#this room saves me in the winter… most of these live outside all summer so every year i drag them in and reorganize

[wereshrew-admirer]

feeling real proud of my plant room after joining a teams meeting from home this morning to (successfully) impress my coworkers, so:

(and also my 15yr old crested gecko, Plantain, and his housemates Card Catalog and Little Library)

[werecreature-addicted]

Nature's medicine

this is my first time writing something long-form like this so if you don't like it take me out back and shoot me like ol Yeller.

werewolf!OC x gn! reader

warnings: smut, Aphrodisiacs, mentions of being sick, and poisonings, reader is gender neutral, and their parts aren't mentioned but they bottom.

word count: 4,300

summary: you've made it through the winter, the hardest part of the year for you and now the gentile, bountiful spring is here. You're an apothecary who collects plants in the wild to make medicines and tea to help soothe. Gabriel is a werewolf and a guard for a nobleman passing through the town you live. Gabriel knows two things the instant he sets his eyes on you first, he wants you, second, you spend your time in the woods gathering poison.

Spring was one of your favorite times of the year, it was always stressful to try and make it through winter when you already had so little to get by on, but with spring came opportunities. You could plant in your garden again, you could forage in the woods for edible plants and most of all it was bearable to be outside with the snow melted and the warm sun high in the sky.  You made a decent living, selling herbs and medicinal plants but that meant that you needed to save every year for the winter when the plants you sold were fewer and farther between. It was nice to have a bit more breathing room with your budget now. 

You were combing through the forest behind your house making a mental note of patches of wild greenery that looked promising when you found something truly delightful. A patch of long-stemmed helmet-shaped purple flowers. You knelt down next to the blooms and examed them closely. Wolfsbane. it was incredible to find some blooming this early in the year it usually didn’t show up until mid to late summer. You smiled and started collecting the deadly little plants. As far as most people knew, you sold medicine and spices only harmless plants. However if customers came looking for something a little more potent and had the right price, you’d been known to carry poisonous plants as well, and really there were so many more deadly plants than ones that were harmless.  

You covered the Wolfsbane with a cloth and piled chamomile flowers and sage on top and made your way down to the river that ran through the forest and started looking at the thick weeds that grew on the river bed. Nothing interesting. you didn’t think you’d see anyone in the forest but it never hurt to be careful.  You lived apart from the rest of your small town right on the edge of the woods away from the main clearing where most towns folk lived and worked. You didn’t mind the solitude, if anything you preferred it, you didn’t know if you could put up with noisy or rude neighbors. That being said, you were used to being completely alone when you were in your home or the woods that surrounded it. So when you heard the sound of men calling out to one another you froze.  You looked worriedly in the direction the voices were coming from and wondered if you should run.

Suddenly you were panicking, what if they found you collecting poisons? Oh god, what if they’d found out you were selling poisons and they were coming to arrest you? You were overcome with fear but surely if you ran you’d look all the more guilty. You saw the leaves shake on the far end of the river the choice was made for you, there would be no time to run, and you’d simply have to hold your ground. 

Two men pushed through the foliage and stopped short seeing you. One was dressed in leather armor and had a sword at his side, he was clearly a guard of some kind, big and well-muscled. The other man was slender and dressed in expensive-looking clothes, he must be the one being guarded. 

“Hello!” the nobleman called and quickly made his way over to you, you held your basket tightly but did not run. 

“Hello, do you live nearby?” He asked, enthusiastically, his guard remaining stoic.

“Yes, is there something I can help you with?” you asked cautiously. 

“My carriage broke down on the main road I was looking for help or a nearby town but My compatriot and I seemed to be lost,” he laughed. Very lost you’d say, the main road was quiet away from here. You relaxed a little. Of course, they weren’t here to arrest you, just a rich man and his guard lost on their journey. 

“I can lead you back to the main road from here,” you offered and turned to lead them but the guard spoke stopping you. 

“Wait,” he commanded and you froze looking back at him he was giving you a strange look you couldn’t place. “What's your name?” he asked. Before you could answer the first man interrupted. 

“Oh, how rude! We didn’t even introduce ourselves, I’m Count Ivan Richman and this is my knight Gabriel it's an honor to make your acquaintance my lady,” he said tripping over some roots to kiss your hand.  You introduced yourself curiously, Gabriel didn’t have any other questions for you, so you lead them back the way you’d come. It became clear to you extremely quickly that Gabriel was extremely competent, he moved easily over the uneven terrain of the forest floor without much effort and fell in step beside you. Ivan on the other hand could hardly put one foot in front of the other without tripping over himself. It took a lot longer than you were anticipating to just get back to your modest cottage. 

“Follow this trail until you hit the main town someone there should be able to help you with your carriage,” you said giving the Count a slight curtsy. 

“You've been such a help, I’ll have to find a way to repay you,” he said beaming at you.

“You really don’t have to,” you protested, 

“No, we will find a way to repay you,” Gabriel said, which surprised you, he’d been mostly silent the entire time you’d been walking. He pulled a flower out of seemingly nowhere and laid it on top of your basket before turning away from you and walking down the path you’d indicated. You watched them as they left before looking down at the flower he’d given you, a bright yellow Dafodil, a flower signifying spring. 

–

You loved spring, but it was also such a busy season for you, it felt like every second of the day there was something you ought to be doing. Drying flowers and leaves for tea, planting spinach or strawberries, mixing medicines, or digging up roots in the woods. You worked late into the night and when you finally did go to sleep, it was hard to get yourself back up in the morning to do it all over again. 

The sun streaming in brightly through your windows warmed your bedsheets, you’d already slept in too much if the sun was this high in the sky, but that just seemed all the more reason to stay in bed. Who knows how long you would have stayed in bed like that, wasting the day away, but there was a sudden knock at the door, and in a flash, you were out of bed and dressed, you don’t think that you’d ever moved that quickly in your life, but you were at the door in a respectable amount of time and opened it warmly to greet your visitor. 

It was Gabriel, you were a little surprised to see him, you’d thought he and Ivan had forgotten all about you. Looking at him now you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit intimidated again. He towered over you and his broad frame took up almost all of the door frame, he didn’t have a sword with him but he was still in armor, you imagined that if he wanted to he could do some damage with just his hands. Despite all this, he was handsome he had dark hair that curled at the ends, and he kept having to brush it out of his face, you wondered if he had a wife or a betrothed, but you found yourself pushing the thought out of your head.

“Good morning!” you greeted cheerfully, you tried for a smile but Gabriel didn’t return it, and you stopped. “How can I help you?” you asked, Gabriel looked around whirly and leaned in 

“Is there somewhere we can speak privately?” he asked in a hush. You nodded and pulled him into your storefront. 

“Is this better?” you asked, calmly you’d seen the apprehensive look in his eyes a hundred times in other people looking for poisons. You wondered if he was planning on killing Ivan, but you knew you couldn’t ask. 

“The other day, you were gathering Wolfsbane,” he said slowly, suddenly you were less calm. You shifted uneasily from foot to foot, 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. You were sure that you’d covered the flowers before the two men had stumbled upon you. It would be one thing if he’d heard whispers of an apothecary who also sold poisons, but the fact he knew what poisons you had, left you rattled.  

