#it all just gets washed away by the fact that two promising a mountain holiday getaway to jamie is officially licensed content

[the--highlanders]

technically I have serious thoughts abt the themes in two's destination prague stories but every time I think about them my brain turns to mush. 'you promised me two weeks on a mountainside'. god. gay people.

[samstree]

Hug a Witcher Day (1/3)

Jaskier writes a new song ‘Hug a Witcher Day.’ It gains insane popularity and Geralt finds himself hugged by random strangers on one day every year. He just wishes a particular bard would hug him too.

By one person’s popular demand, I present to you a touch-starved Geralt, a cheeky Jaskier and a lot of pining. 

fluff, hand holding, sharing clothes, yearning, 3k, rated G

read on AO3

It is the most ordinary morning.

The wind is picking up after last night’s rain, a common occurrence in the fall, bringing nice moisture in the air all the way from the sea. The last of the heat washed away to reveal crisp blue sky, stretching all the way to meet the mountain range.

It’s an ordinary morning, except everyone is staring at Geralt.

The inn is not busy this early in the morning, but a few patrons have risen for the first meal of the day. As the witcher sits down at a table, the atmosphere changes instantly. The conversation hushes and eyes start turning in his direction. Some are even giggling with their friends upon seeing him.

Although, there’s no malice, no fear, or disdain.

Only amusement.

It won’t be the first time that a crowd finds a witcher to be a curious sight. Although it is unusual for a town of this scale to have never seen one of them before.

So Geralt pays no mind. He only wants to finish his porridge in peace. His stomach has been rumbling since he missed dinner last night. The hunt took way longer than he anticipated, and by the time he returned, the inn had long since stopped serving. Although the maid—a young girl no more than sixteen—promised to give him an extra portion at breakfast.

Even she’s staring too.

The girl takes a look at Geralt’s finished bowl and hurries to fetch another from the kitchen. She carries the porridge and an extra loaf of rye bread to his table with a smile that gradually lights up her whole face.

Geralt nods as she puts them down, confused at the good mood of this whole establishment.

His confusion grows when she doesn’t leave. Instead, the girl lingers a moment, as if working up her courage, before bending down to circle her arms around Geralt.

He has to fight every instinct in his body to stay still and let her hug him. Her arms are squeezing gently, not the too-tight kink. Her curled locks are all over his face. When she pulls back, her round cheeks are flushed like a beet, the grin now carrying a hint of embarrassment.

“Why—”

“Thank you, master witcher!” she exclaims chirpily.

“What for?” he frowns.

“For getting rid of the fiend, of course!” She’s almost taking offense at the question. “Right before today, no less.”

“What’s so special about today?”

“It’s the day before Saovine, sir. Do you not know?”

Well…no. The passage of time registers too vaguely when he’s traveling alone from one town to another. The contract last night was no different from the last five.

Geralt doesn’t want to think about how monotonous the path is without a companion, or he’ll have to admit to himself that he’s missing the bard and his ridiculous songs and too-loud playing. He won’t do it, even in the safety of his own mind.

Still, her answer doesn’t explain anything.

“The day before Saovine!” she must be seeing his silence as an encouragement to continue. “It’s Hug a Witcher Day!”

Geralt drops the spoon into the porridge. Biting back a curse in a child’s company, he fumbles to fish it out.

“Hug a—what?”

“It’s how the song goes! Hug a witcher and thank him for the work he’s done. All the monster-killing in the past year!” Her smile turns to a tiny frown. “And you, sir, just killed that fiend for us last night. As the lyrics say, it’s only right that I hug you!”

“It was…my job. And why does it have to be Saovine?”

“It’s the day before Saovine, sir. It’s the last holiday before witchers rest for the winter. It’s only right to thank them now.” she proclaims proudly. “Have you really not heard ‘Hug a Witcher’?”

Should he have? Before asking the next question, Geralt has an inkling that he already knows the answer.

“Whose song is it?”

“Who else? Your bard of course. Master Jaskier the bard!”

The words your bard somehow lands on a soft spot in Geralt’s chest.

Although Jaskier hasn’t traveled with him for months. Geralt doesn’t pay attention to the bard’s new hits because they will eventually reach his ears anyway. Jaskier can never pass an opportunity to serenade him with every new composition when they are alone by a campfire, looking for the witcher’s personal reviews no matter how well-received by the public they appear to be.

“Hmm.” Geralt calculates the distance between where he is and Oxenfurt. This ‘Hug a Witcher’ song, in fact, is spreading faster than any of Jaskier’s famous ballads.

A hug can’t be worse than being tossed coins, right?

 *

It keeps happening for the rest of the day.

First, it’s the stable hand. Geralt is just trying to load his pack onto Roach when the young lad comes in. He doesn’t try to hug Geralt, only giving him a polite nod.

“Thank you. For your work, sir,” the lad says, before helping Geralt saddle the mare. “Like the song says, eh? Thank a witcher so no monster will plague you in the coming year.”

And then, it’s a few small children. A flock of them suddenly come out of nowhere and just… cling to his legs.

“Thank you master wiiiiitcheeeeer!” They shout in unison and drag the last few syllables longer and longer. And then the group disperses just as quickly as they gathered, giggling and running off to an alley.

All except one.

The smallest one stays at his feet, looking up and staring at him.

“Hug!” the boy stretches out his short arms.

Geralt blinks.

The boy stares, eyes wide and expectant.

So Geralt has no choice but to bend down and let the boy wrap those short arms around his neck.

“You’re welc—"

It’s over in a second and the child is rejoining his friends, who are now peaking their heads out of the corner of the alley. Excited squeals erupt among them.

Geralt feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

When he gets to the market, a few shop owners are smiling so brightly and offering discounts. Roach gets a horseshoe and an apple for free within the first hour. The silversmith shouts out thanks before jogging up to him and pulls him in for a bear hug.

“Hug a witcher for luck,” she says.

“No, it’s for good harvests!” an old man corrects her.

They keep coming.

But everyone has a different reason and it makes Geralt wonder how many versions Jaskier has for this one song. Or, he dreads to think, how long it is.

“Hug a witcher and death will avoid your door.”

“Hug a witcher for a merciful winter.”

“Hug a witcher for good rain!”

“Thank you, master witcher.”

“Thanks, sir, for your service!”

 *

“Geralt! You need to control your bard!”

Lambert growls as he slams into the heavy wooden door of Kaer Morhen keep, stamping his foot to shake off the snow.

Turning another page of the book, Geralt refuses to look at his younger brother when he’s in a grouchy mood.

“What did he do?” he asks nonchalantly.

“You know—" Lambert grits his teeth. “—what he did.”

The youngest wolf sits down, crowding Geralt’s space, his cloak still wet from the storm outside. Geralt raises an eyebrow but stays on the book. He is not going to make it easier for his brother.

After seconds of silence, Lambert finally gives in. “His song!”

“You can’t possibly be mad about Hug a Witcher.” Eskel walks in and also sits at the table, the sewing kit and a ripped shirt in hand. “It’s a good one.”

“I’m a witcher! They saw me and tried to hug me!”

“So?”

Like Geralt, Eskel only fuels the youngest wolf’s exasperation. He even starts to thread the needle, completely unfazed.

“So?” Lambert pulls off his cloak and the water splashes all over Geralt’s book. “For a whole day, people tried to touch me. A whole day, Geralt! All thanks to your bard and his blasted song! I couldn’t even get out of town without those folks jumping on me.”

“And? I don’t know about you, but I appreciate some showing of gratitude. Thank your bard for me, will you?” Eskel nudges at Geralt.

“Hmm.”

“I don’t care,” Lambert continues, pointing a finger at Geralt. “Tell the bard to stop this nonsense, or I will stop him myself and he won’t be as pretty afterwards.”

Geralt finally dogears the page and faces his brother’s tantrum. He wonders if the crease between his eyebrows is tight enough to crack a walnut—it might be fun to try one day. “Or you can just not let them,” he deadpans.

“What?”

“You are a witcher, the best one among us—according to yourself.” Geralt tilts his head, squinting. “Are you telling me you couldn’t fend off some villagers who were only trying to give you a squeeze?”

Lambert’s face stills, his index finger hanging in the air. In front of Geralt’s unblinking eyes, his face turns redder and redder.

“Urgh,” with an annoyed wave, Lambert storms off the same way he stormed in, all the while muttering all kinds of colorful curses.

Geralt purses his lips as to not let out a too-obviously laugh, but at the corner of his eyes, he notices Eskel shaking his head in amusement.

“All jokes aside, I liked the song.”

Geralt shrugs.

“Jaskier knows how to make them go around.”

“No, I like the day that came with the song. Just about a decade ago, people barely thanked us for a job well done, but now? Lambert is a prick, but I don’t mind having a pat on the back after spending a whole year on the path. Don’t you think?”

“Hmm.” He shrugs again.

Eskel has put down his needlework and is observing him intently. Both of his brothers are so weird about this, Geralt reckons, but on opposite sides of weird. Maybe that’ll be the bard’s review when they meet in the spring.

“Maybe you are indifferent because your bard already knows to appreciate you, wolf. Being your barker and all. Was he thrilled to see the rest of the world catch on?”

Geralt frowns while opening the book again, not sure where this is going.

“Jaskier wasn’t with me during Saovine.”

“No?” Eskel is moving into his space too. Urgh, the two of them. “You bard got the whole continent to hug you, but he wasn’t there to give you one himself?”

“No.”

A sudden surge of irritation rises, but Geralt isn’t sure why. All he wants to do is read the damn book without his brothers nagging him about how terrible or how amazing this ridiculous day is.

“Hmm.” Eskel mirrors his hum. Every time the older witcher does this is because he’s trying to figure out something, and Geralt has no intention of finding out.

“I’ll read elsewhere.” With a loud snap of the book, Geralt leaves the room in a few quick strides.

He has a feeling that this lousy mood might stick with him for a while yet. At least until he can leave Eskel’s inexplicable prodding and Lambert’s grumpy ass behind.

*

“I know you don’t like the touchy mushy stuff, Geralt. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know they would actually hug you all day long!”

Jaskier looks so contrite that his hands are reined in from his full-body gestures, and that’s how Geralt knows the guilt is genuine. His fingers are fidgeting with the hemline of his winter doublet and his hands, exposed in the chill, are turning red.

It’s still quite early in the spring, since Geralt has come to find the bard in Oxenfurt as soon as the ground thawed. A cold spell is hitting the town pretty hard, although Jaskier is sure that it’ll be the last one before green returns to this town.

It doesn’t help that snow has been steadily falling and melting at the same time during their stroll around campus. The bard shivers a little.

“It’s fine,” Geralt says, taking off his own scarf and wrapping it around Jaskier’s neck.

“It is not! Once again, I have been so focused on my professional achievements and forgotten about the impact those songs have on you. All of you.”

Jaskier helps Geralt adjust the scarf so it covers all of his neck and the lower half of his face. It’s made of the warmest yarn Vesemir keeps at Kaer Morhen, but the plain color is a stark contrast against the delicate design of the bard’s fur-lined doublet. In comparison, Geralt’s scarf looks too coarse to be there, but Jaskier seems content enough to bury his face into the material, letting out a soft sigh.

His hands still look cold, so Geralt removes his gloves as well.

“Eskel likes it. The song and the day.”

Those words seem to lighten Jaskier’s mood. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly.

“Really? He likes Hug a Witcher day?”

“Mm-hmm.”

The bard flexes his stiff hands before sliding into the leather gloves. They fit surprisingly well with Jaskier’s long fingers, only a bit loose on the wrists, so Geralt makes sure to fasten the cords. He then holds both Jaskier’s hands between his palms, just to warm them up a little.

Can’t let a lutenist complain about frostbite on his fingers.

“Says it’s nice to be appreciated for all the hard work he’s done. The hugs aren’t bad either,” Geralt explains. “Eskel never minded them anyway.”

“And you?” Despite his slight apprehension, Jaskier’s eyes are filled with careful hope. “Do you mind them?”

With a final squeeze, Geralt lets go.

“I told you it’s fine.”

“You don’t have to say it to make me feel better, my dear. I know how you don’t like people touching you,” the bard says, reaching out to brush off some snowflakes on Geralt’s shoulder with a gloved hand.

Geralt frowns, looks down to Jaskier’s casual touch on his shoulder, and then back to his concerned blue eyes.

Why on earth does Jaskier think he hates touches? The bard himself touches him all the time, at least in the past couple of years. Not at the beginning though, when they were barely friends and Geralt told him to fuck off all the time and not to feed Roach treats and—

And when Geralt punched him in the gut just to drive him away.

He’s seen Jaskier hug so many people, countless flings, long-term lovers, his parents, cousins, even other bards. He’s seen Jaskier hug Essi just this morning while being teased by her relentlessly about something Geralt didn’t understand. Must have been an inside joke.

But never him.

Jaskier never hugs him.

The realization sinks Geralt’s heart somehow. The cold wind suddenly cuts a lot more brutally on his bare neck and hands.

He doesn’t mind a little nip when Jaskier is the more sensitive one, being human and all. But at this moment, with the bard all bundled up in a soft doublet with those feathery puffs on his shoulders, he looks like he can give great hugs.

Jaskier looks so…huggable.

Geralt wonders what it would be like to take Jaskier in his arms and squish him over those thick, airy clothes. He wonders if he can bury his nose into his scarf—now it would smell like a mixture of Jaskier’s floral scent and the wood ash that always lingers around Geralt’s person. He would pull away to see Jaskier’s cheeks painted pink in the cold air and snow melting on his long lashes—

“You are just saying it, aren’t you? I have deeply offended you.” Jaskier interrupts those wandering thoughts because he has taken the silence as anger. His expression can only be described as crestfallen. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be too mad. I cannot lose my best friend. I simply cannot take it, Geralt! I will die of a broken heart!”

The plea is so dramatic that Geralt lets out a chuckle.

“Will you relax?” he pats Jaskier on his puffy sleeve. “I’m not mad, little poet. It truly is fine. Some children hugging me on the leg is not the end of the world.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Somehow, Geralt knows that if Jaskier decides to also give him a hug that day, it won’t be the worst thing either. Hug a witcher to thank him, it’s the bard’s own words. He’s protected Jaskier from angry spouses so many times it will definitely warrant a hug, right?

“Good, then.” Jaskier lowers his face into the scarf again, pretending to hide from a draft, but Geralt can see the faint smile around the corners of his eyes. “I’m glad your brothers also enjoyed my contribution to what will become the next official holiday.”

“Oh no, that’s just Eskel. You should avoid Lambert this year.” Geralt grimaces. “Maybe the next few years too.”

Jaskier is taken aback but recovers quickly.

“Well, I’ve got you to protect me from his wrath, my friend who’s not angry with me.” The smile, this time, is genuine and brightens up Jaskier’s whole being. His arms stretch out in a pose once more. “Where shall we go when spring comes? You know, when it really comes.”

Jaskier grimaces at the sky as if judging it for the untimely harsh weather blocking their way.

“Hmm.”

Geralt is in no hurry to determine the where of their journey this year, but the when of it…

A sudden ache in his chest tells him that maybe he should stick with Jaskier until Saovine.

Or at least the day before.

---

Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging

Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3

[punkpoemprose]

December 6th- Fuck 2020

Universe: Modern AU Rating: M (Mature, a little explicit, this is porn without plot for the most part) Length: 4383 Words A/N: The title says it all. This fic is about Kristoff and Anna having sex on New Years Eve. TW: Mentions of COVID-19, quarantine, and generally the shittyness of this year. This is the last of my decades AUs. Hopefully someday someone will write something more flattering for the 2020′s.

Anna closed her laptop and collapsed back onto the couch. She was exhausted mentally and emotionally, but her body wasn’t tired enough to let her sleep. It had been what she’d been suffering with all year, or at least since March when the world had gone from its usual level of chaos to being utter and total bedlam. She still remembered the day she’d learned that her kids wouldn’t be coming back to the classroom, and the only slightly more terrifying day where she learned that they would, in fact be coming back.

Her head was still awash with words she’d never thought she’d need to say to a room full of five-year-olds. We have to keep our masks on. Remember, six feet apart guys, that’s like two big dogs in a line. No, I’m sorry, I can’t give you a hug. She’d had to separate desks, and clean and not wipe away little tears like she normally would when a child was having a bad day.

The kids, she thought, had held up better than she had. They’d listened as well as they could, they’d followed the rules as much as they were able, and they were kind about the policies in a way that even grown adults were not. But even with all the work they’d done, even with all the kids doing their best, the second wave had hit, and now they wouldn’t be returning to school until after the middle of January, and then when it finally came about, it would be online. There was talk of vaccines in the news, and while it gave her some small spark of hope, all the changes have meant turning her holiday break into lots of online classroom prep.

It still wasn’t the worst though, she’d rather be tired than sick, and she couldn’t help but relax a bit and listen to the shower running in the next room over.

Kristoff had been given the afternoon shift for New Year’s Eve, and as per their new normal, he’d stripped down at the door after returning to their apartment, tossed all his things into the wash, and was currently showering. In the beginning, before they’d known just how bad things were, before PPE was supplied to every EMT in the county, he’d caught it.

Anna had remembered the pain of having to see him so ill, watching him suffer through what was determined to be a “mild” case of the virus while he was sequestered to their bedroom and she spent the week sleeping on the couch and barely seeing him at all except to occasionally bring him something to eat when he’d felt particularly weak. There was something particularly terrifying in watching the strongest person Anna knew, her rock, her one and only, barely able to take care of himself. He’d insisted the whole time, vehemently, that she leave to stay with her sister on the other side of town, be she’d been unable to bring herself to do it. She couldn’t and wouldn’t leave him alone when he was so sick she wasn’t sure if he’d make it through.

But, of course, he had. His voice had been strange and unlike him for weeks after he was cleared, and Anna had spent many nights in a cold sweat thinking about just how close he’d been to being in much worse shape. They’d started their procedure then, come in the door, take off your clothes, wash anything that went into work with you, and then shower. She’d done it too, but to less of an extreme because while she’d been around kids who had potentially been sick, he spent every day with Sven facing the positively ill together and trying their best to keep them well enough to get to the hospital.

The mental strain it was putting on them, Anna having to worry everyday about him getting sick again, or one of her students or even herself catching it was a lot. But Kristoff, kind and wonderful man that he was, kept checking in at the hospital to learn whether the transports he and Sven had brought in had made it. She saw the darkness in his eye, behind his attempts at levity, on the days where they lost someone.

The water shut off, and Anna let herself imagine him behind the door, stepping out of the shower, putting his towel on, walking over to the mirror to shave and comb his wet hair. He’d started keeping it shorter than usual as a precaution, and while he always looked handsome, Anna missed the days where she’d been able to put short braids into his hair and then comb them out with her fingers. She missed the days where he’d come home, flop onto the couch and that would be the end of things until one of them made dinner.

“Hey,” he said, as she heard the bathroom door open and shut, “Are you asleep or?”

She opened her eyes and tipped her head, looking at him from across the room. He was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, nothing fancy because of course, despite it being New Year’s Eve, they weren’t going out anywhere. She was dressed similarly, but overtop her plain shirt, she’d thrown on her nicest cardigan, creating the illusion for the videos she’d pre-recorded, that she wasn’t on her couch in her pajamas, but instead was dressed in full teacher gear and was to be listen to closely.

“I don’t think I can do an early bedtime tonight,” she said, “Or even a nap. I have to be awake to see this year end.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t so much the sort of laugh he did when he thought she was being funny. It was much more of a chuckle, as if he were going to follow it with an expression of agreement. They both were rather done with the year, just like everyone else they knew. No one wanted to be living through a pandemic.

“Just imagine,” he said, “Maybe next year we’ll actually be able to go on a date or something.”

“Or,” Anna replied sadly, “Actually be able to reschedule our wedding.”

They’d planned a June wedding the year before. It was going to be a small affair. Just his family, Elsa, and some friends from work. They were going to have it at a ski-lodge in the mountains that also doubled as a summertime spa and nature retreat so that it would be like a vacation for everyone who attended. She could still imagine the way that they’d wanted to decorate the place, all sunflowers and mason jars and white ribbons. She had bought a dress and everything, and it was still stored in her sister’s bedroom closet.

They’d pushed it to August, but had given up on it past that, knowing as soon as September hit and she returned to school with in person students, that nothing would be changing anytime soon. Even her hope for the next year was a tentative thing, like a butterfly with a broken wing trying its damnedest to fly.

“Fuck 2020,” she said quietly, noticing the way he frowned at the mention of their cancelled wedding. He’d been looking forward to it as well, and she knew that this year had been just as upsetting for him as it had been for her. She tried not to swear very often, particularly because she was worried about being able to censor herself around the kids, but ultimately, the year deserved a middle finger and some very strong language.

He crossed the space and took her laptop from where it rested on her stomach, placing it carefully on the coffee table before he scooped her too, up and off the couch. He never had much trouble lifting her, but each time he did so unexpectedly, she was half afraid of falling. She flailed for a half a second in his arms, gasping at the change in height as it occurred.

“I’d like that,” he said with a grin, “The wedding. I know it’s just a formality, and that we’ve agreed not to do it at a courthouse or anything, but I’m so ready to call you Mrs. Bjorgman.”

“And have my students confused?” she teased, “Maybe you should be Mr. Arendelle.”

He laughed at that, but the shrugged and started walking in the direction of their bedroom, holding her bridal style as if it were already all over and done with.

“Why are we heading to bed?” she asked, only allowing herself a little hopefulness beyond her confusion. She knew why she’d like to be heading to bed, but maybe, she reasoned, he was just tired and wanted some company for a nap.

“You said, ‘fuck 2020’.”

She could see the cheeky smile on his face as he glanced down at her, still heading toward the bedroom, like a man on a mission.

“It sounded like a good idea to me.”

***

“So,” Anna said from her place below him on their bed, “In this analogy am I 2020 or?”

