing itself with the motion of her mouth. A moment later, she rolled onto her side toward him, coughing as the healing magic forced the smoke damage from her lungs, allowing her to take a comfortable breath once again. Alistair felt one of the many knots of tension he was carrying relax and unravel as her fingers tightened on his, as those remarkable hazel-brown eyes of hers opened to focus on him. She opened her mouth, but he stilled whatever she had been about to say with a shake of his head.

"No more heroics, princess," he heard himself say sternly. "You are far more precious than you seem to realize."

Surprise showed itself in her gaze, in the softly pleased curve of her smile as she relaxed onto her back. Alistair could feel his own mouth curving in answer to that smile, reluctantly releasing her hand.

"Principessa, I ... oh, your majesty!"

Tearing his gaze from the beautiful smile before him, Alistair found the Antivan ambassador in the doorway, black brows drawn close together in concern beneath the stunning disarray of his white hair. The man looked as though he had been roused from his bed and run straight to the main palace, clearly filled with deep concern for the well-being of his charge.

"Don Carmello," he greeted the man, straightening from his crouch beside the bed. "The princess is safe; she has been tended by a mage. She will be remaining here with the other ladies under close guard, until I discover precisely what has happened here. I am sure a bed can be made up for you in the adjoining room if you wish to remain nearby."

Carmello hesitated, glancing between the king and Felicita uncertainly. "Ah ... thank you, your majesty," he offered in answer, belatedly bowing to the monarch in their midst.

Alistair nodded to him, glancing down just once more to be certain Felicita was awake and unharmed before he strode to the door himself, meeting Cormac in the busy hallway. The secretary handed him a shirt and robe, both of which he was quick to pull on. As warming as the exertion had been, it was still chilly in the palace after dark, even at the height of summer.

"Do all these people need to be here?" he asked, impatient with the sheer numbers crowding around him. "Dismiss everyone who does not have a reason to be on this floor. Oh, but keep the guard complement high. Where's Dem?"

As Cormac opened his mouth to answer, the familiar sound of his friend's voice intruded.

"She's here. And so is your missing lady."

Alistair turned, surprised by the anger in Demelza's voice, to find his diminutive best friend pushing a decidedly undressed Rosamunde into one of the empty bedchambers with a sharp warning to stay put or suffer consequences. And perhaps more surprising was the lack of protest from the lady herself. The elven Warden turned back to Alistair.

"The Orlesian ambassador has been placed under guard," she informed him, quiet but harsh. "They were in bed together. Naked."

Alistair's mouth dropped open. Of all the things he might have expected to hear, that had not been on the list. His eyes slipped toward the door behind which she had just incarcerated Rosamunde of Gwaren. With the Orlesian ambassador? But why was Eamon ... His thought trailed off before it could finish, long-banked resentment suddenly flaring in his temper.Someone had been trying to manipulate him again, and this time he knew exactly who to blame.

"You found them together?" he asked Demelza, as around them, everyone who was superfluous was ushered firmly out of the royal quarters. "You'd swear to it?"

"I did, and I would," she confirmed. "And I wasn't the only one. It's going to be all over the palace by morning, and the city by midday."

Alistair held her gaze for a long moment, his mind racing. "Cormac."

The secretary pushed to his side quickly. "Majesty?"

"Please bring Teryn Cousland, Teryna Mac Tir, and Arl Eamon to my private study," Alistair asked him, feeling the muscle in his left jaw twitching at the effort of staying calm. "As quickly as possible, if you would."

"Of course, your majesty." Cormac bowed and hurried off, leaving the king and the Warden alone.

Dem eyed Alistair warily. "What are you planning?" she asked, only a hint of suspicion in her tone.

"I plan on being the king for once," he told her. "You'll come, won't you?"

"You really think I'm going to miss this?" she countered. "Monster's in with Lady Ceri - she apparently got a mouthful of sparks when she investigated the fire initially, that's why she was worst affected."

"But she's well now?" Alistair asked, turning to make his way toward the private study with his friend at his side. He liked Ceri, enjoying her blunt wit and bald humor, and - as much as this should not have happened - it would be a good excuse to increase the time Fergus spent around the redhead in the days and weeks to come.

"She's been healed," Dem assured him. "Sleeping now, I'm told. I set Monster to guard her, just in case."

"Oh."

Alistair pulled up short for a moment, glancing back along the corridor. Should I set Lady to guard the princess? he wondered. But Maria won't be long in joining Fabs, I'm sure, and Lady is guarding her. I'll check, once this is done. Just coming to that decision relaxed the new flare of worry that had spiked through his mind. He'd check on all of them, of course, but ... No, it's only been ten days. Far too soon, you ridiculous ...

"Alistair?"

He jerked out of his thoughts visibly, eyes snapping to meet Dem's faintly amused gaze. "What?"

Demelza smirked at him. "You drifted off for a second there, Longshanks," she told him. "Happy thoughts of pretty eyes again?"

"I didn't ... I wasn't ..."

He frowned as his best friend laughed, patting his shoulder. "You should definitely do that flustered thing around them," she suggested. "It's adorable."

"I'm not adorable, I'm ..."

But Dem was already pushing into his study, leaving Alistair to trail after her, grumbling about being teased when he was having a bad enough night as it was. Cormac followed them, quick to deliver the timeline of the evening as he had ascertained it from the ladies now beginning to settle once again for the night. Felicita had roused first, it seemed, and Ceri not long after, both women working together to rouse their companions and remove them from immediate danger. Ceri had attempted to fight the fire herself, and inhaled sparks that had almost overwhelmed her, resulting in her retching as Alistair found them.

It wasn't long before the three requested nobles were entering to join them there - just long enough for Dem to bring Alistair up to speed on what exactly she had seen when she'd discovered Rosamunde in the ambassadorial quarters. No matter what excuse the woman came up with, there was very little she would be able to do to recover her reputation once that became common knowledge. Eamon was already scowling as he entered, decidedly unhappy about being roused from his bed in the early hours before dawn; Fergus was fully dressed and armed; Anora was clearly still in her nightgown beneath her robe, but presented a calm face to the king as she curtsied.

"What is all this about, Alistair?" Eamon demanded, blanching as the door closed behind him to the tune of Demelza clearing her throat pointedly. "Your majesty, I mean."

Leaning on his desk, Alistair sighed, inwardly bracing himself as he considered the three most powerful people in his country. His uncle, who didn't actually seem to like him all that much; a close friend, who had his own problems; and his former sister-in-law, who up until the last week hadn't spent more than two days at court together in his entire reign.

"A little over an hour ago, a fire broke out in the quarters assigned to our visiting dignitaries," he informed them, though it seemed as though Fergus, at least, already knew some of it. "Lady Ceridwyn, Lady Leona, Lady Amandine, and Princess Felicita sustained injury, though all have now been seen by the mages and declared fit. Fergus, I'd like you to bring in your personal guard to serve as bodyguards to the ladies for the rest of the month. If there is an assassin attempting to cause harm to our visitors, I trust that you and your men will prevent further trouble arising."

"Of course, your majesty." Fergus nodded sharply, about to turn away when Alistair held up a hand.

"No, stay. I need ... I've asked you all here because I would like your input on a decision that must now be made." Alistair hesitated, glancing past them to Demelza. "Warden-Commander?"