“I could smell it in your basket,” he said. 

That shouldn’t have been possible, you’d been collecting tea flowers and herbs, even if he did catch a whiff of what you were collecting there he was no way he could have smelled the wolfsbane, how could he identify it?

“You must be confused, I had camomile in my basket that day, I’d have no reason to collect a plant like a wolfsbane,” you doubled down. He took a step toward you and you jumped back, Gabriel froze and held his hands up placatingly to show he meant you no harm. 

“Maybe a human would be confused, but I’m a werewolf, my senses are better than yours. I can smell that you’ve kept it,  I don’t care that you’re making poisons in fact I’d like to buy one from you,” he explained. You felt your heart stop in your chest. A werewolf. Gabriel wasn’t nearly as violent as the stories had led you to believe. 

“Oh,” was all you could manage for a beat. You shook your head  “You said you wanted wolfsbane poison?” you turned your back to him and walked swiftly behind the counter, you knelt to the ground and lifted a floorboard, and selected a small vile from the hidden stash. You rose and showed him the vile

“Do you have anything smaller? I just need enough to make a person sick,” he said examining the bottle you offered him. You curled your hand around the bottle and pulled it back slightly. 

“You could have just asked for something to make you sick instead of going all out for poison,” you said, already thinking of what mix of plants you’d use, you supposed it would depend on what kind of sick he was looking for. 

“No,” he said shaking his head “werewolves are more resilient than humans, it has to be poison. If I make myself sick with Wolfsbane I won’t shift this full moon so I need just enough to make me sick, not enough to kill me,” he explained. You’d heard those werewolves took medicine to put off their lunar transformations, but you assumed it was some kind of magical concoction you were unfamiliar with, not some common position. 

“Right, just a moment,” you said, carefully you extracted a few drops of poison and put them into a separate container then added a diluent to help it go down smoother. You hesitated to give it to him. There wasn’t an antidote to wolfsbane if it was too much there would be nothing anyone could do. 

You weren’t sure why you cared so much, you’d sold poisons before, and you weren’t naive enough to think you weren’t in some way responsible for those murders committed but this felt different somehow, if he died it would be an accident and that made it different somehow. 

“You’ve done this before?” you asked cautiously. Gabriel shifted uncomfortably. No, he hadn’t.

“I know the measurements I should be fine,” he said. 

“I would feel more comfortable giving this to you if you allowed me to accompany you while you took it just so I could ease your pain while you were sick and do what I can to help,” you offered.  

“You’re braver than you look, asking to be alone with a werewolf during the full moon,” Gabriel responded, you didn’t think anyone could be that dangerous, werewolf or not if they were writing on the floor in pain. 

“I’ll make you a compromise,” he offered, “I’ll let you bring me medicine and make sure I’m alive, but you can’t stay.” you could live with that, you tilted the vile towards him and let him take it from your hands, your fingers brushing as he took it. He handed placed a small pile of gold coins on the counter, more than you usually charged but you figured you could keep the change if you were going to be making a house call. Gabriel gave you the address of where he would be staying on the night of the full moon, a remote home on the other edge of town, and promised he would open the door when you knocked. Then he left, and you got started on the rest of your busy spring day. 

–

You’d never paid much attention to the phase of the moon before, but now you were careful to check it every night, Gabriel had given you a date to look out for but his presence in your life had sparked a new curiosity in you. Aside from checking the moon, you started pulling out old apothecary books and looking for any mention of Lycanthropy. You found that werewolves would shift into a more animalistic wolf-like form on the night of the full moon unless they were sick or physically weakened, and yes Wolfsbane was a common poison used to achieve this effect. You also dug up all sorts of treatments commonly used to ease any pain left after shifting or to calm a werewolf’s potentially feral mind while they were in their wolf form. 

Over the course of the week while you were waiting for the moon to turn full you gathered a basket of things that you thought would help and medicines in small enough doses that he could treat himself. You left your home right at sunset. You knew the path well and had no trouble finding your way to the house Gabriel was staying at, Ivan had found other lodgings for tonight. 

By the time you reached the house, it was dark your path only illuminated by the full moon. It was kind of spooky, still, you’d come all this way, raised your hand to the door, and knocked. There was no response, and all at once you felt incredibly foolish, of course, he wouldn’t be able to answer the door, in the state he was in. You tried the door and it opened, so you let yourself in. 

The house was dark you blinked a few times to adjust your eyes to the lack of light. Eventually, you started walking through the house your hand on one wall to guide yourself. You called out for Gabriel once but there was no response you slowly checked each room, still cautious. You pushed a door open and there he was. 

You let yourself into the room and quickly went to his bedside, he was awake, breathing heavily in the throws of wolfsbane poisoning. You sat down on his bed and started taking in his appearance. His skin was a sickly pale shade, clammy to the touch and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked very ill, but he didn’t look like he was dying. That was good at least. 

You dampened a cloth and applied it to his forehead. “How are you feeling?” you asked softly. He reached out and grabbed your wrist and pressed your hand to his cheek. His skin felt disgustingly warm but you let him press his face into your palm. 

“I haven’t shifted, so it could be worse,” he croaked, his voice raspy. He looked up at you and his gaze softened. “You smell good,” he commented. You felt your face go hot, you didn’t know to respond to that, so instead you pretended like you hadn’t heard that. 

“Are you sore? How can I help you?” you asked lifting your basket of medicine up to the bed with your free hand. 

“You just being here feels good,” he breathed. Clearly talking to him wasn’t getting you anywhere. You studied him closely, only looking away when you realized he was looking at you just as intently. You took your hand from him and started digging through your medicines.

“Here, drink this,” you ordered handing him a vile of medicine. It should help settle his nerves and ease some of the pain. He tried to take the vile from you but it slipped out of his weak fingers, so you held it to his lips for him as he drank. It was odd, you’d been intimidated by Gabriel when you first met him, and when you’d seen him again that impression had solidified in your mind, now here he was laid out in bed unable to lift a bottle to his mouth. 

It wasn’t a completely fair comparison, you would probably be far worse in his position, if anything it was impressive that he was holding up this well. 

“Thank you,” he croaked, “I feel better already,” he assured you. 

“That shouldn’t be possible, it’ll take at least half an hour to feel the effects,” you said light-heartedly. Gabriel smiled weakly up at you, 

“Maybe it’s just you,” he said. You felt your face go hot again, you’d have to note that wolfsbane made the victim particularly flirty. The two of you fell into a peaceful silence. Gabriel drifted in and out of sleep and you stayed by his side monitoring his symptoms. It had been a while since you’d treated patients directly like this, you didn’t produce medicine strong enough to treat anything worse than a strong cold, normally your customers were concerned family members, and you kind of missed treating patients directly. 

“I know I told you, you couldn’t stay, but-” Gabriel spoke up before trailing off. He reached for you again but didn’t quite manage to take your hand again. You met him in the middle and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. 

