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watermelonlipstick · 4 years ago

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Dreams, Chapter 15

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 15

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3310

Summary: The reader and Sam take an irrevocable step forward.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section is emotional smut

The drive home felt electric and giddy and nauseatingly tense, like driving back from prom with a little foil packet burning a hole in your pocket. It had been delicious agony working through the rest of the shift on stolen hand grazes and smirks across the length of the bar, suspense winding in your throat, especially wearing Sam’s shirt, the incredible scent of him floating around you in a halo every time you moved. Now that it was so close you didn’t know what to do with it. At the very least, Sam didn’t seem to either as you noticed him swallowing far more often than he needed to and cranking the stereo. He drove fast, almost like—no, don’t think that, not right now—and you watched for deer on the sides of the road partly to keep from getting into an accident and partly for something to distract even a fraction of your mind from the way Sam’s lips had felt on yours when he had finally let go, how they must feel everywhere else.

When he pulled into the driveway, you both sat still in the front seat for a beat of silence.

“I’m—uh, I’m going to take a shower,” Sam said, looking toward your side of the car but not quite meeting your eyes.

“Yeah, okay, good idea,” you answered. You were still sticky with the broken-keg-beer from hours ago and a shower sounded divine, but you knew saying something about getting cleaned up too wouldn’t land right in the charge of this moment. The two of you awkwardly walked inside, a movement you’d done so many times that suddenly felt so unfamiliar it was a little spooky. Sam ducked into the shower without another word and you didn’t know what to do in your own house.

Digging through your clothes, you finally found a matching bra and panty set you hadn’t worn in…you stopped yourself from thinking about exactly how long. It was black and lacy but in a sort of sensible way; probably wouldn’t have been fancy for a person who didn’t usually buy her undergarments with durability and lack of movement while running and fighting in mind, but it was what you had and it certainly seemed like a more appropriate thing to wear than one of the old t-shirts of Dean’s you normally changed into after work. You bit your lip and beat back a moment of frustrated nerves, imagining the extremely awkward put-on seduction of walking through the cabin in just the set, and grabbed a black tank top and yoga pants out too, bundling all the garments together.

Sam walked into the bedroom with a towel slung sinfully low on his hips, and the sight made your breath catch in your throat. The tension required to hold the terry in place flexed one pec as a few droplets of water shook loose from his hair and slid down it.

You grabbed the bundle of clothes in your hand and gestured behind him. “My turn.”

Sam nodded, side stepping to let you out of the doorway.

It was a longer shower than you’d taken in a long time, going over your legs obsessively with the dullish disposable razor you’d been using and washing your hair twice to make sure to get any residual beer out of it. Finally you knew you couldn’t keep stalling and got out, running a palm of lotion over your body and putting on the black set, yoga pants, and tank top. You turned your head over to flip your hair a few times, hoping for a little more volume and a little less wet rat, and wished that you’d had some kind of perfume or something, had held onto anything from back when you thought things like that had a point, when you cared about being enticing. How glamorous, all this old cotton and dripping hair for what felt like a monumental turning point. No time to think about that now. You threw your towel up on the rack and headed back to the bedroom.

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his ankles, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, bare feet tapping on the floor. Something about knowing that he had gotten re-dressed and not even in the old sweats he normally slept in, had thought about it for at least a moment, made you feel better. His head snapped up when you walked in. “H-hey,” he breathed.

“Hey.” You noticed he’d straightened the already made up bed and taken the pictures of Dean off the wall, neatly stacked on the dresser in the corner of the room.

When Sam saw your eyes linger on the spot they had been, he opened his mouth. A small shake of your head stopped him from saying anything and you sat beside him. “So.”

Sam chuckled. “So.”

“I feel like we just got shut in a closet to play 7 minutes in heaven.”

“I know I said I’m ready but we don’t have to—”

“No, that’s not what I mean. Sorry, I just—I haven’t felt this nervous in a long time.”

“Me neither.”

You flopped back on the bed, feeling your wet hair fan out a touch around you and looking up at the ceiling. The mattress shifted under Sam’s weight when he laid back next to you, and after a beat you turned to your side, propping up your head on one palm and feeling the oppressive sparks of the moment burn into your skin, heat your cheeks. “There are so many times I could’ve said this, Sam, but you saved my life. I don’t kn—there’s just no way I would’ve made it by myself.”

He dipped his head toward you, the low light casting a severe shadow off of his jaw and highlighting the contrast between the concentric rings of green-blue-honey in his eyes. “I could say the same to you.” You waited a second, dragging your eyes down the high slope of his cheekbone and counting the tiny dots of stubble where its gradient began on his cheek.

Slowly, you tipped yourself over him, looping one leg over his waist and placing a hand above each of his shoulders on the mattress. Feeling the heat of his body between your thighs made you feel a bit lightheaded and the way Sam was looking up at you didn’t help, eyes bright and hopeful and a touch awestruck like a true believer listening to a sermon. Big hands floated to your hips, light as anything but each fingertip was rooting you together, connecting you as irrevocably as welded iron. You poured forward into him, stopping a few inches from his face. “I’m—” you started.

“I love you,” Sam stammered, looking almost surprised when it tumbled out of his mouth, but you caught it between you and breathed it back into him, catching his lips and holding back the groan you wanted to release at their softness, somehow even better than the memory you’d been amplifying in your head all night. You kissed him like a prayer, like saying thank you over and over again for the things he knew you wanted to acknowledge and for all the things he didn’t, every single dried teardrop and gummy worm a pass of your lips against his. One hand moved to your lower back, pressing you together while the other spun through the wet hair at the nape of your neck, thumb cradling the sensitive skin behind your ear and brushing softly back from it, a tiny affection you might not have noticed if everything about this moment wasn’t so amplified.

When you nipped gently at his lower lip, Sam made a sound close to a whimper deep in his throat before slipping his tongue against yours and drinking you in. He shifted his hips underneath you and used the hands on your back to guide you easily to the mattress, taking care not to place you on top of your hair. You wound your fingers in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him closer to you until you were pressed against the full firm stretch of his torso. As you passed your fingers under the hem, Sam leaned back for a second to tug behind his collar and toss the shirt to the ground in one fluid motion, coming back to lay a trail of kisses down the hinge of your jaw and neck, light suction on the exact spot it sloped into collarbone. It was your turn to get out of your tank top; the moment of widened pupils at the reveal dissolved the nerves you’d had about the lace and gave you the confidence to hook your legs around Sam’s hips and drag him as tightly to you as his jeans would allow.

He slipped tentative fingertips into the waistband of the yoga pants and you parted to let him shimmy them off of your legs, surprised when a tear almost welled in your eyes at the kiss he pressed into the side of your calf—an impulsive reflex betraying Sam’s affection. You sat up, tried to unbutton the worn cotton of his jeans, and realized your hands were shaking. He took your face delicately in his hands and kissed you, soft as anything, and it was Sam, person you knew best in this world, who’d saved your life over and over and over again; if you couldn’t trust him, then who could you trust? The moment was enough to settle you, button coming undone smoothly. He eased off the bed without breaking contact with your lips to shake them off, tipping you onto the mattress delicately when his legs were bare. Arching your back to unhook your bra, you shucked it off carelessly into the depth of the room. Sam raked his eyes over your body and you tried not to shy away from it. “I—uh—are we going to be okay?” he whispered low into the space between you.

“I think so,” you answered, and it was as much affirmation as you could give, because truthfully you didn’t know. It felt right but your instincts had been wrong before. You wished more than anything that you could’ve kept the sexually charged impulsivity in the bar’s cooler earlier that night, when you were moving on instinct and need and didn’t have time to analyze.

But Sam was so beautiful, so present and real, almost too warm under your touch, and you reminded yourself that he was the only real thing in your life. He brushed a stray piece of still-damp hair back from your face before bending to his knees on the side of the bed. You got up to your elbows and watched passively as he took the rest of your lace off, leaving you completely exposed save for the cover of his kiss on your inner thigh. Swallowing hard, you felt your lips part as you watched the long muscles of his back pull taut when he moved you to the edge of the bed. The hot breath between your legs was enough to make you see stars around Sam’s head like a halo and then he swirled his tongue around your clit softly, almost too softly, just enough to make you feel hungry with desire. A whine passed your lips and you barely even registered it, so focused on watching the precise even muscles in Sam’s jaw flex and ripple against his cheek, matching them to the mazes he was drawing into you. Wrapping an arm around your thigh to hold you in place, Sam flicked his gaze up for confirmation as he snaked an arm under you, sucking two fingers with his eyes locked on yours before gliding them inside you.

You gasped creakily as he hook-pressed, the strength of his hands feeling familiar if the feeling wasn’t, tugging out sweet sin rooted deep in your gut. It wound you into a tight coil ready to crack with tensile strength, cables of a centuries old suspension bridge rattling through every muscle in your body. With your back arching into the mattress, Sam lapped and swirled and spoke tongues into you, sturdy latch on your thigh until it was absolutely too much, sent you snapping into a thousand sparking live wires around him as you tried to steady yourself with handfuls of duvet. When you had enough of your wits back about you, you slipped your hands through the drying silk of Sam’s hair and guided him back up, kissing the taste of yourself off of his lips, his chin. Sam laid against you unfurling his body like a scroll, the heavy length of his cock grazing your thigh through his boxers. You gently push-pulled his shoulders to flip him onto on his back, a dazed smile on his face when you licked a stripe down his chest and lightly ran your teeth over a nipple. His chest heaved once when you brushed against his cock and then his breathing went shallow. With your mouth centimeters from his skin, you met his eyes. “Is this still okay?”

“Y-yeah, yes—yeah,” he said, way too fast to pretend at any semblance of nonchalance, more than fast enough to send you grinning as you tugged the elastic down his hips slowly and caught the weight of him in your palm, hot and crystallized beneath a shimmering drop of precum that you lapped reflexively, drawing a sharp inhale from Sam. Now it was your turn to swirl, rolling the head around your tongue sloppily before taking the first few inches of him into your mouth and sucking against a spinning hand until you built a rhythm. His head rolled back into the bed and he closed his eyes, letting them fly open only when you eased the full length of his cock into your throat slowly, willing your muscles to relax around him and relishing the fuzzy blown-out look in his eyes. You let the withdrawal drag, slipping frictionlessly over his now dripping cock as spit flowed through the gaps between your fingers. Sucking along the underside before taking him down again, you could feel the muscles in his abdomen starting to tense and pulled off, kissing a hip bone before straddling Sam and guiding him inside you carefully.

To his constant credit—as though there was anything you wouldn’t give him credit for—Sam held perfectly still as you stretched around him. It had been so long, and he probably would’ve been a challenge even if it hadn’t been years since these muscles had been flexed. The knowledge that it would calm down pushed you through the almost-tearing feeling you had, finally resting an inch or two above being flush together and taking a few deep breaths.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, cheeks pink and eyebrows showing his concern even as the tendons in his neck flexed with restraint.

“Yeah, I just—out of practice,” you answered with a sheepish smirk. He traced down the sides of your thighs with velvet fingertips like a metronome until your body relaxed around him and you began to slide and grind against Sam in earnest.

He half-raised himself to meet your lips, curving you down so he could kiss you as you moved together. For the second time that night, he took you in his arms and turned you onto the bed, deftly switching your positions without disconnecting from you. His hand still cradled your head protectively while he touched his forehead to yours. Twin exhales mixing in the slowly humidifying air between you, there were so many things you wanted to say but none of the words you could think of felt like enough to encompass the comfort-love-grief-thanks-apology. All you could do was kiss him.

The two of you fit together exactly and you cupped the back of Sam’s neck as he rocked into you. Weight supported on one hand, he swept a thumb along your cheekbone before leaning down, touching his lips to your forehead, and taking a deep breath of your hair. Such a clear punctuation on his tenderness swelled up hard in your throat and you had to gulp hard to settle it, concentrating instead on the heat pooling in your core through Sam’s deliberate movements. The crescendo reached a fever pitch when he slid a hand to the small of your back and tilted your hips justrightjustlikethat, pressure drilling right into that perfect spot and after a few seconds it was all you could do to throw your head back into the mattress and crack in half.

Sam sucked at your jugular while you fell to pieces and in other circumstances you might’ve been worried about walking around like a teenager with a hickey, but all you could think of was him around you, inside you, on you, and you wanted as much as you could get. Tugging at his hair and latching your legs around his hips in frantic reflex shoved him over the edge, muscles in his back rippling under your other hand and sweat glistening over the expanse of his neck as it rolled back. He eased off of you, laid down beside you, and wrapped you up in his arms.

A few hot tears dropped to the bedspread and almost surprised you but didn’t seem to phase Sam, who just tightened his embrace so your cheek rested on the slope of his chest. Time stopped as you lay there, having disappeared between the fissures of reality and straight into Sam. You resisted the impulse to think too much. It was enough to be there, feel the mist of sweat and freshly washed hair cooling into the ether, the comforting heat of Sam’s body where he draped over you. After your muscles resolidified you turned up and kissed him once, more to check in than anything else.

“So…what now?” you asked, voice sounding muffled and weird after the long silence.

Sam smiled looking fatigued and content and nervous all at the same time. “Well, we haven’t been struck down yet. Are you tired?”

It was likely close to 4 or 5 in the morning but sleeping felt like a trap—with all the information you’d gathered about the dreams, it seemed like if you didn’t have one about Dean tonight then you’d both severely misjudged what was happening, which then put the legitimacy or ‘blessing’ of this new relationship with Sam in jeopardy. But it wasn’t like you could stay up forever. And maybe everything would be fine, maybe you could still have your cake and eat it too by staying with Dean at night and carrying on during the days with Sam, holding his hand and starting to see beauty again through its reflection on his face.

You brushed your teeth in the bathroom mirror together after throwing on the first t-shirt you found, trying not to put too much stock into it when it ended up being Dean’s Poison one with the tear on the left shoulder. It felt right, natural still to be sharing even this little space with Sam, and that had to mean something. He didn’t even look twice at the shirt but was only wearing boxers, having foregone the flannel pants and/or t shirt he normally wore to bed. You weren’t complaining.

Cuddling up next to Sam didn’t feel odd as it probably should have so long ago. The only differences were the interlacing of his fingers into yours as he covered your lower ribcage with his hand and the way he tucked his chin into your neck as he folded around you. “I—Sam?” you whispered.

“Mm?”

“I’m—uh, just. Thank you.”

Sam didn’t react for a beat, considering or waiting for you to continue you didn’t know. He simply pressed his lips to your stretched-out collar and melted so that his body sunk into yours. It didn’t take you as long as you might’ve thought to fall asleep.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 16

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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wowcool808 · 4 years ago

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Obey Me-A Midnight Encounter Pt. 1-Older Brothers

This is a scenario I made about the brothers stumbling across the MC while they are getting water. I really figured it would be easier to divide the brothers’ experience, so I’ll post the last part with the younger brothers as soon as I finish it. I hope you enjoy!

To set the scene, MC is laying in their bed, staring up at the ceiling. They have been awake longer than they would like, and they don’t know what to do to lull themselves back asleep. After thinking for a while, they finally decide to just get some melatonin. Seems like a smart thing to do first, but it was all the way in the bathroom, which seemed like a mile away in the mellow darkness. MC grabs the suggested amount, and starts to move downstairs to get a drink of water to wash it down. Creeping around in an oversized, cat onesie, MC enters the kitchen and quietly reaches for the cup, when...

Luci-

Luci came into the kitchen to check to make sure Beel hadn’t eaten all the food in the fridge, when he saw a figure standing in front of the sink. The soft moonlight and the digital clock light on the oven illuminated their body, showing that the figure was in a large, black onesie. Originally, he thought that it was Belphie, since he was the only one that had ever worn a onesie in the house. But, that’s just because MC was always shy in theirs, and prefered to keep their warm and fluffy habits in their own room. He realized that Belphie wouldn’t be up from out of his bed at all at this time, or at all, for that matter, so he was kind of confused. He approached slowly, arms crossed.

His suspicions were answered as MC quickly turned around to look behind them after hearing movement. He saw their shadowy face lit by the window next to them, and saw that it was in fact MC who was wearing the onesie. He cracked a smile and shook his head as he walked over to them. “I didn’t know kittens were able to stand up and use the sink.” he said. “Haha, very funny” MC said, trying to hide the fact they're overly embarrassed from being caught in less-than-favorable attire.

Luci walked over to the fridge and opened it up. “Looks like Beel hasn’t gotten to the fridge yet, that’s good.” MC nods and quietly pours themselves a glass of water. They put the pill in their mouth, and gulped the water down, satisfying their throat.

“Why’re you up so late, you have classes tomorrow.” Luci said, closing the fridge. His large figure towers over MC.

“Well, I couldn’t fall asleep, so I decided to take some melatonin and water.”

“Ah, I see. Well, hopefully it works, then.”

He looked out the window, the big, silver lined moon lighting up his face. His tired yet stubborn disposition almost looked beautiful from this angle. MC can’t help but stand there in awe, looking at him. Luci shifted his body and noticed MC looking at him. Of course, MC looked away, but it was too late. He laughed and cocked his head “What?” he asked teasingly. MC shook their head and turned away. ‘Great now what?’ they think, regretting their actions.

Luci chuckled and leaned against a counter. He raised an eyebrow and said to MC “Well, if you’re not answering me, I presume you should at least head to bed now?” MC nodded and headed to their room. They took a last look at Luci and said

“Goodnight Luci.”

“Goodnight, kitty” He says, with a slightly mocking tone.

MC rolled their eyes and headed upstairs. Luci watched them leave to their room, and looked at the cup MC drank out of on the counter. He takes it, looks at it, and lets out a small laugh. After putting the cup in the sink, he slowly starts to slink back to his room.

Mammon-

Mammon had crept downstairs to see if there were any new Akuzon (Amazon) packages. Not because he ordered anything, but because he wanted to check to see if there were any packages with anything valuable in them. And since Levi spends all of his money on merchandise and games, it was almost guaranteed.

He was searching through a rather large box, when he heard something in

the kitchen, so he hesitantly crept into it. Poking his head around the corner, he saw a large, black figure next to the sink, rummaging through the cupboards. He freaked out as he assumed this random figure in no shoes somehow got through the high-security of the house to search the cup and bowl cabinets. Sorry Mammon, you sweet, tsundere dumbass, you’re the only thief in this house!

Mammon prepared himself for the encounter by creeping up behind them,

momentum building in his drawn fist. But, he made one fatal mistake. The poor boy was unlucky and stepped on a creaking floor board. MC turns around abruptly after hearing the sound, and saw Mammon there, standing like a dork with his fist drawn

Engulfed in his own swirl of emotions, and Mammon is not able to even realize who’s in front of him. ‘It’s now or never’ he thinks as he lunges forward, putting his weight in the punch.

Of course, MC saw this coming (since he was standing there for a half a second looking like a deer in the headlights) and ducked their head immediately, causing Mammon to fall forward with his weight.

Because of the hand he used, he fell forward to the right, colliding with MC’s ducked form. He accidentally pushes them into the counter, and then to the floor. They had ended up on the floor, facing each other about a foot apart.

Groaning on the ground, Mammon turns to see MC facial features illuminated in the moonlight, and he jumps up.

“W-what are you doing up this late, MC?” He asks quickly

“I just needed to get some water” they say, rubbing their head.

“Why are you dressed like that!? In pitch black clothing? I thought you were some guy breaking in!”

“They’re my pajamas, Mammon, stop over thinking everything.” MC says, smiling.

“I’m not the one that dodged my attack and made me fall over.” He says in a whiny voice.

“Well, you didn’t dodge yourself, but you fell on your own.”

Mammon sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Ugh, some humans” (I know he’s a human in this world, but I still like the idea of him calling MC “one of those humans”) “Well, do you need help up?” He said, offering a hand.

MC nodded and grabbed his hand. “Thanks, Mammon”

Mammon pulls MC up and brushes his hands on his pants. “Yeah, well I only did it to be nice, I’m not making it a habit.”

“Whatever you say, Mammon.” MC says as they grab their drink and walk away.

Levi-

Levi crept down the stairs silently, avoiding making any sound whatsoever. He wanted to catch Mammon in the act, and he couldn’t alarm him whatsoever. Well, he wasn’t sure Mammon was there, but Levi had ordered a surplus of packages that day, so he was determined to make sure they were okay. As he looked over at the front doors, he counted eleven packages, which was the exact amount he ordered. Figuring he needed a pair of scissors to open them, he walked into the kitchen to check the supply drawer.

He turned the light on and looked through the drawers. He pulled out wrenches, screwdrivers, pens, and an assortment of related tools, but no scissors. He had pulled out a suspicious, hand made tool with multiple knives attached to it, when he saw something in the corner of his eye. He whipped around and jumped in shock. MC was standing near him in a large cat onesie, staring at him with a curious expression.

“What are you doing, Levi?” they asked, staring at the odd tool.

“I- uh- Er-” Levi stuttered. He wanted to answer, but he couldn’t. They just looked so… Moe that he couldn’t stand it. Why did he just find out MC had a giant, black kitten onesie? Well, obviously, MC was shy enough to keep it hidden, so it makes sense as to why he hasn’t seen it before. He would’ve probably done the same thing if he bought one.

MC had been staring at Levi’s stuttering, flushed self for a good thirty seconds. “What?” They say, raising their eyebrow in a taunting manner.

“Um, Y-you just...You’re wearing...” He said trailing off.

“O-Oh! Right…” MC said, looking down at themselves embarrassed. “I got this a while ago, back home, but I always wore it in my room here, since it seems too childish to wear it around anyone else. Though, I much rather you see me in a onesie than anyone else. Uh- wait, that came out wrong, sorry”

Levi blinked and slowly started regaining his senses, ignoring the accidental insult. MC looked at the tool in his hand and asked what it was for.

“O-oh, right. I was just looking at this one, whatever it is. But, I originally came here to grab scissors for my Amazon packages. Though, I guess this weird contraption will work as well.” He says, pocketing the various knives. MC helped Levi put all the supplies back, and MC moved to grab a glass of water.

“Is that what you came for?” Levi asks, probably just to make up for the silence.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to take melatonin to help fall asleep, so I needed water.”

“Oh wait, you need help falling asleep?”

“Yeah, I’ve had pretty bad insomnia since I was young, and I guess it just kind of gotten worse over the years.”

“Oh, well, I just got this new serum I found on Amazon. It’s called Hazydew Softsyrup, and you just need to add it to tea to get the full effect. I got it for myself, since the blue light from my PC keeps me awake for a while, but you can use it for the night. I can order another bottle tomorrow too if you want.”

MC’s face lifted and they smiled. “Really? You would actually give me a bottle of that syrup?”

“I mean, sure, if you want it.” Levi says, looking down.

“Yes please, that would be awesome. Thanks.” MC said, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Y-yeah, no problem.” He said, moving towards the front room. MC followed him, and took the bottle eagerly when Levi offered. But, when MC took the bottle, instead of leaving, they linger there hesitantly. After a moment, they lean in towards Levi and kisses him gently on the cheek. Levi blinked, and stared blankly. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

MC smirked “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

#obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me mammon #obey me brothers #obey me headcanons #headcannon #headcannons

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purplesauris · 4 years ago

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A Moonlit Winter’s Night

This one took me a bit longer to write between work and everything else, but hoo boy am I glad to have it finished. Mostly inspired by a beautiful full moon we had the other night, and spurred on by my gorgeous friends. I guess you could also count this as day 4 of @witcher-and-his-bard winter prompts!

Read on AO3 here!

“Invite him, wolf, before we do.” Lambert is well into his cup, but if he has to spend another winter with Geralt dragging his ass he will end up killing his brother and he’d rather not.

“Hmm.” Invite him? What would Jaskier, bright, warm, stunning Jaskier do in a keep alone with witchers for the four months they’re snowed in? Well, there’s only one way to find out, he supposes.

This time, when Geralt heads down the mountain he’s the last to leave. While Vesemir has never said no to the guests they show up with, something in him hesitates to bring Jaskier here. He’s opulent, almost garishly so, and revels in the finer things when he manages to drag Geralt into a town bigger than the backwater villages they frequent. So he may or may not spend some extra time making up the guest room, Vesemir watching and putting Geralt to work until he finally leaves.

He heads for town after staying that extra week, hurrying a bit more than usual down the mountainside. He doesn’t want to miss their meeting, though he’s definitely going to be late, or else he isn’t sure he'll find the bard this year. He’s a days travel away from Oxenfurt when he’s stopped by a woman on the road, begging for someone to find her husband. She claims he was dragged off into the woods, and promises ample payment, and Geralt is unable to say no. Coin can be hard to come by, especially in the spring when so many monsters are still thawing out.

He brings her back to her village and gives strict instructions to watch his horse and watch her well. If he comes back to Roach missing, he says, there will be more problems than a missing husband to contend with. With Roach guaranteed safe Geralt treks into the forest, following the path that the wife relayed to him on the way back to the village. He finds the husband without much difficulty, shacked up in an abandoned hunting cabin with two other tittering, intoxicated women. The sight of Geralt stops their celebration, and one of the women screams, throwing her half full bottle at him. It crashes against the doorframe, shattering and spewing wine against his leg. He wrinkles his nose, looking at the three before him and doing his best not to flinch when they scream at the sight of him.

“Your wife is waiting.”

“M-me wife?” He nods, crossing his arms and tipping his head back toward town. The man goes with little convincing, stumbling past and shaking like a deer.

“P-please, we didn’t- didn’t know he were married, honest.”

“Somehow I doubt that. I’m not here to meddle, just find him. You live in the same village?” One of them nods, the one who threw the wine bottle, and Geralt sighs. “Sober up a bit before heading back, or they’ll know you were together.”

“Right, course.” The witcher stands there for another awkward minute before grunting and leaving out the way he came. He takes his time going back, knowing there’ll be a story spun and not feeling particularly inclined to dispute it. Despite the obvious lack of monsters, Geralt can tell there was activity, once. He can smell an old nekker nest a quarter mile from the hut, but nothing has used it in ages. There were also animal tracks, but nothing more than a couple of wolves, if he were to guess by the lack of rabbits about.

He gets Roach and double the payment the wife had offered when he gets back, the husband thanking him profusely for saving him. His wife hangs off his side the whole time, teary eyed with relief. Geralt leaves out of the village astride Roach, intent on traveling through the night to get to Ja- Oxenfurt. The contract took up more time than he would have liked, and he wonders how long Jaskier will wait before giving up on him. Roach isn’t one to complain about the long night, and by the time they get into the city Geralt has slid from her back to lighten her burden. He finds the tavern on memory alone, and spends some time brushing and getting Roach settled in the stables before finally heading inside to hope they have a room. The sky hadn't begun to lighten yet, but dawn isn't far off, and Geralt desperately needs some sleep

He reeks of booze, but the barkeep doesn’t care and says nothing when Geralt asks for whatever ale they’ve got that isn’t made with river water. He takes his usual spot in the back, tossing a look around the bar for a bright doublet or a flash of blue eyes, but either he isn't here or he's asleep. Geralt drinks himself into a light buzz and eats whatever stew is bubbling over the fire before going to get a room upstairs for the night. He tries to spend as much time as he can in the main room, but the room is quiet for once, devoid of it’s usual rabble.

He’s halfway down the hall when he smells the faint scent of sweat, lavender and a hint of chamomile, Geralt stopping and dragging in a deep breath. He follows his nose easily, backtracking to the room right next to the stairs. The scent in the hall is stale, but if Jaskier hasn’t been out since last night that would account for it. He wants to knock, to try the knob and show himself in, but that feels like too much a breach of privacy, and Geralt is too tired to think straight anyhow. He retreats to his room, shaking his head and berating himself. Jaskier is here, that much he knows, so all he has to do is go down sometime around dinner, where Jaskier will most likely be entertaining for his room and board. The plan is a good one, he thinks, and he props his swords up by the bed and lights the hearth with a twitch of his fingers. His armor comes off in pieces, left on the table in the corner of the room, his clothes following. He crawls into bed only after examining the sheets closely. Clean, thankfully.

Geralt is stretched out, languishing in a patch of sunlight a few hours later and wondering if he should try to sleep more when he hears footsteps pounding up the stairs. Geralt frowns, hand wrapping around the dagger under his pillow as the footsteps draw closer and closer. His grip tightens, pupils constricting to ease the shift of light as he watches the door.

The knob turns in slow motion, and the scent of sun- warmth and lavender hits him like a ton of bricks. He doesn't have time to do more than sit up in bed before Jaskier is slipping into the room, ducking and looking around frantically. He knows Geralt's first instinct is to throw his knife it seems. His eyes skim over Geralt's armor and the fire burning low in the hearth before he finally spots Geralt, motionless on the bed, dagger peeking out from under his pillow. Geralt hears Jaskier's heart stutter in his chest, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

"Geralt!" Jaskier closes the door fully, grinning and padding over as Geralt swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He's about to get up when Jaskier surges forward, throwing his arms around the witcher's neck and squeezing him tight. Geralt goes still, eyes wide, before allowing himself a moment to enjoy and take in the bard. The warmth that seeps through his doublet, and the stronger lavender scent that Geralt inhales when he buries his face in Jaskier's hair is like being home again. He wraps an arm around Jaskier, holding him against his chest and squeezing gently. They stay like that for a minute, then two, Geralt refusing to be the one that pulls away first this time. Finally Jaskier seems to have had enough, because he pulls back, eyes misty and a wry smile on his face.

"You're late."

"Surprised you're here." He replies, and honestly he is. He's more than a little late.

"Where else would I be?"

He shrugs, not sure what to say to that, and Jaskier smiles fondly. "They told me a big brute with white hair came through early this morning. I would have come in earlier, if I'd felt inclined to nurse a stab wound."

Geralt huffs a small breath at that- it's as close as he'll get to a laugh this early, or late he supposes, in the day. He's fully awake now, but his muscles are loose and the scent and sight of Jaskier close has him relaxing, leaning back on a hand. He watches Jaskier puttering around, exploring the new armor he'd had crafted on the way up the mountain and looking at the clasps closely. He glances over at the bed, blue eyes curious, and raises a brow. "Good winter?"

Geralt shrugs, pulling the dagger from under his pillow and rising to his feet. "Mhm. You?"

"It was fantastic, if I'm honest. I'll tell you more on the road." Geralt takes that as his cue to get dressed, and he gently nudges Jaskier out of the way to do so.

-*-

Something had happened to Geralt. He wasn't sure what- he couldn't see any visible change, no knock to the head or magical influence, but something had changed. Jaskier hadn't been able to help himself when he found Geralt in the tavern, hair mussed from sleep and golden eyes vulnerable to whatever emotions played through his head. He hadn't expected Geralt to reciprocate the hug, allow it even, but he'd squeezed them close together and Jaskier's heart had soared at the contact.

He wasn’t much different on the Path, though. They still bounced from town to town, taking whatever pickings there were. Geralt was stricter on the bounties though, asking for larger sums than he had before. Despite it, when they agreed and stiffed him later he didn’t raise a hand. Instead, he seemed pleased with himself, and took the coin that they did offer. He also stayed away from towns if he could absolutely help it. He isn’t sure if the long winter made Geralt more skittish or he just doesn’t want to, but Jaskier tries his best not to complain.

