#i knew they’d break up again in season 2 but I think it just wasn’t handled well because it undermines the s1 finale

[kitkat-the-muffin]

I really hated hsmtmts season 2 (for a variety of reasons, ramble in the tags) so I never saw seasons 3 or 4

Is it worth revisiting or is it too big a mess?

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 3)

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 826

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (28)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.

Now what?

Emma turned in a circle, looking around Rumplestiltskin’s vault–so tall and vast, she couldn’t see the ceiling.  So compact there was no door or window.  Had they fixed the past only to die of hunger, thirst or suffocation?

Could they ever get a break?

She turned to see Killian picking up an urn and perusing it, and her heart rate spiked. “Wait! Don’t touch anything!” she said insistently. “If Rumple’s afraid of this stuff, there’s gotta be a reason.”

He placed the item back on a shelf, and turned to her, arms wide in a placating gesture. “I’m just trying to figure a way out.”

He was always the optimist.  Unfortunately, her optimism had all but run out.  They were at the end of the line.  “I don’t think there is one, and what’s the point?  You heard what he said; he can’t reopen the portal.”

Killian stepped forward, and gave her an intense look–one filled with hope and belief.  “But you can! All he said we need is magic.  You’re the savior, Swan. You can do it.”

Her heart plummeted. He always had such complete and indefatigable faith in her, but in this instance, she knew that faith was misplaced.  Her hands were tied, and she was of no more use in this situation than was the unconscious woman Killian had gently placed on the table.

“Not anymore.  I lost it,” she said simply.

A hint of something else–desperation? Frustration? Irritation?-- crept into his eyes as he stepped forward and spoke again. “When Zelena died, all of her spells were undone. Your powers should have been restored.”

What was he implying?

“Believe me, if I could make it work, I would,” she said shortly.  “You think I’m faking it?”

For the barest of moments, he hesitated, and she knew he was debating with himself whether or not to say what was on his mind.  A look of determination came over his face, and she knew he’d made his choice.

“I think not having magic makes it a hell of a lot easier for you to run back to New York and pretend to be somebody else,” he said, stepping closer to her, “but listen to me Swan. You’re not.  It’s time to stop running.”

It wasn’t fair of her after running so insistently from him and her real life for the past couple weeks; she knew that, but she couldn’t stop the frustration from mounting. “You think I don’t know that?” she bit out. “Yes, I run away; that’s how I’ve always survived, but believe me. I want this to work. I wanna go back; I wanna stop running.”

His eyebrows rose at that.  “What’s changed your mind?”

Emma thought back to last night when they’d found her mother again and Blue had been able to restore her.  She couldn’t hold herself back.  The joy and relief had been so strong she couldn’t possibly do anything but take her mother into her arms, laughing and crying, as she held on, cupping the back of Mary Margaret’s head.

“You’re alive!” she’d nearly sobbed.

When the hug came to an end, she looked at her mother to see nothing but a look of confusion. “Thank you. It would appear so.” 

Something inside of Emma had broken.  Suddenly, in a moment of total clarity, she’d seen the truth.  

She needed her family and she loved them more than anything.  Everything else had fallen away, all the fear, all the delusion.  She decided right then and there that whatever it took, she wanted to get back to her family–her current family, the ones who knew her and loved her and would be devastated if she left.  She wanted to get back and she didn’t ever want to leave again.

She did her best to convey all of this to Killian, pouring out her thoughts and emotion.  “Neal was right,” she finished.

“About what?” he asked, voice gentle.

“You don’t have a home until you just miss it,” she answered. “And being with my parents the last few days but not really being with them, I’ve never missed them more. Storybrooke is my home.”

It was the first time she’d spoken the words aloud, but she knew with absolute certainty that they were true.  Home, the word, the concept, the fact that she was ready to embrace hers left her feeling such warmth and belonging that it was as if it were spreading through her veins, to her very fingertips.

Killian smiled down at her, and she couldn’t stop her answering smile.  “What?” she asked.

“Look down,” he answered simply.

The wand she still held in her hand was glowing a bright, vibrant white, and Emma knew Killian was right.  Her magic was back.  All she’d needed to do was embrace it, embrace her home and family and destiny.

“I’d say you got your magic back,” he continued. “Now, should we go?”

Nothing in the world sounded better.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[sequincult]

Return of the Floyd Part 4

(part 1 can be read here) (part 2 can be read here) (part 3 can be read here) *KA-CHUNK* The sudden jarring sound of the elevator gears engaging reverberates through the walls, startling all but its seasoned operator. As it descends, Floyd and Poppy’s expressions could not be any more different. Poppy has an air of excitement emanating from her. She was clearly ecstatic about finally entering Branch’s bunker as he’d never let ANYONE in before… what an honour! Still, she tried to seem nonchalant, as not to come across as insensitive. Not that that was working particularly well, judging by the overwhelming grin on her face. In contrast, Floyd’s expression ached with dread. He knew what was coming was going to be difficult to say the least. He’d truly have to confront the reality of Branch’s situation, the mess he inadvertently helped to create. Every second of their descent felt like an entire week to him, until finally, they came to a halt.

“Welp, here we are. Please, do not make yourself at home.” Branch groans as he spins around to look at the pair before his face sharply scrunches in confusion. Why does Poppy look so cheerful? Floyd looks appropriately miserable, but what’s the deal with her? 

“You look, err, happy Poppy!” He takes a prolonged, exaggerated breath. “Why.”

His sudden shift in tone breaks her out of her trance.

“What? Huh? Oh! I’m just happy you’ve let Floyd in! Haha!”

“Right… Oh yeah, there’s no seats. Of course. It’s not like I have guests after all. So just sit on the ground I suppose, if that’s not too improper for you, Princess…” the venom on his tongue with that last word was surprising, even for Branch.

“I can sit on the floor quite comfortably, actually. You can’t just make assumptions like that!”

“Yes I can, and I will.” He cocks his head and puts on his brightest faux smile, sarcastically patting the ground beside him. After which they sit down awkwardly on the cold, hard ground of the bunker.

“So, uhm, Branch? I have something I want to say.” Floyd breaks the silence and speaks for the first time since they’d arrived.

“Gee, I wonder what insightful things you have to say to me today. Wanna mention how ‘dull’ I am again?”

“Shhh.” Poppy swiftly raises her finger to her lips. “Let him talk Branch.”

Floyd takes a deep breath. “I’m… sorry. I’m sorry that we argued yesterday. I’m sorry that I didn’t know what to say when I saw you.” His hands ball up. “I’m sorry that I left, that I was stupid enough to think that you’d just *magically* be ok. That nothing bad would ever happen to Grandma. That nothing bad would happen to me. I just want to try and be here for you now, like I always should’ve been.” He tentatively reaches out his hand to Branch, who seems to consider it for a brief second, before hunching his shoulders and turning away.

“J-just because you apologised doesn’t mean I’ll let you stay here.”

“I’m not stupid Branch, I know an apology won’t fix everything… but we’ve got to start somewhere.”

He crosses his arms like a child. “Hmph. Sure. You’re only being nice to me so I’ll help you.”

“No, it’s because you’re my little brother. Why wouldn’t I be nice to you? Don’t you remember how close we were?”

 “But when you showed up yesterday… all I did was yell at you. I was so mad I didn’t even notice your hand.” 

“Branch it’s ok, we can talk about it.” He reaches his hand to hold Branch’s, but soon after Branch snatches his away.

“NO!” he buries his face deeply into his hands in a desperate attempt to quell his emotions.

“WHY CAN’T YOU TELL I’M A NOTHING BUT A MISERABLE, PATHETIC, WASTE OF TIME!”

“You are NOT a waste of time!” Floyd and Poppy speak out simultaneously. Floyd had almost forgotten she was there. She clearly wasn’t the best at dealing with negative emotions, but Branch’s self hatred must have broken her heart too.

“Ha, try telling that to any troll in the village… you know how they talk about me. Don’t you Poppy.”

“Branch… you’re none of those things. If we didn’t want to help you, we wouldn’t be here! I know the other trolls don’t always understand you, but that doesn’t mean they hate you! And… if it’s about your brothers I’m sure them leaving you must of been hard, but it’s not your fault.”

“YOU WEREN’T THERE! How the hell would YOU know…”

“I was there Branch” Floyd interjects. “And I know it wasn’t your fault. It was John’s obsession with perfection that caused the rift within the group. The concert was simply the last straw, you likely weren’t old enough to remember most of what happened.” 

“I KNOW what I remember. I couldn’t hit the family harmony and everything fell apart. Now just… let me look at your hand.”

Floyd sighs and places his wrist on the ground for Branch to inspect.

“Hmm. It seems like it’s only made it up to your wrist so far. I have no idea if it’s reversible though.”

“So far? Is this how it happened to you?”

He shakes his head. “No. It came all at once.”

“Oh… Do you know if there’s anything we can do?”

“I’m not really sure, but since colour is likely related to mood, attempting to improve that could reverse it. Or at least prevent it spreading. The more it spreads the harder it’ll be to feel happy at all.”

After a brief silence, Poppy scoots closer to Branch.

“Well, I think I know something that might make Floyd feel a lil better…”

“I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

She scoots even closer, looking up at him with the most adorable expression she can summon.

“Well??? PLEAAASEEE???”

“Ugh fine. He can stay. BUT only until he feels better.”

“YAY!!” Poppy rushes over and squeezes Branch as tight as she can, much to his chagrin of course.

“HEY HEY! No hugging ok? My bunker, my rules.”

“Oh, sure. Guess I got a little excited.” She releases him and backs off towards the exit.

“Alright, I’ll head out for now, I hope you two can get along tonight!”

Branch does a double take as she prepares to leave.

“Wait a second, do you even know how to operate the elevator?”

“I think I know how to push a lever Branch.”

“Yeah yeah, just don’t break anything or I’ll never speak to you again.”

“It’s not like you speak to me that much anyway.” She sasses as she struts over to the lift and puts great emphasis on her ability to use a lever, pulling it down with great force.  “Bye Bye!! See you later!” She calls out as she ascends, contorting herself to view them for as long as she possibly can until the platform raises above her eye level.

Branch lets out a sigh of relief.

“Phew. Well, at least she’s gone.”

“Oh, you don’t like Poppy then? I think she’s quite nice.”

“Ugh god no! She NEVER leaves me alone.”

Floyd raises and eyebrow and points past his brother. “If you hate her so much, what’s with all those invitations you’ve kept over there?”

Branch’s face drops as he realises he didn’t have time to hide them before they arrived.

“Uh, uhmm… That’s… my recycling pile! Yeah! She gives me soooo many that they build up. Oh, and by the way, I’m fairly sure I said you could stay here, not snoop around.”

“Ok sure. Tooootally.” 

“Whatever! Just don’t go nosying through my bunker. Now follow me and I’ll show you your room.”

“But Branch… I remember the art you made. We shared a room, didn’t we?”

“Huh.” He turns his head over his shoulder to glance straight at his brother. “I guess I changed my mind.”

Floyd stops in his tracks.

“You really know how to make my heart hurt Branch.”

“Good. Think of it as an exercise in empathy… now you know a teeny, tiny little fraction of how you and your deadbeat brothers made ME feel.” 

“We’re your brothers too. And how is that supposed to help me feel better.”

“It won’t. That’s what sleeping’s for. It’s the only time I get to be happy.”

They continue their walk through the tunnels in a painful silence, giving some Floyd time to observe his new home. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the sheer scale of the bunker, with its seemingly endless hallways and rooms full of supplies. He notices a few areas are still under construction. How long had he been building this? How long had Grandma been…

“We’re here. I’ll wake you at six, ok.” He holds open the door and nods his head in the direction of the entrance.

“Oh, ok then… Goodnight Branch.”

“Right, yeah… Uh, seeya.” He quickly shuts the door before scurrying back to his room and hurling himself into his bed.

“WHY did I have to let them in…” He mutters to himself. But deep down he knows that Floyd wasn’t just going to go away. The sooner he deals with it, the sooner he leaves. And then things can go back to normal!

“Yeah.” He yawns. “Normal…”

[kellanved-ammanas]

Rarepair Weekend Day 2: Pyro/Medic - Spicy | Savory | Sweet

For @tf2rarepairevents Rarepair mini weekend event!

~

With Pyro’s tendency to get a bit excited about the stove top burners, banning him from using the stove without supervision was probably fair. He did almost burn the kitchen down not long after they’d moved to this base. But he was having one of those ‘wanting to try something new’ moments that were hard to ignore. The something new he wanted to try was cooking and so… sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night it was.

He could do it in the daytime and just have someone watch to make sure he didn’t set the burners too high but… he wasn’t a child. Being supervised like one was annoying even in cases where it was warranted. Also, he wanted to be able to taste it which he had to take the gas mask off for which he couldn’t bring himself to do when just about anyone could walk in without warning. He could handle being in the presence of flames without being overwhelmed by his desire to feed it until it grew into a roaring blaze.

His resolve almost broke as soon as he started the burner. It was so pretty but so small, making it bigger would mean more pretty to look at it. He reached for the dial but… no! More pretty was also more dangerous and bad for cooking. It would burn the food and that would be bad so he had to refrain. He put the skillet over it, reducing temptation by hiding it.

There not being much of interest in the pantry and not knowing much about what he was doing anyway, he went for something simple; eggs and pancakes. His first attempt at scrambled eggs was underdone and then upon being put back on the stove, burnt. His second attempt was a bit better. He seasoned it with all the spices they had in the cupboard. Which probably would’ve been a poor choice if they weren’t so limited in their spice selection out here in the desert. As it was though, it tasted good enough, to him anyway.

Next was pancakes. Except… how did one make pancake batter? There was flower and vanilla, right? Probably baking powder too. Was that it or…

“Huh? Didn’t expect to find you here.”

