#i think if Error is ever in one place for too long Fresh just pops up

[thebad-lydrawn-sanses]

Undernovela perhapps?

Error: My favorite! I even figured out how to turn on subtitles, but CC: [Sin and Toriel Singing] Error: they're not helpful >:[ Error: stupid unhelpful subtitles Fresh's glasses: HEYA

[mal-urameshi]

I’m still waiting for Shuri’s confession😫😫 you can’t end it plsss I’m on my knees 😫😫😫😫

A/N: Heh. You guys weren't playing about wanting it. So here. Fresh out the oven. All these confessions drained me. Mm. Mm.

Shuri bit into the last of her seventh ice pop for the morning. She let the stick hang from her lips as she vented to one of the Doras a mile a minute, “But what if some girl wants to get to her before me like my mother said?” Shuri chewed on the stick until it splintered her tongue some.

“I’ll have you know that Riri and I are a 101 percent match! With a 1 percent margin of error. Nobody deserves her. Nobody else gets her like I do! Nobody else can appreciate her like I can!” Shuri placed her hand on the Dora’s shoulders and shook her, “Why am I such a coward!”

Shuri hung her head and took a deep breath, “I was so scared. I want to be with her so bad. I could have lost her to some stupid school boy if she liked him back.”

Kholwa, the Dora in question that was subject to Shuri’s ranting, pat Shuri’s hand in comfort, “Princess. It’s okay.”

Shuri wiped her eyes, “No! It’s not okay! I’m a poor excuse of a..of a- ! I can’t even think right now. I had my chance to tell her and I missed it.”

Kholwa pulled Shuri in for a hug, “Princess, you didn’t miss anything. You just got nervous. You have plenty of time to tell her your feelings. You just have to calm yourself. And lay your feelings bare.”

“No! What if she feels disgusted by me?”

“Disgusted?” Kholwa questioned, “What?”

“Yes! Her long time friend who secretly loves her, pretending everything is just fine, when in reality she craves her love and affection? She’s going to think I was being disingenuous. Keeping her around for my sick fantasies!”

Kholwa tried to calm Shuri down, “Princess, do you really have sick fantasies about her?”

“Of course not! Sure, I..” Shuri shrugged, “I think about her in more…romantic ways. So to speak. But that is normal teenage stuff! Not sick fantasies.” Shuri crossed her arms with a huff.

“Exactly! She isn’t going to think that. You can’t help who you fall in love with. Riri won’t think that way of you. She adores you too much.” Kholwa tried to keep her composure. She felt for the Princess. She really did, but the way Shuri lamented the feelings she perceived to be unrequited was absolutely amusing. 

Both girls could have their happily ever after if someone just made a move!

Shuri sulked. Does Riri have her eyes on anybody in her class? Do any girls have crushes on her like Sipho-boy? When would somebody make their move on her next?

Shuri put her palms over her face and screamed into them.

Kholwa silently laughed before patting Shuri’s head, “Are you feeling better now, Princess?”

“Yes, just a bit.” Shuri nodded solemnly.

“Okay, let’s go get some more ice pops.”

Shuri paced a bit in the greenery. Kholwa had convinced her to practice confessing her feelings of Riri to her to work off her nerves.

Kholwa sat under the Acacia, enjoying the shade while Shuri sorted herself out.

“Princess, you shouldn’t think too hard about it. Just take a deep breath and go with the flow.” She wiggled her hands to mimic an undulating wave, “Let the words overflow from your heart like a fractured dam! Your love can’t be contained anymore and it needs to be released. So don’t hold back! Don’t hide!”

Shuri nodded and did a few jumps while shaking herself off, feeding off of Kholwa’s hype.

Shuri walked over to where Kholwa sat and took her hands into hers, “I can’t hold back anymore.” Shuri closed her eyes and envisioned Riri’s face.

“You mean so much to me. I want you for myself. And only for myself. I hate the thought that at any point of any given day, someone could just take you from me. Well…” Her eyes fell open just when movement at her peripherals caused her to look at who was at the greenery entrance.

“Nobody can love you like I can.”

Riri didn’t know what to do with herself. Shuri was kneeling down in front of one of the younger Doras. Professing her love for her. She looked so into it too. Riri looked around, feeling awkward for probably ruining the moment before running back the way she came.

“Riri! Wait! Bast! No! No! No!” Shuri’s vision blurred, the stress of the situation already getting to her.

“Princess, go get her!” Kholwa urged as she pushed Shuri to the way Riri ran off to, “This is your chance!”

Shuri wiped her eyes and allowed herself to be pushed forward by the Dora, “Riri, wait!”

Riri didn’t know why she was so upset. Shuri could have had a girlfriend if she wanted. She hiccuped while maneuvering her way through the palace. She just wanted to get out of here. 

Now she was definitely sure Shuri didn’t have feelings for her.

Riri just wanted to hurry home so she could stay holed up in her room to try to get over herself. She couldn’t help but be pissed though. Shuri talked all that talk about drifting away from each other and feeling replaced.

What about how shitty she was feeling now?

“Riri!” Shuri caught up to the shorter girl and grabbed her arm.

Riri sharply inhaled and exhaled, “Let me go, Shuri.”

“No! I have to tell you something.”

Riri refused to face Shuri “It can’t be as important as you confessing to your Dora girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

Riri tried to keep her composure, but that was a tall order.

“I just saw you telling her you loved her!”

“I don’t! She was just practice!”

“Practice?” Riri finally turned around.

“Yes, for you!” Shuri looked around and noted the wayward Doras in the hall. She really didn’t want an audience for this.

“For me?” Riri frowned, “So you're just telling everybody you love them besides the person you supposedly love?” Riri tried to pull her hand away but Shuri wasn’t allowing it.

“You expect me to believe that shit?” Riri tried to tug her hand away again.

“Yes, Riri! If the girl I supposedly loved was back there, I wouldn’t have run after you. I only want you!” She tugged Riri closer to her and wrapped her in a hug.

Riri tried to pull away from Shuri but she had her in a near unbreakable grip.

Shuri felt like she could have passed out. Riri was trying to get away from her as fast as possible. Her worst fears were being realized.

“Please don’t run away from me. I don’t want you to go. Please, Riri. Can we just talk?”

Riri had settled by now and just nodded. Shuri took Riri’s hand and guided her back to her room, enveloped in silence. Both lost in their own worlds.

The door closed after Shuri stepped in behind Riri.

Riri sat on Shuri’s bed while the older girl decided to stay standing.

‘Before you say anything. I don’t have any hoes. I’m not entertaining anybody else. Kholwa was just helping me with how I’d confess my feelings for you. I was a mess. After that Sipho boy gave you all those presents and a confession, I lost it. Then my mother had also asked what I would have done if a girl liked you next. And I hate the thought of you liking someone other than me.”

Riri clasped her hands to keep herself together, absolutely not believing the words filling her ears.

Shuri took some time to gather herself, her throat felt tight, but she had to get through this!

“I wanted to tell you back in your room that I liked you. But I was scared you’d have pushed me away. But I love you so much Riri.” Shuri walked over to Riri and kneeled in front of her.

Shuri gathered Riri’s hands that were in her lap and gazed into her eyes, “I love you so much it hurts. I hated that I couldn’t tell you how I felt, for fear of making you uncomfortable. I hated that some boy confessed to you first. I hated how my jealousy made me react and in turn hurt you.”

Shuri’s voice broke on the last word, screwed her eyes shut and pressed her forehead against Riri’s lap.

“I love you. I love you. I love you, Riri. I loved you ever since we were children. I love you now. And I won’t ever stop loving you.”

Her tears were freely flowing now, wetting Riri’s lap. But she didn’t care. This was probably the last time she could be close to Riri like this.

Riri looked down at Shuri. Her own vision was swimming. She wiped her tears and allowed a hand to fall atop Shuri’s head. She’d lost count of how many times she said she loved her.

“Shuri..” She cleared her throat and quietly tried again, “Shuri?”

Shuri didn’t answer her, for fear of what Riri had to say.

Riri cupped the sides and Shuri’s head and slowly lifted her face so she could see her properly.

Shuri looked up at Riri with sad eyes, but Riri still found her to be beautiful. Puffy red eyes accompanied by a watery nose and all.

Shuri tried to blink away her tears but they slid down her face instead.

Riri gently wiped Shuri’s nose, “I wouldn’t have ran away from you, Shuri.”

Shuri sniffled, “No?”

“I was actually hoping that you would have confessed back in my room. But when you didn’t, I said that I should stop kidding myself.”

“I’m sorry, Riri.”

Riri shook her head and affectionately stroked her cheek, “Don’t apologize. You were afraid. It’s okay.”

Riri leaned down and pressed a kiss to Shuri’s lips, “I love you, too.”

Shuri’s eyes lit up at the show of affection, which wasn’t lost on Riri.

Riri pressed another kiss to her lips, “I loved you for a while now.”

Shuri sat up straighter, ecstatic that her feelings were returned, but hoping even more that Riri would give her another kiss.

Riri chuckled at Shuri’s lightened mood and pulled her up to the bed.

Shuri had yet to break eye contact with Riri, giddy from their close proximity.

Riri closed the distance to give her another kiss and Shuri eagerly cupped her face to make it last just a few moments longer.

When they finally broke apart, Shuri bit her lip in a futile attempt to stifle her dopey smile.

Riri aimlessly fingered the bedsheets under Shuri’s lovesick scrutiny, “I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you too.”

Taggies: @somethingcleaverandwhitty @karimwillia @neptoons1998 @pantherheart

[contemplativepancakes]

Geralt is possibly the least interesting vampire in the world. Jaskier is strangely okay with that. 4k, G. read on AO3 here!

for @theamazingbard (:

Geralt holds up two ties in front of the mirror, comparing the fabrics against his suit. By now, he’s used to the headless suit that reflects back at him in the mirror. Geralt’s never been one to overly question things, so he couldn’t tell you why vampires don’t show up in mirrors, but really, that’s fine. A relief, even.

He’s not sure he wants to know what he looks like. He knew once, before he was turned. He wasn’t exactly a looker then, and he highly doubts he is now.

Geralt chooses the black tie with the tiny dots instead of the black tie with the stripes, and clips it on to his suit. What? He can’t be expected to tie a tie every single day. He smooths it down over his chest. Satisfied, he sits down on the bed to tie his dress shoes. Reliable double knots.

He walks down the hall to crouch in front of the refrigerator, pulling out one of the bags of blood he keeps there. He pauses to look at the label. It’s his favorite, AB. He tucks it into his lunchbox, then pauses to rip one open and dump it into his travel mug. He pours some protein powder in it to make the blood coagulate. He can definitely see the appeal of this boba tea the humans have been drinking recently.

As he heads out the door, he darkens a little as he looks at his neighbors’ decorations. He hates Halloween. A time for people to get everything wrong about monsters. They live with them, the least they could do is be a little considerate and do their research.

No, they can’t repel Geralt with garlic. He scowls at the thought.

Geralt’s distracted from his thoughts as a young man runs by him out of seemingly nowhere and falls on the sidewalk just in front of him, his knee splitting open.

Geralt rubs a hand on his neck as the man looks up at him beseechingly.

“Uh. Do you need any help?”

“My, you’re ever so kind,” the man says, extending a hand that Geralt uses to pull him to his feet.

“Probably want to get that cleaned off,” Geralt says. “Make sure it doesn’t get infected.”

“Oh, dear! You’re right. Would it be possible for me to use your sink?” he asks, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt squints. “I...guess?”

“Oh, thank you!”

Geralt unlocks his door and leads the man into his bathroom, graciously pretending not to notice the man looking around the apartment in wide eyed fascination. He must not know that Geralt is a vampire, then, or he wouldn’t be so quick to ask Geralt for help. People around here avoid Geralt for the most part.

“I’m Jaskier,” the man says, as he bends his leg so his knee is right under the faucet. Geralt politely looks away when he notices how the motion makes the material of his pants stretch right across the seat of his ass.

“Geralt,” he replies, watching Jaskier closely for a reaction.

There’s none, so Geralt kneels down and looks under the sink for his hydrogen peroxide. When he finds it, he hands it to Jaskier wordlessly.

Jaskier flashes him a winning smile. “I guess it was my lucky day to run into you, hmm?”

Geralt doesn’t think anyone has ever said that about him before. “Anyone would do what they could to help you avoid infection,” he says dutifully.

Jaskier deflates a bit. “Well, there must be some way I can repay you. How about coffee?”

“Oh. I don’t really...drink coffee.” Geralt waits for Jaskier to get it. It’s not like monsters like him are uncommon, per se.

“How about dinner, then? A steakhouse.”

“Sure,” Geralt says, surprising himself. He blinks. His brothers are always telling him he needs to make more friends. And a steak does sound particularly good. He rarely lets himself indulge in things like that.

Jaskier brightens. “Hey, would you mind putting a band aid on this for me? I can never get it to stay.”

“I’m not sure that applying band aids is exactly rocket science,” Geralt says, but he does it anyway, his nose twitching at the scent of the fresh blood.

Geralt is centuries old, though, so it’s not like a little blood is the end of the world. Maybe when he was a fledgling, but those days are long past him.

He gives Jaskier’s knee a tiny pat. “Looks like those pants are done in for,” he says inanely.

Jaskier shrugs. “A worthy sacrifice.”

Geralt doesn’t respond to that, and Jaskier lets the silence linger. Geralt clears his throat. “I’m going to be late for work.”

Before he leaves, Jaskier insists Geralt give him his number so that he can arrange their dinner. “I’m very much looking forward to it,” Jaskier says with a grin.

Geralt gives him a hesitant smile, looking at the clock. He really does need to get a move on.

Jaskier seems to get the hint and lets Geralt usher him out the door.

In the end, Geralt’s not late, but he is grumpy that he only arrived five minutes early instead of his customary fifteen. It throws his entire day off, and the numbers seem to swim before him on his computer screen like never before.

Geralt scowls. He should have picked the tie with the stripes.

-

Jaskier contains his pout as he walks along the sidewalk, away from Geralt’s house. He practically offered himself up on a platter to be ravished, and Geralt was completely unaffected. There was blood right in front of his nose!

Jaskier doubts his information for a second, but Priscilla was the one who told him in hushed whispers that the word was that Geralt was a vampire. If Valdo had been the one to tell him, then he would have had a few more qualms, but Priscilla wouldn’t lie to him like that.

She knows how the idea of being partners with a monster makes him feel hot under the collar.

Jaskier resolves to be better. If a cut knee wasn’t enough, he’ll just have to step up his game for this dinner. And surely, if Geralt didn’t want to be seduced, he would have sent Jaskier on his merry way after bandaging his knee instead of bandaging it for him, for gods’ sake.

Maybe Geralt wants to be the one being chased after for once. Well, Jaskier is happy to oblige.

-

When Geralt gets home from work, there’s a text waiting for him. How about Friday night for our little get together?

It’s not like Geralt ever has any plans that might get in the way besides his weekly meeting, so it’s not like he has to check his calendar before he replies. Sure.

Great! I’ll pick you up at 8! :D

Geralt frowns. This doesn’t seem right. He hasn’t made a new friend in possibly fifty years, and now one literally falls into his path?

He hums to himself as he does his nightly routine, pushing on the gum above each fang to make it pop out so he can properly brush it. Cleanliness is next to godliness, and all that. Actual dentists that weren’t just going to try to pull out his teeth have only been around for less than the majority of his life, so it’s habit to take good care of them.

Geralt strips off his clothes until he’s left in just his t-shirt and boxers and climbs into bed. No, he doesn’t have a coffin or hang upside down like some sort of bat. Geralt’s not sure where all that nonsense got its roots in the first place.

There’s so many things that humans seem to have no qualms believing about monsters, though, and Geralt frowns as he punches his pillow into a better shape. He’s almost 250. His lumbar health is no joke.

-

His anxiety bleeds into his work, making Excel blink more error messages back at him than he’s ever seen before. Geralt’s boss pulls him aside to ask if he’s okay. Geralt sulks.

He is the consummate professional, and he’s not going to let this dinner get the better of him. Geralt contends anyone would be nervous if they hadn’t made a new friend in decades, too.

Now, he stands in front of his closet. He’s certainly not going to wear a suit, but he rarely wears anything else. It’s not like he goes much of any place besides work and his weekly meetings. Geralt sighs as he pulls a pair of jeans out of his wardrobe.

They’re a lot tighter than he remembers, but this is all he has, so it’ll have to do. He finds a long sleeved shirt that is luckily on the baggier side. He hopes that will make up for his too-close fitting jeans.

Geralt brushes his hair, but he can’t see it in the mirror, so there’s no point in doing anything else with it. He’s more likely to make himself look ridiculous than presentable with whatever he might attempt.

Geralt plants himself on the couch, reaching for his book to read until the clock rolls around to the time Jaskier promised to pick him up. His fingers play with the corners of the pages, bending them in a way that he’s sure would make a librarian displeased.

Geralt huffs when he realizes he’s not going to get any reading done and sets the book down on his side table. He takes a deep breath through his nose. He is ancient; he shouldn’t be getting social anxiety right now.

His phone pings with a text. Outside!

Geralt looks out the window, and indeed, there’s a car there. It’s a lime green slug bug, with rust eating its way up from the undercarriage. Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. That looks like Jaskier’s car, all right.

-

Jaskier tries not to drool as Geralt walks down his steps. He’s wearing pants that are skin tight, which should frankly be illegal, and his shirt hangs off of him so that it shows his collar bones. Jaskier thought that vampires should be the ones who wanted to bite, but he would really love to get his mouth on one of those.

Geralt gets into the passenger seat with a half smile playing around his lips. “Like my ride?” Jaskier asks.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

Jaskier claps his hand to his heart in mock offense. “I’m wounded.”

Geralt hums, shifting in his seat as he fastens his seatbelt. Jaskier drums his fingers on the steering wheel, flexing his right arm to draw attention to the bandage he has there. He went and donated blood this afternoon, and if Geralt doesn’t get his hint this time, he is going to pound his head against the nearest wall.

-

Geralt shifts his head to look out the window as Jaskier keeps his arms on shameless display. He knows times have changed, but it’s also always a little dizzying to see so much of everyone’s skin on display all the time, their pulse thrumming invitingly underneath it.

Geralt shakes his head to clear it of its reverie as Jaskier pulls his car into drive. It gives a concerning lurch. Before Geralt can open his mouth to comment, Jaskier is holding up a hand. “I can assure you, we are perfectly safe.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey!” Jaskier protests. “It is. I take care of it.”

“All I said was hmm,” Geralt says with a tiny grin. “That’s why it has so much rust, right?”

Jaskier sighs. “I was going to get around to repaint it, and then I just...other things came up.”

Geralt makes a face at him, laughing at Jaskier’s increased defenses. Some of his anxiety fades away as he realizes this isn’t so bad, after all. Maybe Jaskier needs a new friend just as badly as him.

When they arrive at the restaurant, Jaskier pulls Geralt’s chair out for him. Geralt gives him a polite nod. He can’t say he has a firm grasp on all the recent customs. Lambert’s always telling him he’s stuck in the past.

Geralt crosses his fingers and rests his chin on his hands as he watches Jaskier eat his salad, taking endearingly large bites. Jaskier hasn’t even mentioned anything about vampires yet. Geralt is starting to feel a tiny bit guilty. Would he still want to spend all this time with him if he knew Geralt wasn’t human?

As he’s thinking that, Jaskier takes a big gulp of his water and starts to sputter. Geralt’s across the table in an instant, his hand around Jaskier’s bicep and another hand on his back. “Are you okay?” Geralt murmurs, tense and ready to help if the need arises.

Jaskier coughs and waves him off. “Just went down the wrong pipe.”

Geralt relaxes a bit, but as his hand lingers on Jaskier’s arm, he can’t help but feel how warm it is, such a contrast to his own constantly cool skin. When Jaskier turns his face to look up at him, Geralt quickly drops his arm and beats a hasty retreat back to his seat.

He could swear Jaskier looks disappointed. He must be delusional.

When the main course comes, Geralt cuts neatly into his pink steak, mouth watering as the juices come leaking out of it. He sucks the tip of his finger into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the salty taste of it.

He makes himself cut the steak into tiny pieces. He’ll have to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire eventually; he might as well make sure he doesn’t think he’s a barbaric onel. Geralt tries his best to keep his eyes on Jaskier’s face instead of his arms. He can’t help but notice that he has some very nice veins. They’re a striking blue, and a perfect compliment to his eyes.

Geralt bites his lip, flinching when one of his fangs pops out on its own, pressing into his lip.

“One of my uncles is a werewolf,” Jaskier says, apropos of nothing, looking at Geralt meaningfully.

A trickle of sweat runs down Geralt’s back. Does Jaskier think he’s a werewolf? Werewolves are generally regarded better than vampires; at least they’re only monsters one night a month.

“Hmm,” Geralt says, not hearing the rest of Jaskier’s sentence.

Jaskier laughs at his own joke, and Geralt blinks rapidly until he can focus again on what Jaskier’s saying.

When the waiter comes with the check, Jaskier insists on paying for it. Is this what friendship has evolved to since Geralt last had one? He doesn’t know enough about it to argue with Jaskier, so he lets him do what he wants.

-

Outside of Geralt’s house, Jaskier puts a hand on the console between them, making eye contact with Geralt before dropping his gaze down to his lips. Geralt gives him a gentle smile, his eyes crinkling. His white hair looks ethereal in the moonlight, and Jaskier is only a little infatuated.

Geralt’s exterior is stony, but he also had no problems giving Jaskier all sorts of secret smiles throughout the night. Jaskier’s not sure he’s met a better listener than Geralt, and he tends to drone on and on, so that’s somewhat important to him.

Jaskier closes his eyes and starts to lean in when Geralt opens the car door. Jaskier opens his eyes.

“I had a great time, thank you,” Geralt says, one hand on the top of the car.

Jaskier bites his lip, stopping himself from saying what he wants. “Me, too. Let’s do it again some time?”

Geralt nods eagerly, and Jaskier watches him walk away, his gaze fixed on Geralt’s devastating pants and not at all on the way his ass looks in them.

Jaskier rests his head on the steering wheel in despair. He doesn’t know how to be any more heavy handed than this. He went and donated blood! And Geralt let him pay for their meal! He’s not sure how he can get across the point any better that he’s a talking blood bag, and he’s open for business.

Jaskier heaves a gigantic sigh and resolves to go home and plot his next move.

Maybe Geralt’s just shy.

Well. Jaskier can work with that

-

Geralt’s weekend passes in its normal fashion. He goes for a run, drinks some blood out of his supply in the fridge, then crashes on the couch for a whole day while he thinks of anything other than work. Sometimes Eskel lets himself in using his key, but he doesn’t that weekend, and Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he tortures himself thinking of what Eskel might be doing.

Eskel’s never had problems making friends, unlike Geralt, so he’s sure he’s out having a good time with them.

Geralt used to be good at making friends, gods damn it, before all of them died of old age and he just didn’t see the point anymore. He’s come to suppose that there’s not all that much of a point in immortality if all he does is work, though.

The weekend’s over just as quickly as it began, and on Monday night, he can’t help the smile that creeps across his face when Jaskier texts him about some inane thing he noticed. Was he thinking of Geralt? That’s...nice.

Cautiously, Geralt lets himself hope that something is going to come out of this.

But first, he needs to tell Jaskier he’s a vampire. He wouldn’t be the first person to run away screaming, even though they are much more accepted now than they used to be.

Geralt shudders as he thinks of the industrial revolution. No regard for any monsters then. Humans invent light bulbs, and all of a sudden they think they’re too good for a healthy dash of respect.

Geralt looks back down at his phone, at a music video Jaskier sent him of someone playing a singing saw.

He lets himself focus on that a while.

-

Wednesday creeps around, and with it, Geralt’s weekly meeting.

He takes his spot in his customary chair, and looks around for Lambert, ignoring the look Eskel is trying to burn through the side of his face with.

“Why do I have to be here, again?” Geralt asks, when he gives up on Lambert to come save him.

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s an argument they’ve had more than once. “If you won’t become a sponsor, you have to at least show them that things get better.”