Kristoff laughed, and she was treated with a kiss on her knuckles as she obediently raised her arms up for him to remove her shirt. His laugh was one of the things that got her through the day, knowing that he could find humor in any situation, that she could make him laugh, was a blessing. It made things feel normal, and it was a joy for them both that they sorely needed.

“No. It’s more like we fuck each other, and we get a little extra enjoyment out of the year ending. Honestly, I didn’t think it through very much, I just wanted you and it seemed like a good excuse.”

That made her laugh, and she nodded appreciatively at the sentiment. She didn’t think that they needed to really contemplate it much as she was just happy with the opportunity to enjoy her fiancé for a little while.

“It���s a good way to pass the time until midnight,” she offered once she was free of her shirt, “I’m sure we’ll manage to keep each other awake.”

Her hands went up his shirt in return, letting her fingers travel over his the soft but muscled planes of his torso until he too removed his shirt, giving her better access to touch him as she leaned up to allow him to undo her bra’s clasps.

“It’s what? Seven?” He asked, tossing her bra in a rapidly growing pile of their clothes, “I can’t promise five hours straight, but I’ll do my best.”

His hands went up her sides, his thumbs rubbing appreciatively at the dips of her waist and across her ribs until they came up to he breasts. He cupped them gently first, and her hands moved to tracing up and down in spine in return as they found a comfortable position where she was somewhat seated in his lap, facing him. He pinched a nipple and she treated him to an appreciative moan and dragged her nails, lightly down his back.

They hadn’t had much time for intimacy as of late. Between what they both experienced at work and the stress of the holidays, even from a socially distanced standpoint, they’d mostly been using their bed for sleeping. It felt good for it to be put to better use.

“Of course, we’ll need to take a break for dinner. Maybe you’ll need a second shower with some company. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

The appreciative almost growl he made as he ducked his head down to her neck went straight through her spine and made her want to peel the rest of their clothes off and get down to business immediately. Shared shower or not, she already knew that she’d need to change her panties. If, of course, he was planning on letting her put any on before the next morning.

He squeezed and kneaded her breasts while his lips kissed down her neck and she allowed herself to surrender to his touch. Everything around her was Kristoff, his hands and mouth on her, the smell of his shampoo all she could smell as she tilted her neck to give him better access and shifted a hand up to his still wet hair. Despite him being fresh from the shower and in the cooler air of their bedroom, he was hot to the touch, exactly what she wanted as her hair stood on end from the temperature and his touch.

He moved lower then, his head ducking down to lave attention on her nipples as one arm wrapped around her back to support her leaning away and the other moved down, down, across her lower stomach and to the place where her waistband still sat.

“Off?” she asked, the word all she could form as she gave herself over to the sensation of his mouth sucking and nipping at her.

“Not yet,” he replied, barely moving his mouth from her as he answered and switched sides, leaving her wet nipple to pebble against the cold.

His fingers slid a bit lower still, under the waistband of her pants, but not into her underwear as he dipped her even lower.

His arm was strong at her back, keeping her aloft and exactly where he wanted her, even as she squirmed and bucked her hips against the hand that was moving closer and closer to her clit. She knew exactly what he was doing, but it didn’t keep her from jumping when his fingers grazed her through the fabric. He knew that she was sensitive, that he needed to work her up to his direct touch, let alone anything more. They’d had their fair share of quickies of course, but when he wanted things to last, when he wanted to see her come again and again, he worked her up first.

Anna moaned, and arched in his arms, not so much from the sensation, but from the promise it offered. He really was going to try to make this last all night long.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

“I ask myself the same question.”

She gasped as he slowly stroked his fingers up and down her, no doubt feeling how wet she was through her panties but not commenting on it. Instead, using his mouth to once again kiss down her body, moving from the valley between her breasts lower and lower, tipping her back onto the bed as he went.

Not to be outdone, Anna reached up to him as she was leaned back, letting her hands travel down and over his back, reaching for his rear and giving it a squeeze. He laughed against her skin, and she felt rather satisfied by the sound as he picked up the pace on her clit and kissed her navel. Her hands slipped forward then, moving across the waistline of his sweatpants, and dipping her fingers below them as he had.

It was a bit of an awkward angle, but she did her best to wrap her hand around him. It was a challenge, but it was worthwhile to hear his breathing quicken when she managed to slide her hand up and down over his already hard cock through the fabric of his boxers. She recalled the first time they had done this, what felt like many years before, but was just a little over a year and a half ago. She remembered touching him for the first time and being scared that she wouldn’t be able to take him. The thought would have made her laugh now, if it weren’t for the fact that his attention on her clit was making her gasp instead.

When his lips had kissed as low as possible in their current position, he sat up a bit and slipped his hand from her pants. He offered her a questioning look, as he always did, and Anna stroked him again in response, sliding her hand up and down his length and rotating her wrist a bit as she did so, knowing that it was what he liked.

“Off?”

“Off,” she replied, finalizing the unspoken agreement in words before adding, “You too.”

He nodded and she rubbed her thumb against his head before she too extracted her hand, giving him a small taste of what was to come. She fully intended to take him into her mouth if he would let her. It had been too long since she’d seen him fall apart like that, staring down at her with dark eyes and strong muscles trembling under the weight of his climax.

Maybe, she thought, she might even do it while he was laying down, so she could feel him under her and enjoy the building of tension in his body that always came before the release that left him panting and melting beneath her. She loved that he let her give him pleasure. There was so much he did everyday for her, all the care to not get her ill, the many nights he cooked dinner after a long shift, how he always listened to her stresses before offering up his own, and she liked to return his kindnesses in the bedroom.

He pushed himself up and off of her, pulling his pants down with one hand, using the other in a delightful display of his strength to hold himself aloft. He kicked them off a bit creatively, one leg at a time as if he were doing some kind of strange yoga, but never removing his eyes from her as he watched her buck her hips up and slide her own bottoms off.

He tossed them both somewhere to join their pile, and they were left, staring into each other’s eyes wearing nothing but their underwear.

She shivered a bit, both from the intensity if his gaze and the cool air around her. He noticed, his gaze softening as he lowered himself to her a bit and pressed a kiss to her lips. She responded by tipping her head up a bit, deepening the kiss as her arms raised up to wrap around his back and pull him down onto her.

“I’ll have to see if I can warm you up,” he said, their temperature differences more evident as his chest pressed into hers.

He was making a valiant effort, despite her pulling him down, to not crush her under his weight. There had been occasions where he’d allowed his whole weight to press down onto her, and while she didn’t exactly consider him light by any instance of the word, he wasn’t ever going to crush her quite so much as he made an excellent weighted blanket when he wanted to be.

His tone was lascivious though. There was no doubt in Anna’s mind as his hips rocked gently into hers that his plan for warming her up included more of the touching he’d just been doing moments before. When he kissed her again and let his lips trail, once more down her body, lower and lower, she knew that there would be nothing so simple as a blanket in his plans to warm her.

When he reached the waistband of her panties he didn’t stop, instead mouthing at her through the fabric, causing her to call his name and tangle her fingers into his hair. She felt his breath on her, hot, the inhalations and exhalations adding to the sensation as his lips nipped carefully at her clit. He slid down after a few moments, pressing kisses to her labia and center through the fabric, nudging her bud with his nose.

He could be devious with his mouth, a fact that she took immense pleasure in. He could kiss her mouth and pussy with equal skill, and she knew it came from a combination of natural talent, and plenty of practice with her and only her. His mouth could bring her to heights she’d never been able to reach alone, and the anticipation of him doing so had her trembling.

“Do you want me to?” he asked, glancing up at her from between her legs, seeking permission as he always did.

“Yes. Always.”

It was all he needed, flashing her a smile as he hooked his thumb under her waistband and pulled.

She lifted her hips obediently and was rewarded with an appreciative squeeze on her rear as he tugged the fabric off her. When it got to her knees, he leaned back and she set her bottom back onto her bed, watching him whip the fabric off her legs and onto the floor.

She would not be looking for them, she decided ultimately, until laundry day.

He spread her legs a bit more and rearranged them both on the bed until she had two pillows under her rear, elevating her, and he was half kneeling before her.

Once the matter of fabric and positioning was settled, he set upon her like a man starved. Evidently the foreplay had been enough for him, and she already felt it was enough for her, when he kissed her clit again, and then set to running his tongue over her. He went from the bottom of her slit, tasting her and groaning in appreciation, up to her clit, his tongue teasing at her before flattening against her, moving down, and repeating the process.

Her hands, desperate to show him the same appreciation he was showering her with, reached out as far as they could to rub just her fingertips, less artfully, but no less effectively, against the bulge straining against his boxers. His groans only added to the sensation as he tasted her, the rumbling of it tangible as he licked and took her into his mouth. The sound mingled in the air with her own moans, and soon, she stopped being able to tell who was making which sounds.

His tongue darted between her folds and she rocked her hips into his mouth. He rocked just far enough back that she could no longer touch him, and as such, her hands held onto him in other ways, one hand wandering across his shoulders while the other tugged at his hair.

He added his fingers to the business after a short while, taking only a moment away from her to watch her face as he slipped his fingers along her entrance, coating them in her before he, with trained dexterity, slid them inside her and began the search for the place on her inner walls he knew set her closest to the edge.

He got a satisfied look on his face when her moans grew louder, when she pleaded with him and thanked him for the new sensation, and it was a grin that she saw last before his face descended, again, to mouth at her clit with new fervor.

It was only a matter of time before she fell back against the bed, pillows falling from under her rear as she went stiff, then limp, under the force of her orgasm.

She tasted herself on his lips when he kissed her.

***

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

Anna had been somewhat surprised that they made it to midnight, both of them thoroughly spent with the amount of time and energy they’d put into their private celebration. She wasn’t counting down with the people on the television though, she couldn’t even see them as she knelt before the couch, feeling Kristoff’s tensed legs at either side of her. She couldn’t count anyway, she had her mouth full.

She’d wanted to manage to get him to come right at midnight, thinking about how funny and gratifying it would be to ensure that her fiancé, the man she loved most in the world, started the new year out right. She supposed though, as she bobbed her head up and down, her tongue running up and down his length as she breathed through her nose, that he wouldn’t mind if it was just a minute or so late.

“Anna,” he groaned, his hand on the back of her head, not pushing but encouraging her to maintain her speed, “Baby I think I’m going to…”

She hummed, keeping up her speed, flattening her tongue against him and doing her damnedest to give him the same pleasure he’d given her earlier in the day. They’d done plenty in the hours between, but this was the first time for the day, and now for the new year that she’d pleasured him with her mouth.

She hoped that the sounds she was making were encouraging as his hips rocked almost imperceptibly, his hand that rested on her shoulder tightening as the one in her hair pressed a little more than it had been.

When he came for her, she could feel the shuddering of his muscles, particularly his thighs which she was using for support, even under the fabric of his clothes. They’d only recently finally donned clothes again for the first time since dinner, and she had decidedly not let it stop her, particularly when it was easy enough to shift the fabric down enough to suit her needs.

“Anna,” he repeated, panting as she too came up for air, swallowing him.

She could feel herself flush, and saw the blush mirrored on his cheeks. He was frazzled, and when she leaned up, using his thighs for support, to get a better look at his expression, she was surprised by his dipping down to kiss her lips.

“Happy New Year Anna,” he whispered, hands already moving on her, pulling her closer as he showed her his appreciation.

She couldn’t help but laugh, accepting her New Year’s kiss as he sat before her with his pants still askew. If it was an omen for the year, she was glad for it. She’d rather the year be an amusing one than the way the previous one had been.

“Happy 2021 Kristoff,” she replied, kissing him again and letting herself enjoy the sensation of his touch before reaching down to tug on his waistband, helping him readjust before turning to shut the television off and drag him off to bed.

They’d had a long, but very enjoyable day. The perfect way, she thought, to usher in the New Year.  

[hide-in-imagination]

“New Year’s Eve Is Okay (maybe even amazing)” - Simbar oneshot

The continuation of the Christmas oneshot you all asked for!!! ♡

Happy New Year, everyone ^^

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

In her grandpa’s words, Christmas was for family. New Year’s Eve was for friends, your chosen family.  

Because family has always and will always be with you, he had told her once. New Years is to celebrate new things. The new people in your life.  

Yes, it sounded a little cheesy, and considering her history, Ámbar shouldn’t be very ecstatic about celebrating friendship, but she understood what he meant. She had always seen change as an opportunity for something new instead of something to be afraid of. And thank god for that mindset because she’d had to restart and do over a lot in her life. But now she was finally in a place where she felt accepted, and most importantly, fully comfortable with who she was, the friends she’d made along the way and the plans she had for the future.

And so, her tradition was to spend the New Years at some friend’s house or at a dance club, partying the night away and welcoming the new year dancing. It wasn’t that she was the kind of person who went ‘This is gonna be my year!’ or something and awaited midnight with vibrant excitement and twinkling eyes— She actually found it a little silly since every year always ended up being pretty much the same as the previous one and everyone she knew that made New Years resolutions never fulfilled any of them. But hey, it was a great excuse to get drunk, break free from all and any worries and dance and sing until her feet and throat were sore. As far as holidays went, that made New Years her unbeatable favorite. The only day better than that was her birthday.

This year, the pre-party was at her friend Emilia’s house, which consisted of about two hours of food and drinks before they all moved to a near club around eleven and waited for the stroke of midnight.

That was where Ámbar was right now, chatting with some friends in her dark blue shiny dress as she sipped from her drink. Normally, she would be checking the crowd, either here or at the club, looking for a handsome stranger to close the night with a flourish and then never see him again. But this year was different. This year, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Not because she’d gotten bored of the ‘good’ one-night stands which never quite managed to be ‘excellent.’ She could’ve carried on with that.

No, the reason was rather a person. A person that started with ‘S’ and ended with ‘imón, the unexpected friend of Luna who I can not stop thinking about.’

He hadn’t asked for her number that night at her grandpa’s Christmas dinner party, and she, stupidly, hadn’t done it either. Because, what if he got to know her better and decided she wasn’t his type? What if he turned out to be an awful guy and she ended up disappointed? She didn’t even know if he already had a girl he liked. Maybe she should just stay with the memory of one perfect night instead of risking it.  

Thoughts like that circled in her head on a loop until he left along with Luna and Matteo and she lost her chance. Later, surrounded by nothing but the solitude and quiet of her own apartment, she had regretted it immensely. She was Ámbar Smith; she was supposed to be braver than that.  

It’d been hard to sleep that night, between flashbacks that made her smile and the memory of their lingering stares when they said goodbye which wiped it right off.

Fortunately, her state of disappointment and self-loathing didn’t last too much, for the very next evening, she got a text saying:

‘You still haven’t managed to change my mind’  

Ámbar may had reacted a little too excitedly, doing what could only be described as a victory dance in her room. Which was ridiculous and so not warranted by a single text, but she really couldn’t help it. By the time she calmed down somewhat, she had two more texts.

‘Just a reminder in case you want to rectify that’

‘It’s Simón by the way’

Of course I know it’s you, her melted heart responded. Why did she find it so cute that he felt the need to clarify? She guessed it was just funny how he could act so confident and laid-back one minute and then shy and awkward in the next. Were they both part of him or did he hide one with the other? She didn’t really know him to know yet, but she found it endearing.

‘I’m guessing Luna gave you my number?’ She texted back, just to appear a little nonchalant. After all, contrary to what her attitude in the last five minutes may imply, she was not a twelve-year-old with a crush.

‘Maybe’ he replied.

He appeared as ‘writing’ for some time (during which her heart did not pound, thank you very much) as if he deleted and started again until he finally tapped sent.

‘She shouldn’t have?’

Now, Ámbar could’ve kept playing it cool and reply with something like “nah, it’s fine” or “I don’t mind either way”— that was probably the smartest move. But just as that night next to the snack table where her chest had ached at just the idea of him thinking that he was bothering her, she couldn’t bear to make him feel like that. So, she decided to be honest.

‘Actually… I think it’s the best thing she has done in a long time.’

 After that, they had talked every day. About many things, general topics like music, movies, TV shows, memes, funny videos… They’d talk about stuff that happened to them throughout the day, whether to vent (“The weather it’s way too hot, I’m melting here!”) or share something good (“A friend just got me the game I talked to you about!”)

Ámbar found herself laughing at every little joke he made, and she felt so happy whenever she made him laugh. She was a little embarrassed at how attentive she was to her phone, practically jumping at the smallest sound or vibration to check if it was a message from him. She got so disappointed when it wasn’t, but oh so very excited when it was. It was dumb and exaggerated, she knew it, but texting with Simón made her heart sing.

(And his ‘Goodnight, bonita’ might as well had made it explode.)

The voice notes didn’t take long in making an appearance (she may or may have not bookmarked some of his), and then there was that day Simón called her because he said he had his hands busy doing the dishes and so he couldn’t write.

Ámbar had told him that if he was busy then they could talk later (a stupid move considering how happy it made her to hear his voice and oh god, what if he hangs up now?) but Simón had replied that he’d put on earphones precisely for this reason and begged her to please save him from boredom while he washed his mountain of dishes. (He was not exaggerating; he had a big family).  

They’d talked for hours that day, long after he’d finished his task. They’d told each other stories of their lives and their families, shared dreams and goals they had in mind. She had laughed a lot and learned a lot about him, more than enough to completely erase her made-up story of the dedicated social worker and shape it into the passionate musician slash part-time waiter that he was. And yet she wanted to know more. Way more.

They didn’t talk about the kiss under the mistletoe in any of their conversations or made any plans about going out somewhere together. Ámbar didn’t know if she should bring it up or if it was too soon; they’d only been talking for a couple days after all. She’d probably seem too intense.

(“You are,” Emilia had told her the day prior, backing it up with the fact that in these few days she’d already memorized all of his band’s songs. It wasn’t her fault the songs were good. Or that his singing sounded so beautiful.)

Besides, Simón was making the most of spending time with his family now that they’d finally managed to arrive from London, and she herself had been meeting with different friends and co-workers around the city to exchange gifts and catch up, so maybe it wasn’t the best time to start anything either.

It didn’t stop her from wishing she could see him though.

He did ask her if she had plans for New Year’s Eve— a not so subtle question that made her smile because it meant he felt the same.  

Sadly, she had already made plans weeks ago to attend Emilia’s party along with many mutual and not mutual friends and ex college classmates. He said he too had planned to attend a friend’s party, and since he had pretty much helped organize the whole thing, he couldn’t not show up.  

Which brought Ámbar here, to the party with her friends, many guys hitting on her and she rejecting them all. She felt a little foolish, to be honest. It’s not like she was dating Simón or he had made any comment about them being exclusive or something. (And could someone be ‘exclusively talking to someone else’? Because that’s all they did. They were nothing. Seriously, it was laughable.) For all she knew, he could be sucking face with another girl right now at his party and here she was, dodging advances from hot guys.

They were handsome and smooth and the look in their eyes promised very fun things… but they weren’t Simón.

Ámbar felt very, very stupid.

 ---------------------------------

 Thirty minutes before midnight, Ámbar was singing along to the tunes the DJ played as the countdown steadily proceeded on the club’s wide screen. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as packed as a can of sardines since most people were either outside waiting for the fireworks display or at their homes waiting to hug their families so they could run out and join some party. That didn’t mean it was empty though, not in the slightest, but she could move from the bar and back without needing to elbow her way through, which was enough for her.

Many from the pre-party had already disappeared in the crowd, Emilia, the traitor, being the first, because “You may have put yourself in an imaginary leash but I’m free to do whatever I want, and what I want is for someone to do me.”

Ámbar would’ve defended herself but she’d asked Ramiro to be her kiss at midnight and that basically proved she was right. Ramiro was the closest thing she had to a male best friend; they’d known each other for years so she trusted him enough for it. Also, she knew he was just getting out of a toxic relationship, so he would not think of it as anything more than what it was.

To be honest, she wouldn’t kiss anyone, but she feared if she was standing alone by the time the clock stroke midnight, some drunk guy would jump her, so she thought it was better to prevent something like that from happening.

Simón had sent her a few texts every once in a while and a quick video of how the party was going over there.  

Good, she thought. So at least he remembers me in between sticking his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Yeah, by that point in the night and after her third glass of rum & coke, Ámbar had gotten pretty paranoid.

She’d responded briefly with emojis and by posting many Instagram stories of her own party. (If she happened to be with Ramiro in most of them, it was purely coincidental.)

“Who’s the guy?” Asked the aforementioned, looking at her phone’s screen over her shoulder. She was looking at a group selfie Simón had shared in his Stories to see if she could identify which of all those bitches was throwing herself at him right now. Her bet was on the curly-haired brunette with the tacky golden dress.

“None of your business,” she replied, locking her phone and putting it inside her bag.

“I’d say it is my business if you’re using me to make him jealous.”

She looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, smiling very smugly.

“Shut up,” she said, and went to the bar for another drink.

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

 It was one minute to the New Year and with her fourth glass left empty somewhere and the energy from dancing in her veins, she was actually pretty pumped.  

That was until Ramiro went up to her and told her loud enough to be heard over the music—

“I’m gonna split up!”

Ámbar looked at him, taken aback. “W-what? But we agreed—”

“You’ll be fine!” He assured her and left her there to mix with the crowd. In seconds she couldn’t even see him anymore.

Ámbar scoffed. Thank you so much, friend.

He was right though; she didn’t need him. She was an independent woman who could take care of herself. She’d had to handle boy advances all her life; she could do it tonight too.

The excitement started growing in the crowd as the countdown on the screen marked 30 seconds. Some people ran to the bowls of grapes, ready to stuck 12 in their mouths as fast as they could. Some others prepared their party crackers and party horns. Those were pretty drunk.

Ámbar swallowed the piece of nougat in her mouth and readied herself to chant the countdown with the crowd.  

Ten!

There was a tap on her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes internally. Seriously? Already?

Nine!

She turned around to dispatch whatever guy that had come to bother her.

Eight!

Her heart skipped a beat.

Seven!

Simón smiled. Beautiful, timid, excited.

“Hi.”

Six!

Ámbar couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t even respond, only look at him and look at him and look at him because he was there and her heart was going to come out. 

