#its my cross to bear. otherwise i WILL kill him and we will be down a man

[hballegro]

im starting a tally.

bj is fundamentally Left and hawkeye is fundamentally Right [the DIRECTIONS] in my brain. why?

same reason i have various other characters from other things in my head as left or right;

90% of my examples of popular moments with them are bj left hawkeye right.

examples include;

both heart surgeries

'frank wants my virginity'

meeting handshake

putting his mask on for him

the 4 hugs in a row

tackling bj into bed

gazing at him with Heart Eyes [preventative medicine. i have to specify because he does it a lot]

resting head on hawk's shoulder

presenting little baby girl before she gets put with the monks

'what faults, you're perfect!'

the breakdown in Period of Adjustment

bj's hurt his hand

operating back-to-back in Lil

this isnt a conspiracy or anything btw, im not making a Statement, its just. these things Happen.

so far, of the clips i have where they're together, i have;

bj left hawkeye right; 20

bj right hawkeye left; 13

and more bj left hawkeye right is on the way.

edit; 'both heart surgeries'

bj hurt his hand

[prose-priest-potentate]

In the Interim

Otherwise Known As: Beating This Dead Horse for Closure Otherwise Known As: Writing My Own Damn Fanfic

Chapter Index: Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15

Fic on Ao3: Here ______________________________________________________________

Chapter 5: Meeting the Rebels

They show up at the door to the coffin maker’s shop disguised, with Wixen’s familiar fox face left recognizable when Millivoj cracks the door. 

“You’re back?” He looks suspicious. Hesitant to usher in the woman who had offered to assassinate Wachter as he snuck her back out of the city a few weeks ago, but he can’t afford to let three cloaked figures be seen outside their meeting house for too long, so they’re let in. 

“Yeah.” Wixen strides in without a care, “We found ourselves in extenuating circumstances, so we’re back to help y’all.” The rest of the room, full of half-familiar faces, stares with wide-eyes and mixed emotions as Imrath pulls the hood off his horns and Izek’s form shifts back into his usual appearance.

Millivoj takes a step back. A cautious, hopeful smile starts to creep across his lips. “You are? That’s fantastic. With you all,” he waves them all toward the rest of the group, to a table where a map of the city is laid out, “we stand a real chance.” 

The irony of their hiding place isn’t lost on any of them. They hadn’t even befriended Izek the last time they snuck their way in here to take out the vampire spawn that were too close to invading the city. Another monster under their noses.

Wixen leans heavily over the map that she can’t read to see if she can recognize any streets, and Izek leans in over top of her to check its accuracy. Several people, like Blinsky, shift and stutter away when he does - not wanting to be within range of his claws, but wary to cower too much. Imrath rolls his eyes behind his blindfold and crosses his arms. He’s on edge, curling the forks on his tongue up to keep his patience. He can taste their fear.

“So what’s the plan so far?” 

“Well, our first plan was to arrest Lady Wachter and force her to abdicate…” Imrath nods. Izek straightens up and stares, blank, over Wixen’s head at the mention of force. “But Nikolai and Karl say that she’s been acting more distant than usual, so we’re not sure what’s going on anymore.” 

Wixen shrugs, “I wouldn’t be surprised if dying took it out of her.” 

Behind her, Imrath purses his lips. “It could have radicalized her further…” He muses. His tail swishes thoughtfully.

“What did she- what did you say?!” A young man elbows to the front of the crowd, voice raised. Another puts a hand on his chest to slow him down, but seems equally upset. 

Wixen gives Millivoj a side-eye, and plants her hands on her hips, explaining for the fourth time, “Yeah. I told you last time I was fine taking her out, but you got pissed off about asking for it, so I just did it.” 

The brothers speak in unison, too loud, “Did WHAT?” and “That shit’s not funny.” Their allies shush them and both Imrath and Izek tense up, ready to support or grab Wixen, whichever is called for. Not that she’d need the back up against these two, but they were both still worried she’d torch the place…

Wixen pins her ears back, bears her teeth, and doesn’t give an inch. “I did what needed to be done. With her gone, everything else works out.”

“You didn’t kill our mother, she’s still alive.” The taller brother, Karl, is still very much up in arms, with someone on his arm to keep him from shoving the table and making things worse.

Nikolai is a little more willing to humor the idea. Or is at least more skeptical. “Oh yeah? Then how did you get in without any of us knowing?” 

“Kitchen window.” The brothers share a quick, panicked glance. Izek rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“If she got revived after being killed in her own bed,” Imrath offers, “it wouldn’t be strange that she’s been distant.”

“She’s probably paranoid.” Izek shrugs, and his voice carries more weight than an off-handed comment should. 

The room is silent as Imrath flexes one of his hands. He suggests, “It could be a side-effect. Not all resurrections are the same, least of all here.” 

“You know,” Wixen’s tail swishes past their legs, sweeping up dust, “that little demon thing was really upset at me for killing her.” Imrath feels the shuffling around the table from the brothers. Steps that jumble in his spatial awareness. He steps up, past Izek, beside Wixen, and leans over the map he clearly cannot see. Just, putting his body in the way.

“It doesn’t matter, really. She, in whatever form, still needs to be deposed, right?” When he inclines his head, it is directed at Karl, whose shape pulled itself from the confusion when he made himself an obstacle. He needs this plan back on its tracks - Wixen’s far too unstable to be challenged these days…

From behind him, Izek speaks. Imrath hates the edge in his voice, and feels his feathers pin back. Good thing no one here understands the way his body betrays him.

“We’re wasting time. What’s the plan?” All business, Izek looks between the assembled crowd. A man he recognizes as a hunter gestures towards him. 

“Well having you back changes things.” The man sounds about as gruff as Izek does, but is smaller when Imrath focuses on his silhouette. He continues, “Can’t you just storm in and take care of it all? You know, burn some people to cinders.”

Izek is distinctly unimpressed, but content enough with it. He is nodding when Imrath stands back up to his full height, hands on his hips, asking, “Where will everyone else be stationed?”

“Izek kept everyone under his thumb before, surely he can handle a couple of cultists. You two can run in with him, if you’re worried.” 

“That isn’t a plan.” Imrath lets his disappointment through his teeth.

Immediately after, Wixen barks out a harsh laugh, “Sounds like you want us to do all the work. You too scared to bleed a little?”

Blinksy is quick to step in as tensions rise. “No. No, we will help of course.” He stares hard at his conspirators. 

Millivoj, helpfully, suggests that, “It might not be a bad idea for Izek to lead the charge though.”

“There shouldn’t be a charge.” Imrath nods his chin toward the Wachter brothers. “They can let us in whenever they’ll all be distracted. Through both doors, actually.” 

Wixen worms her way under one of his arms to pipe in, “Catch ‘em off guard.” 

Plans continue, with Imrath and Wixen quick to curl their lips at the plans that boil down to ‘you risk your skins for us’ or ‘Izek can just flay them alive.’ Imrath would normally volunteer to take the hits and just be thankful that no one else was being hurt, but the opportunistic hypocrisy hits a little too close to home right now, and he is losing his mother’s patience. He reminds them that they must have had a plan before they agreed to help, so it’s best not to deviate from what they already know - that the three of them are helpful complements to their coup, not an army. 

After no less than an hour of suspicion and thinly veiled insults, everyone settles on similar pages. Wixen lays some more of their cards on the table and promises Imrath’s services in putting their father’s body to rest, which he is of course happy to do. Reluctantly, the Watcher boys settle and tell what they know - about their mother’s weird cult in the basement. A plan is made to call as many of their mother’s “friends” as they can to the house - to invest Nikolai like she’d been pressuring him, and for Karl to let the rebellion in the front door, before both boys go upstairs to keep their sister safe. The best fighters will target the cult, and everyone else will watch their backs. Most of those assembled are happy enough with that; just happy to have the help at all against such bad odds. 

One dissenting voice remains though. 

He hears it as they are saying heading to the door, from the corner of the bedraggled room, lounging on a pile of boards that Imrath remembers climbing to kill a vampire spawn - yet another time when he’d helped this town already. The man is sarcastic in his ears as they go to leave. He might even have let it go in any other time or place. 

He slows to a stop as Izek and Wixen exit before him, and then leans up on his toes to walk quietly around the stairs. The man has moved with a group of companions to lean on the table the coffin maker had cowered under. Imrath wonders if he feels safer now that Izek has left the building. Safe enough to let his tongue get away with him. A silly assumption…

Blinsky is the only soul that feels the tension that rolls off him, and reaches out as he goes to leave as well. The toymaker touches Imrath’s shoulder kindly. Empathy. Compassion. Imrath offers him a fake smile, pats his knuckles, and wishes him a quiet goodnight.

Idle chat continues as Imrath listens, leant against the other side of the wall. He stands too still, waiting for the evidence he needs to be presented on a silver platter. The voice that caught his ire continues, “After all the people he’s killed, I thought he might be giddy to run in and light the whole damn house on fire.” 

Someone else, “Izek hasn’t ever been giddy in his life.” Imrath curls his lip. That isn’t enough.

“Shouldn’t be surprised that the one time he doesn’t want to slit throats is when we need him to. That’d be useful.” The man scoffs and it frays the last of Imrath’s temper. He steps off the wall, rolls himself around the beam of the wall and makes himself known. 

Only a little surprised, the man judges him wrong. 

“Hey, you’re still here! You overheard, right? Some good it’s done, bringing him back, huh? How do you even deal with him on the road?” He smiles, sardonic. “Sleep with one eye open? Or… well-” Some of the others chuckle.

Imrath doesn’t always use the skills Vilgaron taught him with a dagger - doesn’t even keep one on him anymore. But he can still move like he’s supposed to, fluid and quick. He leans in, leans down, leans close and bears his fangs. The man is thin, small in a human way. The kind of person Imrath expects to carry a dagger.

“I should tell you that Izek is the only reason I’m here, helping clean the filth from this village again, because the innocents among you deserve our protection - but do not mistake my tolerance for leave to speak freely.” 

Imrath stands himself back up, looming, digging deep for the influence in his dragon blood. “Because I am courteous, I will warn you once. I will not allow you to condemn Izek for the same violence that your rebellion was begging to take advantage of.” 

The man pushes himself up from his seat, crowding Imrath’s chest. “You’re pretty damn stupid if you think he does anything for anyone but himself. I bet he hasn’t admitted to any of it, right? Do you know how many bones get dug up from shallow graves around there with burns and claw marks?”

That does manage to strike a nerve. Imrath has already decided not to push for any real confessions from Izek, against his instincts to pry. Already decided to blame the real villain in his lofty castle. Already decided to help. Again. 

Still. The rage in his chest isn’t new, though letting it out is. The guilt he’s taught himself to feel is easier to bite down than it ever has been. He growls down at this man who is supposed to be his ally. The man steps back, just a half-step. Good.

Millivoj is behind him, sliding around to step in. The Wachter brothers and several other villagers are gathering around the conflict as well. The room is getting crowded.

Imrath ignores their questions and demands for answers, but loosens his shoulders and steps back as well. He pins his feathers back and blows smoke from his nose. “I know that there will be more bones if we don’t stay, so I am going to clean up your mess for a fourth time. And if I catch you talking about your savior like he’s a beast again, I will show you what a real beast is and bury you my self.”

He turns to leave, and as he excuses himself past the friendlier faces, speaking low in his chest, “He’d do well to learn some tact before the fight.”

Imrath is out the door into the darkness, with his hood back on. He’s trying not to smoke when Izek and Wixen join him from the shadows. They had waited. How sweet. 

“Trouble in paradise?” Wixen asks as they sweep between shadows back to the inn for a few hours sleep. Izek is tense, his footsteps louder than usual.

“Not if he’s smart.” 

______________________________________________________________

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5 - Ch. 6 - Ch. 7 - Ch. 8 - Ch. 9 - Ch. 10 - Ch. 11 - Ch. 12 - Ch. 13 - Ch. 14 - Ch. 15

[countrymusiclover]

22 - The God's After Us

Part 23

She's Human or Weapon

@tyrionsprincess30 @groovy-lady @bigbendyhorns @logolepsic-insomniac @the-big-bad-klaus @ocappreciationtag

"I am here now my child. You're mind is just the one I'm looking for. Join me, Aurora." I saw a man dressed in armor clearly not from our time period. Shifting in my sleep on the couch I moaned wanting to block the strange voice in my head. The stranger stuck his hand out to me in my mind scape walking closer to me. "You're family is powerful, Aurora. I can't wait to meet your little Hope." Suddenly I shot awake seeing Charles rush towards me in his wheelchair. He rests the back of his hand to my forehead feeling me sweating. Hugging my knees to my chest I can feel my heart beating out of my chest. "Just breathe Rora. Just breathe, tell me what happened." He said squeezing my shoulder gently making me glance out the corner of my eye back to him. "I felt someone inside my head, Charles. But it looked like a God of some kind...he can sense Hope's power." I shutter pressing my back into the couch pillows. He tucks hair behind my ear trying to calm me down. I've had nightmares before of Shaw but nothing like this. This one felt actually real. "Mom. Dad, look who's here!" Hope entered the room coming into his office making us both gasp seeing Raven.

Swinging my legs over the couch I held my mouth opened in shock. She's not in her natural blue but her blonde hair human form being able to walk around like she's not a mutant. Charles turned his chair around smiling at his sister finally being home. "Aunt Raven!" Hope broke the silence rushing and giving her a bear hug. Raven picked her up laughing as she twirls around her niece in circles for a few minutes before sitting her on the ground. "You've gotten so big. The last time I saw you was when you were a baby." Hope grinned back at us following us into the office. Charles rolled behind the desk the smile never leaving his face. Crossing my arms over my chest letting my hair fall loose from its ponytail smiling at her. "You know, Aurora and I have plans for this place. I mean to turn it into a real campus. A university. Not just for mutants, either, for humans too. Living and working...growing together." He rolled towards the window eyeing his sister who had sat down in a chair in front of the desk. "I really believed that once. I really believed we could change them after DC." Squinting my eyes shut I felt the stranger inside my head again poking around for something. Clutching my hands into fists the golden energy trying to break through but I bloke it out when she brings up Erik.

"Just because there's not a war doesn't mean there's peace. You want to teach your kids something, teach them that. Teach them to fight. Otherwise they might as well live in this house for the rest of their lives!" Charles scoffed tilting his head back at her words. "You still sound just like him. You sound just like Erik!" Hope tugged my arm asking our small group. "Uncle Erik, what does he have to do with this?" Staring down to my daughter I nod my head yes. Raven locked eyes with her brother with a sigh hands in her lap. "He's resurfaced. He had a wife and a child. They were killed. Along with a hand full of policeman." Charles looked to me when I gasped covering my face with my hand the memories returning from last night. "Oh god. He's gonna kill them all." He turned his focus back to her with a long sigh. "The whole world will be looking for him." Hope and Raven share the same worried look knowing we must find him immediately. "But you can help me find him before they do." Heading down into the basement entering Cerebro. Charles puts the headset on taking my hand in his where I entered his mind joining our connection through the machine. Hope grabs his other hand gasping where she spoke under her breath. "Uncle Erik?" Closing my eyes he was in an abandoned building with the God creature from my nightmare along with three other mutants. "Hope..Charles...Rora?" He breathed out feeling tears welling in my eyes revisiting the pain all over again.

Hope sniffed through her own tears as I felt someone else inside my head whispering the acinet words I didn't understand. "Think of your wife. Think of your daughter. What would they have wanted?" Charles tried to pull his friend back to the side of good. "They would have wanted to live. I tried your way, Charles. I tried to be like them. Live like them. But it always ends the same way. They took everything from me. Now...we'll take everything from them!" Erik growled until Charles squeezes my hand tightly mumbling under his breath. "He's not alone." Slowly all the minds that we're red mutants turned this purple color before our eyes. "I never felt power like this beforem" Charles eyes turned black when I felt my golden energy breaking through. My eyes turned white feeling someone using my powers against me. Hope removed her hand from her father's grabbing her head groaning in pain. "I have the key now. You're daughter is the one I seek. Aurora she's the destiny." Covering my ears I hear the God voice in my head causing me to drop to my knees. Without control I raised my hand holding my daughter in her position when Alex rushed forward to Charles. "Destory it. Destory everything. Destory Cerebro...wreak havoc!" Alex and Charles both started screaming destroying the machines power.

Rolling Charles backwards I shake my head rushing to my husband who is knocked out in his chair. "Charles, Come on wake up." I shake him but nothing happens. Lifting my head up a weird purple portal opens revealing the God. Erik stared blankly at me and Raven. "Erik." We both mumbled out before he raised his right hand forward lifting Charles's wheelchair off the ground towards them. He then used his other hand drawing me forward by my necklace as soon as Hope woke up. "Charles. Aurora!" Raven screamed running towards us with Hope following her. "You shall rule like a queen, little Hope Xavier. It is your destiny. It shall be revealed." The God spoke before Alex used his power. The purple portal closed where I dropped on the ground in front of Erik spitting on his boots. "You're an asshole uncle Erik!" He just stared down at me before the God stared at me making me black out instantly.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[eskelbigbang]

Eskel Big Bang 2021 Masterpost

Here are all the fics and art made this year for the Eskel Big Bang. Congratulations on the hard work, everyone!

AO3 collection || #ebb works tag || #ebb art tag || #ebb fic tag

Below the cut is a full list of all EBB works:

Uprooted (T, No Pairing, 12k) by @rachofspades, art by @drachedraws

When a nondescript notice begging for a witcher's aid catches Eskel's attention on his way back to Kaer Morhen for the winter, he finds himself drawn in by his own curiosity despite his initial reservations. Once he arrives, it quickly becomes apparent that there's something more sinister going on than typical monster attacks, and he's determined to figure out what it is. Fic || Art (1) (2)

These Clay Hands (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.7k) by @aalizazareth, art by @hobbart-art

Eskel is a shy pottery instructor who meets Jaskier during one of his lessons. The two hit it off. Fic || Art

The Empty Safe Job (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 18k) by @iboughtaplant, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

A team of thieves with complicated pasts take down the rich and powerful to help those that get left out from justice. Their latest job should be simple, but an unexpected adversary has Eskel confronting his past. Sometimes bad guys make the best good guys. Fic || Art

the broken vines are an open door (M, Eskel & Geralt & Yennefer, 5.2k) by @trissmarrygoals, art by @flyingyarn

Traveling through Aedirn with his newly acquired child surprise, Eskel stumbles upon a dead body - and with it, a mystery. Fic || Art

With you I'll never be alone (T, Eskel/Geralt, 5.8k) by @dat-carovieh, art by @mondfuchs

From their first meeting, through their whole long life Geralt and Eskel have always been there to comfort each other when one of them got hurt. --- Or five times Geralt and Eskel comfort each other through some kind of hurt and one time they're just comfortable. Fic || Art

Eskel Has A Good Day (G, Eskel & Wolf Witchers, 9.3k) by @gods-no-longer-tread-here, art by @phoenixandjacob

The Wolves (and bard) of Kaer Morhen go on a vacation to the coast, and have a good day. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Tu Me Manques. (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 8k) by @etcorsolus, art by @cvbeebop

In which, Eskel meets a bard who calms him. Body, mind, and soul. Story title is how the French say 'I miss you.' The more literal translation is 'You are missing from me.' Fic || Art

Little Red (M, Eskel/Lambert, 6.1k) by @miahclone, art by @llwynbleidd

Eskel helps Lambert while he's recovering from a serious injury. To distract him from the pain, Eskel tells stories of past hunts. Fic || Art

Constellations (M, Eskel/Geralt, 7.2k) by @dredshirtroberts, art by @dat-carovieh

Eskel loves Geralt but their soulmarks don't match - he'd know. They're witchers, and scars are their business. As he joins Geralt in retirement, Eskel figures whatever he can get with the other witcher will be enough. He might get a little bit more than he thought he was bargaining for, but Eskel's never passed up a good deal. Fic || Art (1) (2)

Trial By Fire (Eskel and Aza's Wild Ride) (E, Eskel/OFC, 11k) by @janzoo, art by @liaonyxrayne

When Eskel rescues his succubus acquaintance from witch hunters, their reunion becomes something more as they're drawn into the hunters' plot. What can they do against a twisted idealist and the danger he presents to witchers and non-humans? Fic || Art

Pardon Me While I Burst Into Flames (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 29k) by @ghostinthelibrarywrites, art by @wolfgeralt

When Eskel is hired to kill an incubus who ruined a noble wedding, he finds that his target is far from a bloodthirsty beast, a too-pretty court bard. Eskel spares Jaskier and they go their separate ways, with Eskel expecting never to see the incubus again. But Jaskier has other ideas. Fic || Art

I Could Eat the World Raw (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 7k) by @buttercupsanddandelions, art by @gods-no-longer-tread-here

“This is Eskel.” He pushes him slightly forward, “And he just had his conduit moment.” After becoming a mage, Eskel finds that he's been soul-bound to a little lordling. Fic || Art

Something we bury (M, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @heartoferebor, art by @craftgamerzz

“Where’s Eskel?” Ciri asks Geralt, frowning a little. “He went out to do more hunting and gather some potion ingredients. Should be back any moment,” Geralt reassures her. “Ah. Good.” She hesitates a little before deciding to forge right ahead with her next question. She’s asked everyone else in the keep, of course she’ll have to ask Geralt, too. “About his scars…” * Ciri wants to know where Eskel's scars came from, so she decides to ask everyone at the keep about them. Except, they all seem to have different stories... Fic || Art

Lord What Fools These Witchers Be (T, Aiden/Eskel, 21k) by @jayofolympus and @frenchkey, art by aviixrc

When Lambert brings Aiden to winter with him in Kaer Morhen, Eskel is catapulted straight into his own personal hell. It would be easier if he didn’t like the Cat. Instead, he finds himself falling head over heels for his brother’s boyfriend and trying to hide it from a pack of nosy Witchers. If only Aiden would stop flirting with him... Fic || Art (1) (2)

A Moment of Comfort (M, Eskel/OC) by @merpancake

An attack at a brothel begins with blood and carnage, but Eskel finds an unexpected peace in the arms of Cenna. As their paths continue to cross, Eskel carries that same peace within him on his journey through monsters and men. Art

Toussaint's Finest (M, Eskel/Geralt, 9.1k) by @kate-river, art by @justhereforeskel

Eskel is still roaming the Continent. But in recent years the Path has become harder and harder. Eskel has made it a habit to come by Corvo Bianco around vintage and this year's events might change a few things in his life forever. Fic || Art

Beneath the Shadow and the Soul (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 32k) by @vix-spes, art by @buffskierights

Eskel had the strange feeling that everything was going to change when he passed through Dol Blathanna one year on his way back to Kaer Morhen for winter. He had been passing through a town and, instead of running away from him, someone had exclaimed “You’re a Witcher,” and proceeded to sing at him. He just hadn't realised how much of an impact it would have on him. Fic || Art

Daughter of Fire (T, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 4.9k) by @kittynannygaming, art by @zmezagain

Witchers are sterile, that's a fact. No female human can bear their child. Well, the keyword here is 'human' and a succubus is very not human. And Eskel now has a sweet 7 years old daughter. Fic || Art

Break It Recklessly (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 22k) by @anonymousblueberry, art by @nol-nol

From teenage tearaways to successful adults, Geralt and Eskel have always been inseparable. To the extent that when Geralt accepts a wedding invite with Eskel as his plus one, there’s the assumption that they have finally sorted their shit out and got together, forcing them to keep up the facade or cause chaos for the happy couple. What follows is a crash course in emotions, dating, and working out that love can burn long and slow for a very long time. Fic || Art

The Question (M, Eskel/Istredd, 40k) by @eskelchopchop, art by @stars-in-my-damn-eyes

Eskel's in Ohio when Yennefer calls. He’s reluctant to pick up; he’s still not over Geralt, and he's got zero desire to chat with Geralt's new lover. Turns out Yen isn’t his lover anymore, and this isn’t about Geralt. It’s about witcher’s work. Yennefer owns Portal, one of New York City's most popular gay clubs. A Post-Conjunction Entity (PCE) is hunting her clientele, leaving a string of withered corpses in its wake. The police are doing jackshit. Will Eskel come back to a city full of bad memories and take a job off the books to stop it? He'll sure as hell try. Along the way, he’ll cross paths with Istredd, a man with sorcerer’s eyes and a painful past of his own. If Eskel doesn't work fast enough, they both might become the PCE's next victims. Fic || Art

Is It Cold In The Water? (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 12k) by @jennyloggins, art by @jerry-of-rivia

His horse is tied to a branch a few trees out, and that’s where Eskel heads to grab his water skein, taking a deep drink and soothe his dry throat. Patting his horse’s backside affectionately on his way past her, Eskel feigns a stern voice to say, “Zuzanna, keep watch for me.” Her tail twitches as if to swat him away. Fic || Art

Everything I Want (I Can Find in You) by @eyesofshinigami, art by @phoenixandjacob

Eskel didn't think he'd ever see Jaskier again, sure the Cat witcher was only looking for a night of fun. But then he keeps showing up, taking Eskel to bed and leaving him little presents. It takes Eskel a bit, but eventually he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Jaskier means it when he says he wants to keep him. Or Eskel doesn't think he deserves nice things and Jaskier is determined to show him otherwise. Fic || Art

One Stop Shop; Tattoo's Piercings, And Love (M, Eskel/Jaskier/Lambert, 7.4k) by @jesheckah, art by @moondrunkart

When Eskel fumbles an invitation at a party to come into his tattoo shop, Jaskier and he move towards an explosive love. How many tattoo sessions does it take for the heart to know what it wants? Fic || Art

Entanglement (and other words for a mess) (E, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 31k) by @violaceum-vitellina-viridis, art by @merpancake

Eskel has a hundred marks on his body, but a soulmark isn't one of them. Fic || Art

Beneath Each Other's Bones (E, Eskel/Geralt, 7.6k) by @pressedinthepages, art by @drachedraws

Winter at Kaer Morhen can be brutal. But Eskel and Geralt find warmth in each other in an effort to stave off the cold. Fic || Art (1) (2)

#9fe2bf on the Shore (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 4.5k) by @buffskierights, art by @phoenixandjacob

The sea roars with a vengeance, something angering the waves even as the stars shine brightly overhead in the clear night sky. If Eskel were a poet he’d say it almost sounded like a wail of mourning, the way the whitewater crashes upon the night black sand and the gathering foam, the sea frothing furiously. But Eskel’s always hated his poetry lessons so being a poet is firmly off the table. Fic || Art

lion in the wolf's den (T, Coen/Eskel, 5k) by @patchwork-doublet, art by @justhereforeskel

eskel is nervous being around ciri, afraid things will go south like they did last time. Fic || Art

Sugar Baby Blues (E, Eskel/Jaskier, 24k) by adevinecomedy, art by @pastelrune

Jaskier’s mind slipped back to a night several months ago when he was all worked up but had nowhere to go and a mountain of school work to get through. How it was just so much easier to log onto a camming website and watch someone perform seemingly just for him. The gorgeous, confident man on the other side of the screen had been so accommodating, even though Jaskier had been shy and hadn’t typed much into the chat. Modern au where Eskel is a Cam boy and runs into a bit of a financial bind. Enter Jaskier who just might be the answer to all his woes. Fic || Art

Winter Comfort (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 10k) by @myidlehand, art by @liaonyxrayne

