#the more it sounds like you’re skipping around silent hill the better

[crownrots]

laying here thinking abt what songs from ethel cain’s new album to assign my scarlet hollow baddies is as productive as a tuesday night around here gets

[halsinsbiceps]

A Great and Sudden Change

Chapter 2

The night passed uneventfully. Shadowheart gently roused Enelya as the sun slid above the horizon, and together they set off in search of help. 

By mid day the pair had met two more survivors of the nautiloid crash: a strangely pale elf named Astarion who held a dagger to Shadowheart's throat, demanding answers they did not have, before discovering their shared worms; and a wizard who'd stumbled out of a portal and introduced himself as Gale of Waterdeep, although not in as few words. 

He had explained - and continued to explain, in disturbingly great detail - the process of ceremorphosis as they made their way through the hills, the sun beating down on them.

"And then you begin to bleed from every orifice," he said grimly. Enelya stopped to investigate a broken trap, trying to ignore him. "Your skin splits and flays itself from yo-"

"Please stop," Shadowheart said suddenly. Her face had taken on a greenish tinge.

Gale apologized and offered her a flask of water, which she gladly took.

Enelya frowned as she wiped sweat from her brow. "These are goblin-made." She stood and surveyed the land around them, hands on her hips. Dry brown sandstone rocks sprinkled with shrubs and trees spread out in all directions. "It makes sense, given those corpses we found. Why are they here, though?"

"Who knows." Astarion rolled his eyes and moved up the trail. "What we <i>do<i> know is that the sooner we find a healer, the better."

She shot Shadowheart a worried glance as Gale followed Astarion. The women came together to bring up the rear. "I don't like this," Enelya told her. A knot twisted in her stomach. "This is strange behavior from goblins. Roaming about in the daylight, setting traps..."

Shadowheart shrugged. Enelya would have mistaken it for indifference, had the woman's eyes not also darkened with concern. 

"I don't know much about goblins, but if you're worried, I'm worried."

"Well well!" Astarion met them at the crest of the hill with a sardonic smile. "Is this the friend you mentioned earlier?" He gestured down the path into a hollow, where two tieflings stood in heated discussion. Above them was a rough-hewn cage similar to the other goblin traps, only this one held a rather angry-looking prisoner: the githyanki from the ship.

Shadowheart scoffed. “‘Friend’ is a strong word. More like ‘begrudging acquaintance’.”

“Ohhh, is that <i>disdain<i> I hear?” Astarion sounded more intrigued than he had since they found him that morning. “This is going to be <i>very<i> interesting.”

The four companions watched for a moment, listening to the tieflings bicker about whether or not to kill the gith or take her back to camp. The woman glared down at them, arms crossed over her chest. 

“So….are we going to help her, or…” Gale trailed off.

Enelya was the first to move, raising her hand to wave a greeting at the tieflings. Shadowheart grabbed her arm before she raised it above her shoulder. 

“I don’t trust her,” she said in a steely tone. Her brows knit together. “She clearly meant to leave us to die back at the wreck. She doesn’t care what happens to us, as long as things go her way.”

“I understand your hesitation. I’m not keen on this either, but regardless of her intentions, I will not allow her to come to harm.” Enelya firmly pulled her arm away. Shadowheart nodded once, silently, and stepped back. Enelya turned again and waved at the tieflings below. 

“Hello there!”

The pair spun in alarm to face the group as they walked down the trail toward them. The larger of the two visibly relaxed as they came closer; the smaller one stepped back and eyed them suspiciously.

“Another druid!” The larger tiefling gestured at Enelya. “Spying on us? Come to fetch us back to the Emerald Grove?”

Enelya’s heart skipped a beat. <i>The Emerald Grove? Here?<i> “I’m sorry?”

The tiefling’s smile faded. "You…aren't?"

“Damays, you idiot!” The smaller tiefling grabbed his arm. “You’re going to get us killed.”

“No, it’s alright!” Enelya held her hands in front of her in a gesture of peace. “I’m not part of the circle, but I am a friend of Master Halsin. You do not need to fear me, nor my companions. In fact…” She glanced above them at the githyanki in the cage. “You seem to have found one of them.”

The tieflings followed her gaze. “Her?” The smaller tiefling glared at Enelya. “That <i>thing<i> and her like killed our friends. I don’t believe you for a minute.”

“For the last time, I did not kill your friends,” the githyanki woman rasped from above them. Her amber eyes, lizard-like in their movement, pierced Enelya’s gaze. She felt the tadpole in her head wriggle uncomfortably. “But if they were anything like you, I would have relished in removing their heads from their necks.”

“Lies!” The tiefling spit, her eyes alight with fire. 

“She speaks the truth,” Enelya replied. She gestured to the others, who had gathered several feet away. Gale gave a small wave.

Enelya turned back to the tieflings. “We had a disagreement in our camp, and this one stalked off,” she lied. She looked up at the scowling woman. “You should have listened. Maybe then you wouldn’t be stuck up there in a goblin trap.”

The woman didn’t say anything, but Enelya noticed her scowl deepen slightly.

The larger tiefling - Damays - shifted from one foot to the other. “Would you give your word that she will not harm anyone?” he finally asked. The other tiefling’s hand tightened on his arm, but he held Enelya’s gaze. "Zorru - our friend - was quite shaken by his last encounter with the githyanki."

She nodded. “I give you my word.” 

Damays sighed and shook his head. “Then she is your problem now. I hope you’re able to keep your oath.” He turned to his companion. “Come, Nymessa. Let’s return to the grove.”

“Wait.” Enelya held out a hand. “We were headed to the Grove ourselves, before all this chaos. We should go together. There are goblin traps everywhere, and I would hate to see anyone else get hurt.” Her eyes pleaded with them to see reason. 

Damays hesitated, then nodded. “Very well. Follow us. And keep the gith on a short leash.”

As the tieflings lowered the cage, the gith leveled her glare at Enelya.

“So many words. You should have run them through.”

“They aren’t the ones who trapped you.” Enelya cut the bindings holding the door shut and wrenched it open, allowing the woman to step out. “If what they say is true, they have a right to be suspicious.” 

The woman scoffed. “As they should be. Githyanki do no-”

Enelya caught her arm and twisted it up behind her back. The woman gasped and looked at Enelya over her shoulder, surprise widening her yellow eyes.

“I would suggest practicing a little humility and keeping your mouth shut.” Enelya’s words were low and tinged with warning. “Not all we will meet are as gracious as these tieflings.” She gave the woman’s arm another quick wrench, then released her. The gith turned to face Enelya, the surprise in her eyes replaced by that same simmering anger, and something akin to admiration, as she rubbed her elbow.

“There is more to you than meets the eye.” She sized Enelya up and down before dropping her arms to her sides. “You may call me Lae’zel.”

“Enelya. You remember Shadowheart, I'll take it.” 

The women scowled at each other, but said nothing. Astarion introduced himself disinterestedly, though there was a spark of mirth in his red eyes. Gale offered a hand for her to shake, but at Lae’zel’s withering glance he slowly pulled it away. 

“Are you coming or not?” The tieflings stood at the top of the hill. Nymessa stood with a hip cocked and her arms crossed. 

Gale held one arm out and bowed his head. “Lead the way.”

The group walked in silence for most of the way to the grove. Gale followed the tieflings, with Astarion behind him. Lae’zel stayed between Enelya and Shadowheart. Enelya’s neck prickled with the heat of Lae’zel’s stare. She grit her teeth and pressed forward, trying to ignore the squirming in her head where the tadpole lay. Her stomach did a flip as it wriggled against the back of her eyeball.

"So." Astarion fell back to walk next to her. His shoulder nudged hers conspiratorially. "'We' were headed to the Grove? That's the first I've heard of it."

Enelya stepped away to put some distance between her and the strange man. Charismatic as he was, something about the elf made her uneasy. "Well, <i>I<i> was," she said. "Before the Nautiloid." She bit her lip. “Though to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to be on their doorstep. It’s nearly a ten-day journey from Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion didn't reply for a moment, instead focusing on carefully stepping over a large branch. "Aren’t you going to tell me more?" he asked.

"There’s nothing more to tell." 

"Ah." He clicked his tongue and sighed. "I do love our little chats, darling."

She kept her eyes trained ahead of her, but couldn't help the smirk that twitched at the corner of her mouth. 

After a couple of miles, Damays stopped at the foot of a vine-covered cliff and called up. “Kanon!”

A moment later, a horned head popped up over the wall. Another tiefling peered down at them. “Damays! You made it back. And you brought friends.” He grinned. “The druids are gonna <i>love<i> you.” He disappeared, and the face of the cliff shifted as the gate was raised.

“Mind your step,” Damays warned as they walked into the grove. “The druids aren’t very friendly to outsiders.”

Enelya’s brows stitched together. “Master Halsin is a devout follower of Silvanus and has always been a friend to all,” she said. “Surely they’re just being wary, with all the goings on.”

“It’s not Halsin we’re worried about.” Another tiefling approached them. His armor glinted in the sun, and as he met the group he introduced himself. “I’m Zevlor. Welcome to the Emerald Grove, though I might be speaking too soon.”

Enelya stepped forward. “What do you mean?” she asked. Zevlor turned to her, meeting her frown with his own. His eyes, set in a proud, handsome face, seemed to dance with firelight.

“Another druid?” He took in her armor with interest. “Well, maybe you’ll be more welcome than the rest of us. They’ve started some sort of ritual to cast us out.” 

“That cannot be."

Zevlor raised an eyebrow at her indignant response. "Oh?"

"Truly. Such rituals are outlawed because they do more harm than good from within as without," Enelya explained. "Besides that, It is an affront to Silvanus to turn our backs on any in need. The tenets this grove follows say as much, which Master Halsin knows."

“Like I said, Halsin is not the concern. It’s the woman he left in charge that’s the problem.”

Enelya’s heart sank in her chest. “Master Halsin isn’t here?” 

“No. He left with a group of adventurers to infiltrate a goblin camp this morning. We are expecting them back tonight, Gods willing.” He crossed his arms anxiously. “In the meantime, you could speak to Kagha, if you're so inclined.”

Enelya sighed and closed her eyes. Naturally, things couldn’t go to plan. Halsin was their best bet at a cure, but with him gone, ceremorphosis could be closer than any of them cared to admit. She turned to the others. 

“Best if you make camp,” she said. Weariness frayed at the edge of her voice. “I’ll stay and talk with the First Druid and join you shortly.” 

“You’re welcome to join our little band in the Hollow,” Zevlor offered. “We don’t have much, but in times like these it seems we need all the friends we can find.”

Enelya smiled, though she knew it was strained. “Thank you, Zevlor. That’s kind of you, but we came into contact with some sort of…spore on our way here.” <i>Not a complete lie,<i> she thought to herself. 

“It doesn’t appear to be contagious,” Gale added in a reassuring tone. “But it would be prudent to keep our distance for the duration.” 

As her companions left the grove, Enelya noticed Gale keeping a close eye on Lae’zel and took a relieved breath. Between him and Shadowheart, she hoped the gith would stay out of trouble. When she looked back at Zevlor, he was gazing at her, a strange look on his face. 

He stepped closer to take a better look at her face, then thought better of it and moved back again. “You <i>are<i> looking rather peaked. Do you need a healer?”

Enelya held his gaze for a moment, tempted to tell him everything - her mission, Francesca’s summons, the abduction, the parasite. She swallowed the words as they bubbled in her throat and nodded in response.

“That would be Nettie, if you can get into their inner circle,” He said. “She’s Halsin’s apprentice. Of course, Halsin would be the one to see, but…” He trailed off. Concern clouded his features. 

Enelya noticed. “What is it?” she asked. 

Zevlor blinked, then cleared his throat. “I…well, I’m worried. We’ve only just arrived from Elturel a few days ago. Halsin was welcoming - <i>more<i> than, in fact - but the gate had barely shut behind him this morning when Kagha began her damned ritual.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a clawed hand and sighed. “I can’t lead these people back out into that wilderness so soon, but it seems I may have no choice.”

“The magic here is rife with tension,” Enelya remarked. Her mind brushed against magic older than Toril itself; strong, yet wavering at the edges. “I've never felt this before. Has something happened to make the druids so…skittish?”

“Since we’ve arrived, there has been no shortage of monster attacks,” Zevlor admitted. Sorrow filled his fiery eyes. “We were set upon by gnolls not far from here...we lost several people to them. Harpies nearly snatched a child in the cove, and of course the goblins have been lurking about outside the gates. But none of this could be considered our fault, surely.”

“Not at all.” Enelya laid a hand on Zevlor’s arm. His eyes flickered to the spot, then back to her face in surprise. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thick padding of his armor.

"You and your people are simply trying to survive, same as the druids,” she continued. “That should not be cast against you, and I am sorry that it has. The road from Elturel has not been an easy one, I’m sure.” She took her hand away and straightened. At her full height, she stood as tall as Zevlor. “I will speak with Kagha. If she wants you out, I will at least be able to buy you some time.” She flashed him a reassuring smile. “I’ll invoke the Emerald Enclave if I have to.”

Zevlor returned her smile. “I don’t know what that is, but I’m glad you’re here. You and Master Halsin seem to be of similar minds. He should be proud to count you among his number.” He sighed. “If only your brethren could see such sense.”

As Enelya made her way further into the grove, the old magic seemed to seep from the ground  and settle into her bones. It didn’t quite feel right, like a garment that had been outgrown…but it was nonetheless familiar. Comforting, even. Enelya found herself relaxing, smiling and nodding at the tieflings she passed. They regarded her warily, but returned her greetings. 

As she reached the bottom of the stone stairs leading to the inner circle of the Grove, several guards rushed to intercept her.

“Stay back!” A dark-skinned druid with an antlered headdress pushed her back with the butt of her quarterstaff. 

Enelya stumbled, disbelief washing over her as she clutched her shoulder.

"You dare strike a fellow druid?!"

The other druid did not respond. Her eyes flicked over Enelya’s robe, taking in the crest of the High Forest pinned at her throat. The sight of it only seemed to further her resolve. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s your business here?” she demanded. 

Enelya dropped her hand and drew herself up to her full height. “I am Enelya, Druid of Tall Trees, Forestarm of Mielikki, and agent of the Emerald Enclave." She glared down at the druids. "I wish to speak with First Druid Kagha.”

The woman shrank back slightly, her eyes widening at Enelya’s honorifics. She glanced back at the guards who flanked her and licked her lips before nodding. 

“Very well, my lady. Please, follow me.” 

As soon as Enelya stepped off the stairs, she was hit by a wall of magic that left the taste of ash and blood on her tongue. In the center of the grove, wisps of green magic swirled around a handful of druids chanting in unison. Their hands were raised towards a wooden idol of Silvanus perched on a stone dais. She paused to listen to the incantation; what she heard made her blood run cold.

<i>Hostes subeunt. Protege nos. Muni nos.

Defende nos ab imminentibus aequilibrio tuo.

Complexum tuum, ab terra ortum, ad nos defer.

Ab spiritu humoque, aculeus vitisque.

In umbram cretus, sanguine iuratus.

Aggeniculamur in umbra tua, Pater Arborum.<i>

She returned her frigid gaze to the guards escorting her. Several had their eyes lowered to the ground in shame, including the one who had assaulted her. She channeled her rage into her voice, and it cracked through the air, cold and hard as ice.

“Take me to Kagha. NOW.”

Chapter 2 of 'A Great and Sudden Change's is up on AO3!

Thanks for all the love on my first chapter!

[soonsluv]

svt as bfs (hyung line)

contains: so much sweetness n fluff, it’s embarrassing really. also the reader is into pda and physically touch so if that’s not your thing, don’t read this.

a/n: um idk man, i just felt like writing this bc i’ve been in a romantic mood lately lmao. this is ofc very self indulgent so you guys might disagree w some of them and that’s totally okay :) i skipped junhui bc i genuinely don’t know how read him, sorry. maknae ver

—

S.Coups

•the biggest fucking baby known to humanity

•very clingy, will always try to sneak his arms around your waist or get you to hold him

•LOVES being babied, run a bath for him or play w his hair while watching a movie and he will be head over hills for you

•might feel guilty that you take care of him so often so he’ll insist on being the one to drive or cook for you as much as he can

•when upset w you, he’ll try to distance himself from you but he always cracks and is the first to start the convo

•when you’re upset w him, he’ll bring you some food w a note saying that he’s sorry so you’ll know without him invading your space

•is in dire need of constant hugs or he’ll die :(

•the small spoon all the way

•his favourite type of date would be rollerblading or going to an amusement park

Jeonghan

•very playful as we all know

•will initiate a tickle fight bc the sound of your laughter makes his day 10x better

•absolutely clueless when you’re feeling down but is smart enough to understand that his usual playful attitude won’t always work so he’ll just sit down next to you in silence until you talk

•will keep it quiet until the bitter end if he’s upset which ends up in easily avoidable arguments

•is the big spoon in bed, this isn’t up for debate

•likes going on late night dinner dates and drive through the city while talking about nothing n everything

Joshua

•knows what he’s doing

•hand holding is his favourite thing, even if you guys are just chilling at home, he’ll hold your hand just bc

•likes treating you like a kid and is very innocent in the ways he shows his affection for you like forehead kisses or kisses on the cheek

•if he’s upset, he’ll keep it quiet for a while in hopes you’ll notice and if you don’t, he’ll sit you down and talk about it

•another big spoon

•very intuitive, will know if something is off and will directly confront you

•fancy date dinners are his fav, the type to rent out an entire restaurant just for the two of you

Hoshi

•he said himself that he was more of an introverted person but i don’t think that takes away from how bold that mf is

•very transparent and isn’t scared to be vulnerable bc he trusts you w his life

•will however completely shut down if you make him upset so you’ll have to wait it out before being able to solve it

•probably said “i love you” first

•knows how to read and anticipate you

•likes putting his head on your shoulder or hooking arms

•very versatile when it comes to hugging positions

•L O V E S kissing you

•big spoon

Wonwoo

•still a bit awkward in his displays of affection but you’ll get the message

•an absolute sweetheart

•you’ll come home after work and find him in the kitchen trying to cook up your fav dessert bc you mentioned it last time

•gives you the silent treatment when he’s upset so you’ll have to work for it

•can’t tell when you’re upset so you’ll either have to make it painfully obvious or be straightforward and tell him

•a big spoon

•likes staying in or going to intimate places in terms of dates

•not very physically

Woozi

•absolutely shameless

•will try to be subtle about asking physical affection but he’ll just grab your arm and put it around his shoulders and think he was slick

•let’s you hang at his studio which often ends in you two sleeping there

•will come at your house unannounced to drop off flowers for you and leave w no reason or explaination whatsoever

•likes going on picknicks during the evening w soft music playing in the background

•can be either a small or big spoon, he’ll just go w whatever you want

•a fucking child when it comes to tell you why he’s upset so he’ll give you the silent treatment

•but when you’re the one that’s upset, he’ll distance himself from you to give you space and figure out how he’ll make this up

[willowbleedsonpaper]

Winter In The Shade V

Part V

Sirius Black x Ravenclaw Reader

W.C. : 2913

Requested by @amourtentiaa : It is Sirius’ fifth year at Hogwarts, the same year he ran away from home and to the Potter’s. Soon, he discovers the unfamiliar sight of his brother Regulus smiling and looking truly happy, next to him a Ravenclaw girl who immediately captures his interest. What will happen when the Black family gets involved in their sons lives and the ones they hold close to their hearts?

Warnings: None (?)

Want to know when I post the next part? Add yourself to my taglist!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Anything I need to know for the party?” you asked Regulus as you two entered the charms classroom, both sitting in your usual spot while waiting for the rest of the students and the professor to arrive “You know, colors?” you said, raising an eyebrow “Do you want to get matching outfits? Should I be ready to leave at midnight before our carriage turns back into a pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin?” he asked, confused.

