#my inability to write a drabble is showing again!

[spicywarl0ck]

You tried to change me

I felt inspired for a quick, small drabble for my daily writing <3 I try to write every Day to get my inspiration back, and while I love Fenris, Dorian was my first ever Dragon Age romance. I never wrote him to this point, because I was always afraid my writing is not enough to be of justice of him, but lately I try not to overthink too much and just write what's in my head to get better. Have to start with something after all :) Fandom: Dragon Age Inquiisiton Pairing: Dorian Pavus/Male Lavellan Rating: T Words: 664

“You tried to… to change me”

He can’t forget the words Dorian said to his father, the hurt in his words and face. It was like seeing the real Dorian for the first time, a man hurt over the inability of his father to accept him for simply being himself.

It’s an emotion he understands all too well.

The rotunda is quiet, except for the cawing of Leliana’s ravens up in the rookery. An opened book still lies on Solass's desk, abandoned for the night as the man had eventually retired for the evening. All well of course and yet, it’s still odd to see the usually occupied chair abandoned for once.

His feet take him up the stairs, casting one last glance at the faintly illuminated murals before the smell of old books and parchments hit him.

He was told, the Inquisition’s library is supposed to be small against others and yet, for him it’s still a small kind of miracle to see so many books in one place. But maybe, an elf growing up outside of any cities, couldn’t make a real comparison after all.

Not that this thought is going to lead him anywhere for the time being though.

His eyes spot the man he is searching for, settled down on the big armchair a glass of wine in his hand as he holds it into the light. He watches as the colourful light, falling through the painted window dances on the surface, the liquid still untouched and its holder only staring at it blankly.

The silence is unbearable.

“I’m sorry about the way it went down with your father.” Lavellan’s voice is soft when he speaks up. “I wouldn’t have put you up to this if I had known.” He watches Dorian’s fingers moving slightly, showing his alert before he even shifts his face to look at him.

“Oh, Don’t apologize.” Dorian puts the glass away to wave his hand absentmindedly. “You couldn’t have known, and it’s not like you kept the meeting a meeting to begin with. We both know that this hen of a revered Mother asked you to keep the letter a secret.”

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep it from you. It didn’t seem fair.” He shrugs, shuffling his feet a bit awkwardly. This is not going as he had thought it would when he decided to approach the Tevinter mage in the first place. But, then again, it never happens as someone played it out in their head before, didn’t it?

“But, nevermind that. Are you alright?”  He watches Dorian’s expression falter for a moment, the hurt crossing his eyes once more before he takes a deep breath.

“Not really. But I will be.” Dorian pauses for a moment, his lips and moustache twitching. “You knew all along, didn’t you? About me?” he adds, causing Lavellan to shuffle his feet again before he answers.

“I mean… I flirted with you a lot, and you returned it.” Lavellan chuckles softly. “So, I at least took you for being interested in both at least.” he pauses for a second, before adding: “But even if I wouldn’t have, it wouldn’t have mattered to me.”

Surprise shifts over Dorian’s face, the smallest hint of a smile following that warms his eyes just a tad.

“Thank you.” his voice is surprisingly soft when he speaks. “For both telling me that and for giving me the opportunity to tell my father how I truly feel. It won’t make up for the past years, and I doubt we will become close with each other again but… it’s a beginning I suppose.”

Lavellan watches when Dorian reaches back for the glass, about to bring it to his lips before he pauses again, padding the cushioned stool standing next to him. 

“Join me for a drink, would you? Your ambassador managed to get her hands on the most exquisite tevene wine. It would be a shame to drink it all on my own.” 

[facewithoutheart]

A short drabble about this description of Ms Possibelf that @you-remind-me-of-the-babe shared in the discord awhile back…

Which made me want a hurt/comfort of Baz healing Simon after a Mage battle, which turned into this depressing imagination of the moment Baz realized he loves Simon back in fourth year.

Dedicated to @martsonmars for making me write the second bit so this piece would have a happy ending.

Hurt/Comfort, T, 1.5k

Hurt

I smell the blood before I hear the sniffing.

“Good as new,” Simon whispers from his side of the room. Sniff. “Good as new.”

But the smell of smoke never comes; his spell’s not working.

I look over. Despite the darkness, I can see the scene clearly: Simon Snow, covered in blood hunched over his hand and crying.

“Good as new,” he repeats and his hand trembles.

“Keep it down,” I growl, “some of us are trying to sleep.”

“I’m trying,” he sobs, somewhat hysterically. “If I could just get this spell—”

I throw down the sheets. Merlin. As if being roomed with my family’s enemy isn’t enough torture, the Mage has Simon out on ‘missions’ every other night. Disrupting my sleep, and, more worryingly, tempting my newfound senses.

“Let me cast it, you inept monster.” I stomp to his side of the room. “If I let you keep trying I’ll never sleep.”

“Don’t!” Simon shouts when I raise my wand. “You’ll just make it worse.”

I roll my eyes. “Unlike you I don’t exacerbate problems simply by attempting to exist. Now show me what’s been injured so I can—” My voice cuts out when Simon holds out his hand. “Fucking Crowley,” I mutter. His thumb’s nearly hanging clear off. “What did this to you?” I slump down on the bed next to him, horrified.

Simon shrugs, shifting to face me more fully. (I bite back my well-honed impulse to insult his inability to use his words. I can barely blame him for not wanting to talk right now; how he’s even conscious is a wonder.) “Goblin.” His lower lip wobbles before he sticks it out in a confrontational gesture I recognise all too well. “I gave as good as I got.”

“I should hope so.” I take his wrist gently in my hand, turning it from a few different angles to get a scope of the damage. Extensive, I shudder.

When I look up, Simon’s got a small smile on his face.

I scoff, “What in Magic’s name could you possibly be pleased about? One small shake and I expect your thumb would fall clear off.”

“You’re being nice to me,” he says in a quiet voice. “You’re never nice to me.”

My heart clenches in my chest. No; I bite back the feeling. Not here, not now.

Not him.

“Do you think you can fix it?” He bites his lip. Outside, clouds covering the full moon shift and cast a beam of light across Simon’s blue eyes, bright and fixed on mine with hope.

He’s just a boy, fighting a grown man’s battle, and he hasn’t asked for any of it at all.

Merlin, no.

(Neither have I…)

I straighten up, hoping Pitch posture will remind me of who I am, who he is.

Who we are to each other.

“Of course I can fix it,” I scoff. “As I said, unlike you, I’m an expert magician.”

I wait for his scowl, his fumbled anger.

Instead, he smiles at me, big and broad and there’s no need for the full moon to illuminate our tower.

Not when Simon Snow is the sun.

“Please?” He bites those chapped lips of his, and it’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.

In an instant, I fall.

With a flick of my wand, I cast, “Kiss it better,” then place a gentle kiss on the palm of his hand, pulling back immediately to wipe away whatever blood might have found its way to my lips.

Simon’s already in my heart; if his blood’s in my veins, I’ll never be rid of him.

“There.” I shove his arm back at him; he clutches it to his chest, like somehow my action’s hurt him worse than the nearly severed appendage. “Let us never speak of this again.”

“Baz…”

I stand up. “If you’re planning to thank me, don’t bother. The only thanks I need is for you to never trouble me with an injury again. Go see the nurse, for Merlin’s sake. I’m not your personal healer.”

With that, I turn on my heel and stomp toward the bathroom. I cast a quick, “Silence is golden,” then turn on the faucet and grab a toothbrush, trying to scrub the taste of Simon’s skin from my lips, my mouth.

My soul.

It doesn’t work; I don’t know why I thought I’d ever be that lucky.

I fall against the bathroom door and slowly slump to the floor, burying my head in my hands as the truth slowly sinks in.

I’ve betrayed my family, my father, my mother, in the worst way. I’ve not only healed my enemy, I’ve fallen in love with him, fallen for his blue eyes, bronze curls, bright smile and certain tragedy.

Because Simon Snow and I will one day fight to the death; I know this much is true, just as I now know that I’ll never be able to stop him.

The sobs choke their way up my throat until I let them out, trembling against the door while the boy I was never meant to love sleeps away injuries he was never meant to have.

“He’s just a boy,” I whisper, clutching my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth. “He’s just a boy.”

And I love him hopelessly.

Comfort

I smell the blood before I hear him calling from the other end of our flat, “Baz!”

In a flash, I’m by his side. “Simon, what’s wrong?”

He blinks at my sudden appearance, still seated at his desk in our bedroom and looking very much unwounded. “Oh! You didn’t have to use vamp-speed.” He shoves out his hand. “I just got a paper cut.”

Part of me wants to be annoyed at him using his I’m-injured voice for such a minor ailment, but most of me loves that I can take care of him like this, that I can bring comfort to his life, even in such a small way.

I tut, “Poor baby,” then bring his slightly bleeding thumb to my lips, licking at the wound before sucking it into my mouth.

“Baz,” he whines, “I still have fifty more invites to mail.”

“Sorry,” I say, not sorry at all. “But maybe you should take a break.” I swoop down and pull him, bridal-style, into my arms. (It seems fitting.)

He beats at my chest with all the fervour of a limp noodle. “Put me down, you brute.”

“As you wish,” I smirk before tossing him onto the bed.

“Baz!”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” I tease, then hop onto the mattress, straddling him. “Give me your hand.”

With a huff, he holds out the still-injured hand. I grasp it by the wrist and twist to see it from more angles.

“Why do I have deja vu?” Simon frowns.

“Because I’ve done this for you before.”

Realisation dawns. “That night with the goblins. My thumb nearly came clear off.”

“Until I saved it.” I press two kisses to his thumb in quick succession, one to the newest injury and one to the scar of his older one.

“Until you saved it,” Simon smiles, “with a kiss.”

I hum, bringing Simon’s thumb back to my lips for another peck. Just in case. “That was the night I knew I loved you,” I whisper against the split skin.

“Baz, that was fourth year.”

I raise an eyebrow at him.

“Come here.” He opens his arms wide for me.

In an instant, I fall.

Our limbs wrap around one another, and I sigh into Simon’s chest. “I wanted to leave that night and suck every goblin dry. I wanted to storm into the Mage’s office and cut him down for sending a child out to fight a man’s battle.” I press my lips against the fabric of his plain white T-shirt. “Instead I cried because I loved you hopelessly and some part of me thought I always would.”

“Not hopeless.” Simon’s arms tighten around me.

“No,” I smile, “though I do know I’ll always love you.”

“Forever,” Simon agrees, “we’ll love each other forever.” Then, his fingers move to my waist.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, I dare,” he says, then digs them into my sensitive sides.

“Simon!” I gasp between giggles. “Simon, stop.”

He tickles me relentlessly. “No rest for the wicked, Baz. The wedding invites won’t mail themselves.”

“Staaahp,” I laugh. “Mercy. Mercy!”

“No mercy,” he growls, then flips us so he straddles me.

“I thought you were injured,” I blink up at him.

He waggles his eyebrows. “A clever rouse.”

I gasp, as if shocked. “You monster. You’ve plotted this all just to trap me.”

“That’s right, Grimm-Pitch,” he smirks, “I’ve finally got you right when I want you.”

“Well,” I try to smirk back but it comes out soppy and lovesick, “that makes two of us.”

“Baz,” Simon whispers, and then he reaches down to catch my lips with his own.

He’s just a man, I return his affection twofold, and he’s mine.

Nothing feels hopeless about it at all.

[starrykitty013]

Hi! if you have the time, can you give us some good old fashioned Levi, Strange, Wong and Peter scraps? tysm! hope you're having a good day <33

Sorry for the late reply, break has been kinda hectic.

I am having a pretty good day, I start classes tomorrow (well technically they started today but I don’t have class on Monday this semester which is kinda epic) so I wanted to get my ask box cleared.

Also idk if you meant Loki instead of Levi, if it wasn’t a mistype I’m sorry, but either way this little blurb is more between doctor strange and Peter with a little Wong and Loki.

It takes place after No Way Home and Multiverse of Madness, so yea, idk this is unedited so I’m sorry for any typos but honestly I kinda had fun writing this, I’m surprised I could come up with a Drabble concept without a prompt but ig I felt inspired.

Anyway, sorry for rambling. Here is the Drabble.

Enjoy!

___________________________________________

“Okay, I know how this looks but you have to hear me out before you get mad.”

“I’m very tempted not to listen.” Doctor Strange said, looking completely bemused at the decievingly small child in the red onsie that was holding up a clearly drunk slim demigod that had showed up to his doorstep. He had half a mind to slam the door, but honestly, he was kind of curious and it was a slow day at the sanctum anyway. Spiderman always happened to bring a tad bit of fun wherever he went, but he also tended to bring trouble too - despite the kid having the inability to ask for help unless it was offered, don’t get Strange wrong, Spiderman worked well with others but it wasn’t his default mode; he always had to be prompted into doing so , but then again so did the rest of the hero community. Looks like he decided to cut out the middle man and go straight to the trouble

“Come on, isn’t like part of your code to give people shelter or something.” The kid tried to convince.

“That’s nuns.” He said blandly.

“Really?” the kid Asked innocently Stephan actually wasn’t quite sure about that, he wasn’t very religious.

“Wong won’t be pleased.” Cause inviting the god of mischief \, who already had a spotty track record of steal powerful artifacts, into a sanctum full of forbidden and protected magic did not sound like a good idea on any day, but if said god was drunk. Yeah, Wong would be mad.

But it might be fun.

“How did you even find him like this?” Spiderman tended to find himself in a lot of strange situations, none of which had any sort of protocol. Then again, Spiderman wasn’t really known for following any sort of rules given to him. A trait that had Stephan a little envious at sometimes, because despite his rigid discipline that is required to learn and maintain the mystic arts, Spiderman is still somehow more morally stable in most regards while having virtually no discipline.

The boy shrugged his shoulders. “I dunno. I just found him outside the old Stark tower like this when I went to investigate a like minor explosion? Which, isn’t crazy that we’ve gotten so used to people falling out of the sky as a society, that no one even mentions it. Like-“ Stephan held up a hand to stop the ramble while they weren’t too deep - though the kid did make a good point - but he knew Spiderman could ramble on for hours if given the chance.

“Why can’t you just take him to your place?” Stephan asked with a raised brow. At that Spidey went a tad stiff in the shoulder before purposefully relaxing. It was odd, that he didn’t know Spiderman’s identity, they had literally saved the universe together and potentially the multi-verse, although for some reason parts of Stephan’s memories from that event were a little hazy. But one thing is for sure, Spiderman knew more than he was letting on. Despite his iron clad secrecy, the kid was incredibly bad at lying. Stephan has tried to confront him, somehow the conversation always got changed. He stopped because it was fruitless. The kid may be bad at lying but goddamn does he have tight lips.

“My landlord probably wouldn’t like that and besides,” Spiderman gestured to the expanse of the sanctum at whole “You were closer and I think you can handle any…mishaps? God that word makes me sound old. “ Never mind that Stephan used that word quite frequently, especially when describing America’s training. Actually in regards to America’s training, Wong has started using it quite frequently too. Maybe she and Spidey could get along. He banished the though because Teen heroes are literally trouble magnets wherever they go, putting two together would probably set off some kind of natural disaster that would devastate half the world and people were still recovering from the snap, without even taking into regard the blip and seriously who was in charge of naming that. “Anyway, yeah you can handle any magical mishaps that may occur.”

“Fine.” The Doctor relented. Better to keep the threat secure rather than let it wonder off with one of the most notorious trouble attracting teens in the universe. He opened the door more to invite them in. Spiderman just stood their awkwardly. “Well?” Stephan raised a brow and Spidey shifted his feet slightly.

“Actually, uhm, I can’t stay. Sorry, I don’t mean to dump this on you. But you probably know how to contact Thor and stuff so maybe you could call him. I’m sorry I really have to go.” And the kid franticly pushed the demigod toward Stephan who barely had time to react as a body drunkly stumbled towards him.

“How dare you, do you know who I am?” Loki exclaimed in a slurred tone.

“What the hell kid?” Stephan exclaimed but when he turned to look back at the door, Spiderman was gone.

“Where did the spider child go? He has vanished, like a witch.” The god demanded. Stephan ignored him as he furrowed his brow in the direction of the now empty doorway. Something was really off about that boy. But he guesses if he had been in the hero game as long as Spiderman has, and are still a kid, he would have some odd quirks too. But Spiderman operated solo, and he knows that he doesn’t really work or answer to anybody. Still, with all his secrets, being that socially isolated from your peers must be stunting to some sort of mental development. Sure, he’s seen Spidey work with other heroes occasionally and more often work with other vigilantes, but no one his own age, cause seriously if that kid is older than 19 Stephan will voluntarily do maintenance for the mirror dimension for a whole year. Besides, he doesn’t think people like Deadpool are the best influences to hangout with, but the kid has a good head on his shoulders so Stephan isn’t too worried about him becoming that type of menace.

And that’s another thing: since when did he care about that kid. Sure they’ve fought together, they’ve saved countless universes together, but Stephan doesn’t even know what the kid’s name is. So why does he care about his wellbeing this much? It’s like, subconscious. Stephan doesn’t really like that thought.