Five!

He couldn’t stop looking at her either.

Four!

She knew that look. She’d seen it that night, when his eyes had searched hers for an answer.

Three!

There was more longing now, more eagerness, the question written on fire instead of a hopeful breeze.

Two!

She felt the same fire and more.

One!  

There was no need to ask.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Simón held her face and kissed her.

Around them, the place roared with life, confetti fell like rain, but for Ámbar only his lips existed, only the softness of his hair as she drowned a hand in it, the leather of his jacket where she was holding onto him, the firmness of his body against hers, his hand sliding to her back to pull her closer.

The ceiling could’ve fallen down and she wouldn’t have let him go.

This time, she didn’t have to worry about stares or decorum. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t want more, so she didn’t. She parted his lips and deepened the kiss, rejoicing in how he gripped her hips and kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and took turns between letting him take whatever he wanted and pouring everything she felt into his mouth until neither could anymore breathe.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, only that they were left panting. They opened their eyes and time started moving again. All around them there were people dancing and singing, the music so loud it invited you to follow it.

Ámbar followed Simón instead, as he guided her by the hand to a more secluded place, far from the blaring speakers.

“How are you here?” She said in awe once they stopped. She’d think it was a dream if her lips didn’t still feel him, if it weren’t impossible for her body to simulate these many sensations.  

“You shared the name of the place many times on Instagram.”

She had. She could finally admit that she had been secretly hoping he would pick up on that. She was so glad he did.

“For a moment I thought I wasn’t gonna find you on time though,” he continued. “I got here minutes ago but there were so many people. Thankfully, your friend, the curly one, he saw me and pointed me in the right direction.”

Oh my god, Ramiro, I love you, you’re the best.  

“What about your party?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not that far from here, just half an hour plus some walking. I could stay here for a while and then go back… Or I could just stay here with you, if you want me to.”

Somewhere, Ámbar was aware that that was a question, that he was hoping she’d want him to stay, but she couldn’t focus on that when she was almost out of air.  

“…Did you ride a bus for thirty minutes just to come kiss me at midnight?”

Simón averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“Well… Actually, I took the subway. But it was really—”

She didn’t let him finish.

For the first time since they met, Ámbar kissed Simón not because of some tradition, not because of any excuse— Only because she wanted to.

Simón was surprised for a second before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. Ámbar set to kiss him until it didn’t surprise him anymore, until he had no doubt that she was crazy about him, until he didn’t hesitate in front of her because she was wonderstruck just by him existing.  

They only parted far enough to look at each other. If her kiss didn’t fully convey it, he must have seen it in her eyes, because his arms didn’t let her go and a warm, happy smile grew on his face.

“So,” he said, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Any New Years’ resolutions?”

Ámbar thought about it, and for once, just this once, she chose to take a leap of faith.

“Ending the year like this wouldn’t be bad.”

She was scared of having said that because they only knew each other since some days ago and all her logic told her that most likely they’d only see each other for a month and then something would happen and they would never talk again. Pretending otherwise, actually thinking otherwise, was foolish; nothing more than hopeful thinking. It would only embarrass her later to know she said this.

But then he smiled that beautiful smile of his and she decided it was worth it.

“I think the same thing.”

  Both danced and kissed until late into the night, and two days later, they had their first real date.

And at the end of the year, when holiday season came, Ámbar arrived with Simón at her granpa’s house, and their New Year’s resolution came true when they were, once again, each other’s kiss at midnight.  

  …

..

.

[belettewrites]

Some mountains and a dog part 10

previous | AO3 | masterpost

For once, Geralt didn’t wake up all at once. No, it came gradually to him, the first thing to reach his half unconscious mind being the warmth that surrounded him; he didn’t open his eyes and simply nuzzled closer to the source of that warmth. He didn’t sigh but he would have, had not he been taught at a very young age not to externalize what he was feeling.

He could hear Jaskier’s heartbeat next to his ear and vaguely realized that the reason he was being so comfortable was because Jaskier was there. Well, if he had Jaskier with him, he could allow himself to stay here a little longer. He could use the rest, after the events from the previous night.

That made Geralt open his eyes and shoot an almost panicked glance towards Jaskier. Gone was the sleepy laziness that came with waking up safe and warm; he suddenly needed the reassurance that it had not been a dream.

His eyes met blue ones that were shining with affection. A hand fell on his arm, drawing meaningless patterns in a soft touch that sang of love.

“Hello, Geralt. I don’t know why you look so panicked, everything’s fine- oh!”

Geralt interrupted him mid-sentence to kiss him. He drew away to look at the blush that had appeared on Jaskier’s cheeks; he was obviously pleased.

“Not that I mind a good morning kiss – in fact, I fear I’ll need one every morning now – but are you okay?”

At any other moment, Geralt would have taken the time to consider the question. But here, with the sun lighting up the room and falling on Jaskier’s hair, making it look more golden than brown, with the way Jaskier was smiling up at him, his hand still a solid reassuring point of contact between them, Geralt immediately knew the answer. The anguish from when he had truly woken up was gone.

“I- you’re here, so- yes,” he mumbled, not quite looking at Jaskier but not avoiding his eyes either. Just because they were together now didn’t mean it was easier for him to talk.

But Jaskier seemed to understand, for his smile turned even more tender. The silence between them was a comfortable one; they both could hear the birds singing outside, and Geralt knew that if he were to glance at the curtainless window that was behind him he’d find a perfect blue sky, a promise for a bright and hot summer day.

Jaskier’s stomach grumbled, and Geralt couldn’t help but huff a laugh. They were still them, despite everything.

“Oh, hush,” Jaskier chastised, faux pouting. “We should get up anyway, I know you’re not one to stay in bed for long in the morning – Melitele Herself knows how many times you dragged me out of a room that I had rented, because Witchers don’t sleep until midday, Jaskier, the Path is waiting for me. Don’t laugh! You know it’s true!”

He was right, of course, but Geralt would rather eat Roach’s saddle than admit it.

“We should head downstairs,” he said instead, just to enjoy the look of sheer outrage on Jaskier’s face. “I have to tell you about my hunt,” he added, and Jaskier’s look softened.

“You have to, indeed,” he amended. “I’m sure Violet and Lila want to know what happened. What happened, by the way?”

“You’ll have to wait until I tell them,” Geralt said, just because he knew it would annoy Jaskier.

“So no preview because I’m your- your-”

Geralt could see that Jaskier was struggling to find a word; thankfully, he for once had one ready, one that he would have used earlier if he had dared to do so.

“Companion?” he suggested, warming up at the way Jaskier’s smile suddenly seemed even brighter than before. “No, no preview because you’re my companion, you’ll have to wait.”

Yes, Geralt thought as the two dressed up, Jaskier still pouting and him keeping his face as blank as possible, nothing has changed at all. The only difference was that he was allowed to take Jaskier’s hand in his and that Jaskier now randomly pecked him on the cheek, like he did right before they left their room.

***

The thing was that Geralt had never really allowed himself to be gentle with himself before meeting Jaskier; and even then, it was the bard who made him understand that taking a break was not useless or futile. “Sometimes, you have to stop for just five minutes to be able to go on” he had said, and Geralt tried to remember these rare words of wisdom. It was easy to take a break for Jaskier; his friend needed more breaks than him even if he wasn’t human, and it had never been a pain for him to stop walking because the other man needed to, despite what he had been telling him. Years after their first meeting, Geralt had come to understand that he too deserved to rest.

Maybe that was what it was, the peacefulness that he was feeling as he walked down the stairs trying not to trip over his own foot as he avoided the plants. Maybe that was what Jaskier had wanted him to feel all these years – like the weight of his armor had been lifted off his shoulders. Or maybe it was just because he and Jaskier were together now – because his feelings were actually returned.

“You’re going to regret wearing a black shirt, you know?” Jaskier said as he walked down the stairs behind him. “I mean, you’ve been alive for what, decades? Centuries? And still you keep on wearing black shirts on sunny days. Heatstroke is no joke, darling, and I’d rather not have to put you on Roach to drag you somewhere safe – don’t you dare laugh at me.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, because that was the safest thing to say at the moment – anything else would have launched Jaskier into a rant about Geralt’s (lack of) good taste in clothes.

Lila and Violet were already awake. Violet’s red hair had been braided, no doubt Lila’s work; speaking of Lila, she was wearing –

“You have glasses,” Geralt said flatly, not quite managing to make it sound like a question. He was practically sure she hadn’t been wearing glasses the previous days.

“I made some for her,” Jaskier explained as he sat down on the bench. “Hello, Violet, Lila. Good morning! Please excuse Geralt here, he doesn’t have the best manners.”

Violet chuckled as she poured them milk. Geralt sat down on the bench opposite of Jaskier and Charcoal immediately rushed to his side. The witcher started to pet him, marveling at the softness of his fur.

“Good morning to you both,” Lila smiled before turning to Geralt. “Your companion is one talented man, Geralt, I can see – everything, now. It’s- I can’t thank you enough, Jaskier.”

A glance to his bard informed Geralt that the other man was smiling at Lila.

“I’m just glad I could help,” he said. “Now, Geralt, I believe you promised me that you would tell us about your hunt.”

Ah, yes, the hunt. Geralt hadn’t thought about how he would tell them what exactly had happened, but this was a job; words always came more easily when he had to talk about a hunt. So he told them, slowly, how he had walked for hours before finding what he had been looking for, how the monster that was taking the sheep was actually a family of shifters trying to survive, how young the pups had looked – how desperate to live they all had been.

“They won’t attack you,” he finally said. “I told them that instead of stealing they could find shelter here with you – that you were more welcoming than other humans. That you’d need time to forgive them, because they took away from you things that were dear to you, but that you’d never throw rocks at them. I don’t know if they’ll listen, but I tried my best.”

Violet had tears in her eyes and had taken Lila’s hand for support. Everything around them seemed quieter, despite the birds singing outside and the sheep that he could hear from afar. It was easy, up in the mountain, to forget about the unfairness of men, about prejudices and how people were trying to escape them.

He hadn’t stopped petting the dog – the mechanical movements helping him to think, to focus on the task at hand.

“So- we’re not in danger.” Lila said.

“You’re not.”

“And they’re the one who attacked our dog.”

“They are,” Geralt confirmed, because it was the truth.

Lila frowned and looked at Violet. The two of them seemed to have an entire conversation through that one glance, and Lila sighed.

“I’m glad to hear that we’re not in danger – that whoever they are, they’re just trying to survive, not to actually harm us. Thank you for- thank you for telling them that they can come if they want, I’m not saying I’d welcome them with open arms, but- you know.”

Such kindness was something that Geralt could not help but admire; he told her so, and Lila smiled.

They had all been eating quietly for a few minutes, all lost in their thoughts, when suddenly Jaskier said:

“Dear heart, don’t think I’m not seeing you giving your bread to the dog again.”

Caught in the act, Geralt froze. Violet snorted. Jaskier wordlessly gave Geralt half of his bread again, a soft smile on his lips that made Geralt want to kiss him. He didn’t, but smiled his thanks.

It was not his fault that he couldn’t resist giving bread to the dog; his brown pleading eyes seemed so sad when he didn’t, and the last thing he wanted was to make him sad. So giving his bread to the dog it was – and if it made Jaskier laugh, well, it was a win-win situation.

“When will you two leave?” Lila asked Geralt, who looked at Jaskier. The bard shrugged.

“Not so long after we’ve finished breakfast, I think,” Geralt replied, and Jaskier nodded.

“As much as I love to be on holidays with Geralt,” he sighed, “he still has a duty to the continent.”

They finished eating breakfast, Geralt once again giving his bowl of milk to Jaskier just to enjoy the smile on the other man’s face. They put plates away, and Jaskier stayed with Lila to wash the dishes while Geralt went upstairs to pack their things. It didn’t take him long, and he was carefully setting Jaskier’s lute case on the table when he caught the end of their conversation.

“See? We told you he loved you. It was obvious.”

“Yes, in hindsight I guess it was, but still-”

“You worried for nothing, Jaskier. We had known you two for less than five minutes and we knew – how you didn’t notice is beyond me.”

Splashes of water.

“I mean- We were friends for a long time! Maybe that was the way he was with his friends!”

Geralt chuckled.

“I heard that, Geralt.”

He walked outside, finding them looking at him. Both smiling, they had piled up the dishes to put them away – it was done, then. Jaskier helped Lila, thanking Geralt when he saw that all their things were ready.

Geralt went to search Roach. She gently headbutted him and he pet her before saddling her. She had eaten already, her fur was still brushed from the previous day; they were ready to go.

Their small vacation had turned into something great, Geralt mused as he walked towards the house, something that they both hadn’t seen coming – Jaskier tricking him to take a break for his own good, and Geralt deciding to indulge him because he wanted Jaskier to be happy first and foremost. He couldn’t have planned that they would end up together, that he would earn the right to hold him – wait, he had that right now. Geralt couldn’t wait to snuggle against Jaskier the next time they would go to sleep – not that he would ever say that out loud.

Jaskier had made some flowers grow again, to Violet’s delight, when Geralt joined him.

“Muscaris”, the bard said, “because the blue of the small flowers goes well with the violet of the crocuses.”

Geralt let him talk with Violet and Lila while he put their bags on Roach. It wasn’t everyday that Jaskier could truly talk with someone that wasn’t him or another witcher – they rarely met his friend Essi while on the road. Maybe they should; a meeting could be arranged.

“You’ll always be welcome here,” Violet promised as they were about to leave. “Don’t hesitate to come back – hopefully you won’t have to solve another problem next time.”

Jaskier replied something that Geralt didn’t listen to; he was thinking about how to adapt their travel plans for the next year to come back here – it wasn’t like him to get attached to humans so easily, but Lila and Violet were kind souls that he wanted to see again. And Jaskier kept on saying that he deserved a break from the path from time to time – it wouldn’t hurt anyone for them to climb up the old volcanoes to meet two shepherdesses and their dog, and hopefully a family of shifters helping them.

“Until we meet again,” Jaskier said to them, and Geralt nodded. He petted Charcoal one last time while Jaskier was putting in their bag the cheese and bread that Lila had given them – she had insisted and Geralt hadn’t had the heart to tell her no.

He took Jaskier’s hand in his because he could, the other one leading Roach. The sun was making the dust of the path look almost white, and he could already feel that putting on a black shirt had been a bad idea, though he wouldn’t tell Jaskier that.

They walked down the valley, the world open in front of them, thinking of what they would do next but still enjoying the way the sun warmed their skin, how the birds seemed to sing only for them, their hands holding each other in a point of contact that looked like nothing would ever be able to break it. 

[sayhitoforever]

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - PT (7/?)

A little holiday gift for all you lovely people.  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6-  Thanks for all the love and support for this series. You guys are wonderful, your feedback makes my heart feel so full. I am playing around with the idea of making this it’s own fic, with an OC protagonist instead of a reader insert. If I go through with that, you guys will be the first to know and I’ll post any links here, most likely for AO3. Thank you, as always, for reading. This will be the last update for 2019! GIF credit to diver5ion because Malcolm is serving LOOKS 👌 .

~

Even with the meticulously neat organization of the evidence, it had taken Malcolm well into the evening to get through the boxes. The pictures were spread across his island and the floor as he’d tried to set up the scene the way it had been when it was first photographed. He poured over each report and lab and all the testimony that had been gathered before starting in on Y/N’s notes, usually left on sticky notes stuck to the reports. Some of them were incomprehensible, clearly pulling facts and forming theories around evidence he’d yet to read through.

It was strange, he thought. Y/N had said it wasn’t personal, that she hadn’t cared about her father, but all the hard work in front of him said otherwise. It could be that he was misinterpreting it, that the dedication to all the evidence spread around him was just part of her job. It was stranger even that her father wasn’t among any of the victims contained in the boxes, not that he could tell at least. Why, he wondered, would she tell him what she had but leave out any information that corroborated her story?

Six crime scenes, six charred buildings, corpses into the double digits, the timeline spanning over eight years. It had grounds to qualify as a serial killer by the modus alone. Always an abandoned factory or warehouse, some condemned and dilapidated building. Planned, intentional, where no one but the intended victims could be hurt. It was an act of empathy, an act of restraint, and that ruled out any theory involving a sociopath.

Malcolm found that all of the victims in the boxes had some kind of mafia affiliation. It was a dawning sort of dread that fell over him as he realized that the manner in which they’d been tied up, every last one of them, reflected crimes they’d been alleged of committing. The two handcuffed to old piping were infamous sex traffickers, known for keeping women chained up in basements to be abused. Another with remnants of his shattered kneecaps found in the ash, both ankles broken, known for crippling his enemies before executing them with a bullet between the eyes.

We will make you sorry.

Retribution then, like paying it forward in the cruelest way possible. Forcing them to suffer that which they’d done to others before they died. It was the fire though; the fire didn't seem to fit. It was the odd piece of the puzzle. Why burn them? What was that a reflection of?

Malcolm was reaching for his phone to text Y/N when it chimed with a message from Gil. ID on the victims from the other night that they were able to pull from their dental records. More mafia thugs, he noted as he scrolled through the reports Gil had sent, before stopping at the list of their alleged crimes. And there at the bottom of all three was the answer to his developing theory. Alleged murder, charges that never struck, involving bodies out in the wilderness, tied to posts with rope and shot at like an execution by firing squad.

The next chime was a phone call and Malcolm brought the phone to his ear.

“Gil,” he said by greeting.

“You got anything for me, Bright?”

“I…” Malcolm hesitated, looking at the spread of evidence all over his loft. “I don’t know. There’s a lot here, Gil. Years of evidence.”

“Any of it you can bring in? We could try to help, offer a fresh pair of eyes?” Gil offered and Malcolm could hear the sound of a coffee pot being returned to its stand. He smiled tiredly; so they were all depending on caffeine to get through the day now.

“There’s too much here to bring.” Malcolm stared at photos of the fourth crime scene, recalling testimony of a nearby vagrant. Something about overhearing someone a short while before the old factory had gone up in flames:

We will make you sorry.

Malcolm sighed, knowing that a fresh pair of eyes might actually be of some help. “But, let me grab what is most important and I’ll head over. Is Y/N there? I had a couple questions for her.”

“I saw her about a half hour ago, so I would imagine she’s around here somewhere,” Gil replied.

“I’ll be there soon,” Malcolm promised and pocketed his phone again as Gil confirmed.

What precisely to bring with him out of the mountain of evidence before him was another beast entirely. Should he rebox it and bring it all with him? Should he even keep reflecting on old evidence when he had a new case with fresh evidence that might even have more reliable results to focus on? Photos at the very least would help, and he made quick work of returning them all to their properly labeled envelopes and slipping them under his arm after donning his coat.

The chill in the evening air was like a sigh of relief as it washed over him. He’d been cooped up for so long, so focused, that he hadn’t even noticed that he’d been feeling a little claustrophobic. When he entered the precinct for the second time that day, Gil was on a heated, closed-door phone call with someone in his office, Dani had left to chase down the owner of the warehouse, and JT was on his way back with food for them all. With a sigh, envelopes full of old crime scene photos still tucked under his arm, he made his way to Edrisa’s lab where he was greeted with the sound of her pealing laugh as he opened the door.

“Mr. Bright!” Edrisa greeted him, face lighting up as he entered her lab.

Y/N was sprawled in Edrisa’s chair, booted feet kicked up onto her desk. The look she gave him across the room was a little haggard, but sharp nonetheless. He’d never asked her what business had called her away so quickly earlier, but it was clear now that sleep hadn’t been involved. It was the most comfortable he’d seen her around another person, and he wondered what specifically it was about Edrisa that maybe put her at ease.

“You two aren’t drinking again, are you?” he asked, eyeing Edrisa closely.

“Oh, no, no, it’s too early for that,” Edrisa laughed, looking back at Y/N who nodded with emphasis. “We were swapping stories of the worst dead bodies we’ve seen.”

Malcolm shot Y/N a critical look. The grin he received in return was nothing short of sardonic. “You have a laundry list of dead body stories?”

“More than I’ll ever let on,” Y/N said with a casual shrug, grin nearly splitting her face in half as she heard Edrisa’s groan of defeat.

“I knew you were holding out on me,” Edrisa lamented, hanging her head. “I even told you about the bog body.” Malcolm couldn’t help but chuckle at the hang-dog look on her face.

“C’mon, E. I gotta save the good ones. Can’t spill all my good stories at the same time.” Her eyes glittered as she looked over Edrisa’s sagging frame with another laugh, before she pinned Malcolm in place again.

“Oh, where are my manners? Have you two met already?” Edrisa exclaimed, glancing between the two.

Malcolm blanched for a moment, having forgotten that Y/N had left the crime scene while Edrisa was caught in traffic the other night. And again after the Baby Stout incident, she’d yet to discover that they were already well-acquainted.

“We are familiar,” Malcolm replied, slowly and awkwardly.

Edrisa blinked up at him, the word ‘familiar’ seeming to strike a chord with her. “Has she told you any of her good stories?”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Bright and I haven’t had the opportunity to share our best case stories,” Y/N piped in, moving her hands to settle them atop her stomach as she lounged even further down into the chair. “But this case is squaring up to be a pretty good one.”

“That’s true!” Edrisa said enthusiastically. “I might even submit this case to the review board if we close it. Carbonization of tissue is such a fascinating subject, very open to debate about how it…”

When both Y/N and Malcolm stared owlishly at her as she trailed off, clearly lost in her own thought, she gathered herself just a little. “I could use more coffee. Do either of you—”

“Yes, please,” Y/N and Malcolm said in stereo. Edrisa’s eyes flitted between the two of them like she was watching a ping-pong match before she pointed at Y/N and laughed like they’d shared a joke Malcolm hadn’t quite caught. She continued to chuckle as she exited the lab.

Y/N remained where she was, feet still propped up, hands folded on top of her stomach, eyes studying him where he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes darting around the room.

“Spit it out,” she said suddenly. “Unless the question is meant for Edrisa.”