Dem caught on to his reluctance to present what he knew, stepping to the desk to face the trio of nobles. "One of the ladies was not present in her assigned quarters when the fire broke out," she informed them tersely. "Lady Rosamunde was located in the Orlesian ambassador's bed, performing an enthusiastically carnal act. Setting aside the fact that she is clearly unsuitable to be queen, I was not alone when I discovered her. The gossip will be all over the city by sunset tomorrow."

"Don't be ridiculous," Eamon scoffed. "A lady of her standing would never -"

Dem hissed at him. "Are you calling me a liar, Arl Eamon?"

"I do not see that there is any decision to be made here," Anora interjected smoothly, averting the possibility of bloodshed at the sight of Demelza's hands moving to flex on her dagger hilts in the face of Eamon's idiotic rudeness. "Rosamunde has disgraced herself. She should be turned out of the palace immediately, and the Orlesian ambassador sent back to Orlais forthwith."

Alistair blinked, surprised but somehow heartened by this decidedly sensible advice from a woman he had thought would be only too pleased to see him humiliated by one of the women he was supposed to be choosing to be his wife.

"I agree with Lady Anora," Fergus added. "Even if it were possible, this isn't something that should be hushed up. She's tried to make a fool of the king, to make you a cuckold before marriage was even presented. Her reputation is nothing compared with yours, Alistair."

"Let us not be hasty," Eamon said, holding up his hands. "Where is the proof? The word of a single Grey Warden, hero though she be, and a few servants is hardly enough to condemn a fine lady and destroy her reputation. Place a close guard on her to police her behavior, but there is no need to send her away."

"No need?" Anora sounded shocked. "And suppose the king were to ask her to be his wife, how long do you suppose this tale would remain a secret? Within a year, all the courts of Thedas would know that the Queen of Ferelden is a brazen whore with no regard for the dignity of her own husband!"

"By all means, expel the Orlesian ambassador," Eamon went on, ignoring Anora pointedly. "Such expulsions happen so often as to be rarely commented upon. But Rosamunde -"

"- has behaved abominably, and should be punished for her actions," Anora finished for him. "I apologize that I ever offered my voice to support her claim, Alistair. She cannot be allowed to remain in the capital. She cannot be rewarded with continued favor after such a public indiscretion!"

"Again, the word of a single Grey Warden is hardly -"

"Hardly what, Arl Eamon?" Anora interrupted in a fierce tone. "Are you daring to suggest that the woman who ended the Blight, who saved your life against seemingly impossible odds, is somehow not to be trusted with the protection and well being of her friend, the king?"

Alistair felt his mouth fall open for the second time that night, his gaze dragged inexorably toward Demelza. He knew Anora and Dem could not stand to be more than five minutes in each other's company, and yet Anora was speaking on behalf of the elven Warden without even a slight prompt from anyone else in the room. Dem was watching the escalating argument in front of her with interest, the only sign of her surprise the height of her brows. Was this what Eamon had meant all those years ago, when he had described Anora as "spirited"? Had he really been referring to her intelligent ability to defend a sensible suggestion against an idiotic one?

"... listen here, Anora, you are hardly in a position to comment on what is right," Eamon was saying. "As the child of an executed traitor, you have no voice when it comes to scandal -"

"As the man who forced the hand of the law in arranging the circumstances of that execution, Eamon, you have no authority to speak, either," Fergus said sharply, earning himself a deathly glare from the older man.

"Enough!"

Four pairs of eyes turned toward Alistair in surprise. It took a moment for him to realize that he was the one who had spoken, annoyed by the descent into old arguments lead by a man he was increasingly coming to see as more of a burden than an aid in his leadership of the country. For the briefest moment, he felt panic rising at the realization that he had just told them to shut up, panic that was just as quickly squashed by the proud look in Demelza's eyes when he glanced at her. You're the king, aren't you? Be the king for once.

"Uncle, Anora's reaction is exactly as it should be," he said firmly. "I will be having Lady Rosamunde returned to Gwaren in the morning, and the Orlesian ambassador will be returning to Orlais with notes of reproof."

"I refuse to be a party to this," Eamon began to bluster, but Anora interrupted him once again.

"I do not believe the king was asking for your permission, Arl Eamon," she pointed out. If Alistair didn't know better, he could have sworn she was enjoying this. But then ... she might be, he realized. How long is it, exactly, since she was asked for her advice honestly? "I believe the king was stating the action he intends to take. Or do you have some objection to the protection of the crown's reputation? Some other reason to want to keep Lady Rosamunde close, perhaps?"

The implication was blindingly obvious. After all, if Rosamunde was sleeping with ambassadors, was it really such a leap to imagine her sharing the bed of the man who was touted as having the most influence over the king himself? Eamon's response was spluttering incoherence ... but Alistair's eyes narrowed as he watched. There was something there, something hidden but strong enough to make Eamon speak for this poorly behaved wench of a lady.

"Fergus, you will see to the increased security arrangements," he said, choosing not to let Eamon explode for once. "Anora ... as awkward as it is to ask you, Rosamunde is a representative of your region. Would you see to the arrangements for her removal?"

Anora nodded to him graciously. "With relish, your majesty," she assured him. "She will not be in Denerim a moment longer than is absolutely necessary."

"Thank you." Alistair looked to Eamon. "Do you have anything to add, my lord?"

"You cannot do this, Alistair," the arl protested. "Think of the gossip -"

"I am the king, uncle, something you seem to have forgotten in recent years," Alistair told him coldly. "Whatever it is Lady Rosamunde is holding over your head that induces you to defend her indefensible actions, it is your own affair. You will not force me into foolish decisions, or into offending the other ladies you invited to Ferelden in the first place. That will be all."

"Now you listen to me, you little -"

There was a silken sound as Dem drew one of her daggers, testing the edge pointedly with her thumb as Eamon's horrified eyes met hers. "I believe the king dismissed you, Arl Eamon. Would you like help finding your quarters?"

Alistair knew his best friend well enough to spot that she wanted to have a word with Eamon herself. It wasn't generally a good idea to turn Dem loose on the nobility, but his uncle had pushed a little too hard tonight. Tired as he was from his unexpectedly exciting waking, Alistair wasn't interested in sparing Eamon's feelings for once.

"That's a good idea," he said. "Dem, why don't you escort the arl back to his rooms? If there is an assassin on the loose, it is best to make sure the court is protected."

"Very wise," Fergus agreed. "Lady Anora, shall we?"

Backed into a corner, Eamon had little choice but to be ushered out through the door with Demelza at his back, both of them followed by the teryn and teryna. Alistair waited until the door was closed ... and sank down onto his seat, acutely aware that his limbs were shaking.

He had never stood up to Eamon like that, never seen his uncle reduced to incoherence by the eloquent implications of a true politician. No wonder the man had been so happy when Anora resigned her seat on the council all those years ago; she could talk him into a corner within minutes. Alistair had a sudden vision of years of council sessions that could have gone so much better if he'd just had Anora there to make Eamon shut up. What a missed opportunity. But one he could rectify. She clearly wasn't holding anything against him, not if her fierce defense of his decision was anything to go by. And her advice had been the right advice, despite the fact that Rosamunde's dismissal from court could reflect badly on her. Perhaps there was something to be said for so-called "spirited" women in power.