Geralt huffs a breath out through his nose as he watches the regulars file in. There’s one new person, and Geralt eyes her curiously. She looks a little terrified, and Geralt softens in sympathy.

The meeting starts, and they go around in the circle, the seat beside Geralt still empty in Lambert’s tardiness.

“Hi, I’m Geralt, and I’m a blood addict,” he drones when it’s his turn.

When they’ve moved on to their personal struggles for the week, Lambert finally appears, dropping into his chair.

He elbows Geralt, seemingly unaware of everyone staring at them.

“Hey, what’s got you in such a good mood?”

Geralt firmly fixes a scowl in place and ignores him. He’s not sure why he even wanted Lambert to show up in the first place.

Geralt leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he listens to everyone else, Eskel being disgustingly reassuring to them all, as per usual. Geralt stamps the jealousy down. It’s not Eskel’s fault he’s so good with people.

The meeting drags by, and when it’s finally over, Lambert doesn’t let Geralt just sneak away. He digs his elbow into his side again, holding Geralt by the shoulder. “You didn’t answer me earlier. What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“I’m not,” Geralt says.

Lambert hums. “You don’t have your usual storm cloud above your head, so I’m going to count it.”

Geralt scowls at him and looks at Eskel for back up, but Eskel just raises his eyebrows at him.

“I hate you both,” Geralt grumbles.

“You love us,” Lambert says.

“Fine. I made a new friend,” he grates out.

Lambert and Eskel exchange an insufferable look.

“What?” Geralt demands.

“You, make a friend? Well, we’re just going to have to hear all about this to believe it.”

Geralt huffs, but he tells them about Jaskier.

“He took you to dinner? And paid? And you think he wants to be just friends?” Lambert asks.

Geralt flaps his hands around and hisses, “Look, I’ve barely been anywhere that isn’t here or work in the last three decades, how am I supposed to keep up with all this human nonsense? And besides, I haven’t even told him I’m a vampire yet. I’ll be lucky if he even wants to be my friend after that.”

Eskel bites his lip. “You know that’s a turn on for some humans, right?”

“What?”

“And you said he scraped his knee the first time he saw you? Geralt, I think he already knows, and he’s just trying to get in your pants.”

Geralt deflates. That makes a twisted sort of sense. “Oh.”

Lambert punches him in the arm. “Hey, lighten up. If anyone can charm him with their stunning personality, it’s you.”

“Fuck off.”

-

It’s difficult to fall asleep that night.

-

A week goes by without him answering any of Jaskier’s texts. He still painstakingly reads and savors each one, but he can’t bring himself to reply. If he was looking for some sort of...fling, he would have gone on one of those apps Eskel keeps telling him about.

As pathetic as it sounds, he could really use a friend. And if sex came later, well, Geralt wouldn’t complain, but he just desperately needs someone who’s going to stick around. He needs someone just for himself, someone outside of Lambert and Eskel who isn’t going to tease him about every little thing.

Geralt sighs. This was at least good practice. Maybe he can try again with someone else.

His heart sinks at the thought. He doesn’t really want someone else. Jaskier wormed his way into his chest in just a week, and Geralt knows he could yank him out with only a little pain if he tried, he doesn’t want to.

Geralt wants to have something nice, for once.

-

Jaskier bites his lip as he peers out the car window at Geralt’s house. He’s half scared there’s not going to be an answer when he knocks, and he doesn’t know what he’ll do then. He thought their date went swimmingly, so he’s not sure why Geralt suddenly stopped answering him unless something happened.

Jaskier has a vision of getting into the house only to find Geralt on the floor, the only way to revive him being letting Geralt drink straight from his neck, obviously leading to Geralt ravishing him against the nearest wall.

Jaskier shakes himself like a dog. Geralt’s given him no interest in anything like that at all. Maybe he needs to lower his expectations. The dude seems lonely, anyway, so maybe he just wants someone to talk to that’s not one of his coworkers.

Geralt told him he’s an actuary, and from the questions he asked of Geralt and Geralt didn’t answer, he’s not convinced that Geralt talks to his coworkers at all.

Jaskier blows out a puff of breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door. He’s not sure what he hopes is going to happen when he opens the door.

He walks up the door and knocks.

He waits an agonizing moment before the door swings open, revealing Geralt. He looks even paler than Jaskier remembered him, wearing a pair of sweatpants with a hole in the crotch that he can see Geralt’s plaid boxers through and a t-shirt with a collar that’s outrageously stretched. Jaskier swallows hard.

“Have you considered not oiling the hinges? I think it would do you a world of good to develop a creaky door aesthetic.”

Geralt’s forehead wrinkles adorably. “What?”

“Just, you know. Being a vampire and all.”

Geralt slumps against the door frame. “How long have you known?”

Now it’s Jaskier’s turn to be confused. “Known what?”

“That I’m a vampire!”

“Oh.” Jaskier pauses. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

Geralt’s hand pauses in its path of trailing the wood grain of the door. “Do you have a...kink?” he spits.

Jaskier raises his hands. “Well, I wouldn’t say that.”

Geralt fixes him with an unconvinced look.

“Look, that might have been part of the initial intrigue, but—”

Geralt raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“But, you’re really fucking hot and also possibly the most boring person I know, but...I’m into it. You know all these weird facts and—gods know I could use a little stability in my life.”

Geralt gives him a bashful smile, and Jaskier wonders if anyone has said anything nice to him at some point this century. “Yeah?”

Jaskier leans across the threshold and cups Geralt’s face with his hands, their mouths a breath apart. “Yeah.”

[bailey-reaper]

A drabble where Barok finally asks his crush out on a date but everything goes wrong? with a happy end? :)

A Comedy of Errors... (but Barok's not laughing)

Notes: 😂 Even though I love Barok having happiness and love and kindness to counterbalance all the suffering and turmoil he's endured... I do also love it when he loses his rag at people / things go wrong and irk him. I *love* everything that goes on in his office during the 3rd case in the 2nd game... it's my favourite part of the whole thing! He gets so angry and it's glorious!

S/O is gender neutral (they/them pronouns). Barok refers to them using petnames.

Content Warnings: schadenfreude; cringe; things going wrong; frog mention...

"It's a date!" they said with a big smile and a rosy blush on their cheeks. It almost felt like a dream – Barok had said he was 'deeply fond of them' and invited them out to dinner with him; a date.

"Yes..." Barok nodded, similarly blushing but trying not to acknowledge it, "I'm... looking forward to it," and he was. Deeply.

"Me too!"

The two agreed to meet a week later at a restaurant that Barok was familiar with; he explained it was not because he thought his taste was better, but rather because he was on good terms with the proprietor and, thus, far less likely to be poisoned...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

At last, after a week in which the two of them thought of little else, the day of their date arrived. Despite a few annoying things going awry prior to him leaving the home, such as a button popping off his shirt when he accidentally rolled his shoulders back with a little too much gusto and his favourite cravat still being too wet to wear, he was determined not to let himself be downhearted.

He arrived at the venue promptly and waited outside for his beloved to arrive. Much to his frustration, a pigeon decided to relieve itself from its perch just above him -- leaving an unpleasant stain on the shoulder of his dinner jacket. Thankfully, he spotted it before his beloved arrived and was able to remedy it with a handkerchief before they saw it.

That didn't stop him scowling up at the pigeon, who flew off in a hurry as it clearly sensed danger.

"Barok!" their voice drew his attention, and took his breath away as they approached looking as radiant as ever. They were clearly dressed for the occasion.

"You look lovely," he remarked as he took their hand and kissed the back of it, "Thank you for coming."

They giggled, "The devil himself couldn't have stopped me."

He smiled at that, "I'm glad..." before offering them his hand, "Shall we?" they nodded, accepting his hand, and allowed him to lead them inside. Barok regarded the maître d and frowned slightly. Something was niggling in the back of his mind; déjà vu but not in a pleasant way, "Good evening," he pushed the feeling away. It would not spoil this date, "I arranged a table for two, name van Zieks."

"Ah yes!" the head waiter said, smiling, "Good evening, Lord van Zieks, allow me to show you to your table."

They were led to a lovely little table that offered a wonderful view of the inner courtyard and the fountain that was situated in the centre of it; it was an appropriately intimate space for a date. Barok pulled the chair out for his beloved and tucked them in, before sitting down himself. The head waiter handed them both menus and set a wine list down on the table, leaving them to look over the fare on offer.

"Wow," his beloved breathed, "This place is amazing."

Barok smiled, "I'm glad you like it... it's a fitting venue for one as beautiful as you."

They blushed and buried their nose in the menu, "T-...Thank you..."

"What wine would you like?" he picked up the menu to inspect the selection on offer.

"I think you're best suited to choosing that!"

"Hmh... very well."

Finally, the maître d came over, "Can I take the order of the two lovebirds~?"

Barok peered at him once more, cocking his head slightly as he studied the grinning man; there was definitely something... odd about him. It gave rise to the most curious irked sensation in the pit of his stomach, "Ahem... We'll have a bottle of the House Sauvignon--"

"Oh do forgive me, sir, we're fresh out of the Sauvignon Blanc..." the waiter said, vaguely apologetically.

"I see," Barok sighed, "Never mind... we'll have a bottle of the Moselle..."

"Mmmm... we're out of that one, too...."

"How about a bottle of Hock?"

"Sorry... none of that, either..."

"Well, in that case... a Burgundy?"

"... Ah... I regret to inform you...."

He grimaced in disbelief, "What the devil is going on... has your cellar dried up or some such? What wines are on offer, then?"

"Well... actually we're fresh out of wine, sir."

"Then why didn't you say that at the start?! More to the point, why bother bringing the wine menu over?"

"Well... on the other side are a number of other drinks that are available..."

"....." he sighed and turned the double-sided drinks menu over to peruse the other beverages on offer, "Fine. A bottle of Moët & Chandon. Black label."

"My, my! Someone has expensive tastes!" the head waiter remarked with a jovial laugh.

"..." The seething glare Barok offered in reply seemed to have the effect of making the man wither somewhat, "Just... tell me you have the damned thing in stock."

"Yes! We do indeed."

"Well that's a relief. Now, before we even bother with food, is there anything not on the menu?" he wasn't going through that... ordeal again.

"No, no!" the annoying man said with a shake of his head, "The kitchen is fully stocked!"

"A small mercy," Barok observed, before looking over at his beloved, "I'm... sorry about that rigmarole regarding the wine... what would you like to eat?"

They smiled and shook their head, "Oh, no, no, don't be!" then, they gave their order to the maître d before folding over their menu and returning it to him.

"Excellent taste!" the waiter said, before looking to the dour reaper, "And what can I get to delight you, sir?"

"Frogs legs to start," he said, "Followed by the steak, rare, with seasonal vegetables."

"Very good, very good!" he made a careful note, then took both the food and drinks menus, "I shall bring over your champagne in a moment and your food will be ready shortly. Do enjoy the wonderfully ambient surroundings, perfect for a date like this!"

Barok peered at the waiter as if he were more than overstaying his welcome; finally, he left them in peace.

"Gods..." he shook his head and sighed, "I do not remember the head waiter ever being that... vexatious. What has gotten into him?"

His beloved smiled, "Oh it really doesn't matter, I'm just happy to be here with you."

"Yes..." he nodded, "You're right, I'm delighted to finally have a chance to spend time with you... like this," it was a blessing that they'd reciprocated his feelings and were amenable to a date with him. No doubt most would be intimidated by his pseudonym and the general way in which he carried himself. But not them, not his beloved. They seemed to accept him as he was, and that was greatly welcomed.

They talked, mostly about how their weeks had been and about shared interests, such as the books that had taken their fancy of late. It was surprisingly easy to converse with them, which was a welcomed change from Barok's perspective. His beloved made for far more enjoyable company than the wooden aristocrats who drove him to the depths of boredom with their inane nattering and inconsequential opinions.

"This champagne is really lovely," they remarked, after taking another sip from their flute, "I'm not normally that fond of bubbles... but this has such a nice, fruity after taste."

"I'm glad you like it," he said with a nod; relieved that the beverage had a) materialised and b) wasn't corked or in some other way undrinkable. The way this date had been going thus far, outside of the interaction with his beloved, had left him wondering what else might go wrong.

Sadly, he didn't have to wait long...

"Your starters!" the waiter announced as he came over with two plates, their contents concealed by silver cloches. He set the two plates down, one in front of each of the diners, then lifted the first cloche, before turning to Barok's, "And, for the gentleman, frog's legs..."

Only, it was not frogs legs. It was a whole, live frog. After a few blinks of its beady black eyes and inflations of its vocal sac, the amphibian launched itself off the plate and into Barok's hair.

"What?!" he reached up in a bid to grab the creature, but his unwelcome passenger hopped out of the way and on to the floor, before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Barok glared at the waiter, "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Gracious me! I do apologise! I must have written 'raw frogs legs' by mistake!" the maître d said with a look of shock that was strangely disingenuous, "Do forgive me! I shall put in your order immediately--"

"Don't bother," Barok snapped, "Just make sure the main course isn't an entire living, breathing cow."

"Now, now, don't be ridiculous, sir...."

Once more he levelled the waiter with a withering glare.

"Please," Barok said to his beloved, "Don't let your food go cold."

They smiled, "Shall we share it, perhaps?"

"Oh..." that brought a blush to his cheeks, "No... I... couldn't possibly take from your plate..." but, to his surprise, a piece was already being presented to him. He decided against continued declining, and leaned forward to accept the mouthful, "Thank you..." he said, once he'd finished chewing and swallowing.

"It's good, isn't it?" his beloved said.

"Yes..." perhaps all the more so, having come from their plate.

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Thankfully, the rest of the date seemed to go surprisingly well -- in so far as there were no more frogs or similar cock ups (though his steak was medium, much to his disappointment, he decided against complaining as the mere fact the thing was edible was relief enough).

"I've had a lovely time," his beloved said to him as they finished off their dessert course.

"So have I," Barok replied, smiling softly, "Thank you, for agreeing to join me."

"Oh.... no... it's my pleasure... I've enjoyed myself a great deal in your company, Lord van Zieks."

"I'm glad to hear it... this has certainly been an... eventful date. I'm sorry, again, about all the oddities that have occurred."

"Oh, no, don't be! It's been a wonderful and memorable date, I loved every minute!"

"Oh ho! It seems this date has been a marvelous success, dear fellow!" announced a familiar voice. Barok knew that voice. It brought a scowl to his lips and a furrow to his brow almost instantly; as if the very muscles in his face were conditioned to respond in this manner.

"Herlock... Sholmes?!"

The maître d tore off his disguise and grinned happily, "Yes! It is I! You never suspected a thing!"

"... What are you doing here?!"

"Why! I had heard rumours that the Reaper was going on a date, so Iris and I took bets on whether that was the truth or not. Alas, it seems I now owe her five pounds..." he looked momentarily crestfallen, "But who can be glum when such a lovely couple is here before them? Truly, you two are as sweet as syrup together!"

"Hehe, thank you," his beloved smiled happily at the compliment.

". . . . . . . So you came to sabotage my date?" Barok hissed.

"What?! No! I came to ensure that you had a most memorable and eventful night, and I think I've exceeded expectations on all fronts!"

"You have indeed!" they said, nodding.

"Well," Barok folded his arms, "In that case, I shall leave the bill to you," he stood up smoothly and took his beloved by the arm.

Sholmes fell over, arms flailing, "Wait... WHAT?!"

"Farewell, 'detective'," Barok called over his shoulder as he escorted his beloved out the door. It brought him no end of delight to think that the man would be washing pots until the early hours.

(Let that be a lesson to you, you second-rate crime scene botherer!) he thought, smirking to himself. This was a most pleasing end to what had been a wonderful date, despite Herlock's meddling.

"You have some truly interesting and intriguing friends, Barok," his beloved observed as he walked them home.

"I'm not certain that 'friend' is the correct word here, my dear," he replied, though he was still smiling to himself as he held their hand and squeezed it fondly. It seemed that despite the ... characters that plagued him, they were not enough to deter his beloved.

That was certainly a huge relief.

[sapphicknightaesthetic]

Prompt #2: The winds call me back to you

Ireland had proved to be more than Eivor had bargained for. She sailed home on the wind-tossed sea, wondering if the trade routes, outposts, and alliances she forged would prove to be worth it in the end, compared to their exorbitantly high cost. She remembered Barid’s eyes, soft but desperate, pleading with her to ensure  King Flann’s allegiance with his last breath, paired with an intensity of his love for his son. He had built a thriving city all so that Sichfrith could prosper...

“...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…”

She thought about her own legacy. Her intention had always been a life dedicated to fighting for honor, for the glory of her people, for some measure of peace where she no longer needed to pick up her axe to defend them at every turn. But is that what England had given her? She had spent much of her energy and immense skills at the whims of others with political aims and goals, not always aligning with her own. She had placed more than one puppet king on a throne, often needing to choose between the better of two evils. Was this honor? Was this a legacy worthy of entrance to Valhalla? 

Eivor felt exhaustion roll through her like the tide, filling every crevice. She felt unsure of her place in the world, and just needed the comfort of home. Of Randvi. That was her raison d'être, as Estrid would say. Her reason for being. If she fought for the betterment of her clan, if she made connections and alliances to ensure their safety, that was all that mattered. She shook the sad cobwebs from her mind, determined to have a genuine smile for her wife when she returned. She leaned against the firm wall of the longship, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

Birna shook her shoulder. “Come on Sunbeam. Home time.”

Eivor’s eyes fluttered open, she blinked sleep back to its void. “Have we docked?”

“Not yet. We’re just around the bend.”

“Thanks for waking me, Birna.”

“I’m so glad to be rid of Ireland! Those Druids were something else, eh? Giving decent Pagans a bad name.”

“Mmmm.”

“Eivor, I don’t mean to pry. But you spent a lot of time with that red haired witch...what’s her name…”

“Ciara. I did. What’s your question, Birna?”

“I’m just wondering if you made any Druid magic of your own in that wet bog of a land?”

Eivor rolled her eyes. Birna knew full well she hadn’t, though this question seemed to pop up after every major journey they undertook. Eivor had tried to tell her multiple times that she would never be unfaithful to Randvi, that she could not bed anyone for the sake of it if her heart wasn’t in it. The concept had been lost on Birna, and so the questions had persisted. 

“You know I didn’t.”

“I’m just checking. You do have a type, Sunbeam. That red hair burns like fire.”

Eivor grinned ruefully, shook her head, and turned to look at their surroundings. They were just passing the trined point in the river that led to Grantebridge, the ruins of Duroliponte looming to the Southeast. One more bend and they’d be home. She wondered if Randvi would be there waiting; she had sent Sýnin ahead with a note. The evening was well on its way, Randvi might even be asleep. She pictured their bed, warm and soft, furs piled on top of them as they snuggled together, limbs entwined. More and more, this was what she wanted. The return home was always worth it, and was always something she looked forward to, but lately she no longer wanted to return, she only wanted the simple everyday fact of her and Randvi together, because she had never left in the first place.

She watched, wistfully, as the crew lowered the sails and started rowing, this part of the river too narrow to traverse safely. Her heart rate increased as the Raider’s hut roof became visible, growing closer with each stroke of the oars. She felt a swell of pride as more of her village emerged from the lowland fog. Her village . She had built this place from almost nothing, discarded hovels of canvas and sticks. Sigurd may have claimed it as theirs, but Eivor had been the one to turn it into something to be proud of, something worth protecting. She leapt to the back of the ship’s tail, standing on a ledge. “...Valhalla need not be a place, Eivor. It can be a legacy…” This was her Valhalla, and it would never be complete without the person at it’s centre, at its heart. 

Eivor realized then that while she was proud of Ravensthorpe, Ravensthorpe, much like her former idea of Valhalla, was only a place. Randvi was her true home. She’d go wherever Randvi was, without question. Their love, with all of its storied history of waiting, longing, and hiding, was her legacy. She saw copper hair, cloaked against the oncoming chill of the evening, waiting like a beacon between the posts of the village entrance.

The ship glided silently up to the dock, and Eivor immediately leapt off, running as fast as her exhausted legs would carry her. She grabbed Randvi, lifting her off the ground in a tight embrace, spinning her around. She inhaled Randvi’s scent, spice and fire blending with earth and ink and smoke. Her heart beat Randvi’s name in fast repetition, her hands holding onto her wife as tightly as she dared without hurting her.

“My love,” Randvi whispered, as she held fast to Eivor. “How I’ve missed you.” Her hands caressed the back of Eivor’s newly shaved head, luxuriating in the velvety feel. 

Eivor couldn’t speak, she did not want to break the moment with words, but slowly set Randvi down, quickly finding her mouth and communicating everything she couldn’t say with a long, slow kiss, paying attention to the feel of Randvi’s lips, the warmth of her mouth, the teasing nature of her teeth. 

Claps and pats of hands landed on her back and shoulders from the crew as they walked past the pair. Their hearts never failed to be happy for their Jarl, for the love that she had found and fought for. For all of her sacrifice, for the enormous work she had devoted to make their lives better, they gladdened at the sight of Eivor and Randvi together. They knew how hard her road had been, how much she had suffered, often silently, from such a young age. Her happiness was their happiness, and they showed her whenever they could. Birna let out a whistle. 

“You better get her to bed, Jarlskona.” Birna wrapped an arm around Petra, who had walked down to meet her wife when she saw the familiar Raven sails from her hut.

“Leave them be, love. I’d better get you to bed.” Petra wrapped an arm around Birna’s waist.

“You’ll hear no complaints from me, Petra. Good night, Sunbeam!”

Eivor and Randvi watched them leave, as Eivor sent them off with a wave. Randvi turned back around, seeing the edges of something in Eivor’s face. “What’s wrong, darling? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I have a few cuts and bruises, nothing to worry about, my heart.”

“Thank you for sending Sýnin. I have a bath prepared. And some roast boar, thanks to Petra.”

Eivor felt overcome at the thoughtful care Randvi showed her in all things. “Randvi...thank you.” Was all she could manage. 

Randvi smiled at her, her wife was always so ready to display gratitude, a custom she never tired of, but she furrowed her eyes, wondering what was troubling her usually contented drengr.

“Let’s get you home.”

 

Randvi and Eivor sat in deliciously scented hot water. The worry and tension Eivor had carried home with her evaporated into the steam drifting to the longhouse ceiling. A satisfied smile now constantly fixed on her face. 

“This was a great idea, possibly the best you’ve ever had. And that’s truly saying something.”

“I aim to please, my Jarl.” Randvi felt self-congratulatory at the obvious change in her love’s mood. Years of observing Eivor, of seeing her come home in different states of health and happiness, of finding different ways of tending to that glorious body and soul made Randvi an expert in the proper care and maintenance of her physically ferocious wife. But one truth prevailed among her experience: Eivor always recooperated faster with a bath. 

“Are you ready to talk about Ireland?”

Eivor exhaled. “I will do my best. It still feels...fresh.”

Randvi sat up in the bath, giving Eivor all of her attention.

“You know I went to Ireland to help my cousin, Barid. And I did help, although Barid fell in battle. His High King did not heed Barid’s warnings. We were able to beat the Druids back, but I have been wondering if his death was needless, no matter how good and glorious his end. He died a hero, and is no doubt in Valhalla, but had his words been listened to, he would still be the King of Dublin, and his son would still have his father.”

“It is not up to us to change fate, Eivor. It sounds like the Nornir gave Barid a good death. What else can we ask in this life?”

“The love of the most beautiful and intelligent of women, for a start, at the very least.”

Randvi rolled her eyes and laughed, pleasure and embarrassment mingled together. When she looked back at Eivor, sorrow still crept in the periphery. “Is that all that troubles you, Eivor?”

“The Druids of Ireland are much like us, trying to carve out a life for themselves, trying to hold onto their traditions and culture, though the Christians would willingly wipe them, and us, away if given the chance. There was an extremist faction, the Children of Danu, that were causing all the strife while other Druids were forced to live in fear and even secrecy. It made me wonder if we will ever truly pacify this land. The Christians make no room for anyone else. I…I had to kill a Druid priestess who I thought was my friend, all for a Christian King who would rule over all. Was that honorable? I feel...stained, Randvi. I wonder if the decisions I’ve made in my time here are hurting our people, rather than truly helping. She was misguided, angry, she caused a lot of pain in the land there. I think King Flann Sinna saw the error of his ways in his treatment of the Druids, and he will make amends - he said as much. But these Christians...they can be false as well as unyielding. I’m not sure how far he can be trusted.” 