“I’ll stay,” you promised. He was already looking better, and suddenly you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. if the point of taking Wolfsbane was to make him so sick he couldn’t shift, wouldn’t making him better make it so he could shift? But he still looked so ill, surely he wasn’t well enough to shift. besides you were a trained healer, you didn’t think you could just ignore a person in pain.

 Gabriel looked up suddenly very awake and sat up. 

“You really must be feeling better,” you laughed, he did look much better, not as sweaty or as pale. He pulled you around the waist and pulled you close, you tensed up as leaned into you, bringing his face close to your neck but he didn’t seem like he was trying to attach you, or even kiss your neck, he was just… smelling you. 

“The things I could do to you,” he murmured, again it didn’t sound like a threat it sounded more like lustful musings. 

“Gabriel?” you asked shakily as he nuzzled your shoulder. He seemed to snap back to reality and pulled away from you, but just slightly, he didn’t seem ready to let you go.  

“What was that that you gave me?” he asked, he sounded calm but his eyes were wide, you thought quickly back to what you’d given him. 

“A tea blend, green tea, crocus sativus, ginger, cinnamon-” you listed it was all just antioxidants, things that would help relieve pain, then you froze. Crocus stivus, saffron, was a natural aphrodisiac, but it was such a subtle effect it shouldn’t have affected him like this, it was such a small dose. Maybe because his immune system was already so weak things like a pinch of saffron could hit harder than you were expecting. 

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” you admitted, as you realized what had happened. “I’m sorry you said werewolves were more resilient I didn’t think you would notice let alone, well this,” you apologized profusely. 

“I wouldn’t have thought it would have hit me like this either if you had told me,” he said, and then he was looking at you again, intense and full of longing. A dark curl fell in front of his eyes, you wanted to brush it out of the way so he’d keep looking at you that way. 

“Maybe it’s just because it’s you here with me that I'm reacting this way,” he breathed, 

“What does that mean?” you asked, matching his quiet tone

“It means I’ve wanted you since the second I laid eyes on you, and I wouldn’t need an aphrodisiac to feel this pull toward you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t desire him in the same way but this was just all so sudden. Still, when he asked if he could kiss you, you said yes. 

His mouth was warm but not feverish, it had been a long time since you’d been touched like this. It set your blood on fire. He pushed you backward laying you down. 

Gabriel grabbed your hips and jerked your body towards him. With a dull pang of horror, you realized that his fingers had stretched and turned into sharp claws, with thick black fur extending up his hands and arms. Before you could even gasp, he raked his claws over your chest ripping your clothes to shreds, but he somehow managed not to cut your skin. His mouth traveled down your neck to linger kisses over your now exposed chest. You couldn’t help but react to his touch, arching up to his mouth and moaning. You covered your mouth trying to quiet your own sounds of pleasure. 

“There's no one here but us, be loud I want to hear you,” Gabriel instructed pulling your hand away from your face and pinning it to the bed. You realized just how much bigger his hand was than yours, he could easily how both of your hands in one of his with room to spare. 

Heat pooled in your stomach when Gabriel's lips found the skin of your hips. He pulled off the rest of the shredded clothes and spread your legs while his tongue trailed over your loins. 

“Can I? Can I please?” he asked, begged, his eyes locked on yours. 

“Yes,” you breathed. Gabriel kissed your inner thigh before he let his lips touch the apex of your legs. You couldn’t help but thrash as his tongue tasted you. Gabriel gripped your hips so you couldn’t escape his mouth. He couldn’t seem to get enough of your sex he couldn’t seem to get enough of you. You gripped his hair holding him just as tightly as he was holding on to you. You realized his hair had turned into wiery fur, and his ears were sharp at the end. But the idea that a shifting werewolf was going down on you right now didn’t bother you nearly as much as it probably should have. Even with his grip you could squirm enough to buck your hips up into his mouth and you did so over and over again as he continued to pleasure you. 

“I’m going to cum,” you groaned, even with your warning he didn’t slow down, if anything he seemed to be edging you closer and closer to your climax like he wanted you to cum on his face. You threw your head back in pleasure as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Gabriel pulled back, his face more wolflike than when he’d first gone down on you, his tongue dripping in your cum. 

He stood up to his full height, His clothes had fallen off as his body contorted and changed. He palmed his cock in one clawed hand, bringing your attention to his arousal. Again, you felt like you should be scared or at least intimidated, but all you wanted was for him to be inside of you.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked him. 

“More than anything,” he growled, He was so much larger than you his body easily dwarfed you, you could feel his hard cock press against your thigh as he positioned himself over you, up close you could see how his original features still showed through in his more monstrous form. His eyes were still human still kind. He pushed into and you savored the deep growl that reverberated in his chest as he felt your soft walls envelop him. He drew his hips back before slowly pushing back into you, his pace slowly increased as the two of you found a rhythm. You pulled him into a kiss, his sharp teeth threatened to cut your lips, but the slight danger only thrilled you. 

“It was like you were meant to take me,” he growled as his pelvis snapped toward yours. He pressed a clawed hand down on your stomach feeling the bulge that formed every time he thrust into you. You tried to speak to tell him that he was making you feel just as good but when you opened your mouth he pushed his tongue past your lips, muffling any attempt at speech. 

You could feel a coil of pleasure building inside of you threatening to snap for the second time tonight. You dug your nails into his back, raking your fingers through the patches of fur begging to spread over his skin. 

“I’m going to knot you going to fill you up and make you mine,” he growled you could tell he was getting close to his own release by the way his thrusts were becoming erratic and his labored breathing. You were right there with him. 

“Make me yours,” you moaned. You were close to a second orgasm, overwhelmed with the pleasure and his closeness. You came just a few moments before he gave one final thrust pushing his knot inside of you and reaching his own high. Gabriel groaned and collapsed back onto the bed, curling up beside you, holding you close. You wondered if Gabriel would stay in town long enough for you to help with the next full moon. 

[howlingday]

Honestly, i'm kinda disappointed in how WBYJ kinda brushed off Ruby and her issues throughout V9. So, I have taken matters into my own hands to look for a song to cheer up Ruby, and I have found it!

I now pass this song on to you to post, as I am both very unskilled a writing and very lazy. The song is Tom Cardy's H.S, and a link will be given to a tumblr post within this ask. Wether WBYJ sing it to Ruby or Jaune shares it with her as a ln apology is up to you.

https://www.tumblr.com/inthefallofasparrow/727759896307761152/hot-shit-tom-cardy?source=share

If an outside link is needed, I am willing to give the link to the YouTube video.

Sing a-long!

"Now and then, we all get a thought that stops us in our track. Am I living to my full potential, or am I holding myself back?" Jaune spins Ruby around, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You've gotta stop with that shit, 'cause you're P-P-PERFECT~!" He slid from his seat, walking away to the bookshelf. "Check out that analysis paralysis!"

"Paralysis~!" Ruby's team added, crooning from the hallway.