For some reason, his mind conjured the image of hazel-brown eyes and a soft smile at that thought, the memory of unnecessary bravery that could have ended so terribly for everyone. Not only her bravery, of course ... but it was her face he recalled most clearly from the panic that had filled the air. Now why her in particular, he wondered vaguely, willing his hands to stop their shaking as he breathed deep.

Smoke still hung in the air, the smell of it impregnating the linen shorts he had been sleeping in, and would linger for days yet, he knew. But right now, the fire didn't seem to matter so much. Not as much as gentle fingers squeezing his own as she stirred back to life under his eyes.

Alistair felt a grin rise on his face. Another name struck off the list, thirty more days in which to make a decision. Perhaps, despite the sudden drama, this marriage idea wasn't such a bad one, after all.

[katie-dub]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year: The Tackiest Wreath Competition

Emma and Killian are tricked into a festive wreath making blind date.

Thank you for your continued lovely support for these fics - I’m still taking prompts if you’d like to send me one of your own!

AO3

Day 1 |  Day 2 |  Day 3 |  Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

The Tackiest Wreath Competition

Killian was not sure what possessed Belle to suggest that they should do a wreath making class and he had even less idea what possessed him to accept. Him and wreath making were just incompatible: only having one hand made arts and crafts challenging and his idea of Christmas spirit was a good bottle of rum.

But Belle had begged him and he was always powerless to resist the call of a damsel in distress. Particularly when said damsel was his charming best friend.

So he was especially irritated when he arrived at the designated florists and took off his coat only to see a text message from Belle:

I’m so sorry, I’m not feeling well. Don’t worry, I’ve sent my friend Emma Swan along in my place so you won’t be there alone.x

His eyes narrowed as he read the message. This had “set up” written all over it. Belle had been hinting about him meeting her friend Emma for weeks now, and this perfectly timed message seemed suspicious. She must have known she was too ill to attend long before now if she’d lined up a replacement, but she’d sent the message at exactly the right point to ensure that he would already be at the florists when it would be bad form to leave.

He looked around the room curiously. In all of Belle’s chattering about Emma, she’d failed to mention what the girl looked like. There were a few promising candidates - including a blonde who was scowling at her phone - he thought he could see her mouthing “son of a bitch” at it.

He kind of hoped that was her. He liked a girl who didn’t take any crap.

The thought had no sooner crossed his mind when his phone buzzed in his hand. Belle had sent him a picture of a blonde goddess. The same blonde goddess he’d just spied swearing at her phone. This is Emma. Be nice x  was the caption.

Well hello, Miss Swan.

He was still irked by the subterfuge, but perhaps an evening with this girl wouldn’t be terrible. He made his way over to her and coughed to get her attention.

“Emma Swan, I presume?”

“Killian Jones?” she asked, one eyebrow arched. Killian could see his own face smiling out from Emma’s phone along with the caption: This is Killian. Be nice x “Are you buying this?” Emma asked, holding her phone up for him to see. Sure enough he could see almost the exact same apologetic message that he had received on her phone.

He smirked. “You know, I’m a little disappointed in Belle, she’s such a smart woman, tricking us into a date seems beneath her.”

“Yeah, it’s like she thought we wouldn’t actually talk to each other?”

“Well, you are a very beautiful woman, perhaps she thought I’d be unable to form sentences around you? Or that we’d take one look at each other and fall straight into bed?”

Emma rolled her eyes - although whether it was at his words, Belle’s behaviour, or both, he couldn’t be entirely sure. “Right. Well, you’re clearly still chatty and sorry, but I don’t ... pillage and plunder on a first horribly awkward set up, so she’s wrong on both counts.”

Killian laughed, he knew that he’d been right to hope his date for the night was her. “That’s because you’ve never been on a horribly awkward set up with me before.”

“You say that like this isn’t your first?”

“Belle is my best friend. Although honestly, she’s usually more subtle than this. Perhaps she was worried that I might die a bitter old maid.”

“Sounds like my best friend Mary Margaret. If I have to hear one more hope speech about the power of true love I’m going to hunt down Cupid and use his bow and arrow to kill her.” Killian snorted with laughter. “So, are you any good at this?”

“Blind dates? You’ll have to tell me,” he answered with a laugh.

“Christmas art activities,” Emma clarified, “because I suck at anything artistic and you have to give me a lot of alcohol before I could be considered evenly vaguely ‘festive’”

“Are you asking me to get you drunk? Because if so…” He pulled his flask from his pocket and swung it between his fingers invitingly. “I may be able to help.”

Emma’s eyes lit up. “You know, I think they’re serving eggnog, perhaps we can give it a little extra Christmas spirit?”

He ran his tongue along his teeth and looked her straight in the eye. “You’re a woman after my own heart, Swan.”

It was several hours and many cups of industrial-strength eggnog later and Killian was helping Emma to carry her wreath to her door.

Despite their lack of creative talent and scoffing at the Christmas cheeriness of the occasion (“Seriously, was this a last-ditch attempt to save our love lives or to convert us to the joys of the festive season?” Emma had asked with a laugh at one point.) they’d had a great time.

Admittedly, when they first spied the buckets of festive greenery and Christmas ornaments they had both turned a little pale. But then Emma had whispered, “tackiest wreath competition? Loser buys the drinks.” and Killian’s joy had turned to despair.

“I love a challenge - when are you planning to buy these drinks?”

“Play your cards right and you can buy me drinks on our next horribly awkward set up.”

He had grinned and set to work creating a monstrosity of neon clashing colours, fake snow and glitter. He used the weirdest ornaments he could find and delighted in the shrieks of laughter they drew from Emma. It was even more fun when the poor woman organising the workshop attempted to appear genuinely impressed by their festive creations, offering up a weak “they’re very ... unique,” as she couldn’t hide the slight look of horror in her eyes.

They’d decided to call their competition a draw - and Killian was hoping that meant another two dates with Emma Swan, one where she paid, one where he did. For now though, he would just be happy to have a second.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, pointing out the table where he could place her wreath. He set it down and grinned at her. “Tonight was…”

“A lot of fun,” Emma finished. “When can we do it again?”

“I’ll have to check with the delightful Belle that she hasn’t scheduled me in for any other blind dates. I can only assume that she needs to know I’ll have someone to kiss on New Year’s so that she doesn’t forget that she’s dating Ruby and pounce on me.”

Emma laughed. “Knowing Ruby, she’d be quite happy to watch.”Killian’s eyebrows flew up at the thought, and he awkwardly laughed it off.

There was a moment’s silence between them. Emma brought a hand to his cheek and rubbed at it. “Glitter,” she explained, biting her lip and glancing up above his head. He followed her line of sight and spied “mistletoe?”

“Mary Margaret,” she replied. “I would never force people to kiss because of a festive weed.”

“Still. It’d be a shame to disappoint the mistletoe, don’t you think?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Oh, absolutely,” Emma replied, swaying closer to him. “We can’t make it feel unwanted.” And she kissed him.

It was soft and sweet and everything he had hoped kissing her would be. A part of him was screaming at him to tug her closer and just consume her. But they’d both had a lot to drink and he was a gentleman, he wanted to do this right. Still, it was so hard to let her go...

“Emma, is that you?” a voice called from behind them and they sprang apart. Probably just as well, he thought with a sigh.