He heard a sigh from behind him and turned to look at Wong, who just looked done as he took in the scene. Oh, the joys of being Sorcere Supreme. When you clean up one fuck up another shows up at your doorstep. Yeah, Strange didn’t miss that part of the job, that’s for sure.

“I’ll contact New Asgard.” He sighed and Doctor Strange took that as his opportunity to shove Loki off him.

“You insolent wench, I will-“

Stephan just walked away.

Maybe the kid could use a few friends his own age. Even if it might cause the end of the world.

Maybe, just maybe, it would be a little worth it.

[roselarkiin]

Brettsey + 2

So... this one didn't really turn out all that fluffy, but I hope it's okay!

#2 "The thought of losing you scares me."

In hindsight, running into a burning building without turnout gear or back up probably isn't the best idea she's ever had.

But she honestly doesn't see how she had any other choice.

Sylvie and Violet have just dropped their patient off at Med. Nothing crazy - a kid with an ulna fracture. A damn near routine call considering some of the things they see.

They're driving down 14th Street, on their way back to the firehouse, when they notice the smoke billowing out of the apartment building ahead of them.

Eyes fill with alarm as Sylvie slows the ambo to a stop. It's dark, and it's late, and there aren't any people around. Which in this situation is strange.

Sylvie can't make out the telltale sound of sirens approaching. There aren't any residents milling around the evacuation point either, like she would expect with a fire already this involved.

It's all so disconcerting.

Sylvie unbuckles her seatbelt, steps out of the ambulance, instructs Violet to radio main and find out which companies are on their way, see if they require sixty-one to stay on the scene.

She steps toward the building. The fire is at the other end of the complex, but the heat coming off the structure is almost unbearable.

There's smoke escaping from a few second story windows, and she can make out the flickering of orange flames from further inside the apartment.

Violet approaches at a jog, and Sylvie turns to face her partner expectantly.

"They weren't aware of a fire at this location," Violet says, the corners of her mouth turn down into a frown at the sight of the building. "They're assigning someone now."

Sylvie nods. Her brow creases, and she furrows her bottom lip into her mouth.

There's something really wrong with this scene. There should be alarms going off, alerting everyone to the danger.

She's seen her fair share of apartment fires in her time on the job, and it's usually chaos. All noise and people everywhere. This is the exact opposite. Eerily quiet with no one about.

These apartments aren't deserted. Surely someone should have made it out by now.

It could be another five, ten minutes before help arrives on the scene. She knows from experience just how much every second counts in a situation like this.

She can't just stand idly by, waiting for someone to arrive. She needs to get as many people out as she can.

"Violet," Sylvie starts and turns her head to look at her partner. "I'm not going to ask you to-"

As if she can sense what Sylvie is about to say, Violet cuts her off. "No way," she says, with an adamant shake of her head. "I'm not letting you go in there alone!"

There's a look of determination on the younger paramedic's face. One that tells Sylvie there's nothing she can say to change Violet's mind.

So she doesn't bother to try.

They enter the building, using their sleeves to cover their face as best they can.

Violet follows her orders, realizes they don't have time to argue, and goes down the hallway Sylvie tells her to. The one with less smoke. Away from the fire.

Sylvie might not be able to stop Violet from following her into the building, but she's damn well going to do everything in her power to keep her partner out of harm's way.

The hallways are dark and filled with smoke. Sylvie can barely make anything out or get her bearings.

She manages to find a door, bangs her fist against it until someone answers. It's easier after that.

Knock on the door until she wakes whoever's in the apartment, follow the wall along to the next door, and repeat.

Most can get themselves out of the building. The ones that can't, family members or neighbors are happy to escort them. It helps, means she can get to more people faster, without having to run up and down and out again and again.

By her estimation, she's able to clear about half the floor before she needs to get out. Before the cough and the ache in her chest becomes too much to bear.

She follows the last family down the stairs, meets up with Violet on her way out. They exit the building together and cough and sputter as they gasp for air.

She's hunched over, hands on her knees as she tries to catch her breath.

"Brett!" She recognizes the voice instantly, stiffens as Matt grabs her shoulders. Her eyes are closed. She can't see him, but she can hear the concern in his voice.

"I'm fine," she rasps, her voice hoarse. Tries to reassure him. She doesn't need to see him to know it hasn't worked. She coughs again.

She tries to brush him off. He should be running the initial search. Not here with her.

She's fine, really. Tries to tell him again, but she can't get the words out. Her throat burns.

An open water bottle is shoved into her hands. From Gallo, she thinks. He's an angel.

She takes a few mouthfuls, swishes the water around in her mouth, spits it onto the ground before gulping the rest of the water down. Another full bottle quickly replaces the empty one.

"Are you insane?" Matt shouts. The concern turns to anger. His hands on her shoulders tighten, shakes her a little. "What the hell were you thinking, Sylvie? Why would you do something so incredibly stupid? You could have got yourself killed!"

The relief she felt, having Matt there when she exited the building, is replaced with irritation. And she gets it. He's afraid. She scared him; she understands that. But there's no reason for him to be so patronizing.

She probably understands more about what he's feeling right now than he does.

Because the emotions he experiences in this moment are exactly what she goes through every time she stands on the sidelines while she watches him run headlong into a burning building.

Whatever he's feeling, though, she is not some child to be scolded, and she doesn't appreciate him yelling at her like she is.

She knows her limits. She would never push herself past what she knows herself to be capable of.

She's vaguely aware of the orders he barks to the other members of eighty-one, but he makes no move to leave her side.

In any other situation, she might find it sweet, but in any other situation, he'd be leading his team in the search. Not standing here with her.

His grip softens on her arm, moves to her back. It does nothing to comfort her. In fact, it just makes her feel worse. Like she's being suffocated. Though that might be the smoke inhalation.

Her eyes narrow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. She's furious with him. For talking down to her the way he did, in front of their friends and colleagues. For treating her like she's some child he's been tasked to deal with and not his girlfriend. His equal.

It's embarrassing.

She doesn't yell back at him, as much as she may want to. She doesn't have the energy for that. Even if she did, she doesn't think her throat could handle it. And this is not the right place for this conversation.

Instead, she looks at him, head cocked slightly to the side, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You know, if this had been anyone else, you would not have spoken to them the way you just spoke to me," she says, with as much force as she can muster. It's not a lot, but it's surprisingly more than she thought possible at this moment. "You would have been singing their praises. Commending them for helping so many people, a job well done."

"Sylvie-"

"Go. There are still people inside. You have a job to do, Casey."

He looks confused for a split second before composing himself. She doesn't have a chance to dwell on it. She's pulled away to be looked at by the medics from ambulance ninety.

Suddenly, everything shifts back to the way it always is. Sylvie, at the ambo, watching Matt anxiously, as he runs into a burning building.

... ... ...

One of these days, Matt thinks, Sylvie Brett is going to be the death of him.

Maybe he'd lost it a little back at the scene. Spoke to her in a way that he shouldn't.

When they'd arrived and found sixty-one already on scene, he didn't think too much of it. It wasn't all that uncommon for the ambo to beat them to the scene, especially when coming straight from another call.

But when they exited the truck and neither Sylvie nor Violet were anywhere to be seen, a resident informed them the paramedics in question were inside, helping to evacuate everyone.

Sylvie was inside the burning building.

He'd just been about to run in after her when she exited the building, coughing and sputtering, covered head to toe in black soot.

All the blood rushed from his face, and his heart pounded in his chest so hard he felt it might explode.

He saw nothing but her, rushed straight to her, not entirely in control of his actions. He'd shouted at her, and he shouldn't have.

She'd looked at him with hurt in her eyes and calmly told him that if it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have spoken to them that way.

He thinks that look hurt more than if she had just yelled back. Because he knows she's right. Fucking, of course, she is. She's always been able to see right through him.

Seeing her standing there, covered in ash, terrified him. He could have lost her.

He'd flashed back to a time years ago, the only other time he's seen her like that. The Arnow fire. Where they'd lost Otis. Where he'd almost lost her. Had lost her, for a time, though only temporarily.

Then she was dragged away, and he had a job to do. He needed to focus. His people could get hurt if the task at hand didn't have his total concentration.

He thinks Sylvie's been avoiding him - he doesn't blame her because the next time he sees her, it's almost the end of shift. Eighty-one had two more calls after the apartment fire. Sixty-one had five.

Sylvie and Violet refused to take Sixty-one out of service. And he had to bite his tongue. As hard as it was.

They always just seemed to be passing each other. Never in the same place at the same time. As if some invisible force was working to keep them apart. It's killing him.

He finds her by their lockers. Her shoulders tense when she senses his presence. Imperceptible to anyone else. But not to him. Never to him.

He's explored and learned every inch of her body these last three months. Even the slightest change does not go unnoticed.

He steps further into the locker room. By some miracle, they're alone.

"I'm sorry," he says, quiet and all sincere. It never should have taken him this long to say the words. This is their first fight. If he can even call it that.

He'd been an ass. He knows he's going to have to grovel to make it right again.

He sees her shoulders shift, relax slightly as the tension ebbs away. Sylvie turns, leans against the open door of her locker to look at him. She gives him that same sad smile again. Not unlike the look she gave him last night. His chest aches.

"I'm sorry," she says as well, and she means it. From the way she says it, he knows she's not apologizing for running into a burning building. No, he gives her a soft smile, she'll never apologize for that. He doesn't expect her to either. Instead, she's apologizing for the scare she gave him.

He closes the distance between them, reaches out, and pulls her to him. She lets him, allows herself to melt into him. Her head rests against his shoulder, her arms wrap around his waist.

He's got one hand on her back, pulls her as close as physically possible. The other weaves into her hair, twists the blonde locks between his fingers.

They stand there, alone, not saying anything, holding each other tight. The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his as she breathes is a reminder that she's here and she's safe; nothing happened to her. It comforts him.

Sylvie is the first to break the silence. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you it won't ever happen again," she murmurs against his chest.

He huffs, lets out a quiet chuckle, strokes his hand through her hair again. "I know."

Selfishly, he'd love for her to tell him that. But given the chance, he knows she wouldn't change anything that happened on the call. And if it came down to it, she'd do it all over again, without giving it a second thought.

He's watched her do this job for years. She's always given so much of herself over to the job. He's always admired that about her. He wouldn't want that to change just because of him.

"It's just," he breathes, lips pressed into her hair, "the thought of losing you scares me." His voice is rough, shakier than he intends it to be.

Sylvie leans back to look him in the eye. Moving her hand up his side to his face, she caresses his cheek. He leans into her hand, closes his eyes.

"I know," she tells him. "Because that's exactly how I feel every time I have to watch you run into a fire."

"Sylvie, that's-"

"Don't." She cuts him off with a sharp shake of her head. "Don't say it's different. It's not. At least it doesn't feel like it is."

He stops, clamps his mouth shut. He's been on the job for so long now that it's really just become routine at this point. Stupidly, he's never really thought about it from Sylvie's perspective. That she might feel the same terror he did.

He takes her face between his hands, kisses her forehead, cheeks, peppers kisses everywhere until she laughs and smiles back at him. Then he stops, looks around the locker room, checking they're still alone, and captures her lips with his.

He wouldn't normally do this, not so out in the open at least. They try to keep their relationship strictly professional while they're in the common areas of the firehouse. But after the shift they've just had, he doesn't give a shit who sees.

Sylvie smiles, breathes a contented sigh against his lips, relaxes further into him. She breaks the kiss a second later.

"You're a bit needy, you know that," she says, with a teasing lilt, tries to break the tension.

It works. He laughs. A loud, genuine belly laugh. The first in hours. He plants another kiss against her lips, pulls her back against him.

"Can you blame me?"

[ray-ray-writings]

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DreamSMP

Dream

Dance with Me- Y/N and Clay have a sweet moment early in the morning. 

Sweet as Cyanide-The whole server thinks that Y/N is being forced to stand by Dream’s side, but they couldn’t be more wrong. They all believe they’re just a sweet innocent creature, but many times people forget that sweet things can be poisonous.  

Visiting Hemlock- (Part Two of Sweet of Cyanide) Y/N is finally able to visit Dream in prison.

Tightrope- Y/N and Dream have been together for what feels like forever. But when Dream says that he cares about nothing anymore, Y/N takes a moment to evaluate the tightrope walk they call their relationship.

Teacher Teacher- Just a bunch of self indulgent teacher!dream au stuff :)

Sapnap

Goodnight Kisses- The night after a date with Sapnap ends well

Stormy Nights- Sapnap takes care of their s/o that is scared of storms.

Punz 

Pretty Boy-  Punz takes Y/N on a date to a new biome he found while working. Y/N’s supposed to be looking around at the pretty scenery but they can’t seem to take their eyes off their lover.

BadBoyHalo

Oh Baby-After missing their period, Y/N begins to suspect there may be something else going on in their uterus.

Oh Boy-  How Darryl and Y/N tell their families, friends, and fans that they’re expecting.

Wilbur Soot 

Just For You- After a long day, Wilbur show’s you something special he made just for you (dreamsmp au)

Deep Trouble- Y/N’s never been good with deep water seeing as they can’t swim. But when her friends want to go to the beach, they can’t deny them their request. Trouble ensues as Y/N doesn’t tell their boyfriend of their inability to swim.

Chat’s a Snitch- Wilbur is streaming his reactions to different covers of his song when his chat informs him his s/o is currently singing his most recent release. He of course joins their stream to bully them. 

Stormy Nights-Wilbur takes care of their s/o that is scared of storms.

Fundy

Stormy Nights-  Fundy takes care of their s/o that is scared of storms.

Song for you-  Fundy makes something special for their best friend using his knowledge of redstone and Y/N.

Character!Schlatt

All JSchlatt imagines are about the character in the Dreamsmp or they are platonic! I will not write romance for the actual CC Schlatt!

Not Your Fault- Y/N has to clear their mind after the results of the election come in. (dreamsmp)

Quackity

Missing you- Y/N gets tired of missing their best friend (dreamsmp)

Character!Technoblade

All Techno imagines are about the character Technoblade in the Dreamsmp or they are platoniclly written with the SBI Au. I will not write romance for the actual CC Techno!! 

Gift of Friendship- After Techno gives Y/N some PVP lessons, Y/N is at a loss of how to repay him. Y/N comes up with an idea but is unsure of whether or not the resident Blood God with like it. (dreamsmp au)

Stolen Goods- Techno hides something of Y/N’s. Which is fine because he’s their brother. But what happens when someone else tries something similar?  (dreamsmp au)

A Hairy Situation - When Wilbur and Tommy leave on an adventure, Techno and Y/N are left alone together. Y/N “helps” Techno in his potato farm and offers to braid his hair. Tensions rise as more and more time passes. (dreamsmp au)

A Dedicated Pig-(Part One of the Dedicated series) Y/N finally meets the one that everyone has been walking on eggshells over. (dreamsmp au)

Better Than a Dedicated Chicken (Part Two in the Dedicated series)-Y/N gets to see Techno again thanks to the upcoming festival in Manberg. (dreamsmp au)

Dedicated to You- (Part Three in the Dedicated Series)Techno can’t help but get a little jealous as he and Y/N visit L’Manberg and run into old friends. It’s up to Y/N to remind him who they are dedicated to. 

A Dedicated and Domesticated Pig- (Part Four in the Dedication Series) Everything comes full circle when Y/N and their family travel to L’Manberg for the annual festival.  

Butchered Plans-Y/N finds out about the Butcher Army and attempts to put a stop to their plan (dreamsmp au)

Best Seat in the House- Y/N comes home from a long day of chopping wood and just wants to sit down and warm up. (dreamsmp)

No Worries- Y/N’s been missing for almost a week and the one person that should be worried about them most isn’t worried at all, which upsets some people. (dreamsmp)

Protect You-  Y/N tries to warn their boyfriend about the Butcher Army. The prideful man that he ignores their attempts of getting him to flee. By the time he realizes they were right, it’s too late. (dreamsmp)

Wither or Not- Techno attempts to explain to his partner just why he betrayed L’Manberg. (dreamsmp)

Fool Me Twice-  Y/N is left with only one option after Techno destroys their home and their trust. (dreamsmp)

Catch Me If I Fall- What was supposed to be a simple mining trip goes horribly wrong when Y/N doesn’t pay attention to their surroundings. (dreamsmp)

Seeing Red-  When Y/N gets kidnapped by the Butcher Army to lure their boyfriend to L’Manberg, Technoblade sees red and is willing to do anything to get them back… Anything. (Dreamsmp)

Calm During the Storm-  Unexpected weather strikes leaving Ranboo stranded out in the open. Techno sees him and goes to him and attempts to calm him down. (Dreamsmp. Not an x reader)

Totem Troubles-Gathering materials was supposed to be easy. It wasn’t supposed to end in an almost cannon death. (Dreamsmp)

The Next Step-  Techno has a serious conversation with his father about his lover, Y/N and their future plans. (Dreamsmp)

Warming Up- Philza and Techno find something in the snow that definitely shouldn’t be there and take it back to Techno’s house to warm up (Dreamsmp)

Okay, Bet- Y/N and Dream make a bet for half a stack of golden apples. (Dreamsmp) 

The Blade-Y/N is forced to face their biggest fear when it quite literally comes knocking at their front door. (Dreamsmp)

Prison Break- Techno frees you from your wrongful prison sentence. 