Jaskier comes to Kaer Morhen to spend some time with Eskel, after briefly meeting him in the fall. And while both of them seem delighted to see each other again, Eskel starts to shy away from Jaskier's comments and flirting. It doesn't take a genius to see Eskel is having body image issue. Jaskier aims to help him through it. Fic || Art

The Subtle Knife (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 26k) by @major-trouble, art by @cylin-aka-ankamo

There's an assassin haunting the Continent. No one knows their name, everyone - that is, everyone in the know - calls them The Specter. If you want a rival out of the way, a political opponent disposed of, or a strategic target taken out, contacting The Specter gets the job done. For a price, of course. There's an art to subtlety, after all, and it wouldn't do to risk the attention of law enforcement. So there's no obvious cause, no knife to the back, and the deaths aren't usually remarked upon. The Kaer Morhen Agency, however, has noticed. One of their agents has been hired to protect potential victims, people scared that they've been targeted. And they have reason to worry. When Eskel's first assignment winds up dead of no discernible cause, it starts him on a search for the elusive Specter, hoping against hope to track down the assassin before they're hired again. Setting a trap for a ghost is something Witchers are used to. Setting one for a trained killer may prove beyond them. Fic || Art

No Funny Business (M, Eskel/Jaskier, 11k) by goldendaydreams, art by @nanero11

Eskel had long given up on finding his soulmate, his soulmark nothing but scar tissue from a house fire he’d survived as a child. Knowing that most people wait for their perfect someone, their destiny, didn’t stop him from falling in love with Jaskier, the nurse he met after a hunt gone wrong. Fic || Art

Stronger Than My Storm (E, Eskel/Geralt) by @rawrkinjd, art by @nol-nol

Eskel and Geralt were friends from the very beginning. They added the benefits later. It was another way to offer comfort and companionship when the rest of the world closed in around them, and Eskel was content with it for years. Until he wakes up one day and realises it’s become something more. He touches Geralt’s silver hair, wreathed in a halo of yellow sunlight, and allows himself to feel the cracks spreading through his heart. Witchers can’t love each other. It would only lead to suffering. Eskel realises he must weather the storm inside or let Geralt go forever. Fic || Art

Full of Life (T, Eskel/Jaskier, 6.3k) by @sternenstaub28, art by @llwynbleidd

When Eskel gets hired to solve the case of people disappearing in town, she didn’t know she’d find a friend and maybe even something more. or Beauty and strength don't necessarily make your life easier, a companion and love however do. Fic || Art

choices are the hinges of destiny (T, Eskel/Geralt, 7.5k) by @lutes-and-dandelions, art by @cassandrasartworld

After rescuing a fae from the clutches of death, they repay Eskel by helping him make a choice. -oOo- A story about what would have happened if Eskel had claimed his child of surprise. Fic || Art

Eskel Vs The Continent (And His Feelings) (M, No Pairing, 47k) by @chibitabathasloves, art by @zmezagain

Eskel decides he needs to leave Kaer Morhen after the fight with the Hunt. Where will it take him? And will he be able to face his feelings he desperately tries to ignore. Fic || Art

lookin' to the sky to save me (T, Eskel/Geralt, 10k) by @torynickles, art by @trissmarrygoals

Geralt slides his hand from Eskel’s shoulder to his back. And then. Then he keeps moving it, outwards, away from Eskel’s torso, where there should be nothing but air, but— “What the fuck?” he chokes, because he can still feel Geralt’s hand, sensation where there should be none. He shakes his head wildly, twisting his arm to reach for his own back. His fingers connect to something, but—it’s not his body, it can’t be his body, even though he can feel himself touching it. Because he’s made up of skin and flesh, bone and muscle, and this thing has all of those, but— It’s covered in sticky, damp feathers. Fic || Art

A Fine Night at the Faire (M, Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier, 12k) by Elensule, art by @liaonyxrayne

Eskel has been hurt by the world and hides for refuge in his little goat farm. He's found no reason to look for love, or much of anything else. But encouragement from his brother sends him to an unfamiliar locale; the renfaire! Maybe stepping out of his comfort zone was just what he needed. Fic || Art

[snowywriting]

Prompt #1: Cross

FFXIV writing prompt from  FFxivWrite2022! If you want to write for this too, here’s the link: https://forms.gle/SxFpwkKPLqnUwAYD9

SPOILER WARNING: This has spoilers from Endwalker. If you have not played to the end of Endwalker, please don’t read.

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Altani looked over her island bustling with mammets and sighed. They had gathered, crafted, gardened, and shepherded this wilderness into a profitable little venture over the last few weeks. She stood on the cliff overlooking the little ‘town’, watching their little metal figures cross the landscape. Despite the bustle, there was no life here. It was just her and the mammets. 

I wouldn’t even be here if Tataru hadn’t insisted, she thought to herself. It had been a few months since the fight at the edge of the universe, and it seemed like the lalafel was the only one who had noticed that the Warrior of Light was no longer feeling quite like herself. None of the other scions saw that Eorzea’s champion had lost something in the cold depths of space. Tataru had posed this island as a way to take a vacation and move past whatever was causing her melancholy.

“They don’t understand,” she said out loud. No one answered. “They think I should be happy. I saved the world again. What is there to grieve?”

She got up and began to walk towards the wilderness. She wasn’t going to let the mammets hear her as she slowly lost it. If she was going to talk to herself, she truly wanted to be alone.

How could they understand? She was always alone now. Even amongst their group, there was no one who could share her burdens. No matter how good of friends they were, no matter how precious, she still couldn’t let them bear the weight. She was the only one strong enough. No one could rival her strength. 

“He could,” she whispered to the jungle air. “He was the only one, and now he’s gone.”

It was almost blasphemy to speak it out loud. They were the words that the other scions couldn’t hear, couldn’t understand. 

Zeno yae Galvus had been unhinged. Violent. Strong. She tilted her head and thought maybe it was her Steppe upbringing that made her respect his strength so much. His cruelty was cold, not done for the thrill. In its way, it was logical. It was the only way to bring him the challenge he craved.

“I saw his childhood through the Echo,” she said as she walked along the stream. “And we weren’t so different. Gifted in battle. Our first kill at a young age. Challenge is the way of the Xaela. We are born, we fight, and we die. The strong survive.” The weak perished. “Perhaps the only difference is that no one showed him any kindness.”

She stopped along the bank, sitting down and dipping her feet into the water. “The twins would berate me, feeling sorry for a monster.” How could she feel otherwise? They didn’t see a young boy growing up in a home without a drop of kindness. Raised as a weapon and used as a tool, shoving his emotions down until he was hollow. The only thing that made him feel anything was battle, like the heroes in his childhood storybooks.

“If someone had loved him, just a bit, would he have turned out like me? A hero, not a villain?”

Altani knew she was no saint. On the road to becoming Eorzea’s champion, she had killed many.The path of righteousness was littered with the graves of those that had stood in her way. Even if those deaths were justified, she knew that had things only been a little different, she might have turned out just like him. 

“Thancred would say it is my nature to feel I can redeem the irredeemable. You can’t save everyone,” she said bitterly. It was a lesson the world shoved down her throat at every opportunity. Haurcefant, Minfillia, Moenbryda, Palpylemo. Zenos. Altani walked towards the beach, picking up rocks and putting them in the pack on her pack. She had to move past this. There was nothing more to do but move forward.

She’d been asked time and time again to do the selfless thing and save the world. She’d happily done so. Despite the loss, the burden, the pain. This once, she wished for a selfish thing. She wished she could have saved the man who understood her in a way that no one else did. “My friend, my enemy. I grieved you when I watched you slit your own throat in the garden. I grieve again, having watched you reach for me for the last time.” She finally stopped at a meadow in the middle of the island. Kneeling down on the grass, she began to pile rocks for a cairn.

“Life is a gift,” she said softly. “But I know for you it was a burden. I wish I could have shared it with you, my mirror. I’m sorry I had to leave you behind in that cold place.” Altani finally let the tears fall down her face as she worked. No one else might mourn him, but she would. He deserved a memorial. This man had flown to the ends of the universe to help her save it. He offered her the only thing he felt he could give her of value: a battle to end all battles. The last rock was set in place. “I miss you. I hope our paths cross once again.” Zenos had believed in no gods other than strength, but she said the traditional prayers to Nhaama anyways. She plucked a nearby daisy and laid it across the cairn.

Well. It was time to get back to work. Altani left the meadow, finally feeling a measure of peace. 

A few days later, it was finally time to leave the island. The venture was profitable, and she’d proved without a shadow of a doubt that these islands were livable. The mammets could run the place by themselves without interference. Her working vacation was over and it was back to adventuring. It was what brought her joy. A part of her would always mourn, but it was time to move on.

 Before heading out to the boat, Altani decided to make a proper bouquet for her final respects. Stopping at the cairn, she saw that her original daisy had been replaced by something else. She reached down and picked it up. This bloom was a light periwinkle. She turned it in her hands. Snow flax?

“Altani!” She heard Tataru’s cry. “Hurry up. The boat’s going to leave us!”

Altani tucked the bloom into her hair, leaving the bouquet behind. It didn’t take her long to catch up to the lalafell and climb into the boat. “Well? Are you ready to face the world again?” Tataru asked, tilting her head.

Altani smiled. “I think I can handle it.”

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

hi! hope you're having a great day. just dropping in to say I absolutely love your writings.

prompt request: 15 from 300 followers appreciation post.

have a great day. absolutely love your work <3

Thank you so much anon. Ngl since the moment I put out this list, I had been most excited to write this one out and I don't know how this one turned out.

Just petty things

Dialogue prompt- 15. You couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions | Fluff ( ig) | ENEMIES TO LOVERS |

"oh yeah, watch me malfoy " harry sneered taking the bottle of expensive champagne and pouring it down the drain with draco watching him with horror Struck upon his face

" oh, oops. Hope the bottle doesn't empties- oh wait- it already is empty " harry shook the bottle over draco's face in mockery

" you moron. It was fine champagne imported from France. Do you even know how much it costed ?" draco sneered at harry grabbing his wrists harshly

" what you gonna do about it? Ruin my food ? No wait, you actually already did that " Harry raised his eyebrows grinning viciously

Draco scowled at harry angrily before he jerked away Harry's hand's away.

" ruin my food one more time and I'll throw you out " harry threatened

Draco clenched his jaw angrily murdering harry inside his head..

" you wait and watch " draco challenged harry before he storming back to his room.

" oh yeah. I am sure I can handle you " harry yelled.

Draco turned around dramatically, his face red from all the anger " you couldn't handle me even if I came with instructions " he yelled and slammed his bedroom door shut.

Harry too stormed away in his room slamming the door after him, angrily. Bless those door hinges.

Despite the rivarly dying out ages ago and the reconciliation followed after that, they still annoyed the living death out of each other with petty fights almost everyday. Originally the apartment is Harry's but after Blaise had came to live with him, it partially became his until the moment Blaise wanted to settle down and move in with his girlfriend. So being the nice flatmate he was he got harry an anonymous partner who by claims had been extremely nice, organised, clean and a great friend. Of course Blaise didn't mention " also your childhood enemy " or he necessarily didn't. Either way it didn't work out of course but since the rent act started stirring up in the public, it became Incredibly hard for draco to find another apartment and now here they were, 2 months in living together, messing each other's daily life and petty fighting.

" I'm telling you Blaise, he drive's me nuts " harry groaned as he pointed at Draco.

" oh I drive you nuts, excuse me, you drained my entire fucking bottle of champagne, of course I'll drive you nuts " draco narrowed his eyes at harry.

" you Drained his bottle of champagne ?" Blaise asked harry with an amused reaction sitting on the centre couch.

" well- he- he cut all my avocados, scooped out the insides of it and left the seed and not only that, he added Scotch to my lasagna " harry accusing-ly pointed his finger at draco.

" you did that ?" Blaise laughed looking at Draco

" Blaiseee " harry sternly voiced

" oh, no you're Right. Of course, you shouldn't had done that no matter how good it actually was,you shouldn't had. You know he loves avocados " Blaise nodded.

" but-"

" no really draco. I mean it. He's very serious about his food, even when I lived with him " Blaise added

" I need him out of here " harry added

" what ? You can't do that-"

" I can, if you're forgetting this apartment is originally mine " harry interjected draco.

" okay, whoa whoa, calm down. Nobody's getting thrown out alright. Just take a deep breath and we'll talk about this- well your differences alright "

" you know it's all your fault. You should've never bought a flatmate without asking me "

" me? I thought I was helping you out " Blaise defended himself

" well clearly not " harry shook his eyes head with wide eyes, crossing his arms over his front.

Blaise huffed a breath gulping down the rest of his coffee and turned to draco.

" you want to move out ?"

" what- no. I mean yes I don't want to live with him but I don't want move out " draco replied furrowing his eyebrows.

" see, Harry, he doesn't want to move out-"

" he's doesn't want to live with me Blaise. Clearly we're on the same side " harry faked a smile at draco.

Blaise looked up at the ceiling in annoyance before he got up from the couch to make his point " do you both realise you're adult's. Because it seems otherwise. I'm tired of listening to your petty fights and the pranks and the revenge. Why can't you two just like normal civil people? I thought you both had reconciled "

" look I know it's hard for both of you but you guys are the most incredible flatmates I've ever had alright and I know you two are better than this. So please, just please starting acting like you're actually 22 and if you can't be around each other then just- just ignore another alright. Don't talk " Blaise raised his eyebrows waiting for a reply before harry did

" I can work with not talking " harry mumbled.

" I'm good at ignoring " draco mumbled too.

" see, now that's the spirit. Now I have to go,I have a lunch with Sophie's parents, can I trust the two of you to not get involved into another fight ?" Blaise asked with raised eyebrows.

" good " he huffed when neither replied and took his jacket and decided to walk out with harry and draco following after him.

" just " he breathed " be nice to each other alright. You don't even have to talk "

" we can handle ourselves. We're not kids " draco rolled his eyes

Blaise opened his mouth to say something but shut it right off and gave draco a firm smile and left, with almost zero hope that it worked out.

Well it only worked partially. They ignored each other of course but still couldn't bear the thought of the other, which was somehow a progress and Blaise was rather proud because for the first time in 2 months they didn't wanted to kill each other.

Or so he thought thing's were better until a week later when Draco found harry making out with someone on the couch in the living room. Well he was decent enough not to shout till the date left.

" I sleep on that couch sometimes " draco disgustingly said as a shiver ran down his spine.

" well that's your problem. You have perfect bedroom for sleeping " harry rolled his eyes opening the water bottle and drinking from it..

" I don't care, the couch is off limits " draco snapped

"you don't tell me what is off limits and what's not-"

" i sure can. This is as much as of an apartment as much as its your " draco threw at harry.

" well this is my house, I can kiss anyone I want, wherever I want and whenever I want and you cannot boss me " harry Snapped back stepping closer to draco to make his glaring more threatening.

Draco flared as he stepped closer " you can not "

" yes I can " harry titled his head

" you cannot " draco widened his eyes

" what you gonna do about it ?" Harry egged him on.

Draco breathed sharply before he stepped back throwing his hands in the air " I can't believe you. You think this, everything is yours. Why am I be surprised though, it has Always been yours , hasn't it. Oh I'm harry potter, the world is all mine, I am praised everywhere I go with posters still upon the wall with my huge fanbase and everybody gushing over me. I'm so great, I'm brilliant. Maybe I should get a pedestal to stand on, oh wait I already built myself one " draco shouted

Harry crushed the bottle in his hand before he jerked forward grabbing draco by his collar " you- fucking- asshole. You take that back "

" oh I'm sorry did that hurt you? I won't take it back, you wanna punch me for that " draco asked raised his eyebrows, his hands steady by his sides

" you do not fucking know anything about my life. I'm giving you a warning to shut up-"

" or what? You're gonna punch me, as if you have the guts " draco sneered

" don't tempt me malfoy-"

" oh, I am scared. Save it potter. You can never punch me " draco narrowed his eyes at harry

Harry heaved heavily as he grabbed onto draco's collar tighter but didn't make a move to actually punch him, though his anger was getting out of control.

" you know what, you were better before I got you out of prison. Should've left you there to die " harry didn't mean to say it out loud but he did and it took him exactly a second to realise what had he done and regret immediately flooded in him as he saw draco's lip twitch and the look of pain crossing his features.

" you're right. You should've left me there to die " draco Snapped before he jerked away from harry easily as he had loosened his grip and stormed out of the apartment taking his coat with him.

Harry huffed in annoyance, rubbing his hand over his face, swearing in himself and kicking the chair nearby in guilt and anger.

Despite living in the same apartment, harry didn't see draco at all for at least a week or more until harry was returning very late from work and wanted to silently sneak in after having thought the entire way back home how to makeup to draco when he realised he didn't had to when he saw draco sitting in the balcony with all the door's open..

" you could've at least shut the door. The entrie apartment will be cold now " harry cautiously said as he approached draco and Stood by the door.

Draco sniffed Before he mumbled a soft Apology and within a second harry realised something was wrong and went into the balcony where draco was now standing.

" hey, you alright ?" Harry asked as he carefully placed his palm over Harry's shoulder

" yeah- just something at work " draco mumbled turning away from harry.

" hey hey hey, it's alright, you can talk to me if you want"

" yeah like you'd want to listen " draco scoffed dabbing his face with a tissue.

" of couse I will. Why wouldn't I ?" Harry asked frowning.

" why would you ?" Draco questioned back

" well- i- because I do care and there shouldn't be a reason why not to " harry raised his shoulder before dropping again.

Draco looked at him for a moment before he looked away, chewing the insides of his cheeks.

" you don't have to. I understand. I just want you to know I'm here " harry said softly tilting his head so he knew Draco saw him through the corner of his eyes.

Harry Stood with him for a few minutes in silence until he understood that perhaps he wanted to be alone and decided to step back inside.

" I lied "

" what do you mean you lied ?" Harry asked as he turned around and stood next to draco again with his hands on the railings, watching him..

" I lied about what upset me. It's not my work. It's my parents " draco side glancing at harry.

" oh " harry Only replied

" they sent me a letter that they took down my name from the final will. So I'm well not going to get the manor "

" so you were crying because you don't get the manor ?" Harry pursed his lips to control the little laugh wanting to escape his lips.

Draco shook his head, in " I can't believe I even tried " and he stepped off the balcony to go back inside

" I'm kidding, obviously " harry stopped him, holding out his wrist from going.

" just trying to lighten your mood " harry shrugged. Draco looked at him nonchalantly for a moment before breathing out and standing next to harry again.

"so they took your name off the will ? What else ?" Harry asked as he leaned on the railing watching draco.

" it's-" he breathed " it's not about the manor or any other thing. I stopped caring about that a long time ago, it's just, after all this time I thought they'd accept me. And-" he bit the inside of his lip, closing his eyes " they still don't "

Harry's gaze softened and he spoke up " they probably never will and you'll have to live with it even if it's hard "

" I know but it's just- their acceptance matters the most to me even if I don't say it out loud but It hurts sometimes knowing that I can't stop caring. First they abandoned me, then disowned me from the joint account at gringotts, sold the cottage house under my name and the last thing I had left- they took my name off that. It's like they're doing everything possible to make it believable that I- I just- never existed , like simply erasing it " draco's eyes sparkled with tears and harry watched as draco tore down his walls unknowingly and only then harry approached a simple physical touch of holding his hand over the railing.

" your existence is with you draco. They're all just papers. Your life or your name or anything about you isn't decided by a piece of paper. Hell I'm the hottest bisexual in Britain by the witch weekly and I can bet my ass that I've seen hotter but it's just a paper "

Draco chuckled and harry gave him a smile.

" I know it upsets you and I understand what losing a family is like but you can always create your own family " harry contagiously smiled

" I'm gay potter " draco rolled his eyes with a smile.

" not the actual reproduced family. I mean your friends, they can be your family. It's time you choose your family, who doesn't take away a manor from you "

Draco smiled softly " but it still hurts"

Harry stepped closer to him looking him in the eye " it always will, but one day you're going to look at the whole thing and be like I still have a family and much better one infact"

" you really think so ?" Draco asked

" I know so " harry whispered smiling.

They stared at each other long enough until they realised how close they had been standing in that small balcony and harry cleared his throat to break the moment of unusual staring.

" you wanna stay out here for a while. I'll grab the blankets?" He asked

Draco opened his mouth to deny but instead he nodded with a smile and harry quickly went in to fetch the blankets and pillows with something to eat and joined draco back in the balcony..

" wait, you just came back from work, aren't you tired ?" Draco finally asked

Harry shook his head shrugging " I'm good " and they settled into the area with his back supported on the glass, sitting close enough..

" you're not always an asshole then " draco teased as they opened the packet of chips and sipped some butter beer..

Harry chuckled " well yeah " and he took some chips from the packet.

After moments of eating in silence draco finally turned to harry again and mumbled a small thanks.

" you don't have to thank me" harry replied looking back at Draco and keeping his gaze still at him.

" listen I'm sorry about the other day. I was just angry and you sort of boiled me a little and it just-"

" it's alright. I forgive you " draco gave harry a tender side smile and harry smiled back equally tender.

" can I kiss you ?" Draco asked after having stared at each other long enough to know that kissing was what was left.

" do you really want to ?" Harry asked looking at Draco's lips wanting to do the same.

" yes " draco mumbled as he leaned closer to harry.

" this changes everything draco" harry whispered when they were Only an inch apart, breathing in small breaths..

" I know. I want to " draco mumbled..

Harry bought his hands to draco's face, stroking his cheeks " are you absolutely sure ? I don't want you to regret this next morning "

" will you ?" Draco asked looking in Harry's eyes as a confirmation.

" I won't " harry replied as his heart beat More loudly.

" I won't either " draco mumbled and before Harry could've further asked anything else, he kissed him over the lips, sweet and slow at first then escalating to it becoming a need, leaving them both panting.

" you really are sure ?" Harry panted as they separated for air..

Draco rolled his eyes straddling harry, cupping his face " you ask me one more time and I'll make you question your entire life harry" and he kissed harry again tugging at his hair as harry encircled his arms around Draco's Waist pulling him closer, leaning his head upwards to kiss him more thoroughly..

And they remained there as Long as the night was still young, kissing each other, panting each other's breath, fighting for air, for Dominance and moaning. Just there, in the moment.

I understand I didn't necessarily made harry and draco already having feelings for each other but it seemed nice for a change to go with their flow.

(I don't know if literally anyone notices but my writing style varies a lot, personally not liking recently what I've been writing tho )

300 followers appreciation dialogue Prompt requests open

Angst prompt requests open

[archetypal-archivist]

Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone P.2

So, a little while back I wrote piece titled Tommyinnit and Hermitcraft- Heartstone (linked here) which was inspired by the works of @petrichormeraki and @redorich, who popularized the AU of Tommyinnit from the Dream SMP getting dropped into Hermitcraft somehow and summarily getting adopted by the entire server. I, in my infinite wisdom, decided “yes, but also angst” and spat out a solid 1500+ words with a cliffhanger at the end because it was getting ridiculous and I had yet more to write. This is another 1500+ words of continuation. 

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It's not easy, knowing things. Joe knows more things than most, and oh, how it eats at him sometimes. He jokes with Cleo that between the two of them and their dogs, they are perhaps the leading experts on being chewed on, but she never laughs at that joke. He can't help but wonder why, his thoughts drifting as he lies still and silent in her arms, curled up together on his bed in the winery. Her orange hair tickles his nose as he moves to bury his face in her shoulder a bit more, her cool breath ghosting over the sticky tear tracks that still line his cheeks. All the things that remain unsaid lie between them, but their silent agreement binds them together tighter still. And indeed silence is the name of the game, however much he wishes it wasn't necessary- everything will work out in due time, he knows. But oh, how it aches that he can't say anything more on the matter, not even to her.

"Cleo?" The zombie woman makes a soft inquiring noise, politely ignoring how his voice cracks on the syllables. "Are we doing the right thing?" Her grip tightens again, almost crushingly so, and Joe goes limp at the implied rebuke. Be it right or wrong, his silence must be ensured- he knows so much that if he said anything, it'd all come pouring out. A real modern-day Cassandra, verbal fountain and harbinger of doom in one. No, best to stay cryptic when he can and silent when he can't- and if even his silence fails, Cleo is there, sword in hand, ready to keep him quiet.

He should not take comfort from that. But here, wrapped up in his best friend's embrace, utterly at her mercy and all the safer for it... He does anyway.

-----

Joe and Cleo aren't in a romantic relationship, but it would not be amiss to call them platonic life partners in this universe. Joe has been seeing things for as long as he can remember, the exact mechanics are strange and baffling at best, and if he tries to actually do any Science to figure out how this stuff works, the magic changes to spite him. It's led to a lot of unfortunate visions of peanut butter and how the server generally tends to misuse the stuff (Etho sometimes using it instead of slime in a sticky piston is a milder example), so after enough peanut visions to make him allergic on principle, Joe tends to just let the visions come as they may. The only hard-coded bit that comes with them is that anyone living who hears his prophecies won't believe them and will have something bad happen to them as a result. Cleo, being a zombie, is a special exception to the rule. She's only alive in the most technical of senses, so while bad things still happen to her if she hears Joe speak about his experiences, she at least will believe him.

Which is why she is so determined to not know more about whatever is going on with Tommy. When Joe had rushed in a month ago, tears streaming down his cheeks and glasses barely hanging onto his face, she had merely put down the book she had been reading and had opened her arms wide to him. Convincing him that she would not betray his trust or break his heart had been hard, but she had known it was worth it. How can it be anything but, when Joe had looked at her then as if she was the most precious being on the planet and had immediately thrown himself into her arms, bursting out into troubled tears? He offered to tell her the full story, eyes wet and longing, and her long-dead heart ached at the trust he is giving her- but she is far too selfish to give that up. So she had turned him down, smile on her lips.

Even when he whispered, voice hoarse, that they wouldn't be seeing Tommy for a while. Even when he shuddered and shook in her arms, fragile as glass in her grip. Even when he begged her to ask, just ask, please, it's too much... She did not ask. If she asked, he would tell her, and then she would be hurt and his heart would break because it would be his words that had hurt her. She would not, cannot, will never inflict that upon him, or let him inflict that upon anyone else. (Of all the heads in her collection, the one she has most of is Joe's.)

She simply asks him if there will be a satisfying ending, and when he says yes, she asks no more. Everything will be okay, in the end. So long as there is that much, so long as she has Joe in her arms and the comfortable silence stretches out between them, then she will be content.

(At the foot of their bed, deep in Joe's winery where the barking is muffled and the light cannot touch them, there lies a chest of heads. Inside it, nestled among the many faces of the dead, rests an old iron sword bearing the name Hush. It's blade is rusty from disuse, but if Cleo ever decides that she isn't satisfied, well. There are ways of dealing with that.)

(Things will be okay. She'll make sure of it.)

-----

Philza was no stranger to death. A veteran of a hardcore world, where even the very earth was out to kill him, he had seen his fair share of deaths and had dealt out even more. Usually just to the local mobs and wildlife, but there was still the occasional player dropped into his world by the cruel hands of the Void as a sort of "apology" for leaving him alone, bereft of his sons. As if some random strangers could ever fill the Void in his heart.