“Hey Mary Margaret, this is Killian.” He looked up in time to see Emma’s roommate blush bright red at the sight of him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?” she asked, eyes wide. They both shook their heads.

“No, it’s fine. Killian just helped me bring my wreath inside.” Emma gestured to the wreath and Mary Margaret’s eyes widened in horror. “What do you think Ms? I made it especially for us to hang on our door, I know how much you love Christmas!”

Mary Margaret’s face was frozen, apparently unable to express how much she hated the thought of hanging it on the door. Killian bit his lip so as not to smile.

“Well, it’s certainly … it’s very … um. Wow, Emma, do you think this is too special to hang up outside? We wouldn’t want it to get damaged out there.”

Killian chose that moment to take pity on Mary Margaret. He had no doubt Emma was going to start up the teasing again the moment he left, but still, he could give her chance to regroup.

“Swan? I should go, but I’ll call you,” he said and leaned down to give her a brief kiss.

“You better,” she replied with a grin.

“Nice to meet you Mary Margaret,” Killian called out with a wave and left.

When he came to pick Emma up for their second date, her hideous wreath was hanging on the door and he couldn’t help but tease her for it. Still, she got her own back when they went back to his that night and she saw that he too had hung up his wreath on his door. Perhaps they both were finally getting into the true spirit of Christmas.

[cjfanfics]

Overwatch Fic Rec

Hi guys! I’ve taken a break from sherlock fic for a while and been reading lot’s of OW fic. Most of it is mchanzo, with some mcreyes, genyatta, mcgenji and other assorted ships, will be divided by ships below.Any fics with *** before the tittle were my personal favorites.

ENJOY!!

MCHANZO

curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back by obliviates

“I’ll be darned. If it isn’t Hanzo. What brings you round these parts?” His accent was thicker. That was the first thing Hanzo noted. Even though he’d only been in the South again for about two months, somehow Jesse McCree had gotten more cowboy. And for the first time, it’s not just the two of them and his music and the simulated campfire. And for the first time, it’s not just the two of them sitting in a pleasant awkward silence, other than the occasional soft song on McCree’s guitar. And for the first time, Jesse McCree asks something Hanzo doesn’t know how to answer. (Trans!Hanzo)

***Hang The Fool by AlmaMeDuele (Of course)

How the heroic organization Overwatch acquires the talents of one Hanzo Shimada, and how gunslinger Jesse McCree will probably suffer because of it for the rest of his days.

twenty-one guns by starscry

Hanzo has been haunted by ghosts all his life. The phantoms of his past, the lingering presence of his brother - he just never thought he would be haunted by a real one.

Yes, Sir by Deadlockdarlin (Dokuganryu)

"I wanna be at your mercy"

Blurting it out wasn't how Mccree had intended to approach this subject, but he'd spent the last few hours with a knot in the pit of his stomach, the words seemingly stuck in his throat every time he'd tried to speak about it, and what better time to do it than now? Right in the thick of a battle. (Bondage)

Your Touch, My Comfort by Luddleston for SizzlyCrisp

Hanzo rarely felt at peace these days, but a week of leave was a blessing like no other when one had someone to spend it with.

Hanzo and McCree spend an afternoon together while they're on vacation. It involves a lot of kisses and a little bit of biting.

The True Meaning of Patience by lyraorion

McCree makes some mistakes on an operation because of hastiness, so Hanzo decides to teach him a lesson about taking your time to do your job right.

And boy, does he. (Minor Gunplay, Trans Hanzo)

If you Wanna see a Miracle, Watch me get Down by Luddleston

Hanzo and McCree are undercover in a bar, when they realize their targets are nowhere to be found.

It works out just fine, though, because Hanzo has other ideas of what he can do with McCree, a few drinks, and a place where nobody knows their names.

Wings of Love by mysterixn

Hanzo is assigned to be Jesse McCree's guardian angel. What he expects and what he gets are very different things. (Temporary character death)

Guns and Scales by Fledgling

A series of one-shots featuring McCree and dragon!Hanzo, as well as appearences from the rest of the crew.

Like The River by Goodluckdetective

Dragon Spirits don’t trust just anyone.

McCree never expected for them to ever trust him.

Or how McCree gained some trust, won a shootout, almost caught the flu, and proceeded to be the most handsome damsel in distress Overwatch has ever seen.

Ignore all Distractions by southdragon

Hanzo takes a job with Overwatch, and is isolating himself from who he is working with out of his own bad habits. But what happens when someone refuses to let him sit in isolation?

Tease by Samdragon

In which Hanzo rides the cowboy.

Run (No More) by rainbow_Velociraptor

Alternatively titled "The Story About How Hanzo Lost His Legs"

"My son ran into your arms like a wild dog runs towards a hunk of meat. Now I made sure that he will never run again."

*** Trust Knows No Fear by Jesse

Hanzo drew in a deep breath, his thick shoulders rolling as he slowly exhaled. He stared at the floor, and then at his feet, not looking up at Jesse. “Is it so bad that I am trying to spare you from this?”

Honestly confused at this point, McCree knelt down in front of Hanzo, trying to look up into his lover’s face. “And what do you mean by that?”

Closing his eyes, Hanzo turned his head away, the scarf in his hair spilling over his shoulders. “I don’t want you to have to see me like that.. without them.”

A oneshot fic in which Hanzo doesn't want to remove his prosthetic legs, not wanting McCree to see him without them. Jesse helps Hanzo to overcome that fear, as well as having a bit of fun afterwards.

Why Don’t We Just Dance by Anna_Blossom

Hanzo let a quiet laugh escape his lips. “You are embarrassing,” he said after a few moments.

“But you love me anyway,” McCree teased, and Hanzo rolled his eyes.

“Unfortunately so.”

(the one where McCree serenades Hanzo)

*** Pains, Gains, and Automata (SERIES)

Die nine times. Get up ten.

The invention of respawn, the nearly instantaneous reversal of death, has won wars and forever changed how Overwatch operates. Ammunition is infinite, nanobots repair wounds better than new, and expiration is a slap on the wrist. For some, respawn is nothing short of a miracle.

For others, it's the apocalypse.

Hanzo Shimada has no strong opinion on it one way or the other, but as he's enveloped in Overwatch culture, makes friends, discovers enemies, and fosters a vitriolic love for one Jesse McCree, he finds that every death has consequences, and respawn offers no sanctuary.

Trick Shot by andsylphy

At this point he was admitting to himself that half of him couldn’t end the competition due to pride, and half was wanting to impress McCree.

Dragon Heart String by Mchandsoap

Where dragons form a type of heartbeat soul bond with people they cherish, and Hanzo and McCree spend lots of time together.

Do It All Again by BulletproofFurniture

Hanzo had been sure when McCree suggested it, that he had been joking. He hadn’t looked up from cleaning his bow, and had waited for a more serious suggestion.

Until nothing came. Hanzo looked up at Jesse, eyebrows high in disbelief. McCree’s hands were on his hips with a confident grin on his face. “Jesse,” Hanzo said slowly. “We aren’t going skinny dipping.”

Jesse thinks he and Hanzo need a night off. Hanzo thinks Jesse is out of his mind.

To Make It Right by canterville

McCree’s never fancied a fella who didn’t make him worry some.