A Part of the Collection- Y/N goes missing for a while... everyone is shocked at where they find them 

Prison Break-  Techno frees you from your wrongful prison sentence.

Periods suck. Here’s some content about how Techno would act on your period.

Tommyinnit

Besties-  What it would be like to be best friends with Tommy and Tubbo

Bring Him Home- Tommy’s big sister visits him in exile. 

Tubbo

3am conversations- Tubbo appears on Y/n’s doorstep at 3am. (dreamsmp au)

Lean on Me- Y/N forces their way into Tubbo’s home after Tommy’s exile. (dreamsmp au)

Besties- What it would be like to be best friends with Tommy and Tubbo

Awesamdude

Faking Happy- The bottle Y/N has been filling with their emotions finally tips over and overflows. (dreamsmp au)

Family Matters-  After spending a lot of time with Tommy, Y/N and Sam decide its time to expand their own family

Family Fatality- Y/N believed it was a bad idea from the beginning. Call it parental instincts. But unfortunately no one believed them… until it was too late.

Honey Barbecue- Tommy plays wingman for the two people on the server that genuinely care for him

SBI AU

Actually Pretty Funny-Y/N opens up to her big brother as to why she has been avoiding her other brother and his friend.

Crash- Y/N finally crashes after ignoring their needs for too long. (SBI AU)

Defending Family-  When Y/N hears the school bully talking shit about their family… Well it’s no surprise when that bully gets hit. (SBI AU)

Crossed Lines-Dream kidnaps Y/N to get some leverage on their brothers. Lucky for him, it’s not too hard as they don’t really know how to defend themselves. Unlucky for him, their brothers are extremely overprotective and will stop at nothing to make sure that their sibling is safe. 

Auntie Flow-  When Y/N isn’t up by their usual time, Dadza goes in to check on them. He soon realizes the problem and enlists in their brother’s help to make Auntie Flow’s visit go a little smoother.

Stream Stresses-When Y/N makes fun of their brother, chat jumps to his defense by saying some not so nice things about Y/N. The mean things cause Y/N to shut down their stream with tears in their eyes, worrying their father, Philza.

Birthday Bullies-  Y/N is being bullied at school. They’re able to keep the secret from her father and brothers for a while. But every cat gets out of the bag eventually.  

Ghost of You- Three cannon lives. Some argue it’s too many, some argue it’s not enough. But once Y/N loses all theirs, everyone can agree that there’s never enough

Forget Me Not-  The garden. That’s where it all began with Y/N and the Minecraft family… It’s unfortunate that’s where it all ended as well.

Period Piece-  Y/N starts their period at the worst time possible, the one time that Philza isn’t home… but their three brother’s are.

Momma Mia-  Y/N has been Philza’s best friend for the longest time. Being Philza’s friend also comes with being there for Philza’s sons and sometimes them being there for her.

Whole SMP

Full of Surprises-  Y/N is the server’s sweetheart. They’re innocent and couldn’t hurt a fly… at least that’s what everyone thinks. It isn’t until someone catches them working out does the SMP finally see just how badass this person can be.

[aalbedo]

your albedo/reader babysitting klee fic is adorable! i’d like to make a request if that’s ok?

a reader who usually strays from relationships and sticks to herself. she falls in love with albedo after being his friend for awhile. she automatically assumes he doesn’t love her, so she avoids him? in the end they get together romantically! sorry if this is too specific LOL

oh god ive had this ask in my inbox for so long, im so sorry anon for taking weeks to write just a small drabble, here you go! it's not the best thing ive ever written but i hope you still like it

format: drabble

ship: albedo x reader

tags: fluff mostly

warnings: none

words: 620

notes: whoop this took me way too long to finish but i finally did it, requests are still closed for the time being folks

“You’ve been keeping your distance from me.” You flinched as Albedo’s sudden voice startled you from behind.

“Huh?” Your body turns to face the young man, his face was blank but his eyes were looking at you intently. “What do you mean?”

His lips pursed slightly and he tilted his head to the side, “you’ve been avoiding me.” His voice was flat, but the words came out of his mouth softly, as if he was scared that if he talked too loudly he’d hurt himself.

Your heartbeat was in your ears, he was right and you had a reason to avoid him.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention.” You kept your voice steady, not letting it betray you and show all your insecurities.

Albedo’s eyes were hypnotizing to look at, you couldn’t avert your gaze even if you tried. “Mh-mh” was all he said before taking a small step back, “I believed us to be close friends.” As he said that, he frowned his eyebrows slightly, it would’ve been difficult to notice if you weren’t looking right at his eyes.

“We are!” you corrected him hurriedly, “we’re friends, it’s just…”

“It’s just… ?”

You might as well tell him, he probably already figured out what you were talking about, what you’ve been meaning to tell him for months.

“I think I like you,” you say in one breath. “But I know already you don’t reciprocate, so you don’t have to say anything.”

In your chest you could feel your heart pounding, your palms were sweaty and you took a step back, waiting for Albedo to have any sort of reaction, unsure if you were ready to take whatever he would throw your way.

“That’s it?” he chuckled.

Huh?

“Hey,” he inched closer, until he was so close you were sure he could hear the sound of your heart beating fast, he grabbed your hand and chuckled again, likely because of the sweat on your palms, “I like you too.” He intertwined his fingers with yours as he smiled softly.

“You… what?”

You couldn’t understand. All of those times as you were both working at the laboratory where he explained to you that relationships were troublesome to him, that he couldn’t imagine himself romantically involved with anyone due to his inability to maintain close relationships, you thought he was trying to tell you something.

He called your name. “Although... I thought you had said you didn't do relationships?” he asked, still keeping his almost monotone voice.

“You had told me the same,” you replied, and then breathed out, more relaxed at how casually the conversation was going.

“Things change?”

“Seems like it.”

His free hand moved to the side of your face, carefully stroking your cheek with his thumb. His fingers were soft against your skin and you mindlessly leaned into the gesture.

He called your name again, “can I…?” You understood as soon as he leaned closer, and you quietly nodded, letting his lips graze yours for a quick kiss.

You wished the kiss had been more, but you had no intention to push him. “Does that mean… ?”

“I hope it does,” he replied. “This is all new to me, I’m sorry.”

You smiled softly, nodding again, “it’s a new thing for me too, don’t apologize.”

“Do you… want to go out, maybe? This is what we’re supposed to do, right?” he asked with a hint of uncertainty in his tone that you found very sweet.

“I think so, yes.” His hand was still on the side of your face and his eyes were lovingly gazing into yours, with his usual analytic glare, he was probably trying to read your expression as best as he could. “Where are we going, then?”

[genshin-impact-writings]

Can you possibly write a cute drabble or headcanon post(idc which as long as it's cute, hope that's ok) where Ninnguang is desperately in love with the reader but the reader can't be wooed by the things that people are just attracted to her for(money, looks, etc) and so she has to resort to her(very bad) ability to flirt seriously.

Hey there! Thank you for your sending this in, Ningguang is one of my favorite characters, so I was really happy to get a request for her! Originally, I wanted to write a scenario but I couldn't come up with a plot I liked which is why I decided to do some headcanons instead. I really hope you like what I came up with. Have a good day/night and stay safe. <3

Ningguang x GN!reader – trying to woo you with her bad flirting abilities (HCs)

Ningguang is a self-confident woman who knows exactly what she’s capable of. She rarely experiences feelings like insecurity, so it’s quite irritating for her when she realizes how bad her flirting abilities are. Before she met you, she honestly never cared about stuff like that because nobody really managed to pique her interest but around you, Ningguang notices pretty quickly that she basically has no idea how to flirt properly.

Usually, she’s well-spoken and rarely at loss for words but when it comes to you, Ningguang often finds herself stumbling on her words. It makes her furious because it’s so embarrassing, and she isn’t used to feelings like that, so it’s definitely an unusual and awkward situation for her. She tries everything to come up with witty comments to show that she’s genuinely interested in you but most of the time, things don’t work out the way she wanted. She even considers asking someone for advice but she’s not sure who and it also makes things even more embarrassing which is why she probably discards the idea right away.

The fact that you’re not attracted by things like her money or her looks makes her both proud and frustrated. Proud since it shows that you’re quite different from others and frustrated because she doesn’t know how to impress you if you don’t care about things like that. Of course, she admires that you’re not as superficial as most people but she’s so used to relying on these things that she has a hard time figuring out another way to woo you.

She realized that she needs to come up with a new plan to catch your interest when she invited you to the Jade Chamber and you weren’t particularly struck by it. Yes, you complimented her for owning such a beautiful place but other than that, you didn’t seem to be highly impressed. You probably didn’t even realize how rare it was that she brought someone to the Jade Chamber, someone she doesn’t want to intimidate or conduct transactions with.

Although she knows that you’re not impressed by material things she still sends you flowers and other gifts, mainly things that remind her of you. She’s not trying to buy your love or anything like that; it’s just her way of showing her interest in you, and besides, she thinks that you deserve being showered with gifts and stuff like that.

Overall, Ningguang is pretty embarrassed about her inability to flirt properly but that doesn’t stop her from trying it over and over again. You’re important to her and she wants you to be a part of her life, so she promises herself to try everything in her power to convince you to give her a chance.

[mingoyeob-archive]

1 and 50 with oc😊

under the oak tree drabble game ⚔️🌳 to make up for my delayed release of part 3 of under the oak tree i’ve decided to do a drabble game! send me a number + any of the characters from under the oak tree and i’ll write you a drabble :)

jsfejfkhw these keep ending up longer than intended but I'm doing this for you anon <3 thank you so much for requesting!

I'm still taking requests guys if you want to send some in! check out my tag 'drabble game' to see which ones I've already done :)

1. “I can’t believe I’m doing this” + 50. “You’re lucky I love you” - jjk x reader - word count: 1.6k

Being new to Uwhen meant knowing practically no one. You would think living in a castle full of knights and servants and maids meant you would always have someone to keep you company, but no. Your naturally soft spoken ways and tendency to distance yourself from crowds only pushed you to hole yourself up in your room or hide outside amongst the courtyard and stables. Namjoon must've noticed how lost and lonely you always looked (it was his job to look after the castle and its tenants after all) because after your umpteenth walk around the garden that day, he took it upon himself to assign you a task that would, hopefully, put you in better spirits.

“Here, take this.” A small travel and a pair of petite leather gloves was shoved in your direction, dwarfed by Namjoon's hands as he held them out to you. You reared your head back in surprise, eyes fleeting back and forth between the items and his expectant face, “What are these for?”

“For you!” he exclaimed, eyes brightening and face breaking out into a dimpled smile.

You let out a noise of confusion and quirked an eyebrow, finger pointing to your chest in question, “For...me? What do I need these for?” You had no idea what had got into the man, he barely ever talked to you, always busy dealing with some issue in the kitchen or trying to order supplies. It made you feel kind of guilty, that was all stuff you should’ve been doing as the Lady of the Castle, but your lack of education and inability to manage money correctly made the tasks nearly impossible.

Namjoon just cleared his throat, dropping his outstretched hands when you showed no signs of taking them from him. “Well I figured, since you look so dreadfully bored, perhaps picking up a hobby would make you feel better. I believe gardening is a great way to pass the time.”

So cautiously you had taken them. Not even your father expected you to do manual labor back at home, so this was unheard of, “I can't believe I’m doing this.” you said. Namjoon let out a snort at your words before proceeding to show you the areas around the castle that needed the most help, not that you needed him too as you had already walked them probably a hundred times over.  But still, from that day forward, you woke up early to garden and after three years you had rehabilitated the garden, the areas around the stables, pruned the shrubs and even pulled up a nasty infestation of weeds that surrounded the cobblestone pathways. But with your husband Jungkook finally coming home you had begun to put off your to-do list in a last ditch attempt to try and get to know him better, which was easier said than done.

You often compared Jungkook to the stone wall that surrounded the castle, hard to get through and constantly surrounded in a grey monotonous mood. Your efforts to hold a conversation with him were typically met with one word answers or a measly grunt which you learned, depending on the tone, was either a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  Sometimes you couldn’t even tell if he was listening, which you could understand was hard since most of the times you caught him he was either in the middle of overseeing training or stuffing food in his mouth. Still, sometimes you wished he would take a second to hear you out; to want to get to know you as much as you wanted to know him.

So today you had decided to put a pause in your plan to discover your husband and instead went back to tackling your goal of finally fixing up the courtyard. There wasn’t really much to do in terms of the small area, the circular shape didn’t allow much except for a few benches and flower patches here and there. The most challenging part was the large oak tree that stood right in the middle surrounded by crinkled leaves and dying twigs. It was almost sad. Yoongi had told you the tree had been here as long as he can remember, probably a few hundred years.

“It didn’t always look like this, ya know. The old maids in the kitchen say it used to be the pride and joy of Uwhen. Hard to believe that now though.” His words had basically been a challenge, even if that hadn’t been his intention. By the end of this year, you were going to revive the tree no matter what it took.

And that was how Jungkook found you, covered in dirt and cutting at thick grass that surrounded the trunk of the tree. He was used to waking up in bed with your side empty, sheets neatly tucked and spot cold. But usually you would find your way to him by the middle of the day, telling him all about what you had spent doing around the castle, and even if he didn’t show it those times were the favorite part of his evening. Listening to your relaxing voice after a hard day of training with pestering young knights and sitting in war meetings was like being soothed by the softest melody. Oftentimes it left him speechless. How was he expected to compare your lovely stories to his boring responsibilities? He preferred listening to you rather than himself. You were probably only doing this out of pity anyway; why would you want to spend time with him when he so obviously made you uncomfortable judging by how tense and shaky you always were when in his presence.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching must’ve alerted you to his presence, your head whipping around and working fingers halting. Jungkook stood there awkwardly, embarrassed to have been caught staring at you so openly, “Sorry. I’ll leave.” he said, turning on his heel.

But the small giggle you let out in response had him stopping in his tracks, his heart skipping a beat, “Why would you leave? This is your castle and you’re free to roam wherever you please. Just pretend I’m not here, I’m just fixing up the tree a bit.”

“Why would you want to do that?” Way to sound like an asshole, Jungkook thought. The wide expression you had at his question had him internally scrambling to correct himself, “I mean...it’s obviously dead. Why waste your time?” You shook your head and pulled the dirty gloves off your fingers to place them on the ground, “Well it's not a waste of time to me. It’s actually pretty fun! Here,” you extended a hand out to him from your spot on the ground, beckoning him forward. “Would you like to try?”

“Me?” he quirked an eyebrow and pointed a finger to his chest. Talk about deja vu you thought amused and let out a giggle,“Yes you! Come on, I'll show you how.”

Jungkook just stared at you with his signature steely gaze and for a second you assumed he was going to walk away, uninterested in having to spend more time with you than necessary. But you watched in surprise when instead he proceeded over to you, taking your hand as he sat cautiously down next to you on the ground. He wondered if you could hear his heart beating hard in his chest at feeling how dainty and perfect your hand fit into his.

For the rest of the day the two of you spent time sitting in the dirt, you showing him the correct way to cut out the invasive roots to prevent them from growing back or how to properly plant the seeds to make sure the rain didn’t wash them away. And for once, Jungkook actually looked like he was listening, taking the time to ask questions when he didn’t completely understand why you had to do something a particular way. One question actually had you throwing your head back in laughter, ugly snorts and squeaky noises escaping your throat at how amused you were.

You always did hate your laugh, but for some reason Jungkook was mesmerized at how beautiful you looked, too caught up in how the sunlight framed your face just perfectly and how the rays hit the expanse of perfect skin down the column of your neck. He must’ve not been paying attention and got distracted while trying to cut something from the ground, because the next thing you know he was letting out a hiss and you heard the thump as he recoiled his hand effectively dropping the small shears. You jumped towards him in concern, reaching out to take his hand in yours to inspect the wound on his finger.

“Oh! Are you alright, Jungkook?!” You say and pull the digit up to your face, turning it to fully grasp how serious the cut was.

Jungkook hadn’t responded at first, heart warmed by how worried you seemed. Your face was so close to his he became distracted again, only realizing you had asked a question when you peeked up at him waiting for a response. He nodded, “Yes. I’m fine. Just a cut.”

You tsked, “I think we might need to wrap it. We can come back later to clean up but right now let's take you to wash this off, hmm?” You gave him a small smile of confirmation.

Jungkook didn’t say much else as you two got up off the ground, following you back towards the castle. When he finally did utter something from behind you, his words made you gasp, “You’re lucky I love you.”

[capitainelevi]

Drabble Challenge: 8 & 113 (are you allowed to combine them? Hahahaaaa)

Thank you for your ask!! ❤️❤️

Drabble challenge: Followers send a number to your ask and you write a drabble using that sentence/prompt in your piece.

“Forget it. You fucking suck.” and “I prefer blondes.”