Most of them had wandered off upon seeing him, more interested in escape than any companionship he could offer them, and he'd inevitably see their death messages in the otherwise silent chat a few days later. Others would approach him, some curious, some desperate for kindness- he gave them none, was often intentionally cruel just to drive them away. He had the Void in his heart and the Void had him, and he ached and ached for what he could not have. Anything less would be a pale imitation, a mockery of the love he was desperate to return to. He tried not to think about how those kind strangers would also come to meet their ends, often more messily than those that had decided to leave him be to begin with.

Then there were the rare few with... less than gentle intentions. (Blood for the Blood gods, no matter the universe.)

Theirs were the deaths he regretted the least, but the blood still gave him nightmares. For all that he loved his sons, he never understood their love for glory, be it found in conquering other nations or the sticky ooze of a dying foe. Maybe that's why he had spent so much of his time with his elder sons when he returned, the Void finally releasing him from his hardcore prison. Just a father's attempt at understanding, even if it left his youngest at loose ends.

But the problem with loose ends, he had come to find, is that the world had a way of setting them to rights- either by tying them back into the grand narrative, or by cutting them out entirely. For months after Dream had come to him, apology on his lips and charred shoe in hand, he had believed that Tommy's fate had been the latter. He had  mourned his son as if such was the case, weeping openly at the news for the first time in years. (He wasn't the only one, though- Technoblade was an only child now and he was not taking it well.) It was only when Tubbo came to him with his compass to ask about its ever-spinning needle that he felt a spark of hope, for a compass that spun was not a compass linked to a dead soul- simply a lost one. Such hope was justified when, six months later, Technoblade burst into his house with a snarl on his lips and a smile in his eyes. Tommy had returned.

And as Phil stood, back straightening and wings spread wide, hope bloomed in his chest like hanahaki, choking him with love right down to his core. Tommy had returned, despite everything.

And Philza would not let him go again.

-----

For all that Tommy might have been... gone for at least a month now on the Hermitcraft server and life has significantly slowed down for all involved, by no means has it stopped entirely. The shops are still stocked, the torches are replaced when the old ones burn out, Hermits still go out and see each other, if less often than before. Xisuma, in fact, instates a series of mandatory meetings every week or so as a way of making sure that everyone is still alive- a bit of reassurance that no one else has died in the time interim. Even the hermits who prefer to keep to themselves show up, such as Tinfoilchef, Joe, and Cleo, although the latter two remain distinctly separate from everyone else on the server during the meetings, their refusal to take a side alienating them from the rest. Grian, broken though he may be, also comes, usually in the arms of Iskall or with a vacant smile on his face depending on the state of his mental health on the given day. His presence is also alienating, as most of the hermits don't quite know what to say around him and thus will give him and Iskall a bubble of space to themselves during the meetings. Mumbo is the only one to cross the divide, standing loomingly tall at Iskall's back, as if daring anyone to say something potentially hurtful to either of his friends.

Frankly, the entire concept of weekly meetings is a bit of a mess. Xisuma stands at the front with Keralis at his back, voice and posture more and more tired with every meeting and Keralis standing just a bit closer, a silent show of support (ready if his admin ever needs some physical support too). The prognosis is usually a mix of dull stuff and hopeless stuff- lag is better than it has been in years, the Chestmonster shop is out again, Tommy still has not been... found. It's not exciting exactly, but the tension during the reporting stage is palpable as everyone waits to hear if something else has gone wrong. It's a bit like being on the front lines- horrible, drawn-out minutes of tedium as everyone holds their breath, waiting to see if another bombshell will drop but knowing that they have to be there, because some warning is infinitely better than seeing a death message in chat one day and not knowing if that person will ever make it back.

In addition to this is the tension that comes from the server being split in three- the believers, the mourners, and those too damaged or too caught up in their own narratives or too neutral to swing to one side or the other.

The meetings are where the most near-fights happen, and Xisuma is so, so tired of having to be the sane one these days. (The benefit of a helmet, he's come to find, is that no one can see you cry.)

(He doesn't take it off much anymore.)

-----

It's after one such meeting that Zedaph finds himself cooped up in his base, eyes burning with unshed tears and feet dangling out into the Void as he sits at the bottom of the hole in his base, the one that goes straight to bedrock and then even further still. The chill is a welcome distraction from his own inner turmoil, and for all that it's dangerous to be sitting so near to the edge of the world, he can't find it in himself to move away form its cold comfort. After all, Tommy can't have died permanently, right? So sitting there is perfectly safe. He has to believe that. He has to.

The meetings are tough on everyone, but sometimes Zedaph wonders if they are a bit worse for him than they are for the rest. It can't be normal that the first thing he does after every meeting is burst into panicked tears as soon as he gets back to his base, as he's certainly never felt such deep fear and relief after the meetings they had before the Incident. And yet, as soon as the iron door of his base sncks shut behind him, he drops down into the Void hole, sits at the edge, and bawls his eyes out. It's kinda funny- he's shed more tears in the last month than he has in his entire life so far. And all for a boy he had known for less than a year.

During this particular day, however, something odd happens. When he sits down for a good cry, it feels like there's the slightest of breezes coming off the Void beneath his feet, chilling him right down to his bones. It's cold, yes, but a welcome relief as he feels a bit like he's burning up from the inside out. Every moment he spends with Tango and Impulse is stifling, as with them he has to shove himself into a hateful mold he never wanted for himself. He doesn't like being angry, and being angry alongside his best friends is hardly any better. If he had it his way, he would have curled up in bed and simply slept the horror away, only waking when the nightmare was over and he could go play mini golf and Among Us with Tango, Impulse, and Tommy again. Instead, his love for his friends demands that he supports them in all their endeavors, even if their goals these days seem to run a little closer to "get them all killed" than is comfortable.

But yes. The breeze. It feels like ice on his skin and sends every nerve in his legs buzzing. It has a distinct smell to it too, like TV static, ozone, and that sensation you get after you brush your teeth and go take a big gulp of cold water. It's... odd. But vaguely comforting. And as the tears finally well up in his eyes and drip down his cheeks, as he lets himself sob for all the friends- both new and old- he's lost, he finds that it's exactly what he needs.

And if Zedaph would only listen a little closer, let himself see beyond his broken heart, perhaps he would hear the whisper on the wind, too.

Everything will be okay. I'll make sure of it.

-----

Evil X has his own troubles to deal with. He had been present when Tommy had died, if watching from the wrong side of their dimension. Lost in the Void with nothing better to do, he had often found himself watching his friend go about his day. With space and time being as screwy as they were in the Void, he could find himself taking three steps and then would be watching Tommy go from sleeping over at BDub's base to having "breakfast" with Rendog. So when Grian and Tommy had gone out End-busting that fateful day, of course he had been watching.  And that was all he could do- watch- as he saw his best friend fall to his apparent death, that little line of code that signaled "perma-death" flashing once, twice, and then glowing a deep, ominous red.

But that wasn't the end of it, even as his dull and bruised heart stuttered in his chest at the sight.

Like a redstone pulse lighting up everything around it, that red glow set off a cascading chain reaction that rippled up and down Tommy's code until it eventually trailed out to wherever his code stretched out into the Void. There, it must have severed something because before he could even call for help, his friend's code yanked inwards and away, slingshotting the whole mess into the distant darkness beyond, leaving naught but a vague impression on the inside of his eyelids behind. It was... awful. One of the scariest things he had ever seen, perhaps second only to watching his brother, stern-faced and cold, send him off to the Void once again. But for all that it hurt to see that red glow and watch in mute horror as the server he had once tried to destroy shake itself apart at the seams, there was still hope.

The code was gone, yes, but not unraveled, not destroyed. Merely... transported. Moved. Like a file being sent from one computer to another, or a player teleporting between servers. Tommy's code vanishing like that was cause for alarm, yes, but somewhere out there in the vastness of the Void, it lingered still- and it had left a faint impression of itself in its wake. That meant there was hope.

Evil X- and by proxy, his twin Xisuma- were voidwalkers, beings specifically designed to see, understand, and even modify the world's code. Were he anything else, he surely would have perished by now, his consciousness scattered across the Void as it was. And having been in exile for so long, he had gotten to be adept at seeing the seams between worlds and reading the truths of existence as the Void had intended for her children. If anyone could follow that faint trail, could get Tommy back, it would be him.

For the first time in a long time, Evil X had hope. And hope is a vicious motivator indeed.

-----

TBC :)

[sin-of-sloth-my-ass]

The Fallen Fairy Pt. 1

A/N: I noticed how inactive the Tumblr side of this fandom is 🤔 If you have any request don't hesitate to ask!

Previous ~ Next

warnings: spoilers

genre: neutral? Bit of Angst?

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"What ya looking at?" Your curious eyes peeked over King's shoulder as you followed his gaze that was directed at Diane and Howzer.

King let out a scream by your sudden appearance behind me, making everyone turn to look at you two curiously, but he waved it off "don't scare me like that, (Y/N)"

"It's been a while since I've been able to scare you, hasn't it" you smiled mischievously, but your words held a lot more meaning than just playfulness. The guilt of that ominous day is something the Fairy King will have to bear to his grave. Your once golden like wings were gone never to be seen again. It was a time never to be spoken of as it was a dreadful day to the both of you.

"Say, my king, you sure you're the sin of sloth? You act more like the sin of envy in my eyes" you mused as you lean your chin in your hands, all while a playful smile was playing on your lips.

Kings scoffed "I told you not to call me that any more. I'm not fit to be a king."

"And I'm not fit to be a fairy any more, but here we are" you replied nonchalantly as you turned in your seat to watch Meliodas and Ban intoxicating themselves with the golden liquid humans couldn't resist.

"What about you? I've seen you staring at Ban a couple of times" He asked as he was the one following your gaze this time.

Unbeknownst to King, it wasn't Ban you had been staring at, but the man opposite of him that held so much resemblance to your past lover. It almost felt like a cruel joke "it's not that deep, besides he's still not over Elaine, so I don't think I have that much of a chance."

"Oi, Tinkerbell" Meliodas called, snapping you out of your haze. Due to your bewildered eyes, a smirk grew on his face as you reminded him of a kid that got caught doing something it shouldn't do.

"What do you want devil's child" you shot back, regaining composure and copying the same smug look he had.

"(Y/N)" King gasped at your response "he's the captain! Don't go around and throw names out like that"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding. It's all a joke, right Meliodas?" you defended yourself, but the mischievous look in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by the said boy.

"It's alright King. I know she's just joking" he reassured him. "Anyway, I think the customers could use another round"

"Go ask Elizabeth" you waved him off.

"She's at the capitol" he replied. You grith your teeth "what about Gowther?"

"He went with Merlin somewhere" he informed, amused by your growing irritation "you know our deal. When those two aren't around, you're the one serving the customers"

"Fine" you breathed as you head up from your seat and went behind the bar to give everyone their respective drinks.

"Thank you! What about the uniform, though?" He teased to which you rolled your eyes "don't push it"

To your luck, Elizabeth soon enough arrived, letting you escape the tedious deal you made with the captain of the Seven Deadly Sins.

"Diane!! Let's go train!"

You ran outside the boarhead before Meliodas could come up with a way to rope you into working longer.

You did your best to keep up with Diane's long strolls, cursing in your mind how easier it would've been if you still had your wings.

Once you were deep in the forest and excluded enough from any living creature, you took your fighting stance.

"You know you could always ask Merlin to take a look at your wings. Maybe she finds a way to fix them" Diane said as you did your best to dodge her Golems.

"Mhm, I know. I don't want too, though. It's a reminder to myself of how I failed my kind and how I should work every day to become stronger." You explained as you slashed one of the stone creations with your katana, making it crumble to the floor. You quickly dodged as the other was already coming at you with its fist.

Diane frowned at your answer "you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"They trusted me. I was their number one defence line and I failed them. I was the royal guard. The one that should protect the Fairy King. How can I possibly be fit for that role when I couldn't even protect my friends? It should've been only me that got killed that day, not them." You mumbled the last part. Diane's creations collapsed as you kicked it with all your force against a tree. You took in the giants emotional state and knew continuing to train was not an option. "Let's go back, shall we?"

By the time you got back, the night had fallen over Britannia. The boardhead was filled with intoxicated people passed out all over the place.

You head up to the roof to look out on the capital that had a few lights brimming in the otherwise dark city.

"I see you made Diane upset," Meliodas said as he joined you and handed you a bottle of ale which you gratefully accepted.

"She asked me why I didn't go to Merlin to see if she could get my wings back" you replied as you took a swig of the toxic liquid.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said.

"It's the second time I let my people down" you sighed "if death is not the answer, I guess this is the second-best thing"

"How do you feel about the seal?" He asked as he observed your reaction quietly.

You pressed your lips together as you let his questions sink in "I know it's bad news but at the same time... I haven't seen him in 3000 years"

"I know" he sighed, understanding your conflicted feelings "I hope you understand where I'm coming when I say I'm gonna do everything in my power to prevent them from breaking loose"

"Yeah... I know" you hugged your knees while placing your chin on them "when are you gonna tell them"

"When the time is right" he answered truthfully "what about you? King doesn't know how old you really are, does he?"

"He never asked" you shrugged.

"Would you tell him?" "I don't see why I wouldn't"

"Would you also tell King about him?" You stayed silent at that question, unsure whether it would benefit anyone if you were to tell him. "It's getting late, don't stay up too late."

With that Meliodas left, soon to return as you always had a chat in the midst of the night, while everyone is sound asleep around you

The upcoming sun awoke you from your place on the roof of the boarhead. You lazily sat up and admired the rose gold basked city that was slowly waking up as well.

"Hey Ban, planning on sneaking out without telling anyone?" You heard your king's voice, snapping you out of your dreamy haze.

You observed the two for a little until Ban said something that caught you off guard "I'm going back to the Fairy King's Forest"

It was hard to see their faces from up to where you were seated, but you knew King held a shocked face, mimicking yours.

Your eyes trailed them until you could no longer see them, making you swallow hard as you realized the Fairy King didn't even bother to get you "hypocrite"

You hopped off the roof and went back inside the bar, starting to clean up the mess everyone made the night before.

"Are you sick?" Meliodas asked when he walked downstairs to see who was making all that noise.

"King and Ban left to go to the Fairy King's Forest" you said, not sparing him a second glance.

"How come you didn't go? I thought you went everywhere King went" he asked as he helped you grab a couple of empty bottles.

"He clearly didn't want me there, after all, he left without saying anything." You mumbled "Diane's gonna be heartbroken"

"(Y/N)" Meliodas narrowed his eyes at you. For all those decennia he has known you, he knew something had to be terribly wrong for you not be by the Fairy King's side "I'm no longer a fairy, now am I? Fairies have wings, I don't"

"Neither has King" the captain of the seven deadly sins pointed out.

"He can still grow them. Mine are gone forever" you shot back. "Besides I'm very certain the forest wouldn't give me a third chance. It would be gut-wrenching knowing I could never return there"

"So you rather bask in the unknown?" You silently continuing to clean the used glasses was a sign for him to drop the subject "welp, it can't be helped. Guess you'll be the substitute for King"

"I could never replace my king" you shook your head.

"Your loyalty after all these hundreds of years still ceases to amaze me" he chuckled, making you smile a little as well.

You decided to stay back at the boarhead while the others went to the capital for the ceremony. It was a quiet day as you presumed most of the people of Britannia were at the ceremony to praise the Seven Deadly Sins.

You headed up to your usual spot on top of the boarhead and stared off in the distance and wondered when everything had become such a mess.

It crossed your mind that if Gloxinia was still here he'd probably be ashamed of how weak you've become. He'd probably turn his head at how you let the humans cut off your wings. After all, he warned you more times than you could count that humans should not be trusted. Yet here you were handing them alcohol in return for some golden coins. He'd be rolling in his grave if he'd caught wind of what you were doing right now.

A sudden tremor shook you literally out of your thought process and that's when you felt him. There was no mistake. Even after 3000 years, it still felt so familiar to you.

It didn't take long before Meliodas appeared back at the boarhead. "You felt it too, didn't you"

"Yes," you replied as looked at the Captain of the Seven Deadly Sins. His head hung low while an unease aura clouded his whole body "they're here"

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Always a Place For You

also on ao3 

fair warning, this one is long

Initially, when they run into another Witcher on the road, Jaskier is thrilled. He’s been dying to hear more about Geralt’s adventures and hopes that having a familiar companion will make him more amenable to it. And maybe cheer him up a little. It's been a slow couple of weeks and while they've adjusted to it - and have certainly had worse periods - Geralt has been a little low lately. So when the other man walks toward them, arms stretched and a goat at his side, Jaskier is delighted.

His name is Eskel and he seems equally as enthusiastic to meet Jaskier as Jaskier is to meet him. Geralt makes a muttered comment about how it’s only because of the song and Eskel elbows him. Jaskier loves him immediately.

"Maybe I could write you your own song," he suggests and behind him, he can hear Geralt's snort of derision.

But it's fine. Geralt's never really grumpy with him about flirting - even, he suspects, with other Witchers - and how else is Jaskier supposed to learn about them? Every piece of Witcher knowledge he has, unless gleaned from his years with Geralt, is tainted with bias and fear, and he would very much like to know the truth.

Eskel is, in fact, far more forthcoming than Geralt ever has been, though this is likely a side-effect of Jaskier being Geralt's companion. He can't imagine Eskel would be so willing otherwise. And he can understand that, having overstepped with the wrong person and wound up in trouble more than his share of times.

The pair of them chat as they make their way along the road, heading toward Eskel’s camp. It’s not until they arrive that Jaskier realizes how quiet Geralt has been the whole time. It’s not as though he’s the chattiest person he's ever known, but Geralt has been talking very little today - even for him - and when Jaskier starts asking questions about their childhood, he shuts up entirely.

At the edge of Eskel’s camp, Geralt tethers Roach next to a black stallion who seems none too impressed with the company, then quietly comes to sit with them. He sits on Eskel's other side, staring intently into the fire and continuing to add nothing to the conversation. A couple of times, Eskel starts to say something, but a single look from Geralt is all it takes for him to switch tracks.

Eskel stays with them and Jaskier does his best to take a step back and not focus too hard on every interaction between the two Witchers. They spend a couple of days camping out before the weather turns wet and miserable and Geralt directs them toward town. Jaskier knows it's for his benefit mostly and he feels guilty for them having to change course, but Geralt won't take no for an answer. It's out of the way - they'd been heading toward Rinde and a sizable reward for killing a pack of ghouls - but it's the closest town to them, even if it's barely large enough to have an inn. But it does and once the horses and goat are housed for the night, that's where they head.

"We need a room for the night," Geralt says and Jaskier interjects with a hurried, "two rooms." Geralt turns to him with a confused frown, but Eskel lays a hand on Geralt's shoulder and he relents.

Jaskier tries not to think too much about what that means or why Geralt relents so quickly, but he fails. As he makes his way up to his own room, all he can think of is the way Eskel's fingers pressed into Geralt's shoulder, squeezing gently in a way that, apparently, was enough to reassure Geralt. He wants to be able to offer that kind of reassurance, for Geralt to feel that calm in his presence.

He's unpacking his things, hanging those that got wet to dry, when there's a knock on the door. Jaskier doesn't even have a chance to cross the room before the door opens and Geralt strolls into the room like it's his own.

"What's wrong?" he asks, which Jaskier supposes is polite, but he's so blunt about it that he almost sounds angry.

"Nothing," Jaskier offers, turning away to finish emptying the contents of his pack.

"Jaskier, you've barely said a word all day.”

“I composed an entire song before we reached the city walls."

"But you haven't spoken to anyone but yourself."

Jaskier opens his mouth to mention talking to the stable hand, but the look on Geralt's face tells him that won't go over well. Not that he understands why Geralt is so concerned about his silence, all of a sudden. There have been days when he's all but prayed for Jaskier to shut up. He should be happy about it.

"I'm just... not feeling well," he says, realizing the fault in his lie before he even finishes speaking it. Geralt's eyebrows knit together and he gives Jaskier a quick once-over before evidently deciding he's fine.

"You're lying to me. Jaskier you never lie to me. Why?"

"You can tell when I'm lying?"

"You smell like deceit, don't change the subject."

Jaskier doesn't know what to say because he certainly can't tell the truth. He goes with the one thing he knows Geralt won't want to talk about any further.

"I had a lover here once," he says quickly, "she dropped me quite quickly when she found out about my other lovers. I was quite hoping not to have to come back, but here we are."

It's close enough to the truth, and something realistic enough that Geralt should believe it. And he does, though he doesn't seem happy about it. He stiffens and Jaskier just sighs softly as Geralt turns back toward the door and leaves him alone again.

For four more days, Eskel travels with them. He leaves on the fifth morning, and watching him go is bittersweet, the weight of some unnamed pain sitting heavily on Jaskier's heart. Geralt shows no sign of sadness or regret, but Jaskier can feel something different about him as they turn and head in the opposite direction.

If Jaskier thought things would go back to the way before, he's sadly mistaken. And it's his own fault, really. Geralt, shockingly, returns to normal fairly quickly, falling back into their old routines, but Jaskier can't stop thinking about him and Eskel. When they're alone at night, he pretends not to be cold because he can't bear the thought of Geralt's arms around him if he's thinking of someone else.

But things do eventually get back to something like normal, aided by Geralt's silent persistence. For the first time in their relationship, Geralt is the one pushing boundaries, encouraging Jaskier to do things he doesn't necessarily want to do. But even when Geralt has wormed his way back to his proper place in Jaskier's life, Jaskier can't stop thinking about him with Eskel. So he flirts less - at least with Geralt - and he distances himself a little bit at a time because he wants Geralt to be happy.

They're up north when the weather starts to cool and out of the blue, Geralt broaches the subject of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier's sitting next to the fire, his lute case open next to him but untouched and he's prodding at the coals with a stick. Geralt comes and plops down next to him, staring directly ahead and not meeting Jaskier's eyes.

"I wonder if you would come to Kaer Morhen with me this winter." It's not a question, not really, and from Geralt's perspective, things have been good - exceptionally good - so he probably isn't expecting Jaskier to turn him down flat.

"No," Jaskier says and the look on Geralt's face tells him he's surprised about it. "I'm going to Oxenfurt."

"You'll freeze before you get there." Geralt says and he sounds a little irritated about it, so Jaskier smiles to ease the awkwardness.

"Well then," he says, "you had better come along and keep me warm."

It's supposed to be a joke, but Geralt agrees easily and Jaskier’s chest tightens. The night that follows is cold and Geralt is more distant than he has been, but he curls up around Jaskier next to the fire and pulls the extra blanket over them both.

For a little while, Jaskier almost thinks things could be okay again, but he's never felt so unsure of himself in his life. He wants Geralt, but he also wants him to be happy and there doesn't seem to be a way to have both - not if Geralt loves Eskel.

A couple of nights out, they're camped on the edge of a lake and Jaskier is struggling to get the fire lit. His fingers are so cold he fumbles with the flint and drops it into the placed sticks carefully. Geralt isn't around to help, having gone off to find something for them to eat, but Jaskier does eventually get the fire lit, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders as he sits next to it, waiting for Geralt to return.

When he doesn't, Jaskier gets worried and hauls himself to his feet. He can't see much in the dark, his eyes having adjusted to the light of the fire, so he heads off in the direction Geralt left. It doesn't take long to figure out where he went; barely two minutes from camp, Jaskier hears the sounds of a fight and hurries toward it.

Geralt has his sword drawn, surrounded on all sides by a pack of drowners. Without thinking, Jaskier rushes into the fold, tugging the dagger from his boot, and launches himself at the closest creature. He gets his blade lodged in its neck, but it stumbles as it collapses, dislodging Jaskier from its back and as he bumps into another and finds himself thrown sideways into the lake.

He's underwater before he realizes what's happening and the icy water bites into his skin. He struggles against the weight of his own body, kicking his legs and searching for anything to push off of. He's not even sure which way is up, at this point and he knows Geralt is too busy to come after him; this time, he's going to have to save himself.

But he can't. He's already losing feeling in his limbs and even with his eyes open and stinging, he can't see anything in the dark, so all he can do is kick his legs and hope for the best. And then, as if like a beacon, an arm thrusts down toward him, scrabbling around until a hand curls around his collar and hauls him upward. Jaskier is helpless as he's hauled up onto the bank and he gasps to catch his breath as warm hands, slowly cooling against his skin, grab at him.

He's tugged up into strong arms and his mind is still struggling to catch up as Geralt lifts him into his arms and starts back toward camp. Jaskier wraps his arms around his neck and rests his chin on his shoulder, he looks back behind them. The entire horde of drowners is dead on the ground, the grass dark with their blood. Jaskier shudders at the sight and Geralt holds him closer, mistaking his shock for cold.

As soon as they're back at the fire, Geralt drops to his knees next to it, shifting to cross his legs and pull Jaskier into his lap. He has both their blankets and the one Jaskier was wearing and he pulls them around him now.

"Take off your clothes," he says and Jaskier stops, his head jerking up to meet his eyes.

"I-" he starts and finds he can't form the words.

“Jaskier, your clothes.”

“But I thought- Eskel, he won't mind?"

"Jaskier, you're going to freeze to death if you don't get out of your clothes, no one is going to mind." Jaskier hesitates just for a moment and Geralt sighs in frustration, reaching for his shirt himself. Geralt gets Jaskier out of his doublet before Jaskier's mind catches up and he fumbles with his shirt.

"I've got it," Geralt says softly, and Jaskier ducks his head. He still hasn't quite managed to catch up to the severity of the situation and he shifts awkwardly as Geralt lifts his shirt up.

"Geralt you shouldn't- I can do it. I don't want things to be complicated because of me, I- I know you and Eskel- and I want you to be happy so I can do it myself." He doesn't look up until he's finished speaking and realizes Geralt hasn't moved. He's frozen in place, his hands wrapped around the hem of Jaskier's shirt. As soon as Jaskier lifts his eyes, Geralt's snap up to meet them.

"That's what's been bothering you? Jaskier, that was months ago." He curses softly under his breath and tugs Jaskier's shirt up over his head. He quickly rids him of the rest of his clothes and bundles Jaskier up against his chest.

They sit together in silence and Jaskier leans further into him than he should, soaking up Geralt's body heat. He shuts his eyes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck and a warm hand slides up his chest, wrapping him tight. It's a little weird being fully naked out in the middle of nowhere and pressed up against Geralt, but he likes the warmth of him against his back.

"Eskel and I," Geralt says suddenly, "it's not what you think."

"Dunno what else it could be," Jaskier mumbles, "you with your head between his legs and all. Though that explains why you were so weird about me meeting him." Geralt's hand makes its way up to his head, sliding into his hair.

"I didn't want to tell you," he admits and Jaskier huffs against him. "Jaskier," Geralt says softly, "I didn't want it to change things. Obviously, it did."

"How long?" Jaskier asks, though he's not totally sure he wants to know.

"Always." Geralt leans his head against Jaskier's, looking out into the fire. "We were kids the first time, cold and alone in that huge keep with no one but each other. It started as a distraction and just grew into something... else."

It feels like all the breath has been sucked from his lungs and Jaskier pulls in a shuddering breath. He had hoped that it was just a relationship born out of necessity, but that's not what it sounds like.

"You're upset," Geralt realizes, but Jaskier shakes his head.

"Just cold."

"And lying." Jaskier says nothing and Geralt tips his head forward, pressing against the back of Jaskier's head. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to upset you, I want you to be happy."