He winced, visibly, beginning to hate just how transparent Y/N made him feel. He couldn’t be that obvious, right? He was a trained professional after all. “It’s a sensitive question,” Malcolm said instead, holding back more questions. Always questions. Questions he was sure might never get answered. Not when the person he needed to ask evaded them like a pro, not when the questions entered a territory too personal, too private, too dark.

“Ok, I’ll bite,” she said simply.

Malcolm hesitated, his own racing train of thought coming to a screeching halt. “It’s regarding your father,” he said, giving her the leeway to refuse his request.

She stared at him impassively, cocking her head to the side slightly. “I’m still listening.”

He swallowed reflexively, trying to push out one coherent question at a time. “Was there anything that stood out in his autopsy report, anything weird, anything violently particular?”

“Clever.” Was the only thing Y/N said for a moment, eyes glazing over a little in contemplation, her silence leaving Malcolm prickling with anticipation. “Can’t believe I never thought about this, but yeah. His mouth had been stapled shut. Surgical steel.”

Malcolm’s pulse thundered in his ears as her gaze focused on him once more. She'd said it so easily, effortlessly, like the act of recalling that her father’s body had been mutilated while he was still alive, that he’d been silenced, before being burned alive meant nothing to her. Maybe it really wasn’t personal for her. Maybe it was just one of those cases you got fixated on because it had gone unsolved for so long. Maybe Malcolm was just projecting something onto her. His own need to understand everything that effected him in some way. The way she was looking at him, calm, exhausted, with no real sadness in her gaze, spoke volumes.

He stared back, too flabbergasted to speak for a moment before swallowing dryly. “So, I have a theory…”

[slothgiirl]

forever isn’t for everyone (is forever for you) part 8

We hit the ground running and there's no time to be awkward around Alex. Not when I'm always rushing about, trying to confirm and pin down people and rushing into the bus after a show. 

The states are huge. With long distances to cover between shows, the scenery passing us by in the dark. Ben’s knowledge of it all comes in handy, leading us to our if the way places with good food and he keeps the drinks coming. 

I barely get a chance to realize I'm in Canada before we're getting back on the tour bus and it's not long before I'm taking a drag from the joints that get liberally passed around out of sheer boredom. 

There's only so much to do on the road, couped up in a bus with a bunch of  techies. Lucy laughs at my sad attempts to play blackjack and I can only laugh along with her. 

It's a good thing that there's two tour buses. I don't think I could stand to be couped up with Alex. If he wanted to avoid me then I'd do him a favor and avoid him as well. My gaze passing over him as all of us sat down late at night as we pulled into New York city, a free day from a concert but a press day all the same. 

Jaime finds out from Lucy that I'm terrible at blackjack and grins as he wins american bills from me, laughing easily, Miles taking the blunt of the attention off of a band that hates all the bells and whistles that come along with being successful. "aren't you supposed to be good with money," he jokes as he wins for the fourth time in a row as we wrap up a shoot, the sun having set while we spent the day with the press. 

I was starving. Fruit platters were not enough. I giggle, "that's not all economics is! and it's a card game. Not my fault i'm still getting the hang of it."

"You didn't play it at uni," Nick asks with a grin, having successfully extracted a number off the shoots stylist. 

"No. At least I didn't. I was too busy getting a degree unlike some people I know," I reply looking at them both meaningfully. We'd settled in with each other easily by now. 

Jamie shrugs shamelessly, "rather be a rockstar than have to go to uni."

" 'fink I would've dropped out," Nick muses. 

"We'll see who has the last laugh when your on some reality show for washes up rock stars in ten years," I retort back with a grin. 

"That soon," Nick snorts. "Give us at least twenty years."

The famous skyline passes by us as we head out to meet the others and we never steal a glimpse at the statue of liberty before were hauling ass to Detroit and a plethora of other cities never mentioned in movies. 

And if I can sometimes feel Alex's stare on me, I force myself to ignore it, losing myself in the drinks and Lucy rambling on about one of her many pet peeves. Tonight's being the fact that men are disgusting and can't keep anything clean and would it kill them to keep their dirty clothes off the floor, "I swear I can't even see the tour bus floor anymore!"

"It'll get better when we do laundry," I offer before she's off again. Laundry won't get done until we leave for the first european leg. There's no breaks in between. 

Mum complains that I'll miss my sisters eighteenth birthday but it can't be helped. Hopefully all the trinkets I've been collecting from tour will make up for it once I send the package before it fills up all my suitcase. 

In the blink of an eye, we're in Salt lake City, having made our way across the country in a way I could've only dreamed of and I know I made the right choice when I took the job. 

"Told you you'd fall into it," Ben utters, wrapping an arm around me with a carefree smile before he's off giving directions and tell some techie to load up on alcohol because their weird about it in Utah. 

I shake my head. 

"He's right though isn't he," Lucy grins, a joint in hand and Miles beside her, bits of glitter from yesterday's show still stuck on his skin.The sunset just makes the panorama look even more gorgeous that it is. The mountains in the distance and the intensity of the green surrounding us. 

"Yeah Ellie," Miles grins, charming as ever, "bet those wankers who took on," he pretends to straighten up a tie, "very proper jobs are about ready to knell over and die."

I snort, taking a drag of the joint. Oh what my parents would say if they knew how much weed and alcohol I'd been having lately. I might have not done much in uni but I was more than making up for it now. "

Hey they get bank holidays," I joke, running a hand through my hair and wondering if this was the kind of panorama all those english romantics had been on about, "meanwhile I have to put up with your ugly mug!"

"Oi," Miles grins back sharply, "NME called me an indie dreamboat."

"Lucy must have bribed them."

Lucy throws her head back, bursting into laughter, "come on I'm starving and Ben said there's a mexican place with bottomless mimosas today since they don't sell alcohol on sundays."

"What the fuck," Miles shouts, before shaking his head, "this is why no one likes americans."

As promised there are bottomless mimosas which Miles plows his way threw with glee. The techies are already at the venue, having an early start the next day. The grueling schedule means no nice hotels and I miss the meandering pace we had down under.  

Jamie doesn't let the lack of dance floor stop him roping Lucy along, our group causing a ruckus between the food and drinks and Miles being Miles, clamping Matt on the back as he shares stories that have to be wildly exaggerated. 

There's just no way he'd had a threesome with Jack and Meg White not matter how loudly he said it was true as Matt kept rolling his eyes. 

I drink and flint in and out of the conversation, the lion share of my work having been finished on the bus. Watching as Matt sneaks off with a pretty girl. 

We were technically supposed to stop any of that monkey business before a concert, but Matt was good about making his way back unlike Miles who'd we'd lost in Montreal, the language barrier not helping. 

It had been Alex who'd found him in the end, playing with some street musicians. 

Alex joins in, playing along with Miles as they both get completely trashed, Miles glomping onto Alex's side like a damsel in distress while Alex laughs. 

Despite what's happened between us, I still find myself stealing glances when I can, when the rooms dark and he's not holed up on the bands bus, waking up late in the day and dominating Miles attention. 

As if he could hear my thoughts, Alex looks over at me catching my gaze, his eyes still holding the same warmth of a hot cuppa in winter. 

I look away, letting Lucy pull me along with her and Jamie who's gone ruddy red as he dances badly. It's all  the push I need to dance with them. 

Tomorrow I'd have a killer hangover, but tonight Lucy and Jamie were both mouthing along to Poker Face and that was too good not to get caught up in.

[borathae]

↳ Index [#01 Last Christmas]

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Genre: mild Angst

Wordcount: 5.2k

“A holiday?” your best friend asks you clearly surprised by your newest revelation. She had been munching on some popcorn before but her hand had come to a standstill. You had begged her to come over a few hours ago since you had felt lonely. Your boyfriends were once again absent, either practicing or writing songs in the studio and you just wanted some company.

“Yeah they gave me the plane tickets yesterday night and told me to start packing. Our flight goes tomorrow morning”, you explain looking through your closet.

“Tomorrow morning? Whoa that’s spontaneous. Where to?” she asks now completely sitting up on your bed.

“The rented a chalet in Verbier, somewhere on a mountain or so they told me”, you say carrying the big pile of jumpers to your bed.

“Verbier? Where’s that”, your friend asks. She grabs a tight fitting red sweater with white snowflakes and little reindeers on it, “here take this one, it’s cute.”

“Thanks. Verbier’s in Switzerland”, you explain putting the sweater your friend had picked out into your suitcase.

“Woow Switzerland, I always wanted to go there. So are you going skiing there?” she asks clapping excitedly.

“Probably, I don’t know, they told me that everything will be decided spontaneously. To be honest I just hope that we all come home in one piece”, you sigh, stuffing sweater after sweater into your suitcase.

“Hey honey, hey look at me. Everything will be fine. Maybe they planned this holiday as a way of making up to you. Maybe they actually want to save your relationship from crumbling down”, she tries to comfort you. You had abandoned the now smaller pile of sweaters to look at your best friend. She smiles at you taking your hands into hers. “Don’t worry, everything will turn out fine believe me”, she says gently stroking the skin of your hands.

“What if you are wrong?” you ask unsure.

“Then you can officially disown me as your best friend”, she says making you snort, “no but in all seriousness I don’t think they would be as cruel as to plan a romantic winter holiday just to break up with you.”

You sigh, feeling defeated. You still had worries but decided to believe your best friend for now. After all she had always been right the pervious times when worries overcame you. Sometimes you think she knows your boyfriends better than you do, or maybe it’s just the neutral view she has of your relationship. Lately the talks about your worries had become more frequent. You had felt worried, not about losing your boyfriends, no, but about the feelings of indifference you constantly feel when thinking about your crumpling relationship. You are worried, worried that you had fallen out of love a long time ago. Your best friend had assured you that this wasn’t the case, you were simply protecting yourself from heartbreak.

“Girl as often as you talk about the guys you can’t have fallen out of love. Tell me the last time we talked about something else than one of your boys?” she had asked you to which you had found no answer.

So maybe she is right now as well and your boyfriend had planned this holiday as a final attempt to save your relationship.

“Fine I’ll believe you for now”, you say to which she nods in agreement.

“You better for your own sake”, she mumbles before offering you her help with packing your suitcase, which you gladly accepted.You wanted your outfits to be as perfectly coordinated as possible and with your best friends’ guidance you are able to. Most of them are comfy colorful sweaters paired with jeans and warm socks, but your friend had convinced you to pack two dresses as well.

“As far as I know Jimin and Seokjin, they one hundred percent will want to take you out for a night at a club”, she tells to which you have to agree before throwing a short tight-fitting dress and high heels into your suitcase.

“No girl what are you doing? Do you want them to lose all of their desire for you? If you dare to put these old, ugly panties into your suitcase I am leaving”, she suddenly blurts out startling you. You had just grabbed the pile of your comfiest underwear ready to throw them into your case with the rest of your clothes when your friend had jumped up and ripped them from your hands.

“They are not ugly, they are comfortable and that’s all that matters girl”, you try to defend yourself but to no use.

“No, not under my watch, you will pack your sexiest lingerie girl or so god help me”, she scolds you, opening your underwear drawer not caring about if it would embarrass you or not. It doesn’t, you trust your friend and she had seen far more from you than any other friend. Your underwear is the least exciting thing for her to see.

“Yes these are the ones. Take all of them with you”, she blurts out excitedly pulling out the box full of your lace lingerie. You roll your eyes stuffing your panties and bras into your suitcase.

“I hate to say it but you are right girl. They will make them go crazy”, you smirk holding up an especially revealing pair of lingerie.

“I told you so”, she smiles wiggling her eyebrows.

With your best friend’s help you soon have finished packing your suitcase. You had thrown in a pair of skiing underwear despite your best friends’ dislike for them and your red skiing suit as well. Your friend had helped you pick out your make-up as well as your jewelry and after throwing both of them into your skincare next to your other toiletries you are finally finished.

“I’m glad that Namjoon bought me this big suitcase last year. I don’t think everything would have fitted into my old one”, you say tearing at the zipper of your case. Your friend is currently kneeling on the hard cover of your suitcase trying her very best to push it down for you. After some grunting and swearing your suitcase is finally closed and ready to be taken into the plane.

“Thanks babe for helping me today, you really helped me calm down my nerves a little”, you say once it was time for her to leave. She has work tomorrow and therefore has to leave earlier than she would usually leave. Despite the feeling of sadness, you are grateful for her early leaving given the fact that you had to wake up at five tomorrow morning. She hugs you tightly to her body.

“Don’t mention it. Ugh I’m gonna miss you so much. Please give me updates girl I wanna know all the tea”, she says squeezing you even tighter to her body.

You laugh promising her that you would write her is something happens with the guys and then she is gone from your body. You keep waving after her even when her car is long gone from your view. The nervousness, which you had tried so hard to forget about, returns as soon as your friend gets into her car and drives off. What if she is wrong and all they wanted was to say goodbye in a grand manner?

You don’t wait for your boyfriends to come home tonight, going straight to bed. You know they would either come home terribly late or not at all and when you are honest with yourself, you don’t even care about it anymore. You had long gotten used to falling asleep and waking up alone, to the cancelled dates and broken promises. One could say that you had long gotten used to being in a relationship but living like you were single. Not that you had went out to meet other men, no you had just gotten used to the loneliness.

So you are all the more confused when warm hands gently shake you awake the next morning. You peel your eyes open, groaning your complaints on having been woken up so early. Jimin is smiling down at you, already dressed and styled for the flight ahead of you.

“We decided to let you sleep as long as possible but you really need to get up now, our flight leaves soon”, he explains quietly so your tired ears could get used to the sudden noise.  

“How much time do I have?” you ask groggily.

“An hour.”

“An hour? Oh my god Jimin couldn’t you have woken me up sooner? Now I’m gonna get stressed out”, you squeal suddenly wide awake. You jump out of your bed and run into the bathroom to wash yourself.

You are panting once you had finished your morning routine, safe the breakfast for which you didn’t have any time. You had styled your hair into a messy bun and had even gone as far as to put on some concealer to hide your dark circles. You run into the entrance hall dragging your suitcase after you.

“Took you long enough”, Yoongi scoffs annoyed.

“It’s not my fault, you should have woken me up sooner”, you defend yourself. Amazing, the trip already starts out great you think to yourself whilst putting on your boots.

“Next time we will”, Hoseok says sarcastically sweet and you roll your eyes.

“I’m done we can go”, you announce once you had put your jacket on, ignoring the annoyed sighs from Jungkook and Namjoon.

You decide to get into the car with Seokjin, Taehyung and Jimin mostly because the three of them hadn’t annoyed you up until now. The drive to the airport is filled with silence. Taehyung had dozed off after ten minutes and Jimin is absorbed into the music he is listening to with his headphones on. Seokjin had told you he needed to concentrate on not killing you, so you had given up on talking with him afterwards. So here you are starring out of the window of the passenger seat. Seoul is beautiful in winter. It had snowed two days ago and the leafless trees look like straight out of a painting. You have the feeling that the shop owners are silently competing with each other about who decorated their shop windows the most festive. There isn’t much traffic this morning and after fifty minutes you finally arrive at Incheon Airport. Seokjin and Hoseok both park their cars in the underground carpark which was located a ten minutes walk away from the airport.

“Did you have a nice journey?” you ask Hoseok once he had walked up to your group. He looks confused for a second.

“Of course we had or else wouldn’t be here now”, he huffs laughing awkwardly.

“Nice”, you say, your desire to talk with him had faded.

You are met with loud screeching and blinding flashes as soon as you enter the warm airport. Hundreds of screaming fans from young to old, female to male are loudly chanting your boyfriend’s names waving their phones and cameras into their faces.

“Shit. Y/N stay back for ten minutes and act like you don’t know us. Meet us at the VIP lounge”, Namjoon tells you before storming off with others following close by.

The masses of fans follow them screaming on top of their lungs. You feel relieved, you had always hated big crowds and a crowd of screaming fans who all wanted your boyfriends for themselves didn’t seem like a crowd you wanted to meet. But your relief is soon replaced by worry. Will everyone arrive safely at the VIP lounge? You sit down on one of the metal benches and stare at your phone screen. Nine minutes to go and then you will know the answer. You breathe in trying to calm your nerves with the breathing exercises Yoongi had shown you which he always does when he feels anxious. You open your eyes once you feel calm enough and look at the big clock hanging from the airport’s ceiling. Only four minutes to go.

An even bigger group of excited fans suddenly storms into the airport and your heart stops beating for a second. That’s it, one day you will fight every single one of them until everyone understands the concept of privacy! You jump up and grab your suitcase, who cares about how much time was left, you need to get to your boyfriends before the masses of people will.

You run, not caring about how much noise your suitcase makes, screaming at the crowds of travelers to move out of your way. Curious eyes follow you and some even scream after you to watch your steps. But you don’t care, the crowd of fans comes closer and closer and you need to run from them. They probably think of you as nothing more than a stressed woman, who just had realised that her plane takes off in ten minutes and therefore had to run. But in your mind they are all out to get you, which doesn’t help the panic settling in your chest.

“Good morning miss, you need to deposit your suitcase first before you can do the security check”, the smiling counter girl at the security control gate greets you once you had finally reached it.

You pant trying to get air into your lungs. A quick “morning” leaves your lips and you shove your passport and plane ticket into her hands. She looks at you for a second, surprised that you will fly with a private jet.

“Excuse me Miss Y/L/N I didn’t know you were flying with a private jet, here’s your passport and ticket back. Mrs. Lee here will do the security check on you, take your suitcase and accompany you to the VIP lounge Nr. 4. Have a nice journey”, she explains to you still smiling brightly.

“Thank you”, you say putting your passport back into your handbag.

“Here’s your lounge Miss, your plane will be ready in twenty minutes”, Mrs. Lee tells you once you had arrived at the lounges, opening the alabaster glass door for you. You thank her before entering the lounge. The room is empty and you feel nervous all of a sudden. You sit down at one of the black leather couches. At least they are more comfortable than the cold metal benches. You look at your phone, no new messages. Should you write them? No, they had promised to come and you just had to trust that the airport security had handled the situation.

You should be used to it by now. There had been not one occasion where you could peacefully enter the airport, let alone walk next to your boyfriends. You either had to stay with the staff and act like one of them or stay behind and wait just like you had had to today. You sigh throwing your phone on the empty seat beside you. You had promised yourself that you wouldn’t blame them, it wasn’t their fault after all, but still you find yourself growing annoyed at them. You hadn’t imagined running through the airport at 7pm alone and scared, but still it had happened just like it always does. They should have known better. There will always be fans who buy information from the airports just so they could get a glimpse of their “oppas”.

The sudden opening of the door rips you from your thoughts. Your head snaps into the direction of the door right when Jimin enters the room closely followed by Yoongi and Taehyung and as soon as you see them your anger is wiped away. “Oh my god you are here”, you scream jumping up and running to them. You fling yourself into Jimins arms, not caring about the water bottle he had carried before which is now rolling around on the floor.

“Hey there Y/N you nearly made me lose my balance”, Jimin laughs holding you safely in his arms.

“I’m so happy that you are here. I was so worried. Did the people hurt you? Are you okay?” you ask looking at the others from over Jimins shoulder. They all nod frowns still visible on their faces. Jimin lets you down after a few seconds of holding you close and as soon as your feet meet the ground you storm to the others. You gently stroke each of their faces, smiling happily once you are sure none of them got hurt.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I didn’t expect to find people here today. If I had known about it, I would have planned our departure differently. I’m sorry we should have been more careful”, Namjoon apologizes scratching the back of his neck.

“Don’t apologize, yeah it sucked but honestly it’s not your fault”, you reassure him smiling. He smiles back showing off his dimples. You are right, it isn’t their fault and sulking won’t bring you anything good. It’s the fans you should be angry at.

“How did they even know that we would be at the airport today?” Jungkook asks clearly annoyed at the inconvenience.

“They probably bribed some airport staff, you know the usual”, Seokjin says rolling his eyes.

“The next time I spot just one fan waiting for you when you are travelling privately I will fight them”, you growl crossing your arms in front of your chest. Yoongi scoffs smiling cheekily at you.

“Of course I’d like to see you try”, he chuckles. You look at him feeling offended that he would doubt your strength. Yes, fighting a crowd of hundred people is probably a bad idea, but still you would try it, for your boyfriends’ sake.

You are interrupted in your sulking by someone knocking rather loudly at the door.

“Come in!” Taehyung yells and three men in black suit enter the room.

“Your plane is ready for boarding”, the tallest of them says bowing deeply at you. 

The moment you see the rather big private jet, your mouth falls open. You are used to travelling a lot, having visited your boyfriend at various concerts in different countries before, but a private jet is something totally new to you. You had expected it to look like every public plane would have, but to your surprise it doesn’t look like a plane at all once you are inside. White leather seats are situated on each side of the plane and dark wood tables are between each of the pairs of chairs.

“Okay that’s amazing”, you say once you spot a double bed and one single bed. You had walked through a door, expecting to find the seats for the staff or the toilets, but hadn’t expected to find a whole bedroom.

“Isn’t it? Go on lay down on it, the mattress is so soft”, Namjoon smiles gently pushing you into the direction of the bed. You lie down, closing your eyes once you back hit the mattress. Namjoon hadn’t lied; it is one of the most comfortable beds you have ever laid on.

“I can totally fall asleep here”, you smile already feeling yourself drift off to sleep. 

“Go on no one’s stopping you”, he chuckles pulling the warm blanket over your body, “just be prepared that someone is going to join you later on.”

You mumble a quiet “mhm” already drifting off to sleep, not caring at all about the delicious smell of breakfast which suddenly hits your nose. You were too tired, the waking up early and running from fans really had taken its toll on you.

You are woken up by two strong arms pushing you further onto the bed. You open your eyes groaning your displeasure and are met with Seokjin starring down at you with big eyes.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to wake you”, he whispers trying not to wake the others.

“How long did I sleep?” you ask. Your voice sounds rough from not being used for so long.

