#i mean i guess it makes sense why she immediately regrets it

[seeminglyseph]

"Arrests require cause."

Bitch *you* let her instigate martial law! Through your power! What did you think that meant?!

That's literally the purpose of putting martial law in place. To be able to let the government do whatever police and military shit to its people without cause. It removes the rights of the civilians because it views those civilians as the enemy of The People.

You let hating Jinx make you forget what words mean, Caitlyn. I get it, grief does terrible things to a person, and Ambessa is a very compelling public speaker, but like. She said out loud: "Let's do Martial Law."

[reiderwriter]

◇ Now That I Found You, Stay ◇

Chapter 11 of That's What You Get

Summary: A long, overdue conversation is finally had.

Warnings: smut, minors dni 18+, fingering, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, creampie, breeding kink, marking etc. Spoilers for Season 7 of Criminal Minds, episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: And next week is the end of our journey! If anyone is interested, I can answer any questions you have about this series and its ending/ what I'm planning for after this, etc. in my inbox this weekend! I'm really thankful for everyone's support so far! 11 down, 1 to go!

As always, you can find my masterlist here, and my requests are currently open!! <3

You weren't expecting him to be so very prompt, but after hearing the panic in his voice on the phone call, you really shouldn't have expected any less. 

Taking in his appearance, you were almost sorry that you'd caused such an upset. His eyes were darker than usual, a look of no sleep crossing his features, but he still stood hypervigilant in the doorway. Almost as if he were scanning you for injuries or harm, he drank you in. 

"You're wearing it?" The words fell from his mouth before either of you could say hello. The second his eyes locked onto the ring on your hand, it was suddenly the only thing he could think of. 

You could see him biting back further questions as he waited for you to invite him in. 

"I'm wearing it. That's okay, isn't it?" You asked, glancing up into his panicked face as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

"Yeah, it's… it's okay, yeah. Why… why are you wearing it?" He asked hesitantly, blinking a lot as he waited for your answer. You pulled the door further open and waved him in with your arm. He stepped into the immediate space but didn't move in further, as if he were scared to go in too far for fear he'd be led straight back out again. 

"Listen, Y/N, I know I should've told you, and I'm so sorry, and-"

"I know." 

"No, you don't. You didn't remember anything when we woke up, and I was so scared that I'd forced you into it, that you were going to regret everything, and-"

"Spencer," you grabbed his attention, flattening your hand on his chest as you forced him to focus on your words. "I know." His rambling ceased as he tried to sus out your meaning, obviously coming up blank of the furrow in his brow was anything to go by. 

"Penelope was here. Thank you for that, by the way. Penelope was here, and she showed me this video she took." Your hand lazily stroked over his chest, settling into place over his heart, where you could feel the organ desperately thumping, trying to make its way to you. 

"I heard that being presented with photographic evidence of an event can spark memories of it. I guess that worked for me." You sighed and took a step towards him. 

"I know how much you love me because you told me." 

Since watching Spencer's Chapel confession, glimpses of the night had been falling into place, puzzling out the entire story. 

You remembered being in the casino with him. He'd taught you some special tricks for the card games, and you'd laughed in delight as you'd raked in the cash. You hadn't done as well as him, but you knew you never would. 

You remembered how you'd left hand in hand, him pulling you out of the casino, away from an angry security guard, who obviously had questions about his sudden luck. He'd pulled you into am alleyway, and you'd stood there, laughing, chests heaving as you grew closer, finally wrapping around each other in joy, your lips meeting as if it were something they always were meant to do. 

He had flushed beautifully as he'd pulled away, so concerned that he was taking advantage of you. He whispered his love to you into the small space between your skin, under the influence of alcohol or cupid or something that made him brave for that second.

You remembered the way he'd tried to take the words back, and you remembered just as vividly how you'd refused to let him, smile growing to the point where your cheeks had felt tired. 

He'd kept talking, though, and you remembered every word he said to you. 

"You know I have this recurring dream," he had started. "I used to have bad nightmares, but now it's a dream. I wake up in bed, and you're there. We eat together, we get ready together. We go to work together. We are together. Is it weird I have dreams about being married to you?" His eyes had flashed with panic for a second before you'd pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Okay." Your voice barely a whisper, your nose pressed against his.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you. It seems like a lovely dream." And you had, and it was. 

You focused on him in the present again, looking up into his eyes as you connected your other hand with his. 

"Spencer, it was a lovely dream." His eyes soften as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

You pull back for a second, leading him out of the doorway, before turning on him. Plucking the ring from your finger, you drop it into his palm, closing his hand around it. 

"Oh. I understand, I… I get it, if you don't want this-" 

"Spencer, what I want is a question." You sink to the floor, pulling him down with you until both of you are on your knees. 

"Now that we're both sober, I want the question. I distinctly remember you not exactly asking last time." It took him a few seconds to understand, and you squirmed as you waited for him to finally give you what you needed.

"Oh." You laughed at his dumb-struck expression, still acting obviously for him to ask you to marry him. 

"Oh, right, okay. I'm sorry, I thought I'd be better at this." He fumbled the ring in his hand for a second before offering it out to you, clutched awkwardly in both of his hands. 

"Y/N, will you marry me?" The anticipation bubbling up in you spilt over as you threw your arms around him, tackling him to the floor as you shouted yes as many times as your breathless lungs would allow you. 

The ring is forgotten underneath the two of you somewhere as his lips attach themselves to yours, stealing even more of your oxygen while giving you life. His hands pulled you in by your waist until you were a mess of limbs on the floor, wrapped around one another. 

He pushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear when you finally broke apart, drinking in as much air as you could. 

"Great, because I don't think I could go back to the nightmares." 

"And I don't think the title divorcée suits me very well, Spencer. This is mutually beneficial." He laughs as his lips draw yours in again, using his body weight to flip your positions, quickly but carefully lowering you to the ground, kissing every inch of your face as you curiously roll your hips up into his. 

When you try to come up for air again  he doesn't let you, pushing your shoulders down as he sucks love bites into your collarbone. 

"Spencer, how…How should we tell everyone? It's going to be a shock, right?" You tried to keep your voice steady  but even you couldn't control the reactions you were having to this man's touch.

"I have some ideas," You feel him smile into your skin as his head slopes lower and lower. The top of your dress was low enough that his head could graze the tops of your breasts without having to disturb much, and you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to your question or his undivided attention more. 

"Care to enlighten me?" You asked as he planted a final kiss to your chest before pulling up and off you slightly. 

Picking up your hand, he delicately brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. 

"You could walk into work with this on your hand," he said, pushing the ring back onto your finger. The cool metal and his warm touch sent shivers down your spine as you dedicatedly watched him make his way across your body. 

Back at your neck, he spoke again, softly. "I could mark you up, nice and good, until everyone knows what an obedient little wife you are." His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you moan as you squeal into the touch. He spends some time there, making companions for his earlier love bites. 

Letting his hands trace lower, he finally ghosts a finger across your clothed pussy. With just a few mere touches, you're putty in his hand, whimpering his name helplessly, your arms wrapped about his neck. 

"We could do it that way, too. Those motel room walls are always pretty thin. I'm sure one scream of my name and the entire team would know." Your hips buck up violently into his own  and you're surprised at your sudden lack of self-control. 

You moaned for him, waiting for him to give up his teasing and give you what you really wanted. 

His hands remained ghostly, though, and you almost cursed in frustration. Pulling your dress up, he was swift and agile, hands falling to your bare hips once he'd made sure you were displayed to him. You moaned as you tried to buck your hips up into his hands again, but he caught you before you could. 

Instead of meeting you where you wanted, be pushed your dress even higher, head moving lower to begin pressing kisses over your stomach and lower. 

"Or I could knock you up  and we can for you to introduce the baby with my last name. Really let everyone know just what a horn little slut you are for me." you contemplate grabbing a fistful of his fair, but his lips are back on yours in a flash, and you gasp as you feel him finally push your panties to the side and let his fingers dive inside of you. 

"Or I could give you a real wedding. Claim you right there in front of everyone. 

"I could take thee, to be my wedded wife," his hands slipped deeper into you still as you moaned underneath him. 

"To have and to hold," his other hand dropped to rub your clit as he kept his eyes locked with your own, mouth wide with arousal, trying desperately to prologue this pleasure and not come undone so instantly on his hands. 

"From this day forward, for better or worse," your mind goes blank, filling with his voice and only his voice. 

"For richer, for poorer," he pulls his fingers away for a second, and you moan in protest. 

"In sickness and in health," he sits you up in his lap, ridding you of your remaining clothing as he drinks in the view of your entire body. 

"To love and to cherish," he kisses you again, so soft and passionate that you are almost surprised when his dick slips into you from under you. 

"Till death do us part." He rises to his knees, holding you up in his arms as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast. 

With his attention so wholly on you and your pleasure, you come undone in a matter of moments, Spencer still finding his rhythm as you stutter around him. 

"Good girl, you're doing so good for me, milking my cock like that." He doesn't slow down as you give yourself over to him, just stroking your hair as you readjust to all the touches you're receiving. You claw your hands into his back as you start getting over stimulated, trying desperately to retain hold of your sanity. 

He's pounding into you too desperately to sustain your position, quickly pressing your back into the floor once again, spreading you once more, and continuing his ministrations. 

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, desperately holding on for fear that letting go would mean losing him again. You feel your nails break the skin of his back as you scratch, claw, grip.

"How about we do all of that?" He grunts in your ear. "I'll give you whatever wedding you want  I'll give you the world. If you let me breed you like a nice little whore." You moan his name in response, your entire body growing rigid again as his words build another climax inside your stomach. 

"Let me mark you and show off who you belong to." You remember the feeling of his cum shooting into you, and suddenly you find it is everything you've ever wanted.

"Fuck, Spencer I'll do anything, please just don't stop." 

His mouth finds yours again as his hand finds its way to your clit again, and suddenly your hips are jerking up and down his cock as you cum. 

He isn't far behind you, not bothering to pause his movements at all as he spills his seed inside of you, pushing it in and letting it leak out of you, your collective fluids pooling under your ass as he gently calms his movements.

Holding himself like that on top of you, your breaths sync, and even as you're both gasping for air, looking into each others eyes is enough to spark more laughter. You're all tenderness and love, and and filled with him. 

He doesn't bother to pull out, simply making sure your legs are tight around his waist and your arms are tight around his neck as he hauls himself to his feet, warming his cock inside you as he hauls you to the bedroom. 

Finally pulling away, he lays you gently on the bed, taking notice of where the carpet has bitten into your back. He slips his cock out of you and retreats to the bathroom, no doubt seeking out cleaning materials. 

When he rejoins you on the bed, he rubs your cunt lazily until you're cleaned up, but you grab his hand and urge him to keep going, before pulling him back over you. 

The remainder of the night is restless as you make vows back and forth with every clash of your bodies, mouths hot with the need to prove your love for one another. 

You finally get to wake up in his arms the next morning. He hasn't left, and you certainly didn't kick him out. You watch him peacefully for as long as you can before he stirs, and the two of you have to ready yourself for a day's work.

"We should tell everyone as soon as possible, right?" You say as you both climb out of the shower. Sharing it saves time, he'd said, but it hadn't been quite as efficient as he'd made it out to be. 

Towelling off his hair, he replied. "Honestly, most of them already know." 

"Wait… the witnesses!" You gasp as you remember what it is that you still didn't quite remember. "I know Penelope is one of them. Who was the other?" You demanded, whirling around on him as you brushed your teeth. 

If you take everyone you'd talked to so far at face value, that left only three options. 

"We're going to work soon, right? Maybe you could figure it out. Profile your second witness, perhaps." You scowled at him and threw a towel half heartedly, resisting the urge to stomp childishly when his phone begins to ring. 

"Hotch," he answers, growing serious once more. "Yeah, we're awake, I…. Where? Okay, be there soon." He hangs up quickly and turns back to you. 

"Will's partner was just killed as they responded to a call about a bank robbery. They want us to consult apparently, it's still in prog-" His hurried words are cut off by the even more hurried shrill of your phone. 

"Hotch, yeah, I know, I'm… I'm with Spencer." 

Hotch's voice is silent on the other end of the line for a second before his familiar stern tone sounds into your ear. 

"We'll talk about that after we get everything settled for now, just get yourselves into the office." 

You, too, hang up, and, with your husband, you make your way to the crime scene. 

--X--

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @doriantomybasil

[paperultra]

HOME (TO THE OL’ BALL AND CHAIN)

(OR, THE PIÑA COLADA SONG)

Pairing: Chilchuck Tims x Fem!Chilchuck’s Wife!Reader Word Count: 2,678 words Warnings: Swearing Summary: Five years after leaving your first and only love, you take the plunge into the dating scene – and immediately regret it. Maybe you’re too picky, but none of the men you go out with seem to fit the bill; they’re too non-committal, or too eager, or too happy, or too sad, or simply just too much … so after a particularly bad experience, your youngest makes a last-ditch effort to set you up on a blind date with someone who she insists deserves a chance. You reluctantly agree. read on ao3 | read on quotev

DATE #2: MUSHROOM FORAGING Forest — 1 Mushrooms — 29 Nostalgia — to taste

To make things clear: you had always expected Chilchuck to resent you for leaving him. Regardless of whatever he had felt for you at the time (and it hurts, even now, that you couldn’t be certain about those feelings), your husband had a strong fondness for clear terms and conditions, and as your marriage deteriorated you remember thinking how bad a sin it would be to provide none for your disappearance.

So that is exactly what you did.

You wanted him to resent you. Being resented meant you were a person, that you took up not just space but attention, and that you weren’t just a silent fixture in the home that Chilchuck drank and slept in. You wanted him to understand the frustration of reaching out to someone who wouldn’t reach back. So you left him. It was petty and unconstructive and cruel and –

And it affected him.

In your heart you had known that, and you had counted on it, fearing no repercussions because while Chilchuck was protective, he was never controlling. He would resent you for leaving, but he would not follow.

You just hadn’t considered that his ability to let you go was a punishment in and of itself.

But now?

Now, as you stand at the edge of the trees outside of Kahka Brud, your imagination spirals around the possibility that he hadn’t let you go, but simply let his resentment fester until you came crawling back, gullible and perfectly dressed for a one-way trip down a forest cliff. He had been an adventurer, after all. He would know how to handle bodies.

“There you are.”

Jumping underneath your skin, you turn to see Chilchuck just a few paces away.

“O-Oh. Hi.” He’s wearing the cowl Flertom had sent him, and as he waves at you, you pet your own cowl self-consciously and try not to think about how evenly matched the two of you must look. “You know, when I said we could talk, I was expecting it to be indoors.”

“I figured it’d be easier if we were doing something at the same time. Besides, I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable with me at your place or you at mine.”

“So you decided to bring me out to the middle of the woods with no witnesses?”

You don’t mean to sound so serious, but the way his eyes widen doesn’t help much at all.

He scoffs. “No witnesses? You don’t seriously think that I would …”

You lack the good sense to laugh it off, and a sliver of horror and offense slips through his expression.

“Look,” he exclaims, “I’m not gonna lie and say I was never mad at you, but I wouldn’t off you in the middle of the woods!”

You grimace, wanting to shrink inside yourself once he says it aloud. Of course. This is Chilchuck you’re talking about. This is the man with whom you had shared meals, sown fields and raised children. Even at his worst, he’d never laid a hand on you. Murder? Why would you even think –?

“I know. I’m sorry, I’m just – nervous, I guess,” you blurt, regret filling the space between your words. “I just don’t know what to expect from all of this.”

“Well, rest assured, you’ll come out alive and well,” Chilchuck replies sardonically.

“I’m sorry.”

He stares at you before taking a deep breath. “… It’s fine.” He exhales in a way that tells you it is not in fact fine, and you wring your hands shamefully as he scratches his head. “We can go somewhere with more people around.”

“No, I’m okay. Really.”

“You sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure,” you insist, inwardly cursing yourself for setting such a sour mood. You’re the one who agreed to this. Remain civil. “So what are we doing, anyway?”

Though he still seems a bit put off, Chilchuck holds out a wicker basket towards you. “Mushroom foraging,” he says in Half-Foot, village drawl creeping in along the syllables and peeling the ends off the words. 

You blink, then laugh.

“I haven’t done that since Puck moved out.”

“Me neither. But apparently this is a good place to do it, and it’s pretty early so not a lot of people are around.”

You take the basket from him, and the two of you wade deeper into the forest.

The dirt-wet smell of fallen leaves and the scurrying of hidden critters dig up memories from an old life. Your home village was surrounded by a forest much like this one, and you remember yourself, small and tucked away in layers of wool, scrambling to pick the biggest, best-smelling mushrooms for your family’s dinner. Chilchuck, buried in his own warm clothes, would complain that you wanted to hog all the mushrooms, but after poor harvests he’d always sneak a few more from his basket into yours when you weren’t looking.