After a moment of silence, Geralt sighs. "You know I care for you, Jaskier." Jaskier's heart does a weird little flip that he can't quite describe, but it doesn't feel good.

"No, actually. You do quite a good job of pretending you don't." He's feeling raw and he wants to pull away, but his hair is still dripping and there's a real chance that he could actually die if he slept out in the cold tonight.

"Jaskier..." Geralt breathes, dropping his chin so his nose bumps against Jaskier's ear. "There's no need to be jealous of Eskel. No one could ever replace you."

Jaskier hates being placated and he squirms in Geralt's arms, turning to frown at him. But Geralt's expression is soft and he almost looks like he's smiling. Jaskier's frown deepens, but Geralt holds him closer, looking at him silently for a moment before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's temple.

Jaskier freezes as soon as Geralt moves and Geralt doesn't draw back, not entirely. He presses back in, keeping his eyes on Jaskier's, and when their noses bump against each other, Jaskier inhales slowly. He tips his head, pressing forward again and Geralt meets him halfway.

Geralt's mouth is hot against his own and he turns Jaskier in his lap, pulling him as close as he can without letting the blankets slip away. And it takes him a minute to realize Geralt isn't going to pull away, but when he's sure, Jaskier slips his arms around his neck, risking the frigid night air to wrap himself around Geralt.

He's not sure how long they stay wrapped around each other by the fire, but at some point Jaskier drifts off, his face pressed into Geralt's neck.

They change course in the morning, turning back toward the mountains.

The following morning is frosty and Jaskier dresses as quickly as he can to avoid any more loss of heat. When he's fully clothed, he works on getting his own things together, but Geralt comes over with a large swatch of fabric draped over his arm. As he gets closer, Jaskier realizes it's his cloak but he doesn't have a chance to ask what he's doing before Geralt is wrapping it around him, fastening it around his neck.

"It'll keep you warm," he says, fastening the clasp and Jaskier's heart is beating so loudly he can barely think over it. He suspects Geralt can hear it as well and that's what the little lopsided smile is for. He presses a hand to Jaskier's shoulder and pauses for a moment before sliding the same hand up to the side of his neck and drawing him closer.

"I'm sorry you were miserable for so long, I should have realized."

"No," Jaskier insists, but Geralt is already leaning in for a kiss and Jaskier shuts his eyes. For once, he's happy to leave something in the past.

"Will it be okay?" he asks as Geralt breaks away. He's still only a breath away and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to him. "Me coming to Kaer Morhen with you, I mean."

"If you're worried about Eskel, don't be. He knows."

"What?"

"He knew before I did," Geralt grins, stroking his thumb across Jaskier's cheek before turning and returning to his task. Jaskier is left speechless again and desperately wanting to know how he came up when talking to Eskel. Maybe if things go as well as Geralt says, he can ask Eskel himself.

They're a week out from the mountain pass that Geralt keeps talking about and Jaskier can't help but wonder if he was always expecting to take him to Kaer Morhen. He certainly wasn't expecting to be told no. But none of that matters now, especially not with Jaskier in the saddle and Geralt pressed as close behind him as he can be, one arm wrapped protectively around his middle.

The cloak is sufficiently warm, but he likes when Geralt touches him and his hood keeps blowing off anyway. Despite the cold wind, Jaskier likes it because Geralt will lean in and kiss his head and press his nose into his hair. Out in the wild, Geralt is careless with his affection, has been even before Jaskier realized what it was, and he can't blame him. If Geralt has been holding everything in for even half the time he has, it can't have been easy, even for a Witcher.

But Geralt likes to touch, likes to get his hands on whatever part of Jaskier he can reach and at times it proves to be frustrating. During the day, Jaskier lets him keep an arm around him and nothing more. He'd already learned the hard way that anything more than that affects him more than it should. Too many nights alone and too long on the road doesn't lead to anything good. And he's wanted for so long that his body overreacts to even the slightest touch. And the worst part is that Geralt seems amused by it, the bastard.

It's not until evening on the fifth night that Jaskier says something about it. They're sitting on the ground next to the fire and Jaskier is in Geralt's lap, watching the flames die down. Geralt has his hands on Jaskier's hips, slowly sliding down his thighs and back up again. His nose is pressed against the back of his ear and Jaskier decides there's nothing wrong with it tonight; it's just the two of them and nothing around for miles, so what does it matter?

Only tonight Geralt doesn't stop with soft, innocent touches. He slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, fingers sliding easily over the smooth fabric and Jaskier lets out a little gasp when he slips higher than before. His cock twitches in his trousers and he tries to stifle a groan, but it doesn't work. Geralt presses forward, letting his lips brush the curve of Jaskier's ear.

"Jask," he breathes, "we can't do this here." Jaskier groans and arches his back against him.

"Why not? You’re the one who started it."

"You'll freeze."

"You can keep me warm," Jaskier hums, already pressing up into the touch.

He turns his head to kiss Geralt's mouth and Geralt hums against him, still doubtful even as his fingers slide over his crotch. Strong fingers curve around him, stroking him quickly to full hardness and Jaskier whimpers as he bucks up into Geralt's palm. It's a tease and nothing more, but when he pushes back between Geralt's legs, it doesn't feel like he needs any encouragement.

In fact, he doesn't even have to say anything more before Geralt's fingers are tugging his trousers open. Jaskier gasps as the cold air hits his skin, but Geralt's hand is hot and quick to wrap around him, stroking slowly down to the base and squeezing his way back up. He's smooth and precise, his motions speaking to years of practice - a thought which makes Jaskier's skin prickle and his heart beat faster.

"Touch me how you like it," he whispers and he can feel Geralt's breath stutter against his skin.

"Okay," he breathes and his fingers spread along the underside of Jaskier's cock, his thumb and forefinger circling the head.

Geralt continues, his speed increasing just slightly as he works over Jaskier's cock. Jaskier whines, panting against Geralt's neck. The thought that this is how Geralt touches himself is overwhelming and he kisses his neck, running his tongue along the underside of his jaw.

Already, Jaskier's getting close. He's denied himself too long and he's wanted this for so much longer than that. Geralt's hand is hot and quick and Jaskier breathes in his scent, shutting his eyes against the pulsing need of his cock. His hips jerk forward unbidden and he mumbles into Geralt's skin.

Geralt's palm slips up his chest and neck, turning Jaskier's head so he can kiss him properly and then he's pulling off of Jaskier's cock and lifting him in his lap. He turns him around so Jaskier's straddling his thighs and before Jaskier can even adjust to the new position, Geralt is fumbling with his own trousers.

He strokes himself quickly, tugging Jaskier against him and his hand closes around both of them, holding as tight as he can as he thrusts up against Jaskier's cock.

"Oh. Gods, Geralt, yes." Jaskier snaps his hips in quick sharp bursts, pressing himself as close against Geralt's cock as he can. Geralt's hand slips from their cocks, both arms curling around his waist and he ruts against Jaskier rolling his hips in short, sharp thrusts.

"Fuck, Jask," he huffs. His hands slip down, fingers pressing into Jaskier's ass and forcing the roll of his hips. Geralt's strong and enthusiastic and Jaskier shudders and groans as his own arousal burns through him.

He pushes up against him, so hard it's almost uncomfortable, but this position and their location aren't exactly conducive to comfort, not that Jaskier cares. Or Geralt, by the way his hand slips up, tangling itself in Jaskier's hair and tugging gently. Jaskier lifts his head obediently and as Geralt's eyes meet his, he feels his body release and before he can even warn Geralt, he's coming hard, spilling between them.

His hips stutter and his thighs shake and Geralt holds him, grunting softly in his ear as he continues the increasingly uneven roll of his hips. Jaskier's body feels heavy where it's sprawled over Geralt's chest, but his head is floating, empty and airy, the only thing still tying him to reality is Geralt's body wrapped around him. Geralt's cock digs into his hip and Jaskier's body shudders above him.

It's too much, but it's so good and Jaskier just goes limp, pressing his mouth against Geralt's neck and kissing him lazily. Geralt mumbles against him, breathing his praise into Jaskier's shoulder and he's never been so talkative. Jaskier can only hope he's always like this when he gets off.

When Geralt comes, it's with a low, rumbling growl that could almost get Jaskier hard again. His arms slip a little but stay firmly wrapped around him, and when he nudges Jaskier's cheek with his nose, Jaskier tips his head, meeting his mouth in a soft kiss.

"You're incredible, darling."

Geralt huffs his amusement and tips his head back to kiss Jaskier's forehead. He doesn't speak, and Jaskier shuts his eyes, listening to Geralt's heartbeat as it gradually slows to normal. He's not sure what the rest of the winter has in store for them, but he's thankful for this one moment alone, even rushed and cold in the forest.

After a little while, he peels himself from Geralt with a significant amount of effort and flops onto his back, staring up into the dark sky. Next to him, Geralt sits up, smiles down at him softly.

"We have to get cleaned up," he says lightly, "get changed before we sleep. We'll have washing to do when we get to the keep."

Jaskier groans dramatically, but he pushes himself up and leans in to kiss Geralt. He strips and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, careful not to take too much off at once because now that his mind is clear again, the air is bitterly cold.

When he's dressed again and wrapped in a blanket, he lays down on his bedroll, watching as Geralt goes through the same motions, changing out of his soiled clothing. It was rough and it was messy and Jaskier wouldn't change it for anything. He pulls Geralt close to him, breathing softly against his ear. In the morning, they have to get up and go, but for now, Jaskier is content to let Geralt wrap around him and kiss his neck as he drifts off into a pleasant slumber.

The rest of his night doesn't go nearly so well. After waking up three times and still shivering despite having the extra blanket wrapped around him and pressing in as close to Geralt as he can, he gives up trying to sleep at all. So, hours before dawn, Geralt packs their entire camp up and hoists Jaskier up onto Roach's back, setting back out along the road.

Jaskier has no notion of time as they travel, drifting in and out of consciousness up until the moment they arrive at the gates. Geralt helps him down as they approach the stables and Jaskier resists the urge to lean into him and fall asleep. He helps remove Roach's tack, though Geralt takes it from him so he can guide Roach into the empty stall next to Eskel's horse. Geralt leads the way up through the courtyard and into the mess hall and Jaskier follows quietly, taking in very little of it.

Kaer Morhen isn't what he expected it to be. Not that he's had much of a chance to see it; as soon as Geralt got him inside, he ran through introductions and got him upstairs into a hot bath. In which, Jaskier promptly fell asleep against Geralt's chest. Since he's woken up, he's found the keep to be surprisingly warm and comfortable and nothing like the cold, dark dungeon Geralt has described to him time and time again. Then again, he thinks, living here as a young boy in training to be a Witcher must have been a very different environment. But he seems happy enough now.

That night, the pair of them head down for supper and Jaskier finds himself sitting across from Eskel. He feels bad about all the things he thought about him before, but now isn't the time to bring all of that up so he just smiles cheerfully at him. There will be time to talk later.

Later, they make their way up to bed together and there's a moment of quiet hesitation once they're alone before Jaskier takes Geralt's hands and leads him toward the bed.

Waking up next to Geralt, warm and safe in bed, is the greatest thing Jaskier has experienced thus far in his life. By the end of the evening, all hesitancy is gone and after a meal and drinks with the rest of their companions, Jaskier finds himself hauled upstairs and pressed into cold sheets. He's fairly certain the entire keep hears how easily Geralt pulls pleasure from his body, but it doesn't matter. The only person who matters is Eskel, and apparently, he already knows.

For the next couple of days Geralt shares his bed and then, on their fifth night in the keep, he pauses when Jasikier suggests heading to bed.

"Go to bed," he says gently, "but don't wait for me."

Jaskier smiles relieved that Geralt is comfortable enough not to lie about where he's going or what he's doing. "You don't have to come to bed tonight if you'd rather stay with Eskel."

Geralt's lips twitch up in a soft grin and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier sighs and as he opens to him, Geralt presses closer, slipping his hand into Jaskier's hair. He hums softly and Jaskier can feel the restless energy in him and for the first time since the first time tonight, he's a little bit jealous that he's not the one accompanying him. He breaks away first, leaning back in for just a second to press a final kiss to Geralt's lips.

"Have a good night," he whispers.

"Goodnight, Jaskier."

Sleeping alone in a big, unfamiliar room is odd, but Jaskier wraps himself up in the blankets and burrows in. He tries not to think too much about what's happening just down the hall, but it's not jealousy that has him trying to divert his thoughts.

Jaskier adjusts to sleeping alone and he adjusts to Eskel's soft closeness with Geralt during the days, appreciates it even. Geralt doesn't get enough affection in his life, as hard as Jaskier tries, so it's good to know someone else is there when he isn't. And he likes Eskel. More than he ever expected to, especially considering the circumstances. But Jaskier isn't a greedy person and if Geralt's happy, so is he. And considering what Geralt has told him of Eskel, maybe he should have expected him to be as welcoming as he is.

He never makes any attempt to draw Geralt away and any time Jaskier comes across the two of them alone, he's easily integrated into the conversation. They get along well and Geralt seems happiest when he's between them or when everyone's together in the mess hall, so even if Jaskier didn't like Eskel, he'd be willing to put up with him for Geralt's sake. But he does like him, though it isn't until midnight a week later that he really starts to appreciate him.

It's a warmer night than it has been, so Jaskier isn't missing Geralt's presence so much tonight. He's perfectly comfortable on his own and while he would be happier with someone to keep him company, he's not lonely. And all through the evening, it had been oh so clear how Geralt and Eskel were just waiting to slip away from the group and be alone. As he lies in the dark, he wonders if that's how he comes across when he slips into Geralt's lap and whispers in his ear. Maybe, but he doesn't mind and he's sure at least Eskel understands.

Jaskier shuts his eyes, wiggling deeper into the mattress as he tugs the blanket up to his chin. He could get used to spending the winters here if Geralt is willing to bring him.

When he wakes, gasping for breath and drenched in sweat, Jaskier doesn't remember crying out, but the knock on his door makes him think he must have. No one would be checking on him, otherwise.

"I'm fine," he calls, but he finds his voice hoarse and too quiet. It's been a long time since he's had nightmares this frequently and he doesn't know what's brought them on again, but he'd like it to stop.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and pushes himself up, starting toward the door. Whoever knocked hasn't responded, so he pulls the door open, not expecting to see Eskel standing in the doorway.

"You alright?" he asks and Jaskier nods. "You cried out and I didn't want to wake Geralt, but I know he'd want to make sure you were okay."

"I am. Thank you."

"Geralt used to have terrible nightmares, too. Do you want to talk about it?"

Immediately, he wants to say no because Geralt's lover is the last person he wants to go complaining to. Especially a Witcher who has led a much harder life than he has. But as he's contemplating, he realizes Eskel's hand has found its way to his shoulder, warm and comforting and he doesn't want to be alone right now.

He tells Eskel about his dreams, though he doesn't go into detail. No one who cares about him wants to hear about all the gruesome ways Jaskier watches Geralt die in his dreams. But Eskel seems to get the gist of it. They head out onto the balcony where they're less likely to wake anyone and Eskel doesn't move when Jaskier leans into his body to keep warm.

"We've all been through it," he says, wrapping an arm around Jaskier's shoulders, "even Lambert, though you'd never get him to admit it. What do you dream about?"

"Geralt, mostly," he admits. "Sometimes I dream about dying, but mostly it's him."

"Understandable. Geralt lives a dangerous life, I'm still surprised he lets you follow along."

"I wouldn't say he lets me," Jaskier huffs, quirking his lips just slightly as he looks up at Eskel, "but he's never tried very hard to stop me."

Eskel huffs a soft laugh. "No, I can't imagine he did."

They talk for a while longer, but when Jaskier gets too cold, Eskel ushers him back into the keep and back to his room. When they reach the door, he offers his own bed that it might be more comfortable if he wasn't alone, but as much as Jaskier is happy to let Geralt and Eskel do their thing, he's not sure he wants to be that close to it. He declines the offer politely, ensuring that Eskel knows how much he appreciates it, and retreats into the room alone.

Now, at least, when he settles into bed, he falls asleep without any trouble.

It becomes a ritual, of sorts. Jaskier's dreams don't come every night and some nights Geralt is there to curl around him and ground him in the present, but when he's not, there's Eskel. And after a while, it's not just about the nightmares. If Jaskier is having a down day and Geralt is busy, Eskel is the one he turns to for comfort (gods know Lambert won't give in without a fight). Things are good between them and Jaskier regrets the way he acted the first time they met, but love can make people do stupid things and jealousy is worse.

Geralt spends most of his nights with Jaskier, even if they're just curled up together in the dark. The rest of the time, Geralt is with Eskel and as the weeks pass, Jaskier starts to feel the still-lingering discomfort shift. He's not jealous because admitting he's jealous would mean he has a problem with the way things are between them, or admitting that maybe Geralt isn't the only one he has feelings for. Which is absurd.

But he is closer to Eskel than he is with the others and more and more often he finds himself seeking him out, looking to bask in Eskel's warmth and understanding. But it's just because he's kind and understanding and willing to listen. Because Geralt has so few good things in his life. How could Jaskier even consider taking one of them away?

They're all drinking together one night and Geralt and Lambert are playing Gwent. Geralt gets too far into it every time he plays, so Jaskier keeps his distance, watching from his perch on the table, lute in his lap. When Lambert turns in for the night, Geralt frowns at the empty space across from him before glancing down the table at Jaskier.

"Do you want to play?" he asks and Jaskier scoffs.

"Maybe if you get me another drink?" he asks, smiling brightly down at Geralt. He gets a soft, bemused smile in response, but Geralt pushes himself up from the table and Jaskier watches as he leaves the room.

Jaskier is just drunk enough to feel pleasantly warm all over, the very few inhibitions he possesses lowered. Which is probably why, when Eskel slides down the bench to sit between his knees, he doesn't move. His heart beats a little quicker, but it's probably just the wine. Eskel lifts his arms, resting his elbows on Jaskier's knees and he tips his head to one side. Already, Jaskier is struggling against the swell of emotion that fills his chest, and the soft, lopsided smile Eskel gives him doesn't help.

"I hope Geralt realizes how lucky he is," he says and for a second, Jaskier is sure his heart stops. When Eskel's eyes flick up to his, curious, almost surprised, he's sure of it. Considering the amount of stuff Geralt overhears that he's not supposed to, Jaskier's just settled on the assumption that Witchers can hear everything. Including his heartbeat.

"You have a beautiful voice," Eskel continues and Jaskier fights a losing battle to get his body under control so he doesn't give himself away. If it's not too late already.

"Thank you," he chokes out, amazed that his voice is still working properly.

He doesn't remember the last time he felt like this. With Geralt it was simple; do nothing because it won't be well-received - or so he thought - but with Eskel he's sure he could just... lean in a little, press a little closer. But where does Geralt stand in that situation? Would he be upset, worried that maybe they'd go off together and leave him? Nevermind that Jaskier's been desperately in love with him for a couple of decades now. So once again, he does nothing and he shoves the feelings down and pretends like it's fine.

But he wants to kiss him and he can feel Eskel's body heat. And Eskel doesn't seem to share any of his concerns, letting his fingers slip over the side of Jaskier's thigh and tracing invisible patterns in the silk of his trousers. Jaskier startles when Eskel rises to his feet. He plants his hands on either side of Jaskier's hips and like this, they're barely a couple of inches apart and Jaskier can feel Eskel's breath on his face and he wants. But he can't, so he shuts his eyes.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" Eskel asks and Jaskier has a witty remark right on the tip of his tongue, but then Eskel's mouth is against his own, kissing it away.

After kissing Geralt for the first time, he didn’t think anything as simple as a kiss would affect him this way, but as Eskel's lips part against his own, Jaskier can feel it all the way down to his toes. He lets out a soft sound as Eskel's arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. Eskel breaks the kiss a moment later, only pulling back far enough to look at Jaskier.

"Come to bed with us tonight," he breathes.

"Will Geralt be okay with that?"

"I hope so," Eskel chuckles, leaning back in and pressing his lips against Jaskier's jaw. "It was his idea." Oh. "I didn't think you'd want to."

"How could I not? Who wouldn't gladly climb into bed with two handsome men like you?" Eskel snorts and pulls back to look at him, but Jaskier just smiles.

The clink of bottles against each other signals Geralt's return and Jaskier instinctively leans back a little but Eskel leans in close, breathing against his ear. "Don't worry," he whispers, "he likes it."

And Jaskier knows they can both tell the way his heart beats a little quicker, but he can't help it. He leans back further as Geralt comes to kneel behind him on the bench.

"Do you?" Jaskier asks, offering his most charming smile, "like seeing me with him?"

"Mmm," Geralt hums, cupping a hand under Jaskier's head and turning him just slightly to kiss him. When he draws back, he looks up to Eskel. "I do."

It takes Jaskier a moment to realize Geralt is playing with his shirt and it's not until he shifts that he realizes he's got it untucked from his trousers. One warm hand slips up under the fabric, fingers brushing over the bare skin beneath it and Jaskier shuts his eyes with a hum, shifting to lean back against him. As far as he's concerned, they could stay right here all night and he'd be perfectly happy with it.

Eskel's hands find his thighs, pressing down as he leans forward and catches Jaskier's lips in a heated kiss. Jaskier makes a soft noise of surprise but leans into it, and once Geralt gets him out of his doublet, he slips his arms around Eskel's neck. But the kiss doesn't last long and Eskel ducks his head, dragging his mouth down Jaskier's throat and down to press kisses into his chest.

Jaskier lets himself be moved and shifted into position, hips pulled forward so his body is flush against Eskel's. And Geralt climbs up behind him, knees on either side of his hips so Jaskier is pinned perfectly between them. His fingers slip into Eskel's hair, sliding through the strands as Eskel continues his exploration down Jaskier's stomach, undoing the buttons of his shirt as he goes. And if the sounds from behind him are anything to go by, Geralt does very much enjoy watching them together.

When Jaskier's shirt is entirely undone and Eskel has moved on to removing his boots, Geralt tugs the fabric from his shoulders. And Jaskier's pulse spikes as two sets of hands slide over his skin, then Eskel's settle on his waist, teasing the hem of his trousers. Jaskier is hardly ashamed to be half-hard already - anyone would be in his position - but his breath catches as Eskel's thumb brushes over the bulge of his cock. He tips his head back, intent on finding Geralt's mouth with his own, but when he looks up at him, he pauses.

Geralt is transfixed, paused mid-motion. His teeth pressed into his bottom lip, eyes focused on Eskel's hands where they tease at Jaskier's growing erection. Oh. He really does like to watch. Well, if that's what he wants, Jaskier isn't going to disappoint him.

He wiggles his hips enticingly and Eskel makes quick work of removing his trousers. With the last obstacle out of his way, Eskel presses in close, near enough that Jaskier's cock slips against his own - close but maddeningly separated by Eskel's clothes. Jaskier groans his disappointment, but in one surprisingly smooth motion, Eskel drops back to his seat, his fingers slipping over Jaskier's bare thighs and gripping around him. Jaskier tips his head down to watch as Eskel nuzzles between his thighs, thick stubble grazing against skin.

It's rough and a little bit ticklish, but the closeness and the way Eskel presses his face against him makes Jaskier's breath catch. He's been transfixed by Eskel for weeks now, his arms, his thighs, his lips, but now he's facing the very real possibility of having those lips wrapped around his cock and he doesn't know what to do with himself. Geralt presses against him, kisses the back of his neck, and slides a hand down his stomach.

He curves a hand around his cock, only vaguely touching him as he slips up the length of him. It's maddening in its teasing and Jaskier drops his head back against Geralt's chest with a groan, but then Eskel's lips press against his heated cock, following the path of Geralt's hand and Jaskier goes limp between them.

Geralt runs his hands up Jaskier's sides, steadying him as Eskel's lips slide over him and Jaskier leans into his warmth. Eskel's hands join Geralt's, fitting around Jaskier's hips and softly rubbing against his skin as he sinks down on him. It's never been a mystery why Geralt got involved with Eskel, but if this is what he's always like when they're alone, Jaskier can certainly see why he would keep coming back for more.

He groans as his cock bumps against the back of his throat, but Eskel doesn't let that stop him, pressing his nose into the curls at the base of his cock and swallowing around him. Jaskier is sure he's going to pass out when Eskel just stays like that and he wonders vaguely if the mutations took away his gag reflex because that could prove interesting. He bites his lip with a groan, failing miserably at an attempt to keep his hips steady. But Eskel doesn't seem to mind, guiding his hips with every little thrust. And Jaskier isn't sure he'll survive being treated this way.

He slips one arm back around Geralt's neck, steadying himself as the other slips into Eskel's hair. It takes all his concentration not to roll his hips up, slide his cock down Eskel's throat. His whole body shudders and he lets out a shuddering moan, mumbling softly as Eskel shifts and bobs in his lap.

One warm hand presses against his cheek and when he turns, Geralt catches his lips in a heated kiss. It's hot and possessive and Eskel groans at the way Jaskier’s cock throbs in response. The angle is a little off but Geralt nips at his lips and kisses him so deeply that Jaskier nearly forgets about the mouth around his cock until Eskel pulls off.

The little whine of disappointment is lost to Geralt's lips and when Jaskier eventually breaks free to look back down at Eskel, he has to remind himself not to be greedy. But it's hard when Eskel's looking up at him with those beautiful golden eyes and a faint smirk on his lips.

He rises to his feet again, pushing a hand through Jaskier's hair and cupping his jaw. For a split second, he looks like he wants to say something, but he presses forward instead, catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

"Don't start without me," he mumbles and then he's pulling away, stepping over the bench and crossing toward the door.

Despite the fire, the room feels suddenly cold without Eskel pressed against him and Jaskier cuddles back against Geralt, tugging his arms around him and shifting to kiss his neck. Geralt grabs his hips, holding him firmly and turning him in his lap. He pulls Jaskier against him, brushing his hair out of his eyes and drawing his head back to look at him.

"You look good with Eskel," he breathes, "very good. But I have to know you want this. I don't want you to do it for our sake."

"Our sake?" Jaskier asks and Geralt's hand slides to the back of his head.

"Eskel's become... fond of you."

"And you're alright with that?" Jaskier asks, hopeful.

"Why wouldn't I be? I... care deeply for both of you, why wouldn't I want him to want you, too?" He presses his lips to Jaskier's just briefly and when he pulls back, he's smiling softly. "I know you want him and I want you to. He wants you, too. We both do."

Geralt ducks his head, kissing his neck and sucking at the spot right under his jaw. He slips one arm around Jaskier's waist, tugging him closer as his other hand snakes between them, wrapping around his cock. He tugs firmly, pulling a startled gasp from Jaskier as his fingers tighten around him.

Jaskier lets him for a moment, before shifting so they're facing the opposite direction. He pushes Geralt back against the table, shifting onto his knees and he bends over him, quickly running his mouth up the Geralt's length through his trousers. He mouths at him through the fabric, taking special care when he reaches the head and Geralt's hands tangle in his hair, tugging gently as his hips rise against Jaskier's mouth.

The door creaks open but Jaskier is only distantly aware of it until he hears Geralt's muffled moan. Jaskier pushes himself up to find Eskel bent over Geralt, kissing him as Geralt's arms wind around his neck, fingers pushing through his hair. In that moment, he knows exactly why Geralt likes to watch.