They spend much of the year this way, pushing hard and taking any contract they can find. Jaskier will play for the bigger villages and stay back at camp mending when he has nothing else to offer. He becomes startlingly proficient with starting a fire no matter how wet the surroundings, and his game trapping could actually carry the both of them through the empty nights where they would have had nothing before. Through all of it, Jaskier finds himself happier than he was during the winter. They talk more, or at least Jaskier gets more replies instead of dead silence. A hum here, a nod and Geralt’s pretty cat eyes locking with his to let him know he’s paying attention. If Geralt sees the way he preens under the attention he doesn’t mention it, but he doesn’t stop either. Fall has come early this year and sunk claws into the land, and all around them is the smell of decaying leaves. It's Jaskier’s favorite and least favorite time of the year.

“We’re stopping in Novigrad.” Jaskier perks up at the first words Geralt has spoken today, smiling.

“Finally decided you missed the comforts of a bed, hmm?”

Geralt hums, tugging on Roaches reins to keep her from straying toward a particularly green patch of grass. “It’s for you.”

“Me?” Geralt nods, looking vaguely uncomfortable. Jaskier thinks he spies a bit of pink to Geralt’s cheeks, but he just swings his lute up into his arms and begins to practice. He’s going to need money to spend in Novigrad, after all.

-*-

Jaskier navigates the streets of Novigrad like he was born here; with a drunklike stagger and a grin on his face. He winks and waves at any strumpet that walks by, and laughs when Geralt tells him to stop teasing them. They stop in the main square to check out the notice board, and Geralt sighs out a heavy breath at what he finds.

“Something good?” Jaskier peers over the man's shoulders, up on tiptoes and wanting to see what could possibly make Geralt excited. Because he’s almost certain that’s what that noise means, and he happens to be an expert on his witcher by now.

“Something dragging townspeople away.”

“Drowners?”

Geralt shakes his head, and leaves it at that. He goes to see the soldier who posted the report, and tells Jaskier to get comfortable at the inn. He’s expecting it to be a long hunt, based on the bodies alone, and he doesn’t expect he’ll be back for a couple of days. Jaskier doesn’t like it, but that night he plays in the Kingfisher, and makes enough coin to pay for their room three times over. As he does the next night, and the next night after that.

Jaskier is nursing a hangover in bed on morning three alone when the door to the room swings open, slamming into the wall. He groans at the noise and influx of light, but the sight of Geralt stops him short. He looks… bad, for lack of a better word.

The sight is enough to have Jaskier stumbling out of bed, closing the door behind the witcher and hurrying with sleepy fingers to get the clasps to his armor undone. Geralt’s eyes are hazy with fatigue, and he doesn’t say a word when his armor drops in pieces onto the ground. Blood stains every inch of his clothing, and Jaskier has no clue what’s his and what could be the monsters. Fear shoots through him, cold and slimy, and he shudders at the thought of Geralt out there alone. Jaskier calls for a bath and a meal, picking all of the armor up and depositing it with the rest of their stuff. His armor seems to be intact, and the only blood is on his gauntlets and greaves. Whatever soaked into his clothes must be dead.

In the time it took for Jaskier to tidy up Geralt has stripped down and tossed his clothes into the fire. He doesn’t seem to care about trying to salvage them, and Jaskier frowns at the waste. Bloody grooves slash over the scars littering Geralt’s back and chest, and he can see two neat puncture wounds scabbing over on the meat of Geralt's shoulder.

“Shit Geralt, what the devil happened? What was the contract for?” Geralt doesn’t seem to hear him, staring glassily at the fire. Jaskier’s chest tightens, a lump forming in his throat. He’s never seen Geralt like this after a hunt. The tub and food are brought up quickly, and he drags it in himself, sending the attendant away. He doesn’t need anyone else seeing a naked, wounded witcher in his room. He’s not sure what Geralt would do to anyone else who saw him this way anyway. “In the tub.”

Again, he doesn’t respond, and Jaskier walks over, taking Geralt’s hand in his. The older man pulls in a breath as if starved of air, and his pupils are tiny slits as he stares at the point of contact. “C’mon love, lets get you cleaned up.”

This way, holding onto Geralt in some capacity, is the only way that Geralt seems to be able to focus. He hisses at the first contact of the hot water, but Jaskier uses a firm hand on his shoulder to keep Geralt from escaping. He uses the best washcloth they have to gently wipe him down, dabbing at the worst of the cuts and frowning at their jagged edges. The water goes murky and then pink as he works to get the witcher as clean as he can. Once he’s satisfied he leaves Geralt to soak for a moment, digging through their packs until he finds a small round bottle, a red band wrapped around the neck. Swallow. Relief washes through him, and he hurries back to Geralt, pulling the stopper and holding it to Geralt’s lips.

“Drink.” Geralt presses his lips together, twitching away from the bottle, and Jaskier frowns. He takes hold of Geralt’s chin, holding him still, and moves the vial closer again. “Don’t be an ass, or I’ll let those cuts get infected.”

Geralt’s pupils are still miniscule, and if he didn’t know better he’d think that the man was high on something. They stare at each other, Jaskier’s grip tightening bit by bit until Geralt’s hand comes up, taking the vial and tipping it back into his mouth. Jaskier takes the now empty vial and tucks it back away, taking a deep breath to hide the shaking of his hands. Water splashes behind him, and he has to avert his eyes at the sight of Geralt standing up and getting out of the water. The potion must be working, because even though he’s sluggish, he’s moving and acting better than before. He dries off with stiff movements, and grunts before collapsing onto the bed.

“Are you going to eat or sleep?” Geralt’s stomach growls loudly at the mention of food, and Jaskier gives a shaky smile. This, he knows better. He grabs the tray of food and moves back to the bed, humming a soft tune. “Move over.”

Geralt groans but wiggles his way over, allowing Jaskier to clamber up on his knees and tuck himself next to Geralt on the bed. Jaskier drags the nightstand a bit closer and sets down the tray as Geralt settles his head in Jaskier’s lap. He isn’t sure what to do with that, but Geralt holds his hands out for something to eat and Jaskier gives him what’s easiest. Fruits first, then the cheese and bread, and by the time he’s finished all that, even Jaskier can see that sleep is dragging at him. He’s expecting Geralt to move once he’s eaten his fill, but he merely stops asking for food and closes his eyes, his breathing settling down almost immediately. Already the cuts on his chest are sealing shut and fading, and something lightens in Jaskier's chest. He knows Geralt will be okay, he came back relatively whole, but the glassy, lost look sticks in the back of Jaskier’s mind. He’s stuck here for another few hours at least while Geralt sleeps, so he settles in for the long haul and closes his eyes. He trails fingers through Geralt’s hair, messing with the soft strands and gently tugging at any knots he finds.

Jaskier’s headache is gone when he jolts awake later, snorting and blinking his eyes open. The fire in the hearth has burnt to embers, but Jaskier is pleasantly warm even without the covers over him. When he looks down at Geralt he finds golden eyes staring back, and he huffs. He’s being watched quietly, a contemplative look on Geralt’s face, and Jaskier raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Come north with me.” That’s about the last thing that Jaskier had expected, and he chokes on a breath, leaning away to cough and thump at his chest.

“Pardon? I don’t think I heard you right, because the Geralt I know would never ask that. You are Geralt, aren’t you? Not a doppler in disguise?”

The man in his lap wrinkles his nose in such a distinctly Geralt way that though he doesn’t say it, Jaskier believes him already. “No. The potion would have killed me.”

“Ah, so has a grievous head wound occurred?”

“I’m serious.” Jaskier laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, but Geralt is still looking at him with that same contemplative look. “You don’t have to.”

“Of course I’m going. When do we leave?”

“Soon.”

-*-

Soon ends up being by the weeks end, once Geralt is sure Jaskier has warm enough clothes. Jaskier had objected at first; he’s weathered many a winter with what he has, but Geralt insists. Jaskier isn’t sure how they’re going to be able to pay for all of the clothes Geralt tells the tailor they need, but Geralt pays down to the last crown without complaint and without letting Jaskier help. Jaskier has a sneaking suspicion that all Geralt’s higher bounties had been an excuse to get the original sum without complaint. Once they get all they need and load Roach up, there’s nothing stopping them from heading out of Novigrad and toward Kaedwen.

Jaskier has never been this far north, though he’d always dreamt of going to Zerrikania or seeing the valley of Dol Blathanna for himself. He entertains himself with thoughts of far off lands while they trek through the forest, and eventually, rising toward the mountain peaks in the distance. Geralt had warned him before they left that the path up the mountain was dangerous, and that if Jaskier didn’t listen to him he was unlikely to survive the journey up, let alone back down. It wasn’t hard at first, though- it was as if they were on their way to another town for a contract. He’d kept telling himself that even as the terrain got rougher and the air biting cold.

They’re stopped for the night, huddled around a fire that Jaskier hasn’t left since Geralt made it when he speaks. He hasn’t talked much since they got well into the mountains, finding he needed his breath more than they needed conversation.

“I feel as though I’m going to shake my way off the mountain. How do you stand this- this cold?”

“Told you.”

“Yes, well, remind me never to doubt you again about anything weather related. When will it snow again, by the way?”

Geralt pauses then, looking up toward the sky and sniffing before replying in perfect deadpan. “Two hours.”

Jaskier smiles fondly, rolling his eyes and going to tuck himself away in his bedroll for the night. He doesn’t give Geralt the satisfaction of a reaction when snow begins to fall almost exactly two hours later.

-*-

When they finally crest the peak and Kaer Morhen comes into view, Jaskier thought he couldn’t get anymore out of breath. The sight of the keep nestled with its back against the mountain steals whatever air is left in his lungs, and he has to pause to take it all in. Parts of the outer wall are crumbling and he can see an entire side of the keep has collapsed in, but it cuts an imposing figure all the same. Almost more so for what Jaskier can see it’s survived. Like Geralt, the keep has seen more than most would ever know, and carries the battle scars to prove it.

“It’s… breathtaking.” He admits, looking back to find Geralt watching him, a small smile on his face. He doesn’t have any words to truly describe how he feels right now, but Geralt has never needed words, and he can see the understanding in the witcher’s eyes. He’s just as affected by the sight of his home, and he can’t imagine how homesick Geralt must feel climbing the path up to the mountain, or the relief at finally being here. “C’mon Geralt, let’s go see your home.”

Geralt nods, and they descend into the valley, Geralt letting Jaskier run a few paces ahead, breath puffing out ahead of him and ears red from the cold. He keeps a close eye out for any monsters that Vesemir hasn’t had a chance to come out and get, but the way to the entrance is blissfully clear. The gates are open when they finally make it, and two figures stand, arms crossed with twin swords on their backs. Jaskier slows his pace, suddenly nervous at the thought of meeting Geralt’s family. He’s never been to Geralt’s home or met his family, and suddenly he finds himself doing both. He smoothes a hand over his hair, hoping it isn’t too messy, and straightens his cloak a bit.

“I look okay, don’t I?” He looks toward Geralt for an answer, but a slightly higher voice calls out over the distance.

“Hurry it up you slow bastard! I’m freezing my ass off over here.” He hears Geralt growl and mutter something under his breath, but Jaskier raises a hand and waves to the two witchers waiting for them.

“Who do we have here? A paramour of yours?” Jaskier doesn't react to the phrasing, instead glancing to see how Geralt will react. He tries not to let his heart hurt over the fact that Geralt would never think that way.

“You know who he is.” Geralt grits out, glaring at the witcher before him. He’s a bit shorter than the others, hairline receded further back and nose hooked, broken at least twice. Despite that, he’s not bad to look at, and Jaskier mentally makes a note to try and meet an ugly witcher. Jaskier looks between the two obviously feuding witchers, noting the tension and seeking some way to break it. The other witcher though, stands there peacefully, as if he were used to this as an everyday occurrence. He’s handsome, though Jaskier is beginning to think all witchers are. Three wicked scars slash down the right side of his face, and that tickles at his memory. Jaskier stops for a moment, frowning, before a grin splits his face and he reaches out to take the man by the arms. He holds him still, looking him over, and laughs. Both Geralt and the unnamed witcher go still, watching the casual touch with barely concealed interest.

“Eskel! I should have known you were a wolf! I must have been drunker than I thought that night!” Eskel smiles, the scars bisecting his lips tugging with the movement, and draws Jaskier into a tight hug. It only lasts a moment, but Jaskier is rosy cheeked and bright eyed with excitement. Something twists inside Geralt at the sight, and he clenches his teeth together to keep from saying anything stupid.

“Good to see you again, Jaskier. The academy treating you alright?”

“Well they weren’t too happy to lose a professor for the winter, I can tell you that. Oh! Geralt, why didn’t you tell me Eskel was your brother?” Jaskier turns those blue eyes on him, and Geralt just shrugs, unsure of what to say.

“You didn’t tell him?” Jaskier looks over at the other man, and raises a brow when Geralt snarls loudly. “Did he tell you about me at least?”

Jaskier looks the third man up and down once, glances toward Geralt, and then shakes his head. “Must not have been important.”

“Not been- Oh, I like this one Geralt. I’m hurt you haven’t brought him sooner.”

“Lambert.” Geralt’s voice is full of warning, but Lambert gives a tooth filled grin and motions for them to actually come into the keep.

“Let’s stop standing around, your bard has a tour to get to and Vesemir has a thousand bullshit tasks for us to get done. I tell you, the old man had a list written down before I even stepped my ass into the courtyard.”

Lambert takes off at a brisk pace, seeming more inclined to get out of the cold than chat anymore, and everyone else follows him. They pass through the training grounds first, leaving Roach at the stable, and Jaskier doesn't object when his arms are filled with a pack or two. He just shoulders the weight and trails along behind, eyes wide and flying to take in every detail he can. Geralt lingers behind a bit, occasionally pointing out a small detail Jaskier hadn't noticed yet, warmth blooming in his chest at the smile Jaskier gives in return.

"Is he always like that?" Jaskier leans over to whisper, eyeing the back of the grumpy witcher's head.

"Wait until Vesemir gets him going." Jaskier snickers, bumping their shoulders together lightly. His cheeks are red from the cold, and he's glad for the ability to hide his blush for once.

Jaskier wants to stop and look at everything as they head for the keep, but Geralt takes him gently by the elbow to keep him going. He would fight the grip, but Geralt reassures him he'll have plenty of time to explore while they're snowed in. For now, Geralt is obviously itching to get settled and see his brothers. So Jaskier tells himself to be patient, and doesn't voice any objections to their pace. He's going to have plenty of time to overturn every stone. Lambert and Eskel break off when they finally step inside the keep, giving Geralt a look before making a beeline for where a round of Gwent seems to have been abandoned.

"How did they know to stop and come out?" He doesn't realize he's voiced it aloud until Geralt answers, shrugging and heading for the far side of the room.

"Witcher senses."

"They can't be that good."

"They are!" Lambert calls after them, voice resounding through the room and bouncing off the walls. Jaskier scowls, throwing a dirty look toward the eavesdropping witcher before retreating into the next room. Geralt leads them up to where the guest bedroom is, pausing on the landing before the door. For the first time in years, Jaskier thinks that Geralt looks nervous.

“Is this mine?” He asks softly, not wanting to spook him but eager to look around. Geralt blinks a couple of times, swallows, and then nods. The sight of Geralt nervous is rather endearing, and Jaskier falls for him a bit harder. “Well, show me in, dear witcher.”

Geralt twists the knob and pushes the door open, stepping inside and out of the way. Jaskier follows behind him, stopping in the doorway as he sweeps the room with a first cursory glance. It’s slow, but Jaskier’s bright eyes soften, and a smile curls at the corners of his lips. A large fireplace is tucked against the far wall, near it a bed that clearly hasn’t been touched in many, many years. The blankets seem a bit threadbare, but Jaskier bets they’re warm, and he could go for a good nap right now, if he’s honest. Old velvet, deep red and trimmed in gold hangs from the ceiling along the walls, making the room seem warmer than it actually is. The middle of the room is dominated by a fur carpet, and a wooden table is shoved into one corner, two stools tucked underneath.

“It isn’t much.” Geralt mumbles, growing more and more restless the longer Jaskier stands and stares. Jaskier takes a couple more steps in, dumping his things on the bed and turning to Geralt. There are tears in his eyes, sticking to his lashes and slipping down his cheeks in shimmering streaks. Geralt reaches up to brush them away without a thought, thumb sweeping gently across sun kissed skin. “Jask-”

“It’s perfect.” Jaskier leans into Geralt's touch, reaching up to cradle his hand as he places a gentle kiss onto the calloused palm. Geralt’s whole hand tingles pleasantly at the contact, and he takes a step closer as Jaskier closes his eyes, sniffling softly. “You did all this for me?”

“You deserve it. To be comfortable. I know we live a little- rough.” He isn’t sure what else to say, is choking on the warmth and yearning and love rising in his chest. Jaskier’s eyes are made even more brilliant by his tears when he opens them again, and Geralt loses himself in them. They’re inches apart now, and Geralt’s nose fills with the scent of cold, lavender and that edge of chamomile. Jaskier looks at him, searching for something, and Geralt is about to do something very stupid when Jaskier does it first. He leans up, closing the space between them and gently pressing a warm kiss to Geralt’s lips. His touch is featherlight, like Geralt could break at any moment, and in a way he does. A dam fractures in his chest at the contact, and Geralt uses the hand still cradling Jaskier’s cheek to guide him closer as feelings he’d hidden deep away rage through him.

Their lips press together harder, less hesitant, and Jaskier’s hands come up to curl in the edges of Geralt’s cloak. He presses himself up against Geralt, drawing him closer as their breath mingles and Geralt’s fingers tangle in his hair. Jaskier hardly knows where he begins and Geralt ends, and it isn’t until they hear a sharp whistle and an “Atta boy!” from the bottom of the steps that they break apart. Jaskier is breathing hard, and he laughs when Geralt growls, glaring toward the stairs. Jaskier tugs lightly on the cloak in his hands, and Geralt’s attention is drawn back as easily as that, golden eyes soft in the low light coming from the hall.

“You know, if I’d known this would happen when you brought me to visit, I would have insisted years ago.”

“Years?” Geralt hardly recognizes his own voice, rough and out of breath, and he leans to kiss the smile from Jaskier’s lips on instinct alone. Jaskier melts into the kiss, leaning heavily against Geralt. He slides his hands over Geralt's chest before pulling back and bumping his nose against Geralt's.

“You’re very dense, when you want to be. I don’t normally nurse witchers back to health for fun, you know. Blood isn’t my strong suit, nor are monster guts. I’m not very inclined to write dozens of songs about them just because I like fame either, though the stories do make good coin.” Jaskier pauses, smiling when he feels a rumble vibrate under his hands. He goes on tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on the corner of Geralt’s mouth in apology. “The fame is nice, I’ll admit. It makes it easier to travel with you, to provide something, even if it’s only songs that drive you mad.”

“Hmm.” Jaskier kisses him again, chuckling softly against his lips and just enjoying being close.

“I couldn’t agree more. Now, I know you’re eager to visit with your brothers, so go see them.” Geralt begins to protest, brow scrunching, but Jaskier silences him with a firm, hot kiss, and Geralt finds he’s rather enjoying being silenced like this. “You get to see me all year. They don’t. I’ve got some unpacking to do, and a nap to take. Come up later, if you’d like?”

“Mhm.” Though he’s still reluctant, he does as Jaskier asks, retreating back down the stairs with silent steps. Jaskier closes the door behind him and gets a fire roaring in the hearth, grinning like a fool. His whole body tingles, and he traces his lips with trembling fingers. He’s sure he’s going to wake up any minute, no matter how the cold pinches at his toes to tell him he’s really here. In Kaer Morhen, with a witcher who’s spent the better part of this year earning enough coin just to bring him home to his family.

Jaskier putters around unpacking as he told Geralt he was going to, and once the room has warmed sufficiently he sheds his outerwear. The velvet helps trap the heat in surprisingly well, and when he peeks behind them he finds windows. The fur is soft under his feet as he digs through their packs, trying to find something to wear to nap in. Near the bottom of the pack is a white shirt, something Jaskier has never seen Geralt wear, but it’s soft and warm and smells like him. He slips it on without a second thought, swimming in the fabric, and then tucks himself into the bed for a nap.

He’s woken up by the door clicking shut a little while later. There’s only one person he thinks that would come in without knocking, but for now he keeps his eyes shut and snuggles a bit deeper under the covers. He waits until he hears the soft clink of metal to open his eyes, and watches lazily as Geralt methodically strips out of his armor. His back is to the bed, and Jaskier enjoys the view more than he was allowed to before. When Geralt tugs his shirt over his head and glances over his shoulder, Jaskier doesn’t bother pretending to be bashful. His gaze is hungry as it trails over pale skin before meeting Geralt’s eyes, the man quirking a brow. Jaskier merely winks in response, warmth blooming in his chest at the soft chuckle he earns.

“How are your brothers?”

“Nosy.” Jaskier rolls onto his back as his witcher pads over, sitting on the side of the bed and leaning down to kiss him softly. Jaskier reaches a hand up to thread his fingers in Geralt’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and tasting the sigh that brushes against his lips. Geralt shifts, turning himself so he isn’t quite so contorted, and Jaskier moves with him, sitting up and letting the blankets pool in his lap. Geralt uses a hand to steady Jaskier, fingers splaying against his ribs before they bunch in the fabric of Jaskier’s shirt. Jaskier hears Geralt’s breath stutter and catch in his throat, and the kiss moves from soft and sweet to heavy and hot. Geralt laps at his lips, nipping gently until Jaskier opens up. He’s swept away by the way that Geralt is able to use his tongue, and heat pools low in his belly at the implications of it.

Jaskier’s side cramps with the way they’re sitting after a few blissful minutes, and he pushes the blankets back, breaking the kiss for a second to clamber into Geralt’s lap. Geralt scoots himself back a little bit, plants his feet better and grabs at Jaskier’s shirt again, yanking him close. Geralt leans up, trying to kiss him, but Jaskier smiles, taking a fistful of Geralt’s hair and tugging. The soft whine that he gets in response goes right to his groin, and he mouths at the sensitive skin just under Geralt’s jaw. When he nips at the skin, teases at leaving a mark Geralt’s whines again, arching his neck and pressing up into the touch. Jaskier can’t deny Geralt when he asks so nicely, and he kisses his way to a nice spot before digging his teeth in. His grip tightens in Geralt’s hair when Geralt’s hips buck, keeping himself from being displaced. The witcher keens needily underneath him, and Jaskier hums against his skin. Jaskier bites a bit harder before releasing and sucking at the mark, leaning back to admire his work. Witcher’s skin is hard to mark, but he's pretty proud of himself at the mark that he’s made. He leans down to add a couple more, enjoying the sounds that he coaxes out with each sharp point of pressure.

Bruises bloom in a pretty arc of teeth marks, darkest purple in the middle and fading toward a lighter pink at the edges along the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt is panting, hands clenching and unclenching against Jaskier’s sides, and Jaskier brushes his thumb lightly over one of the marks. Geralt’s eyelids flutter at the feeling, and Jaskier shudders at the rush of power it brings him to see Geralt this way.

“What got you so worked up, love? Hmm?” Jaskier keeps constant contact with Geralt in some way, sitting in his lap and rolling his hips lazily as the man comes back to him slowly. He’s sure Geralt is back when he blinks rapidly, hands grabbing onto him and holding him still. Geralt rolls his neck, stretching to kiss Jaskier before answering.

“The shirt.”

“Oh?” Jaskier purrs, rolling his hips down until Geralt tightens his grip again and presses him down firmly. Once Jaskier stops trying to move Geralt’s hands wander, skimming over Jaskier’s thighs and back up, hands sliding under Jaskier's shirt. Geralt's fingers tickle at the soft skin over Jaskier’s ribs before he brushes over one of Jaskier's nipples with the pad of his thumb. The younger man hums at the attention, draping his arms over Geralt’s shoulders and kissing the shell of his ear. “What about the shirt, Geralt?”

“S’mine.” Jaskier hums in encouragement, and Geralt shivers under him. “Makes you smell like me.”

“And you like that, don’t you? That all the others here know I’m yours?” The answering growl and roll of Geralt’s hips is all Jaskier needs, and he kisses just under Geralt’s ear, sucking at the sensitive skin until a faint mark blooms. “Geralt?”

“Mmm?” Geralt noses at Jaskier’s hair, breathing in softly as his hands wander once more, smoothing down Jaskier’s thighs. He isn’t wearing pants, and his smallclothes don’t hide anything and Geralt aches to touch.

“Can I- can I touch?” Geralt grinds his hips up, shuddering when Jaskier gasps so close to his ear, and Geralt does it again just to hear Jaskier make that same sweet sound.

“Only if I can.” Jaskier surges forward to kiss him then, whispering ‘deal’ against his lips as he fumbles to open the fly of Geralt’s pants. Geralt falls back against the bed, taking Jaskier with him and never letting him stray too far.

-*-

When Jaskier wakes up that next morning, he’s sore in ways he hasn’t been in months, and sated in a happy, boneless kind of way. Geralt is already up, no surprise there, and Jaskier groans, sitting up to get dressed. Geralt slips the shirt from last night on over his head, tugging his hair out of the collar and tucking the ends into his pants. It’s a bit rumpled, but Jaskier helps fix it as best he can while dressing himself for the day. He knows not to doubt how cold it is anymore, and dresses warmer than he would normally. Geralt waits patiently by the door, tying his hair back and holding a hand out to Jaskier once he’s got his boots on.

“Why are we up this early again?”

“Chores.”

“Right, right.” Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand and lets himself be guided, yawning and rubbing at his eyes down the stairs. He trusts Geralt enough not to let him fall, and together the two of them pad into the main hall. No one else seems to be around other than Eskel, toiling away in the kitchen, and though he eyes the bruises blooming along Geralt’s throat, he doesn’t comment.

“Vesemir’s waiting for you outside. Jaskier, you’re with me.”

“See you at breakfast.” Geralt presses a kiss into Jaskier’s hair before heading outside, leaving the bard and the other witcher alone. Jaskier wanders over, wringing his hands, and Eskel nods toward the space next to him.

“Roll up your sleeves, we’ve got bread to make.”

“Bread?” Jaskier does as he’s told though, and spends the better part of an hour learning the basics of doughworking from Eskel. Once they’ve got the bread in what Jaskier assumes is a huge version of a stereotypical stone oven Eskel has him wipe up and begin to cut up the vegetables they'll need for the day. Jaskier falls into the rhythm of work easily, moving past Eskel without crashing into him and tossing vegetables into a pot set to simmer over the fire until lunchtime. He even takes the time to tidy the kitchen up a bit until Lambert and Geralt come inside, shoving each other and laughing on their way to get food. Jaskier watches them fondly, snapping a spoon across Lambert’s knuckles when he tries to nose around the stew and shooing him away. Eskel gives him a proud smile and winks, heading off with his brothers to sit down and eat.

Jaskier leans against the counter watching them for a moment, and jumps when he hears footsteps come up next to him. The witcher next to him has to be Vesemir, based on the grey hair and fact that the only other witchers here are all at the table in front of him.

“So, you’re the bard he kept talking about, hmm?”

“And you’re Vesemir, his father?” Vesemir nods, arms crossed across his chest.

“Tomorrow morning, get up a bit earlier. The chickens need tending if we’re going to have enough meat and eggs for the winter.”

“Yes sir.” Jaskier is sincere, looking toward the witcher to find Vesemir looking back. He doesn’t feel trapped like he usually would; instead he finds it’s more like Vesemir is reading him, and hasn’t found anything particularly horrible yet.

“Hey bard! Eat before everything gets cold.”

“Coming!” Jaskier turns to Vesemir to ask if he’s going to eat as well, but the older witcher has disappeared, and Jaskier blinks in confusion before grabbing himself a plate and going to join the others at the table. He settles himself on the bench next to Geralt and digs into his food, enjoying the fluffiness of the eggs and the lovely crust on the bread from yesterday. Jaskier is halfway through his plate when a sly look comes over Lambert’s face.

“So,” he begins, and Jaskier looks up. Lambert uses his fork to gesture toward Geralt, raising a brow. “Was that you?”

“Lambert.” Geralt starts, but Jaskier holds up a hand and Geralt goes blissfully quiet.

“I would take care, Lambert.”

“What, is it crime to wonder who made my brother's neck look like an ekimmara's amateur work?”

“Unless I deign to tell you, I’d prefer if you keep your thoughts to yourself.” Jaskier’s eyes narrow minutely, and Eskel looks between the two of them. They’re two untested forces, and no one is sure who’s going to break first.

“What, can’t handle a few hard questions? If so, I’m surprised you made it up the mountain.” Jaskier stands up, pushing the table up against Lambert, and in spectacular form, punches him directly in the nose. Lambert goes crashing off of the chair and takes the table with him, swearing. Geralt stares, wide eyed at Jaskier with his fork still poised for a bite. Eskel had picked his plate up well before, and he's clutching it in mute shock as Lambert rages on the floor. He sits up, gripping his nose and shoving the table off of himself with the other hand. Eskel looks between his brother, then the bard, then back to his brother, and begins to laugh. Louder and louder until he’s doubled over trying desperately to pull in breaths between laughing at Lambert and telling him he finally got what he deserved.

Jaskier shakes his hand out as Eskel laughs, blood staining his skin red. He stoops down and plucks a napkin from the table, using it to dab at his knuckles with mechanical indifference. There’s a messy crunch as Lambert rights his nose, and Eskel finally stops laughing long enough to help him off the floor. Geralt has abandoned his fork by now and comes to gently take the napkin from him, inspecting the skin carefully. Most of the blood seems to be Lambert's, but Jaskier has split two of his knuckles, and the skin around them is already bruising.

Geralt wipes away the blood best he can and glances up at Jaskier when he flinches. "Okay?"

"Fine." Jaskier's voice is light, almost forcefully so, but he smiles wistfully when Geralt gently kisses the first knuckle, then the second. "You know that isn't sanitary."

"No, ancient magic. Mothers have used it for centuries." This makes Jaskier smile, genuine this time, and he grips Geralt's fingers weakly. Jaskier turns to Lambert, watching as he presses a napkin to his nose to staunch the rest of the bleeding. Geralt is ready to get between them if Lambert decides to be spiteful, but instead he sees something like respect in Lambert's eyes.

"You're alright, bard. You're alright. Never had a human knock me flat."

"Pray you don't see me angrier." Jaskier replies with deadly seriousness. This time it's apprehension that shines in Lambert's eyes, and he gives a curt nod.

While Geralt goes to get something for Jaskier's knuckles the bard helps right the table, picking up cups and plates off the floor. It's a good thing they don't seem fond of fine cutlery, or Jaskier would be picking shards of ceramic off the floor. Instead all he has to do is use another napkin to gather the eggs and bread off the floor and dispose of it. Lambert helps once his nose has stopped bleeding, and waves Jaskier off when Geralt comes back to finish tending to him.

Jaskier follows Geralt a few steps away from the table, hopping to sit on the tabletop. Geralt nudges at his knee and steps easily between Jaskier's legs, taking hold of his hand again to look at it.

"In the hall, Geralt? You could at least wait until they'd left." The joke is weak but Geralt takes pity on him and chuckles, shaking his head.

"I'm sure they know to respect your privacy now." Jaskier hmms at that, hissing when Geralt presses a thumb into the bones of his hand. They shift uncomfortably, but nothing moves out of place and Geralt seems pleased with that. Once he's certain Jaskier hasn't broken anything he smears a sharp, pungent salve over Jaskier's knuckles and uses a bit of cloth to bandage his hand. "Good as new. No lute today."

Jaskier gasps, affronted, and presses his injured hand to his chest. "Whatever shall I do without it? How else am I to write my newest ballad? 'The man who punched the Prick'?"

Geralt wrinkles his nose, and Jaskier nods sagely. "You're right, the name could use some work. Back to the drawing board I suppose."