"If you need some help to see, take a lesson from me!" Jaune spun around, opening a book to the story of the Rusted Knight. "They say that I'm not a huntsman. Do you think that I really give a shit?" He tossed the book aside, causing Blake to jump in the air to save the spine from being ruined. "You know we're not gonna quit, 'cause we know we can take a hit, and we know what we is, and we know we is-"

Jaune spun around, tearing off his armor to reveal a pair of yellow spandex covering his body. He pointed his finger to the sky in his declaration.

"HOT SHIT~! And you know that we know it! We might never get registered, but it don't matter 'cause we know that we're still-"

"HOT SHIT~!" Team RWBY sang without their leader.

"Yeah, you're hot shit, too, so get out of your brain and do what you're 'born 'sposed to do!"

"HOT SHIT~!" WBY chimed in. "You know that we know it! Expect some real magic from us real huntress! HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too," Jaune pointed at Ruby, his finger inches from her face, "so get out of your way and just do what you were born to do!"

Before Ruby could argue, Jaune sat down next to her. "Before I got wise and said "gosh dangit," it's true that I was jealous of the big other huntress." He pulled out his scroll, opening to a news article published by various journalism sites. "But did you know that Winter, the biggest to you, was jealous 'cause Atlas would call her a rebel, too." He swiped to the photo album, featuring a familiar face to the red huntress. "The huntsman she was jealous of was your Uncle Qrow, who had self-comsuming thoughts that he would never become-!"

"SUMMER ROSE!" Yang held out a picture as Weiss and Blake sang with her.

"He was constantly chasing the dream that he would be so big that he'd be a legend!" Jaune left Ruby's side and stared out the window. "But trillions miles away that even Summer didn't see was a big guy strong enough to lift reality." He drew a signature S shape on the wall in chalk. "He turned his gaze into our world to see "There's a girl with a beret who's cooler than me!"

A new voice joined the choir as a woman with a black beret and dark shades entered. "But the most super awesome, coolest huntress to ever exist is probably at Vacuo saying "Now I'm seeing shit!" Coco lowered her sunglasses at the youngest leader. "I've seen a fight with a camera, I've even seen a memory lapse, but I've never seen a red huntress KICK SO MUCH ASS!"

"HOT SHIT~!" Everyone in the room was singing now. "And you know that we know it!"

Ruby stood from her seat. "I don't need to be a hero because I know that I'm still worth it, baby~!

"HOT SHIT!"

And you're hot shit, too!" Jaune wrapped an arm over Ruby's shoulder. "So stop doubting yourself and feel this huntress groove~!

"HOT SHIT~!" It seemed like everyone in Vacuo was feeling it, as singing came from down the halls in chorus. Was everyone in on this?! "And you know Ruby knows it! Expect some fucking stories from this red hoodie~! HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too," Jaune led Ruby out the doors, past the crowds, "so look out to the world, because we're all waiting for you~!"

Ruby stepped away from Jaune, looking down as she walked away. "Now and then, I get the thoughts that stop me in my tracks. Should I really be a huntress? Or should I just cut back?" The world held their breath as Ruby asked, fearing the worst had happened to her. "...I've got to stop with that shit 'cause I'm P-P-PERFECT!" Ruby roared to anyone who would spare the time to listen to her. "My life is fucking cool and so are you, if you only let me tell the rest of my story with yoooooooooou~!

"HOT SHIT~!" The world answered.

"And you know that I know it~!" She answered back to the world. "I might never get my register, but I'm still awesome as a leader~!

"HOT SHIT~!"

"And you're hot shit, too, so let's shoot for the stars 'til we break through the mooooooooooon~!" Ruby pointed to the sky, heedless of whether the moon was above or shattered or not or neither.

"HOT SHIT~!"

"Do you like my space metaphor~?" Jaune asked.

"HOT SHIT~!"

"Would you like to know what I use it for? To prove to you that you are hot shit, too, now stay out of my room and show Remnant what hot shit do~!"

"HOT SHIT~!" Ruby jumped through the air, cheering until she landed flat on her face. "Whuh? What just happened?"

"Emmy! You dropped it too soon!"

"Sorry, I couldn't hold it any longer."

Ruby looked up to see Jaune still sitting on his bed, patting Emerald's hand as she panted in a nearby chair. Nora loomed over her, barely held back by Lie Ren. To the other side of the room, she saw her team looking at her with mixtures of concern and worry. A gloved hand reached down to help her up, which she forgo to address the whole room and not just Oscar.

"What just happened?" Ruby asked.

"No more musical numbers." Emerald groaned.

"We... I was worried about how you were feeling since coming back from the Ever After and getting registered again, so I talked with your team and my team and, well..." Jaune shrugged. "Jaunty musical number?"

"Dude..." Ruby grumbled. "I don't care if it was your musical number or mine or Oscar's. Tricking me to sing is not cool."

"Don't blame 'em, kid." Coco said, leaning on the doorframe. "You were pretty jittery since you came back, so we all talked it over. The musical number was actually my idea, but unfortunately, I can't sing."

"Because you're too cool to sing?"

"Nah. Court order."

As Ruby balked, she looked to her team, who still didn't drop their looks of concern. As much as she wanted to be mad at being tricked into singing, she knew neither her team nor Jaune's would do this without some merit to their concern. So she relaxed a bit and sighed.

"Nobody recorded me, did they?"

[lostsbooks]

Rememberances (Wattpad|Ao3)

A companion piece for my oneshot At the End of it All, directly taking place the summer afterwards. Muuna again is referencing Kvens

━━━━━━━━ ✠ ━━━━━━━━

In 300 and some years, you can get to know someone pretty well.

This considered, I was fully aware that despite the many years that Metsasuomaliaset had lived on his own and had time to practice the craft, he was never much for housekeeping.

His yard had always been well tended to before, as much as a clearing in the wilderness could be, but even that was starting to grow in now. I chose not to try uprooting the new saplings, My old friend would've wanted for his home to return to the wild.

Muuna had taken the cow from the stables months ago, so even they lay empty and abandoned now, save for the birds nests tucked away within the building.

I looked around the yard again, wishing my daughter could be here now. It would be easier if she was able to help, and she had wanted to, but important business had called her away. Something or other to do with Norway. I understood why she had to leave, chances to argue for ourselves as nationless beings were few and far between.

I shook my head, so many years and countries were still a pain to me and my family, some things never change. But I was thankful that the trouble was now of the positive type, and not negative.

Still though, having only one person to work made cleaning Forest Finn's old property a hell of a job.

"Better to start now," I murmured to myself, "Work's not going to get itself done."

The house was filled with settled dust, having been left empty since the winter. It hadn't been that Otso was messy, but upon starting to clean the area it became painfully clear that he had chosen to only upkeep a few of his belongings while neglecting the others.

It was strange, being here without my old friend present. It felt like any second he'd step through the heavy wooden door and demand to know why I was going through his things.

The feeling was more than a little eerie, as if he was still lingering somewhere in the house, collecting dust like the rest of the relics here.

Sometimes I felt split in religious beliefs, I considered myself Lutheran, as did a lot of my people, and at the very least the idea of an eternally happy afterlife someday had always appealed to me. More comforting to think of than what I had been told about death as a boy at least.