Heat sears through him and he barely resists wrapping a hand around himself and getting off just like this. But he catches a glint of a vial in Eskel's hand and his heart thuds a little heavier in his chest. As Eskel pulls away, Geralt's hands fall to his sides and Jaskier can't help but smile at the soft expression on his face.

When Eskel steps away from him, Jaskier realizes he's hard, his cock straining hard against the front of his trousers. Fuck. And that fucking codpiece isn't doing anything to help matters. Jaskier climbs up, straddling Geralt's hips and rocking gently against him as he reaches out for Eskel, drawing him close with two fingers in the collar of his shirt. Eskel grins as Jaskier pulls him into a firm kiss, but he doesn't linger, even as one hand slides down to settle on the swell of Jaskier's ass.

"I think it's time we made our way upstairs," Eskel rumbles and Jaskier grumbles as Geralt asks,

"Vesemir?"

"Mm," Eskel confirms, "I don't think we need another lecture about bodily fluids." Geralt just huffs a laugh and pushes himself up, slipping a hand behind Eskel's head to guide his mouth to his own.

Eskel squeezes Jaskier's ass and dips to kiss him before pulling away to collect his clothes. Jaskier reluctantly slips from Geralt's lap and the three of them make their way upstairs toward Geralt's room.

As soon as they're in the room with the door shut, Jaskier finds himself pressed against it, a hot mouth against his own. The only way he knows it's Eskel is the scent of him. In time, he's sure he'll learn the differences in their touch, but right now he's already overwhelmed and not at all bothered with who is touching him.

He's lifted off his feet, legs snaking around Eskel's waist as one arm slips under his ass. Eskel's tongue slides between his lips and Jaskier groans, shifting his hips against him. He gets a little huff of a laugh from Eskel and is promptly deposited on the bed with Eskel on top of him. He never once breaks the kiss and Jaskier reaches up, encouraged by the press of Eskel's cock against his thigh. He tugs at Eskel's shirt, loosening it from his trousers and tugging it up over his head as Geralt joins them on the bed.

With Eskel free of his shirt, Jaskier reaches down, toying with the ties on his trousers. He gets a hum of approval and it takes a moment to realize it's coming from Geralt. He shifts above Jaskier's Jaskier, then, once he's settled, gently lifts Jaskier's head into his lap as Eskel moves back down his body. He gets his mouth around Jaskier's cock again, sucking him down as Jaskier whimpers under him.

It's not the first time Jaskier's gone to bed with more than one partner - far from it - but Jaskier more often than not finds himself in control in those situations. Tonight, though, Eskel has taken charge right from the start and Jaskier has never been happier to let himself be led. He writhes as Eskel's lips seal around him, squirms as his hands slip up over his thighs. Geralt's fingers wind through his hair and when Jaskier tips his head back he realizes Geralt is watching, his eyes focused on Eskel's mouth around him. And he's hard.

Jaskier lifts his head as well as he can, curling a hand around Geralt's neck to pull him into a kiss. It's a bit of an odd angle, but Geralt kisses him deeply, rumbles low against his lips and Jaskier arches off the bed. He feels Eskel chuckle around him before pulling off and climbing up over him. He kisses his way from Jaskier's chest up to his jaw and Geralt withdraws, letting Eskel claim Jaskier's mouth in a bruising kiss. He rocks his hips and Jaskier groans into his mouth. Eskel is thick and hard where he ruts against him and Jaskier desperately wants to get his mouth on him. Or Geralt. He isn't picky, but he is very impatient.

He's not sure if he'll get this opportunity again, so he pulls away regrettably sliding out from under Eskel's weight and leaving him with Geralt. And Eskel busies himself getting Geralt out of his shirt, something Jaskier finds difficult to tear his eyes from.

Geralt lets himself be manhandled much in the same way he does with Jaskier, but while it feels incredibly intimate and important when it's happening to him, there's something thrilling about seeing it from an outside point of view. The way Geralt lets himself be pushed and pulled into position, lets Eskel climb up over him and slot their bodies together perfectly.

Geralt reaches an arm out to him and Jaskier lies down next to him, kissing him when he turns his head toward him. Eskel hums, shifting so he and Jaskier bracket Geralt in, both pressed against his sides. And Jaskier takes his chance while he can, slipping a hand up the length of Geralt's cock through his trousers. He gets a soft groan in response, muffled against his lips, and squeezes a little firmer as Eskel's hand comes up below his.

Geralt bucks against them, rolling his head back and Jaskier takes advantage of the position to press his lips to Geralt's neck, sucking lightly as his fingers slip to his trousers, picking at the buttons. Eskel's strokes speed up a little, his hand bumping against Jaskier's every few seconds, but Jaskier still manages to undo the buttons and slip Geralt's cock free of its confines. Geralt groans as bare fingers wrap around him and Jaskier pulls from his mouth, kissing his way down to the head of his cock before licking a stripe up the side of him.

There's a muffled sound of pleasure from above him but Jaskier is focused on his task now, wrapped up in the taste of Geralt on his tongue to worry about anything else. He sinks down on him, sliding up and down his length with ease as Geralt moans above him, each sound muffled by Eskel's mouth against him. The thought of them together spurs him on and he slides one hand up Geralt's thigh, and up his chest as he flattens his tongue against him.

He's been paying attention to what Geralt likes, committing it to memory every time they're together, taking notes on what makes Geralt moan and what makes him writhe and arch off the bed. He's learning quickly. Geralt likes to be teased, even if he would never admit it; likes when Jaskier sucks him nice and slow, letting his tongue drag along the length of him, his lips slide delicately over the head. And Jaskier likes to take his time with Geralt, so it works out nicely.

Geralt groans and Eskel kisses the sounds from his mouth shifting against him and Jaskier flicks his eyes up to watch. He's not above admitting that watching them turns him on and if he's allowed, he may as well take advantage of it. But Eskel does something and Geralt whines against his lips, hips jumping forward to press his cock against the roof of Jaskier's mouth. He shudders as Jaskier sinks back on him and wraps an arm around Eskel's neck, pulling him closer.

Jaskier wants to watch, but he gets lost in the rock of Geralt's hips, the heady scent of him and he shuts his eyes and slides one hand up Geralt's chest. He teases at his nipple, rubbing it firmly, spurred on by the way Geralt twitches beneath him. He doesn't even realize Eskel's got his cock out until he hears a rumbling groan and looks over to find him with a hand around himself, leaning in so he's rutting against Geralt's thigh and that's certainly something.

Heat sears through him and Jaskier aches to get his mouth around him. He doesn't think he could, but he desperately wants to try. Eskel slips the hand from his cock to reach out, brushing his fingers against Jaskier's cheek and lifting him from Geralt's cock.

"Get him ready for me?" he breathes and Jaskier nods before he's pulled into a sloppy kiss.

It lingers longer than Jaskier's expecting and he finds himself pulled into Eskel's lap and he only just manages to snake a hand between them, wrapping around the head of Eskel's cock before Eskel's pulling away again.

He doesn't mind much when he considers the idea of watching Eskel fuck Geralt and he pulls away, running a hand up Geralt's thigh.

"Roll over for me?" he asks and Geralt is quick to comply, though he tugs Jaskier down against him. He smiles as he kisses him and Jaskier is loath to move, but he wriggles out of Geralt's grip nonetheless.

He shifts to straddle his hips, kissing a line down Geralt's spine until he reaches the swell of his ass. Jaskier squeezes the flesh, bending down to nip at him gently and he settles between Geralt's thighs. He feels when Eskel slips up behind him, but he tries to focus on Geralt, bending low to kiss him before pressing between his cheeks.

He licks a stripe over his hole and Geralt shudders under him, reaching back to grab Jaskier's hand and hold it. It's absurdly romantic when Jaskier has his face in his ass, but he loves it and he squeezes back hard. Jaskier starts off slow, with soft kisses and gentle touches, but Geralt rocks beneath him, pushing back against his mouth and it's hard to deny him exactly what he wants.

He presses his tongue against him, letting Geralt relax under him before pushing against the muscle. Geralt is surprisingly giving and Jaskier pushes into him without much effort. It's a heady feeling, the way Geralt trembles under his touch and squeezes his hand, thumb tracing circles in his skin. Jaskier fucks into him slowly, licking around his rim before pushing in again and Geralt whines as he pushes deeper, fucks him quicker.

When Jaskier gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Geralt arches off the bed and Jaskier almost thinks he could make him come just like this. And he's sorely tempted, even as Eskel presses up against his back, slipping a bottle of oil next to him.

"I want to see him come on your fingers," Eskel growls, low and rough against his ear and before Jaskier can even answer Eskel's nosing at his neck, nipping at the skin beneath his ear. Jaskier leans into the touch, withdrawing his fingers and reaching for the oil. He has every intention of following through with Eskel's command.

He slicks his fingers and presses one back between Geralt's cheeks, vividly aware of Eskel leaning over him, watching every movement. And he's as determined to please Eskel as he is Geralt. He works one finger into him, leaning low again to lick around the intrusion and Geralt mumbles into the pillows and he rolls his hips.

It's' not long before he can get a second finger into him and Jaskier crooks both fingers, pressing deep and seeking out that certain spot. When he finds it, Geralt whimpers and Eskel nuzzles against his neck. It makes it hard to concentrate, but Eskel seems unworried, wrapping one arm around his waist and slipping a hand down to wrap around his cock. Jaskier keens, jerking into the touch.

"Needy," Eskel hums. Which. It's hardly his fault. Eskel rocks against him and Jaskier is tempted to ask him to fuck him instead, prep or no.

He bends over, pushing his hips back against him and grinds back against Eskel's cock as he works into Geralt. His rhythm is a little unsteady, but he's been hard for so long he can barely help the way he rocks between his hand and his cock. It's a miracle he can even think enough to keep fingering Geralt. But he does, and when he gets a third into him, Geralt is panting and rutting against the bed.

"Jask," he groans, "please-"

"Are you gonna come for me?" Jaskier asks, his voice shaking as Eskel's cock slides against his hole. He's pushing close to the edge too and he's not sure Geralt coming won't tip him over.

Eskel's fingers tighten around him and Jaskier pushes through with a groan, thighs shaking as he shoves his fingers deep and presses against his prostate. Geralt squeezes his hand so hard Jaskier thinks he'll lose sensation in his fingers and he pushes his hips back against him, encouraging the press of Jaskier's fingers.

"Fuck, he looks good like this, doesn't he?" Eskel hums. "We're so damn lucky." He's still working at a spot on Jaskier's neck and he knows he'll have a mark in the morning and something about the fact that it's from Eskel makes it all that much more thrilling.

He tries to lean back into Eskel, but then he's being pushed forward. Eskel keeps him steady, but Jaskier's overwhelmed. He pushes Geralt's hand up, shifting to lean low over him, rutting into Eskel's fist. He rubs into Geralt and he can feel that he's close. Geralt's hips twitch shakily under him and he pulls Jaskier's hand under him, kissing his palm and pressing his nose against it.

"Jask," he breathes and that's as far as he gets before he's coming, shuddering through his orgasm.

Jaskier keeps his fingers inside him, thrusting lightly as Geralt rides through it. Geralt squirms under him, rocking back onto him even after he's come down and when Jaskier moves to pull away, Eskel intervenes. He pulls Jaskier back against him, propping him up on his lap and Jaskier is too overwhelmed to do anything but slump against his chest, head rolling on his shoulder as Eskel jerks him quick and hard.

He comes in a matter of seconds, arching off of him and crying out. Eskel stokes him through it and when a second set of hands rest on his hips, Jaskier opens his eyes to find Geralt sitting in front of him. He tips forward to kiss him and then, as he slumps back against Eskel, Geralt leans in to kiss Eskel too.

"Still wanna fuck me?" Geralt mumbles and Eskel huffs against his mouth.

"Gods, yes," he breathes. "Lie down for me."

Geralt does as he's asked, settling on his stomach, and Jaskier scoots out of the way, sprawling out next to him. He presses his nose into Geralt's side, inhaling the scent of him. He knows Geralt and Eskel will both have another couple of rounds in them, but he's already tired and quite happy to just cuddle up against Geralt's side.

Geralt's eyes drop shut and he breathes softly against Jaskier's lips, groaning as Eskel presses into him. Jaskier watches the way pleasure washes over his face and Eskel groans in time with him which is enough to have Jaskier's cock twitching again. Geralt flops against the bed, pulling Jaskier close to kiss him softly, even as he's jolted by Eskel.

Geralt is beautiful in the way he writhes against the bed and Jaskier can't keep his eyes off him. He shouldn't be getting hard again already but he's obsessed with the way Geralt moves and the sounds Eskel makes as he fucks him. Jaskier rolls onto his back, pressing against Geralt's side as he runs a hand down his own stomach. He slips down, wrapping a hand around himself and strokes slowly, feeling the way his cock swells under his touch. When he looks up, he finds Eskel watching him, a soft smirk on his face and Eskel reaches down, pushing Jaskier's hand away to jerk him off himself.

Jaskier slumps but his hips jump up. He's sensitive, but Eskel's hand feels incredible and he can't help but press into the touch. He groans as he leans into Geralt tipping his head to kiss his cheek, but Geralt shifts onto his elbows, leaning over to kiss him properly. He nips at his lips and Jaskier groans, reaching for Geralt and cupping his face.

He holds him close and Geralt kisses him hard, lips parting to deepen the kiss, shifting so he's closer, one arm draped over Jaskier's chest. Geralt's thumb brushes against his nipple and Jaskier whines against his lips, squirming against the bed. Eskel just squeezes him harder and slides his hand to the base, dipping down to suck the head of his cock into his mouth.

"Fuck," Jaskier hisses, "Fuck, Eskel please-"

Eskel flicks his tongue at him and sinks down just far enough to press his tongue against the underside of the head and Jaskier whimpers.

Eskel pulls off abruptly, running a hand up the inside of Jaskier's thigh.

"What if Geralt sucks you off?" he asks and Geralt hums as Jaskier groans.

"Would you like that?" Geralt asks, drawing away to kiss his neck. "Do you want to come again?"

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes and Geralt hums against his lips again.

"Sit up, Jask, let me see you."

Jaskier pulls himself upright, scrambling to his knees and shifts to kneel in front of Geralt. He gives himself a couple of quick strokes and catches Eskel's eye over Geralt's head.

Eskel gives him a short smack and Geralt grumbles but he presses his head into Jaskier's stomach and Jaskier is so desperately in love with him. He reaches down to brush Geralt's cheek, smiling at him as Eskel does something particularly delightful behind him and Geralt shoves his hips back.

"Fuck, Eskel," he groans and Jaskier runs a soothing hand down his spine.

He meets Eskel's eyes just for a moment, the heat in them burning straight through to his core. His cock twitches just as Geralt ducks his head, his nose brushing against him. Jaskier's mouth drops open. He's trying to be patient because Geralt has been so fucking patient with him, but it's difficult when he's rock hard and Geralt's breath is so hot against his cock.

With a groan, he slips a hand around himself, watching as Eskel's face presses between Geralt's cheeks and the way Geralt jerks and groans under his attention. Jaskier sits back on his heel and Geralt drops with him, pressing kisses against Jaskier's thighs and moving up to suck his cock into his mouth.

He swallows him down in one swift motion, propping himself up on his elbows. Jaskier drops back, knees pressing apart instinctively and he presses a soft hand to the back of Geralt's head. He pushes his fingers through his hair, dropping his head back and following the motion of Geralt's as he takes Jaskier's cock all the way down. He's quicker at it than Eskel, slipping right back up to press his tongue under the head. And fuck if he isn't good with his tongue. It's one of the few things that really surprised Jaskier when they introduced sex into their relationship and he shudders now as Geralt winds his tongue around him.

"Oh," he groans. Eskel looks up at him again and whatever he does next has Geralt pitching forward, swallowing around Jaskier's cock as he shoves his hips back hard.

Jaskier nearly doubles over and his hips give a sharp thrust forward though Geralt doesn't seem to mind. If anything, he moans deeper and Jaskier feels the vibrations of it around his cock.

"It's okay," Eskel hums, "you can fuck his mouth, he likes it."

Lust swells in Jaskier's chest as Geralt gives a grunt of assent and he runs a hand through Geralt's hair, testing his reaction as he rolls his hips. The response he gets is unequivocally positive and Geralt's hands slip under his thighs, holding him like that as Jaskier rocks his hips a little harder.

Jaskier rocks forward, pressing into the wet heat of Geralt's mouth. He's still so sensitive and the occasional graze of Geralt's teeth sends sparks up his spine. He lets his fingers slip through Geralt's hair, tugging gently and winding through it.

Jaskier can feel when Eskel thrusts into him, the way Geralt's body sways with the motion, pushing forward onto Jaskier and backward onto Eskel. It's intoxicating to see Geralt this way, giving himself up completely to the pair of them. He's always been giving as long as Jaskier's known him, and in bed, he's no different, but this feels so much bigger than his usual caring demeanour and Jaskier is a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of trust Geralt must have in them.

In a rush of emotion, Jaskier withdraws and when Geralt looks up at him, he pushes Geralt up to his knees, shuffling up close to wrap his arms around his neck. He twists the fingers of one hand in Geralt's hair, reaching down with the other to stroke him slowly. Geralt keens under the touch, rocking his hips slowly with a soft groan against Geralt's lips.

"Tell me how he feels," Jaskier breathes, pressing his face into Geralt's neck. He nips at his skin and kisses over the marks as they fade.

"Good," Geralt groans. "Really good."

Jaskier hums and flicks his eyes up to meet Eskel's. In an instant, he's tugged forward and Eskel's mouth crashes against his own, tugging his hair and biting softly at his lower lip. One of Geralt's arms slips around his waist and Jaskier presses forward, eager to be closer to both of them.

His cock aches where it's trapped against Geralt's hip and his hips shift as though of their own will, sliding through the dip of Geralt's hip. He moans softly, stuttering against Eskel's lips and then Eskel pulls away. He leans over Geralt's other side, whispering against his ear.

"On your back," is all he says as Geralt complies, Jaskier shuffles out of the way, watching the way his hair splays out around his head. Geralt truly is beautiful and when Jaskier looks up to Eskel, it's clear he's having the same thought.

Eskel gets his knees under Geralt's thighs, slipping two fingers into him and thrusting quickly. Geralt groans as he lifts his hips, pushing back onto Eskel's fingers. Jaskier watches with fascination, sitting back on his heels and absently stroking himself to the scene in front of him. He'd be happy to spend the rest of the night just like this, happy enough to have been invited to bed with them in the first place, but Geralt apparently has other ideas.

Eskel withdraws his fingers, smoothing up Geralt's side as he presses into him again and Geralt shuts his eyes and rolls his head back. He reaches out, running a hand down Jaskier's thigh before curling a hand around his wrist. He tugs him forward and Jaskier lets himself be pulled on top of him, straddling Geralt's hips.

Geralt kisses him and Jaskier drops onto his chest, winding his fingers through Geralt's hair as he deepens the kiss. A warm hand slides down his back and he arches into it, his cock slipping against Geralt's skin as he does. Eskel's hand slips over his hip, fingertips brushing along his thigh and dragging back up to his ass. Eskel's not subtle, not at all, but when his fingers press between Jaskier's cheeks, slick and probing, Jaskier whimpers.

Geralt's hand slips into his hair and he draws back, letting Jaskier bury his face in his neck. He groans softly, kissing Geralt's skin as Eskel works a finger into him. It's hot and tight and wonderful and Jaskier can't help the way he ruts against Geralt's stomach, pressing his cock into the soft flesh of his stomach. But Geralt evidently doesn't mind, cupping his ass with one hand while the other pushes through his hair.

"Feel good?" he asks and Jaskier groans a response as Eskel thrusts into him again.

"Yeah," Jaskier breathes, "gods, yes."

Eskel makes quick work of opening him up and Jaskier is disappointed when he withdraws. Eskel's fingers are thick and talented and he'd have been happy to come on them. He groans his dissatisfaction, rocking his hips back, but then Geralt's hands are on him, guiding him down onto his cock.

Geralt's hips stutter as he bumps against him, but Jaskier is hot and overstimulated and impatient. He pushes back onto him with a groan, sitting up to lean against Eskel's chest. Eskel's arm winds around his chest, holding him close as Jaskier rocks forward, adjusting to the stretch of Geralt's cock. He settles with Geralt fully sheathed and Geralt's hands come up to hold his hips down as he shifts, pushing off of Eskel's chest.

He drops his head back on Eskel's shoulder, moaning softly against his neck and reaches down to stroke himself, fingers slipping through pre-come to tease at the head of his cock. He's so close and being caught between the pair of them is doing nothing to stifle the need searing through him. And Geralt bucks under him, fingers digging into his skin as he arches off the bed. Jaskier braces himself on his chest, rubbing circles with his thumb until he's unceremoniously tugged back down.

Geralt kisses him hard, arms wound tightly around his shoulders and Jaskier just goes limp against him as he fucks him hard. When Geralt comes, he digs his fingers into Jaskier's scalp, nose pressed into his neck and Jaskier whimpers as Geralt thrusts deep.

For a moment they're still and then Eskel shifts behind them and Geralt makes a little groaning sound as Eskel pulls out. Geralt follows after him, loosening his grip and shifting to withdraw. He runs his hands up Jaskier's back and Jaskier can feel the way Eskel leans over him, kissing his neck. He's still not wholly sure how he wound up wrapped up in not one but two Witchers, but he certainly doesn't regret it. Eskel is soft and sweet and apparently, excellent at making Jaskier lose his mind and Geralt is. Well, he's Geralt. Jaskier was lost on him from the very first moment.

"You didn't come," Geralt mumbles and Jaskier is just about to tell him it's fine when Eskel bends low over him, nipping playfully at the back of his neck.

"Can I fuck you?" Eskel breathes and a whole new wave of arousal engulfs Jaskier. He whines and pushes back as Eskel's cock presses between his cheeks.

"Yeah," Jaskier gasps, "yeah, please."

Eskel doesn't waste time, draping himself over Jaskier's back and pushing into him. He's bigger than Geralt and there's some resistance, but when Eskel groans against his ear, Jaskier nearly goes limp with it. He drops onto his hands, planted on the bed on either side of Geralt's head and presses his forehead against Geralt's. Two sets of hands hold him steady as Eskel bottoms out.

He's careful, moving in shallow movements and normally Jaskier would appreciate the thought with a cock like that, but he's already slick and fucked loose and he just wants to come again. He shoves his hips back hard, prompting a deep groan from Eskel, but it seems to get his point across. Eskel holds his hips, rutting into his before withdrawing and thrusting hard.

He picks up the pace and Jaskier's skin prickles with the pleasure of it, though he goes limp, draping himself across Geralt's chest and burying his face in his hair. Geralt's legs are still wrapped around Eskel's and he pulls him closer as he kisses Jaskier's temple, brushes the hair from his face.

"Oh," Jaskier whines and Geralt kisses him so softly, a stark contrast to the way Eskel fucks him, quick and hard.

They're both drawing close. He can feel it in the way Eskel's form falters, the way his hips stutter just the slightest bit, the way he presses deep and sprawls over Jaskier's back, content to rock into him. It's constant pressure against his prostate and Jaskier whimpers. His cock drips against Geralt's stomach and he's so fucking close but he can't tip over that edge. Eskel's breath is on his neck and he kisses his neck. It's obvious that he's not going to last much longer, but he nuzzles against Jaskier's shoulders.

"Still good?" he asks and Jaskier manages a weak nod.

"Close," he mumbles and Geralt hums from under him.

He gets a hand in Jaskier's hair, pulling him down into a sloppy kiss as one hand winds around Jaskier's cock. The desperate moan is lost between Geralt's lips, but Jaskier is pushed forward with each of Eskel's thrusts and it doesn't take long before he's spilling all over Geralt's chest, forehead buried in his neck.

Eskel follows shortly, pulling out gently before flopping onto the bed next to Geralt. Jaskier tries to move, but he's held in place by a firm arm around his waist, and when Geralt kisses him, he lets himself relax.

Geralt gets an arm around Eskel's neck, drawing him closer and as Eskel shifts, he throws an arm over Jaskier's waist, fingers brushing lightly over Geralt's forearm. The last thing Jaskier knows is Eskel leaning in for a kiss before sleep overtakes him and his eyes drop shut.

It's dark when he wakes again. The middle of the night, he suspects. There's a soft moan from next to him and a heavy weight around his shoulders - Eskel - and he shuffles toward his warmth. But a sharp groan startles him to wakefulness and it only takes a second for him to realize Geralt isn't where he left him when he fell asleep.

A quick look around puts Geralt on his knees at the foot of the bed, his head between Eskel's thighs. Eskel groans again, shifting to arch off the bed and Jaskier smiles to himself. He's still exhausted, and while the thought of joining them makes his cock twitch with anticipation, he'd rather sleep for a few more hours. Let them have their fun.

These two are going to kill him one day, but at least it will be a good death.

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 5

Fandom: The Folk of the Air

Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar

Rating: explicit

Word count: 1,508

Cardan is an idiot. That is the only explanation for this clownery.

fanfiction masterlist • ao3

Chapter 4 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

Chapter 5. no man's land

Jude POV

Cardan is an idiot.

That is the only explanation for this clownery.

Surely, he knows I have seen him high before. He is always intoxicated, I fail to see how this is any different. Yet, he let himself be poisoned slowly, simply because he did not want me to see him consume.

Idiot. Idiot.

I repeat it to myself as I hear the telltale sound of him inhaling the powder.

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

I look towards the man he has put to sleep. If he hadn’t been so stupid, we would be rid of him. I hate seeing one of the folk using glamour on unexpecting mortals, but we can’t have this man wake up here. Cardan should have sent him to get lost in an imaginary maze and told him to forget everything.

Instead, we’re stuck with a sleeping man who knows he has been put to sleep by some pale teenager after crossing a brick wall straight to no man’s land.

I sigh. Should we throw him out of the alley, put the glamour back up and hope he forgets?

Bribe him? We certainly don’t have the money for this.

Threaten him? Would I kill someone to keep my freedom? No. I have done horrible things, but I would not kill someone again unless they deserved it.

The person who deserves it the most stirs behind me. Cardan hobbles towards the sleeping man, kneels and starts emptying the man’s pockets. I rush to his side.

“What are you doing?” I ask, appalled.

“We need money, don’t we?” he replies matter-of-factly, not even looking at me.

I cross my arms. “We can’t just steal from him.”

He turns to me now, lifting a perfect brow. “Oh, so now you’re a preacher of virtue?”

My lip pulls back in a snarl, and he snorts. He takes out a thick leather wallet from the man’s pockets—thick with bills. Cardan gets back up and hands it to me.

“He followed you here, Jude,” he tells me as I grab it. “I doubt his intentions were good.”

“What do you know about good intentions?” I bite back and he rolls his eyes. I nod towards the pizza box, “Now that you’re well enough to be a jerk, eat.”

Cardan walks back to his little corner behind the dumpster as I open the wallet. I stare at the thick stack of green bills, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Don’t get your hopes up, I tell myself, maybe they’re all one dollar bills.

Except they’re clearly not.

“What is that?” Cardan asks, and I turn to him.

He is staring at the open pizza box, his head inclined to the side as he inspects the contents.

“Pizza,” I reply. “Just eat.”

I take out the bills and start counting.

This man has a few hundred dollar bills. I have never seen those in my entire life.

1500$.

I cannot stop the smile that forms on my face as I turn back to Cardan.