Strange Love

Rivetra College AU

Word count: 2127

Slightly NSFW

Petra had been pacing in front of the house for twenty minutes now, ignoring the annoyed sighs coming from her best friend. She was dreading going to the party, having been content with celebrating by herself with a bottle of wine in hand and Netflix playing in the background. But Nifa insisted she couldn`t celebrate finishing their first year of med school in such a sad way. It wasn`t that Petra hated parties, quite the opposite. People always told Petra that she`s a ray of light. But HE was going to be there.

Levi Ackerman. Her rival. Her archnemesis. And unfortunately for Petra, the smartest and most handsome man she had ever seen. Petra couldn`t help herself but roll her eyes at her luck. For as pretty as he was, Levi was equally annoying. Her smug face annoyed Petra, making her want to punch him and kiss him at the same time. His careless attitude and the low effort he put into studying while also being among the best people in her year made Petra dislike him. She was pretty sure he felt the same way about her, as they constantly bickered every time they had the chance to interact. Petra groaned again at the thought of running into Levi, and she was sure she was getting called "pipsqueak" again.

"Petra, as nice as this sidewalk is, it forgot to offer me a drink."

Petra turned towards Nifa, with a spiteful look on her face- "You heard him yourself! He told Hange he would be at the party." She couldn`t believe her best friend was so insensitive as to ignore her suffering.

Nifa grinned, amused by her best friend`s attempt to hide the massive crush she had on the "bad boy" of their year. Levi was quite the player, switching dates almost weekly. Nifa never told Petra, but she noticed their trips to get ice cream and wine in the middle of the night were related to a girl posting Levi on their Instagram story.

"Oh, yes, the mean hottie. Who knows, maybe bad boy came alone tonight"- Nifa said while winking at Petra.

Petra gasped, faking being offended at the thought of being Levi`s date. She would never admit to Nifa that she found the most annoying man she knew extremely attractive- "He`s not even pretty, Nifa!"

Nifa grinned, amused by the act Petra tried to keep up. She got a smirk on her face at her next thought- "Then you won`t mind seeing his arm around a pretty blonde tonight, right?

Petra couldn`t help the annoyed look on her face, and when Nifa burst into laughter at her reaction, she made up her mind. She was going to prove to both Nifa and Levi that he was irrelevant to her. She gathered the courage and made her way to the door- "Are you ready to go, or do you want to ask the sidewalk out for a date?"

When she made her way into the house, the first thing Petra was met by was Levi`s beautiful, stupid, smug face. She cursed under her breath, and Levi got amused at the reaction his mere presence got out of her. He didn`t dislike Petra, no, quite the opposite. She was beautiful and smart, and he genuinely enjoyed being in her presence. But getting her riled up over the smallest things was amusing. He raised his drink towards her, and Petra just rolled her eyes and turned her back towards him.

"The nerve on that guy! I haven`t been here for one minute, and he already ruined my night."

Nifa merely laughed at Petra`s antics and pulled her by the hand- "I think Miss Grumpy over here needs a drink in her hand."

Levi blocked out Hange`s monologue about the latest articles she read, letting Erwin handle his girlfriend, and he let his sight rest on the petite ginger. His eyes hungrily went up and down her alluring figure, and they stopped to admire the way her tight dress hugged her wide hips and her behind. It wasn`t often that he got to admire her this way, as the loose white coat she wore in class didn`t do Petra`s body any justice. Hange obnoxious voice pulled Levi out of his fantasies- "Earth to Shorty, do you copy?"

Levi slapped their hand away from his shoulder, annoyed at the interruption. "Tsk, don`t put your germs on me, Four-Eyes."

Erwin chuckled, amused at the banter between his best friend and his girlfriend, which was proving to become a daily habit- "That`s not a nice way to refer to my girlfriend, Levi."

Levi shrugged and finished his drink in one go- "Alright, Brows, I`m going to get another drink."

Petra was taking a sip of her beer when she felt a warm breath on her ear- "I`m surprised they let a pipsqueak in here. Isn`t it past your bedtime already?"- Levi whispered in her ear, and Petra was sure he had a smirk on his stupid face. Petra closed her eyes, trying to form a sentence, but her mind was fuzzy from the closeness. She tried to pull her sleeve lower to hide the goosebumps forming on her skin.

"Are you sure you`re not a student at the clown academy, Ackerman?"

Levi chuckled, happy Petra was feeling feisty tonight. Teasing her was becoming one of his favorite day-to-day activities. "Good one, Ral." He took her empty beer bottle from her hands and passed another one to her- "Congratulations, by the way."

Petra raised her eyebrow, not used to hearing words of praise out of his mouth. She expected an insult following this, and was surprised when Levi merely took a sip of his beer- "Are you ironic?"

"Relax, Shrimp. I meant it."

Petra could feel her cheeks get red from anger, and she tried to keep herself from shouting- "Okay, Levi, you`re only a few centimeters taller than me. You`re the last person who should call me short."

Levi leaned in again, to whisper in her ear- "And yet I still get a reaction out of you every time."

Petra gulped, intoxicated by his scent invading her nostrils. She could feel herself growing agitated by his proximity, and she needed to get away from him.

"I need to use the restroom."

Petra almost ran up to the bathroom, ignoring the frown on Levi`s face or the look of concern on Nifa`s. She splashed her face with water and closed her eyes. Petra cursed at herself and her inability to stay away from Levi. She couldn`t lie to herself anymore: she liked him. Petra was trying to gather her thoughts when she heard the bathroom door open, and she gasped when the last person she wanted to see at that moment walked into the room. In her nervousness, she forgot to lock the door behind her, and she groaned at her luck. Levi seemed too preoccupied with drinking his beer to check his surroundings, and Petra waited for him to notice her presence.

Levi just stared at her with a curious look on his face, and Petra put her hands on her hips, annoyed at the apology that wasn`t coming out of his mouth.

"What the hell do you think you are doing? I could have been on the toilet!"

Levi shrugged, not showing any kind of remorse for his mistake- "Right. I didn`t see you."

Petra gasped at the nonchalance in his voice and tried to calm herself down. She wasn`t going to let him ruin her night. But when Levi was content with just staring at her, Petra was starting to get impatient. She pointed at the door- "Well, get out?"

Levi nodded, and Petra frowned when she heard the doorknob turn, followed by a series of curses leaving his mouth. Levi hit the door in his attempt to get it open, and Petra plopped down on the toilet seat, not believing the turn her night was taking. Levi hit the door again before turning to Petra- "It`s jammed."

Petra rolled her eyes, feeling on edge from being stuck in a room with the object of her desires- "I got that, thank you." Levi ignored her comment and sat down on the floor, and when he noticed the curious look on Petra`s face, he patted on the spot next to him.

Petra felt her cheeks go red at his invitation to sit so close to him, feeling tempted to give in to her desires and make a move on him. Her fear of being rejected got the better of her, and she tried to remain as rational as possible.

"Can`t you call Hange or Erwin to get us out of here?"

Levi looked through his pockets before cursing under his breath- "I don`t have my phone with me."

Petra groaned, the response being the one she dreaded the most - "Me neither, my bag is with Nifa."

Levi took another sip of his drink and pointed the bottle to her. She shook her head no, trying to resist the urge to put her lips where his had been mere seconds ago.

"I guess you`re stuck with me until someone comes around."

They stayed in silence, with Levi focusing on his drink while Petra analyzed every detail of her surroundings. She did everything she could to keep her eyes away from him, but a few minutes into it, she gave in. Petra let her eyes roam, admiring his neatly cut raven black hair that she wished she could run her fingers through, his grey eyes that she always found a blue tint in, resting her sight on his muscular arms. Despite his short stature, Petra knew he was well built from the nights she spent stalking his social media and thirsting over his beach photos.

Levi pretended not to notice her staring, but when he saw her biting her lip, he couldn`t contain the smirk forming on his face.

"I prefer blondes."

Petra could feel herself growing red, embarrassed at being caught, so the only option she could think of was to try to deny it. The room was starting to get hotter, and she could feel Levi`s eyes on her. She gulped, trying to think of anything to get her out of the situation- "As if I would ever look at you."

Levi`s smirk grew larger, and when he got up from his spot to make his way to her, Petra`s eyes widened. It was hard enough to think of a good excuse without him being close to her.

"Oh, but you do."

Petra gasped, not expecting Levi to be this direct, and she could swear her face had never been redder in her entire life.

"You think I don`t notice the way you look at me?" Levi crouched down on her level, and Petra gulped when his face was so close to hers he could feel his breath on her lips. Petra`s sight drifted to his lips, and Levi didn`t miss her gesture.

"The way you bite your lip when you think I`m not looking at you?"- he told her while he ran his thumb over it. Petra merely stared back at him, too caught up in his spell to formulate any words. At the sight of her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, and dilated pupils, Levi couldn`t help himself anymore and captured her lips in a messy kiss. Petra closed her eyes and rested her hands on his shoulder, pulling him closer to her.

Levi pulled her down on the floor with him and wrapped his arms around her, running one of his hands up and down the small of her back. Petra moaned into the kiss, opening her mouth to let his tongue in, and he wasted no time. Levi devoured her mouth until they were both out of breath, and when they pulled away from one another, Petra opened her eyes to be met by a smug smile painted on his face.

"Forget it. You fucking suck."

Levi chuckled and merely pulled her in for another kiss. When he bit her lip, Petra whimpered at the pleasure he was making her feel, and she eagerly let her tongue explore his mouth. She gasped when Levi pulled her to sit on his lap, and she moaned at the feeling of his erection against her core. She ground herself on him in an attempt to get some relief and let one of her hands roam around his erection. Her eyes widened when her hand stumbled upon a phone in his pocket, and Levi could feel her smile against his lips.

She pulled back to look at him with a smile on her face and kissed his ear lobe before whispering- "There`s nothing wrong with the door, is there?"

[ahtsumu]

college student!miya atsumu hc dump

pairing: gn!reader ; genre: so much fluff, headcanons/mini drabbles ; tag(s): fluff, slightly suggestive, just the underclassman years for now, based on the american college system ; wc: 1.2k

imagine college student!miya atsumu majoring in creative writing while being the starting setter on the university's NCAA D1 volleyball team. he read milk and honey by rupi kaur once and ever since then he’s been madly in love with hitting the “enter” key after typing three words and calling it poetry. his ultimate goal, however, is to play for team USA at the olympics though!

imagine college freshman!miya atsumu

longboarding across campus on the first day of class with his airpods in (now playing: rap caviar on spotify), ray-bans on, snapback over his head, and nearly falling over when he passes you on the way to your 9 am. when you stop to make sure he’s okay, his entire face goes red before he stammers out an “i’m fine, thanks” and speeds off in embarrassment, kicking himself the whole time for not even getting your name because when will he ever see you again?? but when he’s settled down in freshman seminar and looks up at the whiteboard, he sees you walk in from the corner of his eye.

spending the whole night studying the lasting effects of imperialism through the lens of feminist theory after being paired up with you for a group project. he’s sweating buckets as he walks into starbucks because he just knows you think he’s an idiot (especially after your disastrous first encounter), only to be pleasantly surprised when the first thing you say to him is, “finally gave up on the longboard?” with a cheeky grin

texting his twin osamu “pls help how do i get someone to like me”, receiving “lmao is this a joke”, then replying with “stfu i don’t wanna hu i wanna cuff”, then being spammed with wikihow links and a few articles from GQ–– none of which he thinks helps, by the way!

running into you at the nearby 7-eleven at 2 am as he stands in front of the chips (it’s cheat day and he’s studying for a midterm, c’mon), deliberating between the purple and red taki’s like it’s a matter of life and death. when you say “fuego is better” from behind, he spins around with his hand on his heart, eyes wide in shock before he grins and replies with “i didn’t take ya for a basic…” but grabs the purple bag anyway

studying under a shady tree in the quad and getting bored after finishing a couple assignments, so he texts you to see if you’re free to go over some details of your project together (you are), only to end up not getting any work done because suddenly, you’re playing an impromptu game of 20 questions and wow. he can’t stop thinking about you.

sending you excerpts of your readings with funny comments, usually just roasting the author or narrator for his inability to understand the text. the first time you send one back he’s in the locker room after practice and he grins so wide that when his teammates grab his phone and see that all you’ve sent is a screenshot followed by “this mf’s writing about pouring concrete as if it's a RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE LMFAO someone come get their man!!”, they’re like, atsumu… you good? but no, he’s not–– he’s into you to the point it hurts not to have you

inviting you to one of his games after class with his heart pounding so fast that it almost feels like he’s playing the game right now, but then you take the ticket from his hand and grin, promising that you’ll be there as a representative from the official miya atsumu fan-club. he thinks that he might just die on the spot from happiness, but then you ask if you should come with a poster of his face and that’s when he really thinks he might just combust

looking nervously for you in the stands during warmups just to make sure you’re there and playing so hard after he spots you that he breaks his personal best for service aces in one game. he actually turns around at one point in the game to look you in the eye, winking as if to say “this one’s for you.” (you blush and hope he didn’t see it. he did!)

raising up one eyebrow in class when you meet his gaze and mouthing “wanna get out of here?” just to get you flustered, except when you mouth back “sure, my dorm?” with the same mischief in your eyes, a bright red blush blooms over his cheeks–– and he suddenly finds it very hard to focus, the only thing on his mind being you and him… in your dorm…

finally asking you out to the fall ball (this year’s theme: masquerade!), showing up at your door in a black three-piece suit and white mask and thinking that there’s no way he’ll be able to work up the courage to make his move once he sees you dressed like that, except he does when he walks you back at the end of the night, kissing you right in front of your door with his heart about to leap out from his throat

imagine college sophomore!miya atsumu

in plaid sweats, hair fluffy from sleep, leaning against the kitchen counter with a bowl of lucky charms in his hands, murmuring a “mornin’ babe” with a soft smile when he sees you walk in

pulling you onto his lap on his sofa as he reads to you a poem he has to analyse for class–– “[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]” by e.e. cummings–– and when you ask him if he’s finally moved on from his weird obsession with enjambment, he laughs out an “as if!” and pulls up a poem he’s just written on his notes app

leaning over the court-side barriers before games for his ritual “good luck kiss” because ever since you started coming to his games in freshman year he’s only set personal record after personal record (even breaking the school record for service aces at one point)... even though his teammates and coaches all make fun of him for it

making out with you on his desk after you walk into his room in one of his team hoodies–– the one with his jersey on it–– his calloused hands running up and down your waist as he kisses you fervently because god, he can’t hold himself back when he sees you in something that claims you as his, even if he has a paper on 18th century french poetry due in two hours

tapping your shoulder as you file out of your 8 am class with a goofy grin and your coffee order in hand after you rushed out the door a few minutes late that morning (thanks to him and his stupid wandering hands)

driving you around campus on an athletic department golf cart after class because of his student athlete special privileges, giving out high-fives and aggressively shouting “hey! have a great day!” to the students and faculty you pass (all while cementing your reputation as the cutest couple on campus)

begging you to stay another night at his off-campus apartment even though you have your own dorm room because he sleeps better knowing that yes, you’re still there beside him and you haven’t left like so many other people in his life

inviting his parents to the NCAA volleyball finals. the second they see you in his jersey in the front row they rush over and hug you, introducing themselves and saying that they've heard so much about you from their little ‘tsumu that they could recognise you from anywhere. and when atsumu strides on the court with the rest of the team and sees you giggling with his parents, he thinks that he really could just marry you right then and there

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Weekly Fic Recs

I got behind on my fic recs again, so below the cut is two weeks' worth of reads. Found some new to me writers!