(It was a habit that he never completely shook, even after you discovered it – making sure you had enough, even if it meant having less for himself, and pretending that he didn’t mind either way.)

After what feels like an eternity walking in silence, you reach a small dip in the forest floor. A large tree had fallen across it, and jutting out from the softening wood are the bread-brown shelves of your first fungi.

“Here,” Chilchuck finally speaks again, and he hands you a small knife. “Forgot to give you this.”

The unspoken Do you feel safer now? lingers between the two of you like a bad taste. You accept the knife with doleful thanks and start cutting into the base of the mushroom alongside him.

It’s quiet again, and you tolerate it until you can’t.

“You’re still upset.”

“I said it’s fine. Not like I don’t deserve it, anyway.”

Irritation prickles your tongue on instinct but dies just as quickly. “No,” you say, dropping a chunk of mushroom into your basket and facing him fully. “I’m not going to accept that.” Like I had so many times before. “I assumed something terrible about you, so please just tell me how you feel about it.”

Chilchuck scowls and clicks his tongue. “I –” he cuts himself off and sighs. His eyes close, expression loosening, and when he opens them again, it’s to look at the ground. “I’m still not too good at that,” he murmurs.

“Just be honest. That’s all I’m asking.”

His eyebrows twitch. You wait.

“… If you say so.” He busies himself with a ham-of-the-forest, avoiding your gaze. His voice peters out to a tone that only a half-foot can decipher. “Yeah, I’m still upset. I’ve never hit you or talked or even thought about hurting you physically. Ever. So honestly, I hate knowing that you don’t feel safe around me anymore.”

Something tells you that another apology is unwanted, so you swallow it down. “That’s fair,” you say, carefully weighing your words. “I … I really don’t think you’d put me in danger. But like I said earlier, it’s just that I don’t know what to expect, so my mind keeps making up worst-case scenarios. We haven’t spoken in so long and I”—you hesitate—“I didn’t know if you were still angry with me for … for leaving you.”

“I’m not. Not anymore.” He makes eye contact with you, and your heart grows heavy at the defeat in his shoulders. “But whenever I sit still long enough to think about it, I still get upset at myself. I was a shit husband.”

“So why now?”

“Huh?”

You clarify. “Why reach out now all of a sudden?”

“Because if I don’t, I never will.” Chilchuck chews his lower lip. He reaches out to cut another mushroom but then pauses, almost sounding shy as he mumbles, “And if it’s one thing I learned from my last dungeon job, it’s that you shouldn’t push away the people you care about.”

Your eyes widen.

“S-So that’s how I feel. Your turn.”

You open your mouth, close it, then open it again like a befuddled clam. You do this a few times before Chilchuck’s eyebrow twitches.

“Don’t go twisting my ears,” he mutters, though the quip is blunted by the red in his cheeks.

“Sorry, it’s just – this is the most open you’ve been with me since you started adventuring,” you say, hand over your mouth.

“It weirds you out, huh.”

“No! Well, a little bit. But not in a bad way.” Your voice quiets, embarrassed. “It’s nice.”

“Oh.”

The two of you stand in silence for a moment. Then, as if jolted by lightning, you resume your mushroom harvesting with renewed gusto. Chilchuck cuts one last decent shelf of fungi from the tree, and then the both of you climb out of the dip and towards the faint sound of a bubbling creek.

By this time, your face has finally cooled down, allowing another question marinating in your mind to make its way into the light. “Are you still living in the same house?” you ask, examining tree roots as you pass by them.

“No. I rented it out to Lilituck and her family. I’m in a smaller place closer to the Island.”

“Lilituck moved to Khaka Brud? I didn’t know.”

“I’m guessing you haven’t really been in the loop for a while.”

“I guess not.” You wrinkle your nose. Everyone back home noses into each other’s business as a matter of principle, and other than the sparse letters you’re obliged to exchange with your mother, you haven’t involved yourself for some time. You just know your and Chilchuck’s separation circulated like wildfire when the village first got wind of it. “Do you talk to them a lot?”

“Not really. Maybe every once in a while – oi.” He suddenly ushers you around a large rock, and though his hand does not touch your back, you can nearly feel the print of it hovering over your cloak. “Watch your step.”

“I am,” you protest, only half-fibbing.

“Sure.” He withdraws. You sense a hesitation that he quickly tucks away into his pocket. “Anyway, the last time I talked to them was last winter about fixing something at the house. That’s it.”

There’s a stout pair of mushrooms up a slope a few feet away. You point them out, and Chilchuck climbs up after you, remarking something about watching out for tripping hazards while you roll your eyes at his preoccupation. It’s not entirely unjustified, as the fallen leaves are thick and hide tangles of broken branches, but you stay upright and reach your destination without incident.

“These are healer’s caps.”

Chilchuck hums in agreement. You squat down to feel the round tops. They’re soft, almost leathery, and smell sweet. As your fingers trail down to grasp the stem of one of the mushrooms, Chilchuck crouches down as well.

“What?” you ask.

There are tones that waver in his throat before he clears it. Chilchuck breathes in slowly, and the relaxation that had been slowly building up over the past half-hour comes to a standstill.

It is hardly surprising when he asks, “When did you know you were going to leave?”

You pick the mushroom. “… It’s hard to say.”

“Humor me.”

The healer’s cap rolls over in your hands. Gnawing the inside of your cheek, you put the mushroom into your basket, wiping the dirt from your fingertips.

“I guess I started thinking about it after we had that argument about when you’d stop going into the dungeons. I don’t know if you remember it.” The silence tells you that he does. “You said it wasn’t my job to complain about something I didn’t know anything about. And I said I didn’t know anything about it because you never talked about your work. And then a few days later, you brought me to have dinner with your party.”

“Right,” Chilchuck mumbles. “You were in a bad mood that night on the way home.”

“I was.”

“Why?”

“I guess partly because I was jealous.”

He lets out a noise of disbelief. “Of who? I never –”

“Not like that, Chilchuck.” Setting your basket on the ground beside you, you rest your chin in your hand and look over to see him staring at you, perplexed. “I sat with you and your work friends, and you were all relaxed and laughing about stories I had never heard from you.” A laugh puffs out from between your teeth, bitter from years past now that it’s all dug up. “And I realized that I really didn’t know anything about your life out there without me, and that it was a lot bigger than your life with me.”

That’s the selfish truth of it, isn’t it? You had never wanted a glamorous life. A small life was all you had ever needed; caring for a home and raising three kids were both things you had loved. But kids grow up and a house starts feeling less like a home when you’re the only one there for days on end, and as you trailed behind your husband that night, it had dawned on you that your small life had shrunk to something you could barely recognize.

Mere existence, like an afterthought.

When Chilchuck responds, it’s in a whisper. “I didn’t know.”

“Of course not. We never got around to talking about things like that.”

“Because I was a coward.” He sounds pained. “I made you feel alone.”

Yes, you think, you came home but you always left half your dinner on your plate and nothing in your mug and answered with one or two sentences and fell asleep before we could say goodnight to each other. And it felt like that was everything you could give, and I still felt alone.

You lift your shoulders in some semblance of a shrug.

“You did.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Picking the second healer’s cap, you stand up and offer it to him, inches from his chest. You smile wryly. “I can tell.”

Quietly, Chilchuck takes the mushroom. His eyes are glossy and you look away before the sight begins to hurt too much.

You reach the creek not long after that, following it for a bit, absorbing the cold, trickling sound in between your breathing and heartbeats before moving on. And although you find it difficult at first, conversation eventually trickles back between the two of you, turning to the girls, work, spices to use with the harvest. Perhaps all of it distracts you; before you know it, the sun has climbed in the sky and it’s time to start heading back.

Once you and Chilchuck reach the edge of the forest, you set your baskets down and sort through everything. There ends up being quite a bit less than you are used to. Chilchuck insists on a seventy-thirty split, what with there being two people in your household compared to his one, but your stubbornness is able to whittle it down to sixty-forty. Carrying out the compromise is another challenge, however.

“I saw that,” you say sharply as his sneaky fingers attempt to put another mushroom into your basket. “That’s yours.”

“It’s Fler’s favorite.”

“No, it’s not. Put it back.”

“I don’t –”

“‘I don’t want it’ – that’s what you always say,” you exclaim, catching it before it lands onto your pile. Tossing it at his face does nothing as his reflexes snatch it up even quicker than yours had. “There. You can hardly have a full meal with your share as it is.”

“So what? If that happens, I guess I’ll just have to go and steal whatever you’re making,” he retorts.

Whether it’s for his sake or yours, you ignore the small tensing of his shoulders at the declaration, merely hiking your skirt up to walk away with a haughty scoff.

“Good luck with that!”

(Perhaps you allow yourself to entertain the possibility. Just a little bit.)

The sunlight warms your face as you enter the open field once again. Chilchuck joins you soon enough, and though he hides it within his cowl, you can hear him grin.

—

prev

[thewertsearch]

CCG: AUGH CCG: THERE WAS ANOTHER LITTLE HONK CCG: IT WAS SO FAINT CCG: DID I JUST IMAGINE IT? I THINK I MIGHT BE LOSING IT.

Karkat’s pretty close to snapping himself, which would be an understandable reaction to the events of the last two minutes, let alone the last month. He doesn't deserve this.

Come to think of it, have we ever seen any incarnations of Karkat from beyond this point on the timeline? I don't think we have. That's understandable, I suppose - seeing a Karkat this traumatized would have given the game away.

CCG: GUESS I HAVE TO BRAVE IT FOR FEFERI'S SAKE. PAST cuttlefishCuller [PCC] 380 HOURS AGO responded to memo. PCC: For my sake? 38)

A ghost appears in chat.

This is just haunting, isn't it? Thanks to Trollian, Karkat can freely converse with his dead friends, but trying to save them will immediately doom the timeline. All he can do is dodge her confused questions, as her corpse lies not five feet from where he's standing.

Oh, the clown car is just full to the brim today, isn't it?

That’s what an angel looks like? I don’t know what the fuck us up with LOWAA, but I need to find out more.

PCA: are you busy PCA: you said youd try to make it to lowwaa soon wwell howw about it CCG: DUDE, ARE YOU AN IDIOT, YOU CAN PLAINLY SEE I AM FROM 300 FUCKING HOURS IN THE FUTURE, EVEN IF I WERE REMOTELY INTERESTED, WHICH TO THAT I SIMPLY SAY WHAT THE FUCK.

Methinks Eridan is just not a very observant person. The trolls have a lot of smart cookies on their team, but he's not one of them.

PCA: can you put in a wword wwith your past self maybe buggin him to make the trip wwhen he gets the chance CCG: WAIT, WERE YOU HITTING ON ME BACK THEN? CCG: *ARE* YOU HITTING ON ME? CCG: LIKE AN ACTUAL RED SOLICITATION, IS THAT WAS THIS WAS???

I honestly think Eridan might be a bigger problem than Vriska.

With Vriska, there’s always been a sense that she at least regrets what she does. That doesn’t stop her from doing it, but it does mean there’s a seed of remorse inside her that could, in time, bloom into actual character development.

Eridan, on the other hand, completely lacks even the most meager shred of introspection. Not only does he not understand why his behavior is wrong, he doesn't even recognize it as wrong. He was remorseless in his harassment of Feferi, he was remorseless when he attacked Sollux, and I guarantee he’ll be just as remorseless as a full-fledged murderer.

CCG: I THOUGHT YOU LOVED HER. PCA: wwho man wwhat are you talkin about CCG: AND ALSO… PCA: wwhat youre not makin sense CCG: I CAN'T CCG: I CAN'T EVEN TYPE HER NAME CCG: SHE WAS MY FRIEND CCG: SHE WAS MY REALLY GOOD FRIEND AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL TO DO NOW THAT SHE'S GONE.

Can someone just give this kid a hug?

[ellaa-writes]

The Bëast Within

author note: Part 5! Ok this is the last part till I'm back in November. Will be gone from October 21st till November 18th. I'm getting married and then going on my honeymoon. So enjoy! I'll be working on other parts while I'm away. :) you can find the rest of the series here.

summary: Omegas are rare, in a world full of Alphas and Betas. Being a Omega was not only dangerous but they were highly sought after. After living your life has a Beta in disguise, you meet a scary Alpha, but not any normal alpha. But a gaint Apex Alpha who won't stop at anything to make you his.

tags: Alternative Universe, female reader. Slight smut. Reader edges König into an apology. Slightly submissive König (but don't tell him that.) A/b/o dynamics. Alpha König is big and scary but not to reader. not proof read

König showed his love through acts of kindness and gifts. He felt bad for smashing your phone, and also as you put it "ruined your life". But he knows your just being dramatic, he spent two full days sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms. You didn't leave the master bedroom, only opening the door after König pleaded with you to eat something.

That's why he's currently inside a jewelry store, trying to pick out a gift that says I'm very sorry but I also don't regret doing what I did. The sales person becoming annoyed cause he can not make up his mind so decided to buy all 3, a matching set.

The second day barricaded in the room, you spent most of the time crying in your nest and enjoying the deep soaker tub. König brought you lunch, and also your new phone.

Discarding the food on the dresser you laid in the nest, setting up your phone. Waiting for the thousands of notifications to pop up.

You immediately called Kalina, you missed her voice and knew she's probably in a panic. The phone only rang once before it was picked up. "Please tell me you're alive." you heard her panicked voice on the other line.

"I'm alive." you replied back. "What the fuck is going on?" she all but screamed your name. "It's a complicated story." you tried to explain but she cut you off. "Are you safe, do you need me to call the police? Maybe the military? Who do I need to kill." she was rambling so fast you could barely make out what she was saying.

"Kalina! Hey Kalina! Calm down will you. I'm fine. I'm alright. I don't need any of that." you were finally able to but in. "I went to your apartment and you were gone, like all of it." she explained. Remembering König's actions, rubbing your eyes and pinching the bridge of your nose. "Ugh I know." you didn't know where to start. "It's been a week! A week of no call, no show, no nothing. And Mr. Wojack said you quit? What the hell is going on?" her voice getting higher and higher with each word.

"If you'd shut up I'll explain. It started that night at the club." you started. "We should have never gone." Kalina but in. "Kalina! Please!" you pleaded with her to shut up. "Sorry, sorry!" shaking your head. "Their was a guy there, an Alpha. I guess he sniffed me out, idk how the hell he knew but he followed me home. I woke up to him in my room, and..... and he marked me. That night, and I've been at his place ever since. He helped me through my heat....I think we are mated now." you explained.

The other end was finally quiet, thinking the call dropped until you heard Kalina'a deep sigh." I knew, I knew he would try. I just hoped I got you out of there fast enough." she said, you were confused? She knew? "What do you mean you knew?" you asked. "Don't you remember me pulling you out of the club? Throwing you in that cab?" she asked. It took you a while to thinking back in it, and then I made sense.

She saw him too, just like you did. "You saw him?" you whispered. "It was hard not to." her voice trailing off. You heard a knock on the door, probably König again. "Kalina I gotta go. I call you back later." you told her. Hanging up before she could protest. Leaving your phone on the charger near the bed.

Walking to the door you could see König's shadow underneath. Another knock came "Omega, please let me see you." he pleaded through the wood. If he really wanted to he could break it down, and he was tempted. Since getting a taste of your omega pussy it's all his dick and brain could think about.

"Why should I? So you can lie to me again." you were being a brat but you deserved it. In less than a week you had your home, job and life taken from you. But you also knew your situation could be much worse.

König sighed, he was going to lose his mind if you kept up this act. He had every right mind to knock this door down and make you forgive him. Even when he didn't believe he needed to be forgiven. In the law he had every right to do what he did. Once an omega is claimed she loses all her freedoms and rights. As she now belongs to her Alpha who is responsible in taking care of her. And if he's unfit of that, then the courts step in and interviene. But you were an undocumented Omega and he was a dead excommunicated Alpha.

Slamming his fist against the thick wood, he rolled his neck to try and relieve the tension that's been bothering him. "Please my love, I got you something." in König's other hand held the name brand bag of the jeweler he visited.

Unbeknownst to him, you had been scheming. Spending your time locked in this room, snooping around. Taking out his military uniform and laying it out on the bed. Also finding a few medals that where also stashed away in the closet.

"I'll let you in if you answer some of my questions." Königs ears perked up, what was this? A terrorist negotiation? But the thought of being in your presence, he didn't care. "Whatever you want Omega." his words making you laugh, of course you'll give me what I want, you thought.

König heard the door click, you unlocking the bolt that secured it close. Opening it a bit before stepping away to sit on the bed next to your findings.

König wasted no time in barging right in, about to open his mouth but closing it immediately when he saw his uniform next to you. "What is this?"he asked. His voice getting deep and low, his instincts heightening. He wasn't an animal you wanted to corner and confront but that's exactly what you did.

"That's my question. And I don't want to hear anything from you that isn't a one word answer or anything that's not the truth. You understand?" you fingers ran along the delicate stitching, tracing it slowly. König didn't like any of this.