“For about eight hours I guess, there are still six more hours to go though”, he says crawling into the bed beside you “the bed is all warmed up because of you”, he sighs pulling the blanket over his body.

“Yeah? Well, my side is cold”, you pout to which he chuckles quietly.

“I’m not really sorry, I’m far too warm and cozy right now to feel any kind of regret”, he says earning a gentle hit to his chest.

“You are mean Seokjin do you know that?” you ask fake annoyance coating your voice.

“I know I am. Good night Y/N”, he chuckles before finally closing his eyes and instantly dozing off.

You try to fall asleep again, but no matter how much you try you just can’t. So after an hour of tossing and turning you decide to finally get up. You crawl over Seokjins sleeping form trying your hardest not to startle him. You look at the single bed right opposite of yours and a peaceful looking Jimin was sleeping soundly with his mouth slightly opened. You smile, he always looks so cute whilst sleeping. You were sure his cheeks must become even squishier than they usually are once he falls asleep. You gently stroke his cheeks, a quiet sigh of approval leaving Jimins lips, before you walk out of the bedroom.

The plane is silent safe for the rather loud snoring of Namjoon and the constant roaring of the engine. To your surprise there are still lights on when you enter the seating area and a very awake looking Jungkook is currently sitting on one of the chairs scrolling through something on his phone.

“Good morning Jungkook”, you greet him once you had sat down opposite of him. He looks startled at first starring at you with big eyes and he pulls out one of his earphones.

“Good morning. I didn’t expect you to wake up so soon”, he says, well whispers as an attempt not to wake Taehyung, who is sleeping only an arm’s length away from the two of you.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep anymore. Seokjin woke me up and after that I just didn’t feel tired anymore”, you sigh looking out of the window. The sky is painted in beautiful orange and red tones and the usual white clouds are pink in color.

“It’s so weird, just a few hours ago I saw the sun rise and here I am seeing it go down again”, you say starring at the pink clouds. It reminds you of cotton candy and you smile, you really want to eat some again.

“Yeah it really is strange. Timezones are weird”, Jungkook answers now looking out of the window as well. You both fall silent after that starring at the changing sky both lost in your own thoughts. Jungkook soon puts his earphones back in and you quickly follow his actions. You decide to listen to some indie music, finding it fitting for the atmosphere of the sky.

At one point Jimin and Hoseok had woken up as well sitting down at the two empty chairs next to you and Jungkook. They had both greeted you asking you if you were as hungry as them. You are and very soon the four of you are munching on some rather dry, but still delicious toast with mozzarella and tomatoes. One by one the rest of the group wakes up and after some word games together, you finally land in Switzerland. 

It takes you another hour to get from the Sion airport to your final destination, a chalet located on top a mountain. It is the only building up there and a small forest surrounds the whole mansion. Excited “woows” and “ooohs” are leaving each of your lips once you step foot into the chalet. The slightly orange lights give off a warm atmosphere and the fireplace which is located in the big open living room warms your frozen limbs. It had been rather cold outside and the short walk from the taxi to the house had left all of you shivering.

“Wow it’s beautiful here and so warm”, you say taking everything in with big eyes.

“Oh my god there is a fur rug right in front of the fireplace. I can finally live out my dream of lying on it wearing nothing safe for fuzzy socks and a red rose in my mouth”, Seokjin says earning weird looks from the rest of you.

“What kind of weird dreams do you have?” Hoseok asks eyeing his elder with disgust.

“It’s not weird. Just imagine it, I would look so good”, Seokjin says. He had already taken off his big jacket and boots and is currently stepping onto the white rug with a big smile on his face. He stretches out his arm wiggling his eyebrows at you with a smirk on his face.  

“Please don’t do it”, Yoongi says crossing his arms in front of his chest. He sits down on the white sofa, sighing contently at how comfortable it was.

“Fine, if you want to live with the knowledge that you destroyed my dream for the rest of your life”, Seokjin sighs dramatically.

“I think I can live with that”, you laugh joining Yoongi on the sofa next to him.

“When you are all finished with talking nonsense can we finally start with dividing the rooms?” Jimin asks sitting down on the cushion next to you.

“Good idea Jimin-ah. According to the chalet description which I printed out at home, there are four bedrooms with a double bed in each one of them. Now the question is who is going to be roommates?” Namjoon explains pulling out a piece of paper from his pocket.

“I don’t care who will be my roommate as long as I can go to sleep very soon. I am still tired as fuck”, Hoseok says with half-closed eyes.

“I also don’t care”, you say and the others look at you expectantly. “What?” you ask confused at their sudden puppies eyes.

“I’m the perfect roommate I will sing to you until you fall asleep”, Jungkook explains, his big eyes staring into your.

“No Jungkook will steal your blanket! Pick me Y/N please pick me”, Namjoon begs.

“If you want to be woken up by snoring go on and pick Namjoon, but if you want nothing but sweet cuddles pick me”, Taehyung insists looking at you with the biggest pout ever.

“Guys you know how indecisive I can be. Why would you make me choose?” you groan knowing very well what was to come. You had always secretly loved it when the guys fought about who gets to sleep with you for the night. But they had stopped doing it a long time ago, too tired and stressed to even care and you had started to miss it. It feels good that they had started doing it and you try to hide your smile which threatens to creep up your face.

Suddenly a rather loud scream of complaint of Yoongi rips you from your giddy thoughts. “Yaah! Taehyung is annoying as fuck, he’s clingy and wouldn’t let go of you the whole night. Do you really want to be suffocated by a real life koala?” he yells which earns him a pillow thrown to his head by Taehyung.

“Don’t say stuff like this hyung I’m not annoying, I’m cute”, Taehyung grins winking at you. You scoff, he was right he is cute, but you don’t want to let him know just yet.

“Hey Y/N look at me, don’t listen to them I am the perfect partner. I give you head massages before going to sleep”, Seokjin says taking your hand into his. You tense up at first, you aren’t used to such gentle gestures anymore. But soon enough you find yourself relaxing into his touch, enjoying the way his thumb caresses your skin.

“Just look at me and tell me that I am not the perfect roommate”, Jimin throws in pushing Seokjin off of you so your eyes are now fixated on him. He is pouting rocking his shoulders from side to side and you fight to urge to just reach out and pinch his cheeks.

“Stop acting cute Jiminie nobody believes your act here!” Hoseok complains rolling his eyes at Jimins failed attempt of convincing you. You realise how much you have missed this kind of attention. Your heart is thumbing in your chest and butterflies dance around in your stomach. It feels weird, is this what it had felt like when everything was still fine with them?

“Umm, how about you play rock, paper, scissors?” you suggest, an attempt to stop your mind from drifting off to dark places again. They instantly agree, throwing their hands into a cycle. You had stopped counting how many times they had begged for a rematch after the sixth time. They looked possessed playing this children game like their life depended on it. You have to fight the urge to burst into laughter because of their constant yelling and serious faces. Soon the game comes to a stop once Hoseok finally had enough and screamed that this would be the last and deciding round. He had come out a winner celebrating his victory by dancing in front of the sad looking losers.

“Have fun picking out your roommates I can finally go to sleep”, he sings pulling you up by your shoulders and dragging you across the room to the circular staircase.

“Wait Hoseok our suitcases”, you try to stop him but to no attempt, he was far too excited to finally go to sleep not thinking about stopping whatsoever.

“I’ll bring them to you”, you hear Jungkook scream after you before you are finally pulled into your bedroom.

The room is beautiful. The walls are coated with dark wood panels and deer antlers had been hung up as decoration. The bed is big enough to fit at least three people and a white woolen throw perfectly accentuated the red sheets.

“On which side do you want to sleep?” Hoseok asks you, already sitting down on the left side of the bed. You look at him, smiling lightly when you notice he had remembered that you always choose the right side.

“The right side”, you say whilst opening the door for Jungkook, who had knocked on it a few seconds ago. He is carrying both of your suitcases in his hands, the weight of them not affecting him whatsoever. He thanks you for letting him in before putting them down next to the bathroom door. He stands up looking at you, scratching his head, something he always does when he was feeling nervous.

“Thanks Jungkook”, you tell him to which he smiles.

“Of course uhmm, good night Y/N and Hoseok”, he says leaving the room as fast as he had entered it. You scream a “good night” after him before closing the door and turning around to face Hoseok. He is already lying on the bed with closed eyes and a content smile.

“I’ll be back soon. I’m going to wash myself real quick, I feel dirty from flying”, you explain to him.

“Mhm don’t take too long I also want to wash myself”, he says sleepily, pulling the blanket over his body and just as you had thought, he is already fast asleep the moment you step into the bedroom again.

[lady-olive-oil]

Brown Sugah Baby: Chapter 6

Here we go with another installment of Brown Sugah Baby! I only own the OCs in this story and the events. There is a hint of abuse mentioned in here, I was once a victim of mental abuse and I’ve gotten better. If you need someone to talk to, my box is always open. Without further ado, here we go! Let me know if you wanna be in the tag squad! Feedback is always appreciated!

Word Count: 3,434

Warnings: mentions of physical abuse and language

Tag Squad: @maddiestundentwritergaines || @destinio1 || @designerwriterchic || @terrablaze514 || @themyscxiras || @sirenmouths || @chaneajoyyy

In the midst of everything going on, winter break finally made its way to Southern University. This game of ‘not talking’ between M’Baku and Nefe, went on longer than anticipated. But for the holidays, Nefe to Miami for Christmas and Nattie went to Wakanda with T’Challa. At this point in time, he told her his true identity and what he was doing at an HBCU for.

Nattie didn’t know how to take it at all. She did however pass out in the middle of the throne room and hadn’t woken up for a good few hours or so.

“So you mean to tell me that, you’re about to become king of Wakanda. The most technologically advanced country in the world?”

She asked with a questionable expression on her face, sitting next to T’Challa as he held an ice pack on her head, on his bed. His room had overlooked the city below that was breathtaking.

“Yes I am. Nakia is a war dog, she presented the idea to go to school in America. I hope this doesn’t change anything about how yuh feel about me.”

Placing a hand on her cheek to ease her pain, Nattie placed hers on top and smiled sweetly. Breathing evenly before responding.

“It’ll take me some getting used to, but I also know that I have to tell Nefe. We promised no more secrets after the whole Sean and Melanie thing. She chewed my ass out over that and I hate myself for it.”  

“You did what you had to do. She is your best friend, and sometimes you have to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Holding her close to him, a gentle kiss was laid.

“Oh and about telling Nefe, you can't tell her anything. At least not yet.”

“Ok pause. What do you mean I can’t? You know how she gets T’Challa, I can’t hide shit from her anymore.”

Feeling her head throb in pain, she laid back down to close her eyes and center her breathing more.

“You can’t say anything because,” T’Challa sighed heavily and closed his eyes before continuing on.

“Because what-”

“Because M’Baku has to tell her. That’s why.”

What was he talking about now? None of this made sense at all and she needed to to know more.

“What does that have to do with M’Baku? It’s not like he’s detained to be king too.”

There was a poignant silence in the air, as her eyes got wide in astonishment.

“No way. You mean to tell me that M’Baku is going to become-”

“King of the mountains. Jabari Land to be more accurate.”

All of this didn’t make sense to Nattie at all, but then a thought came to mind. She remembered the metal looking bracelets she saw on Nakia and Okoye’s wrists at a party one time, but never questioned them.

“You guys have these thick metal bracelets right? Y’all never leave the house without it.”

“These are kimoyo beads. Made out of vibranium and somewhat holographic.” T’Challa explains as he tapped on the bracelet and a hologram of his sister popped up.

“Brother, is everything ok- oh my. You told her!” Shuri shrieked through the projection, causing Nattie to chuckle a bit.

“Yeah he uh- finally told me. I now have to keep it a secret from Nefe. Which will be hard to do, seeing as though she scares the hell outta me and we promised to not keep secrets anymore.” She directed her attention towards T’Challa who looked apologetic for all of it.

“If I know my brother well, he’ll let you know when to tell her. Or have M’Baku do it. Has he told her yet, after finding out they’ve known each other since they were kids?”

Nattie rolled her eyes at T’Challa, knowing he told his sister.

“You really can’t hold water can you?”

“You told me, so I told my sister. Who I’m sure told all of Wakanda.”

Shuri shrugged, waving goodbye to them both before disappearing.

“We have to get back to school tomorrow, and I want a bracelet.” Nattie looked at T’Challa with a sweet expression, causing him to smile and chuckle.

“Are you indicating, that you see a future with me already?” The soft caress on her cheek made her look into his eyes lovingly.

“Maybe. Only time will tell, my Prince.” She kisses him sweetly, holding his face in her hands before breaking it.

“Time to pack?”

“Time to pack.”

-24 Hours Later-

Nefe made it back to Shreveport safe and sound, with focus on finishing junior year strong. Only one more yet left and she couldn’t handle all the pressure of drama; boys and possibly failing classes. She needed this degree in science of music. At least she’d have something to fall back on.

Before everyone left for Christmas break, Nefe made sure to talk to Nattie about not keeping secrets from each, other or the crew ever again. To be completely honest, Nefe was already breaking it by not telling anyone that Sean had hit her a few times. The only person who probably noticed the marks under the makeup, which was hidden very well with an untrained eye, was M’Baku.

He knew but didn’t say anything because he knew how much she loved Sean, yet saw his true colors a few months ago. All that is behind everyone now, and everything should go back on track. The weather is nice out, the crew is back to normal or so they thought.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Nefe mumbles to herself as she unravels a scene before her very eyes.

Melanie all over M’Baku again, in the courtyard, even after the whole fight that broke out. She wanted to scream; she wanted to cry, but she knew she couldn’t do any of that because it would be held over her head. She had feelings for M’Baku and didn’t know how to tell him at all. It broke her down so much.

Shooting a quick text to Nattie to meet her in the yard, she could’ve sworn Melanie looked at her. For a split second she sent a menacing smile and wink, towards Nefe, and kissed M’Baku. She couldn’t look or think straight, the rage boiled up in her with rage and fury as she stormed off.

Nattie came once she saw her best friend walk off in tears. Curiously over the scene 20 feet away, she saw the beginning of the fight between the two. She couldn’t tell her best friend yet till she was calm and ready. So she comforted her with buying her lunch and decided to have a sleepover with the Deltas.

“Melanie! What the fuck was that?!” M’Baku growled in rage as he pushed her off him, wiping his mouth off in disgust.

“Giving you what you missed all winter break, baby.” She placed her arms around his neck, and was pushed off once more.

“I told you once, and imma tell you again: I don’t want you anymore. We are done. Why can’t you get that through your thick skull?” M’Baku was beyond pissed off at this point.

“Why do you like her?! I don’t fucking get it! What does she have that I don’t?!”

Giving Melanie a once over, he scoffed while rubbing his chin. Shaking his head before responding, he arched a brow at her.

“Self respect and integrity for one. You just get on my nerves. I put up with your shit for too long, just go to Sean. He knows how to deal with you better than I can.”

He stormed off leaving Melanie in shock and embarrassment, causing her to storm off as well in anger.

Meanwhile, M’Baku took his anger out at the gym like always. He couldn’t stand the fact that Melanie didn’t understand that he wasn’t into her like that anymore.

“Girl troubles I see?” T’Challa asked as he leaned on the weight bar, occasionally spotting M’Baku to help out.

“You have no idea. She won’t leave me alone at all.” M’Baku didn’t know what to do anymore about Melanie, and it put a strain on his friendship with Nefe. Which frightened him.

“Forget about her. You need to focus on Nefertiti, mainly because she saw you earlier.” Erik chimed in, taking his Beats out of his ears.

“Damn it. I’m gonna have to talk to her.”

“I’d rather you let her cool off. She looked pretty peeved about it. It might’ve been karma? Which is a bad example and imma shut up now.”

“At least you tried T’Challa.” Erik snickered a bit, causing M’Baku to join in. He sighed gently and rubbed his face with a tired expression.

“Are the girls busy tonight?” He asked with caution.

“Yeah they’re having a pj party, tonight. The welcome back bash.” T’Challa responded while getting his stuff to head to his Greek house.

“I’ll probably talk to her tomorrow then. Cause I saw Sean with her earlier too. This can’t go on forever.”

M’Baku left the gym with god boys with determination on his mind to talk to his best friend.

-PJ Bash-

“Nefe! Can you grab the China Glaze polish case please?” It was the annual DST pj bash, as an event to say welcome back to school. Knowing that Nefe wasn’t in any mood to talk about what had transpired over the last few hours or so, she faced the music anyway.

“Yeah I got it.” Getting up from her spot on the couch, after deleting all her pictures of her and Sean from her phone, she grabbed the polish bucket from the cabinet.

The bash was going outside in the grand hall building, where every party was held and was occupied by many students for the bash. Not just the divine nine. Heading down to the bash with the girls, with the supplies, she felt comfy yet sexy in her pajamas. The were a simple silk tank top and shorts set with a matching robe, that floated behind her every time she walked. Her hair was in a high puff ball, in all its wash day glory. She saw M’Baku walk in with his friends and immediately felt her heart beat out of her chest.

She wanted to talk to him. No she needed to and now was a good time as any. ‘Man he looks good’ she thought to herself. She watched as his dri fit white shirt cling to his muscles, as his grey sweatpants accentuated his ass like a god that he is.

“Damn..” she mumbled to herself eyeing him over and over again. Thinking about the possible things she wouldn’t mind doing to him.

“Hey sis. I gotta talk to you about something.” Nattie grabbed the polish box, breaking her friend’s concentration, and guided Nefe towards the balcony.

“Uh sure. What’s up?”

“Well you know how over winter break I went to Wakanda with T’Challa? And before when we promised we wouldn’t hide anything from each other?” Nattie started off shakily and fiddled with her red robe string.

“Yeah. What about it? Need to tell me something don’t you?” With an arched brow, Nefe leaned against the railing, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes yes I do.” Nattie sighs gently and braces herself. “Over winter break I was Wakanda, obviously, and T’Challa had mentioned something to me. Something important.”

Nefe furrowed her brows and was waiting for her friend to finish.

“Go on.” She urged her.

“He told me he’s next in line for the Wakanda throne, Nefe. He and Shuri are royals; Nakia and Erik are war dogs, Okoye is his badass general and M’Baku is a royal too. But he’s next in line for the Jabari Land throne.”

Once she got it all out in one breath, the space between then two was silent. Nothing but silence and it was broken by Nefe laughing. She held her sides as she continued on.

“Oh that’s a good one. An African prince coming to America for school, that’s rich. On top of that, his friends coming along as well.” Nefe couldn’t believe her friend at all. What would a prince come to America for school?

“You think- you think I’m lying? You’ve really gone down to that point in our friendship. Wow, can not believe that my best friend is calling me a liar.” Nattie shook her head in disbelief at her friends accusation.

“I’m not calling you a liar. I would never do that to you. We’ve been through too much growing up and I would never, I swear on my Nikes.” If she swore in her Nike’s, she meant business.

“Why would royalty come to America for school? They’re from one of the most technologically advanced countries in the world, and they came here. That doesn’t make sense to me.” Nefe felt out of place and not in the right space.

“Listen, I accept your apology if we go get gelato tomorrow. Who you need to talk to is him.” Nattie moved her head in M’Baku’s general direction, to where he was at the party.

“Deal on the gelato. I’m so very sorry for accusing you and I appreciate you for telling me the truth. I’ll talk to him about it soon, along with something important.” Nefe hugged her best friend tightly before heading downstairs.

Making her way towards the dance floor, in a busy sea of college kids it their pajamas, Melanie and Nefertiti glanced at each other for a split second before minding their own business. Feeling her nerves rush towards her again, as she journeyed closer to him.

“H-hey, ahem. Can we go somewhere and talk?” Tapping his shoulder gently, Nefe saw his smiling face for the first time in a month since they last talked. Receiving a gentle nod from him, she took his hand and headed towards the door to head her sorority house. Which was literally next door.

“Uh where you think you’re going?” Melanie stood in front of them, blocking their way.

Nefe didn’t have time for this again. She got in her face and was real personal about it.

“Move, or be moved.” She gritted her teeth and flared her nostrils. Making her fear her. Melanie gulped and moved out the way.

With a roll of her eyes Nefe continued her path with M’Baku in tow. Heading upstairs to her room, and locking the door just in case.

“What do you see in her? Honestly that’s got to be one of the dumbest choices you’ve made.” Nefe scoffed and walked around the room with her hands on her hips.

“Oh my dumbest choice? That’s funny coming from someone who dated the score keeper.” This was the chance M’Baku has waited for. He wanted to tell her off but also express his feelings.

“Score keeper? What are you talking about? You went out with Melanie and watched her make my life hell cause I’m friends with you!”

“Nefertiti you went out with Sean, that was the stupidest shit you’ve ever done. We’ve tried to tell you over and over again, he was using you!” He never called her by her full first name and it scared her. Yet she was never one to back down.

“I know how to handle my goddamn battles M’Baku. You know me, damn it! Melanie thrives on making my life hell-”

“Sean tried to make mine hell but I beat him to it every time.”

The tension could be cut with a knife between theses two and their bickering. Nattie and the gang had followed them of course to be nosy, trying to listen against the door and the walls.

“You need to make a god damn choice, M’Baku! I’m not gonna be waiting forever.” Nefe was fuming mad over all of this and needed to get it through his head that he needed to make an choice.

“I have to make a choice now? What about you? This isn’t just on me Nefertiti! Me or Sean?” Once he got in her face, his voice dropped a few octaves, making it extremely hard for her to focus.

It took her a minute to collect her bearings; felt her rage build up all at once, and had the courage to talk back to him.

”Me or Melanie? Take your pick, because at this rate I’m done playing charades with you. Your highness.” The grit in teeth and the emphasis on highness, made it worse.

The color seemed to drain from his face as he looked into her eyes, when the moon reflected upon them. His breathing was heavy and caught in his throat. Who told her?

“How do you know about that? How told you?” He was more worried than he should be.

“Nattie did. Told me all about her winter vacation to Wakanda, to meet his mother. I’m surprised Melanie doesn’t know. Ha, she’d go through hell or high water just to keep your demanding ass.” The snarl didn’t help her case anyhow.