A lot of the fics I read are NSFW and 18+ only, so please, honor the writers' requests and heed any warnings posted on their blog or fic.

~~~T*mblr's new post limits suck ass!! Normally I would include any drabbles I read and want to rec, but the post was too long with them included. I may have to start doing a weekly drabble rec because there are some gorgeous little gems out there.~~~

What's Mine ~ @calaofnoldor. Author's Summary: The secret you and Sam are hiding from Dean is threatened by your inability to keep your hands off each other.

Perfect ~ @mrswhozeewhatsis. Author's Summary: Life with Dean is perfect.

Overloaded ~ @anotherspnfanfic. Author's Summary: Working too many hours and being short handed leads to a breaking point.

Shared Grief ~ @girl-next-door-writes. Author's Summary: Bucky has always been glad to have Steve as a buffer between you, but what happens when Steve is no longer around?

I Could Show You ~ @downanddirtydean. Author's Summary: You decide to step out of your comfort zone and finally visit a sex shop in search of some new toys. The guy at the counter, Dean, offers to show you how some of them work instead of just telling you.

One Hell of an Arrangement ~ @manawhaat. Author's Summary: When you and Dean finally realize that you can’t sleep without each other you both let the feelings you’ve been hiding from lead you to an arrangement that neither of you could have ever expected; an arrangement you wouldn’t trade for the world.

That Can Be Arranged ~ @manawhaat. Author's Summary: After a few months of sharing beds with Dean a happy mistake leads to something you didn’t realize you wanted.

Sleeping Arrangements ~ @manawhaat. Author's Summary: When you’re sick and tired of sharing motel beds with a sweaty, gassy, bed-hogging moose you and Dean decide to give it a shot.

Healing ~ @idreamofplaid. Author's Summary: The life of a hunter is hard, loving a hunter may be harder, but love is greater than all that.

Marlin and Nemo ~ @supernatural-jackles. Author's Summary: After getting kidnapped on a hunt, and tortured for seventy-two hours, you’re having trouble getting back to normal. You figured a drink before bed would help, only Dean has other plans to help you move forward.

Somebody to Someone ~ @anathewierdo. Author's Summary: Dean doesn’t have a chance to truly be himself often.

Dinner is Ready ~ @dreaming-about-fanfictions. Author's Summary: You bring dinner for the two hunters but all Dean can imagine is fucking you senseless on that table.

Home to You-One, Two, and Three ~ @smol-and-grumpy. Author's Summary: Dean enlisted in the hopes to help secure enough money for Sam to be able to go to college. Of course he didn’t tell Sam. Why would he? Sam would understand, right? Turns out, Sam didn’t get it, and is giving Dean the silent treatment for over a year. In Dean’s desperation to reconnect with Sam, Dean reaches out to his brother’s best friend. Little does he know that the hurricane named Y/N will turn out to be the reason he wants to stay alive and go back home for.

Batteries Not Included ~ @impala-dreamer. Author's Summary: Dean tries to replace his big screen and things get a little weird for him and Y/N.

Mechanic and Mistletoe-Part 13, Part 14, and Part 15 ~ @deanwanddamons. Author's Summary: Y/N, an ER nurse is driving home to her Mom on Christmas Eve. Her car breaks down on the side of the road. She calls Winchester Singer Autos and Bobby sends Dean to help her. Will she make it to her Mom in time for Christmas? And will she get back home in time for her shift on Boxing Day?

Whiskey and Scars-Part 2 and Part 3 ~ @thinkinghardhardlythinking. Author's Summary: A friends to lovers slow burn featuring the reader and Dean Winchester, with (platonic) appearances from Sam.

Forgive Me, Father ~ @thewinchesters-pants. Author's Summary: None

I'm Going Down (Chapter 5-8) ~ @jawritter. Author's Summary: Six years was a long time to be alone, but as fate would have it a wounded stranger that you find in the woods would not only turn your world upside down; but he might just save your life in return.

Legally Yours-Ch. 28 (Epilogue) ~ @smol-and-grumpy. Author's Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Swat Guy (Masterlist) ~ @luci-in-trenchcoats. Author's Summary: The reader tags along with her brother Sam to a party for work and runs into Dean Smith, finding him to be much more pleasant than her brother implied…

[masterwords]

This is not a blurb, this is a long but fast read, the final in the Core 7 series - JJ Knows, Rossi Knows, Penelope Knows, Emily Knows and now...Spencer knows. Not the prettiest writing, it's all just simple and fast, it felt more like if I was telling a story than writing one. Sometimes it do be like that. ~2.1k words (Yeah, I know, it was supposed to be a drabble...sorry. Spence was fun to torment.)

----

The pigeons were louder than usual, cooing atop the light posts, calling out to mates or for food. It was early Sunday morning, earlier than his normal time, and Spencer was waiting patiently for his friends to show up for a morning of chess in the park. He played a game on his own, back and forth with his own mind, nimble fingers dancing with the pieces. Sipping his coffee while he contemplated his next move, he glanced up at the people gathering around the outskirts of the park, the early morning joggers and the moms with their small children needing to run off some energy. He loved to watch the kids on the swings, rushing down the slides, their easy smiles made him feel joyful and light. Beneath a large oak tree, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure, one he saw often on the weekends running through the winding trails of the park.

“That your gladiator friend over there?” Benny asked, sliding into the spot opposite Spencer and unfolding the newspaper in his lap. He was there to play chess with Spencer but he'd have to wait out the game in progress, it was the right thing to do. Spencer slid a few pieces around before acknowledging Benny's question and looking up again.

“Yeah,” he replied, eyes trained on Derek now, stretching beside a tree. “He runs here on the weekends.”

“Who is that with him?” Benny asked, and Spencer shrugged, wondering why his friend was so curious, or what it mattered. He'd been playing chess in the same place for years, and Derek had been running there for just as long, and they'd never once spoken to one another about it. Sort of an unwritten rule of the weekend. Occasionally, if their paths crossed, they would do the smile and nod, but this was their private time, the rare bits that were reserved for the part of them that still existed outside of the BAU. Still, he found his eyes drawn to the sight of Derek when he noticed another person standing and talking to him, standing a little too close to just be running partners. He couldn't see the other man's face, but the sinking feeling in his stomach said he knew who it was without ever needing to see the face. His mannerisms were unmistakable.

“That's my boss,” Spencer muttered to Benny who let out a soft chuckle and shook his head. He couldn't help it now, he had to watch. Slowly, he rearranged the pieces on the board, setting up his game with Benny, abandoning his solo game in an attempt to be able to peek at his friends, his inability to control his voyeurism on full display.

“They look awful friendly,” Benny remarked, folding his newspaper back up and shoving it into his bag. Spencer nodded and did his best to look only at the chess board as Derek and Aaron ran by, side by side, off for their morning run. It was lucky for Spencer and his racing heart that they had gone for a long one instead of doing laps so he wasn't subjected to more of his inability to stop staring until they finished and separated with a kiss goodbye, each heading in different directions. The rest of the day, while he sat and played friend after friend, he thought about how he would have to go to work the next day and pretend he hadn't seen anything out of the ordinary.

Turns out, that was the easy part. Too easy. He thought he'd start noticing little things, ways they were intimate he hadn't seen before but now that he knew, he wouldn't be able to stop seeing except nothing ever happened. They were just the same Hotch and Morgan, butting heads and grouchy as ever. There was not a single indicator, not even a sideways glance, that what he'd seen had really even happened. By the end of the week he was starting to doubt his own eyes. He spent all day Saturday at the library, losing himself in stacks of books, and ran into Aaron and Jack on his way to check out some things for a conference he was preparing for.

“Uncle Spencer!” Jack squealed, shoving his arm full of books at his father in order to wrap his arms around Spencer's legs. Aaron stood back, hugging the books to his chest, and smiled at how happy his son was to see their friend out in the wild.

“I've never seen you at this library before,” Spencer said, standing and approaching Aaron who just shrugged and smiled.

“Jack said we've checked out all of the good books at ours, we had a few errands to run downtown so we decided to make a pit stop. Turns out it was worth it, Jack's taking out the limit, he didn't even leave room for me to get one this week.”

Spencer tucked a lock of hair behind is ear and smiled, feeling somewhat easier around Aaron than he had the rest of the week, now that he'd decided to stop looking for something that wasn't there. “What did you want? I'll put my good name on the line for you.” The offer made Aaron smile, though he declined, worried something might happen to the book and sully Spencer's reputation with the library. Another few minutes of small talk crept by before Jack was antsy to go to the park and play before lunch time. Spencer grabbed a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo before he left, intending to drop it on Aaron's desk Monday morning to give the man something to read for the week.

By the time Spencer was seated on his stool at the park waiting for Benny, he'd all but decided he'd fabricated the kiss between Aaron and Derek. The idea that they ran together wasn't so far fetched, but the kiss...he must have been sleep deprived to have seen something so absurd. And yet, it happened again, like clockwork. Same time as the last week, they met up and they ran side by side, smiling and laughing, and when they finished they did so with a kiss and smiles. This time they held hands for a minute in line for coffee at a little cart before they parted ways and he felt like he might explode. He wasn't sure why he was being punished but he didn't appreciate it.

This went on for weeks, each time Spencer thought he would finally see some indicator of a secret relationship at work but there was never anything, not even a hint. Derek didn't bring coffee in for Aaron, Aaron didn't call him into his office, there was nothing. It was starting to scare him. How could two people look so utterly in love one moment and show nothing to indicate that they even like each other the next? He wasn't sure how you just turned something like that off, but somehow they did, and he started to wonder how long it had been going on right under their noses. It became like a game, trying to catch a glimpse, keeping score. It gave him something to keep his mind focused. There had been one moment, in Dallas, where he thought he saw something, just a split second – Aaron had a migraine, they could all tell though he wouldn't ever say a word. He just sat at the precinct, a little more sluggish than usual, and worked through it. Spencer had been with him in the conference room, but JJ had come to grab him, to make a trip to the M.E.'s office, and he passed Derek on his way out. He turned around to see that the lights in the conference room Aaron was in were now off, though Derek had only popped in an out before going to speak to the lead detective and Spencer was going to count that as a THING. A thing someone in love would do for their hurting partner. Maybe it wasn't, maybe Aaron turned the light off himself, maybe they'd burned out, but he was going to call it a thing because it was thrilling to think he was on the inside of a secret circle now.

There were no more THINGS for a long time. And then suddenly it was Derek's birthday, and Spencer had shown up to work early. Aaron's office light was on, door closed and he could see two shadows behind the drawn blinds. He sat down at his desk and began working through his case files, he had three of them due before lunch time so he could spend the rest of his afternoon at a conference in D.C. He did his best to keep his eyes down when Aaron's office door opened and out stepped a woman he recognized instantly at Derek's mother, and he turned his chair just enough away from them that he could pretend he didn't watch her hug him tight and tell him she'd see him at dinner. That wasn't just a THING, it was a BIG THING.

“Good morning, Reid,” Aaron called from the cat walk as he headed back into his office, either assuming that Spencer had no idea who the woman was, or just not caring at all if he did. She stopped by his desk on her way out and visited with him for a moment, letting Spencer know that she remembered meeting him and that Derek thought the world of him. She told him that she was in town as a surprise for Derek's birthday, and asked if he'd like to come out for his birthday dinner at his favorite restaurant. He glanced up at Aaron's office, saw the man watching from his doorway and told her he'd have to check his schedule and see what time his conference was over. He felt his heart thunder in his chest, he was about to be found out, he would have to admit to knowing about Aaron and Derek, he would have to admit to watching them for months. Aaron didn't call him up, though, and he breathed a little easier until the moment he had to drop off his case files. He slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way for Aaron's office.

“Reid,” Aaron said, taking the files from the younger man. “I know that Fran invited you out to dinner tonight for Derek's birthday, and you are more than welcome to join us. Penelope will be there, if that makes you feel better. I only ask that you keep Fran's presence in town quiet until dinner, it's a surprise. I'm not exactly known for my inspired gift giving but I think I've done alright this time.” Spencer felt his heart stop, felt his palms get clammy.

“He'll love it,” he stammered, and Aaron let a soft smile drift over his features. He supposed he might need to have a conversation with Spencer at some point, but now wasn't the time, he didn't want the kid to be late for his conference and he had a train to catch. He watched as Spencer left and shook his head, the poor kid. Derek had thought it would be fun to mess with him, make him think he was watching something secret, but it was clearly stressing him out and it made Aaron feel guilty.

Spencer did decide to meet them for dinner after talking to Penelope who assured him it was fine and it would make Derek happy to see him. He thought maybe he would get confirmation that the two Dereks and the two Aarons really were the same people – the Sunday runners were the same as the FBI Agents, because at that point he was starting to doubt his own sanity. Dinner, however, did not allay any of his concerns, in fact it made them worse. Derek and Aaron didn't even sit side by side at the dinner table. He couldn't figure it out, but he was about to lose his mind, make a scene right there in the restaurant except everyone was smiling and having a good time and Aaron paid for the entire meal for everyone which kept him mostly placated. At the end of the meal, as everyone was saying goodbye in front of the place, he watched as Derek, Aaron and Fran all piled into Aaron's vehicle and he finally felt vindicated. There was that, at least. They came and left together, it had to mean something. It had to be a thing.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Derek called, leaning out of the passenger window before they drove away. He flashed Spencer that megawatt smile and Spencer thought he saw a devilish twinkle in the other man's eye. “We'll see you Sunday morning!”

He felt his heart stop, thought his knees would give out until he felt Penelope come up beside him and put her arm around his waist. “You know it isn't actually a secret, right?”

“What?” he asked, feeling like he'd just come from underwater, gasping for air.

“Just because they never made an announcement doesn't make it a secret, silly,” she mused, pulling him down the sidewalk. "It's just a thing." For the first time in months, he didn't feel like he was losing his mind. Leave it to Penelope to give him back his sense of order in a world of chaos.

[silvysartfulness]

Omg I saw that you used to write for the assassin’s creed fandom and honestly what a throwback 😭 are they on livejournal?

Aahhh, this is the part where I have to admit, I don't think I ever put any of those drabbles online! It was more a fun thing me and wife used to do, writing very very short 5 minute one-shots based on single word-prompts.

Oh, wait! Apparently I actually still have them, in an old folder of mine! Will post under a cut. These are AC 1-3-brotherhood, primarily focused on the latter.

La Volpe/Cesare post the fall of the Borgia was my main rarepair ship in that fandom, so that's the main (if occasionally only implied) focus for a lot of these. (CW some dubcon/non-con under the cut, so be warned.) 😊

1 Unwillingness

It goes against everything he is, a greater challenge than any battlefield taken on. Snarling, eyes blazing his defiance, Cesare submits for now.

2 Memento

”Something to remember me by,” murmurs Volpe softly against the sensitive skin of his neck, and it's all Cesare can do not to yelp as those vicious teeth leave a bleeding gash in his ear.

3 Baseline

He still doesn't trust Machiavelli, Volpe muses, and it's equally clear Machiavelli doesn't trust him. Perhaps their shared love of secrecy is the one dependent thing about their relationship.

4 Sniper

He has shot guards from rooftops, towers, horseback, beams and the treacherous crumbling tops of ancient stone pillars. So why was it, muses Ezio afterward, that he hadn't even thought of pulling crossbow or gun out as his sworn enemies held their short council in the courtyard a few measly yards below his feet?

5 Birthplace

It is in Masyaf the order of Assassins was born into what it is now. Searching for answers Ezio sets out on the longest journey of his life, back to the beginning of all.

6 Denunciation

It is hard to remember what it was like to have faith, Cesare thinks, but easy to remember when it was lost. What God could ever work through the instrument that was Alexander VI, his father?

7 Distaste

”Volpe, you didn't!” Ezio exclaims, his face a mask of distaste. Volpe smirks.

”Oh, it was not at all bad. Cesare is well trained.”

Ezio shudders. ”That is exactly what bothers me!”

8 Elimination

Constantly, frustratingly one step behind, it is little Cesare can do as his allies are meticulously taken out by the Assassins one by one. And yet it is not until the last of those on his side willingly turn their backs on him that he realizes this battle is lost.

9 Bluntness

”You can do as I say,” says the master thief matter-of-factly, turning the vial of antidote over in his spindly fingers, ”or you can spend the night dying slowly while vomiting your innards all over the floor. The choice is yours.”

Pale with fury Cesare chooses to live.

10 Turf

The Assassins had been myth, legend, bed-time stories to frighten a young boy already afraid of the dark. But as they dealt an all but deadly blow to his father inside the Vatican itself, Cesare grimly declares war. Roma is his city, and all who oppose his rule must be swiftly and mercilessly dealt with.

11 Assassination

He burns for the ideals, fights the fight with passion and utter devotion. But when Shaun's shaking hands lower the suddenly impossibly heavy gun he knows something he'dnever even thought about (Innocence? Compassion? Humanity?) has perished as surely as that very first body at his feet.

12 Apprentice

He remembers a gangly youth skidding across slippery roof tiles, trying so hard to keep up and even harder to hide his inability to do so. La Volpe silently studies Il Mentore and considers he's no longer sure who would lead the way across the rooftops.

13 Debris

Ezio swears as the ceiling collapses over the bed he shared with Caterina until moments ago – his armor and weapons are buried in the rubble and will be hard to replace. He does not yet know they will be the least of his losses this day.

14 Scolding

Altaïr has never been one to accept blame or criticism for his actions, but something about the way Malik's not-there left arm twitches as to shake a not-there fist in his face as the man speaks makes him look away in hidden shame.

15 Torrent

The rain pours down over the city, making roofs and cobblestones alike wet and slippery. Volpe tugs his collar tighter around his shoulders against the biting cold and idly contemplates if a trip to the Castello would be worth the trouble.