Memories of Fulke and King Aelfred made her skin prick involuntarily. The Norse and Danes were often met with a great deal more than suspicion and hostility, labeled as barbarians and savages for their voracity in war. But there was something honest and forthright in them as a people; they hid nothing, they lived openly and celebrated the customs and cultures of all who chose to live among them. Sharing resources through a community was their way, regardless of the people that community comprised; yet this was not the way of the Christians. From what she had seen, they feared all outsiders. She was unsure if this was unique to Anglo-Saxon Christians or not, but from all she had experienced, she was not keen to go looking for other examples. 

Randvi found Eivor’s hand under the warm water, and stroked soothingly. Her love never lost sight of the broader view and what it meant for her people. It was one of the many things she adored and cherished about her. She took Eivor’s fingers and brought them to her lips, kissing them lightly. 

“These are large questions, my love. Too large to confront in one night. But I promise I will help you as much as I can in our time come in this land. You try to take care of so many, Eivor Varinsdottir. I fear the world is too big, even for your very broad shoulders.”

Eivor felt her heart flutter. After all these years, after all this time, being with Randvi made her feel like she was falling in love with her over and over again. She never stopped falling. 

“But maybe, just for tonight, you can let me take care of you?” Randvi leaned forward, kissing one cheek lightly, then the other cheek, her nose, her chin, across her forehead, until she found Eivor’s lips, nipping lightly, until Eivor pulled her forward and kissed her with earnest desire. She opened her body, as Randvi lay on top of her in the bath, relishing the closeness after too many months apart. 

Eivor leaned her head back slightly, looking into Randvi’s eyes, darkened to forest green between her desire and the dim candlelight around them.

“Barid said something to me, before the Valkyrie came to claim him. He told me that Valhalla need not be a place, that it can be a legacy.” Eivor held Randvi’s gaze, needing her to feel how much she meant what she was about to say. “I think perhaps for me, it is not so much a legacy, as it’s you, Randvi. You are my home, my Valhalla. After all of our time in England, all of the campaigns, the politicking, the alliances we have paid for with sweat and blood, we could walk away tomorrow and I would not care. The winds always call me back to you, wherever you are.” 

Randvi felt strangely vulnerable, though deeply moved. She felt her heart race to echo and return Eivor’s sentiment. If Eivor ever left Ravensthorpe, Randvi would follow without hesitation. She used the moment to lean down and kiss Eivor again, with unashamed love and lust and pride and longing and hope. Their lives together had not been easy, but it had been worth every moment they had paid. 

She felt Eivor’s hands slide down to her lower back, holding her closely. She felt a hot rush in her center, and decided it was time to leave the bath. 

“Shall we adjourn to our chambers, my Jarl?”

Eivor smirked, knowingly. “Indeed, my Jarlskona.” 

Randvi made her way out of the bath, as Eivor followed suit. Randvi spied some new blade slices over Eivor’s body, and some fresh bruises getting ready to bloom; she’d be sure to kiss them all later. She took Eivor’s hand and led them naked to their bed. Their bed . A place she was never tired of acknowledging. 

Eivor pulled Randvi to her, wrapping her in strong, solid muscle. “I missed you, Jarlskona.”

“And I you, my Jarl.” Randvi pressed her teeth against Eivor’s neck, nipping and sucking her way along the tender flesh under her chin. She heard Eivor’s breath catch, and a gasp after she released skin from her teeth. She moved a hand, cupping Eivor’s sex, feeling the wet traces of her want on her fingers. Eivor bowed her head resting it on Randvi’s shoulder, her breathing deepening with anticipation. This fierce drengr, terror of England and Ireland, great Jarl of a proud clan, was made vulnerable and soft with a single touch. It was a power Randvi knew only she wielded, and she never took it for granted. 

She brought Eivor to the bed, guiding her down. “What would you like, darling?” She purred in a way that drove Eivor wild.

“You. I just want you.”

“I am yours, Eivor.”

And the sound of those words, said by the only woman in the world she needed to hear them from, snapped Eivor out of the worry she brought home with her. As the sounds of their love-making filled the longhouse, Ravensthorpe sighed relief, and for tonight at least, everything was well in the world.

[wangshuus]

liquid sin || kaeya alberich

pairing: kaeya alberich/gn.reader

genre: drama

wc: 1.9k

cw: mature themes, alcohol, poisoning, unhealthy relationship

summary: the calvary captain was more of a hassle than you thought. wherever you were, he was always one step ahead.

note: this is a repost lol. tysm for 100 followers i really appreciate it <3 also a little a/n at the end :)

lightly proofread. please excuse any errors.

fic below the cut.

“Kaeya Alberich, you know of the Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, do you not?”

“I’ve heard my fair share. He’s got himself quite a reputation.”

“I suppose that’ll suffice. That knight has been far too much of a hassle for us. He’s swift, agile with the way he handles things. He’ll use whatever means to get what he wants or needs so be cautious and rid of him in any way you wish. I trust you’ll be able to handle this so I’m counting on you.”

“Yes, as you wish.”

--

Tedious.

That was the best word to describe the situation you roped yourself into.

Kaeya Alberich, the esteemed Cavalry Captain of the Knights in Mondstadt was nothing short of a challenge. You were never one to question anything you were assigned to and you thought that this was gonna be some quick easy clean up but it was anything but that. You had to find a way to weave yourself into getting close to the said captain and by doing so, you had to play the long game. He was not a person that you wanted to underestimate by any means because the dwindling gossip you’ve heard about the man was nothing but the truth.

The moment you decided you would get involved with the man was the very moment the game between the two of you had begun. It was an unspoken exchange of moves that on the surface, was nothing but courteous and flirtatious remarks but in reality, these actions were laced with ulterior motives that each side hoped would bring them to be victorious in this little game. You weren’t a fool nor did you take him for one either. You knew that whatever you two had going had a darker side to the situation and yet, you decided to play along.

But it was getting exhausting. Although, perhaps that’s what he wanted.

To drain you, to get you in a vulnerable spot.

But you refused to let it get to that point.

And so you decided tonight was the night.

--

“They serve wonderful food as per usual. Never fails to disappoint me, truly.” You said as you opened the door to your place whilst you resided in Mondstadt.

“Of course, dear. I wouldn’t bring you to a place that was anything less than perfect. Only this best for you.” He smoothly said, speaking his part in the way he always does. So polished, so suave.

You simply chuckled at his response as you led the two of you inside.

“It’s not much but it does get the job done. Make yourself comfortable on the couch while I get you a drink, alright?”

“You flatter me too much. Don’t make me wait too long, though.” He playfully spoke.

He watched your figure disappear into the depths of your kitchen. His eyes began to trail around and scan around the room, observing the environment to the best of his ability. His hand traveled to the pocket at his side as he smirked to himself, simply awaiting for the events that the night holds to unfold before him.

--

You retreated into your kitchen as you retrieved the necessary materials to go about making Kaeya’s drink since according to you, this could be one of the last ones he might ever have. You popped open a fresh bottle of sparkling wine and poured it into the finest wine glass you had at the moment, three parts of crisp Dandelion Wine following right after, supplied from the famous Dawn Winery. You had gathered these fine wines specially for him, deciding it was appropriate to get the job done with ‘Death After Noon’, a concoction the blue-haired male fancied. You garnished it with small mint leaves as you pulled out the final ingredient for your mix.

You retrieved a small vile from your pocket that held a small amount of clear liquid. You dabbled in the art of alchemy in order to help you with the jobs you were assigned and in this case, it’d surely come in handy. You had prepared this poison just for this mission, making it so it wouldn’t kick in immediately but when it did, it would most definitely get the job done. You stirred the man’s drink together, making sure that everything was well mixed. You held the glass up, observing it thoroughly before heading back to where your target sat.

You walked up to him, holding the glass towards him, motioning him to take the drink.

“Death After Noon, huh? You know me too well, don’t you dear?” He smirked as he observed the drink filled glass he held between his fingers.

“Of course I do. Just a second I’ll be right ba--.” Before you could finish your sentence and take your leave, he grabbed your wrist, coercing you to stay.

“Won’t you come here and sit with me?” He asked, though it was a demand more than anything.

If you had decided to pull away and flee, it’d be far too obvious that there was something up and so, you decided to take a gamble on the situation and comply. He pulled you onto down, setting you on top of him, your legs straddling his lap as you faced him. The hand that held your wrist made its way to the small of you back as he held you firmly in place. You put both of your palms against his chest in an attempt to widen the distance between the two of you but to no avail.

Though the two of you had aimlessly flirted with each other, you had never found yourself this close to him. You got an up-close look at the captain as there was only so much distance between the two of you. Despite your duty in the situation, you couldn’t help but let a dusting of pink make an appearance on your cheeks. You had decided that faking up a shy, oblivious facade was the best way to go about in an attempt to drown out your suspicion.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Captain?” You called out to him by his title.

“I should be asking you the same thing, dear. Don’t play coy with me darling, we both know what’s going on here.” He spoke.

Your face dropped a little hearing his words, thinking that he may be quicker to catch onto things than you expected. Your eyes looked over to his drink that remained untouched as he continued to swirl the drink in his glass that he held between his fingertips.

“Is the drink not to your liking?” You asked in an attempt to change the subject.

He hummed as his attention diverted to the drink, observing it just as intently as the way you scanned it before you gave it to him. His eyes turned back to you, a dark look fogging over them.

“It seems you didn’t make a drink for yourself. I insist you have some of mine.” “Oh, but I made it for y--” You get cut off.

“I insist.” He firmly states.

You gulped, accepting your fate at hand.

“Now,” He started off.

The hand that was at the small of your back trailed its way up to the back of your neck, forming a firm hold on you once again. He brought you closer to him as he pressed the cold glass against your lips.

“Be good and open up wide for me.” He said as he titled your head back slightly, tipping the glass at an angle so that the liquid sin began to make its way into your mouth. You felt the cold mix make its way down your throat and you probably would’ve enjoyed the delectable drink if it weren’t lethal.

“You know, you’re quite the actor yourself, to which I will commend you for. You’re a quick one sweetheart, but I’m quicker.” He teased.

You were baffled beyond belief. You had planned and strategized to the point where you thought you were at least three steps ahead. In reality, wherever you were, Kaeya stood in front of you, taunting you from his spot.

“I was fully aware of the little game we had going on here. However, it was far too entertaining for me to want to stop. It’s like playing with fire, isn’t it?” He spoke.

He held a smug look on his face, one that simply mocked you. It was the face of someone who knew they claimed victory; victorious he was in this little game between the two of you. Your eyes begin to dart around as you begin to think of a way to make an escape. You could only hope that you would have enough time before your body decides to give out. Perhaps if you were lucky, you could even find an antidote. However, knowing your luck in the situation as of right now, you doubt Lady Luck would be on your side today. His grip at the back of your neck tightened and you flinched.

“Look at me.” He boomed with a demanding tone that he had never used with you until today.

He watched your throat move as you swallowed the liquid, scornful eyes burning with mockful vengeance as he reigned dominant in this situation. He was beyond ecstatic with the way the situation unfolded before him, the way you unfolded before him. He was able to turn the predator into the prey just by playing his cards right and oh how perfectly did he play them. The liquid slowly but surely disappeared as only a small bit remained in the glass-- and he was going to make you finish every last drop of it.

“That’s it, that’s good, love. Be a dear and take every last drop. We wouldn’t want this lovely drink to go to waste now, would we?” He spoke out, dumping the last of the contents into your mouth and setting the empty glass on the side table on the

“There you go. You were so good and you finished like I told you so. I could almost forgive you for poisoning me but unfortunately, I’m expecting a little more from you. Maybe if you continue to be good for me, I’ll consider forgiving you.” He smugly said.

The hand supporting your neck went back down to your waist as his other free hand made its way to your face. He wipes off the small amount of the liquid that dribbled down the side of your mouth. His thumb slides across your bottom lip, getting a feel for its softness before going in and indulging himself in your lips. He figured he didn’t even need alcohol to get drunk anymore, not when your lips made him feel tipsy as they were pressed against his own. Perhaps in your own way, you had trapped him with your own delectable taste that could rival his beloved Death After Noon; though he would never admit to it right now. He pulled away and looked you dead in the eyes as his one hand forced you to look at him.

“However, if you try and pull that stunt again, I’ll have you begging for me to just poison you instead.” He threatened.

His hand dropped from your face as it slipped into his pocket, grabbing something from inside. He pulled out a small little vile, similar to that of which carried toxic poison.

“You wouldn’t want this little game between us to end so soon, would you? Now, open up and take this antidote, sweetheart. The fun is just starting after all.”

A/N: First of all, all the inspiration and ideas are credited to chamberofsecretbooks on Tiktok. Saw the one video with this concept and I just HAD to write for Kaeya. I did make a few adjustments to it but all ideas stemmed from that one video lolol. Also, if you haven’t seen THE Kaeya video, please watch it. It is god tier. Anyways, Kaeya supremacy <3

[thelastspeecher]

A Kiss From a Nixie

Here’s a follow-up to the ficlet I posted the other day, where, in a Mystery Trio-style AU, Stan meets a frog-lady and falls in love with her.  In this ficlet, we learn about the origins of Stan’s frog-lady, as well as the proper term for her species.  I’m very happy about this scenario and have been enjoying it a lot.  Hopefully, y’all enjoy it, too~

——————————————————————————————

              Stan and Angie stared silently at each other. Angie suddenly turned beet red.

              “Stanley.  I’m naked,” she whispered.  Stan felt himself flush at the reminder.  He spun around so that she could get dressed without him watching.  “Thank you.”

              “What- how-” Stan stammered, still with his back to Angie.  He took a deep breath.  “First question.  Is Fiddlenerd a frog too?”

              “No.  He’s not.”

              “Did the frog gene skip him?”

              “I wasn’t born like this.  It happened while I was at college.”  A million more questions immediately formed on Stan’s tongue. “You can turn ‘round again.”  Stan turned.  Angie was now wearing a flannel top and some jeans.  She pulled on a pair of boots.  “And no, Fidds don’t know.  Actually…”  There was a beat.  She looked up at Stan.  “Yer the first person to know.”

              “Wait.  Really?” Stan asked.  Angie nodded. “Geez.”  He stuffed his hands into his pockets.  “I…I wasn’t expecting that.  I mean, you and Fiddlenerd are annoyingly close.”

              “You’ve known Fidds fer a lil while.  How do ya think he would react to findin’ out his precious baby sister is sometimes a frog?” Angie asked dryly.  Stan winced, already imagining the freakout.  “That’s why.”

              “Fair enough.  How’d you turn into a…I dunno, merfrog?”  Angie snorted.

              “Merfrog.  I like it.”

              “I don’t know the real word for…”  Stan gestured vaguely at Angie.  “…whatever you are.”

              “I don’t know it, either.  The person what turned me didn’t exactly share that information.”

              “Who turned you?”

              “A full-time frog person what lived in the pond just off campus.”  Angie scowled.  “They befriended me, then offered to kiss me.  That kiss was what did me in.”

              “Why’d you agree to kiss a frog person?” Stan asked. Angie turned pink.

              “I sometimes have poor impulse control,” she said quietly.

              “Been there.”  Stan frowned.  “Hang on. A kiss from a frog person turned you into one?”  Angie nodded. “I feel like it’s supposed to go the other way around.  At least, according to fairy tales.”

              “Well, I know the kiss was what did it, ‘cause immediately I started changin’, and the frog person told me that they were excited fer me to live with ‘em.”  Angie sighed heavily.  “I’ve been a frog ever since.”

              “But you can turn human.”

              “Yessir.”

              “Huh.”  Stan looked at Angie thoughtfully.  “Y’know, Ford would have a field day with this.”

              “Oh, hell no.  I ain’t tellin’ yer weird brother.  No offense.”

              “None taken.”  Stan walked over to Angie.  “You got somethin’.”  He pulled a clump of mud out of her hair.  Angie turned bright red again.  “Want me to give you a ride back to the house?”

              “That would be great.  Thank you.”

              “No problem.”  Stan headed back towards the Stanleymobile, Angie close behind.  “Why didn’t you tell me who you were?”

              “I wasn’t expectin’ to be here very long. Certainly not long enough that I would have a reason to tell someone my secret.  But, I don’t know, somethin’ ‘bout Gravity Falls makes me feel pretty content.”  Stan glanced back.  Angie was looking around, admiring the surrounding trees.  “I might want to move up here, to be honest.  I can do my research or even help Stanford with his. He was tellin’ me the other day that he wants to hire a biologist.”

              “Gravity Falls is nicer than I expected,” Stan agreed. He cleared his throat.  “Do you have to go to the pond every day or something?”

              “Geez, yer full of questions, ain’t ya?”

              “The frog-lady I’ve been chatting up for the last two weeks just turned into my brother’s partner’s little sister,” Stan said dryly.  “Duh.” Angie chuckled softly.

              “Fair enough.”  They emerged from the trees and made a beeline for the Stanleymobile.  “I have to shift into my frog form and submerge myself in water fer at least an hour every day.  Ideally, I spend more time like that.  That’s just the bare minimum to keep myself healthy.”

              “Did the frog person who turned you tell you that?”

              “Nope.  Figured it out through trial and error.  Since I got to Gravity Falls, I’ve been sneakin’ out of the house after everyone’s asleep and goin’ to the lake to sleep in there.”  They came up to the car.  Stan pulled out his key to unlock it.  Angie got into the passenger seat, beaming.  “I even made myself a nice little hole in the mud to sleep in.”

              “You’re not worried about Fiddlenerd wondering where you are?” Stan asked, getting into the driver’s seat.  Angie shook her head.

              “I’m a deep sleeper with a specific sleep schedule. Fidds knows better ‘n to mess with that.”

              “Makes sense.”  Stan started the car.  “So, you-” Angie sighed loudly.

              “Look, I understand that ya have a lot of questions. I’ll answer all of ‘em at some point, but right now, I can only answer one more.”

              “Fair.”  Stan pulled out of the parking lot.  He frowned thoughtfully.  “Okay. I know what I wanna ask.”

              “Hit me.”

              “Did you eat my bait?” Stan asked.  Angie looked away hurriedly, though Stan could see a flush spreading across her features, down to her neck.  “When I opened my tacklebox after you returned it, the fresh bait was gone.”  He held up a hand.  “I’m not judging you for eating worms.  You’re part frog.  But I just wanna know if you ate them.”  Angie stayed silent.  “Come on, you said you’d answer my question.”  After a long pause, she finally replied.

              “No comment.”

-----

              Angie giggled at Stan’s joke.  He grinned proudly, warmth spreading across his cheeks. After spending the day moving Angie into her new house in Gravity Falls, he was happy to have quality time with his sort-of frog sort-of girlfriend.  They were at the lake so that Angie could be in her frog form, though Fiddlenerd and Ford thought they were still at Angie’s house.

              “Still can’t believe Stanford actually supported leaving us alone together,” Angie remarked.  To Stan’s amusement, it wasn’t just the tone of her voice that changed in her frog form.  Her thick southern accent was also nearly nonexistent.  At first, he thought it was because she was disguising herself.  But even after coming clean about who she was, she didn’t have an accent in frog form.

              “Ford thinks that I’m more responsible and take better care of myself when I’m dating someone,” Stan said with a shrug.  “I’m not surprised he’s encouraging me to ‘woo’ you.”  Angie giggled again, a sound like a babbling brook.  Stan dug around in the bag of snacks they’d picked up at the gas station on the way over.  “Hungry?”

              “Yes,” Angie said eagerly.  Stan pulled out the container of live bait and set it on the wood of the dock.  He lifted the lid.  Angie reached out a webbed, frog-like hand and daintily grabbed one of the wriggling worms.  Stan opened his bag of chips, smiling fondly at her.

              A few days ago, Angie had finally confessed that, since becoming a merfrog, she had developed a taste for bugs and worms. Stan had already known, but he appreciated that Angie trusted him enough to tell him.  After all, she was visibly embarrassed by her cravings for creepy-crawlies.

              It’s probably ‘cause she was raised to be a proper southern lady or whatever.  Angie popped a worm into her mouth.  Good thing I don’t care about that.

              “Stanley?”  Stan looked over his shoulder.  Ford was walking down the dock towards him.  Angie gasped softly.  There was a splash.  Without looking, Stan knew she had gone underwater before Ford could see her up close. “What are you doing here, talking to a nixie?  I thought you were helping Angie settle in.”

              “Nixie?”

              “Yes.”  Ford sat next to Stan.  “That was the creature you were speaking with.”  His eyes widened.  “Is she the frog-lady you were talking about a few months ago?”

              “Duh.”

              “I would have believed you if you told me she was a nixie!”

              “Wh-”  Stan scoffed. “Do I look like someone who knows what a nixie is?”

              “Did she not tell you?”

              “It’s racist to ask someone what they are, Sixer,” Stan said flatly.  Ford let out a soft laugh.  “Angie sent me out to grab some snacks, so I figured I stop by the lake to talk to Rana while I was out.”

              “Her name is Rana?” Ford asked.  Stan nodded.  “Fascinating.”  He stared at the spot where Angie had been.  “Would you be willing to tell me more about her?”

              “Nope.”  Stan stood up.  “You didn’t believe me when I first asked you, and now I’ve learned that she’s an actual person, not some weird ‘anomaly’ for you to study.”  He pulled his car keys out of his pocket.  “And Angie’s probably waiting for me at her place, so I better get going.”

              “You’re forgetting something,” Ford said, pointing at the bait still sitting on the dock.  A webbed hand quickly grabbed the bait and brought it underwater.  Ford’s jaw dropped.  “Remarkable.”

-----

              It was yet another peaceful, misty morning at Lake Gravity Falls.  Stan sighed.

              “Enjoying the quiet?” Angie asked from her spot in the lake.  Stan nodded. “Have the Fords been especially loud lately or something?”

              “The Fords?”

              “It’s shorter than saying their full names,” Angie said.  Stan snorted in amusement.

              “Nah, they’ve actually been quieter than usual. I don’t trust it.  They’re up to something.”  Angie snickered.  “Have you finished the research Ford wanted you to do?”

              “Oh, yeah.”  Angie floated on her back, staring up at the dusty blue sky.  “I finished it real quick.  It’s pretty easy to get information from magical creatures when you’re one of ‘em.”

              “Maybe you should give Ford a big smooch.  Turn him into a frog.  He’ll finish his research in record time,” Stan joked. The only response was a soft splash. Stan looked over.  “Ang?”  Angie was gone.  “Something wrong?”  Nothing happened.  Stan sighed.  “What did I say?”  Angie slowly surfaced.

              “I…”  She took a shuddering breath.  “I love you.” Stan’s heart stopped. ��“But I-”  Angie covered her face with her large, webbed hands.  “I can’t- I can’t act on any of my feelings.”  Stan scooted closer, his legs dangling over the edge of the pier.

              “What do you mean?” he asked quietly.  Angie let out a sob.

              “I want to kiss you more than- more than anything. But if I do, then you’ll- you’ll be like me.  And I don’t want to turn you into a- into a frog!” she wailed.

              “Hey.”  Stan took one of Angie’s hands.  She looked up at him.  “That’s my decision to make, okay?  If I wanna risk turning into a frog so that I can kiss you, I’ll do that.”

              “R-really?” Angie asked in a tremulous voice.

              “Remember how you said you kissed that nixie ‘cause you had poor impulse control?”  Angie nodded. Stan grinned.  “You’re not the only one.”  He pulled Angie close.  Just as his lips met Angie’s, there was a loud shout.

              “Wait!”

-----

              Further attempts to pry information out of Stan about the nixie he’d befriended had failed.  So, Ford had to resort to collecting his own data.  This translated into watching from afar as, every day at dawn, Stan sat on the dock and spoke with the nixie.  Fortunately, Ford was skilled enough at camouflage by now that he wasn’t seen.  Unfortunately, he was unable to get close without risking being spotted.