"If you aren't going to answer me, you can just leave. And take that with you." you pointed to the bag he was holding. He sighed, setting the bag down on the dresser. Leaning against it, he was feared far and wide. The stories men told about him, yet here you are. Standing up to him, and not backing down. The Beast was proud, laughing loudly in König's head. Mocking him for not being able to control you. But that's not what he wanted, he didn't want to control you he just wanted to make you happy. And right now you were not and it was his fault.

Slowly you were wearing him down, his dick hard and throbbing in his pants. Begging and pleading with him to do whatever you wanted just so it can feel you wrapped around it again.

"I served in the Austrian Special Forces, but things came up and now I'm here." hoping his answer sated you. He crossed his arms staring at you, dragging his eyes up and down your body. "Why did you leave?" you asked. Curious about the Alpha in front of you, his aura was dark and mysterious. "It no longer served a purpose in my life. I... uh I do different work now. Similar but different. That's all you need to know." König was trying his best to answer you but to also keep you safe from his world.

You sighed "König you said you'd tell me anything I wanted." you eyed the giant Alpha in front of you. The sight of him alone making you want to heel over and crawl to him. But it was just your horny omega brain. "I am Omega, there's things you wouldn't understand. I'll do anything to keep you safe." König was growing more frustrated. Pushing himself off of the dresser and making his way to you. Getting down on his knees and placing his head in your lap.

"I'm trying to keep you safe and protected. Don't you understand." he looked up into your eyes. His eyes pleading with you, his bottom lip sticking out. "Than say your sorry." you told him. Lightly brushing your hand through his hair. You slightly started to part you thighs, revealing a silky pair of panties under the dress you were wearing.

Königs ears began to ring, his mouth becoming wet with anticipation. If he was a youngling he'd might even start foaming. The smell of your wet Omega pussy hit his nose, a low growl starting deep in his belly. He tried to push your dress up more but was received with a smack. Knocking his prying hands away, he hated when you did that.

Nobody he knew would dare raise a finger at him and since knowing you, that seemed like your favourite thing to do.

"No." you scolded him like a juvenile pup. "Not until you say you are sorry." he heard your words but his mind and eyes couldn't leave the sight of your pussy. The fabric of the silky panties hugged you lips, a small wet spot slowly forming. König knew from that moment on you were going to be the death of him.

Only if one of his men could see him, if one of the many people he's snuffed out could look upon him from hell. To see this feared Alpha on his knees, drooling at the sight of sweet omega pussy. They would laugh, they would mock him. Just like The Beast was doing now, his laughter louder than anything.

König licked his lips and closed his eyes. Taking a moment to clear his mind, too shut up The Beast and to try and not cum in his pants.

"Omega, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I'll never do anything and I mean anything without your approval." he was a starved man, if you told him to walk into fire he would. "Omega I promise to serve and worship you till the end of mine time." he didn't know what else he could say.

You smiled, your eyes turning bright at the words your Alpha was saying. Your heart skipped a beat and your pussy gushed with more fluid. Pushing up your dress a little and tilting your pelvis till it was in König's face.

"I forgive you." you said. You hands tangling themselves in his hair once again. König mouth attached its self to your clothed pussy. Sucking on the wet spot, trying to ripping through the material with his teeth.

Trying once again to touch you with his hands but only stopped when you smacked them again. He really hated that. "No, just your mouth. And be a good boy and I'll let you fuck me." you told him. Spreading you legs open even more, resting you left leg over his shoulder.

Yes, you were going to kill him. But he didn't care, as long as he died by your pussy he didn't care at all.

Tag list: @plumdreadful @traumaramacenter @kaylp-godly @napalmfairy7 @hisa-plush @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @winters-doll @joyfulfxckery @purebeskar @collete25 @fandomsinthegalaxies @xo-konigs-little-princess-xo @jamieelol @luc1ddreamersatnight @cringeycookies (Tumblr won't let me tag some of you.)

[beelmons]

Hi! An idea I had was an enemies to lovers where Spencer says something he regrets like they slept together and reader sort of wears her heart on her sleeve and thought everything was okay between them but Spencer is still being hateful to reader and she’s confused until he’s like “I just wanted to sleep with you, nothing more”. Or smth like that 💗

cw: post prison spencer, mean!Spencer, angst no happy ending

You didn't know what it was, and if he was being honest neither did he, but Spencer Reid hated you to his core.

It started the day he met you, shortly after Emily Prentiss took over as Unit Chief, when you were assigned to the BAU as a probatory agent. Two rookies, Luke Alvez and yourself, being added to the team was not necessarily her vision of a perfect taskforce, but she could make it work with some help of her friends, hence why Tara and JJ were told to shadow Luke, and Rossi and Reid to shadow you.

But, of course, Rossi had less of a hands-on teaching style, so he was barely around in the field with you, leaving you to the capable hands of a recently traumatized Spencer Reid.

It was loathing at first sight, because, he'd never admit, something about you remided him of Cat Adams.

Maybe something in your eyes, or the way you walked, or perhaps the sound of your laugh, but his back muscles tensed whenever you were around, his hands curled into a fist, and his eyes couldn't help but narrow in suspicion.

A little extra issue, though, his member would also get extremely hard.

"You did what?!" Luke almost shouted from his desk.

"Shut up, man!" you pushed him by the shoulders, trying to sink him further into his seat "We slept together, alright?"

"How did you even make that happen? I thought he..." the man stopped himself once his ability to think before speaking came through.

"Hated me? Yeah." you finished his sentence "I don't know what to tell you. It was late, he was checking my preliminary profile, he said it was good and insightful, and next thing I know I'm facing the wall with my panties down to my ankles."

"Well, I guess that's one way to patch things up." he teased "So, what? are you guys dating?"

"I... don't think so?" you said with certain sadness "He left while I was cleaning myself up in the bathroom."

Luke was about to emit an opinion of his own when he sensed, but a foreign sound interrupted him.

"Good morning!" JJ's cheery voice caused the two of you to look up.

In the distance, Jennifer and Spencer walked towards your spot. You couldn't help the hopeless grin that appeared on your face at the sight of him, the same one he walked past without a single word.

Your crescent faded as quick as it came. What the hell was that? Giving you the cold shoulder like you are 10 and pulled his pigtails at the playground.

You heard the chief call to the round table and decided to save your little highschool quarrel for later. Luckily, serial killers had decided to take a break, and so your day would be desk duty only.

"Hey." when the clock neared lunch time, you decided to approach Reid.

He begrudingly raised his sight, pulling it away from you almost immediately. "Hey."

"Mind going to lunch with me?" you asked.

"I brought my own, thanks." he dryly refuted.

"Uhm, Reid." you moved in closer to his ear, and he almost flinched "That was code for 'I need to talk to you'"

"I'm aware of the connotations of your sentence, I just happen to not care for what the actual meaning entails." his eyes still refused to move to you.

He was back to being the annoying asshole you had always met, the exact opposite of the caring soul everyone else seemed to face on the daily.

"I..." a knot began to form on your throat "I thought we were okay again."

At last, he deemed you worthy of his stare, his eyes locking with yours and vaguely narrowing in your direction. You could see the burning flame of despise in them, the chilling sensation that if he could, he would take the life out of you with his hands in a second.

"Were we ever?" he snarked.

Something snapped, and you were blessed that the only two people you knew in the ballpen were Luke and Tara, who were merrily sharing some chinese food, otherwise you would had certainly been fired.

"Wha the fuck is your problem?!" you yelled as your hands smacked the surface of his desk.

"What are you-" he tried to complain.

"You had not once shown me a gentle face since I met you, and suddenly, you act reassuring and supportive, only to disappear without a word, and then act like not a thing happened!" you continued to raise your voice, your hands reaching to grip at his shoulders and force you to look at you when he tried to divert his gaze.

The sensation of being cornered and exposed caused an odd reaction out of him, you could see it in his eyes, almost as if he wasn't truly there.

"Did it ever cross your mind I said all this so you would let me fuck you?" his voice was almost as loud as yours "If not, then you are not half as good profiler as I thought you were."

Piercing. That's how it felt. The unmistakable sensation of a puncture to the heart. There was nothing else you could to do help yourself, or the tears that ran down your cheeks.

"What did I..." you began to mutter almost to yourself. Luke's arms had moved to your shoulders, tugging you away from your coworker. "What did I ever do to you?" you asked weakly, Luke now blocking Spencer from your line of sight.

The doctor was astonished by his own words, even more so by your tears. He didn't know how to describe them, they just seemed so... sincere?

"Spencer?" Tara called for a third time, snapping him out of a self-induced trance.

"What?" he asked.

"What happened?" she inquired again "Why would you say something like that?"

"I-" he looked around trying to find you, but your friend had taken you away "I don't know."

The fight would get to Emily's ears later in the day. Spencer was dismissed for the remainer of his shift, and so were you.

A part of him was being eaten alive by remorse, but the other, the one he deemed his conscious mind, tried to convice him he had done nothing wrong. Hadn't he spoken the truth? There was no reason to like you. Your gentle demeanor was not excuse enough, neither was your peculiar humor, or your relentless dedication to do good.

There was no reason to like you when you had caused him so much pain. Hadn't you?

His brain felt foggy, clouded, confused. Beyond his control, his body dragged him in the direction of your house, only to find himself at a crossroad he didn't know the name of.

Where did you live again? He had never asked you. Perhaps, he could call you. But your work phone was off and he didn't have your personal. What if he asked Luke? Yeah, right. After what he had witnessed, how could he be remotely on his side? He was forced back home, he would talk to you the next morning at work.

Was there something to talk about?

"A transfer?" Luke asked Penelope.

"She asked me to put a rush to it." the blonde clarified.

"And did you?" the man inquired with curiosity.

Garcia nodded with a pout.

"She just looked so sad." she clarified.

A knock on her door interrupted the conversation, and a soft 'come in' prompted Spencer to walk into the room.

The two coworkers shot him a look, curious and pitiful at the same time. Spencer narrowed his eyes questioningly at them.

"What?" he finally said.

"We know you've been through a lot." Penelope began to say "That you were taking it out on her for some reason, but I think you might have done this time, boy wonder."

Reid couldn't help but to swallow back a knot. They were right. Objectively, you had done nothing wrong. But objectivity had long lost its meaning, since he had learned that his reality could be bent to someone else's will to a point where he didn't know what was real and what wasn't.

"I didn't mean what I said." he quickly explained "That's what's I wanted to tell her."

"Well," Luke almost snarked at him "That's going to be a little hard now that she's gone."

"What do you mean?" Reid inquired.

"She had requested a transfer to the defense department months ago." Penelope explained "I just rushed some paperwork, but the deal was basically made."

Exposed to these news, Spencer bolted off the tech office and straight into Prentiss's. He basically stomped in, causing Emily to look confused for a solid second.

"Revert the transfer." he demanded, his palms firmly pressed on the desk.

"I thought you would be relieved..." she began to explain.

"We need her here. She's the most promising profiler we've seen in a while." he argued.

"Really?" Emily cocked an eyebrow "Because just a month ago your report indicated she was just average."

Spencer rolled his eyes and brought his hands to his hair, frustratedly turning around the office. He took a couple of deeo breaths, out of the corner of his eye he noticed your desk. Your belongings were already packed inna box, possibly Luke's doing to save you the awkwardness of a tidying up visit.

"I made a mistake." he admitted, his eyes still fixed on your empty chair.

"I'm sorry, Spence." the unit chief said "Sometimes, we just have to live with the consequences of our mistakes."

[spacedlexi]

As someone who loves both Kenny and Violet, I feel like I’ve found my calling here 😭😭😭

They’re genuinely so similar, and I do agree that the fandom has male bias, as well as protagonist bias actually

Clementine has the opportunity to befriend/romance Violet and then let her get kidnapped 20 minutes later. And for Violet, that is the most obvious feeling of betrayal! I don’t understand why people in the fandom struggle to realize that their actions have consequences

Lee can basically hate Kenny the entirety of the first season and then the fandom defends Kenny for his actions.

Clearly most of us totally understand Kenny’s response to Lee’s and by extension Clementine’s behavior, so why can’t they understand Violet’s response to Clem’s? Makes no sense to me

honestly i feel like aside from having a male bias the fandom has more of a kenny bias than a protag bias. i see his ass EVERYWHERE. CONSTANTLY. some people act like he raised clem as much as lee did 😭 (and i dont like the way the fandom talks about clem sometimes 😒 ties into the "weird about women" stuff)(and javi? wheres javi? i would like to see more javi. i actually think i see david more than javi)

anyway. i DO find kenny to be a compelling character and understand Why hes popular. its why i initially thought vi would be more popular among those fans! people who like both kenny and vi i can trust to have understood the assignment 💀 because they really do share similarities. but things some people LOVE kenny for they absolutely LOATHE violet for. and its just???? whats not clicking???

i really dont understand why some people act So Shocked by violets reaction in the cells. like hello?? YOU did this to her??? shes done nothing but put herself on the line for clem (even if clem is mean and ungrateful about it), and the One time vi needs clem to have her back, she doesnt (even tho its an impossible choice to make, and deep down vi understands this). and people shock pikachu face when it pushes her back to minnie like no shit??? but i dont think theyre even paying attention to violets character in the first place so 🙄😑 violet settled into that leadership position on her own and not only do you strip her of that role by letting her get taken she also feels discarded by the One Person who was actually influencing her to change for the better in the first place. AND you can do it all 20 minutes after kissing her. of course shes hurt!!! but people act like shes soooo unreasonable for her behavior (and vi would later agree with them! she tries apologizing to clem on the beach actually. thats how quickly she regrets it. but its too late at that point for her i guess 🙄 irredeemable. to the stocks)

kenny will Literally refuse to help lee look for clem if you pissed him off too much like 😭?? if you arent kissing kennys ass 24/7 he is the worlds biggest bitch about it. but endless excuses for kennys behavior for some reason 🤨 him trying to save ben (or christa but its better with ben narratively) is his first Real selfless act and its why its such a compelling conclusion for his S1 arc (only compounded by the fact its BEN of all people hes trying to save, the reason his family is dead). and S2 kenny is all about how his mental health is in sharp decline and hes becoming more violent as he attempts to control what he cannot 💀 kenny defenders out here using up all the oxygen in the room to make excuses for his actions but the minute vi makes One mistake she immediately regrets (after being nothing but loyal), shes an evil bitch deserving of what she got 😐

gee i wonder why 😭😔

[charincharge]

I Don't Want To Wait, seventy-one

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

TW: College admissions. Sorry if you’re going through this now! Also, I went through this a longgggggggg time ago, and I know this isn’t exactly how admissions works, so apologies for creative liberties. I was supposed to post this before Aelin's birthday, but I missed May 3. Just by two days, though, so not too shabby! Okay, lets go. Final stretch, my loves.

“What do you mean you don’t want to celebrate your birthday?” Rowan scoffed. “Ace, you love your birthday.”

Aelin stretched her arms overhead and reached to touch her toes, ignoring the way her boyfriend stared at her with his usual hawklike intensity and instead leaned into her shins, helping relieve the ache from sore and overworked muscles. Dance practices had been relentless on her body, especially with the spring showcase just a few weeks away, she seemed to be in perpetual knots always.

Well, she guessed she couldn’t just blame dance on that. She was having a hard time with everything at the moment. While her friends were smiling and laughing at their last few weeks of high school, Aelin was feeling an acute sense of panic. The weeks following spring break had melted away faster than she could process, gone in the blink of an eye, filled with an onslaught of dance practices and AP exam prep and constantly checking her inbox for that little email notification from Wendlyn. And not nearly enough Rowan, who was spending all his free time with his lacrosse team. Not only that but everyone around her seemed more excited than ever with the prospect of leaving Orynth right around the corner, but with each passing day the knot in her stomach grew tighter. Everything was a ~last~ —and she was having a hard time enjoying that. She didn’t want any of this to be her last. Why was everyone excited that time was moving so fast? Why couldn’t she just freeze right here in this moment. In this limbo things were stressful, but they were still fine. Without knowing what her fate held.

College acceptances had come rolling in, one by one, her friends grinning wildly as they opened their emails. But Aelin’s inbox remained woefully empty. So, she wanted her boyfriend to forgive her for not feeling particularly celebratory, but then again, she hadn’t discussed any of this with him for fear of making him feel guilty about it.

As she breathed into her next stretch, she turned her torso to look back at Rowan, who was still waiting patiently for her response.

“My birthday last year was a disaster,” Aelin finally replied, completely ignoring the real reason she was feeling less-than-enthused. “How quickly they forget.”

But Rowan just rolled his eyes. “That was an exception. I have a feeling that no one is going to get arrested or go to rehab this year. Usually your birthday is all you can talk about for months. Are you really telling me you haven’t planned anything? For your eighteenth birthday?” he asked. “It’s in less than a week.”

Aelin shrugged, leaning to the other side and groaning as she stretched out a particularly tender muscle.