16 Anchor

He cheats and steals and tells honeyed lies with the ease of a snake. But his eyes can be oceans and his touch velvet – sometimes Ezio wonders if his always restless, inspiration-ridden friend keeps Salai around just to remember what it's like to be human.

17 Truce

”It would be nice,” says Machiavelli evenly, ”if you would not so readily name yourself judge, jury and executioner the next time you fall victim to unfounded suspicion.”

”Fine,” mutters Volpe, frowning. ”It would be niceif you were not so secretive. And stop trying to steal my spies. Get your own.”

”Fine,” Machiavelli replies with a minute smirk.

Fellowship is knowing just when your brother-in-arms is lying.

18 Nook

There are many unknown and unseen hiding places among the rooftops of Florence. On his back, hair plastered against his face and hot breath against his ear, Giovanni concludes it's very handy that La Volpe always knows to find one when you need it.

19 Orgy

These parties are more to his father's tastes than his his, Cesare firmly tells himself, perhaps letting his eyes linger thoughtfully on the multitude of courtesans a moment longer than intended. Then a familiar slender hand grazes his thigh and he is reminded that the only person even close to matching his own schemes, cunning and skill is the woman on the throne next to his.

20 Scoff

”I spend all my time in the Animus,” Desmond frowns, ”Lucy's keeping an eye on Abstergo and Rebecca... hacks and stuff. What do youdo, really? Anyone could use, what, Google and Wikipedia?”

Shaun grins or at least bares his teeth.

”You mean Templar Central One and Two? No, it's called obtaining knowledge, Desmond - sifted like little gold nuggets of fact from the vast sands of ignorance you're so fond of burying your head in. Google can't help you there, I'm afraid.”

21 Scolding

At the time, Ezio always figured Giovanni's constant nagging and pleading with him to stay out of trouble was only the worrying of an overprotective father. Only later was he taught discretion was part of the ancient Assassin's creed. He never got very good at it, even so.

22 Bonfire

No-one is entirely sure why Julius II has tempered justice with mercy for now and opted for his enemy's imprisonment rather than death sentence. As far as la Volpe is concerned, the way Cesare goes pale whenever the topic is brought up is at least good for entertainment.

23 Nakedness

Being exposed holds no particular shame for him, but the walls and floor are freezing to the touch, draining precious warmth from his aching body. Now would be a prudent time for an accursed thief to show up with a blanket to bargain for.

24 Arbiter

It was funny, Machiavelli drily noted in his notebook, how God and Divine Justice so often were on the side of the biggest army with the sharpest swords.

25 Purgatory

The land burns, smoke choking the sky and tinting the sun a sickly shade of blood. It is with a cold and unfamiliar sense of foreboding Cesare hurries through the flames toward the towering walls of the fortress to escape this hell on earth – one way or another.

26 Fingernail

Ezio has more than his fair share of scars adorning his hardened body, some remembered more fondly than others. He would never dream to ask Caterina to trim her nails, or use them just a touch more carefully.

27 Slavery

The Creed dictates freedom of thought, and in his reckless youth Altaïr would use it as justification for any rash impulse. But the older he grows, the more he comes to realize freedom and all its crushing responsibility can be the harshest master of all.

28 Carnivore

When confronted on his nasty habit of biting, Volpe only grins and quips something about foxes and their nature. Cesare is tempted to snap he's often seen dirty foxes prowling the back streets for garbage, but can see where Volpe would go with that, and so holds his tongue.

29 Bluntness

Ezio is too flustered after his mother's blunt request he find other outlets than vaginas to realize the enthusiastic young artist at his side seems more than eager to offer a few suggestions on the particular subject.

30 Vow

He will live, Cesare vows. He will live, he will regain his freedom, his power and his army. At any cost. And then they will. All. Pay.

31 Blending

It was simply not fair, thought Machiavelli, that no matter how solid your acting, no matter how meticulousyour disguise, Volpe would immediately spot you in a crowd and grin at you. Clearly spying on the sly old fox called for more cunning means, he conceded as he made his way to the Rosa to shamelessly bribe Claudia for information.

32 Misconduct

“Not that we are in any particular hurry to the Castello,” Orsini says, the knuckles of his war-gauntlet quite pleasantly buried in Cesare's face, “but things would just be easier all around if you would stop squirming and came quietly.”

33 Ultimatum

“If you don't stop hogging my mp3-player,” Rebecca whispers softly in Shaun's ear, “I'll tell Lucy exactly whatyou and Desmond used her yoghurts for last night.”

34 Takeover

“Stop!” Lucrezia commands as the soldiers feed the paintings to the fire – already the image of a swan is crackling and fading to black amongst the flames. Such a waste of beauty. She hasn't even realized Cesare is standing behind her, fierce and bloodied after the battle, until he speaks.

“You like them?”

She nods, and he touches her cheek with a smile, careful not to stain her hair.

“Then they are yours. A memento of the day the Assassini fell.”

35 Afterlife

“I blame you for this,” says Cesare flatly as the imps re-heat the lake of boiling tar. Again. “There is no God, you said. No heaven and no hell, you said. Stupid old bastard.”

Rodrigo mutters something about Hell being other people, but will have to concede that in this trifling matter, yes, he was mistaken.

36 Distaste

He would rather be hated than forgotten, Cesare sullenly thinks, rubbing his stiff hands for warmth. Bony, filthy, with the matted long hair of a hermit falling into his face, he has to settle for the guards' contempt. At least it's better than pity.

37 Slavery

He isn't really paid, Leonardo thinks, merely kept alive, yes. Not really compensated as such. And so the construction of the intricate war-machines is really on the consciences of his masters, not his. Sting of guilt quenched he returns to the blueprints with renewed fevered enthusiasm.

38 Probation

“What's the catch”, asks Cesare with deepest suspicion.

“No catch,” Volpe assures, looking innocent. “Just a reward for your recent good behaviour. Keep it up and there may a meal and a hot bath in it for you, too.”

Cesare does not for a moment believe they are just going out 'to stretch their legs', but a meal does sound inviting. He follows.

39 Adversity

Ezio strongly disapproved of the idea of his little sister taking over the Rosa in Fiore, and he frankly can't say whether he is more disappointed or proud when it flourishes under her care.

40 Bluntness

“You are a thief,” Machiavelli growls, piqued into a rare display of anger. “A liar and a cheat and an honourless thief!”

Volpe grins.

“All those things. And I'm still better than you.”

41 Scheming

Ezio gave the Apple to Mario, who had it stolen by Cesare, who gave it to Leonardo, who found it plucked out of his helpless hands by the Pope and his daughter. He ponders life was easier when he was just a painter. The Apple is a thing of awe, but the intrigues in its wake make his head hurt.

42 Favorite

It wasn't that Cesare particularly hated his older brother. It was just that while he no longer childishly sought his father's approval, the position as the Pope's favorite son came with several practical perks. Unfortunately for Juan, that meant he simply had to go.

43 Truce

When things are civilized, they can be bearable, almost even pleasant. The food is good, the wine plentiful, and Volpe's skilled fingers all but gentle. An unspoken truce, no matter how temporary. But neither man ever forgets the truth, which is war.

44 Scour

They answer to no-one, self-proclaimed executioners beyond all law. Too much blood on their hands now. Just before sunrise Cesare gives the command to attack. The cleansing of Monteriggioni has begun.

45 Extrovert

To hold his own council and play his cards close to his heart has always been his way, and he knowshe is a master at his game. And yet, Machiavelli can grudgingly admit to himself, it isn't until the boisterous chaos in human guise that is Ezio bursts in on the Roman scene that he begins to see how they will win this war.

46 Protagonist

“I will avenge the cowardly, treacherous plot against my father,” he thinks. “I will root out all those involved, every single one, and I will kill them and all they stand for.”

No-one ever sets out to be a hero, only to do what is right.

For Cesare, the path ahead is clear.

47 Willpower

It is never easy. Every time Altaïr visits his (his!) bureau in Jerusalem, Malik has to struggle with himself not to slay the man in his sleep. On many a moonlit night, only a lifetime of discipline stays the blade in his white-knuckled hand.

But strangely, it does get easier over time.

48 Esacalation

At first it had been mere proof of his ability to go anywhere in Roma as well he pleased, the taunting and impotent rage in response a given bonus. After some time, forced still-furious intimacy gained through blackmail had appeared a logical step. Then force turned out redundant. As Cesare clings to him, nails biting into his arms and teeth bared with need, Volpe admits to himself he would never have suspected the caged Borgia would so willingly use him to sate his desires – nor the other way around.

49 Torrent

Raw grief fades over time, a broken heart healed into a dull ache. The thing that keeps Claudia from sleeping at night is not all she has lost, but her screaming frustration at not being able to take her fate, and that of those responsible, into her own hands.

50 Danger

The peaceful life he had envisioned just the evening before will have to wait, Ezio grimly decides, pressing a hand to his wounded shoulder and focusing on not falling off his horse. And despite the shock, grief and pain, it somehow feels right. He has lived this life so long, he isn't sure he remembers how not to.

51 Splattering

Leonardo likes to buy birds at the market and set them free, watching with dreaming eyes as they take to the endless sky. Once, Ezio surprises his friend with twenty white doves. Much belatedly he wishes he'd remembered that stressed pigeons prefer to lighten their load before taking off.

52 Ramification

“It is time you take responsibility for your actions,” Rodrigo snarls, and Cesare struggles with the impulse to scream, childishly, “But father, younever did!”

53 Concession

“I'm not sure we should...”

Lover and Thief, silhouettes in the dark, alone. A light touch.

“Come now. It will be good, I promise.”

“But, what if...”

“Ssh. Are we not both Assassins? Everything is permitted.”

His honed thief's nerves tingling with foreboding warnings, La Volpe allows Claudia to persuade him in the end, knowing Ezio will probably kill him, and that it will no doubt be worth it.

54 Leer

You can't even seehis face in the shadows beneath the cowl. And yet, Volpe just standing there outside the bars, nonchalantly leaning one hand against the wall, makes Cesare want to scream. Or punch him hard. Preferably both.

55 Whisper

Ezio reflects that there are few other voices he would instantly recognize by just a short, urgent uttering of his name. His hesitation to turn around stems not from uncertainty, but the childish wish to postpone the trial of his oldest friend's rumored treason just a few moments longer.

56 Absurdity

At first Ezio had felt confused, then worried and finally terrified. But as they've fled Florence and the man introducing himself as uncle Mario tells him that his family belongs to an ancient clan of legendary assassins, relief washes over him. Finally is clear it has all been an insane dream. He can't wait to wake up.

57 Experimentation

Leonardo da Vinci is a true genius, his brilliant mind always seeing the world through a lens of wonder. Nothing escapes his never-sated curiosity – but that a small poseable wooden mannequin could be used like that? Cesare is a man not easily impressed, but will have to admit the artist rarely fails to amaze.

58 Farewell

It is with uncharacteristic kindness Volpe kisses him, between shared gasps for air after their final tryst. A last goodbye before the approaching dawn will see Cesare on his way to exile in Spain.

”Growing sentimental, old fox?” the younger man scoffs at him. ”No need. I shall return soon enough, and repaint the walls of Roma with Assassin blood.”

Volpe just smiles. He has already helped Ezio prepare his own journey and knows with certainty that Cesare will never again return to Rome.

59 Turf

”Maybe Giovanni could get away with doing paperwork all day over in Florence,” Mario says, and his tone clearly states what he thinks about his brother's choice. ”But arround here we train Assassins, not accountants or delivery boys.”

Ezio's body has never ached as much in his life as it does after his first day of training with his uncle.

60 Smoothness

When she smiles her deep red lips are like tantalizing rose petals, framed by sun-ray golden hair. She is smooth, flawless, perfect. But every rose has its thorns, and Lucrezia's are laden with poison.

61 Kneeling

Every fiber of Ezio's body strains desperately to regain control as he jerks like a puppet on golden strings of light.

”You are lucky,” breathes Rodrigo in a low, husky growls, leaning hard on the staff after the battle, ”So verylucky, little Assassin, that I am in a hurry.”

As the dagger sinks into his guts, Ezio briefly thinks that indeed, it could have been so much worse.

62 Purgatory

The imps don't know whether to feel amused or put out that the screaming, flailing argument between father and son has by now escalated to the point they don't even seem to register the lake of boiling tar anymore. A bit of respect for good solid workmanship, is that too much to ask?

63 Lick

It has to be said in favour of Machiavelli's assassin reflexes that the unexpected lick at his ear out of the dark earns Volpe neither a jump or a shriek but a rapid fist to the nose.

Only half an hour later, safely home in his bedroom, does Niccolo allow himself to contemplate what might have otherwise transpired.

64 Bonfire

It is a sad thing, reflects Ezio in hindsight, older, wiser, that compared to all the priceless art and knowledge fed to fire during Savonarola's mad reign of Florence, the mere loss of a human life that ended it is remembered with little sense of loss or revulsion.

65 Last

After Mario's death, Ezio has felt the weight of being the last Auditore Assassin ever heavier on his shoulders. But as he watches Claudia fearlessly take her leap of faith, he wonders how he could ever have been blind enough to think himself alone.

66 Well

The guards in hot pursuit yell and stab at wells, haystacks and dark alleyways. From his perch on a rooftop Ezio smiles. He always did prefer to take to the sky.

67 Wrongdoer

As his support falters and the opposition grows ever bolder, Cesare becomes increasingly frustrated with their attacks and accusations. He would prefer to answer only for his own sins, not those of his dead father.

68 Deliberate

It really is getting unnerving, decides Machiavelli, the way Volpe has taken up the habit of commenting on his every observation with a frosty ”Indeed” or ”Yes, quitethe coincidence”. He wishes he could believe the man isn't doing it on purpose.

69 Counter

When he first arrives in Jerusalem, Altaïr can't quite shake the feeling that the only thing between him and certain death is a rather narrow, map-strewn desk.

70 Bribe

Cesare has always been good at striking a profitable bargain. Unfortunately Borgia as a currency is bitterly deflated, and these days he often have to sell himself too cheap for comfort. Even though it isa warm, snug blanket.

71 Chess

Cesare knows he is a brilliant strategist – not so much because of the expected praise from his subordinates as from the satisfactory number of pins currently adorning his map of Italy. He would like to believe himself modest in this, careful not allow hubris to cheat him of a victory. And yet he never knows whether to frown or laugh helplessly as the absent-minded artist all but appologetically check-mates his king time and time and time again.

72 Feel

Leonardo never knows how to feel when Cesare enters the room. At first he is apprehensive, but as weeks turn into months and he realizes he's not only allowed but encouraged to dream up grander designs than ever before he is thrilled.

In the end, seeing the Assassins' plans put into motion long before Cesare even knows the final battle has begun, he can only avert his eyes in regret.

73 Mister

”Outside the kingdom of God is the realm of men,” Salai says, leaning just an inch too close. ”You worship there, Messere?”

Only years of training his clueless look on Leonardo helps Ezio keep a straight face as he blankly waves for the boy to follow him.

74 Fine

There are simply too many guards around for a discreet kill, so Ezio grudlingly counts the florins and hands them over. How was heto know he wasn't allowed to park his horse there? Time to liberate another stable from its Borgia-tower shadow, he decides. Burning them all down is easier than keeping track of territories anyway.

75 Dog

If La Volpe is the fox and Ezio the bird of prey, Pantasilea ponders, then Bartolomeo reminds her of a large, lumbering dog. Faithful and loyal unto death, but with a booming bark and a vicious bite for those who threaten those dear to him.

76 Forgotten

When Volpe appears he is the first person Cesare has seen in days. He greets the thief with his usual brazen curses, careful not to let any trace of relief shine through. Of all things he is most afraid to be left alone to die; not slain out of hatred or need, but simply ignored and forgotten.

77 Changed

Had Ezio been the kind of man to think upon such things, he might have noticed the Cesare facing him atop the towering walls is not the self-assured young general he met a handful years previous in Roma. Tired-looking and hunched over he looks defeated even before the battle has begun. But Ezio is here for one single purpose alone, and has never been the kind of man to think of such things anyway.

78 Gondola

Antonio assures Leonardo that only from an extensive tour with his private gondola will the artist truly get to know his new home town. As it happens, a rocky two-hour boat ride later, Leonardo still hasn't really seen much of the city. But that's quite alright, as he happily agrees to repeat the endeavour soon again.

79 Casino

It never hurts to try to win Fortuna's favour when gambling is one of your favorite pastimes, Salai knows, but in this particular case divine intervention is quite a bit closer at hand. As long as you have La Volpe's favor, the dice at the Sleeping Fox will never let you down.

80 Soup

The first bowl of watery gruel ends up thrown in the guard's face with enough force to break his nose. The next morning the second splinters against the wall. Nearly a week passes before he forces himself to eat the fifth, to preserve his strength.

Cesare closes his eyes as he quickly raises the bowl to his face to wolf down the hundredth, before the reflection in the dull surface can show him what he has become.

81 Carrot

”Tell you what,” murmurs Volpe in the starving prisoner's ear, dangling the vegetable in front of his face, ”If you give me a good enough show I'll even let you keep it for supper when you're done.”

82 Madame

Volpe has to admit himself impressed – Claudia is shrewd, ruthless and horrifyingly practical, and stillmanages to be praised a good businesswoman rather than cursed a thief.

83 Kilt

Yes, Ezio decides as he flexes his body inside the unfamiliar weight of Romulus' armour, there is definitely a draft around his nether regions. Whatever the old Romans may have thought, a skirt of leather belts does notconstitute proper clothing.

After some swearing and creative arranging of his spare cloak he considers it may well look even moreof a skirt, but at least this cut preserves his manly dignity when he jumps.

84 Theft

He has stolen valuables, information, people and lives. La Volpe draws in a deep breath as he surveys Roma in the first light of morning, then exhales in satisfaction. She is the greatest city in the world, and she is all his for the taking.

[feeling-weirdy]

Hey I’ve been loving your Wandavision pregnancy fics lately and I was wondering if you would consider writing another?

Like something about how Wanda isn’t feeling sexy and Vision is super confused or super surprised by that bc he worships the ground she walks on?

Or like they’re both in the mood (bow chicka wow wow) but it’s hard to find a comfortable position bc of her belly but they make it work?

Idk I’m just addicted to your babyfic drabbles rn and I wanna read more!

Thanks for all of your work it’s the best ❤️

Dinner had gone...well not quite how he had expected.

