#marybolkonskys

[nurseanddex]

oooh man I'd like to see you write a fic of dex's move into the basement but from Nursey's pov - how it got to that breaking point and how nursey dealt with dex leaving maybe 👀

- @deniceford

“I think I maybe fucked up this time,” Nursey said, flinching as the sound of a slamming door echoed through the Haus.

“What did you do?” Chowder asked, leveling him with a suspicious glare.

“You know how Dex built that little house thing around his bunk?”

“His Fortress of Solitude? I’m well aware,” Chowder said, pointedly.

“He just finished it, right? So I went in to check it out. But typical Poindexter, dude freaked out and just ran down to the basement, screaming about moving into the darkness,” Nursey shrugged. He still couldn’t believe how tightly wound Dex was, that something so little had set him off.

“Derek Nurse,” Chowder growled, “He built literal walls around himself because he needed his own space, and your immediate response was to invade them?”

“I didn’t think it would be such a big deal! He’s way overreacting.”

“You’ve been pushing his buttons for months and you think him finally breaking is an overreaction?”

“That was just messing with him, he needs to learn to chill,” Nursey said defensively.

“That may have been how you saw it, but it wasn’t how he did. He told me you’ve been trying to drive him out of the room since the day he moved in, and the Fortress of Solitude was his attempt to compromise.”

“Wait, he thought I was trying to drive him out?”

“We all did, Nursey. It didn’t exactly seem subtle.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, Nursey felt cold. He hadn’t really put much thought into how Dex had been feeling this whole time. It just had been fun to mess with him, and god, did he make it so easy. But hearing it from Chowder, he was seeing it all from a new perspective. Now, Dex’s retreat to the basement didn’t seem quite so much an overreaction.

“Shit, I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“I say this with love, but yes, you did. Kinda big time,” Chowder replied, giving him a soft smile.

“I need to go apologize.” Nursey turned to leave, intending to go find Dex and say sorry for his dickish behavior since his injury.

“Wait,” Chowder said, causing him to stop short. “Give him time to cool off. He has made it quite clear that he wants space right now, so the best start to an apology would be to honor that.” Nursey nodded in agreement, and retreated back into his room. It seemed so empty without Dex there, he realized. He’d grown used to sharing the space with him, in spite of the bickering and near constant disagreements. He was startled at the thought that he was going to miss him.

“I hope it’s not too late to apologize,” he sighed.

[hashtagdex]

nurseydex and 25? <3

thank you jo!! <33

--

Number 25 is Halloween by Phoebe Bridgers

Always surprised by what I do for love

Some things I never expect

The thing is, loving Nursey creeps up on Dex.

One moment he’s moving into the basement and the next he’s lying awake in bed, unable to sleep without Nursey softly snoring above him.

And then, suddenly, Nursey’s in everything he does and everywhere he goes. Or maybe Dex just didn’t dare to notice before.

On a trip to Samwell’s on-campus bookstore, the first thing Dex spots is the poetry collection Nursey’s been reading to him a lot when they’re hanging out together. Dex keeps grumbling about it, but he finds himself missing Nursey’s smooth voice curling around the words when he leaves the book in his shelf.

Every Thursday he picks up a coffee at Annie’s after class and orders Nursey’s overly sweet iced coffee right along with his black one, and picks Nursey up from his lecture hall. The smile Nursey gives him in return is more than worth the detour to the English building.

Dex often finds himself in the kitchen baking Nursey’s favorite cookies or muffins or pie without really meaning to. Chowder has tried to fine him for it—or possibly the incriminating expression on his face as he was stressing to get the lattice perfect—until Dex shoved a couple muffins he’d made before that his way to take to Farmer.

Right now he’s kneeling on Nursey’s floor with his toolbox open on his left and a stack of Nursey’s books on his right to replace the lowest board of Nursey’s bookshelf while Nursey’s safely in class.

Or at least he was supposed to be in class.

“Oh, Dex, hey,” Nursey greets, surprised, as he stands in the doorway with half of one of the cookies Dex made earlier—chocolate chip, Nursey’s favorite on stressful days—in the hand that isn’t holding the doorknob. “What are you doing here?”

There’s nothing Dex can say, really. It’s not what it looks like? He’s literally on the floor with a wooden board in his hand. “You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” he settles on instead, and kind of wants to kick himself.

“Class got out early,” Nursey explains after he finishes the rest of the cookie and steps into the room, closing the door behind him. “Are you… are you fixing my shelf?”

“Um.” Dex sets the board down and gets up. “Yeah,” he admits, dusting off his hands on his jeans.

Nursey shrugs his backpack off next to his bed and regards Dex. It’s not judgment, hasn’t been in years, but Dex feels his face flush anyway. “Why?” Nursey finally asks. It sounds vulnerable somehow.