Bloodshot Eyes by twitchtipthegnawer

Hanzo Shimada is strong, and brave, and hot as all hell, and underneath it all he's even stronger and braver than McCree would have guessed. McCree knows it, and while he'll never admit the way it makes his heart feel (fluttering in his chest like a goddamn butterfly, what is he, a lovestruck teenager) he can admit that he never wants to spend another day without the knowledge that he has seen every side Hanzo has to offer.

Undercover by lyriumveins

Hanzo is a new member of Overwatch, working undercover in a coffee shop with a few other agents. He’s adjusting to his new life – and making good progress on his missions – when he starts finding ridiculous messages scrawled on coffee cups… Messages that are, apparently, for him. While he’s convinced it’s all just a ridiculous prank, D.Va calls them “pick-up lines” and insists that he has a “secret admirer.”

A Long Way by holdontoyourhulahoops

Hanzo and Genji have a long overdue conversation.

*** four days by starscry

“I have an embarrassin’ favor to ask of you,” Jesse says.

Hanzo stares at him expectantly, a single brow arched. “And what is that?” he asks.

“Y’see, my family might currently be under the impression that I’m bringin’ home a date for a few days next week. And, the thing is, I don’t really have one. So, I’m currently S-O-L and would really, really appreciate it if you came home with me for a few days and, uh. Pretended. To be my boyfriend.”

He stares down at his plate and jabs a fry into the enormous puddle of ketchup gathered in the center of it. If only the fry could be his hypothetical four-day boyfriend, he thinks; it would save him an enormous amount of embarrassment. It would be tastier, too.

[ Or - McCree desperately needs a fake date to bring home to his family, and Hanzo never does anything half-assed. ]

greedy by ahegao

As it turns out, untying McCree is not necessarily tantamount to rescuing him.

Sad Cowboy Songs by MooeyDooey

They say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but sometimes it is through his taste in music.

*** Trauma by Demon_Apostle

It turns out that a sword can trigger a panic attack in Hanzo. He now needs to start a journey to rid himself of his trauma.

A little Anticipation by Astheroze

Hanzo had been downright ignored all day, left to suffer in mild arousal and wonder when Jesse would get on with it and press the godforsaken button on the idiotic little remote in his pocket. He hadn’t touched it all day- he left Hanzo to stew with the radio-controlled menace inside of him. And hadn't. Turned. It on. Once.

Petals on the River by bamfbugboy

Hanzo didn't know what to expect when he left Japan, but with his brother at this side, he would do anything to keep him safe. Even leave everything he knew, loved, and understood behind. Fleeing to California seemed like an extraordinarily outlandish idea, but his brother assured him that the southwest was a land of mystery, beauty, and romance--at least that's what his novels told him. He doesn't want to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life, so without hesitation, Genji closes his eyes before the train station's map, points, and tells his brother that's their destination. A little town out in the desert, away from the lights and busy streets of Los Angeles, where they'll start anew.

*** Magic McCree by Cawaiiey

Hanzo Shimada does not want to be here, he does not like strip clubs and never has. And Genji is wrong, he does not need to 'get laid', no matter how long this dry spell has lasted. He knows he'll regret being here tonight, and he needs a drink. And the tall glass of water clad in plaid that just bumped into him could be what cures his thirst. 

Points on a Circle by Hubris_And_Crafts

It began when Jesse McCree summoned one of Hanzo's dragons in the middle of battle.

It began a month ago when Hanzo looked at Jesse and realized he's already in love.

It began an hour ago when Satya heard the word 'magic' and refused the believe.

It began six months ago when Genji introduced his his brother to Jesse, not knowing the two of them have a past.

It begins. (Side genyatta/gency, sombrasong and sympharah)

Amor is for Protection

Everything about Hanzo was just so delightfully attractive. His silky hair, his well-groomed beard, his satisfied smirk. It all felt like it’d been specifically tailored to get McCree hot and bothered. Which was all well and good, but what was McCree supposed to do about the fact that Hanzo’s archery glove was the sexiest part of his ensemble? (GLOVE KINK)

*** Draw by Khateeah

Hanzo has an unhealthy fondness for Jesse's gun. (GUNPLAY, TRAUMA, UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS)

Popcorn Redemption by Wyntera

They say life isn't like the movies.

Well, partner, they ain't never worked for Overwatch.

Desperate Measures by justlikethelionking

There is an itch that secretly-alpha Jesse Mccree cannot control. And the itch may be nearer than he thought.

What could go wrong, goes in a much different direction. Jesse is not complaining. (ABO)

*** The 85th Annual King County Bake-Off by venvephe (WIP)

It’s October first, and it’s all come down to this.

The cake is perfect. He’s been waiting for this moment all year, since the previous baking competition. This is his chance at redemption, at reclaiming the crown of the best baker in the county. It’s a title only the winner of the county fair can hold. He’s waited a year and spent hours upon hours at work. Early mornings and late nights, scrapped ideas and tons of flour and sugar went into his masterpiece. It’s all led to him to standing here, awaiting the announcement of the winners.

This year, it’s going to be Hanzo. Last year’s winner - his rival, his nemesis - is going down. Hanzo’s not going to let his mortal enemy take the crown for a third year in a row.

What kind of name is Jesse McCree, anyways?

*** It’s All Your Fault by Cawaiiey

Hanzo Shimada joins the ranks of Overwatch and finds that he quite likes teasing the resident cowboy. That is, until a single compliment ruins his thought process, and he has to deal with feelings he's not exactly well versed in.

Dragon Rider by cellostiel

"You don't- you don't get it. I am a beast, Jesse. Not some cuddly creature."

"I dunno, you seemed pretty cuddly the other night."

"You're not taking this seriously."

"'Scuse me, but my boyfriend's a dragon. What part of that 's serious?"

-

So turns out Hanzo can turn into a dragon sometimes. Who knew? (Trans!Jesse)

Silver Screen by  DerpyMcButtface

It's far, far in the future. The heroes are dead, old, or getting there fast. They're making movies now, about Overwatch, but not everyone's happy about that.

Be Sure To Hit The Mark by ceasefire

"Lie back, darlin'. Relax."

McCree's voice is rough and low, sounds like gravel crunching brittle underfoot from years of smoking cheap cigars and drinking cheaper alcohol. Hanzo can still taste smoke and moonshine on his tongue from when they'd started kissing, and the memory alone is enough to make him lick his lips as the flavour fades. (TITFUCKING)

Only Sweeter Thing by ceasefire

"I have never done this before."

McCree paused for a moment, his finger rubbing soothingly over Hanzo's skin. "With a man?"

Hanzo lets out a soft breath that tickled the whiskers on McCree's cheek.

"With anyone."

In which Hanzo is not as inexperienced as McCree assumes, and McCree is determined to make sure Hanzo's first is memorable for the right reasons.

***Good Fences Make Good Neighbors by vandoodle

Hanzo Shimada regrets ever joining Overwatch after he is paired with Jesse McCree, known cowboy enthusiast, and dropped off in the middle of American suburbia. Forced to blend in with the environment, endure neighborhood cookouts, and share his new living space with his so-called 'Husband', the two prepare to preform the ultimate sting operation: taking down the Vishkar corporation once and for all. He can't help but think this will all go horribly wrong.

Or, alternatively titled: the undercover fake-marriage fic that every fandom deserves.