Vision had promised to take Wanda out on a nice romantic evening and while he had absolutely delivered on that fact, he couldn’t help but notice how distant she seemed.  Resting her chin against her hand, she leaned against the table having completely ignored the food lying in front of her.  

Yet again, he felt like he had failed her...

Her pregnancy hadn’t been going as well as they had hoped.  She had found herself in a great deal of pain and while Vision did everything in his power to help support and distract her, nothing seemed to help.  He had quickly run out of ideas.  Their special evening should have been enough to lift her spirits, but from the expression on Wanda’s face...he just wasn’t sure this was helping.

Trying to act nonchalant, Vision followed her gaze to the pair a couple of tables over from them.  The skinny brunette batting her eyes at the young gentleman sitting across from her.  The man in turn was very much interested in every tease the woman threw his way.  The two fueled the other’s actions, stuck in a never-ending loop that was sure to go in their favor if they kept this up.  Vision looked away, somewhat appalled with how open their display of affection was.  Certainly, he had just misread her line of sight...Perhaps it was better to just come right out and ask her.

“Darling, are you alright?”  He had really begun to get concerned about her.  She had been acting strangely all day and it was difficult to discern if her reaction was just to prenatal jitters or something was really wrong.  Wanda had always been so open with him, so her silence made him feel uneasy.  “It’s not like you to daydream.”  

Wanda was quiet for a moment, her eyes falling from the couple.  Her face scrunched, nervously playing with her fingers under the table.

“Vis...?  Do you think I’m pretty?”  Her shy voice only assisted her attempt to throw him completely off balance.  

“Of course, my love.  Whatever gave you that idea?”  He answered quickly in an attempt to give her no room for doubt.  Vision had known Wanda for...well he was pretty sure it had been a long time and he never had encountered this problem before.  She had never expressed self-confidence issues before; at least none that came to recent memory.

“But do you find me sexy even after...all this?”  She motioned to her stomach, her frown falling further.

“Wanda...”  He leaned forward, lowering his voice a bit as he continued his thought.  “I find you just as, if not more so, since the day I met you.”

Wanda sat back in her chair, her eyes trailing down to the large bump separating her from the table.  His choice of words didn’t seem to quell her fears.  “I’m just a lot bigger now.  I’m just not sure my...sex appeal is still quite...all there.”  Her eyes trailed back over to the couple who had left at some point during her line of questioning.  Vision shuttered to think what all the goo-goo eyes and leg rubbing had led to probably not much further away from where they were sitting right now.

Vision guffawed, sitting back in his chair with wide eyes.  “I beg to differ.”

“You still think so?”  Wanda’s eyes brightened, her smile slowly returning.

“Yes absolutely,”  he said, his voice rising and cracking slightly as he looked nervously around the room.  “In fact...”  Vision pulled himself together, moving forward once more as he kept eye contact with her.  “You finish your meal and perhaps I’ll show you just how much I think so once we arrive home.”  At least they had the common decency to return home before...whatever those two had planned.  

Vision put the random couple out of his mind, focusing instead on the woman sitting across from him.  His love and affection had never wavered for her despite her physical appearance changing over the past few months.  The fact that she felt the need to question it did hurt some sense of pride deep down, but with her body changing, he was sure there was a reason behind it.  Proving his love was never something he shied away from and was more than happy to jump at the chance to put her mind at ease.

“Mmm, I like that idea.”  Wanda grinned, hurriedly shoving the rest of the food on her plate into her mouth.  Vision couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she reacted to his proposition. 

Once Vision paid the bill for the dinner, the two quickly returned home. Upon entering the front door, Vision immediately began to show her exactly how sexy he thought she was. Pressing her up against the hallway wall, Vision kissed her hungrily.  Wanda's large belly pushed against his stomach, attempting to keep him at bay, but he found the protrusion a welcome challenge.  They laughed at how difficult it seemed to be but allowed it to slow them down even for a moment.

Wanda moaned against his mouth, helping him one step at a time reach the bedroom. Her spirits had been lifted, desperate for any sort of attention he granted her.  And there was plenty more where this came from.  Her delicate fingers trailed along the cool vibranium of his face, pulling him against her.

Reaching the bedroom, Vision followed her onto the bed, never daring to break contact.  Climbing up beside her, Vision cupped her chin, teasing his thumb along the corners of her lips.  

Wanda squinted in pain, immediately forcing them to stop.  Worrying for a moment that he might have hurt the baby, Vision quickly ran a hand along her stomach.

"This isn't hurting you, is it?"  He pulled away from her, worry filling his features as he tucked his hand behind her back.

Wanda’s breath became a bit more ragged as she tried to get it under control.  Performing the breathing exercises she had learned from her doctor, Wanda remained calm.  After a moment, she nodded.

"I'm alright."  Despite her words, Vision kept a steady eye on her.  It was difficult to believe her when he could read her vitals from here.  Perhaps this had been a bit too much for her.

“Take it easy my love...I’m not going anywhere.”  He whispered, pushing himself up into a sitting position as he took her hand.  She exhaled, getting her breathing under control as she sat up as well.  “We have an entire lifetime to get this right.”

“I really am fine.  I’m not entirely sure what that was about, but I think I just got a little too excited.”  Wanda took a few more steady breaths, rubbing her stomach in slow, calming motions.  “The baby isn’t quite used to all this running around,” she chuckled.  He smiled, touching her belly one last time.

“I’m sure he’ll get used to it in time.”  Placing one last kiss along her lips, Vision pulled her into his lap so her back was against him.  "Here, perhaps this would be easier for you."  Leaving kisses along the nape of her neck, he traced a hand along the length of her belly.  “Better?”

“Mmm...much.”  Wanda leaned into it, basking in the attention.  Her breathing had steadied and she finally seemed to be back to normal.  Pregnancy had been far beyond what his programming had allowed and his inability to help her with any aspect of this drove him mad.  He had read every book on the shelf and yet, he still felt helpless.

Instead, he settled for support.  Trying his best to keep her as happy as possible as he simply held her hand. 

“You are more perfect than any woman who walks this Earth,” he whispered against her neck.  “Absolutely perfect.”

"Oh stop, Vis."  Grabbing hold of his hand, she held it tight against her.  She had been so excited about starting this family.  Vision would give her the moon if he could.  She would have to settle for his absolute adoration, which didn’t seem like much in retrospect.

"I'll do no such thing..."  He hummed, continuing his soft kisses along any piece of skin that he could reach.  

She giggled, leaning back against him with a happy sigh.  “Oh Vis...”

Check out my other drabbles here or feel free to request some!

[bbugyu]

holy god.

thank you SO SO SO SO MUCH for one thousand followers! i can't even express how happy i am right now - it's taken me a whole day to decide how i wanted to make this post 🤕

i wanted to do something fun for this milestone, because it's genuinely beyond my understanding that i hit it at all and i want to show my gratitude, but drabble games stress me out because i'm incredibly long winded (who would have guessed, based on the fact this entire paragraph so far is one run on sentence), so i came up with something better!

send me a member, a category, and a prompt, and i will write you a vignette of the moment the prompt is said.

these are short!! like, 2-3 paragraphs only. that's how i'm combatting my inability to just fucking end a fic already jesus chriIIIIIIIST JUST END IT!!! JUST SAY THE ENDDDD AND POST IT sorry i just ..... need to work on that LMFAO

i'll only do each prompt once, so it's first come first serve. feel free to send multiple, just make sure they are in different asks! i'm going to keep this game open for a while, so don't worry about being too late! i'm going to do my best to post these the day i receive the request, but please be lenient with me 😭 i work 50 hours a week.

all pronouns will be neutral, but when picking smut, please specify what genitalia you would prefer (v/p, afab/amab, or however you're comfortable doing so).

prompt list and example is under the cut!

this will also act as a masterlist for the ones i've already posted, so be sure to refresh before submitting a request to have the most updated list! if it is red and crossed out, i've received an ask for it already. again, i will only be writing one vignette per prompt.

categories:

fluff or smut

prompts:

“give me a second and I’ll show you.”

“is it hot in here or is that just you?”

“i think i love you.” soonyoung

“hold my hand.”

“it’s not morning yet.”

“you were right here all along.”

“you don’t have to leave so soon.”

“you could put your feet in my lap, you know.”

“i wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“shut up and kiss me.”

“we could try cuddling.”

“stop being so cute.”

“i’m not leaving your side.”

“you should probably eat something.”

“when was the last time you slept?”

“can we stay like this forever?”

“please just kiss me already.”

“i missed you so much.”

“stop being grumpy, it’s boring.” soonyoung

“give me attention.”

“when i’m with you, i’m home.”

“that was kind of hot.”

“this is new.”

“would you just hold still?”

“they didn’t deserve you.”

“rumor has it, i make you nervous.” seungkwan

“are you flirting with me?” seokmin

“i love it when you moan my name.”

“let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

“no underwear?”

“i want you now.”

“use your words.”

“do you like that?”

“you can get louder, can’t you?”

“look what you do to me.”

“i want to taste you.”

“shhhh…”

“tell me how you like it.”

“i just want to please you.”

“all of my thoughts about you are improper.”

“don’t be gentle.”

“i’ve never wanted anyone this badly before.”

“make me.”

“once we start, i might not be able to stop.”

“don’t give me that look.”

“try to stay quiet.”

“are you trying to turn me on or are you really just that oblivious?”

“you’re hot when you’re mad.”

“stop distracting me.”

“tell me again.”

“if we get caught, i'll kill you.” wonwoo (ex.)

example request:

wonwoo, smut (afab), 51

warnings. choking

today wasn't the day you were expecting to be pushed up against the inner wall of a closet, lost in the labyrinth of a home that the contracting company you did runner work for spent a disproportionate amount of time remodeling compared to their other clients. sure, you had been hoping - not just today, either, you had hoped for this just about every day since you had been hired - but today was unexpected, because this project was in crunch, and your breath was ragged and you were positive that if wonwoo could actually see you in the dark, you would be embarrassed by your fucked out expression for the rest of your life, but you were there. you were getting absolutely fucked by your stud of a contractor boss in an empty closet. you were even on the clock, and you would have made a joke about how this must have made you a sex worker if you were capable of anything other than chanting his name as he snapped his hips into yours.

he slapped his hand over your mouth, pressing the back of your head into the wall as you whined, and suddenly, his face was right up against yours. your eyes widened, adjusting in the dark to study his furrowed brow and intense eyes, but you could have sworn you saw his lip quirk ever so slightly. you registered the sound of someone walking somewhere in the house, unable to decipher how close they were, but you were sure wonwoo had a better idea by the way his thrusting slowed

"if we get caught, i'll kill you," he muttered, and when your thighs and walls squeezed the parts of his body they were wrapped around, he let his hand fall from your mouth to wrap around the column of your throat as he pistoned into you like it was his job.

[storm-and-starlight]

I posted 1,373 times in 2021

138 posts created (10%)

1235 posts reblogged (90%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 8.9 posts.

I added 1,010 tags in 2021

#the witcher - 293 posts

#geraskier - 115 posts

#the witcher fanart - 88 posts

#fic - 87 posts

#fanart - 87 posts

#the witcher fic - 81 posts

#my writing - 74 posts

#fic recs - 66 posts

#timezone reblog - 65 posts

#geralt - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#show!geralt's inability to consider consequences is a major character flaw and also consistent enough that it seems like something intentio

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Call me with Geralt and Jaskier please?

Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character asking for another.

Sorry not sorry lmao

"Is-- is Geralt here?" Jaskier asks, squinting up into the blurry dimness -- must be a storm coming. Strange. He hadn't seen one on the horizon.

In the distance, there's someone shouting -- "he was a noncombatant, he doesn't even have a dagger on him, I should have you all hanged for being a danger to your own damned people--" before it's drowned out by a chorus of raised voices.

"Geralt," Jaskier says again, blurrily, and tries to push himself up to sitting so he can see what the fuck's going on. There's a rough-gentle hand on his shoulder, though, holding him down, and he glances over to see a stricken face, bled out pale to match his armor -- red and white, Redania's colors.

"Your wolf."

Jaskier nods, squinting into the dimming sky. It doesn't feel like a storm coming, this slow loss of sight. Maybe sunset? There's a cold spot in his chest, slowly spreading.

"He's-- he's not here. Yet," says the soldier, and Jaskier frowns, or tries to frown. The coldness has spread up to his face, his lips, his throat, and though he tries to ask why, he can't respond.

"I'm sorry," the soldier blurts out, "we-- we didn't know, we thought that there was a Nilfgaardian patrol in the area, they didn't tell us anything about civilians--"

The shouting in the background falls silent with a chorus of "oh shit"s, and there's the clean sound of a sword into it's sheath.

"Jaskier?"

So Geralt is here, then. That's good. He can't see anything, anymore, and all of him is so, so cold, but Geralt's here.

"Jaskier!"

208 notes • Posted 2021-09-29 00:20:40 GMT

#4

Death and Destiny, Heroics and Heartbreak

(It’s onion)

This fic took over my life for about a week and it’s been all I’ve been working on. It was originally intended to be pwp and then it ended up being about 13k words long, so uh, that went out the window. I’ll post installments either every day or every other day, depending on my general life, and will be posted on AO3 as soon as all tumblr installments are up. Enjoy!

Read on AO3!

1

The whole thing starts out rather unassumingly, and rather more embarrassingly than Jaskier would have cared for -- a single wobbly stepping-stone and Jaskier is flat on his back in a freezing stream, soaked to the skin in an instant and having to be hauled out by an irritable Geralt.

“Sorry, ah, sorry about that, bit of an-- unsteady path -- these stepping stones can be really slippery, oof” he says, and Geralt grunts and remounts Roach and rides off without saying another word.

Jaskier squishes along in soggy boots and ignores the way the wind seems determined to strip every bit of heat from his skin, resolved to not complaining anymore in case Geralt decides to abandon him in the middle of nowhere, finally fed up with one too many times Jaskier needed rescuing, but it really is very cold, and he’s very wet, and he’s not dressed in nice thick leather armor the way Geralt is but in summer cottons that don’t even hold in warmth the way a nice wool jerkin might, and--

“We’re stopping here for the night,” Geralt says, and Jaskier lurches to a stop. His teeth are chattering and he can feel the beginnings of a truly nasty case of the shivers working his way up through his body because he is genuinely absolutely freezing here--

He flops down on a bit of dry ground and focuses on not making pathetic noises (as much as he would like to, he has a feeling that Geralt would rather kick him out than coddle him, and he’d rather not risk that after only a year of knowing the man) while Geralt builds the fire and gets water boiling for the dried-meat-and-potatoes stew that seems to be the only thing he makes whenever they can’t hunt. It’s… filling, and that’s about the only good thing Jaskier can say about it. At least it’ll be warm.

Gods, this is miserable. Life on the road is rarely pleasant, but he likes to think he’s gotten used to it, become inured to cold and wind and weather but he is-- he is absolutely going to die of hypothermia out here, and Geralt won’t even act like he cares--

There’s a warm onion-smelling weight dumped on his head.

He squawks and struggles his way out of miles and miles of heavy wool and discovers that Geralt’s given him his cloak, of all things. It stinks of onion, and other… less-pleasant things than onion that he’d really rather not think about, thank you very much, and it’s made to cover Geralt in his armor, which means that it’s big enough to cover Jaskier three times over, but it’s thick black wool and warm.

Brilliantly, blessedly warm.

“Oh, gods, thank you, I could have sworn I was going to freeze to death out here--”

“Your whimpering was getting annoying,” Geralt says, and tosses another log on the fire, and Jaskier is too busy huddling down inside the layers of wool to block out the biting wind to think of a comeback.

The stew is ready soon enough, and Jaskier eats it still curled up in Geralt’s cloak, face tucked into the collar because this is-- probably the greatest show of kindness Geralt’s ever given him, and isn’t that pathetic, that he’d spend two years following around a witcher who can only barely be bothered to loan him a cloak when he’s frozen half to death, but he can’t even be bothered to care, really, because Geralt actually cares--

Geralt, who is currently staring at him with that slightly constipated expression that Jaskier still hasn’t deciphered yet.

“What?”

Geralt huffs and looks away, sharply. Honestly, the man can be insufferable at times.

“Geralt, it’s considered a common decency to talk to your traveling companions, you know.”

“I never asked for a traveling companion.”

Jaskier huffs. “Well, then, it’s polite to not just-- stare at people without saying something to them.”

Geralt has the ingratitude to snort, and doesn’t even deign to follow it up with a reply, just eats his bland and watery and somehow-horribly-salty stew with the single-minded determination that Jaskier’s only ever seen from Oxenfurt students who haven’t eaten a thing since yesterday morning and are debating skipping this meal as well to study. Clearly, he’s not going to get anything else out of him, so Jaskier turns back to his own meal. Even still, he catches Geralt looking at him oddly, huffing in a breath through his nose every so often like he’s about to speak but never actually does.

When the stew is all gone and Roach untacked and the fire fed and banked for the night, Geralt moves to lay out the bedrolls, side by side this time instead of across the fire from each other. Which is...unusual, to say the least, but Jaskier’s certainly not complaining. He’s loath to offer the cloak back to Geralt though, warmed through by his own body heat as it is, and he’s even begun to get used to the smell, onion and old blood and strange herbs. It smells like Geralt does.

“Keep it.”

“What?”

Geralt still isn’t looking at him, but he makes that strange inwards-huffing sound again. “The cloak. I don’t need it.”

Jaskier blinks. “I, ah. Thank you, Geralt.” It comes out more like a question than he intends, but he shrugs it off and drapes the cloak over the top of his bedroll like an extra blanket, shucking out of his damp clothes and wriggling underneath.

Geralt makes an odd sound.

“...Good night?”

“Go to sleep, bard,” and Jaskier, for some reason deeply touched by nothing more than what would be considered common human decency -- it’s a cloak, for Melitele’s sake, it’s not some grand romantic gesture -- smiles in the darkness and drags the edge of it closer around himself.