I wondered if that was the sort of place Otso was now that he was gone, or if we as land spirits would ever be allowed to rest like that.

Sweeping was easy enough to start with, having the doors and windows open aired the inside out nicely, leaving the rooms feeling more open and pleasant somehow. I had been here briefly after Otso's death, but I hadn't had the energy or strength to clean.

It was a small blessing that Forest Finns didn't have much furniture. He'd always been the traditional sort, preferring to make his own decor, and then save it till it could no longer be mended no matter how much bone glue or splints you applied.

Made moving things easy, and the lightest things were soon outside so he could pay them proper attention later.

It was a while before he got to Otso's personal belongings, but truth be told he had been avoiding it.

Unlike most everything else, these were much cleaner, despite their status as abandoned. These were the objects his friend had prized most in life, and he'd taken the time to try to make sure they would last.

I recognized some of the objects, Forest finns had to have owned some of them for centuries. Small wood carvings, willow whistles that had long since dried and started cracking, and some more recent fish lures, and a Virsikannel that I distinctly remembered him showing me excitedly after it was made.

I caught myself choking up when I found a knife I'd made and given him almost a hundred and fifty years ago. A gift after he'd broken his old one accidentally.

It was simple in design, but I remembered it distinctly. To think Otso had kept it for so long, but here it ws, almost as sharp and new as the day it was presented to its owner.

I slipped it back into its leather sheath and put it to the side, shaking my head and stifling a dry laugh. "You sentimental old bastard." I said to the air, but didn't know if it was pointed at myself or my deceased friend.

I paused in my progress again a little while later, finding a book tucked in the back of Otso's birchbark bag.

It was clearly very old, seemingly handmade, the leather of its cover was worn soft with use and the pages were yellowed and starting to fall out. I looked it over, noting that it seemed a bit patchwork, almost as if he'd taken other older books and compiled them into this.

I wondered briefly why he had kept this. Forest Finns never read much, and I could recall many conversations with him where he was complaining of his annoyance with it. How much time it took out of people's days, and how it kept people from actually experiencing life.

"Filling their heads with fluff and nonsense" he'd said to me once, I'd laughed it off back then.

My question of why he had kept it became clear the moment I opened it to the first page.

It was a journal.

I closed it just as fast. I wasn't about to look into my friend's private life now, I respected him too much for him to suffer that indignity, even now in death.

But curiosity nagged at me, wondering what in Forest Finn's life could've been important enough for a man who never read to write down and save. Also, I reasoned to myself This book is his legacy- Maybe there was something that could be saved, keeping his friend's name long into the future.

Humans were always collecting old things like this, right? Showing them off in museums and talking about past and history they really did not understand.

I had to take another look.

But I'd at least go outside for this, it felt a little too disrespectful to read a dead man's thoughts in his own house.

So a few minutes later I found myself sitting by the stable with the book in hand instead, having pulled up one of the old chairs, My progress on cleaning the house at a full standstill.

Opening the book again, it was obvious that it hadn't not something Forest Finns had kept up regularly, and that I'd been correct with assuming that some pages were older than others, or at least rewritten into newer pages when the originals couldn't be saved. Some parts of the book were even roughly ripped out at some point.

Most of it was random, years and decades scattered apart. Upon reading a few I had to smile at the thought that out of everything, his friend had chosen to save these.

June 1725.

Sweden is dead! I hope the next one won't be such a-

I flipped a few pages forward.

August 1753.

Met the new one. She seems small and is very bony. Still stuck up in the end.

November, 1756.

Tornedal gave some more Reindeer meat to me. But I see him. He has no fat on his bones. I refused.

January 1800.

New Year! Hopefully better weather than last.

June 1834.

Hyvä Juhannus eve! Big fire tonight,

June 1834.

The grass is burned but I am fine.

July 1847.

Miina made some amazing soup. I need to get this recipe.

September, 1850.

The fish are running dry. Farm is poor. May have to kill the cow.

February 1869.

Winter is almost over. It was hard. food is difficult to find.

June 1872.

I hate being hungry.

April 1887.

Made new basket, killed a rabbit, made soup. It was good.

My eye caught on the next entry, dated to the turn to the 20th century.

January 1900.

Another hundred passed. And I still think of him.

Him? I wondered, Who is him? I looked ahead and saw another entry from the same year, only a month later, but it only increased my confusion.

Been almost 300 years since him, I wonder if America is the same as it was then?

That did clear some things up, but not everything. Reading one of the following entries however made me almost drop the book.

August 1910.

I feel weak today. I miss my son.

"Son? But he never mentioned-" I said out loud, startling a bird that had been pecking at the ground nearby into flight.

I shook my head, trying to understand and rereading the words. I ran my hand through my hair nervously. In all the years I'd known him...

It didn't take me long to go through the other entries, only forty or so more years left. It was sad, seeing the frequency of his writings increase as time went on, talking, or really complaining of his ailments.

I didn't find any other mentions of what he may have been talking about. The closest being with another mention of my own name, dated just a couple years before his death. The last entry in the book itself.

April 1958.

I wonder if I should tell Tornedal about Kaarle. He liked the night sky, I hope he sees that from where he is now.

And there was nothing else, only a few empty, coffee stained pages. I closed the book and sat, confused and trying to piece together what I'd just read. There wasn't much information to go off of, many pieces of the puzzle were missing, and might never be found.

I breathed a sigh at last. Feeling sad, but amused. This was so perfectly in character for him. Leaving me one last mystery about his life after he died.

"Serves me right, looking through your things." I said, still feeling stunned, but managed to laugh a little "I hope you're getting a good laugh at me. From wherever you are."

I looked up to the sky, content. The wind rustling the still mostly bare trees, the sky a brilliant and sunny blue.

It was an unusually nice day for this time of year, but beautiful all the same.

[toiletbulges]

Poor Family Story: poop in bucket

So I am used to difficult financial periods, finding myself homeless and also when I was really young we as a family went through a difficult time. My dad lost his high wage, and had to get what ever he could for work. The stress meant my mum left (sister wasn't born) leaving me, brother and dad alone. We ended up loosing the house and having to move into a small wooden shack. Inside we had a 2 chairs, TV, kitchen and a large mattress on the floor in one room and a small bathroom with a toilet, sink and bath. The 3 of us had to share this old lumpy mattrress and one old blanket . I was only 12 my brother 17, i slept in the middle and the others either side of me. Being just the 3 of us we had no privacy at all, with getting dressed in that room and also sleeping in briefs or even naked. The first couple of days was hard getting used to sharing a mattress

My brother used to sleep in his briefs but my dad still slept naked sometimes. In the summer it was hot and the 3 of us slept naked! I would wake up sometimes with both of them snoring loudly and a erections! with no blanket. In the winter, and we had no school or work, we mostly stayed huddled on the mattressas it was so cold in the shack. Luckily being 3 in the bed, our body heat, and their hairy bodies warmed us up.