Pyro jumped, snapping around to face the kitchen entryway where Medic stood. He wore his pajamas, indicating he’d gone to bed but was now up again and probably looking for coffee. But of all people to catch Pyro here, he was the best option because he already knew what Pyro’s face looked like. And he’d be a hypocrite for caring about anyone else breaking the kitchen rules when just last week he’d done so himself via putting another experiment in the fridge because his personal one in his lab was too full.

“I’m banned from using the burners so I gotta use them at night. I’ve been good though, promise.” Especially now that burners were off while he tried to figure out this pancake batter thing. “I’m not gonna burn the kitchen down… probably.”

Medic gave a tired hum of acknowledgment before walking over to counter where Pyro had left the plate of eggs for now. He picked up the fork next to it and tried a bite. Whether he liked it or not as impossible to guess as his expression didn’t change. But as long as he was here and awake…

“Do you know how to make pancakes?”

“It’s been a long time but I think so. Why?”

“I wanna make some but I’m not sure how to make the batter. Could you write it down for me? I’ll give you some if they turn out good.”

Medic thought about it for a few seconds, still holding the fork. “I’m up anyway so I could just show you if you want.”

“Oh, okay, sure!” That would be even better and a fun time besides.

[homerforsure]

👀 you can't just drop one sentence in a tag and not give me context (and more sentences!)

Plus @rewritetheending said we could use her WIP Wednesday tags for other days so we’re gonna call this

Fuck It Friday!

It’s for an upcoming BTHB square: Bundled in Blankets. Wherein. A season 2 Buck who has recently left Abby’s and is living with Maddie, ends up leaving early from what he thought would be an overnight date with some rando and, rather than go back to Maddie’s in the middle of the night, decides he’ll just sleep in his jeep. But. It’s pretty chilly.

Leaning against the wall, Maddie said, “You don’t need to leave for me. This is your place too. For now.”

“And I appreciate it. And I’ll be back to getting in your way and eating your leftovers tomorrow,” Buck said with a smile that finally, finally made Maddie smile back at him.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, which was that he felt like a burden. A saddened and shamed dog creeping home with his tail between his legs. Like a loser in every sense of the word. He’d held on so long and for what? Just to have to start over again, months after everyone else already knew that he should?

Maddie was starting over too and Buck was getting in her way. There was a time when they could have done that together, breaking free of too small lives that were hurting them in ways they couldn’t quite explain but that they could each see in each other’s eyes, but it wasn’t the same now. Maddie needed to stand on her own and, after Abby, Buck was starting to think he did too. Even though they’d always be an arm’s length away.

Tinder wasn’t exactly starting over, but it wasn’t reverting to the worst version of himself either. It was… backtracking. Maybe just a little bit. But Buck had spent enough time on trails and in wilderness to know that sometimes you had to retrace your steps a little to find out where you went wrong. That was all this was. He wasn’t getting more lost. He was just looking for the right turn.

He was looking for a connection. For a soft touch. For a little bit of warmth. That wasn’t such a bad thing to want, was it?

Tags! @princessfbi @mellaithwen @fleurdebeton @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @sibylsleaves @ajunerose @littlespoonevan @renecdote @hopeintheashes

[dyingreader]

Good Omens 2 bits (part 1)

Imma watch this again and actually take notes the second time around, but I just wanted to do some points on things I noticed on first watch:

- I love how the Bentley actually IS sentient (or at least some version of it) and changes it’s personality a bit when Azirapale drives it (is it bc he actually changed the Bentley? How did he manage to actually change the Bentley? HMMMMM??? awfully sus Crowley)

- Another thing about the Bentley, idk if they were actually there in the first season, but you can VERY CLEARLY see the bullet hole stickers that Crowley got the one time he got petrol just so he could get those damn Bond bullet hole stickers. Nice touch.

- Apparently Crowley’s flat is property of Hell??? And that’s why he has to live in his car the whole time now that he’s a traitor??? Do you think Crowley has been only sleeping in his car and spending the rest of his day in the bookshop? One of the lines in Crowley’s confession would seem to support that but idk.

- Onto the bookshop now, absolutely LOVE how Aziraphale learned his bloody lesson the first time about how IF YOU OWN A BOOKSHOP DO NOT HAVE OPEN FLAMES WITHOUT PROPER SAFETY MEASURES!! I was dying when them using electric candles in the circle finally hit home and Gabriel saying “Look there’s plenty more fire extinguishers up here!” absolutely killed me. I was dying of laughter.

- Another thing about that climax... I absolutely fucking LOST IT when Aziraphale did the halo thing. Neil mentions it in the introduction of the script book about how Good Omens was almost made a movie before and... well... take a look for yourself:

the FUCKING DISCUS HALOES MADE IT IN FFS!!! I was dying, as soon as I saw Aziraphale go for the halo I was like, “oh Neil you better FUCKING not have” and then he did, and I had my face in my hands and couldn’t stop cackling at the madness I had found myself in.

- Another thing about this script book, I noticed this just through the trailers but they did cement it in the show:

They did it, they managed to put it in there. I honestly teared up a bit when I heard it in the trailer, cuz it was something that Terry had suggested. Hell, it even ended up becoming Gabriel and Beez’s song (yes I know those of you who shipped them are probably over the moon right now at becoming canon, I’m still in shock that what I considered a joke ship actually happened, but I am honestly happy for you and they are.... admittedly disgustingly cute together)

- Another song related thing, I am SOOOO happy that good old fashioned loverboy finally got the love it deserved. It only took us all making so many animatics with it and fanfic titles with it’s lyrics, but I’m glad to see that the Bentley thought it was fitting.

- It’s also nice to know that before the Fall, Crowley was at least a Dominion or a Throne, but my bet is on being a higher power than that since I don’t think they’d just let ANYONE make the whole galaxy (also LOVED that scene btw,  such a great opening to come back to).

- I think the last things I’m gonna mention are the whole nazi zombies thing (why is it ALWAYS nazi zombies?? It’s so weird to see them here, anyone else immediately think of COD??) and the fact that this instance of Aziraphale’s magic act is at least probably part of the reason why Crowley reacted the way he did in the first season to Aziraphale wanting to do magic for Warlock’s birthday (that and he already knew that his magic wasn’t very good as he says).

But yeah I’ll probably have more thoughts later since I am going to watch it again and take proper notes this time, but even though that ending was heart breaking I still really enjoyed it whole heartedly. I’m pretty sure my smile was plastered onto my face for most of the show. I know not many people will see this, but I hope you enjoyed and I’d love to gear about any little things that you noticed. I am absolutely LIVING for this fandom rn.

[itsthewritergal]

What if - Eddie Munson x reader

There are spoilers under the cut!! 

You have been warned!! TW: Season 4 (vol 2) spoilers, death mentioned, sadness, Happyish ending 

Enjoy xxx

“I’m so sorry Mr Munson, we were both with him when he died” Dustin said to Eddie’s uncle, Y/N sat there silent, she couldn’t even fathom a way to figure out the right words to say so instead she just counted the tiles on the floor 

“How are you?” Mr Munson asked Y/N, who lifted his gaze to his soft stare

“I’m ok” She lied through her teeth 

“I know you two were planning a future” He admitted “Always heard you when you were in the trailer” 

“Yeah, we always spoke about that” Y/N said 

“We should really get back to the others” Dustin said “Do you want me to find someone to go home with you?” Dustin asked 

“I’ve got a few friends taking me home” He said, Y/N felt comforted by the idea that he wasn’t going to be alone. 

Y/N and Dustin watched as Mr Munson walked away, Dustin turned to Y/N with a soft smile 

“It was the right thing to do” He said firmly 

“Was it? I think we should have just kept him in the dark” Y/N said 

“We had to tell him” 

— — 

Y/N pushed open the door to the old trailer which was hidden in the woods, far away from any prying eyes. 

“Y/N?” A voice called from the bedroom 

“It’s ok love it’s just me” Y/N answered dumping her bag on the sofa and striding through the trailer towards the sound of the voice 

“How are you m’lady?” Eddie asked the moment Y/N came into view 

“Need you” She hummed wrapping her arms around his middle, and burying her face into the crook of his neck, Eddie stayed silent for a moment knowing Y/N just needed a second of comfort before being bombarded with questions 

“What happened?” Eddie asked when Y/N finally peeled herself off of him 

“Saw your uncle” Y/N said sitting down on the bed, 

“How was he?” Eddie asked, sitting beside her and gently taking her hands in his 

“Not great” Y/N said quietly, keeping the image of Eddie’s uncle out of her mind 

“What did he say?”

“Dustin told him the story we made up” She said “I don’t think we should have though, it’s going to break him” 

“We had to Y/N” Eddie said gently placing a kiss to her hands “If anyone thought I was still alive they’d be hunting me down by now. You know we couldn’t risk that” 

“Nancy said she might have a way to prove your innocence” Y/N said 

“Thats something, right m’lady” Eddie said hopefully 

“She said that we can use Max, something about fingerprints or something. I wasn’t really listening” Y/N admitted, 

“Its ok, we’re going to figure this out” Eddie promised 

“What if we don’t?” She asked “You can’t stay here forever” She huffed

“Then we find a little house away from Hawkins and build a life away from this town” Eddie said 

“Eddie” Y/N whispered 

“What if we just keep that idea as a backup?” He suggested “We spoke about it before” 

“I know we did Eddie, but that was before we knew about Vecna and Max and Eleven, you don’t really think we could just leave do you?” 

“We deserve to” Eddie whispered “We deserve a life where all of this stuff is just from D&D and we don’t ever have to worry about it again” 

“I know, but we can’t just do that” Y/N said “We’ve got people here we have to protect” “And what if it isn’t me next time?” Eddie snapped quietly “What if next time it’s you that gets attacked and doesn’t survive?” He asked “what if next time we don’t make it out?” Y/N knew what he was suggesting and felt sick instantly

“You did survive, Eddie so we don’t have to think about that” she said 

“Y/N I know you want to protect everyone but I’ve been a hero and if I got the choice again I’d run, I’d run away. If it meant I could live my life with you then I’d run every single time” 

“I can’t loose you Eddie, but I don’t want to leave everyone behind” 

“I know, and I’m hoping it won’t come to that m’lady” Eddie said pressing a kiss to her forehead 

“We’re going to prove your innocence Eds, I swear it” Y/N said firmly 

“I love you” Eddie whispered as they laid down on the bed and let sleep overtake them. 

Taglist :)

@whitewineandpizzapuffs @planet-naptune @thefandomplace@sebby-staan  @poguesinablanket @witch-and-a-half@nojamsonmytoast  @seanh-boredom  @wanniiieeee@louweasleymalfoy @missryerye @big-galaxy-chaos @barnestatic @devilsbooksworld @lovesanimals0000 @navs-bhat @saayanaaa

[jumblejen]

We Were Always Going to End Up Together - Ch 10

Suptober 22, Day 10: Enchanted

On AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/107429703

(Or read from the beginning: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42237885/chapters/106051008)

Their second date left Dean feeling just as twitterpated as the first, and then the third and the fourth were wonderful, as well as the coffee squeezed in on a Sunday before the maze opened. And then the maze was shutting down for the season and Dean went to Sam’s to help hand out candy (and push Sam’s raisins to the side). He always loved seeing how adorable the kids were and what creative things they came up with. His apartment complex didn’t have a lot of kids and wasn’t really the kind of place you’d want your kids going door to door at. Someday he’d have a better place, something not quite so suburban as Sam’s place, but not so far out in the country that he didn’t have neighbors.

Someday. For now his apartment was sufficient for what he needed and he had years ago decided that being able to put away a little each month was worth the rundown building he lived in. It was only a matter of time before the nice woman who owned it finally sold out to one of the groups dying to build some steel and glass monstrosity that began to price out all the folks that lived in this area. Dean hoped that day never came, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that this would be prime real estate and the neighborhood ripe for gentrification if any of the larger buildings sold. At least Sam approved of the money he saved.

For the first hour of Halloween, it wasn’t even dark yet and the candy requests were a little sparse. Just after sundown it went from a steady stream to a nonstop deluge of children of all ages. Dean gave up on closing the big door, instead dragging a kitchen chair into the foyer so he could just watch out the glass storm door, and even then he only sat down a couple of times in almost 2 hours. Sam and Eileen would join him for awhile and then drift off and do other things. Dean was pretty sure that they’d keep the light off altogether if he didn’t come over to help out. Well, once he had his own place, it would be interesting to see if any of the local kids decided to egg the house if they didn’t keep giving out the good candy.

The hordes of children thinned out again when Sam rejoined Dean in the foyer.

“Trick or treating is officially over.”

“I’m going to stay a little longer just in case there’s stragglers.”

“I meant to ask you, how are things going with the guy you’re dating?”

“Cas? Things are great with him. We’ve been seeing each other quite a bit.”

“Is he still working the corn maze?”

“Last day was yesterday for the maze. He said he was going to spend today breaking all the decorations down, but then that’s it.”

“That’s good. That’s good.”

“Yeah, mean’s it’ll be easier to see him, since his weekends won’t be completely booked.”

“So, uh, when do we get to meet him?”

Dean looked at his brother. “I dunno. It’s only been a month. Less than a month.”

“Well, we would love to have him over for dinner sometime if you change your mind.”

“Yeah, okay.”

They didn’t say much more and after another ten minutes, Dean was ready to call it quits. After all, it was a Monday night and everyone had work in the morning. Dean drove home carefully, thinking about what Sam said, about meeting Cas. There was something uncomfortable that clenched in Dean’s chest at the idea of Sam meeting Cas. Probably because Sam thought it was his brotherly duty to interrogate anyone he dated and give Dean a full report on any of his detected deficiencies. Not that any of that nonsense had stopped all the trouble he’d had with any of his exes. Sam wasn’t super good at reading people, and especially not at reading men Dean dated.

His ringing phone interrupted those thoughts and Dean was delighted to hear Cas on the other end. “Hey Cas.”

“Hello Dean. Are you still at your brother’s?”

“On my way home now.”

“Mind if I stop by?”

“I guess not. Everything okay?”