~~~

The thing is, being a relatively-unknown (for now, anyways) bard traveling with a witcher isn’t exactly the most… profitable of lifestyles. Oh, Jaskier gets by well enough, but most of his money goes towards food and lodgings and actual clothes (he is not going to spend his life rotating through the same three shirts until they’re worn to muddy shreds the way Geralt does, thank you)  rather than things like, say, expensive cloaks. His old university cloak is good enough for now, and it’s not like he’ll need it much, after all -- if it’s raining, he can just stay indoors.

Which is to say, it’s raining and he’s rather deeply regretting the decision not to buy a proper wool cloak last time he had the chance, because he is absolutely soaked through and getting wetter by the minute, while Geralt in his big, warm, and most importantly waterproof cloak is trudging along through the mud seemingly ignorant to the fact that it is absolutely pissing down.

He trudges along, idly composing a verse or two about the trials of life on the road and uncaring witchers and the horrors of sucking road mud that must be more than half made of whatever little presents the cart horses left behind-- it’s pathetic, yes, but it’s something to occupy his brain while he’s too tired to talk and he can’t bring his lute out of the case for fear of the damp, so sarcastic limericks it is.

“This way, bard,” Geralt says, and he drags his head up from his contemplation of his boots -- he’s going to need new boots after this or otherwise they’re going to reek of mud and rain and horseshit for ages -- to follow him into the shelter of a few pine trees, clustered together like old women huddled around the well and just as bent and aged.

Their branches are a high tangle above their head, though, and they catch the rain and roll it down between them until it gathers into fat, freezing drops -- unpleasant to have fall on you, yes, but less so than the constant drenching downpour out in the open of the road.

Jaskier huddles miserably close to the trunk of the largest and oldest tree, tucked among sheltering roots and trying to ignore the weight of his sodden clothes while Geralt unsaddles Roach and unbuckles his armor and tucks all of their things underneath the big alchemically-treated blanket he uses to carry monsters around -- which is disgusting but if it keeps his things at all dry he’ll take it. It’s still too damp to get a fire going, so instead Geralt tugs out dry rations -- bread and nuts and that horrid dry jerky that takes an age to chew, and-- sits down beside Jaskier in the damp earth.

“What-- what are you doing, what is this--”

“Here,” Geralt says, and holds out a handful of bread and jerky like some kind of offering.

“...Thanks?”

Geralt hums, deep in his chest, and tugs Jaskier away from leaning against the trunk of the tree. “The water runs down the trunk when it’s raining this hard. You’ll get wet.” Pause. “Wetter.”

“Oh thanks, it’s not like I hadn’t noticed.”

Geralt hums again, and then grabs him by the shoulder again and-- moves him.

Jaskier ends up leaning with his back up against Geralt’s shoulder, one fold of that lovely, lovely cloak draped over him, gasping and trying very hard to hide exactly what that kind of manhandling does to him.

“I, ah, not that I don’t appreciate this, Geralt, but what, exactly, are you doing?”

“It’s warmer like this,” Geralt says, and adjusts Jaskier so he’s more fully underneath the shelter of his cloak, tucked into the warm hollow of his shoulder. Jaskier very nearly chokes on his own spit.

“Right. Yeah. Good. Warmer. You, uh, you’re sure you want to-- I mean not that I’m complaining but this really isn’t… entirely like you…”

“Jaskier.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Jaskier shuts up. Over the course of two years traveling with Geralt every time he’s been this close to the man has been an incident he would rather not think about right now, thank you -- blood and guts and being told to sew him up like he’s some kind of… of doublet rather than an actual human person are not exactly pleasant things to think about when the man he’s been desperately pining after since they met has him wrapped up in his cloak with him in it.

Oh, he’s going to die, he is really, truly, going to die right here--

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again, and Jaskier very nearly melts at the sound of his voice.

“Mmh?”

“You should eat,” and is he… amused? He sounds amused. Jaskier huddles down into the warmth of Geralt’s cloak to try to hide the way his face is undoubtedly bright red and focuses on gnawing away at the dried meat until his jaw aches with the effort it takes to eat it.

And Geralt is still fucking holding him.

Fuck, he really is just going to die.

Next

213 notes • Posted 2021-08-13 03:25:36 GMT

#3

A Musing on Names

Geralt is an older name already, when Vesemir finds the boy -- it's the name of old men in taverns, smoking pipes and reminiscing about their glory days. To anyone born sometime in the past thirty years, it evokes images of greybeards with crooked canes and wavering voices. it's a common name, and a commoner's name -- no lord in his right mind would name his son Geralt of anywhere. It's not the name of a child with curly auburn hair and freckles, unless you're so old that the passage of human time's lost all meaning.

Vesemir is, of course, old enough that human time's lost all meaning.

When he was a boy, scrabbling in the village dirt, Geralt was the name of half the children in the village, and their fathers besides. Never the name of a hero, but the name of many a hardworking man. It's a good, steady name, for a child too young to really know his own -- something serviceable, unremarkable. It will serve him well.

[]At the keep of the witchers, the boys are all too young to know that Geralt isn't a name for a child, but they do know that it's a lonely sort of name, with no home or father or title to it. Geralt of nowhere, no place, no parentage -- a plain name for a plain boy with nothing but a training sword and a woolen jerkin to his name.

Geralt Roger Eric du Haute-Bellegard, in the meantime, is a name befitting a Toussaintois dandy, someone who smells of rosewater and fancy soaps instead of sweat and guts and onion, who drinks fine wine and feasts on peacock and had never held so much as a bejeweled rapier in his life. It's no name for a witcher. Geralt of Rivia serves just as well.

At least there's a place to it, anyways.

Even if it's somewhere he's never been.

In the wider world, beyond the glittering peaks and impossible valleys of the mountains and the glittering waters of the lake that hides the skulls of a hundred boys unlucky enough to be consigned to its depths, Geralt is still a name for an old man. Even with a young man's body and a youth's face, the white hair lends him a gravitas, that people think the witcher fresh on the path is an older one, long-traveled and hard-bitten. It makes things easier, for a while, until Geralt-the-name falls into rusty disuse, people remembering a parent of a parent of a parent, long dead, who also bore that name. It's a lonely existence, to walk and know that no one else carries it anymore, that even as a child he was pulled out of time, untouched by its waters as the rest of the world.

There is a body in the dirt.

There is a body in the dirt and Geralt is no longer a name for old men, a name for commoners, but a name for beasts, for the monsters that hide in the shadows, that carry bloodied swords and slaughter you quick as blinking -- a name whispered only in hidden corners, in frightened taverns -- Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken.

It is a name to curse by.

A name to curse by, much loathed, much feared -- until a bard, young and reckless and far too horny for his own good scoffs at the stories and follows the witcher in the corner and takes a will and a quill and a song to the records of the world -- no more Butcher, no more Blaviken, only a sword and a Wolf and a hero of legend.

Geralt is a name for warriors -- an ancient name, unused. It's a lonely name with none to call it their own save one -- a rare name for a rare man with a world's worth of glory at his feet and a dozen sagas to praise him.

Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf -- may his name live on forever.

288 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 23:30:51 GMT

#2

'Cause We're One and the Same

This fic was inspired by this art from @itsrapsodia​ -- I got this scene of the two of them together stuck in my head and ended up writing it! (As a... general sort of trigger warning, Jaskier opens the fic by making a joke about not having a penis; my intention was that he experiences little-to-no bottom dysphoria and being both slightly drunk and around trusted friends, he’s comfy stating that.)

"--and that fucking Valdo Marx," Jaskier says, gesticulating wildly with his thankfully mostly-empty mug, "always sauntering around like he's so much better than everyone else just because he managed to get a court position straight out of Oxenfurt instead of slumming it like the rest of us, and all the rest of-- them," with a peculiar emphasis on the word that Geralt has no clue what it means but Priscilla and Essi clearly do, "acting like they're so much better than us."

Priscilla makes a sharp noise of agreement and sets her glass down on the table with a thunk. "It's like it's all just a contest to them, who can get the most popular song or the biggest royal patronage or--"

"It's a dick-measuring contest, is what it is," Jaskier says with finality, thumping his hands on the table, and Geralt snorts.

"Which you're exempt from?"

"Geralt, darling, I think by virtue of not having a dick--"and his mouth snaps shut, eyes going wide and startled. “Shit.”

Geralt blinks.

"Um," says Priscilla, and then leans over and says in a furious whisper "you haven't told him?!"

"No, I haven't," Jaskier mutters, seeming almost-- shocked, "it never came up, and he can hear you."

Geralt hums to indicate that he can, in fact, hear them both, and turns his gaze on Jaskier. The bard is growing paler by the moment, all the blood draining from his face, and for the first time since they met Geralt can smell-- fear? Just the barest traces of it, overlaid with alcohol and nerves, but it's the first time it's been really, truly, directed at him.

Jaskier's fingers are rattling on the tabletop, off-beat and out of rhythm, and then he shoves himself up and away with far more force than necessary. "I'm-- getting some air. Don't wait up."

"Jaskier--" Geralt says, half-reaching out to him, but Essi puts her hand on his wrist and pushes it back down, firmly, and Priscilla gives him a glare that could curdle milk as Jaskier ducks through the growing crowd inside Three Little Bells. He's had worse glares from Lambert, but there's something about seeing Jaskier so shaken from what seemed to be nothing more than a slip of the tongue that leaves him... unsettled.

He shakes off Essi's arm and rises to go after him, to make sure the bard's okay, but Priscilla catches him by the fabric of his sleeve. "Leave him." He blinks at her, and she levels him with that glare again. "He doesn't need you barging in after he's already said too much," and Geralt looks at her, really looks at her and how much she cares, and dips his head.

"If he comes back, tell him I'll be in the room." She keeps glaring at him, fierce and protective, but very deliberately lets go of his sleeve, and he walks away before he can start to think about-- whatever it was that just happened

~

He's carefully cleaning his steel sword when Jaskier comes stumbling back into the room, still pale-faced but with the scent of alcohol no longer quite so pungent from him. He's sobered up a bit, then, and Geralt very carefully sets the sword to the side, folds his hands in his lap and tries to look as unintimidating as possible. It's late enough that the tavern is quiet now, and he's had plenty of time to think about what he wants to say to the bard. There’s a lot of secrets he hasn’t wanted, or even had the chance to tell, but he’s beginning to think--

Better to see what the bard says first, though.

"Hello, Geralt."

He hums in response, not quite sure how to start... whatever this is. Jaskier closes the door behind him with exaggerated care, and then doesn't move from the middle of the room, scratching at his lute calluses in the familiar nervous gesture, the tension radiating off of him in a cloud. Literally; Geralt can smell it.

"I should probably. Um. Explain."

Geralt nods, and then seeing how Jaskier goes that much paler, huffs and clambers to his feet to haul out the room's single chair. "Sit down before you fall down."

"Ah. Thanks?" It's almost more a question than anything else, but Geralt nods in what he hopes is a reassuring manner and retreats back to the bed.

"Right. So. I should... probably tell you. What I meant by-- by that." Jaskier flounders, hands fluttering wildly through the air, and settles on "I-- I wasn't born a-- a man."

It's only one of the answers Geralt had been prepared to hear, but it settles something reassuring in his gut, that there's more common ground between them than only a few years of shared adventures. "Neither was I."

"I know it's not exactly-- talked about, but I promise you it's very real and I really am a man and if you don’t think that’s true we are going to have-- hang on, what?"

"I wasn't born a man."

Jaskier gapes.

"But you're--" and he flaps his hands in Geralt's general direction, "I mean, you-- I've never seen you-- really?"

"Yes."

"And you're not just saying that to make me feel better, in some twisted... I'm-an-outcast-from-society-and-I-don't-understand-basic-etiquette-like-not-telling-bards-they're-pitchy-to-their-face kind of way?"

Geralt lifts an eyebrow, carefully not commenting on the fact that he had been pitchy, and Jaskier lets out a sound that might be a laugh and might be a sob. "Right, yeah, when do you ever care enough about my feelings to do something like that. Fuck, Geralt, you can't just-- spring that on a fellow. I mean-- gods, here I was worried that you'd be... weird about it, and instead you're--"

"As dickless as you are?"

"Oh, fuck off," but the fear-scent is gone, the color slowly coming back into his cheeks, and he slouches back into his chair in a boneless heap. "Gods. I-- thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For... for trusting me, I guess? I mean it can't exactly be the kind of knowledge you want getting out there, what with witchering being... witchering."

Geralt shrugs. His brothers all know, of course, and so did most of the Wolf School before the pogrom -- hard to keep secrets like that with communal bathing, and there were always a few of his kind -- their kind, now -- in every school. "Most people just... assume."

"Right, yes, what with the whole... big grumpy manly... man look you've got going on there. How did you do that, by the way, some kind of potion? Transformation spell?"

"The Trials," Geralt says, trying to hide the flinch that comes with the memory, even after all these years. "They made us all like this."

"Ah," says Jaskier, and falls silent, not quite looking at him, or at anything in particular.

"Are you--" Geralt starts, the dim memory of before the Trials and the horrible sense of not fitting into his own skin surfacing unbidden, and Jaskier must read something in the look on his face because he nearly lunges forward out of his own chair.

"No! No, I'm-- I'm happy, really, Geralt, I promise. Just, uh, teensy bit jealous, you've got the whole--" and he makes another of those flailing gestures that only really manages to indicate where Geralt is in the room rather than anything in particular about him, "muscles and jawline and stubble thing really going for you."

"You can grow a beard too," because he can, he saw it when Jaskier's razor broke in the middle of Kaedwen and he couldn't get a replacement for a week and a half.

"I can!" and Jaskier grins, impossibly wide. "There's a-- a potion, there's a mage in Novigrad that makes it, it's why I'm here, actually, and it's what makes me, well--" and he gestures proudly to himself, to the long trim line of his torso and the shadow of dark stubble on his jaw and Geralt can't stop the half-smile that grows across his face because even though it's been sixty years and more he still remembers the impossible joy of finding a skin that fit.

Jaskier grins back at him, bright and brilliant and throws himself forward to wrap his arms around Geralt's shoulders in an abrupt embrace. Geralt can smell the happiness rising off of him and for once he doesn't stop himself from holding the bard back, because-- There were others like him, at Kaer Morhen, but they all died in the pogrom a long, long time ago and it's been... lonely, since.

"Thanks," Jaskier says, softly.

"For what?"

"For being here," and Geralt only hums and holds him tighter.

622 notes • Posted 2021-10-13 21:11:41 GMT

#1

One of the... I guess challenges I’ve faced in getting people to take ADHD seriously is that the prevailing idea (in my experience, anyways) about dopamine is that it’s the “drug neurotransmitter”. It’s the fun one, that’s bad for you! Like all drugs! You shouldn’t be looking for more dopamine, that just means you’re looking for a high!

The things is, it’s not like that. It’s really, really not.

Dopamine’s a little bit like glucose (sugar, required for your body to generate energy); a substance that is 100% genuinely essential to having a fully-functioning properly working brain and body, to the point that it feels good when you get more of it because you’re filling a need, to the point that yeah, you can get addicted to it.

But if you’re glucose deficient, that’s hypoglycemia (low blood sugar), where your cells don’t have the energy to keep running because there’s no fuel.  AKA a major issue.

If you’re dopamine deficient... well, just go look up the symptoms of ADHD. All of them, not just the inattentiveness ones. ADHD can and does fuck up your life severely, on multiple levels, because ADHD brains are chronically lacking in a compound necessary for basic function.

Yeah, like anything, you can have too much dopamine. But that’s literally the opposite of the problem here.

Dopamine’s not the “evil drug neurotransmitter”, but the number of people I’ve tried to explain ADHD and ADHD medications that think that has really impacted my ability to even be understood, much less given the accommodations I need.

1260 notes • Posted 2021-11-17 05:35:59 GMT

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