"Whatever you do, it'll have to be left handed." Jaskier winks, raising a brow, and Geralt snorts. He doesn't say it, but he gives Jaskier a look that says later.

-*-

Jaskier fits himself into their routine without much of a fuss after that; he gets up to tend the livestock with Vesemir long before anyone else, and joins Eskel in the kitchen preparing the day's meals after he's done. After breakfast the boys head for the training grounds while Jaskier makes for the library where he pours over tomes no one has seen in decades and gathers information for his songs. Vesemir joins him when they're finished with training, and Jaskier spends an hour picking his brain before lunch. Despite his gruff exterior, Vesemir seems glad to have someone to talk to who doesn't try to piss him off. Lunch is a short affair, just a quick meal before everyone branches off to finish up final chores and take some time for themselves. Jaskier spends his time after lunch in the woods surrounding the keep, setting out traps for the smaller game and keeping Geralt close for anything bigger. Dinner is the longest affair of the night, where the ale is broken out and Lambert insists on at least three songs. The first time Jaskier had tried to sing Toss A Coin he'd been met by three golden glares, and hasn't touched the song since. That was fine though, because Jaskier had plenty to sing about and more that no one had ever heard yet.

It’s nearing the end of their first month that the keep seems to get busier than ever. The snow has fallen thick and there’s no more going out into the forest, so Jaskier spends most of his days stuck inside. The witchers still train despite the biting cold, and Jaskier insists on helping them clear the training grounds of snow when he has time. None of them will let him stay outside for more than an hour, not when he shakes the way he does even with three or four layers on. The other witchers seem to grow more distant too, as if the end of the month meant something that Jaskier wasn’t privy to.

They’re in bed after retiring early from dinner, Jaskier in one of Geralt’s shirts when Geralt tugs him a bit closer and tucks his nose into Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier hums softly, never glancing up from his book but reaching to take Geralt’s hand in his.

“Hmm?” Neither of them need many words anymore, and Jaskier doesn’t want to break the cozy atmosphere they have by talking. Geralt presses a kiss against his temple, and Jaskier smiles. Geralt doesn’t seem to want to say anything either, he just seems to want to hold Jaskier a bit closer and smell his hair. They sit that way for a little while until Geralt sighs, tugging on his shirt and whining softly. Jaskier turns, kissing Geralt gently before going back to his book, but that doesn’t seem to sate him this time. He whines again, and Jaskier finally closes his book and tucks in on the floor under the bed. “Bed time?”

Geralt nods, and Jaskier slides down further under the covers, bundling Geralt into his arms and closing his eyes. Geralt tucks his head under Jaskier’s chin, nose pressed against his collar bone, and throws an arm over Jaskier’s stomach. The fire in the hearth is still roaring merrily, but the light isn’t enough to bother either of them and Jaskier drifts off to sleep warm and cozy.

A breeze rustles Jaskier’s hair later that night and he shivers, huddling under his covers to try and block out the cold. He’s almost drifted off to sleep again when he realizes there shouldn’t be a breeze at all, and he sits up in bed. Moonlight floods his room, washing out the color of the velvet and casting everything in stark contrast. The bed next to him is empty, the sheets cold, and Jaskier frowns. Where in the devil could Geralt have gone?

The floor is icy when he slips out of bed, and he tosses a few more logs on the dying embers of their fire and hurries to yank on pants. He shoves his feet into his boots without socks and grabs whichever cloak is closest, which happens to be his. He heads out of his room with the singular task of finding where Geralt has gone, wrapping his cloak tight around him and shuffling down the steps. Geralt’s room a floor below his is empty, even more barren than he would have expected, so Jaskier carries on. He’s never been up this late in the night, and the keep is eerily silent without any arguing witchers or the crackle of a fire. He pops his head into the kitchen, thinking Geralt, with his bottomless stomach might have wanted a snack, but again he finds the room empty.

He’s about to head up to the library when he hears wood splintering and cracking outside, and Jaskier is heading for the huge doors of the keep without a second thought. He wouldn’t be cutting wood would he? The barn out back is full up, and besides, why would he do it so late? Jaskier follows where he thinks the sound came from and trudges through a couple of inches of snow to the courtyard. He hears the sound again, and this time he can tell it’s coming from the training yard. He doesn’t bother being quiet, breaths puffing out in front of him as he pulls in sharp, jagged breaths. He didn’t dress to be outside long, if at all, and he hurries to the training grounds so he can get Geralt to come back to bed.

A snarl ripples through the air as Jaskier gets closer, and he stops at the low wall of the walkway to peer over the edge. He looks just in time to see Geralt toss both Eskel and Lambert off of him, the two witchers flying through the air and landing nimbly in the snow. They charge back at him, and Geralt sweeps Lambert’s feet from under him, slamming the palm of his hand against Eskel’s chest. Eskel goes down wheezing, and Jaskier is running before he can think about what the hell is going on. He slips and slides down the path and rounds the corner into the training yard, staring in open mouthed horror as Lambert sends Geralt crashing into the scaffolding on the far side of the yard. Wood groans and cracks under Geralt’s weight, and judging by the damage it isn’t the first time he’s been tossed that way either.

“Melitele's tits, stop.” His voice is shrill in the cold air and he’s beginning to lose feeling in his toes as he stands ankle deep in the snow. “What the hell are you guys doing out here?”

Three pairs of cat eyes lock on him at once and he gets three different kinds of growls. Lambert starts toward him, snarling when Eskel grabs his shoulder and digs his fingers in. Eskel hasn’t looked away from him, but his voice is rough and full of barely concealed rage. “Go inside.”

“What are you guys doing out here? Beating each other in the middle of the night? For what?”

“Jaskier, you don’t have much time. Go. Inside.” Eskel’s voice is strange, strangled and blurry. The witcher glances behind him, toward the sky, and Jaskier glances back too. The moon is huge and yellow and so, so impossibly close this high in the mountains. The sight would be mesmerizing if it weren’t for the snarl and feeling of something warm and very, very riled up emanating behind him. He swallows, heart fluttering in his chest, and turns around slowly to find Geralt inches from him. Jaskier relaxes a bit, smiling, and jumps when Geralt’s hand comes up and grabs his arm tightly.

His fingertips dig in mercilessly and he gasps in pain, turning and placing a hand against Geralt’s chest. “Geralt, let me go.”

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” He grits out, grip loosening only marginally. “Inside.”

“Not without you.” Geralt snarls, shaking his head, and finally releases his grip.

“You don’t want me with you. Not tonight.”

“I do. Geralt, tell me what’s going on. Please.” His voice is pitifully soft in his own ears, and Geralt lets out a sharp breath before jerking his head toward the keep.

“Geralt.” Eskel’s voice is sharp, afraid, and Jaskier isn’t sure why. Lambert is shaking under Eskel’s grip, and Jaskier takes Geralt’s hand, leading him out of the snow and back toward the keep. Well, it looks like he’s leading, but he has a feeling Geralt is really herding him back inside instead. Jaskier grips Geralt’s hand tight, afraid that if he lets go Geralt is going to bolt back outside and he won’t get his answers. He shivers as he makes his way back upstairs, slipping into his room and shutting the door as quickly as he can to keep in the heat from the fire. Geralt stands resolutely by the door, back rigid and fists clenched. Jaskier tosses another log on to keep the fire going strong and unclasps his cloak, tossing it on the table.

“Geralt, what’s going on? I woke up alone and- and I’m not sure what I did or what’s happening to you but-” His voice wobbles, betraying him, and he turns around to see Geralt trembling. Jaskier pads closer, taking one of Geralt’s hands and kissing his knuckles one by one. He can feel the fine tremor that goes up Geralt’s arm at the contact. “Talk to me, please. Don’t lock me out.”

“It’s a witcher thing. We- monsters are strongest during a full moon- but- so are we. Energy has to go- somewhere.”

“So this happens every month? Is that why you always took longer contracts around the full moon?”

“Yes. Don’t wanna- hurt you.” Jaskier huffs, stepping a bit closer. Geralt takes a step back, Jaskier following, and he growls when his back hits the wall. “Jaskier, don’t-”

“You won’t hurt me. Not in any way that can’t be fixed, or any way that I would mind.” Jaskier rises up on his toes, brushing his lips against Geralt’s gingerly. He presses himself bodily against the older man, and Geralt’s hands come up to grab at his sides. Geralt whines, shaking, and Jaskier’s grin is serpentine. “You said the energy has to go somewhere, right? Well, I happen to know a couple of ways to get rid of energy without having to be in the cold.”

Geralt groans then, breathing out sharply and drawing Jaskier tighter against him. Jaskier captures his lips in a firm kiss, slipping a hand up into Geralt’s hair to tangle his fingers in the silver strands. Geralt leans forward, away from the wall, and Jaskier bends with him. “Jask, if I-”

“You won’t.” He whispers, and Geralt can feel his smile as Jaskier kisses him briefly. “And if you do, you’ll be back out in the cold for the night. Deal?”

Geralt nods, heat roiling under his skin and hands grabbing roughly at Jaskier. They’re about as close as they can be, but Geralt presses him closer anyway and catches his lips in a filthy, heated kiss. Jaskier moans into the kiss and laps into Geralt’s mouth, tasting his breath and jolting at what he finds. He isn’t sure whether it’s the moon or Geralt, but his fangs are long and sharp, and the way Eskel’s voice sounded garbled makes more sense now. It doesn’t deter Jaskier in the slightest, and heat licks down his spine at the thought of those teeth leaving pretty marks. Jaskier breaks away to kiss down the length of Geralt’s jaw, nipping gently.

Geralt moans suddenly, fingers digging into Jaskier’s sides as Jaskier kisses his neck, palming him through his pants and using his other hand to pin Geralt’s hips back. His head tips back against the wall, baring his neck, and Jaskier spends some time leaving small marks. Deft fingers tug at the ties of Geralt’s pants, and the older man jolts when Jaskier takes him in hand, tugging him out of his pants. He almost complains that his fingers are cold, but the temperature difference between them does something funny to his stomach, and he isn’t sure he wants Jaskier to stop touching him.

Jaskier huffs hotly against his neck, stroking him slowly and pressing his thumb against the head. He listens to every whine and twitch of Geralt’s hips, adjusting his grip and speed until Geralt is writhing back against the wall, chest rising and falling with labored breaths. One of Geralt’s hands lets go of Jaskier and he cups the bard's cheek, tipping his head up and kissing him desperately. The kiss is messy, but neither of them care, Geralt groaning into Jaskier’s mouth when Jaskier pulls back too soon. Jaskier’s eyes are dark, the pupil swallowing most of his iris, and he turns his head, nipping at Geralt’s thumb and smirking when Geralt twitches in his hand. “Be good.”

Geralt isn’t sure what in the hell he’s doing to be bad, but then Jaskier is sinking to his knees in front of him and all his breath leaves him at once. Jaskier glances up, gauging his reaction, and leans forward to place a wet, openmouthed kiss on the side of Geralt’s cock. He doesn’t stop there, humming and licking a long strip up the underside before taking the head into his mouth. Geralt’s hips twitch forward and Jaskier raises an eyebrow, lapping at the slit in what Geralt supposes is reprimand. He only whimpers in response, mind going blank when Jaskier hums, taking him further into his mouth. He bobs his head achingly slow, enjoying the weight of Geralt’s cock in his mouth and his taste on his tongue. Jaskier can feel his jaw complaining already, but he welcomes the soreness. They’d done a lot in the month that they’d been here, but Jaskier seems particularly fond of being on his knees whenever he can.

Geralt buries his fingers in Jaskier’s hair as he pushes deep but stops short of all the way, eyelids fluttering at the feeling. Jaskier’s mouth is so incredibly wet and warm around him, and he’s unable to help himself this time when his hips twitch forward. Much to his surprise Jaskier moans, hands coming up to grab the sides of his thighs and urge him forward. Geralt is gentle at first, pressing forward until his cock hits the back of Jaskier’s throat and then pulling back. Jaskier doesn’t let him get far, chasing him and swirling his tongue around the head. Geralt growls, fingers tightening in Jaskier’s hair in warning, but Jaskier is persistent, only stopping when Geralt snaps his hips forward roughly. The vibrations from Jaskier’s moans rock through him, and Geralt tips his head back, setting a rougher pace than he’d thought about before.

Jaskier doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, swallowing around him and tilting his head to make the angle easier. Geralt glances down, and the sight of Jaskier’s lips stretched around his cock, drool on his chin as Geralt fucks into his mouth makes his cock twitch hard. Pleasure washes over him in steady waves, pooling in his belly and making his muscles clench as he lets out a shaking breath. His hips stutter, Geralt moaning and tugging on Jaskier’s hair. He mumbles Jaskier’s name in warning, closer than he’d like to admit, and Jaskier moans, fingers pressing into Geralt’s thighs and urging him forward again. Geralt grips Jaskier’s hair tight, and he’s sure Jaskier will tell him to stop, to let go, but Jaskier bobs his head and sucks harder, all too eager to please. He doesn’t bother trying to warn Jaskier again, grinding into his mouth and shuddering as his release hits him, heat searing from his head to his toes. Jaskier takes him as deep as he can, nose pressed to his skin and throat tightening around him as Geralt comes, hips stuttering. His vision whites out as Jaskier pulls back, sucking and lapping at the head until Geralt is overstimulated and has to use his hold in Jaskier’s hair to keep him still.

He can feel his thighs trembling underneath Jaskier’s hands, and he tries to regulate his breathing as best he can as Jaskier pants, leaning into Geralt’s hand and whining softly. Arousal, sweet and heady, overwhelms any other scent in the room, and Geralt guides Jaskier to his feet. He uses his thumb to wipe Jaskier’s chin before leaning in, kissing him thoroughly and tasting himself on Jaskier’s tongue. Jaskier whines into his mouth, shifting, and Geralt stoops a bit, scooping the bard up easily. Jaskier wraps his legs around Geralt’s hips, muscled thighs flexing as his kisses harder, nips at Geralt’s lower lip and only pulls away to yank Geralt’s shirt up and over his head. Jaskier’s cock is hard against his stomach, and he grinds up, craving friction as Geralt carries him to bed. Geralt walks without really looking, and he grunts when his shins hit the bedframe and he tips forward. Jaskier gasps as they sway, and Geralt catches them before he squishes Jaskier on accident. Jaskier’s nails dig into his shoulders as his heart thunders, and Geralt snarls, pressing him back into the bed and grinding down.

“Fuck- Geralt-” Jaskier arches up against him, digging his nails in harder and gasping when Geralt bites at his neck. Geralt’s chest rumbles against his, and Jaskier realizes with a jolt that he’s purring. Jaskier drags his nails down across Geralt’s chest, leaving angry red marks, and Geralt trembles. Jaskier uses his heels to push at Geralt’s pants, sick of clothing being between them, and Geralt moves to help. Geralt is now blissfully naked, but Jaskier is still fully clothed and he fumbles with the fly of his own pants. His hands are batted away so Geralt can make quick work of the ties, and Jaskier groans when some of the pressure on his cock is lessened. He’s hard, painfully so, and he feels like he could come just from Geralt looking at him with those cat eyes of his. When Jaskier moves to take his shirt off Geralt stops him, eyes dark at the sight of Jaskier bare but wearing Geralt's too big shirt.

“The- more I hurt, the rougher I get-” He’s trying to explain best he can when his mind isn’t quite so jumbled, and Jaskier’s scent spikes with what Geralt can only describe as love.

“I won’t break.” Jaskier promises, cupping the back of Geralt’s neck and dragging him down into a kiss. And he won’t- he knows his own limits better than anyone could imagine, and he also knows what he wants. What he wants just so happens to line up with what Geralt needs in the moment. Jaskier slides his fingers up into Geralt’s hair and grabs a tight fistful, pulling and reveling in the snarl and snap of Geralt’s hips, arousal sweeping over him in waves. Geralt sits up, Jaskier losing his grip, and Jaskier tries to go with him, but Geralt pushes him back and leans to grab something from the nightstand. Jaskier knows instantly what it is and his cock throbs. “Wanna fuck me?”

Geralt growls low, nostrils flaring, and Jaskier is the one to crowd into his space this time, thighs bracketing around Geralt’s hips as their cocks slide together. The friction is delicious and Jaskier spends a moment just grinding down until he hears the pop of the stopper. Geralt has hooked his chin over Jaskier’s shoulder to see what he’s doing, and Jaskier shudders when oil-slick fingers dip between his cheeks, drawing tight circles around his rim. He croons at the sensation, grinding his hips forward and gasping when Geralt’s chin digs into his shoulder. Jaskier takes Geralt’s earlobe between his teeth and tugs, gasping into his ear when Geralt presses against his rim with a warm finger. Jaskier goes still, focusing on that one sensation as Geralt slowly pushes in. Jaskier moans, rocking his hips down, and Geralt presses a second finger in quickly after the first.

Jaskier whimpers at the stretch, squeezing around Geralt’s fingers and rocking between his fingers and his groin. Geralt shifts, pressing sharp teeth against Jaskier’s neck and rumbling when Jaskier’s cock twitches between them. Geralt thrusts his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way that Jaskier squirms and begs, whining when Geralt teases a third finger before pulling back and thrusting his fingers in again. Geralt’s skin is flushed, hot with the roaring fire at his back, but Jaskier has left the velvet pulled back and a cold breeze sweeps through the room. Jaskier is so close to coming, moving desperately between grinding down on Geralt and riding his fingers, and he still hasn’t added another finger. Jaskier slides his hands down Geralt’s back, over the many ridges of his scars, and rakes his nails back up fiercely, Geralt howling.

Jaskier is expecting more, aches for it, but he cries out all the same when Geralt shoves a third finger in him and crooks his fingers, rubbing mercilessly against his prostate. Jaskier’s release builds rapidly in his stomach, scorching through him, and he whimpers pitifully when Geralt’s other hand clamps around the base of his cock, squeezing tight.

“Wh- no, nonono Geralt please. Please.” Jaskier begs, writhing in Geralt’s lap as fingers crook inside him again, rubbing hard and making his cock dribble. Geralt doesn't seem to hear him anymore though, and he pulls his fingers out completely, waiting until he knows Jaskier isn’t going to come. Jaskier’s cock is flushed an angry red, and even the breeze coming from the old window makes him whimper. Geralt lifts him from his lap, turning him around and rearranging him the way he likes. Jaskier moves pliantly under his guidance, tucking a pillow under his chin as Geralt slides a hand down his spine and presses Jaskier’s chest into the bed. Jaskier hears the pop of the cork again, and he tries to turn his head to look back at Geralt to watch what he’s doing.

Geralt drapes himself over Jaskier’s back, fitting them together and lazily grinding his cock between Jaskier’s cheeks. Geralt has used plenty of oil, and every time the head catches on his rim Jaskier tries to angle so that Geralt can slide in, but Geralt just hums and adjusts his own angle, denying him a little while longer.

“Told me to be good, but then did that.” Geralt’s voice wavers with the purr that’s taken residence in his chest, and Jaskier whines. “S’like you don’t want to walk tomorrow.”

“I’d consider it a failure on my part if I can.” Jaskier gasps out, sliding a hand back to scratch at Geralt’s thigh. That small movement costs him, and Geralt snarls in his ear, bearing more of his weight down on Jaskier.

“Stop it. You don’t know-” Jaskier does it again, and then again, raking over that same spot until he’s almost certain that if he does anymore Geralt will actually begin to bleed. Geralt trembles against his back, jerking with every scratch, and Jaskier chokes on a breath when Geralt suddenly begins to press in, cock twitching weakly. He goes fast- hardly gives Jaskier time to adjust to the heady feeling of stretching so deliciously around his girth before he’s snapping his hips. One hand braces beside Jaskier’s head and the other grips his hip with almost crushing force, Geralt snarling and panting in Jaskier’s ear. Jaskier moans and whines at each hard press of Geralt’s hips, spreading his legs wider to create a more stable base as Geralt desperately tries to pound him into the bed.

Jaskier can feel his orgasm rushing up on him again, and he reaches back, grabbing a fistful of Geralt’s hair and tugging him down to kiss him desperately. He keens into Geralt’s mouth when Geralt shifts his hips, slamming against his prostate and shoving him over the edge. Jaskier clamps sinfully tight as he comes, pulling at Geralt’s hair and sobbing against his lips as he spills onto the bed sheets. Geralt doesn’t let up though, sitting up and planting Jaskier in his lap. This angle has Jaskier shuddering with each thrust, eyelids fluttering madly as Geralt grinds directly against his prostate. The feeling quickly becomes pleasurable to the point of pain, and Jaskier whimpers. Geralt’s lips curve into a smile against his, and he wraps one hand around Jaskier’s softening cock. Jaskier shies away from the touch, it’s too much, too soon- but there’s nowhere to go, and Geralt continues to roll his hips, grinding against his prostate and forcing Jaskier to fuck up into his hand.

Jaskier rocks between those two torturous sensations, crying out when he’s forced very quickly into a second dry orgasm that has him shaking like a leaf in Geralt’s lap. Geralt drops his hand from Jaskier’s cock finally, petting at his stomach and allowing Jaskier to settle heavily in his lap. He purrs in Jaskier’s ear, tugging the collar of his shirt out of the way and leaving soft, gentle kisses along the column of his neck. Jaskier focuses solely on breathing so he doesn’t pass out, whining whenever he shifts and Geralt’s cock presses deeper into him.

“Okay?” His voice is thick with arousal, but Geralt nuzzles sweetly at his neck and Jaskier can’t help but squeeze around his cock.

“Cruel, torturous witcher.” His voice cracks, wrecked from Geralt fucking his throat, and Geralt chuckles throatily.

“I warned you.” Jaskier hums, knowing he’d brought that particular punishment on himself and finding he can’t stop himself from pulling on the handful of Geralt’s hair he still holds. Geralt growls, pressing sharp fangs against the meat of Jaskier’s shoulder in warning. He mumbles against Jaskier’s skin, warm breath making him shiver. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll be okay. Haven’t even finished yet.” Jaskier pulls again and tightens around Geralt’s cock, calling Geralt’s name when he snaps his hips up roughly. Their skin slaps together obscenely as they settle into a rhythm- Jaskier lifting himself off as far as he can before Geralt drags him back down, thrusting up to bury himself deep. He can’t say he’s ever had someone fill him up quite like Geralt does, and the angle is more heavenly than he’s ever had before. It doesn’t take much more coaxing from Jaskier for Geralt’s hips to stutter, Jaskier giving one last harsh pull on his lover’s hair before Geralt is snarling, shoving up and spilling inside of him. Jaskier cries out when pain lances through his right shoulder, Geralt’s fangs sinking deep into the meat near his neck as he comes, holding Jaskier tight against him. Jaskier’s not sure that pain on this level is supposed to be hot, but he melts bonelessly back against Geralt, shivering as something akin to an orgasm washes through him. The feeling makes his legs tremble and his cock give a valiant twitch, but Jaskier is thoroughly spent and it’s all he can do not to fall asleep in Geralt’s arms right now.

Geralt rolls his hips up, grinding as he works himself through his orgasm before finally going still. Moonlight washes over the both of them, but it’s weaker, and Jaskier knows dawn isn’t too far off now. Jaskier releases his hold on Geralt’s hair, petting the tangled fibers down flat and crooning softly as Geralt comes back to himself. It takes a few minutes, but once he realizes Jaskier’s blood is in his mouth and his teeth are still very much sunk into Jaskier’s flesh he pulls back gingerly. Jaskier hisses at the pain that trickles through his shoulder as Geralt lets go, and twin lines of blood drip down his chest and soak into the black fabric of Geralt’s shirt. Jaskier tries to twist his neck to look back at Geralt, but the movement sends a fresh wave of pain through his shoulder and more blood trickles from the wounds. Jaskier settles down again instead, reaching to take one of Geralt’s hands in his for a moment and peeking out of the corner of his eye.

There’s blood on Geralt’s lips still, and some smeared along his chin, but the sight doesn’t bother Jaskier as much as it should. Geralt on the other hand, looks stricken, eyes wide and scared. He can smell the harsh copper of Jaskier’s blood, can taste it on his tongue, and shame sweeps through him when his cock twitches inside of Jaskier against his will. “I’m- I-”

Jaskier shifts in his lap, lifting up until Geralt slips out of him and he can turn to sit face to face in Geralt’s lap again. Despite Geralt’s growing horror at what he’s done, Jaskier’s eyes are bright and full of love, and he tips forward, kissing at Geralt’s neck before sinking his teeth deep in one smooth movement. Jaskier’s teeth aren’t nearly as sharp as Geralt’s and he hears Geralt’s skin crunch horribly before giving way. Despite the waning moon Geralt lets out a noise somewhere between a growl, a snarl and a hiss, grabbing at Jaskier’s thighs and wrenching their hips together. His shoulders twitch madly as fire lights along his nerves all over again. It’s hard to stay coherent with pain surging through his neck, but the moon’s influence is weaker and Geralt masters himself with a couple of deep breaths. Jaskier’s mouth and chin are bloody to match when he pulls back, and Geralt watches in helpless fascination as Jaskier licks his blood off his lips.

“There,” Jaskier says, sitting back a bit and smiling. “Now we match.”

“Jaskier, I could’ve-”

“Hurt me? As I said before love, you didn’t do anything that won’t heal, or that I didn’t want.” Jaskier’s gaze is soft and patient, and he presses his forehead to Geralt’s, just breathing for a minute. Geralt matches his ragged breaths with Jaskier’s slow and even ones, and soon his heart settles back into it’s slow, heavy patter.

“You- wanted that?”

“Every bit of it.” Geralt stares, waiting for Jaskier to break down and admit how scared he was- is- but Jaskier does no such thing. He only presses a soft, coppery kiss to Geralt’s lips and slides from his lap. “But, I wouldn’t mind if you felt inclined to sneak us a bath.”

Jaskier stays behind in the room while Geralt tugs on pants, feeling filthy but knowing he can’t wander the keep naked in this cold. Geralt has a tub in his room, and he brings that up the stairs before venturing down to hope that there’s enough hot water left in the kitchen to get the both of them sufficiently clean. His neck throbs with every step that he takes, but his wounds have already clotted and by tomorrow they’ll be halfway healed. Jaskier won’t have the same luck, even with the salve they have, but they’ll have to take it one step at a time. He’s in the kitchen, dumping more water into the pot and using Igni to hurry the warming process along when Lambert and Eskel come in, arms crossed.

Geralt ignores them, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms as well. Neither of them say anything as they go about grabbing a late night snack, but as always, Lambert is the first to crack.

“So,” He starts, and Eskel groans. “What happened to the whole not hurting him thing?”

Geralt shrugs, uncomfortable with the reminder, but Eskel comes to his rescue. “Please, look at his back and neck. I think Geralt had more to worry about than Jaskier did.”

That makes Geralt chuckle, and Lambert takes another good look at him before whistling low. “Damn, the White Wolf looks awful red.”

“Fuck off.” Geralt says, but there’s no malice in it and he has to keep himself from smiling. Eskel doesn’t let Lambert say anything else before dragging him away, and Geralt lugs the hot water up to the room. Jaskier is sitting at the table, staring at the bloody wound on his shoulder through the small mirror he’d brought with them. Geralt’s stomach flops as he nudges the door shut, and he pours the hot water into the tub to cool down some before they climb in. Jaskier has finally shed Geralt’s shirt, and he smiles when Geralt comes over to gently touch the skin near the wound. Jaskier shivers lightly at the touch, snagging Geralt’s hand and pressing a warm kiss to his palm.

“Right as rain, love. Want to help me with the sheets?” Geralt grunts, but doesn’t actually let Jaskier help in stripping down and changing sheets. The only thing he lets Jaskier do is get himself in the tub, sinking low into the water and sighing happily. He keeps his shoulders above the water, and when Geralt strips to join him Jaskier winces. “Sorry love.”

“Hmm?” Jaskier gestures for him to come close, and he traces soft fingertips over the marks on Geralt’s thigh. The blood vessels beneath his skin have burst, leaving dots of red-purple in nail shaped trails down the side of his thigh. Geralt bends down to kiss the top of Jaskier’s head, slipping into the bathtub behind him and resolutely ignoring the way the heat prickles uncomfortably at his thigh. “Right as rain.”

Jaskier laughs at the mimicry, leaning back against Geralt’s chest and closing his eyes. “So, this happens every month?”

“Making plans?”

“Well, I’d hate to get us banned from every inn we stay in.” Geralt laughs softly, tucking his cheek against Jaskier’s and gently kissing at his shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #major sluttiness #nsft #winter prompts

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pathofcomet · 4 years ago

Text

my honey, my daisy, my only

fandom: ikemen vampire

pairing: isaac/MC

summary: “Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.Written for Isaac week, day 4. Prompt: AU. Hanahaki AU. (AO3)

“Do not fall in love with anyone here,” Sebastian threatens, wiping a glass and carefully placing it to the side, to be moved to the cupboards a little bit down the hall.

She places her trembling hands in her lap: scared and her heart still throbbing in her chest. This place and this time suddenly don’t really feel like a dream anymore, the fear too real. Love is a concept that doesn’t fit in this image that she’s building of the inhabitants of Saint-Germain’s mansion, so his warning is hollow, empty.

“Why?” she still asks, dumbly.

Sebastian stops – and then slowly, he undoes his necktie and the first two buttons at the top of his shirt. With the downwards pull, she can see the small scar sitting at the base of his throat, nothing but a faint line, whiter than the rest of his skin. His finger is just delicately following the path of where there has once been a cut.

“You know what this is, right?”

She nods. It’s not proper to ask more about it, because what’s there left to be said, when you have given up all memories of a loved one for the chance to keep on living? When the flowers start growing in your chest alongside your love, there are only two choices, really: you’re either having your feelings reciprocated, or have them disappear forever, alongside your memories of the person you fell for. Sebastian chuckles, a dry little thing.

“This does not exist here yet.”

And now the warning sinks in, with its whole finality and strength. If you love, and you are not loved back – here the only choice left is to eventually choke on all those feelings. She can feel her throat constricting in painful memory, the ghost of something she will never be able to recall. She nods again, and Sebastian, pleased that he got to her, resumes his work.

***

Love is pain. Love on its own is pure death – it goes as simple as that. But love kills slowly and beautifully, for it is not entirely unkind.

For vampires, the suffering is doubled. Because while sex is the food, love is the appetite.

And Isaac is stuck in the middle, thirst clawing at him, knowing the pain long before the love arrives.

***

Is there a reason for what humans do? Isaac doesn’t feel like he became a vampire a long time ago, but the separation still comes to him naturally. Even more so ever since she joined this place and turned his world upside down.

Isaac opens his door to her small figure in the frame and no matter how much he scrambles for a reason why she’s here, he can find none. By all laws of logic, she should be afraid and hateful. Instead, she smiles and doesn’t pour all the contents of the tray in his lap, which is more than he’d expected.

And Isaac finds himself smile back. Mistake no. 1.

***

Saint-Germain drinks his coffee, watching the exchange between Isaac and his newest visitor, and he calculates inside his mind several possibilities and probabilities. In time travel, just as in love, there are no real certainties, not even for the best out there. But there are more or less twenty days left for their young visitors – certainly not enough to develop any severe forms of the sickness, even if she is to catch it.

Saint-Germain thinks her better than that. But twenty days are more than enough to have her fall in love with a city instead. Cities don’t break hearts. So he clears his throat, passing his cup over to Sebastian, and creates an excuse.

Mistake no. 2 – Isaac didn’t do anything directly about this one, but he still considers himself guilty for it.