              That morning, he wasn’t alone at the lake.  He had dragged Fiddleford out of bed to come see the nixie for himself.  Fiddleford wasn’t pleased.

              “Stanford, yer lucky I ain’t the kind of sleeper my sister is,” Fiddleford groused as they hid in the bushes, watching Stan talk to the nixie.  “Last time someone woke her up ‘fore she was ready, they got a broken nose fer their trouble.”

              “Yes, yes, I’m very lucky,” Ford said.  “Now, please, be quiet.  It looks like they’re talking about something serious.”

              “You won’t hear any of it, no matter how quiet I get.  We’re too far away,” Fiddleford pointed out.  Ford ignored the logical argument, focusing intently upon the conversation at the dock.  The nixie seemed emotionally distraught over something.  Stan leaned in, visibly affected by her distress.  He grabbed her hand and pulled her close.  Then, to Ford’s horror, Stan kissed the nixie.

              “Wait!” Ford shouted, bursting out of the bushes. Stan and the nixie jumped.  Ford sprinted over to his brother and the magical creature, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind racing.

              No.  No. This isn’t good.  Ford hadn’t had the chance to study a nixie properly yet, but he had read enough about them and other water sprites to know that even touching one could have serious consequences.  Stanley, you idiot!  Aren’t you dating Angie, anyways?  I didn’t think you were the kind of person to cheat!  Still frozen in shock, the nixie and Stan hadn’t moved by the time Ford arrived.

              “Stanley, what was that about?” Ford demanded. “You shouldn’t just kiss random magical creatures!”

              “She’s not random,” Stan said.  His articulation was sloppier than usual, almost like he was slurring a bit.  The nixie looked at him with sudden concern.  “I know her.”

              “Yes, but-”  Ford ran his hands through his hair.  “Kissing a nixie can have unforeseen side effects!”

              “I know!”  Stan’s speech was definitely slurred.  He gestured drunkenly to the nixie.  “That’s how she got stuck in this situation!”  Ford looked at the nixie.  His fingers itched for a pen and paper.  Up close, she was just as eerily beautiful as she’d seemed from a distance. Her green, mottled skin glistened from lake water.  Large, webbed ears poked out from her short, black hair.  But most distinctive were her kind eyes, a soft shade of blue that Ford immediately recognized.  He saw those eyes every time he looked at Fiddleford.

              Everything clicked into place.

              I was right. Stan would never cheat on Angie, even for a magical creature.

              “Angie?” Ford croaked.  Angie, for he was certain that the nixie was Angie, ignored him. She pulled herself onto the pier, revealing the same hourglass shape she had as a human, but lacking any mammalian features.

              That makes me feel much more comfortable with the fact she’s unclothed.  

              “Stanley, are you all right?” she asked.  Stan grinned at her.  His eyes were unfocused.

              “Yeah, babe.”  He leaned closer to her.  “I liked that kiss.  Go ahead and give me another one, okay?”

              “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

              “What?”  Stan seemed blindsided.  “Why not?”

              “You’re acting either stoned or plastered and I’m not sure which one,” Angie said.  Ford’s eyes widened.

              “Your accent is gone!”

              “I- yes- it- I don’t know why, maybe it’s ‘cause when I first turned frog, I was hiding my accent a lot.  But that’s not important right now!” Angie snapped. “Something happened to Stan!”

              “Well, you kissed him while in nixie form,” Ford pointed out.  “If you’d kissed him in human form, I doubt there would have been any reaction at all.” Angie stared at him.  “I’ve never heard of a nixie being able to switch between their native form and a human one.”

              “I- my native form is human, you dingus! I wasn’t always part frog!”

              “Fascinating,” Ford breathed.  Angie groaned loudly.  She took Stan’s hand.

              “Stanley, sit down for me, okay?” she said.  Stan sat down heavily.  He grinned at her.  “Oof.  Uh. Your eyes are dilated something fierce, darling.”

              “You’re fierce,” Stan slurred.  He winked.  Angie grimaced.  Footsteps sounded on the deck.  “Ang, you’re the prettiest frog in the world.”  The footsteps stopped.

              “Angie?!” Fiddleford shrieked.  Angie immediately dove into the lake, disappearing into the depths.  Stan leaned over the edge of the pier.

              “Come back, Angie!” he called.

              “I have to agree,” Fiddleford said, quickly catching up to Stan and Ford.  “Banjolina Quinn McGucket, get back here!”

              “Heh.”  Stan giggled. “Banjo.”  He leaned further.  “Banjo!” He fell forward.  Before Ford or Fiddleford could grab him, a webbed hand shot out of the water to nudge him back onto the pier.  Angie emerged from the lake.  Fiddleford fell to his knees.

              “Oh, Lord,” he breathed.  “I’d recognize that face anywhere.  Angie, what happened?  How did you become this?”

              “I…”  Angie swallowed.  “Stan can tell you.”  Stan leaned over the edge of the pier again.

              “I heard my name,” he purred.  Angie surfaced further until she and Stan were face-to-face.  She stroked his cheek.  “Hey, gorgeous.”

              “I’m- I’m sorry I did this to you.  Rest up.”  She looked at Fiddleford.  “Take care of him.”

              “Angie, you can’t just leave without explainin’ anything!” Fiddleford protested.  Angie closed her eyes.

              “I need- I need a minute.”  She sunk underwater.

              “Angie, no!” Stan cried out.  Ford and Fiddleford grabbed him before he could jump into the lake. “No!”  Stan slumped back and began to sob.  “She’s gone.  Forever.”

              “Stanley, once she’s had some time to collect herself, she’ll be back,” Ford said calmly.  “Now, we should probably find some sort of antitoxin to counteract that kiss.”  He pulled Stan to his feet.  Stan immediately leaned against him.  “Fiddleford, a little help?”  Fiddleford was still staring at the lake.  “Fiddleford?”

              “Oh, yes.”  Fiddleford came over.  He looped one of Stan’s arms over his shoulders.  “Don’t worry, Stan, Ford’s right.  Angie will be back.”  He scowled. “If I have to drain this whole godforsaken lake to find her.”

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 9 ~The Christmas Spirits~

Previously in Christmas Eve Rush

Her hand flew to her chest, and her eyes almost popped out at the realisation. "Good Lord. You're in love with her, aren't ye? It's all over your face. Oh my God!"

"Please? We dinnae have a lot of time," he whispered, almost close to tears. "Ye're the only one who can get through to Claire."

A few heartbeats passed as he held his breath. 

"Fine! Let's do this!" Suddenly spurred by excitement into action, she quickly grabbed a piece of paper and pen and handed it to him. "Write down your number, and I'll update you after I've called Claire."

"Ye will?"

"Yes, yes ..." she muttered. "Come on, chop-chop!" She clapped her hands at him.

Elated with the turn of event, he didn't waste any more time and rapidly scribbled his number and pushed the piece of paper back to her. "Thank ye. I owe ye big time." When an afterthought came to him, he shoved his hand into his pocket, took out a spare key to his cottage and placed it on the table. It was meant to be for Claire. "Another favour, I have a dog and kitten in the house and ..."

"I got it." She grinned and made a shooing motion. "Now go!"

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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Claire sat at the airport's cafe, every sound of someone's laughter and the sight of happy couples holding hands, driving a knife into her chest. She still had a few hours to go before its time to go through security. With a heavy heart, she miserably flipped the pages of a glossy magazine, unseeing its pages' articles and pictures. It had taken every iota of her resolve and will power to leave Broch Mordha, and now Annalise had made her book a later flight because her friend was on the way and wanted to talk. Damn her for making this more difficult! In truth, she wanted to know what Jamie had told her friend and wondered what he would have said if she'd confronted him instead of running away. Now that she was finally out of his life was he even thinking about her? Staying in Broch Mordha would have most probably increased the likelihood of her believing his excuses and running back into his arms. She just couldn't handle the emotional fallout.

"I beg your pardon, is this seat taken?" a soft feminine voice asked.

Claire briefly glanced up, offered a weak smile and motioned for the woman to sit. She wasn't in the state nor mood for small talks so she put her head down and pretended to read, hoping the woman would take a hint.

Restless, she glanced again at her phone to check the time. Annalise should be here soon. Is she planning to fly with me? I hope not! She noticed the cafe was beginning to get busy with people waiting for love ones to arrive or the check-in counter to open. Tomorrow at this time, she'd be home. The thought of spending Christmas in London in the cramped apartment made her doubly miserable. She loved the open spaces of the Highlands and quaint villages. Although the weather could be quite grim, the landscape's natural beauty and loads of fresh air more than made up for it. With its tranquil settings, it was an ideal place to start her writing career. She'd put it on hold for far too long, working for a publishing company that gave her very little satisfaction and yesterday she'd even fantasised of moving to Broch Mordha and making it a reality to be closer to Jamie. How could I have been so stupid?

"Highlands in December is romantic, isn't it?" The woman sharing her table smiled pleasantly. "I love this place. There's something magical about it, don't you agree?"

Ah, another English woman to fall for the Highland charm! She was about to give some generic answer about the Highlands' ancient history lending the romance a hint of mysticism when the harsh truth chose that moment to free itself. "Kind of deceiving though, isn't it? I got caught up in that so-called magic, but some wanker decided to exploit it and use my heart to make fertiliser. I've only known him for a couple of days, but I can't stand being in this place anymore without thinking about him and his stupid, stupid handsome face. And the way he looked at me." She blew a breath and blinked back the tears. "I guess I was just plain naive and a bloody dimwit for thinking smooth talkers only existed in big cities like London. I tell you what, they're rife everywhere and you can never be too careful."

If the woman had been surprised by Claire's outburst, it didn't show. "Now, now, I'm quite sure there is a perfect explanation. Lovely and sweet as you look, I see the wisdom that belies your age in your eyes. You don't seem like a person to be taken by someone's smooth line at all."

She let out an almost deranged laugh. "Well, obviously, I am. I took one look at a beautiful face, and all logic went south. So there," Claire huffed.

The other woman looked away and sipped her tea. She was much older than Claire thought - in her forties maybe or could be fifties, but it was hard to tell. She had a dark, sleek modern bob hairstyle that contradicted the mumsy grey slacks, woollen jumper and lack of makeup and accessories. Her face was kind though, and there was a serenity in her demeanour she found comforting and familiar.

Claire regretted her oversharing and decided to shut her mouth and continued reading.

"I met my husband many years ago here. Not far from where we are now. A place called Broch Mordha."

Claire's head shot up. "Oh! Is your husband Scottish?"

"No, he's English. We met one summer while watching a Highland game. He lived in Broch Mordha while doing some research for work, and I was on holiday. We fell in love and eventually married. And every year from thereon we celebrated our anniversary here. It's a very special place for us."

"That's very sweet," Claire remarked, trying not to think of Jamie and what could have been for them if he hadn't been a knobhead.

The woman let out a soft laugh and daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Sweet isn't the description I would have used to describe the circumstance of how we met; nevertheless, it turned out my darling husband is my soul mate and marrying him had been the best decision I've ever made in my life."

"Good for you ..." Claire whispered, subtly glancing once more at the time on her phone. She hoped Annalise would be here soon because the last thing she needed right now was to hear someone else's happily forever after. But in the end, curiosity got the better of her. "So what made you change your mind about him?"

The woman sighed and took out her book. "My husband was an insensitive clod, and when he eventually saw the error of his ways and asked for forgiveness, I gave him a second chance. Forgiving him didn't change the past, and I realised in the end, if I hadn't forgiven him, my actions would have robbed me of the best years of my life. And of course, a beautiful daughter who turned out to be everything I've ever hoped for and much more." She smiled and then turned her attention to reading. Obviously, oversharing was now over.

"I see ..." Claire muttered. Well, what had she expected? A magical solution? She almost laughed out loud. No such thing!

It was too late for her and Jamie anyway. She was on her way to London, and he'd probably moved on now that she was gone. It was definitely better this way. Out of sight, out of mind.

**********

He switched off the ignition of his car and texted Annalise to inform her he'd arrived at his destination. She'd messaged him earlier letting him know Claire would be at D'Lish cafe. Scanning his vicinity, Jamie drew in a lungful of air. He'd only been in Inverness Airport's parking lot a few minutes, and already his nerves were on tenterhooks. From the congested traffic and beeping cars to stressed people madly rushing about, Jamie realised how far from his world he'd strayed, and the distance was only under an hour's drive. 

He hadn't even stepped out of his car, and already he was counting the minutes till he was back within the peaceful haven of Broch Mordha. But he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going back without Claire and had taken his passport with him just in case he would have to follow her all the way to London. How he was going to manage that with his unpredictable episodes, he had no idea. He hoped he would be able to keep his panic attacks at bay long enough until he found her and convinced her to come back home.

"I'll walk in with you," Harry said quietly out of the blue as if he'd sense his trepidation. "My flight isn't till later, and my wife is probably enjoying her cuppa tea somewhere."

The tightness in his body relaxed, and Jamie nodded gratefully. Harry seemed to always understand his situation, popping out of the blue at the strangest times. Jamie had never questioned it and put it down to simply Harry being unusually perceptive and a good friend.

They quietly walked side by side towards the airport and when they entered the building, moving bodies and a sea of faces swarmed his vision. The racket and clamour of people going about their business surrounded him, and Christmas crowds trying to make it home before Christmas jostled too close, their cacophony of voices chattering excitedly. 

Jamie swallowed the mounting panic and fixed his thoughts on Claire, breathing deeply in through his nose and with a heaving chest, letting it all out with a whoosh. His eyes darted and saw people smiling and nodding animatedly, laughter and children's squeals infiltrating his consciousness, their sound accompanied by an air of anticipation that told him it was a season of joy. 

Jamie managed to put a grim smile on his face and concentrated on getting one foot in front of the other, apologising now and again whenever he accidentally bumped into someone, almost stumbling like an intoxicated man. Although aware of Harry's presence, perspiration coated his skin, and he could feel a bead of sweat running down his temple. The usually comfortable soft fabric of his sweatshirt chaffed and squeezed him like a clamp almost suffocating him. The chaotic din typical of an airport during the holiday season came in a huge rush of waves, at first faint, then building to a deafening sound that roared in his ears, shattering his foundation and foothold. 

Oh, God, please, not now. Jamie knew it was happening. Attempting not to panic, he began to employ a technique that more often than not worked. He tried listening to his mother's singing in his head, the one that stuck most in his mind and brought him comfort when he'd been amidst a conflict in a war zone, a song that sang him to sleep when he was a wee bairn.

He stopped a few metres away from the cafe where Claire was supposed to be waiting and took a moment to draw in oxygen, clinging to his mother's singing in his head. Goodnight, you moonlight ladies. Rockabye, sweet baby, James. Deep greens and blues are the colours I choose. Won't you let me go down in my dreams? And rockabye, sweet baby, James. 

He dimly recognised where he was, busy eateries, cafes and shops lined a wide area, a focal point for those waiting for love ones to arrive or passengers before heading to security that led to the departure area. Someone's child screamed nearby, and the sound of suitcases dragging on its wheels seemed to rumble and reverberate on the ground. Christmas light decorations that normally shimmered unobtrusively and gave a soft glow suddenly seemed to flash all around him, and the Christmas songs playing in the background became disembodied sounds. Jamie froze, gripped in the throes of a colossal panic attack that forced him to sink halfway to his knees.

Everything seemed to fade in and out, but it was Harry's voice he eventually clung to, his mother's singing hushing into the recesses of his head. The Englishman repeated his name and grabbed hold of his elbow, preventing him from collapsing to the floor and leading him firmly away from the moving crowd. Jamie pitched himself against the giant column and fought the crippling dread chipping away at his sanity. 

He glanced around frantically, but Harry's hand grabbed his face and forced him to look straight into amber eyes. 

"Breathe, Jamie. Everything is going to be alright. Just keep breathing." 

"H-Harry ...I n-need to ..."

"It's alright. I know. I'm not going anywhere. Just breath."

Jamie unzipped his jacket and fought for air, sucking in a lungful. And then, again and again, gasping and coughing as he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees. Harry's strong hand massaged his back in a circular motion, the older man's presence calm and controlled, breathing with him, encouraging to gradually take in more air. 

It took a while to normalise his breathing, his heart to calm down and the cold sweat to evaporate. As he regained more control, though wobbly at first, he straightened up. Gathering his bearings, he ignored the odd looks from passersby, by now already used to it.

Harry gave him a reassuring smile. "Feeling much better?" 

Jamie managed a nod as the initial feeling of shame and embarrassment took over the panic attack. Why am I even here? Claire deserved so much better than this and all his fucking issues. On top of it all, he'd managed to make her feel cheap when he was nothing but just half a man. There was no way she'd go back to Broch Mordha with him.

"Oh no, you don't. I know that look in your eyes. You've made it this far, old sport," Harry whispered fiercely, straightening his jacket. "Don't you even think of going back home without trying!" 

Jamie blinked, confused. What the fuck? What does Harry know? But there was no time to ask questions, as he caught a glimpse of Claire past Harry's shoulder. She was in the cafe in the motion of getting up, her head bowed down while speaking on the phone. 

Last night, he'd held Claire in his arms and now, the reality of the moment hit him hard as he saw her hand gripped the suitcase next to her, reminding him she's waiting to board a plane. He could hardly think over the furious pounding in his chest as a combination of relief at seeing her and fear of rejection surged through him. He barely registered himself, moving towards the cafe when Harry put a hand on his arm. He turned to meet his friend's eyes. "You're on your own now. For now. Remember to breathe."

Jamie swallowed hard and nodded.

"Now go and hurry."

**********

Claire panicked, her eyes darting around the cafe. Annalise had just called and confessed Jamie was on his way to talk to her. Her friend had insisted on giving Jamie a chance to explain and that he'd made a mistake. 

But Claire couldn't do this. She didn't have this sort of experience nor the emotional strength to handle this kind of situation. All she knew and was aware of was how much Jamie had hurt her with his words. 

She quickly stood up, said goodbye to the woman sat on her table, grabbed her bags and made her way out of the cafe. She kept her head down and tried not to look around in case Jamie spotted her. She began to walk faster, weaving through crowds of travellers as she wheeled her suitcase, images of Jamie encroaching her thoughts. A new voice was trying to make itself heard, telling her maybe she ought to listen to what Jamie had to say. But what was there to say? She'd seen what he wrote with her own eyes, and there was no explaining himself out of it.

She was just getting into the queue for the security check when a shout cut through the hubbub surrounding her. 

"Sassenach!"

She stiffened, and her hand went slack around the suitcase's handle, sending its bulk toppling to the floor. It took a few heartbeats for her to turn around and face Jamie, afraid her resolve would collapse if she looked at him. When she finally saw him, he stood a few yards away, suspended in a sea of bustling chaos. Perspiration beaded his forehead, his face pale and eyes a little wild as they searched hers, snagging on the way she snatched her suitcase to an upright position and pulled it closer to her side. As always, ever since she first laid eyes on him, his unusual male beauty made her chest ache. A head taller than most, he looked out of place in the busy surroundings, his blue eyes penetrating through everything in their wake to reanimate her heart.

She waited for something to happen, but he just continued to stare at her, his body swaying a little. He looked like he was about to faint. Worry, combined with fear prickled her skin when she recalled his accounts of his PTSD condition. She'd made it this far, and now she was torn between going over to him and making her way to the security.

"What are you doing here?" she said a little harshly.

"Dinnae go in that plane.”

"It's too late for that."

Anguish fogged his handsome features. "I need ye to hear me out, Sassenach. Please."

Claire shook her head. "What is there to say, Jamie? That text you wrote, told me everything already."

"Please let me explain ..."

"I already know what you're going to say, Jamie. You're going to say you didn't mean to write that text. It's classic and cliche at the same time and utter bullshit." Claire's shoulders sagged, and she swallowed hard. "No, I'm sorry, I can't ..." 

She started to step into the queue, but stopped, her heart caught in her throat when a passerby in a rush accidentally bumped into him, and he almost vaulted over. She saw how much it took out of him just to remain upright. She made a move to come to his aide, but he stopped her with a motion of his hand, telling her he would say his piece without any help. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took several deep breaths, discomfort, and distress in this busy environment evident on his face. 

"You don't look well, Jamie. You should go home," she said, glancing around, aware of people looking at him.

"Damn it, Sassenach," he wheezed. "I'm gonnae make ye listen even if it kills me."

A stabbing pain went through her heart. "I can't do this, Jamie. I'm going."

"No!" He took another unsteady step forward. When Claire stayed put, relief washed over his face. "What I wrote to my sister about you was wrong ..."

Rage replaced the hurt she was feeling. "You made it sound I was just a notch on the bedpost," she snapped, angrily.

Jamie winced as a woman nearby gasped and glared at him, but they both ignored her. "No, Sassenach. You were never that ..."

"Your words winter fling said it all. What else could it mean?"

"Sometimes, what I think and what I feel doesn't translate into words ..."

"Or you don't think at all," she interrupted, tipping her head back to keep the tears from falling.

His head dropped. "No, I didnae think. What I said was inexcusable, and no explanation or apologies would take any of the hurt I caused ye back."

"It was a horrid thing to say about someone!"

His face flickered with regret and self-loathing. "It was, and I'm an arsehole for it."

"They why? Why Jamie? Is that how you talk about your conquests?"

His face paled even more. "No! You're not that at all. What we had was special, and I've never felt like this about someone before."

"You could have fooled me ..."

He took a careful step forward as if afraid she would bolt. "Sassenach, I said what I said not because that was what I thought about you and that's the truth. Partly, I text those words to get my sister off my case. She was badgering me for getting involved with ye because she was worried about me falling for someone from the city due to my condition. Another part of the reason I wrote that had to do with my fear of getting emotionally attached. I thought by labelling what we had as temporary, it would be easier to let ye go when the time comes. It was wrong ...so wrong. I wish I hadnae said it."

Claire could barely see him through the blur of tears. The awful pain she'd had in her heart all morning waned a little. She forced her feet to move, but the emotion in his voice kept her rooted in place. 

"Christ, everything happened so fast between us. And I was rushing ahead before I could comprehend what was happening. When ye told me ye live in London, I was convinced that nothing could come out of this ...us ...whatever this is we have ....because I wouldnae ken how to live in yer world and it wouldnae be right to ask ye to give up yers. When I asked ye to extend yer stay, my intention was to make as many memories with ye because I needed to face the truth of my limitations. I was determined not to be that someone who held ye back and made ye regret what ye could've done. I said to mysel' whatever time ye could give me, I'd be grateful. Yet, here I am, begging ye not to get on that plane."

She wanted to go to him, take him in her arms and forget what had happened, but she needed more. She needed to know that this thing between them was more than just a handy itinerary with chemistry tossed into the mix. For her, it had always been more, but he's a man, and maybe it's just all about sex for him.

"Sorry, Jamie." Bracing her shoulders, she pulled her suitcase behind her and joined the line for security check-up.

"Wait!"

She and every person within hearing distance in the queue turned around to look at him.

This time, Jamie didn't flinch and looked at her straight in the eyes with unwavering intensity. "I cannae let ye go without giving it my best shot. I've used my condition as an excuse for far too long, yet not once did ye ever look at me as someone damaged. I dinnae want my condition to stop me anymore from going after what I want. I swear to God, ye havenae seen persistence yet, Sassenach. Ye have nae idea what it looks like until ye've seen it on me. I've fought for my life in a war zone before, and I'm doing it again now. If ye get on that bloody plane, be rest assured I will be on the next flight behind yours. I will show up in every God damned place ye go to until ye give me the time of day. And I willnae stop until I get it through yer pretty head how much ye mean to me. And if ye come back to me, I promise ye, I'm gonnae work my arse off to prove to ye every day how special ye are. Even if it means moving to London to be closer to ye. All I'm asking for is a second chance."