“You, uh, you mentioned it broke at team breakfast yesterday,” Dex admits.

Nursey takes a step closer. “And the cookies downstairs?”

Dex swallows. “You had a critique that was stressing you out for the past week, so I figured I’d just make some.”

“The coffees? The rhubarb pies?” Nursey asks in a quiet, careful voice.

Dex takes a deep breath. There’s no going back now. “I like making you happy. I like making you smile. I want to do things for you more than I ever have for anyone I’ve liked before.”

Nursey gapes at him, and for a moment, Dex’s blood freezes. He’s about to lean down and gather his tools, so he can hurry past Nursey and hide in his room until graduation or at least their next practice, but then Nursey’s face eases into one of the softest smiles Dex has ever seen on him.

“You like me?” Nursey asks, sounding equal parts giddy and incredulous.

“Yeah,” Dex confirms quietly. “Against all odds, I like you.”

He hardly has time to comprehend that Nursey’s moving before his face is in Nursey’s hands. “I can’t believe you’ve been courting me with baked goods. Who are you? Bitty?” Nursey laughs, breathy, and Dex’s heart betrays him and skips a beat, like he’s in some dumb romance novel.

“Fuck you,” Dex manages to get out before he’s grinning too. “I wasn’t courting you.”

“No?”

“Well,” Dex starts, his eyes drift down to Nursey’s lips for a second, “maybe a little.”

Nursey’s laugh echoes through the room, maybe the Haus, maybe the universe. “Can I kiss you?”

“What about your shelf?” Dex asks, but he rests his hands on Nursey’s waist instead of pulling away.

“Later,” Nursey decides and leans in.

Loving Nursey may have crept up on and surprised him, but now it’s in every fiber of his being and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

[stanthefrogs]

2. "Stay here tonight.” or 46. "Dance with me?" W/nurseydex for the prompt thing? 👀

ajdklsfjkslfd you sent this like,,,, 2 months ago. but i finally got round to it! i hope you like it, jo!

-

The Haus sits quiet, empty save for two, and Dex breezes through like a ripple on water. He takes the stairs two at a time, creaking beneath his heavy, rushed steps. Not that he cares. He couldn’t slow down if he tried, almost buzzing with the anticipation of what, or who, waits for him.

He couldn’t name it, label it, box it if he tried. So he doesn’t. And instead, cherishes what he can of it.

He reaches the landing where moonlight spills in from the window like a silver river and follows it upstream to the window, where he climbs through, and into another world.

TIme runs a little slower, the moon shines a little brighter, the air tastes a little crisper, and when Nursey turns to smile at him, unrestrained and wide and shy, his breath catches in his chest and settles there. And he thinks, maybe, if he exhales, he’ll give himself away and Nursey will look at him with poorly faked surprise like he hasn’t known all along that Dex is in love with him.

“Dex,” Nursey says, his voice rough from silence and a something else that swells in Dex’s chest. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Dex huffs out a laugh. It’s supposed to be a chirp, but the smile is too big, too obvious for it to be anything but affectionate. “It’s not like your text was super clear.”

Nursey cocks his head, his lips curling. “And yet. Here you are.”

“Here I am,” Dex says softly. He moves to sit beside him and knocks their shoulders together. “Hey.”

Nursey grins. “Hey.” He shuffles in his spot until they’re pressed together, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, and they lapse into silence. It’s familiar. This. Sitting on the roof under the orange glow of a light-polluted sky, minds foggy with the need to sleep and drunk on the unspoken that hangs in the air. Coexisting.

“Did you know,” Nursey starts, his eyes bright and unfocused, “that of the billions of stars in the observable universe, we can only see a few thousand of them with the naked eye?” He tilts his head up to look out at the skyline, where the city meets the night and Dex follows his gaze to watch the sea of rooftops glow with streetlights. 

He hums, leaning back. “I thought there’d be more.”

“Yeah, so did I,” Nursey admits quietly. He falls back against the roof and gestures to the sky. “But here we can barely see a dozen. And with the clouds it’s even worse.”

His smile twists into something wistful, and Dex aches. He wishes he could reach up and wipe it off his face, with a kiss or a brush of his thumb, he doesn’t know, but they’re not there yet. Not quite. 

Nursey sighs sadly, but his face softens and he turns to look at Dex. “Hey, Dex.”

“Hm?”

“Stay here tonight.” And he says it more earnestly than Dex can handle.

A smile creeps onto his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Nursey nods, his face stuck in a half-grin. “You’ve still got a bed. And if you get cold we could always spoon.”

“You’d spoon me, bro?”

“Hell yeah, I’d spoon you, bro. And you? Would you spoon me?”