“…Yes. I just… Nevermind.”

“No, Cas, not nevermind. What’s up?”

“Just a hard day. It’s nothing.”

“Hey man, it’s gotta be something for you to call at 8:30 at night and say you need to come over. You got a ride?”

“Yes. I’m actually at the coffee shop down the street from your place.”

“They’re still open?”

“Yes. I mean, no. They’re letting me stay while they clean up.”

“I’ll be there to pick you up in five minutes.”

“Dean, you don’t have to …”

“No arguing, five minutes.”

“Okay.”

Dean hung up the phone, looking around the area with a new focus. He didn’t like the uncertainty in Cas’ voice. This was no booty call, not that he minded being a booty call. This was something else and Dean was going to do his damnedest to help.

Four minutes later, Dean pulled up to the curb in front of the coffee shop, reaching over to pop the lock on the passenger seat door. Cas slid in with a wave through the lit window of the store at two waiting employees.

Dean patted Cas’ shoulder. “You okay man?”

Cas’ eyes were wider than usual, fear tinging the edges with a hunted look Dean hated. “I don’t know,” was all he said.

Dean drove the block and a half to his apartment building, sliding into his reserved slot at the end of the row. They left the car and walked up to his place without saying anything, Dean’s worry growing a bit with each step.

Once inside, Dean hung up their coats and poured a glass of water for each of them and carried them into the living room. He sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. Obediently Cas sat, clearly not sure of how to start.

When Cas was seated, Dean scooched over to his side and threw an arm around Cas, tugging his solid weight into him. “Hey, man. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You did good, okay. You can always call me.”

“Gabe left town.”

“That was the plan, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, but it’s why I didn’t call him.”

“Okay. You called me, I got that. And it was the right thing to do. So now you’re here and I’m here.”

“I had a panic attack.”

Dean hugged Cas a little tighter to his side. “What can I do?”

“This is helping.”

Cas sat forward a little, forearms on his knees, head cradled in his hands. Dean began rubbing his back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. He hummed a little too, ‘Hey Jude’ like his mom used to sing to him before she died. That song still made Dean feel better, so he figured it couldn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry Dean.”

“Still not seeing anything you need to be sorry for.”

“Things have been so good with us…”

“Yeah?”

“And I didn’t want to screw anything up, but now here I am barging in on you…”

“Cas…”

“I didn’t want you to ever see me like this.”

“Well, I’ve had a lot of fun with you Cas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want the rougher parts too. Hell, my life isn’t always so rosy either. I’m enjoying getting to know you. Even the messy bits.”

“What if I told you that what I really needed was to curl up on your couch with you and watch a Disney movie?”

“Well, then that is what we’ll do. Lucky for you I snagged Sam’s login for his account, so we have access to whatever one you wanna watch.”

“Really?”

“Sure, man. I mean, I’d prefer not to watch Bambi ever again, but if that’s your comfort flick, I’ll manage.”

“Is Bambi anyone’s comfort movie?”

“I dunno. I saw it when I was a kid and bawled my eyes out. And that was before my mom died. On second thought, yeah, no, not watching Bambi even if it is what you want.”

“I didn’t know your mother died.”

“Yeah, she uh, died in a house fire when I was little. It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. So how about we change into some sweats and you can pick out which movie you want to watch.”

Cas nodded and Dean led Cas gently to his bedroom where they changed into clothes more suitable for relaxing. It didn’t take long until they were both laying on the couch while Cas manned the remote, clearly searching for something specific.

“Enchanted?” asked Dean. “Haven’t heard of that one.”

“It’s both live-action and animated.”

“It looks like a princess movie.”

“It is.”

“Cool.”

“And there’s a dragon.”

“Awesome.”

“But it’s a musical.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I thought you might object?”

“Why?”

“Because of the car, and the flannel and the everything.”

“Well, it’s not a core part of my personality or anything. But yeah, I like musicals.”

“Even if it’s a Disney princess musical?”

“Hey, I want you to feel better. And there are very few things that I’m not willing to try, movie-wise. Besides, it’s your turn to pick anyway.”

Cas pressed play and relaxed back into Dean’s chest. Dean wrapped his arm even tighter around Cas. He may not understand exactly what’s going on with Cas, but he knew how to help. This was easy, even if the movie wasn’t one he would have picked in a million years. He just wanted this man to be alright.

[youremyonlyhope]

Ok wait I’m not done ranting about tonight’s Survivor yet.

Another reason that Maryanne and Drea chose to not vote each other out is because they probably realized they NEED each other to be present in the game to have a chance to win.

There has never been a Black winner who didn’t have another Black contestant with them either at the end, or close to the end.

Wendell had Laurel, who he teamed up with after the tribe switch, and stuck with until the final tribal council. Wendell has said (I believe during one of the Black Voice of Survivor Roundtables) that for the first few days on the island, he actually purposefully avoided being seen talking to the other Black contestant, Desiree, because he didn’t want either of them to be targeted and stand out for aligning early on. When he had a more comfortable position in the game, and his alliance with Dominick, that’s when he felt safe enough to become close to Laurel. That relationship with Laurel literally won him the game since she was the unprecedented tie breaking vote.

Jeremy had Tasha with him at the end. The alliances of Cambodia were pretty fluid throughout the season, especially due to all the swaps, it wasn’t until later in the merge that he and Tasha, along with Spencer, really became a team. The jury accused Tasha of doing all of Jeremy’s dirty work, and he got an unanimous vote in the end.

Earl had Cassandra and Dreamz, and to this day this is the only fully Black Final Three in Survivor history. I admittedly have not yet watched this season in full (my brother has gotten into Survivor, so I want to watch this season with him eventually), but part of that is because I’ve heard over the years that this jury is infamously bitter during final tribal and that Lisi was racist, so I’m sort of dreading watching it even though I know Earl wins in the end with the unanimous vote.

Vecepia is the only Black winner to win Survivor without having another Black person with them at the final tribal council. For most of the merge, she and Sean were the only people from her original tribe and the only Black people left in the game. Luckily, instead of being picked off one by one, they wrangled together people at the bottom of the other alliance to vote everyone else out. He got 5th place, so he was with her for 36 of the 39 days. She only won against Neleh by one vote. She became the first Black winner, the ONLY Black woman to win so far, and the first Black winner of any reality TV show.

When Survivor Winners at War came around, Wendell and Jeremy once again made a point of not seeming like they were a pair because they knew, as the only Black people, other contestants might make assumptions. This didn’t work since Wendell was eliminated at the merge because of how “close” he was to Jeremy, and Jeremy was on the chopping block for nearly every tribal council until he was finally eliminated. The other contestants considered Jeremy and Wendell to be an obvious pair, but did not seem to care about “Cops R Us.” I’m not even complaining about Cop R Us as an alliance, unless it’s to complain about the name, since I genuinely enjoyed watching Tony and Sarah’s friendship get them far in the game and have an emotional end. But Wendell and Jeremy had a target on their back from the get-go because as the only two Black men, everyone just assumes they’re a tight pair and tight pairs are dangerous so they have to go. Tony and Sarah had the privilege of not LOOKING like they’d be a tight pair, despite having played on 2 other seasons together and sharing a profession and having A NAME for their alliance, so they stayed a little more under the radar. So while we need other Black people to be with us in the game order to win, just being seen talking to other Black people can be dangerous because it can scare the other contestants into thinking there’s an alliance that needs to be broken up. It’s a very fragile balance, which is why it’s only been accomplished 4 times so far. (Also Vecepia says she wasn’t even asked to compete in Winners at War, so there’s that. Earl declined due to having a new baby)

Something that’s weird, and something that I didn’t notice until writing this post, is that when we do win Survivor, we either win unanimous votes, or we win by only one vote (and it’s the one made by another Black contestant). Not sure what that means exactly, but it’s interesting now that I’ve noticed.

We’ve had 4 winners out of 41 seasons, less than 10% of winners are Black when we make up 12.4% of the American population (14.2% if you count mixed-race Black people like myself). We’ve had only one Black woman win, and that was 20 years ago. In 3 of the 4 cases, there was another Black person sitting at final tribal council with the winner.

There has been 1 Final Two with one Black person in it (Vecepia won), 3 Final Threes with at least two Black people (Earl, Jeremy, and Wendell won), and 7 Final Threes with only one Black person (no Black winners). Statistically, we need another Black person in the Final Three in order to win because we’ve never won a season as the lone Black person at the end. The only time we have won alone was when it was a Final Two, and Survivor doesn’t seem to want to ever do those again.

I hope Maryanne and Drea make it to the end together, and that we finally get another Black woman winning. Based on every other situation, they need each other there to win.

[differentkettleoffishalltogether]

Show Me [Part 1/2]

Summary: Spencer finds out his girlfriend’s a virgin. But she wants him to change that.

A/N: This is an anon request that I loved writing. This is Part 1 and I’m working on Part 2 right now! If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Mostly smut, and a lil fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hair pulling, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!

Word count: 3k

Request: “Omg I’ve just found your account, you’re an amazing writer! If you’re taking requests, could you write something with virgin!reader and like season 13/14 Spencer?”

Read Part 2 Here

They’ve never had sex.

They’ve kissed though. They’ve kissed so much it made Spencer feel like a teenager, well what he assumed it was like to be a regular teenager.

They’d kiss everywhere they could, in his bed, in her bed, in his kitchen, in the car, in hotel rooms, one time in a supply closet at the BAU. But mostly they ended up on Spencer’s couch. The first time they did anything more than just kissing was on Spencer’s couch, it wasn’t exactly planned it just, happened.

They were making out and she was lying beneath him, there was a sort of comfort in the feeling of his weight on top of her, keeping her fixed beneath him. She’d worn a pretty short dress for their date earlier, one she knew Spencer liked, but after all of the squirming and moving it just sort of rode up.

She didn’t feel it happening but when Spencer came up for air and looked down at her, all he could see was the skirt of her dress, bunched up around her waist, and the little pink panties she had on underneath, absolutely soaking wet.

He let out a small chuckle, looking back up at her, “Have you been wet this entire time?” he smirked.

She doesn’t think too hard about it. She’s so turned on by the way he looks right now, his hooded eyes and his softly parted pink lips are so distracting that she forgets he’s never seen her like this before and she nods.

“Mmhmm” she hums, and bites her lip in anticipation of his next move.

“Can I touch you?” he asks, soft and gentle and she nods again, a little too shy to do much else.

He starts by touching her above her underwear, pushing against the cotton, moving it around between her folds with one finger. She was already moaning and writhing beneath him with that simple touch.

When he tucked a finger inside of her panties he shouldn’t have been shocked but he was. She was so wet, almost screaming in pleasure below him and he’d only grazed her clit once or twice. He thought she might combust when he sunk just one finger into her and she was so tight and clenched around the digit. Squirming even when he was motionless inside of her.

It wouldn’t have taken long to actually make her cum, that was obvious. But he was having so much fun with it that he decided to drag this out for as long as he could. Bringing her to the edge over and over until she was literally begging him for release. By the end of it she was completely spent, her arousal coating her thighs, his hands, and a little of the couch. He took off her panties and stashed them in his pocket and she really wished she didn’t find that quite as hot as she did.

He doesn’t want to test her limits again right away, he wants her to come to him when she's ready. But it doesn’t happen again for a while. They go back to their usual dance, making out like teenagers, sometimes for hours until the point when one of them has to leave, or sleep, or they’re both called away on a case.

It’s not until a whole month has passed that things change again.

Y/N sneaks into Spencer’s room one night while they’re out on a case. He’s a little shocked to see her but he’s happy none the less. What’s shocking him more than anything is the skimpy little nightdress she’s got on, and how more notably it seems like she’s not wearing a bra underneath it.

“What are you doing?” he asks when he opens the door to her, and what he wants to say is ‘you can’t be out in the halls looking like this’, and what he really means by that is, ‘you can’t be in my room looking like this because I’ll never recover’.

“Can I come in?” she asks softly, and almost a little worried, so he steps aside to let her in.

They sit on the edge of his bed, her posture is rigid as she sits, and she takes in a deep breath before she speaks again.

“Do you like the way that I look?” she asks, tentative, and his heart just about breaks. Of course he did. He had since the second he laid eyes on her.

“Yes, oh my god. You’re the prettiest girl I think I’ve ever seen?” he rushes out, his hand reaching out to touch her bare shoulder in a comforting gesture. But she doesn’t look relieved or satisfied by the admission.

“But do you—” she braces herself, “do you think I'm sexy?”

He’s got no idea what’s happening, if she didn’t look so serious he’d think this was some kind of joke. “Are you serious?” he gasps, “Are you kidding me?” he hops off the bed and sinks to his knees in front of her.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re the prettiest, sexiest, woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” he tries to reassure, placing his hands on her knees and looking up at her.

“Then why don’t we—” she’s not even sure what she’s trying to ask, “Why do we only kiss? Don’t you want to...” she trails off, and there’s something endearing about the way she can’t even seem to bring herself to say any explicit words out loud.

“Don’t I want to sleep with you?” he guesses, knowing it’s the right answer, “Y/N, I want to sleep with you so, so badly. I think about it all the time.” he confesses and her eyes blow wide.

“You do?”

He nods eagerly, “All. The. Time.” he emphasizes, “When you play with your hair in work, when you fall asleep on my lap while we’re watching a movie, when you kiss me for hours, when you bite your lip while you’re concentrating, when you wear that little navy pencil skirt, when you show up to my hotel room dressed like this” he gestures to her nightdress, “or when I think about your little pink panties in the top drawer of my nightstand” he whispers the last part.

“I just thought…” she searches for the end of the sentence, “I thought you didn’t want to?” she pouts.

“I thought you weren’t ready” he says it so earnest, and he means it. He’d never want to make her feel like it wasn’t her choice.

“I haven’t— I’ve never— I’m a virgin Spencer.” she confesses, and she doesn’t look at him while she does, too shy from the admission.