GENYATTA

You Keep Me Stable by Semageon

Zenyatta can't help but desire his sparrow, and Genji is more than pleased to be able to finally be intimate with his master. (HORSE DICK WARNING)

That'll Do Fine by volsung

Genji and Zenyatta have been together a while now. They decide to bring McCree into the mix. (MCGENJI TOO)

*** Challenge by NeonCandies (WIP)

Genji Shimada was a man who never backed down from a challenge. From the weirdest challenge to the most extreme, he'd say yes to the dare and do whatever he could to accomplish it. So when he's dared to try and woo a particular Omnic monk, Genji barely thinks twice before he's agreeing. If only he knew how twisted his previously normal life would become the moment he accepted this dare.

*** And No Orchids Grow

A mountain cannot stop the road; it can find its own way across.

No Mistake Was Made by berlynn_wohl

“Your old body is gone,” Zenyatta said. “But we do not lament when the caterpillar's body is gone. We rejoice at the sight of a butterfly, do we not?”

Meet Me in a Safe Place by volsung

Genji pines after someone he cannot have, but finds the person he really needs. 

MCREYES

Always by makeuswise

Gabriel fucks Jesse's face and Jesse's in love.

Sweet by ghost900

Jesse’s going to kill him one day.

*** the death of by v_darkstar

Jesse is pure, smug and so darn happy that Gabriel can't keep down the urge to completely destroy him. McCree burns so bright, so much like Jack used to.

*** Dust Into Diamonds by whiskeyandguns

Jesse McCree has zero patience for sniping, good thing he's got Commander Reyes talking in his ear to keep him company.

Sexed Up by writing_ramblings (Series)

In which Reyes starts aching for sex and Jesse is that good of a human being to cease that pain.

Sickness & Health by smarshtastic

It's a strange thing, being cared for, being taken care of, after so many years of having to do it all himself.

---

Jesse has a cold, and Gabe does his best to take care of him.

Pink by tordarroch

Gabriel's latest mission goes on longer than planned. When he returns, the stress he is under is too much. As usual, his source of relief is Jesse but this time, things go a little differently.

Squats by Marshmellowtoast

Jesse come a long way since joining Blackwatch, building up his physic, and Gabe is all too happy to appreciate it.

Cave of Spleen by 6xoji (WIP)

McCree is drowning in his own blood when he realizes he loves Reyes.

Crooked feet by northernmongrel

Jesse McCree falls in love with a man who happens to be the king of the pacific.

Love Me by dorking

Is this how people make love?

If that were true, he'd have felt loved a long time before he met Reyes. (Past Abuse)

Treading Water by smarshtastic

Jesse coughs himself back to consciousness, curling up onto his side as the water he swallowed comes back up. His chest aches and his head is spinning and he can't quite get his eyes to focus right. He sees several pairs of dripping boots and someone's got their face close to his own. They're haloed by the lights over the pool so Jesse can't quite see who it is. Jesse blinks. It's Commander Reyes.

---

Jesse's fear of water means he never learned to swim. Gabriel Reyes is determined to fix that.

*** volcanoes (melt you down) by bonebo

For some reason, Gabriel had always imagined his first time having sex would be more…poetic. (Age reversal)

Home Is Where the Heart Is by hanzopanzo (floralstiel)

Gabe loved coming home to a good, home-cooked meal and, of course, his pretty little wife. (Feminization) 

*** Life Size Ghosts by northernmongrel

Jesse buries Gabriel, but decides not to leave. (Death Fic)

Crossed Wires by smarshtastic

Jesse flips the camera open on his comm, snaps a couple of pictures. He strokes himself lazily as he flips through them: shirt rucked up, stomach exposed, a bead of precome leaking from the tip of his cock. The lower part of his face is in the frame, lip caught between his teeth. He hits send before he can think too hard about it.

---

Jesse accidentally sends some junk mail to his commanding officer.

Making Plans by fabrega

"I was really hoping we wouldn't have to have this conversation." Gabe hasn't looked up yet; he can only imagine the look on Jesse's face. 

Substitute by crimson_wake

Ana tells him he's in over his head.

[reset] by bonebo

Sometimes Gabriel just needs a break.

*** nox by bonebo

In the Soldier Enhancement Program, before the days of Overwatch and when the world teetered on crisis, heroes were made.

Jesse’s heard the stories, just like everyone else--heard of the brave men and women who volunteered for the project, gave their bodies to science to take and break and reinvent, recreate in a better, stronger image. He’s seen the plaques at the museums dedicated to the Crisis, golden lists of names as long as his arm: those who tried, and failed, to make themselves good enough, fast enough, strong enough, to save the world.

Not everyone could be a hero.

*** Exodus by fabrega

Gabe thinks about what he owes Blackwatch, and Overwatch; about what Ana had told him; about white picket fences. He thinks about all the time he's spent fighting for a peace he might never get himself. He thinks about the last time he felt happy.

"Leave with me," Jesse repeats.

And Gabe says, "Okay."

Elemental Forces by winterwhite (SERIES)

Sometimes trouble comes to Jesse. Sometimes Jesse goes to trouble. Sometimes something bigger is brewing around him. How it all happened, in slices.

home is where you hang your hat by WordsAreScribbles

A young Jesse McCree has been invited to join the elusive Blackwatch. There's some paperwork to be done first, though.

Teacher's Pet by tordarroch (SERIES)

Jesse is Gabriel's favourite recruit. (WATESPORTS AKA PISS)

Face to Mask by tordarroch

Jesse was used to being on his back for Gabriel. Unsurprisingly, he ends up in the same position for Reaper. 

Good Ideas by fabrega

Not for the first time, Gabe is struck by how much he loves Jesse McCree.

Honeymooners by smarshtastic

Jesse thumbs the ring on his left hand. It’s heavy and thick and wholly unfamiliar - but he kind of likes the way the cold metal has warmed to his skin. He really kind of likes it. He’s not exactly going to admit that to Gabe, who’s taken on this mission with his usual unwavering professionalism. Still, it’s weird to see him in off duty clothes - weirder still that it’s a Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

---

In which Jesse and Gabe pretend they're newlyweds as a cover for a mission at a fancy island hotel.

*** Bad At Making Friends by fabrega

"Every few months, Reyes disappears for a couple of days," Sombra says. "No indication of where he's going, no real warning, just poof and he's gone."

"But he comes back, right? So you don't need to know. You're being nosy."

"So this time," she says, "I tracked him."

The Lemon Song by flashrevolver

In which Jesse Mccree is hot for Commander Reyes, and overhears him moaning his name in the shower.

*** down by the highway side by rustandstardust

There's a rumor in the Southwest, more of an urban legend. A story to tell in the dead of the night. A horror story so chilling it turns the warmest of blood into ice, a love story so poignant it tugs at heartstrings like they’re controls for a marionette: one about a just man and Death.

so you were never a saint by leonshardt

“You know I don’t like sleeping on planes,” McCree mumbles, eyelids already sliding shut. “Always dream of falling, one way or another.”

“Yeah,” Reyes says, “I know that.”

Dorado by abrasive

Fluff about Reaper and McCree exploring Spanish and their somewhat similar and simultaneously very different heritages and childhoods together.