“My demanding ass? Wow ok. You’re the one whose demanding, you’re the one who was stuck up so far Sean’s fake ass that you couldn’t see the truth. You couldn’t tell anyone, expect me, as to why he hit you!”

“He what?! Imma kill his ass.” Erik mumbled in a whisper on the other side of the door.

“Not until I get him first.” Nattie added with him. No one hurts her best friend and gets away with it.

This time Nefe’s face fell in embarrassment and regret.

“I-” her words were choked up.

“Nothing to say huh? It hurt me when you said it. My best friend, from childhood I might add, was being hit because she told him no. But when shit hit the fan, you finally left and let go.” His voice was softer and soothing. He lifted her chin to look into her eyes, to make sure she heard every word.

“I didn’t know what to do after the third time. It was all a shock that it happened to me. When I told him I needed a break he wasn’t happy and stormed out. He tried to get me back that day before our date, and I told him that we’re done. He gave me one last hug and I guess you saw that.” She explained and then remembered all of it, scene for scene.

“I did and that’s why I broke our date. I thought he got you back.” His thumb caressed her high cheekbone, as her eyes shifted.

“I was gonna talk to you too, but Melanie kissed you earlier and just infuriates me how much she craves-”

M’Baku couldn’t take it anymore with their constant bickering, so he took matters into his own hands, and just pinned her to the wall kissing her with everything in him.

The sudden gasp that left her lips, as they kissed, made her light headed. She didn’t know what to think or do, so she just went with her gut and returned the kiss in all its entirety.

“You...you just kissed me.” Her voice was hushed. Their breaths mingling in synchronization with their heavy breathing, as the kiss was broken. The shear moment alone took her breath away, freezing the muscles in her body as he kept her hands on his biceps. Having dreamt of this moment for years but never thought it would happen. Thankful to the gods that it is.

“And uh, I’m about to do it again.” He whispers against her full lips, pulling her curvy body closer to his rigid torso. Letting his rough hands take their perspective journey along her back, as if they were destined to be there. Her hands were locked around his neck, debating on what to do next. Throwing caution to the wind, going with what her heart wanted, she looked up into his soft loving brown eyes with her golden brown ones, and bit her lip.

“What’s stopping you?” She whispered back, kissing him harder than he did before. A pleased groan escaped from both of them, all the pent up frustration leaving their bodies into the atmosphere. Their lips fit together like a puzzle piece as the moves in sync, holding on to each other for dear life. Her nimble fingers moved under his shirt, tracing the hard working muscles. His hands traveled as well, from her hips to over her voluptuous ass and gave a hard squeeze. Earning a shaky moan from her, while she dragged her nails against the back of his neck. There was no turning back now, and neither of them cared.

[rdmfavcpls]

Barter

Title: Barter

Category: Digimon

Rating:  T

Pairing: Ami/Arata

Summary:  Ami finds the perfect gift for Arata, but she doesn’t have the money for it. Good thing she knows how to barter.

Prompt: “I scalped my Hamilton tickets to pay for it.”

Disclaimer: I don’t own any rights to the Digimon franchise and I did not abandon my babies

~~Story Begins~~

She didn’t come prepared for rain. In fact, Ami didn’t come prepared for any weather expect for perfect temperatures and the sun. The heavens had other plans because it started to rain like cats and dogs.

She had at least found an old little shop to go inside. She browsed the shelves of books. She was looking for a perfect present for one of her friends who wanted to make his birthday a bit more special. She checked every shelf level, titles, and their summaries if they seemed to be something that he would enjoy.

Valentine’s Day was approaching and with it came Arata’s birthday. He strongly disliked it (he actually used the word hate, but Ami could never say that word because she was extremely happy that he was born).

She knew she was going to bake him a small vanilla cake homemade for Valentine’s Day, but she also wanted to give him a different present. A birthday present.

Ami sighed as she looked out the window to see it was still raining. There was nothing on the shelves that really screamed Arata, but a couple of the books did seem like something he would be interested in.

“Need any help?” a voice said from behind Ami. She turned around to face a middle-aged man who stood behind the glass counter.

“Not really, just browsing while the rain comes down,” Ami said. She looked inside the glass cabinet and tapped one of her gloved fingers against the glass above a book. “What’s this book here?”

“That is the last book for the Bakuden Delete. It is super rare and expensive,”  the man said.

“How much?” she said. Her blue eyes took a quick glance behind the man to see if there was anything that she could use to help him drop the price or something she had to barter with.

Her eyes spotted the red circle on a date that was two days away with Hamilton written in red. She looked at the computer he was on and saw he had a ticket site up with prices for Hamilton tickets.

“16,432.25 yen,” the man said.

“He is going to kill me,” Ami said.

“Oh?  So this is for a guy?”

“Yes. A good friend of mine.”

“You wished he was more. I can see it in your eyes. They look so much like my daughter’s when she talks about her crush.”

Ami felt the heat creep up on her cheek and nodded her head. “Yes, but baby steps first right?  Anyway, he was born on Valentine’s Day and I want to give him a birthday present. I already know what to give him for Valentine’s.”

“I was born on a holiday too. It sucks. I’ll drop it down to 16,200.25,” the man said.

“They cost 10,000 yen for the deluxe box set,” Ami said, “online. Why so much  for this one?”

“It ’s rare. They are out of print,” the man said.

“8,000 online for the same book you have in the cabinet,” Ami said with a shake of her head. “Why the huge price increase?”

“Are you interested in the book or not?”  the man said.

“Very interested, but you are pricing it very high. I just want to know if there is a reason behind it,” Ami said. She was going to buy it anyway and come back with cash so Arata wouldn’t be able to track the present back to her so easily.

The man sighed. “Fine. I promised my little girl that I’ll take her to go see Hamilton, but they were a lot more expensive than I thought. I was hoping the ticket prices would be cut in half, but they only went up more.”

“Perhaps a trade. It can benefit us,” Ami said. “In exchange for this book,” she tapped her finger against the glass case again,  “plus a couple of books that are on the shelves, I will give you two deluxe V.I.P tickets to Hamilton.”

She took off her bag and opened it. She reached inside to grab her wallet and pulled out two crisp tickets for Hamilton.

“You know how expensive these are, right?” Ami said with a smile.

“They are very expensive,” he said looking at the tickets. “However, I cannot accept your deal because it is an uneven deal. I’m a fair man and all that you request is the price for only one of those tickets.”

“Perhaps, but I am not worried about that,” Ami said.

“The rain is still coming down pretty hard,” the man said. “Go ahead and browse some more. I will add up that you bring to the counter and if you want another rare item from my cabinet let me know. We will make a deal when your purchase is close to the price of your two tickets. Deal?”

“Deal,” Ami said. She handed over the tickets to the man and started her shopping.

~~Digimon~~

Arata glared at the mountain of chocolate heart boxes that were given to him earlier. Nokia and Yuuko even gave him a box of chocolate even knowing that he didn’t want any nor would he eat them. He only wanted to stay home and mop all day because, like usual,  no one wished him a happy birthday.

Except for two people; Ami and Yuugo.

“At least Ami listened to my request of not giving me anything,” Arata grumbled. He sent a glare to the unwrapped birthday gift present that Yuugo gave him. It was a membership to an exclusive computer group that Arata had already joined and got kicked out of. It wasn’t his fault that he kept proving the leaders wrong with their ‘security programs’ that he kept hacking into.

Someone started to knock on his door which caused Arata to focus his attention on the door.

“I have a package for Mr. Sanada,” the person said from outside.

Arata opened the door and stared at the delivery man. “I’m Sanada, but I haven’t ordered anything in a while.”

“Cool man. These are actually gifts that I’m delivering for a friend,” the man said.  He handed the packages over to Arata. “I need to go back to work now. Cya.”

The delivery person left and Arata shut the door. He studied the two packages as one of them felt warm still.

“Who ordered this?” Arata said. He put the rectangular box down on the table as he sat down. He opened the warm one to see a miniature cake in one of the glass display cases bakeries use to preserve their cakes.

“Whoever they are, they know me,” Arata said as he sat the cake down to go grab himself a fork. He came back and uncovered the cake before he took a small bite. A rare smile on his face as the cake melted in his mouth. “This is definitely vanilla cake and delicious. It isn’t made out of a box cake mix either.”

He kept eating the warm cake as Arata proceeded to open the other present. The box actually led to another box that had the words ‘Happy Birthday’ in beautiful handwriting even though it looked slightly messy.

He opened the box slowly before he shut it the lid to it. He took a deep breath and opened the box. His eyes didn’t play a trick on him. He closed the lid and got up to set the fork and cake display in his sink.

He needed to have a serious talk with someone.

~~Digimon~~

Ami looked around her kitchen one more time. There wasn’t any sign of her wrapping a couple of special presents that could give her away. The only sign that she even baked today was in her sink.

Of course, her favorite bakeware would need to soak in the sink before she washed them to make them spotless again. Then again, it was the downfall of making everything from scratch in order to get the cake she knew he would enjoy.

She looked over at the stack of books that sat on her kitchen counter.

“I’ll wrap you fellows up later when I can figure out how to give you to Arata without him knowing,” Ami said with a sigh. “I hope he’s at least having fun on his birthday. The downfalls of  still being  a minor.”

Ami laid down on her couch and stared at the smaller stack of books. “What to do on a day with zero plans? Mom canceled at last minute because of her boyfriend there in Spain,”  she said with pain in her voice that she usually doesn’t let out.

“Sleep sounds good,” Ami said with a yawn. She knows what happens whenever the pain she hides shows up in her voice, she will begin to think of the sad memories and broken promises of her past.

She closed her eyes and within moments she was asleep on her couch.

~~Digimon~~

When Ami woke up, she felt like someone was staring at her. She tilted her head back against the arm of the couch and was met with a pair of angry grey eyes.

“Oh, happy birthday Arata,” Ami said in greeting as she tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“How did you buy it?” Arata said.

“Buy what?”

Arata held the box up that held the manga in it. “This.”

“Uh...not much? Boxes don’t seem to be all that expensive.”

“I meant the thing that is inside the box.”

“Isn’t there better ways to spend your birthday than harassing me over a box?”

“You got me the last chapter over Bakuen Delete,” Arata said. “You got me that for Valentine’s Day.”

Ami almost retorted that it was his birthday present, but bit her lip. “Happy Valentine’s Day as well,” she said.

“Ami,”  Arata said with a growl. “I know you sent me those two presents.”

“Two presents?”

“A vanilla bean homemade cake that I already ate. It was still warm when I received it and this,” Arata said and held the box up again.

“I give out a lot of boxes in a year,” Ami said. “Besides, you told us not to give you anything for Valentine’s Day or birthday. However, I still got you something and they are sitting on the counter.”

Arata’s glare hardened and Ami realized her mistake. She sat up just as Arata went to go check out her counter. She turned around to say something to stop him but he let out a sound that she has never heard come from him before, but it sounded mad.

“How exactly did you get all these books? How much did you spend?” Arata said.  “Your kitchen also states that you did bake me that cake.”

“Fine,”  Ami said in defeat. “Bakuen Delete is your birthday present instead.”

“About time you admitted it,” Arata said. “Your half asleep mind can’t keep up, can it? The only thing that is in the kitchen that signals  you did any baking is the sink.”

Arata was now on a receiving end of a glare.

“How did you get it? How did  you get  all  of this?” Arata asked.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because the book is expensive and hard to come by,” Arata said. “I also made sure no one came in after  I did because you decided to take a nap with the door unlocked.”

“I didn’t pay anything for it really. I bartered for it.”

“How?”

“I scalped my Hamilton tickets to pay for it.  The price the owner had on the book was close to the equivalent someone had to pay for a deluxe ticket at last minute. I gave him both of my tickets for some of his merchandise.”

“You didn’t have too. I would’ve been fined if I never got it.”

“No take-backs,” Ami said. She sighed and looked at Arata. “Isn’t today your 20th birthday? You need to treat is as Americans do with their 21st birthday and party. Go have fun.”

Ami had to move her legs quickly as Arata sat down on the couch next to her with the stack of books.

“I  might stay here and read all my presents. I’ll much rather celebrate when couples aren’t everywhere, besides you look like you need someone to talk to you,” Arata said.

“I won’t talk to the birthday boy about my problems,” Ami said as she nudged his side with her foot. “Good choice on staying in through.”

~~The End~~

[draw-you-coward]

happy starlight!

hello everybody! as luck would have it, i started this blog almost year ago! the 26th, actually! but as i probably can’t get an entire other write out within that small amount of time, i’m chucking this with this one!

so anyways thank you to all of you who follow me, everyone who interacts with my blog despite the ffxiv, everyone who interacts with my blog despite the non-ffxiv, those of you who reblog, those of you who comment, those of you who have stuck with me since i started!

aaah more words! anyways! here’s the write :>

ao3

Three people is certainly enough for a party. Ikael doesn’t know where everyone’s (well, the two other people’s) criticism is coming from. From a non-festive spirit, that’s where.

“—and I really do have to go back to my mountain of paperwork, Ikael! Ikael?! Are you listening to me?”

Ikael is not, in fact, listening to Tataru—he is too busy worrying about whether her and Alisaie will like his presents. He smiles, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. The bell on his hat falls and hits him on the forehead. He carefully repositions it.

“Yes, darling. Don’t worry; I’ll take you back to Kugane when it’s over, okay? Or maybe tomorrow, if you want to stay for the evening?”

He gives Tataru the best pouting face he can manage while dressed up like a child’s fantasy of the Saint of Nymeia. She spasms stressfully for a moment before slowly melting.

“Oh, alright,” she says, touching his cheek. “But don’t give me that look to make me do things! It’s unfair.”

Ikael winks at her before heading back to the kitchen to check on his pie. It is coming along nicely—it will be done in a few more minutes, he thinks. He will wait and make them hot cocoa in the meantime.

He finally goes back to the atrium with three mugs of hot cocoa and his pie on a tray, and smiles when he sees Alisaie leaning forwards in a chair, head in her hands, paying acute attention to what Tataru is yattering on about.

“And I’m just worried he’ll forget, you know?” Tataru is pressing her hands together. “He forgets a lot of things! Once he went clothes shopping with me and forgot to bring his coin purse! Sometimes he forgets that he’s put something in the oven! It’s a fire hazard!”

Ikael clears his throat to get their attention, hoping the flush of embarrassment he can feel in his cheeks is not visible. He… does tend to forget some things. Of… varying importance.

Tataru squeaks, spinning around to face him. Ikael smiles at her awkwardly. Alisaie simply looks amused.

“I, uh, didn’t forget to bake this, though!” He lifts his tray, showcasing the pie.

“It’s a bit… small.” Alisaie looks as if her smile is somehow paining her. “You weren’t expecting anyone else, then.”

Ikael coos at her immediately, setting his tray down on the coffee table. Poor thing probably needs a hug. Ikael will gladly give her one.

“Why are you making that ridiculous noise?” Alisaie says into his—expensive, but very nice-feeling—coat, voice muffled. “This isn’t a pity party, it’s a holiday party. Of… some sort. I am sure.”

“Yes!” Ikael’s ears attempt to perk up, but cannot, since he is wearing a hat. It shifts a little. “Well. Starlight cakes are usually relatively disgusting fruitcakes. So! And especially considering that we are all very sad and lonely, I thought it best to bake a pie!”

He beams, looking from one of them to the other. Tataru beams back, clapping her hands. She loves his pies. At least, that is what she tells him whenever it is time to eat lunch. Or breakfast. Or supper.

Alisaie looks at his pie. “… What kind?”

“Rolanberry crumble! My favourite. A-ah-ahh—pie, that is. Ye—yes.”

Alisaie takes her mug of hot cocoa, peering at the pie with renewed interest. Neither she nor Tataru seem to have noticed Ikael’s stumble, thank Hydaelyn. He is not quite ready for that secret to slip out yet.

~*~

“This is a very… oddly-shaped present, Ikael.” Tataru is holding it as if it might bite her. “I’m almost worried to unwrap it, to tell the truth.”

“It’s safe, I promise!” Ikael insists, pressing his hands to his cheeks. He waits excitedly as Tataru slowly tears away the wrapping paper, tail whipping from side to side. When she finally holds out the gift and stares at it, he jiggles on his toes.

“It’s a leash for your carbuncle!” he says happily. “I-I-I thought—you know, since it’s always running away! This way it can’t!”

It is a brilliant idea. Ikael is a genius.

“I… cannot believe you thought of that! Thank you, Ikael,” Tataru says, and Ikael jiggles harder. She likes it! Ikael is so happy. He has been so worried…

“And for Ali…” He digs in his bag, searching for her gift.

“What did you just call me?” Alisaie asks. Her voice is soft with something akin to disbelief. Ikael is not paying attention.

He pulls out his second gift with a flourish. Alisaie takes it hesitantly, and he smiles at her, patting her on the head. Hm—she needs to wash her hair.

“It is… a very red dressing gown?” Alisaie holds it up once she finishes unwrapping it. “Uh…”

“Red is your colour!” Ikael tells her, in case she has forgotten. “And this was so nice! I wanted to get another one for myself, but I didn’t have enough money! And besides, it wouldn’t be special that way.”

“I…” Alisaie looks bemused. “… am grateful to… finally have something I can…” She looks at Tataru,  who nods at her for some reason, “… read… books! In. Thank you, Ikael.”

Ikael coos at her happily, opening his arms for a hug. She smiles, and gives him a gentle one.

“I have more!” Ikael declares. He reaches into his bag again.

“I… did not get either of you anything.” Alisaie’s voice is low with regret. “I am sorry. With everything that has been going on… to tell the truth, I barely noticed it was approaching Starlight.”

“Oh, it’s alright.” Tataru smiles gently at her. “It is your company that matters, after all! Your presence, not your presents.”

She giggles. Ikael giggles, too, since that is a very funny joke.

“Okay.” He takes out his last two gifts for them, which he has not wrapped, and hands them out. “I-I… knitted these. I-I am sorry if the craftman—if the—if it is not… very good.” Ikael is very much a beginner.

“Oh, this is a lovely blanket, Ikael!” Tataru shakes hers out; a lovely lavender and pink. Alisaie’s is red, orange, and brown—autumn-themed, Ikael had tried. It is Starlight, but… he likes the colours.

“Mine is, ah, the same size as Tataru’s, I see,” Alisaie points out. Ikael reaches up to tug at his ear nervously. He ends up jingling the bell on his hat instead.

“I-I, um… tried to make sweaters. Apparently those are not very… beginner-friendly projects.”

Ikael picks up the scarf Tataru had given him as a present and sticks his face in it, inhaling. It smells like very lovely wool.

“It is a treasured thought, Ikael.” Alisaie’s voice sounds kind. “And the yarn seems very exp—I-I mean… It looks as if you put a lot of effort into this, and that is what matters.”

“… Wait.” Tataru’s voice does not sound as kind. “How much did the yarn cost?”

Ikael whines into his scarf, his tail hitting his leg. He paid for all of gifts out of pocket.

~*~

“Hello, Thancred.”

Ikael gazes upon his unmoving, self-declared best friend. He looks dead—Ikael does not like that at all. Not at all not at all not at—

He draws in a shuddering breath. He leans down to kiss Thancred's nose, then his forehead. His cheek. His other cheek. Draws back.

“I-I-I, uh, knitted you a-a… um, blanket?” Ikael’s voice rises in pitch with his uncertainty. He squeezes the soft wool in his hands. “It… was supposed to be a sweater, but… o-oh well. Haha!”

He is going to start crying again. He sniffs, then carefully places the… blanket… on Thancred's chest, smoothing it down.

“I-I made yours dark red, bec—because… you said you liked it. Um, remember? U-um… some time ago.” He sniffs again. “I-I… um… know you don’t have the best fashion sense. But I can—I-I can agree with you on this one. I-it looks—it looks good. On you.”

He gives Thancred one last kiss on his cheek, then straightens up.

“Happy Starlight,” he says softly. “H-hey. You know what’d be a great present?”

Thancred does not reply. Ikael gazes at him for one long, last moment, then leaves the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

~*~

[pixiealtaira]

Dragged Kicking and Screaming  ( 9/ 22)

Or How Burt Hummel Mashed the Hummels and Hudsons Into One Functioning Family.

Characters(s): Kurt, Burt, Carole, Finn, with short appearances by the New Directions guys and various ops who mostly take up space. Rating: PG13 Summary: Somehow the Hummel household and the Hudson household had to come together…

Chapter One  Chapter Two

Chapter three  Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter 6

Chapter seven Chapter 8

9.

Burt nodded at Kurt as he put the last of the trash into a big bag and got ready to take it outside.

“You guys can finish the rest tomorrow.  I’ll pay weekend chore pay for it if you don’t get help.” Burt told Kurt. “Go get your stuff and get it downstairs.  I know you’ll want to unpack and get washing going.”

Kurt nodded and headed out to bring his stuff back into the house…which wasn’t going to be as easy as before since the disaster with it that morning.  He took the large trash bag out to the bin as he went.

Finn tossed a huge tantrum when he realized Kurt hadn’t been lying when he said he was home for good. He started it the moment Kurt brought in the first suitcase and headed down the stairs. Finn was shouting and flailing his arms about and threatening all sorts of things. Kurt responded with his usual practice of removing all of Finn’s stuff from the bedroom and setting it on the couch in the basement, before going out to his SUV and moving the rest of his stuff from Dalton in very loudly.  There was much stomping, on Kurt’s part, and yelling at each other (granted, mostly Finn yelling at Kurt with Finn refusing to move from the living room couch so he wouldn’t have to give up TV control to Burt and Kurt sassing back loudly so Finn couldn’t miss it as he stomped by).

“And this suitcase is the last of my clothing from Dalton!” Kurt exclaimed as he dragged a large suitcase in.  “I’ll be putting it all back into my closet, which you had better not have gotten into. I will know.  And tomorrow we will fix this whole nothing decorated in the house situation. And I will find out where my snowmen have gone!”