“That’s okay” he moves his hands up to grab hers gently, gazing up at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do”

“But I want to, with you” she looks at him now and her gaze is so soft that he melts.

“I want to as well. But not here.” he sits back up on the bed next to her, “It shouldn’t be in some cheap motel with our co-workers down the hall. We can do it at my place, or yours, or we could book an actual nice hotel room in the city somewhere? Whatever you want.” she nods at him and smiles.

“I’d like that a lot” she looks happy now, content and relieved, “but could we maybe still do something now?”

He’s taken aback completely, “Did you have something in mind?”

She looks shy again, and he has to coax it out of her, squeezing her hands in his and giving her an encouraging kiss on the cheek.

“When you touched me on your couch that time. I wanted to do something for you, but I wasn’t sure— I didn’t want to get it wrong so I just chickened out” she admits.

“What did you want to do?” he pries gently.

“I wanted to use my mouth” she breaks eye contact when she speaks. He can’t take it anymore so he tilts her head softly with one of his hands so she has to look directly at him again.

“You wanted to use your mouth on what?” he’s doing it on purpose to get her out of her shell.

“On your— on your cock” she whispers out like she's embarrassed to even say it at full volume.

“You wanted to suck my cock?” he asks and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she nods.

“Please?” she asks, and he never thought he'd have a girl this beautiful asking him if she could ‘please’ suck his cock. How did he get this lucky?

“Only if you want to”

“I really do” she volunteers, “but I need you to tell me… how?”

“So you’ve never done it before?” he asks, he’s been aware she was a virgin but he’s got no idea what she had or hadn’t done before. She shakes her head.

“When you, touched me, that was the first time anyone other than me had well…”

“And you’ve never touched anyone else?” he asks, soft and sweet, rubbing his thumb over and back on the top of her hand.

“I have.” she says, “With other boys when I was younger but never anything more”

“Okay” he says encouraging.

“How do we start?” she looks less nervous now that it’s all out in the open.

“Like we always do” he breaks out in a smile as he leans in to kiss her. Her lips are so soft against his, perfect as always.

He pulls her toward him and parts their lips long enough to tell her to sit on his lap. She obliges, she loves to sit like this while they kiss, he knows that too. Sitting this way she can feel him as he starts to grow hard beneath her, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping him from her.

His hands hold onto her thighs, digging his fingernails into the sides of them as she moans into his mouth. He chances moving one of his hands up her side, and as he hovers it above her chest he breaks apart from her for just a moment. “Can I?” he asks, and she nods before he places a hand on her breast over the fabric of her nightdress. And he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.

He couldn't stop himself from bringing the other hand up so he could cup both breasts. Massaging and kneading them, feeling her nipples begin to harden and stand out from the satin fabric.

She grinds down against him momentarily and her eyes grow wide. “Are you?” she looks down between them, clearly feeling him.

“I’m hard Y/N” he says softly, and she looks almost giddy.

“I’m ready” she breathes out and swings off his lap, taking charge now that she’d worked up some confidence. It’s not like she had no idea what to do. She’s watched porn, she’s read a few things about it, but she also knew there was no way to really know what it was like without actually doing it.

She kneels down in front of him, pulling apart his knees so that she can nestle down in between them. She’s the one that pulls down the waistband of his boxers, just far enough so that she can pull his cock out.

She feels stupid in a way. She hadn’t given much thought to how it would look but it was different to what she’d anticipated. It was flushed pink, and leaking from the tip. And it was bigger, or thicker maybe, than she’d been expecting. She had a vibrator at home and it didn’t look like this. For one thing it was purple, but it was also smaller than this. For a moment she's nervous before she realizes that this is Spencer. And she could never feel nervous with him.

“Is everything alright? If you’ve changed your mind—” he starts and she shakes her head probably a bit too vigorously.

“No! It’s just— bigger, than I was expecting” she says holding it loosely in her hand.

“Oh” he says, unable to his his surprise, “thank you?” She giggles at him, unaware she’d actually been paying him a compliment.

“What do you like?” She asks, peering up at him and fluttering her eyelashes like she’d done this a million times before.

“Well, um,” he’s the one with the shaky breath now, and he’s not sure when he got so nervous, “I guess if you lick it first, that always feels good” he’s barely got the sentence out and she’s on him. Licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock, right along the vein, reaching the tip and swiping up the pre-cum leaking from the slit there. He’s got to struggle not to throw his head back in pleasure instantly, he wants to see it, wants to watch all of it.

She takes her mouth off of him and looks up with those doe eyes again, and now that he’s looking he can see down her nightdress. He’s got a perfect view of her perky nipples, turned on beneath the fabric and his dick twitches at the sight.

“Like that?” she pulls off him to ask, and he can barely breathe.

“Fuck Y/N! Exactly like that” he groans, chest heaving, his hands clawing at the duvet.

She smiles up at him, “and then what?”

“Uh, take it in your mouth, you don't have to take it the whole way down, just as far as you feel comfortable with” he assures her, trying to steady out his breathing. He doesn’t want her to gag or anything. “then just use your hands for the rest.”

She nods, thinking for a moment before bringing her mouth back down to him. This time she licks him again, all the way up and around the tip, just a little slower than before. Then she wraps her plush lips around the head of his cock. He moans louder than he meant to as she starts to sink down on him, further and further, taking him in inch by inch.

She didn't quite get the whole way down but she got way further than he thought she would. Taking in as much of him as she could she began to rise up again. It took a little adjusting to make sure she was breathing in and out through her nose, but once she got the hang of it she began to pick up the pace.

Sliding up and down against him, the feeling of her warm, wet mouth was almost too much. He’d gotten himself off to thoughts of her for months now and it just didn’t compare. Not by a long shot, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

She stopped after another minute and looked up at him, “Is it okay? Does it feel good?” she asks, unsure.

“Jesus, fuck. Y/N, it feels so good. You feel so good” he gasps and she looks delighted.

“Would you, maybe, put your hands in my hair?” she asks, a little nervous, and he’s shocked for what feels like the 100th time this evening, “I like how it feels” she says, shy and unsure. So he sits forward, leaning down a little so he can take her face in his hands.

“How did I get so lucky?” he plants a kiss on her lips and moves his hands from the side of her face into her hair. Gathering it up into a ponytail and gripping it firmly. She lowers down again, wrapping her lips around the head once more and sinking down. Bolstered by his compliments and ignoring her nerves she forces herself to sink further down on him this time. Taking him as deep as she possibly can until she can feel him hit the back of her throat for the briefest moment before she has to pull back.

But the strangled moan that he lets out when she’s got him that far down is so gorgeous that it might be the only noise she ever wants to hear again.

He pulls at her hair roughly as she starts to move faster and faster, and she moans at the feeling. The vibrations she creates around his cock just make him pull even harder, letting out some of the pent up tension.

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close. You can stop.” he forces out with shallow breaths, but she doesn’t budge. He tries to pull her off him using his grip on her hair but she resists, and she just keeps on moving. Up and down his length, taking down as much of him as possible on each stroke.

“Fuckkkk” he moans out as he releases, and he can feel it pumping into her throat as she swallows around him.

When she pulls off, and she’s looking up to him for approval, her eyes wide, her lips and chin coated in spit and cum as it drips down, he knows without a doubt that she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Was that okay?” she asks hopeful.

“Was that okay?” he rushes out in disbelief, “Get up here.” he helps her off her knees and pulls her onto his lap again, holding her close. “I can’t believe you.” he shakes his head and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, he can taste himself on her tongue as they mold together.

“That was perfect, beyond perfect, fuck” he wipes her chin with his thumb, it doesn’t do much but it’s a gesture.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, brushing her hair back with his hands, and she’s just looking at him, beaming.

“I liked it” she says, like she can’t really believe just how much she enjoyed herself, “I can’t wait to learn more.”

Read Part 2 Here

Masterlist

Permanent Taglist:

@pinkdiamond1016​

@shadyladyperfection​

@leeezie

[jessmalia]

heartless | 09. the burden of knowledge

pairing: henry mills x oc a/n: season 2 here we go! i fully think this will be even better than season 1. max knows who she is now so we can really focus and go in on that! such good angst. some fluff too. warnings: just plain angst. also not edited. wordcount: 1246

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The curse was broken.

  The curse was broken. Emma had broken it with the power of true love. Operation Cobra was complete. Henry had proven that he was right all along. The people had their memories back; they were themselves again. It should be a joyous occasion, and it was.

  For everyone except Max.

  She stood and watched from afar as friends and families reunited, an outsider to their happiness, because, unlike them, she had nothing good to remember. Still, she didn’t regret helping Henry break the curse. Everyone except her had benefited from it. This was just a necessary evil. Max was simply someone that was meant to suffer; she remembered that now.

  She didn’t say anything as the others discussed how magic was back, stopped the mob from murdering Regina, and locked her in a cell. She kept quiet when Ruby drove her and Henry to Emma and Mary Margret’s apartment to keep them out of danger. Her silence lasted until Ruby had left and she was alone with Henry, because she knew there was no longer any way to avoid speaking.

  He didn’t waste a second to bring it up. “You have your memories back now. You can finally tell me about everything.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re really a mermaid,” Henry smiled.

  Max cleared her throat. “Um… yeah, I’m a mermaid. I lost my ability to travel between worlds a while back, though. Pissed off a witch. Apparently, they don’t like it when you steal their stuff.”

  Henry sat down on the couch, and Max took a seat beside him. “How did you get legs?” he asked.

  “The usual,” Max chuckled. “Made a deal with someone with magic.” Seeing the look on Henry’s face, Max was quick to add, “Don’t worry, the prize wasn’t much. They just needed a little help.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, biting her lip. “You ever noticed that I never take this off?” she asked, gripping the necklace hanging around her neck.

  Henry’s brows drew together. “No… but now that you point it out, I don’t think I’ve seen you without it.”

  “Well, it’s what gives me legs,” she said.

  “And about–”

  “The PTSD? Yeah, um…” This was what Max had dreaded. Henry cared about her, so there was no getting out of this. She had to tell him something.

  As she told Henry about her past, her face was blank and unexpressive and her voice was steady and monotone, as if she was simply forced to read an uninteresting Wikipedia page out loud. “My mom was only with my dad because she was forced into an arranged marriage. He was the equivalent of mermaid nobility. She didn’t love him, because, well, because he was a terrible person. When she got pregnant with me, she tried escaping, so I didn’t have to be raised by him. She fled here, actually. Maybe she thought they’d have a harder time tracking her down if they couldn’t use magic. She gave birth to me here, but soon the guards my dad had sent found us. She fought back the best she could, but they ended up killing her. I was brought back to my dad, and I lived with him until I was ten, when I ran– well, swam away. He probably tried looking for me, too, but he wouldn’t think to do it on land.”

  “I’m so sorry,” said Henry, reaching out and taking her hand. Max quickly removed it from his grip.

  “I’m fine now.”

  “So that’s what your nightmares were about?”

  “Yeah,” Max lied. “That was it.”

–––

“People of Storybrooke… I know we’re trapped again, and things look… bleak. But, they’re not–” David cut himself off while practicing the “inspiring” speech he was supposed to make in two hours.

  “No, keep going,” said Henry. “You were onto something.”

  He really was too nice. That was terrible.

  “No, I wasn’t,” said David. “I did the fighting,” he explained. “Snow did the talking.

  Max’s eyebrows drew together. “What, like some sort of weird Enchanted-Forest-twist on a 50s marriage?”

  David didn’t answer. He simply walked over to his messenger bag and pulled out a charred hat, staring at it longingly. Recognition washed over Henry’s face as his eyes landed on the hat.

  “Can I see that?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” said David, handing it to him with a surprised expression.

  “I think I know what this is,” said Henry. He jogged over to where the storybook was laying open on the dinner table, and Max and David followed him. “It’s the Mad Hatter’s hat,” he said, pointing at a picture of that very same man. “It’s a portal between worlds.”

  David leaned down closer. “Mad Hatter?”

  “You’ve heard of him?”

  “No. I– I mean, yeah. I mean, the prince-me doesn’t know him, but David had memories of reading Alice in Wonderland in school. I need to get it to work again. Who is he? Uh, I mean– who is he here?”

  “I don’t know,” said Henry. “Maybe he’ll check in at the crisis center. You could check after the thing.”

  “Um, the meeting you were just practicing a terrible speech for,” said Max. “You know, where you tell us all your plan.”

  “Right,” said David absentmindedly, grabbing the burnt hat and his coat. “I’ll be back for that.”

–––

Max stormed into Regina’s house, walking just behind David. She’d taken Henry, and they needed him back.

  “I wanna see him!” said David, whipping his sword out in front of Regina. Max had her own hand secured around the hilt of her dagger, resting in the holster strapped around her jeans. One good thing about the curse now being broken was that she could walk around with a weapon strapped to her without anyone batting an eye.

  Regina didn’t answer right away. She just stared at David, a look in her eye that Max couldn’t quite get a read on.

  “Henry, come down!” she finally called out, then went back to staring at David. “You won’t be using your sword–”

  “Whatever you conjure, I can fight.”

  Regina sighed. “I mean, you won’t need your sword,” she said, gently pushing the blade aside.

  Henry came down the stairs then, and she walked up to meet him. “Henry, you’re gonna go home with David.”

  He looked over at David and Max for a moment before asking, “Really?”

  “Really. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I was… I don’t know how to love very well. I wasn’t capable of it for a very long time, but I know, I remember, that if you hold on to someone too hard, it doesn’t make them love you. I’m sorry I lied to you. That I made you feel like I didn’t know who you are. I want you to be here because you want to be here. Not because I forced you, and not because of magic. I want to redeem myself. Go get your things.”

  Henry nodded slowly before turning back and running up the stairs.

  “Then prove it,” said David.

  Regina looked back at him. “How?”

  “Answer one question. Does it exist?”

  “What?”

  “The Enchanted Forest. Our land. Does it still exist?”