“I just don’t want to do anything this year,” she said. “The spring dance show is in two weeks, and I’ve been practicing every night. So, for my birthday I just want the night off.” She paused. “Is that really so bad?”

“No…” Rowan said quietly, picking up his phone and furrowing his brow. She’d know that face anywhere. He looked concerned.

“What?” she snapped and immediately regretted it when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t deserve to be the receptacle of her stress or ire. All he wanted was to make sure she had the birthday she wanted. Her sweet, sweet Rowan. “Sorry,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just…”

“Tired?” Rowan filled in, and she nodded and lifted her arms above her head, extending them out for him. He swooped in quickly and helped her to her feet, enveloping her in a warm and comforting embrace. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered into her hair, and she could feel her tension melting away with each one of his butterfly kisses.

Aelin finally looked up at him, and his worried green eyes were staring back down at her. “I’m so tired, Ro,” she admitted as she squeezed him against her tighter. “The idea of doing something big for my birthday just seems like so much work.”

“It’s just a big one,” he replied softly. “I don’t want you to regret not celebrating.”

“And I appreciate that,” she said, letting herself melt into his chest fully. His heartbeat helped center her, and she rued the day that she wouldn’t have it there for her at a moment’s notice. “But I just want to hang out with you, eat too much chocolate cake and maybe go to sleep early.”

“So I should tell Lorcan to cancel the surprise trip to the strip club?” Rowan asked. Aelin’s head shot up, and her boyfriend’s answering smirk was telling enough.

“You almost had me there,” she said.

“He tried,” Rowan laughed, “But I shut him down pretty quickly.”

“What kind of strip club are we talking about?” she asked, causing Rowan’s worried expression to disappear, as she intended. As Rowan explained how he had to talk Lorcan off the ledge, Aelin took out her phone and needlessly refreshed her phone over and over. But her inbox remained unchanged.

. . .

“Stay calm and vote Manon and Elide as queens for prom!” Dorian shouted while shoving a rainbow flyer into a passerby’s hands. “A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote against The Man!” he continued, causing Aelin to snort into one of the crown-adorned cupcakes Maeve had contributed to the cause. Dorian had taken it upon himself to run point for Manon and Elide’s prom queen campaign and had recruited Aelin to help him during their shared free period. Not that he needed the help. Orynth High had rallied around the pair of women, and there was no doubt as to who would sweep the vote, but it was still something that Aelin could do without that horrible nauseous feeling taking over her entire body – which might have been helped by the fact that Dorian was also still waiting for a college acceptance email, and so the pair of them were happy to use lifting up their friends as a distraction. Or at least use it as a reprieve from constantly refreshing their email. He’d received a few rejections and was pinning all his hopes on one last college.

“A vote for Manon and Elide is a vote for equality!” he shouted, offering up his own plate of cupcakes to a nearby freshman, who accepted it readily.

As if they’d heard their names called, the pair rounded the corner, hand in hand, smiling softly at each other. Manon pulled away for a second as she tied up her newly dyed turquoise hair into a messy bun, causing Elide to sigh dreamily. Aelin watched as they slid their fingers tighter as they came back together and leaned into each other’s shoulders. They’d both received their acceptances to Perranth, a small liberal arts school nearby, earlier this week and the pair hadn’t stopped smiling since. Aelin was happy for her friends; honestly, she was. But that didn’t stop her stomach from churning with jealousy at the fact that they were going off into their post-high school future together.

“Oooh, are those Maeve cupcakes?!” Elide asked, eyeing the funfetti confection in Dorian’s hand. He lifted the plate, offering it up, and Elide wasted no time in grabbing it and shoving half of it into her mouth.

“Sooooo good,” she mumbled around a mouthful of crumbs. Manon rolled her eyes at her girlfriend’s enthusiasm and used one of her long nails to brush away a bit of frosting from above her lip. Unable to control herself, she swooped down and kissed the spot she’d cleaned, as if to make sure it was completely free of sugar.

“And I thought Rowan and I were disgusting,” Aelin laughed.

“You are,” her friends all said in unison, not wasting a single beat.

Aelin flipped them all off, burying her face into her own cupcake instead as Manon asked Dorian for a status update on his polling info. She was taking this extremely seriously, and it kind of warmed Aelin’s heart to see her cold friend use her ruthlessness for good. Well, for Elide’s good.

Though they were deep in conversation about numbers and which cliques were voting for whom, Dorian stopped and gasped loudly.

“What?” Manon asked, and Dorian opened his phone and showed it to them.

In bold at the top of his email inbox was a brand new email, waiting in bold from Anielle University with the subject: Dorian Havillard, Application Status.

“Oh my god, OPEN IT!” Manon shouted as she reached for the phone, but Dorian clutched it to his chest in horror.

“NO!”

“No?” Aelin asked, raising a brow in his direction.

“I can’t open this in the middle of the hallway,” he hissed. “What if it’s a rejection?”

Aelin’s chest panged with sympathy. She knew how hard Dorian had worked this year with volunteering at the hospital and all his APs to get into the college of his dreams. Aka, one far away from his father. Anielle was as far as it got, and it was a great school, too. Not to mention it was the last one he was waiting to hear from.

“Do it when you’re ready,” she said. “Don’t let these college admits pressure you,” she continued.

“Ah, fuck it,” he said. He closed his eyes tightly as he pressed the bolded link. He took a deep breath, and cracked an eye open before shutting it again. “I can’t look. Someone look for me.”

“Give me that,” Manon grumbled, pulling the phone out of Dorian’s white-knuckled grasp. As a wide smile appeared on her face, Aelin’s stomach clenched further. She knew what that look meant. “Look yourself,” Manon said, handing the phone back to Dorian, whose eyes were still clenched tightly closed.

He blindly groped for the phone before Aelin shoved it into his wandering hand. “Congrats,” she whispered, knowing what the email would say without even seeing it herself.

Dorian’s eyes shot open, darting across the screen as that very same smile she’d seen on all her friends one-by-one ripped across his face.

Aelin tried to smile back as Manon and Elide crowded him with high fives and hugs and lifted celebratory cupcakes into the air and cheersed them together. Aelin refreshed her own inbox, but there was nothing there. Of course there wasn’t. At this point she was just assuming that she would have to reapply to colleges next year and maybe do community college locally for the year. That would be fine, though. She’d continue to teach dance and maybe volunteer at the hospital some more. Get some real-life work experience. Plus, she’d have time to drive out to Wendlyn and see Rowan on the weekends, if he still wanted her to do that, of course.

“Still nothing?” Elide asked Aelin, having noticed her quiet smile.

Aelin shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll get the rejection soon,” she laughed. “I just wished they’d do it sometime soon and put me out of my misery.”

Elide reached across the table and squeezed Aelin’s tense shoulder. “I know this is going to sound patronizing, but I mean it. If they reject you, it’ll be their loss.” She paused. “Have you talked to your mom, asked her if there’s anything she can do?”

Aelin physically blanched at the mention. “No. Not since the interview debacle.” She cringed more, realizing that her mom would most-likely be calling her on her birthday in just a few days, and she’d be wondering what Aelin’s status was. And Aelin would have to admit that she as a disappointment, just as she always assumed she’d be.

Yet another reason why she would not be in the mood to celebrate turning the big one eight. She’d need a full day to recover from whatever her mom said to her. She tried to remember if Evalin had ever forgotten her birthday before. She was pretty sure she had. And those years had hurt, had made her want to celebrate her birthday even harder. But she wasn’t sure if talking to her this year would be worse than not hearing from her at all. I guess only time would tell.

Instead of wallowing in her feelings, Aelin joined the celebratory cupcake party, drowning her feelings in Maeve’s delicious buttercream frosting, and hoped yet again for a single email to arrive and put her out of her misery.

. . .

Three days later, Aelin woke up to a small nudge against her nose. Then a soft kiss to one cheek, then to her other.

“Five more minutes,” she groaned, causing the offending kisser to laugh against the soft skin of her neck as his kisses trailed down toward her shoulder. “I’m serious, Buzzard, fuck off,” she said, but it lacked any real vitriol. After all, the man of her dreams was kissing every inch of her skin as thoroughly as he could while still being gentle enough to rouse her from her dreams with ease.

“Happy Birthday, Ace” he whispered as his lips ghosted over hers.

She finally cracked her eye all the way open and couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of Rowan kneeling beside her bed, a sparkling glint in her best friend’s eye as she came to life beneath his gaze.

“Eighteen years old,” she whispered back, her voice still hoarse from hours of sleep.

“I know you said you wanted chocolate cake,” he said, “So I considered making you my poor attempts at breakfast cake again,” he laughed, reminding her of the day she’d woken up on her sixteenth birthday and resolved herself to kiss her best friend within that year. How far away that birthday now seemed, even though it was a mere two years ago. They were different people then. They hadn’t known how much they’d go through, how much life they’d live together to come out of it in this moment on her birthday again. Together. “But I decided to do you a solid and just bring a chocolate fudge cake for breakfast. Because you’re a grownup now. And grownups eat chocolate fudge cake for breakfast.”

She loved that despite their long history that Rowan still rambled when he got nervous with her. She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close, kissing him thoroughly. Her tongue slid between his lips and he groaned in response, kissing her harder and letting himself fall on top of her, despite still being on his knees.

“Maybe my first act as an official adult should be having morning sex with my boyfriend,” she mumbled against his lips, tugging him closer. He kissed her back, but shook his head and pulled away, causing her to pout sadly.

“As much as I would love that, your dad is downstairs.”

Aelin closed her eyes and stuck out her hand, revealing a thumbs down. Rowan laughed heartily, and she loved the way it made her feel dizzy.

“But we can eat some cake first,” he said, handing her a fork.

“Thanks, Rowan,” she said in a rare moment of sincerity between the two, not joking at all, and she loved the way his cheeks colored with a dark pink as his head ducked.

“I love you,” he simply replied. And though Aelin had dreaded the approach of this day, she relished in the fact that this boy – her best friend – loved her. For right now, that was good enough.

. . .

“Happy birthday, baby,” Rhoe said, enveloping Aelin into a warm hug.

Aelin quirked a brow up at her dad, who was not usually this sentimental, but she accepted the hug regardless.

“Shut up,” he said, chuckling softly as he pulled back. “It’s the last time I’m going to be with you on your birthday morning, and I deserve a hug. As a reward for getting you to eighteen at the very least. I think I did an okay job,” he said, looking her over.

“You did more than okay, Rhoe” Rowan said, pouring a large cup of coffee into Aelin’s favorite mug and then handing it to her. “You did amazing.”

“You’re already forgiven for waking me up too early,” Aelin laughed, but accepted the coffee nonetheless. “Mmmm, hazelnut,” she said, appreciating that her household had made her favorite flavor, despite not loving it themselves.

“DID I MISS IT?!” Lorcan asked, his voice breathless as he burst his way into the kitchen.

“Missed what?” Aelin asked, looking around at the empty kitchen.

“The gifting of porn and cigarettes, obviously,” Lorcan said with a wry smirk. But Aelin just rolled her eyes.

Her dad narrowed his eyes and looked at Lorcan with disdain. “You’re so lucky I like you.”

Lorcan’s grin only widened in response. “Happy eighteenth, slugger,” he laughed, handing Aelin a pile of scratch-off lotto tickets. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”

Rhoe’s lips curled into an unwitting smile as he wrapped his arm around Aelin’s shoulders, tugging her close once again.

“Dad?”  

“Lorcan is being an absolute idiot, like he always is.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I know you’re still waiting for official replies, but no matter where you end up next year…” Rhoe began. “I’d like you to be able to come and visit as much as you like.”

He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Aelin. “Happy birthday, Aelin.” He looked around the room. “From all three of us.”

Aelin looked at the men in the room, staring back at her, before processing that the thing now resting in Aelin’s hand was a key. Not just a key. But a car key.

“SHUT UP,” she said, her eyes widening. “SHUT UP!”

“I will not,” Rhoe said, but he couldn’t help but smile.

Aelin sprinted for the door before anyone could stop her, and she was practically crying as she reached the driveway where a dark green sedan waited for her.  

“She’s old, but we gave her a pretty good makeover,” Rhoe said, apologetic. But Aelin knew how huge a gift this was.

“You guys did this?” she asked, and Rhoe nodded.

“One of my crew members was ready to retire it for scraps. It’s a got a fair amount of miles on it already, but we replaced all the important parts. New alternator, air filter, battery, breaks, headlights… pretty much anything that wasn’t up to code from 30 years ago.”

“Dad…” she said, running her hand over the shiny fresh coat of paint. “That must have been really expensive…”

But Rhoe simply shook his head. “It was less than I thought it’d be. The whole crew helped out during their down time, and these two bozos put in a fair amount of labor on some overnight shifts.”

Aelin’s gaze shifted to Rowan, who was pushing the toe of his sneaker into the gravel of their driveway.

“I might have lied a few times about being too tired after lacrosse to come over. Sorry,” he said, tucking his chin into his chest, and Aelin was suddenly buzzing with an warm feeling in her chest. The knot that had been there, tightening for weeks, suddenly loosened. Love. That’s what this feeling was. Just the sweetest, most incredible feeling. To be cared for like this by the people around her. So overwhelmed, she couldn’t help herself; she corralled the three most important men in her life together and widened her arms around them into a giant group hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She made sure to say it three times, thanking each one of them.

“Well,” Lorcan said. “Don’t you want to get in?”

Aelin squealed, throwing herself into the driver’s seat and adjusting the chair to her particular height. She breathed in the pine scented air freshener they’d hung on the rearview mirror and smiled. It was perfect.

The car was old, that was not a question. But that only added to its charm. The seats were a comfortable worn-in fabric with a pattern that reminded her of the old Terrasen airport carpet, with its greyscale geometric patterns. The dash was covered in a faux wood pattern that she recognized as being trendy decades ago, but it just made her love it more. This car had history. She’d seen things. She was well-traveled, and Aelin couldn’t wait to give her a brand-new life and explore even more. She knew they’d have many, many adventures in this car. Overhead, there was a sunroof, which she immediately opened to let in the mid-morning light, and she couldn’t help but tilt her chin into the light and let the glow warm her skin.

“You didn’t have to do this,” she finally said, lowering the window to look at her dad, who was more than pleased with his own handiwork.

But Rhoe simply scoffed at that comment. “So, are you driving us all to breakfast or what?”

Aelin grinned as Rowan pulled up a playlist titled, “A-ight-teen” and connected it to the clearly refurbished stereo system.

She laughed as the first song came on loudly – Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman – causing Rowan to grin widely, a grin that he reserved solely for her. Their matching smiles morphed into guffaws as Rhoe and Lorcan folded their hulking, tree-like bodies into the backseat, squeezing into the cramped sedan with no complaints.

“To Maeve’s?” Aelin asked.

“Yes, Jeeves,” Rhoe said in a ridiculous fancy accent, causing them to break into laughter again.

. . .

“SURPRISE!”

Aelin literally jumped as her friends popped up from behind the counter of Maeve’s. She glared at her dad and Rowan, who had clearly planned this, despite her specifically telling them she hadn’t wanted to celebrate her birthday with a party. I mean, had she known she was going to see more than just Maeve she would have at least put some makeup on!

As if reading her mind, Rowan wrapped his arm around her waist and whispered, “You look beautiful.”

She frowned but accepted the compliment and a long kiss. As they parted, Aelin was swept into a number of excited hugs from all her favorite people. Manon, Elide, Dorian, Chaol, Lysandra, and Aedion circled around her, and she gasped as Aedion stepped in, surprising her with a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. They were causing a bit of a ruckus, especially with Lorcan making his own rounds saying hi to everyone he hadn’t seen in a few months, so Maeve quickly ushered them all out to the back patio where she’d set up a special table, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan with pleasure at the plates stacked high with all her favorite breakfast foods.

“…stuffed French toast, maple cured bacon, cinnamon rolls with extra frosting…” Maeve started listing, pointing along the table at the overly filled table.

“Anything for someone who doesn’t want to go into diabetic shock?” Rhoe laughed.

“Cheesy scrambled eggs, potato hash, bagels, and toppings for breakfast tacos,” she said, pointing out all the savory options on the table, too.

“Yummmm,” Aelin groaned, her eyes practically rolling back into her head with pleasure at her first bite of French toast, despite having a chocolate cake appetizer barely an hour earlier.

“I think she’s fine with the surprise,” Rhoe snorted, elbowing Rowan, who practically jumped out of his chair, tearing his eyes away from Aelin’s mouth.

Manon cackled with glee. “As if we would let the birthday queen not celebrate her birthday. It’ll probably be the last time.”

A round of awwwws went around the table, but instead of the tightening Aelin would usually in her stomach, her panic was abated by Rowan’s fingers lacing with hers beneath the table. He squeezed, as if to silently say, I’m here and I know and I love you. And Aelin let the familiar feeling of his callused finger pads calm her quickly. As he drew circles on the back of her palm, she couldn’t help but think at how different this birthday was from the one only two years ago – the one where she’d planned to tell Rowan her feelings and chickened out. She remembered the way he’d simply sat in the corner, watching her socialize, and she wondered what would have happened if she’d told him then – would they still have ended up together? Or did they need to go through… everything in order to get to where they needed to be today.