***

“Smiling suits you,” Isaac says, and her cheeks bloom red, like flowers.

He is smiling as well, and the two of them are on the side of the road, looking at each other, suddenly transfixed. When not frowning, when not teased, when at ease – Isaac looks like a man entirely enjoying the spring of his life. Full of playfulness and boyish charm.

It is gone in a moment, but she trusts her eyes more than the slip of her mind.

She doubts she’ll make Isaac admit to such a thing, especially when he still seems to have problems keeping his blush at bay even when they brush shoulders accidentally, on the more crowded streets, but… she thinks this might be a date. Or at least that’s how dates in movies look like, since she cannot remember her own ones.

But they walk and talk. He takes her to his favourite café, and she has the best baguette of her life. The coffee sticks to her throat.

***

She reaches out, too much and too willingly. Trusting too much, fearing too little – it drives Isaac a bit crazy. He doesn’t have the bloom to go by. He never experienced love in his past life, focused on his studies as he’s been, and vampires can judge only by their thirsts. But it feels like way more than anyone has tried to do for him in a while, ever since Napoleon, and suddenly Isaac isn’t sure if he wants to call her a friend.

Or something more.

Mistake no. 3. He spends two hours on the kitchen floor, Sebastian stepping gracefully around him, drinking bottle of rouge after bottle of rouge, his lips turning redder and redder, the clawing feeling at his throat not quite disappearing.

***

“Luv,” Arthur says, and she flutters her eyes open, slowly, to him pushing her hair behind her ear.

She went unfocused there for a bit.

“That expression doesn’t suit you,” he continues, sighing.

She tries to scold her features better and focus on the game of chess in-between the two of them in the library. Leonardo is napping on the floor in the corner, a blanket she brought from upstairs over his shoulders. It’s been harder to control the pain, flaring up at random times – and she’s sure it still shows on her face, no matter how much she wants to actually hide it. It’s nothing much but discomfort, thrumming from deep inside her chest, but only for now.

It’s a bit annoying that Arthur somehow already picked it up. She frowns at him, pushing her piece across the table. From his own expression, she can tell it was a bold but completely stupid move. It’s fine; she hasn’t played chess in a long time and she didn’t expect to win in the first place anyway.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

“You know him better,” she closes her eyes again, turning her neck a bit – Arthur gets a bit distracted staring at the expanse of skin there. “What should I do?”

Arthur grins, his fangs sharp.

“I think you’ve been doing just fine.” He points a finger towards the clock on the wall, already several minutes past the time for Isaac’s meals.

She gets up, technically allowing him the win, leaving the room. Leonardo opens his eyes to peer up at the writer, and although they say nothing out loud, there’s some knowledge passing between the two of them regardless.

***

“Why did you stay until so late, then?” Sebastian asks, grateful that no matter how badly Isaac might need blood, he’s not just grabbing at his shirt and sinking his fangs in his skin, instead ripping from his hands a glass vial.

She’s away now, so his hunger is already slowly fading, as Isaac is trying to do calculus in his head, and more definitely not think about the time spent together, which just keeps adding up.

In the entrance hallway, she’s coughing, delicately trying to cover it up with her handkerchief. When Saint-Germain shows up, she gathers the two small flower buds that she coughed out in her handkerchief, and hides it in her pocket, smiling up at him instead.

The notion of having him as a dance partner staves off the pain, at least for a while, just a bit.

***

She gives and gives. Mistake no. 4: Isaac accepts. He doesn’t know how to say no, even when it hurts. He doesn’t know how to translate her own suffering, when he’s so happy to just have her near.

Isaac’s used with the thirst, nothing else he hasn’t experienced before. The trouble with love is that it feels fresh each and every time.

So while he thinks he has things under control, she most definitely doesn’t. When one chooses to pluck out the flowers growing in their chest, the memories disappear. The one who picks this path, will keep on making the same mistake, not recognizing the patterns, unable to grow with no roots grounding them in place.

So she falls, fast. When Isaac saves her, an upside down mirror of her first night here – not fear thrumming at her wrists this time around, but just the pleasure of having him near, she stumbles, and swears, and the words come out muffled.

She covers her mouth, looking up at Isaac like a deer caught by its hunter. He wants nothing else but – mistake no. 5. Isaac doesn’t stop: then and there, when the doubt starts coiling inside his stomach.

Instead, he offers himself as her company and gentlemanly ignores her when she asks for five minutes to freshen up. In the corner of the room in which she ducked to hide, Vincent pats her back, as petal after petal falls out from between her lips, until she’s left shivering.

And beautiful. Love is pain. Pain is beauty.

Maybe that’s why Isaac cannot look away, cannot keep away: because her cheeks blush with the prettiest of red each time he gets to close. He realizes he maybe pushed too hard simply because, in the fountain where before was only clear water, once he gets up – she’s surrounded by cherry blossoms.

The petals swim all around her, a child leans over to pick a few in her hands. An older lady tuts disappointingly at the two of them. Isaac reaches out a hand, fearful.

But what is he fearing? Why is he so afraid? If this is true –

No.

Mistake no. 6. Isaac cannot believe the obvious signs, because he doesn’t think he’s worthy of them. Men kill more hearts just by not trusting their own.

***

She shivers in the bathtub, the water getting colder, overflowing with flowers and petals. She’ll have to deal with that later – now she is busy counting up to 10, over and over again, trying to calm the thrumming of her heart, the desperate up and down of her chest: her hand pressed over the scar there.

She wonders: how long into these symptoms she got the removal done? How much did she think she could handle, before it all became too much?

Isaac, pushing at Napoleon’s shoulder, bites at his neck, fangs so painful that it makes the other man hiss. The soldier grabs at Isaac’s hair, enough to make eye contact.

“Slowly,” he urges, and Isaac’s grip on him relaxes, though his gulps still ring too loud in his head.

It brings him no pleasure, but his friend calms: with the warmth of another person, the fresh blood, hunger easier to be sated. The tug turns into pets, and Isaac places a kiss where he pierced the skin, lapping at the blood spilling out.

Napoleon sighs. “You’re wet. Let’s change, shall we?”

***

“This room is getting stifling, Toshiko-san,” Dazai says, coming around to check on Isaac.

They’re vampires, they’re supposed to heal and recover fast. Dazai just wants the bragging rights, that he cares the most out of their friends group. And also, maybe, Dazai wants to check the one rumour he has heard, which proves itself quite true.

Isaac is still asleep. Around him, overflowing from his desk and shelves and windowsill: flowers upon flowers, fully bloomed. Dazai sighs. The smell is almost sickeningly sweet – and she looks quite pale.

“I figured I’d be bothering him more if I were to take them out each and every time…”

Each and every time she bends her body over and coughs out flowers in exchange for his love, is the sentence that she doesn’t finish. She is also quite right. And despite it all, she is still here, right next to him.

What a little fool, their Toshiko-san.

***

They dance together, in front of several pairs of eyes, carefully noting each and every small detail, change in them. Like how Isaac’s pupils get the slightest bit more dilated, his fangs sharper, grazing his lips even with his mouth closed. Like how she can’t quite keep her back straight, how she doesn’t really speak.

Sometimes what remains unsaid means more. It is unbearable to hold each other like this, would have been even more unbearable if they didn’t.

Isaac disappears as fast as he appeared, and she’s left on the spot, hands clawing at her throat. She hunches over, clasps her palms to her mouth as she’s trying her damn hardest to stop breathing, to stop feeling. To calm the wave of emotions threatening to spill over, past her lips and in her lap, like a sky decorated with cherry blossoms.

“I believe it is a bit late for that,” Saint-Germain says.

And then they’re out.

***

In the afternoon glow, filtering through the stained glass, she looks beautiful. And Isaac is filled with need: not for her blood, to be fed – but for her love, as a man. His touch against her cheek is tentative and tender and that of someone begging to be held and pushed away at the same time.

Isaac isn’t sure yet which scenario he’s wishing hardest for.

She meets his eyes, and something in him goes even softer. It melts away everything in her.

“W-what is-? Why are you crying…?”

And despite not being hurt, she keeps crying. The tears are just that, in the beginning, and Isaac’s thumb passes over her skin, catching each and every one. She finds she cannot stop, once the dam has been broken: the happiness is suddenly too much. Here he is: just him and her, and he is touching her, and he is caring for her.

Much more than she thought she deserved, much more than she thought she’d get. Way too little compared to how much she still wants. So the tears keep spilling, never stopping. Then they’re not just tears anymore, a petal falling as well each and every time.

Isaac’s hold gets just a bit gentler, and that’s how she knows something is not quite right, before the petals start falling in her lap. Against her cheek, he clenches and unclenches his hands. Slowly, awkwardly, searching her face all along, he reaches out… and pulls her into an embrace.

She sniffles in the material of his shirt, his arms closing around her. The petals are cascading now more rapidly, down his back, and her hands claw at him.

“It’s going to be all right… Please, don’t cry.”

Of course, he can say that because he’s not the one spilling his feelings from his guts, betrayed by his body to show his feelings. He can say that because he is not dying from loving. She trembles in his arms, knowing she doesn’t deserve the comforting, knowing he doesn’t want her.

“… I’m sorry,” she whispers, and her hold on him tightens, and her tears fall even more furiously, accompanied by her pained wailing.

Isaac holds her, gentle as ever, his palms soothingly rubbing down her back. If he were to count the bones he can feel through the thin material of her dress, the numbers would be higher than in a normal human body.

Love taking roots, love taking over.

If she were to see his expression, she would find it pained, his face buried at the crook of her neck. But even when they untangle, Isaac covers his face with his palm, the downward tug at his lips, making his fangs visible, hidden from her.

Mistake no. 7: Isaac cannot tell the truth. Even worse, Isaac hides the truth, even when he knows hers is so painfully obvious, even when that so obviously pains her.

“Do you intend to return home?”

***

“Don’t go back…” Isaac says, laid on his back, her just a bit further to the left.

And while she’s staring at the open night sky in front of her, he can’t stop looking at her.

She shifts, coming up, suddenly coughing up the now familiar flower petals. They’re falling in-between her fingers, overflowing her hold. Isaac’s heart squeezes in his chest at the sight.

“Does it bother you?” she asks, in-between gasps of breath.

He looks at her, taken aback.

“This,” she shakes her hands in the air, the pink flowers falling all around her. “Knowing it’s you.”

Isaac chokes on his next words, and changes the topic. He can hear her, trying to keep in a new wave of coughing. He has accidentally heard her complain to Sebastian about the chest pain, how her muscles are aching with how much she’s been heaving, how her insides don’t feel quite alright anymore.

Her body, so small and frail, holding the weight of her entire, spilling love.

***

Isaac doesn’t like the way he gets when he’s hungry – it’s been worse these days, what with the desperate need of her as well. Sometimes, something alike a fog washes over him.

When he comes back to himself, he’s in a bed made of blood and flowers: scene of an almost-crime. She’s still breathing, and that’s all that really matters, but his head is foggy and there’s nothing to do but wait and pray, and pray and wait – and hate himself for all of it.

Isaac has only words to rely on in this scenario, for his feelings. And words tend to fail him already, so much and so often. And he tends to fail words as well, so obliviously.

If he can hurt her even like this, why does she love him?

If he can hurt her even like this, how is he supposed to hold on to this last piece of his humanity while actually accepting that he loves her?

Mistake no. 8. Isaac pushes her away.

***

“Sebastian,” she whines, because it’s the fourth time he’s brought up to her rooms only a bowl of the blandest soup.

He pushes at her shoulder, gluing her back to the pillow again – as it should be. She’s paler now, weaker, and in the air all around her room, the sweetest of fragrance, the spring back in his home country. Bouquets of flowers sprang from place to place since his last visit, and… he is fearful she might not make it for the door.

“Sick patients don’t get to complain about the schedule of an overworked butler.”

She pouts, even as she picks up the spoon. It hangs in-between her fingers.

“Sebastian?”

A beat.

“Yes?”

“Just… why?”

He sighs. “I don’t think anyone knows, or remembers for that matter. I just think it’s just the heart thinking it doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”

“So you get a person or you get the flowers? They’re pretty, but they’re cruel.”

Sebastian eyes her cracked lips, the petals of her flowers – living and still image of each other.

“So is love.”

A beat.

“Did anyone tell you that you make a terrible emotional support?”

He grins at her, this time flicking her forehead.

“Might have heard it several times before.”

***

“What do you think you’re doing, Newt?” Arthur asks, shoving his friend’s body against the wall, a bit too harshly, holding onto the collar of his shirt.

Isaac covers his hand in his, pushing. Arthur doesn’t let go, just lets out something that is between a growl and a sigh. Isaac, more or less, does the same.

“She’s bad,” Arthur says.

Isaac remains unfazed. “I know.”

“Worse, after all that blood loss.”

And only that – the guilt, makes Isaac actually realize that bad is not just the dull lull in her chest, but something more definite. Arthur would have never gone out of his way like this if that wasn’t the case. Only when the panic settles in, accompanied by a wave of anxiety so forceful Isaac almost feels like throwing up, does Arthur finally let go.

“You can lose her in two ways,” he says. “Pick the one you can live eternity with.”

***

She can’t really speak anymore – words too harsh on her throat, where buds are slowly crawling their way up. Someone comes by to prepare her a new cup of tea regularly, because it’s supposed to soothe the pain. She’s not sure it’s effective at all, but she also cannot complain much anymore, anyway.

Her coughing fits now can keep going for even half an hour at a time, and she cringes with each intake of air, because her muscles are aching so desperately for some kind of relief. She has nothing to give.

Theo comes and reads poetry to her, though she notices him skipping the love poems. Arthur plays chess with her again, though he’s not chiding her for taking too long this time around. Napoleon sits by her side, as they eat crepes together.

She misses a party, stuck in this waiting game, to see what comes first: her demise or her return. Isaac doesn’t – and in the span of a night, he makes a new friend in an old one and loses him too.

He doesn’t want to lose another person. Ever – if possible, or at least not in that way.

His hand trembles around the handle of the door, trying to gather his courage. The familiar scratching at his throat returns, stronger and stronger the longer he hovers.

He enters without knocking, and she looks up from a book she’s trying to read, startled. She immediately starts coughing at the sight of him; this time around, the petals fall freely all around her. Isaac shakes and trembles in the doorway.

“G-gods!” he says, and in two big steps, he’s closer to her bed. “You’re… this is… bad.”

She manages a weak smile at him.

“I know.”

His voice trembles. “How can you be so c-calm about this?”

She shrugs, though it’s just a tiny movement, barely there, so that she doesn’t trigger another coughing fit. She’s had so long to imagine herself at this point – just because it came faster than she expected, doesn’t mean she didn’t expect it at all.

He keeps his distance. Any closer and she’ll just explode in a bouquet of flowers.

“Y-you’ll soon get back and you can get help and-” Isaac is a blabbering mess and a stuttering fool, only for her.

“I won’t.”

“What?”

“Even if I return, I won’t.” She raises a hand to her chest, pressing it to a scar, that Isaac can notice from where her nightgown has slipped down her shoulder. “It would mean forgetting you.”

She raises her gaze, meets his. She’s begging, one last time. She’s telling him, in words this time. And Isaac stands there, stunned into silence, because if she is to have the same fate either way, what is he protecting her from in the first place?

“I love you,” he says, and for a long moment, there’s only silence stretching between them,

Then, he blushes, fidgeting on the spot, the words obviously out without having thought them. She struggles with her bedsheets, but is still fast enough, despite her weak body, to have gotten up on her own feet by the time Isaac is at her side, arms around her waist, to help her.

She licks her lips – chapped and pale things that they are, and looks up at him, exhausted and obviously pushing herself.

“Say it again. Say it and mean it,” her hands, fisted around the material of his shirt, eyes falling down with the request, too much and too late.

“I l-love you. I don’t…. Please don’t just disappear like that.”

His hold tightens around her body and she sighs.

“I love you too,” and she gets up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against him, nothing but a chase gesture.

Isaac closes his eyes, pulling her closer, opening his mouth, his tongue coaxing hers to follow suit. Which she does, so willingly and openly, and something in Isaac’s chest tightens, just the love he has for her. And something in her chest opens up, releasing, just the love she has for him.

When they part, all around them, branches of cherry blossoms surround them. It’s like her chest has been cut open, and everything fell over – and she is smiling, beautifully and honestly for the first time in weeks.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Isaac buries his face at her neck, exhausted with the honesty, relieved at her health, so in love that it hurts – and maybe he understands her better than he wanted to admit, maybe he understood her all along.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp isaac #isaac week #isaac x reader #isaac x mc #isaac/reader #isaac/mc #ikevamp isaac newton #ikevamp fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic #ikemen vampire isaac

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

Markers are not for skin

Fandom: Stray Kids

Little: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Chan

No one’s POV.:

Finishing his morning coffee, Chan put the cup in the sink and made his way to Hyunjin’s room. It was weekend and the dancer had announced the previous night, that he’d use his free time to slip and destress. As his caregiver, the leader would be staying back at the dorms to keep an eye on the little, no matter how often the younger assured he could take care of himself and that the oldest shouldn’t stay back because of him. The rest of the group had gone out because the weather forecast had promised a sunny day, warmer than they had had in a while. That left Chan and Hyunjin as the only two members at the dorm. The leader was actually surprised his dongsaeng hadn’t woken up already due to the ruckus caused by their friends getting ready. He decided to wake the dancer up, so he’d have enough time to be little and play. Sneaking into the younger’s room, he found the little snuggled up under his blanket with his teddy bear in his arms. Apparently, he had gone to bed this way to wake up little the next morning. “Good morning, cutie. Time to get up”, Chan hummed and sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling the blanket down a bit and stroking the other’s slim back. Hyunjin stretched with a disapproving whine and shoved his head under his pillow. The older just picked up the pillow and laughed: “Baby, I thought you wanted to play with daddy today but I guess I was wrong and you’d rather stay here alone.” – “Nuh, daddy!”, the dancer called out suddenly wide awake. He sat up and crawled into Chan’s lap. The leader hugged him and smoothed down the messy long hair, smiling: “Well hello there, little one.”

They remained in an embrace for a few minutes and Hyunjin was starting to go back to sleep. “No no baby, no more sleeping. It’s time for breakfast. The others are all gone, so it’s just daddy and Jinnie time today”, the caregiver announced, nudging the dancer to keep him from falling asleep. The younger pouted up at him cutely, asking: “Uppie?” Sighing Chan picked him up and carried him to the kitchen. He set the little down on the counter and gave him a stern look, reminding him not to move and fall off. Then the leader filled a sippy with juice, letting the little drink a bit while he went to wash and cut some fruit. Arranging the bits of chopped fruit to a cute face, he took the plate to the table before returning to collect Hyunjin. The dancer had finished about half of his juice and quickly wrapped his arms around his caregiver’s neck when he appeared in front of him. Chan picked him up and sat down at the table with his dongsaeng on his lap. “CUTE!”, the little squealed as he admired the food. Chuckling, the oldest picked up an apple slice, which had served as an eyebrow, and tapped it against the other’s lips. “Say ah, baby!”, he grinned. Chewing, Hyunjin clapped his hands happily and beamed when the caregiver continued to feed him.

Chan had already had breakfast earlier, so when Hyunjin finished they were ready to start their day. Cleaning the plate, the leader asked: “What do you want to do today, Jinnie?” – “Hmm, can we colow?”, the dancer suggested, chewing on the hem of his shirt. The older nodded and took his hand as they walked back to the little’s room: “Of course, we can color but we should probably brush your hair first and maybe also get you a paci. Look your shirt is already damp from you chewing on it.” Hyunjin looked at his shirt guiltily before letting out a loud whine: “Off!” Rolling his eyes, Chan complied and replaced the dancer’s shirt with one of his largest, before reaching into the bedside drawer and pulling out a light purple pacifier. “Here, cutie. Now let daddy brush your hair and we’re all done”, the leader cooed as he slipped the comfort item between the little’s lips. Hopefully it would keep him quiet because Hyunjin tended to make a fuss when getting his hair brushed in little space. It worked out well and the leader finished off by pinning the front strands back with some colorful hairclips. He then sat down on the floor with his dongsaeng, laying out his coloring books and helping him decide what he wanted to color first. The little had soon picked out a picture of a bear sitting underneath the stars. “Daddy, colow with Jinnie!”, the dancer requested. “Well, what do you want daddy to color?” – “Make the staws, hmm…, yewwow!”, the little giggled, clapping his hands. Chan chuckled, a fond smile spreading on his face as he picked up the yellow crayon and started to fill in the stars.

They had been coloring together for a while when Hyunjin pushed his caregiver out of the room, claiming he wanted to color something for him but Chan wasn’t allowed to look until it was done. To pass the time, the leader set up his laptop in the living room and played around with some new beats. When it had almost been an hour and there was still no sign of the little, the oldest decided to go and check on him. When the door swung open, Hyunjin froze like a deer in the headlights. The marker in his hand cluttered to the ground. ‘Since when did he own markers?’ Chan wondered, not sure when the little had gotten his hands on something other than crayons and colored pencils. They were staring at each other for a few seconds, Hyunjin shocked that someone had walked in on him, Chan shocked because the dancer’s face and arms were covered in colorful doodles. “Look daddy, Jinnie colow fow chu!”, the little exclaimed happily, holding up a picture of a treehouse and birds. The leader facepalmed before putting on a happy face and thanking his dongsaeng for his beautiful artwork. After recapping the open marker, he scooped the little up in his arms frowning: “Jinnie, it seems like you didn’t only color the tree but yourself too.” – “Mhm, Jinnie pwetty!”, the younger giggled. ‘Oh dear, how are we going to get that off?’ the oldest wondered, taking the dancer to the bathroom. He shot a quick text to Felix before starting a bath for Hyunjin. The little giggled as he watched the water rise and was excited his daddy remembered to add a lot of bubbles. Chan then helped him into the tub, handing him a bright yellow rubber duck, and grabbed a washcloth. The leader had been scrubbing the other’s arms for a few minutes already but the lines weren’t really coming off, while the skin grew progressively red. “Nooo daddy, ouchieee!”, the dancer whined, pulling his hand away. He had tried to be a big boy and let his daddy clean him up but it was really starting to hurt. The oldest rana hand through his locks, getting frustrated: “Baby, how are we going to get this off? Markers aren’t for skin.” He hadn’t even started on cleaning Hyunjin’s face yet.

Chan quickly dried off his hands when his phone started to ring. He answered the call and was greeted by Felix low voice: “Ah hyung, I just remembered something. Did you get the marker off yet?” – “No Lix, I didn’t” – the younger laughed, annoying Chan a bit before he answered: “I figured you wouldn’t. Don’t worry, I have some very good make-up remover in my closet that can also remove marker. I may or may not have had to deal with a few pranks and that was the only thing that really helped. You may wanna try it.” – “Mate, you’re a lifesaver, Jinnie’s already upset with me because I’ve been scrubbing his arms so roughly.” – “No problem, see you later, hyung.” And with that the call ended. Hyunjin was so occupied with his bath toy that he didn’t even realize the leader leaving him for a second to retrieve the bottle of make-up remover Felix had talked about. “Alright cutie, let’s give this another try”, the older hummed, approaching the dancer with a soaked cotton pad. The little just scooted away, shaking his head: “No huwt me again, daddy.” – “Oh sweetie, daddy is sorry. It’s not going to hurt this time, I promise”, the leader cooed. Although hesitant, Hyunjin lifted his arm and allowed Chan to gently brush the cotton pad over it. Felix had been right, the lines were fading and after cleaning both the little’s arms, the caregiver also wiped his face clean with gentle strokes, earning a giggle when he booped the tiny nose.

Not long after Hyunjin had gotten out of his bath and changed into a fresh set of clothes, Jisung and Felix came back home from their trip around town. “Here hyung, we got what you asked for”, Felix smiled, handing the leader a small plastic bag before going to ruffle the little’s wet hair, “I see you’re all clean again, little one.” Chan picked the little up and carried him to his room. “Since you wanted so badly to draw on your face, I asked the two to pick us up some face paint”, the leader explained, dumping the contents of the plastic bag onto the carpet they were sitting on. The dancer face lit up as he pouted at his caregiver with hopeful eyes. “Daddy make Jinnie pwetty? Pleasie?” – “Daddy will make Jinnie really pretty. What do you want me to draw baby?” – “Buttewfly!”, the little squealed, tucking his hair behind his ears. Chan grabbed a headband and put it on the younger before picking up a thin brush and some pink face paint. He started applying the paint with light brush strokes, admiring the sparkle in the younger’s eyes. Hyunjin reached up to touch his face before he remembered not to smear the paint, so he just giggled: “Tickles.” – “There, you look really pretty, Jinnie. But, you know what, you already did that before.”

#skz #stray kids #agere #age regression #fluff #cute #little #little space #headspace #bang chan #hwang hyunjin

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j-casper · 4 years ago

Text

Emily Prentiss x Alex Blake x Jennifer Jareau

alternate au: emily comes from Interpol to help the BAU with another case, and, along the way, the team learn something new about Emily and Emily learns something new about two of the members

note: for this, we shall pretend that JJ and Will + Alex and James were never a couple

many thanks to @criminalrainyxx for the help :D

| | |

“Statistically, only seven out of every 100 students get into Yale. That’s roughly less than 6.5% of applicants every year.” Spencer’s voice droned on, excitedly informing the team about Ivy League schools due to the victims all having attended one.

“I attended Yale,” Emily mentioned offhandly to them as she read the file carefully, not even realizing what she said until silence overtook the room and she froze, looking up to see everyone staring at her, different expressions of shock on their faces.

Morgan blinked, “you attended Yale?”

“For what degree?” Spencer blurted out, wide eyed.

Emily faltered, eyes shifting from each of her team members before finally sighing as she realized that there was no taking back what she said and they wouldn’t drop it anytime soon.

She cleared her throat, smiling nervously, “I went there for my doctorate in Criminal Psychology.”

“Prentiss, you have a doctorate?” Rossi’s eyebrow raised, impressed and Emily nodded shyly, ducking her head to avoid their gazes.

“Yeah, it was after I got my bachelor’s and master’s in Criminal Justice at Chesapeake Bay University.”

“Why don’t you make us call you doctor, like pretty boy over here?” Morgan asked confused, slight hurt on his face showing from not knowing this about his (ex)partner.

Emily sighed softly, “because, I don’t want my education to speak for my worth. I’m just Emily Prentiss guys and a degree won’t change that.” She ran her fingers through her hair frustratingly.

“Still,” Blake interrupted, piercing dark eyes meeting Emily’s own and causing the younger woman to shift in her seat, “it’s something to be proud about.”

Her voice was soft, careful, as if Emily was a timid deer that would take off at any moment at even the slightest moment, and with the way Emily had been acting around the older woman and JJ, it wasn’t far from the truth.

Emily had been devestated when visiting from London and discovering that JJ had entered a relationship with the professor / new team member on the BAU.

That was until Emily met Alex Blake and realized she was utterly screwed when she found herself falling for the older woman’s charming wit and spark of sass.

She fell for a couple—two people unattainable and together with each other.

Needless to say, Emily grew even more devestated and resolved herself to never confess her feelings.

In her mind, she didn’t stand a chance with the two people that clearly were so into each other that they didn’t see anyone else.

So, she resigned herself to acting much like the timid deer Alex was speaking to her like: shy and withdrawn around the couple, and running off at the first instance she’s able to get away once they try engaging her in conversation together.

“I guess,” Emily murmured, eyes meeting the table as she shrugged. Then, she shook her head and looked up before clearing her throat, “we should worry about our unsub though.”

The BAU team was smart enough to take the hint and left her alone, them quickly falling into discussing the case and victims.

Emily never did notice the two sets of eyes watching her as she fidgeted with her pen.

Nor did Emily notice the soft and awe-filled look in said eyes.

No—

Like always, Emily Prentiss remained oblivious.

...

“So a doctorate, huh?” JJ said out of nowhere, breaking Emily’s concentration on the book in front of her, “fancy.”

Emily looked up from her book, watching as JJ and Alex took a seat across from her on the plane.

She smiled nervously, “I mean, yeah.”

“Much have been a lot of work, Dr. Prentiss,” Alex comments, small smile on her face as she teased.

Emily ducked her head, feeling her face briefly heat up. She tried willing her blush to go away, eyes carefully avoiding the other women’s eyes when she finally looked up.

“A little bit,” Emily admitted at last, remembering the long nights in the library to study and the times that she almost quit and gave up from the pressure.

“My mother wasn’t very happy when I admitted to wanting to go into Criminal Justice, much less a doctorate in Criminal Psychology,” Emily muses, shrugging her shoulders casually as if her mother’s opinion didn’t matter. A small smile curled on her face though as she answered a few seconds later, voice full of fondness, “my old nanny, Carla, was so proud though. She called practically all of her family to announce that I was getting a doctorate.” She recalled the cake that Carla made for her in congratulations and the celebration dinner with Carla’s family she attended, the playful jokes exchanged in between everyone and the teasing she was on the end of about whether or not she finally had a girlfriend. She chuckled quietly at the thought and shook her head, looking up as her smile widened.

“She sounds amazing,” JJ told her softly, smiling back.

Emily gently set aside her book, “yeah, she is. I still attend most Christmas dinners with her and her family actually, and I send a bunch of letters and post cards.”

“She raised you,” Alex guessed, eyebrow arching.

Emily nodded, “more so then my actual parents. Mother was too busy being a diplomat and Father was...” She trailed off, eyebrows furrowing before eventually just shaking her head in an attempt to shake away the thoughts of her father. She didn’t comment or think further on him, instead quickly looking over to the case file beside her.

“So, what do you think about our unsub?” She asked, trying to change the subject and eventually relaxing when Alex and JJ didn’t question her further.

“Well, he seems to—”

...

“—and this is Agent Prentiss from Interpol, who has agreed to help us out for the case.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Emily responded, shaking the lead detective’s hand firmly. The man smiled.

“Pleasure is all mine, Agent.”

He turned towards the others, “I really hope you can catch the son of a bitch that did this.”

Hotch nodded, “well, that’s why we’re here. Tell us what you know.”

...

“So, Interpol is in London, right?” The lead detective asked curiously.

Emily kept flipping through the file as she answered offhandly, “yeah.”

“Must be interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

Emily paused, thinking carefully, “it’s not too bad.”

He smiled, “I bet.”

Emily hummed, eyes scanning the file.

“Is there much dating in London?” He asked and Emily paused, feeling his eyes on her.

“Not much. I don’t really date,” she admitted, looking up.

“A shame, but maybe I can take you out sometime?” He flashed her a crooked grin and Emily shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“Umm—”

“Emily, there you are,” JJ interrupted, walking in with Alex trailing behind her, “we need your help.”

Emily barely managed to hold in her grateful sigh, and quickly gathered up the files in front of her, not noticing Alex’s silent stare towards the detective causing him to look away quickly.

“So, what do you guys need?” Emily asked as soon as the door behind her was shut, files piled in her hand.

“You looked like you could use saving,” Alex told her bluntly, amusement written across her face.

Emily flushed and quietly grumbled, “I would say.”

“So, you don’t really date?” JJ asked curiously and Emily stiffened.

They must have heard her exchange with the detective.

“Not really,” Emily admitted before pausing and deciding to be truthful, “I try but then it usually goes wrong.”

She recalls the multiple dates in the past with several women where she tried to make it work but something always went wrong: they cheated on her, they couldn’t deal with her job’s long hours, or even that they just couldn’t work out.

It probably didn’t help that Emily had hopelessly been in love with JJ for years, and now Alex.