The bathroom was a open door policy. I would be on the toilet, brother in the bath and dad shaving at the sink, rushing me on as he needed the toilet. To save on hot water we shared bath water, and sometimes ever had baths together. One time I was in the bath, and my dad came in and said "sorry lad" and sat on the toilet and had a mega dump! He wiped and then took off his briefs and got in the bath with me. I did sometimes get out the bath in the winter, shit and then get back in the warm bath. My brother sometimes had to quickly jump in with me if he was late for his small job.

Money was very tight and between paychecks we had to cut down on food and no money for repairs. The roof sometimes leaked and wqs patched the best we could, the door was useless and the toilet broke. To save money on clothing, my dad and brother shared clothes. They sometimes joked who would have the briefs with the most skids in. Washing was only done once every 2 weeks, you can imagine the state of my pants.

When the toilet broke we had to sit on a small bucket and shit in that, and because of lack of space in the bathroom, the bucket was placed in the corner of the other room. To save time,in the mornings we would all shit in the bucket and then clear it out after. Sitting was ok in the bucket in the room with the TV and bed was awkward but we had no choice. Sometimes me and my brother would be home first after school and work, having something to eat. My dad would walk in and say "sorry can't talk" with pained expressions. He would quickly walk to the bucket and take a massive long dump. He would then sit there talking to us about our day. He did come in one day while my brother was on the bucket and was pacing in front of him, farting saying "please hurry up" My brother would then stand aside and wipe while my dad quickly replaced him

I remember one night I felt my dad get out of bed and he squatted on the bucket and had a few massive logs, complaining to himself his balls almost touching the shit as it was only a small bucket. He wiped with the newspaper and emptied it outside and got back in the bed still farting. I had a horrible experience one night. I had a really bad stomach. I had to crawl out the bed and squatted. I had the worse diarrhoea. My dad woke up and looked over. I was panicking as the bucket was filling up. He got out of bed and emptied it quickly for me. As soon as the bucket was back I sat back down.

My dad only had one work friend who knew his living conditions but didn't care. He found out by accident one hot summer morning. My dad overslept. He usually met his friend at the end of the street,but because he overslept his friend walked to the house. If you knocked the door hard enought the lock jumped and it opened. Well Bill opened the door and saw the state of the room, the thin mattress on the floor with no bottom sheet and the 3 of us laying naked on top of it. The bucket was in the corner with some of my dad's shit in it from the night, and a stack of leaves next to it. It must have been a shocking sight to see.

He said " OMG I'm so sorry mate, I didn't realise your living situation was this bad". My dad rolled over as he had his naked back and bum facing the door, and saw his mate standing there. He went "shit bill im sorry for oversleeping, normally one of the lads wakes me up"

My dad sat up on the mattress and quickly grabbed the blanket and throw it over us to protect Bill from seeing our naked bodies laying there , and explained the whole situation to Bill.My brother farted in his sleep, then woke up, got of bed naked. My dad said "can you wait Edward till Bill goes?" Edward said "sorry for this Bill but it's my time and im desperate" walked to the bucket "Bloody hell dad you could have emptied it, my balls will be in there" and sat down and shit. Bill was in shock that the 3 of us shared one bed and the toilet situation. My dad said it was a bucket in the corner or we went outside. My brother finished grunting his dump out,wiped with some leaves. He went "sorry about that Bill but it was the bucket or the bed" and got back into bed and went back to sleep. My dad awkwardly asked bill to pass the pants on the chair to him as he was naked under the blanket. Bill picked up the pants and actually joked "Your not putting them on surely, they are filthy and got holes" My dad replied "it's them or nothing as can't afford any replacements or to get them clean till next week" My dad awkwardly put his pants on under the blanket and got up.

He started getting his work gear on in front of Bill. He said "hang on Bill, sorry about this "he walked to the bucket and sat down. Bill questioned the toilet situation. He looked at how small the bathroom was and understood why the bucket had to be in on display.

After that Bill would come round and chat. Sometimes he would stay late talking to my dad so lats me and brother would actually get ready for bed with him still there. He would leave an.d My dad then would climb into bed

He sometimes sat one of the chair talking to and watching TV with us. The first time was funny. The toilet was still broken and bucket in use. He said to my dad "I'm really sorry but I need the toilet bad" my dad laughed "just go outside for a piss" the friend said "sorry but I need a dump bad!" He looked at the bucket and then at us. He just said "well it's not like you haven't seen your dad shit so..." He pulled down his pants and briefs and sat on the bucket. I noticed he had a very hairy cock like my dad. He sat there grunting loud and carried on talking to us. He sat for over 15mins . He asked me for some newspaper, standing wiping.

Bill did end up staying over a couple of times. It snowed really bad and wasn't safe for him to drive home. He said "Don't worry I will just sleep in thr chair" but my dad wasn't having any of it. "No your going to have a proper night's sleep on a mattress"

My dad squeezed closer to me and bill laid there. 4 of us in that bed was very very tight! All 4 of us in our pants. After that Bill gifted my dad a brand new mattress and a brand new blanket! Even though there was still 3 of us on that mattress it felt like heaven. Me and my brother the first night fell asleep almost straight away and we was warm!!

We stayed in this situation till I was 17. So you can imagine how tight that bed became with 3 large hairy blokes in it. My dad taught me to shave while my brother was laughing in the bath.

It did get worse though. My brother and dad both got laid off. Panic set in of how we was going to survive. My dad sold the shack to the neighbour who wanted the land and for one night after looking for somewhere, we slept on the mattress underneath a bridge with our belongings in bags, the next day we found a abandoned shack just off the main road. Because it was near a rest-stop we did witness a few people leaving their cars and squat shit. We did get walked in on a few times, once in the night. Most just apologised but a few did laugh as we naked on the mattress. A bloke in his 30's opened the door in desperation one time, needing a shit. He saw me laying on the mattress as dad and brother out looking for work. He panicked and said sorry. I said to him he looked urgent he could use our toilet, he looked reluctant at first but his bowel got the better of him and he quickly squatted on the bucket.

It had no electricity, no lock on the door and just a outdoor tape. Inside there was only room the mattress and the bucket. One of the windows was smashed and the roof leaked when it rained. For washing we just used a cloth and used the tap, basically a strip down wash. With the money from the other shack we had enough for foodafter paying off some of dads debt. Most of the time we laid on the mattress cold and naked as couldn't afford to replace the clothes so naked in the shack to preserve them. Laying on the mattress was cold as the walls had gaps so the cold wind blew in. The toilet bucket was even closer now so while I was laying on the mattress I could touch the squatting legs of my dad and brother. This was our lowest point. Bill only found about this because he went to the other shack. My dad was too embarrassed to tell him. Bill came to the shack and was in shock how bad it was. He walked in as I was on the bucket. I just said "Hi Bill, sorry I won't stand up". My dad and brother both laying on the mattress. Bill said "please don't tell me you are naked. Dad said "well don't lift the blanket up then" I awkwardly wiped but ran out of leaves, having to ask Bill for some. I stood up naked with my cock flopping in front of him, then went to lay on the mattress

. Bill helped dad find a new job and slowly get back on track.