  Regina walked back down to stand in front of him again. “Yes. But I have no idea how to get back there.” She tilted her head. “I can see I just launched you on a heroic quest. Just also make sure you take care of my son.”

  “That’s what I’m here for,” said Max.

heartless taglist: @jochase​

[bvccy]

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

[fanfictiondreamscape]

Alternate Endings (Pt. 2)

Title: Alternate Endings (Pt. 2) 

Genre: more angst, possibly more than the last part. this is your warning. 

Pairing: Victor Nikiforov x GN!Reader

Notes: This is a part 2 to the previous part, and I still used the angst prompt list from the aforementioned previous parts to form this piece.

With that said, I think that this will be the only part following the first unless I can find some way to continue the storyline. I intend to keep the ending somewhat depressing and sad, so I guess proceed with caution due to such. 

If you want something similar to this for any other character, please let me know, though! I may also mention that this went from a drabble, to a scenario, and now borders on an imagine - I can’t help that I got caught up! 

Part 1

Below the cut! 

You practically fell off the face of the Earth as soon as you left. 

Harboring all of the money you saved and deciding upon negotiations to make with your employer, you left Russia. You left Japan. You just...left. 

Travelling became a huge part of your life afterwards, and though many people had tried to regain contact with you, you ignored most of them - save for a few. Only Yuri Plisetsky and Yuuko Nishigori were available to your whims, but they were still advised to stay as quiet as possible regarding your whereabouts. 

You changed your whole appearance, changed your mindset, and even changed something as generally miniscule as your wardrobe. Still, as much as you did change and throw away, you couldn’t rid yourself of the many frivolous gifts that Victor had given you over the years. 

Some things you just can’t give up, but you knew that it would be fine. At the very least, you had something that would never let you forget about him. 

Victor, on the other hand, fell off the deep end. 

He had come across the note you’d slipped under his hotel room door and for the first time in a long time, he cried. A true mess was what Yuuri had come across, and as many times that he was able to help him through unconventional methods, this was nearly impossible. 

Victor didn’t leave Japan, but he did become so reclusive that even Yakov was extremely worried upon finding out about the occurrence from an offhand comment that Yurio made when talking to Yuuko over the phone before practice. 

Everyone around him saw the typically extravagant man become so dulled by misery that it became painful to watch. 

He didn’t even know where to start since he’d already tried to find you - looking everywhere that he knew you loved, everywhere that he knew you were often obligated to be at - but had failed to do so. 

It wasn’t until, when Yurio was free, that he overheard him and Yuuko talking at the front desk of the rink as Yuuri was warming up and he was getting his skates on. 

“Yeah, they’re in America right now. They just got a raise, actually - they were even thinking of dropping in when they get enough saved up,” Yuuko recollected, excitement dripping from her tone. 

“Well, they’d have to come by when Victor isn’t here. That would also mean that I’d be gone, but at least you could update me,” Yurio responded. He seemed more nonchalant about the whole thing, but Victor became hysterical. 

Granted, he did suppress what he could to eavesdrop further. 

“Of course! I am still a little worried about them, though - you remember how Victor had gone crazy trying to find them?” Yurio grunted in response. “Well, what if he decides to do something impulsive again and leave mid-competition?” 

The light-blonde teenager in front of Yuuko flinched at the thought. “That’s a good point...but we’ll never know unless it happens when it does.” 

A solemn chill fell upon the two, but the conversation split onto Yurio’s next routine and Victor left it to them. He stared wide-eyed, in pure disbelief, at the wall of lockers in front of him. 

“So they’re...(Y/n)’s in America....”

Ideas began to run through his head as the room became eerily quiet. Even Yuuri, who was sat in the corner and preferred a calm and quiet atmosphere, was perturbed by the sudden shift. 

“I know what I’ll do! Yuuri, skate if you want - I’m going to be out for a while,” Victor announced, generally resembling the flamboyant figure skating icon that everyone knew. 

He took his skates off and capped the blades, putting them into his bag and reaching for his cell phone and scrolling through listings. Katsuki was left dumbstruck, but he went on about what he was doing and decided to run through his routine a few times. 

Yurio had left by this point, and Yuuko was too far in the back to catch the tall man’s outburst. 

It wasn’t until the next day that he was extremely prepared and anyone who understood his issue was suspicious. Victor had hunted for every listing to America from Japan, and memorized the closest ones. Yuuko was the one person who was going to be there that he had to ask. 

“Yuuko, I must ask you something! Would you mind?” was Victor’s burning introduction, shocking the normally upbeat mother. She was a little taken aback at the bold attention grabber. 

“Mmm, yeah?” She tried to be as ‘typical’ as possible, considering that her suspicions were up now. She knew what was going on, she knew what Victor was burning for. 

“You said that you’ve been in contact with (Y/n), yes?” 

Yuuko deadpanned, eyes blank and dropping the facade that she was going to attempt to maintain. “I knew it. Listen, I know that you’ve been troubled since they left, and that they have been as well, but please - give them some more time.” 

Victor visibly deflated. He didn’t think it would work, really, but it was worth a shot. Maybe, just maybe, though.... “How about a hint? Is it hot? Cold? What is a landmark?” 

“No, Victor. Sorry.”

And he was back to his dejected being by the next hour. 

Victor was willing to annoy both her and Yurio, but gave up once they stood their ground with firm hold. “No. (Y/n) is fine, and they will come when they want.” It was always the answer, no matter who he asked. 

Daily, Yuuri would keep him company and skate to the best of his ability. It seemed to quench his troubles just a little bit before the up and coming competition season. 

Eventually, the Grand Prix rolled around again. Yurio was competing, as well as Yuuri, and Victor was there to maintain support for his ever-promising prodigy. 

Amongst the drama that had ensued, the two of them decided to take a break romantically and focus on the practice rather than devote too much issue to their worryingly stagnant relationship. 

It wasn’t until Yurio had pulled Yuuri aside when Victor was getting changed that he was let in on soem information that, had Victor heard, would send him into a frenzy. 

“(Y/n) wanted to me wish you good luck and let you know that they are here to watch. If you wanna talk, they’ll be waiting in the lobby.”

Yuuri almost faltered and told Victor, but decided against it. Your wishes were still high up, even if you two weren’t amazingly close. 

Sadly, Victor was still shaken and hurried. It was a large competition, and as much as he wanted to focus on the task at hand, you never left his mind. 

Over the year that you had fallen out of reach, he began to realize where he screwed up. Maybe he did like you at one time, but he let his own fears get the best of him and he fell to putting more of an interest to Yuuri. 

He truly loves Yuuri, but he truly loved you (romantically) at one point, and you slipped from his reach before he could manage to comprehend anything. 

So, upon making eye contact with a familiar pair of (e/c) eyes and an eerie copy of a blazer that he had given you as a birthday gift years ago, he was left idle. 

“(Y/n)?”

You sucked in a breath and shrugged, sighing afterwards and shaking your head. “Yep, it’s me. Hello, again, Victor.” 

Tears flooded his eyes as he ran to you, arms open and tight as his hug enveloped your frame. You didn’t reciprocate, not immediately at least. With obvious hesitance, you returned the hug, but pushed him away only a couple seconds later. 

“You’ve got a skater to support. We can talk later, okay?” 

“But, you’ve come back and-” 

“Victor. Go support Yuuri.”

He bit his lip, but nodded nonetheless and embarked to the rink. 

After the free skate, the next day’s events were prepared and everyone was sent out for the day. Yurio had caught up with you before heading to his hotel room, and Yuuri had popped in before he changed out of his costume, but Victor was most eager to meet you.

Upon seeing each other, yet again, in the lobby, the two of you parted ways but decided to meet at a restaurant in town. Yuuri would be dining with Phichit and some other competitors, and Yurio was with Otabek going sightseeing, so this was a prime opportunity. 

Silence loomed over the two of you, slow walking and sounds of nature overwhelming your senses. 

“So, you’re probably curious as to where I’ve been,” you began, breaking the tension as calmly as possible. You could have sworn that your heart was going to burst out of your chest if you let the quiet settle any longer. 

“Yes, (Y/n). I really have been.” Victor, for once in the time that you have known him, was quiet. He was never really afraid to speak to you about anything, but the way he was acting now let some of the more obvious pain show. 

“I’ve also been extremely worried. I never realized that you felt like that.”

You stopped upon the sentence, eyeing a nearby bench. Victor followed suit and looked down at you, eye contact being maintained. His gorgeous blue eyes were glassy and he appeared on the verge of tears. 

“(Y/n), darling, I never realized how much you actually meant to me. I was stupid. I- I really, truly did love you. I always thought that you were too good for me, though, so I tried to make the ideas disappear. It worked, but only for a while. I love you, (Y/n). Honestly, I really do, and...

“I don’t know how much longer I can endure this.” 

Your brows furrowed at his proclamation. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but you had always been drawn to his personality and how driven he was. You knew that he would do this, though, as he could also be notably daft regarding certain things. 

“Victor, I-.... Listen, I loved you at one point, but you found Yuuri. You found your match. You made your decision. Out of respect for you and him, I left. But I also did it to respect myself.

“I know my habits. I know that I can fixate, so I needed to get out of your hair if I wanted to feel better. So I did. I’m engaged now, Victor, and the person that I met is amazing. I thought that could have been you. But it wasn’t, and I’m okay with that now.” 

“You- you’re engaged?”

“Yes, yes I am. We haven’t planned our wedding date quite yet, but it is being discussed. The fact of the matter is simple: I knew what would happen if I were to stay, and as much as I love you, - platonically - staying here wouldn’t do me any good. Life comes, things change, and sometimes we just gotta give up.”

Silence fell on you two yet again, but it was interrupted by the slight sniffling coming from the tall Russian. 

“Victor, I came back not because I wanted to fight for your affection, but because I’ve been worried about you. I just want you to know that...I still do care for you, and I have still supported you and Yuuri. But what you want, what I wanted...that’s not possible anymore.” 

Pausing, you thought over your next words. Nothing was ever going to completely repair what was broken, but at the very least, you could try. 

“How about this? Here’s my new number,” you handed him a small slip of paper with the nine digits printed on it in your handwriting. “Let’s start talking again, and you can meet my fiancee sometime. Sound good?”

His mood nearly took a 180, but his demeanor was still sullen and sad. A weak smile crossed his face, and he responded in kind, “Of course. How about we go back to the group and enjoy dinner, though? You’re here again, and it’s more than I could ask for - but we have a lot of catching up to do.” 

[hacash]

ted lasso thoughts 2x08

hey, remember when everyone was worried that Ted Lasso Season 2 had too much fluff and not enough conflict? huh? everyone remember that?

everyone remember when we watched this because it was light and hopeful enough to get us through lockdown?

remember last episode when we thought all the dark forest would be about nate’s downward spiral and thought nothing else heavy could happen?

hell, remember when we first saw jamie tartt and thought there was no way we could sympathise with him as a character?

I’m not going to lie, the dark forest is dark and it is scary, but even in the midst of the trees there’s flickers of light. jamie’s entire storyline in this ep was building scene by scene - we could feel the tension growing, from that first screenshot of his phone saying “Dad” (not Dad, “Dad”, I mean fuck this show) right up to the moment when Tartt Senior bursts into the changing room. If Phil Dunster doesn’t get an Emmy nomination next year he will have been absolutely robbed - and then to put the icing on the cake, having Roy be the one to step up and hold him through the pain. I mean, damn.

A little underrated scene was Jamie and Higgins chatting: there’s no way in hell Jamie would have taken the time to so much as pass Higgins a word one season ago, let alone ask if he wanted the door to his closet-office closed. I particularly appreciated Higgins’ chat about his own father - it wasn’t straight-up ‘screw your dad if he’s a bad dad’, but neither was it a ‘you should always be there for your family no matter what’ message that children of abusive parents often get from well-meaning but ignorant bystanders, once again showing that Higgins picks up on more than not. Personally I’m waiting for Jamie to be invited around to the Higginses for Sunday lunch.

The shock on the entire Richmond team’s face through that scene. Oh man.

I never thought they’d have the audacity to kill off Sharon before the credits but whoa that still had me yelling at my screen while the theme song was still playing. I love how we’re seeing more of her as a character, not just a therapist. (And hearing her voicemails to Ted were something else.)

Ted. Oh Ted. I think a lot of us knew it was coming but still, that line hit more heavily than anything else in the episode. The bluntness of it coming out of nowhere - the fact that Ted is unsure whether or not that was what gave him his issues - the fact that we’re still scratching the surface... *weeps in football*

The Diamond Dogs exchanging vulnerabilities was such a precious moment. I’ve seen some say that they thought Nate’s expression was one of disgust at Ted’s revelation, and some that they thought it was relief at not being the only one struggling with mental health issues. For myself, I read it as shock - Nate’s always seen Ted on a pedestal, and the idea that your idol can suffer from the same weaknesses as you...well, that’s always a heavy moment. (Whatever it was, I’m sure it’ll come back to bite us in time.)

SAM ‘N REBECCA. It’s a testament to the two actors that even though everything in me feels iffy and odd and that this ain’t a good thing, their chemistry and acting is so good that you end up thinking ‘oh man, I wish this was workable for them’. Rebecca knows it’s not going to work, but comes up against Sam’s irrepressible youthful charm and hope, and after everything she’s been through...suddenly it’s so easy to understand why she’s sailing so close to the wind. But it’s almost definite that this ain’t gonna work out, and all we can do is hope like hell it ends as well as possible.

Seriously, look me in eye and tell me that if Toheeb Jimoh came up to you looking like he did all through that episode and asked to have dinner that you’d say no. I dare you.

Is Roy’s sister the doctor from the ER???? I really hope she is.

Roy taking on board everything he learned about being a good role model for Phoebe and comforting Jamie is just...just... *flails*

There wasn’t much to laugh at in this episode but my boy Colin never lets me down. That dumbbell scene had me cackling. Seriously, someone protect him. (I particularly loved the fact that we have Overprotective Boyfriend Isaac lambasting him for letting Colin nearly choke to death and then thirty seconds later does the exact same thing.)