Dex laughs quietly. “Yeah.” And it’s far too fond to be anything but sincere.

“Good. I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Nursey murmurs. And Dex wonders. Tries to remember how they got here. To this something between friendship and romance, this quiet  honesty that makes him as brave as it does vulnerable and leaves him feeling giddy and anchored all at once.

He turns his gaze to the moon, the clouds and the stars behind them and clears his throat. Lets his voice carry. “One day, I’ll take you to Maine in the summer. And when the ocean is calm enough and the stars are clear we’ll sail out on a boat and I’ll show you a real night sky. Milky Way and all, and you can map new constellations and name them after anything you want.”

Nursey’s breath hitches and Dex knows he’s just as in love as him. “I’d like that,” he whispers, and his smile shines brighter than the sun.

In another universe, or another day, a braver Dex would say, “It’s a date.” But today, in this universe, he smiles. And it’s enough.

[lesdemonium]

2 or 14 for geraskier? <3

thank you!!!

2. with relief 14. on a bruise

“Geralt! Geralt! Oh, thank the Gods.”

Jaskier weaved his way through the crowd, shoving and stomping all the while, and earning himself dirty looks. Jaskier didn’t care, though. He seemed to only have eyes for Geralt, which had Geralt growing embarrassed under the attention. Jaskier’s eyes were wild, and only tempered once he was before Geralt, his hands cradling Geralt’s face. Lithe fingers smoothed over Geralt’s jawline, his cheekbones, his temple, and Geralt wasn’t sure if Jaskier was trying to search for wounds, or convince himself Geralt was real. The tremble of Jaskier’s fingers made it hard to tell.

The hunt had gone longer than expected. Surprisingly, it wasn’t because the villagers had given him misinformation, or because a beast got the jump on him. The fight simply hadn’t gone to plan. Kikimore’s were always a nasty, tricky fight, but they usually were easy enough to dispatch. This time, however, the fight hadn’t gone to plan. The beast had been outwardly aggressive and seemed desperate, judging by the ferocity with which it attacked Geralt, yet it kept retreating. Chasing the damn thing took most of Geralt’s time, but by the time he finally killed the creature, it had done a fair amount of damage to Geralt himself. He had been gone two days, rather than the estimated half day he had told Jaskier.

Jaskier’s relief was palpable. It was rare that Geralt could get him to stop playing in the middle of a performance, but apparently he had been scared. His lute hung to his side on its strap, all but forgotten, and the patrons around them seemed as if they didn’t know how to behave. Some looked disgusted--probably due to Jaskier embracing a witcher--and some looked dreamy, as if they were witnessing a great romantic reunion. Geralt supposed, he realized belatedly, they were right.

“Jaskier, I’m fine,” he assured the bard, feeling more and more fidgety under the attention. 

Jaskier nodded, then slid a hand around to the back of Geralt’s neck, pulling him in to press their foreheads together. Geralt mirrored the gesture and delighted in the sigh Jaskier rewarded him with.

Only to hiss a moment later as Jaskier pressed a hand into his abdomen, right into a bruise.

“‘I’m fine,’ he says,” Jaskier teased. “One day, you’re going to have to stop lying to me.”

“One day, you’re going to have to reevaluate your definition of lying.”

Jaskier’s fingers trailed lightly over the break in Geralt’s armor, just over the bruise. For a moment, they only stood there, breathing in the moment, before Jaskier pulled away.

“Come with me, my witcher. Let’s get you patched up.”

[omgdexnursey]

👀

hey jo!! this is from a nurseydex spy au where dex and nursey are cursed by a fortune teller so that if one dies the other also dies. (it’s a happy ending) also, my only reference for this is what i remember from the movie spy with melissa mccarthy

for context, nursey and dex are partners and they’ve been tracking the underground pie smuggling ring right up to its source (kent parson)

send me a 👀 and i’ll post part of a wip i never got around to finishing this year

[zimms]

olliewicky + reuniting after their first summer apart?

thank you so much for sending this jo! i’m sorry that it’s like five days later than i planned and i hope that you like it!

Wicky paces the room restlessly, looking at the empty bed opposite his own freshly-made one. He knows that it’s stupid to be so nervous about someone coming back from Summer Break, but that doesn’t deter his brain from spiralling as Ollie still isn’t here two hours after he said he would. He pulls up their DMs on his phone, hoping that some magical text might have appeared in the past thirty seconds, but naturally his hopes were quashed by his barren phone screen and Ollie’s last text which simply read “at hartford” a grand total of three hours ago, when Hartford definitely isn’t three hours away

He throws his phone onto the bed and forces a breath through his nostrils. C’mon, Wicky, you need to calm down, the little voice inside his head (which may sound ever so slightly like Ollie) urges him. He probably just got stuck in traffic or something.