I've Got It Bad by mysterixn

Gabe starts teaching McCree how to play the guitar, and the two end up figuring out their relationship. Set during Blackwatch era. 

ASSORTED SHIPS OR NO SHIPS

*** The Upgrade by robotfvckers

Zenyatta installs an upgrade and gets more than he bargained for.  (DUB-CON WARNING)

*** Broth by artvinsky

The scent of the stock wafting about the small kitchen and the rest of the unit is enough the bring back faded images of long days of training in Genji’s mind, when he was younger and where he would end his day sitting at his father’s left hand, Hanzo across him looking tired from a day for meetings with the clan elders but happy for the bowl of shoyu ramen in front of him, and all of them eating as a family away from responsibility and duty only if for a meal-

But then he thinks of this family he now has, their ragtag bunch of ex-heroes-

He wants to cook them a good meal.

Unfortunately, he cannot taste it.

--

aka. that one ramen fic involving the Shimadas and the rest of the team. (Background mchanzo and genyatta)

Pillow Talk by Deathtouch (LUCIO/REINHARDT)

in which Lucio orders an escort to help him sleep at night, among other things...

He found himself face to face with an impossibly broad chest. He had to tip his head back to look this guy in the eyes. His heart rattled against his rib cage. Lucio had asked for the largest escort they had, and boy he was not disappointed.

Three Times Lúcio Utilized Reinhardt's Muscles to Complete a Mundane Task (And the One Time it Got Him Laid) by Doctorziegler (LUCIO/REINHARDT)

Sometimes, having a boyfriend whose arms are the size of tree trunks can be useful.

***I Will Be Your Shield, I Will Bring You Together by letmeshinebright (LUCIO/REINHARDT) 

Overwatch has just been recalled by Winston, and the old crew is trying to make up for lost time. Members are joining, missions will soon begin again, and justice will be dealt. Reinhardt thought that Overwatch was a mission left for history to reflect on, but now back in the thick of things he is ready for action. With the further Overwatch goes, the more ghosts seem to be reappearing. And with old ghosts, come old memories.

Get ready for that slow burn.

*** Transgressions, Sins, the Unforgivable by Vrunka (SERIES)

They have done this a hundred times. A thousand. Jack has no more rights to pre-mission jitters. But Gabe could die, he could die and those thoughts Jack just can't take. (Religious imagery, blasphemy)

*** Genji76 by AnonymousFragger (SERIES)

Genji had been waiting long enough for Jack to make a move after their last interaction. He decides to jumpstart things. (Trans!Genji)

Help for the Lost by robotfvckers (Mondatta/Hanzo/Zenyatta)

Two shambali monks find the lone, wandering Hanzo.

[imthepunchlord]

Me Rewatching ML: Evillustrator

I guess Nath really likes Climatika and Lady Wifi’s design to dream about them. That or the ML team really liked their designs and wanted to bring them back in some way XD they are really good designs and fun villains. 

Hm, rewatching now, don’t know if the ship of Marinette/Nath appeals to me anymore. This dream sequence seems to suggest that he connects to the trope that the hero that saves the damsel must get her naturally, for he deserves it for his efforts. 

Also thinking Marinette needs to be saved; that would be quite a wake up call. Far more likely she’ll save you. She is scary. There is a solid reason why she can go solo just fine. 

Nathanael is failing science. 

Mendeleiev wipes her hand on shirt after dropping Nath’s picture. She calls his really good drawings chicken scratch. 

Juleka sits next to Nath in physics, Rose sits on the other side. Juleka and Nath are possible friends. Also Mendeleiev might’ve separated Rose and Juleka possibly from talking too much in class. 

Rose and Ivan sit alone. That is sad. 

Mendeleiev picks Nath up like some cat she’s ready to throw out. 

Marinette sees Nath’s sketchbook falls open, is confused why he drew her. 

Chloe is amused to see Nath crushing on Marinette, confirms what Marinette certainly wondered.

I saw Nath akumatized through humiliation, with Mendeleiev being the biggest instigator, Chloe’s verbal reveal about his crush in front of the class being the final snap.

And with Nath upset that Chloe revealed his crush to the class, he is definitely a very private person. Don’t know about him being shy, but definitely reserved and private. 

“Artists are so emotional. I love it.” Speaking from experience of having an artist friend? Gabriel certainly can be rather reactive when agitated. And Mama, who I do like the idea did play piano, is described to be very emotional and sensitive. You referring to both or just one? Most likely Mama though is who he might be thinking of since she seems a lot more reactive than Gabriel. 

“You tired of having your creative spirit crushed?” With this, I would definitely count Mendeleiev as the big main cause of Evillustrator, because it is only her that picks on him for his drawing, which is what his transformation resolves around. 

Alya why do you look offended to work with Nino and Adrien? Do they spew puns together? Are you and Nino still working out things? Is it kind of awkward? Or did you want alone time with Nino? Probably alone time with Nino if they are dating at this point. 

Mendeleiev officially doesn’t give two shits about making Chloe happy. 

“I hate dealing with it.” This is like the perfect summary of Chloe. 

Alya loves Marinette, but not enough to deal with Chloe and Sabrina, who she both refers to as “twosome of terror”. 

Marinette is appeased with just being mentioned to Adrien. 

Marinette used tackle. 

NINO AND ROSE ARE FRIENDS. 

Alix’s locker is opposite of Chloe’s and it looks like it’s on the far left end. 

Marinette is unaware of how Chloe and Sabrina’s friendship works. 

Chloe and Sabrina have known each other since elementary (grade school in French), which is where this started. 

I find it funny that when Chloe states that Sabrina has to do what she says, Sabrina’s smile just drops right then and there and she has this “wait” expression.

I like the touch of detail that you can see Sabrina thinking this over while Chloe and Marinette argue, like you can tell she’s looking over facts and observations and considering what Marinette said to what Chloe insists. 

While Marinette is open enough to work and interact with Sabrina, Sabrina has left a bad enough impression that Marinette is a bit put off to receive a hug from Sabrina, very different from the sudden hug she received from Alya in Bubbler, which she quickly accepts despite her surprise. Here Marinette is just really put off and doesn’t seem to know how to respond. 

Despite this Marinette is open to test the waters and develop a friendship with Sabrina, though definitely still unsure.

Sabrina suggests to Marinette that they should reveal Chloe to the teacher. They do have a right to do so and should with Chloe hardly doing any work, but for Sabrina to propose this out of nowhere is very sudden and off putting; even Marinette is pretty put off and unsure about it. Kinda gives me an impression that Sabrina can be shifty with loyalties if she sees a better opportunity for a nicer friendship, at least what she grasps as friendship which is someone helping her do work. Really does make me think about the possibilities of Lila and Sabrina in s2, with Chloe’s redemption very likely resolving around her connection to Sabrina, which does need to change for both to get better. 

Day’s not over yet and Marinette is already tired. And doesn’t want to be in the middle of Chloe and Sabrina’s fight. 

Sabrina can be appeased/tempted with bribery, something Chloe has likely discovered works in getting past any fights. 

Chloe seems genuinely think that this is how friendship works, with friends that answer her whims and do what she wants. Being spoiled by the mayor and having Adrien and Sabrina as her only close friends, I can see how she thinks this is how it works. I’ll be looking forward to seeing her struggle as QB, cause LB, CN, and fox!Alya aren’t going to cave to her at all. And you have to do actual work. I am looking forward to a hard, painful redemption for Chloe. 