“That’s a shame. I’m sure anyone would be lucky to have you,” Alex commented and Emily flushed at JJ’s nod of agreement.

“Yeah, I guess,” she admits at last quietly and thoughtfully, clutching the files in her hands closer to her body.

...

Morgan’s eyes silently met Emily’s own and she nodded, gun ready as they split ways.

Carefully she walked around the downstairs part of the house, flashlight assisting her vision.

She entered each room after the next until arriving in front of the shut bedroom door and paused, hand quietly turning the knob and pushing the door open.

“Chris Anderson?” She spoke, gun aimed towards the back of the figure facing the bedroom window as she entered, “turn around, slowly.”

The figure spun around.

Bang.

Emily stumbled back, a searing pain shooting through her leg as she crumbled to the ground.

She had never even seen the bullet coming.

...

Beep...Beep...Beep...

Emily groaned quietly, eyes fluttering open and immediately squinting at the bright white ceiling of her hospital room. She winced, arm coming up to cover her eyes.

“Emily?” A soft, familiar voice filled her eyes and her head lolled to the side, blinking.

Her voice came out, soft and croaky, “J-Jayje? A-Alex?” Her throat was dry, scratchy, and she barely resisted the urge to wince as sat up in the hospital bed.

In the next instance, Alex held out a cup of water, guiding the straw towards Emily to allow her to drink from it. She took a few sips, sighing in relief at the cool sensation going through her sore throat.

“What happened?” She asked finally, looking up from the drink.

“Unsub shot you in the leg. By the time the paramedics arrived, you had lost a lot of blood,” JJ told her quietly.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” JJ spoke, eyes narrowing, voice rising slightly in pitch, “you get shot and all you have to say is oh?” Her voice sounded distraught and angry, and Emily barely resisted the urge to flinch.

Alex’s hand gently laid itself on JJ’s shoulder and the blonde visibly relaxed, and Emily shifted then in the bed nervously. Her shoulders fell at the look the two women exchanged, full of love for the other.

It was bad enough that she had been shot, but now she had to watch the two people she had feelings for practically, and unknowingly, flaunt their relationship in front of her.

“—Emily?” Alex’s voice broke her out of her thoughts and she shook her head, not meeting either of their eyes.

“I’m fine,” she muttered half-heartedly.

Yet, she was anything but.

...

She’s been ignoring the team.

It’s three days after the case ended and Emily had been shot in the leg, that Emily decides to go back to London despite having a few weeks off due to her injury.

Slowly, she packed everything away into her suitcase on her hotel bed before carefully zipping it up. She stepped back and sighed softly, taking a quick glance at her watch.

“Two hours. I have time,” she mumbled to herself, hand reaching towards the remote and flipping through the channels before stopping on the first thing that remotely interested her.

For an hour, she got lost in the world of Tom and Jerry, laughing softly everytime Tom was thwarted from catching Jerry.

A knock on her hotel door bought her out of her show however, eyebrows furrowing as she stood up and walked to the door. She leaned in, cautiously looking through the peep hole and sighing softly at the image of the people on the other side.

She stepped back, turning the knob.

“Hi,” she gave a timid smile and JJ sighed.

“Hi. Can we come in?” JJ asked her softly and Emily hesitated before finally nodding, opening the door and allowing them to enter.

“Is everything okay? Is there a new case or...” she trailed off, cocern sprawled across her face at the indecipherable look written across their faces.

“You’ve been ignoring us,” Alex interjected, eyebrow arched and Emily barely resisted the urge to flinch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been—”

“Emily,” JJ interrupted, eyes cutting to hers and Emily immediately looked away, quieting.

“And you’re about to leave without saying goodbye too,” Alex commented, eyes taking in the packed suitcase on Emily’s bed.

Emily shrugged, “missing my apartment.”

JJ scoffed, “more like ignoring us and running away like always.”

Emily flinched, throat tightening as she tried to answer.

JJ’s eyes shun with anger and sadness as she met Emily’s own, “why?” She mumbled softly, voice almost begging for an answer.

Emily shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, half-heartedly.

“Can’t,” Alex asked, “or won’t?”

Emily winced.

“Come on, Em, this isn’t like you,” JJ whispered, “what’s going on?”

Alex’s and JJ’s eyes carefully bored into Emily’s own and Emily couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“I—I love you guys, okay, and I can’t,” she choked out finally, the truth spilling out as tears gathered in her eyes, “I can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt seeing you guys together because I know I would never have a chance with either of you, much less both of you. I thought that seeing others would help but it doesn’t and I don’t want to ruin my friendship with either of you. I have to leave.” Her voice caught at the end as a choked sob burst out of her throat and she blinked rapidly, willing the tears to go away as she tries desperately to compose herself.

“Emily,” JJ’s soft voice interjected and Emily shook her head rapidly, backing away when both women stepped foward to approach her.

“No,” Emily stated, eyes lowering to stare at the floor so she can’t see their reactions, “you should both leave.”

“For a profiler, you sure are oblivious,” Alex stated and Emily blinked, shock and confusion filling her as she titled her head up slightly, still not meeting their eyes but listening closely.

A hand met her chin, tilting her head up. Her wide eyes met Alex’s and she blinked in confusion and her eyebrows furrowed, “What—”

Before she could finish, warm and soft lips met her own and before she could think further, her eyes fluttered shut, gently leaning her body into Alex’s as she returned the kiss.

Careful hands settled on her waist from behind and Emily squeaked softly in Alex’s mouth as JJ pressed up against her behind, before the blonde’s soft humming lulled her to slowly relax.

She breathed heavily when the kiss ended, chest heaving and hair mussed as she tried catching her breath. Her mind racing as she tried registered what had just happened.

She licked her lips, “W-what was that?” Her voice came out soft and timid. JJ’s soft laugh sounded in her ear.

“It means, we like you too, Em,” JJ told her warmly into her ear and Emily’s eyes widened.

“Really?” She squeaked, and Alex hummed.

“Like I said, for a profiler, you are very oblivious, sweetheart.” Alex’s fingers carefully tucked a strand of hair behind Emily’s ear and the younger brunette melted.

“Oh,” she breathed out softly.

“Yeah, idiot,” JJ teased, before her voice lowered, full of warmth, “now, it isn’t fair that Alex got a kiss and I didn’t.” Even without looking at her, Emily could tell the blonde was playfully pouting and she laughed.

She turned around in their arms to face the blonde and grinned, hands coming up to loop around the back of JJ’s neck.

She leaned in. “Now, we can’t have that, can we?” she whispered fondly and amused before closing her eyes, lips meeting the blonde’s at last.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss #alex blake #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss x alex blake x jennifer jareau #jemily

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peterparkerstarker · 5 years ago

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the kitchen pt. 2 of “the hat” au

thanks to @readysetstarker and @starkerintheparker for asking for a continuation of “the hat” and HUGE thanks to @irontransthemechanic for being my writing help. whenever i got stuck on little details, like what kind of cake it was, or what tony’s nickname for morgan was, i texted him and he somehow gave me the perfect answer, madlibs style. some of my favorite details are things he came up with, and he’s a big part of why this fic turned out the way it did.

cw/tw: daddy kink, 10 year age difference, bdsm fantasy, discussion of alcoholism

also! i intended bucky to be trans in this. it’s not a super clear thing in this fic, but i wanted to put it out there, there’s a little reference to it that you’ll hopefully catch on to.

tagging: @deliciousflapbanditfarm, @everyonelovespetey, @ironspiderstarker @missnena2194

It was Labor day weekend, and things were hectic at the Rogers-Barnes household.

Bucky’s sister Becca had come down to visit from college, and this was the first time in months that Steve had a weekend off from work, so they’d thrown together a big party last minute and invited all the usual people.

Like always, Peter had shown up right on time, gift in hand.

He’d been greeted at the door by a very frantic looking Steve, who was amusingly decked out in a pastel pink floral apron, and had immediately been put on cake duty, helping to finish frost the three layer strawberry and funfetti cake. He had no clue what he was doing, but Steve seemed pleased with the results, even if he did rearrange the strawberry garnish a little when he thought Peter wasn’t looking.

Meanwhile, Bucky was kept busy setting out plates and forks, grumbling the whole time about how Becca should be helping too, and Steve had reminded him, in a far too chirpy tone, that she was a guest and should not be put to work.

She looked amused by that, smirking up at her big brother from over her cell phone, and called out “Hey now! Who stuck up for you when you came out to Ma? And who helped you cut your hair that first time? You’re welcome that I didn’t shave you bald when I had the chance. Show a little gratitude, will you?” and immediately went back to texting her friends, grinning at the screen.

Bucky grumbled something about being sick of being bullied in his own home, but Steve just smacked his ass lightly and told him to suck it up and finish arranging the centerpiece flowers.

Peter had to stifle a laugh at Bucky’s petulant expression, and didn’t bother pointing out that technically, he was a guest too. He was more than happy to help with the last minute arrangements, and he especially didn’t want to get on Buck’s bad side when he was already being grumpy about it all.

Before long, more guests started to arrive, and Peter was shooed out of the kitchen, drink in hand as Steve urged him to go mingle. He caught a glimpse of Bucky miming shooting himself as he whispered, “Save yourself!” just loud enough for Steve to hear and shoot him a look of annoyance.

Peter loved their bickering, and it just went to show how much they loved each other, that they could annoy each other to no end and still be content and happy. It was cute, and he loved their banter.

He made his way into the living room, stopping to chat with Thor about his new Etsy shop, which was impressively successful, and narrowly avoiding a head lock from Carol, who was forever trying to muss up his curls. He was happy here, in this moment. Surrounded by friends, sipping on the wine he’d brought to the party, and totally in his element.

It wasn’t often that Peter felt comfortable, especially in crowds, but Steve and Bucky’s house had a way of putting him at ease. Besides, the wine didn’t hurt either.

Unfortunately, he was stuck in the middle of a mildly mind numbing conversation with Bruce about construction on the new highway when Tony strolled in, sunglasses still on and a bottle of wine tucked in the crook of his arm.

Peter about choked on his drink, clamping his lips closed to avoid sputtering the liquid onto Bruce’s pressed white button up. He tried to be subtle about following Tony’s movements, watching as he gave a big hug and flirtatious smile to Nat, who rolled her eyes and muttered something about it not being cute, but she smiled all the same, used to his antics.

Tony was the life of any party he showed up to. Always late, always with a bottle of Barell bourbon or some obscure, unpronounceable french wine, always lighting up the room with his easy smile, smart wit and playboy charisma.

And it certainly helped that he was handsome. Those honey brown eyes that Peter daydreamed about... his sharp features and plump mouth. Peter tried to stay focused on Bruce’s words, but fuck, the guy could go on and on about traffic cone placement. And besides, Tony was looking too good in his tight jeans for Peter to ignore.

“Mhmm, yeah… you’re absolutely right.” he said hollowly, checking to see Bruce’s reaction. And he was grateful to see a look of approval on the man’s face. He zoned out again as Bruce started in on roundabout etiquette, and Peter was dismayed to see Tony slip into the kitchen. He wanted at least a little more time to admire the older man right now.

He turned his focus back to Bruce, who was watching him expectantly, clearly waiting for a response to an unheard question.

Peter scrambled, not wanting to be caught in his inattentiveness, and stuttered out, “Uhm y-yeah. I think that’s right.” But by the looks of it, he’d answered wrong. Embarrassment flushed over him, but he couldn’t be stuck in this banal conversation anymore, not when Tony was still in the kitchen, away from Peter’s line of sight.

“Hey, uhm, I gotta get another drink, be right back, man,” he said in a rush, clapping a hand onto Bruce’s shoulder as a goodbye, and hoping the man hadn’t noticed his nearly full glass.

He shouldered past Scott and made his way into the hallway, steadying his breath, preparing himself to enter the kitchen.

In comparison to the living and dining rooms, this part of the house was blessedly empty. He wondered who else was in the kitchen besides Tony, it was so quiet save for a low murmuring.

Gripping tightly onto his glass, he made his way into the room, and was surprised to only find Tony facing him, sitting hunched on a stool, phone in hand, clearly on a call with someone.

“Love you too, Mo Mo. Be good for Aunt Pepper, I’ll see you in the morning and we’ll make a big pancake breakfast together,” Tony said quietly. There was a pause, as he listened to the response on the other end, and a small chuckle, “Fine, you can have the sprinkles this time, but only if you’re asleep by bedtime. I will be confirming with Pep that you followed through on our agreement, understand?” Another laugh, warm and bright and kind. “Love you too bugbear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Tony tapped off the call, sighing a little sadly, and then finally looked up to notice Peter, who suddenly felt like a deer in headlights.

“I uh.. needed some water.” he said lamely, and Tony nodded, gesturing to the stack of party cups on the counter in front of him.

Peter awkwardly grabbed one, filling it with tap water and ice from the cooler.

He felt twitchy and weird, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, or how to hold a normal facial expression. Being this close to Tony always did that to him. It’s why he kept his distance, observed from afar. Come to think of it, he’d never really had much of a conversation with the man.

“Was that your daughter on the phone?” he finally asked, “Morgan, right?”

Tony nodded, expression easing a little. “Yeah, she’s at home now with my PA. Pepper babysits for me sometimes, mostly when she’s trying to get me to get out and live a little more. I always feel so bad leaving Morgan for the evening, but she loves Pep, so she’s more than happy to have a night of girl time without me.” Tony let out a harsh laugh, suddenly looking uncomfortable with the vulnerability of what he’d said.

Peter took a step closer, setting both his cups on the island counter top between them, eyes falling, meeting Tony’s.

“I can tell how much she loves you. You mean the world to her,” he uttered quietly.

Tony barked out a laugh. “It doesn’t always feel like that, especially lately. She wants to play dress up and learn makeup, and having just a dad doesn’t always cut it for that. I’m lucky to have Pepper. She’s good at the makeup and hair stuff.”

Peter’s eyes softened, he was beginning to understand just how deeply Tony loved Morgan, wanted to do right by her. It was something he’d always known about the man. But here and now, hearing him talk about it, it had never been more clear, and it made him melt just a little.

“She loves you, she always will. She’s just getting a bit more independent. I can’t imagine how tough that is, to have her growing up and not needing you quite as much, but she’ll always need you, at least some. Heck, I’m 23 and I still had to call May last weekend and get advice on how to replant my ficus. She’s only 5, Tony. You’ll have plenty more years before she starts turning into a bratty teenager,” Peter encouraged.

That made Tony grin, rippling into full, rich laughter, and it made Peter swell with pride.

“Thanks Peter. You’re pretty great, you know that?” and Peter hoped Tony meant it as he said it.

He flushed, cheeks heating as he ducked his head a little. “I’m alright. I have my moments.”

“What are you drinking?” Tony asked, and Peter was a little disappointed at the subject change.

Peter pointed to the bottle of wine he’d brought, nothing fancy, but it was nice enough.

Tony nodded, considering the bottle, and said, “I never was much of a moscato drinker, but that’s a solid brand.”

Peter nodded unsure of how to respond when a question suddenly popped into his head, and he was asking it before he could stop himself. “Why do you always bring fancy alcohol if you’re not going to drink any of it?”

Tony looked a little startled, “What do you mean?”

Peter felt heat rushing through his body, anxiety rising in his stomach. “I mean… you always make this big show of entering with a bottle of something impressive, but I’ve never actually seen you drink more than water at any of these parties.” He shouldn’t be asking, should have shut his mouth a while back, but there was no taking back his words.

There was a long, heavy pause, as Tony considered his answer.

“Morgan’s the reason I don’t drink anymore. I promised myself I would stop the day she was born. It wasn’t always easy, I had some slip ups that I regret. But I promised myself that I would do it for her, and so I did. As for the grand entrance… what can I say? I like to put on a show, and people don’t really notice that I don’t drink if I do it that way. There’s less questions later on… it’s easier for me.” Tony gazed at him with such clarity, like he was seeing Peter for the first time, truly seeing him for who he was. “You’re the first person to ever ask me that, I doubt anyone else has even noticed. The ones who matter know… Nat helped me a lot in the early days, Bucky and Steve too. But no one’s ever really asked me why.”

Peter let out a breath, hands shaky as he reached out across the counter to squeeze Tony’s hand, ever so lightly. “Thank you for telling me. For trusting me. That’s a great reason.”

He hated himself for how badly he wanted Tony in this moment. The man had just spilled his past about alcohol struggles and all he could think about was what it would be like to press his lips up against the corner of Tony’s mouth, to kiss him all over and soothe his pain.

He blinked, realizing he was still holding Tony’s hand, and then realizing to even greater shock that Tony didn’t seem to mind the touch.

“You’ve got really nice hands, Pete. Really soft, but strong too, I can tell,” Tony muttered, staring intently at their connected fingers, rubbing ever so gently.

Peter didn’t know what to say, what to do. It was like his brain was disconnected from his body, and he found himself leaning in, closer and closer over the island counter top, until he was pressing his lips, softly, gently into Tony’s.

And then Tony was grabbing him, releasing their hands to hold on to the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his messy curls, kissing him feverishly, like he’d never been kissed before.

He’d made out with boys at parties, dated around a little, even had that stupid hookup with MJ that one time. But nothing compared to this kiss right here, this kiss with the man he’d been lusting and pining after for ages. This was heat and fire and need. So, so much need stored up deep inside him, and it was flowing out, dancing through him as he pressed himself hard against Tony, not caring that the edge of the counter was pressing painfully into his hip bones. He just needed to keep kissing Tony, because he didn’t know if it would ever happen again, and he wanted to make the most of it, wanted to have something to remember.

Wanted to look back fondly on the night he made out with Tony Stark in Steve and Bucky’s kitchen at a party that one time.

He didn’t want to regret anything about this moment.

Eventually they broke apart, panting and flushed. Peter didn’t know what to say, what to do, didn’t know if that was it. But then Tony got up from his side of the island, and before Peter knew it, he was being pressed up against the fridge, their bodies tight and warm against each other.

He could feel the hardness of Tony’s cock jutting up against him, and it made him need it even more. Hands everywhere, his cheeks, his neck, the small of his back, and up under his shirt.

Tony’s hands.

Roaming and exploring his body, while his lips kissed Peter’s, working their way to his neck. And then Tony was breathing gently against his ear in a way that made him groan louder than he ever had before.

And Tony’s cock... hard and solid, hips rutting against his own, rolling and grinding and heavenly. He needed it all, needed to feel everything all at once, to be overwhelmed with it all, consumed and used up and still he wanted more.

He didn’t care that a vacation magnet was jutting into his shoulder blade, or that the papers attached to the fridge were getting rumpled, all he cared about was the way that Tony was kissing and touching him.

Tony was kissing him. That’s all that mattered.

And fuck! It felt good. If they weren’t surrounded by friends just 20 feet away, he would’ve stripped naked by now and begged Tony to fuck him raw on the counter, and he would have loved every minute of it, being pounded into, undone by this gorgeous, kind man.

A wave of remembrance flooded over him, long nights stroking himself, imagining so many scenarios like this one. Tony laying him out over the hood of his car in his workshop, smudged with grease and oil, their bodies sinking into each other. Peter tied up, blindfolded and gagged and begging to come while Tony laughed and teased him. Tony fucking him senseless as he screamed out for more, wanting to push the limits of just how many times he could come, twitching and aching for more, more, more. Always more.

He wanted all that and more, but he knew they were already pushing their luck, standing here making out in the open like this.

Gently, painfully, he pushed Tony away, not trusting himself to not go any further if they kept going at it like they had. He struggled to catch his breath, grinning and laughing, and then grabbing Tony once more to kiss him sweetly, on the lips, the forehead, all over his beautiful face.

Tony laughed, rich and deep and perfect, and held on tight as Peter showered him with affection.

“I always wondered… always thought there might be something here, something worth pursuing,” Tony said, lips pressed softly against Peter’s neck. “But I didn’t want to presume, didn’t want to be wrong. Especially since I’m so much older…”

Peter giggled and said “Tens years is not that much older, Tony.”

“It is when you’re 33 and you’re making out with a 23 year old in your best friend’s kitchen at a party,” Tony said, hands still rubbing gently up and down Peter’s back. They were unhurried, none of the frantic passion of before. Comfortable, safe... right. That’s how they felt now.

“When did you first suspect?” Peter asked.

Tony’s face scrunched up a little, trying to recall the specifics. “I had an inkling last Christmas, you got so twitchy around the mistletoe, but this summer was what really made me start wondering, 4th of July. The BBQ. You kept watching me. I think that’s when I started to know, but I was too afraid to trust that feeling.”

Peter breathed out a shaky bark of a laugh, pulling away. “That fucking hat…”

“What?”

“It was that hat you wore. The pink one… with the uh…” Peter blushed, suddenly shy and nervous all over again.

Recognition bloomed bright on Tony’s face, which only made Peter want to shrink even more. Tony leaned in close and whispered, “You can call me Daddy, Peter. Is that what you want?”

He shuddered out a too-eager yes, mortified and thrilled all at once.

“I wanna hear you say it…”

Peter steadied himself, fighting against the weak feeling in his legs and let him utter the word he’d wanted to say aloud for months.

“Daddy.”

And fuck, it felt even better than he’d imagined when Tony grabbed him and kissed him again, hand pressed tight against his aching cock, the fabric of his jeans the only thing between him and Tony’s touch.

“Say it again, louder.”

“Daddy!”

They were going to have a lot of fun together, Peter thought, and he’d love every filthy minute of it.

#starker #daddy #my fic #my writing

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marryat92 · 4 years ago

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Part of the unsuccessful Walcheren Campaign on the Scheldt river, Frank Mildmay is more concerned with foraging for food than fighting battles, before illness sends him home—a historically accurate portrayal of the British troops devastated by a combination of malaria and typhus.

I found the gun-boat service very hard. We were stationed off Batz, and obliged to be constantly on the alert; but when Flushing surrendered we had more leisure, and we employed it in procuring some articles for our table, to which we had been too long strangers. Our money had been expended in the purchase of champagne and claret, in which articles we were no economists; consequently few florins could be spared for the purchase of poultry and butcher’s meat; but then these articles were to be procured, by the same means which had given us the island of Walcheren, namely, powder and shot. The country people were very churlish, and not at all inclined to barter; and as we had nothing to give in exchange, we avoided useless discussion. Turkeys, by us short-sighted mortals, were often mistaken for pheasants; cocks and hens for partridges; tame ducks and geese for wild; in short, such was our hurry and confusion — leaping ditches, climbing dikes, and fording swamps — that Buffon himself would never have known the difference between a goose and a peacock. Our game-bags were as capacious as our consciences, and our aim as good as our appetites.

The peasants shut all their poultry up in their barns, and very liberally bestowed all their curses upon us. Thus all our supplies were cut off, and foraging became at least a source of difficulty, if not of danger. I went on shore with our party, put a bullet into my fowling-piece, and, as I thought, shot a deer; but on more minute inspection, it proved to be a four months’ calf. This was an accident that might have happened to any man. The carcass was too heavy to carry home, so we cut it in halves, not fore and aft down the backbone, as your stupid butchers do, but made a short cut across the loins, a far more compendious and portable method than the other. We marched off with the hind legs, loins, and kidney, having first of all buried the head and shoulders in the field, determined to call and take it away the following night.

We were partly seen, and severely scrutinised in our action by a neighbouring gun-boat, whose crew were no doubt as hungry as ourselves; they got hold of one of our men, who, like a fool, let the cat out of the bag, when a pint of grog got into it. The fellow hinted where the other half lay, and these unprincipled rascals went after it, fully resolved to appropriate it to themselves; but they were outwitted, as they deserved to be for their roguery. The farmer to whom the calf belonged had got a hint of what was done, and finding that we had buried one half of the calf, procured a party of soldiers ready to take possession of us when we should come to fetch it away; accordingly, the party who went from the other gun-boat after dark, having found out the spot, were very busy disinterring their prey, when they were surprised, taken prisoners, and marched away to the British camp, leaving the body behind.

We, quite unconscious of what was done, came soon after, found our veal, and marched off with it. The prisoners were in the meantime sent on board the flag-ship, with the charge of robbery strongly preferred against them; indeed, flagrante delicto was proved. In vain they protested that they were not the slayers, but only went in search of what others had killed: the admiral, who was a kind-hearted man, said that that was a very good story, but desired them “not to tell lies to old rogues,” and ordered them all under arrest, at the same time giving directions for a most rigid scrutiny into the larder of the other gun-boat, with a view, if possible, to discover the remains of the calf. This we had foreseen would happen, so we put it into one of the sailor’s bags, and sank it with a lead-line in three fathoms of water, where it lay till the inspection was over, when we dressed it, and made an excellent dinner, drinking success to His Majesty’s arms by land and sea.

Whether I had been intemperate in food or libation I know not, but I was attacked with the Walcheren fever, and was sent home in a line-of-battle ship; and, perhaps, as Pangloss says, it was all for the best; for I knew I could not have left off my inveterate habits, and it would have been very inconvenient to me, and distressing to my friends, to have ended my brilliant career, and stopped these memoirs, at the beginning of the second and most interesting volume, by hanging the Author up, like a scarecrow, under the superintendence of the rascally provost-marshal, merely for catering on the land of a Walcheren farmer.

— Frederick Marryat, Frank Mildmay (The Naval Officer)

image: Evacuation of the English from Walcheren, 30 August 1809, after Henri Félix Emmanuel Philippoteaux.

#frederick marryat #captain marryat #age of sail #napoleonic wars #walcheren campaign #frank mildmay #1809 #'this was an accident that might have happened to any man' lol oh frank #needless to say this whole passage is very autobiographical #marryat was at walcheren and sent home due to illness #walcheren fever

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shaydeoffical · 4 years ago

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I Could Get Behind That: Saeko Tanaka x Fem Reader

Soulmate Au

: In a world where the name of your worst Enemy and Romantic soulmates appear on your wrist. You can't tell which is which for sure until all people cross paths. Then you can touch the soul mark on who you think is your romantic partner, and it will change to initials.

Summary: (Y/n) has been hiding a secret from her best friend and childhood enemy, Sakeo Tanaka. While thinking about the past, she gathers up the courage to tell her the truth.

Author's Note: I will be starting some Haikyuu Oneshots and working on how I want to write each character. I will be posting My Hero stuff as well. I am just almost done with Bright as a Diamond and want to get my next series going. Thanks for reading!

Warnings: Thunderstorms, keepings a secret, Enemies to Friends to Lovers.

I Could Get Behind That

"It's about to thunderstorm." I tapped the passenger side window chewing on my bottom lip. Saeko was buckling in, and fixing her gear before pulling onto the road.

"Huh, it's just a little rain, no need to worry. Besides, the reports said yesterday was the worst of it." Saeko shook my shoulder to loosen my body up.

"You're not the one afraid of storms, Saeko." A smile tugged my lips up. There was more on my mind than the impending rain. This moment wasn't the right time to discuss it, though.

"Well you don't have to worry when I'm around, I'll always protect you. In less, you still think I'm your mortal enemy." She feigned a serious tone, holding up her soul mark. My name was scrolled in my handwriting, the bare spot on her other hand showed she had yet to meet her other' soulmate.'

When we first met as kids, both of us were at each other's throats. We'd fight over who got to play with the blocks, who got better grades, and who got to sit on the outside seat of the bus on field trips. Everyone said we were enemies, and that it was better to meet them as a kid because if childish betrayals were the worst thing to happen, the rest of your life would be cake.

Like so many child enemies, we grew close. We started to argue over who would walk the other home, who'd host the sleepover, who'd get to pay for snacks. Now that we were adults, it was easier to communicate our needs and divide up our favorite tasks. Saeko always picked me up from work, we'd go to her Taiko group then she'd drive me home. In hindsight, it seems I just gave in and let Saeko treat me most of the time…

While having her drive me around wasn't great for my life expectancy, she did make sure to at least try following the traffic rules when I was in the car. The first time she almost veered off the side of the road, I wouldn't get in a car with her behind the wheel for two months.

"Break check." Saeko shoved her hand out, stopping me from bouncing forward. The car slid to a halt. Gripping the handlebar and Saeko's thigh for deer life, we stopped short of the mass in the road.

"Oh, it's a little duck." I swallowed my anger and let it fade into relief, seeing why she had to stop so fast. "Aww, it's little waddle is the cutest. Why'd you yell brake check?"

"Aww, the duck is cute. But you're the cutest." Saeko nudged my shoulder, slowly driving by the duck so I could look a little longer. Of course, she was avoiding my question. Part of me knew it was a reflex for when she drove alone and would test the skills of driver's riding her ass.

"No, you." I shot back, forgetting about the pit in my stomach. "I say she was just heading towards the trees to shelter for the storm."

"Animals are smart like that." Saeko fiddled with the radio, not taking her eyes off the radio.

"Too bad she didn't have a friend to shelter with." A pang of guilt washed over me, the weight of the bracelet on my hand heavier.

"Hey, your house is just ahead. Tell me if I'm wrong, but you want me to come in for a few drinks and a thunderstorm sleepover." Pulling into my driveway, I grabbed my purse nodding at her. "Come on and say it."

"Don't make me beg, Saeko", I warned her, but I still hoovered with the door open so she couldn't drive off. The past two days she's stayed over due to the weather. And each time, I avoided telling her the truth, despite my promising myself I would.

"I'll do it regardless, you just look so adorable when you beg. I could never leave my little duckling all on her own." The engine shut off, and she jumped out, tossing her coat into the back seat. "Since when have I left you in your time of need?" She slung her arm around my shoulders.

"How about when I ripped my pants at the bar on main, so you went to get me a new pair, but you forgot which bar I was at." Entering my rental home, we kicked off our shoes and went straight to the bedroom. We'd formed a routine for nights like these.

"How many times can I apologies for that. You were the one that wouldn't stop taking shots." Saeko changed into a tank top and some cotton shorts. I pulled on my pajamas and started to work on fixing my hair. Dancing around each other, we gathered our things and tag-teamed with gathering the laundry.

"You were the one that challenged me to a competition. Which I only lost because your brother kept making those silly faces." It was nearly dark outside, her club meeting lasted longer today than normal, as they had a festival coming up soon. We wouldn't have long before it was time for bed.

"So, being a lightweight had nothing to do with it?" Saeko tapped my forehead before pushing the tag of my shirt back inside my collar. "Hm," she grabbed my wrist, going to move the bangle over my soul mark. "Since when did you start covering your mark?"

"Stop changing the subject, you know I would have won." I got back on topic, breaking free from her hold. The warmth of her hands still lingering. "Let's just make some dinner, and get ready for bed before the storm starts."

The pit had returned to my tummy after dinner was over. We both showered and were sitting on my bed, watching a show about building motorcycles. It wasn't my favorite kind of program, but we had spent the night before watching anime, so I could be more flexible today. Besides, listening to her complain about the mechanic's technique was so cute. Her being this close was something I wanted more of in my life.

We had retreated to the bedroom when the show was over. We brushed our teeth and got a glass of water for the night. Saeko had the extra step of showering before bed. She always worked up a sweat at her meetings.

Waiting in bed for her to be done, I stretched out on top of the sheets, knowing if I got in a position to sleep, I'd pass out and hog the entire bed. Plus, it was more comfortable to sleep when she was beside me. Saeko wasn't particularly tall or strong from her appearance, but she packed a punch. When we were in high school, she made sure no one got away with so much as looking at me cross. She was my rock.