Yeah, traffic is probably the problem. Yeah. 

He flops back onto his bed, heaving a sigh in the process. He just wants to see his boyfriend, is that too much to ask? 

(Yes, apparently it is.)

He lays there for approximately two seconds before he’s startled by the sound of the door handle moving. Who the fuck was trying to break into other people’s rooms on athlete move-in day?

He sits up warily, eyeing the door handle as the person on the other side struggles with it. 

“Wicky? Can you let me in please, babe?” 

Oh, that’s who the fuck was trying to break into a room on athlete move-in day: his own boyfriend. 

Wicky jumps to his feet and rushes to the door, swinging it open hard enough for it to hit the wall and rebound into him. Fuck.

Ollie grins at him, eyes twinkling at his display of clumsiness. “Hey, babe. Guess who’s finally here after queuing through all of Rhode Island?”

Wicky smiles back, eyes finding Ollie’s own before flicking down to see his boyfriend’s two suitcases. “Pass those here.” He grabs the two of them and moves them so that they’re sat next to Ollie’s bed. 

“You do realise that I can carry those myself, right?” His boyfriend laughs softly.

Wicky’s mouth unfurls into a smirk. “Maybe so, but it means that I can do this quicker.” 

He pulls his boyfriend in for a kiss, mouths slotting together like two puzzle pieces, in spite of the past two months that they’ve spent apart. Wicky smiles into the contact, finally feeling whole again after feeling so empty; Ollie truly is his complementary half. He deepens the kiss, drinking in as much of Ollie as he physically can before he has to come up for air. 

He pulls away, but Ollie keeps his hands planted on his hips. “I’ve missed you so much; you have no idea.” Wicky’s boyfriend whispers.

Wicky leans down to peck him on the lips. “I think I might be able to imagine.”

[fvckyouimaprophet]

“you’re the cutest waiter at my favorite restaurant” au for Coliver

okay, listen, i just like the idea of suave slightly older oliver and grad student connor, who’s been crushing for a while.

Connor hated Saturday night shifts at Le Petit Chalet. He was guaranteed to get yelled at for at least two things that were not his fault, and some of the richer regulars were horrible with tips, despite asking the maître d’ to seat them in his section.

After one particularly nasty exchange with someone who wanted all their food packed together and had chastised him for wasting plastic, Connor was edging towards the point of no return. He was beginning to feel the familiar heat creep up the back of his neck when Oliver walked into the restaurant.

Oliver Hampton was a regular at Le Petit Chalet. The fact that he was a generous tipper was hardly the nicest thing about him. Over the last year and a half as a waiter, they had developed a repertoire. Anytime Oliver was at the restaurant, Connor found himself lingering at the table long enough to push but not break the limits of what he could get away with. Oliver was easy to talk to, and Connor loved the way he smiled with his eyes.

“Connor, it’s been a while,” Oliver said as he sat down.

“You disappeared on me. I was beginning to worry that you’d moved,” Connor said, pouring the water into Oliver glass.

“Hardly. I had a work trip and then had to travel to go see family. I could hardly wait to get back and see you.”

The words lingered between them for a moment, and a smile spread across Connor’s face. “I missed you too,” he said.

“I don’t know if I’d stretch it that far,” Oliver said, but his tone was light and teasing.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Connor could see the family at the next table staring, and he could sense that the husband was about to raise his hand to grab his attention. He sighed. “Escargots à la Bourguignonne?” Connor asked. While he had more variation in his entrées, Oliver always got the same appetizer and a wine off of their special menu.

“Perfect. And a glass of the Alain Gras Saint-Romain. Thank you, Connor.” Oliver took a sip of his water, and Connor gave him one last wistful look before stepping over toward the other table. He was less than a foot away when the man stuck his hand up and waved. Connor grimaced.

The night went relatively uneventfully from then. Connor took any excuse he could to go back over, and, thankfully, Oliver seemed to be lingering. By the time he was asking for a check, the restaurant was largely empty.

“How has school been for you?’ Oliver asked as he took back his credit card and signed the check. “Last I checked, you were wrapping up the semester.”

“It’s wrapped up last month. I’d say I could use the break, but—” He motioned around him and shook his head. “Not much of a break. I’m taking up more shifts here over the summer.”

“Is there anything you want, Connor?” The question seemed so out of the blue, and Connor stood still, trying to gauge the expression on Oliver’s face, but it was inscrutable.

He shrugged. “I suppose not. Maybe a little more sleep. A little more time to go out and drink with friends or read.” There was more he wanted to say. Perhaps it was the delirium from the business of the last few days or something in Oliver’s eyes, but after a moment, he continued. “I’d like to go out with you.”

Oliver cocked his head. “When do you get off your shift.”