Chloe really cares about her hair. This is the most I hear about when she’s distressed. 

Fresh as an akuma, with a power to erase and create, and the worse Evillustrator can think of to torment Chloe is drop a bunch of hats on her and blow her with a hair dryer. 

Omg Adrien... so many puns... 

With Chloe, Chat is doing the questioning, a role LB usually does. LB though has this grossed out expression on her face. 

“Yay! Ladybug said I’m adorable!” There she goes with her crush. And is bothered that LB didn’t really smile right. She wants the perfect picture of them together. 

LB is so tired and done. 

Chat is calling out on LB for her attitude here. 

This is the first fight I’ve ever seen between LB and Chat. 

A frustrated Marinette will throw her bag when she gets home. 

Damn that’s a lot of missed phone calls. With all of this happening in the same day, it takes her a couple of minutes of travel from school, to Chloe’s, to home, and Marinette only lasted probably five minutes at most in Chloe’s company, I guess she’s about ten to fifteen minutes late to get in contact/meet up with Sabrina. And Sabrina called her constantly in that short time period, possibly suggesting that she’s a clingy friend, something that will certainly be an issue when Chloe gets her miraculous. 

Evillustrator don’t erase your crush’s window, that is not reassuring. I would’ve flipped out and thrown something at you. 

I say this crush on Marinette is pretty new since he doesn’t seem to know her very well; plus in a web episode, Marinette doesn’t list Nathanael as one of her friends (even Sabrina and Chloe got mentioned). 

Marinette a bit unsettled by infatuated akuma, and a likely reaction to someone she doesn’t know well approaching her romantically.

 Nathanael has a nervous habit of touch the back of his head. 

Pfffft, Evillustrator gives himself intense anime eyes. And of course Marinette has adorable, big eyes. It really does echo how he views them both. 

Look at my daughter go, making plans on the fly. 

And even when frustrated with Chloe, she makes sure and akuma won’t go after her. 

And she has the utmost trust in Chat to do his job well despite their little spat. I love this trust she has in him. Tikki approves of Marinette relying on Chat. 

Chat is an attentive guard cat. 

Evillustrator confirms that Adrien has physics down. 

Chat isn’t amused with Chloe’s cat pun. 

Adrien needs to learn to say no. This push over.

When LB tells him to leave Chloe, he kind sighs and looks disappointed, mostly likely thinking LB is brushing off Chloe’s danger again.

How long was Sabrina standing in that doorway waiting for Marinette? It looks like she’s been standing there for a while, no move to knock or anything. That hints that Sabrina will stand around and wait for Chloe.

Body language and expression suggest to me that Marinette is still unsure about how to handle/respond to Sabrina. 

I think most likely for both girls to develop, grow, and have healthy friendships, this current one has to broken up between each other and both willing to change and learn what a real friendship is and have a good, solid redemption. In the future if they’re up and willing, they can have a go at friendship again, but for sure, after they have developed.

MARICHAT YES.

With how quickly Chat arrived from Chloe to Marinette’s, through miraculouses, that’s just a couple of minutes of travel. 

Boy immediately moves to kiss her hand with his introduction. He wants to make make sure this “first” meeting goes right so much. 

Lmao, his face just screams “score!” 

There he goes, flexing and flirting and putting on a show. He wants to impress Marinette so much. 

I love this different opinion that Chat and Nath have of Marinette. In Nath’s dream, Marinette needs to be saved, to rely on him to get her out of that trouble. But here, Chat asks Marinette if she would help him, suggesting that he knows and trusts that she is capable, that she is his equal in this and can help him, not just a damsel in distress for him to impress with saving her. Even recognizes her to be a helpful Ladybug to him tonight (which understandable unnerves Marinette). 

And he’s so sad to say that LB is busy. He was probably looking forward to working with LB AND Marinette. And he rings his bell. 

Chat is pleased with Marinette’s overdramatic fangirling. 

I will say, this is a very nice date Evillustrator put together. 

Promises are important to Nathanael. Marinette it looks like appreciates this. 

Marinette does a little wave to Chat when he’s behind them, subtly telling him to wait. I love that touch of detail. 

“...you’re just like Chloe. Teasing me, mocking me, leading me on!” To make comparisons like these means that they’ve happened before, and that possibly not only has Chloe picked on Nath, but evidently lead him on too. Maybe Nath was the first one Chloe encountered to have a crush on her. Something she likely took advantage of, and sparked her finding amusement in boys confessing to her (like Kim in DC). 

Evillustrator can jump, damn. 

14, Tikki pops out of the purse where Chat could’ve seen her if he looked down by chance. 

Adrien’s first instinctive response to Marinette coming up with a smart plan is to pull her close and flirt. Marinette doesn’t respond positively to the sudden closeness. 

Chat is more than fine to back off, and Marinette is still physically comfortable with him. Bless these dorks. 

Lmao, he still wants to be impressive. 

15, Tikki floats into the open, and if Chat looked back, would’ve seen her. 

Chloe, all this effort wasted to try and appeal to Mendeleiev, who don’t give two shits; you could’ve been done a long time ago. 

Chat left first, with Marinette grumbling for a minute, yet LB is there first? Is LB hero faster than BC or did she purposely go faster? Or maybe she it’s her knowing the streets better? 

Look at these two. They’re flirting. 

“...this is known as the final showdown.” “...she’s a baddie!” This tells me that Nath bases his thinking off comics, or at least uses examples of comics with heroes. Also, declaring Chloe’s a “baddie” and deserves to be harassed, that’s a pretty black and white view to have. Also adds to why he didn’t go after Mendeleiev, he believes it was her right to call him out for drawing in her class. And yes, she is, but she doesn’t have the right to treat his work with such disrespect (reacting to his drawings in disgust, calling it chicken scratch). 

“Once I have them all in my grasp, I will have absolute power!” So HM wants all miraculouses. Or at least for sure, the ones he knows about. 

“...they only made matters worse.” Chloe you tsundere, that’s not what I saw earlier. This is a public front, you still adore LB. 

Alya is more than happy to put aside her personal feelings for Chloe for an interview. 

I stand that Adrien was totally waiting for Marinette in the locker next to hers. He was not there before.

Marinette’s locker is the 2nd from the last on the far right of the row next to the wall. And Chloe and Marinette share the same locker row. 

Sabrina is back to being happy to work for Chloe again, Marinette is baffled. 

Hi Adrien. Just out of nowhere, he totally had to come out of that locker. This nerd. Being a cat. Hiding in spaces and waiting to pop out. 

And Adrien, wanting to make sure Chat left a good impression on Marinette. He really cares that Chat left a good impression. 

Marinette states that Adrien is far more awesome than Chat, Adrien isn’t bothered at all. He is pleased enough that Marinette has deemed Chat awesome. 

16, it’s a school day, people coming in to gather their stuff for the morning, and Tikki’s just hanging out in the open on Marinette’s shoulder where she can be seen.

I RECOGINZE THAT. That is like one of the earliest concepts of ML that Thomas Astruc did, isn’t it? 

Also it seems Nath’s crush on Marinette is over, hinting that he possibly has some memory of what happened, though probably fleeting. If he does have a crush now, most likely for LB.