There was a crack in the sky. My heart jumping to my throat, I sat up looking towards the bathroom door. Saeko skidded out of the bathroom than grabbed the duvet from the foot of the bed. Wrapping it around herself, then jumping beside me. Cuddling up, she cocooned us in the blanket, tucking it under my back. "There we go, it's okay." She promised me, smushing my face into her chest. The hot air under the cover was more suffocating that my heavenly position. She was always so soft...

"Thanks." I trembled against her coming to my sense; the shivers were slowly easing up. When the next round of thunder came, I was already in my safe spot and didn't have a heart attack.

"Anything for you." She hummed, tracing shapes on my back. Her breath was lingering on my neck. "Let's think about other things, okay? This storm is supposed to pass by super fast."

"Sounds good to me." I nodded, closing my eyes.

"Do you remember the first time we did this?" Saeko rocked us gently, back and forth. The creek of the bedsprings overtaking the distant thunder.

"It was on our school trip to Tokyo. We were still at the arguing stage, and we got so caught up in our fight over who could sprit the longest." A water droplet from her hair plopped onto my face.

"Than the skies opened, and I looked behind me to see you were on the ground. I'd never seen you look so venerable." Her hand clenched my shoulder, kissing my shoulder.

"I never thought I'd see the day, but you took me in your arms and got us under the trees for coverage. I thought for sure you'd carry me like a sack of potatoes, but you were strong even back that." I hummed, remembering how I felt. "I was so mad at myself for being in that position to start with. But I think that's the first time I saw you as more than my fated enemy."

"Can I be honest?" Saeko scooted back to better see my face.

"Always." I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"I liked you the moment we meet. Of course, I've always been a little rebellious and headstrong, but I never really thought about you like that. Like an enemy." The rain and thunder stopped. "Being aggressive was just how I showed my love towards Ryu, so I just thought that' how it was supposed to be. When I saw you break down, that was when I realized I had been approaching you the wrong way."

"That didn't change our arguments", I noted, scooting closer to her. "But you added in more soft moments, like this."

"(Y/N)?" Saeko swallowed hard. "What happened at work Thursday, and why are you still shaking. The storms over baby doll."

Blood running cold, I chewed on my bottom lip. "Please, don't be mad at me." Tears sprung from my eyes, I clenched fists full of her shirt.

"Never." She kissed my forehead.

"Remember the new boy I told you about the one that I trained last summer?" I asked, spitting up broken words. It was embarrassing, the whole situation was a slap in the face.

"I'll take care of him, just tell me what happened." She rubbed my back, trying to soothe me.

"He threw me under the bus, I was let go." Chewing my bottom lip, I squeezed my eyes tight.

"That bastard! I can't believe this, after all the work you did to teach him from the ground up. He doesn't even have a degree." I could hear her heart rate quickening, her holding me to her chest again.

"While you dropped me off at the office this week, I've been job hunting across town." pushing away again, I wiped my eyes.

"I could have helped you looked. The shop's been busy, but I still have time for you." She pushed off the cocoon of a blanket and sat up. "I'm so sorry, why couldn't you tell me sooner? Why have you been so secretive? I've been waiting for you to tell me, but (Y/N), Im worried."

"Remember when you said that you and I were romantic soulmates in high school? And I denied it because same-sex partners are so rare." I looked at my fingernails, trying to say it the right way.

"I remember." She swallowed, scooting back. Pushing aside the blanket, I took both of her hands in mine.

"Saeko, his name appeared on my wrist", I whispered, paling. "You were right. I'm sorry for wasting so much time. The more I've thought about it, the more I realized…how, much I love you. How you were my romantic partner the entire time." I hung my head low, looking at the floor.

"I have a confession too." She licked the tip of her thumb, rubbing the spot beside my name on her wrist. Holding her hand in the light, showing me her soul mark, I could see a boy's name.

"That's the boy who-" My mouth fell open.

"got you/me expelled in high school." We said together.

"You've known since then?" I tried to wrap my head around it.

"I didn't want to force you into picking me. After you brought up the same-sex thing, I was afraid that you were right. But now that you know who yours is, let's do it. We can know for sure.." Saeko tugged me forward, holding out her wrist. "This is also why I waited."

"I love you so much." I kissed her palm, knowing everything would be okay. We touched our marks together, matching our breaths. I could feel the slight twinge as the symbols shifted around. Feeling brave, I leaned forward and was eagerly met with her lips.

"I love you more." Saeko pulled our hands apart. "My last name it is." She smirked, seeing that my wrist had changed to her initials and her mine—both of our initials ending with 'T' now.

"I can get behind being a Tanaka." I nodded, realizing that I had been given the gift of growing up alongside my soulmate. "I'm so lucky."

"How about you try getting underneath a Tanaka first? I'll show you how lucky you are." She laughed, peppering my neck with kisses.

"Don't be a perv." I pawed at her arms, the storm long gone from my mind.

"Okay, okay, but just for tonight. I've been waiting for a million years. And I'd wait for a million more to see you smile like this." She tapped her finger against my nose and turned out the light. "Alright, let's get some rest. Tomorrow we can talk about possibly moving and finding you a job. Once you have steady work, I'll take a day off and make sure your soul enemy is taught a lesson."

"Saeko", I warned her, leaning on my elbows before she tugged me down to be the little spoon.

"Fine, but I want to at least screw with his car when no ones watching." She sulked, rolling my hair around her fingers.

"That's a decent compromise. Now let's get some sleep." I pushed myself deep into her hold and closed my eyes. The weight of my secret was gone, and now I was able to reap the rewards of my friendship turned into love.

#haikyuu saeko #saeko tanaka #Saeko x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyu #ambershabdeoffical #girl love #reader #thunder #storms #soulmate #soulmate au #enemies to friends to lovers #baby doll #tanka #cuddles #rain #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader

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charbax · 4 years ago

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In The Woods Somewhere

The aftermath of a hunt, and a bond forged in the dark. A Striktor mythical au inspired by Speck’s posts here and here.

A/N: I wrote this two years ago, forgot about it, then dusted it off and decided to finish it just in time for halloween!! Gosh I miss writing these two.

Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

AO3 link here!

The thirst was the first thing Strix was aware of - it ached in his throat and stomach, carving out something hollow. His tongue darted out and licked dry lips, and he swallowed, trying to wet his mouth.

The next thing he was aware of was the barn ceiling above him. Strange. He usually didn't rest in buildings so close to people- The thought sent a bolt of fear through his heart. He sat up suddenly, then regretted the action immediately afterwards when his head spun. A hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him. "Hey, easy there." A familiar voice said. Instantly, Strix's guard lowered, if only by a minuscule amount. Something pressed against his lips. "It's not blood." Viktor explained. "Just water, drink it slowly." Strix accepted it nonetheless, placing a hand over Viktor's to control the slow trickle of liquid. It wasn't enough to fully alleviate his thirst, but at least the ache subsided to something manageable, something he could think past. Once he was done, he asked, "Where?" "The barn just outside of town. You passed out after we drove the knife into the monster. I carried you here. Well, I wanted to bring you to a real bed but," Viktor frowned. "Apparently killing a monster and saving their children wasn't enough for a decent room. The economy is in shambles." He emphasised the last part with a weak grin. Strix snorted in amusement. Viktor continued. "How're you holding up?" Strix's whole body ached, and had him wishing he was asleep again, but he soldiered on. "Tired, mostly." "Want some alone time so you can sleep?" "...not really." Strix admitted. He leaned back, holding the cup in his lap. "I want to know what happened when I was asleep." And so Viktor told him - after he had passed out, Viktor carried him all way out of the winding caves and back to town, where they had been greeted warmly by the townspeople, who were holding torches, and pitchforks ("I'm being sarcastic," Viktor clarified with an exaggerated whisper). According to the them, they recognised a vampire when they saw an unconscious one, and had prepared if Viktor was underneath its thrall. Luckily, the head of the monster was proof enough to convince that they were harmless, but even so, the townfolk were suspicious of the vampire, the one responsible for the disappearances of the children. "After that, I headed back to your home, where the children were." Viktor raised his hands apologetically. "Sorry. It was the only way to convince people not to burn you while they had a chance. After all, kidnapping's still kidnapping, even if it was to keep them safe." Strix winced as he looked at his lap, but didn't deny it. A hand covered his own. "Hey." Viktor continued. "Once they saw their children safe, they warmed up pretty fast. The village leader just wants to talk to you." "...alright." Strix said. "Right. Be right back." Viktor got up and ducked outside. Strix spent the next few minutes sipping his water and thinking about slipping out of the window while he had the chance. But Viktor's face flashed in his mind. So he only nervously tapped his fingers against the cup and waited. A while later, Viktor returned with the elder in tow. Straightened up, trying to keep his face blank and non-threatening, as if he was just another person and not a creature of the night. "Hello." The elder greeted. At least he wasn't carrying a pitchfork, small blessings. "I believe you were the one who stole the babes from their cribs." For the second time in a short period, Strix avoided the gazes in the room. He looked into his cup and tried not to let shame rise hot to his cheeks. "But you kept them safe from the true monster, so I suppose that explains it." The elder continued. "I wasn't going to keep them forever." Strix began. "Until it moved on. My strength is nothing against the monster's own." "That answered my next question. Was that why you did not go after it yourself?" "My presence cloaked the kids. If I died trying to kill it, then it would come after them." The elder stared at him, impassively, his face giving nothing away. Strix tried not to squirm underneath the slightly narrowed eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor cross his arms and subtly inch closer to Strix. How relieving it was, to have someone like Viktor on his side, Strix supposed. Finally, the village head nodded, seemingly placated. "I understand. You may rest here for a three days as thanks, then take your leave. The others were already fearful of the monster. Do not make them fearful of the child-taker as well.” Strix nodded mutely. The elder gave one more stern look, then took his leave. Viktor turned to him with a grin. "See? Nothing to be worried about." He said. Strix grunted, agreement or disagreement, discretion to the listener. He leaned back onto his makeshift bed - a cloth over some hay, now that he could feel it scratch underneath him - and closed his eyes. "You have plans after this?" He asks, chest lighter now that the main threat was gone. "No idea. Probably head east, to the coast. Then who knows?" Strix hummed thoughtfully. Of course. Viktor seemed the type to be a roamer, no home, no past to weigh him down, a lone wolf borne of man. After all, that's how they met – on a job. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that’s what Strix was trying to himself since they’ve entered that cave. Seemingly having nothing else to add, Viktor leaned back into his chair and gazed out the window. And since Strix had seemingly nothing else to reply, he let comfortable silence fall over them. Strix continued watching Strix, and wondered what jobs would await Viktor. It didn’t occur to him to think about what he himself was going to do next, save for the immediate need to leave the village as soon as possible. - After all that, Viktor got paid the tidy sum he was contracted for, no more, no less, and that’s how he liked it. He also gets the admiration of the local teens who dream of escaping their little village. That part he’s less pleased with. This isn’t the type of job he’d recommend as a future career – the pay wasn’t constant, the transit depends if he has a horse or not, and not to mention the life-threatening danger of the work is enough to deter mostly anyone with common sense. There’s a reason why there’s not many monster hunters in the first place. Still, he hung around. No reason not too. The money is more than enough to fund his next job, and it’s rare he has some downtime to just enjoy the place, even if it’s just a small town in the middle of nowhere. It gives him more time to actually hang out with one of the less annoying - but just as persistent – village youths. Said youth was leaning back on the tree contently, twirling a small knife as she watched Viktor. “So you really ain’t gonna take me?” Kinessa said with a touch of forlornness. “Told you already kid. This kind of work ain’t for nice young’uns like you-” “Oh yeah? Can a kid do this?” With that, she twirled her knife around one last time then threw it at the opposite tree trunk. It landed with a solid thunk! She grinned at him as he shook his head. “Don’t remember teaching you that one.” “Yeah, got it from-” Kinessa stopped suddenly, her eyes darting fervently. Viktor too glanced around, but the only things listening were the trees and the gentle wind of autumn. They relaxed. “Got it from Strix. It’s one of the few things he taught me while we were staying at his place. Y’know, it wasn’t that bad being looked after him, apart from the cabin fever. He certainly made sure everyone was fed.” Viktor didn’t really know much about what Strix did when he was hiding the children. He only remembered seeing those wide eyes staring at him in fear. He could still recall seeing the openly scared kids huddling behind the sniper’s outstretched arm like a brood to a mother bird. It was only when Viktor lowered the rifle to the floor and raise his hands did Strix take his finger off the trigger. He was shaken from his memories when Kinessa spoke again. “Wonder what’s he doing right now.”’ Yes, Viktor was thinking the same thing – he hadn’t heard hide nor feather from Strix even since then. He was like a ghost of the village, where everyone did their best not to acknowledge that the so-called ‘terror of the night’ was, in fact, a very nice cryptid who just wanted to live in peace. Which the villagers granted him a lot, yes, but only in the physical sense. Reputation wise, it hadn’t changed that much from before, as Kinessa had been telling him. They just also added kidnapper to his extensive repertoire. Which, in Viktor’ opinion, was less than what Strix truly deserved. Viktor’s gaze fell on the woods, and he wondered. – It’s much easier to navigate the deer paths now, in the daylight, rather than the middle of the dark on a morbid mission. The twisting paths are no match for years of hunting experience, so it takes an almost laughably short time to reach Strix’s cottage. Two visits in two weeks, someone’s becoming popular. Bet he’s gonna shock Strix out of...whatever Strixes do with free time and no children to guard. When he knocked on the front door, he had to wait until the door inched open, revealing a pair of amber eyes that were narrowed in suspicion before they widened. “Viktor?” “The one and only. Can I come in?” Strix wordlessly opened the door and let Viktor step into the hideout. He’s still staring at him. Viktor grinned. “Shocking right? I’m capable of knocking on the front door instead of smashing it in during the middle of the night.” The right side of Strix’s mouth twitched. A smile? “What are you doing here?” “You invited me in?” “I mean,” Strix’s smile deepened. “I thought you would have left the village by now.” “Well that was the plan. I can tell you all about it if you want.”

Strix blinked, then nodded. Viktor sank down onto one of the chairs. Strix still hovered by the door. “Do you want to take a seat?"

"That's my line, but I supposed you already answered." Strix said, shaking his head ever so slightly, but he sat down on the other free seat.

Viktor looked around the room, taking note of the cleanliness now there was an absence of missing children. He did, however, note the various wilted flowercrowns and small toys lining the mantle of the fireplace. Something was bubbling away in it, smelling absolutely delicious. "Gifts from the kids?" Viktor asked, nodding to the fireplace.

"Not really. I would go to return them but," Strix paused. "I feel I'm not welcomed at the village. They need time to recover."

Really, in Viktor's humble opinion, the villagers should be showering Strix in gratitude and gold for slaying the beast, but that's him. Strix's voice broke his silent grumblings.

"I doubt that you're here to check on my well-being. What brings you?"

Viktor scratched the back of his head. "Actually, that's exactly what I was doing." Strix blinked at him. Viktor fidgeted self-consciously. "What, never had someone check up on you?"

Strix shook his head, wide-eyed, like an owl.

"Huh." Viktor said intelligently. He leaned back, one arm hung over the back of the seat. "Thought you and that kid, Kinessa..."

"It's for the best she doesn't." Came the terse reply.

Viktor didn't respond to that. Strix continued staring at a spot on the patched wall. "She still thinks of you." Viktor continued.

"I'd rather not talk about this now."

Viktor relented, willing to let it go for now, then grinned as he recalled an earlier misadventure. "Want to hear about how I managed to sneak my way into something called the Thousand Hand guild and stole the leader's sword?"

The troubled look cleared away with a smile, like sunlight parting through stormy clouds.

"...and then that was when I realised, the knight was rescuing the dragon, not the damsel!"

Mirth lit the planes of Strix's planes, warm as the glow from the firelight as it cast dancing shadows over the both of them. Viktor didn't even realise it was nightfall until he was studying the planes of Strix's face in the semi-darkness, how it sharpened and softened it all at once. Supper was a long gone memory, and the mulled wine was sitting heavy and pleasant in his gut. He hadn't had enough to be truly drunk, no, but it was sharing a secret every time he sipped and caught Strix's eye.

Strix had loosened up, as loose as a creature of the night can truly be while looking over their shoulder - he was noticeably more slouched, trying his best to melt into the furs, or into Viktor's side of the bench. Sometime in the evening, Viktor had moved from sitting opposite of Strix to next to him, a warm presence in the dark of the room. "I mean," Strix smirked. "He was wearing a helmet. Maybe he didn't see."

"Nah, he definitely saw. If he didn't, he would've definitely felt when he hefted the scaly son of a bastard onto his shoulder and took off!"

Strix wasn't being silent all the time though. He occasionally spoke up, to put in a wry comment or a interesting fact about some of the monsters Viktor faced, and Viktor found himself nodding along the more Strix spoke. Or maybe he was nodding off because of the warmth from the fire, or the sudden shock of heat to his gut when Strix's eyes flicked to his own.

"Hey, Strix." Viktor said. "Doesn't it get lonely out here?"

Strix's eyes glowed amber in the firelight as he answered, "Sometimes."

Viktor's throat clicked as he swallowed, and he summoned all the courage he had, even more than facing the child-eating monster, to lay a hand on Strix's knee. Warmth shot up his arm and pooled in his stomach. "You don't have to be. Not tonight." He leaned closer to Strix, closer to the intoxicating scent of forest and the night and just him. Still, he hovered just over Strix’s lips, with enough distance for Strix to pull away, in case Viktor had read all the signs wrong.

He didn't. Strix closed the distance with a surge.

Then Viktor didn’t have to worry afterwards.

"They still want me dead, y'know." Strix murmured from his position on Viktor's chest.

Viktor made a rumbling noise of question, eyes closed, too blissed out to properly answer. He felt Strix stroke his jaw with careful fingers. "And you, by association."

Viktor peeked open one eye open at Strix. "Didn't we just save the livelihood of their village?"

"Yes. Also risked your neck for the town's 'ghost monster'." Strix continued, even when Viktor opened both his eyes to frown at him. "Their willful ignorance won't last long. Sooner or later they'll try to run you out for standing up for me. They still blame me for attracting the beast to them."

Viktor propped himself up on one elbow, carefully maneuvering Strix to look at him in the eyes. "Bullshit. You saved their children. They still believe you're still bad?"

"They're fearful of what they don't know."

Strix's face looked forlorn that Viktor reached down to kiss it off and smooth out the frown. Strix definitely looked a lot more calmer once Viktor pulled away, but there was still a concerned wrinkle in his brow. "You should leave this place while you still can."

"Or what, they'll re-fetch the pitchforks and run me out of town?"

Strix gave him a blank look, and Viktor realised that yes, Strix really did mean that.

"Huh."

Maybe Strix had a point. It was high time he moved on anyway, places to visit, people to see, monsters to hunt. "What about you, though? Will you be alright?"

"I had the moniker 'Ghost Feather' for a reason. I know how to disappear when I need to."

'But you shouldn't have to hide,' Viktor thought, 'You shouldn't have to fear for your life, when you take place in this world too.'

He kept his mouth though, and wondered again.

"This is goodbye, isn't it." Strix said.

Viktor hummed in agreement. They stood in front of Strix's cottage, next to the sprawling wildflowers and untamed grass. Even the sun was shining, ignorant of the ache in Strix's chest as he looked over his home.

"Didn't think I would make good memories here. You proved me wrong." Strix came closer to Viktor and clasped his hand with appreciation. "I'll surely remember this. Even when this house rots to the earth."

Viktor smiled at that. "m'glad then." He grasped the back of Strix’s neck and pulled down, tipping his head so he could touch his forehead with Strix’s own, trying to postpone the inevitable. Strix opened his mouth.

"Viktor, I-"

There was the sound of a door being slammed open. "Would you two lovebirds hurry up?" Kinessa called as she hurried up the dirt path, rucksack secure on her shoulder. "Daylight's burning and I want to see the citadel before sunset."

Strix sighed, a warm breath of affection and annoyance. Viktor said, "Hey, you wanted to being the kid along, that makes her your protégé."

The side of Strix's mouth ticked upwards. "And you?"

"...that makes me yours too. Whatever of me you’ll want, it's yours.”

They both steadfastly ignored the retching noises Kinessa was making behind their backs. Viktor took Strix's hand and grinned at him. "Ready?"

Strix smiled back, brighter than any gold. "Yes."

And together, they stepped out into the sunlight.

#striktor #strix ( paladins )#viktor ( paladins )#Paladins: Champions of the Realm #paladins champions of the realm #pcotr #charwriting #charedit

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gayoperatorgunclub · 4 years ago

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ULTIMATE SHIP MEME: MontaDoc Edition? Pretty please? Or any MontaDoc content. I crave it. Much 💕

of course!!!!!!! sorry this has taken so long, but i sincerely hope you enjoy it!!! 💝💝💝

General:

How long will they last? - for fucking EVER!!!!!!

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - two words: mutual. pining. this period, often referred to as the “Beginning of Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. (Temporary Employment As Masters of Dad And Dad Sweethearts)” however, unbeknownst to anybody else in rainbow, by the time Operation: T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. had begun, gustave and gilles had already been together for a couple of years. how did they actually get together? about six months after the GIGN joined rainbow, gustave was in the middle of a mountain of paperwork when he heard someone clear their throat. he spun around to scold whoever it was for coming to medbay when they were sick (despite the fact that he was coming down with a nasty cold), only to be greeted with gilles leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. “gustave. you look as though you’re about to meet death for dinner. how can you expect to take care of others when you’re not taking care of yourself?” gustave just sighed and shook his head, muttering something about leaving him be for another couple hours so he could finish his paperwork, but gilles has other ideas. in mere moments, gustave goes from standing over his desk, organizing some files, to being held in gilles’ big strong arms. “wh- gilles! i-” he was cut off by his own yawn, and gilles smiled at him fondly. gustave felt himself blush, and he squirmed a little, but let gilles carry him to the GIGN quarters. as soon as it seemed like gilles was going to leave, gustave pulled him down for a kiss, then pushed their foreheads together and whispered “you’re going to carry me all this way and not even stay to make sure i don’t go back to my office?” gilles just grinned at him, climbing into bed beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

How was their first kiss? - ROMANTIQUE! and smelling of sickness but what can you do

Wedding:

Who proposed? - monty!! he decided to cook a romantic candlelit dinner at their apartment, and when he sees gustave come home from work, all ragged and exhausted, yet still with a glimmer of determination and subtle joy, he says the first thing that comes to mind: “will you marry me?” gustave froze, his cheeks still rosy and his hair sprinkled with snowflakes. “will i what?” gilles realized his mistake and flushed, stammering a response before gustave was standing in front of him, staring at him scrutinizingly. “gilles.” he started, reaching to intertwine their hands, bring them between their chests, “what did you say?” gilles gulped, then steeled himself and got down on one knee. “gustave kateb. love of my life, light of my days. the man i want to wake up next to every day for the rest of my life. the man who i adore with every fiber of my being. would you do me the honor of being my husband?”

Who is the best man/men? - for monty: bandit! for doc: lion (everyone but them thought it was a joke until the day of the wedding). dominic and olivier’s dual best man speech is the stuff of legends. there were tears, there was laughter, and there was an almost excessive amount of thinly-veiled sexual innuendos at various people in attendance (including both grooms; the best men were both drunk of their asses)

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - they actually fight over who gets to pick twitch! meanwhile rook is in the background like D: (don’t worry, it’s decided that he and twitch will be ring bearer and flower girl respectively) for monty: dokkaebi. for doc: finka

Who did the most planning? - they both did! though gustave focused on food and flowers, and gilles focused on the guest list and the venue (but they ran things by each other before any final decisions were made)

Who stressed the most? - gilles! he was so worried about their families not getting along that he actually prepared a “leave my husband and his family alone or so help me i will never speak to you again” speech

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - gilles’ racist, homophobic, french nationalist uncle (no one in the family likes him, so it wasn’t a big loss) (this uncle also made a surprise appearance at the family dinner where gilles introduced gustave to the rest of his family, and started yelling about “godamn immigrants” and other such bigotted statements, before gilles’ sister physically dragged him out of the house and threw him out the door. afterwards, up in the guest bedroom, gilles quietly tells gustave that it’s okay if he wants to leave, or break up, or anything, and gustave just laughs and tells him that if he wasn’t prepared for family members to express their distaste, he wouldn’t be dating a white man. he pressed a kiss to gilles’ temple, before whispering “although, he was right about my being an immigrant; it’s just that i was born in Paris and immigrated with my family to algeria, not the other way around. A for effort, though”)

Sex:

Who is on top? - gilles!!!! although gustave will occassionally ride him 👀👀👀

Who is the one to instigate things? - gustave is lowkey horny 24/7, but if gilles walks in on him bending over to get something from a cabinet, or tilting his head all the way back while drinking from his water bottle, thereby showcasing the way his throat moves as he swallows, he will lose his shit

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - okay i’m gonna change this one to an explanation of some things from below. i personally think doc lowkey a freak, and gilles is happy to oblige him if that’s what his lapin wants (although he’s not entirely sure how he feels about this “overstimulation” and “post-orgasm torture” and “cock & ball torture” stuff. specifically, he’s not sure he likes hurting gustave, but, while he probably won’t admit it out loud, he secretly adores making gustave cry. when he’s so helpless and powerless and mindless, and he’s begging for something, but for what he doesn’t really know. maybe it’s the knowledge that gilles is in complete control, that gustave trusts him to do this, to make him hurt and cry and just melt, the knowlege that gustave is completely reliant on him for his pleasure, his pain, and everything in between. it’s a heady thing, and gilles isn’t sure how he feels about it, but he’s pretty sure the warmth in his chest and the warmth in his gut are good signs

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - unless they’re doing some of the things mentioned above, or mayhaps some denial 👀👀👀 then yeah, everyone gets the same. they’re very considerate when they’re just doing vanilla

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children: btw, the rest of this is kinda set in a post-retirement au (idrk i just want them to have a farm and be peaceful). give it whatever context u want tho, i was just havin fun

How many children will they have? - they will have four cats and a dog, as well as 2 horses, a donkey, 5 cows, an alpaca, a rabbit, some ducks, a flock of sheep and goats, and the occasional visit from a herd of deer from the forest surrounding their little farm

How many children will they adopt? - since humans CANNOT, i repeat, CANNOT, give birth to the animals listed above, they’re all adopted

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - no one. the animals potty train themselves

Who is the stricter parent? - gilles sneaks them treats while gustave lectures them about dietary habits, so take your pick

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - whenever gilles leaves to run errands, one of the goats goes into a depression so deep and miserable that they’re utterly inconsolable until he comes back. once they hear the sound of the car in the driveway, this lil goat, lovingly named “Bastard” by gustave, will climb onto the roof of the house and scream his joy over gilles’ return to the heavens

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - they tag team on things like feeding the animals and cleaning out the barn, but gustave is much more organized about it

Who is the more loved parent? - the cats, dog, one of the horses, donkey, alpaca, rabbit, goats (except for Bastard), and deer all prefer gustave, though gilles is adequate in the event that gustave is busy with something else (although the alpaca and donkey hate his guts, and will escape their pastures to break into the house and be near gustave. gilles maintains that they’re both devil-spawn, but gustave says he’s just being dramatic and that Thamin (alpaca) and Albalatin (donkey) are complete angels who could do no wrong)

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - animals have NOT unionized. yet.

Who cried the most at graduation? - idk if this counts, but when Bastard finally figured out how to get himself down from the roof after getting himself onto it, gilles cried for an hour

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - gilles lowkey does whenever thamin and albalatin escape to go out into the world and commit crimes, but only to make sure his husband doesn’t get upset when he finds out his precious creatures are hell beasts. certainly not out of anything resembling tolerance or *shudder* like

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - gustave, but gilles can make a mean bowl of cereal

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - gustave. gilles will eat something straight from the garden and gustave is like “DID YOU CHECK IF IT WAS RIPE?????? YOU COULD DIE FROM THAT YOU KNOW, THEN WHERE WOULD I BE???”

Who does the grocery shopping? - gustave. gilles is something of a hermit in their town, and people often remark about the “sweet, kind doctor and his utter brick wall of a husband”

How often do they bake desserts? - whenever Bastard goes a day without doing something Bastardous

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - both lowkey prefer salad, since they care for many animals that would often get used for their meat, and they can’t bear to think about hurting any of their babies

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - gilles. the people in town helped him when he burst into the little grocery store all panicked like “I NEED TO MAKE MY HUSBAND A SURPRISE DINNER BUT I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO MAKE”

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - gustave. gilles like being at home, but city-boy over here thinks that restaurants are a weekly luxury

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - neither. it was thamin and albalatin, attempting to frame gilles for yet another felony

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - gustave. everything is color coded. sex toys included

Who is really against chores? - gilles. gustave films him whenever he actually does clean and yells things like “go white boy go!!” and sends them to twitch for her T.E.A.M. D.A.D.S. scrapbook

Who cleans up after the pets? - they both do, but gilles gets stuck with shit duty more often than not

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - gilles, once. gustave walked in, sniffed the air, then glared at him until he actually swept whatever it was up and threw it away

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - gustave “we can’t have guests over, the house is a mess” kateb

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Bastard. he then proceeded to eat it

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - gustave and his hour-long skincare routine

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - gustave, bc sadiqi the dog (not to be confused with sadiqi the kitten), or Big Sadiqi (kitten sadiqi is Little Sadiqi) is his, gilles, and he will not allow his precious boy to be influenced by such creatures as Bastard

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - they get little sweaters for the animals. that is all

What are their goals for the relationship? - joke: gustave always says “the White Man’s money” despite the fact that his family is richer than gilles’. woke: mutual happiness, comfort, and healing

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - gustave. after 11 am, thamin and albalatin decide they’ve had enough and break in to lay down on the bed next to him. gilles banishes himself to the couch for a week

Who plays the most pranks? - Bastard, thamin, and albalatin. although gustave did dye the sheep’s wool (while it was still attached to them) different colors and patterns and, for the ones who were perfectly content to sit still and be held, replicas of famous paintings (his favorite artist is monet, in case you forgot that he’s french)

#ask #r6scaliber #r6s doc #r6s montagne #doc/montagne #ass alert!#thank you for interacting!

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introvert-no-chameleon · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2: Monstrous Consequences

I almost forgot to put the text version on Tumblr!

Here’s chapter 2 of Of Monsters and McGuckets. The next chapter will probably be a big one, since I have a better idea where the story is going now, so it might take longer than just a couple of days for me to write and edit.

Don’t worry, folks. I fully plan on seeing this fic through.

Chapter 1 on Tumblr, if you don’t use/like Archive of Our Own.

Fiddleford usually made a point to ignore the way the Pines brothers acted on the rare occasions where they all shared a meal, despite the offense it was to his Southern upbringing. His Ma would’ve slapped him across the head if he didn’t chew with his mouth closed or say grace before every meal (a habit he kept even long after he stopped going to church).

He’d hate to imagine what she’d do if he ever ate like his two housemates. Stanley paid as much mind to table manners as he did the law, which was none. Sometimes he’d chew with his mouth open just to tick Fiddleford off, and even go as far as putting his muddy boots on the table if he really wanted to get a rise out of his boyfriend. On the other end of the spectrum sat Stanford, who either inhaled his food in a hurry to get back to his research or left it on his plate until it got too cold to eat while he made field notes.

Yet even those memories were not nearly as bad as the scene unfolding in front of him. Stanford had his paws splayed on the table, his face shoved on to his plate. Egg and grease smeared all over his mouth, and Stanford didn’t seem to notice. The silverware lay unused next to Stanford’s plate, jingling whenever he shifted to get a better angle.