Looking at the way he made conversation with everyone from Lorcan to Lysandra, something shifted inside her. This man would one thousand percent have rather been alone with her all day, but he also knew that – despite her protests – she did actually want to celebrate with her friends. Because he knew her. Fully. And that’s when she knew without a doubt that regardless of what happened between them two years ago, ten years ago, or ten years from now, Rowan would always be with her, silently loving her and helping her be her best self.

Aelin gulped, that knot that had abated earlier suddenly tightening in her stomach again. She had been so panicked for so many months about every moment being the last, progressively becoming more stressed as each of her friends discovered what their future held, while she still didn’t. But what was shockingly clear all of a sudden is that she did know what her future held. I mean, sure, she didn’t know where she’d end up or what she’d end up studying or exactly what her life would look like, but she knew that Rowan would be there by her side no matter what.

She almost laughed at herself. Wasn’t that what he’d been saying to her over and over and over? Why did it take until this moment to make her believe that?

“Presents?” Maeve suggested, and though Aelin nodded and smiled through each one, her mind was elsewhere, thinking about what she needed to talk about with Rowan tonight. Her stomach flipped – although she wasn’t entirely sure that couldn’t be blamed on the copious amounts of sugar she was consuming and her never-emptying mug of coffee.

“You okay, Fireheart?” Rhoe asked, nudging her ankle from across the table.

“Yup,” she answered, forcing a smile back onto her face and actually meaning it for the first time in a while. “Too much frosting,” she laughed, patting at her overly full stomach. Rhoe simply returned her laugh and handed the plate of frosted cinnamon rolls to the other end of the table where Dorian accepted it eagerly. And though she continued to open her presents and bask in the love of her friends and family around her, Aelin couldn’t wait to get Rowan alone.

. . .

“Did you have a good birthday?” Rowan asked, fluffing the pillows on the ground as Aelin gathered a warm quilt and pulled it over their makeshift bed. It’d been months since it was warm enough to go up to Maeve’s rooftop, but it felt like the perfect place to end the day.

“It’s not over yet,” Aelin said, snuggling into his side.

Rowan looked at his phone. “You’re right. You have ninety more minutes to celebrate. How do you want to commemorate your eighteenth year of life?”

Aelin raised her brow. “You think I brought you up here just to talk?”

Rowan snorted and pulled her closer. “You’re a menace. Come on, talk to me. I’ve seen your brain working a million miles an hour all day.”

Aelin looked up. “How do you do that?”

Rowan shrugged. “Do what?”

“Read my mind,” she said. “It’s spooky sometimes. I feel like you know things before I say them out loud allllll the time.”

Rowan chuckled. “I wish I could read your mind,” he said, tapping the side of her temple gently. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue when her phone vibrated in her pocket. She’d been so distracted all day that for the first time in weeks, Aelin hadn’t spent every minute of every day refreshing her inbox.

She froze, and then her heart took off in a gallop, racing until she felt shaky with adrenaline. Sure enough, as she pulled the phone up, it was lit up with an email alert from Wendlyn University. Re: Aelin Galathynius Admission Status.

“Oh fuck,” Aelin whispered. Rowan’s eyes darted to the screen, and he shot up, sitting up too quickly and knocking Aelin off him.  

“Are you gonna check it?” he asked, but even as Aelin clicked into her inbox, she couldn’t press it. The email that would tell her whether she and Rowan were going to end up at the same school for the next four years. And then, suddenly, she knew what she had to say. And she had to say it before she opened up that email and revealed her fate. Because her fate could only be one thing. One person, really.

She placed her phone down and looked Rowan straight in the eyes and said with as much conviction as she possibly could, “I think we should get married.”

[rolandtowen]

what's up nerds, new fanfiction for yall!

I went on hiatus for three years and came back with Cherik brain rot. Read it on ao3 or under the cut. Chapter two will be up shortly.

It started innocently enough. A chess game, two glasses of scotch, what could go wrong?

The topic of conversation this night was the hypotheticals of their powers.

“Do you think you could control the iron in a person’s blood?” Charles moved one of his knights forward.

Erik hummed noncommittally, moving a pawn forward one space. “I think it’s possible. I haven’t truly had the opportunity to try it.”

“But, could you sense people by their blood perhaps? Not manipulate it, but recognize it the way I recognize minds?”

Erik smirked. “That seems like something I could try without a certain someone getting mad at me.”

Charles put up his hands in mock surrender. “Not saying I want you to mess with people’s veins, but it’d be good to know in case we run into anyone else with your mutation.”

Erik knocked a rook off the board with one of his bishops. “I’ve always wondered, do people have to be alive for you to get into their minds? Hank was telling me the other day that scientists think there can be electrical activity in the brain for a few minutes after death.”

Charles scoffed. “I don’t really make a habit of trying to commune with the dead, darling.” He moved his queen. “Check.”

“Well, what if you could tell those scientists for sure? Connect with someone before they die, and see what all that activity afterwards is about?” Erik moved his king.

Charles stiffened. “I find that highly unethical.” Charles slid his rook to protect his own king.

Erik glanced up at him, gauging his emotions as he moved his last knight. “Just speaking hypotheticals, liebling. Check, by the way.”

Charles made a wasteful move with another pawn, clearly uncomfortable with Erik’s line of thought. “I wouldn’t advise any telepath to stay connected with someone during their death. I did it only once, and never again.”

“What do you mean?” Erik thought that perhaps Charles had reached out to Raven before she died, perhaps to give her some comfort.

Charles’ eyes grew hard. “When you killed Shaw.”

Erik’s hand froze in the middle of moving his rook. Charles saw his confusion immediately.

“What, did you think I was able to keep him frozen and not be connected to him telepathically?”

Erik began to feel a sinking feeling in his gut. “I guess, I thought—I thought you let go when I..”

“When you started driving a coin through his head?” Charles forcefully moved his queen forward. “Had I done that, he could have killed you.”

“So you tied yourself to a dying man?!”

“It’s not my fault you were killing him! Fucking slowly, might I add.”

What?

“You felt him die? Why didn’t you tell me?” The chess game was forgotten.

“When would I have had the time? You shot me and left with my sister.”

Charles regretted his words instantly as Erik lowered his eyes. “To be honest, Erik, I wasn’t entirely sure what happened. It took me weeks to come to terms with the fact that I felt Shaw die. No other telepath has felt another’s death, at least to my knowledge.”

Erik was quiet for a long moment, before speaking in a whisper. “Show it to me.”

“What? No!” Charles sputtered. Erik still wasn’t meeting his eye, so Charles grabbed his chin and forced him to look at him. “Erik, I am not about to force the worst pain I’ve ever felt into your mind.”

“You aren’t forcing me,” Erik countered. “I’m asking you to show me.”

“Why? So you can make some demented penance? This is new level of masochism, even for you.” Erik’s jaw clenched, but his eyes betrayed his emotion. Charles softened his grip on Erik’s chin, scraping a thumb over his cheek. It was wet. “My love, I’ve already forgiven you, for all of it.” He wanted to run his fingers through Erik’s hair, talk him down from this ledge, and forget this whole conversation.

Erik caught Charles’ hand, holding onto it like an anchor. “How am I supposed to forgive myself, Charles? When I never even knew what I did?” Erik brought Charles’ fingers up to his temple. “Show me. You carry so much of my pain, let me carry some of yours for once.”

Charles’ hand was shaking, but Erik sent a mental message, inviting him in, begging—

Please.

Charles’ answer was agony.

***

Immediately, Erik was flooded with voices.

“Now, Charles!”

“Are you okay?”

“Moira, be quiet—I can only control this man for so long.”

Erik was in Charles’ head, in his memory, yet at the same time he was in his own head, as well as Shaw’s. He could see his past self, picking up his helmet.  

“Sorry, Charles.” His own voice, haunting him.

“Erik, please—be the better man—Erik, there will be no turning back!” And just like that, the connection between them was severed as his past self donned his helmet. This was where Erik’s own memory had previously ended their conversation, but now Erik could hear every word that Charles had screamed at him, willing him not kill Shaw.

He felt Charles’ fear when his past self revealed the coin. It was like the floor dropped out from underneath Charles. Chills ran down his spine. He wanted to run, to fight, but Charles knew that if he let go, Erik could die.

For the first time, Erik could also hear Shaw. For a man who presented himself as so superior, his final thoughts were frantic and pleading.

Xavier, please, unfreeze me. Please, I can help you. I have resources, anything you want—you can have it. Please don’t let me die like this—

But overriding Shaw’s babbling was Charles, still focused on Erik, still pleading with him, despite their severed connection.

“No, please, Erik, no.” Charles’ voice was quavering but his power remained strong. Erik could see through Shaw’s eyes as the coin approached, could feel Shaw screaming, but most of all could feel Charles begging to be heard by him. “Please, Erik.”

Erik finally understood the fear. It wasn’t that Charles was so afraid of Erik killing Shaw—Charles was afraid the Erik was going to kill him.

Charles thought he was about to die, but held onto Shaw anyway.

As the coin drew nearer and nearer to Shaw, Erik could hear Charles whimper one last “please”. And then the pain started. Charles could only scream, but even in his agony, Erik could still hear him mentally calling out for him.

Erik, Erik, please, it hurts. Erik could feel Shaw’s skin splitting and his skull cracking, could feel the shards of bone impaling nerves and skin. When Erik killed Shaw, it felt like no time at all passed between the moment the coin entered his head and passed out the other side, but to Charles—this was an eternity. Erik could pinpoint the exact time Shaw’s screams finally cut out, but Shaw was still feeling, which meant Charles was too. After what felt like years, Charles’ connection to Shaw cut out, and Charles’ mind went black.

[hearts4golbach]

The Night Shift.

Chapter 7.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

I sat at the counter with my notebook and pen, scribbling down ideas for new recipes or drinks. My mind frequently wandered to johnnie, and it worried me. I couldn't get what Jake asked me out of my brain. did I like johnnie? I couldn't tell if what I was feeling was just having a really good friend or something more. I cringed at myself. I doodled on the side of my page, drawing hearts and stars until someone walked in.

"Hello, miss." the man said with a heavy southern accent. I suppressed a laugh, thinking about Jake.

"Hi, what can i get for you?"

"Let me get the peanut butter mocha, please. That'll be all." he sighed. I nodded in response. "You got a boyfriend?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. I'm sure he didn't mean it the way it sounded. I immediately thought about johnnie. "No, sir."

"Well, don't worry. once you find someone, you'll know." he had a crooked tooth grin.

"Oh, thank you." I smiled. it confused me where this came from. "Why do you say?"

"You learn to read how people feel when you have a bipolar wife." he snorted.

"Well, you were spot on."

a woman walked in behind him on her phone. she looked up and smiled at me. she was beautiful, even if she had a messy bun and no makeup. she seemed sweet.

"Listen, you seem like a nice girl. you've got looks on your side, too. I say go for it. I know I don't know your situation, but when you look back, you'll regret it."

I was getting a little more concerned each second. this was almost creepy. how could he be so right? I passed his coffee over the counter. "Thank you." I said genuinely.

he nodded, not saying a word as he walked out of the cafe.

"What was that about?" the girl asked, walking up to the counter.

"Apparently, he could sense how I was feeling. I've been overthinking about this guy I met, and he was spot on." I shrugged.

"so, when's he going to tell my fortune?" she joked, pulling out her wallet. "tell me about this guy."

"well, I met him a few days ago. I think he's really cute and we've had our... moments, I guess. i think I might be gaslighting myself into thinking I don't like him like that. I've never had a boyfriend, let alone a genuine crush." I rambled. "I genuinely do not know why I'm opening up to strangers."

"I mean, who knows if we'll ever cross paths again."

"still, I feel stupid." I shake my head. "anyway, what can I get for you?"

"can I just get an iced caramel coffee?" she asked with a sweet smile on her face.

I hum, turning around to make it. What a weird night, I'll probably end up rephrasing to tell johnnie later. we talked little after she asked.

"I hope you have a good night." I smiled softly as I handed her coffee over the counter.

"you too." she smiled back before walking out.

I sat back down and continued to try and write, but my mind frequently wandered back to johnnie. was he even coming tonight?

about an hour and a half later, the door bell rang. "Hey, y/n." Johnnie's tired voice called. I looked up, he carried his computer under one arm.

"johnnie, how bad is your sleep schedule?" I teased, "this is the 3rd night in a row you've come to see me. you must love my face to come here at like 2 am every night."

"what can I say? I get really bad nightmares and your face does in fact make me feel better."

my gaze softened as I smiled.

"do you mind if I hang out in here and edit a video?"

"I'd love that." my heart fluttered at Johnnie's presence.

I turned around to clean the counters as he chose the table closest to where I was. he lazily opened his computer and pulled up the needed footage.

I hummed quietly to what was playing in my headphone as I finished wiping everything down. I fixed myself a coffee and went to sit across from him.

"I had the weirdest fucking encounter today." I mentioned.

he looked up. "what happened?"

"This guy came in and told me that I seemed stressed over a guy and that I'll know if he's the right person and I shouldn't fight my feelings off." I blurted, not bothering to rephrase it.

he made eye contact with me again, curiosity glistening in his eyes. "so, like, a connection you can't explain? thats really poetic."

"yeah, it's scary cause he's right." I mumbled.

"well, if you think you've found that person, then go for it. life's too short to not." he looks back down at his laptop.

"what if I'm not sure if he likes me back?"

a twinge of hurt flashed in his eyes. he seemed to be scrounging for ways to respond. "well, what if he's just as unsure as you?" he asked knowingly.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "so should I really think on it?"

"you might be wasting time, but you never know. maybe waiting is a good decision." he avoided eye contact with me.

"are you good?"

"yeah." he trailed off, rubbing his arm.

silence filled the room for a good minute, I zoned out, staring into my coffee once more.

"have you ever felt that way?"

"felt like what?"

"when you like someone but you're terrified it'll ruin something good?" I pondered.

he looked up, his gaze softening. "yeah, the fear of losing someone so special even though nothing has happened yet?"

"yeah, exactly."

"well, I guess we have to take risks. step out of our comfort zone, you know?" he paused. "at least we could say we tried, right?"

"right." I whispered, awkward tension filled the room.

he cleared his throat. "when you know, you know."

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟓   ❛ 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 ❜   |   NAKAWE SACRARIUM, DEC. 1990

❧  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ It seemed easier to worry about the responsibility. Arnaut’s life as crown prince had not formally begun, and it wouldn’t until the mourning period ended. Yet, he grasped its weight as soon as Safya’s body was sealed away. He wanted to be crushed by it, with hope that it would somehow distract from the fraternal pain of loss. He had learned alongside Safya out of obligation but absorbed only a fraction of what she did. There was disinterest and laziness. There was also the inability to imagine a world where he needed to do her job. She would never need him to take meetings or parse policy for her. His flimsy mastery of statecraft, his failure to remember details, his penchant for wandering into mischief … It was all unimportant. What she needed was someone who understood. In public, Safya maintained a brave face. She weathered criticism well, whether from the media or her mother. Their relationship was where she exhaled. Even once an ocean separated them, Arnaut knew it was his responsibility to give her that. He remembered quickly, almost immediately, that his inheritance was inseparable from her absence—that what he had given Safya died with her and that he would be, for the first time, alone.

❧ thank you @/trentonsimblr and @/ardeney-sims for letting blanca visit your countries askdfj anyway, i've been excited about this scene ... what do they say? hurt people hurt people? yeah. also everyone is contractually obligated to ignore the lil mistake that i did not notice until everything was done and queued djdhfj

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

[B] I have a show in Aducia in two months, then onto Trenton.

[A] You’re joking. [B] Why would I be? [A] It doesn’t make sense.

[A] How can you just leave us? [B] Did you think I was staying? Come on. [A] Running away, now of all times?

[B] Don’t you dare. Your responsibility is your problem, not mine.

[A] It’s a family problem, Blanca. Extraordinary. Everyone has to change. You’re still part of the family, aren’t you? [B] That’s not fair. You don’t get to lecture—

[A] I do! The family needs you, and you’re never here. It’s time.

[A] Mama may let you come and go, but that doesn’t mean it’s right. You have to know that.

[B] You weren’t here either. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel guilty. [A] It’s not the same. It wasn’t a choice the way— [B] It is. We both made choices, and I won’t feel bad about any of mine just because you have regrets now. [A] No, I don’t— [B] Why argue, then? You didn’t want this. I know you didn’t! You’re not ready for it. Everyone knows. The whole country knows. They’re more forgiving of walking away than getting sent off.

[A] Stop. It’s that … Look, I need you. That’s it. [B] This is how you show it? Persuasive.