“No.  Mom said I get to decide what we are doing inside and I haven’t decided yet.  I am trying to decide between NHL and NFL and Guns.”

“Those are not Christmas themes.” Kurt shouted, stopping in the middle of the hall.

“Sure they are...and besides Mom already decided for most of the house.  She said she’d make your dad go buy what was needed for it tomorrow and Monday. But it is way girly and I need a MAN spot.  She said I could have it in the bedroom.”

“We aren’t allowed trees in the bedrooms.” Kurt said.

“Burt will let me. YOU might not have been allowed it, but Burt likes me and he’ll let me.”

“My dad has REASONS for not allowing trees in bedrooms.  He will not.” Kurt snapped. “And he LOVES me.”  Kurt continued onto the basement.

The basement door had slammed shut before Finn has shouted “You wish!”

Burt hoped Kurt had not heard it.

All Burt could see was another month or longer of this day or Thanksgiving week repeating itself over and over and over again.  He was NOT going to put up with it any longer. He decided first to talk to Kurt, so far that had worked best…if he could get Kurt to ease off then the other two would surely see reason.

“Kurt,” Burt snapped as Kurt stomped towards the basement with the last of his stuff from Dalton, after going out and coming back in again, muttering under his breath as he did. “Could we work a little harder here to co-exist please?”

Kurt turned and looked at Burt. “In what way have I not tried to co-exist, Father?”

Kurt’s use of father in such a cold tone shocked Burt and he seriously couldn’t think of an answer.

Kurt had done all that was asked of him, over and over and over, since the wedding.  Heck, since long before the wedding Kurt had done what Burt asked…he was often the only one trying to do so.

“I have done nothing but try my best to ‘co-exist’ since they moved in. I have given up everything that makes the season right for me…and when I manage to eek anything out, well...my snowmen seem to be missing, now don’t they?” Kurt shrugged. “So I ask, why are you asking ME?”

He turned and swept off down the stairs.  Burt watched his kid’s chin tilted in defiance…in his ‘I will not break’ pose.

“Are you seriously going to allow him to speak to you like that?” Finn asked. “I think you should ground him.  I don’t think you should allow him to do anything fun until Christmas Break really starts and I think you should make him pay Mom and I for his use of the bedroom and the car…so I can get really good gifts from Mom this year.”

“What?” Burt asked, turning to look at Finn.  He could not believe what he’d just heard. “He lives here, Finn.  If Kurt pays to use the bedroom, so do you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Do you really want to go there?  I’m still entirely unhappy with this day and your behavior.”

“You can’t be upset still. You’re a guy like me and so you understand how guys act.  Kurt just threw a hissy fit because he’s more like a girl…a girly sissy girl, not a strong girl like mom… and just doesn’t understand how real men act.  Or something like that…he’s not really like a guy at any rate.  Sure, he got the lights up and stuff, but not the way a real man would.  When you think about it and mom explains it to you without his girly whiny interference you’ll remember how things really are and how they should be and won’t think I did anything wrong.  In fact you’ll be proud of me for making it so I got my way and for not allowing people to tell me to do things in ways I didn’t want to. You’ll be so proud of me that you will buy me stuff.  No one really got hurt, so nothing bad happened. Not really. Mom said so. She said tomorrow she’d make you go with her and buy me a truck and she’d show you want I wanted for Christmas. And we’ll look at what I want for the Christmas decorations then…she thinks we can find hunting stuff, but I didn’t want hunting...just guns, so I’ll probably choose one of the sports themes. She said she’d even get all the money in those stupid jars at the shop for my use…either for gifts for me or for me to spend.”

“She did, did she? Has your mother been down?” Burt asked.

“No, I went and talked to her before the pizza got here when you didn’t respond right when I said I wasn’t talking to you.  You were supposed to apologize for letting Kurt be mean and beg for me to talk to you so you could find out about the rest of the evening, usually with a promise of a gift and some money.  Instead you asked someone else.  Why did you do that?”

“You said you weren’t talking to me?” Burt replied.

Finn rolled his eyes. “You don’t do that right. You are not supposed to just let it go.  You need to apologize for letting Kurt be mean to me and I would like new basketball shoes and a new Xbox game.”

Burt looked at the basement door where Kurt had retreated and then towards the stairs to where Carole was holed up and then to Finn who was sitting with his feet on the coffee table looking like he was right and being very smug about it.

“No.” Burt said. “I would like my TV.  Go downstairs and watch your own, before I send you to bed after making sure you don’t get any allowance this next week and taking away your phone.”

“You can’t do that!” The shocked look on Finn’s face was satisfying.

“Do you want to try me?”

Finn stood up and stomped down the stairs to the basement.  Burt heard Finn hit the bedroom door.

Burt Hummel was done. He was done being played.  He was done letting others boss him around…and he was pretty much done with watching Kurt being bossed around as well. He was taking back control.  He leaned back into his chair and noticed the spilled soda next to where Finn had been sitting since all the guys had left.  Which he knew hadn’t been there earlier because he’d helped Artie from that spot and Artie was one of the last to leave.

Burt went down to the basement and informed Kurt and Finn that the next day was family day.  All members would be present and anyone who didn’t show up didn’t get Christmas at all. No gifts, no Santa, nothing.  They would discuss all household rules and regulations.  They would discuss all allowances and curfews. They would discuss all gatherings that took place in the house or on the property. They would discuss all traditions for all holidays.  They would discuss Friday Night Dinners. They would discuss money usage. They would discuss chores and school work and grades and everything.  They would discuss everyone’s behavior and punishments. They would discuss it all.  And they were starting the discussions bright and early. Finn threw the remote at Kurt, who caught it and handed it to Burt.  Kurt smiled and offered to make breakfast, without it even counting against or for anything.  Burt would have reminded Kurt to ditch the sass, except since Kurt caught the remote it wasn’t broken and nothing else was broken from the remote hitting it. And Finn now had to go to bed. Burt shut off the TV in the basement TV room and took the remote with him as he went back upstairs, after telling both boys to go to bed.

Burt sat in the living room watching the TV, finally turned to something he liked. He pulled out the last Mountain Dew. (They had bought four cases of it, and four of diet Coke, and four of Dr. Pepper and six of Sprite…and the soda in his hand was the last one…and he didn’t see enough cans in the house to account for it all. He tried to decide how much to pay Kurt to go make sure all those outside were picked up...even those buried in the snow and tossed under the bushes.) By the end of Lunch the next day, Burt decided, they would have a working family or he’d be getting divorced. He found that he wasn’t sure at that moment which he hoped for most.

[jedifighterpilot2727]

The Luthor-Danvers Family Thanksgiving

I just had some major Thanksgiving 'found family' feels this year, and what better way to express them than writing about my favorite family! Just some holiday fluff that I hope you guys enjoy!     

Lexi and Astraid are like 13/14 in this one!

           “Where’s our daughter?”

Kara’s voice by her ear startles her, and she nearly drops the fork she’s holding.

“Ummm, somewhere with Winn and Alex. The basement maybe?” Lena answers, smacking Kara’s hand away from the cornbread dressing she’s working on.

“Is that smart? The last time Lexi and Winn were together they spliced off the power grid and it took you an hour to get power back to the house.” Kara stops her pursuit of the food and settles her arms around Lena’s waist.

“Mmm, Alex is with them, so they shouldn’t get into too much trouble. I put them in charge of the mashed potatoes and they disappeared giggling - so don’t get your hopes up for edible mashed potatoes.”

Kara kisses her neck and she sighs into it, letting her stress melt away.

“Did you get the bread?”

“Right here!” Kara places a bag on the counter, “Fresh baguettes, straight from Paris!”

“Thank you, but when I asked you to get the bread, I meant the dinner rolls from the cabinet.”

“I know, but I also know that the little bakery in Paris is your favorite, and plus, it’s Thanksgiving.”

Lena grins, and turns to wrap her arms around Kara’s neck.

“Have I told you I love you lately?”

“Not since this morning.” Kara grins cheekily and Lena can’t help laugh.

“Well, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Kara leans down and presses their lips together, but it’s only a few seconds before they’re interrupted.

“Eww, gross! Moms! Stop kissing in the kitchen!” Lexi’s plea echoes across the kitchen, and Lena holds the kiss for a moment longer just out of spite.

“Do you guys have to do that all the time?” Lena can practically hear the eye roll in Lexi’s voice.

“In a word? Yes. All the time.” Kara turns her back around and she sees Lexi hefting what can only be described as a tub of mashed potatoes.

“Should I be concerned?” Lena asks, because she can’t help but be a little worried about the state of her thanksgiving dinner.

“Nope! It’s all under control, Mama, don’t worry!”

“You saying that makes me worried.”

“Lexi’s right, it’s going to be spectaacuullaar!” Winn promises with an accompanying dance.

“Did you just jazz hands?” Kara laughs.

“Yes, yes I did; because it’s going to be spectaacuullaar!”

“It really is going to be awesome, no matter how weird Winn is being!” Alex reassures them, following with a mysterious looking pan.

“I’m just going to have to trust you, I guess.”

“Trust who?” James enters from the back yard, followed closely by Maggie and Astraid.

“Trust Alex with the mashed potatoes.”

“Oh, yikes, no, why would you let her near the food? It’s a wonder the house hasn’t caught on fire.” Maggie sets the fried turkey down on the table before kissing her wife on the cheek.

“You’re just saying that because you guys almost blew up the turkey.” Alex tosses back.

James stops in his tracks.

“How did she know?”

“Because moms know everything!” Lexi and Astraid sing-song together.

“But not as much as Nana’s do!” Eliza reminds them as she and J’onn enter the kitchen. “I hate that you wouldn’t let me help, Lena.”

“Mom, it’s fine, there were more than enough hands in here anyway; besides, you brought four chocolate pecan pies - it’s not like you didn’t contribute!” Lena promises.

“Well, if you’re sure; it was nice getting to relax for Thanksgiving once, instead of cooking an unearthly amount of food. And, it was very entertaining to watch J’onn argue with television about the dog show.”

“The Chinese Crested clearly should have won, it’s form was impeccable.”

“Okay, as much as I want to dwell on the fact that you’re obsessed with miniature dogs, and we’ll totally get back to that -“ Winn promises, "I’m starving.”

“Give me two seconds to freshen up, and we’ll have dinner! Everyone wash your hands!” Lena orders, before making her way to the bedroom.

By the time she reemerges; her apron exchanged for a nice blouse and her lipstick freshly applied; the food is on the table and everyone is seated around it. She has to pause a moment to take it all in.

There’s Kara, with her blond hair braided like a halo around her head, blue eyes twinkling as laugh lines are just starting to crease the corners of her eyes. Lexi, who looks like a younger version of Kara but with Lena’s coloring and table manners. Alex, Maggie, and Astraid; James and Winn; Eliza and J’onn.

Luthor family Thanksgivings never looked like this.

Never this much warmth.

Never this much laughter.

Never this much . . .

Family.

Kara catches her staring and cocks her head in a question, but Lena just smiles and waves it off before moving to take the open seat next to her wife.

“Alright, well I think before we cut the turkey, we should all say what we’re most thankful for.” J’onn looks around the table. “For me, it’s family. Those that have passed and those that are here right now.”

“Well, I can argue with that, I’m thankful for family too.” Eliza smiles.

“That’s what I’m thankful for too, family.” Astraid agrees and Maggie’s hand grips her shoulder as the detective speaks.

“I never thought I would get to have family like this, so accepting and supportive. I’m incredibly grateful.”

Alex looks at her wife and daughter.

“Well, I’m grateful for my family, too.” She levels a glare around the table. “All of you.”

“I’m with Maggie!” Winn chimes in. “After my dad, well I never thought I would get a Thanksgiving like this again.”

“Same here. Someone remind me to take a family picture later.” James says softly.

“I’m thankful for my family too.” Lexi grins. “I think it’s the best family ever.”

Kara sniffles beside her, and Lena reaches under the table to hold her hand.

“Yeah, family. That’s what I’m thankful for.” By some miracle, Kara’s voice doesn’t break, and Lena squeezes her hand again before raising her glass of wine.

“To family, and to all the days here and after; may they be filled with fond memories, happiness, and laughter.”

“To family!” the chorus rings out, and there’s a moment of contented silence before Lexi jumps up.

“Before Papa J’onn cuts the turkey, we have to show you guys what we did with the mashed potatoes!” She hands first Lena and then Kara a pair of safety glasses before continuing around the table.

“Alex, should I be worried?” Eliza asks nervously before putting on her goggles.

“Why are you accusing me?” Alex whines. "Winn was a part of this too!”

“Winslow.” Eliza draws his name out, and Lena would swear she sees him tremble, just a bit.

“Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine! Some would say spectacular even!” He promises, sitting up straight as Lexi pulls what looks like a garage door opener out of her pocket.

“Everybody ready?”

Lena spares a brief moment of worry for her dining room before her inner scientist wins out and she nods to her daughter.

“Punch it."

She swears she can feel the entire table lean back as ten pairs of eyes fixate on the mountain of mashed potatoes. There’s a short pause before a bubbling noise comes from the pile and a second later gravy comes oozing over the sides of the potatoes like lava out of a volcano in a spectacular display of culinary art.

“Yes!” Lexi claps her hands excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “It worked!”

Alex and Winn lean over to give her high fives as everyone else applauds.

“Let’s eat!” J’onn makes the declaration and mayhem ensues as platters are passed around.

Lena watches it all with a smile, sipping her wine as Kara leans in close.

“Who knew, all those years ago, that we’d end up here?”

She can’t help but laugh at Kara’s whispered words and she turns to meet blue eyes.

“Not me, but I’m glad we did."

[falloutforties]

Five Years {Chapter Three}

Description: It’s another kind of filler chapter, because I’m a sucker for travel tales. Nora makes her way to Goodneighbor, not without complications. Deacon is in this chapter, if you squint.

Warnings: Language and a bit of violence. 

Note from the Author: I personally like it when authors post songs that accompany a chapter, or songs that they listened to while writing a specific scene. Some that inspired my writing/editing of this chapter are: Collapsible Lung by Relient K; Oh My God by Kaiser Chiefs; Younger by The Mountain Goats. I know some people have seen this story on ao3, but I don’t know if anyone has seen it here yet. If you’re passing by and want to read it, I hope you enjoy!!

III. WASTELAND CHIC

200 years in cryogenic storage had not done wonders for her figure, and she assumed that the radiated food of the wasteland was not going to do anything for her either, but at least her butt looked somewhat nice in the vault suit she still wore. She had barely had time to check herself out in the shattered remains of a bathroom mirror before a swarm of Radroaches piled in through the broken window. She cursed and pulled out her baseball bat.

It was a rusty metal bat, one she’d found in someone’s quondam backyard and wrapped with an old chain-link fence, and it was horrifyingly coated with fluorescent blood, but it was effective, and she had developed a kind of affection for it. She had even started to refer to it as Honey.

She had started her day off right with a delicious meal of roasted roach and a bottle of flat Nuka-Cola.

Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! If you want to be a Terror of the Wasteland, you have to eat like a Terror of the Wasteland!

She longed for a proper bowl of Sugar Bombs, with or without the added Communism and subsequent commentary from her…late husband. She would have eaten a raw box of Blamco Mac & Cheese at that point. In fact, the steady crunch of the raw shells might have been a comfort to her.

But the wasteland was unforgiving, and the spit roast she’d restored behind the Red Rocket Truck Stop would have to suffice. Dogmeat seemed to enjoy a nice roasted roach, at least. When she had set out from Sanctuary Hills, the dog had followed right on her heels, his tongue hanging out and his eyes too big and wide for her to say no.

And she had to admit that a life on the road didn’t sound half-bad, especially with a pup at her heels, biting the ankles of mole rats and raiders alike.

They could’ve made a radio show about me, she thought with amusement. The Lone Wanderer: stalking the wastelands with her trusty sidekick! Or… maybe I’m the sidekick.

Preston Garvey had assured her that she was welcome to stay in Sanctuary, and that she could live on the settlement under the protection of the Minutemen, but as soon as she felt the pang in her heart that told her to find Shaun, she had to refuse the promise of safety. She knew now that she couldn’t settle down until she had found her child. Her child.

Before, it had always been the child. It could have been any child sleeping in the back room of her house, and it would have unnerved her just the same, but now it was Shaun. It was the tiny little thing that had listened to her ramble endlessly about her troubles and had never once judged her. It was the little human whose small, puffy hands had gripped her hair to pull her closer.

She still wasn’t a fan of babies in general, but Shaun— Shaun didn’t seem so bad.

Nora hadn’t even known where to start looking for him until the old lady with the drug problem had given her a prophecy.

“How did you know where to look for your baby?” “Oh, the old lady with the drug problem gave me a prophecy.”

She recognized that her methodology was not scientifically viable, but it was something to go on, and the world had already proven to her that it was sufficiently fucked up enough for her to trust an old woman with a drug problem who gave her a prophecy.

Diamond City.

Where that was or how she was supposed to get there, she had no idea. All she had was the meager voice of the Diamond City Radio host who stuttered through her pip-boy as she slung her bag over her shoulder and set off on the road past Concord. She quite liked the guy. He had a real genuine way about him— not like the pre-war radio hosts, or the newscasters. Chip Harris from Channel 5 News Hour would have laughed at the Diamond City guy, but Chip Harris from Channel 5 News Hour didn’t survive the nuclear apocalypse, so he wasn’t in a position to criticize anyone.

“So… someone told me… which, I know is not a great— a great news source,” the man said, his voice pitching wildly like a pre-pubescent boy. “But. Somebody told me that… someone else saw someone… a person… an alive person… coming out of that vault up north. Vault 11? Vault 111? Something like that. Anyway, here’s Billie Holiday.”

She smiled to herself. Perhaps she should have been shocked to hear herself mentioned on the radio, but she reveled in the idea that someone had seen her, watched her stumble like a newborn deer in the wasteland sunlight, and thought she was news-worthy.

She had gained a new skill, one possibly more useful in her current situation than her unusual prescience, which was the ability to rob corpses. She didn’t like that she had acquired that skill, nor did she particularly wish to brag about it, but it certainly had helped, as she now wore arm bands, leg guards, and a chest wrap made from sturdy leather. They reeked of someone else’s blood until she had washed them in the creek and let them soak in the sun, though they still didn’t smell particularly good.

Tucked tight in the strap of her chest piece were a few fresh stimpaks, bought from a trader she had met just off the Sanctuary bridge.

“You might need these,” he had said jovially, not reacting to the confused expression she gave him. “The world isn’t like it used to be.”

She had watched him walk over the bridge behind her, his bald head bobbing from side to side as he whistled a tune.

The world wasn’t like it used to be. It was stronger.

Before the war, the world had been a fragile, cowering thing. Planet Earth was shriveled like a frightened child in the corner as its children raged on, sewing the ground with their vile progress. She saw the world in the vibrant colors of her neighborhood— the powdery blues of her house, the bright yellow cardigan she wore over her finely-pressed green linen dress. Every house in Sanctuary was painted bright. There was no disguising the neighborhood, there was no attempt at maintaining the natural appearance of the creek below. The world belonged to the humans.

Now, she saw the world in the creeping roots that shattered the roadways, spindling outwards towards the woods. Sanctuary Hills was now hidden away by the gangly trees that sheltered its broken thatched roofs. The creek had branched into two tributaries which ran parallel to the little neighborhood. She felt rejuvenated by it, felt that if the earth could experience such a grand rebirth, she could too.

The world wasn’t like it used to be, and neither was she.

She was thriving.

Her pip-boy chirped and crackled as she wandered closer to the city that had been looming in the distance. She wasn’t quite sure where she was— her map was no good for determining places she had never been, and she had never quite been good with directions.

A man’s voice sputtered through the tiny speaker, “Calling all Silver Shroud fans! Calling all Silver Shroud fans!” And she laughed at the excited announcement. Silver Shroud fans? In this day and age? It seemed impossible, but obviously, there was someone out there who held tight to such pre-war luxuries.

When evil walks the streets of Boston, one man lurks in the shadows…

The croon of the silver-throated narrator played perfectly in her head as if she had just heard it that very morning. Nate hadn’t liked the Shroud— something about the dangers of vigilante justice— but she had listened to it, almost out of spite. She imagined the Silver Shroud breaking through their paneled front windows, spilling silvery glass all over the pristine living room carpet, and pointing one long, gloved finger towards Nate, saying, “Stop being a dick to your wife, you fiend!”

“Come to the Memory Den in Goodneighbor!”

Nora didn’t know what a memory den was, and she didn’t know where Goodneighbor was, but it all sounded quite nice.

“Any place called Goodneighbor has to be good news, right?” She asked Dogmeat. He let out a sharp ruff in response, and she took that as a yes. “Goodneighbor. Next stop, Goodneighbor.”

She liked the sound of it on her tongue, so she said it aloud a few more times. It was certainly more fascinating than Sanctuary Hills or Westing Estate or any of the other quaint little pre-war neighborhoods she had visited in her previous life. Goodneighbor was a city that advertised its greatest assets, and she could picture it in her mind. A plucky little town full of kind faces, good folks sweeping the streets and helping the needy.

She never would have expected what she found in Goodneighbor, nor the batshit insanity that now roamed the streets of Boston, lurking in the shadows of abandoned buildings and fronting in the middle of the road brandishing pistols. The Silver Shroud was nowhere to be seen, but there was evil, walking the streets of Boston, just like the narrator said.

Nora ducked as the thing swiped a huge green arm above her head, nearly knocking it right off her neck like a golfball from a tee. The lumbering mass of human-like features had spotted her creeping down a side-street and decided that it was going to, presumably, eat her. She had no idea of its intentions, aside from violently smashing her to bits, as the thing repeatedly warned her.

“SMASH YOUR BRAINS!” It screamed as it lunged for her head once again. She pulled the 10mm from her waistband and backed away, trying to assert some distance before the thing could smack her again. It had already landed one hit to her shoulder, and the stinging was getting worse by the second.