Fiddleford held the edge of the table in a death grip to prevent his employer from tipping it over, and only for that reason. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting very uncomfortable staring at those large, powerful jaws rip into his bacon with a growl, while he held it in place with one paw, like a lion would, he imagined, tear into a dead gazelle. Nor did it have anything to do with the earlier, far too casual comment about Stanford wanting to maul things.

Not at all. If Fiddleford happened to take a big gulp of coffee that felt like tar coming down his throat, that was just because of something else.

He took a chance to see how Stanley was doing. His boyfriend poked at his food with the edge of a claw, and Fiddleford wondered if he could even eat, or if he needed to in this form. Just as he meant to ask, Stan chewed his bacon, shrugged, tipped the contents inside his mouth, and swallowed his entire breakfast and the ceramic plate with a loud crunch. And burped afterward.

Fiddleford quietly sipped the rest of his coffee for the remainder of the meal and made a note to avoid eating with them until they got turned back to normal.

After the ordeal that was breakfast, they finally began retracing their steps to the lake. The woods in Gravity Falls managed to have an underlying, buzzing energy to it. It felt as if everything, even the trees themselves, were teeming with life, a fact that used to fill Fiddleford with wonderment. However, as he became aware of the fact that not everything in the forest was as keen as respecting sentient life as he was, that excitement got replaced by the kind of dread that settled heavy on his shoulders and wouldn't be shaken off until he was back in the safety of their home.

Stanford was excitedly talking about the notes he’d just made as they walked. Even with his ever-present anxiety, Fiddleford still found himself listening to what little they knew of their most recent discovery.

“I’ve decided to call the mysterious liquid in the lake Fluvius Cantatis,” said Stanford, ducking under a branch. “Judging by the fact that I saw a few deer drink from the lake and suffer no outward symptoms, I’m guessing the water only affects humans.”

Stanley walked right through the branch, snapping it by just walking into it. The man didn’t flinch. Heck, Fiddleford would be surprised if he’d noticed it.

“That’s mighty interestin’,” said Fiddleford. “Perhaps the water’s been enchanted? Or…cursed?” He shuddered at the thought. If exploring Gravity Falls had taught him anything, it was that curses were stubborn, tricky things that weren’t dealt with so easily.

“Both are a possibility,” said Stanford, nonplussed. “If it was, indeed, enchanted, then there’s a good chance that we may be able to figure it out with some study. I’ve learned a few spells from the walls of that cavern we explored while finding Mothman, so it may help us get back to normal.”

“I sure hope so,” said Fiddleford. “There ain’t no tellin’ what might happen if ya stay like this too long.”

“Yeah, like how I’m going to use the toilet when I’m a giant rock,” said Stanley with a smirk.

Stanford rolled his eyes and continued forward.

“Don’t be crude, Stanley,” said Fiddleford.

The gargoyle shrugged. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.” He noticed Fiddleford adjust his backpack for the third time in the last minute. “You, uh, need help there, Fidds?”

“If yer careful,” he said, placing the heavy bag on the ground. Now that he was free of the weight, his shoulders began to ache something awful. Fiddleford cracked his back as he straightened up, groaning. For the fourth time that week, he thought about finally getting around to making that appointment with the town chiropractor.

“Jeez, what’re you carrying in this thing?” Stanley picked up the pack and flipped the top open.

Inside were two pairs of thick rubber gloves, a few beakers wrapped in bubble wrap, metal tongues, a thermometer, glass jars with lids and an entire hazmat suit that Stanley had “borrowed” from some godforsaken government facility one night he and Stanford had gotten while drunk out of their minds. (Those were the only details he'd been given in regards to what went down that night, and after careful consideration, Fiddleford decided that it was probably for the best that it stayed that way).

Stanley raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “A bit much, dontcha think?”

Fiddleford huffed. “One of us has to be careful. That lake don’t sit right with me, an’ it’s better if one of us isn’t affected by whatever yer afflictions are.”

Stanley swung the backpack over one shoulder. “Relax, I’m pretty sure ya gotta bathe in this stuff for it to do anything. Me an’ Ford jumped right into it.”

“We don’t know that,” said Fiddleford. “An’ I don’t want to take any chances.”

Stanley cast a glance at his brother, who was walking ahead of them, focusing on re-discovering the path they’d went on yesterday. He put a hand on Fiddleford’s shoulder. Even with Stanley being as gentle as could be, the weight of his hand felt crushing. He sucked in a breath.

“Sorry! Shit, I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s okay. Yer just stronger than usual, s’all.”

Stanley’s joints made a grinding sound as he retracted his hand and let it fall by his side. He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m right here whatever happens, alright? And uh,” He cleared his throat. “If Ford gets carried away, just let me know and I’ll wrestle him back to the shack with us if I haveta.”

“I-I may frighten easy, but there’s no need to be tip-toeing around me as if I’m some sorta newborn kitten.” He forced himself to fake what he’d hoped looked like a reassuring smile.

Stanley frowned, and Fiddleford didn’t need a magic spell to know that the man disagreed. “Look, Fidds. I guess we haven’t really talked about this, an’ this might not be the best place to have this conversation, but…I can’t help but notice you’ve been more on edge lately.”

The way he said those things made the Southern man bristle. He crossed his arms. “I don’t follow.” Fiddleford’s tone was about as inviting as a grizzly bear in a picnic. “Whatever happened to me bein’ more assertive?”

“Hey, I meant that. But…” Stan rubbed the back of his neck. The friction made a grinding sound that only served to worsen Fiddleford’s nerves. “Fidds. Come on. You jump outta your seat if you so much as see a gnome—”

“Those little devils kidnapped me, if ya haven’t forgotten!”

Stanley winced, probably remembering the “Gnome Incident”, as they all called it. It was a sore subject for Fiddleford. Not only did he get mistaken for a woman, but he also ended up getting dragged halfway through the forest by an army of small but astonishingly strong men while tied up like a hog. When Stanley and Stanford came to help after at least a half-hour of humiliation, they’d gotten so many bite marks and bruises from the whole rescue mission that they’d almost considered going to the hospital. The remaining shred of their dignities had been the only reason they hadn’t.

As if that all hadn’t been bad enough, the ropes had left some nasty cuts on Fiddleford’s wrists and ankles. It took weeks for them to heal, and to this day Stanley would still punt away any gnomes that were unfortunate enough to be in Fiddleford’s vicinity.

“Yeah, that’s my point. You’ve just been more jumpy, and…” Stanley seemed to be struggling to get the words out of his mouth. He was squirming where he stood.

In other circumstances, Fiddleford wouldn’t have given him such a hard time. Stan was being more open with his emotions, and that wasn’t easy for him. The young scientist just wished it hadn’t been this particular subject he’d decided to be open about. “An’ what?”

“Look, I’m getting’ kinda worried. You looked like you were about to have a heart attack this mornin’ when we came to the shack.”

Fiddleford set his jaw. “Is that what this mornin’ was? Ya thought that I’d still have my tail stuck between mah legs even after I knew it was you?” He hadn’t expected his anxiety to be so obvious, and now that he knew it was, it was like having someone tear his clothes off in the middle of the town. “Well, excuse me for exercisin’ some caution!”

Stan raised his hands at him, defensively. “Hey, that ain’t what I meant.”

Fiddleford squared his shoulders. “You think that just ‘cause I’m not as well-adjusted to this town’s strangeness as the two of ya, I should just stay inside and have my nose in a book or tinkerin’ away while ya and yer brother do all the dangerous work!”

In actuality, the thought of him doing just that appealed to him greatly, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I’ll have ya know, I’m an inventor! I’ve made things that could fry a man in two flicks of a lamb’s tail!”

Stanley’s brows furrowed. “I have…no idea what that means.”

“It means, Stanley, that I ain’t some dainty thing that ya need to protect. I’m a grown man with a son of mine own, and I’m more than capable of lookin’ after myself!”

“Fidds, come on! Don’t be like that!”

But Fiddleford had stomped past Stanley, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He caught up with Stanford, who had just came across a couple of bushes that Fiddleford assumed concealed the entrance to the lake.

“Ah, perfect,” said Stanford, blissfully unaware of the tension between Fiddleford and Stanley (business as usual, then). “It’s right past here. Allow Stanley and I to go first. After all, we have already been exposed, and there’s—”

That was it. Fiddleford walked ahead, ignoring whatever was about to come out of Stanford’s mouth. Which was not, he quickly realized, an intelligent thing to do, as his next step sent him sliding down a steep dirt slope that had no business being there.

The twins called his name somewhere behind him, but it was too late. He was tumbling down, the world a blur of browns and greens. He inhaled some dirt and coughed in a vain attempt to clear his burning lungs. Just as he thought he’d be doing this forever, he splashed into a body of knee-deep water and stopped moving.

And now there he was, on his hands and knees, looking like a right fool, in front of his boss and boyfriend, no less. He sighed, bringing a shaky hand to his face, staring down at his reflection. The water had a strange purple hue. Wasn’t that just his luck that he wiped his face with water that had probably been contaminated or—

“Oh,” he said, staring at his palms. The skin began to tingle, glowing with a soft purple light. “Shit.”

A headache that felt as if the Devil Himself had just driven spikes into Fiddleford’s head had him doubling over. The pain was strongest on the left and right sides of his skull. His legs ached, and his feet felt numb. He watched with detached, morbid fascination as they broke through his shoes and got longer, until he was staring, slack-jawed at a set of rabbit feet. He wiggled the toes, his brain still struggling to process his new, horrifying reality.

The entire bottom half of him was part hare, tufts of chestnut brown fur poking out of the waistline of his now torn-up pants. He tried standing up, gasping as his head swung back, heavier than he’d ever remembered it being. He quickly held it in place with his (thank goodness!) human hands. Licking his lips, he brought his hands up to the top of his head. His fingers caressed what felt an awful lot like two large antlers, and a pair of rabbit ears.

A jackalope. He was a jackalope.

Of all the things, of all the mythological creatures in all of existence, he was a goddamn hare with antlers, because life had decided that Fiddleford McGucket hadn’t suffered enough today. The only solace he found was the fact that his face was still human, if the reflection of the lake was anything to go by, which was at least something. He’d probably drown himself right then and there if he had a rabbit nose or some other nonsense like that.

Fiddleford dragged himself out of the lake. The water didn’t drip or fall off his skin. Instead, his body seemed to absorb it. That wasn’t worrying at all.

“Fidds, are you okay? Shit, hold on, I’m almost there!”

Stanley skid down the slope and ran towards him. His wings were raised off the ground so he could run without tripping over them, and his eyes glowed more intensely than he’d seen them yet. Stanford wasn’t far behind, his wings occasionally flapping to help him keep his balance.

The usual sense of relief he’d get whenever Stanley came to his aid was, to his increasing concern, being overrun by something else. It was like somebody had flipped a switch inside of him, activating a strong, fight-or-flight instinct that Fiddleford couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to.

Suddenly, his mind didn’t see Stanley Pines, his beloved partner, and Stanford Pines, his good friend and employer. All he could take in were teeth and jaws and claws that could gut a creature like himself in seconds. This new instinct was worse than any panic attack he’d ever had, his throat tightening, his breathing labored, his head throbbing, seemingly taking over his own body, which began to move as if on its own accord.

He ran back in the woods, getting as far away from Stanley as his legs would carry him, which turned out to be incredibly far, incredibly fast. His heart thumped against his chest as he kept moving forward, crashing through bushes, any coherent thought was far gone, replaced with the need to get away now.

Had he been in his right mind, he’d have noticed Stanley’s big, heartbroken eyes on his back until he was out of sight, swallowed up by Gravity Falls’ forest.

Stanford caught up to Stanley just as the latter watched his boyfriend run into the forest at a pace that would almost put Stan’s car to shame. He’d barely seen what Fiddleford had turned into after falling into the lake, but whatever it was looked like some weird bunny-thing that probably had little to no way to defend itself. Well, he guessed running like hell was a damn good way to defend oneself. Couldn’t argue with the results.

“Great.” Stanley held his head. “Just fuckin’ peachy.”

“That could have gone better,” said Stanford.

“You decide to become Captain Obvious today or somethin’?” snapped Stanley. He gestured towards the direction Fiddleford went. “How the fuck are we gonna find him?”

“Calm down, Stan. I have a plan.” Ford pushed his glasses up his nose. “Do you remember those microchips that Fiddleford made?”

Stanley stared at his brother as if he’d just started speaking another language. “Sixer, this ain’t time for your nerd talk, Fidds could get eaten by a mountain lion or bear if we don’t do somethin’!”

Ford glared at him. “This is why I’m bringing it up. Fiddleford it to help us track each other in the case that one of us gets abducted again.” Ford rummaged through the knapsack he always brought with him and pulled out a clunky metal remote with a glass screen. He turned it on. “Aha!”

“What?”

“It’s working magnificently! Fiddleford will be pleased to know that the remote has no problems picking up his signal.”

Stan loved his brother, he really did, but it was shit like his brother managing to be excited about some science gizmo while his friend was hopping around the woods in a panic that really tested his patience. “Yeah, I’m sure he’d also love to be alive to talk about it, so why don’t ya shut yer yap for five seconds so we can get him?”

Ford huffed. He stared back down at the screen. “He’s going towards the middle of the forest, so at least he isn’t near any caves.” He stopped talking, eyes widening. “We need to move. He’s coming across Manotaur territory.”

Stanley swore. “Then let’s go already!”

“Stan, you’re slower like this. You should let me—”

“Oh, hell no, Pointdexter. I’m not waitin’ here while you go off after him. He’s gonna freak out if he sees you alone.”

Ford opened his mouth, saw the expression that Stan had on his face, and let whatever stupid thing he was going to tell Stan, die. “Fine but try not to lose me. I’m going to have to…” He sighed. “Run on four legs.”

Even in his state of mind, Stanley couldn’t resist grinning. “Maybe this situation isn’t all bad.”

Ford took off his boot and threw it at his brother. It bounced off him. Stan didn’t even feel it.

“Fiddleford better be grateful for this,” muttered Ford as he freed himself of his other shoe and began to—there was no other word for it—gallop in the direction Fiddleford went.

Filing the mental image of his brother running around like a giant housecat for later, Stan lumbered behind him. He was determined to keep up, not wanting to waste more time.

#of monsters and mcguckets #fiddlestan #mystery trio #mystery trio au #monster falls #fiddleford hadron mcgucket #fiddleford mcgucket #young fiddleford #young stanley pines #young stanford pines #young stan bros #gargoyle!stan #sphinx!ford #jackalope!fiddleford #archive of our own #my writing

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seagreen-meets-grey · 4 years ago

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When Lightning Strikes Ch. 13

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

_______________

Astrid could hear the soft gurgling of the stream long before she saw it. Hiccup led her around several groups of trees, through dense thicket, over narrow footpaths so hidden, she wondered if he’d formed them himself or if he’d been here so often, he knew every single step by heart. Probably both.

Ducking underneath the low-hanging leaves of a beech and evading the thorned twigs of a blackberry bush, they arrived on a small meadow, blooming and buzzing in the warm sunlight. She breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the sweet smell of late spring.

The stream was about ten feet wide, shallow water so clear she could count the pebbles at the bottom glistening in the light. She admired the way the current smoothly ran over and past the stones sticking out of the water, some big and round, some flat, serving as slippery step stones.

All around, leaves were rustling in the faint breeze, coming together with the humming and buzzing activity in the grass and the calming melody of the water in a soothing symphony.

The grass tickled her ankles as she slowly made her way to the bank of the stream, looking around and taking it all in. “This place is amazing.”

“It’s my favorite place in the forest.” Hiccup followed her and sat down on a small rock near the water. “Apart from the small cove my father used to take me to for fishing. It’s a bit further downstream, but last week I found a little fox family there and I don’t want to disturb them.”

She gently nudged him with her foot. “Scooch over.” When he moved to the side to make room on his rock, she settled down next to him. The surface of the rock was rather flat and not very big, just enough for two lean people to share without one butt cheek hanging over the side. It also meant that her entire side was pressed against his. He was warm and soft and comfortable. And maybe she leaned into him a bit, but only because she didn’t want to slide off the rock.

They sat in silence for a while. Astrid leaned back on her hands as far as she could on this surface and took in the scenery. Lining the meadow and the creek, knobby trees covered in ivy stood among straight trunks with white-gray pattern; overgrowing shrubbery, weeds and wildflowers nestled the ground close to their roots.

And there was green. Wherever she looked, everything was green, in different shades and shapes and sizes. When she breathed in through the nose, she could practically smell the luscious colors, along with the May bells and mayweed and the scent of fresh water in spring.

A gentle breeze brushed through her hair, harmonizing with the rustling of the leaves and the mellow mumbling and babbling of the water. Chirping and tweeting sounded from the trees, accompanied by the squeaking and cheeping of the baby birds hidden in the branches. A small, thin tree had grown low across the stream, its twigs hanging into the water, and she imagined the smaller animals using it as a bridge so they didn’t get wet feet or got carried away by the current.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tuft of red and white swiftly disappearing up the trunk of a tree. A vole scurried through the leaves on the other side of the stream. Occasionally, a sudden ripple on the water revealed a glimpse of the activity below the surface. She knew that the longer she waited, the more the life of the forest would reveal itself to her. There was no traffic, no people, just her and Hiccup and their promised nature quality time.

Also belonging to the scenery was one dashing young man with the kind of chiseled jaw covered in stubble that could kill a man – or woman. He was focused on something unspecific in the water. In the sunlight, his hair looked like it would catch on fire any moment. Even his eyelashes were glowing. Was it possible to be hot in a dorky way? Apparently. She took a deep breath and followed his gaze to the mesmerizing dance of light and tiny waves on the surface of the water.

After a few minutes of silence, she started plucking at a long blade of grass until she held half of it in her hand. Staring at the stream, she absentmindedly ripped the blade in tiny pieces. “I’m afraid Eret’s cheating on me.” She opened her palms and the grass landed on her shoes without a sound while she waited. She didn’t even know what she was waiting for, or why she’d admitted to that in the first place. She suspected the peacefulness of this place had gained her trust.

Hiccup regarded her thoughtfully. “Why do you think that?”

She crossed her arms with a sigh. “He keeps talking about this coworker of his. How much fun they have at work. How they always get stuck after their shift ends because of their infinite amount of conversation topics. It’s always ‘my coworker’ this and ‘my coworker’ that. And then last March, on their department’s spring party, I met Dana. She kept going on and on and on about how funny he is, how capable and handsome.” She tugged at a whole clump of grass, in desperate need to rip something apart. “She was practically throwing herself at him.”

“Hmm,” Hiccup made. “Have you talked to him about that?”

She huffed. “Oh, I have. I confronted him two weeks ago. He didn’t take the accusation that well.”

“You… blatantly accused him of cheating? I don’t think anyone would take that well.”

“How else was I supposed to talk to him about it? Ask him nicely if he has a mistress?”

He shrugged with one shoulder. “Yes. No? I don’t know. I guess there’s a more delicate way to approach that subject.”

“I’m a straight-forward person, I don’t like to beat around the bush. So when he started his next sentence with my coworker and I, I just snapped. I was so sick of it.”

“What happened?”

“It escalated. We yelled. Then while he packed for his work trip, I packed to go live with my parents for a while. Said I needed some distance. He said I didn’t even need to leave the house for that, because I was already acting distant. I said that the same would go for him. And the yelling started again and then we left and… Well.” She vaguely gestured around. “Here I am.”

“Sounds like a real mess.”

“It is.” She bit her lip. “What do you think I should do?”

He looked at her in earnest, sincerity deep in his eyes. “I think you should talk to him about how you feel. And maybe this time, leave out the blunt accusations.”

She groaned and threw her head back. “I don’t want to talk about my feelings.”

“At some point, you will have to. Take it from a guy who as a teenager ran away from every single confrontation because he was too afraid of failure and an outcome more negative than the actual situation.”

The boulder was back in her stomach. She wondered what would happen if she went into the water now. Why had she brought up the topic again? Because she’d felt comfortable enough to do so? And weirdly, despite her old friend the boulder, she wanted to get another thing off her chest. Desperately.

“I took a pregnancy test last night.” She felt his eyes bore into the side of her head.

“Are you…?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Oh.” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say. “Is that… I mean, did- did you… Are you- are you okay?”

Ripping out more grass, she scrunched up her face. “Yeah. I’m relieved, I guess. I mean, I always knew I wanted to have kids at some point, but…”

“But now’s not a good time,” he finished the sentence for her and she nodded. If she had been pregnant, then the whole situation would have been more complicated. She probably would have rushed back into a relationship that still needed more sorting out, ignoring any problems for the sake of the child. But that would have just made all parties involved more miserable.

She smiled at Hiccup. “Thanks. You’re good to talk to.” That was probably an understatement. It was somehow so easy to tell him about things she hadn’t even yet mentioned in passing around anyone else. They’d just started to really get to know each other, and she already trusted him completely. Her mother would call her naïve. But Astrid knew better, and so did he, judging by the meaningful look he gave her.

“Anytime.”

Before she could change her mind, she leaned her head on his shoulder. She could feel him freeze for a moment, but then he relaxed and slowly leaned his own head against hers. The boulder inside her dissolved.

A woodpecker joined them somewhere on their left, a cuckoo called faintly in the distance. She closed her eyes. The sun warming her face and the songs of nature were like a lullaby, luring her in for a nap. She’d almost drifted off when a gentle nudge brought her back. Looking up at Hiccup, she opened her mouth to say something, but he shook his head and pointed ahead.

There, on the other side of the stream, a deer poked its head out of the underbrush. It stood still for a moment, its nose quivering, before it slowly stalked towards the water. With one last check of its surroundings, it lowered its head and started drinking. Astrid didn’t dare to move a muscle or make the slightest sound.

However, a low gasp escaped her when a second deer came onto the meadow, then a third. One of them set its gaze onto the two humans on the other side, regarding them, and after a good twenty seconds of staring decided they were no threat. It was an incredible feeling. Her hand slowly reached for her phone, but before she could take it out of her pocket, Hiccup closed his hand over hers and shook his head. "Shh," he made, so quietly she almost didn't hear it. Her heart was pounding.

When the breeze suddenly picked up and carried their scent over, the deer tensed, holding their noses up in the air immediately. From one second to the other, all three of them leapt up and bolted, the snapping of twigs in the underbrush growing fainter by the second. The woodpecker, bumblebees and gurgling of the water slowly came back into focus. She and Hiccup looked at each other with a spark in their eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered and he raised his eyebrows in question. “For taking me here.”

“Ah, you’re welc–” His voice died when she suddenly leaned forward and gave him a kiss on the cheek. With wide, green eyes he stared at her, and she assumed her expression mirrored his. Her lips tingled, warm and exciting. The sensation wandered down her arm into her hand and she managed to break away from his gaze to look down. He followed her eyes and when he realized his hand was still holding hers, he gulped and slowly pulled away, the nerves under her skin longing to chase his touch.

“We… We should probably get going,” she feebly suggested.

“Yeah,” he agreed, voice an octave higher than normal. “That’s exactly what I was gonna… Get going.” Looking anywhere but at her, he scrambled up from the rock and orientated himself. “There- let’s… Uh, let’s go there.”

For some reason, her knees needed a moment before they let her walk after him. Whatever that had just been, she should just forget about it. She followed Hiccup through the trees, no paths directing the way. All she could do was trust him that he knew where he was going, and she did. He led her up a small hill, leaves and twigs crunching under their steps.

“Hey, your shoe is untied,” she noted. He stopped to look down and a soft oh escaped him. It was cute.

While she readjusted her socks that were slowly slipping from her heel, he bent over to relace his shoes, giving her a good look at his backside. From her point of view – which was completely neutral, of course – he had a nice butt. When he stood again, she jogged past him and gave it a light slap.

“Astrid!” he exclaimed in surprise.

She just smirked at him. “Come on, slowpoke!” Then she sprinted down the other side of the hill.

“Oh, you!” she heard him call before he took after her, chasing her through the woods. She made it down the hill, past a group of birches and around a thick beech when he came around the other side of it, throwing his arms around her and lifting her up. “Gotcha!” He immediately let go of her after, walking further down the invisible path only he could see.

She had to catch her breath for a second before she fell back in step beside him. From the sprint. “Just so you know, I let you win.”

“No, no you didn’t!” he countered in a chipper tone.

“Because I was tired of playing catch.”

“Nope, you weren’t.” She stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh. “You’re so mature, Ms. Hofferson.”

“That’s because I’m older than you.”

“By two months! Hey, watch your step, there’s a lot of vines here.” Naturally, he promptly stumbled over one, catching himself on a tree.

“Watch your step, there’s lots of vines here.”

He shook his head. “Well, aren’t you a little smartass.”

“Takes one to know one,” she shrugged.

“Eh, can’t argue with that.”

She brushed her fist along his arm again and caught his grin.

All too soon, she began to make out traffic and chatter in the distance again. It felt like leaving a different, peaceful universe, where the rest of the world and its problems didn’t exist. It was kind of disappointing. And if that wasn’t enough, on their way back to the cars, her phone started ringing with a very familiar name filling the screen. She sighed. She didn’t want to deal with that right now, but knew that ignoring his call wouldn’t make anything any better.

She threw Hiccup an apologetic look and held her phone against her ear. “Hi.”

“Hey.” There was an awkward beat of silence. “I’m on my way home and uh… I just wanted to know if you’re there.”

“No.”

“Are you… still in Berk? At your parents’ place?”

“Yes.”

“Do… Do you know when you’ll be coming back?”

“No.”

When her answers didn’t become more elaborate, Eret cleared his throat, and after years of being with him, she could tell he was about to say something he’d rather not say at all. “You, um. You were right, by the way. About Dana.” Bright red warning bells rang in her mind at that name. “She kissed me last night.” He cleared his throat and gulped audibly.

She stepped past the last line of trees and onto the gravel of the parking lot, and leaving the woods had never felt this sobering. “I fucking knew it,” she mumbled through clenched teeth.

“Astrid–”

“I knew it!”

“Hey, hold on, please let me finish!”

She walked a small distance away from Hiccup and any other people in the near vicinity. No need for them to overhear her personal drama. “Fine, I’m listening!”

“Like I said, you were right, she wanted–”

“Did you kiss her back?”

“No–”

“So there’s nothing going on between you and your coworker?”

He didn’t immediately answer and his hesitation stung. “Will you just let me explain?!”

“You didn’t answer my question!” She was yelling and she knew it. People were turning their heads so she glowered at them.

“And you didn’t let me speak in the first place! You know what, my mother’s right, sometimes you really do act like my personal dictator.”

Astrid’s jaw dropped to the floor. “WELL, FUCK YOU TOO!” she screamed and it took everything in her to not fling her phone across the parking lot. Instead, she hung up and forcefully kicked at a large pebble on the ground. It whirled up dust and gravel and hit a stranger’s car. She couldn’t care less. Everything inside her was fuming. How dare he? How dare they?!

With a frustrated growl, she turned around and walked back to Hiccup. He had given her some space and was leaning against his car.

“Everything alright?” he asked carefully at her aggressive body language.

“I was right! Eret just told me! He and his stupid fucking coworker!”

“So… He admitted to cheating on you?”

“Well, no, not in those words, but…”

“So he didn’t?”

“He was telling me the story of how he and Dana had fun last night, but I just...”

“You avoided the topic.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then huffed. “I didn’t need to hear any details.”

“Hm,” he made, thoughts scurrying across his face. “Are you sure there isn’t more to the story than you think? Maybe you should talk–”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she interrupted him, the words breaking out of her on their own.

He held up his hands in defense. “Geez, sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

Something churned inside her stomach, between all the raging knives, something akin to guilt. Seeing his expression, her shoulders untensed a little. “No, sorry for yelling at you. I’m just so– ugh!” Her fist punched the next best thing, which was the metal pole of a parking sign. A flash of pain shot through her knuckles and she shook her hand out with a hiss.

“Hey, can I say something?” Hiccup asked, caution coating his voice with his eyes set on her aching hand.

She shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t include the word overreaction.”

He shook his head, brows furrowed in contemplation. “I might be going out on a limb here, but… Do you think that, maybe, you want it to be true?”

“Why on Earth would I want that?!”

“Because… Because you’re not happy in your relationship and- and this way, you can put the blame on someone other than yourself.”

“EXCUSE ME?!” The blazing wall of fire burned every shred of guilt and sympathy she felt.

He held up his hands again. “I’m just saying, you accused him of cheating, kept yelling at him – I’m assuming offensively – and now you yelled at him again instead of hearing him out. Is that what happened or am I totally off-base here?”

“Are you taking his side?!”

“No! If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be involved in this at all!”

“Then why are we still having this conversation?” She crossed her arms tightly over her chest as he sighed.

“Because I care about you. And I hate seeing you digging yourself deeper into this mess, so I’m trying to help you realize what to do.”

“Really? Then what is it I should do?”

“Let him give you his side of the story. Without any yelling.”

She leaned against the pole, suddenly very tired. “I…”

“You know,” he said when she didn’t continue, avoiding his searching eyes, “for someone claiming to be so straightforward, you sure like to run from truthful conversations.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, voice rising again.

He looked at her for a moment, then shook is head. “Never mind.”

“No, if you have something to say, then say it!”

After a short contemplating glance, he stood up straight. “Fine. You say you don’t like to beat around the bush, but how come we’re not talking about what happened on your wedding day? Or at Dagur’s party? Are we just going to ignore all that until we die?”

“What- I don’t- We-” she stuttered, her stomach dropping further than the ground beneath her feet. At once, she felt exposed, vulnerable, and confused at the same time. Her mind decided on the next best defense mechanism. “What is there to talk about?” She could see the small change in his eyes, a gray curtain falling, tired, disappointed, sad.

“You’ll keep denying it, won’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question and that somehow hit even harder.

“What is there to deny?”

Suddenly, he took a large step towards her, until he was so close, their noses were almost touching. She could feel the heat of his body, smell his deodorant, make out every tiny hair on his face and the miniscule change of skin tissue at the edges of the long, white scar on his chin. Her breath hitched, heart pounding rapidly, her entire being longing to close the remaining gap between their bodies. Her knees weakened. It was hard to not get mesmerized by his eyes, a deep, green galaxy right before her. She tore her eyes away from them, only to latch onto his lips. She couldn’t breathe.

Like detaching himself from a magnet, he slowly stepped back and the air found its way back into her lungs. She could hear her heartbeat in every cell of her body, had trouble making sense of her surroundings, like waking up in a dark room with only a sliver of light coming from an unknown direction. By the time her feet touched solid ground again, mere seconds could have passed, or entire lifetimes.

“You’re right,” he said, strained voice cutting right through her chest, “there’s nothing to talk about. You dropped your phone, by the way.” With that, he got into his car, reversed out of the parking spot, and drove away. Even after he was long gone and the sound of his engine had faded in the distance, Astrid was still rooted to the spot, staring in the direction he had disappeared.

It took her a while to reassemble herself, clear the fog in her mind, will her heartbeat to finally slow down. On autopilot, she picked her phone up from the ground, wiped the gravel off the screen, saw the new variation of tiny scratches on the back but didn’t truly see anything. Her mind was still drowning in the sudden proximity to Hiccup Haddock, which shouldn’t have shaken her as much as it had, considering she’d sat close to him merely an hour ago.

Only when she was back in her own car, weaving her way through Berk’s rush hour traffic, her fingers stopped twitching at the memory of being almost skin to skin with him. As the fog was clearing, her confusion began settling, the puzzle pieces setting themselves back together, and a fist of steel closed around her still thumping heart.