“Nevermind.” you waved a dismissive hand in his way, remembering he didn’t even know what a T.V. was. “What I mean is, this party's going to be the last time we see each other for weeks! We need to make it special so I can go back to the memories when the bitter reality hits me and you're not there.” you finished, letting out a dramatic sigh as you placed the back of your hand over your forehead.

Regulus looked at you with concern “Are you being dramatic or serious? I can’t tell.” he asked.

You narrowed your eyes, letting your performance fall as you flew a piece of hair out of your face “You’re not fun.” you grunted “And just so you know, I am being serious.”

“It’s only two weeks, Y/N.” he reminded you “You’ll survive.” He was met with silence, turning to look at you and the angry pout of your lips. He let out a long sigh “You have lived most of your life without me, what’s two weeks?” he asked.

You scoffed, letting your jaw fall as you crossed your arms “I don’t know, you cold hearted man. Maybe two weeks of boredom?” you said, watching as his eyes turned into one of disbelief “Torture.” you added “What am I supposed to do with two weeks by myself?” you asked him.

“What did you do before we became friends?”

Your brain froze at his question, both mind and eyes blank as you stared into the void. Regulus calling your name brought you back and your face turned sour as your eyes focused back on the raven haired boy before you “You are no good influence.” you mumbled sourly.

“Pardon?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunched together as he placed his book down, his attention completely on you.

“Since that day you hit me in the head my entire life revolves around you!” you whispered yelled, watching his shoulders relax as he tilted his head “And don’t try to deny it, we both know it's true.” you said, starting to pick up your things and shoving them inside your bag.

“What are you doing?” he asked, never trying to stop you and instead handing you the things you had placed on his side of the table.

“I, “ you said, placing a hand in your chest as you stood from your chair, looking down at him “am taking space from you. You have consumed my entire life.” you hissed, the urges to laugh coming through as a small smile broke through you every now and then.

Regulus watched you walk a few feet from where he sat, patiently staring at the back of your head with a small smirk “Y/N.” he called, his voice steady and calm “We have class, remember?”

You stopped, sharply turning to face him again from the front of the classroom. You purse your lips, glancing between the door and Regulus. You gave up in the end, letting your shoulders fall and dragging your bag all over the floor until you reached your chair again, falling into it.

Regulus bent down from his chair to pick up your bag from the ground, placing it on the table as he turned to look at you with a small smile “If it makes you feel better,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen in the classroom “You have consumed my entire life as well.”

Your face broke from the bothered look you had put on, swinging your head so you would be looking at Regulus “It does,” you smiled “We’re attached to the hip.” you said, moving your chair so you would be next to him.

“That’s why we are spending the winter break separate.” he told you, his arm resting around your shoulder “So we don’t get bored and before we end up killing one another.”

You chuckled lightly “The thought had crossed my mind.” you admitted, resting your head on his shoulder “That doesn’t mean it won't be difficult to be away from you. You’re my best friend.”

A silence fell all over the room and took you into it, pondering over the fact that a couple of months before you didn’t even acknowledge the existence of the other. You thought fate was funny in that way, friends you made on the first days after starting your life at Hogwarts were now strangers that glared at you from the opposite side of the Great Hall at dinner, people you knew your entire life now strangers you barely knew how to start a conversation with, even greeting them represented a challenge; friends you thought would be there for the rest of your life were now gone.

You had met Regulus months ago and you couldn’t imagine your life without him, and that scared you. The feeling of not being friends with him, of not knowing if you would ever see him again broke your heart and filled you with dread. Sure, you were spending two weeks apart but you knew you would see him once the holidays were over. The thought of losing someone had never made your stomach twist and your heart race quick the way it did when you thought about losing Regulus.

“I think that’s the beauty of us.” he said, capturing your attention immediately “Time is not the core of our friendship, it’s something else.”

You smiled, relaxing against his side as you hummed “Like what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” he answered honestly “But I will like to find out.”

“Hmm, me too.” you sighed, another peaceful silence taking over the room “Promise me you’ll write.” you said out of the blue, his chuckle vibrating all over his body and through yours.

“You’ve made me promise I’ll write a thousand times now.”

“I don’t mean just these two weeks. Anytime you need something, that we’re away from each other, or if you just saw someone falling and it reminded you of me just… just promise me you’ll write.”

With his heart skipping a beat, Regulus couldn’t believe the words that had just left your mouth, his gaze falling at the top of your head. Never would have he thought you would be scared of him leaving, that you would be scared of losing him as he is of losing you. In his eyes you were so confident, so sure of what you do every single time, you had lost all our friends and because of what. Because of you, he reminded himself.

“I promise.”

Your mouth was left with a bittersweet taste after charms class. It wasn’t every day that you and Regulus got that deep in your conversations. Usually, the matters you talked about were more sarcastic and almost on the humorous side of the aspects of your life; school work and competitions was common as you spent at least an hour of your day glued to the chairs from the library. Deep emotional conversation was just unknown. You knew Regulus didn’t like it, and yet he seemed to be the most comfortable out of the two of you. He might be your best friend but Rowena Ravenclaw knows, you’ll never fully understand him. You’ve made peace with that.

It was the older Black brother you had trouble with.

Charm class was the last one for the day, Regulus having an extra class he worked on late at night that left you with hours for you to exist by yourself. Something you silently thanked as you walked outside the Great Hall after dinner.

Standing on your toes, you moved your gaze over the sea of heads that flowed from the Great Hall, all the chat and laughter making you snap your head in every direction that sounded slightly similar to the one you searched for. The green and yellow of the robes stood out the most, your eyebrows scrunched together as you lowered yourself to your usual height. You started to move, following the students as you held tightly onto your bag. “Where are all the Gryffindors?” you asked inside your head. And that’s when you saw it, the flaring red from Gryffindor robes as they all ran and cheered down the hills. The Quidditch pitch.

*******

Sirius and James had led the Quidditch team to the pitch, their loud cheers and whistles enough to draw the attention of the entire team and drag them down to an unplanned practice. Although they referred to it as a small game to celebrate Friday night, Sirius knew James wanted them to practice.

They were all in the air as soon as they crossed the lines drawn on the grass to mark the limits of the pitch, bags and school work scattered in the ground without a care. Peter and Remus sat on the grass, chatting calmly as they watched their friends play.

“Hey, Remus.” Peter asked, getting a hum from Remus as he never broke his gaze from the Quaffle, “Do you think Sirius likes Y/N?” he asked with the shake of his head.

Remus let out a laugh, head thrown back in the air as he got a few looks from the players “Was it ever a question?” he asked back, turning to Peter.

Peter laughed, the small chuckle dying down as he stared at one single point in the distance “Yeah, that wasn’t really my question.” he said, their hair flying to their faces as the two seekers rushed in front of them after the snitch. They blinked back, following the game without actually paying attention. “Do you think Y/N likes Sirius?”

Remus’ attention broke from the Quaffle, his look thoughtful as he considered it. What were the chances Y/N liked Sirius? Not many, he thought to himself. “I don’t know.” he answered “If I had to guess I’d say no.”

Peter smiled, his eyes scanning the air as he smirked in James’ direction, the act capturing the Captains’ attention as he followed Peter’s gaze “I think she does.” Peter said confidently, “I actually think she was in the crowd tonight.”

“Right.” Remus scoffed.

“Want to bet?” Peter asked, an eyebrow raised in his direction as he extended his hand towards him.

Remus nodded, clasping his hand in Peter’s as he shook it.

The match lasted a good two hours. Both sides of the Gryffindor team started the game as a playful practice that now had them at each other's throats like the red in their robes had turned green at some point during the game. James yells and instructions could be heard over the commotion of the crowd and the team, the tension palpable in the air as the players flew in the air at top speed. They were flashes of red in the eyes of the crowd. In the end, James’ side of the team won. The entire team flying down from their brooms with grins plastered in their faces.

Peter had jumped to his feet as he saw Sirius lowered himself until he walked on the grass, the smirk permanent on his lips as he walked to greet his friends. “Great game.” Peter said, giving a subtle nod in James’ direction as the smirk he had was mirrored in James’ face. Peter patted Sirius in the back as he was in proximity, his hand holding his shoulder as he leaned on his side “Pulling you best moves for the ladies, huh?” he asked.

Sirius laughed, nodding his head when James walked next to them, nudging Peter’s side knowingly.

“Or should we say Lady?” James asked, wiggling his eyebrows in his direction.

Sirius' face fell, his lips in a line as he recognized the glint in his friends eyes. They didn’t.

“Sirius.” he heard you say, his confused look erased in the blink of an eye as he put on his best smile, turning on his place.

“Hello, darling.” he said, his tone flirtatious.

You smiled briefly, your eyes wandering over all his friends standing too close behind him with expectant eyes. “Hi.” you said to them, all three immediately a mumbling mess as they turned and pretended to fall into deep conversation. You almost wanted to laugh, but you focused on the task at hand “Can I talk to you?” you asked, looking straight into his eyes.

His smile fell momentarily, nodding his head as he made a sign to his friends, who only smiled tightly.

“You little shit.” He heard Remus hiss, making Sirius turn to see James holding Remus back, a smug looking Peter running as fast as he could once Remus got free.

He shook his head with a laugh before he focused on you, following you to a more quiet place, the buzz from the people left behind as you turned to face him “Are you alright?” he asked as soon as you stopped walking.

You let out a breathy laugh “I’m okay.” you assured him, your eyes remaining on him for a second before you recovered your voice, “I wanted to talk about this.” you turned to your side, rummaging through your bag until your fingers felt the soft material of the box, pulling it out and holding it for him to see “You can’t do this.”

He had a confused look on his face, the smirk he usually wore coming back as quickly as it fell “You’re giving me back a rose?” he asked.

You blushed, suddenly feeling stupid for wanting to give it back “No… I mean, yes!” you mumbled, cheeks darker by the second “It’s not the rose, it’s the act.”

“You want me to take back...my actions?”

“I need you to stop.”

He nodded in thought, leaning against one of the wooden posts. He held himself back from teasing you and the red in your cheeks, or the fact that you said need. The only thought in his mind was that you didn’t actually want him to stop.

“So that means you won’t be going to the party with me?” he asked, a fake pout in his lips.

“I have a date.” you said, crossing your arms over our chest.

“You do?” he asked, his back straight as he mirrored your stance.

You ignored his reaction, taking a confident step towards him. You reached for his hand, holding his palm out to you as you placed the box there. “Please, just stop.” you whispered, the volume of your voice enough for him to listen as you stood so close to one another.

He closed his hand over the box, his free hand taking a hold of your wrist as he held it back to his chest, the movement making you stand closer to him “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his eyes looking directly at yours before his gaze roamed all over your face expectantly.

Your heart started to beat hard inside your chest, your feet rooted to the floor as you stood frozen under his eyes. He tilted his head, his thumb moving over the skin in your arm “Do you?” he repeated.

His skin felt warm against yours, the feeling sending electricity all over your arm before it woke you. You shook your hand out of his grasp, taking a step back with wide eyes “That is what I’m asking you. Yes.” you said shakily, holding your arm against your chest.

He tried to suppress his smile, he really tried but in the end he broke in a grin. “I’ll stop.” he stated, looking down to his palm before he connected your eyes once more “I only ask for one thing.”

He didn’t expect you to stay and listen, your jaw clenched as your look turned into a glare “What is it?” you asked harshly.

“Save me one dance.” he said, his voice soft and rid of any teasing or amusement.

“Right.” you scoffed, turning your face to the sky in disbelief. But you were met with silence, making your arms fall at your sides with a questioning look “You’re serious.” you asked, watching the glint in his eyes light up as he smiled. He opened his mouth to talk but you cut him off, lifting one finger right in front of his face “I swear to Godric Gryffindor if you make a joke you’ll be dancing by yourself.” you said harshly.

He bit the insides of his cheeks, letting himself feel the flutter of his heart at the simple gesture of you stopping his joke, like you knew him already. “Do you accept my offer, then?” he asked, offering his hand.

Your eyes lowered to his hand doubtfully “Do you promise you’ll stop?”

He nodded his head softly and you sighed, taking his hand.

What you didn’t expect was the squeak that left your lips as he took hold of your hand, holding it to his lips as he placed a short kiss over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you then, Y/n.” he told you, turning on his place as he went back to the pitch.

“See you.” you mumbled to yourself, staring at him and cursing him for the hurricane of thoughts left in his place. That didn’t go as planned.

TAGS

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[aggravatetheaxe]

BO SINCLAIR X TRANS MAN / MAN ALIGNED READER COMING OUT - Pt. 2 - Over the Moon

This title is NSFW. Pt. 1, Under Your Skin, is Safe For Work. If you're a minor, please read that one instead! This one has s*x in it!

It's been a year since you came out to Bo, and while there have been ups and downs and a lot of new things to get used to, you've both done your best to keep the relationship going. But has he learned how to treat you like a man?

CW: NSFW, descriptions of dysphoria, mentions of deadnaming/misgendering, mentions of murder and mortal peril, words that could be considered slurs and/or fetishizing/objectifying (I mean, come on, it's Bo. We're talking extremely raunchy BUT GENDER AFFIRMING sex.)

Soundtrack: x

Words: 3,431

Part One

Masterlist

***

The sun was just setting over Ambrose by the time Lester's truck pulled up to the washed-out road. With a smile, you shifted the big paper bag in your arms and slid out of the passenger side, calling, "Thanks, Les!" over your shoulder.

"You take care now!" he said back, patting Jonesy's behind as she jumped out after you. "Tell those good fer nothin' brothers of mine 'm sorry I couldn't make it to dinner."

You nodded, filling your lungs with fresh air. You loved the hell out of Lester, but you still weren't used to the smell of his truck. "I'll tell them. Drive safe. Thanks again."

Lester waved as he backed out, then pulled a sharp turn to head down the dirt road again, truck clattering the whole way.

You looked down at Jonesy, who had paused to pee in a nearby bush. "You ready, Jonesy?" When she looked up at you, panting, you said, "I know, it's hot. Come on, let's head home. Go home, Jonesy."

She knew the way, taking point and leading you across the small creek, around the bend and into Ambrose.

Your heart soared the moment you stepped into town. You could see pretty much the whole thing from where you stood: the church, the gas station, the house of wax ... and of course the Sinclair house.

You were eager to go find Bo, but you followed Jonesy to the house of wax first, opening one of the front doors to let her in. She'd find her way down to Vincent, and he'd know to come up to the house for dinner in about an hour—unless he didn't show up at all, which wasn't out of the ordinary.

Jonesy pranced into the dusty darkness of the museum, and you watched her retreating form for a few moments, zoning out.

It had been a year since you'd come out to Bo, Vincent, and Lester. A year now that you'd been living as your true self. It felt like much longer than that, and yet, when you thought about it, it somehow felt like only yesterday that you'd told your favorite mechanic.

After stewing over it and your talks, he'd come to terms with your new lifestyle ... gradually. Grudgingly, at times. But he was trying, and that meant something. These days, he only had to correct himself occasionally.

And that was the thing about Bo. He may be ignorant, and he might not get it, but once he had come to terms with something ... once he had decided that something was acceptable ... he was protective as hell. It might take some work, and he might still tease you about it, but if anyone else said something? God help them.

"Boo!"

You jumped, nearly dropping your paper bag as strong hands squeezed your waist. You turned quickly and were met with Bo's grinning face. "You douchebag!"

He snickered. "Scared you, darlin'?" He leaned to look into your bag. "Get anything good?"

"Get your nose out of there." With a grin of your own, you pushed him gently away by the chest. "It's a surprise."

"You know I hate surprises." Nonetheless, Bo relented, straightening and adjusting the brim of his hat. "I'll lock up the shop, meet you up at the house in ten?"

"Sounds good." You craned your neck to kiss his stubbly, sweaty cheek, then passed him. As you did, he smacked your ass. "Ugh! Come on, dude."

"You know ya like it, dude."

You could still hear him snickering to himself like an idiot as you parted ways, starting up the hill to the house while he returned to the garage. The door was unlocked as usual. You stopped in the kitchen to shove the groceries in the fridge before starting upstairs. It was hot as hell today, and you were in desperate need of a shower, slicked with more sweat than you cared to think about.

Once in the bedroom, you kicked your shoes under the end of the bed, then stripped off your shirt. You'd been wearing your binder for a few hours now, so you peeled it off, relishing the feeling of air hitting your hot skin. As you chucked the binder to the floor, you glanced into the full-length mirror near the dresser.

Your hormone therapy was going well. You were hairier, your face was slightly different, your fat had redistributed and made you squarer in a way that made you downright giddy. Your chest wasn't flat, but more and more every day, you found you didn't care—even enjoyed the look of it. Wearing a binder in public saved you from being misgendered, but around Ambrose, you didn't wear it all that much.

You ghosted your fingers over the hair on your arms and hands, thinking back. The road to the place you were at had been rocky, to say the least. For you and for Bo. When the HRT had started taking effect especially, he'd gotten weird and silent all over again, like it was finally really setting in for him. But he'd rarely voiced any criticisms aloud besides some offhanded asinine comments, so you'd just let him deal with whatever internal struggle he was dealing with.

Those days had been a struggle for you, too. But by now, he'd gotten over himself. He even dutifully helped with your shots, administering them like they were the most serious shit in the world.

It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, how far he had come. How far you'd both come. For a few long minutes, you were lost in your scrutiny, fingering stretch marks and admiring your hands.

You were so deep in thought that when the bedroom door creaked open, you jumped, instinctively covering your chest before you realized who it was. "You scared me."

"That's twice today." Bo smirked as he hung his hat on one of the bedposts. "You sure are jumpy."

"You're almost as quiet as Vincent when you wanna be." You bit your lip and glanced back at the mirror.

In the reflection, you noticed Bo looking you up and down slowly. After a beat, he approached from behind, wrapping his arms around your middle and meeting your gaze. As he did, he raised his hands to your chest, strong fingers rubbing your breast tissue in deep circles. Ever since you'd complained about how tender you got after being compressed for hours, he'd done this. You were pretty sure it was just an excuse to touch your boobs, but it felt nice at least.

You relaxed back into him with a sigh, letting him support you a bit. "How was your day?"

"A lot better now that you're home, handsome." He craned his head to kiss your neck and stayed like that, mouth buried in the crook. "Fuck, you smell good," he mumbled into your skin, fingers never stilling.

You couldn't help but squirm a little under his praise. You smelled like sweat, and worse, man sweat, but Bo always seemed fascinated with it, more than content to snuggle up to you and take your changing body in.

"I smell like a highschool gym locker," you mumbled, though you couldn't hide your goofy smile in the mirror.

He raised his eyes and brows to meet your gaze in the reflection again. "You sure? I used ta play football ... don't remember the other guys smellin' this hot."

You squeezed one of the arms around your waist, trying to ignore the heat of your face. The sight of him rubbing your breasts and the feeling of his rough fingers against your sensitive skin was already crazy-making enough. "I bet you found it a little hot."

A year ago, you wouldn't have dared make a joke like that. You didn't even wanna think about how offended he would've gotten. Now, though, his only reaction was a smile that crinkled his eyes and a little sparkle in his pupils.

"All those sweaty, strong guys bumping up against each other in steamy close quarters." Your smile turned into a grin. "Bet it kinda turned you on."

Bo snorted. "Wouldn't really know. I usually changed in the janitor's closet." A bit of vulnerability flashed in his eyes, but he quickly recovered by focusing the attention back on you. "Anyway, none a' them were like you. Where you goin', lookin' like that?"

As he spoke, his hands slid down your front, hugging your hips so your ass was pressed tight against him. You shivered hard. "Looking like what? This is just my body."