THE HAIRCUTTING SCENE. There are no words other than cinematic masterpiece. I remember thinking at the beginning of this season that I wanted more for Isaac to do and to see him coming into his own as Captain and holy hell did I get my wish. Watching all the boys hoot and applaud and gush over Isaac’s effortless mastery of the clippers was the purest form of ‘boys will be boys’ I have ever seen or will ever see. (Until the next Richmond Himbos scene, ofc.)

And as a nice touch, watching Will take part and be included (holding the clippers’ tray ‘like a squire to a knight’) was lovely, particularly given the last episode.

The football match itself - it says a lot that this wasn’t even the focus, only as a tool to make our hearts break even more for Richmond FC - was hard to watch, particularly because it really felt like we were meant to feel like they just weren’t playing well? and I don’t quite understand why - I’ve already written about how Nate kinda had a point in this episode, that Roy and Ted dashing off for emergencies without telling anyone what they were is weird under any circumstance (let alone before such an important match) and possibly is a sign that while the team themselves are stronger than ever, everything is not quite well with the coaches of Richmond.

(seriously: ‘Sharon’s in the hospital and I’m going to make sure she’s ok’ ‘My niece has an emergency at school.’ Would that have been so hard? From a show that prioritises communication?)

And I really didn’t understand that little moment of Beard letting Nate - a junior coach, before a really important match - lead training. That, coupled with Beard being focused on as struggling to take the result, really intrigues me. It could be nothing, but so often this show drops little nuggets leading up to a big reveal, and the fact that the next episode looks to be Beard centric has me very interested, and more than a little anxious. As I am leading up to every episode of Ted Lasso these days, I suppose.

[jj-babebank]

Room 107 // chapter I // JJ Maybank (smut)

I have started my first JJ story, which will consist of several chapters that I will constantly be updating. The story picks up where season 2 leaves us. TW: Contains mentions of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and violence. 

Chapter 1 can be found below.  Oh, and - please feel free to submit requests, I tend to write a lot ;) 

Enjoy xx

Chapter 1 - La Guardiana

Days had passed since the Pogues had last seen civilisation, maybe even weeks. The sun was hotter than ever, with close to no wind to mask the warmth. JJ was taking this particularly badly. 

“I’m so done with eating bananas, man,” he moaned, kicking a pebble as he trotted a little behind the rest of his friends, “Can’t we just stumble across an oasis or something and end up in, like, an actual city?”

As if on command, his friends stopped in their tracks, the girls awing and the guys smiling happily. 

“We just might, JJ,” said John B, looking at the city unfolding itself in front of them in the distance, “We just might.”

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

“I’m actually starving,” laughed Sarah, nudging John B’s arm, “Don’t tease!” “Hey, so am I,” he cooed, “First joint we find, we’re going in for food.” Kiara rolled her eyes, “As much as I would love to accept that offer, let me remind you that we have no money.” Sarah nodded, “Mhm, nothing at all.” “Nada,” John B looked at the two girls sternly, “And when has that ever stopped us exactly?” Kiara rolled her eyes once again, smirking at her friend, “Alright, I suppose a good meal would give me the energy I’d need to run a marathon after getting caught not paying.”

The group continued walking down a not too busy street, studying the buildings, looking for a restaurant, cafe, diner - anything, really. They hadn’t had a proper meal in God knows how long and they were famished. They couldn’t help but notice how all the buildings on the street were of the same height - no more than four storeys each, all painted in different colours. If they hadn’t known any better, they’d have thought that they had left the United States of America altogether, although one thing was certain - they were definitely not in the Outer Banks anymore. 

The street wasn’t crowded at all, there were hardly any cars or people lurking about. JJ concluded that this was probably an unpopular area of whichever city they were in. This would also explain the lack of supermarkets and restaurants. He really wanted to ask his friends to stop for a little break - his throat was so dry and his legs could barely hold him up anymore, but he knew better. The longer they walk, the faster they’ll find what they are looking for. Having no indicator of the time on them wasn’t helping either, hell, they could have been walking for 12 hours for all he knew, and with no result. 

“Maybe we should just ask someone,” Pope suggested, “Neither of us is a wanted criminal anymore, I’d say we have nothing to worry about.” John B smirked at his friend’s remark, but ultimately agreed to ask the first person they ran into where the nearest food joint was. Turns out, they were standing right in front of it. 

“La Cubanita Hotel and Restaurant” it spelled out in bold, red letters. The building was narrow and a light shade of blue, totally contrasting the obnoxiously coloured sign planted in front of it. Much like the rest of the buildings on the street, it had no more than four floors, each consisting of a row of Spanish windows with brightly coloured frames. The Pogues looked at each other with a hint of uncertainty before John B lead the way into the building. 

On the inside it looked like a typical diner - tiled floor, red and blue booths, a long bar accompanied by bar stools and, cheesily enough, a boombox. JJ guessed that the way to the hotel was through the back, but he didn’t put too much thought into it. The place seemed dead, with only one of the booths being busy. It was either an off-peak hour or this city was actually a ghost town. 

The group sat at one of the booths on the other side of where the other people were and JJ took a second to observe them. A group of bikers, all wearing stereotypical biker outfits from leather jackets down to bandanas. They were in their mid 50s and were all smoking indoors, drinking what looked like whiskeys, despite of the blazing sun still very much being out. JJ had to give it to them though, they did look pretty darn cool if he did say so himself, and those cigarettes looked eerily appetising to him at this given moment. Oh, what he’d give to have a sip of whatever they were having and a long, much needed drag of one of their cigarettes. He was so lost in his daydream, he barely realised Kiara poking him in the arm. 

“JJ,” she urged, “Waitress is here!” In this moment JJ turned his attention to the new subject in question, their waitress. She was standing at the foot of their booth, wearing her uniform, black and red, holding a pen and a notepad, chewing a piece of gum, waiting for his order. Could this place get any more stereotypical? JJ thought to himself. “So what’s it gonna be, handsome?” She said, not even bothering to look in his direction. “Uh…” JJ fumbled with the menu, “I’ll just have whatever they’re having.” He said, pointing at the bikers in the booth across from theirs. The woman rolled her eyes, popping her bubblegum. She took the rest of the Pogues’ orders before disappearing somewhere behind the bar. JJ followed her with his eyes, blocking out the conversation his friends were currently having. The waitress came back out of what he assumed to be the kitchen and handed the paper with their orders to another girl behind the bar. JJ guessed she was the barmaid, and boy was she a bit of him. 

She was wearing the same uniform as her colleague, although JJ had to admit - it looked a whole lot better on her, at least from what he could see from above the bar. Her hair was long and brown, half of it tied up effortlessly, and slightly messily, although JJ didn’t mind one bit. He watched her as she took the paper from her colleague and went to fetch the drinks written on it. He couldn’t make out what exactly colour her eyes were, and quite frankly - he didn’t really care, she was gorgeous regardless of what her eyes looked like, and she looked around his age. Had the sun and heat gotten to his head, or was it just the fact that he hadn’t touched a female in so long, he didn’t know, but if there was one thing JJ Maybank was notorious for, it was his ability to pull any girl his heart desired effortlessly. This is why he excused himself from the table and, albeit his friends’ confused looks and comments, he made his way towards the bar, sliding into one of the stools directly across from the girl. 

She looked up at him, “Can I help you?” “Brown…” JJ mumbled to himself. “Excuse me?” She said, this time sounding slightly annoyed. Her eyes were brown, JJ thought, brown and sexy. He coughed, trying to compose himself and gave her his signature Maybank stare. It worked wonders back home, surely it would work wonders now again. “Name’s JJ,” he said suavely, “I’m not from around here-“ “Clearly,” she muttered, picking up a bottle of whiskey. JJ assumed it was for him, “Aren’t you a little young to be drinking, JJ?”

JJ smirked, “What can I say, I have the face of a boy but the body and mind of a man.” The girl snickered under her nose, “Sure. Well since you’re here, make yourself useful and bring your drinks over to your friends,” she gave him a fake smile, placing a tray with their orders on it in front of him, after which she turned her back to him and walked towards the back of the bar. JJ was too busy observing her behind to notice the other waitress standing next to him, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Should I take that or will you?” She said, waking JJ up from his everlasting daydream. “Oh, uh, don’t sweat it…” he said, picking up the tray and carrying it over to his friends’ booth. “So much for customer service,” Sarah laughed. “And to think my dad says I’m hostile to our customers,” Kiara muttered out. JJ took his seat next to her, his eyes never leaving the bar. “La Guardiana,” Pope read out loud, “This place is called La Guardiana, and apparently we’re somewhere in Florida.” “Florida?” John B said, confusion dripping through his words. Pope nodded, pointing at some text on the bottom of the menu. 

La Cubanita Hotel & Restaurant **, 97 Diego’s Crescent, La Guardiana, FL 

“Holy shit, we’re in Florida!” John B whisper yelled. Sarah laughed at his reaction, “Calm down now, Sancho, let’s not draw any attention to us,” “Yeah, you might wanna tell Casanova here that,” teased Pope, nodding his head in JJ’s direction, “Was it really worth it to potentially blow our cover just to talk to that girl?” JJ snapped at Pope, “Hey, man, just ‘cuz you don’t have the nuts to go over there and talk to her yourself,” “Yeah, I really want to attract the staff’s attention, you know, even more than we already are, seeing as we’re the only other busy table at this place.” “Your food,” the waitress from earlier was back with some of the Pogues’ orders. They waited for her to be out of earshot and JJ spoke up, “Relax, P, I bet you I can charm the pants off that girl and we won’t even need to sneak out without paying!” Pope gave JJ a fake smile, “Mhm, I’m sure she’s gonna be so deep under your spell she won’t even notice us leaving without paying a cent." JJ rolled his eyes, picking up a toothpick from the table and placing it between his teeth. “Might even offer us a place to crash, you know, because she’ll be so captivated by you.” Pope continued to tease. “Yeah, chicks totally dig this whole I’m homeless and I haven’t properly showered in like 15 days look you're going for,” Sarah joined in on the teasing. Kiara laughed and added, “Yeah, and the bit that’s gonna fully seal the deal for her is that you have literally nothing to offer her, like 0 dollars.” Everyone was laughing while JJ just crossed his arms in front of his chest and turned to look out the window, “Talk all you want, guys, but once we get that gold back, you’ll see who’ll dig what.” “The rest of your order,” he recognised the girl’s voice. It was her bringing their food over this time. She placed John B’s plate in front of him and then made her way around the table, next to where JJ was sat. She handed him his plate and bent down slightly, so that her lips were on the same level as JJ’s ear, “Next time you decide to share your criminal plans, you might wanna talk a bit more quietly.” She whispered, setting his cutlery down for him, “Oh, and, you might be charming wherever you come from, but your friend’s right. That shit doesn’t work around here.” She said, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. JJ didn’t waste time sitting around to listen to his friends pass comments about what had just happened, he downed his whiskey and practically chased after the girl. “I’m guessing you’ll want another one?” She said, not even turning around. JJ wondered how she knew that he was there. When she turned to face him, the bottle of whiskey was in her hand. “Let’s see… Do I pour you another one and close my eyes about you planning to leave without paying, or do I do what anyone else in my position would do and call the police on you? Hmm…” she pretended to think, her eyes never leaving JJ’s now panicking ones. “Please don’t call the cops,” he blurted out, the whiskey hitting his brain and making him stress out more than he wanted to admit to, “Look, we - we were in a boat accident, we don’t even know how we got here, hell - we didn’t even know where we were up until 10 minutes ago! And we - we don’t have  any documents on us, we don’t have any sort of identification, what would you -“ “Relax, kid,” the girl smirked, picking up two glasses and pouring a generous amount of whiskey in both of them, “I won’t rat you out.” She said, handing JJ one of the glasses and raising hers for a toast. JJ clinked his glass with hers, a large smile growing on his face, his dimples becoming very prominent, “Thank you, really… That means a lot.” The girl took a moment to observe JJ, then to look at his friends having a heated conversation at their booth, all of them practically stuffing their faces with food in an almost animalistic sort of way. Could this boy really be telling the truth? Could these kids have been lost at sea with no place to go? She looked back at JJ who was also looking at her. Despite the smile plastered on his face, she could clearly see that he was extremely nervous still. “Hey,” she said, “I told you to relax, didn’t I. I won’t charge you for your food, in fact… I might even have a place for you to sleep and clean up tonight.” JJ’s eyes grew wider at her words, “You what?” She leaned in closer to him over the bar and lowered her voice so that he would be the only one to hear, “Hotel upstairs, my aunt owns it. She’s currently out of town with my cousin. Should be back next Thursday. I think I can fit you and your friends in. You just have to promise to be on your best behaviour.” She said, pulling away and taking another sip from her drink. JJ couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was too good to be true. She was hot and she was willing to help? This must have been his lucky day. Sarah could suck it, and so could the others. Clearly this girl was into him. Why else would she be offering to help? “So, uh, what’s in it for me?” He asked, a hint of mischief in his voice. The girl opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the other waitress groaned from behind her. “Samara, how many times do I have to tell you?” Her croaky voice rang. The girl, who JJ had just learned was called Samara, rolled her eyes and repeated with her colleague, “No drinking on the job, yeah yeah, I know. But Heather’s gone and so is Conner, so who can tell me what to do, really?” She said, finishing what was left of her whiskey, “Besides, Georgia, as far as I’m concerned, since they’re both gone, that leaves me in charge, no? Now get back to work,” she said, making her colleague roll her eyes at her. Samara turned around to face JJ again, giving him a wink, before disappearing into the kitchen. JJ couldn’t believe his luck. He swung his arm over the bar and picked up the bottle of whiskey to pour himself one more drink before returning to his friends. “Guys-“ JJ tried getting their attention. “So what are we supposed to do now? We’re totally screwed!” “They’re gonna call the police on us, hell, they probably already have! The cops could be on their way!” “Guys!” JJ yelled, catching even the bikers’ attention. His friends looked up at him, worry filling all of their eyes. “You’ll never believe what I’m about to tell you, oh, and Sarah? You can eat your words.” He smirked before telling them what had just happened. “Hold on,” said Kiara, her face revealing her confusion, “So this random girl in this random place just randomly said that we can crash here until when?” “Next Thursday, or was it Tuesday? What day is it today?” JJ scratched his head. “JJ!” Kiara slapped his arm, “What if this is a trap? It sounds too good to be true doesn’t it? Like, what’s in it for her? We don’t even know her! What if she’s a murderer or something?” “She’s right, you know,” Cleo chimed in. “She is,” said John B, “But we have nothing to lose, literally.” Pope nodded, “I’d usually agree with Kie, but John B’s right. We have nothing to lose. And what if she calls the police? What could even happen then? We get put in jail for agreeing to sleep in a hotel for free? Come on, guys, I’m sure we can all agree that a bar of soap and a normal bathroom would do us good. I mean, we stink.” Everyone laughed at Pope’s remark before Kiara turned to JJ again, “So what’s the plan?” Realisation just struck JJ that he didn’t in fact know what the plan was. Samara had told him virtually nothing about how any of this would go down. Where were they supposed to meet? Was she going to take them to their rooms? Would they all be sharing one room? He was so busy thinking about how all of this would go down, he barely noticed Samara herself passing him a note. It was taken out of her colleague, who JJ now knew to be Georgia’s notepad. The note read in messy handwriting:

Bring your friends to the lobby. Straight down the hallway by the bathrooms. 