Looking at him, she knew he meant every word, and there was an intensity about him, that told her he would go through with his threat of following her to London. A lump stuck in Claire's throat, so huge she could barely speak. Her face crumpled, and she let the unshed tears she'd held all morning flow. Unable to stand a moment longer without feeling his arms around her, she let go of her grip on her suitcase and began to make a move towards him. Jamie fell back a few steps, both hands flying to rest on top of his head, relief and disbelief visible in every line of his body. She covered the distance separating them in three steps and flung herself into strong arms that circled around her without hesitation. Applause, cheers and whistles from passengers who had witnessed the scene erupted around them, making them both laugh through tears. 

"Jesus Christ, Jamie," she stammered with a hiccup. "You really know how to cause a scene and really make it count." 

A hand tunnelled through her hair, gripping her neck so he could angle her head and kiss her. "I'm so sorry, Sassenach. Oh, God, I'm so sorry," he muttered against her lips. "I was an idiot. I thought I wasnae gonnae make it." 

A shudder passed through her. "I almost got on a plane and spent Christmas on my own." 

Jamie fell back into the nearest seat, taking Claire with him. Obviously spent from all the emotions. "Dinnae remind me ...ever again, please. But just so ye know, I have my passport with me. I was ready to come after ye. Today." 

Claire clung to him tighter. "It's Christmas, and we're together. Let's just focus on that." 

"Christ, I thought I knew fear." His breath shook and fanned her skin. "That was the scariest situation I've been in." 

She let out a sigh, inhaling his scent from the crook of his neck. How had she thought for one second that running away would have been a better option? She thought of the woman she spoke to earlier in the cafe and smiled. 

Jamie shook her a little. "Ye're going to think this is mad, but I dinnae want to take another second for granted, so I'm just going to say it, so ye ken once and for all." 

"Say what?" she whispered. Jamie tilted her face up for a slow, deep kiss, then stood, lifting her in his arms. 

"I'm in love with ye, Sassenach. I ken it's too soon, but I want it out there just in case something happens and I dinnae get another chance to say it, or I do something stupid like making ye cry. Life's too short for over-analysing things and keeping something like that to myself." 

She smiled through fresh tears. "I'm in love with you too, Jamie. And next time you say something stupid, I'm just going to get into a fight with you about it, instead of running away."

Jamie's laughter rumbled in his chest before his face turned serious. "Merry Christmas, Sassenach. May it be our first of many more to come."

Claire reached out and clasped his face with her hands and laid a soft kiss on his lips. Her heart broke open, and for the first time, all the pieces clicked together in a perfect puzzle, and everything made perfect sense. Because she'd learned early on you needed to take the bad with the good and embrace it all. Despite Jamie's condition and fear of uncertainty, she'd taken a gamble and trusted her guts, and by giving him a second chance, they'd ended up with the best thing of all. 

Love at Christmas. 

She knew it wasn't going to be smooth sailing forever. There were going to be long talks of how they ought to proceed with their relationship, compromises to be made, and probably many teething problems during their phase of getting to know each other. But as long they both keep their hearts open, they should have a fighting chance.

"Merry Christmas to you too," she whispered, her voice raspy with emotion. 

"Shall we go home?" he murmured, smiling.

"Yes, let's go home."

Hand in hand they left the airport and headed back to Broch Mordha to celebrate Christmas.

 Dear Readers,

Firstly, thank you for your best wishes and feedback from the previous chapter. This latest update was supposed to be published on Christmas day. Unfortunately, because I was so overly ambitious about the storyline, I was unable to deliver. I didn't want to rush it after having gone through the story in my head many times.  Rushing it probably would have made me miss many of the elements I wanted to put in this story.

Anyway, I had a lovely quiet Christmas. With everything that's happening globally, it was more of a time for reflection for us instead of celebration. I am just grateful that my love ones are safe and healthy and hope you're own dearests are as well. As for this story's direction, I don't know how many chapters there are to go, but I can safely say there is another one after this. I will try to publish before New Year, and if I am unable to do so, I wish you all a New Year full of exciting possibilities, good health and lots of love. Keep the good vibes rolling and take care. X

[mypersonmyg]

crash and learn | myg, kth, jjk

pairing: yoongi x reader ft. maggie x taehyung, dani x jeongguk

genre: fluff, college au, the misery chick au

rating: pg15

wc: 2.3k

warnings: swearing, not really edited

summary: you and yoongi just want some time alone OR maybe jeongguk and taehyung will finally stop crashing your dates

a/n: haha i bet you thought i forgot but i didn’t! its drabble week and i will be posting one every day this week (weekends debatable)...this one is a part of the misery chick universe but also you don’t have to read it to get it because...

this is for my FAVORITE CUTIE MAGGIE @kimtaehyunq​!!!! who asked me to write a cute tae and jeongguk request ft herself and yours truly <3 and i think its fun to have one universe with all the members being with one of my friends so,,,maybe more coming?,,,either way i might write another drabble or two to sort of bring this one full circle, maybe not this week but yeah

[drabble masterlist]

[the misery chick]

One date turned to two and two to three, needless to say that months later and Min Yoongi still finds room to swoon for the girl who thought him puffing smoke before the start of the period. The misery chick isn’t gone, but the words are forbidden within a radius of the two of you, more likened to prolonged stares and the occasional glares of those wondering about the developing development of your arms locked and stares stopping on your respective pupils dilated in the glare of the midday sun. 

Though those passersby who let Yoongi pass by for too long without a positive step in the direction of his natural charms hold their tongues, the boys that fill the round of the courtyard picnic don’t hesitate to gag into half eaten sandwiches and dribble the purple fizz from the cans perched at their lips. 

“This is a little excessive, no?” Taehyung, the least bothered of the present, pipes up. He slurps from a straw that traces the length of his arm, wrapping the sleeve of his half buttoned button up. No one dared ask about his latest purchase, Jeongguk who was slurping from his juice box even eyeing with envy the can perfectly placed atop a tuft of grass, feeding into the straw at Taehyung’s lips. “When you invited us on a picnic I was hoping for a little more ‘we time’ and a little less ‘you time’.”

“To be clear, we didn’t invite you.”

“I like to think it was an open invitation,” Jeongguk shrugs, falling back against the blanket spread beneath you. 

Yoongi kisses his teeth, his own position resting against your chest, the perfect avenue for the pass of a grape from your fingers to his lips. He’s too content to bother with the bothersome nature of his uninvited roommates, both found minutes before his departure scavenging the lunch he’d spent the better part of the morning putting together. It was only the delighted pitch of your giggles that stopped him from scolding the two and sending them on their way when they followed you out of the door. He even caught you sneaking a few extra snacks into the basket for the fiends. 

“The point is, I will not hesitate to press my face to Yoongi’s because this is supposed to be a date.” 

“Press your face? That’s fuckin’ weird can’t you just say kiss?” Taehyung snatches the grape from your hand midair, sending Yoongi a smug smirk when he pops it past his geometric lips humming along with the satisfactory burst of the skin against his tongue. 

“No, because it makes you uncomfortable.” You tut, quickly replacing the grape to remedy the pout pulling at Yoongi’s cheeks. “This’ll teach you two to stop crashing our dates!” 

Dates is, in fact, plural because the tag along of your spritely comrades has been less and less few and far over the course of just a few weeks. You aren’t blind to the odd trend, not missing the attachment of Jeongguk specifically with each expected visit. Only recently had Taehyung begun to fill the void at Jeongguk’s side, previously partnered with any member of the house available at the time. 

What you’ve failed to account for with every impromptu double date is Jeongguk’s wise up with each stand in. He began to worm his way with Hoseok, clear that Yoongi would never turn down his best friend and you would never turn down Jeongguk. He would then try his hand with each member of the house, the worst of them being Jimin who had them sent away without even a morsel of the pizza you and Yoongi planned on sharing that day. 

It was that evening that Yoongi stood barefoot in his doorway, scratching at his brows toeing the reason behind Jeongguk’s sudden interest in you to which Jeongguk sputtered and blushed Yoongi out of the door with the assurance that his interest in you still remained platonic despite your commonalities and attraction. 

Jeongguk would never disclose the reason for his sudden interest in the almost daily escapades of Yoongi and yourself for fear that the blush painting his cheeks would be due to the teases and pressures of his friends, much the way he heard his hyungs pressuring Yoongi just months ago. He reasons that the position served Yoongi well, his eyes often traveling to the trace of your hand against Yoongi’s and frequent pecks to his forehead, his cheeks, he averts when you ‘press face’.

He wouldn’t dare admit the lift of his heart when you utter a defeated ‘I’ll just call Maggie and Dani, we can all catch a movie or something’ or when you plan ahead, which you’ve been doing more often, and the two meet you at your destination. The assumption of his appearance for the consumption that is often his source of a meal was accurate at the start. Your weekly dinners increasingly put on hold in place of a date with Yoongi, a point that Jeongguk used to his advantage the first night he beat Yoongi to the front seat of his own car while you snickered on the passenger side and Yoongi grumbled his way to the rear. 

His tactic had been to spend more time with his friend busied by love’s intoxicating hold, but his routine was struck by the catch of his own wrist in the hold of the bug. It was subtle before all at once, just an insignificant flutter passed off as a change in the weather, allergies. It was the not so subtle jab of Hoseok’s elbow into Jeongguk’s ribs after a particularly festive frolic through the spring festival that hipped him to his blind intentions. 

“Dude, you’ve been eying Dani for like three weeks and I’m tired of going on dates with you.” Suffice to say that was the last time Hoseok was glued to his side and Jeongguk only hoped the few feet between him and Dani just ahead provided a gap gaping enough to save her ears from Hoseok’s assail. 

It was a constant trial and error leading up to the night just a week ago that conjured Taehyung in stride, far too dressed up for casual with a confident glint in his eye. 

“You made the right call, I don’t know why it took you so long to make it, but I’m here now. The doctor is in.” Taehyung surveyed the small span of the restaurant's front entrance that day, confident in his abilities to  nudge Jeongguk ever closer to the girl he’s been crazy about for the past few weeks. He found it endearing that the youngest was having a hard time, especially when he was often the target of straying gazes and the not-so-subtle flirtations of all shades. 

It didn’t take long for all involved to realize that the doctor inconveniently called in sick from the moment Yoongi showed up with three ladies en route, one familiar from a photo Jeongguk scrounged and the second filled with a familiarity not quite familiar to Taehyung. You were quick to introduce her as Maggie, and Taehyung couldn’t form a sentence coherent enough for the rest of the night. 

If it weren’t for the quickened explanation on the drive home, Jeongguk would’ve been a lot less forgiving about his botched date, but here they are two weeks later, both lovestruck idiots jumping with each sound of crumpled grass while you and Yoongi are none the wiser to their intent. 

“So, what are we doing tomorrow? Aside from watching you two be all lovey dovey.” 

“I don’t know,” Yoongi’s head tilts, eyes squinting in the face of the sun’s rays. “What are you two doing tomorrow? I personally plan on spending the day with my girlfriend, preferably alone at some point.” 

“Huh, well there’s this horror marathon at the drive-in tomorrow and I was thinking we could all go!” Taehyung nudges Jeongguk’s leg, the younger immediately onboard with the suggestion. 

“Yeah! We could even invite Maggie and Dani so we have someone to talk to when you two inevitably claim the backseat for making out or whatever.”

You eye the two, eyes as wide as fresh puppies and smiles spanning the length of their cheeks. You aren’t completely blind to the trend of the past few weeks, but you haven’t been keen enough an observer to call them out on it until now. You’ve joked with Yoongi in private about your impromptu triple dates, most of the time brushed off with the shift of his lips to your own, too exhausted to think about anything but the moment he finally has you to himself. 

You nudge him with your knee, catching his eye with the minute dip of your head and the draw of your brow. 

“Ya know, you guys could always just go yourselves. I could give you their numbers,” You don’t miss the exchanged glances and tinted cheeks, Jeongguk’s eyes averting to the opposite end of the grass, one hand lifting to tug at the lobe of his ear. “I know Maggie is really into horror and Dani will def tag along if you ask nicely.” 

“Oh...they’re your friends though, I don’t think they’d wanna hang with us.” Taehyung sputters, nearly knocking the can at his side. Yoongi scoffs, head lolling from its place on your thigh. 

“You’re kidding right? The way those two act around you is not exactly subtle.” 

“What do you mean?” Jeongguk’s body leans forward, pupils doubled in hopeful curiosity. 

“I guess you’ll just have to see for yourself.” Yoongi shrugs. 

“And there’s no time like the present!” Your hands flag at something beyond the scope of their heads, Jeongguk freezing on the spot, but Taehyung’s neck craning to capture the bodies bounding over and moments later plopping in the convenient spaces between. Maggie squishes herself between you and Jeongguk while Dani takes the spot beside Taehyung. 

A panic flashes in both of their eyes when they note the unmatched arrangement of bodies. There was no specification as to who Maggie or Dani harbor unspoken feelings for, or what kind of feelings they are,  and the time to question has since vanished. 

The group falls to routine, broken conversations and voices piping in, Taehyung notes the lack of attention the girl that has a grip on his bursting appendage has paid in the past twenty minutes. A simple nod of the head or half smile is the only acknowledgement to his thoughtfully witty remarks. 

He doesn’t miss the drop of her hand to Jeongguk’s arm when he tells a funny joke, her head thrown back with exaggerated laughter and he fights to send a glare his way but thinks better as Jeongguk is too entranced by Dani who has barely said a word since sitting. 

“So, Tae was just telling us about this horror marathon they’re having at the drive-in tomorrow night. He and Guk wanna go.” You fill in once the six of you fall to comfortable silence. You catch Maggie sending a smirk Taehyung’s way, recovering at once when she peeks your gaze out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah, Yoon and I could use some alone time so I thought you guys might wanna go with them.”

“Horror?” Dani speaks up, gently shifting to shield herself from Jeongguk’s wandering eyes. “That’s cool, but I don’t know that’s not really my thing.” 

“That's okay!” Jeongguk startles himself with his words, lowering his voice with a nervous chuckle. “I mean, we don’t have to stay the whole time, I wouldn’t mind leaving early. We could get some food or something.” 

“Hey, not all of us are chicken. I wanna stay the whole time,” Maggie pokes her tongue in Dani’s direction, earning the same in return. 

“I’m not chicken. There’s just only so much nuclear family, last girl blah blah blah that I can handle.” Dani shrugs, turning her attention to Jeongguk for the first time that he’s aware of, since she arrived. “It’s okay, you guys should just go without me.” 

“No, I wanna hang with you. We could go to this new pizza place in town if you’re interested?” Jeongguk is pleased to note that you and Yoongi have gone back to your regularly scheduled program, pretending as if your date hasn’t been crashed for the millionth time. Taehyung and Maggie, on the flip, are watching you two as if they’re already tucked into the boot of a car with popcorn between their fingers. 

“Um...I mean, if you really don’t mind. I don’t wanna steal you or them away from the movies.” 

“I’ll stay...ya know, Maggie and I. We could stay and watch the movies and you two could go after the first one or two.” Taehyung glances at Maggie whose eyes are already taking him in, flashing away the moment pupils meet. 

“Yeah, that’s always an option.” She agrees, flashing you a thumbs up. 

“Great!” Four heads snap in your direction, Yoongi is finally sitting upright and you’re all smiles, neatly folding your blanket to pass off. “So it sounds like you guys have a lot of planning to do and we have a lot of kissing to do, so we’ll be seein’ ya!” 

“Wait, don’t you guys wanna finish your food?” Maggie gestures to the half eaten meal left resting in the basket.

“No no, you guys have it. I’m actually in the mood for pizza now so we’ll probably grab some on the way home.” 

“Okay...bye, I guess.” Dani watches with scrunched brows and Jeongguk and Taehyung send Yoongi the same look he’s been sending for weeks for a completely different reason. He sends them a smirk, arm slung around your shoulders as the two of you leave your date crashers in the dust with potential of their own. 

“Have fun!” 

[uchihasakurawrites]

Of T-Shirts and Monsoons

Rating: T for language

Summary: In which Sasuke proposes to a fuming Sakura in a cave in the middle of Rain. 

Word Count: 2,243

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been about seven years since I last wrote for this fandom (or wrote creatively at all, really). This random idea popped into my head while I was watching old SasuSaku AMVs, and I just thought I’d go for it! I have a few ideas for longer SasuSaku fics, so I wanted to test out a few drabbles/oneshots to shake off some of the rust since it’s been a while. Let me know what you think! Also feel free to send prompts my way. This was done in about an hour, but I hope you enjoy~

Cross posted on Ao3 and Fanfiction.net

___________________________________

Sakura was fuming as she stomped into the cave, ignoring Sasuke’s wary gaze as she slung her pack to the ground with enough force to create fine cracks in the stone beneath it. She stripped out of her blood-and-rain soaked jonin vest and tossed it equally as haphazardly to the side, not sparing a glance to where it landed with a decided thwack. Sasuke rubbed the bridge of his nose and made quick work of using a small katon to set a small fire in the back of the cave. Typically, it wouldn’t be worth the risk of attracting unwanted attention, but he figured the benefits of not having to deal with an angry and cold Sakura were decidedly worth dispatching any rogues that were foolish enough to have followed them. Not that he and Sakura had left any of the nin in a state to pursue them, he thought with a smirk.

“Stupid Rain with it’s stupid freak monsoons and stupid rogue nin who ambush anything that fucking moves through their ‘territory.’ Sure, take out the fact that you’re bored in a time of peace out on civilians who can’t fight back.”

The clang of Sakura’s weapons pouch against the cave wall punctuated her impatience with the recent trend of rogue bands staking claim to smaller civilian towns and merchant paths. They’d managed to defend three different merchant caravans and liberated two villages from rogues in the past month and a half alone. She didn’t mind helping the civilians, of course, but why couldn’t these rogues get it through their skulls that this was peace time? She just wanted a little peace, dammit!

Sasuke crouched down next to his own pack to dig out a spare change of clothes. After just over a year and a half of traveling together, he was more than used to Sakura’s flinty temper and knew she would tire herself out soon. Best to keep out of it.

Sakura dropped to the ground to hunt for a clean shirt of her own. She pulled out shirt after shirt, noting with growing frustration that each was either covered in blood, lacerations, or sand. If she ever saw another grain of sand, it would be far too soon. A growl tore from the back of her throat.

“Stupid Suna with it’s stupid sand. Why the hell can’t some other village have poison experts so I don’t have to trudge through the damned desert just to collaborate on our new Inter-Village Poison Center? Who the fuck even came up with that idea?” Sasuke sent her a pointed look, knowing full well that she had fully supported Shizune’s initiative, which Sakura missed. “And why the hell can’t an epidemic break out in, I don’t know, the Land of Tea and not the middle of fucking Rain? At least then-”

Sakura nearly choked when she glanced up  just in time to see Sasuke pull off his rain-soaked shirt and wring it out. No matter how long they spent together or how intimate they became, Sakura’s mind never failed to short-circuit at the sight of Sasuke’s bare skin. It didn’t matter where or how much - one glimpse, and her mind checked out. Although he would never express it outright, Sakura surmised that Sasuke knew exactly what his body did to her and used it to his advantage - say, when he was trying to distract her from a particularly troublesome conversation or train of thought.

It worked more often then she cared to admit.

Her sharp eyes caught the way Sasuke shifted his weight away from his left side as he moved to pull on a fresh shirt - crisp black with the Uchiha fan emblazoned proudly on the back. After a brief moment admiring his figure before it was hidden by the fabric, Sakura frowned at the inflammation beginning to flare up around his ankle. She cleared her throat and motioned for him to come over, tirade momentarily forgotten. Kami knows Sasuke would never admit that he had lost his footing for a moment during their earlier confrontation, unused to fighting on branches that had been rotted through from near-constant rain, and actually ask her to heal him. He’d become much more willing to allow her to heal him after a particularly difficult fight, but it was rare for him to outright ask for her assistance. She usually offered before he needed to.

She met his withering look with a hard gaze of her own.

“You,” she jabbed a finger in his direction, and he raised a brow, “stop being a stubborn ass and sit.” She motioned to the spot next to her with a touch more force than necessary. Sasuke didn’t budge and continued to ruffle through his pack. Sakura’s eyes narrowed.

“Sasuke-kun, --”

With a sigh, Sasuke fixed Sakura with a stern look and tossed her one of his extra shirts before coming to sit next to her. Laying a hand on Sakura’s shoulder, he formed the tiger seal to send a small katon over her skin to dry off the remnants of water that clung to her skin and hair. His jaw tightened at the blue-purple tint her lips had begun to take in the chill. A smile worked its way onto Sakura’s face when she realized the telltale signs of concern in his posture as he hovered near her.

“Change, Sakura. Then heal.”

His gaze dropped pointedly below her chin, and Sakura’s cheeks heated as she followed his eyes and realized her state of undress. Over the course of her rant, she had stripped down to her chest bindings and fitted shorts. Although Sasuke had seen her in far less, embarrassment washed through her as she scrambled to unfold the shirt he had tossed to her.

Her demeanor shifted when she went to slip it on. Sasuke glanced over when he felt Sakura stiffen at his side, brow furrowing when he noted the pensive look on Sakura’s features. Her eyes, previously a battle-worn seafoam green, took on a deeper, more thoughtful jade. She snagged her lip between her teeth, and Sasuke glanced down to see her fingers gently tracing the outline of the Uchiha fan printed on the back of the shirt.

 Spine going rigid, Sasuke wracked his brain for the other instances Sakura had borrowed clothes from his pack - a shirt here, a poncho there. Her hands-on approach to fighting combined with the blood, bile, and poison that came with being a medic meant that her clothes tended to ruin more quickly than his. The sight of her rummaging through his pack for a spare change of clothes was a familiar one. What he hadn’t noticed, however, was that Sakura was always careful to select one of the few articles of clothing he carried that didn’t carry his clan’s symbol. He kept a few basics on hand just in case they needed to be incognito through a town that was still hostile towards the Leaf.

His mind jumped to the easiest explanation he could think of for her hesitation: she was ashamed. Not that he blamed her for wanting to distance herself from his clan’s marred legacy, but the very thought lit a fire in his veins that had him pulling away from her. Anger and bitterness combined with a pang of disappointment that he didn’t particularly want to address.

Sakura started, broken from her thoughts as she took note of Sasuke’s sudden change in demeanor. It was a testament to the time she had spent becoming attuned to the small giveaways of Sasuke’s emotions that she pieced two-and-two together. His flinty eyes shifted between the shirt in her hands and the cave wall as he refused to look at her.

With another quiet smile, Sakura carefully folded the shirt, laid it on top of her pack, and moved to stand next to Sasuke. She could feel some of the tension leave him when her shoulder brushed his, but his eyes remained stony.

“Sasuke-kun.” She waited for a moment before his gaze flickered down to hers, hoping that the softness in her own gaze would convey whatever she wasn’t able to in words. She placed a gentle hand on his bicep, hoping to ground him as she mulled over her words. Talking about the Uchiha Clan with Sasuke took a delicate touch, a touch she had learned after a short but explosive period of trial and error.

“Sasuke-kun, your clan’s history has nothing to do with why I won’t wear the Uchiha fan. Your legacy is a part of you, and I love you. All of you. Even the darkest parts that you don’t think love can reach. You know I’m damn persistent, and if I can wait this long to get you to accept that I love you, then I can wait as long as you need me to before you accept that that includes everything about you.”

She took a deep breath, averting her own eyes now that he had fixed her with an unreadable gaze of his own.

“Even if you won’t outright admit it, I know that your clan is precious to you. I’ve watched you carve the clan’s symbol into your kunai every time you replenish your stock. And I’m not an Uchiha, Sasuke-kun, so wearing the clan’s symbol - even casually like this, just feels like I’m not giving it the honor it deserves.”

Silence. Sakura was used to silence from Sasuke, and had learned how to interpret his different silences. There were the more distraught, brooding ones that required a bright, calming touch and the occasional pouty silence after she had smiled just a touch too openly at a flirty cashier; the explosive silences that she usually drew him into a spar during to release some energy and the frustrated, yet concerned silence when he thought she was too reckless in a battle.

This seemed to be one of his thoughtful silences - one that she didn’t feel she should interrupt. Noting with no small amount of satisfaction that most of the rigidity had melted away from his body, Sakura moved to turn back towards her pack.