And when I see what he has done to the pizza, I laugh and he looks up from his work.

“What?” he asks, and I just laugh harder.

Tears prick at my eyes. It’s the kind of hysterical laugh that only comes from your life being completely absurd. From finding the money you need to rent a place, then seeing the boy you hate remove all the pepperoni from a pizza and stack them like a reconstituted sausage. Cardan takes a bite out of the thing.

I start to calm down as he finishes up his strange pepperoni mille-feuille.

“There’s over a thousand in there,” I tell him between long breaths.

“I assume that’s good?”

I grab the newspaper I had before I went out to the get the pizza, flipping through it to find the apartments, “It’s enough to rent a place.”

I spend hours looking through the papers, tearing out the ads of places we can afford. At one point, the man stirs and Cardan goes up to him. As if it were second nature, he orders him to leave and forget he ever saw our faces. The man, in a daze, follows his orders and leaves the alley, straight through the illusionary brick wall.

Cardan sits in his corner most of the day, sometimes staring at me, sometimes tearing small chunks of pizza to eat. I find it too endearing to show him how to eat it properly.

When the sun is at its highest, I rehearse the speech I will give the landlords on the phone.

“Hello, my friend and I would be interested in visiting the place you are renting.”

The words feel so strange. They should feel mundane to my human tongue, but they are words I never thought I would utter. Not when I thought I would spend the rest of my days in Elfhame, fighting for my right to be there.

I do not know how to define my relationship to Cardan. I try so many different options, and I can’t bear to look at him as I say the things that can only be labelled as lies.

My roommate. My boyfriend. My husband. My… partner? They’re all lies, all wrong.

My worst enemy is not something a landlord would want to hear.

When I finally make the first call, I don’t mention Cardan.

“Hi, I saw your ad and I wanted to know if the apartment is still available.”

By the time the sun comes down, I have a good schedule of places to visit in the Bronx tomorrow.

When I am done, I join Cardan by his dumpster to finally eat some of the cold pizza.

Cardan reaches for a piece after I do, his dark eyes watching my every movement intently. He copies the way I eat it, holding the crust and supporting the underside of the slice as I bite into it.

It’s still delicious, even cold and pepperoni-less. Unconsciously, I let out a small content sigh.

“What is your favorite mortal food?” Cardan asks, breaking the thick silence.

I purse my lips as I think. Pizza is really high up there. Otherwise… There are very few things I remember from my time in the Mortal Realm. Except for one that never left me.

“My mom used to make these pastries,” I say, nostalgic, “pastéis de nata. They’re little tarts filled with egg custard. I haven’t had them since…” I trail off. Since she was murdered. “I’d like to try them again, see if they’re as good as I remember them.”

“Perhaps we can find a place here that makes them,” he offers.

I don’t know why, but the proposition makes me smile. “Perhaps,” I repeat after him.

When I reach for the last piece, I notice Cardan was also reaching for it, but he pulled back before grabbing it.

We don’t do much for the rest of the night. We don’t talk either. We just sit in silence, the thrum of the bustling city a constant melody outside our dirty alleyway.

After relieving myself behind a dumpster and making a mental note to buy tampons tomorrow, I make my way to my makeshift bed.

I climb over the dumpster Cardan sleeps behind, then swing myself over the railing of the lowest landing of the emergency stairs. The corner I have been sleeping in for the last week is nothing fancy. Flat cardboard lines the cold metal and I have stuffed my dirty clothes in a garbage bag to use as a pillow. No blanket, since I only found one and Cardan needed it more than me.

I lay down on my cardboard and try to tune out the sounds of the city. Faraway, an ambulance blares its song. Cars honk, streetlights buzz, people talk and yell and cheer and—

The landing shakes as silent feet land next to me.

I turn on my back and open my eyes, only to be met with Cardan’s tall, dark form standing over me like Death incarnate.

“What are you—” I start asking, a little panicked until I see the blanket in his hands. I frown. “Keep it. I’m fine.”

Cardan rolls his eyes, then swings the blanket over me.

“You’re cold,” he says. A corner of the blanket lifts and he slips under it too, “and I have been told I am burning.”

I had not noticed how much I was shivering until his warm arm snakes around my waist and he shifts closer to me. The other one slides under the garbage bag I use as a pillow.

His hips are flush against my backside, sharp hipbones digging into my cheeks. He tangles one of his legs around mine.

“This is just for warmth,” he whispers to himself.

I breathe deeply.

“You are very warm,” I confirm.

“Does it make up for the burden of bringing me along?” he asks me, and I feel him smile against my hair.

“Just an idiot,” I say softly as I drift away to sleep, “not a burden.”

-----

tag list: @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thefolkofthefic @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn @jurdannet

[koolkat9]

Hetalia Poly Ship Week: Day 4

@hetalia-polyship-week

I’m so sorry this is a day late. Life got a bit hectic and I had a bit of trouble finding my footing with uni so...yeah...this also turned out pretty long. But here it is. This was actually so fun to write despite life being crappy these past two days. Forgive this little rant, onto the fic!

Prompt: Fairytale

Relationship: GerFruk (though it's not super romantic, more like meeting each other for the first time)

Word Count: 2022

Author’s Note: This takes place in a world where all traditional fairytales exist, but what happens when characters of those fairytales collide one fateful night?

Francis-> Rapunzel (Rapunzel)

Ludwig-> Cinderella (Cinderella)

Arthur-> Beauty and the Beast (Beast)

At Midnight

God his feet were killing him. One night. One night was all Ludwig had asked for and now he was running through the forest with only one boot and tattered clothing. But that’s what he got for trusting a pesky fairy and losing track of time. Eventually, he came upon a clearing and decided to stop for a moment and gain his bearings.

He hadn’t thought this through. First, he didn’t keep track of the time, second, he ran without even thinking as to where he was going to go, and of all places, he headed towards the forest. Now he was lost in the middle of the night, freezing cold, probably a long way from any form of help. At least it was far better than home.

Which brought up another question. If he did find someone or his way back to town, where would he go? Home? Could it even be called that when you weren’t even welcomed there, no one to love and worked to the bone by those who should? But what other place was there when you were penniless?

Just when Ludwig thought all hope was lost, he heard a faint voice coming from the trees in front of him. Without any other lead, he began making his way towards the sound, hoping that whoever it was could help him find his way out of here.

He was led to another clearing, but in the center of this one stood a tower overgrown by vines and other plant life. Ludwig would have assumed it was abandoned if not for the blond man at the top singing away. It was beautiful, He was beautiful with long blond hair that went way past his shoulders. As he went in for a closer look, he stepped on a twig, snapping it and bringing attention to himself. The man in the tower immediately stopped, cowering into the stone walls, but still peeking out to survey the situation. “Who’s there?” he asked, voice wavering slightly.

Ludwig made his way right under the window so the man could see him. “I apologize for starling you, but I seem to have gotten lost-”

“Mon Dieu, what happened to you?”

Ludwig looked down at his ripped garments, ruined by his step-siblings before looking back up. “A little family altercation. But that doesn’t matter now. Do you by chance know the way back to town?”

The man’s eyes went wide. “There is a town near here?” he asked, sticking his head out the window.

“Uh...yes...I-I take it that means you don’t know.”

The man was silent for a moment, not looking at Ludwig and instead, his gaze was cast straight ahead as if in thought. “Hello?” Ludwig called to get the man’s attention again.

“Oh… sorry. Yeah… No, I'm sorry I don’t.” He looked around before continuing, “But I can’t just leave you out here like this. Give me a moment mon cher.” There was a light thumping from above then a loud crash signaling the fall of something. To Ludwig’s relief, it was followed by a string of French curses which let him know the man above was okay. Said man returned to the window moments later, throwing a thick rope down, or at least what appeared to be a rope. When Ludwig took hold of the rope he realized it was actually hair, the man’s hair to be exact. Ludwig looked up, given the man a concerned look.

“Don’t worry. I’ve done this dozens of times, I’ll be fine.”

With a deep breath, Ludwig began his climb with the man helping him by pulling him up. Soon enough he was safely in the confines of the tower.

“Couldn’t I have just used the door?” Ludwig asked.

“Unfortunately the stairs are broken. Oh please, come sit, sit.” The man took hold of Ludwig’s wrist, guiding him towards a couch.

Ludwig quirked a brow at the man’s answer. If the stairs were broken how did he get down? He couldn’t use his own hair, could he?

“So what should I call you mon cher?”

“Ah...ah...Ludwig. And you?”

“Francis! It's nice to meet you.” The man, Francis, was quiet for a moment before adding, "So there really is a village nearby?”

“Yes. Why? Have you never been?”

Francis gave a sad smile. “I can’t say I have. I haven't even been out of the tower since I was little."

Ludwig was taken aback by this. After a few moments of trying to reach for something to say, he figured there was nothing he could. "I'm sorry to hear that," he stated instead. "Not that it is the exact same, but I wasn't exactly allowed outside much either."

Francis sighed "My mother is just protective. I wonder if she's aware of how close we are to town. Perhaps that would make her trips shorter. Then again it's nice to be rid of her for a few days."

"At least she loves you. Mine only keeps me around to do the housework, cooking, and use as a verbal punching bag."

“Oh, Ludwig.” Francis gave him a sympathetic look before surprisingly pulling him into a hug. It was nice. Ludwig couldn’t recall the last time he had a hug. It was probably right before his brother died and all this hell began. Hesitantly, he returned the action, wrapping his arms around the Frenchman’s waist.

He smelled like lavender and his embrace was so warm that Ludwig felt himself melting against him. For a moment the thought of just staying here crossed his mind. The hug and thought were cut short however by the sound of crashing below.

Francis and Ludwig pulled away, looking at each other before turning towards the trap door that was supposed to lead to the stairs and entrance. They silently agreed to ignore it, but when another bang was heard below, Ludwig decided he should at least try to see what it was. He quietly made his way over to the door before carefully throwing it open.

Below was dark and he could barely make out the large silhouette of some creature below. It grunted as if in pain, its shoulders shaking.

“Get me a candle,” Ludwig ordered. Francis stumbled off the couch they were sitting on before collecting a candle and match and lighting the wick.

When Ludwig brought the light down to get a better look at the creature he found golden fur wrapped in what appeared to be a cloak. The beast snapped its head towards them showing a wolf-like face with fangs protruding. Ludwig fell back out of shock and a bit of fear. He had read about such monstrous creatures in books when he was a child and how they came to eat naughty children in the dark of night. Despite this, he found himself peeking down once more when he heard it whimper, ignoring Francis’ whispers of concern and protest.

The beast looked up at him with pleading green eyes, ears pulled back in discomfort. Upon further inspection, the blond fur was mixed with the crimson of blood. Something in Ludwig’s heart twisted and he was unable to leave it there. He looked around for a way to get himself down. “Francis, you think I could lower me down?”

The blond gave him a horrified look. “What the hell are you thinking? I don’t know what’s down there, but judging by your reaction it can’t be good. Mother told me all about evil creatures-”

“You don’t have to come down, but I’m going.”

Though he grumbled some more protests, Francis lowered his hair down, giving Ludwig a rope to climb.

The lower level was damp and musty. Ludwig held onto the candle tightly as he approached the figure which had frozen up. “Hello?” Ludwig called only to receive a ferocious roar in return. He stiffened, but pushed on. “I don’t know if you can understand me, but I want to help you.”

The beast cowered away. It seemed more scared than anything. “Wait right here,” Ludwig said before returning below the trap door. “Francis, could you get me bandages or something to wrap up some wounds.” Francis disappeared from above, but shuffling could be heard.

“I’m coming down,” Francis announced, reappearing. “I’m not letting you face this alone mon ami.”

Before Ludwig could protest, Francis was jumping down and Ludwig had no choice but to catch him.

This earned a growl from the creature. Francis hid behind Ludwig at the sound. “All bark, no bite,” Ludwig whispered in assurance. “Do you have the bandages?”

Francis handed some clothes over. Not ideal, but they’d work. Cautiously, he approached the beast who was cowering into the corner he was in. “It's okay,” Ludwig murmured, “we just want to help you.”

When he got closer, he noticed where the blood was coming from, a nasty gash on the creature’s side. Crouching down to get a better view, Ludwig pushed a cloth against it. The beast snarled in pain, but relaxed ever so slightly as Ludwig began to wrap up the wound. Francis had also made his way over, petting the head of the creature in comfort.

“It's like a big puppy,” Francis laughed lightly, earning a growl from the beast. The Frenchman backed up, scared it would snap, but it didn’t. Still, Francis decided it was best to keep his distance.

Ludwig only shook his head before finishing up the wrapping. “There. That should be good for now,” he sighed, standing up once more.

“Thank you…”

Francis and Ludwig look towards each other and then at the beast.

“This is when you say you’re welcome,” the beast grumbled, sitting himself up.

“You can talk?” Francis breathed.

“Yes. How rude of you to assume otherwise.”

For something so big and scruffy, the creature spoke quite eloquently though sharply and his accent posh and proper.

Francis went to bite back, but Ludwig interrupted. “So...What’s your name? Mine’s Ludwig and this is Francis.”

“Arthur.”

They lapsed into a silence, Ludwig and Francis trying to make sense of it all and Arthur glaring at the two. Once he had regained his bearings, Arthur pulled himself up and began dragging himself towards the door. “Well, you’ve been quite hospitable, but I really should get going," he noted sarcastically.

“Wait,” Ludwig said, jumping to his feet, “you are in no shape to be up.”

“And what do you suggest I do? Wait down here in the mud and mold. No thank you.”

“You could always stay upstairs with me and Lud,” Francis suggested.

“And how do you suppose we get up there without stairs?” Arthur sneered.

“Good point.”

The three returned to silence, thinking of what to do next.

Arthur sighed. “Okay… Here’s an idea. My castle isn’t that far from here. If you are so concerned about me you can accompany me there and as payment for your help you can stay there for tonight.”

Francis' brows furrowed, a hesitant look crossing his face. “Francis, you don’t have to come," Ludwig said. "I’m sure I can manage on my own.”

“Non. I’ll come. I’ve been locked up here far too long. Plus...it's not like I can get back up anyway and my mother will...she’ll be...so mad if she finds everything like this.”

That statement worried Ludwig far more than it should have. He tried not to think about it or the fearful look in Francis’ eye. Instead, he turned his attention to Arthur. He helped steady the beast, wrapping his arm (paw? claw?) around his shoulder to support him. Francis followed suit on the other side. With that settled they took off into the night, following Arthur's directions

It was truly a strange night. What was supposed to be his night to relax and forget about his troubles turned into one of adventure... which came with new troubles. But as Ludwig walked through the forest with Arthur and Francis he couldn’t help but feel free, relieved, like his life was changing for the better. He shook his head, telling himself he was just tired and everything was strange which lead to this feeling. Right now what mattered was getting Arthur to that castle.

(I may continue this once I finish up with ‘In the Deep.’ Gosh, so many fic ideas, so little time)

[ikeromantic]

Mad Dogs

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction. This scene occurs at the start of Ch. 12 in the romantic route! Approx. 2600 words.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Keeping Secrets

Mitsuhide sat beside his little mouse, sharing space at the desk in their rooms. A packet of letters sat open in front of him, missives from Kyubei and his distant intelligence network. They were closing in on the shogun’s location. Ashikaga’s hiding spot was down to two holes he might have crawled into. Both had features to recommend them.

Nearness to reliable roads, distance from well-maintained lands. Space to accommodate his collected forces. Mitsuhide closed his eyes in thought.

“I’ll ask for some tea,” his little one said, and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“I thought I was the mindreader,” he smiled. 

She laughed softly. “Another skill I learned from you, hm?”

Mitsuhide felt a burst of warmth, and would have pulled her into his arms had he not caught the soft chime of bells on the stairs below. His smile turned sharp as he stood, placing himself between the door and his beloved.

“What -” she started to ask, interrupted by the door sliding open and the sound of a harsh, wild laugh.

“Motonari works fast,” Mitsuhide muttered. “This will be our next ally.” He hoped. This meeting was an even bigger risk than Mouri had been.

He heard her whisper under her breath. “I hope we get a cleric. Someone with a lawful alignment, at least.” It was an odd thing to say, but strangely accurate, considering.

“Special delivery,” Motonari called out as he entered the room and presented the figure behind him.

“I assume you’ve called me here to perform your last rites, Mitsuhide Akechi.” Kennyo’s voice was low and smooth. Like an underground river, steadily dissolving the stone. Unstoppable, unchanging. He was as solid as ever, his wide shoulders filled the doorway. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes were twin fires, giving heat but no light.

Mitsuhide met his gaze, acknowledging the shared history of violence between them. “Welcome, Abbot. I have been looking forward to this meeting.”

The chatelaine’s eyes went from Kennyo to Motonari, clearly trying to weigh the greater threat. She lingered on the monk, her eyebrows rising with a flash of recognition.

Mitsuhide wondered what she was thinking. Was it only surprise at seeing the man in person after all the rumors and stories she’d heard about the Abbot? Or did she have yet another secret she hadn’t shared with him? The need to know was a dangerous distraction and he worked to force his attention back to the immediate problem. “My dear, you should wait next door.” 

She stubbornly shook her head. “I’m staying right here.”

He wanted to argue with her but Mouri dismissed the problem of her presence. “Forget the girl, kitsune. Let’s get to business, savvy?”

Kennyo’s glare rolled from Mitsuhide to Motonari. “I am not here for business.” He pulled his prayer staff apart, revealing the slim, sharp blade hidden within. 

Mitsuhide pulled his own sword the second he caught the reflected lamplight in its metallic sheen. It was a good thing he did as he only barely managed to block the Abbot’s strike. “What a very sensible weapon.” He gave the monk a tight smile.

“I am not here to listen to you talk,” Kennyo growled. “I am here to send you to hell where you belong!” His advance was like a boulder coming down the side of a mountain. Inexorable. 

The monk brought the blunt end of his staff up. Mitsuhide caught the blow on the flat of his blade, but the force of it shivered up his arm and left him open. Open to the glistening tip of Kennyo’s sword as it swept toward his throat.

The chatelaine lurched forward, her hands flying up as if to stop the monk’s sword. 

Mitsuhide moved back and the strike that would have killed him only left a small pearl of blood at his throat. His attention wasn’t on the wound or even his near-death blow. It was on his little one, who stood awkwardly in the midst of drawn blades, her hands still extended. “Get back, now,” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic held barely in check.

If she was hurt . . . if . . . he couldn’t finish the thought. His little mouse turned her head to look at him but didn’t follow his order. Mitsuhide grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him and into a corner. With a wall on two sides, leaving him a smaller area to guard.

Kennyo’s scar pulled at his face, twisting the grim smile he now wore. “You are afraid, Akechi. Good. May your death bring a measure of peace to your victims.” The Abbot prepared for another strike. 

Motonari’s shrill laugh split the tense air. “Come on! Yer not tryin’ ta leave me outta the fun, are ya?” He pulled his sword in one hand and his pistol in the other. His grin was manic and feral as he looked between possible targets.

Mitsuhide felt sick with anxiety. Against one madman, he was sure he could keep his little one safe. Against two? And one armed with a pistol? He would need to disarm or kill Mouri first. Kennyo was a deadly opponent, but predictable. The move would leave him open to the monk, but made it less likely that his beloved would be hurt. He shifted his stance, readying himself.

“Thanks fer gettin’ the party started.” Motonari laughed again. “I was feelin’ lonely over here.”

Mitsuhide leapt at Mouri, giving the pirate no time to move into a better position. But Kennyo wasn’t going to wait for his turn. 

The Abbot stepped between Motonari and Mitsuhide, shoving the kitsune warlord back. “I will not be cheated of your death!”

Mouri struck at the monk, forcing Kennyo to turn and block his blade. 

Mitsuhide took advantage of the distraction, knocking the pistol from Motonari’s grip. The sharp edge of his sword left the skin of Mouri’s hand split open and weeping redly. He chanced a look back at his beloved. She hadn’t budged from her spot in the corner. “Run!” Mitsuhide kicked Mouri’s pistol further from him. “Run while you can!”

The pirate laughed even louder, moving as quick as an eel to dodge Kennyo and turn his aggression toward Mitsuhide. 

The chatelaine shook herself from her shock and darted around the edge of the fray. Mitsuhide felt a spike of worry but in a moment she’d reach the door, and safety. But before she was out of danger, she stopped, turned.

Mitsuhide recognized the expression on her face. Naive resolve. That stubborn streak he loved and hated. 

Instead of running, she shoved herself into the middle of the combat. “STOP! Stop fighting this instant!”

Motonari’s cackle rose in volume and pitch as he laughed at her bold - and foolish - move. But Kennyo’s sword armed dropped. 

“That’s right! You heard me! Cut it out!” 

That was perhaps not the best choice of words, Mitsuhide thought. But it seemed to work. At least, it brought a moment of calm as the monk and the pirate watched her. He calculated his next move should they resume the attack. At this distance, he could easily get his little one out the door, though it would leave him painfully open. Worth it, but he’d take a wound or two. Probably not enough to kill him. Not quickly. Plenty of time to take them both down . . .

The chatelaine put her fists to her hips, staring them down. Even Mouri felt the weight of her disapproval. His laughter died off. “You. Are acting like children. I thought this was a meeting of men.” One hand rose, finger extended like a weapon toward the Abbot. “And you! Aren’t you a monk? Attacking your host?” Her voice was hot with outrage. “Where are your manners?”

Kennyo took a step back, his eyes wide. “Are you . . . rebuking me?”

Her lips were set in a firm line, cheeks red with anger. Hot eyes swept Mitsuhide and Mouri up together. “And you! Don’t think this doesn’t apply to you. Did you want help? Or not?”

Had they not had an audience - and a deadly one at that - Mitsuhide would have kissed her. Battle-lust still sang in his veins and all that energy needed an outlet. He could imagine crushing her against the wall, his lips taking hers while his hands tore open that kimono to . . . he coughed. His little one was . . . entirely . . . too distracting.

She seemed oblivious to his thoughts as she crossed her arms. “Well? You have about three seconds to put up your weapons and prove to me that you are men. Otherwise I’ll - I’ll turn this party right around!”

Motonari’s lips turned up in a muted smile, unusual for him. Mitsuhide did not like the light in Mouri’s eyes as he regarded the chatelain. After a long moment of silence, the pirate sheathed his sword and picked his pistol up. 

He put his own blade away and heard Kennyo do the same. He chuckled as she watched them obey her order. “To think, after everything it is you that now lectures me.” He bowed to her and then to his guests.

“Perfect,” she chirped, flashing the three men a tight smile. “I’ll get some tea.”

Mitsuhide could tell by the way she stepped toward the door that she was a breath away from falling over. Her firmness was an act. Convincing, but short-lived. He caught her by the elbow and helped her to the door. 

She leaned against him taking strength from his closeness.

He kissed her cheek and whispered. “I am sorry to put you in danger like that. It seems I - I lost my cool.”

“It’s because of me, isn’t it? You never let anything disturb you before.” Her troubled expression broke his heart.

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t want you to think about that. My actions are mine alone. Only I bear any blame.” He bit at his lip before continuing. “I couldn’t handle seeing someone pull a weapon so close to you.”

Behind them, Kennyo cleared his throat. “Who is this young girl, Akechi?”

Mitsuhide turned, his arm still around his little mouse. “She is a princess of the Oda, the chatelaine of Azuchi castle and my - my fiancee.”

“Your . . .” The Abbot’s expression was one of surprise. His hard eyes focused on the chatelaine. “Young lady. I have a question for you.”

Motonari leaned back on the wall, looking as if this had been the outcome he wanted all along. “Finally ready to talk, eh?”

“Quiet. I’m not speaking to you.” Kennyo’s gaze did not waver. “Why are you here, girl? With Mitsuhide Akechi on the dawn of his march against the shogun?”

With a deep breath, the chatelaine stood up straight, removing herself from the warmth and support Mitsuhide offered. She met the Abbot’s eyes without flinching. “Officially, I’m here to get in Mitsuhide’s way. To stop him from being reckless.” She smiled wistfully. “At least, that’s my job until the battle starts. But up to that moment, I plan to be by his side.”

“I see.” Kennyo’s gravelled voice sounded uncertain, a tone that rarely came from the demon-monk. 

“If you’re done talking to my lit - ah, my fiancee, I’d like to speak with you about my proposal,” Mitsuhide interrupted.

The Abbot’s expression hardened. “I have put down my weapon at the request of this young woman. Do not take that for interest in whatever game you play, kitsune.”

Mitsuhide glanced at Mouri in annoyance. “I had hoped your former ally would put a little more effort into persuading you.”

“Pfft. Be thankful I even brought ‘im,” Motonari snorted.

Kennyo’s squared his shoulders. “I am leaving. Be warned that when I see you again, I will not show mercy.”

“Please. A moment more, Abbot Kennyo.” Mitsuhide thought courtesy and respect would buy him just a little more time to soften the monk to his plot. “You have reason to disdain an alliance with me, but you share a need to see the shogun dead.”

The Abbot raised one eyebrow.

“Your follower, the one killed in the Azuchi dungeons?” Mitsuhide assumed Kennyo would remember the recent loss. He saw the Abbot give a slight nod. “He was murdered on Ashikaga’s orders. Yoshiaki used that death to try and make it seem that you and I were connected.”

Kennyo’s low growl sounded more demon than man. 

The chatelaine nodded agreement. “Yes, that’s right. He admitted it at Honno-ji.”

Mitsuhide watched the Abbot carefully. This was delicate work. “That death came after days of gruesome torture as he was forced to lie, and falsely confess we were allies.”

“Why . . . why are you telling me what I already know?” The words tore from the Abbot’s throat, a rumble of warning like the snarl of a rabid dog.

This would either win him to their side or provoke a renewed attack. Mitsuhide took a small step forward, just to make sure he could easily push his little one out the door if it came to that. “What other agents of yours might the shogun already know about? Perhaps another spy in the Oda forces? One my informants tell me is currently pursuing the shogun as we speak?” The image of bright, troubled eyes and a sweet smile accompanied the words as Mitsuhide thought on the subject of their discussion. 

The Abbot’s expression shifted to one of surprise and barely suppressed rage.

Yes. Now they had him. Mitsuhide kept his expression neutral. “I am right, am I not? Your faithful pet, the one you snuck into Azuchi some time ago . . . he is the one you’ve set to hunt the shogun.”

Mouri chuckled. “Damn. You even know about the kid, huh?”

“You hellspawn,” Kennyo rumbled. He grabbed Mitsuhide by his clothes and lifted him up as if to shake him. 

Mitsuhide knew he’d won this round. “Perhaps? But as you may know, my memory is quite poor. I find myself often confused . . . forgetting all kinds of things . . .” The Abbot had only to accept his defeat now. “I suspect that as long as I have proper allies in my fight against the shogun, this little detail will have quite escaped me by the time I return to Azuchi.”

Kennyo did shake him then. Still refusing to see the inevitable conclusion of this meeting.

“Abbot . . . tell me, didn’t you come tonight because your own fight against Ashikaga was going harder than you expected? Didn’t you wish for some assistance? Be honest with yourself, if not with me.”

Motonari straightened. “Come on, Kennyo. It’s not like yer marryin’ the kitsune. This is all just temporary. We can kill Akechi the second we put the shogun down.”

“You are both vile men.” The Abbot lowered Mitsuhide to the ground and released his grip.