JJ turned the piece of paper towards his friends and they all got up, rushing towards the hallway by the bathrooms.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 5)

This is pretty par for the course as far as some slightly horny bits but no actual horniness. Still, if that squicks you, read with caution. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (here) Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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

The next few days of Geralt’s marriage didn’t fare much better than the first. He and Jaskier were truly an ill match. Sure, the young man was charming, not even Geralt was immune to his wiles, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, but he’d never met someone as annoying as Jaskier.

Jaskier could talk a mile a minute, and the less Geralt talked, the more Jaskier did. This rankled. Geralt had learned that talking less was supposed to encourage less conversation, but clearly Jaskier hadn’t grasped that.

Far worse than the talking was the singing. Singing, humming, tapping, even playing his lute, Jaskier was always doing something. It was like riding beside a musical whirlwind, with the added penalty that at least a whirlwind wouldn’t know lyrics.

It wasn’t totally Jaskier, Geralt knew. They were riding hard to get as far from Lettenhove as possible, and the weather hadn’t let up. It had rained for almost five days, steady, drenching rain, with never enough time to get dry. They went to bed damp and woke up damper. Their socks were moist, their hair sopping. Jaskier was pouting because he couldn’t play his lute and somehow that made him more talkative. Despite the springtime, the rain was cold and sometimes he had to pause mid chatter to shiver. All this, made Geralt’s mood go south. Worse, he always hated parting from his brothers. There were so few of them, the first days without them were hard. 

And he had to deal with some spoiled little rich boy.

That wasn’t being fair to Jaskier, he rarely acted spoiled, not  really spoiled. It was, however, intensely clear that he was used to comfort and they were not, right now, comfortable. He didn’t complain too much about things Geralt couldn’t change, like the weather, apart from the odd sniffle about all his clothes being wet. He did beg to stay in an inn though. 

That bothered Geralt too. They really had little money, and here the lad was trying to get Geralt to spend it on something they didn’t need. He’d survived rain before.

That thought gave Geralt pause. Of course he’d survived rain before, but had Jaskier? It was unlikely. Days and nights of being slightly damp and chilly weren’t good for humans, they tended to get things. Like chest infections. And pneumonia. 

Geralt spared a glance at the figure riding, hunched, beside him.

Unfortunately, Jaskier seemed to take this as an invitation. 

“I can’t wait to get to Oxenfurt,” he said. “I have this friend, Essi, I think you’d love her. She’d certainly love to meet you, and she’s quite pretty, so even if you won’t tell me your stories perhaps you’d tell them to her.”

Was there a hint of bitterness there?

“Anyway,” Jaskier continued. “She wouldn’t be frightened of you in the least, I know because one time we were drunk... well, I was drunk and she was tipsy, and this man came up, really rough looking type you know? And I was raised to be polite so I ask him his business...”

Geralt stopped paying much attention. If the bard could manage that much, all in one breath, he was fine. Jaskier continued, all about this Essi character and a man trying to mug them in an alley. Apparently the girl had kicked him in the rattle and flute so hard he’d thrown up.

“And there’s this great pub,” Jaskier was saying, gesturing broadly with one hand and flinging raindrops into Geralt’s face. “It’s called the King’s Boots, dunno why, but it’s got good ale. Like, really good, not the swill you probably get in these little backwater towns. Pretty barmaids, too, if that takes you fancy.”

There it was again, that odd little inflection.

“It took my fancy, when I was a student there, of course. They weren’t terribly interested in me but, well, I began studying there at fifteen. Really, I still had spots. I wasn’t the catch you see before you now.”

Geralt didn’t deign to respond. Whether or not Jaskier was a catch wasn’t something he was going to weigh in on. 

Even if he definitely had an opinion.

That was maybe the worst of it all. In spite of the constant noise and restless intrusion into Geralt’s life and routine, he did like Jaskier. That was good, considering they were married, but he wanted to kiss Jaskier, at least once. Just to try it out. That was bad because their marriage was about a half inch from being a sham. Married in name only.

“What sort of ladies do you get?” Jaskier was asking. “I mean, it’s obvious you never have any trouble finding partners.”

Geralt thought of a woman in the woods, of Blaviken, of blood. 

“Shut up.”

“No really, Geralt,” Jaskier whinged. “I wan’t to know. Queens and mages? Legendary beauties.”

“Prostitutes.”

“Ah, legendary beauties it is then.”

“I don’t know about legendary,” Geralt said, cursing himself as he did so for encouraging this inane line of questioning. “But they were beautiful enough. For a price.”

“Ah the ladies and gentlemen of negotiable affection will forever have a place in my heart,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt wasn’t about to hear Jaskier’s sexual history in any capacity. For his sanity, he decided to shut the conversation down.

“I expect they’re the only ones willing to touch you.”

Shit. That one had been too harsh. He didn’t mean it, surely men and women and people all fell at Jaskier’s feet with even a glimpse of his smile. He must know he’s attractive.

Jaskier barely spoke the rest of the day. He wasn’t even pouting, exactly. Just...quiet. 

They made camp under cover of some trees. The thick canapy leant enough dryness that Geralt could build a big fire and they hung their clothes over some low branches to dry. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt saw Jaskier take the basilisk leather from his pack and stroke a hand over it, which was strange. The material simply didn’t absorb water and needed no care.

Perhaps he just...liked it. It was a nice thought, sitting sort of warm and heavy in Geralt’s stomach, like a good meat pie. Jaskier liked his gift. Of course, he’d known that, back the day they’d met. That actually, apart from Jaskier’s father, hadn’t been too bad of a day.

Geralt thought about that day as he hunted wild game for their supper. He snagged a pheasant, a male, because it was mating season, and remembered how nervous he’d been, how at ease Jaskier had seemed. Perhaps it was because Jaskier had likely always known it would be, at least somewhat, a political match. Geralt had never thought there’d be a match at all.

Back at camp Jaskier had water boiling and was sitting in front of the roaring fire in just his trousers and chemise, even his socks so damp as to need a good drying. Geralt set the game to boil with a few wild carrots for a stew and sat beside him, feeling his hair finally begin to dry.

“This didn’t start out bad,” he said. He meant them, of course, and he meant it as a sort of apology, even if he knew it was woefully lacking. He just didn’t know what to say. Somehow, Jaskier’s mind must have been running along the same track.

It’s alright. You never wanted to get married to me.”

No, Geralt thought but didn’t say. I never wanted to get married. It has nothing to do with you. There’s nothing at all the matter with you. I’m just a grumpy bastard and we’re not a good fit.

A little voice in the back of Geralt’s head said, ‘you could be. If you let yourself, you could fit’. It sounded unnervingly like Eskel.

The truth was, if it had been anyone besides Jaskier, especially any noble, Geralt may have hated all this more. Jaskier liked nice clothes and clean appearances, but he wasn’t vain. He liked nice things but wasn’t greedy. He craved praise but wasn’t prideful, disliked many things but wasn’t hateful. Compared to the thieving, conniving, small minded nobles Geralt knew, he was unlike them all. 

He was definitely unlike his father. 

Jaskier played his slow tune on his lute. It was comforting and almost familiar, just background music. Geralt stirred the pot, breaking up some larger chunks of meat with the spoon. 

Maybe this would fix some things. They’d be dry, with hot food. That could fix a lot.

“Geralt,” Jaskier asked. “Can I sing?” 

Damn. Well, it was weird the lad was asking for permission, but Geralt didn’t like the idea of controlling the man’s voice, no matter how often he told him to ‘shut up’. Somehow it didn’t feel the same.

“Whatever,” he said.

Jaskier sang lowly, voice pitched at the edge of human hearing. Geralt wasn’t a human, of course, and could hear it clear as day. It was a folk song he’d heard before, a tragedy about a young woman who’s love left and she drowned herself.

It didn’t seem fitting. Jaskier was so lively. Geralt prayed he hadn’t fucked up enought that he’d dampened the bards spirit. 

“Do you know The Chandler’s Wife?” Geralt asked when Jaskier’s song was done.

“That one, with the” Jaskier clicked his fingers three times, mimicking the snapping or tapping that happened in the song.

“Hmmm,” Geralt confirmed, nudging the contents of the pot.

Jaskier began to play. It was a bawdy song, with tapping substituted where innuendo would be. It was simple and cheerful and short, and by the time it was finished they both had steaming bowls of stew. 

“Of all the songs you could have asked for,” Jaskier said, blowing on his stew. “I never would have picked that one.”

“Lambert’s favorite,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier chuckled. “Makes sense, seems like his sort of song.” He took a large spoonful of stew and groaned in delight. Geralt very emphatically did not pay attention to that sound in any way at all.

“I expect you miss them,” Jaskier said.

“Some,” Geralt didn’t want to talk about it, so he focused on shoveling stew in to his mouth instead. Jaskier got the hint. He just settled one tentative hand on Geralt’s shoulder for a second, then went back to eating. He may as well have pressed a brand to Geralt’s skin.

That night, in their separate bedrolls in mostly dry and fire warmed clothes, Geralt could still feel Jaskier’s palm against him. 

There was another reason, Geralt knew, for his over-grumpiness. It was guilt. Mostly he was alright, but hearing Jaskier chatter excitedly about Oxenfurt and all the things they could do together there...ate at him. 

Jaskier had said he didn’t want to be left. Gotten rid of, had been his phrasing. And Geralt was going to. This rain had just been proof, though. Next time it could be pneumonia or hypothermia. The boy shouldn’t be out here. 

It didn’t help Geralt sleep much better. Jaskier had also used the phrase ‘abandon’. 

-- -- *-- --

The next village had a monster problem. 

“Drowners, what do they do?”

“They drown people, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, what do they look like--”

“Ugly.”

Another eye roll. “And how do they do it. Do they spin like an alligator? Do they sink claws in and pull...?”

“The second one,” Geralt said, sharpening his sword. He figured they were far enough from Lettenhove that whatever political turmoil Vesemir had unleashed wasn’t going to catch them too soon. 

“I can’t wait. Do they have scales? Fins? Are they slimy like frogs?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, finally paying attention. “What do you mean ‘you can’t wait?”

“I get to see you in action! Heroic witcher risks his life for helpless townspeople, it’s all very...Galahad.”

“Galahad?”

“Yes Geralt, he’s only the most famous hero written about in the last three hundred years,” Jaskier said. He was gesturing broadly, the way he always did when talking about literature. Geralt settled in for a rant. 

“You know, ‘my strength is as the strength of ten becasuer my heart is pure,’?” That was Jaskier’s quoting voice.

“Never heard it,” Geralt grunted.

“That’s okay, it’s about this hero who’s good and saves everybody. You’re better than him anyway because you’re real.”

“I’m...better than a mythical hero.”

“I mean...yeah,” Jaskier said like it was obvious. “Everyone knows flaws make a character better. You’re totally hot with a heart of gold, score. Very classic. But also,” Jaskier turned to him grinning. “You’re emotionally constipated and smell like onion.”

“You said heroics a few days ago.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, that’s what’ll go in the songs. Best of all is that you’re a witcher. Nobody likes witchers but that can change. You’ll be a tragic hero!”

“Tragic?”

“That hair is, do you ever brush it?

“We’re getting away from the point,” Geralt said, resisting the urge to swipe his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to see me fight.”

“What, you can’t just leave me at camp!”

No, no he absolutely couldn’t just leave Jaskier at camp. There could be assassins, wolves, anything.

“We’ll get a room at the inn.”

“Really? Oh Geralt, a real bed would be so nice, there’s been this crick in my neck, but you’re not leaving me in an inn room either.”

“You could perform.”

“Excellent bait, but no.”

“Jaskier, please. You need to stay in town,” Geralt was pleading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pleading. Probably when he was trying to convince Vesemir not to marry him off for the betterment of witcherkind.

“I want to see you fight!” 

“It’s dangerous!.”

“You fight tons of these, right? I’ll stay super far away.”

“You could still get hurt, something goes wrong and you’ll get hurt! Humans are...soft.”

Jaskier tilted his chin up defiantly. Because they were the same height this wasn’t exactly necessary, but it gave Geralt a better view of his simply devastating eyes which was...not helping.

“I have the perfect plan,” Jaskier said. Were there silver flecks in his eyes? In this light Geralt was almost certain there were.