“As for clothes, I’m sure I can put together something for tonight, so don’t worry about me. I’m pretty sure there’s a little merchant town not to far from here that we can stop by tomorrow to stock up on some new -”

Sakura swallowed her words as a cool hand enclosed her wrist and tugged her back. Her eyes widened when she found herself pressed to Sasuke’s chest with his arms wrapped tightly around her back. While Sakura was no stranger to small acts of affection from Sasuke - a forehead poke here and a sleepy  arm around her waist there - it was incredibly rare for him to initiate a hug. In fact, she was pretty sure she could count the number of times he had hugged her on one hand.

“Sa-Sasuke-kun?”

He huffed into her hair, something between a laugh or a sigh - she couldn’t quite tell. So she simply decided to remain quiet, tracing her fingertips along his back as she waited for him to voice his thoughts. She swore Sasuke Uchiha was going to be the death of her when he spoke again and she quite literally choked.

“Marry me.”

The words were so quiet that Sakura nearly convinced herself that they were a figment of her imagination. A statement, not a request. She pulled back slightly, wide eyes meeting Sasuke’s steady gaze.

“W-What?”

Sakura winced as soon as she asked the question, knowing Sasuke loathed repeating himself (though it was a well-kept secret that Sasuke didn’t mind repeating himself for her and her alone). But surely he couldn’t hold it against her given the situation. He simply sighed at her request, arching a brow that said he knew that she had clearly heard him yet repeated himself anyways.

“Marry me and wear the damn shirt, Sakura.”

When she continued to stand in front of him with nothing more than a shocked stare, Sasuke huffed again and half-rolled his eyes in a rare display of amusement. Tonight seemed to be a night for rare occasions, it seemed.

Sidestepping Sakura’s frozen form, he retrieved his spare shirt from its place on Sakura’s pack, unfolded it, and gently worked it over her head. A warm glow replaced the earlier fire in his veins as Sakura came to and allowed her arms to be guided into the shirt’s sleeves.

Sasuke spent a minute admiring the fan on her back, pride burning in his chest at the thought of Sakura as the Uchiha matriarch. A small part of him idly wondered if his mother would be pleased to see her position passed on to Sakura. He liked to think she would.

Sakura turned towards him, feeling a tug in her chest at the vulnerability in Sasuke’s expression. She wasn’t sure what kind of proposal she had expected from Sasuke - hell, she hadn’t even been certain she should expect one at all. At least, not for a while. She certainly hadn’t imagined one of the happiest moments of her life to come in the middle of a freezing cave in Rain after treating a minor epidemic, getting ambushed by a plucky squad of overambitious rogue nin, and nearly drowning in a monsoon.

So yes, she hadn’t expected a proposal to come in this type of situation, but she had known her answer to this question for nearly a decade.

“Yes.”

[athenagc94]