[A] She’s gone, and no one can replace her, but … If I have to be here instead, then I need someone who gets it—gets me. [B] Papa? Martin, Sebastian— [A] Seriously? You’re the spare now, Blanca. You should be.

[A] But, you run away from anything difficult. You ran away from your own children—! Safya’s gone … I have to do her work, so I guess they’ll be my responsibility, too. Consequences you leave for other people to clean up are still consequences. They catch up to you eventually.

[A] I shouldn’t have said that. [B] You made your point. [A] I’m sorry.

[A] Blanca …

[B] Let me go. You’re being cruel, and I know you aren’t cruel, so I’m going to forget we had this conversation. You should, too.

[thelastspeecher]

I've had this one under construction for a hot minute. Here's quite a bit more in the Horse Boy Stan AU. It takes places immediately following this write.

——————————————————————————————

                 When Stan and Angie returned to the ranch, Stan holding a paper bag full of burgers and fries in his lap, the large door to the main stable was open.  Stan gently tugged on Angie’s reins, bringing her to a stop.

                 “We didn’t leave the door open, did we?” Stan asked.

                 “No,” Angie neighed.  “We never do.”

                 “Guess your family’s inside, then.  Maybe they’re looking for us.”  Stan pressed his heels into Angie’s sides and clicked his tongue.  Angie obediently trotted forward.  They entered the stable.  Angie came to a stop without being commanded.  Stan could feel her confusion.

                 The other McGuckets currently at the ranch, consisting of the parents and youngest two sons, were crowded around Stan’s stall.  In Stan’s stall was a bay roan pony stallion.  It took a second for Stan to place the breed as a quarter pony.  He was easily the most freaked out pony Stan had ever seen, his eyes almost pure white, rearing up frantically and moving constantly around the stall.

                 “Uh, when did we get a pony?” Stan asked slowly.  The McGuckets and the pony looked at him.  “And why is he in my stall?”  The pony reared up again and came back down, slamming his hooves on the floor of the stall.

                 “Stanley, I just know this is somehow your fault!” the pony whinnied furiously.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

                 “Stanford?” Stan croaked.  The pony, which was apparently Ford, pawed at the straw covering the floor of Stan’s stall.

                 “Obviously!”

                 “Uh, not obviously, you’re a fucking pony!” Stan snapped.  Ford whinnied wordlessly.  Stan looked at the McGuckets.  “How’d he get the gift?”

                 “Well, Fiddleford was just tellin’ us that he stayed on when ya tried to buck him off earlier,” Pa McGucket said.  Stan felt the blood drain from his face.

                 “But- but the fae said I couldn’t give the gift to anyone!” he protested.

                 “He’s yer twin,” Angie neighed.  Stan swallowed.  “Remember, twins have special connections.”

                 “But it- it would’ve known-” Stan said weakly.  Angie tossed her mane.

                 “The fae aren’t all-knowin’.  I doubt it knew you had a twin.”

                 “I didn’t- I didn’t-” Stan stammered.  Ford snorted.

                 “I knew it!  It’s your fault!”

                 “I didn’t mean to!” Stan screamed.  “I didn’t want to give you the gift!  You sure as hell don’t fucking deserve it!”  He yanked roughly on Angie’s reins, startling her.  Angie protested, rearing up, but Stan stayed on.  He dug his heels into Angie’s sides, tugging on her reins again.  Angie’s training kicked in.  She raced out of the stable at a full gallop.

                 The winter night air made the tears streaming down Stan’s face feel like ice.  Angie was obediently galloping as he directed, but he could sense her simmering fury.  She would make him regret treating her the way he did.  They weren’t even that harsh towards the regular horses on the ranch, let alone the horses that were secretly human.

                 Once they were at the far end of the apple orchard, where the ranch’s boundary pressed up against the nearby woods, Stan pulled on Angie’s reins.  She came to a stop.

                 “Get.  Off,” she snarled.  Stan dismounted.  She glared at him.  “Give me a reason to not kick ya into next Monday,” she whinnied viciously.

                 “I- I wasn’t expecting-” Stan managed weakly.  After a moment, the fury in Angie’s eyes faded slightly.  She sighed.

                 “There’s a chest near the biggest granny smith tree,” she said.  “We store supplies in it, but under the false bottom you should find some clothes.”

                 “Got it,” Stan mumbled.  He walked away, his mind racing.  His body went through the motions, following the instructions that Angie had given him.  When he returned with the clothes, Angie was in human form, shivering in the cold night air.  He silently handed her the clothes and turned so she could get dressed.

                 “All right,” Angie said.  Stan turned to face her.  The clothes weren’t a perfect fit; they seemed to be for her brother Lute, who was slightly taller than her.  But she looked warm enough in the worn jeans and brown flannel.  She ran her fingers through her hair, getting out the knots she’d gotten in horse form.  “We have to go back.”

                 “I know.”  Stan glared at the ground.  Like the year before, it was too early in the season for snow to stick for more than a couple hours, resulting in slightly soggy brown dead grass everywhere.  He kicked a clump of dirt that had been pulled up when they rode into the orchard.  “I don’t wanna.”

                 “Don’t act like a petulant child.  Yer better ‘n that.”

                 “Ford definitely doesn’t think so.”  Stan’s scowl deepened.  “He really doesn’t deserve the gift.  Not after what he did to me.  And it’s not like he’ll even get any use out of it!  He’s a fucking genius egghead brainiac, he’s not gonna do any horse shit, he’s gonna be busy using science to- to solve the world’s problems or whatever.”

                 “What did he do to you?” Angie asked softly.  Stan suddenly wished he had four hooves so he could gallop away from the conversation.

                 “It- it doesn’t matter.”

                 “It clearly does, when it made the two of ya react like this,” Angie snapped.  “When it made ya treat me the same way you did when ya got the gift.”

                 “I’m sorry,” Stan said quietly.  Though he was more used to saying the phrase after living on the ranch for over a year, he still rarely used it.  Angie pursed her lips, silently recognizing how difficult it was for him to say.  She dug the toe of her boots into the dirt.

                 “I appreciate that.”  She locked eyes with him.  “We’re goin’ back.”

                 “Ang…”

                 “We need to know what happened while we were gone.  Maybe- maybe somehow Ford picked up the gift somewhere else,” she suggested.  Stan managed a small smile.

                 “I like that idea, but there’s no way he didn’t get it from the ride earlier.”

                 “Yeah…”  Angie sighed.  “All right, hand me the food and get into horse form.”  Stan frowned at her.  Angie shrugged.  “You said you didn’t want to be in human form around Ford.”

                 “That was to keep him from knowing it was me,” Stan said.

                 “Sure.”  Angie raised an eyebrow at Stan.  “I’d also like to point out you said you wouldn’t ever ride me like that again.”

                 “All right, all right, I get it.”  Stan handed Angie the bag of food.  She suddenly pulled him in, kissing him deeply.  “I thought you were pissed at me, babe,” Stan said when they finally broke apart.

                 “I am.  But we won’t have many chances to do that, with my fam’ly ‘round and Stanford in the stable now.”  She gently shoved him away, then turned around.  Stan undressed and closed his eyes.  After the familiar surge of pain, he opened them again.

                 “Good horsey,” Angie teased.  Stan stood still as Angie saddled and bridled him with the same tack that had been used on her.  She mounted gracefully, then dug her heels into his sides and pulled on the reins with as much force as she could muster.

                 Stan winced.

                 “Now ya know what it feels like fer yer rider to be a toddler what don’t know how to be gentle,” Angie said.  Her grip on the reins loosened, but remained tighter than typical for her.  She dug her heels deeper.  “Giddyap, Hardtack.”

-----

                 Stan trotted into the stable.  The McGuckets were still clustered around his stall, in which the pony that was his twin brother was still standing.  Luckily, it seemed like Ford had calmed down somewhat.

                 Can’t have any horses or ponies freaking out for too long.  It’s bad for them.  Stan snorted at his instinctive ranch hand thoughts.  No, Ford can freak out all he wants, the bastard.  Angie pulled on the reins, bringing Stan to a stop.  Her hand gently caressed Stan’s neck, her fingers running through his mane.

                 “If’n ya can’t be civil, don’t talk,” Angie whispered into his ear.  “We don’t want this sit’ation to get any more sour ‘n it already is.”  Stan flicked his ears to signal he heard her.  As elegantly and smoothly as always, Angie dismounted.

                 “Good, ya came back,” Fiddleford said tartly.  “Maybe don’t run off like that in the future.”  Angie scowled at him.  “Stanford deserves a full explanation fer what’s happened to him.”

                 “And I know ya gave it to him while we were gone,” Angie replied, her voice just as sharp as her brother’s.  She began to remove Stan’s saddle and reins.  “We had to cool our heels a bit ‘fore we could come and talk civilized.”

                 “Everyone could tell ya only ran off ‘cause Stan made ya, why are ya coverin’ fer his actions?” Fiddleford demanded, his voice getting louder.

                 “Fiddleford, simmer down,” Pa McGucket said gently, placing a hand on his son’s shoulder.  “I know yer protective of yer friend, but ya don’t need to be rilin’ up.”

                 “Those two get hot-headed at the best of times,” Lute piped up.  “It’s fer the best they took a mo’ to calm down.”  Angie rolled her eyes and brought the tack over to the corner of the stable it was kept in.  Stan concentrated, grunting softly in pain as he returned to human form.

                 “You’re one to talk ‘bout bein’ hot-headed,” Stan said as he got to his feet.  He could feel Ford’s shocked eyes on him, but made it a point to not look.  Angie returned, now carrying some clothes for Stan, kept in a box by the riding gear.  Stan began to slip on the clothes.

                 “So, what did we miss?” Angie asked.

                 “We gave Stanford the full rundown on how the gift works,” Ma McGucket said.  “As well as how Stan got it, and how it must have been transferred to Stanford.”

                 “You sure he didn’t find a McGucket cousin or somethin’ to ride?” Stan asked as he pulled on a light gray flannel.  There was a desperate note to his voice that he wasn’t happy about.  The McGuckets shook their heads.  “Well, shit.  It- it really was me, wasn’t it?”

                 “Seems like,” Pa McGucket said.  There was sympathy in his voice.  Ford whinnied loudly, drawing attention to him.

                 “If you knew the means through which this…‘gift’ could be transferred, why weren’t you more careful in your actions?” Ford neighed.  He stomped the floor of the stall with his hooves.  “Unless you wanted to trap me in the body of a horse all along.”

                 “A, you’re not trapped,” Stan snapped.  “You’re a smart guy, you’ll figure out how to get human again.”  Stan heard Angie sigh softly at his raised voice.  But it was too late, he could feel his anger rising again.  “B, you’re a pony, not a horse.  And C, I didn’t know you’d get the gift!”

                 “Even you had to have known what would happen!” Ford snorted.  Stan ground his teeth.

                 “Shut your tiny fucking mouth, pony boy,” he started.  Pa McGucket put a hand on his shoulder.

                 “Calm down,” Pa McGucket said firmly.  His tone teetered on the edge of harsh.  Stan swallowed.  It was in his best interests to stay in the good graces of his employer, who also happened to be the father of his girlfriend.  Even if no one knew he was dating Angie.  Pa McGucket looked at Ford.  “Yer not the only one what got the gift and didn’t want it.  Stan didn’t want it at first, neither,” he said.  "He spent a long time trying to get rid of it. Despite us warning him that fae don't take kindly to people disrespecting their gifts. Eventually, he wised up and stopped, but by then, he'd upset a fae so much it said he could never give the gift to anyone like he got it from Angie." He looked at Angie. "I reckon what Angie said afore was right. That fae didn't know Stan had a twin, so didn't take that into account when adjusting his gift. And since twins traditionally have powerful connections, well, that part of the gift weren’t changed."

                 "So...what am I supposed to do?" Ford asked in a small voice.  Despite his anger, Stan felt a twinge of sympathy.  He remembered how he’d felt when he first got the gift.

                 "Learn to control the gift," Fiddleford said. "We'll help."

                 "But there's no way to get rid of it?"

                 “Just ask Stanley,” Fiddleford said.  Ford turned to Stan, who nodded.

                 "Look, we might hate each other's guts right now," he said, "but I’ll tell you.  It's not worth trying to find a way around it. All that'll happen is you'll get turned into other things or stuck as a horse- uh, pony for a month."

                 "Yes, well, it was you who tried to find a way to remove the 'gift'," Ford said. His snooty tone chased away the hint of sympathy Stan had felt for him.  Stan clenched his hands into fists. "I might have better luck."

                 "Listen to him," Fiddleford said. Ford pawed the ground with his hoof. "At least learn to control the gift, then we can talk."

                 “Very well, if you insist,” Ford muttered.  Stan scowled, frustrated by how quickly Fiddleford got Ford to back down.  Ford tossed his mane.  “I saw that Stan was clearly a different – what is the term – ah, breed from me when he came in earlier.  Why?”

                 “I ain’t quite sure,” Pa McGucket said after a moment.  Lute’s eyes lit up.

                 “Oh!  I bet it’s ‘cause Stan gave him the gift instead of one of us!  Angie’s Irish, so when Stan got the gift from her, it made him an Irish breed.  But Stan ain’t Irish like us.  So’s when he gave the gift to Stanford, it didn’t make him an Irish horse!” Lute suggested.  Pa McGucket nodded slowly.

                 “That makes sense.  Though why he’d specifically be a pony breed instead of a horse breed, I ain’t sure.”

                 “The gift could tell Ford needed to be cut down to size,” Stan said under his breath.  Pa McGucket frowned at him.

                 “The gift ain’t sentient, Stan,” he said.  Stan winced at his cool tone.

                 He’s gettin’ real fed up with my orneriness.  Gotta back off.

                 “Until you learn to control the gift, you can stay in Stan’s stall,” Ma McGucket said to Ford.  “Stan, you best sleep in yer room in the house.”  Stan nodded.  “Don’t you worry, Stanford, you’ll get the gift under control ‘fore ya know it!  My husband and son can start yer lessons in the mornin’.”  Ford nodded anxiously.  Fiddleford walked up to Ford and began to speak to him in a hushed voice.

                 “Stanley, yer not to treat him any differently than the other horses,” Pa McGucket said to Stan, stopping him from eavesdropping on Ford and Fiddleford’s conversation.  Stan crossed his arms.

                 “I don’t like my brother, but I’m not gonna fuck up the only job I’ve ever been good at,” he scoffed.  Pa McGucket nodded.

                 “I could do without that exact phrasin’, but the sentiment is good.  Loyalty is important.”  Pa McGucket patted Stan on the shoulder.  He and the other McGuckets filtered out of the stable.  Stan followed them, but paused when he got to the door.  He looked over his shoulder at Ford.

                 The pony stood in Stan’s stall, looking particularly small.  Ford seemed to be doing a bit better after Fiddleford talked to him, but he was still clearly upset.  His head drooped as he stared blankly at the floor of the stall.

                 Something in Stan’s gut ached.

                 His grip on the doorknob tightened.

                 He opened the door and went through, closing it behind him.

[annmarcus63]

Prev

Buckle up, long reading ahead

"I'm not hungry" 

"You need to eat anyway" Jaskier makes a face full of distaste, his belly just woke up and the last thing he wants is stew, more so if Lambert cooked it. "I cooked" Geralt adds as if reading Jaskier's mind "try a couple of spoonfuls" Jaskier takes the bowl eager to get on with it. He swallows precisely two spoonfuls without meat or carrots, only broth. 

"For you" says Geralt and places the yellow flower on the nightstand. He takes the chair next to the bed Jaskier is lying on. "I'm definitely not going to eat that" Geralt huffs a gentle laugh and says "It's a present. Ciri helped me to find it. Started snowing a night ago, that's all we could find" He looks at the dying flower a reflection of his own battered body, he's amazed with the gentleness in which Geralt holded it. 

"How's the pain?" Jaskier's eyes travels up to Geralt's, a soft look on the golden ones, like sunset autumn, Jaskier shivers but he's not sure why. 

"Painful. I must say I didn't know chest hair could hurt" 

"So much fucking hair…"

“...Like a dog died in there” They laugh, one of those rare laughs that holds years and years of sharing experiences, of sharing a life on the road, whether or not it's a friendship or merely a companionship. Jaskier regrets it immediately when a sharp pain emerges from his chest, he gasps and goes still. Melitele's magnificent tits, it hurts. 

A warm hand settles over the bandages, a fluttering touch. Touching but not quite. Jaskier opens his eyes, Geralt is there, close very close. "Breathe, slowly" Jaskier follows his instructions, the witcher's hand rising with every breath. Minutes pass, Geralt waits patiently until he regains strength, and then takes his hand away. Jaskier mourns the loss of contact right away.

"How is Ciri?" he asks to break the silence and grimaces at his own trembling voice. He has already asked Triss about her, but he wanted to hear it from Geralt, her father of surprise so to speak. He's seeking some kind of attention or recognition, he guesses, he's always seeking for self meaning in others, specially in Geralt.