Connor looked down at himself. “I look like a disaster.”

“That’s not how I’d describe you,” Oliver said. The compliment caught him off-guard, and Connor bit the inside of his cheek before grinning.

“Fine. Midnight. But the only places open will be bars.”

“That’s fine by me.” Oliver stood up. “I’ll see you soon, then.” He placed a hand on Connor’s shoulder, and Connor felt himself leaning into the touch. But before he could properly do so, Oliver stepped off and left.

Connor sighed and grabbed the check, unable to choke back a nervous laugh. Oliver had left a 100% tip and beneath it scrawled his number with a note: “Just in case you need it.”

[birlcholtz]

1 & 8 for the end of year asks?

thanks jo!!

1. What’s your personal favorite thing you wrote this year?

hmmm i think and then what! it’s hard to believe that happened this year sjghsjflgh. but it was kinda my first foray into a writing style that i like a lot for romance and used again for the point of creation. also i really vibe with jack’s struggle to make eye contact

8. Which fic this year was the most fun to write?

omg DEFINITELY mac and cheese. it’s basically nursey and dex arguing with a love confession thrown in the middle, it’s also possibly the fastest fic i’ve EVER written it basically wrote itself jsglhjfgsdj

send me writer asks!

[strawberriedlover]

2, 15, 43, 57, and 100 for the Spotify wrapped asks 💛

i owe u my life jo

2: tangerine - glass animals

15: use me - pvris ft. 070 shake

43: st. percy - brockhampton

57: waterfalls coming out your mouth - glass animals

100: good man - the federal empire

spotify wrapped is HERE! send me a number 1-100 and I’ll tell you the song it corresponds with on my top 100 playlist

[nurseanddex]

quiet or warm for the fic ask thing? -@deniceford

“He snuck out from the billet house to go for a walk and somehow his wandering around the city led him to a tiny music store tucked on a quiet street corner.”

Send me an ask with a word and I’ll reply with a sentence from one of my WIPs that it appears in!

[hashtagdex]

6 and nurseydex? 💛

thank u jo this was so sweet to write!! <33

6: lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up

--

When Will wakes up, it’s way too fucking early.

He doesn’t even bother to open his eyes before he rolls over onto his other side and reaches out for Derek a couple inches away with his back to Will, still asleep and snoring softly. Derek doesn’t stir when Will wraps an arm around his waist underneath the covers, so Will pulls him flat against his chest and presses a kiss to Derek’s bare shoulder. He’ll never understand why Derek sleeps shirtless even in February, but he’s certainly not complaining.

Will leaves another soft kiss on Derek’s skin, a little to the left of the first one, and starts to run his thumb over Derek’s stomach. There are so many versions of Derek and Will loves them all in their own way, but this Derek, all soft and warm and loose, might be one of Will’s favorites. 

It takes two more kisses along his shoulder and one to the nape of his neck before Derek twitches. He stretches without dislodging or hitting Will—something he’s gotten better at over the past six years—and turns around in Will’s arms.

Will doesn’t need to open his eyes to find Derek’s lips for the kiss he greets him with, and Derek sighs into it. When he finally opens his eyes, Will finds Derek looking back and wearing the small, sleepy smile that never fails to make Will fall even deeper in love with him.

“Happy birthday,” Will rasps, tracing circles at the small of Derek’s back.

“Thank you,” Derek replies, then cups the side of Will’s face with one of his hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

When Derek pushes his hand to the back of Will’s head and gently pulls him in again, all Will can really do is melt into him. Their kisses are slow and lazy, and Will doesn’t even mind that they haven’t brushed their teeth yet.

“Your morning breath is terrible,” Will complains anyway when he finally convinces himself to stop kissing Derek long enough.

Derek chuckles, kicking lightly at Will’s shin. “Dick. You kissed me first.” It’s an argument they have at least once a week without fail and it ends the same way every time.

“Yeah,” Will admits easily and punctuates it with another quick peck to Derek’s lips.

Derek hums and starts to play with the buzzed part of Will’s hair. “So, what’s on today’s agenda?”

Will has been planning this day for a few months—your favorite person only turns twenty-eight once, and all that—and he’s somehow managed to avoid Derek’s curious snooping and evade his questions.

So far they’re right on schedule, though. Will will serve Derek brunch in bed sometime soon and while he’s distracted with the french toast, Will will dig out his gifts—one for his birthday and one for Valentine’s Day—from his drawers. Once he’s coaxed Derek out of bed and into warm enough clothes, they’ll take Blades—their five-year-old Labrador retriever, the best girl ever—for a long walk around town. By the time they return home, the sun will have started to set, so Will is going to make Derek’s favorite dish, crack open a bottle of wine, and see where the night goes from there.