It remained like that for the rest of the day. She managed to smile, make small talk, be present enough to get through the conversations with her parents, avoiding too much eye contact, especially with her mother. She probably noticed her mental absence but knew it would be futile to try and get anything out of her.

Astrid went to bed at ten; she tossed, turned, buried her face in her pillow until long past midnight. Now that she was alone with her thoughts, lying in the dark in her old bedroom, there was no place to hide from her mind. It insisted on replaying the whole day over and over, gnawing and nibbling away at her from the inside. When she closed her eyes, she saw green irises, a storm of freckles dancing across her retina, lips so close her fingers twitched to touch them, her own lips puckering. And even though it’s been several hours, she could still feel his hand on hers, warm and gentle and setting a blazing fire to her core.

He kept haunting her, occupying her every thought, every beat of her heart. Her ribs were aching from the steel inside her chest, pressing cold and heavy against her heart and lungs ever since her fight with Hiccup. She felt terrible. All he’d done was be honest, something she had not been with herself for a very long time, and she’d lashed out at him just like she had at Eret and her mother.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand and squinted at the bright screen. Opening the right messenger app, she drafted an apology message, deleted it several times, all the time hoping he wasn’t looking at his side of the chat right now and saw her typing. Because in the end, she’d gone through at least ten versions of the same text and didn’t send any of them. None of them sounded right, didn’t fully convey the sincerity of her feelings. Instead, she got lost in her thoughts again, staring at the ceiling, phone forgotten beside her with the screen gone dark from long inactivity.

Gazing down at her was a pair of eyes. Lighter towards the middle, a dark green ring at the edges, and depending on how the light hit them, either forest green or a brilliant shade of emerald. It was so fascinating to watch him, to survey the everchanging expressions on his face, his emotions an open book most of the time. The way his eyebrows dipped, the corners of his mouth twitched or the crinkles around his eyes deepened, eyes always the most telling. How his features changed with every new thought, every new idea, and the way his shoulders and hands could carry half the conversation for him.

The sound of his laugh, sometimes dorky, sometimes sassy, sometimes charming, and always so uniquely Hiccup. That lopsided smile of his that could turn into a smirk when he thought of something witty to say. How he listened to her, even when all she was spouting was a bunch of mundane bullshit. How he showed interest in everything she said and did. His kind nature, his honesty, his spirit. The way he could turn her insides to mush and her soul to dangle freely a few thousand feet in the air by just a look or a simple touch. How he inspired her to be herself.

Never before had she been this intrigued by someone, never had she wanted to discover every little thing there was to know about another person. Wanted him to know her better than she did herself. Wanted to know him better than anyone else. Wanted him with her here, next to her, right now. Wanted to feel his warmth, his touch, his breath ghosting over her lips, over her skin, before tracing every line, every patch of skin on her body with his tongue. A deep, longing sigh escaped her as she imagined all the things she wanted him to do to her, everything she wanted to do with him. Craved him more than she ever had anyone else.

But above all, she couldn’t keep running from the truth any longer, especially since it was blaring in her face like a trumpet. As soon as she opened that gate, the steel in her chest melted, glowing and smoldering as it encased her heart. A giddy thrill coursed through her, as well as fatigue, as she finally gave in, let the wall crumble brick by brick. By the time the first choked sob rocked her body, the tears were already flooding down her face, hot and salty, paired with incredulous laughter.

Fuck. This was it, wasn’t it? She was undeniably and irrevocably screwed.

#httyd #hiccstrid #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #astrid hofferson #eret son of eret #when lightning strikes #modern au #a bit of angst with a dash of drama #or the other way around #maja writes #ff #fanfic #how to train your dragon

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lay-d-l · 4 years ago

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Zoyalai Modern AU

This spring I joined @grishaversebigbang and for whatever reason I signed up as a writer. Not a very smart idea it was very stressful and I don’t even like it that much, but y’know, next year, I’ll be ready.

I worked with incredibly talented people who are, generally the sweetest human beings you could meet.

Materialki:

@someofgennie x

@edmeom x

Corporalki:

@shelbychild

Fic summary: Zoya was living day for day, not caring really, not after him. After she bumps into a guy at her favorite coffee shop, her life gets interesting again. Will she let herself feel again?

you can find my fic here *it’s not there yet, so if you wanna see it, keep reading*

It was a wet Tuesday morning; it had been raining all night and I wasn’t feeling like going out. But things happen 24/7 and that means reporters, like me, work 24/7. I wiggled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Seeing what I saw, I groaned. It's Zoya's-Famous-Bed-Hair. Once, in junior year, I woke up late and didn't have time for hair and makeup. So, naturally, I put on the first thing I got my hands on and ran out. Which is usually okay, right? Yeah, well Os Alta Speciality School has uniforms. Though, they’re not like Ketterdam ones. In Ketterdam, it's regular pants-shirt-jumper; in Os Alta they wore keftas. That's not the point, though; the night before, Genya and I were out, partying, so I wore clothes from last night's party. The principal suspended me for the day. This morning, I braided my hair, took my laptop, and left for the Dragon Scale. Dragon Scale is a coffee shop just around the corner from my apartment. Since I started drinking coffee when I was fifteen I have always gone there; it felt safe. Mostly because no one, not even Genya, knew about it. Just like every other day, it was almost empty. One person at the counter and a few others scattered in the back. I went to the counter and Anna, the barista, smiled at me. "The usual?" she asked. "You know it," I smiled back. "Could you bring it to me though? I have a lot of work today." Not turning from the shelves she said, "No worries." With that I went to sit by the window. I liked looking at people as they passed by, even when it's not a busy day. I opened the laptop and started writing: the elections are nearing, are you ready to decide between our two competitors? Is it going to be the cunning Petyr or the sly Nikolai Lantsov? I was never into politics, but Shelby, my publisher, insisted I write about this year's election. I love my job, I really do, but this is incredibly boring and the campaigns don't start until a few weeks from now, so when Anna brought my frappe, I looked to the street. I was like a less smart Sherlock Holmes. Meaning I can't really deduct, I just notice how people walk and dress, or if they have any ticks. Like if their left shoulder is lower than their right one. There was a woman in a hot pink coat, which was an unusual choice considering not many people wear bright colours at this time of year. A pig tailed girl who had stuck a lollipop to her mother's jacket. And a guy who was trying so hard not to be seen, but who obviously failed. With nothing else to do I packed my laptop, took my cup and went out. As I was turning to say bye to Anna, I bumped into a wall. I said, "Really? Couldn't have told me I'm going into a wall???" She started laughing hysterically. "What?" "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm no wall." I turned around. He definitely wasn't a wall. "Witty remarks are really unnecessary." I said. He put his arms up in surrender. "I am sorry that I bumped into you though." “Don’t worry, it could have been someone not as pretty as you.” “Thank you, I think. I’m going to go now. Bye Anna!” as I was walking out I heard Anna talking to the man.

Next day, I was sitting in the park, trying to write something on the elections but it was a no go. I was closing my laptop when I felt someone sit beside me. I looked to my right and saw the guy from the coffee shop. “What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “What are you doing here?” I asked, “Are you following me?” “No, I was walking, and I saw a familiar face, thought I say ‘Hi’. What does ‘Z’ stand for?” “It stands for Zebra.” “Really?” “No, of course not, it stands for Zoya.” “Oh that’s a nice name, is it yours? What does it mean?” “Yes, of course it’s mine. It means ‘life’”I said. “And you are?” “Nikolai.” he looked at his watch, “As much as I liked this encounter, I must go now.” “Bye?” He bowed to his waist, “Farewell.”

I snoozed my alarm three times, but it kept ringing. Then I realised it's not a regular alarm, it's a Genya alarm. "What is it, Kostyk?" I said into the phone. "Oooh!" she exclaimed, "Kostyk, that sounds nice. Not used to it though." "I know that's why I said it. What's the rush?" "It's Saturday." "Oka-" "ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU FORGOT OUR WEEKLY MEETING???" "Don't yell," I said. "Of course I didn't forget, you'd kill me if I did. I just didn't think it'd be this early." "Early?" she asked, "Zoya it's 11:00 in the morning!" "Oops? Okay, well, I'm obviously awake now, so what were you thinking of doing?" I asked. "The Zoo! Winter is coming, and I want to see all the summer animals before they stop going out." "Sure, meet you at the park in two hours?" "Yeah, love you!" she said, and hung up. I got up and went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was empty, guess I forgot to go to the store. So I decided to go to a bakery down the street, hoping they still have something warm. Luckily for me, they did. I bought two dollars worth of mini-whinnies and got back home. It was a relatively sunny day, so I sat at the balcony. And for a Saturday, it wasn't really busy. Besides Genya days, Saturdays are usually the farmers market days too. Most people don't have time to buy groceries during the week. I looked up to the Grand Palace. Tourists always said it was the most beautiful building in Os Alta, but I could never see it. It's not ugly, I just found the Little Palace more interesting. The Grand Palace is like any other palace ever, with big towers and shiny roofs, I can see that in any place that had a royal dynasty. But only we have a huge library with a fountain next to the royal Palace. I looked at my watch and yelped, I'm gonna be late!, I thought. I changed from my sweats and tee, and put on jeans, a jumper and boots, In case it rains. Took the leather jacket and keys from the hanger and ran out. The park wasn't far from my apartment so I walked. When I got to our usual meeting spot, Genya was already there. I waved apologetically. She rolled her eyes: "At least you're here, let's go!" "Fine, fine, I'm going!", I laughed. We sat in her car and went to the zoo. During the ride we talked about what we did during the week, how's married life and how's David in general, but all that was dropped the moment we walked through the gates of the zoo. First we saw the birds; pigeons, eagles and those funny colored ones that sing. Next animals were sheep, llama and deer. Their cages were around a pavilion that had horses and ponies you could ride, but those are mostly for kids. Few years back, Genya asked if we could ride but they wouldn’t let us. She said “it wasn’t fair that only kids can do fun stuff…” and continued to tell me how when she has kids they will be free to do whatever they want. We walked next to the deer cage. David loves them so every time we’re here we tend to stay a bit longer. Today we saw there was a new addition to the family. On the cage it said she was a doe named Lola. Next stop were the ostridges and the emus, we skipped those, mostly because one ostridge bit me a few years back when I tried to feed it. Genya got it on camera. On the other side of the sidewalk were the bison, and we always acted as if they were the flying bison from Avatar: the Last Airbender. We named all of them Appa. The seals were sleeping so we went to the reptiles instead. Most of the snakes were also sleeping, as was the aligator so we decided to skip the hippoes too and went to see the wolves. Though they didn't pay attention to us as they were eating. The monkeys were mostly shitting onto their hands and throwing it at each other… The petting zoo was empty so we had all the little goats to ourselves! When I was a kid, and my mom still my mom, I tried to take one of the goats with me home, but I couldn’t carry it alone so it stayed in the petting zoo. When we got to the bears most of them were in the water, but there was one who went in circles around his pond, like he was trying to catch fish. Lions were lying around, hyenas were laughing at the visitors, which is not creepy at all… At that point we got tired and went to the big pond where the ducks and the swans are. I sat on a bench while Genya bought ice cream. “Strawberry?” she asked. I just nodded. "So," she started, "you're not seeing anyone, right?" I choked, "What?!" "Are you seeing anyone?" "Where is that coming from?!" "David recently got together with a childhood friend and when he got home, he said you'd like him and that you should go on a date." she said, casually. "Genya, you know I'm not the one for dating…" She touched her eye-patch and looked away. "I know, but just try? I mean, just meet with him, then decide what to do. Not everyone is like Alex…" I sighed, "Sure, wh-" "REALLY?", she exclaimed. "Yes, chill. Who is he?" "Oh, oh… I have no idea. David just called him Sobachka, but-" "Genya…" "But he can't be bad if he's friends with David. If you don't feel like staying, I'll pull you out." "Okay, Pinkie Promise?", I asked, and she smiled, "Cross my heart, hope to fly!" We threw the rest of our cones to the ducks, passed the safari animals, and finished this year's last visit to the zoo. Next to the zoo is an empty parking lot that has a small adventure park. Ever since I befriended Genya, after the zoo we go to the ferris wheel and the bumper cars.

Since I agreed to go on a blind date I decided it was best to do it in a familiar setting. So I told Genya that I wanted it to be in a coffee shop near my flat. I put on my battle armor, jeans and a sweater, and went out. The streets were empty, even for a weekday. I went into the shop and looked around to see a familiar face. Anna, behind the counter, Gennie in the corner, drawing probably. I sat in my usual place next to the window and waited. Anna came by the table. “Hey, what can I get you?” I looked up, “Nothing yet, I’m on a date…” “That’s a new one, how did that happen?” “I was out with Genya and she suggested it. And it’s Genya, she thinks he’s good, and she would not stop until I said yes so I’m here to see what happens.” She smiled, “Well, I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” “Yeah,” I said and looked behind her, “Gennie’s calling for you.” She turned around, “Oh, I better get that, she’s trying out a new technique.” Then she left. The set time was 17:00, I came a little earlier, just in case. I took my phone out of my pocket to see the time. He’s late. Door opened and Nikolai came in, he looked around and rolled his eyes when he saw me. He came and sat at the chair opposite of me. “Honestly Zoya, is it not tiring to follow me? You could just ask for my number.” I scoffed; ”Don’t flatter yourself I’m here for a date.” His eyes widened, “Come again?” “You thought you were-” “You’re a friend of David’s.” “What? How do you know that?” I asked. He scratched his head, “I, oh Saints…” “You’re my date, aren’t you?” “I would seem so.” I frowned, “Hey, don’t look so pissed I didn’t know either.” “Do you want to do this?” I asked. “I don't see why not.” he said. “I have no expectations, we sit and talk. If we click, cool. If not, we had an interesting afternoon. Deal?” He put his hand out. I shook it; “Zoya Nazyalenski, nice to meet you.” “Nikolai, my pleasure.” he smiled. Anna came by again, “This, it’s hilarious.” she said. “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that.” Nikolai replied. She laughed; “ What can I get you?” “I’ll have a Frappe.” I said, “ What do you want?” Nikolai looked at me, then at Anna, “I’ll have what she’s having, and a plate of biscuits.” Anna nodded, “Coming right up.” “So,” I started, “do we start again, or do we just continue where we left off?” “We continue, can't pretend like you’re not my biggest fan.” i laughed, “Yeah, keep telling yourself that. On another note, how do you know David?” “We lived in the same neighborhood when we were kids.” he said, “One day, when we were 8, there was an explosion in his garage. I was playing in my backyard when it happened, I came running to see what happened, to see if he was okay. Spoiler alert he was, but I think he burned his eyebrows off.” “What happened?” I asked eagerly. “When?” I sighed, “What caused the explosion?” “Oh.” he looked confused, “I don’t know. I never asked. And how do you know David?” “I’m afraid my story isn’t so interesting, we met at highschool.” “You went to the same school?” “Yes but we were on different courses. I took journaling, he took engineering. He wasn’t social, I barely knew him before my best friend, his now wife Genya, worked up the courage to ask him out in junior year.” “Yeah, he definitely wasn’t a social butterfly. I was really surprised when I heard he was getting married.” “But I didn’t see you at the wedding.” I stated. “My father got sick, I couldn’t come” “I’m sorry to hear that.” he smiled; “I’m not, he’s an ass” “Who’s an ass?” Anna came with our order. “His father.” “My father” we said at the same time. I looked at him and smiled, he winked at me. “I see where you get it form” He gasped; “you didn’t” “I did.” Anna facepalmed. “I can see this is going great, so I’m gonna go.” “Thank you Anna.” Nikolai said. She waved him off. “Since we’re basically playing 20 questions, what else do you want to know?” I asked. He looked out the window, “Cliche, but, what is your favorite season and why?” “Winter, because there is nothing better than a wool jumper. My turn. Why does David call you Sobachka?” “This got very personal, very fast.” “Oh,” i said, “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” “No it’s okay, no one is ever that direct with me.” he said and ate his last biscuit. “Why? Is it because you’re in this year's elections?” “I thought you didn’t recognise me.” “Oh please, I’m writing an article about you and the other guy” “Huh, he really is ‘the other guy’” he said. “So, are you going to tell me what’s behind your nickname?” “Right, ugh, I’m not my father's son, my mom cheated. Not many people know this. The ones who do call me Sobachka, y’know, like a dog.” “That’s rough buddy… So it doesn’t bother you?”I asked. “No, not really.” I chuckled, “Not many people are like that.” Indeed they are not.” he looked at his watch, “This has been fun, but I’m afraid I must go now. I would like to see you again.” “I would like to see you too.” I smiled.

I was walking down the stairs when I heard my phone ring. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Zoya?”said the voice. “Yes, and you are?” I sighed as I got to the bottom and went to check my mailbox. “Is my voice so plain to you that you do not remember it?” “Nik, it’s not like I have your number saved in my phone. How may I help you this fine evening?” “I was wondering if you are free tonight? For a stroll in the park.” “We saw each other two days ago!” “Please? I need a friendly companion.” he paused, “We’ll eat doughnuts?” “How dare you use doughnuts against me?! Of course I’ll come. Meet in front of the Little Palace fountain in an hour? “Done. I’ll see you there.” I smiled fondly. “Bye Nik.” During the past few weeks I have been seeing him more and more. One Saturday he and David tagged along on our weekly meeting. I got out of the building and went across the street. There were lots of cars so I decided against calling a taxi. It wasn’t a long walk to the Little Palace, but I had to go to the Library first. There weren't many people in the Library so it was a quick stop. The Librarian, Kuwei, is a friend of Nina’s so I paused to chat with him, but he had work to do so I left him to it. When I got to the fountain, Nikolai was already there. I kissed him on the cheek and sat next to him. “What’s up?” He picked up a bag and gave it to me, “Doughnuts first.” “Honestly I don’t know how can someone not like you.” I said and took a bite of the doughnut. “So good…” “Me or the doughnut?” he asked. “What?” “You said it’s good. Me or the doughnut?” “Oh,” I laughed, “definitely the doughnut!” “HA-HA, very funny. Look I didn’t want to ask you, but I really need help with my speech.” I wiped my mouth to get rid of any leftover sugar and took out a notepad out of my bag. “Sure, what's it about?” “Well, this showing is supposed to be about children. Their education, the schools, hospitals, even orphanages.” he rubbed his neck. “That’s great, children should be taken care of, we know that first hand.” “Yeah, but I don’t know how to phrase it. I thought you could help with that.” “Of course. You’re gonna tell me everything that you want to say, we’ll write that down and work our way from there.” We were working on the speech until the sun went down. I looked up at him and said:”It’s getting late, I should go…” Nikolai scratched his head, “Yeah, no, of course, we’ll see eachother on David's birthday, right?” “Yes. This has been fun, I’d like to be more involved with your campaign if you’ll have me.” “You’re always welcome, always.” he hugged me, “I’ll see you in a few days. Bye Zoya.” “Bye Nik.”

“Botkin is making a reunion.” “What, when?” “I don’t know, some time after today.” Genya said. “Hold on, how do you know that?” “Didn’t he call you?” “Not that I know. Wait let me check,'' I took my phone from the table and looked at my phone log, “Oh, right I do have a missed call from an unknown caller. But do I really have to go, I mean I’ll see everyone I like tonight.” Genya sighed, “Zoya, it’s a party, you are going, you are going to have fun.” “But-” “End of discussion.” “EnD oF dIsCuSsIoN” I mocked her. “Oh, piss off. Just don’t be late.” “That’s you Kostyk. Gotta go, love you!” I ended the call. We are celebrating David’s birthday tonight, I had to go and buy him a gift. A normal person would have done that by now, but I just love to do everything last minute. I dressed up, took my wallet and went out to the hardware store. It started to rain during the taxi ride, I was, naturally unprepared for that, thus making me a bit damp when I entered the store. One of the older workers came up to me and said:”A bit unexpected, isn’t it?” “You have no idea.” I replied. “How can I help you?” “It’s my friend's birthday, and he likes to repair regular household items, or just make up new things, so i thought to buy him a new tool kit because his old one is really worn out and probably very rusty or just damaged.” “Right.”he said, “Would you like a completely new tool box, or separate objects and a tool box?” I looked around, “Well, if it were for you what would you get?” “Is there a price range?” “Not really, no. But let’s not make it more than a weekly paycheck.” After a series of isles and relentless explaining of different brands of the same monkey wrench, he recommended a box with wrenches of all sizes, seven different screwdrivers and some kind of special doorknob key that is also in different sizes and very useful. When I bought the tool box, I went to the liquor store to buy Genya’s favorite wine, but the rain hadn’t stopped. I was dripping wet when I came to their apartment. I knocked, twice, when David opened the doors, he went in for a hug, I put my finger up “No, no, we’ll do that when I’m dry.” He shrugged. “If you say so.” “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” “Thank you Zoya, come on in.” he let me through.I pointed my finger at Genya, “See, not late! And not the last one to get here.” “Not to burst your bubble, but you are the last one.” it was Mal. I looked around, Mal and Alina were on the couch, Nina sitting beside them. Toyla was on the armchair next to the couch. Tamar and Nadia were on the loveseat opposite the couch, near the kitchen. Leoni and Adrik on the floor beside them. Genya was on a stool, her back turned. “No I'm not, Nik isn’t here”. I took off my jacket, and sat on the edge of the couches arm rest.. “Nikolai isn’t coming, his father got worse. Didn’t he tell you?” “No…” I took my phone out of my pocket, “I really need to get this serviced, don’t I?” Nina raised a glass and said: “Yes, yes you do.” I stuck out my tongue to her, “Shut up.” “To change the topic, Zoya, are you going to the reunion?” Leoni asked. I groaned. “Yes… But I don’t really want to.” “Why is that that?” “I don’t like people from highschool, plus, half of them hate me because I acted like a bitch. “ i said, “You all are enough for me.” “That’s cute.” Adrik said. I smiled, “Yeah, cute. And honestly what can we do there and not here? I mean the only highlight of that reunion is Botkin.” Genya looked at me, “Zoya. You are going. You can Ask Nikolai to come with you.” “I doubt Nik would say yes. It’s a highschool reunion full of people he doesn’t know.” “You’d be surprised.” said Alina. “And with that comment we conclude this topic...” I said.

“That’s enough talking about food, It’s making me hungrier than I already am.” David said after an intense discussion of ‘Are Waffles Better Than Pancakes’. If you ask Nina, they are. Though, for Nina, waffles are better than anything. David stood up, “The boys and I will go to Jess’ to get pizza, you try to be nice and leave some wine for us, okay?” We started to laugh, “We’ll do our best.” said Tamar. “Oh, do you think Darina’s working?” asked Tolya. “Why?” asked Mal. “Well, she likes to draw, if she’s working, we could ask that she draws David with ketchup on one pizza, and write ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’ on the other.” “Huh, could be fun.” said Adrik, as he went after the others and walked out of the flat. “Bring umbrellas, it’s still raining!” yelled Nadia after them, “Idiots…” she muttered. I looked at Genya, “Kostyk.” “What?” “Go bring out the good wine.” I said. “Ooh, yes, bet! Alina, with me, we need to find the wine.” They stood up, and went to the kitchen. "Okay," Tamar started, "so there's this game Tolya and I used to play as kids, when the boys get back do you want to try?" "Yeah, sure." I said and turned my head towards the kitchen, "Girls, Tamar has a game idea, come here!" They stumbled back to the living room. Alina sat down and asked "What's the name of the game?" "Um, I don't really know? We always called it Nervous Breakdown, cause no one would believe Tolya, but I think it's called Werewolves." she said. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" yelled Leoni. "I think I know that game, but we called it Mafia. You played it with cards?" Genya sighed, "That's great and all, but we don't know how to play." "True." I pitched in. "Okay, so this is kinda complicated so no interruptions and questions are after I explain how the game works, cool?" Tamar asked. "Yes mom." we said in usion. "Genya, go grab the cards, rest of you sit around the table." When Genya got back and sat down, Tamar started to take the playing cards. She started explaining: "Point if the game is to find out who's the werewolf. We sit in a circle. Everybody has a card that's in front of them, that's your card and there's a card in the middle. After you see what's your card and what role are you playing you put it down and don't touch it. You put your hand next to it and close your eyes. Then when I say your role you wake up and do your roles part "Since it's seven of us there's eight playing cards. Two Jokers, they're the werewolf, they change the middle card with anyone's card and touch the person who's card they changed. But they touch with the card not the hand. Nod if you understood." We all nodded. "Then there's a Queen, she's the helper for the werewolfs, she wakes the same time as them and does nothing during that time, but when we all wake she tries to convince the rest of us that she's the werewolf so we'd kill her instead of the real werewolf so that the werewolfs would win. "Then there's the Jacks, he's a psychic, he can see anybody's card and the middle one, but he doesn't touch and he can't see his card in case it's been changed during the werewolf time. "Next up is King, he's a thief. He changes his card with anybody's card and touches the person who's card he changed. And then there's the Aces who are villagers and do nothing." she finished. I looked at all of them one by one and started laughing. Everyone was throwing a fit, there were a lot of spilled drinks. "No joke now, I think we could try, but everytime someone makes a mistake we drink!" Nina said. "You're gonna be the first one!" We started laughing again. And after a few more useless tries, we got serious. They all had so many questions that took a long time answering, boys got back with food before we could even play. So as we ate, we tried to convince them to play, but it was useless since they were drunk off their minds. To be fair I wasn't much better. We spent the night eating and drinking. Mostly drinking. And eating. It was getting late, most of the group left. Alina, Mal and I were still at the flat. David and Mal were talking in the kitchen, Alina was in the bathroom. Genya and I were on the floor.“Zoya?” “Yeah?” “You’re drunk, right?” asked Genya. I looked up and back down, the room was wobbly. “Yeah, definitely.” “Do you like Nikolai?” “Of course I like Nik, he’s a great friend.” She shook her head, “Do you like Nikolai? Like, like-like.” “Oh…” “Well?” “I- no. Maybe, how does one know that? Is there a test I can do online?” Genya started squealing, “HA! I knew it!” She turned toward the kitchen, “I raise my bet to 20 dollars!” But I didn’t hear that. I was thinking of Nikolai, of his face when we see each other.

I came home from Genya and David’s. I showered and put on my pajamas. I fell asleep. I woke up. My phone was ringing. It’s election day. I fell asleep. I woke up. I tried to write. I tried to eat. I fell asleep. I woke up. I got another text. “We won the election. -Nik”. I fell asleep. I woke up. I failed to write. I failed to eat. I fell asleep.

When I finally decided it was time to get out of the house, I went to Dragon Scale. It was extremely windy outside so I put on a beanie. When I walked in, my head was bowed, I went full face into someone. “I’m so sorry.” I said and continued forward,when someone took my hand. I turned around and saw Nikolai. “Zoya.” “Hi.” “Why didn’t you answer my calls? Genya said you were alright but you scared me to death!” I just stared, "Zoya, talk to me!" "Can we go and sit?" I asked. He followed me as I went to the corner booth and sat down, Nikolai a few steps behind me. "I got really drunk at Genya and David's. And I said something to Genya. And I got scared, because if it's true it might end bad for me, just like last time." "What are you talking about?" "i was in many relationships, but none were very serious until I met this guy, it was years ago, when I was in highschool. He was older than me, and I really liked him, at the beginning. But as it went on I realised he was being toxic. It… escalated." "Ecsalated how? Did he hurt you?" Nikolai asked. "No, not me, but Genya. You know that eye-patch she wears?" He nodded. "He did that, I don't know how, I was at work when it happened. I asked her to tell me but she refused, I just stopped pushing." I bowed my head. "Zoya." I looked up. "Nik, if I were to tell you that I was in love with someone, what would you do?" "I tell you that I'm happy for you and that he is an extremely lucky guy." He looked kinda sad. "And what if I told you that I'm in love with you, what would you do?" He shot up in his seat. "What?" I smiled, "I'm in love with you Nik." "I-" "Do with that what you will, but I don't want it, this, to ruin our friendship." "I'm afraid it did." He got up, leaned across the table and kissed me.

Next month was full of TV screening and restless nights as Nik and I wrote his speeches. But Botkins' reunion was soon, so he would take a few days off to have fun. I spent every free moment with Genya and Alina, shopping for the reunion. As much as I didn't want to go, shopping was fun. Genya found a dress in the same shade as her hair and Alina found a bodysuit in black and gold. I had a really hard time finding something I like. But the day before I found a perfect dress in victorian blue. Nik wore a gray suit and had this beautiful waist coat. When we got to the ball room in the Little Palace, it was already full, but we kept close to the outer ring. Most of the people were dancing, even Genya and David, but I went to talk to Botkin. "Mr. Botkin." He turned to face me, "Oh, Zoya dear, how has life been treating you?" That was his signature line, "Good. I just wanted to see how have you been doing?" "Never better dear." he looked behind me, "Now go off, there's a handsome young man waiting for a dance." "What?" I turned around and saw Nik. "Oh, thank-" he was already off to talk to someone else. I walked towards Nik. He bowed, "May I have this dance?" I looked around, nobody seemed to notice us. "Yes, yes you may." The music changed to a slow dance. We twirled around, and around. Once we stopped, I realised we were alone on the dance floor and there was a light on me. I turned to face Nik, but he was kneeling on the floor. "Nik," I said carefully, "what are you doing?" He took a box out of his inner pocket and opened it. Inside was the most beautiful emerald I have ever seen. I knew what it ment. “Would you do it?” he asked. I looked up at him, puzzled, "What?" "Well, y'know…" "No, I don't." He sighed: "Make me the happiest man alive. Would you do it?" "Yes." He got up and hugged me, I thought I was going to fall over, when these balloons started falling from the ceiling. I kissed him. "I love you." I said. He smiled, "I know." And kissed me again. When all the balloons fell, Genya came through. "Do you like it?" she asked. "What? Wait, how do you know?" "Oh silly we all knew." I looked around to see my friends standing around us, laughing. Mal said: "We had a bet on when are you getting official." Tolya raised a hand, "I won!" "You lot are unbelievable! Come one, you are being punished, this is a group hug!" That night ended up to be one of my favorites.

I didn't want to wait. We booked a venue for our closest friends. Genya bought me my wedding dress for "being strong, and being my best friend". It was a floor length dress with long sleeves. Top of my hair was in a bun, while the bottom part flowed in the wind. Alina even bought me a crown. I was walking down the aisle when someone came bursting in. I turned to see who it was. "I don't know why am I surprised, you always were a bitch." Genya answered, "What do you want Alexander?" Nik ran down to me and took my hand, "That's him?" he whispered. "Yes, stay here." I told him. "What do you mean "what do I want"? Isn't there a part when I get to the object?" I looked at him. "Alex, if you do not walk out right now, I'm gonna call the cops." "They didn't stop me then, they won't stop me now." "Ugh, you're so full of yourself." I said. Long story short, the cops stopped him. We continued with the ceremony. The priestess looked at me, then Nik and said: "If you went through that, on you wedding day, you can go through anything. Are the vows really necessary?" We shook our heads. "Then, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." And oh boy did he kiss me.

We're at McDonald's. And we're celebrating. Genya took her milkshake and stood up. Everyone followed her. "For our friends, may they have a long, happy life. Cheers!" There was a long choir of cheers going around. I sat back and looked at Nik and his Happy Meal, "Is it too early to get a divorce?" He looked me and said, with his mouth full of french fries: "Why'd gou go dhat?"

#grishabigbang #gvbbfic20 #zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoyalai #modern au #genya safin #david kostyk #alina starkov #mal oretsev #tamar kir bataar #tolya yul bataar #nina zenik #nadia #adrik #leoni

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