"She's fine. She's got a bruised confidence, that's all." Geralt reluctantly takes the bowl from Jaskier's hands and places it on the nightstand, next to the withering flower. "She's safe  thanks to you" Jaskier makes a noncommittal sound "We're outnumbered and you... you save her and I ... don't... don't fucking do that again." Jaskier blinks stunned, maybe is the pain or his medicine muddle mind but the harshness in Geralt's voice hits in the wrong places for the wrong reasons.  

"I had to, Geralt. That thing was about to mashed her like a potato against the rock, Geralt. A po-ta-to." 

"You should've stayed back and let us handle it."

"Well, too late for that!" said Jaskier looking at his mended body and his severed hands. Geralt sweeps his gaze over Jaskier's body, taking in all the bruises and the bandages a miserable expression settles on his handsome face. "The chort threw you across the field. You aren't built for that, we are. You can't do something like that again" 

Jaskier could sense something in there, something the witcher wanted to say but he didn't want to give it to Jaskier. And the bard is tired of starving from Geralt. "Oh, I'm sorry" he feels his inner snappish child break to the surface "I didn't know I needed your permission to help..." 

"You're human, Jaskier..." And now he's talking like Jaskier is a child who doesn't know better. He's almost forty three!

"Oh, believe me I KNOW" 

"It's a witcher's work not yours"

"It worked, didn't it!? so why don't you stick your opinion up your arse and be grateful for just fucking once" 

"You died, Jaskier!" Geralt shouts, the words crashing to the walls and bumping back to Jaskier in a punch that cools him down instantly. “You died and I couldn't do fucking anything." Geralt slumps on the chair like all the weight of the world has finally left his shoulders, his hands that were clenched a second ago now open on his thighs. Jaskier's snappish inner child quiets down. "I... when I got to you, you're already gone." Geralt lets out a shuddering breath and then turns on the chair to face Jaskier. "You were gone." he repeats and Jaskier averts his eyes, suddenly ashamed. “Jask…” Geralt has never said his name like it's worth naming him, like it's worth the sentiment. The bard feels like crying. "You don't have to say anything, Geralt. I get it... I..." 

"Don't. Don't give me a way out, not this time, bard. I owe you, yeah, don't interrupt me for once and listen.” Even if he wanted to interrupt, Jaskier is utterly stunned. He has heard Geralt talking that much only when he's with Yennefer or Roach, never to him. It’s a nice change.  A callous hand lands on Jaskier's wrist, just above the bandages, a careful but intended touch that sends Jaskier's heart on full speed. "I couldn't feel you. You weren't… here anymore" with his other hand Geralt points at his own chest and isn't that poetic? the bard thinks. "I wasn't prepared to lose you, and I'm sorry, Jaskier, I'm fucking sorry. You've been by my side unconditionally even... even when I hurt you, even when I made sure to look the other way.” Geralt's thumb caresses the soft skin on his under wrist, right on his soulmark, and it's so wrong ,so unexpected that Jaskier can't take it anymore. He lets the salt water flow in a river down his stubble. "And I hate myself for making you believe that you're nothing but a travel companion. You're wrong, Jask, I wouldn't be fine if you died, I wouldn't survive losing you." Jaskier lets out an ugly sob. The pain in every inch of his body is nothing compared to this gaping wound with Geralt's name on it, his soulmate. Geralt wipes his tears with the back of his hand, despite being a tender touch the contact feels like a fire setting his skin. "You're my friend, the best I had. But you're much more than that, you're my s..." 

"STOP!" Geralt drives away like he's burning. A desperate expression settles on his face. 

Even when he's so sure that this must be very difficult for the witcher as is the first time he lets himself be vulnerable for Jaskier, he doesn't want to hear it. 

"Stop, please" Jaskier pleads in a broken whisper that rattles up his uneven soul  "You have no idea how long I've wait for this, you've no idea" a tired laugh bubbles from his chest sending spikes of pain all over his body, but before Geralt can act, Jaskier raises his hand to make him stay put. 

"It's not fair. Not after I lost all hope, not after I died and you lost the part of me that has always belonged to you but you haven't wanted it."

"I was a coward…" Jaskier cleans the tears with the side of his hand feeling like a lost child.

"I don't know if you were a coward or afraid or it's because of me..." 

"...Never, Jaskier, I… I’m sorry. It’s my fault…" 

"I've only wanted to belong, to be important to you"

"You are, Jask. I care about you.."

"I know, Geralt. What I said to Triss was born out of my stupid self-pitying side. I know you've cared about me all these years in so many ways. You've been careful with my feelings, not wanting to compromise more than you can give.” That's the reason he has stayed for so long. He hoped, longed and starved for something more, yeah maybe love, but he never expected it. Geralt never gave him false hope. "But, you have also been unkind and selfless at times. You have denied me the slightest recognition, making me feel small and unimportant, like a thumbed page in your history." The witcher made a wounded noise, and Jaskier hated himself a little for it, but he needed to say it and Geralt needed to hear it. 

“I don't want this, not because I died."

"I'm sorry" Geralt whispers with so much sorrow and reverence, like a defeated man amongst an army of creatures ready to take him apart.  And people said witchers were incapable of emotion. Maybe Jaskier is one of those creatures, and he hates it, it won't help to poke at the witcher's gaping wound, and it wouldn't be fair either, not after Geralt allowed himself to feel it. 

"Come here, Geralt" Jaskier groans when he pulls a little too hard after trying to stretch his arms towards Geralt, who rushes forward and moves the chair closer to take Jaskier by the wrist. "Careful" he says. 

"I wish I could touch you." Damn bandages constricting his hands.

"You'd hurt yourself" as if by compensating Geralt holds him tighter by the wrists, not to hurt but to anchor. They're so very close to one another, breath mingling together, until Jaskier rests his forehead on Geralt's and says in a whisper, only meant for them. "Thank you, darling, for letting me see you. But you must understand..." 

"I do" One of Geralt's hands travels up to his neck and stays there. 

"I want this to be real" more tears escape and Geralt wipes them away. 

"It's real." 

"I don't want to get hurt. Not again" Geralt takes his face between his hands and makes him look at him. This close Jaskier can see the tiny pale scars decorating the witcher's skin. "I won't take anything from you, Jask, not anymore. Let me prove this is real. Let me prove how important you are to me." Maybe it's selfish from Geralt for wanting to keep him after he lost him, and maybe it's selfish of Jaskier for wanting Geralt to need him. 

Jaskier nods against Geralt's palms making the witcher smile before letting him go "I’ve kept you awake long enough, you need to rest." Yeah, he’s really tired. 

Jaskier lays down with Geralt's help, every movement is agony but at least he has a pair of strong hands to support the worst. "I'll be back tomorrow." Geralt says standing next to the bed, suddenly awkward which makes Jaskier snort. Only moments ago he couldn't stop touching Jaskier. "You better."

Geralt looks down to him, a warm smile spreading on his lips "Goodnight, Jaskier." 

-

Jaskier recovery is slow and well… painful. Geralt goes every day with food and a single flower, sometimes when the layers of snow are thick, a twig. 

Jaskier thinks it's adorable, he reminds him of a cat but he doesn't tell Geralt that, of course. 

Ciri comes to visit, she is embarrassed and angry with herself for losing her sword, but before she starts blaming herself -like father like daughter- he throws a piece of stale bread from the morning at her head. 

"Ten points!" he exclaims with a punch in the air.

"You wish! Those are five. Ten is between the eyes." Geralt huffs from the window by the corner

"Excuse me ", Ciri says in a very dignified tone.

"No, five are from the neck below, ten on the head." 

"No, ten between the eyes, five on the head and below you lose." 

"Hey! I'm right here"

"Yeah? Well, here's a hundred points to you!" With all his strength and with exceptional care, Jaskier throws at Geralt the first object he finds on the nightstand, a candle. It barely reaches the middle of the room. 

Geralt chuckles followed by Ciri. "It's not funny" Jaskier pouts, he'd cross his arms if it weren't for the broken ribs that is. A moment later, before they stop laughing, Geralt is looking at him intently, like a cat no less. Jaskier is defenseless under the sun in the witcher's eyes, and he likes it so much that he’s falling addicted with that one look. 

"Jaskier is a brave fool. With or without a sword, he'd have thrown himself in front of the chort to save you." Jaskier's heart is fluttering inside his chest, like a moth trying to reach the sun. "He does whatever he wants" Jaskier huffs, blue eyes still on the suns "And I'm grateful for that." somehow Jaskier knows they're not just talking about the chort and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with those feelings, a lot of them, too afraid to grow, too afraid to hope. Oh, but he's a weak man for hope. I'm weak my love and I'm wanting.

-

"I avoided villages as much as I could when we had enough money."

"Geralt, are you confessing that you are stingy?"

"I wanted you to sing for me at night, after a hunt." 

"Wait, what?" 

"I like your voice when you don't have an audience, it's… softer. It helped me lessen the pain from the toxins of the potions"

"Then why did you always say my voice sounded like a cock with the flu in the open?"

"I like the fishy face you do every time I say something negative about your voice."

"WHAT? I…I don't, no, I...I..." 

"Exactly that face, yeah" 

-

It's past midnight and the keep it's quiet, everyone already sleeping, everyone except for him. He's having one of those nights where the throbbing pain it's becoming a little bit too much. His legs are numb and yet oddly present. He's afraid of breathing normally because the last inhale hurt like a bitch. He feels an irritating pressure in the head that won't let him sleep and…

"Jask?" Geralt it's at the door, but before he can ask what he is doing here so late the witcher is already at his side "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere"

"Mmmh" 

Geralt purses his lips in that adorable way he does when he's satisfied. "Don't you worry, my dear. Tomorrow morning I'd be as fresh as a daisy"

Geralt rushes to the wardrobe to open it. Jaskier can hear him searching among the vials. "Daisies are usually quiet." 

"Oh I'm sorry am I bothering you with my pain?" And then Geralt walks back to take the usual chair next to Jaskier's bed. He's holding the vial with the numbing salve that Triss brews for him every now and then. 

“The usual." Jaskier huffs and lofty laugh. Geralt puts the vial on the nightstand and reaches for the bandages on the bard's chest. Jaskier whacks at the hand "Hey, no, Triss already changed them.” 

"We have plenty." 

"Geralt..." 

"Jaskier..." and he surrenders under that worried look. Carefully and attentive of every move, the witcher hovers over Jaskier to unwrap the bandages on his chest. The back of his knuckles grazes Jaskier skin every turn. He shivers in delight for that small contact, the pain is now a minor inconvenience. With the bandages gone Geralt can see the palette of colors on the bard skin, black, purple, green, red and yellow in some places, it's not pleasant to the sight so to speak.   

Jaskier suddenly feels self conscious of his body, he has lost weight too, a shadow of his former sexy self. But Geralt doesn't seem to care. "This will help" Geralt deeps two fingers on the vial and Jaskier braces himself for the cold. Geralt has always been methodical and efficient in every task, but this time he's taking his time, applying the salve in small circles on his chest. Jaskier groans, the cold sensation is a relief but the contact hurts all the same. Geralt responds by placing one hand on the back of his head to guide him forward. 

Jaskier rests his forehead on the witcher's shoulder and stays still throughout the process. Geralt smells clean, like lemon soap. Jaskier breathes the scent of his favorite person in all the continent. Like earth and pines, no trace of Roach or onions. 

"Destiny is never wrong. I thought so too, but it has proven me wrong over and over again." Says Geralt above him, now making circles on his left side. "The dandelion on my arm kept me going after...after Renfri." Jaskier is shaking in pain and something more that hurts deeper. He never knew what really happened with Renfri, but he knew she was important to Geralt; he sometimes woke up imploring her name. "I killed her." 

“Geralt”  Jaskier whispers, placing a hand behind the witcher's back, to hold him as much as he can. Geralt is not applying the balm on his back.  

"She gave me no choice.” Jaskier nuzzles his face onto the witcher to offer comfort to both of them. "Your mark appeared a day before her death. I thought destiny was mocking me. A soulmate for a witcher? Come on. But it kept me going, you kept me going regardless of what I thought." Jaskier hisses when Geralt travels to his right side, it hurts the most there. He uses it as an excuse to press closer to the strong body holding him, or is it the other way around? "You've been traveling with me since then." 

"I bet it was quieter," Jaskier says, the fingers of his hand on Geralt's back twitching, caressing through the fabric. 

"Lonelier. Intolerable. A burden. But, yes, quieter" Jaskier hits him lightly on the back. 

Geralt untangle themselves to put Jaskier on the fresh bandages. He starts under Jaskier's armpit.. It's really not necessary but Jaskier presses again against the chest next to him, and Geralt lets him, even if it makes the wrapping a difficult task. 

"You are my destiny, Jaskier." and suddenly he's crying, struggling not to sob to avoid the pain, at least physically. Geralt holds him even after he finishes with the bandages and surprises Jaskier by placing a quick kiss on the top of his head. 

"It's late, you need to rest." Geralt steps aside to put the vial back in the wardrobe. Then he goes back to Jaskier to help him lay down. "Need anything else, water? to pee?" Jaskier smiles and shakes his head "Come here" he says instead "Closer…. Closer!"  When Geralt is close enough Jaskier surges forward as much as he can and places a kiss on the witcher's cheek, right below the eye. "You belong to me too, you know?" Geralt blinks fast "And now who has a fishy face?" It's funny how quickly he leaves the room. Jaskier sleeps with a smile on his face. 

-

"I've never seen Geralt like that. He's making an effort, for once." 

"Yenn, I..."

"Save it, bard. Believe it or not, I'm weirdly ok with whatever you two idiots have." 

"We are not..." 

"There is no a not between you. Was about damn time if you ask me" 

"Yen, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be. What we had was not real. You two are. Do yourself a favor and don't make this easy for him."

-

The day he is able to get up, with a lot of help, he asks Geralt if he can go down for dinner.  

Geralt grabs him by the waist to support his weight all the way down the stairs. Halfway through he starts to regret his decision, with every step the pain grows until he's sweating all over. He hates sweating. The other witchers are already seated on the tables of the main hall, eating and drinking. As soon as he enters everyone grows quiet. He's heaving and groaning which makes him feel embarrassed. In a keep full of strong majestuous Witchers, a weak bard with a few broken ribs it's a nuisance. Geralt helps him sit on the closest table and then goes to the kitchen to fetch them their meal. "Good evening" Jaskier says as loud as he can muster. No one answers. Maybe it will be better if he goes back to his room. And then, Lambert stands up from his seat on another table and goes to sit across from him. Soon after the other witchers follows him, taking their bowls and beers with them. He's suddenly surrounded by handsome and fearsome witchers, Ciri too sits next to him. "We, uhmm, we wanted to, you know?" Lambert makes a complicated gesture with his hands that Jaskier absolutely doesn't understand. “Yeah, so…”   

Cöen slaps him on the head and adds "We wanted to thank you, for saving our cub. For putting your life on the line for her, for us." 

"You don't have to." 

"Oh but we do." Says Vesemir who's entering the hall with Geralt on his back. Geralt reaches his side and offers him a bowl of stew and a piece of fresh bread. "Lambert" Vesemir calls for the younger wolf. 

"Yeah and we are sorry too for not welcoming you properly. We're idiots." 

"We?" says someone in a mocking tone. 

But before Lambert can answer Vesemir interferes "This is a safe place for you, bard." and Jaskier hears this is your home and feels himself crying, but refrains from it. “You’re welcome here anytime”. 

-

"You need shaving," Geralt offers one evening. Which leads Jaskier to be sitting in front of the window with a generous amount of foam on half of his face.  

Geralt is hovering over him with a very dangerous dagger on his hand "You sure this is safe?"

"You better be still." 

"Oh, come on!" Geralt rumbles a laugh and begins to slide the blade with utmost care on the bard's throat. Jaskier watches him mesmerized, completely at his mercy. He could die here, under the eyes like suns warming his skin. He likes this Geralt who's not afraid of touching and caring. He likes to feel loved by his soulmate. "The Djinn taught me that I could lose you." He also likes this Geralt who talks about the past and his feelings, he's nice.  "When I looked at you on Yenn's bed I thought about Renfri. I wanted to wish for destiny to free you and Ciri from me. But I fucked up. I took away Yennefer's choice in the process. Of wanting nothing and wanting no one to need me, I ended up hurting you, all of you." Geralt cleans the excess of foam with a clean cloth, he has finished shaving him but he hasn't stepped aside. Instead he lingers with the cloth on Jaskier's mouth "If only I hadn't made that third wish, not the way I did." 

"It's done, darling, don't beat yourself over it anymore." Geralt's fingers twitch against his bottom lip, the cloth suddenly forgotten. "Maybe I wouldn't have wasted as much time as I did." 

Jaskier raises his hand, withholding the pain, to take Geralt's hand to place kisses on the fingers. "There's still time" 

Geralt laces their fingers together and leans down to kiss the back of Jaskier's hand. They are so close, but still too scared. 