“An’ vicious, mad, bloodthirsty,” Mouri went on, his grin widening until his teeth shone.

Mitsuhide straightened his clothes. “Yes. We are all birds of a feather. And to kill a man who barely grants others their place as fellow humans, it falls to monsters like ourselves.”

 Kennyo’s nod of agreement was barely a tilt of his chin. “Do not expect camaraderie from me. The moment the shogun’s head leaves his neck, I will again seek Nobunaga’s life. And yours.” The twin fires of his eyes burned like banked coals.

“Your terms are accepted. Now. We have much planning to do.” At that, the three sat on the floor, together, but apart. Hands near weapons, tense shoulders, and terse words.

“I’ll ah, go get that tea then,” the chatelaine mumbled. 

Mitsuhide flashed her a small smile. He was so proud of her. And so troubled by her. How could one little mouse leave him such a mess?

Next: Unexpected Gifts

[irishseeeker]

Prompt: Day 1, Jealousy and all its cousins @katexanthonyweek​

Kate Bridgerton  was definitely not jealous.

(She was.)

rating: mature!

---

Kate tried really not to dislike people.

That did not mean she was always successful but she truly did try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

It became an exceedingly hard task when certain people made it incredibly difficult for Kate to like them. Especially before she knew them.

For example, the woman across the room who was standing far too close to her husband, openly flirting with him.

That was hard to like.

Kate was not a fool, she noticed how women behaved around Anthony. She could accept women would always be attracted to Anthony. He had been a notorious rake for a reason, after all. It made no difference to their marriage, Anthony was hers. Whenever he was in a room, the female gaze naturally drew to him.

She could not blame them. Her charming husband, who would kill her if he ever heard her say this, was beautiful.

He was incredibly handsome but there was so much more. There was no better feeling than being wrapped up in his broad shoulders and muscular arms. He had long, dark eyelashes every woman dreamed of. He had a strong jawline that she loved to kiss and trace with her fingertips when they lay in bed. He had a head full of dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through, unlike some men his age who were already bald.

Kate herself could barely keep her eyes off of him and she got to see him everyday, especially when no one else did. She got to see him when he first woke up in the morning, completely content with his tousled hair and half awake eyes. She had the privilege of seeing him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his cravat loose and best of all-with nothing on at all.

It was a challenge sometimes in public not to touch him, especially at balls and parties when he was dressed so well. She usually kept her hands occupied with a drink or an appetizer.

Anthony usually subtly touched her anyway, always improperly, to tease her or just because he wanted to.

(Even when she blushes and scolds him for it, they both know she loves it.)

However, she could not accept women who stepped a bit too far. From across the room, a woman was talking to Anthony. She was leaning towards him, taking subtle steps towards him and creating an improper distance between them. The woman was petite, blonde and her skin glowed in the dimmed lighting of the ballroom. She was beautiful.

She also had her hand on Anthony’s forearm.

Kate did not like this feeling. This bitter, bubbling anger in the pit of her chest as she watched Anthony across the room.

She was not jealous.

(She was.)

Technically, that was also Kate’s forearm. She had married that forearm just under a year ago.

They would be celebrating their one year anniversary, hosting their first ball as Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton in Aubrey Hall next week. The ball would mark the end of the season, and Anthony and Kate were staying in Aubrey Hall for the rest of the summer before returning to London.

Kate was incredibly nervous.

She still felt at odds with her role as Viscountess. Her broken leg had put a stop to her social calendar after only a month of marriage, and she had not been able to carry out many of her roles as Viscountess.

It had taken a few months for her leg to heal. Kate could finally walk again, without the need for her stick or Anthony’s arm. Anthony had objected to their vigorous social calendar since the season had started but Kate was determined to attend as many balls as they could. Anthony, of course, was always by her side.

She was trying to do exactly as Violet Bridgerton would. Her days were now filled with parties, balls and social calls. Her first ball as Viscountess would be perfect.

It had to be.

She could not bear to think of the possibility of disappointing Violet and Anthony. There was a nagging feeling deep inside her, that society had been right to question why Anthony Bridgerton had chosen Kate Sharma to be his viscountess. The whispers that she was not fit for the role.

She was determined for those whispers not to be right.

Kate knew how lucky she was to have Anthony. Her marriage was wonderful, something she never would have dreamed of for herself. They loved each other to the point it was almost nauseating, as Eloise and Colin enjoyed to remind them, but they were also friends.

Anthony was her best friend.

Oh, she truly was nauseating.

The woman currently talking to her husband was making it exceedingly hard for Kate to concentrate on anything but them. Anthony had been talking to this mystery woman for just over three dances, when Kate had left him to dance with Benedict. This woman was now laughing at something Anthony said, her blonde curls bouncing in the air as her head tilted back.

What was so funny?

Kate loved her husband to death but he was not that funny.

“You cannot keep dancing with me to avoid dancing with other eligible ladies,” Kate teased Benedict, deciding to focus on her brother in law who was waltzing with her for the third time that evening.

“Can I not enjoy the company of my sister and not have any ulterior motives?” Benedict’s grin was wide across his face as he spun Kate around, narrowly avoiding her clumsy feet. She was a challenged dancer on her best days but when she was distracted by her husband across the room, it was every dancer for themself.

She glanced across the room again and now Anthony was laughing. Why was he laughing? She hoped it was a pitiful laugh.

“I thought I was doing you a favor by asking you to dance for a second and third time,” Benedict said, “I was distracting you from glancing over at my dear brother every few seconds.”

“I was not glancing. I was simply observing the room,” Kate said, but even Kate did not believe herself. She was blatantly staring at her husband. “Besides, we both know you are dancing with me to avoid dancing with one of the eligible ladies your mother is trying to marry you off to.”

“I believe three dances is all we have, so in a few moments I will have to venture back into the wild and attempt to avoid my mother for the rest of the evening,” He said, “However, I have been waiting for you to ask me who he is conversing with since the last dance. I thought you would give in five minutes ago”

“The thought had not crossed my mind.” Anthony had told her previously what a terrible liar she was. She previously thought it was because he knew her so well that she was incapable of lying to him, but she really was quite dreadful at it.

“Your face says otherwise.” Benedict glanced down at their feet before his teasing gaze returned to Kate’s face. “You have stepped on my feet at least four times while staring over there.”

A pang of guilt hit her. She was being rather rude. It was Benedict, so she knew he was not actually offended. Kate had gotten to know him quite well since her marriage. He joined them for dinner quite often, and spent a lot of time with Anthony at Whites or at their home. “You know, this is precisely why Gregory and Colin are my favourite brothers. They would never point out my flaws.”

Benedict chuckled. “Oh, how you wound me.”

Kate could not help herself. She had to know. “Who is that woman?”

Thankfully, Benedict chose not to tease and indulged her curiosity. “Her name is Eleanor Trent, previously Falmouth. My father and her, the Earl of Falmouth, attended Oxford together. They were friends until his death.”

Kate’s face fell. “She was a family friend?”

“Yes. She has brothers around the same age as Colin, Anthony and I. I know there were discussions of a betrothal, between Anthony and Eleanor. Nothing came of it, father died and Anthony would not discuss it further. He focused on the family and Oxford.” Benedict was not shy with the details, which Kate was equally grateful and upset about.

Kate’s stomach suddenly felt nauseous. Had something happened between them when they were young? Had Anthony courted her before his father’s death? Eleanor was the perfect candidate for a Viscountess. The daughter of an Earl, a family friend, a regular part of London society. “I imagine your mother was displeased.”

Kate loved her mother in law. Violet Bridgerton had been nothing but kind to Kate from the moment they met. She had been even kinder before their wedding, despite the circumstances that caused their nuptials.

They shared a lot in common, their love for gardening for one and met for tea multiple times a week, but Kate had always feared she was not the wife she had envisioned for her son. The same fear that had made itself known to Kate before her wedding remained inside of her: she feared Violet believed Kate had trapped her son.

The woman had witnessed her son’s face in Kate’s bosom, for heaven’s sake.

Benedict did not deny it. “Mother was furious when Anthony still refused three years later after he finished his studies. Eleanor later got married that season to a Baron and that was that. It took our mother a long time to learn that Anthony only does what Anthony wants to do.”

The music ceased and the dance ended, all the participants clapping before departing the dance floor. Benedict and Kate moved to the edge of the dancefloor, weaving through the crowds towards the refreshments table. Kate had been dancing for quite some time and she was quite thirsty. She wanted to find Anthony, but when she turned to look for him he had disappeared.

So had the woman.

Her heart sank in her chest.

“Brother, I believe that is enough dancing with my wife for one evening.”

Kate turned around to see her husband standing in front of her. She had regained her ability to breathe and realized how silly she was being. He smiled at her and she felt her insides melt.

It was ridiculous really, how this man’s smile always made her giddy.

She wanted to fall against his chest and bury her face in his neck, but instead she moved to his side and wrapped her arm around his. That was as affectionate as society would allow. Anthony covered his hand with hers, squeezing it briefly. It was a promise for later.

“Thank you,” She said, smiling as she took the glass in his hand and took a long sip, the dryness of her mouth disappearing. Her husband had developed a sense of always knowing what Kate needed. He had rarely left her side during her bed ridden months with her broken leg and they had spent a lot of time together.

Kate wondered if they could leave soon. She wanted the privacy to ask Anthony about that woman earlier, she could not remember him ever mentioning an Eleanor when recounting his childhood tales.

“Jealous, brother?” Benedict teased, grinning at Anthony as he took a sip of his wine. “I was always the better dancer. Kate simply wanted a better partner.”

Kate let out a long sigh, her eyes flicking between the two brothers. “Now, boys-”

“Kate took pity on you and indulged your attempts at hiding from our mother’s matchmaking endeavours.” Anthony narrowed his eyes at his brother, his competitive edge seeping out. Her dear husband did enjoy being the best at everything and disputed anyone who thought otherwise. “My waltz trounces your waltz any day.”

At the mention of his mother, Benedict scanned the room around them before visibly relaxing, his shoulders dropping. “It is a nuisance. Mother had cornered me at every ball so far this season, introducing me to potential marriage candidates. Colin had his wits about him to travel as far as Greece to get away from her.”

“You should consider looking for a wife,” Anthony said, scanning the crowded room for their mother. “I presume mother is hassling Eloise.”

“Not you too,” Benedict replied, glaring at his brother. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own wife, thank you. She simply is not here.”

Anthony, now bored of his brother, turned to his wife with a teasing smile. “How many times did you step on his toes?”

It was Kate’s turn to glare at her husband. “None, thank you very much.”

Benedict decided to join in on his brother’s teasing, glad for the change in topic. “Lying is a sin, Kate.”

“Oh, Violet!” Kate said, looking over Benedict’s shoulder.

Benedict jumped and darted to the side, causing Anthony and Kate to burst out laughing, muffling their laughter into their sleeves once other party goers began to stare.

Benedict glared at the pair of them once he realized his mother was nowhere to be seen. “Very funny. Your ball at Aubrey Hall is only next week. Maybe I shall take a page out of your book and compromise some young lady in the garden?”

That wiped the smug smirk right off Anthony’s face.

Kate had to disguise her snort with a cough into her glove.

Before he could retort, Anthony’s eyes froze at something across the room. “Who is that man Eloise is speaking to? Alone?”

Kate and Benedict’s heads turned in the direction Anthony was glaring in. The man’s head was all they could see, Eloise hands waving in the air as she spoke passionately about something.

“I will be right back,” Anthony squeezed her hand before he charged in the direction of his young sister.

“Benedict!” The distinct voice of Violet Bridgerton came from an unknown direction, but it was enough for Benedict to say a quick apology to Kate before disappearing into the crowd.

Kate found herself alone at the refreshment’s table.

“Lady Bridgerton?”

Kate finished swallowing the biscuit she had put in her mouth, trying not to choke before she turned around to see who had addressed her. Kate held in her gasp, eyes widening as she looked at the woman in front of her.

It was her.

She bowed, and Kate did the same. “It is such a pleasure to meet you, I hoped we would be introduced sooner. I have heard so much about you.”

Kate felt herself blush. This woman was assuming she knew who she was. “Apologies, I do not believe we have met.”

“Oh! Forgive me,” She said, shaking her head and laughing to herself. “I would have thought Anthony would have mentioned me. I have known Anthony and the Bridgertons my entire life. I am Lady Eleanor Trent. It is such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Apparently, she was on a first name basis with her husband.

Kate smiled pleasantly, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “How lovely to meet you, Lady Trent.”

“I am very much looking forward to your ball in Aubrey Hall.”

Kate did not know she was invited. Violet had handled the guest list. “I am very happy to hear that.”

“I have not been there in quite some time. We used to visit Aubrey Hall a few times a year throughout my childhood. It was like a second home. I adore it. Have you been yet?”

Kate blinked slowly at her odd question. “Have I been to my home? Yes.

For some reason, Lady Trent was not phased by Kate’s blunt response whatsoever. “I have been more times than I could count. I have known the Bridgertons my entire life, as I am sure you know. That is quite funny, I have known your husband longer than you.”

Kate tried to unclench her jaw, breathing steadily through her nose. “I did not, actually.”

“Oh, how odd.” Her laugh was almost a shriek. “I was practically a Bridgerton until my marriage.”

Kate was not being dramatic, that was a peculiar thing to say. Benedict had not conveyed it that way at all.

Lady Trent continued to speak. Kate wished she wouldn't. “Was your father an Earl? A Duke? A Viscount?”

What did that have to do with anything? Kate's heart sped up at the mention of her father. “No. My father was a gentlemen. What does that have to do with anything?"

“Oh.” Lady Trent was not subtle with her disdain. “How interesting. Forgive my curiosity. One would think that must have made the transition quite difficult.”

Kate blinked. “Pardon?”

Lady Eleanor took a small sip of her wine, nodding sympathetically. “It must be difficult coming into such an important role as a Viscountess at such a young age. Especially when one is marrying a man like Anthony.”

This woman had no clue what type of man her husband was.

“I know this from experience, of course. I would be terrified if I came into the role of Viscountess with no experience,” Eleanor smiled sweetly at Kate, her voice dripping with everything but kindness. Her not so subtle dig made Kate’s blood boil.

“Oh!” She let out a cheerful laugh. “I am sure you are doing a fine job, Lady Bridgerton.”

Kate was nearly positive she had been insulted at least twice in this bizarre conversation.

If one thing was certain, it was that Kate did not like this woman at all.

She particularly did not like how she had been looking at her husband but her personality was just as unpleasant.

Kate was debating how significant the consequences would be if she launched her wine at Eleanor’s pink evening dress. She could stumble, blame it on her healed leg. It would be worth the earful she would get from Anthony, who still believed her leg had not fully healed and Kate should still be bedridden.

Kate didn’t cause scenes intentionally, she had been in the background for most of her life.

It definitely was not something a Viscountess would do, to cause such a scene, so she resisted.

Instead, she finished her glass in a few gulps. Kate replaced it with a glass from one of the server’s trays quite quickly as she composed herself.

“Thank you so much for your concern.” Kate matched the falseness of her tone, her smile stretched far too wide across her face to be genuine. “It has been a splendid year. I suppose, experience or not, some people are just born for certain roles.”

Eleanor appeared as if she was at a loss for words. She simply nodded, her smile wrinkling the skin on her forehead. “I could not agree more, Lady Bridgerton.”

“I must go find my husband. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Lady Trent. I look forward to seeing you at our ball next week.” Kate certainly was not. “Good evening, Lady Trent.”

Kate found Anthony in the crowd, he had also been searching for her. He took her arm in his, squeezing it softly. That was their signal it was time to go home. They kissed and bid their family goodnight, making their way towards the front of the house to get their carriage.

Anthony nodded at the valet and opened their carriage door, making way for Kate to step in before closing it behind them.

“I am exhausted,” She said, pulling a few pins out of her hair that had been digging into her scalp all evening. Relief flooded her head as she gently massaged her sensitive scalp. She couldn’t wait to take off her corset and go to bed.

Kate knew she would not be able to sleep until she spoke to Anthony about both of their conversations with Lady Trent. Her interaction with Lady Trent had left Kate feeling uneasy.

“Come here.” Anthony pulled her on top of him, her back resting on the carriage wall and her feet resting on the cushioned seat.

“There is a seat right beside you.” Kate laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck and lightly running her fingers through his hair.

“I prefer you on top of me.” Anthony moved his hands down to lightly squeeze her buttocks.

“I thought you liked being on top?” If he wanted to tease, Kate could tease him right back.

Anthony laughed, nuzzling her neck and leaving a trail of kisses from her collarbone all the way to her lips. “Right as always, Lady Bridgerton.”

��Did you have a good evening? I did not see you much,” She murmured against his lips. She could tell, with his fingers already creeping up her thigh, that talking was the last thing on her husband’s mind.

She would have to be quick if she wished to find out anything. The carriage ride home to Bridgeton House was less than fifteen minutes and he would not waste one of them before they had to stop.

They would not get caught in a carriage.

Again.

Once they arrived home, they wouldn’t do any talking once they got to their bed chamber.

She had enough willpower to focus on the task at hand and not let her husband completely distract her.

Right?

She needed to find out about his conversation with Eleanor.

His lips brushed hers before he spoke. “It was fine. A ball is a ball. I would have much preferred to stay home with you or at least sneak off to the gardens. Why did we not do that?”

Kate let out a laugh, her fingers tightening around his strands of hair as his lips moved down across her jaw. “How many gardens do you wish to compromise me in?”

“All of them,” Anthony said, his lips tickling the skin of her jaw as his laughter vibrated against her.

“Did you speak to anyone interesting?”

“Mm?” His teeth tugged at the top of her bodice, his tongue dipping behind the satin fabric.

“Anthony.” Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, his tongue was eliciting tingles throughout her chest and between her legs. “I said, did you speak to anyone interesting? Anyone you have not seen in a while?”

She would power through. “I met someone new, actually. Lady Eleanor.”

Anthony hummed in agreement against her skin, “Oh. Yes.”

“Benedict mentioned you have known her since you were children.”

“Indeed.” His face remained expressionless. He wasn’t listening to her. He was far too interested in pulling her dress down, which he did promptly.

Kate had lost the battle, and Anthony had won the war. He palmed her breasts in his hands, squeezing them softly as he pulled her in for a deep kiss. She could feel him hard against her thigh, and she reached down to palm him through the fabric of his breeches. His groan filled her ears and made her limbs weak.

“Oh,” She whispered, her lips parting as Anthony began to kiss his way down her neck, down her chest until his tongue grazed her nipple. He teased her momentarily before taking her fully in his mouth.

The carriage came to a halt and Kate hastily pulled up her dress, smoothening her dress and hair to fix her disheveled appearance. This was not their first indecent carriage ride. Anthony helped Kate out of the carriage, not letting go of her hand as they raced up the steps and entered the foyer, wasting no time running up the stairs.

If she did not keep up with Anthony, he would carry her up the flights of stairs to their bedroom.

Anthony dismissed her maid, fully intending on undressing his wife himself.

There wasn’t any talking for the rest of the night.

Kate’s morning had started off pleasant.

The following morning, Kate and Newton had joined Eloise and Penelope for a walk in the park. It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining and the cool breeze was refreshing. They joined Kate at Bridgerton House afterwards for some lemonade, before leaving to return home.

She had called on Daphne for the remainder of the afternoon and on her way home, her carriage had stopped at Madame Delacroix’s modiste for one last fitting before the ball.

“Lady Bridgerton!”

Kate had finished her fittings and was waiting on one of her gown’s to be packaged. The last person she had wanted to see had walked into the modiste. “Lady Trent. How lovely to see you.”

She smiled widely at Kate, it was unnerving. “How are the ball preparations going?”

“Very well, thank you.” Kate had always found small talk with strangers quite uncomfortable. Kate could not find the words to describe how she was feeling in this current situation. She had not found the opportunity to discuss the evening with Anthony last night and he had left early this morning for Parliament. She would not see him until she arrived home.

“How nice,” She replied, nodding her head slowly. It reminded Kate of one of Hyacinth’s frightening dolls. “I always found the menu planning quite tedious.”

Kate nodded. “Indeed. A pleasant task, nonetheless.”

“Have you finalized your menu?” Lady Trent asked, examining the different materials in the display case.

Kate nodded. “For the ballroom, yes. We will have traditional English pastries, desserts. I would not want anyone to go hungry.”

Lady Trent continued to nod slowly, her lips in a flat line. “It is always a good idea to keep things simple. However, I do remember Anthony having a more adventurous palate.”

Kate would hardly call pastries, sandwiches, desserts and food displays she had planned simple. Kate had known this woman for a day and she had already had enough. “Why would my husband’s palate be any concern of yours, Lady Trent?”

That shut her up.

Kate squeezed the ribbons between her fingers, trying to stop her shaking hand. This woman was a beast.

“Have you ever been outside of England, Lady Bridgerton?” She asked, circling the ribbon’s display with disinterest.

“I have not,” Kate said through gritted teeth.

“What a pity.” She tutted, her curls bouncing in the air as she shook her head. “I suppose my traveling has given me a new outlook on life. It has opened me to a whole new world of cuisine and flavour. Traveling really exemplifies how dull the English customs and cuisine we are all accustomed to are.”

“I am sure it will be lovely. I must be on my way. Good day, Lady Bridgerton.” She bowed her head before turning around, swiftly exiting the modiste.

Kate was furious.

She sat incredibly still, not uttering a word during the carriage ride home until she reached Bridgerton House. She made her way towards the drawing room, not checking to see if Anthony was home in his office.

She stood in the middle of their drawing room, pacing in the same spot before she screamed.

There’s the slamming of a door and Anthony appears, Newton barking at his feet, looking incredibly alarmed. “Kate! Kate. Are you alright?”

Anthony charges towards her, holds her shoulders, scanning her entire body to assess any damage. “

“No. Yes, but no. It...it is that….that woman,” Kate spat out her words.

“What woman?” Anthony asked, frantically looking around the room.

“That woman. That, that-what was that word you taught me the other night?” Kate’s

“Bitch?” Anthony supplied, looking incredibly concerned for his wife.

“Yes!” Kate waved her arm in victory. “That bitch.”

Kate had sobbed in front of her husband before, from their declarations of love to the agony of her broken leg, but she had never expressed such fury before.

Anthony had not the slightest clue what was going on. “Kate, what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

Kate was pacing the room again. “Lady Eleanor Trent, of course. Firstly, she was standing far too close to you. Then she touched your forearm. That is highly improper-

“At the ball?” Anthony furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it. “Wait.”

Anthony stared at her as if she had grown another head. “Kate Bridgerton. Is this all because you are jealous?”

Her husband looked positively gleeful.

“Anthony!” Kate nearly threw a pillow at him.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” He pleaded, biting his lower lip to restrain his smile as he walked towards her with open arms. “Tell me what else happened.”

“She introduced herself and the conversation was strange. She was incredibly rude last night and this morning. She insulted me, my father, my

Anthony’s face darkened. “She insulted you? She insulted your father? That is unacceptable. I will make sure she is not welcome in London again. I will call on her and tell her exactly what I think of her-

Kate shook her head rapidly. “The last thing I want is you going near her. She has some strange infatuation with you. She referred to herself as practically a Bridgerton until she was married. Did you court her?”

“I barely knew her, Kate,” He said, looking bewildered at Kate’s words. “I had not seen her for nine years until last night. Our parents were mainly friends. Her family usually visited when I was at Eton. I most certainly did not court her, no.”

Kate did not reply, although she was relieved to hear Lady Trent’s words had been based on delusion. Kate felt incredibly overwhelmed, as if every emotion and fear she had been bottling up was crashing into her at once.

“Kate,” He stepped towards her cautiously, wary of the readily available pillows within her grasp. He sat on the couch, extending his hand towards her. “Come here, darling.”

She broke, practically falling into her husband’s arms who wrapped himself around her, pulling her onto his lap. Their foreheads and noses were touching as he spoke to her.

His lips brushed her cheek as he spoke softly. “Can you tell me what else is wrong? Is there something else going on?”

She can’t meet his eyes, instead she stares down at her hands in her lap. “I am terrified I am letting you down.”

“Kate, you could never let me down,” He says, affection flooding his voice as he tilts her chin up softly with his index finger to look at her face.

Kate took a deep breath. “You have had so much on your shoulders for so long. Since your father died. Between your family and your duties, you have always worked so hard. I want to do whatever I can to help you. I want to do this right. I want to make your life easier however I can and I want to be a good Viscountess. I am really trying. I just feel like I am failing. What if she was right? What if my lack of experience means I am not right for this role? I-I want you to be proud of me.”

He leans down to kiss her firmly and it’s the type of kiss that makes her toes curl. “Kate,” He murmured, drawing back but staying as close as possible. “You are the perfect Viscountess because you are my Viscountess. Everyone adores you. I was merely existing before I met you. After you, I began to live. You brought this light into my life that I didn’t think was possible. Everything I do is for you and everything I am is because of you. I am so proud of you. I am in awe of you. You are everything, Kate. Everything.”

“I love you,” She says, because that is all there is to say. She loved him, and he loved her, even when she acted slightly insane in their drawing room. That was all she needed. Anthony was all she needed.

She could do anything with Anthony by her side.

“I love you,” She whispered,

“Anthony,” She whispered a few minutes later, feeling a lot calmer. “I was jealous, you know.”

Anthony tried his best to not look too pleased, but he was slightly smug. “Jealousy is a difficult emotion to deal with.”

“Not all of us can shove people out of the way, you know.” If Anthony saw a man try to speak to Kate, he simply shoved them out of his way to his wife.

Anthony shrugged. “It is quite an effective method.”

“I did not like how she behaves around you,” Kate said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “When I saw her touching you and standing so close to you-I did not like how it made me feel.”

A panic stricken look flashes across his face.“Kate, I would never encourage it-”

“Sweetheart, I know,” She murmurs, cupping his cheeks in her hands as she kissed him softly. The thought had never crossed her mind and she immediately went to comfort him. “I know. I know you would never stray.”

She felt his sigh of relief. “You would kill me.”

“No I would not,” She lightly teased, pecking his lips. “That would be merciful. I would physically and mentally destroy you.”

“That will never happen,” Anthony murmured, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her eyes. “There will be no more joking about infidelity.”

Kate took a deep breath before she spoke again. “So you have noticed Eleanor flirting with you?”

Anthony cleared his throat, frowning slightly as his uncomfortableness set in. “I have noticed. She is not exactly subtle.”

“I would never have married her. She was a young girl with a crush, which I cannot fault her for. I am incredibly handsome.” Kate rolled her eyes at her husband’s cheeky smile. “However, she was never kind. These recent events have only re-confirmed that. I remember when I was seventeen, I had come home for Christmas. Her family had come to stay for a week. She was incredibly rude to our servants. She cared more about parties and appearances than family. She was so disinterested in my younger siblings to the point of being cruel. She was not the type of person I could marry.”

“Why would your mother want you to marry her?” Kate asked, resting her forehead against his.

“My mother was grieving.” Anthony shrugged his shoulders, running one of his hands soothingly down her back. “She thought she knew what was best for me. She has always chosen to see the parts of people she wanted to see. Not all the parts that were in front of her.”

“Well, I for one am very glad you did not marry her.” Teasing was always an effective way to snap Anthony out of one of his serious thoughts, and she was successful when he snorted.

“As am I.” His thumb was making small circles on her cheek.