“I’ll stay back,” Jaskier was saying. “Any distance you want so long as I still get a reasonably good view. And I’ll wear the basilisk doublet.”

It was a good idea. Jaskier would stay back, the doublet would keep him safe. 

Geralt might get another chance to be smiled at byJaskier.

Doublets. Doublets, doublets doublets. Think about the doublet. 

“That would only keep your chest and arms safe.”

Jaskier smirked and patted a hand on Geralt’s chest, causing his slow heart to speed up just a little. “Are you going to let a drowner get to me? Get to my head, Geralt? My pretty face?” Jaskier pouted and Geralt’s stomach flipped over.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted. “You can come along.”

Jaskier looked very fine, all buttoned up in his basilisk leather doublet, and he was surprisingly quiet. This area of the forest was silent. and the ground was soft and slightly damp underfoot. They were near the Pontar river, which they would follow the rest of the way to Oxenfurt.

Here and there Geralt could see signs of human activity, but thankfully no humans in the area. Signs of woodcutters, likely the ill-fated ones who’d discovered the drowner’s pond in the first place, were scattered about. 

They came within view of the pond. More swamp, really. It was so covered in green algae that it looked like some sort of oddly paved floor. It was as still as glass. Geralt took Jaskier’s--surprisingly strong--shoulder in one large hand and steered the boy to a log that he deemed was sufficiently far to be safe. Then he drew his sword.

Drowners weren’t hard to fight, and here in this little pond there were just two, skinny and hungry. Geralt felt relief flood him as he realized that he wouldn’t even need his potions. He didn’t want Jaskier to finally understand what a monster he was. Geralt was enjoying putting off that realization as long as possible. He was also enjoying being a noble hero, likened to this Galahad character, who sounded alright if a bit boring. 

Geralt rolled his shoulders. He didn’t need to, but it looked nice and Jaskier was looking. The first drowner was close, now, trying to sneak through the algae, but Geralt’s vision was much better than its. He waited until the wretched thing lunged. 

The slash of the drowner’s long claws missed Geralt narrowly, but he hadn’t been worried. He pivoted, working on years of instinct. This was who he was. Here he was on much safer ground than with courting and castles. He was a witcher, and fighting monster’s was what he was trained, and to some extent built, for. 

The first slash didn’t kill the drowner, instead lopping off the arm that had so recently threatened to claw his eyes out. Then, with a clever twist of his wrist he sent his blade back the other direction, lopping off the head. It had taken all of a second from the point of the drowner’s lunge. 

It’s companion was slinking up, ready to attack as well but Geralt didn’t need time to recharge. His senses honed in, he felt his pupils dilate to take in the low light coming between the trees and he leapt.

No normal man could have made the leap that sent him over the drowner’s shoulder and onto the shore behind. It hadn’t been the full length of the pond, but rather a diagonal leap that gave him just enough time as the creature spun around. Geralt brought his sword down and cleaved the thing in two.

“Holy shit.”

Geralt looked up, not even breathing hard.

Jaskier was still in his spot on the log. Unlike Geralt, he was breathing hard. There was a flush across the tops of his cheeks, pretty and pink, and his eyes were wide. Even from his spot across the pond Geralt could see the dark pupils and the blue of his irises. 

Gerals severed the heads and warned Jaskier that he was removing the brains for his potions. His response was a squeaked ‘okay’. 

Damn. Had he scared the lad? He didn’t smell scared. Geralt wasn’t sure what Jaskier did smell like. 

He took the brains quickly and packaged them, then slung the heads of the drowner’s from Roach’s saddle. 

Thunderbolt, Jaskier’s horse, had been left at the inn. Inaccurately named, the creature, despite his large size, was docile, gentle, and prone to startling. 

Geralt dipped his hands in the scummy water and dried them on his pants to at least get off the worst of the gunk.

“Well?” he asked Jaskier.

“Wow,” the man said, stepping closer. “That was quick, too.”

Geralt grunted. “Only two.” He didn’t bother mounting up, leading Jaskier and Roach out of the forest and back towards town. 

Jaskier’s heart still sounded like it was going a little fast.

“Frightened?” Geralt asked. The lad smelled like adrenaline and...oh.

“No, just...exhilarated I suppose. I’ve never seen a battle like it.”

Jaskier smelled aroused. Now that Geralt had realized what it was it was all he could smell. The scent clogged his nose and set his brain in a pink, fuzzy cloud. Did Jaskier think...? Would he want..?

Except, of course not. Everyone knew you could get sort of adrenaline high. Plenty of young warriors got a little...stiff after a battle. And being nineteen, Jaskier probably got, got in that situation, with a light breeze. 

He was looking up at Geralt like he’d personally hung the moon, though. No one had ever, as long as he could remember, looked at him that way. There is a certain kind of beauty that comes with being kind to someone, Geralt knew. He hadn’t often seen it. Eskel had scars across his face that were frightening even to some other witchers but his friendship and care towards Geralt always blurred those over.

Now, in this fetid, swamp of a forest, Jaskier was developing that special beauty to Geralt as well. 

He was loud and talked all the time, even now that he seemed to have regained his wits he was chattering about what he’d write. His voice sounded less harsh in Geralt’s ears, though. Because Jaskier thought Geralt was special, and that made him special in return. 

They made it back to the inn, with a brief stop at the alderman’s house, muddy to the knee, although that wasn’t new. Geralt was also somewhat bloodspattered, which was horrible and wasn’t winning him favors with the townsfolk. 

“Got a room?” he asked the innkeeper, a bent old man that Geralt could probably lift on one finger. As is the wont of many smart inkeepers, there was a taproom on the first floor of the inn, and he was industriously cleaning mugs. 

“One,” the man said. “One room, one bed. No prostitutes, them ladies’ gotta do business elsewhere.”Geralt nodded and handed over the coin. 

“Bathouse in town?” he asked. They followed the old inkeeper’s directions to the edge of town, near the river. 

“I can’t wait for a good bed,” Jaskier said. “But I think I’m looking forward to this bath even more. I think my dirt has dirt on it, and my hair is disgusting. Yours too, will you let me wash it?”

Geralt wasn’t listening, also looking forward to the bath. He hummed in response.

“I hope it’s hot,” Jaskier continued. “No, hotter than that, I hope it’s boiling. I want to feel like a carrot in a stew pot when I get in.”

“You’d be a turnip,” Geralt said without thinking.

Jaskier sniffed. “And you’d be an onion.”

Geralt almost chuckled at that. The only reason he didn’t was that, at this moment, it was probably almost true. They both smelled pretty ripe. Jaskier had been correct, too, about there being layers to the grime. Geralt could almost peel himself. Like an onion.

“Anyway, I think I’d be something special, like a dash of pepper or, oh! I’d be a tomato.”

That caught Geralt off guard. 

“What.”

“A tomato, when they’re cooked just right so they almost burst when you cut into them and the juice explodes all over your mouth.”

Geralt wasn’t going to think about any juices of any kind exploding all over anyone’s mouth. Especially not Jaskier’s mouth, with it’s pink lips and clever, wicked tongue that darted out from time to time to wet them. 

“Don’t you think so, Geralt, aren’t I a tomato?”

“Hmmm.”

Jaskier did it again! It was liable to take Geralt’s sanity, the sight of him wetting his chapped lips like that. Maybe if he didn’t speak so much, worse, if he didn’t bite those lips so much, they wouldn’t be so chapped. For some reason Geralt had an insane desire to smear ointment across Jaskier’s lips with his own fingers. 

They would feel so soft.

Geralt paid the bath house attendant and they followed directions to a separate area in the low, stone building, where they could strip off and have a sort of sponge bath. This was of course so that they didn’t get dirt and monster guts in the bath, and was done with each in their own little three-walled wooden stall. Geralt had to call for a second bucket of water to get the guts from his hair. 

Sufficiently scrubbed, he stepped out into the main baths. Only then did he realize the crucial fault in his plan. They were open plan baths. Jaskier was beside him wearing nothing but a towel. Geralt, likewise in a towel, began to sweat. 

He kept his eyes firmly forward and cursed his excellent witchery peripheral vision because he could see...see Jaskier. Dark chest hair, soft and slightly damp. The way a droplet of water trailed from the back of his hair and down his neck, wetting tender skin.

Fuck. 

Jaskier walked towards the bath as if nothing was amiss. Of course, nothing was amiss, they were just two traveling companions. Having a bath. For Melitele’s sake they were married, even.

Geralt saw Jaskier’s foot hit a wet patch and the young man’s steps faltered, sliding a little. Geralt caught him with all his witcher speed, feeling Jaskier collide with his chest. Those blue eyes again, and yes, definitely silver in them. 

Jaskier was blushing, whether from proximity or steam, Geralt didn’t know. He leaned in. Jaskier’s tongue wet those inviting lips again. 

“You missed a spot on your cheek,” Geralt said, drawing back. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t just a freckle, but it was definitely a bit of dirt. Jaskier sighed.

“Better get in and wash it off, then.”

Why did he sound dissapointed?

Geralt looked away as Jaskier released his towel and slid into the water, doing the same and waiting a second until he was absolutely sure it was safe to look. Jaskier had his head tilted back to rest against the floor, where the bath was sunk into the ground. Geralt sat next to him on the little ledge and let the warmth hit his muscles. It wasn’t boiling as Jaskier had hoped, but it was warm and lovely. The day’s fight hadn’t set any ache into Geralt’s muscles, but the days of sitting tensed up about Jaskier had, and he let them drift away.

Next to him Jaskier hummed contentedly and Geralt couldn’t help but agree. They lingered, not speaking, in the warm baths until they were truly pruny. Geralt neatly had to drag Jaskier out, but couldn’t risk Jaskier becoming too drowsy and drowning. 

They toweled off and redressed and were back at the inn in time for supper and for Jaskier to play. 

Geralt sat in the back of the small taproom, glowering about at anyone who looked like they might get close. He would have gladly gone up to their room and not bothered but Jaskier was performing. He couldn’t leave the bard there, where anyone could attack him, or ply him with too much alcohol and rob him or worse. Besides, he was curious.

Jaskier was capable, in an odd sort of way that was so far different from what Geralt was used to, but he was good at things. There was nothing he tried that he seemed to be terribly bad at. Geralt wasn’t a good judge of music, but he wanted to see if this applied to performing.

As he’d suspected, it did. Jaskier was masterful. Not only was his music top notch, but all his energy, the liveliness, the live wire electricity of him was directed when he performed. Normally, all that energy seemed to make Jaskier’s thoughts and actions a little disorganized, almost mess. Here, in this dingy little tavern, it made him radiant. Every eye was watching, every gaze enthralled, at least for a short time. If Geralt’s medallion hadn’t lain still on his chest he would have called it magic. 

It was incredibly sexy. This was Jaskier in his element, fierce and confident and wearing the doublet Geralt had given him. 

That struck a strange little shiver down Geralt’s spine. A piece of Geralt, prancing about, tied to Jaskier. The gift of the wolves of Kaer Morhen shimmered and twisted with his movements, the black pearl buttons catching dim light. Every eye was on Jaskier, some more salaciously than others, but Geralt couldn’t have cared less. He wouldn’t have cared even if someone had kissed Jaskier there and then. Geralt had no claim to Jaskier like that, they were only married in name. But they were married, and somehow Jaskier so proudly wearing that doublet meant more than a kiss ever could.

A little part in the back of Geralt’s brain wondered if he could have a kiss and Jaskier wearing the doublet, but that was silly.

Geralt went out to see Roach briefly when the performance was over. The applause was too much for his ears and his head, but ran back in when he heard the shouts. 

Three men had Jaskier against a wall, looking furious, and Jaskier looked angrier than they were. 

“Let him go,” Geralt growled, hand going for his sword...which was upstairs in their room. 

Fuck.

The men turned to him, all holding knives that were only knives because no one let swords get that jagged. 

“Your whore here,” one of them said with a shrug towards Jaskier. “Was telling us all how we shouldn’t talk shit about you witchers.”

“Yeah,” sneared another man with rotten teeth and even more rotten breath. “Got all righteous.” He stepped forward, raising his knife. “Said we ought to be thankful.

Geralt felt his muscles tense, gearing for a fight he really, really didn’t want to have.

“I think we oughta show you our ‘gratitude’,” said the third man.

“Or I can show you the door to the next world,” a voice purred. It was Jaskier.

“What is poking into your kidney, or thereabouts,” the bard continued. “Is a fish knife, I believe. I picked it up off the table. It’s pretty sharp, so I wouldn’t recommend moving very quickly. I would recommend, if you like to keep living, dropping your weapons, all three of you, and just walking away.”

The man’s compatriots looked at Jaskier in confusion. Jaskier pressed the knife in just a hair’s breadth further. 

“Do it,” growled the man currently held hostage. Three knives clattered on the floor. 

“Very good,” Jaskier purred in a voice that was both menacing and sent electric signals all the way down Geralt’s spine. “I can see you’re the brains of the outfit. Now apologize to my friend.”

“Wha..?”

Jaskier twitched his knife hand. “Apologize. To. My. Friend.”

“I’mverysorrymisterwitcher,” the man said, all in one breath. 

“Good, and?”

“And...and thank you for getting rid of the monsters?” said the man, hesitantly. Jaskier let down the knife. 

“Scram,” he said. The three toughs fled.

“A fish knife?” Geralt asked, trying not to focus on how spine tinglingly sexy that had been.

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t keep weapons on me usually. Shall we go to bed?”

Bed turned out to be an overstatement. It was pretty much a cot, and a very slim one at that, but neither of them were going to sleep on the rough floorboards so they squished in together. 

Jaskier snuggled up to Geralt with contented little humming noises and laid his head on his chest. In the corner, in the moonlight from the window, Geralt could see the basilisk leather doublet where it lay on Jaskier’s pack. It would be a shame, he thought, wrapping his arms around Jaskier to keep him from tipping entirely out of the narrow bed. To part from his husband in Oxenfurt. 

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