She tried to fire a round of shots into the thing’s chest, but the 10mm she had scavenged from the bowels of Vault 111 was clicky and rusted, only allowing her about a 50% chance of producing a bullet. Luckily for her, she also had a 50% chance of living through the day.

The Big Green Bastard wouldn’t kill her, but she didn’t like the idea of being maimed, either, and she was almost sure that something in her body was already broken.

When she finally produced a shot, the piercing bang rang out through the street, and she suddenly worried that the sound would alert other enemies to her presence in the alleyway.

What if a thousand more of these Big Green Bastards come pouring in, all of them trying to SMASH MY BRAINS?

She didn’t have time to fully assess the concern, as a fat splintering board was now soaring towards her skull at an alarming rate. She hunched over into a ball and, for lack of a better term, rolled out of the way. She had never once heard of the Silver Shroud doing something that asinine to escape an attacker. The Silver Shroud would have pulled out his trusty machine gun and mowed the Green Bastards down.

But, then again, the Silver Shroud did not have to deal with Big Green Bastards.

With a heaving grunt, Nora planted a hit on the side of the thing’s head with Honey, and it made a splattering thwacking sound. Green skin and horrifically human red guts spattered the alley’s brick wall behind where the thing now lay unmoving.

Nora had learned not to assume that anything unmoving was dead. Even though the thing’s skull was split wide open with a cracking cavern growing on its right side, she couldn’t be sure that it wouldn’t shove the other half of its skull back into place with one huge, meaty hand and continue thrusting towards her.

“Holy shit, Dogmeat,” she whispered to the pup who now lay exhausted by her feet. Despite her better judgement, she crossed her legs beneath her and sat on the dusty ground, absentmindedly scratching the space between his ears.  “You ever seen one of those things? That’s not fun. That’s not the way I wanted to spend my afternoon.”

Dogmeat whined and rested his head down onto his crossed paws. Nora hummed in affirmation. The two would have to find Goodneighbor by night, because if they didn’t, she was positive that she wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Her shoulder burned awfully now that she was resting. The adrenaline of the fight had kept her pain receptors muted, but now they flared violently enough to blur her vision. As much as she didn’t want to stand, she knew she had to move on.

Her legs creaked as she stood, tugging Dogmeat by the neat red bandana she had tied around his neck, signaling that it was time to go. He whined but complied, his eyes watching the waning sun burn blood orange across the Boston skyline as if he too knew what it meant.

Goodneighbor was close, she was sure of it. She could see in the distance a flickering neon sign that flashed a dazed purple over the top of a brick wall.

Goodneighbor. The Memory Den. The Silver Shroud.

She repeated the mantra over and over until it became her only lingering thought, like Dorothy stumbling through the woods, arm in arm with her ragtag group of friends. Lions and Tigers and Bears. Oh My!

Goodneighbor. The Memory Den. The Silver Shroud.

Goodneighbor. The Memory Den. The Silver Shroud.

Goodneighbor.

The Memory Den.

The Silver Shroud.

[letterstokyra]

Dimpy goes to play with Skimpy and Pinky

It was holiday time in Baobab village and all the children were enjoying not having to wake up early and hurry to school. Many of the children had gone to the Northern regions to visit their families and so everything had become rather quiet. Dimpy enjoyed the first few days of the holiday, but then got bored and lonely.

“Mommy Monkey, what can I do?” Dimpy nagged “I’m bored”

“Why don’t you play the acorn game?” Mommy suggested.

“I played that yesterday” Dimpy grumpily snorted,”and it’s not fun playing it on my own” he pulled a face and slouched on the couch.

Mommy monkey felt sorry for him but she also did not know how to make Dimpy feel better.

“Here my boy” she said as she ruffled his hair “have some Marula Juice and Marsh Reed Biscuits .”

Dimpy continued to be very unhappy and bored and sometimes Mommy and Daddy monkey became so tired trying to entertain him and keep him happy. Sometimes Mommy monkey took him for walks and they had lovely picnics together in the wilderness. Sometimes she took him swimming in the waterhole by the windmill. Dimpy’s favorite outing was to go with Mommy Monkey to the market. He got to see Baby Mongoose and Juvenile Jackal and sometimes even the Lion Cubs. They were still very young and so Mommy Lion mainly kept them at home where she could keep an eye on them. Mommy Monkey would always treat Dimpy, at the end of the shopping day, to a Banana dipped in Marula syrup. Mmmmm it was so delicious! Dimpy would eat it while he skipped home and Mommy Monkey had a tough time cleaning Dimpy up in the bath that night. He would have syrup everywhere! Dimpy never seemed to get tired, not like Mommy monkey who flopped into bed at the end of each day, totally exhausted from the day’s activities.

One day Post Man Porcupine arrived with his usual load of letters. Post Man Porcupine used his quills to spike the letters onto so that none of them fell off. Sometimes he had quite a load on his back and needed to rest under the shade of the big Baobab tree in Baobab Village. Whenever he came to deliver letters to Monkey Tree, Mommy Monkey sent Dimpy down with some refreshments like Berry juice and fresh bread with homemade wild tomato jam. Post Man Porcupine appreciated the meal and the extra chance to rest.

This particular day, Post Man Porcupine had a letter addressed to Dimpy. He told Dimpy to look for a small yellow envelope half way down his back.

“It will say Master Dimpy Monkey” Post Man Porcupine instructed as he used one of his loose quills to pick the tomato seeds out of his teeth. “Have you found it?” he enquired.

“Oh Yes!” squealed Dimpy as he ran off to show Mommy Monkey.

“I’ve got a letter, I’ve got a letter…” he bragged loudly as Mommy Monkey swung down to the lounge area from the bedroom where she had been dusting and sweeping.

“I wonder who it can be from?” she said as she reached out and took the letter and examined it for a clue. Dimpy grabbed it out of Mommy Monkeys hands and started to rip it open.

“Be careful you don’t tear the letter Dimpy” Mommy Monkey scolded Dimpy.

At last Dimpy had the letter and started to read it. Dimpy was still young and had not been taught how to read properly, so he asked Mommy to help him and together they read what was in the letter.

Dear Dimpy

This is an invitation to come and play with Skimpy and Pinky on the 10th August 2019. Bring your pajamas and toothbrush for a sleep over. We will have lots of fun!

From Skimpy and Pinky

“Oh Yes, Oh Yes!!” squealed Dimpy in pure delight. “Please can I go Mommy? Please?”

“We will ask Daddy Monkey when he gets home from work” replied Mommy Monkey, not wanting to promise anything to Dimpy and then disappoint him. Skimpy and Pinky were two naughty little yellow monkeys who lived in the next village.

The afternoon seemed very long. Dimpy waited at the edge of the thorn trees waiting to see Daddy Monkey coming along the path on his way back from work. It was nearly 5 o’clock when Dimpy finally saw his Daddy walking slowly along the path. His Daddy looked very tired. Dimpy ran to his Daddy and offered to carry his bag. Daddy agreed. He had been very busy at work and could not wait to sit down to a plate of Mommy Monkeys delicious food.

“Daddy, daddy” Dimpy Shrieked in excitement “I got a letter today from Skimpy and Pinky!”

Daddy looked puzzled; Dimpy did not often receive letters. “What did they say?” asked Daddy.

“They want me to go and play and sleep over” Dimpy smiled from ear to ear “Please can I go, Oh Please Daddy”

“Let me talk to your Mother” Daddy replied with a worried look on his face. “Three naughty monkeys together” he thought. “Not sure if that is a good idea – triple trouble!!”

That night after Dimpy had gone to bed, Mommy and Daddy monkey spoke. They were concerned that Dimpy would not behave himself at Skimpy and Pinky but after much discussing; they decided to give Dimpy a chance. The next day, at breakfast time, Daddy Monkey spoke to Dimpy.

“You can go my boy” he explained, “But you need to remember what we have taught you about manners and obeying rules.” Daddy looked very stern.” Remember that every action has a consequence Dimpy and you must try your very best to be on your best behavior.” Dimpy nodded fervently, smiling while he promised to be the best behaved Monkey in the land. Dimpy was so excited and swung from branch to branch singing one of his favorite songs “Fe Fi Fo Fum, I smell lots of Monkey fun!”

That day, Mommy Monkey spent the day washing Dimpy’s pajamas and getting his things ready for his stay at Skimpy and Pinky. Dimpy was very good and helped Mommy Monkey to get all the housework done and his bags packed. He wanted to show his Mommy and Daddy that he could be a good monkey. After lunch, Daddy Monkey came home from work to say goodbye to Dimpy. Daddy had arranged for Jerry Giraffe taxi service to come and fetch Dimpy and take him to Monkey Village on the other side of the mountain where Skimpy and Pinky the yellow monkeys lived. And that is exactly what happened. Soon Dimpy was on Jerry’s back and off they headed. Dimpy was so excited and he waved frantically to his Mommy and Daddy – “Bye Mom, Bye Dad” and then he was gone.

The trip went quite fast. Gerry giraffe could walk very fast and Dimpy had to hold tight so that he did not fall off. On the way they saw Rinaldo Rhino and Lester Leopard and even had a drink at the Elephant dam. One naughty baby elephant filled his trunk with water and sprayed it all over Dimpy! Dimpy was shocked at first but then joined in the fun and jumped onto Baby Elephants back and went for a swim in the dam. Soon they were on their way again.

“One last corner Dimpy and we’ll be there” Gerry Giraffe grunted. And he was right. There ahead of them were two excited little yellow monkeys, Skimpy and Pinky. They shrieked as they saw Gerry Giraffe and Dimpy and ran up the road to meet them. Gerry Giraffe bent his long neck down so that Skimpy and Pinky could climb on too and the three little monkeys started to chatter and talk about what fun they were going to have. Eventually they got to the Monkey tree and Gerry Giraffe went on his way again. Mrs. Yellow and Mr. Yellow were happy to see Dimpy and gave him a big hug.

“Welcome Dimpy” they chuckled “we are so happy you could come”.

Soon it was bed time and three tired monkeys eventually fell asleep with great plans for the morning. Mr. and Mrs. Yellow were also a little nervous because they knew that all three of these monkeys were mischievous little chaps.

After breakfast the next day the fun began and the three little monkeys made their way down to the river to catch some fish. As they got close to the river, they heard singing. It sounded beautiful. It was the voice of a young human girl.

“I’ll come to the river in the morning light, oh it’s such a lovely sight, I’ll wash and I’ll dry and feels so clean, and then I’ll go home to rest and dream la la la la la la”

It was a young girl washing in the river.

The three monkeys hid behind a tree to have a look.

“Don’t look” Pinky whispered “She’s got no clothes on”

All three monkeys covered their eyes but before long all three monkeys were peeping!! Pinky, a girl monkey looked to see if Dimpy and Skimpy were looking and they were!

“I’m going to tell, I’m going to tell” she shouted and with that the young girl got such a fright that she grabbed her clothes and ran into the human village to her family.

The three monkeys continued down the road and soon forgot about what had happened. They played in the mud and climbed the highest trees. “Let’s play hide and seek” suggested Pinky “I’ll be on first” and the other two monkeys went to hide. They decided to hide together and found a very good hiding place in a hollow tree trunk. It took a very long time for Pinky to find them. While they were waiting, Skimpy asked Dimpy if he wanted to hear a rude joke that he had heard from Barney Bat. Dimpy knew it was wrong, but he nodded in agreement and they both had a very good laugh. In fact their laughing gave them away and Pinky managed to find them.

“What are you two laughing at?” she asked, hoping they weren’t laughing at her. Before Dimpy thought about it, he had splurted out the joke. It was very rude and Pinky blushed.

“I’m going to tell, I’m going to tell,” she shouted and walked away in disgust.

They continued to play in the bushveld and it was not long before they started to feel hungry.

“What’s the time?” asked Skimpy “I’m hungry”

“It’s lunch time for sure” replied Pinky as she looked up at the sun to see how late it was.

“What can we eat?” enquired Dimpy.

“I know where we can get bananas” Skimpy eagerly offered “Over at Farmer Browns banana plantation.

“Oh my! No we can’t do that” exclaimed Pinky “Mommy has told us we cannot just go and pick bananas there, it is stealing!”

“Oh shut up Pinky!” hollowed Skimpy “Stop bossing us around and anyway, nobody will miss a few bananas! Farmer Brown is very rich!”

Dimpy agreed and off they went, Pinky lagging behind because she felt guilty.

They climbed over the fence and got stuck into the banana trees, stuffing themselves with bananas until they had stomach ache!

“Ooh aah!” they rolled on the ground in agony. Pinky looked up at the sky and saw that the sun was setting. “We need to go home” she suggested, also holding her stomach. “We have such a long way to go now and my stomach hurts”.

“I know” suggested Skimpy, “There’s a short cut through old Charley Cheetahs cave. It will save us an hour of walking.”

“No!!” protested Pinky. Mommy has told us that Charley Cheetah will kill us. He is a very grumpy cheetah. We can’t take the short cut!” Pinky started to cry her stomach was so sore.

“You are the biggest monkey Dimpy” suggested Skimpy “You can go in first and frighten the old grump and then we’ll run through the cave.”

Dimpy felt very important and so that is what they decided to do. Pinky was afraid but she also did not feel like walking the extra distance around the cave.

Quietly they crept into the cave and Dimpy led the way. Before they could proceed though, Charley Cheetah growled “Who goes there?”

Dimpy got such a fright that he jumped and hit his head on the cave wall. He cried out in pain and all three monkeys ran as fast as they could out of the cave as Charley Cheetah growled loudly behind them. After a few km, Dimpy stopped. His head was badly cut and blood ran down his face.

“Ahh that looks sore Dimpy” fussed Pinky “Eina!” exclaimed Skimpy.

The three monkeys could do nothing else but make the long walk home. Dimpy was in such pain that he could not even jump and skip and swing from branch to branch.

Eventually they got home. Mr and Mrs Yellow were so worried. The sun had set and it was getting dark.

“Where have you been?” groused Mr Yellow.

“We have been so worried!” cried Mrs Yellow.

Pinky just burst into tears and fell into her mother’s arms. Dimpy collapsed and Mr. Yellow led him to the bathroom to clean him up.

When everyone was clean and bandaged, Mr. Yellow wanted to know what had gone one that day. Dimpy and Skimpy could not look at Mr. Yellow but Pinky just blurted everything out. She told everything, from the human girl bathing in the river, to the dirty joke, to the banana plantation and then Charley Cheetahs cave. Mr. and Mrs. Yellow were not happy and scolded the monkeys for their bad behavior.

“Do you remember the song we taught you when you were younger” asked Mrs Yellow – “The one about your eyes and ears and mouth and hands and feet?”

Pinky and Skimpy nodded. “Let’s teach it to Dimpy” suggested Mr. Yellow

And so they did.

Be careful little eyes what you see ….

For the Father up above is looking down in love

Be careful little eyes what you see.

Be careful little ears what you hear…

Be careful little mouth what you say …

Be careful little hands what you touch …

Be careful little feet where you go ….

Three little monkeys got themselves into lots of trouble but they learned a big lesson.

[simonnricketts]

We happy few

I wanted to share this story. It's quite a personal story, so might not appeal to everyone, but I wanted to get it down.

My dad, Bryan, died in September 2006, aged 59. Pretty suddenly. Without any real warning.

Don't worry, this is a happy story. I promise. But we need the context first. That was the sad bit.

Dad had always said that, when his time came, he wanted his ashes scattered at the top of Tryfan - a distinctive-looking mountain in Snowdonia, North Wales. We had climbed it many times together and it had become a kind of touchstone for us.

We mentioned this fact in his funeral service and we also mentioned that my older brother Howard and I were planning to take him up that mountain.

(By the way, if you're ever passing, you can't miss it. It kind of broods in the low cloud off the A5 and looks like a massive half-buried dinosaur, with its spiny, bristly backbone poking up into the sky.)

Anyway, after the funeral, having a beer in Dad's favourite pub with all the mourners, conversation turned to Tryfan. Something extraordinary happened. Seven men - pretty much one by one - approached us over time and told us, quite firmly: "We are coming with you to take your Dad up that hill."

Who were those seven men?

Well, we need to rewind a tiny bit. Actually, a big bit. To my childhood.

As an endlessly inquisitive and probably annoying kid, my parents decided a good use of my time - and a blessed relief for them - would be for me to join the cub scouts. And, because my brother was older, and so he didn't miss out, he could join the scouts.

We immediately loved all things involved with being a cub or a scout. The outdoor activities, the knots, the knives, the fires, the sense of common purpose, the trips and adventures, the camping. It suited us two council house kids right down to the groundsheet.

As I moved up to the scouts to join my brother, Dad would sometimes pop along to meetings or camps and see what we were up to. Terrible mistake, as anyone who has ever been involved in voluntary organisations will tell you. Before he had the chance to say "Be prepared" he was cajoled into becoming a helper.

And not too long after that, before he had the chance to say "Wait a bloody minute" he was installed as the scout leader. My old man - leading a bunch of unruly, spotty lads out on camps and holidays, through night hikes and climbing expeditions, down rivers and up valleys. It was odd for me to get used to at first - my Dad, the bloke who only ever went into the garden with a heavy sigh, was striding about, kitted up in outdoor clothing, pointing a stick in the direction of a place that he figured a tent should be pitched, while simultaneously pointing an accusatory roll-up cigarette at whichever boy who was lagging behind.

And he loved it. He revelled in it. He got a kick out of thinking up exciting and challenging things for the scouts to do - and he delighted in the joy us boys derived from the adventures.

The lads loved him. His occasionally irascible, often hilarious, moods, would only serve for us to band together and laugh, rebel a little bit, and yet be pleased he was the leader.

My Mum, too, got a lot out of it. Let's be honest, it meant all three men in the house were out of her hair for chunks of time - which must have been a relief - but I know she enjoyed seeing us off, seeing us back, and (not so much) wearily working through the washing that we brought back with us.

Stick with me, we're nearly at the end of the 'flashback' bit.

When you get too old for scouts, you can go to the Venture Scouts (or you could then). In our area, there were a couple of Venture Scout Units (VSUs) - but they didn't feel very welcoming. There was also a feeling that many of us scouts wanted to stick together, not go off to another unit. Perhaps some of them would have thrived, perhaps not.

Enter a guy called Jon Cook, a Venture Scout himself, a few years older than us, who had come along to help Dad run the scouts. Somehow - I don't quite know how - they cooked up a plan."Let's launch our own Venture Scout Unit. We can keep these scouts together, make a little bit of history, and have a lot of fun being in charge."

So they did that. They started Alpha VSU. The nickname - pretty sure Dad came up with this - was 'The Dung Beetles'. And they welcomed the first group of members.

So, eight young men became the inaugural members. My brother Howard, of course. And then Richard Brandon, the twins David and Paul Campbell, Steve Good, Simon McGlen, Lee Roberts and Paul Wright.

(I wasn’t an inaugural member - I was younger than those guys)

I think it's fair to say those ensuing years were among their best. Young men, forging forward, growing up, learning what it was that made them tick, safe in the bonds of a tight group, able to make mistakes, willing to accept others. All led by Dad, riding side-saddle with Jon Cook - that mercurial, ever-curious, smiling, benevolent lunatic.

You're ahead of me, aren't you? You've worked out who the men were who wanted to take my Dad "up the hill".

Yep - it's seven of those eight founder members. The Dung Beetles. (Steve Good fell off our radar, despite our best efforts to find him. If you ever read this, Steve, we still wonder how you are. We'd love to hear from you).

So, on a May bank holiday weekend in 2007 (we had to wait for the winter to be over) those men congregated in North Wales. They came from all over the country and assembled at the foot of Tryfan.

We were joined by some friends and family - I remember Mum carried Dad's ashes for a section of the walk to the base of the mountain - and we climbed that beast. All of us less fit and less agile than before. All of us breathing just a little bit harder than was strictly good for us.

But we got him up there - led by Jon. My brother and I sprinkled Dad’s ashes at the peak of the mountain, splashed it with some whisky, and we all drank a toast.

After descending, we spent the evening in the local pub, sharing stories, remembering the old days, and comparing injuries.

(Sorry for poor quality pic. I should note that Jackie - Jon’s wife - was also with us. And outclimbed us all.)

You know that line in City Slickers? "What was your best day? What was your worst day?" - Well, mine was that day. The same day. Still bereft at losing my Dad so suddenly, heavy with sadness at taking his ashes to their final resting place. But utterly brimming with pride that we were doing it - with those guys completely committed to the act. I knew then, and I noted it with a smile, that Dad would have found the whole thing acutely embarrassing and yet an amazingly powerful tribute to him.

That's the end of the flashback. Do the wavy hands and arms thing.

We're in 2017 now. I recently had to announce, annoyingly, that I am ill. Many old friends have been in touch. Including all those Dung Beetles. A tiny plan was hatched.

This week, on a May bank holiday weekend. Almost exactly 10 years since we hauled our sorry arses up that mountain, we all met again.

It wasn't as much of a quest – it was in the much easier surroundings of a Euston pub, granted - but we decided this challenge should mainly involve beer, laughter and the search for a good curry.

All seven turned up. All of them. And so did Jon. 10 years later.

Among that group, there is a former soldier turned policeman, a paramedic who has spent years on air ambulances, a youth worker who works with disadavantaged children, small business owners, an electrical engineer, a train driver, and a guy who has spent a lot of his time being the 'eyes' for a blind adventurer who has driven race cars, parachuted, climbed mountains and all that kind of nonsense.

You can see why I'm proud to be associated with them, can't you? You can see how elastic these bonds are? The shorthand is immediate, the laughs are instinctive, the sense of belonging will never, ever go away.

That night was a flag in the ground for me, a marking of time passing but also of a time so fondly remembered. I had to write about it.

I found myself taking a mental snapshot. All of us, on the same patch of earth again, chatting like nothing had changed, yet also knowing that so much had.

And every minute I was with them, I couldn't get this Shakespeare quote out of my head. The one from Henry V.

"We few, we happy few. We band of brothers"