That’s plan A anyway.

He’s got this figured out until, like, plan D, just in case.

“It’s a surprise,” Will finally says with a grin that Derek kisses off him in a second.

“What are we gonna start with?” Derek asks, tangling their legs together.

“How about this?” Will catches Derek in another kiss and pushes him onto his back without breaking it. When he’s settled on Derek’s hips, he pulls back and smiles down at him.

“Sounds great,” Derek agrees around a smile of his own as his hands come to rest on Will’s thighs.

Will leans back down and presses a kiss to each of Derek’s cheeks, one to his forehead that lands half on his skin and half on the silk scarf he wraps his hair with, one to his nose, and one to his chin. “I love you so much,” he whispers against Nursey’s lips right before he kisses them too.

[stanthefrogs]

oooh could you maybe write misc 11. "Is the cat in a onesie?” “Uh, no?" 💛

(prompts from this list)

thank you for the prompt, jo! this is short and sweet but i hope you like it 💛

-

Nursey’s so focused on his writing that he doesn’t notice the cat until she jumps onto his lap. 

“Hey, baby girl,” he says absent-mindedly, eyes glued to his screen. She meows in reply and he brings a hand up to scratch her ears. But instead of fur, his fingers brush over soft fabric. He looks down at her.

Betsy the Third, curled snugly in his lap and purring like a little tractor, is dressed in a cat-sized dinosaur onesie, complete with a little hood and fake spikes. It’s adorable, and at any other point in time Nursey would fawn over her, but right now he’s too busy trying to remember what reality he’s living in. 

“Dex?” he calls out, not looking away from little dinosaur Betsy.

“You called?” Dex says, poking his head through the doorway.

“Is the cat in a onesie?”

“No,” he replies. “She’s in costume.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Nursey asks, but Dex has already disappeared into the kitchen again, and Nursey is left staring at the cat.

She really is cute. He should send a picture to Chowder, he thinks. He looks up to find his phone and instead notices a glass of water and a plate of snacks by his laptop, which definitely weren’t there five minutes ago. But the sun was. Right?

Huh. He must’ve been writing for hours.

He yawns and stretches out his arms. Betsy meows in protest and he brings a hand back to her head. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss to her head and letting his face rest there. 

He thinks of Dex quietly putting a plate of food together for Nursey and setting it on the desk where he would see. And Dex gently coaxing Betsy into her little onesie, knowing exactly how Nursey would react. Or at least knowing it would startle him out of his hyperfocus.

“He really loves us, doesn’t he,” he whispers into Betsy’s fur. And when she meows, he smiles and kisses her little head again.

[lesdemonium]

58) things you were afraid to say

this isn’t even a drabble, and it’s technically not even the right wording for the prompt. so i am a failure but like... i hope you like it anyway. thank you SO MUCH!!!

send me a number & i’ll write you a geraskier drabble??

Jaskier had been too slow. Freaking human reflexes, they were absolutely no match for witcher-y reflexes. And yet, still, Jaskier sometimes thought that Geralt expected Jaskier to have the same sort of reflexes when it came to monster hunting.

He didn’t, though, and so while it was monumentally and indescribably painful to be almost gutted by a stray claw that had been just too fast for Jaskier, it wasn’t surprising.

Jaskier was pretty sure he should be more panicked, judging by the tense way Geralt was holding himself above Jaskier’s prone body. Geralt looked afraid and Jaskier’s witcher so rarely looked anything other than constipated or begrudgingly amused that Jaskier found himself quite breathless at the sight. Or maybe he was breathless because even breathing was painful and made him sound quite pathetically wheezy. Geralt was moving quickly, so quickly that soon Jaskier couldn’t follow what his hands were doing, he could only look helplessly upon Geralt’s face, scrunched up in focus, his eyebrows so tight together, his mouth a thin line.

Jaskier reached up to cup Geralt’s face, thumbing at the tension under Geralt’s eyes. Geralt paused, meeting Jaskier’s eye for a moment, before he set back to work.

“I’ll be okay, darling.” Jaskier tried to sound reassuring, but he had really been trying to speak at a normal volume, not the pathetic whimper his lungs had given him.

“You don’t know that,” Geralt insisted.

“Of course I do,” Jaskier replied, his eyes closing. “I have you to look after me.” He didn’t mean to fall asleep. He meant to stay and support Geralt through all this, but his body had other ideas.

--

When Jaskier woke, he was somewhere else entirely. A warm bed; or, at least, warmer than the ground had been. He pushed himself up, cringing a little as he remembered his abdomen. It didn’t scream in pain, at least, only seemed to be at a dull roar. It was both a relief and a concern; relief, because clearly he wasn’t dead if he was still feeling pain, and concern for a great many things. The foremost one being that if it had healed that much, then how long had he been out?