Got a few more toilet/Bucket stories to come

[ayearwithoutwater]

Twenty-seven.

As of late, Christmastime in New York has been somewhat unpredictable. Over nearly fifteen years, I watched global warming throw the city's seasonal climate completely off-kilter. There are winters where I can't take one step outside without being buffeted by a blizzard; other times, it's warm enough that I can walk out the front door in shorts. As a native Southern Californian, I much prefer more temperate degrees, and the life I've lived in New York has done little for me to acclimate to snow, slush, sleet, whatever—I can't handle it, I need to be warm.

2021 was the year I first decided to travel for the holidays. More than a year of pandemic-induced isolation led me to conclude that I should see more of the world while I was still alive, and having Henry, my then-boyfriend, come with me to split the costs only made it easier to do. In my prior relationships, I'd ended up taking trips with each of my boyfriends and in that way unintentionally began my personal tradition of vacationing with my partners. With Henry, it just so happened to be that the holiday season coincided with me beginning to feel secure enough with our relationship so as to invite him along.

I just want to get away, I'd said to him one October evening. I was laying next to him in bed in his tiny Times Square studio apartment, into which I'd helped him move while questioning his judgment for shelling out almost three thousand dollars a month for a room that could barely fit his mattress in Manhattan's worst neighborhood. I had watched countless others take advantage of once-in-a-lifetime cheap airline tickets for over a year, not regretting my choice to mitigate infection yet also regretting my inaction, and I fantasized about escaping New York's weird pandemic atmosphere.

New York City in the time of COVID-19 was a Cubist dreamscape. Neighborhoods became ghost towns as people disappeared and businesses shuttered; sirens were incessant as ambulance after ambulance trafficked the infirm from block to block. The city's vaunted hustle and bustle had precipitously abated, and all that remained were those of us who couldn't or wouldn't flee. But, getting vaccinated somewhat waylaid my misgivings, and I was basically on the brink of accepting my mortality. I no longer cared if I dipped into my savings, accumulated over the past decade—I just wanted out.

I remember, as I came of age, observing that young adults traveled with their partners. It was a trope that I took to imply a level of serious commitment within their relationships. Somehow, the concept integrated itself into my worldview; I assumed such vacations were a natural consequence of adulthood and genuine dating. I envied those who sojourned annually or more—I wanted to be like everyone else, too.

With my first boyfriend, I'd spent one of my Spring recesses during college in the Dominican Republic. With Wayne, my second, I'd lived briefly on O‘ahu in the Summer. With my third, I'd gone to eat Peking duck in 王府井 (Wangfujing) after making a pit stop at Tiananmen Square, after which we'd caught a flight into Tokyo and rode bullet trains across Japan. With Henry, my fourth, I bounced ideas about where to go.

By Autumn 2021, I was going stir-crazy in New York. My Japanese vacation with boyfriend number three, two years prior, was my most recent trip, and I theorized possible locations on the basis of warmth—I wanted to leave winter behind, at least for a week. I ruled out Europe and Asia because they're similarly cold, and I considered anywhere in the Southern Hemisphere to be too far away. That left me with destinations around North America closer to the equator.

I decided to return to Hawai‘i. I had last been there in 2017 to visit Wayne, with whom I spent a week falling back into the old habits we'd had when we were a bonafide couple. It's most likely due to his influence on me that I like the islands and its people so much.

Henry had never been to Hawai‘i, probably in part because he had no need to visit any tropical island since he grew up on one himself. I took it upon myself to draw up an itinerary: with Waikiki as our base, we'd spend a week doing nothing but hiking, eating fresh seafood, driving around the island, and lounging on the beaches. On our way there, we'd land in Maui's Kahului Airport and spend the layover wandering its outdoor layout as I reminisced about my Maui trip in 2017.

I almost accidentally killed Henry by leading him to climb up a steep, slippery, muddy mountain path in the rain, all because I confusedly navigated us to the wrong destination point. He castigated me because he was understandably upset, but we reached the right location in the end just as the rain abated, giving way to a bright, picturesque rainbow with which he took many selfies. He didn't have a driver's license, so all the driving was my sole responsibility, but I suppose it was fair because he let me take us wherever I wanted to go.

As I retreaded all of my favorite spots with Henry, whether for fresh poke or butterfish laulau or even just to explore, I didn't tell him that they were Wayne's. It was Wayne who had first shown me his favorites, but he wasn't there to partake in our adventure because he was living, at the time of my visit, on Moloka‘i. Later, after Henry and I had broken up, I confessed to Wayne my guilt, for what felt like a desecration of the memories we two had shared, by bringing Henry to those very same places, someone who ultimately didn't deserve to be initiated into that magic because he was a failed lover. Even after half a decade of being physically apart, I still relied on Wayne for comfort.

I'd loved walking amongst the locals because I felt that I more closely resembled them, phenotypically, than I did in the other (predominantly White) States; it was as if I were in a tangibly Asian American society, although I fully acknowledge the unjust history of the United States's actions against Hawaiian sovereignty. I've since learned about the Red Hill water crisis, which clued me into the (many ongoing) American-made ecological disasters that local Hawaiians suffer. Despite—or, due to—the admiration I have for the islands, I've chosen to keep away, because those critical resources don’t need to go to me. I can make do with the memories I already have.

In the intervening years, I've tried to keep up my tradition of leaving New York for the New Year. More than disdaining the cold, I dislike the tourist hordes that come at what I personally think is the worst possible moment to visit. Of course, that makes me the contemptible tourist wherever I end up, but I just want to be warm.

[reveries-and-radiance]

Physical abuse TW

No one to talk to about this. So I'm just gonna tell my whole life story here before I decide to do anything drastic.

I grew up with an emotionally and physically abusive mother who financially depended on me in the last few years of my highschool life. I studied hard and got accepted at the only out of district school they'd let me leave to so I could be away from her. I lived with my grandmother and studied while working 2 part time jobs and volunteering up until the pandemic happened. At this point, my mother had come to my grandmother's house and had been living there with us since the winter. By mid-August, I was completely back in a traumatic and controlling environment filled with rage and violence, as my grandmother and mother did not get along. We all fought a lot daily. At this point, I was still volunteering and was helping doing covid related work for my volunteer organization. I started looking for work to get me out of the house and was lucky to find a well paying job. Coupled with my funds I'd gotten from being laid off, I figured I had enough resources to leave after a particularly violent altercation with my mother about me volunteering too late one night (at this point I was 20 years old)

I got all of my things together to leave the following day to stay with my friend and my mother and grandmother assaulted me. I was beaten with a wooden rod, a metal canister and slammed onto the ground and sat on. They even put their arms over my nose and mouth so that I couldn't scream for my friends outside. It was one of the most terrifying moments I've experienced in recent years.

I got out and the following day filed a restraining order and got the rest of my things. Those first few weeks were incredibly difficult. I had a friend who said that he'd move away with me to help with rent costs as he wanted to leave his home too, but he changed his mind.