Just One Thing

With Beta Sandrock keys out, I’m back on my MTAP nonsense. Please, allow me to introduce my next builder - Eden King! Originally, I was gunning to have her marry Dr. Xu, but Oaks kind of snuck up on me and now, here we are. I hope you enjoy. You can also read it here on AO3

~~~~~~~

“When was the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Eden didn’t even look up from the monitor as she casually shot back, “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”

Petra huffed. “Don’t turn the tables on me. I asked you first.” She tried to sound irritated, but Eden heard the smile in her voice. She knew her sleep schedule was as fucked as hers, so kettle meet the pot. She had no right to lecture her. When she didn’t respond, Petra continued, “Why don’t you head out for the night? You’ve already done more than enough and I don’t mind finishing things up.”

“I like helping you.” Eden pressed a few keys on the pad in front of her. “It’s nostalgic, or whatever.”

She hit the enter key and a string of code appeared on the screen. She scrutinized it for patterns, then from those patterns, she picked out the irregularities and jotted them down on her notepad. Hopefully, they’d find something a little more useful this time around. The cooking mechanism they stumbled across last time was nice and all, but if she had to rely on her crumbling furnace for much longer, she was going to yank her hair out. This builder gig was supposed to be easier than her job back in Vega 5, but she might have made a marginal error when she drew that conclusion. Her father's old diagrams left a lot to be desired.

“You came to Portia to recover from your burnout,” she chided, jostling the back of her chair. Eden cut her with a glare, but it lacked its usual sting. “Old tech research isn’t your job anymore.”

“Old habits die hard,” she mumbled. “And then you die.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Petra tugged at her chair, pulling her just out of arm’s reach of the keypad. She almost clamored after it, but she resisted that overwhelming urge in favor of preserving some small part of her dignity. “Go home. Or am I going to have to get Phyllis on your ass?”

Eden pouted. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” she said, chuckling. “I can literally see the tension building around your shoulders. We both know Phyllis would love to get her hands on you for an acupuncture session.” Eden tried and failed to suppress the paralyzing fear that curled up her spine, stacking right on top of that rock hard stress that had settled in her shoulders. She liked to think she was a practical woman who trusted a vast majority of the advancements in medical sciences. And research did show that acupuncture has a positive impact on things like stress and anxiety ー both things she definitely suffered from.

That being said, fuck needles.

Petra smirked, reading her mind. “Exactly,” she snapped. “So, if you don’t want her using you as a living pin cushion, get out of here. Take the long way home. Get some fresh air. Something to unwind a little so she doesn’t have a reason to.”

“Why do you always have to be right?” Eden sighed, pushing herself out of her chair. She stretched her arms over her head, groaning as her back cracked and popped. “Can’t you just let me self-destruct in peace?”

“It’s part of my job to preserve the relic tech of the Free Cities.” Eden flipped her off and she laughed, a soft sound that reminded her of windchimes. She plopped down in her chair and turned back to the computer, picking up where Eden had left off. “I’ll let you know when I find something on these disks. A couple of days at most. So, I don’t want to see you before then unless it’s over a drink at the Round Table.”

Eden rolled her eyes. “How does Friday sound?”

“Only if you’re buying.”

“Of course,” Eden said as she shrugged on her cardigan. “It’s always on me, isn’t it?”

“Well, you’ve been threatening to get that new shop addition for months now. I think you’re purposely spending all your money on alcohol, so you don’t have to pull the trigger on it,” Petra shot back. She fluttered her lashes at her and quickly added, “I’m merely giving you an excuse to hold off on it for a while longer. That’s all.”

“I’m not afraid to pull the trigger on it,” she countered defensively, pulling the dark knit fabric a little more tightly around her shoulders. “It’s just, you know, this whole thing is only a temporary position. I plan on going back to Vega 5 once I’veー”

“Once the year is up. Yeah, I know what a sabbatical is.”

“Exactly,” Eden said, pulling the door open. The brisk spring air whipped up around her, rustling the dark curls around her jaw. She shivered and closed it a little to stave off the chill. “This is just a little vacation, I’ll be heading right back to continue my ongoing research with the Alliance by next spring. Portia is merely a stepping stone in my ten year plan.”

“That’s what I thought too when I took my internship out here, but here I am, three years later,” Petra said, with a wink. “You’ve only been a few months, but you’ll be surprised to see how quickly Portia grows on you. You’ll see.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you later this week.” She threw Portia a mock salute and ducked out into the Central Plaza.

The sun had long since set and if the clock on the old school building was correct (And it should be, she fixed it herself.) then it was far later than she realized. She regarded the stars that dotted the sky. The moon wasn’t out that evening, which only made the stars shine even more brightly in the sky. She smiled to herself. Maybe she would take Petra’s advice and go on a late night stroll ー just because it was such a beautiful night and not because she needed to unwind.

She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them as she strolled out the city gates. The apple trees that grew along the path outside the city had started to bud with small white flowers, ready to bloom any day now. They filled the air with a sweet scent that reminded her of freshly baked apple pie. Eden stopped in the middle of the trail and took a deep breath. A ghost of a smile tugged at her lips as she basked in the smell and let the wind rustle her hair.

“What’re ya doin?”

Eden started, pressing a palm flat over her heart. It hammered so violently that she feared it would beat straight out of her chest. She glanced up only to find Oaks, the city vagabond, hanging precariously from one of the branches overhead. “By the Light, Oaks,” she breathed, her expression hardening. “You scared the shit out of me.”

He swung his legs up and over the branch, settling in the small nook it provided. “Sorry about that,” he said, chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that happy before. It was nice.”

“What’re you even doing out?” She glanced at her watch, swearing. “It’s well past midnight.”

He shrugged, kicking his legs with a childlike glee. “I dunno? Papa Bear doesn’t care what time I make it back these days and sometimes I just like to sit in the trees and listen to the sounds of the forest.” He grinned at her. “You should really try it sometime. I always see you passing through here late at night anyway. Do you want to join me?”

Eden pinched the bridge of her nose. “Join you? Why would I join you? It’s late. I have to get up in the morning and work. You know a job? Like normal people.” A troubled frown tugged at the corners of his mouth and his playful kicking abruptly stopped. Only then did she realize how bad that sounded.

She groaned, scrubbing hard at her face. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. That’s not what I meant, it’s just...” She trailed off, muffling another groan in her hand. “I don’t know what I meant.”

Maybe Petra was right. Her stress had gotten so out of hand that she was taking it out on Oaks, of all people. She hadn't spent too much time with him, but there was no denying that he was one of the sweetest residents in all of Portia. He loved to make people smile with his antics. He was especially good with the kids. She caught herself watching him dash around the plaza with them, their shrill laughter making her feel some kind of way that was hard to describe. In all, he was a good guy and now, she was screaming at him in the middle of the woods ー just like her father had done to her when he got a little too wound up.

How far she’d fallen.

He tilted his head off to one side and said, “You’re stressed.”

“Yeah,” she managed tightly. “Just a little bit.”

His frown deepened, which looked weird on a face that was always full of smiles. “Well, if that’s all that’s bothering you, I can show you what I do when I’m feeling a little stressed.”

She peered up at him, squinting. What kind of things did he have to be stressed about? As far as she knew, his days were spent wandering the fields with colorful llamas outside her workshop or snooping around the stalls in town. Sometimes, late in the afternoons, she’d catch him whittling while she was out gathering supplies. He always looked so engrossed in his work, but even then, there was a serene aura that surrounded him at all times. Frankly, it wasn’t fair.

But her curiosity got the better of her.

“What do you do when you’re stressed?”

He grinned, radiantly, and said, “Follow me.” He shifted his weight, tumbling to the ground in front of her. She flinched, but he quickly pulled himself up and wiped the dirt from the front of his pants. She never realized how tall he was before now, which was saying something considering she towered over most of Portia’s residents, even Gust. He had her beat by an inch or two, which was something. She didn’t know how old he was, but his broad shoulders and the sharp cut of his jaw suggested he was well into his twenties. She just always assumed he was a lot younger because of how he acted.

Another error. Two months into sabbatical and she was already losing her edge.

“If you liked the smell of the apple blossoms, then I think you’ll like this place just as much, but it’s top secret, you can’t tell anyone.” He leaned in, looking earnest. He smelled vaguely of apples and cinnamon. She furrowed her brow. Was that what she was smelling earlier? “It’ll be our secret. Do you promise?”

Eden sputtered, “I mean, I guess?”

Seemingly satisfied with that response, he took her by the hand and tugged her off the beaten path. Eden stumbled after him, nearly losing her footing on the roots and divots on the forest floor. She’d changed out of her work clothes earlier, before meeting up with Petra, so she wasn’t dressed for trekking through the forest. “Oaks, do you mind slowing down a little, I, uh, ahー”

Her foot caught a particularly vindictive tree root, sending her careening forward. She braced herself for the inevitable impact, but Oaks reacted quickly. He scooped her up, pulling her flush against his chest with one arm. She blinked up at him in surprise, one hand pressed flat against the bare pectoral. His heart thundered under her palm, nearly as fast hers was beating at that moment. This close, she could make out the individual freckles smattered across the bridge of his nose.

Eden suddenly found it very hard to catch her breath.

“My bad.” He pulled away, looking a little sheepish. “I got a little excited.” His hand slipped back around hers and they moved on, albeit a little more slowly. “But we aren’t in a rush. Part of the fun is the journey to get somewhere, am I right?”

“Honestly,” Eden said, smoothing her unruly curls up and out of her eyes. “I’ve never really been a fan of traveling.” That was kind of why she picked Portia for her sabbatical year. It was vaguely familiar from the one or two times she visited as a child with her aunt and uncle. She already had a connection or two with Presley and Isaac, not that she considered them close friends or anything. It seemed like a low maintenance location. Traveling always seemed like an unnecessary risk, but she needed to get away from the bustle of Vega 5 to fully recover from all her, as her therapist put it, issues

“It was never really my speed.”

“Well, with that attitude, you never will,” Oaks said with a chuckle. “Every new place is an adventure if you believe it is.” He gave her another radiant smile. “Take this top secret location for an example, you’ve never seen it before, right?” She nodded. “Well, aside from that little snag earlier, I think I can make it pretty fun for you.”

She snorted. “And how do you reckon that?”

Oaks paused, his nose wrinkling as he considered her question. Eden resisted the urge to roll her eyes. So, he didn’t even know. It shouldn’t have surprised her. After twenty six years. she still didn’t know how to cut loose and have fun. She had the PhD hanging over her desk to prove it.

“Who do you think would win in a fight ー a panbat or an illusion bunny?”

They shared a long look. “What?”

Oaks shrugged. “It’s a question. Which do you think?” He held out his hands, as if he were weighing his options. “On the one hand panbats are small and move faster than the illusion bunnies, but the bunnies have a hat, so it feels like a toss up. I’ve always been curious, but I’ve never been able to come to a decision. You seem smart, so what do you think in your expert opinion?”

Eden bit back a smile. He was too pure for his own good. “You do realize my area of expertise is in relic tech, right?”

Oaks hummed thoughtfully. “In that case, have you considered there are tech versions of panbats?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that would be…” She trailed off and thought about it. Maybe Oaks was onto something there. A lot of people thought panbats were cute, but the fact remained that they were wild panbats. One couldn’t just pluck one out of the forest and call it a pet. “That would be pretty amazing actually. Do you think someone would invent it so they could keep a versions as a pet without the social repercussions of capturing and domesticating an actual panbat?”

Eden got swept away in their conversation. Every time she hit the proverbial wall, Oaks was right there with another wild idea that kept the momentum going. She had written off when she arrived in Portia. He was a wild child, born and raised in the forest, but he overflowed with new ideas. In Vega 5, Eden was expected to be a cog in the well-oiled machine. Cogs didn’t change. They didn’t question. But here she was, discussing the intricacies of how one would cuddle a panbot model without realizing it was a machine.

It wasn’t even possible.

She’d been in the field long enough to know that, but Oaks made her feel like she could do anything as long as she was willing to put in the effort.

And she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“And here we are,” Oaks announced with a swipe of his hand. Eden blinked in surprise. They had been walking that whole time, hadn’t they? She didn’t even notice.

They weren’t in the forest anymore, rather, the sloping hills at the foot of the Bassanio Heights. She’d seen it from a distance, but up close, it was absolutely breathtaking. A waterfall rushed over the edge of the cliffside, coating the grass and wildflowers in a soft dew. The flowers looked freshly bloomed and filled the air with a soft floral scent that eased the tension coiling around her shoulders. She always found flowers calming, but there weren’t too many patches of green in Vega 5.

“When I’m a little overwhelmed with everything, I like to come up here and watch the waterfall. The sound is calming to me,” Oaks explained, tugging her closer to the edge of the cliff that overlooked the water. It rushed past, filling the empty air between them with a soothing white noise. The flowers reached her calves in some places. He picked one, pale blue with teardrop shaped petals, and offered it to her. She took it, twirling it sheepishly between her fingers.

“Do you know how to make flower crowns?”

She shook her head. “Do I look like someone who knows how to make flower crowns?”

“Anyone can make flower crowns,” he said with a shrug. “Looks have nothing to do with it. And Molly says that mine are the best in all of Portia.” He plopped down on the ground and plucked a few more. Pink, blue, yellow. His hands moved of their own accord as he expertly wove the stems in and out. “I can show you my secret.” He peered up at her, donning a soft smile that left her chest swelling with a warm glow. He had a dimple on his right cheek. “I mean, if you aren’t too busy with all your real adult work, that is.”

Eden laughed despite herself and took a seat across from him. “You’re a little cheeky,” she said. “I would have never expected that from you.”

“Well, Papa Bear has the best sense of humor. I learned it from him.”

“Naturally.” She regarded her flower fondly, then tucked it behind her ear.

Oaks beamed. “That color looks nice with your hair.” He immediately grabbed a few more of the blue flowers to lace into the crown that was quickly taking shape in his lap. “Molly only likes the pink and yellow flowers when I make them for her, so I rarely get to use the blue ones.”

“Use as many as you want. I’ve never had someone make me a flower crown before.”

“Well, they should,” Oaks said with firm conviction. “They’re scientifically proven to make you happier.”

“Well, I’m going to need to see your research because I’m a little skeptical.”

He presented her with the flower crown, beautifully crafted with blue and yellow. “Let us try our hand at a little experiment,” he said, imitating Merlin’s haughty drawl. He placed the crown on her head, adjusting a few of her curls. He settled back on his knees and regarded her with this fond look on his face. “Perfect.” She cracked a small smile and dipped her head, trying to hide it. “Exhibit A. You’re smiling.”

“Correlation doesn’t equal causation,” Eden countered.

“I don’t know what that means,” Oaks said. “But, I do know that people smile when they’re happy and yours just keeps getting bigger. That has to mean something, right? You normally have such a serious look on your face.” He made a face, furrowing his brow and setting his mouth in a hard line. It was the same look that greeted her when she looked in the mirror every morning. He was spot on. She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled and burst out of her. “See, and now you’re laughing. That’s not a coral nation or whatever you said.”

“Correlation,” she corrected. “It means a mutual relationship between two things. So, just because we can measure a relationship between those two things, that doesn’t mean one is the cause of the other.” For instance, there was no quantifiable proof that the heat burning at her cheeks had anything to do with Oaks or his close proximity to her at that moment.

None whatsoever.

Still, she cleared her throat and pulled away, just to be safe. “It’s beautiful.” She straightened the flower crown, lingering on the silken petals. “Thank you.”

“I told you I make the best flower crowns.”

“Not so fast there, nature boy.” She wagged her finger at him. “I don’t know if I’ve gathered enough data to draw that conclusion.”

His brow pitched as he considered that. “Well, I can make you another one tomorrow? With more flowers if you’re worried about me not gathering enough before.” he offered after a long moment. Eden tilted her head at him, confused, but he was already moving on. “Or maybe we can go apple picking? I know where to find the really sweet ones.”

“I have a lot of work to do tomorrow,” Eden said. “I have to gather some ore in the mines, Gale wants me to catch him a few fish, and then I’m meeting with the Civil Corps to discuss the bridge construction to Amber Island.” She drafted her mental checklist for everything she still needed to get done and felt the tension pulling taut across her shoulders. There wasn’t enough time in the day to finish everything.

Oaks shrugged. “That’s just three things.”

Her thoughts ground to a halt. “W-What?”

He blinked at her. “That’s just three things,” he reiterated. “I might not be super smart like you, but even I know that’s not that many.”

When he phrased it that way, her to-do list seemed a little less daunting. “Just three things.” She chuckled to herself. “You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for.”

He wheezed and plucked another flower from the field. It was a deep red, almost the same shade as his hair. “Well, if that’s the case, you’d be the first person who thinks so.” The sad resignation in his tone made something inside her ache.

“How about this? While I’m fishing tomorrow, you can hang out with me and show me how to make one of these things.” She pointed to the crown. “I’m pretty handy myself. I might be able to give you a run for your title as the best of the best.”

He grinned. “I like that plan.”

“Me too.”

Oaks hummed contentedly and sprawled out in front of her. He pointed at the sky. “Do you want to hear the stories Papa Bear used to tell me about the stars?” Eden glanced at her watch, the back at Oaks hopeful expression. An hour had already passed, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. She would even be so bold as to say that this little adventure was fun.

He added quickly after a moment, “Or I can walk you home if you want to sleep?”

“This is just one thing.” Eden laid down next to him and smiled at him. He mirrored it. “Tell me a story.”

[petri808]

Hauntober prompt Black cat

Inukag requested by @malditamigs

AU story. I seriously need to learn the meaning of keep it short xD. 1800 words. Hope it came out okay, I liked the idea lol.

There was only one night that Kagome had any chance of lifting the curse, or she’d have to wait another year for the opportunity. For decades she’d tried and failed, and at some point, had almost given up on being human again. A witch had cursed her to be a black cat saying she needed to understand love before she deserved to be human. Okay, she had to admit back then she treated men like toys, getting them to fall in love only to drop them and move on. But to be cursed for it?! That wasn’t fair at all!

She’d take any man just to break this curse! At first, she thought how hard could it be to get someone to love a cat? Humans loved cats as companions and pets, surely, she could parlay such affections into breaking her curse. She’d play the role, the ever-loving kitty, using her wiles on the man, and on Halloween once the sun set, she would transform into a human, praying that because they’d already cared for her as a cat, they would instantly fall in love with her as a human. But it never worked. One after the other, they would freak out and kick her out the door. Be gone witch!

But she wasn’t a witch! Kagome just wanted to be human, to love, to have a family and grow old with someone. It may have taken a few years of trial and error, but she got it now! She understood how important love really was and begged for a chance to prove herself. Because this time, Kagome was the one who’d fallen in love.

It had been a fluke that she’d met Inuyasha two days after Halloween and being kicked out of another home. She’d been wandering the streets when an early snowstorm hit the city and his house was the closest shelter she could find. He took pity on the scrawny black kitty, taking her inside, feeding her and warming her up by a fireplace. Handsome and adoring to animals, this man she’d come to learn was only half human, a product of a human mother and demon father. Rare in this world, but also shunned to some degree. So, animals became the man’s company.

Kagome wasn’t sure at what point her affections had crossed the line into romantic love, but she knew that’s what she was feeling. It didn’t bother her that he could have a brash personality or how his social skills were poorly developed, because she understood the pain of being different. As a young woman, her lavish and selfish attitude would have scoffed at such a person but having been forced to see the error of her ways, it broke her heart when other people treated him like a freak. So, for the entire year she was with Inuyasha, Kagome did what she could in her limited capacity to make sure he felt adored by someone or something. To know he was special and important to her, not just because she had an agenda, but because he deserved to be loved for who he was.

The afternoon of Halloween, Inuyasha had returned from work a little more sullen than usual. From what Kagome could gather, some teenagers on a construction site were teasing him about his appearance, especially his canine ears, asking if he stayed in costume all year. Stupid, but not the worst insult he’s probably ever had, it still brought him down. So, Kagome works her magic, immediately purring and rubbing along his legs, pawing at them and begging for affections to make him forget about those creeps. And Inuyasha obliges, instantly taking a long exhale and picking her up for cuddles.

“Thank goodness I have you,” he scratches behind her ears and under her chest as he holds her in his arms. “I think you’re the reason I didn’t kill those dumbasses today cause then who’d be home to take care of you?”

“Merow,” she mewls and purrs at his ministrations, offering a feline response to his venting. If only she could tell him with words just how much he meant to her. The man gives her a few more scratches behind the ear before putting her down and going about his routine. Feeding her, taking a shower, and dinner for himself.

Kagome was growing nervous, fidgeting as the sun slowly set, because soon enough, Inuyasha was about to get the surprise of his life and her world could come crashing down around her. It was very different this time for her. She paces back and forth next to the dinner table as Inuyasha eats, just watching the light outside dim away. The anxiety driving her crazy, but the wait pained her more than ever before. If Inuyasha reacts like all the others before him, well... this time Kagome really might just give up from a broken heart.

Seeing his cat acting distressed, Inuyasha picks her up and places her on his lap. “What’s wrong?” She stands up and puts her paws on his chest, forcefully rubbing her face against his chin. “Aww, you really want attention today, huh,” he chuckles and snuggles her back, scratching her back and near her tail.

The familiar tingles start racing through her body, the signal that her transformation was imminent. So, Kagome tries to jump off, but he holds her down, preferring to cuddle. She tries a second time, struggling against him in concern of changing right on his lap!

“Kuro, first you’re all love me, now you want down?” He laughs, “typical feline.” She stops struggling and looks up at him, their eyes meeting. It was too late now. So, she stands up again, stretching as far as she can to wrap her paws around his neck. “Awww,” he hugs her, “that’s my girl.”

The transformation begins in a flash of light. “What the?!” Inuyasha shouts, but Kagome grips tighter to his neck. “K-Kuro?! Kuro what’s going on?!” He was about to find out as he watches with shock and awe as his sleek little black kitty changes right before his eyes, elongating, her feline features turning human. Her whines and cries from the pain torture his ears. They pin back as he gives up trying to understand, closing his eyes to the light and tightening the hold he’d had over her growing body.

Several moments pass by until finally... silence and a much heavier weight on Inuyasha’s lap causes him to release his hold. Kagome leans back slowly, her hands still around his neck, staring forward with trepidation to gauge his reaction. “I-I know this is a shock.” Her voice soft and tenuous on the verge of tears.

But all he can do was stare at her, processing the fact that his cat wasn’t a cat anymore but a beautiful woman with raven colored hair just like the fur he was used to seeing. Her yellow eyes were a chocolatey brown now, large and doe-like, with such porcelain white skin... holy shit! He had a naked woman on his lap! Her scent was interestingly still the same, just heightened and mixed with such pain and fear, his inner demon growled in annoyance. It didn’t like her feeling that way.

“Please, say something,” Kagome worries her bottom lip. The silence was killing her, and she couldn’t gauge his thoughts. ‘He’s in shock. Any second now he’s gonna bounce me off his lap and tell me to leave. I know it, it’s just like the other times.’ “I’m sorry,” tears quickly trickling down her cheeks, “this must be... maybe I should just leave...”

“What?! No, way, you— I’m not!” He stops and takes a deep breath to calm his own adrenaline, picking Kagome up and bringing them to the couch. He then pulls the throw blanket off the back of the couch, wraps it around and takes a seat beside her. “Tell me, who are you really?”

Kagome let’s out an exhale and tells her story from start to finish, tentatively at first but as the words flowed, so too, did the emotions tied to her journey of pain and understanding. It was like a cork being popped on a bottle of alcohol. She didn’t hold back anything seeing as she’d finally had an opportunity to tell her tale. By the end her cheeks were red and eyes puffy from crying, but a weight felt lifted off her shoulders. This was the longest conversation she’d held with another human in fifty years. “So, that’s everything,” her words dying out in a wisp. Though her tears had slowed they continued to trickle. “I’m sure it must all be overwhelming, a-and I’ll understand if you tell me to leave too.”

That’s when it was Inuyasha’s turn to surprise her. He reaches out and cradles her face in his hand and wipes away some of the tears. “I don’t want you to leave Kur—Kagome,” eyes softening. “You’re still my girl, even if... ehm, not in the same form. I’m not exactly complaining about it by the way.” The statement causes her to blush something fierce and her eyes avert away in embarrassment. “I mean, you’ve made me so happy this year, I think more so than any other time in my life. Cat or not, that was all you, right? Not some trick if your honest tears are telling me anything.”

“It’s not a trick. I think— know I’ve fallen in love with you Inuyasha.”

A second burst of light suddenly catches them off guard and Kagome’s body starts to glow.

“What’s going on?!”

“I don’t know! I don’t usually turn back till morning...”

But as quickly as it hit, the light dies away leaving her in the same human body. “Oh, my goodness...” Kagome looks to a confused Inuyasha, “I-I think it’s broken. Does that mean, you love me too?”

His eyes widen, “um, I mean I do like what I see, but I don’t know if I can say love yet.”

“But,” she looks at herself in confusion, “the witch said only love can break the curse and I assumed she meant the guy had to fall in love with me.”

“Based on what you told me, maybe it was you who had to feel real love.”

The sudden realization dawns on Kagome. It was true. All the others... she’d never loved them, only resigned herself to be stuck with whoever loved her to break the curse. This has always been a lesson for her to figure out. Fresh tears break free, so Inuyasha wipes them away, letting his thumb sweep along her skin. He’d been honest with her that he couldn’t use the word love yet but knowing how much this woman truly cared for him was certainly enough to let it enter a heart he’d walled off to love. He runs his thumb over her lips, then sweeps in, kissing her and letting his hand weave into her hair to test this newfound possibility. Needless to say, his inner demon was delighted.

“This is gonna take some adjustments, but so far I’m liking it,” he smiles. “I will miss how you greet me when I come home rubbing against my legs.”

Kagome bursts into tearful giggles. “I think that can still be arranged.”

[falsegoodnight]

some fic recs from the past months:

(this is for the person who requested via an ask!)

i haven’t been reading as many fics as i would like to be reading especially in the past few weeks, but here’s a bunch that i’ve either read or reread in the past couple of months (in no particular order):

make this feel like home by @soldouthaz | 43k

The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.

like it’s a game by @soldouthaz | 32k

there is little harry hates more than truth or dare.

and louis.

let me carry your weight by @soldouthaz | 29k 

louis is fresh out of a bad relationship with someone who made him feel awful about how he looked. on his journey to better himself, he meets harry - the ridiculously attractive and fit personal trainer.

call if you need me by @soldouthaz (a reread!) | 11k

If anyone asks later on, Louis plans to tell them that it’s all Niall’s fault.

* as you can tell, i’m very much biased when it comes to sarah :) especially her last fic which i beta-read! go read!

shouldn’t cry (but i love it) by @bloubird | 7k

They're roommates. They're quarantined. There's a small problem coming up.

Until by @allwaswell16 | 38k

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

Ours are the moments I play in the dark by @holdingthornsandroses (reread!) | 31k

Jane Austen's Persuasion AU. Nine years ago Louis Tomlinson was persuaded to break off his engagement to Harry Styles, a poor sailor. Since then Louis has come to regret being so easily convinced to give up his one chance of happiness. Now Louis' family is in debt and his childhood home is being sold. In a complete reversal of fortune, Harry has returned to England a wealthy bachelor looking to settle down. Events conspire to bring them together once more though Louis is- must surely be- the last man on earth that Captain Styles would think of now.

Ghost Note Symphony by @crazyupsetter | 96k

Louis is on tour when he first hears about it. It’s all over the news – Harry Styles Attacked By Fan runs in headlines for days. It’s not even just the gossip rags, either. Actual journalists are covering the story. It would have been impossible to avoid hearing about it. Technically, Oli is the one who tells Louis about it, but it’s not exactly being covered up. Harry doesn’t answer Louis’ text asking if he’s alright, but that’s not really surprising. They haven’t spoken for months, and it’s been a lot longer than that since they’ve had a real conversation. The sting of the text going unanswered is still there, less painful than it might have been a few years ago.

It’s not that it’s easy to forget about, exactly. Louis has a whole life outside of One Direction now, though. So Louis goes on with his life, figuring that if Harry was seriously hurt he would have heard about it by now. He might currently be in the same country as Harry, but being on opposite sides of it puts enough distance between them that putting it in the back of his mind is easy. There’s nothing Louis could do, even if he thought Harry might want him to.

That’s why everything that happens next comes as a complete shock to him.

Love’s Truest Language by @smrwine (a favorite of all time) | 53k

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

Tainted Saints and Velvet Vices by Toomanytears (reread!) | 126k

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

a trail of honey through it all by @yvesaintlourent | 27k

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

Or, the TPH fic we’ve all been waiting for.

kiss like fire by @louizsv | 9k

Harry watches as his uncle's new omega walks around the backyard, serving canapés and drinks to all of the family members gathered. Harry is surrounded by his cousins, all sat together, too young for the adults but too old for the kids and teens. He lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip when the omega crouches down by one of Harry's younger cousins and hands her a small cracker, sending her off with a sweet smile.

He watches as his uncle comes out of the house, sliding the patio door shut behind him and quickly making his way over to his omega. The omega looks up at him when he wraps an arm around his waist. His pretty lips move with soft-spoken words. Harry has to fight to keep his alpha in check when his dirty old uncle's hand dips down, grabbing at the omega's ass and making him jump.

"Dude," one of his cousins says, "Uncle Darron's new omega is such a milf."

Also, this one isn’t completed yet but I still recommend: 

Lidocaine and Palm Trees by @boldbabe | currently 40k, 4/5 chapters posted

Heat, fake tans and lots of traffic.

Harry never expected to earn his living this way when he moved to LA.

Louis didn't think he could ever be the same after his divorce.

A lighthearted story about two guys trying to find themselves in the vibrant, sprawling city of Los Angeles, with a side of technical porn industry stuff.

that took much longer than anticipated but i hope you (or anyone) enjoy! if anyone asks, i’ll maybe do a rec list for my favorite fics of all time... we’ll see.

remember to give kudos and consider commenting if you check any of these out!! they’re all fantastic!

*let me know if i made any errors :)

[lideria]

Open Book. | Johnny

Request: Hi! 😊 Can I ask for a Johnny imagine wherein he finally had time for a solo vacation in some other country after his very busy idol schedules. Then he meets this girl who stays in the same hotel and also in her own vacation. Btw, I love your fluffy stories ❤

Author’s Note: I kind of really don’t like this, I kind of think it’s cringey but I worked on it so much that I want to publish its first version heheh I hope you it lives up to your expectations! Plus, I hope you get to learn this amazing country a little, because traveling there has been at the top of my bucket list since I first learned about it when I represented it at an MUN conference back in high school lol

Warnings: Some swear words, mentions of drinking/intoxication, suggestive towards the end, kind of dialogue heavy, representations might not be at their best so please let me know if there are any problems. English is my second language so there might be errors, and that must be it. Please let me know if there is more!

Word Count: 4.262 kinda long

Genre: Fluff all around, Angst if you squint like you have really bad eyesight, traveler!reader, fem!reader (I have all of my fics besides this gender neutral, but I thought since it was requested specifically I’d make this fem!reader)

Hope you all enjoy and hope this is not as cringey as it is to me!! Stay safe and healthy, take good care of yourselves for me 💚Have a happy morning/day/afternoon/evening/night!

Going on vacation alone after many years of constant company is weird for Johnny.

It starts off normal. He goes to the airport accompanied with some managers, with a private car. His disguise is more secretive than ever— no special airport outfit, no make up, face mostly covered with glasses, a mask and a hat to make sure no photographers or fans spot him throughout the procedure. The only suspicious thing is that he gets special treatment with VIP access to avoid waiting in the lines and get over with everything quickly, but to his luck, nobody seems to suspect anything.

The weirdness of everything starts then. Managers leave when he passes passport control and gets into the duty free area. For the first time in years, he is completely alone. It is somewhat overwhelming.

But Johnny manages to keep his calm and go to his gate for the first of his flights. He gets to his business class seat, not bothering to take off his mask or glasses yet, and tries the in-flight entertainment system. Though, he has already memorized everything that it has to offer, so he opts for listening to music and editing a few experimental shots and videos he has taken instead before going to sleep.

When the flight is over and he checks his phone for the first time, he finds the group chat filled with encouraging messages and good wishes, which he finds is exactly what he needs.

It is early in the morning when he lands in Paris, and he has a couple hours to spare before his second long haul flight to Pointe-à-Pitre. So he treats himself to a breakfast before rushing to his gate. This flight of almost nine hours of flying does not seem to end since he has grabbed quite a bit of sleep on his first one. He does everything to keep himself occupied, walking up and down the plane’s aisles to make up for the lack of activity that his legs were getting. Somehow that flight also ends without much hassle. It ultimately ends up being the one that messes up his sense of time, since his body thinks it is 3 pm whereas the time in Pointe-à-Pitre is in fact 9 am when they land.

Within a matter of an hour is his flight to Bridgetown, and after his two long haul flights, this short flight of just over an hour is basically nothing. It comes and goes with a blink of his (very tired) eyes.

In all honesty, it awes Johnny that his luggage does not get lost during this almost a day long— 21 and a half hours, to be exact— travel, and he wants to thank every airline and airport worker ever for doing a phenomenal job.

But he cannot, because shortly after landing he has to take a boat ride to his final destination.

The lands are beautiful, the ocean more so, with their blinding greens and blues. His mask and glasses he had gotten rid of on his flight from Paris, but the glasses quickly make a come back, along with his hat under the morning sun. The guide that is designated for him and the group of people he takes the boat ride with takes them to their hotel, and after checking in and being guided to his little villa, Johnny is able to stand in an open space with a private bed and bathroom.

But it is all worth it. Because as he looks out of the windows that cover the side of the villa that looks out to the ocean, he can see the beautiful bay and the islands and the beauty of nature, with its bright colors and white noise that is the screeching of bugs.

Why travel so much? Well, if he had gone to a known, tourist-dense place, he probably would not get what he wanted to get— which is to relax. Truly let go of everything for a while. Disappear, even, with people not knowing him, ultimately resulting in him forgetting his usual life as well. He wants to be a bit invisible for once.

And St. Vincent and the Grenadines was the perfect place for that. He had been interested in this place for years after first seeing a random video that popped up on his YouTube recommended. Locals were known to be angels of hospitality, everyone seemed to be happy, views were amazing, yet it somehow attracted less tourists than the surrounding countries.

With a good ten days to spare here, the first thing he knows he will do is take a nap. For at least a good couple of hours. So he takes off his t-shirt that smells of all kinds of airports and plane seats, puts his glasses and hat somewhere, and does just that. Luggage still packed and all.