He grunted, and you watched in fascination as his gaze ate you up. He rubbed your flanks with his thumbs. "You're a real pretty boy, you know that? Not like other guys at all..."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you suppressed the urge to hide your face in your hands. Still, you averted your eyes from the mirror, too shy to look at yourself any longer. "I dunno about that, but thanks."

Bo shifted. He huffed in your ear, and you lifted your head enough to see him frowning down at you. After a few moments, his expression changed to something slightly more neutral, eyes alight. "Don't make me hafta teach you a lesson, sweetheart. I might enjoy it too much."

Those words sent a thrill up your spine, flipping your stomach. He looked like a predator about to strike its prey, and god, it took everything you had not to give in right away. You raised your chin in a challenge. "What lesson is that, hm?"

Bo's expression shifted again. He grinned, bottom lip caught between his teeth. One hand left your hip, wrapping around your throat just under your chin.

Then, he pivoted, and with one good yank, threw you onto the bed.

You loosed a soft breath as you bounced on the mattress, looking up at him. Defiance fluttered its wings in your chest. "Well? You never answered my question."

"Shh." His hand returned, this time over your mouth. "None a' that now. I'm not in the mood for dolin' out punishment. You just sit there nice 'n' lemme show you what ya do to me, understand?"

Even if you could say something with his hand over your mouth, all you wanted to do was stare at him—at those beautiful blue eyes that seemed to see right through you.

"Tch." His crooked grin made a brief appearance, though it was more of a snarl, showing off his gums. "What a good li'l soldier."

With that, Bo moved in on you, kissing you hard. Teeth and noses clashed painfully before he drew you closer and deeper, his tongue exploring you like he could drink you in. You returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, grunting into his mouth, then giving a groan when you felt his large hand cup you between the legs.

A sharp inhale, and he pulled back slightly. His lips moved against yours as he whispered, "Whose is that? Who does this pussy belong to, dickbait?"

Your breath hitched. "You."

"Me. That's right." He squeezed and rubbed through your jeans. You could already feel how wet you were, folds sliding together. A second later, he'd undone your button and zipper and slipped his hand into your underwear. "Fuck, that's nice." His lips still brushed against yours, breath hot on your face and in your mouth. "Love that boy cunt. You're just as wet, aintcha?"

As he stroked you, his thumb found your swollen clit. You gasped when he put pressure on it.

"So wet for your man."

You shuddered and dared to quip back, "And it looks like you're pretty hard for yours."

Finally, he pulled back to meet your eyes, lust warring with challenge. He stared for a few moments before saying, his voice nearly a growl, "I'mmuna make you come, pussyboy. Yeah. Squirt all up my stomach 'n' chest ... we'll see if you still gimme an attitude once you're screamin' and shakin' under me."

You had no smart comeback for that. You simply melted onto his hand, grinding against him as he slid two fingers inside your hot, needy pussy. The feeling of him curling his fingers and stroking you deep already had you biting back incoherent dirty talk, every nerve electric.

"Pretty young buck like you, walkin' around lookin' like that ... you're just askin' for dick." He licked his lips and used his other hand to help you shimmy out of your jeans. Soon, you were bare, gushing all over his fingers as he loomed over you. "Am I right?"

"Y-Yeah," you pushed out, leaning back on your palms so he could get a better angle. "Fuck, Bo—"

"Y/N," he mumbled back, free hand gripping the back of your head. "Y/N."

You heard him say your name all the time, but the way he said it now, the way he was staring into your eyes ... you knew this meant something more. He wasn't just fucking you, he was fucking you. He was seeing you.

You couldn't take it anymore. Your head was spinning with every circle his thumb made around your clit, but you needed more. With a strangled gasp, you gripped his biceps. "Bo, baby, inside—fuck, please, I need you."

He smirked above you. "Not until you admit you're the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose."

You groaned. "Come on!"

"Sorry, gorgeous, those're the rules. C'mon, lemme hear you say it."

Your cheeks burned, but he wouldn't stop playing with your pussy, and you didn't want to come without his cock inside you. "I-I can't," you muttered, only half joking. "What about you, big cat?"

"Besides me." He thrust his fingers in particularly firmly, drawing a shout from you. "Say, 'I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose.' I wanna see you say it while you're ridin' my hand, and you better convince me."

You panted for a few more moments before finally giving in, sputtering, "I'm the ... handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose," followed immediately by a groan, your eyes rolling back in your head.

"I'm not buyin' it."

"I'm the handsomest goddamn man in Ambrose!" He certainly made you feel like it.

"Good boy." After one last jerk, Bo drew his fingers from you, going to work his belt off. His cock sprung from his Dickies, already red and glistening with precum. He caught your calves in iron grips as he lined himself up with your hole. "I c'n smell you. Slut. So fuckin' messy for me."

As he slid in, your head lolled back. You dropped to your elbows, then gave up completely and laid flat, unable to hold yourself up for shaking.

Bo almost cooed, throbbing gently inside you. "Lookit my beautiful boyfriend ... already half way ta heaven. Haven't even started poundin' that sloppy boy pussy yet. Ya can't lose it on me already, ace."

Even the stupid nicknames got you hot somehow. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, panting. When he began to thrust, you yowled like a hurt animal, the drag of his dick sending flames spitting through your limbs.

His grip tightened as he rolled his hips into you, in and out, in and out, picking up pace. "You like that, loverboy? Shit, sure looks like ya do." He lifted his chin. "Stick your tongue out."

Obediently, you parted your lips with your tongue, trying not to drool too much.

Bo couldn't hide the way his eyes sparkled as he watched your mouth, or the way his dick swelled in you. His hips moved faster, your slickness enough for him to glide. It felt so nice, but that alone wouldn't make you come, and he knew that—he was savoring this.

Eventually, his shirt found its way to the floor, followed by his pants and boxer-briefs. The sight of him bare with you, glistening in the hot afternoon, made it hard to breathe.

With one of his hands, he propped your leg up so it was resting against his chest and slightly over his shoulder; with the other, he explored your torso, dragging his calloused hands up your hip, across your stomach, to your breasts. He still played with them often, sucking and squeezing, and you found you didn't mind. The way it made you feel and the way he was looking at you, how could you ever hate it? Plus, you weren't sure he'd take no for an answer regardless.

A growl ripped from your chest as he bent to suck one of your nipples, latching on for a few moments before flicking his tongue, then running it flat in circles. He whispered heatedly, lips brushing against you, accent slurring, "I love your tits ... you know I love ya tits, righ'? Fuck, ya so hot..."

You knew he'd miss them if you decided to get rid of them. Honestly, that was half the reason you were reconsidering that idea. You never wanted to forget the way he worshiped them: licking, sucking, slapping, squeezing his dick between them...

"Come on, romeo," Bo panted, his mouth still against your chest as he plowed into you. Wet clapping filled the room as his balls met your ass, again and again, almost unbearably warm. "Come on, fuck ya'self off tha'."

He loosened his grip on you, giving you more freedom to move. Now he was fucking firmer, his angle more deliberate, the hot head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. You loosed another yowl and bucked your hips to meet his.

"Bo," you groaned. "Bo, Bo..."

"Tha's my man." He was losing control of himself, his voice choked and desperate. "Tha's my man. Tha's my fuckin' man."

"Yeah—! You— you like fucking other guys, angel? Huh?"

Bo exhaled harshly, twitching inside you. "Like makin' 'em scream, too. 'Specially this one. My— handsome li'l— pussyboy—"

You could feel the muscles of his sweat-slicked thighs and abs flexing as he tried to hold himself back, trying to keep himself from finishing. You knew one comment from you would push him over the edge ... so you waited until you were at your edge, too, to choke out: "Fill that slutty boy pussy up, cher. Show me who's the big man around here, who gets to come wherever he wants. Show me who's boss— fuck—!"

Bo lurched, sinking his teeth in the crook of your neck. Every inch of him tensed, cock jumping, and you saw white as your entire core became molten between your orgasm and his.

When you were next aware of your surroundings, he had collapsed into you, slumped a bit awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He was breathing hard, his hair damp with sweat. It dripped down his spine, too, and down the back of your thighs. You gripped him tightly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

Eventually, he pulled away, rolling onto his back beside you. One of his strong, square hands still gripped your wrist, though, thumb brushing the back of your hand lightly. He opened his pretty blue eyes, all long lashes as he blinked away the haze of his climax.

Then he looked over at you—and, of course, found you already staring at him. His lips quirked up in a smirk. "Angel?"

You could feel yourself flush. "Romeo?"

The smirk turned into a wolfish grin, and he propped himself up on one elbow, stealing a kiss. "You're cute," he declared after a moment, like he was giving his official opinion on the subject.

"You're one to talk. Can we at least agree that I'm the second handsomest man in Ambrose?"

Bo heaved a sigh. "A'right, a'right, fine. Guess numero uno is my cross ta bear."

"Always."

With a laugh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close for a kiss. It started heated and rough, but as the seconds passed, it became more tender. He slipped a hand into your hair and held you in the kiss for an extended period before pulling away, an intense gaze searching your face.

"I love you," he breathed. "Ya know that, right?"

It wasn't often he said it unprompted; usually when he told you he loved you, it was because you'd said it first. At once, tears sprung to your eyes, and you leaned in for another quick kiss.

You did know—you did. And more importantly, he knew. He knew everything and he still said those three little words. He saw you and this and he still wanted all of it.

And fuck, you wanted it, too.

***

Masterlist

Tip Jar

[oh-my-may]

Sakusa, Tsukishima and Kenma when their s/o gets a wound

requested: sakusa, tsukki, and kenma with a s/o who gets a wound? maybe they went to do an activity and get their knees scraped bad and the boys find out? how would they take care of their s/o?

Sakusa was such a good pick for this oh my that’s probably why his is a bit longer please forgive me I am weak for him ok

Sakusa Kiyoomi:

There were not a lot of things you could do as dates, since Sakusa declined most of your suggestions saying that it would be too unhygienic or too much work making sure everything would be clean.

But when you came up with the idea of going wandering on a mountain trail, where only mostly elderly people where, he was all for it. Of course he also didn’t liek staying insiode all the time, and a place where anybody went while being in nature sounded like music to his ears.

However you regretted your decision soon after you guys started your trip. You were breathing heavily and your legs already felt like spaghetti and you werent even halfway up the hill. Sakusa however, with his amazing sports stamina was walking ahead and barely notived that you fell way behind, until he wanted to talk to you and you didn’t respond to his words. He turned around wondering where you were. Did you maybe get lost? But then he saw you hanging over, your hands placed on your knees and you looked up to him smiling, but you couldn’t hide the exhaustion.

Your boyfriend couldn’t help but chuckle seeing you like that. He walks to you and stops in front of you, tilting his head while he observes your heaving figure. “You know, we can just return if you want to. But the air up here is really good and I guess it’s even better at the top.” You just shake your head, insisting on continuing this trip because it hasn’t been often that you saw Kiyoomi this careless. You were determined to make this an enjoyable trip for the both of you, but especially him. He deserved a pause from his hectic life.

So he grabs your hand and walks slowly beside you for a while, both of you enjoying the nature around you and the fresh air sweeping through your lungs. When you’re finally at the top you have a nice picnic while enjoing the view over the land, watching leaves dance in the wind and tumbling around you, taking in all the scents of exotic flowers and birds chirping somewhere in the tree tops.

You feel a lot better when you get back down. Walking down on a mountain is a lot less exhausting than walking up, after all. Your steps fly more easily. Too easily. You’re more careless with your steps and before you can stop it you stumble over a big rock in your way, landing on your knees before Sakusa can grab your wrist. However he’s quick to help you up again and you flinch and hiss when you shift your weight on your left leg again. Your knee is totally scraped, a small rill of blood running down your leg. Some small stones still stick to your skin and Sakusa is quick to pull out a small package from his backpack, because this man never goes anywhere unprepared.

He helps you sit down on a tree trunk next to the path you were walking and he looks at you with slight amusement but also worry in his eyes. He sighs before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of your head and then kneels down in front of you, taking care of the wound. “What am I gonna do with you? You’re so clumsy...” he mumbles and you have to smile, though your knee still burns badly. Sakusa takes care of it perfectly, even kissing the bandage on top of your knee after he’s done. However, he doesn’t let you walk down again, he carries you down all the way on his back and you’re not complaining.

You just cling onto him and cuddle into his back, burying your face in his neck and stroking his hair occassionally, thanking him for taking care of you so well. He smiles to himself when he feels you pressing to him, feeling your breath so close on his skin.

After the trip he still checks up on your knee everyday, even when it’s not a wound that serious. He still claims that it shouldn’t get infected and that he’s the only one besides a doctor that can take proper care of it. Always kisses your knee after every check up! A true cariing cutie, I am way too soft for this man

Tsukishima Kei:

It was hard to get Tsukishima thrilled of the idea of going somewhere special to hang out. He was more of the stay inside kinda person, preferring just cuddling up to you in private.

You accepted his choices (even though you still got him to go to certain places sometimes) and that’s how you transformed everyday situations into little dates. Like lunch in school or staying in your garden instead of in the house, sometimes you’d even join his practice and watch him there. Even though he would never admit it, he enjoyed it when you do that. It always makes his insides all giddy and warm because you care for him so much!

You also always walk home together, talking about anything on your way or just quietly listening to music while enjoying each other’s company, silently holding or hands or sometimes he’ll just sling an arm around your shoulders and pull you close to him, walking like that for a while.

Today however you were “balancing” on a wall next to the sidewalk while talking to Kei and rambling about your day. It was fun to you focusing on taking the right steps, even though the platform you were walking on was not that small. You still had to be careful about where you placed your feet, because there were roots and other plants growing over and through the stone. “Ugh anyway, and then our teacher just made us write a test, and it was fine I guess but still sucked.” you ended your little rant.

“Y/N, are you really sure you should walk up there? Don’t you think it would be safer down here? You’re gonna get hurt if you don’t look out.” Tsukki just says while looking up to you with a vague face. You almost laughed seeing him like that. Was he actually worrying about you? Contrary to you always worrying about him at games, this was a nice change.

“Don’t be silly Kei, I’ve been balancing on things since I was a child, literally nothing will happen-” And that’s when you literally cursed yourself, because just moment later you stumble over a root and fall down, though you manage to cushion your fall with your hands which got the most damage.

Your boyfriend is right next to you in no time, helping you up and scanning your body for any injuries, but luckily only your hands got injured and your elbow felt weird, making your whole arm feel like some sort of pudding. Tsukki is just shaking his head while taking in the scrapes and cuts on your hands. You flinch when he softly touches your strained skin and he looks at you with disapproval. His eyes literally tell you “I told you so.” but fortunately he has enough tactfulness to not say it out loud. He accompanies you to your house, constantly shaking his head when you whimper and pout because your hands hurt.

He reluctantly helps you clean your hands, because he claims he’s not good with that kind of stuff and he only helps you bandage the wound because you don’t want to move your hands too much. Quiet sounds of disapproval still leave his lips as he does, though. Something like that could never happen to him, he says. Still, the look in his eyes is loving. He appreciates your playful side a lot. Without it, his life would be pretty plain. Without YOU it would be.

He loves you, but please prepare for a bunch of teasing after the incident. He will never let you climb on something or balance somewhere every again for a long time because honestly? He cares about you a little too much and he can’t bear to see you hurt in any way.

Kenma Kozume:

Kenma always seemed to be busy with some things. In the morning it was school, in the afternoon volleyball practice and in the evening and at night he was usually gaming.

You tried you best to insert yourself into his routine. Walk to school with him, spend the breaks at school with him, game with him, watch him at practice. You were fine with it, really, because you noticed how over the time he got more cooperative and sometimes skipped volleyball practice to hang out with you, or he was starting to game a bit less in order to go to the cinema with you etc.

But you still treasured the time the most when you could hang with him normally, like at practice. You could actually spend hours watching him do something else other than hanging over his console.

And the other members loved you, too. They appreciated you being at practice, it was like having another manager. You also took care of them and told them everything you observed, you brought snacks and cheered for them in any game. Sometimes you’d even join in during training camps and get along with other teams, as well.

You normally used your time during practice to do homework or work on other things, but today you helped out as the “ballboy/girl” basically and ran around the gym catching the flying volleyballs and collecting them for the boys. You’d throw them back to them or helped them to serve the ball, but you were always just moving around the whole time. You didn’t mind, though. It was actually very fun, the boys were constantly joking around. But Kenma didn’t look all that amused whenever a ball just closely missed you or when you almost fell in an attempt to catch a ball.

You watched as him and Yaku were talking to Lev and teaching him how to do a proper serve. The first year was listening eagerly, moving his hands and arms around enthusiastically and you found yourself grinning when Kenma moved his hands over his face in frustration.

Then it finally came to Lev putting all the tips into something and he was standing at the end of the field, ready to serve. You watched him fail a few times until he hit the ball with a loud bang and slammed it over the net, right to where you were standing. No one had enough time to react properly and before you could even think about diodging the ball landed straight on your chest and you fell backwards, hitting your head on the floor hard. For a moment you couldn’t see or hear anything, just darkness and dancing light in front of your eyes and a defeaning beeping in your ears.

Someone helped you to sit up and you slowly began to see contours of people around you, and their voices were still incomprehendable to you. You felt hands on your back and then on your face and you looked into your boyfriends face who had widened eyes and looked very pale.

Then he turned around and basically chased Lev through hell for doing this, giving him the lecture of his life even though you weren’t hurt that badly. there was a small wound at the back of your head and just a little bit of blood came out.

Kenma was by your side the whole time, flinching a lot more than you when you got a bandage around your head. You got some medication from the doctor and while you were tripping a little bit he still stayed at your side, giving you his console so you can play and distract yourself from ther pain

Literally really won’t leave your side, will stay at your house until you can go to school again and he just spends the days next to you in your bed, pouting when he sees the wound and carefully stroking your hair. He’s a big cuddler during this time and literally won’t led you near the gym anytime soon. He always gives Lev death stares when he gets near you, like a hissing cat.

A protective boy, 11/10 would love and cherish

[fandomficsnstuff]

Little Dragon - Part 11

Summary: You were a child slave of Meereen, when one day a silver haired woman sets you free. Though your master isn’t too keen on letting you go, and Daenerys took personal action to see you freed and taken care of.

(Warnings: a few time skips here and there and Jorah returns! But nothing else I think, enjoy!:D)

High Valyrian is in cursive

You watched as Daenerys followed Jon Snow into the cave, Missandei standing idly by while you were a little further back, you had come to ask something of Daenerys, but it seemed that she was busy at the moment.

“What are they doing?” if it were any other person, Missandei would probably have jumped, but she knew your voice, and so she didn’t need to look to know who nod stood besides her, “King Jon wanted to show her Grace something in the caves, though I’m not sure what” Missandei finally glanced at you, seeing your brows furrowed as you continued to look at the mouth of the cave “ ‘King Jon’… reminds me of back in Mereen, when I learnt of all the northern Kings before Aegon and his dragons conquered the North…” you mumbled, your eyes first now leaving the entrance to the cave to look at Missandei “she’s spending quite a lot of time with him, isn’t she?” Missandei only nodded at your question, knowing that it wasn’t really a question. “How was your training with Ezzo?” you blushed at the thought “he was very sweet… for now we’re not fighting just yet, not really” Missandei smiled hearing that, but your thoughts were instantly dragged back to Daenerys, the thought of her spending more time with Jon outside of court made you look back to the cave, just in time to see them both exit, and upon seeing you, Daenerys smiled brightly, unaware of the fond look Jon gave her.