"How do I look?" Jaskier asks, "Good." Geralt lets go of his hand with a growing smile on his face. 

"Oh, come one, I'm sure you have a better review on my looks..."

"You look beautiful". 

-

"I can finally raise my arms to reach for things, it doesn't hurt as much anymore." 

"You're still a duck" Says Lambert while chewing on a bone, these witchers don't have an ounce of decency.

"A sexy duck though." 

“Sure.” 

"Geralt, would you mind passing me that tankard? I want to throw it at Lambert." 

"Yes, love." Geralt answers without thinking and they all stiffen. 

"What did you call him?"

"Yes, what did you call me?" 

"I knew it!" Cries Ciri from the other side of the room. If witchers could blush, Geralt would be the color of a ripe tomato. Triss is giggling and Vesemir is so done with his wolves. 

"I'm going to call my soulmate whatever I want."  Geralt finally emerges from his embarrassment, taking the tankard and passing it to Jaskier.  

"Yeah, he's calling me whatever he wants" Says Jaskier just before throwing the tankard at Lambert's head. 

"Ten points!" Ciri yells

"Five!" yells Geralt back from somewhere. 

-

"Love, uh?" Jaskier teases him.

"I'm sorry." Geralt sighs "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable"

"Me? Puff! no, not at all. On the contrary" By this point Jaskier has reached the witcher by the wardrobe, he takes the clothes that he is folding and places it inside without care.  

"Surprised? yes. Uncomfortable? no." Geralt groans and Jaskier identifies it as embarrassed. Aren't they domestic? Ugh, Jaskier could throw up and probably Geralt too. 

Jaskier grabs him by the waistline of his trousers to pull him towards him. In another time that gesture would have been too flirty for Geralt, now he welcomes it. 

"Why now, Geralt?" the witcher in question who was distracted by the bard's proximity until now replies. "What?"

"I told you, I don't want this just because I died." And just like that the conversation shifts to one that could leave them both hurt. 

"No." 

"No? Then it's because you're no longer with Yen?" oh, that does hurt like shit. But they have to have this conversation, Jaskier has to make sure. 

"What? No. I'm not with her because it wasn't real" 

"It seemed pretty real to me," says Jaskier petulantly. Geralt took him by the elbows bringing him impossibly closer. His hands travel down to Jaskier's forearm leaving a trace of embers behind. 

"This is real." Geralt whispers and caresses the mark on Jaskier's wrist. His mark. 

"Since when?" 

"Since the beginning."

"That's not true, Geralt. Don't lie to me." the bard's voice brakes but doesn't falter. 

"I'm not." Jaskier tries to get away but Geralt holds him. "I've always wanted you. That's the reason I wanted so desperately be away from you."

"How reassuring."

"You're perfect for me, Jask. No one else is. A bard who talks and talks to compensate for what I won't say. A noble who left behind everything to follow a witcher and follow his dreams. A poet, the occasional thief and mediator. Many of my hunts could have gone wrong without you, especially the payment.” They laughed in unison. And then Geralt took him by the chin and looked into his eyes. "These eyes..." says Geralt like a prayer "Beautiful," Jaskier felt like a teenager all over again, that eighteen year old boy who found his soulmate in a shitty tavern and didn't know what to do with his beating blushing heart. 

"Why now?" Jaskier asks again, looking into the witcher's eyes, he finds something he has always wanted but never dared to expect. 

"I was a coward, and I was afraid. I don't want to be afraid anymore" There's so much emotion inside Geralt right now, he doesn't know what to do with them. He's been afraid of them all this time. He rests his forehead against Jaskier and breathes in his scent. He smells like orange blossom and rain. 

"Then don't be." 

"Jaskier," Jaskier's heart breaks a little.

"My soulmate." whispers Jaskier against his ear "Let it go." 

"Would you let me?" Geralt asks, now buried on Jaskier's shoulder. "I understand if you don't, I don't deserve you after what I did..."

"Let it go, darling. I've got you." 

Geralt nuzzles the tender skin where shoulder meets neck, and plants a kiss there. "My soulmate."

Something shifts in Geralt, he grabs Jaskier by the hips and surges forward, their lips colliding. They kiss like drowning people, and maybe they were. It's everything a kiss with your soulmate should be, full of longing, love and devotion. Their tongues dancing, savoring each other. Geralt groans, his soulmate tastes wonderful. Jaskier tries to lift his hands to guide Geralt's kisses, a fucking mistake, he doubles over in pain breaking the moment, in the only way he can. By being stupid. 

Geralt's worried expression appears in his line of vision "Did I hurt you?" Jaskier laughs but that brings even more pain.   

"No dear. It's my fault. Why don't we take this kissing session to my bed so I can't hurt myself anymore." 

"We're not fucking, Jaskier." Adds Geralt exasperated. 

"Now, that's a thought." 

"Jaskier." warns Geralt.

"No, truly I need to lay down, I think something broke."

On the bed, Geralt lays next to him. They kiss and caress under clothes carefully. Jaskier loves him so much. His soulmate, his witcher, his Geralt. 

"You know people say that sex with your soulmate is amazing." 

"Jaskier, no." 

"Jaskier, yes!"

This is it, folks! As usual sorry for the mistakes, bla bla bla.

Hope you like it. I don't have the time to edit it :( I'm an adult.

@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @fintenciate @kore888 @geekymagicalpotato @gregre369 @theshapeofcool @janjan-the-ninth @zarakem @j-u-s-tmyself @life-as-a-gamergirl @melodymeddler @lawrites07 @youknowwhoiam3490-blog @help-help-i-need-an-adultlt @janjan-the-ninth @strangerzaiah @everything-but-the-not-natural /

Sorry if I forgot to tag someone, love you <3 stay safe and drink water

NOW ON AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/47665261

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Betrayal for the Greater Good

Warnings: betrayal, tranquilizer, counter-betrayal

Summary: Shadow is a morally gray anti-hero with wings who has a dark past. The villain her team is fighting is incredibly powerful, and she knows that average humans don't stand a chance. So she decides to set out alone to track down and go head-to-head with the enemy without her teammates to keep them safe, acting selflessly for once... little does she know, her human friend had other plans.

"I can't let you do this! I did the calculations myself, there's a good chance you won't make it back alive," Thomas argued, seeing that Shadow was about to leave. He'd caught her in the middle of packing up to go fight Villain alone. Caught red-handed before she could escape and head off to battle.

"That means there's still a small chance I do. I'll take it." Shadow huffed in annoyance, heading for the door, when she heard a quiet click behind her, and froze stiff, eyes widening.

"I'm sorry, but I won't let you do this to yourself. I know you're trying to be selfless and heroic for once out of some messed up attempt at redemption, but this isn't the way."

Shadow slowly turned around, eyes widening further with surprise to see Thomas holding a modified gun in his hand, leveled at her chest. "What do you think you're doing?" She growled, voice dropping low and dangerous.

"Saving you from yourself," Thomas answered, mouth set in a grim line. "This weapon fires tranquilizer darts strong enough to down horses. It should be more than enough to take out a bird-woman."

"...You really think I won't survive if I walk into this fight?" Shadow asked, biting her lip apprehensively and not meeting his eyes. He nodded, face full of tension and concern, but also determined resolve. She tilted her head thoughtfully, as though second-guessing her choice, before letting out a heavy sigh of defeat.

"The tranquilizer won't be necessary, I... I see your point. And I trust your judgement. If you think it's not a good idea... then it isn't. I'll stay here." She let her wings sag convincingly. She saw Thomas visibly relax with relief, and a heartbeat later he hesitantly lowered the tranq gun.

"Thank you for talking some sense into me," Shadow added, offering a small smirk.

"Thank you for listening." Thomas groaned inwardly with anxiety, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I'm sorry for threatening you like that, I just... didn't see any other way to talk you out of it. I know how stubborn you are."

Shadow slowly walked over to him and put a light, reassuring hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head to meet her gaze, and was startled by the icy darkness in her expression, tinged with guilt and regret. She leaned closer to him, smiling sadly.

"I'm still stubborn. Sorry, kid... You're too gullible for your own good. You'll forgive me eventually," she whispered into his ear.

"What are you--" That was as far as he got, when there was a flash of movement next to him, and Shadow jabbed her fingers right above his collarbone.

He let out a gasp of surprise, the tranquilizer gun falling out of his hand as a terrible, aching pain overtook him all at once, radiated through his entire body. He instantly went limp, and she caught him, lowering him to the floor so he wouldn't hurt himself by falling.

"Ow... what did you...?"

"There's a vulnerable nerve cluster right above your collarbone," Shadow explained slowly. "Hit it right, and it essentially shocks the entire nervous system at once with agonizing pain, temporarily paralyzing you. Don't try to move, or it'll hurt worse." She picked up the fallen tranq gun and threw it to the other side of the room, well out of reach. "You'll regain your mobility within the next two hours."

"Why...?" Thomas tried to turn his head to catch her gaze, but sparks of pain immediately erupted behind his eyes, and he realized that she was right: even the smallest movement was practically unbearable. He couldn't help the sharp cry of pain that tore loose from him, and he didn't miss the small guilty wince she tried to suppress.

"I apologize for this, but trust me, it's in your best interest." Shadow rose to her feet and stepped away from him, turning toward the door.

"W-Wait! You can't be serious! Come back! Please!" Thomas bit back a scream as he rolled over to his stomach, desperately trying to get to his feet, every small twitch of his body followed by a white-hot wave of agony. If he could only reach the tranquilizer... he could stop her from making the biggest mistake of fighting Villain alone. But everything hurt so much.

Shadow paused to look back at him as he clumsily attempted to get his feet beneath him, even as his legs kept sprawling to the sides, refusing to cooperate with his will.

"D-Don't go!" He panted, chest heaving. His voice was strained with the effort of trying not to slur his words as small tremors wracked his whole body.

Shadow shook her head regretfully. "Don't fight me on this, kid. We both know you already lost. You're only making it harder for yourself." Then she left through the door, blocking out Thomas's protesting shouts of anger and hurt mixed with pain. There wasn't time for that anymore.

I have to focus now. Thomas will be fine in a few hours. He might hate me, but at least he'll be alive.

Masterlist

@lumpofsand

@scoundrelwithboba

@isikedmyself878

[pardonmydelays]

How did i get new tattoo essay ✨

i started writing this earlier on my laptop but had to take a nap immediately because i was too exhausted lmao ANYWAY

i've been dreaming about tattoos for years but i feel like i wasn't really sure about what to get to not regret it later (*cough cough* i do have one tattoo that i deeply regret but it's not really visible and also i have an idea already what to do with it *cough cough*), however recently i've realized that i am old enough and i know myself and my own style enough now to get something that i will definitely want to keep forever. i guess some things will never change.

i wanted something that would look cool but also weird and wouldn't make any sense for anyone who's not me lmao (when i told the tattoo artist about it she said "the weirder the better"). this one will be definitely hard to decode for everyone, but to me it has so many meanings. it kinda represents my love for art in every form, something that makes me feel more alive than anything else in this world. something that's going to work as a reminder for me that it's worth to stay alive just to experience all those little things - to hear your favourite band's new album, play a new video game or go to a concert. we often say with bel that we need to "stay alive for this or that". and life is a motherfucking struggle. for me staying alive is one of the hardest thing to do, but hey, i guess i have no other choice. the idea came to me when i started playing "stray" (huge thanks to my very good friend finn who told me about the game) and fell in love with the world they created. especially the alphabet that i find so fascinating i decided to use it for my tattoo. it looks cool as fuck.

btw, my tattoo artist was super excited when i explained the idea to her because she said stray is on her list and she really wants to play it soon. we were talking about video games a lot. such a lovely person.

also "stay alive" is literally my favourite band's motto, but most of you know it. it's one of the reasons why i decided to use this phrase too.

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hi Cas :) I just need a lil advice if that’s okay. I’m straight but i’m proudly dating a trans man, and so we celebrate pride every year. 

I’ve had people come up to me recently and ask me why I’m celebrating pride. I don’t make it a trend to out my boyfriend to people I vaguely know, so I tell them I’m an ally. 

I celebrated pride before I met my boyfriend (about 3 years ago) and I am an ally now, but to be entirely honest (and i regret this now), I didn’t used to care that much. 

I used to say I was an ally- but I don’t think I really was. I just sort of, didn’t care. But now I can proudly say I am an ally :) 

Anyway, recently someone who me and my boyfriend have been like semi-friends with (I met him through my boyfriend actually) asked me why I celebrate pride. I told him i’m an ally. And he said “but like, you’re more than an ally right? Cause of *boyfriend*”

This confused me, so I told him “No? I mean *boyfriend* has definitely opened my eyes more to the lgbtq+ community since I started dating him, but i’m still an ally? What do you mean?”

Then he begun a rant on how people who date trans people ARENT ACTUALLY STRAIGHT. 

I am angered. 

I am very angered.

I’m not gonna say it was easy at first, I wasn’t very well acquainted with the lgbtq+ community, i had sort of a, live and let live, opinion I guess. 

But when I met my boyfriend I fell for him pretty fast (which isn’t my usual style). 

It threw me when I found out, but I never really did question that I’m straight?

And i’m not questioning that now or anything, I love my boyfriend, we’re actually engaged (as of two months, he proposed on the anniversary of the day we met) and we’re planning our wedding and going to pride like we always do and everything. (And in case you’re wondering, we agreed i’d carry on saying boyfriend instead of fiancé, until I can say husband, cause he says it’s one of the little things that’s gender affirming ❤️) 

I guess I just don’t really understand why people think that dating a trans person changes your identity. For example, my family found out he was trans near the beginning because my sister cyber stalked him, found an old photo and figured it out. And then she “accidentally” told our parents (she’s since apologised), and they were all cool with it (although I was irritated he’d been outed) but they all IMMEDIATELY assumed I was Bi? And that I just hadn’t told them. 

Usually I ignore this (and i’m not offended that they think i’m part of the community or anything) but I find it a bit… like it’s de-valuing him and who he is? I don’t know if that makes sense, but it’s like saying he’s not actually a man- cause I have to be something else to love him? 

It just pisses me off, but he never seems bothered by it. In all the years i’ve known him, and everything we’ve talked about, he continues to be unbothered by it, saying that he can’t change other ignorance.

And yeah okay he’s right, he shouldn’t have to explain himself and neither should I. But why do people feel the need to assume? Or worse, give me a SPEECH about how i’m “probably not straight cause my boyfriends trans?” 

Also, I seem to run into the same problem with his lgbtq+ friends saying that to me AS WELL? 

Most of his friends are genuinely so lovely, and they all adore me (cause i’m awesome) and I adore them (cause they’re awesome) but there’s one or two who consistently make jokes about me liking more than men because of my boyfriend?

If they make comments in front of the others they’re always yelled at, and my boyfriend always tells them to leave me alone. But he makes these excuses for their comments, like the environment they grew up and they lives they’ve had. And I don’t feel like I have the right to tell them what jokes they can and can’t make, but really? 

Why make a joke that I HAVE to be something other than straight to date my BOYFRIEND. Stop saying he’s anything less than a normal man? Like I don’t gettt ittt at all. 

Someone once told me the definition of straight was to only feel sexual attraction to the opposite gender and that’s why i’m not straight. 

And I told them he IS the opposite gender.

And they went, yeah but he’s not Cis.

(also can I add a real quick, you literally cannot be a feminist and transphobic. Because so many people have said to me that the difference is what’s in his pants. Why do you care what’s in his pants? Why does anyone? Isn’t that the whole point? It’s so annoying). 

OKAY I guess this is just a rant. I can’t ask for advice on how to get everyone to just magically stop being a dick. BUT WHY? Why are some people like this? 

Maybe if you don’t understand something, just leave it alone. Don’t keep harassing me about whether or not i’m straight and DEFINITELY don’t ask me in front of my boyfriend dipshit. 

Ooooo, this is WOW

Okay so...ugh. I'm trying to form my thoughts.

You are completely right. Dating a trans person doesn't change your sexuality. If you, a woman, are attracted to men and only men, then you are straight. It doesn't matter if those men are trans or cis.

I think the problem is, and I'm trying to word this correctly, SOME people who are arguing otherwise think they are doing so for a good reason? Like they're being allies? they want to recognize trans people as part of the lgbtqia+ community so much that they forget that trans people can be STRAIGHT, and so can their partners. It doesn't make trans people any less a part of the community, it just means that they're...straight.

By mixing up gender and sexuality, these people are essentially being the opposite of allies to trans people. They're not seeing trans men as men and vice versa. its hurtful and invalidating.

So yeah, you are completely in the right, and I think it's important to remember that even people in the LGBTQIA+ community are NOT perfect. EVERYONE needs to constantly work on being educated.

Also, shout out to you for being such an amazing girlfriend. You really seemed to be working to support your boyfriend and his needs.

Naming you straight anon <3