Only after waking back up does he even bother with unpacking his luggage, and to be honest, it is only because he wants to take his trunks out and head to the beach. He looks.. disheveled at best, or so he decides when he is putting some sunscreen on very carefully as it is just past the afternoon and he has a good chance of getting a burn otherwise. Johnny’s face is puffy, both from traveling and sleeping, and his nose is acting up a little— blocked because of all the air and pressure change. But is it enough to stop him from exploring around? No. Not really.

The bay is not crowded when he walks down save for a few groups of people and a couple others that are alone. It smells like sea salt and overall freshness, with small waves hitting the shore and a few yachts in the distance. The sand is almost white under his feet and the water is a beautiful turquoise.

What is truly different to him, though, is the fact that the beach seems to be silent. Sure, some people a few years younger than him were playing with a beach ball in the water and provided some noise, but not too much. It was almost too peaceful as he swam a few laps in the water.

That is not to say it does not feel magical and amazing, though, because it does.

He takes his time swimming around, looking down to see any formations or life in the clear water before coming out. In the heat that is much more manageable than back in Seoul, he walks back to his place, takes a shower, and dresses back up to go outside.

The resort is stupidly big. There are many facilities, pools, sports grounds, restaurants, entertainment areas and access to different bays that he feels overwhelmed by the time his stomach starts crying out for dinner— and even by then, he is not done with exploring the whole place.

It is only when he takes a brochure from a random information point and looks at it that he realizes this whole island belongs to this resort, because it is privately owned.

Looking at the map for directions, he goes to the nearest restaurant. It is fairly small, more like a pub than a restaurant, so he sits at the bar. The waiter hands him a menu with a smile on his face, and Johnny does not hesitate to smile back before thanking him.

There are so many options on the menu. Some local food, some not, some snacks, some appetizers, some main, some desserts, but basically too many. Especially since they all sound good to his stomach that craves something other than plane food.

“You seem lost, want help?” Somebody leans on the bar as they speak to him, and he picks his head up to look at them. A girl. A very pretty girl with a warm smile on her face. “Actually, yeah. I’d appreciate some help.”

Without even glancing at the menu, you respond. “Roasted breadfruit and fried jackfish tends to be good anywhere. It’s the national dish, can’t really go wrong with that.”

Your confidence beams like a shining star, so Johnny finds himself trusting you. He orders his meal with, again, a smile on his face, and gets flustered when the waiter compliments his outfit choice genuinely. So far, the locals really did seem very happy and positive, because the guide was also the same. Always smiling. And Johnny really appreciates that.

You, who is now sitting on the stool next to him order some roasted breadfruit yourself, before coming eye to eye with Johnny and chuckling a bit awkwardly. “Is it okay if I sit here?”

It kind of makes him feel bad that you felt the need to even ask him that, so he relaxes himself in an attempt to hopefully not look too intimidating anymore, and nods. “You don’t have to ask. Sorry, it’s just been a long travel day.”

Your smile grows wider. “Oh I know that feeling all too well. You look nothing like me when I’m just done traveling, though. I wish I could look like that.”

Something about the sentence makes Johnny smile to himself, and you seem to notice that, because you clear your throat. “I mean,” You let out before clearing your throat one more time because your voice is not quite like how it was. “I’m a full time traveler. I just wish it’d get easier by now.”

“You’re a full time traveler?” Johnny asks. He can smell the food being cooked now, and it smells absolutely delicious. Enthusiastically, you nod. “How come?” Because you look maybe his age, maybe a few years older or younger, whatever it is— you look around the same age. Full time traveling would have sounded like a good stretch (anyone your age) if it was not for the confidence you were radiating.

“I have a goal of traveling to 120 countries. Made it my job, I work for several magazines and networks writing about my experiences. Plus filming a documentary— but all by myself so it’s not like I’m getting payed for that or anything.” All of that sounds so incredibly cool to him, he cannot help but feel his eyes widen. “Everything I do is so that I can pay off the traveling expenses.”

“That sounds amazing,” Johnny says with a smile on his face, awed at the fact that you get to do this for a living, at least for now. The waiter comes back with their food, and the two of you thank him before digging into your servings. It is either because Johnny is really hungry, or because the dish tastes so good, or both, but it is delicious. Breadfruit is something he had not tried before but he finds himself loving it.

He kind of groans, which is embarrassing. “This is amazing.” It prompts a giggle out of his companion, and he too huffs at his own remark. “So, how many countries have you been to?”

Biting a breadfruit piece, you answer. “Ninety three,” You say it as if it is nothing. “So I’m starting to slow down a little. I’ve been here before, but I wanted to take a bit off my savings and have a vacation. Pamper myself, I guess.”

“Excuse me, ninety three?” Johnny asks in awe, grabbing a bite of his salty fish. You looked around the same age as him. “How long have you been doing this for?”

Your eyes roll upward, recollecting memories and counting the time. “Three years? More or less.”

“You’re crazy.” He chuckles lightly, to which you join. “I am.”

He continues to talk with you, asking you questions about how and why. It takes some time for him to actually ask you your name, but he does— luckily you are not insulted or suspicious by the fact that it takes him at least a good hour of conversing before he can ask you. In fact, you have a positive energy with the way you speak and act throughout the time the two of you spend which could only hopefully mean good. Because Johnny finds you really interesting, the initial physical attraction put aside. You sound like an open book that he would love to read.

Luckily, you give him a chance. Before you have to leave to catch up with your work, you suggest him something. “Are you by yourself?” Johnny nods at your question as he finishes up his meal. “No tours or anything?” Contradictory to his last answer, he shakes his head. When he looks at you, you smile to him, trying to ease the words. “During the day I’m usually island-hopping. I could show you around, if you’d like.”

The suggestion makes him feel all happy-go-lucky inside, and he can feel it reflecting by the way he smiles. “Do you suggest this to everyone?”

You do not answer. But the way your cheeks get slightly pink as you turn away from him with a chuckle is all the answer he needs.

The next morning you call his phone— the one in his little villa, that he had given its number of before you two parted your ways. It was too early in the morning, and your voice was not beaming the way it did the day before, but you still sounded more enthusiastic than he ever could. “Do you like hiking?”

Johnny kind of whines a little before he can catch onto what he is doing and stop himself. He really wants to relax, but he had the unfortunate chance of fortunately meeting you. “Is hiking literally the first thing we’re doing?”

“I was gonna do this before I met you too, so,” You yawn. “Plus, it’s not like we’ll hike in some forest. I’ll take you to an active volcano.”

It sounds too cool for him to not agree.

First you two meet up at the restaurant you had met in, having some light breakfast and coffee before you leave the resort. You take him to the port, saying you will have to take a ride to another island— Saint Vincent to start your hike. You inform him that the peak is at a whopping 1,234 meters which sounds really fun considering the way up will all be on foot not to mention the rocky trail, but in return, you promise him a beautiful view and countless photo-ops. Plus the ability to say I’ve hiked all the way up to the crater of an active volcano.

The boat ride is short and before he knows the two of you are already on the trail between groups of tourists. The weather is only just starting to get hotter when you start hiking, but he knows it will not be much of a problem anyway with the height you are hiking up today.

“So,” You start speaking after a while of silence as you walk beside him. “You interviewed me enough yesterday. It’s only fair if I get to interview you.”

“Go ahead.” He says in a heartbeat, looking down at the bay the two of you were coming from. It was a good drop down, but considering how long it had been since you both started hiking, he would guess you are not even a quarter way done. “Who even is Johnny? What does he like to do? What does he not like? What is the one thing he can't back out of?”

He laughs at the curiosity that is in your voice, and at the questions before he starts answering. “Optimistically I’m a giant with way too big of a coffee and Coldplay addiction and love for photography, pessimistically I’m one tired guy that is long overdue a vacation, and realistically I’m just Johnny.”

Johnny sees you scrunch your lips and nodding. “That sounds pretty legit.”

That makes him laugh, and you do not hesitate to join him.

You two hike your way up to the volcano, and honestly speaking, it is maybe one of the coolest things he has done before. And you were right— there really are lots of beautiful sceneries with a three sixty view of the island, yachts in the water, the clouds, the colorful native flora and fauna, the crater of the active volcano for goodness’ sake, and the occasional wildlife that got close enough.

The hike takes around 6 hours. It is the evening by the time you get back to your resort and have dinner, and you only converse during dinner before calling it a night.

Next day you take him to Saint Vincent once again, this time to walk around the Botanic Garden. You tell him it is one of the oldest in the world, and that he can take photo-card-worthy shots, even film something if he wants to. He lets you show the way around ferns, palms, agave trees, cinnamon and breadfruit trees as parrots chirp and fly around. He learns that they are the national animal when a staff member spots him trying to take a photo of the birds and tells him, pointing at one colored blue, green and yellow before patting the flag on his work uniform. The middle-aged-almost-old guy laughs when realization dawns on Johnny and his mouth parts, with your sweet giggle in the background.

Johnny would not mind looking dumb if it gets you giggling that way again.

On the fifth day of his trip that rolls around way too fast, you to go to the market place on the main island. Not necessarily buying anything as most things sold are local produce, just looking for souvenirs of any kind, but all he ends up with is a magnet for each member and some baked goods because it is not strictly tourist season yet.

You take him to a restaurant that you know the owners of— which is kind of mind blowing to him how you can remember specific people after traveling to ninety three countries— and order a bunch of drinks with roasted breadfruit. You tell the family that owns the place that he is a friend of yours, a friend of yours who is visiting for the first time and has come from far away. And he hears the words Seoul, South Korea.

He cannot bring himself to listen to much after that.

Even when the older sister of the bartender that is serving you both tells him that the rums are quite dense in alcohol, and that one of the beers might taste a bit different to him since it is made of tree barks and spices, he does not care too much.

There are lots of shots placed in front of you, and you call for him to clink his glass with yours in cheers before he tries. He does what you say, but stops before any of you can drink. “How do you know where I came from?”

Johnny hears you chuckle airily before smirking a little and leaning towards him on the counter. “Well I’ve visited South Korea before, and it’s hard not to know when I’ve literally walked into your face at a mall. Went there for the library, originally.”

It makes sense. The Coex mall. A weirdly serious tourist attraction because of Starlight Library, neighboring his agency’s museum, which thought it is for whatever reason necessary to put digital screens everywhere with idols’ displays on them. The world is so small. Even when he is at a place so little that it is a literal dot on the world map, he is somehow spotted. But this time it does not feel all that serious.

“But I swear that’s not why I approached you at first. I didn’t even realize until I went over a few videos the other day and literally saw your face in one of them. Imagine the horror I went through.” You laugh lightly before clinking his glass again. “For a good minute I thought you’d think of me as a crazy fan or something.”

“I was about to, just now.” He sees your face change in shock and mocked hurt, and raises his glass a little in defense. “But I didn’t. Your explanation makes enough sense.”

You laugh. “Just down the drink, Suh. You need to get tipsy already.” He sees you down yours and smile a little afterwards, and you shrug, just as he brings his glass to his lips. “For the record, I don’t care. Like you said, realistically you’re just Johnny.”

He downs the drink with a dumb smile on his face.

The two of you return to the resort slightly tipsy that day, but it does not stop you from going out the upcoming day.

You go to Kingstown again and walk around looking at the buildings and the Gothic churches that seemed to be everywhere despite the town’s small size, taking photographs and interacting with the locals. He finds himself to be greatly inspired by the coexistence of the English colonial architecture that looks old, intimidating and grey, with the colorful, wooden and inviting local architecture— he photographs almost every street you two pass, sometimes even asking locals if he could photograph them. It is a generally more relaxing day as you hang out and eat and drink and speak and support the local businesses, dedicating time to each other.

On the seventh day, he basically gets dragged out of his room with you promising that you will give him the last two days of him to laze around. Until this point he had already skipped swimming in any way for 2 days, and he really wanted to have relaxed beach days with the comfort of a bed available to him at anytime because who knew when he would get another vacation like this.

But he internally shuts his internal voice up when your boat ride (a different kind this time) brings you to a waterfall inside a canyon.

Johnny comes to learn you are an adventure addict, one that likes to share her experiences. And he loves that about you.

Well.

Johnny comes to learn that he himself is a bit of an adventure addict when he kisses you on the night of the ninth day.

In all of his defense, there was a fair share of attraction. The initial attraction was undeniable. He would have liked to think it was mutual. And maybe it was, because you had kissed him back.

Not only did you kiss him back, but you let him hold your hand and lead you to his room for privacy. You let him caress you, your cheek and your waist as he kisses you against the wall. You let him lay you down on his bed. You let his hands roam around your body, and you roam your hands around his as well. You let him mark you up in his moment of bad, tipsy judgement, the plum colored bruises splattered around your chest and stomach where his hands bunch your top up. And maybe just to get even, you lay him down mark him up too, focusing on his collarbones. You both let each other elicit such sounds from one another, it is almost hard to believe that you two had just met several days ago.

It is a tipsy mistake at worst. Neither of you goes further out of mutual respect.

Yet maybe it is not the worst, because you sleep and wake up together. Still tangled in each other.

It is the tenth day. In a matter of hours, he has to be at the port to go to Bridgetown again and start the madness that is his way back.

“I don’t wanna leave yet,” He complains as he rubs your arm that is slung over his chest, getting a hum from you, though not the kind you had made last night. “Why?”

“My sense of time was just getting better,” That gets an unenthusiastic giggle from you. “Ouch.”

“Why?” Shrug. “I thought it was because of me or something.”

You are joking, but he does not get it. He looks down at you, meeting his gaze with yours when you tilt your neck up to look at him. Even better, he furrows his brows. “You’re part of the reason why. Probably the biggest part.”

Silence. But you smile softly, which makes him smile softly.

You can see the hope inside his eyes, and when he parts his lips, you cut him off. “Don’t even ask. Dating and traveling full time don’t exactly go hand in hand.”

What you say does not even faze Johnny. “I can imagine. But I’m willing to learn more about you, if you let me,” He mumbles sleepily. “I don’t mind waiting if we want something to happen. And I don’t mind having a kick-ass friend who’s traveled to 120 countries if we decide we don’t want something to happen.” This time, he shrugs. “Win-win either way.”

His fake carelessness makes you laugh even though you are too tired to laugh fully, and in the end you just end up smiling way too wide to the point where your cheeks hurt. You would like everything he just said and more. “If you insist. Are you ready to hear the classiest thing about me yet?”

“Hm?”

“You need to e-mail me or call me from Skype because half the time I don’t even have connection.” Looking at his sleepy, dumbfounded face you laugh a little, but he shrugs again.

“I could work with that.”

[a-trying-writer]

[Memories - sr--hk fic. A really really rough draft. Oof. Typed it from my phone so yeah. I need to fix the errors once I come back to this with a fresh mind.]

In the middle of a staring contest, Racter interrupted Capricious with a question. "How long do you plan on staying like that, my friend?"

She turned away briefly from Koschei before resuming the contest. "Until he blinks," she answered then giggled. "I kid, I just want to take in the details actually. There is something I'm kind of wondering, if you don't mind me asking."

"Ask away."

"Do you ever think about giving Koschei a miniature version of him, and make him pop out from his compartment?"

Racter paused his work to look at Capricious quizzically. "Like a matryoshka?"

Her lips parted into a wide grin as she gave him a nod. The rigger sighed heavily from how silly the question was, but he did find it a little bit curious himself. "Perhaps, but the amount of work that would have to go into that drone would be for naught, if I don't give it a piece of myself to make it work."

"That sounds rather risky, since you already done it once... which makes me wonder how you did it in the first place, but that's something I kind of don't really want to know." A shudder went up the decker's spine. "Ignorance is bliss and all that."

Racter chuckled, while Koschei extended one limb out towards Capricious. The drone stood tall and glared at her with his bright red sensors. "Perhaps, my friend, but there is value in knowing such things, especially if you want to help me build the future I seek. On a different note, I think Koschei has grown curious about you too."

"Oh really? What is he curious about?" she replied, knowing that Racter wasn't being serious.

"Why did you tattoo spots across your face?"

That's a rather unexpected question, Capricious thought, but it did make her wonder the same question herself. A vague memory of her time in prison starts to surface, of Bleak suggesting the spots to make her stand out, as well as bleaching her dark brown hair.

While she was hesitant at first, thanks to how strict Raymond was with Duncan and her, Bleak was there to help her break that mold her foster father built for her. Something that she never liked since he took her in.

When she shared the memory with Racter, he hummed thoughtfully. "I see that it's coming back to you, the memories of this Bleak person."

"Actually... that memory isn't that vague compared to the ones that were erased or messed with..." Capricious got up from the floor to approach the Russian with her arms across her chest. "I had a discussion with Gaichu about something personal, and Bleak was one of the few people I thought of. It's bizarre how they didn't erase the memories from prison... and it feels unreal when I try to connect some dots between then and when Raymond called me... it feels... like I am having an out of body experience..."

"That's only natural, my friend. While I do not understand how it truly feels, I assume that it would be strange for you to have some memories of a missing year. Tell me, what's the last thing you could remember before your foster father contacted you?"

Capricious grew silent as she thought about it. The memory of what happened was a blur, but there was a strange feeling on her arm that she could only describe as a pinch. Like a needle going under the skin.

A soft hiss escaped from her at the memories of being poked and prodded in prison, because of her illness and the many check ups she had to keep up with. The feeling overwhelmed her enough to speak up. "Sorry, Racter, but this is starting to get to me... I'm going to head upstairs to rest, and maybe think about this... conversation."

"Very well, my friend, it's for the best. Do rest well."

"Thanks... see you around." Before she left, Capricious gave Koschei a wave. "And you as well, little spider."

[smolbeandrabbles]

Living Proof - Captain Emmett Dutton x Reader (Australia)

When She Says Baby / Starlight

GIF CREDIT: X 

@mandy23b​ @wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad

Author’s Note: A little reimagining of When She Says Baby but also a sequel! At this point just thank @crawlingmist​‘s gif sets; the amount of inspiration is unreal And also the fact that I’m listening to a bunch of new music I haven’t had chance to...

Original idea based on a discussion I had with @mandy23b​ and therefore heavily inspired by the bathtub makeout scene in “Hunt Angels” - and also why I threw a Kathner reference in at the end 😏😉 This is another one I started ages ago (December!) but took me so long to finish, and then it’s been kicking around waiting to post-!

Disclaimer: Gif not mine / lyrics not mine / Australia characters not mine oh my god look at the baby!

Premise: When you accidentally injure yourself, Emmett Dutton has the perfect remedy. You’ve got some plans to remedy some things for him, too... 

Words: 3527

Warnings: sexual connotations

_________

Tell me something, but say it with your hands slow When you touch me, paint me like a Van Gogh I wanna study every inch of you 'Til you trust me to make the angels come through

Like a choir singing, "Hallelujah" When my body's crashin' right into ya When we align, ooh yeah Do you feel me? Can you feel me? 'Cause I can't breathe

Where did you come from, baby? And were you sent to save me? Ooh There's God in every move, ooh And you're the living proof The way your hands can't shake me Soft to the touch like baby, ooh There's God in every move, ooh And you're the living proof 

Countin' freckles, as they run down your spine Show your demons, and I might show you mine One at a time, yeah, yeah What are you hidin'? What a design, yeah, yeah I wanna dive in, what a divine moment Can you feel me? Can you feel me? 'Cause I can't breathe

---

Emmett had to carry you home. You refused to look at him, grumbling nearly all the way back, which made him sigh; “I did warn you.” “This is embarrassing-!” You weren’t exactly sure how you’d done it either, but you’d certainly done something to all the muscles up your right hand side over your ribs. It felt like cramps and knots rather than a strain... but you couldn’t tell yet. And you thought you were okay, until it started audibly popping. Which you knew wasn’t normal, and it hurt to move - so there was no way you were walking all the way home. Besides as soon as Emmett heard it and started showing concern you knew you were done for.

Okay, you probably would have. But this was Emmett Dutton you were talking about so, of course he had to be the gentleman and carry you back. And you were making sure he knew that you were none too happy about that. “A bath will probably fix you right up.” You folded your arms with a pout - “That’s the best you can come up with? All that army training and bath is the best you can do-!?” “Funny, usually you’re not one for complaining about things like that…” He opened the door and you gasped; “Why-! Emmett--! What are you suggesting!?” But the look on his face only made you laugh as he closed the door with his foot, and then you winced. “Okay, I’ll behave. If you think the bath is the best place for me…  please, do take me to the bath, good Sir!” He shook his head, with a grin, “Oh stop!” Emmett took the stairs gently, making sure your body was still well supported. He entered the bathroom and paused with a small frown of his own, “What?” “Well I can’t actually put you in a bath still dressed, can I?” He swivelled, eyes searching the room for somewhere he could sit you, Emmett held you that little bit tighter too conscious of dropping you. “AH!” In the corner of the bathroom was a spare chair you usually placed towels and clothing on whilst you bathed – Emmett pulled this to the side of the bath sat you delicately on it, “Perfect.” You shook your head at him, with a small smile as he began to run the water, “I don’t think you know the meaning of the word.” That tone in your voice had him raising his head to you slowly, and that look on your face had blush dusting his. “D-Don’t you start.” You batted your eyes innocently, “But you are.” He pointed at you, backing up to find your favourite soap; “You were complaining at me less than 15 minutes ago!” You sighed gently, tipping your head and placing your arm across it for dramatic effect, “Oh but, Emmett, I’ve seen the error of my ways.” He very nearly stuttered through his next sentence, pouring a little more than necessary; “S-Stop it-! I’m n-not undressing you!” You tsked, “Oh, you’re no fun.” His laugh was strained as he left the room to collect you fresh towels and clothing, “I think the word you just used was perfect.” You shook your head, watching the bubbles begin to form in the hot water, and the steam rise in gentle clouds. As the bath continued to fill you decided not to waste time waiting for him to return and stood gingerly, slipping your clothes from your body yourself. You had to be careful at how delicate your side was behaving, but there was no visible bruise – so hopefully it would just be a cramp that needed heat to unwind. You didn’t even want to help him by throwing them on the back of the chair, instead leaving them strewn around the bathtub, before you shut the water off and stepped in. Emmett had the temperature just right, you would certainly give him that. You slipped beneath the water and let out a sigh of content, resting your head against the tub with a soft smile. He was perfect – and you weren’t about to let him forget it, especially when his blushes were always so damn cute. You heard his footfalls coming back towards you moments later, and as they reached the bathroom floor, even when you weren’t watching you heard his stumble. Then Emmett’s slight cough as he regained composure, but hesitated in walking across the bathroom to you. Sure he’d collected good soft towels for you, and fresh comfortable clothing, but he knew what was bound to happen if he got anywhere near you. The last thing you were going to do was stay in that water… beneath the bubbles at least. What you knew, of course, was that Emmett also wasn’t about to leave the contents of his arms anywhere but the chair next to you. To make him a little more comfortable you didn’t open your eyes, and kept taking relaxed breaths. A silent promise that you weren’t going to move like he thought you would. Emmett skirted the room, getting as close as he dared before placing the towels on the chair, eyeline everywhere but the bath, and yet he could still feel himself getting hot under the collar. And for a moment he hated that you knew all his ticks so well; because he also wasn’t about to leave the bathroom floor a mess. Gathering your skirt and shirt, he sighed gently at the way your underwear was just strewn nonchalantly at the foot of the bathtub; collecting these too Emmett couldn’t help but look up to the sound of movement through the water. A fateful mistake, as he came face to face with you, your head resting on your folded arms – inches from his face. His pretty blue eyes were suddenly wide, and they begged you not to move. Your slow blink was just as innocent before, your voice full of sugar; “Oh, Emmett, you’re such a sweetie. What would I do without you?” “Uh, I…” His eyes couldn’t help but trace the lines of your face, the sweet little smile you were giving him, your soft skin and the water droplets now running from it, the way the ends of your hair were now darkened, having already been soaked, giving them a gentle curl, the colour rising on your own cheeks at the temperature of the water. You reached out with a hand, knowing he was already immobilized; your touch was so warm and yet he couldn’t help but almost shake as you pulled him in for a gentle kiss. “Thank you.” “Y-You’re welcome.” His eyes still held yours, but Emmett was bashful – and suddenly in the silence he backed up, “Wait! NO!” He stood, face flushing again, “You-!” You sunk back into the water, “Aw, come on Captain… I could do worse.” “I’m leaving you here in peace! You’ll be the death of me at this rate-!” But your eyes and the pout on your lips worked like a charm and you patted the chair again; “And leave me alone? Oh… But Emmett! You wouldn’t, would you?” He swallowed hard, looking to the clothing in his arms, “Just… let me put these in the wash.” But he pointed at you, “No tricks.” “I promise.” Although you could only promise him anything but.

*** Emmett sat gingerly when he returned, as far from you on the chair as he could get, still wary of you and your feminine whiles. He knew what you were capable of, and wasn’t the least bit fooled by the innocent look on your face – and as if to prove he would be ignoring you, he set a folded newpaper across his lap, but he did spend a little longer than he thought necessary surveying the water. Steam was still rising, and he hoped that would help you. You drew your hand from the water and held it out for his; Emmett’s sigh was gentle, but he took it, running his thumb affectionately over the back of yours; “How are you feeling?” You nodded, with a soft smile, “Better. Thank you… You always do know best.” “Well,” His smile held all his adoration as he looked to your face, “Anything for my best girl.” That made you blush at least a little; he was honestly such a gentleman, whatever you did to get him, you were only ever intent on keeping him. There was silence for a moment, before he chuckled; “This seems awfully familiar!” Your mind flicked back to his return from Darwin, and your heart caught for a moment; “Hardly as serious…” But you gripped his hand a little tighter; talking about it still scared you, “I’m so glad it’s all over…” “Mhm…” Emmett’s hand slipped from yours and he stroked your hair, “Me too… At least life has a little more normality now.” There was some truth in that, he was stationed back here with you, where he belonged – currently. Although you’d already vowed to him that any movement he made from now on would take you with him. You nodded, closing your eyes and sliding your body further into the hot soapy water – lying still for a moment. Emmett kept his hand on the side of the tub for a moment, pausing to watch you – you were calm and serene, and he couldn’t help but stare at you in complete adoration for a minute. The colour that flushed your cheeks now was gorgeous, and you looked so content and happy. “How’s the side?” “Better…” He watched the water stir as you pressed your hand over your ribcage; “…Yeah. It doesn’t hurt as much.” “As long as it’s working…” You nodded once more, and even though your eyes were closed you continued to smile, bringing your hands back up to run them through your hair. He wanted to tear his eyes away from you, to sit here and keep you company whilst you relaxed; that was the right thing to do, that’s what Emmett would normally do. But it was the way that you had been staring at him from over the rim of the bath that got his eyes sweeping the water and him swallowing hard. You caught him at it; eyes cracked open – that smile turned quickly to a smirk, and his hand was in perfect grabbing distance.

“WOAH!” He had to steady himself on the other side of the bath with his right hand, left pulling from yours, but now resting against your shoulder. Emmett mere inches from touching the water himself; you tsked with a pout – surely his army training had been the thing to save him. Water sloshed from side to side and spilled to the bathroom floor with the force of his weight against the tub, you were sure he’d love that just as much. You were a little annoyed but it didn’t stop you from looping your arms around his neck; “If you’re going to spend so much time staring, Captain, you might as well join me…” “Y-Y/N!” Once again Emmett was flushed and stammering, but he hadn’t pulled away from you, “Stop!” Your hand ran from around his neck to over his chest, and his breathing became shallow as you continued to pull him closer. “Just kiss me, Captain…” He moved his hand from your shoulder to the tub, resting just to the side of your head, but Emmett knew better than fighting back, and lowered himself another inch to brush his lips to yours. Another mistake on his part, because you pulled him to you tighter, and when he pulled back he found himself lifting you from the water – body pressed against his. His sigh against your lips was soft at how warm your body felt against him; you were still kissing on him, and clinging to his shoulders to let him know you weren’t about to let him go. You released his lips and Emmett was breathless, so off guard that he was basically speechless, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him – tugging him back into the bath with you by his shirt collar. The front of his shirt was soaking and now plastered to his skin, and you’d assume that the back was the same at this point. You curiously glanced down the rest of his body, noticed his spattered trousers from the force of the water pouring over the side. Your eyebrow raised and you looked back to him; “Oh, Ooops…” “Y-You-!” He attempted to protest, and you pushed a finger to his lips, “Hush-! Join me…” “Y/N!” His eyes were wide and voice shocked by the notion. “Darling, you might as well…” You looked back to his clothing, hands sliding to the first few buttons, the first one was undone but as you travelled to the second his hand caught both of yours – but that only brought him closer to you as his right hand struggled to support his weight against the wet surface of the tub. “Y/N! This isn’t proper--!!” But you could still move your hands under his to undo that second button, and you leant up to kiss him again; “This is my house, and you are my partner…” third button, your next kiss was to his jaw “…we’re not in Darwin, we’re not at a party, we’re not in public…” then his neck, and Emmett slipped again, this time with a quiet moan, suddenly his shirt was even more soaking, and his body was pressed back against yours, “…And I love you.” But you hardly thought you needed to say that. His eyes met yours, clearly embarrassed as he stood straight, water cascading from him and to the floor. Emmett wiped the droplets from his face and ran his hands through his hair with a soft sigh; “You are… you know exactly what you…” He panted again, unable to finish, “I…” You waited for him to make a sentence, to say anything even coherent, but his fingers were already on his own buttons. His hands were shaking, you sat straight, and beckoned him back to you; “Baby let me help you with those…” Emmett’s resistance was gone, and he took your offered hand to allow you to pull him back to undo his shirt. It fell to the floor with no resistance – and it wasn’t long until the rest of his clothes joined. You bit your lip gently and huddled your body to let his join yours in the other end of the bath. Yet you didn’t leave him to get relaxed. Pushing forward through the water you wrapped your arms around him again, lips back on his, he embraced your body close to his; and with the temperature you couldn’t tell if the red in his cheeks was embarrassment or the heat – but you thought you knew the answer. He tangled his legs with yours as you ran your fingers through his hair; and the harder you kissed him, the further you pressed your body into his, the more delicious his stifled little moans became – Emmett always tried to keep them to himself. You always thought that odd; like he thought the whole damn street would automatically know you were having sex. (Though, had to admit to yourself that sometimes you wanted them to know what he was capable of doing to you). That only made you even more delighted when you managed to pull a real one from him; lips to his neck and grinding your body into his. He sighed your name, and then again, his grip on your body tightening as you smirked into his skin. Emmett gasped, and his fingernails dug into you, nudging your head he pleaded to capture your lips with his once more and you allowed him as much of you as he wanted – gasping as he gained the confidence to explore you. You were a marvel to him, every single inch of you beautiful, heaven sent. And yet even you knew that he was the real Angel here. The pain in your side was quite forgotten by now as other feelings stirred within both of you. You continued to grind against him until Emmett could barely breathe, he couldn’t kiss you, his head tipped back and his breaths became short and sharp pants; “Y/N-! Y/N! P-Please S-stop! Stop!” You did as he asked and stilled, waiting for him to calm down, which he did – slowly, and as his head raised you placed your forehead to his; both your eyes lust rimmed, and both of you gently panting. “Sorry, baby, I…” need you… I don’t just want you I need you… It was his turn to hush you, “I know…” His laugh was nervous, “I know…” but he kissed you gently once more, embracing you tighter, running his hands over your bare shoulders he placed a kiss to your forehead, before turning your body in the water. It was still at a moderate temperature, and you could spend some quality time together like this; your back pulled into his chest. Emmett looped his arms around your waist, and relaxed you both against the side of the tub, kissing your ear, back of your neck and finally your shoulder. You smiled gently; “Do we get to finish this later?” There wasn’t bashful silence this time, and you were met with a chuckle; “Perhaps.” You looked back at him; “…You’re really something else, Emmett Dutton.” His gentle blue eyes were inquisitive, maybe even confused, “I am?” “Yes.” You breathed, reaching back to pull his lips to yours once more, before resting your head against the side of his; “A real gentleman.” Then you giggled, “I’m not sure I am deserving.” He didn’t like that you’d say that, and shook his head, “No. No. I won’t hear a word of it.” His hands massaged you comfortingly under the water, “You deserve no less. I am humbled by your presence.” It was your turn to blush horribly at that, “Oh… Emmett…”

 *** The rest of the bath didn’t end without a few good old-fashioned hand wandering and teasing shenanigans, but as you dried and dressed each other between gentle kisses you both knew that in the end, bath time cuddles were the best medicine. Emmett still insisted on checking your side, but was happy that you looked absolutely fine – you insisted you also felt it, but dressed in more comfortable clothing, Emmett also insisted that you sit quietly with him whilst he read the paper; because, pulling him into the bath meant he hadn’t quite got around to doing that.

You got to be cuddled up with him, and closed your eyes to inhale his warm inviting scent, and because of the bathing products – he also smelt faintly of you. That gave you a little bit of an ego boost, and you desperately tried to think of something to send him down the road to do, any small errand – just to say Yes, he smells like me, because he’s MINE. But you couldn’t think of a good excuse, and so in your arms he stayed, which in all honestly you probably preferred, you could keep him all to yourself here. “Now I might actually get to read this!” He flipped over another page, surprised you were staying remarkably still. That raised a smirk from you, head on his chest; “OH! Don’t be so sure-!” Emmett tsked, almost knowing he shouldn’t have said anything and continued reading, until he noticed that something interesting was going on in your little town; “Are we engaged tonight?” You peered at him from underneath your lashes; “I believed we were finishing off from the bathtub…” His nervous chuckle was back, “Could… Could we go out instead?” “Instead-!?” You pretended to protest, but knew that considering what you’d just been thinking, you would love to have the Captain on your arm. “Well, alright, as well as-!” You pretended to think hard, “That depends. Where are you taking me tonight?" Emmett nodded to the paper; "Oh, they're showing that new Kathner film at the picture house..." You immediately brightened; "Kathner!? Now there's a good-looking man!" It was an obvious tease, but Captain Dutton fell for it anyway; "Y/N!" You grinned; "Nearly as good looking as you!" "Y/N!!" You pressed a finger to your lips in thought; “I wonder if he’s ever filmed any steamy bath scenes…” Emmett covered his face, in potential embarrassment for you as well as himself; “Stop it or we’re not going.” Your grin was however triumphant; “You don’t really want me to stop, do you Emmett? Baby… Me?” You batted your eyelashes and then took his hand, “I would love to go to the pictures to see a Kathner film with you...” You looked to the clock, “I think we can finish before the film starts-!” He sighed, with a gentle roll of his eyes; “Remind me what I’m going to do with you…?” You threw his paper to one side, looping your arms around his neck and straddling him suddenly – certainly a bold move – “What you always do incredibly well, Captain. Love me.” 

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Thank you for reading!! 💕💕💕