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You followed as quickly as you could after Daenerys and Tyrion, a part of you panting as you tried to keep up, she was furious. You had seen Daenerys angry, first time when she found out you were still a slave back in Mereen, you would never forget the spite her eyes held, the disdain for your former master. It was like she loathed him the second she allowed herself to look at him, but you also remembered the way her look changed once he was gone, how she looked a bit sad as she looked around for you, the memory making you want to smile, but you suppress the urge, for now. As she was about to mount Drogon you quickly ran up to her “Mhysa! I’m-”

“No, you’re staying here” you were taken a bit aback at her words and her tone, she sounded frustrated with everything and everyone around her “but I-... I can help, Mhysa, I want to help!” Daenerys sighed as she stood on Drogon’s wing “I know, but you’re staying here, you’re my daughter-”

“Exactly! So why can’t I come with you?!” You had never raised your voice at her like this, but you wanted to come, you wanted to help “because I don’t want you to see any bit of war! When I’m gone, I want you to rule in peace, so I don’t want to involve you in the war now, that is why!” your eyes widened as she raised her voice as well, something she had never done either, and it made you sigh heavily as you thought over a compromise. Just as she had settled on Drogon you spoke up “I’ll see you after, then” your voice had gone back to it’s normal tone, instead of yelling, yelling wouldn't solve anything. Daenerys nodded gently at you before flying off, your eyes stayed on her the entire time, as if at any moment something could happen, it was only when Tyrion gently touched your elbow that you were brought back to reality “Princess (Y/N), we should get going…” you nodded, turning around and walking back towards Dragonstone with him “I’ll see you on the way there…” Tyrion gave you a confused look, watching as you made a sharp turn and instead walked towards Rhaegal, who was resting with Viserion on top of a hill on the other side of the beach. Tyrion sighed and looked around him “why are they both so stubborn?” he mumbled as she turned back towards the castle.

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You stood besides Daenerys, though a bit further back, Drogon behind you and Rhaegal flying in the distance somewhere, but always within your sight. Drogon let out an ear piercing screech as Daenerys took a step closer to the rest of the Lannister soldiers, the screech made Rhaegal let out one as well as she flew closer, making sure the soldiers could see him as she lazily flew about.

“I know what Cersei has told you. That I’ve come to destroy your cities, burn down your homes, murder you and orphan your children. That’s Cersei Lannister, not me, nor my daughter.” she gestured at you, making you raise your head just an inch higher at her words, a feeling of pride swelling in your chest, “I’m not here to murder, and all that I want to destroy is the wheel that has rolled over the rich and poor to the benifit of no one but the Cersei Lannisters of the world. I offer you a choice. Bend the knee and join me, together we will leave the world a better place than we found it, or refuse, and die.”

You couldn’t help the glance you cast her way, but you didn’t question her, but apparently Tyrion glanced at her as well. Your eyes found their way back to the war torn soldiers, some of then slowly bending the knee, something that made you smile. No one had to die, no one had to be crushed ever again, with these people her army would grow and the rest of Westeros would see that Cersei is a cruel woman, that despite her father and despite the rumors, Daenerys is a kind woman, a fair woman, one who will be a wonderful queen, one who was loved and respected and-

Your thoughts were cut off by Drogon roaring, seeing as only a few had bend the knee, but upon hearing Drogon, and seeing Rhaegal land behind you as well, a menacing look in his eyes, almost all of them then bend the knee, all but a handful stood, and the voice of your mother making you look to her “step forward my lord,” you watched an older man step forward no fear in his gaze or movements, he looked her right in the eye, “you will not kneel?” you had somehow found your voice, and even Daenerys looked to you, you had been so silent up until now, but you couldn’t help your question, the old lord looked to you with the same bravery he had looked at your mother “I already have a queen” his answer made you frown, but now all eyes were on Tyrion as he spoke “my sister, she wasn’t your queen until recently though, was she? When she murdered your rightful queen and destroyed the house Tyrell for all time, so it appears your allegiances are somewhat flexible” you watched as the old lord looked somewhat tired, his eyes down cast for a brief moment “there are no easy choices in war, say what you will about your sister, but she was born in Westeros, lived here all her life, you on the other hand, murdered your own father, and chose to support a foreign invader, one with no ties to this land, and army of savages at her back” his words now only made you angry, she was born in Westeros but so was your mother, it was Cersei’s husband that forced a new born baby girl and her brother to exile for the crimes of her father, all because he feared a rebellion later on, and her army was not of savages, they were people who believed in her, just as you believed in her, they didn’t care for some iron chair some people had sat on, they were here, in Westeros, because they believed in her, believed in the world she promised and because she showed strength and courage and ambition.

“You will not trade your honor for your life?” Your mother’s words brought you out of your rampaging thoughts, your eyes glaring at the lord, “I respect that” Daenerys looked to her Dothraki but was interrupted by Tyrion “perhaps he could take the black, your Grace? Whatever else he is, he is a true soldier, he’d be invaluable at the Wall”

“You cannot send me to the Wall, you are not my queen” this caused Daenerys to look back at her Dothraki, and without needing orders, they walked up to the lord, pulling him from the rest of the soldiers who had knelt, a frown rested on your face as you watched them, but it was soon replaced with confusion as a younger man stepped towards them “you will have to kill me too-”

“Step back and shut your mouth!” you watched intrigued as the scene unfolded in front of you, but it ended the same way it would have if he had not stepped forward. The young man was named Dickon, son of the Lord who had spoken out against your mother, Tyrion had tried to make him step back, but he had refused, choosing to stand with his father, Randell Tarly instead, you wondered if he knew it would mean death, but as you saw them briefly holding hands, you knew. Tyrion was baffled as they were placed in front of Drogon and Rhaegal, clearly not agreeing, and you could see why, but you could also see why Daenerys didn’t back down. If she backed down everyone asked her to, she would never stand by her word, and most of all, a ruler has to stand by their word, or else their word counts for nothing, so you watched as Drogon burned them alive, a sick feeling over taking you, you had never seen anyone being burnt alive, you had never heard anyone scream the way they did, and you feared you were about to fall when a pair of strong arms caught your elbows subtly. Turning your head you saw none other than Ezzo, giving you a warm smile, and you almost ignored the few blood spatters on his face, a part of you had forgotten that he was still a Dothraki, he had fought the Lannister army, he was still a Dothraki Screamer. But right in this moment that didn’t matter, he was holding you up as you waited for this to be done with, Daenerys turned to look at you, frowning when she saw how you seemed dizzy, Ezzo holding you so you didn’t fall, but he also didn’t make it stand out, it just looked like he stood right behind you, so the other soldiers couldn't see you weak, and Daenerys was thankful for that.

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Daenerys had forbidden you from riding Rhaegal home, due to how dizzy you felt, so instead you went home along with the others, but Rhaegal stayed near you the entire time, soaring high above you, and a smile graced your lips as you gazed at him.

By the time you had gotten back to Dragonstone you felt much better, and you hurried up the hill where you knew Daenerys had landed, just in time to see her hugging Jorah. Your eyes widened at the sight, and he smiled warmly at you as you approached slowly “Princess, you’ve grown so mu-” he barely managed to finish his sentence, your arms flung around him, your head buried in his shoulder as you tried to hold back the tears that burned the corners of your eyes. You felt his arms lock around you as he held you “I missed you too, does your mother still call you Little Dragon?” you laughed as you parted from him, drying your tears and glancing at Daenerys who also had tears in her eyes, but she was more skilled at holding them back than you. You asked him questions all the way to the castle, and he answered each one, he never even seemed to tire of your questions, and when you reached the throne room he pulled something out of his pocket, it was a necklace with a long string, it reached your mid section, the string was leather and you couldn’t help but admire the pendant that hung from it, the pendant was made of stone, but it wasn't too heavy, it was a carved dragon skull next to a beautifully carved flower, and you yet again felt tears in the corners of your eyes as you studied it, “while I was in Old Town, before I was locked away in the Citadel, I met an old woman who made jewelry out of carved rocks, I asked if she could make it and then send it to Dragonstone, I knew you would arrive eventually, but she kept it until I was cured, then gave it to me as I left Old Town.”

With tears in your eyes you put on the necklace, moving the string under your hair, letting your fingertips dance over the carved stone as you gave him one last hug.

[wlwhovian]

Lost

Thirteenth Doctor/Reader

Word count: 2119 Genre: Whump & hurt/comfort Summary: You’d hoped she’d be here by now. No Doctor and no TARDIS, you find yourself lost in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to turn to. Usually it would be fine, only the forest has things hiding in it that you would rather not meet face-to-face. You just hope the Doctor finds you in time. Warnings: Big bugs

It’s getting dark.

You shiver as the cold settles in futher, a chill running down your spine, and try to keep your teeth from chattering as you huddle up, trying to reserve what body heat you still have left.

You’ve managed to find an alcove in one of the trees that succesfully blocks most of the wind, but every now and then when the breeze picks up, it seems to puncture your meager shelter like paper. The forest is silent, save for stray critters skittering around, looking for food, and your own heavy breathing. You blow air into your freezing palms and rub them together. Fuck, it’s cold.

It’s been hours now. There’s no sign of the Doctor, or the TARDIS, and their striking absence is slowly forcing you to consider the chance that maybe she’s not coming, and if that really is the case, then you can’t afford to stay here and wait, slowly freezing to death. No, you have to do something. Right now. What that is, though, you aren’t so sure. Shelter is pretty high on the list of priorities, and you kick yourself for not thinking about any of this earlier, because now the sun is well past setting and finding anything useful will be, if not impossible, very, very difficult. Not to mention that you’d have to leave your meager cover and exchange it’s relative safety for a temperature that’s dropping lower by the second.

You think, once again, how the Doctor told you to stay close, to not get separated, to stay with the bloody group, but here you are all on your lonesome, lost in the middle of the woods. You just can’t listen, can you? You never can. And this time, it just might be the slow, unforgiving death of you.

You jump when something cracks in the distance. You quiet your breathing and try to remain as still as humanly possible, but you can’t keep your hands from trembling, and proceed to stuff them under your arms with a curse under your breath. You’re not sure if it’s the sudden surge of adrenaline or if it’s just the fucking cold.

You can see movement beyond a fallen tree, about ten feet away from where you’re hiding, and your stomach lurches when you get a better look at the source of the noise. It’s not the Doctor. It’s not even humanoid.

Halfway hidden by the treeline you can see a lengthy arching back, covered in some kind of plating, and what looks like dozens of little wiggling legs. Well, little might be an understatement. Try something more like the size of your forearm. They all move in unison with a thick, wet, squelching sound that makes your stomach turn. It slithers over the fallen tree, landing with a soft thump against the ground, and in the encroaching darkness you can see a pair of antennae wiggling in the air as it takes in it’s surroundings. When it gets closer you manage to get a better look and you can tell the creature is, in fact, a massive centipede, and it is headed right towards you with an uncanny determination that makes you wonder if it already knows you’re there. You need to run. Or hide. Anything. You can’t just sit here, for fuck’s sake! You shift your position against the tree, preparing to crawl through the foliage, or run for your life if you have to.

Your heart skips a beat when the ground crumbles under your foot and a whole patch of earth comes loose, sending gravel flying down the hill, cascading over the centipede in rock-hard rain. It turns it’s head on the spot and lets out a deafening screech that forces you to clamp your hands over your ears. The creature shoots towards you at an absurd speed, tiny legs shifting and scuttling and you back away as far as you can, but as your back hits solid stone, you have no choice but to admit that you’re trapped. You cover your face as the centipede rears up, throwing half it’s body in the air, and roars, slathering you in thick, gooey spit that smells like gasoline and spoiled food. You try to breathe in, but the air is heavy with the odour and your chest keeps tightening, like your lungs are being held hostage by your own ribs. You let out one final cry, a little high pitched hiccup, before the creature descends upon you, ready to rip you into shreds.

A flash of light. An electronic whirring. Very potent cursing spiced with a strong Yorkshire accent, followed by another screech from the insect before it crawls away into the distance. Hurried footsteps.

Something heavy and soft is dropped on your shoulders, and you dig deep into the warmth like your life depends on it. A hand lands on your shoulder, but you can’t bear to look up. Your neck is frozen in place, and you sit there, violently shivering, your entire body shaking with uncontrollable tremors. You hear rustling, before your head is gently guided towards someone’s chest, where it is held by a soft, warm hand. You try to breathe in, and listen to their heartbeat. Heartbeats. Plural.

”Doctor?” you manage to mumble, words coming out in a thick slur.

”Shh,” she says, and runs a hand through your sweat-soaked hair. ”It’s alright.” She bends down until her face is in right in front of yours, offering you a sympathetic smile. ”I’ve got you.”

A choked sob escapes from your lips, but it turns into a frenzied gasp that leaves you dry-heaving, and as you weakly nod in confirmation, your head lurches forwards. The Doctor grabs your shoulders and lets you rest in the crook of her neck, where you allow yourself to close your eyes for a moment. It doesn’t help though, because no matter how much you try to make yourself calm down, how many times you try to get yourself to just breathe, air refuses to enter your lungs and you’re left to claw at your throat with feeble, trembling hands.

The Doctor takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze, before she presses it against her lips. The simplicity of the intimacy in the gesture makes you press yourself tighter against her, as if you could burrow into her, somewhere she could always keep you safe.

”It’ll be okay. Promise,” she says. Her voice is strained and her brow is furrowed, and she looks so awfully sad that you want to kick yourself for not being able to do anything about it. ”You’re in shock. We need to get you somewhere warm and safe, ok? The TARDIS is just around the corner, we’ll be there in no time.” She pauses. ”Are you hurt?”

You shake your head what meager amount you can.

”Right. That’s good. Proper good.”

You wait for a moment, trying to get the words straight in your head before you try and actually speak them aloud. The Doctor’s chest rises and falls, and you try to focus on the motion instead of the swimming in your head. Eventually, you finally manage to open your mouth despite your tongue feeling dry as sand. ”I’m sorry.”

It’s such a small sentence, only two words, and yet, saying it feels like climbing a whole slew of mountains.

The Doctor shimmies you around until she has you in what she deems an acceptable grip, before rising to her feet, with you carefully secured against her. She takes a few tentative steps before settling into a steady walking pace. Once she’s sure that she’s not going to drop you, she looks down and makes sure she catches your eye. ”None of that now, love. There’s nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Her voice is so gentle, steady like a rock in the middle of a raging sea, that it makes you want to cry. You try to make yourself as small as possible, but all your extremities are numb and you’re not sure if moving would only make it harder for the Doctor to carry you. There’s a weight in your eyelids that’s getting harder and harder to resist, and you have to fight a losing battle to keep them from shutting.

The Doctor takes notice, and offers you an encouraging smile. ”Don’t you go fallin’ asleep on me just yet.” She speeds up to a jog, and you do your best to hold on to her shoulders, but your fingers keep slipping and your hands shake so bad that you can barely get them moving. ”We’re almost there.” She glances a the forest in front of you, before muttering under her breath: ”Really should’ve parked closer.”

You swear you had only closed your eyes for a second, but suddenly you’re being engulfed by the light flowing from the TARDIS, and Graham is ushering the two of you inside. The doors shut with a slam, and when your whole body is drowning in warmth and silken light, you find the world slipping away as deep, comforting darkness takes over.

You awaken to a great, throbbing headache and the scent of raspberries. It smells like safety, like home and saturday mornings spent with a cup of tea, and you let yourself bask in the quiet for a moment. Opening your eyes, you can immediately tell that you’re in your own bedroom, with the lights dimmed and softly playing music easing you back into the waking world. You’ve been stuffed under several thick blankets, but there’s still a persistent chill somewhere deep under your skin. You try taking a deep breath, and this time your chest rises and falls just as it should. The scent of raspberries only gets stronger with each draw of air.

”Gave us quite the scare, you did.”

You jump, but under the heavy weight, nobody but you can probably tell. You turn your head, wincing as pain shoots down your neck, and end up face to face with the Doctor. She’s sitting cross legged in a chair drawn up next to your bed from it’s usual place, holding what looks to be a cheap erotic romance novel, and a cup of tea in her hand. That explains the smell, at the very least.

You sigh. ”I’m sorry,” you say, eyes strictly trained on the frayed edge of the blanket. The Doctor places the book down on the armrest, before turning to fully face you.

”There you go again,” she says with a lop-sided smile. ”With the sorries and the apologies. I told you,” she pauses as she shifts to hold her cup more securely, ”You’ve nothin’ to be sorry for. Pinkie swear.” She holds out her little finger and you take it with yours. ”Unless you try to get up before you’re ready, in which case I’ll have no choice but to detain you.”

”Detain me?” you ask with a snort.

”Made you laugh,” the Doctor says, smiling mischieviously. You throw one of your pillows at her.

”Oh, shut up.”

”I’m serious!” she says. ”Bedrest is nothin’ to be laughed at, you know. Plenty of things get much better by having a lie down.”

”You’re one to talk. The last time I saw you in bed was probably two weeks ago.”

”But I’m not human, am I?”

You look away, sheepish. ”No.”

”And humans need their rest. Lots of it.”

”Fine,” you say, rolling your eyes. ”Have it your way.”

The Doctor grins at you. ”That’s more like it.” She drains her cup and stands up, giving her back a hefty stretch. ”You just try and sleep, alright? Doctor’s orders.” She turns to leave, and you find your hand shooting out from beneath the blankets to hold hers. The Doctor turns, surprised and a little confused. You can’t make yourself look her in the eye.

”Could you stay with me?” you ask, and you can already feel heat creeping up your neck, covering your cheeks in a flush. A second passes by. To you, it’s one too many, and you draw your hand back to where it was, an apology already on your lips, before the Doctor interrupts you.

”Of course.”

You’re not really sure what you expected, but upon being granted your request, you’re not sure what to do. The Doctor grins. ”Do you want me to hop on the bed too, or should I stay in me chair? I could read you this literary masterpiece,” she says, gesturing at the book that’s still open on the armrest.

”Come here?” you ask, your voice quiet and shy. The Doctor beams. She picks up the book and crawls over you, so that she’s leaning against the wall, her legs crossed on top of you.

”Right! Alright, so, in the previous chapter..”

You try to listen. You really, really do, but the comforting narration of the Doctor combined with the abysmal plot of the book has you falling back asleep in minutes. The last thing you remember before nodding off is her taking your hand in hers, holding it carefully as she lightly draws circles on your skin with her thumb. You only wonder how you ever got this lucky.

[ikeromantic]

Hide and Seek

A le Comte de Saint Germain story. Spicy fluff at approx. 1600 words. This was inspired by a comment @raymiazaki made on my Ikemektober prompt fic Rose

The trees were tall with broad trunks and high branches. Part of an ancient forest that stretched into the hills behind the mansion. Le Comte often enjoyed peaceful walks here, away from the hum of activity in the mansion. Today his trip was less reflective, but infinitely more amusing. 

“Ma cherie, aren’t you old to be skipping?” 

She was a little way ahead of him on the path, gleefully kicking piles of fallen leaves. “You’re never too old to skip,” she giggled. 

“I’m afraid I might be.” 

“Is that so?” She stopped and waited for him to catch up. When he did, she looped her arm through his. 

Comte could tell by her mischievous grin that she was planning to do something. He wasn’t at all surprised when she tried to hop into motion, which would have tugged him forward. Would have if he were a human. 

She held nothing back in her attempt to pull him into skipping, but his arm was like an iron bar. After a moment, she gave up. Her lips curved down into an adorable pout. 

“I will have to do something about that face you’re making.” Comte was struck again by how childlike she could be at times, and how that appealed to him. She was by no means a child - she was a writer, a professional in her world. But in moments like this, there was a naivete to her that was magnetic for him.

“I hope you don’t plan on spanking me. I heard you threaten Arthur . . .” Her mouth was still bowed but her eyes sparkled. 