The room he was in wasn’t one Jaskier recognized, precisely, but he had spent enough time in inns to recognize the nondescript quality of them all. It looked almost as if he had unpacked the room himself, though he knew that was impossible, because he and Geralt had been camping last he remembered. Still, his lute was set up in the stand Jaskier liked to use to give her a bit of breathing room after spending so much time in her case. His oils were on a table, laid out a bit messily, but laid out nonetheless. His pack was slung over the back of a chair. 

No one else was in the room, though. Jaskier couldn’t find Geralt’s belongings anywhere. His heart seized a bit and, despite the pain, he pushed himself up off the bed and to his feet.

Geralt couldn’t have left him. This thought steeled Jaskier as he staggered and stumbled his way out of the room, down the hall, and down the steps. He was quite embarrassed at just how long it took him to get there, and how many breaks he had to take. He hoped, desperately, that he would find Geralt, because otherwise he really wasn’t sure how he was going to make it back up those stairs.

“My fine lady,” Jaskier said, and though his voice sounded raspy from misuse, he was very pleased to hear that he at least wasn’t wheezing. He was breathing a bit hard from the trek, though, and really, someone should take pity on him in his obviously delicate condition. “Have you seen a witcher brooding about? About my height, white hair, practically glowing yellow eyes, looks like he could scare the paint off a wall? I imagine he’s doing something self-sacri--” 

He had more, Jaskier always has more, but he was thoroughly distracted from this particular ramble by the door to the inn being thrown open and a particularly disgruntled witcher storming through it.

“Ah, Geralt, there you are! Your things weren’t in the--”

Geralt cut him off with a look and a growled “Jaskier,” and, really, it shouldn’t have been as effective as it was, but Geralt’s eyes looked dangerous. He wasn’t afraid, of course, but he also didn’t want Geralt to explode or something.

Jaskier allowed himself to be ushered back to the room, though when he came to the stairs he had to stop. He eyed them with a grimace. Geralt didn’t not seem much in the mood for Jaskier’s antics, but Jaskier was pretty sure he wasn’t going to make it back up without help.

Geralt seemed to recognize this, because he swooped Jaskier into a bridal-style carry that was none too gentle. He thanked his stars that, at least, Geralt hadn’t thrown Jaskier over his shoulder like he normally did, Jaskier was pretty sure his abdomen wouldn’t survive that, but Jaskier’s face contorted in a wince nonetheless at the rough treatment.

Though he was trying to hide it, Jaskier noticed Geralt’s responding wince, and the way he moved carefully from that point on. Geralt carried Jaskier to the room, Jaskier’s face growing more and more hot from embarrassment as they got closer. He’d had a few fantasies involving this, but they were a lot more sexy, and a lot less due to Jaskier’s invalidity.

“Are you going to say anything, or just be broody while you literally carry me back to our room? The one strangely empty of all your belongings, don’t think I didn’t notice,” Jaskier finally said as Geralt crossed the threshold into the room.

“Are you out of your mind? What were you thinking?” Geralt finally huffed back, and his voice was so tense it sounded almost painful.

“You are going to have to be more specific, my dear witcher. Because, as vague as you have left it, the answers are ‘Probably’ and “Nothing good, I’m sure.’“ Geralt placed him on the bed, and though he did it carefully, Jaskier was certain if he hadn’t been recovering from an injury, he would have simply been dropped. Geralt truly had a knack for being passive aggressive while caring for someone.

“You’re still healing, and you leave your bed and make your way down alone to an inn? You couldn’t even get back up the stairs! What was your plan if I wasn’t here?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I didn’t have much of one. Had a feeling you’d come. Or I’d go find you.”

Geralt groaned. He was quiet for a long time, just staring at the wall behind Jaskier, then he tugged at Jaskier’s shirt. He lifted it enough to look at the wound, and Jaskier finally glanced at it as well. 

The wound looked better than Jaskier was expecting. It had been stitched up messily, but the skin looked like it was knitting itself back together. It was a soft pink around the lines and he had deep bruising all around it, probably from the bludgeoning the creature had done, but there were a few spots that looked oddly like hands. Approximately Geralt-sized hands, though his line of thinking might have been biased with the information at his disposal. Maybe Geralt had held his abdomen together as he stitched it back together. Geralt-sized bruises were another thing that sounded better in his fantasies than in his reality.

“I’ve paid for the room for a few more days. The healer will return tomorrow to check your wounds,” Geralt said, dropping the fabric and standing. He removed himself from the bed and stepped away, turning his back on Jaskier.

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “That sounds an awful lot like the beginning of a goodbye, Geralt.”

“It wasn’t just the beginning, bard.”