“She insulted my choice of food for the ball.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow at his wife and stared at her. “What?”

“She called it simple English cuisine,” Kate said, still incredibly bitter. “Who in their right mind does not like scones and cucumber and chicken sandwiches?”

“Colin will be there and he will wolf them down, so there is no fear they will not be eaten.” Her brother in law was returning to England the day before their ball, conveniently missing most of the season much to his mother’s dismay.

“As someone who lives in your household, your menu choices have always been exceptional. I have also eaten many of those food choices, including off of you, and they were delicious.”

“Anthony!” She smacked his chest, laughing against his lips as he stole a kiss. He always knew how to make her feel better.

Anthony had always made her feel safe, she had trusted him even when she did not particularly like him. That stormy night in his library had changed everything. It was his nature that made people admire him and trust him. He took care of people. He had been misjudged by society, made out to be a cold hearted rake incapable of true affection.

It angered Kate beyond belief. Anthony had suffered more than most, losing his father and becoming the head of the family at such a young age. He had become a father to his siblings and a Viscount to his tenants and society. In a way, his life had begun and ended when his father died.

He was the first person she opened up to about her fear of storms and the reason she had been brave enough to face her fear.

He had become her anchor, and her his.

“Our ball is going to be wonderful, do you know why?” Anthony asked, grinning at his wife.

“Why?” She responded, smiling right back at him.

“Because it is ours,” He said simply. “It is celebrating one incredible year of marriage and many more to go.”

“Until forever.” Kate rested her forehead against his, feeling completely content.

Anthony nodded in agreement. “Forever it is.”

A week later, the Viscount and Viscountess' ball was a complete success.

The food was devoured.

Laugher could be heard all around the ballroom.

The Viscountess was praised for her efforts throughout the evening.

Lady Trent's absence was not missed.

Anthony had surprised Kate at the end of the evening with a show of fireworks.

It was perfect.

Kate and Anthony had their own private celebration that very night.

Edmund Bridgerton was born nine months later.

[leo-interactive-fiction]

Wait!! What about a mirror World scenerio where the ros meet their counterpart like alter E is a big bully or something and for more angst alter MC died to save the ros please ಥ‿ಥ

Haha, that’s an interesting ask! There might be some slight spoilers, so beware. I’ll just label them as Alt’X’ for each character’s mirror. Let’s see...

E: Though they bare a similar appearance, AltE carries a hollow glare over a blood-flecked face. Each step they take dispairs E, who bites back their sunken dismay. “What happened to you...?” AltE glowers, “Everything that didn’t happen to you. But I still have power, and I’ll use it to take back everything I lost.” “Our power wasn’t meant for that--” “My power is meant for whatever I need it for,” AltE interjects, readying their stance, “Kill me if you think you can. I’m not changing course otherwise.” “Wha-- No, I...I don’t want to kill anyone...” “Then you’ll die more pathetic than most.”

R: a figure dressed in a gold-lined suit passes their brimmed hat to their consigliere, causing R’s expression to sour. “Ran back to him, did you?” “A half-truth,” AltR crosses the threshold between them with a chilling levity, “The family isn’t something to disregard. Not when we all could benefit. Isn’t that what we wanted? A carefree life. Is the price of carrying along with a simple deceit really worth giving that up?” “I’ve heard that before.” “Our father did everything in his power to solidify our family’s stability,” AltR extends a manicured hand, “It’s not too late to return, you know. There’s plenty of uses for people like us, and no amount of comfort unavailable to you. Our father can assure to that.” R turns away the hand, “Your father, perhaps. I think I’ll take chances down my own road.” “I’ve yet to hear a truer misfortune. Your abilities were a keen reason to extend my hand, which makes this an unfortunate loss,” AltR turns away, waving to their partner, “Plan B. Get rid of the outliers.”

L: AltL approaches with a familiar Hospian blade in hand, its polished surface casting light into L’s eyes with a deadly sheen. “So you’ve chosen violence...” “I’ve chosen Victory,” AltL stabs their sword into the ground, raising their fingers to the laurel pin in their hair, “The wisest method of achieving peace is through that selfsame method. To conquer is to unify. This is the future I foresee, and the one I aim to bring about.” “I only see the destruction and pain you’ll bring.” “Then you’re short-sighted. Every fire begets flowers in the spring. The rubble I create will bear materials to rebuild for a better tomorrow.” “Any future built upon the sacrifices and anguish of the innocent, even in the name of a greater good, is one I can not abide by!” AltL reclaims their arms, “Abide in your grave! I see only one path before me, and you stand before it!”

V: V aims their pistol at the slender figure before them, a hesitance resting on their trigger figure as AltV stares at them with an expression of heavy grief, “They’ve done so much to you.” V steadies their hand, “Who are you? A spy? Why are you...” “Don’t you recognize yourself?” “You’re different.” “I never ventured over that hill.” V freezes, losing their hold on Silvy and allow the firearm to clatter unceremoniously to the ground. AltV takes a tentative step closer, a hopefulness in their tone, “I can give you a second chance! Don’t you want to see them again?” “Them...?” “You know...the Nomads. Our--” “No, no!” V covers their ears with an agonizing cry, “Get them out of my head! I don’t want to see it again! It’ll happen again!” AltV watches on in grim sorrow, “They’ve done so much to you...”

P: P’s eyes narrow on the golden wreathed spear their doppelganger carries, their tone very nearly spitting acid. “Seeing myself wield that so easily pisses me off...” “And seeing you still wallowing in your weakness makes me sick. I guess they never taught maturity in this world.” “Shut the hell up before I fucking pike you with that damn spear.” “Is creating a string of expletives the height of your vocabulary?” “You must not’ve gotten a good ass-kicking when you were younger if you turned into such a pompous little shit.” The two of them huff, their words crossing over each other simultaneously: “At least I’m not as insufferable as you.”

M: M’s brow raises at the anguished look their alterego gives them past their glasses, their own eyes gazing over the neatly tied hair and manicured outfit until the alter ego speaks up. “You look like an absolute mess! I don’t know how I feel seeing my own body in such an awful condition.” “I don’t...wear glasses...” “What? I’m...” AltM touches their glasses with a puzzled look, “...You know we’re far-sighted, right?” “I can...see fine...I think...” AltM comes close and holds their hand up in front of M’s face, “How many fingers am I holding up?” “...Four...” “It’s one finger.” “That’s...okay...” AltM gives a scrutinizing look, “Are you an idiot?” M gives a light laugh. “How many fingers...am I holding...?” They ask before sending a solid punch into their doppelganger's face. Wiping off the small patch of blood welling on their knuckle, they hum over the unconscious body, “You had glasses...so...I’m a little...surprised...you couldn’t see that...”

Ra: Raven paces around their alter-ego with a darkened glower. Mirroring them, AltRa backpedals with a fretting look. “Are...you okay?” “Look at you,” Raven seethes venomously, “Still being raised on lies, or maybe they’re now truths to you. By that witch.” “I was glad to have been raised by--” “Don’t!” Raven nearly pounces on them, shutting down their vocalization with their own vehement protest, “Don’t you dare say that name!” “What happened between you...?” “Nothing!” “Ka--” “No!” Raven looms over their cowering alter, their fingers tightening around the grip of their knife, “I’m -- We’re -- Raven, and...we’re going to have an...eventful discussion...”

S: S gives a hard look to the figure before them, adorned in a racing jacket emblazoned with a cogwheel symbol etched in gold. S reacts with a voice of clear animosity. “Well, would’ya look at that. Rightfully sponsored, and by Gear no less.” “Ya gunna get on me for makin’ good on an opportunity? Were ya plannin’ on livin’ in that hovel scrapyard forever?” “That’s home to me! That’s where all our family is!” “Our family was better relocated.” “What?” S’s shock gives way to a rising fury, “Ya sold out the yard?! That was...Everything. Ma an’ Pa gave everything to that place!” AltS’s brow creases into a stony countenance, “An’ it wasn’t workin’ out. Family ain’t just gunna pop our dinner into existence.” “Shut the hell up ya damn sellout. I’d rather starve.” “Guess this world ain’t one for common sense,” AltS mutters, taking off their jacket, “Ah well. Let’s get this over with, yeah?”

F: They cross their arms upon coming face to face with AltF, glancing over their baggy street clothes and unkempt hair with a displeasure at their mouth. They easily recognize the bow hanging over their shoulder. “You’ve come to the wrong place for sport, I’m afraid. Your hunt has ended before its begun.” AltF shakes their head, “I’m here for you. To appease you, as ruler of my own world.” “A ruler who would wrap themselves in pauper’s wear. A testement to the sorry condition of your nation, brought upon by weak ruler. But I will be different.” “You misrepreset me. We have relinquished much of our material wealth, but those still yet present hold spirit beyond their means. But such rulership that you anticipate will alienate our proud people--” “I’ll not have you lecturing me upon the finer points of my actions,” F snaps coldly, “Ruling is my birthright! In the progress of my livelihood have I carried the expectation of my duties, and I will spend the rest of it in assurance that I fulfill them, even should it come at a cost to the rest of the world. My duty is to Frenza foremost.” “I see now that it may be unwise to continue a discourse. You’ve blinded yourself to your place in the world, content to your familiarity.” “You think yourself more righteous than your station, Husk. Morality holds little place here,” F releases a self-satisfied smile, “Should my people call for injustices and bay for blood, who am I to refuse their pleas?”

Thank ya for the ask, it was fun to write though it took some time to come up with stuff haha. I hope ya enjoy

[nitewrighter]

55. Meihem if you please

55. True Love’s Kiss

I love writing earnest dialogue for these two. It’s such a fun challenge.

----

They sat next to each other, Junkrat in an almost child-like cross-legged position, and Mei hugging one knee close to herself, watching as the factory burned in the distance.

“Snow Pea?”

“Mm?”

“You aren’t... mad at me, are you?”

“Um,” Mei adjusted her glasses slightly, “I’m... still processing.”

“I really didn’t mean to blow it up--” Junkrat started and Mei gave him an incredulous look, “I’m serious!”

“Jamison...” Mei started, trailing off.

“I know the mission was just to shut it down! And I tried! believe me, I did! Things just...” his voice dropped a little, “Escalated.”

Mei heard the creak of his prosthetic knuckles tightening with his grip on his ankle as he stared at the flaming factory. 

“You really mean it, don’t you?” she said, quietly.

“‘Course I mean it,” Junkrat said quietly, “...I’m starting to get the feeling people only put me on missions because they need something obliterated.”

“It,” Mei chuckled, “Is sort of your thing.”

“Well yeah but... Jamison Fawkes is more than a one-trick pony, you believe that, right Frostee-Freez?”

“You have--er-- many admirable qualities!” Mei offered, not really sure what to say.

“Like what?” Junkrat said quietly.

Mei hesitated for a few seconds.

“I--I’m not asking you to butter me up or anything! I just---I really did try, this time,” Junkrat glanced off, rubbing the back of his neck, “Tried to be... an Overwatch agent, y’know? Like toaster-face grandpa or Death-From-Above, or the perky arsed can-opener.”

“Jack, Pharah, and Genji?” Mei quirked an eyebrow.

“Right! Them!” said Junkrat, “Everyone takes them all serious, but me...?” he trailed off a little, “I mean, I don’t blame them--things... get foggy for me, and they speed up and they slow down and then by the time I can make sense of anything, at least three things are on fire.” He huffed, “So... I guess they’re right to just... see me as shit-hitting-the-fan blow-it-all-to-hell guy but...it still... I mean I watch you and how much you care and it makes me want to...” he scoffed and shook his head, “You don’t need this. Just forget I said anyth--”

“You’re brilliant,” the words bubbled up out of Mei and Junkrat looked at her with genuine shock and incomprehension for a few seconds before Mei swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes. “You see things no one else sees, you--you take things in and you spin them around and you spit them out in a way that can turn any situation around--and when.. when nothing makes sense, when everything’s falling apart, the one person who seems to be able to push through it is you. You can just... “ she made a pressing together motion with her hands, her fingers crooked and clawing, “Condense everything and barrel forward.”

“Well.. yeah but... that’s all just instinct,” said Junkrat, looking back at the factory fire, “Like, any of the... agents who actually had their shit together in my situation... they’d do better shit! They’d like... create clean water with like... the-the hyperpornics!”

“Hydroponics.”

“Yeah, that! Y’know, something! They’re all that Overwatchy ‘better world’ shit.”

“But you know the world at its worst,” said Mei, “You grew up in the world at its worst. And you know how to survive it.”

“Well obviously,” said Junkrat, “We wouldn’t be talking, otherwise.”

Mei gave a short snort.

“But y’know you...” Junkrat looked at her and then trailed off, “You survived too. Except it wasn’t people blowing themselves to shit like with me... it was people being forgotten.... everything ending in the cold and the nothingness because people didn’t give a shit. And... and you pulled out. You built things and you pulled out! And... I want that. I want to be like that. The idea of being more than a scorch mark on this world--that--that I lived, and I struggled, and I tried, and I gave a shit.” He huffed. “That’s what terrifies me about you, Snowpuff! I didn’t give a shit about so much shit! And now I give so many shits about different shits and it drives me crazier than I was before!” his arm flung out in the direction of the burning factory, “Do you know how many chemical particulates that fire is throwing up into the air right now!? Do you know how many penguins that shit is probably killing!? I’m asking because I don’t, but I assume it’s at least several!”

“You... you read that paper I sent around about the aerial chemical particulates?” Mei said quietly.

“‘Course I did! I mean, I had to read like... five other stupid things to understand it, and I needed a dictionary for a bunch of stuff, and I fell asleep three times--But look, you’re not listening. The penguins--”

Mei tackled him in a kiss. She wasn’t sure if it was the shock of the gesture that made Junkrat more or less go limp or her own enthusiasm that made him smack against the ground with her force, but she didn’t care. 

“Mm--!” his lanky leg and peg leg scrambled against the ground as she caught herself and broke away, inches from his face, her breath huffing against his mouth. He propped himself up on the elbow of his prosthetic arm, her weight still bearing on him, but he didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were staring at her, staring into her, searching, and at the same time there was a heartbreaking confusion in his expression.

“Uh...inhale too much smoke, there?” Junkrat said, a little dazed. 

“M-maybe,” Mei said. She nearly moved to get off of him, but paused as she felt his organic hand tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“...I... have also inhaled a lot of smoke,” Junkrat said slowly, “Probably.”

“...probably,” said Mei before letting herself collapse onto him, his head jerked up to meet her, his lips closing on hers and his body flinching tight in an embrace around her. Tight, and loving, and terrified and sweet. The white-knuckled instinct and affection of survivors who had just found supplies caches and would be damned before they let them go.

 And all the while the factory burned in the distance.

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

Arnav, Khushi: Choti Si Duniya

#3 Old Habits

On most days Arnav and Khushi were happily married, with ample amount of laughter, space, sex, healthy banter, mild arguments, partnership and friendship filling their days.

On some days they just took the breath away from the other by simply existing, thrumming in the evergreen Rabba Ve. And on other days they were quiet, with one of their past demons returning to haunt them while the other supported the best they could.

And on the rarest days their arguments would take an ugly turn. It wasn’t a difference of thought, but rather crossing an invisible line of trust. Old habits, which despite maturity and therapy, flared up.

Unfortunately, Arnav crossed it far more than Khushi did.

“You’re forgetting she’s my sister Khushi Kumari Gupta! How could you not tell me she’s dating my manager.”

“She is also my sister Arnav, and Di told me not to tell you-”

“I don’t fucking care-”

“-that’s exactly why she told me not to tell you. And Aman ji is a good man for Di.”

“I don’t care, you still don't know Aman.”

“I’ve known him for six years! And for your kind information, I am a good judge of character Arnav-”

“-no you're not. If you were a good judge then things would've been different.”

“What do you mean by that.”

“Forget it.”

“Don’t forget that with this judgement I chose to marry you.”

“Oh really? With this judgement you brought fucking Shyam back to the house. I told you it was a big mistake but no - you thought he had changed.”

Khushi stormed into their bedroom, packing her clothes for a week. How dare he accuse her for not understanding Shyam! Yes, she had made a colossal mistake regarding him, but bringing it up after five years?

Just because he couldn't handle Di having a boyfriend?

Khushi breathed hard, fought her tears and zipped up her suitcase.

“Khushi, I’m sorry.” Arnav panted, having run up the stairs. His panic grew at the suitcase.

“Then why did you bring that up.”

“I was angry, I didn’t... you know how I am regarding Di.”

“I do Arnav, but that does not excuse you bringing up that up. I would've never brought him to the house if I knew he killed Di’s child.”

“Of course, I know that. It’s just... I shouldn't know about Aman and Di after they’ve started dating.”

Khushi sighed. She understood his overprotectiveness, especially after the Shyam fiasco they were all at edge towards Anjali. Frankly if it had not been for Aman, Khushi would’ve confided in Arnav.

“I get it, but I’m leaving for Bua ji’s for a week... if I didn’t know you, I would've never forgiven you for what you said.”

“Khushi you know I didn’t mean it.”

“And you know that anything related to that man is... has never been my fault.”

“I know Khushi but don’t go.” He held her hand.

“Arnav, I’m not in the state to forgive you for what you said. I want to calm down, take a little break and talk to you about this. So first, go and talk to your sister and please let me go.”

Arnav’s temper ticked. He hated Khushi leaving home. Leaving him.

“Running away from things don’t fix anything.”

“I’m not running away Arnav, I need space.”

“I said I’m sorry.” He yelled.

“And that is not enough!” She matched his pitch, grabbed her suitcase and headed for the door. Except he shut the door on her face and pulled her away.

“You can’t leave,” He warned. Khushi snatched her hand away from his.

“Or else?” She challenged.

“You know what I’m capable of,” His mouth hardened into its cruel, familiar straight line. And Khushi’s heart broke, again.

“Every single fucking time,” Khushi swore and threw her bag to the floor, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. Arnav faltered, his grip on the door loosening.

“Khushi main-” Khushi stopped him and stepped away.

“Enough Arnav. Main kya? You didn’t mean what you said? Didn’t mean to hold my hand hard enough to hurt? Didn’t mean to bring up the past? Didn’t mean to break my heart?” Khushi folded her arms, analyzing his face.

“But it still hurts. And you do nothing to fix it. I wonder, where does this come from?”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” He said.

“I didn’t leave you when things were worse, when you couldn't stand being in the same room as me-” And despite the years, the memories filled Arnav with guilt and Khushi with pain. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” His voice had lost its strength, “I wish I could change-”

“Hume uss baat se koi farak nahi padta. I have never asked you for an explanation or your regret. I’ve left these behind. But you haven't. Your habits haven't.” Khushi wiped her tears, struggling to keep her composure.

“You know, let’s talk about this. Because I’ve heard all of this before and we never really addressed how you broke my heart. And the fact that you can say all this despite all the therapy we've been to...”

Arnav sank into the green chaise, head in his hands. Khushi, always having the bigger heart, kneeled by him and grabbed his face. He was crying. Her heart truly broke.

“Talk to me Arnav. Why do you say these things? It’s been so long, and trust me when you shut the door and grab me I still get scared, it still breaks my heart despite everything. It will never be okay-”

Arnav held her hand, whispering his sorries to her.

“And what do you mean by ‘my sister’. Don’t you know how long it took me to make this family my own. Arnav, my world changed overnight. You know this. Tumhara, mera... you make me feel like this is not mine. That this house, this-”

“No Khushi, everything is yours. Yeh ghar, Di, main-” He choked.

“Then why do you work so hard to push me away? I know you're concerned for Di, even I was first worried when I learned she liked Aman ji. But she's happy with him.” Khushi said.

“I can’t... Di was happy with Shyam. I can't see her go through pain again, when I know that I could've prevented it.” Arnav confessed.

“Arnav, things would've hurt irrespective of everything we did. Or maybe because of it. The problem was not that we couldn't protect her, it’s that we took away her choice. Our decision to tell her the truth depended on it our convenience to lie about him.” Arnav agreed.

“And Aman ji is different. You know him for twelve years and if he turns out terrible despite that, then we’ll support Di the best we can and murder him.” Khushi cracked a smile and Arnav chuckled.

“I’m sorry Khushi,” He said, wiping her tear away.

“You should be. I mean, yes, I should've known better about trusting a man who didn't hesitate to kidnap you-” Arnav tsked at her.

“You were barely in your twenties. I shouldn't have brought that up.” He huffed.

“But you did.” She smiled sadly. Arnav stopped himself from saying 'I didn't mean to'. If he didn't, he shouldn't have. So he attempted at pouring his heart, saying things he meant.

He often resorted to pulling people’s mistakes when they made a decision without his input to prove they can't always make the right choice.

“Because I believe I’m the only one who can take the right decisions for everyone...” Arnav scoffed at the irony of his sentence. There were times when he had succeeded but despite his best efforts he did hurt Khushi where it hurt most.

"I always think it’s right to use any means to stop you from leaving me, especially after a fight. Cause I think I’ll fix everything later, as long as you're in front of me.” He confessed.

“Except it fixes nothing. It just... Arnav I feel like I have to cut a part of myself to be with you after such things because I love you, I love you so much that I can’t bear to not love you. Aur aise harkatein ke baad... it gets difficult to love you.” Khushi began to cry.

“It kills me to not be able to love you.” Arnav kissed her forehead, holding her tight in his arms. Her sobs racked against his chest, breaking his heart to two.

“Khushi please don’t... how can I fix this? I feel like any sorry isn't enough.”

“Let’s talk. Like this, always.” Khushi sniffled. Arnav nodded, pressing another kiss to the top of her head.

“And... if I want to leave,” Arnav’s grip tightened, “know that I’m always coming back. Except I just need space to process things.” Khushi broke the hug, and caressed his cheek.

“Ok, I’ll tell Mohan to drive you to Bua ji’s. I won't- can’t, you know I won't be able to leave you there.” Arnav smiled, holding her hand against his cheek.

“I’ll talk to Di about everything and we’ll work on this.” He pointed to themselves. Everything was worth a shot.

“And I will never keep anything from you.” She promised, acknowledging her own mistake.

“Ab jao, otherwise I won’t let you go.” Arnav turned away, dismissing her. Khushi pressed the most loving, forgiving kiss against his cheek and left for Bua ji’s.

---

Aman and Anjali watched Khushi leave for Bua ji’s. She had and bid everyone goodbye - Aarav choosing to stay home, afraid of the cheek pulling at Lakshminagar. But promised to FaceTime his mum at every single minute.

Arnav, had not come down to see her off. Anjali was worried sick. Aman tried to placate her.

“Aman, you have no idea the problems Chote and Khushi faced because of my first marriage. I did not... I always ruin everything. My blind faith nearly destroyed my brother’s happiness and yet again-” Aman placed his finger against Anjali’s lips, shushing her effectively.

“No Anjali. You are not responsible for ASR and Khushi bhabhi’s lives. Your faith in your husband was admirable. If the narrative was different, you would've been lauded for your trust in him. Unfortunately that wasn't the case.” Anjali didn’t agree. Aman grabbed her shoulders and pulled her close.

“Anjali, look at me. Take deep breaths. Ab, listen. Yes, you affect ASR’s life - why wouldn't you, he's your brother, your support, your heart. But whatever happens in his life is a result of his actions. Same applies for Khushi bhabhi. Yes, they might have fought regarding us, but not because of it.”

“But Aman-”

“No buts, if we were to break up - because, of course, ASR affects your life too - would you hate ASR?” This time Anjali grabbed Aman’s shoulders in response to his questions.

“I would never hate my brother Aman Mathur. And no matter how much I love him, I would speak to him but not give up on you like that.” If they were not in  Shantivan, Aman would’ve kissed her senseless on the spot.

“It’s taken me a lot to fall in love, and I’m not going to change that-”

“Then that resolves everything Di.” Aman and Anjali jumped apart on finding Arnav leaning against a wall, a soft smile playing on his lips. These few minutes said a lot about Aman and Anjali’s relationship that he wouldn’t have been able to have assessed without a calm mind.

“Chote.” Anjali nearly ran into her brother’s arms. Arnav hugged her tight, happy and relieved at the same time.

“It’s ok Di. First of all, as Aman said, you’re not responsible for anything. Everything will be fine between Khushi and me. And next time, you can tell your brother everything, I wouldn’t sack Aman for being your boyfriend... even if I’m tempted to.” Anjali pushed him against his shoulder and the siblings grinned.

“Thank you Chote. This means the world to me.” Aman smiled affectionately at the duo.

“There’s nothing to thank me. It is your life. But if Aman hurts you-”

“-then feel free to do anything with him.” Anjali quipped.

“Precisely. Even Khushi is on board with murder.”

“Do you both realize I am here.” Aman cleared his throat.

“Yeah, that saves me the time to separately give the shovel talk. You are truly efficient Aman.” Anjali laughed and headed towards Aman, who was more than happy to receive the threats.

He was officially welcomed to the Raizada's.

---

Madhumati and Garima had long learned what interference could cost in both, Khushi and Payal’s lives. With Shashi’s recovery they realized that if they had let both the daughters take decisions they saw fit, a lot of misunderstandings would've been avoided.

So when Khushi arrived with her bag and a call came from Payal apprising the Guptas of the situation at home, the Guptas needed no answers from Khushi nor were in a hurry to send her to Shantivan.

For this home would always remain as Khushi’s.

Madhumati didn’t prod about the untouched jalebis (although she did have a good mind to use her belan on her beloved damaad), Garima busied herself with her hour long chats with her grandson on the phone and Shashi gave Khushi the space to talk.

Time definitely allowed healing and perspective.

---

It was one of those days when Arnav was restless. Neither tending his plants nor working gave him relief. Perhaps it was because there were three more days for Khushi to come home?

He paced across every square inch of his mansion - the Prakashes and Raizada's knowing well to steer clear from Pacing Singh Raizada.

“Wassup Nannav? Missing Khushi bhabhi? You want me to send her a message? I’m heading there to grab some samosas.” NK grinned, as if he hadn't seen his cousin pining for Khushi in the past four days.

“Nothing.” Arnav gritted. He knew therapy was working. If not, NK would’ve been six feet under. And maybe Lavanya would’ve murdered him for it, but that was a small price to pay.

“Everything’s alright Chote?” Anjali stepped in, slapping NK behind his head.

“Yes Di, I ju-” Arnav stopped. The air sweetened, goosebumps broke and a sudden wind hit him. Oh, it was one of those days.

“Chote-”

“Nannav,”

Arnav ignored them and walked towards the door, nearly running by the end of it.

There was Khushi, in a red salwar kameez, house keys in hand.

They looked at each other as a strong breeze washed over them. A few strands of her hair flew and she softly smiled, before her chin wobbled and a sheen of tears betrayed her joy of coming home.

Oh, the one to cry at the drop of a hat!

Khushi ran up the few steps and nearly jumped into his arms as he engulfed her in his embrace. They remained in the intimate hug, sharing a few discreet kisses and whispered promises, oblivious to the audience.

“Di, how does Nannav always know when Khushi ji’s home?” NK asked.

“Old habits NK bhai, puraani aadatein.” Anjali smiled.

---

A/N: This was the longest CSD one shot! Here's your slice of angst but happily ever after - just let's say I was in one of those moods.

Choti Si Duniya is going to be a series of one shots of Arnav & Khushi’s life post the end of the show. These are going to be snippets inspired by certain gifs. I hope you liked it - do share your views!