Comte laughed. “For you, I have better medicine.” Then he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, level with his face. 

“What? Comte, put me down!”

“I think not.” He pulled her close and kissed her. He intended it to be a light kiss. Just enough to make her smile. But he’d barely pressed his mouth to hers when she threw her arms around his neck. Her playful tongue darted between his lips, teasing. Of course, he couldn’t let it end there. 

Several minutes later, with both breathless, they leaned back, regarding each other.

“I see you’re smiling now, ma cherie.”

“Am I? Hmmm. You have good medicine, monsieur.”

He laughed and set her down. “Come, my dear. We are almost there. I’d hate to let Sebastian’s efforts go to waste.” He took her hand and led them on.

Sebas set a picnic for them in one of the high meadows. It was a rare spot where the soil was no good for the deep roots of trees. Instead, light, sweet smelling grass grew here, and wildflowers. A perfect place to take a lady for a picnic, if a bit of a walk.

“It’s funny. I know I should but I don’t really feel hungry.” She smiled up at him. “At least, not for food.”

Me neither, thought Comte. But he didn’t say it aloud. Ma cherie was still new to the idea of vampires and startled easily. Like a doe or a wild rabbit. Something of his thoughts must have shown in his expression though, because she swallowed and looked down.

“Do I frighten you,” he asked.

She shook her head. “N-no. Not exactly. It’s not fear.” 

Comte waited for her to continue. He could tell her heartbeat was racing through the press of her wrist where their hands met. If this wasn’t fear, then what?

“I - you have to promise not to laugh.”

He nodded, schooling his expression to solemnity.

“It is kind of exciting. To be around you.”

Comte’s eyes widened. “Exciting? I will have to remember that.” He stroked the inside of her wrist with his fingertip, enjoying the flush of her cheeks in response. 

“I can tell you’re laughing at me on the inside,” she sighed. 

“Am I going to have to kiss you again?”

She looked up at him, her expression chagrined. “That’s not much of a threat. Might as well say, stop sulking or else I’ll give you what you want.”

Which was more or less true, Comte thought. But if she wanted a threat - he smiled at her, letting his sharp canines show. It was a young vampire’s trick. Something those new to the power and thirst did to enjoy the shiver it brought to their victims. A primal fear. For a man of his years, it felt silly, but had the desired effect. 

Her eyes went wide and she stopped moving. There was a slight tremble in her legs. 

“Something wrong?”

She licked her lips. Swallowed. “N-no. Just, when you look at me like that, you look so . . . hungry.” 

“And if I am?” Comte smiled wider. He could hear the shudder in her breath. Smell the tang of fear beneath her perfume. Fear and desire.

“I’m not scared.”

He took a step closer to her. “No?” 

She flashed him a grin, defiant despite her natural apprehension. Then she ran. It was not what he expected her to do. He stood there on the path, listening to the crunch of fallen leaves under her feet. After a few breaths, the sound faded. 

“Come back, ma cherie! I was only teasing,” he called. 

“No!” Her voice echoed in the empty space between the trees. Muffled by the leaves and obscured by the wind. 

“If you don’t come back, I’ll have to come find you!”

“If you can!” Her laughter was wild and carefree.

This reminded Comte of his younger days. Stalking his prey through forests or back alleys. Toying with them. Only, with her, the ending would be so much sweeter. He started in the direction she’d run. 

She was a silly girl. Surely she knew by now that his senses were more acute than a human. Surely she didn’t expect to stay hidden for long. Even had he not been looking for her, the alluring smell of her clean skin with that delicious frisson of fright and lust would have pulled him to her.

Comte walked silently across the forest floor, instinctively stepping around dry leaves and fallen branches. He knew he was getting closer. There was a rocky outcropping with a large fallen tree - she was probably on the other side. Her scent was so strong that he had no doubt he was right. And she was holding her breath. Clever.

“Got you!” He leapt the tree trunk, expecting to surprise her. Instead, he surprised a pair of silk stockings. They hung from the tree branches, swaying with the breeze. 

Her laughter hovered just at the edge of his hearing. Comte picked up the stockings and stuffed them in his pocket. “Ah ma cherie, that was almost too clever. But I will find you. And when I do . . .” He felt a thirst for her that was almost overpowering.

This time, he stood still and silent. Listening. It was hard to pick out the sounds of her movement from the ambient forest. Creaking branches, scurrying squirrels. Birdsong. There - a footfall,and another atop fallen leaves. Comte grinned. 

Moving at unnatural speed, he dashed toward the sound. She would not escape him this time. But he could see no one as he got close. He checked behind each tree, tense with excitement of the hunt. In a leaf pile nearby, he finally found ‘her.’ Or rather, he found her shoes. 

His darling was proving to be difficult prey. Comte’s eyes took on a bright, golden shine. This little game of hers was more fun than he expected. 

Comte went slowly now. He knew his quarry had to be close. She would have tossed her shoes to make the sound, so how far could she throw? He scanned the shadowed spaces under low-hanging branches, circling the spot where he’d found her shoes. 

“Ma cherie? I know I am close. I can hear your breath, each - little - frightened - gasp.” He chuckled. In truth, Comte only heard one slight exhale, but it was enough to assure him he was on the right track.

There was a rustle of cloth to his left. He stopped, eyes narrowed. Thick brush grew in tangles beneath an old tree. The branches were low and thick with gold and red leaves, colors muted in the shadow of the canopy above. And there - the edge of her red dress. So adorably cunning to try to hide behind the bright foliage.

Cautious and silent, he closed in on her. Comte’s own breath was a bit ragged, and his heart raced. Driven by anticipation of finding his darling. Pulling her close. He could already taste his victory, the sweetness of blood and kisses, her moans his song of triumph.

He reached into the dense leaves, his fingers brushing the soft fabric. “Now I really do have you, ma cherie,” he growled.

But there was nothing beneath the dress to grab. Only fabric, left hanging in the branches. Comte pulled the dress out. It was still warm from her skin. 

A scarlet leaf drifted down from the tree, brushing his shoulder. 

Comte looked up.

“Does this mean I win?” She sat in the crook of a branch, wearing nothing but her corset and panties. Light and shadow danced across her bare skin. Her smile was wicked. 

He held his arms open and she dropped confidently into them. “Mmmm, ma cherie, I’m afraid you’ve lost. I found you. And now I plan to claim my prize.” He pulled her close, his fingers already working loose the corset lacing. 

She shivered. “I’m pretty sure that means I won.” Then she was kissing him, as hungry for his touch as he was for hers.

[harrylee94]

The Tournament - Chapter 3

You can find this on AO3!

Summary: “I wish I could choose my own Protector.”

“You know why you can’t.”

“But how will I know if I can trust them?”

Notes: TW: VERY brief mention of stillbirth. Skip the paragraph beginning with “Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc” if you’re not comfortable with this.

Chapter 2

——————————————————————

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum ” - Din

The man in the mirror looked like a stranger. The armour he wore was almost like a mirror itself from how polished it was (his hands still ached from buffing), and yet it still only covered the most vital of areas. The tunic beneath that and the necessary padding was uncomfortably embroidered, the bronze and gold trim scratching at his neck and wrists and bringing attention to his rank, even though he’d much rather have hidden away. His boots were polished within an inch of their life as well, though, thankfully, familiar; not exactly new but not old enough to merit calling in a cobbler. The tabard was completely new, the tailors having worked through the night to complete it; grey with red trim and detailing, to emphasise that he had recently lost the last person he could call family.

Din took a deep breath as he met his own sallow eyes. He felt like a doll, about to go on display.

Mourning was something that he wanted to do on his own terms, in the quiet privacy of his room, or out in the fields, able to allow the rain to hide his tears. If he had been any other man in the kingdom he would have been able to, would have been able to honour his buir’s memory in the way he wanted, but it was not only him who would mourn her, and he could not be selfish.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum,” he muttered quietly, rubbing his thumb over a swirl on his cuff. “Vod’ika.” His little sister had been taken from them before she could draw her first breath. She had never been named. “Ren Djarin.” His father had marched on only a handful of years earlier, and in some moments the wound felt fresh. Today was one of those days. “Kovra Djarin.” He had hoped he would have many years more to wait before saying his mother’s name, but today it would be on thousands of lips.

He sniffed and quickly wiped away his tears, reaching for his belt and sword to strap them to his waist.

“Knock knock.”

Din paused, looking over his shoulder at the door. “Marshal Dune.”

The Marshal of castle town smirked at him from where she was leaning against the door jamb, arms folded across her chest, her leather armour oiled and brushed. She must have been waiting for him to finish.

“Prince Djarin,” she replied, pushing herself up. She gave him an exaggerated look up and down and raised an eyebrow at him. “You look like a peacock.”

Din snorted and turned back to the mirror as he buckled his belt. “I feel like one; roasted, stuffed and decorated, ready for the court’s pleasure.”

“Sounds about right,” she said as she stopped just to the left of him. “You ready for this?”

“No,” he said, “but I have to. This is the Way.” He met her eyes in the mirror, taking note of her position. “You’re sure you won’t join the Tournament?”

She snorted. “Fuck no! Din, I love you, but can you imagine me in court?”

Din winced. He could imagine it easily. He could also see what a terrible idea that would be; Cara Dune had no patience for fools, no matter their rank or status. As much as he would have loved to have had someone he knew, someone he trusted, at his side, it would be a political nightmare. Plus it would likely be viewed as favouritism should she win with how close they were. Their friendship was well known, almost infamous depending on who you spoke to, but they had grown into their responsibilities, separate branches of the same tree though they were.

“I wish I could choose my own Protector,” he bemoaned, fiddling with his scabbard to untangle it from his tabard. Ridiculous thing. He never wore them outside of ceremonies.

“You know why you can’t,” Cara replied with sympathetic eyes.

He sighed and nodded. It was a chance for the Clans of Mandalore to show their prowess, and for him, as the new ruler, to show his trust in his subjects. It was an important ritual, an essential process, but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.

“But how will I know if I can trust them?”

“You won’t,” Cara said, and rested her hand on his shoulder, “but you can trust Saruk, and they won’t let an idiot replace them.”

He hummed. It was a nice thought, but he would still have to endure the new Protector for the first few months of his reign so he didn’t step on any toes. He hated politics. “I have to make the announcement first.”

“Then I suppose you’d better get out there.”

“Is that why you came here?” Din asked, turning to face her.

“One of the reasons,” she said with a shrug. “That, and I knew you needed the company.”

He smirked and grasped her shoulder in thanks. “Let’s get out there then.”

With a slap to his shoulder, Cara left, glancing back over her shoulder as she vanished from sight. It only took him a few moments more to convince himself to follow, heading out the door without a pause, knowing that Saruk would be a step behind him as he headed towards the hall.

The castle was quiet, only the faint murmurings that echoed from the hall down the corridors to be heard, and those were too indistinct to make anything of. His footsteps were quiet, as were Saruk’s, who stepped in tandem with him, but as he rounded the last corner and the guards ahead of him straightened, the whispers fell silent.

A great crowd had filled the hall, standing before the stacks of logs and planks that lined the edges, and leaving only the raised dais where the throne sat, a path for him to get there, and the very centre clear. Everyone was in their finest, varying colours among them, but red was predominant among them. Honouring a leader. It sickened him to know that some only wore it to curry favour with him, as their next King, but he couldn’t think of that now.

His buir’s body lay in repose in the centre of the room, resting on a wooden stretcher and her hands clutching her sword to her chest. She was wearing the armour she had died in, the reason she had worn it in fact; the only difference was that her helm was in place, the visor down to cover her face. She looked ready to do battle, as all good leaders should. As Din stepped up to the dais, he hoped he could follow her example.

He stopped before the throne and turned, though he did not sit down --- for he had not yet been crowned and was still only a Prince in the eyes of the world, despite his vows the day before -- and looked over the crowd. His magic thrummed through him, urging him to sit, but he resisted, determined to pass this test.

"The Witch King is dead," he said, projecting his voice so that all could hear. "Nu kyr'adyc, Shi taab,echaaj'la."

"Aay'han!" came the reply of a hundred voices as one.

Din briefly bowed his head in thanks, wishing he could be wearing the royal helm so he wouldn't have to struggle with keeping his emotions from showing on his face.

"Today we mark the end of Mand'alor the Beloved's reign, and we prepare for the beginning of her son's, long may he reign," Saruk cried, their voice booming in an enviable manner. "Let it be known that the Trials for the new Protector shall begin two weeks hence."

There was some muttering and shifting amongst the crowd, the excitement that had been carefully hidden away bubbling to the surface.

"The Witch King is dead," Din proclaimed again, bringing their attention back to where it should be. "Nu kyr'adyc, Shi taab,echaaj'la."

"Aay'han!"

He saw Cara in the sea of faces, the familiarity of it a balm to his battered nerves, and he set his shoulders.

"Today we send this Verd to her rest," he continued. "With fire shall she be revered. I shall light the flame.” He stepped forward, his magic building within him, but he pushed it down. Not yet.

“We shall carry her,” Saruk proclaimed, moving to one of the four corners of the stretcher. As she did, three others stepped forth from the crowd; the captain of the castle guard, a man still in his prime by the name of Veronar, moved to stand at the front right, next to Saruk’s position. A second man, Greef Karga, whom had served in the wars that Mandalor had faced at the Witch King’s side and acted as a close friend, took another corner. The third and last addition to the Protector was the Armourer, a woman of great mystery and even greater skill. She would be the one to forge Din’s royal helm, and there was none other whom he would trust with such a task.

As Din stepped around the body, he kept his eyes forward, the movement of the crowd only a blur as the guards moved into place around them and the doors opened.

The ward was lined with servants, each of them bearing their patches of red, and each and every one of them bowed as he passed. Most of them hadn’t the fabric or wages to spare for full garments, but a sash about the waist or around the neck was still a greater honour to the Prince than the pageantry he’d witnessed within the keep. There was one figure that wore more red than he’d expected though.

Cobb Vanth, the stable hand, was stood to the right, his shirt a deep burgundy and his scarf a bright blood red. He bowed, just as all others had, but not before Din had managed to catch his red rimmed eyes. The sight caught him by surprise, and it brought him a sense of comfort. He knew that the loss of his buir was a harsh blow to more than just himself, but he hadn’t seen it, not even in Saruk. He knew that it was what was expected, that they had to remain strong until they could pass on their duty to the next, but it still made him feel like he’d been grieving alone. To see tears in another’s eyes was a balm to his broken spirit.

The thought remained with him as he led the procession on, his pace slow as he walked out of the castle and up to the hill upon which a pyre had been prepared. The people had followed him, the old aided by the young, the rich alongside the poor, and as Mand’alor the Beloved was set upon her pire and he stood watch, many of them set items beside her. They set herbs, flowers and cloth. Carvings of animals and armour. Scrolls and stones. Din watched with some confusion as Cobb set a broken shovel handle against the bundles of kindling, but could tell its importance from the hesitant reluctance he bore at parting with it.

It was the moments like these that told him just how loved his mother had been by her people, and as the last of the gifts had been deposited, he drew himself tall one more time.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Kovra Djarin.”

With that, he drew upon the power within him, and set a spark in the dry kindling deep in the pyre.

The fire caught easily, the wood having been treated and readied especially for this moment, and soon Mand’alor the Beloved was consumed. The heat of it was intense, but it would be many hours yet before she was gone. It wouldn’t be until the embers were smouldering, as the sun was kissing the horizon, that Din would look up to see who had remained.

Each of the four pallbearers remained, stoic and staid at his sides. The guards, of course, were still stationed at their posts around them all to protect them, and Cara stood nearby. There were a few other nobles, though not many, and a small handful of smallfolk and servants, but across from him, fresh tears running down his cheeks as he stared into the embers and ashes, was Cobb Vanth.

——————————————————————

Mando'a Translations:

Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum -- "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal"—Daily remembrance of those passed on, followed by the names of those being remembered

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la -- "Not gone, merely marching far away"—; Mandalorian phrase for the departed

aay'han -- bittersweet moment of mourning and joy; "remembering and celebration"

Verd -- warrior or soldier

Chapter 4

[allegra-writes]

"Grumpy Haz"

Harrison Osterfield x Reader

Teen and up

Warnings: Spicy. But just mildly, like Nando's mango and lime chicken.

Just a little drabble inspired by a conversation we had this morning with @tom-holland-is-spiderman 💛

MY MASTERLIST

Your boyfriend was a grumpy man. There was no way around it. He was never mean, or overtly angry (unless football was involved, of course), and he was still the charming, kind and happy person you had fallen in love with. But every now and then, something would happen that wasn’t much of his liking, like one of his friends (usually Harry) would say something with a little too much bite behind their words, or you would get too caught up talking and laughing with Tom, inadvertently ignoring him, and he would get silent and pouty. And sulky. And honestly, you would probably find it annoying… if it wasn’t so. Damn. Cute.

Like now, in the park with the Hollands. The twins were trying to teach you how to play golf, Sam standing behind you, correcting your swing or whatever it was called.

“Your hubby is being a little bitch again” Accused Harry. You straightened, looking around, noticing your boyfriend, who was right there only a minute earlier, was now nowhere to be found.

“Huh! Wonder what’s gotten into him now…” You followed Sam’s line of vision and effectively found your boyfriend, laying on a bench a good 50 feet away, pointedly not looking at you.

“He probably thinks you gonna steal his girlfriend” Scoffed the redhead, “Not that I blame him, y/n, what do you even see in that crotchety div?”

You rolled your eyes,

“Dude, did you seriously just said ‘crotchety'?” You sighed, “I better go see what’s happening…”

“Let him brood”

“Yeah, you’re just encouraging his behavior”

You ignored the twins, hiking up the hill. As you got closer, you could see Haz had closed his eyes, head pillowed on his arm behind his head, brown suede jacket that clinging snugly to his frame, dirty blonde locks glowing under the afternoon sun… What were you saying?

Oh, right,

“Alright, mister grumpy pants” You stood towering over him, “what is it, now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” He grumbled, without even opening his eyes.

“Sure you do. Come on, why are you up here, sulking?”

“Am not sulking!”

He protested, sounding like a petulant child. You arched an eyebrow, but said nothing more about it. The last thing you wanted was picking up a fight in the middle of the Park. Instead you looked around, changing tactics. There wasn’t anyone around, except for the Holland twins down the hill, and an old couple, slowly walking away. Apparently it was still too cold for people to go out. Good.

“You know, it’s actually quite nice up here. Lonely, Quiet. I can see why you like it.”

Harrison let out a noncommittal sound.

“I think I'm going to hang up here for a while…”

He still didn’t open his eyes, but ever the gentleman, he bent up his legs, planting his feet on the seat, making room for you. But instead of sitting there, you moved to straddle his hips, letting your legs hang at every side of the bench.

“What are you doing?” Harrison’s eyes finally flew open when he felt your weight on him.

“Taking a seat. What does it look like?”

He looked around frantically, the lovely blush you loved so much spreading quickly on his cheeks and down his neck as you started minutely rocking on top of him.

“Y/n are you insane??”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” You threw his words back at him and he squinted his eyes, unimpressed.

“Come on, Haz… you know you can't stay mad at me for long…” You cooed, watching his eyes roll inside his head as you ground your hips down on his harder.

“Come on, mister grumpy pants…”

He tried to suppress a smile, but you could see the corners of his mouth tremble.

“Little Haz is not angry anymore” You teased, feeling him begin to harden underneath you.

“Oi! Little?” He exclaimed, indignant.

“Ok, big Haz” You smirked. He laughed,

“Ok, but seriously, you need to stop!”

“Not until you kiss me, Osterfield”

You yelped, as he sat up so fast you almost fell back. But he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close to him.