“No.” Jaskier’s voice was firm, and he pushed himself up to sitting again. Geralt turned around, looked like he wanted to say something, but there must have been something in Jaskier’s expression, because he closed his mouth again. Jaskier felt murderous, so he was sure at least some of that reflected in his face. “You don’t get to do that, Geralt. You don’t get to just throw me aside whenever you feel like it. That’s not how this works. You are going to just sit tight for the next, what, two days? Until I’m healed enough to travel again, and then we will continue on as we had. You can be patient with me for once. It’s not my fault I only have a human physiology and cannot heal as quickly as you.”

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest, and somehow the action made him look both infuriated and small. “This isn’t about impatience. You almost died, Jaskier. And you’ll throw yourself into harms way again, like you always do. So I’m removing your option. I am leaving, and you will stay here.”

“Like hell I will! Need I remind you that you nearly die almost every damn day. And you don’t see me trying to ditch you in some random-arse town. You’re being quite dramatic, Geralt. Clearly,” he made a sweeping gesture over his body, “I am fine.”

“You are a fool, Jaskier. And I will not be the cause of your death.”

“Is that what you’re afraid of? Death? I didn’t think a witcher, of all people, would fear something as trifling as death.”

Geralt snarled, and his eyes were ablaze. Jaskier had crossed a line, he knew that, but still he held strong. He didn’t mean to poke the bear, so to speak, but Geralt wasn’t about to come to him at this moment, and Jaskier needed to touch him. So he stood. And Geralt’s face darkened further, but he did not stop Jaskier from crossing the distance between them. Jaskier leaned on Geralt, using his forearms to prop himself up on Geralt’s chest, and if he noticed just how heavily Jaskier was leaning on him, he did not mention it. Geralt’s hands did move to Jaskier’s hips to keep him steady, though.

“Are you afraid?” Jaskier asked, his voice soft. They were still angry, so angry, but Jaskier had to know if this was real anger, or poorly concealed fear.

Geralt stayed stiff, unyielding, for only a moment. Then he deflated, and Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. Geralt’s eyes slipped down to Jaskier’s hands, and then he pulled Jaskier close. His arms wound around Jaskier’s waist, pinning Jaskier’s arms between them. Jaskier made no move to free himself, only dropped his forehead to Geralt’s chest.

“I fear losing you,” Geralt finally whispered into Jaskier’s hair. “You trusted me to look after you. What if I had failed?”

Jaskier hummed. “I fear that, too. I fear waking in a bed to find you gone, long gone, too far for me to follow. I fear making you afraid. I fear losing you to the very same monsters I write your ballads about triumphing over. But you know what I don’t fear?” he paused, though he did not expect Geralt to speak. He didn’t even hum in return, but Jaskier knew he was listening, so he continued on. “I don’t fear you letting me down. I don’t fear you failing to protect me. You didn’t this time.”

Geralt huffed in return, sounding unconvinced, but he held Jaskier anyway. And held him more, as Jaskier grew weaker, until he was all-but holding the bard upright. They finally had to admit defeat and slowly, carefully, return Jaskier to the bed, when his knees started to buckle and he managed to doze off, standing up, against Geralt’s chest.

As Geralt pulled away, Jaskier too his hand, making the witcher pause.

“Do not go far from me,” Jaskier said, half asleep.

Geralt smiled, pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead, and smoothed back his hair. It wasn’t until Jaskier fell asleep that he answered, “I couldn’t. I fear making you afraid.”

[aropippin]

song 11, 43, 55 and 99?

11. Lover by Taylor Swift

43. Proud Mary by Tina Turner

okay i feel like i need to explain myself. i have this monster playlist of songs i played in college band that me and my friends jokingly listen to (a lot) which is how this happened

55. Zoot Suit Riot by Cherry Poppin’ Daddies

that is also why this happened

99. Not What I Meant by Dodie

ask game: send me a number from 1-100 and i’ll tell you what song is at that position in my spotify wrapped

[figuerockfaeth]

6, 19, 37 and 100 for your Spotify wrapped?

6: Isn’t It A Trial from Alice By Heart

19: One Jump Ahead from the (new) Aladdin Soundtrack

37: First Steps First from Bandstand

100: 96,000 from In The Heights

[zimms]

23, 26 & 29? (- @deniceford )

hi jo!! thank you!

favourite piece of clothing?

hmmm, i have this really nice black wool coat that i saved up for a couple of years ago, so i wear that everywhere i go, but i also have owned four incarnations of the same pair of navy converse bc i wear them everywhere i go, so maybe them.

what movie would you like to live in?

maybe sunshine on leith? it’s one of my comfort movies, so i’d love to live in that sort of world for a bit.

morning, afternoon or night?

afternoon!

send me soft asks!