“You cheeky girl” He accused, right before capturing your lips in a bruising, passionate kiss that soon got you moaning into his open mouth, “My gorgeous, cheeky girl…”

You smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Wha-…” He didn’t have time to finish his question, as you slipped from his embrace, quickly getting up and away from him.

“Great, now we can keep on playing golf with your friends!” You exclaimed, cheerfully, almost skipping on your way back down the hill, “Haz? Babe?” You turned around, worriedly, when you realized he wasn’t following you.

“Go ahead, I'll be there in a second”

You hesitated, so he smiled, reassuringly,

“I'm not mad anymore, I promised, I just… need a couple of minutes…” His eyes flickered briefly to his lap, and you understood. Giggling, you made your way back to the twins. Apparently, his pants weren’t just grumpy anymore…

The end.

[blackberry-gingham]

I just finished reading your Teddy!Beatles and Square!Reader fic and it inspired this prompt and it’s extra chessy cause cringe culture is most certainly dead. When the lads notice the feelings between George and the Reader but no action they decided to take matters into their own hands and set up George and Reader themselves! They phone Reader pretending to be George and ask Reader out on a date and similarly come up with a plan to invite George.

(Hey! This is the prompt anon is referring to!)

Lmaoooo I love it! Perhaps the boys should consider voice acting at this rate 😂😂 Also, sorry this took sooooo loooong btw 💀💀 I’m trying to do follow up requests like these first from now on so things make more sense on the time line skskssk

I just hope the wait was worth it, and thank you for the request! Enjoy!

---

It's been a few weeks now since the big gig break out, and all went according to plan... The gig was a smash hit of course, and to top that off, neither you nor the boys were caught for skipping.

But in the meantime, something... interesting, has been going on between you and George.

Stealing glances. Shy giggling. Sitting beside each other at your lunch table. Walking home together after school...

It's obvious to the three of them that there's a match to be made here. George is one of the lads and well, they've known you long enough to know that the two of you'd be good together. So naturally they've been waiting for George to make a move at lunch or school. Or even, just to be surprised one day with the big news!

But they wait. And wait. And wait.... Nothing.

And after yet another day at lunch with nothing more then some shy glances and a half hearted flirtation that didn't translate as such... John pulls Paul and Ringo aside for a talk.

"This had better be worth it Lenny, if get late to class one more time i-"

"Yeah yeah, of course- Anyway... I can't be the only one here who sees what's happening with George and square, right?"

Paul and Ringo nod.

"Good, cause I'm sick of it! I say, we need to help them along..."

"And how do you propose that..."

"... I don't know, bu-!"

Paul rolls his eyes and walks off. He really can't be late again...

"Wha- Now hold on Paulie, we're supposed to brainstorm!", John jogs after Paul, leaving Ringo to catch up. But, while those two bicker on their way to class, the gears start turning in Ringo's mind...

Later, after school is out and you and George have spilt off, Ringo shares his plan. "So uh, I was thinking..."

"Well, first time for everything..."

John elbows Paul in the ribs, "Go on Ringo!"

"Well, you know how last time we got square out of school with that call? Well... What if we use that same trick and get the two of 'em out on a date!"

"Now that's just plain stupid! We got lucky pulling that trick last time, there's no way we can get away with it twice. And Anyway, how is this even supposed to wo-?"

"Oh shut up Paul! This is brilliant! Listen here, we'll call square, pretending to be George right? We, as George, pick a time and place to meet, then all we have to do is make sure we bring George to the same spot, and boom! Bob's your uncle!"

Ringo nods excitedly, while Paul stands silently with a sour face. It could work... but he has pretty high doubts.

Later that week, the lads wait until they know George is occupied somewhere else, and not with you to make their move. Today he's in town helping his mum, and you're at home diligently doing your homework.

John rubs his hands together and approaches the phone, "Alright mates, I'll go si-"

"What? But you went last time! Besides, it was my idea!", Ringo cuts in and takes a few steps towards the phone himself.

Paul gives an exasperated sigh and snatches the phone off the hook, "Are you two kidding? With those big hooters? You know square isn't deaf, yeah? The whole point is to sound like George, you clods!"

"Oh... Yeah...", Ringo looks as though he'd forgotten that little detail, while John claps a hand to his nose.

Paul dials your number and it begins to ring.

"It's not big!", John retorts.

"Is too!", Paul puts a hand over the speaker and whisper yells back, before shushing the two quickly.

"Hello?"

Right before their very eyes, Paul seems to become a different person. He leans on the wall casually, and in a scarily good George impression, Paul responds, "Hey square! Whatcha doing?"

"Who-? Wait a minute.. Sorry, I think my phone is acting up, you sound a bit off... But anyway, hi Georgie!”

Paul must be dreaming, it can’t be this easy. He’ll never hear the end of it from John... 

“Just finishing that chemistry work I was helping you with yesterday. Oh, I meant to ask! How'd that do for you? I was worried I was going to fast..."

Paul manages to shake himself out of his daze, keeping up the charade without a hitch, "No no! It went fine, thanks!"

"Oh good! Anyway, did you need anything? I thought you were out in town today?"

"Uh, there was a change in plan! Yeah, and with all the free time, it got me thinking... Would you like to um, meet up?"

John clenches and bares his teeth, making a severe face at Paul, "You're blowing it"

Paul makes a face back, demanding silence, while you ask if he needs more homework help tonight. "No no, I mean like... Maybe as a date, you know?"

You gasp, "Oh George I'd love to! Do you have a where and when in mind?"

Paul suspends his disbelief once more and turns to the lads for ideas. Ringo holds an imaginary ice cream cone and licks it furiously a few times, while John mouths the word "Saturday" and holds up two fingers.

"Uh, how about Mr Whippys... Saturday at 2?"

"Sounds great, I'll be there!"

"Great! S-see you then!"

You say your goodbyes and Paul hangs the phone it's receiver. Either he’s really good at impersonating George, or he needs to have a talk with you about gullibility…

"Does George know you can do that?"

"Yeah, could've fooled me even", Ringo marvels.

"Thanks, I thought I did a right good job too... and anyway, square seemed convinced, eh?"

The other two nod in agreement. "Now uh, how do we get George?"

The three are silent for a moment, then John smiles deviously, "Not to worry lads, I think I have a plan..."

Luckily, George is kept in the dark on his friend's shenanigans and Saturday arrives the next morning. All four teds walk down the sidewalk in town, and as far as George knows, this is just some guy time with the lads.

They chat and joke all the way till they reach the top of the hill with Mr Whippys just over the crest. And right on schedule, you’re waiting patiently outside the double glass doors. Time to execute the plan...

John breaks up the chatter with a loud voice, “Hey George, look, it’s square!”, he points right at you in a grand gesture to snare George’s attention.

George perks up, “Really? Oh, so it is!” In what could possibly be a subconscious effort, he straightens his leather jacked then licks his hand and runs it over his pompadour.

Trying very hard not to groan at his love sick friend, Paul gives George a hard shove in your direction, making him stumble several steps forward. “Hey! What wa-?”, but when he turns around to look, the other three have vanished into an alley way like thieves in the night.

Of course, with all the noise, you spot George at last and walk over briskly, “George! There you are!” You look fantastic, all done up and ready for a proper night about town. George’s heart feels as though it’s about to beat out of his chest at the sight of you.

He takes a gulp of air, “H-here I am?”

“Yes silly! For our date!”, you take his hand, and if George though his heart was beating hard before, now it feels set to burst. “Don’t tell me you forgot?”, you tease, as you walk to the ice cream parlor together.

“Our... date... I, um”, George throws a few looks over his shoulder, just barely catching sight of his three mates. Ringo and John snicker while Paul gives him an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up. George looks back at you, and sees the utter joy written in your eyes as you glance over at him.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together... He doesn’t know how they pulled this off, but that’ll have to be saved for later.

George takes a breath and smiles confidently back as he grips your hand properly, “Course I didn’t forget! There’s nowhere I’d rather be...”, he gives you a wink and your hand a little squeeze before he releases you to open the door. You give a shy giggle and thank him.

Before George follows you in, he takes one last look at the others. They’re out on the sidewalk now, high fiving each other, while John appears to be bragging. At George’s staring, they stop. George smiles gratefully and gives his friends a little salute as they whoop and cheer him on.

Their shouts follow him into the parlor until the glass seals them out. 

He couldn’t ask for better mates.

[retiredteabag]

What Happened To You?

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Genre: angst with fluff :)

Word count: ...

Synopsis: You were a very positive girl, but when you have one of the hardest weeks ever and break down, who will be there to comfort you?

——————————————————————————

This week was so great, perfect justttttt perfect. <— that was sarcasm, it was most definitely not perfect. :(

Y/n was a very positive girl, not only for others but also herself, if she was struggling she would focus on the good. She would constantly go to bed and try to clear her mind, de-stress and not talk to others about negative stuff because she knew it would bring her down and make others worry. She would wake up everyday with the idea that no matter how busy she was, she could make the day great.

This week was no different, but as you know, time carries on, stress builds, it can wear a person down. Exams were coming up, y/n’s family had been really busy and although y/n loved her family she just couldn’t talk to them right now. All of her clothes looked weird these days, thank goodness UA had a uniform. Her classmates seemed so cheerful, she didn’t want to ruin that, so she carried on.

She would run everyday, it became a routine and it helped her cool off, today was just like other days. She tied her shoe laces, pulled up her hair, stretched a bit, and got on her way. She usually went the same route and she knew her way well.

She was running when she lost her footing. Ouch, what the heckkk, that never happens. She had twisted her ankle, she could tell, not from the pain but from the grossly worrying ✨crunch✨ she winced, couldn’t even feel the pain yet but she had fallen too. As she tumbled down the hill the earphones in her ears were ripped out, covering her head she came to a stop.

A large sigh escaped her mouth. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ is what she said to herself, she got up and it was very apparent that the adrenaline rushing through her body was basically gone now because her ankle hurt like hell. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ she mumbles to herself. She can walk, she can. It just ~really really hurts~ and she can push through.

She’s almost up the hill when she remembers her earphones weren’t with her. Another sigh. She turns and waddles down the hill again. ‘It’s okay, you can get you music going, make it back, get a hot shower, and then sweatpants. :) sweatpants.’ and that became her motivation.

She bends over, grunting loudly, much like a hippo, and gets her earphones, she’s plugging them in as she makes her way up the hill and starts her music.

?? Starts her music. ?? ‘What the hell?’ Pressing the volume button, she turns it up. Pauses and unpauses the music, checks her data, even wastes one of her precious skips on her free Spotify plan 😩 The next song was her favorite-most recent add. She unplugs her earbuds and presses play, the music loudly booms out.

‘It’s alright, it’s okay my earbuds are broken it’s cool it’s not like their expensive’ and she carries on. Tosses them in a public trash bun and makes her way back to the dorms. Smiling and waving at people on the street and ❤️boy does her foot hurt❤️ She’s just back at the building when she sees Momo.

“Hey y/n!! How was your run?” She smiles at you and you smile back.

“It was good, how are you?” Momo says she’s well and they go their separate ways. A very tiny part of y/n is sad that Momo didn’t notice the pain she was in, but then again, it’s not like she gave any evidence of the ache in her ankle. This was her fault.

She opened her dorm room door and closes it up. She sighs and takes off her shoes, her socks are sweaty and gross as she removes them (🥵) she had missed dinner and she groans in disappointment. Hopping in the shower she stretches her back.

Update: the water never got hot enough and she had run out of conditioner.

‘It’s okay some people don’t even use conditioner, it’s fine...’ she thinks, but her hair already felt uncomfortable. The idea of her favorite soft sweatpants she bought from the men’s section is all she wants right now, and luckily for her she had cleaned them that morning. Her ankle is crying at that point and for some reason her shins and thighs really hurt. Maybe she can text and ask Jirou to get them for her :D

“Heyy Jirou 👋🏻”

“What’s up?”

“Your dorms right by the washing machines 🥺 I was wondering if you could get my sweatpants from the farthest right machine, their pretty big and dark blue.”

“Oh y/n, the machines broke, the water pipes burst this morning 😯 I can’t believe you didn’t know, all the clothes were soaked”

“What? oh my gosh :( well it’s okay, how are you?”

It wasn’t okay, things were getting progressively harder for y/n to be positive and now she can’t even be comfy while she stresses out about exams. Y/n spent another hour and a half going over school stuff while icing her ankle. And she’s embarrassed to say she went through a few toilet paper squares whipping away her angry tears, her tissue box empty as it was also allergy season.

She went to bed stressed and sad. But she still went to bed with ‘it’s alright, it’s okay, tomorrow is a new day, I can do this’ her eyes closed and luckily got some shut eye.

She did not wake up from her alarm, nor the sun, nor a villain attack, no, it was the 🙂throbbing pain🙂 in her ankle. But heyyy it’s alright just choke down a few ibuprofen, probably some acetaminophen since she finished off her ibuprofen last night and God knows she doesn’t have the extra $$$ to buy name brand meds right now.

And dangggg did her legs hurt, she shimmies up her skirt and tucks her shirt in, she’s looking in the mirror as she ties her shoes when she notices her bruises, ya know the purple and yellow globs of skin all along her knees. Great.

It was hard to keep a positive mindset that day. She was really struggling to keep it up. And it wasn’t hard for others to tell. She smiles as she takes her seat in class, Ochaco immediately notices her bruises.

“Y/N WHAT HAPPENED?!” She wails, y/n shakes out a laugh sorta sound and shrugs,

“I don’t know, like they just come outta nowhere, it’s so weird, I probably got them on my run or in training.” She smiles at Ochako.

“Y/nnnnn” she wines, “you gotta be more carful!” And then she turns around to respond to iida calling her.

Y/n sighs, you were tired, unmotivated to even focus on the lesson, your normal happy vibe wasn’t there anymore and you were definitely not the only one who could tell.

Kirishima was a really observant guy, he knew from past tests how worked up you got over you’re studies but this didn’t seem like the same stress. You looked overworked and tired, not to mention the bruises, ᵂʰʸ ʷᵉʳᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠˀ :(

He spent most of the lesson focused on you, the frown on your face made his stomach hurt.

“Hey y/n! :D” Kirishima dances over to you.

Your face immediately brightens up, “Hey Kiri, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, I just wanted to check up with you.” He has a kind of concerned look on his face, a cute eye smile but his eyebrows furrow together.

Y/n pauses, but then smiles, “D’awe Kiri that’s so sweet, I’m doing well, thank you for asking”

Kirishima isn’t dumb, yeah he’s not the smartest book-wise, but he’s really good at reading people.

“Oh, okay, just making sure.” He’s disappointed and a little sad you didn’t confide in him. He rubs your shoulder and gives one last smile.

As he leaves your hand traces over the phantom chill of his lingering touch. For some reason his concern brings a tinge of tears to your eyes. ‘Geez get over yourself y/n’

In other news, your ankle was doing terribly 😁.

——————————————————————————

There’s a certain line for you, a certain line that if crossed you just can’t help but break down. At this point you were close, but not in the danger zone. You shoulda known better than to spent the night studying again.

You wake up feeling terribly rested but what did you expect? There was a noise at the window and you thought you were imagining it at first but it continued. The blinds screech open and you make a mental note to try to never provoke that noise this early ever again. But all thoughts leave you at the sight of a baby bird.

Laying on your window ledge is a baby bird, probably not a week old, there was nearly no fuzz on the innocent creature, definitely no wings yet.

Y/n is kicked into action. The baby was hurt, barely moving. Y/n’s tentative hands scoop the lil guy and he’s cold, shivering, and still as loud as ever, a strangled noise comes from y/n. She did not care if she was gonna be late, this bird was gonna die.

And this is the part I hate the most because there’s nothing, nothing she coulda done, nothing. And she just watches as the little bird wiggles slowly and then just stops. Her mind is as silent as ever and her lips are sealed, her eyes water and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do, just let it sit there? Does she bury it?

As tears roll of her cheeks she sets the little bird in an empty shoe box, she sets the box on the window sill and then she leaves.she leaves as if nothing just happened. She’s still taking it on okay? That was literally he most sporadic thing she’s ever done, there was no plan, no thought in that event, she just watched a creature die. ‘It was just a bird, it’s alright, its okay y/n’

But tears are still rolling off her cheeks and she knows it’s not just about the bird, it was about everything, not talking to her family, her friends, stress over school, her bad days piling up, it just crashed. She hid herself in the bathroom and washed her face with the sink water. There were no towels so she had to dry it off with tissue paper that stuck to her face. Her tears never stopped, though her eyes clenched painfully, and her hands kept rubbing and she kept taking those deep breaths it seemed that nothing helped and then she sniffled and then a choked squeak left her. Her eyes kept watering and her head ached. Her legs ached. Her bandages foot ached. Her heart ached. She cried loudly, she can’t remember the last time she cried audibly, but she’s gasping and wailing.

At some point she picks up her feet and splashes her face again, this time drying it with the bottom of her tucked shirt. Her eyes are red and swollen but if she walks into class with her hair and head down nobody would notice.

People noticed. She was late, Aizawa scolded her and she cleared her throat before apologizing. Nobody could tell yet as she took her seat. Froppy pokes her back from her desk,

“What happened, ribbit?”

Y/n clears her throat loudly and coughs a bit, she leans back and tilts her head, “I just slept in.” Her voice does ~not~ sound like her. And everyone can tell. Bakugou is staring and from the back of the room kirishima watches carefully again.

By the end of class y/n’s head is down and covered by her arms, her eyes are closed-the light only worsening her headache.

The girls whisper about her, nothing malicious, just about their worries, she wasn’t herself, y/n was a morning person, never late, never. She always greeted the class and today she sounded so distressed.

“Hey y/n, lets head to lunch, todays lesson was so boring I was just thinking about how hungry I was all lesson.” Ochacohad a smile on her face as she looked down at your sunken form, your head still on the table.

“Nah, Ochaco, I’m not too hungry today.” You mumble.

“You okay y/n? you seem kinda down.” She squats down to try to look at you.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath to fix your voice, “yeah I’m just tired is all no worries, you lift your head up and smile at her. Her face only grows more concerned at your swollen eyes. “O-oh okay, hang in there y/n we’re here for you.”

She walks sideways to share glances at the other girls and also look at you. They leave to the cafeteria and you scold yourself for worrying them. Everyone else is gone, you sigh and tug on your hair.

The noisy drag of rubber on stone fills the room and you flinch up, full attention. A chair drags it’s way in front of your desk, a mop of vibrant red hair clears your view. Oh. Well... that’s a thing.

“Hey.” He says

“Hey.” You say, trying to sound little congested as possible, but your nose is just so clogged and your throat is a bit scratchy. “We’re you not too hungry? You should still get something, I have somthing in my bag if you want- oh well maybe I don’t but I have some cash for a vending machine.” You spew out, he doesn’t respond.

He just looks at you, and he feels the guilt he felt yesterday once again, he should pressed kn more, her shoulda made sure you really were okay, he could tell you were upset yesterday but he shrugged it off and now you were pretending to not care and offer him snack money.

You had obviously been crying, why? It had to have been this morning, what happened, were you stressed again? He doubts you would’ve cried about sleeping in, so what was going on, why didn’t you confide in him? Did he make you uncomfortable?

“Y/n.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” You quickly answer, trying to clear the air and make it as little awkward as possible.

“What happened?” His eyes hone in on yours, his deep rooted compassion always shines through his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks quieter.

You would be lying if you said this didn’t make you want to cry again. “Ahh yeah I’m just so tired these days, but it’s really-“

“Nah” he breaks you off, “nah that’s not it, I’ve seen you tired, we’re classmates y/n, this isn’t like you.”

It stresses you out even more to have to talk about this and years are vèrÿ ćłôšē to spilling out. Nevertheless you mumble out, “what do you mean? It’s me, Kiri.” The pained smile you wear hurts him physically.

“No, no, y/n I can tell. What happened to you? Why are you so... sad?” He weighs his words, questions wether or not he should be saying anything at all. “You would light up a room, what happened? What made you like this?”

And bam. Wow kirishima, thanks, you have officially made y/n cry, do you feel good about yourself?

Tears slip over your cheeks and he doesn’t look up until they hit the desk. He pulls his legs together and suddenly is on his feet, “oh, oh no!!! Y/n I’m sorry, what’s wrong, hey, hey it’s okay.” Officially freaking out®

He dashes over to the back of the room to grab some tissues while he violably hits his head, ‘why did you say that??? What’s wrong with you? You made a girl cry!’ He internally yells at himself.

“Here.” He hands you some tissues and awkwardly rubs your back. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you... upset.” His feet fiddle and his knee bobs on up and down with the pitter patter of his shoes.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to worry anyone, I want to go back to normal, this-“ you swallow, choking on air, “this week just, just sucks.”

“Hey.” He bends his knees and balances on the balls of his feet. At your eye level, he yanks your chair towards him, pulling you in so you’re facing him. “No, don’t apologize, I want it.”

What. The. Fwak. Is you saying kirishima?

“I want you to worry me, I mean I don’t enjoy worrying about you but I want you to be comfortable with me, and tell me when your stressed or bothered by something, or when you’re excited about something or when your sad about something, it’s not a burden you know? I want it, I want you to be close to me.” ̶L̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶

You just stare at each other, his eyes are dead serious, he doesn’t break eye contact for a second.

“Y/n?”

You look at him again, not having found your voice quite yet you simply nod.

“There is no pretending in friendship, in any relationship, y/n. We have to be honest with each other, you need to- to let others care about you, ya know? The girls were really worried, we all were, so when you feel like this you gotta tell us. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

And for the first time that week, it really was alright, it really was okay, and just like always, tomorrow was another day, and even though today wasn’t the best y/n now realized the incredible importance of her friendships, the increasing admiration for Kirishima and the growing hope for today’s tomorrow.

——————————————————————————

(Unedited) I’m not the most happy with this, I wrote it so quick because my original writing of this was deleted suddenly and I had to rewrite it and I didn’t want to forget anything, anyway, I’ll make it better in the future, hope you enjoyed it, even just a little.

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

More Blood God Phil stuff because I be in a mood. @nkhaotic

Asked a question on Tubbo being a new Vassal of the Blood God, and got an answer. Then got to writing this. Tis would be my th thing to this AU, you guys haven’t seen my drawing yet. Hehe, this gave me alot to think about.  (When I get inspired, I can write like crazy, it’s how I can go months without content, then post like five chapters in two days.)

Plot: Tubbo is taken out by Techno and Tommy for what they call some 'fun'. Basically, they are testing to see how he takes killing people.

This is what happens when you are listening to Addict by Silva Hound and Blood-Water by Grandson.

Note: Wilbur is dead in this one, given he had betrayed Phil for the 'newest' god Dream. Read it by NKhaotic on their Tumblr. Also, this is an AU, some things were changed from Cannon to fit into my narrative. Like Tubbo being the one who says Techno should be executed or Phil's 'house arrest', were not his ideas in this.

Warnings: Blood, Killing, Burning things, Explosives, these boys are just Feral okay.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557531/chapters/70366230

Tubbo walked beside Tommy as they followed Techno out. Truth be told, he had just come to apologize to the other. See, he had no idea of them having taken him from his home for the execution. He had been told they found Techno in the city and thus it was considered right to do so. Enemy of one nation wasn't so much of the other. As far as he cared, Techno could have stayed away and he'd be allowed to live.

He never understood why people around him insisted on lying to get by, it was easier, to tell the truth, and then get your sweet revenge. Which still doesn't explain why they wanted to head out of the server together. Tommy seemed excited, near skipping as he walked.  Any and all questions he asked were just answered with 'wait and see'. So, after getting this for the third time, he resigned to the fact they wouldn't tell him. 

As they neared up the hill, a rather decent sized town could be seen in the distance. So they weren't dragging him out here to kill him, good to know. Techno hummed as he tossed to Tommy a crossbow and fireworks.  "To answer your questions." the piglin said handing the same to Tubbo with a look. "We're here to wreak havoc and kill whoever stands in the way."

Tubbo stared at that, not sure what he was thinking or feeling about that thought. Tommy was grinning at him, "Consider this an... assessment!" he said cheerfully. "I'm sure you'll do great!" Watching as they headed out, Tubbo shook out of his thoughts and quickly followed after them. The way down was silent as if the world itself was holding its breath for the first moment. 

The feeling he got was vaguely familiar, remembering back to when he would take walks with Phil in the city.

*Flashback*

The world was silent as he could hear the sounds of their feet on the cobble paths. Tubbo looked around at that, the birds that normally made noises, were all too quiet. He looked over at Phil who was gazing up at the sky in thought. 

He sighed heavily, "I am sorry about this... as much as I didn't want to do this, my cabinet had forced the issue." he muttered looking away from Phil.

The older male hummed at that, "You do have a duty to your people, if they want something you are to try and supply them with it. Such is the life of a leader."

"But still." Tubbo said, "It feels like they refuse to listen even when I do say something. They constantly override me, and this has caused some... discourse between us." he wasn't sure why he was telling Phil about this. This was supposed to be personal, but, Tubbo didn't have many people talk to about it. 

Phil gazed at him and shrugged, "Then why not make them listen. From what Tommy tells me, you've not always been this passive about things." he tells him honestly.

Turning to that, then looking away with a soft hum. "I suppose I haven't been, not sure what really changed." it was true, he wasn't always passive about things. He wasn't afraid to kill should it come down to it. Gods know he's steeped in the blood of people who wronged him, and the fires still burn around him to this day. Since being president, he has become meeker and more unsure of himself. 

"I'm just saying, grab back your confidence, and if they refuse to listen, make them an example," he suggested to him with a casual look, as if he didn't just tell Tubbo to kill people who went against him. 

Tubbo frowned, "Wouldn't that just make me another tyrant?" he asked curiously.

Phil merely chuckled, "Not if you're smart about it Tubbo, which I am sure you are much smarter than that idiot before you." he said with a scowl, remembering how it all lead to him having to kill Wilbur. 

Silence rang again between them, still the world held its breath. Tubbo looked off into the distance with a tiny hum at the words. Be smart about it... he was sure he could do that.

*End of flashback*

As they neared the area, Tubbo watched as Techno fired off into the buildings. Setting a flame one building. Before Tommy took off with a cackle, slashing through any guards that came too close. 

Coming out of his musing to see the fire around them, the blood that ran into the ground. He looked around to see Techno setting up the flames with each fire of the crossbow. In the light of the fires, Tubbo swore the other's eyes were glowing red in two voids, black holes where his eyes should be. 

The two were chaotic and just going all over the place. Though they were passionate, they were also unfocused. 

Such is the life of a leader.

Tubbo gripped his weapon tightly, pulling out a stick of TNT given to him. Lighting it up he tossed it into the fray of people running. The resulting explosion rang up with screams.

"Now you're getting it!" he heard as Tubbo turned and stared at what he saw. Tommy now had sharp teeth like fangs, black eyes with two red dots. "Come on, still much to destroy we are only on the south side!" he laughed running off to catch up with Techno who was already heading over there. Normal people would be horrified by this, normal people would turn and run. But, if he did that, Tubbo would be denying the fact the thrill this left him with was all he ever loved in life. 

And he's been in need of a stress reliever after days trapped in L'manburge. 

Running down the streets as he would lit up areas with fireworks and torches. The hot days from before with no rain making the grass easy to ignite under the tiniest of sparks.  Tubbo found himself grinning as he jumped from roof to roof, sitting off explosives behind him. People inside screaming out when their house was blown up and the resulting fire from it would burn them or debris would crush them. 

Slowly the awkwardness delved into pure destructive glee between the three boys. The smokes that billow into the reddening sky as the sunset casts a glow over the orange flames that rose high into the sky.

Laughing along with the other two as they left the place late into the night Techno was covered in gunpowder and blood, Tommy had it on his hands from having barehanded some others. The ends of Tubbo's outfit were burnt as Tommy had an arm around him grinning widely with his fang-like teeth.  Addicting the feeling was, just letting go of all conforms in this world and going pure feral on any and all. 

The way back was mostly then recounting people they ran into. Acting out their terror and laughing with tips and compliments on making it better.  And they did admit Tubbo had kept them on track to make sure they got all sectors of the city. 

But, this also meant this night was coming to a close. So he'd have to go back to the city he ran as if this night never happened. Tubbo tried not to let that thought get to him as they neared Techno's house as the moon was high in the sky. He paused however when he saw Phil on the porch smiling at them when they neared. "Look at you boys, did you have fun?" he asked as Tommy and Techno got onto the porch.

"Sure did!" Tommy said smiling as Phil ruffled his hair. 

Techno just grunted with a shrug but did smile at the hand on his shoulder. Tubbo mostly kept silent he turned to head back home.  "And just where are you going young man?" near jumping he turned to see Phil with his arms crossed. "You can't be heading back looking like that, much less this late into the night."

Tubbo mouth moved but no words came out as Tommy snickered and got up pulling him over to sit with them. Techno going inside to wash off his hands and get something for them to eat. Tommy was leaned on the left side of Phil, smiling as fingers ran through his hair. He was mostly back to 'normal' looking if you overlook the blood still on him. 

Shifting a bit, Tubbo felt slightly awkward about this, yelping when an arm pulls him closer to Phil. Tubbo managed to look up to see a soft smile from him, he could faintly hear Tommy's soft breathing. Closing his own eyes as he found Phil was very warm despite how cold the night air was in the snowy plains. 

"You did really good today, all three of you." Phil praised them quietly, Tubbo vaguely hearing him. "I'm pleased with your work." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, somehow those words filled him with warmth. 

Something soft wrapped around Tubbo, a ruffle of feathers. Yet, he kept his eyes closed, exhaustion finally creeping into his body. 

Somehow, he knew everything would be okay. He was safe, here and now. Latching onto this thought, and onto the calming feeling Phil gave off. Tubbo slowly drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the night they had. 

[sleepywinchester]

Fool For You  ⏤ Oscar Díaz.

Summary: You are back in your hometown Freeridge to take care of your sister Jasmine and your father after being away for six years. You left Freeridge looking for a better life but in that process you had to let go of someone you loved. But you’re back and things are not the same but they sure feel like it.

Words: 3,714

Warnings: Angst - Smut-ish - Abusive Ex Mentions

A/N: Hola!!!! I am obsessed with On My Block and of course with papi chulo Oscar ‘Spooky’ Díaz! I’ve spent last week thinking on what to write and finaaally, this came out. I am so happy how this turned out and it’s my first time writing Oscar.

(english is not my first language, might be some typos around)

I really hope you guys like it as much as I do. ❤

The sounds of sirens roamed the air as you woke up for your first official day as a high school teacher in Freeridge. A sigh escaped your lips as you laid in bed. After all these years you were back in the city that made you who you were and made you want more than what you had. Yet you were back in the same block you thought you’d only visit on holidays. Pushing the thoughts away, you prep yourself for the day and head to the school. 

Everything looked, sounded and even smelled the same as it did six years ago. The streets were the same, the tags on the allies and walls were the same. Walking to the school gave you deja-vu vibes, bringing you back to your own high school days. 

“No puede ser,” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of the peculiar gruff voice. You were so into your own thoughts that you didn’t notice which house you were walking by. Slowly you looked to your left and saw him, Oscar Diaz alias Spooky. 

It was like your body turned into the body of a teenage girl, your knees slowly getting weak and your heart rate starting to rise. Yet you didn’t show him that, you wore your unbothered mask. Not showing him that just by listening to his voice, made your heart beat so fast. Turning to your right, your eyes found him, sitting widely and without a care in the world on the old couch that was in his front yard. 

Years have passed by and that damn old couch is still there… You thought standing front of his yard. He took a long drag of his joint before slowly standing up from the coach. You breathed in heavily watching him walk towards you with his unique cholo flow. His hands were formed into tight fists and he walked slowly with his shoulders puffed and tight.

Oscar stood a couple steps away from you, “What are you doing in these streets? Looking like a high ass student.” 

“You don’t see me in how many years and that’s your first thought?” 

He glanced to the side and chuckled, “That wasn’t my first thought,” Looking back at you, “It was ‘she looks like a fine ass hyna’ pero no lo dije porque esa ropa threw me off.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “It's called casual professional.”

“Whatever,” he said. You two stayed quiet looking at each other, he looked you up and down, clenching his jaw. “No contestaste la pregunta. ¿Que haces en mis calles?”

You scoffed, “Your streets?”

He nodded once as his expression was serious and his eyes were clouded with what it seemed like rage. You recognized the physical aspects of him, maybe a couple tattoos more like the tear on his cheek but it was like you didn’t know the person looking back at you. “Answer me.”

“I’m back,” you told him and his eyebrow rose for a second. It was the first time you’ve said it outloud. “Got a job at the high school.” 

Instantly he laughed out loud in a high pitched mocking one.“¿Maestra? That’s why you're back?” 

You nodded, re-adjusting your bag, “Among other things but yeah.” 

He formed a small flat smile yet didn’t say a thing. 

A teenage boy walked out of the house, he looked like a small version of Spooky. It didn’t take you long to recognize him. 

“Cesar,” you said with a smile.

He gave you a weird look, obviously not recognizing you. 

“Hey…” he stood next to his brother, “Do I know you?”

“Yeah, you just don’t remember me,” you told him with a small smirk. “I’ve met you since you were this little.” You motion his short kid height with your hand.

“This is Y/N,” Oscar told his brother.

“How do you guys know each other?’

Your eyes met his, “We went to school together.”

“I’ve never seen you around here,” Cesar said - his eyes were still confused. 

“I moved right after high school, now I’m back,” you eyes looked at Oscar for a second and then went back to his brother. “Are you going to school?” Cesar nodded. “Cool, I’ll probably see you in class.” 

Cesar frowned his eyebrows, “You’re a teacher?” 

You nodded and looked back at Oscar, “Te veo, fool.” 

As you walked away from him, you heard Cesar asking how could his brother let a woman call him a fool. The grunt escaping Oscar’s inside made you smirk. 

“Don’t ask and get in the car,” was the last thing you heard Oscar say. 

Oscar drove slowly besides you. 

“Y/N,” he said, “need a ride?” 

You looked down at him, “I’m fine.” 

“Ándale,” he was about to persuade you.

“Te dije que estoy bien,” you told him, “siguelo.” 

He observed you with squinted eyes, “Vale, te veo fool.”

You smirked and continued with your path. As you approached the school area, the more you could see teenagers in the surroundings. Everyone was with their individual cliques and even gangs. After going through security and checking in with the office, you went to your classroom and opened it for the students. Slowly a couple of them began to come in and with those, you recognized César with what seemed his group of friends. 

“Good morning,” you spoke in front of the class. “I’m Y/N Flores D. and I’m your new History teacher.”

The class went relatively smooth and everyone cooperated. You stood in the door as your students walked out.

“Heeeeey hermanaaaaa,” your little sister shouted in the hall.

You chuckled watching her do a little dance.

“Sister?” Ruben looked at you with a cocked eyebrow and disbelief.

Jasmine and you glanced at Ruben.

“Everybodyyyy this is my older sister Y/N! She just came back from New York after-“ 

“Alright Jasmine,” you stopped her from telling everybody your backstory. “We are sisters, can’t wait to get to know you guys.”

Everyone smiled awkwardly before they began to walk away. You grabbed Jasmine’s hand and pulled her into the classroom.

“Sis, I really need you to shut it about me coming back to Freeridge,” you told her. “I don’t want anyone up in my business. La gente es bien chismosa.” 

“Ellos son mis amigos, sis,” Jasmine said. 

You sighed harshly, “Well one of your friends is the little brother of Oscar.”

“You mean Spooky?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t call him that,” you told her. “Anyways, just keep it to yourself. Got it?”

Jasmine nodded, “I got you, sis.” She was about to walk away when she turned, “What’s up with you and Spooky? Why don't you want my friends or him to know why you’re back? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Your sister knew part of the reasons why you were back. Hell she was one of those reasons. She knew what she needed to know but everything else was too hard to talk about.

“It’s a long story, Jas. I buried that shit a long time ago. It’s the past,” you kissed her forehead. “Ahora ve que tengo que prepararme para la otra clase.”

Jasmine knew there was so much you didn’t share and you knew she could find out about everything if she put her mind into it yet she respected your decisions. She smiled and winked before disappearing between all the students. The rest of the day was smoothly, putting aside all the kids that acted superior or just were assholes. 

/ / / / 

You stayed later at school making sure you had everything ready for tomorrow’s classes. The block was oddly silent, not a soul in their porches. Back in the day, by this hour at night there were usual viejitos in their porches talking about their days or their grandsons. Maybe things have changed. You could still listen to las abuelitas in their kitchen and kids playing in their living rooms as you stroll by the humble and colorful houses. Walking back home got you even more exhausted, soon you really needed to get a car. The sound of someone stepping on a branch woke suspiciousness and the feel of someone watching you. Subtly you looked over your shoulder, catching a guy wearing green sneaking into an ally.

The scary feeling of walking by yourself never really left you. You’ve lived in sketchy and semi sketchy hoods all your life. Messed up thing was that you had to learn how to protect yourself. Your heart was beating so fast you could feel it through your chest. You picked up the pace and looked over your shoulder one more time, seeing him again only this time he wasn’t trying to be subtle. 

You looked around and noticed you were in a Santo street but there were none of them in sight. Breathing heavily you put your hands inside your pockets, grabbing something from the inside of it. 

How could that prophet be stupid enough to be around these streets?

Turning around you pulled the taser from your pocket and pressed it on. 

“Come on, cabron!” you shouted, hiding your fear with a tough expression. 

The prophet eyes got wide open when he saw the light from the taser. 

You were about to shout another piece of your mind when a gunshot filled the air. Your body instantly froze last time you heard a gunshot was when you left Freeridge.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF MY STREETS!” Oscar’s voice was full of rage.

The prophet looked at you one last time before running for the hills.

You put the taser inside your pocket and looked up at Oscar. He was already looking at you with a worrisome expression in his face. He clenched his jaw glaring at the empty sides of the street. All you could do was watch him inspect the street with his dull eyes. You were still in shock from what just happened. 

Letting a deep breath out, you thanked him. Oscar didn’t say a word but nodded and looked around one more time before locking his eyes with yours. Noticing how fucking nervous you were. 

“Hey,” he spoke with a soft tone. “Let me take you home.”

If the circumstances were different your answer would have been a straight up no but deep down the fear of crossing with the same prophet made you say yes. Oscar opened the door of his passenger seat, watching you walk by him and get inside his beautiful red Impala.

“You’re staying at your old place?” He asked and you nodded. 

The drive was quiet and quick, given the fact that your house wasn’t far from the spot. He parked the car and the thought of just saying thank you and walking out of that car crossed your mind. Yet you couldn’t just say that and walk away. You looked at him and like always he was already looking at you. 

“I’m staying in the back,” you spoke. “I don’t wanna worry Jasmine.” 

Oscar clenched his jaw, “Want me to walk you to your door?”

“Only if you want to,” you said. 

The two got off the car in silence and walked through the back. You heard Jasmine talking in her room as you walked by her window. The door of the small studio in your backyard cracked when you opened it. Strolling inside you looked over your shoulder to see Oscar waiting in the front entrance. He stood there with both hands inside his pockets, the black flannel flowing with the breeze. 

“You gonna stay there or come in?”

He entered slowly unsure of what he was doing, glancing down he noticed all the open and unopened boxes laying on the floor. He wanted to ask when did you come back and why but instead he watched you put your bag on the chair of the small dining set placed to the corner of the studio right next to the kitchen. Then he looked at your messy bed, he couldn’t hide the small smirk reminiscing how you never used to make your bed years ago. 

You took off your shoes and put them next to your old dresser and noticed how Oscar was roaming your place with his eyes. Biting your lower lip you cleared your throat to gain his attention. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” Your voice was soft. 

“Got Corona?” He asked, standing next to your small dining set. 

You smirked opening the fridge and taking two Coronas from it. “Te puedes sentar, you won’t get any taller.” You told him as you opened the beers and sliced fresh lemons to squeeze inside. He chuckled lowly and took a seat.

Placing the beer in front of him, you sat down in front of him. “Why so quiet?” 

He pouted glancing to his left side not knowing if he should ask the million questions he had inside his head. You sighed harshly, getting impatient with the awkward silence. 

“Why are you back, Y/N? After 6 years?” Oscar looked into your eyes. 

You took a big sip of your beer, trying to gulp down the nerves. If you told him the real reason for being back, everything would escalate to a level not even God would pull it down. 

“Jasmine,” you half lied. 

“Your sister is kind of crazy,” he said with a small smile, “not offense.”

You rolled your eyes, “I know - she’s something else… Our mom left her and she’s been taking care of my dad all by herself. I couldn’t let my little sister go through all that alone.”

“I heard about your mom,” he swallowed, “I’m sorry she’s back on that shit.”

Your look went down to the corona, feeling the sadness of the whole situation. “Jasmine hid it from me for a whole summer.” You looked back at him, “I-,” you sighed feeling how the lump in your throat got tighter, “I don’t know how she held it down for two whole months.” 

“She might be crazy but she’s strong as hell,” he said. 

You felt proud of your little sister, Oscar was right she was so strong even more than you.

“Why did she hide it from you?” Oscar leaned forward, his focus completely on you. 

Licking your lower lip, you took a deep breath in, searching for the right answer. You didn’t want to tell him but for fucks sake it was Oscar. The man that years ago you could tell everything. He was the person you went to when your life was falling down. Without looking him in the eye, you began to reply with eyes on the corona wrapped by your shaky hands. “She didn’t want to ruin what I had in New York.”

“What you had in NYC? ” He said. 

You were still looking at the beer but you could feel his eyes on you. “I-,” once again you paused to think of your answer. “I had a good job, really loved teaching to the kids,” the corner of your mouth lifted thinking of how much you missed your students. “My apartment was okay-,” 

“How was the gringo?” he cut you off. 

“What?” You cocked an eyebrow.

He leaned backwards, “Te fuiste a NYC para hacer una vida perfecta. ¿No me digas que de una no encontraste al gringo perfecto?” Oscar's tone had some anger in it as his eyes but more than anger was resentment. “Did you find him?”

“I did,” your reply was blunt and hurtful for him.

Oscar’s head roamed as he glanced in the studio before leaning in with frowned brows. “Where is he?” 

You stood up and drank a big sip of the beer. Needing to feel some distance between you and Oscar, you sat on top of your counter. “He wasn’t the charming prince I thought he was.” You had another big sip. “He ended up being a fucking phsycopath.”

Oscar stood up, having a sip of his beer. “Did he do anything to you?” The thought of a man laying a hand on you or hurting you in any way made his blood boil. He continued to get closer to you. 

“He did…” you confessed, “Let’s just say it was a rough two years.”

Suddenly Oscar’s rage features turned soft, knowing that you got hurt, hurted him in so many ways. He placed the beer on the counter, looking you get smaller and look down. 

“Hey,” he touched your cheek tenderly. His touch was so warm and it felt so good, you missed having him so close to your body. He was so close you could listen to his steady breathing. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

You gazed at him, finally being close enough to see his beautiful brown eyes up close again. His eyelashes were so long, a smile grew on your face reminiscing how you used to be so jealous of that. Slowly you caressed his left cheek, caressing his teardrop tattoo. This new tattoo had so much meaning behind it. Things between both of you have changed but being this close to him felt like home. Oscar shuddered at your soft touch. God it’s been so long. So long that you didn’t realize he could still make you feel this way. 

He was standing between your legs, all this time you’ve been observing how stronger he looked but having him this up close changed the perspective. Your heart began to beat faster as he got closer to you even when there was no more space in between.

Your eyes were on his plumped lips for a second, catching how he licked his lower lip and you mimicked the act. His stare was on your lips and his strong big hands on your thighs, pressing into your body. 

Suddenly you didn’t feel the six years that had passed by. In that moment you felt like the teenager that was in love with Oscar. The teenager that would sneak out of her house to see him. 

His lips weren’t kissing you but you wanted it so badly and waited for it urgently. Oscar hand traveled from your thighs to your lower back, gripping softly. He let out a hard and warm breath. 

Letting your heart rule over your head, you pressed your lips against his and if felt like sparks were lit on fire inside you. Oscar continued to kiss you, giving up and doing what he’s been thinking about since the minute he saw you walking down his street. The kiss was long and slow, you took your time to taste his lips. Butterflies you thought were dead and buried began to surfer out the longer you were lost on his lips. Your hands traveled from his chest to the bottom of his flannel, slowly you began to undo the buttons of the shirt. He stopped kissing you for a second, looking down at what your hands were doing. 

Oscar’s eyes went back to yours, watching you catching your breath. “Are you sure?” 

The button of his neck was undone leaving a spot of skin which you pressed a kiss there. You continued leaving a trail of kisses from his neck, traveling to his cross tattoo, and finally meeting his lips. This was the consent he needed to continue what the two were thinking. Your fingers proceed to undo the next buttons until there is none left. He never stopped kissing you as he took his flannel off, he was wearing a black tank that also came off his body. 

He took off the buttons of your white blouse in no time leaving you with only your bra. Moans escaped your lips with every kiss Oscar left on your neck, chest and collar bone. You were giving in the extasis of the moment and you couldn’t wait to travel the galaxy tonight. 

“Hey sis are you ho- HOLY SHIT!” Jasmine screamed. Oscar spooked turned around, her eyes widened as she seemed a ghost. “HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”

“JASMINE!” You shouted, “Get the fuck out!”

She pumped in her inhaling to control the possibly asthma attack this was going to give and ran out of your place.

You rested your head against the wall, watching Oscar looking at your sister run inside her room. He turned to look at you, his eyes dissapeared when he grinned. The two started laughing so hard that your stomach began to hurt. 

The comedic moment was interrupted by his phone ringing. You stayed on the counter watching him pick up. “Que paso compa?” he said to the person on the other side of the line. Oscar’s eyebrows frowned transforming his expression into a serious one. “I’m on my way,” he said before hanging up. 

“Gotta take care of business,” he told you. 

You nodded in understanding, “It ain’t easy being king.” 

He scoffed, shooting you a killer grin, “De veras que no.” He put on his black tank and walked to the door. 

“Oscar,” you called and he turned, “Gracias por lo de hoy. I don’t know what would happen if you didn’t show up.” 

The corner of his lips curved up, “I did nothin’ you already had it handled, mama.” He said before turning completely. “Nos vemos fool,” he almost whispered and that made you smile. 

Your smile didn’t vanish as you took in how good he looked walking away. 

Running your fingers through your long locks you let out a loud sigh, processing what had happened a couple minutes ago. You laughed at yourself thinking how it only took less than seventy two hours of being back to Freeridge and you already were getting involved with Oscar. 

“No vas volver con el Oscar,” you mocked yourself at the pep talk you told yourself on the plane back home. Getting off the counter, you shook your head to the sides. “Eres una pinche pendeja.” 

PART TWO 

____________________

[vampire--dad]

Let The World Come At You, Love - Part 3

Part 2

Part 4 (WIP)

——————

Geralt scowls as he pulls on his boots. His hands feel colder than usual, aching from the lack of what little warmth they usually cling to. He’s tempted to slip his icy fingers under Jaskier’s shirt and laugh as he squirms and curses at him, but teasing him can wait. Winter is coming early this year. They best find somewhere to settle in for a few months, and Geralt knows just the place.

As Jaskier grabs the last of his things from their small camp, Geralt turns Roach in the opposite direction they were going.

“I thought we were heading west,” the bard says curiously.

“Change of plans. We’re going back and heading north. Winter is coming early.”

“Where are we headed?”

Geralt feels a tightness close in around his ribs. The same feeling blooms in his chest every year when winter comes and he finds himself heading north again. He’s homesick. He’s never taken Jaskier with him to the keep— a bard known for sleeping around and incessantly bothering witchers was not what the place needed, and knowing Jaskier, he would find a thousand different ways to break his own heart. But this year is different. Now that he’s finally stopped denying how he feels, he wants to take the man he loves to see the place he grew up, to meet his family.

“Home,” Geralt says softly.

Jaskier cocks his head slightly, but after a moment, he smiles knowingly.

“Kaer Morhen,” he says. Geralt nods. “You… want me to come with you?”

Usually Jaskier would return to Oxenfurt for winter, teach a few classes, maybe enter a few competitions, then meet the witcher in Rinde in the first few weeks of spring. Geralt has never invited him to the witcher’s keep with him… but, he supposes this year is a bit different. Geralt nods again.

“Of course I do. I want you to come meet my brothers… unless you want to go to Oxenfurt, which is fine, I could—”

“No, I want to,” Jaskier says, holding back a small chuckle. Geralt seems to have developed his habit for rambling when he’s nervous. “I’ll write to Oxenfurt, tell them to cancel my classes for the winter. Let’s go to Kaer Morhen.”

It takes almost a week, but they venture far north and find themselves at the foot of the mountains. The sky above them is grey and dreary, a promise of snow soon to come. Geralt steers Roach down a path barely visible from the main road, shrouded in trees and bushes. Jaskier leans into his chest as he speaks.

“We used to call this path The Killer. Vesemir would set up obstacles and we would chase each other up the hill,” he says.

The closer they get to Kaer Morhen, the more homesick Geralt seems. Despite the memories he has of the halls beneath the castle, he’s always thought of it fondly. This was where he was raised, where he was trained, where he found a true family. He itches to walk through the gates again and see his father and brothers.

Something rustles a way off in the brush, barely audible to Jaskier but notable enough to make Geralt tense. He pulls Roach to a stop and slides off her back, his brow furrowed in concentration as his yellow eyes scan the thick forest that surrounds them.

“Stay here.”

The bard watches him cautiously. A figure throws itself from the bushes onto Geralt, a red streak hurtling through the green underbrush. Jaskier scrambles off the horse’s back, reaching for the dagger at his hip, only to find that Geralt and the man on top of him are laughing.

“It’s good to see you, brother!” the man chuckles as he stands and offers his hand to Geralt, who smiles as he’s lifted from the ground.

“It’s good to see you, too, Eskel.”

Jaskier sighs and curses quietly.

“Geralt, one of these days you’re going to give me a heart attack, I swear,” he says with a shake of his head.

Geralt looks over at Jaskier with a small frown.

“I thought I told you to stay on Roach.”

“If a man I’ve never met throws himself at you from the bushes, do you really think I’m going to sit there and watch?” Jaskier asks with his hands on his hips.

The white haired witcher bites back a chuckle. He knows Jaskier hates that he thinks he’s adorable when he’s angry. Eskel looks over at the bard and approaches him with a warm smile, marred by a series of scars that run from his cheek to his chin. The lines pull his skin inwards and leave a gap in the curve of his lips. The worry in his yellow eyes doesn’t go unnoticed and despite his appearance, Jaskier offers him a friendly smile.

“And you are?” the stranger asks.

“I’m glad you asked! You’ve probably already heard my name about, maybe even heard a song or two, I—”

“This,” Geralt interrupts, much to the bard’s irritation, and pats his brother on the shoulder, “is Jaskier.”

The bard purses his lips and gives the snowy haired witcher a pointed look. Eskel chuckles at the silent exchange between the two and extends his hand to Jaskier.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Eskel.”

Jaskier shakes his hand and smiles, throwing another glance at Geralt.

“At least one of the witchers I know has some manners.”

Geralt gives him an empty look of annoyance.

“What brings you to Kaer Morhen with this old brute? Eskel asks, gesturing towards the other witcher.

“Ah, well, um…”

They hadn’t really discussed how to answer that question. Eskel is Geralt’s brother, but Jaskier is hesitant to say more than he should. Geralt tends to be conservative with who he reveals their relationship to. Even if he trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean he trusts them with his bard. It was hard for Jaskier at first. He’d usually shower his lover in affection without a care in the world, but Geralt always pushed him away with a quiet, “Not here, not now.” He slowly learned to save it for the time they spend behind closed doors.

“We’re involved, Eskel,” Geralt says bluntly, moving to stand by his lover’s side and take his hand, their fingers intertwined tightly. That clears that up then. Jaskier leans gently against Geralt’s arm. Eskel still looks at them with innocent eyes.

“Involved… in what?”

Geralt rolls his eyes. Sometimes he really doesn’t know how people think Eskel is the smart one. The excitement gets to him and all of a sudden he’s a dolt.

“Do I have to kiss him for you to get it?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, you mean— right. Right. Well, I’m sure Dad will be happy.”

Eskel walks with them along the path towards the keep. Kaer Morhen is nestled against the mountain. It almost looks natural, like it’s always been there. In its glory days, it was formidable to lay one's eyes on, but over the years and having endured several battles, its towers have crumbled and it seems to shrink into the mountainside. Still, Geralt looks upon it with a smile. He’s home.

Two men wait by the gates for them. One has wild red hair and a wicked look about him, along with a scar that skips across his right eye and continues down his cheek. He looks around the same age as Geralt and Eskel, perhaps a bit younger. The other is much older, with long but thin grey hair and an aged face. If he is as scarred as the other three, it doesn’t show. He might be old but that doesn’t detract from the air of strength that hangs around his figure. His wise eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at Geralt and embraces him. The redhead doesn’t take his eyes off Jaskier. The bard resists the urge to squirm under his scrutinous gaze.

“Welcome home, Geralt,” the older witcher says into his shoulder before letting him go. “I see you’ve brought a guest, or did a lost nobleman’s son follow you all the way up here?”

The three younger witchers chuckle. Another set of dark yellow eyes are cast towards Jaskier. He almost lets loose a smart retort, but thinks better of it. Testing the bounds of this man’s humour seems… unwise. A good first impression seems more appropriate. He steps forward and bows his head low.

“Call me Jaskier,” he says. The older witcher examines him for a moment before returning the courteous gesture with a smile that the bard would dare to describe as amused.

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier.”

Geralt slides his hand along the bard’s hip.

“Jask, this is Vesemir.”

He recognises the name. Geralt speaks of him often, although more often than not he calls him Dad. Though the witchers raised under his care never call him that to his face, he does think of them as his sons. Vesemir’s eyes flicker to the gloved hand on Jaskier’s hip and he seems to nod in understanding.

“So, Geralt,” the redhead pipes up, eyeing the lute slung over Jaskier’s shoulder. “What are you doing bringing a bard home? Taking lessons now, are you?”

“Be nice, Lambert,” Geralt says gruffly.

“Why? Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft.”

Before the bickering can begin, Vesemir steps between his sons and places a hand on each of their shoulders. They do love each other, but Lambert likes to rile his brother up and Geralt can be… touchy.

“Don’t you two start before you’ve even gotten inside,” he says. “Come, you must be hungry.”

The stony interior of Kaer Morhen is dimly lit by torches, the fire casting strange shadows along the walls as their footsteps echo through the halls, yet its warm light creates a cozy kind of atmosphere. Vesemir tells Jaskier the meaning behind the name of the castle as they walk together. The other three witchers stray behind, exchanging stories of fresh scars and, at least for Eskel and Lambert, fair maidens across the land. Lambert raises a skeptical eyebrow at the back of Jaskier’s head.

“So how long have you known the bard?” he asks.

“A long time,” Geralt replies shortly.

“Very specific. How long have you been together?”

“A year this spring. Why are you asking?”

“Just making conversation,” Lambert says.

Geralt can tell he’s lying through his teeth. Lambert doesn’t trust easily and isn’t particularly fond of bringing guests to the keep. On top of that, though he’d never admit it, he is fiercely protective of his brothers.

“Is he the one who cleared up the whole Blaviken thing?”

Geralt hums in affirmation.

“Don’t grunt at me, you sound like Vesemir,” Lambert sneers. “Why didn’t you bring him here sooner?”

Geralt pauses. He knows Lambert won’t let him off without answering, but he doesn’t want to say the real reason.

“Didn’t have a reason to.”

“So you’ve known him for... a long time, as you said, travelled with him everywhere, and you couldn’t think of a reason to invite him here?”

“Yes.”

Lambert narrows his eyes at Geralt.

“Are you sure? Because the name sounds awfully familiar... and I seem to remember seeing someone who looked a lot like him in Maribor a few years ago, not long before winter. If my memory serves me correctly, he was getting tossed out of an inn for sleeping with the innkeeper’s daughter… and his wife.”

“Leave it alone, Lambert,” Geralt growls. “That was a long time ago.”

Before Lambert can continue, Vesemir stops the group before the common room and turns to Geralt.

“I was hoping you’d be coming this year, so your old room is prepared, although I may have to bring some extra blankets if there are two of you,” he says. “Go unpack and then we’ll get some food into you boys.”

Geralt nods with an amused smile. Vesemir never lets his boys go hungry. He leads Jaskier down the hall on the other side of the common room, up a flight of stairs, and to a door with the letter ‘G’ carved haphazardly into the frame. Inside the fire is already flickering away in the hearth, warming the surprisingly large room. Geralt leaves their bags by the door as Jaskier approaches the bookcase across the room, sweeping dust off the spines with his hand.

“This room isn’t so different from my quarters at Oxenfurt,” he remarks, taking a book from the shelf and letting the pages fall open in his hand.

“Not what you were expecting?” Geralt asks.

“No, but I’m not sure what I was expecting, really.”

The witcher sheds his black jerkin and tosses it onto the bed before pulling Jaskier against his chest and kissing the soft skin behind his ear.

“You’ll find soon enough that this place is full of surprises.”

More stories are shared over supper. Jaskier has to be reminded to eat between scribbling things into his notebook and prodding the witchers with questions. Eskel is more than willing to relinquish the finer details, even helping him to spin the stories in a true but slightly more fantastical way. Such has become his style. Geralt used to hate how he lied through his teeth to make his tales more interesting, so he stopped— in exchange for better descriptions. His witcher has come to know just how much detail to give him while still allowing a little room for poetic license.

Geralt has already retired to their room, and as Jaskier moves to follow, Lambert blocks his path and scowls down at him. Jaskier makes an effort not to react. The witcher folds his arms.

“I’m going to be frank with you, bard,” he starts. “I know who you are. I know of your… reputation. If you weren’t involved with my brother, I wouldn’t blame you. But you are, so let me make something very fucking clear. If you ever even think of breaking my brother’s trust and slipping into any pretty barmaid’s bedroom like you used to, I will track you down and gut you myself.”

Jaskier cocks an eyebrow. Clearly he still hasn’t learned not to test a witcher. After all, the last one he was snarky with ended up sharing a bed with him.

“I don’t doubt your love for your brother, I’m sure that has something to do with your threats. And I assure you, no such thing will happen. But I have a feeling there’s something more to it than that. Tell me, is it the jealousy of the number of women— and men— I’ve slept with for me to gain that reputation? Or is it the fear that I have slept with that many people because… I do it better?”

Lambert stares him down for a moment. Jaskier holds back a smirk. Suddenly, the witcher leans back and laughs heartily, clapping a hand onto the bard’s shoulder roughly.

“You’re alright, bard.”

——————

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