I found a place to live, moved and worked for a few months until I experienced sexual harrassment and discrimination at my job and then my contract was not renewed. After losing that job, I burned through all my savings, tried to work at other places I wasn't suited for and then eventually got another temporary position. After that job ended, I was completely drained and in a very depressed state as my friends all moved on to do other things with their lives. I was isolated, broke and vulnerable. I couldn't even afford to continue studying so I just stopped taking classes. I lived off of unemployment for almost a year during this time while waiting for my lease to end so I could move away with a friend I reconnected with. When the unemployment was almost up, I got a summer job and worked to save up money for the move. The friend who said they'd move away with me changed their mind and bought themselves an in development condo so that they could become a landlord and rent it out. I was devastated and the plans I'd made fell apart again. By then my current lease was up but I couldn't afford to move into a new place on my own so I decided to rent a room. When I finally found a seemingly decent place in a nice neighbourhood, I thought that everything would be okay.

The landlord at that house was an awful person to me. The house and my room became infested with gnats due to her plants. She brought in other tenants so the house was full of men and I was the only girl. I wasn't even given a key to the door of my room. She used to listen to when I would go into the washroom and timed how long my showers were. The fridge I was allowed to use was a mini-fridge that I had to share between two other people. My food would always go bad and I lost a lot of meals and just eventually stopped eating. I lost a lot of weight over those months. While that was happening, I got a job but was then let go two weeks into my training because they thought my performance was inadequate. I then found another job but I wasn't trained there at all and got berated by clients for my mistakes. By Christmas, I had no money, food and I needed to leave as soon as possible for my safety and health. I broke my lease and moved but they lied about the room needing to be "deep-cleaned" and took my safety deposit. I was able to find another place but have had no luck in getting a job so I've been trying to make money off of art commissions. Every month has been a struggle. I can't move back in with my family, I don't have anywhere else I can go. I have tried over and over again but nothing is working. I own nothing, I have no one and I honestly don't even want to live anymore. Just years and years of misery. I feel like I was pushed to making so many decisions that I thought would help but kept making things worse and worse. I feel like I have no future.

Now, at 22 (23 next month if I make it till then), there is little opportunity for me to do anything anymore. I can't afford to go back to school, I can't find a stable job, I have no assets, no in-demand skills. I live with debilitating mental and physical conditions but can't even get the support I need to survive. I feel like I am a week away from homelessness. The only thing I can do is draw and sing but no one wants that from me. I'm mediocre at best and I'm a nobody. All this to say, I don't want anyone to be angry with me if I decide that I can't do this anymore. I tried to live with the circumstances I was given, but everything's fucked now and I'm tired. I'm tired of going hungry and being alone. I didn't deserve any of this. I didn't do anything to anyone to live this kind of pathetic life. I just wanted to draw comic books and make art. This is everything that's happened to me in the last 5 years. I am at the darkest point in my life and there's no one who wants to help me. I feel like such a waste.

[anitosoul]

My Favorite Albums of 2020

10: Childish Gambino, 3.15.20

Favorite Tracks: Time | 24.19 | 53.49

After the stellar trajectory of dropping major hit “Redbone” on the funk-inspired album Awaken, My Love!, releasing popular summer anthems and critiques of American culture in “Feels Like Summer” and “This Is America,” starring in several major blockbuster films, and both creating and starring in two seasons of his critically-acclaimed television show (and one of my favorite shows of all time) Atlanta, it was undeniable that Donald Glover had ascended to full-on stardom. The announcement that his forthcoming album would be his last as Childish Gambino resulted in the anticipation for Glover’s next project to reach an all-time high. The release of 3.15.20, though, was elusive and confusing: a mysterious, empty white website donaldgloverpresents.com materialized the weekend the gravity of the COVID pandemic began to hit, looping new music on repeat only to disappear shortly after. Glover had the opportunity to command total attention for the release, but instead eschewed even the most traditional aspects of an album, such as an album cover and song titles. Because of this, the release seems like a flash in the pan given the actual difficulty of referring to any specific aspect of the album (in addition to everything that was happening in the world). Whether or not these creative decisions were done due to the pandemic, they served to make this album one of the most special and personal releases of 2020 for me.

Glover is no stranger to the intersection of art, technology, culture, and experimentation, and 3.15.20 is a fully formed opus of everything Glover’s wanted to convey about the world we live in. The two tracks on the album with names, “Algorhythm” and “Time,” act as the anchors that us human beings use to understand the contemporary world. In “Algorhythm,” Glover raps about the surrealness of life becoming digitized. On social media, our entire histories are on display for anyone to access, immortalizing our existence at what immediately feels like zero cost. Glover includes several robotically autotuned lines about the desire and implications for digital existence in the first verse of the song:

Everyone is an addict, stumbling concrete What was the motivation? Constant communication You sell your daughter on that data stream Dopamine make it hit now Humans don’t understand, humans gon’ sell a lie Humans gotta survive, we know we gon’ die Nothing can live forever, you know we gon’ try Life, is it really worth it? The algorhythm is perfect, mmh - Childish Gambino, “Algorhythm”

I’ve struggled constantly with the all-encompassing nature of digital presence, which has only been exacerbated by the pandemic. We now work, socialize, and entertain ourselves in the same room utilizing the same screen for it all: it’s a scarily dystopic scenario, especially when you consider the fact that the platforms we’re using to conduct our lives are private, for-profit businesses. So, if we’re living in a dystopia, how do we cope?

Like many others, I’ve found a lot of solace this year in connecting with nature and spending more time outside. Alternatively, “Time” finds Glover dueting with Ariana Grande using several references to the external environment, including hurricanes, sunrises, winter breezes, stars, and the ocean. As human beings existing on planet earth, we’ve continued to destroy the world in the name of progress, innovation, influence and wealth. Ultimately, we want to live, but we know as individuals and, at this rate, as a human race, we’re eventually going to cease to exist. Gambino sings:

Seven billion people Tryna free themselves Said a billion prayers Tryna save myself I can see it coming But it’s moving fast Maybe all the stars in the night are really dreams Maybe this whole world ain’t exactly what it seems Maybe the sky will fall down on tomorrow But one thing’s for certain, baby We’re running out of time - Childish Gambino, “Time”

Once again, this song speaks distinctly to the chaos of the year. For a lot of the summer I would listen to this song any time I was outside, a reminder that I’m inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. This helped me prioritize what really matters to me: connections to loved ones, the environment, and making the world a better place. Ultimately, these couple of songs reinforced my notion of an increasingly digital life in the pursuit of validation, connection, or immortality as a fool’s errand, instead shifting my focus to presence and gratitude.

Another major theme of 3.15.20 is what it means to be a black person in America and the realities of racism in our society. After “Time” in the tracklist, everything is subsequently named as timestamps and the rest of the album feels like a letter to Glover’s son about the world he’s inheriting. On “19.10,” Glover references his father’s wisdom about the realities of racism, and in the chorus imparts similar wisdom to his own son:

To be beautiful is to be hunted I can’t change the truth, I can’t get you used to this - Childish Gambino, “19.10”

One of the most powerful moments of the album is when Glover’s son asks him if he loves himself. It’s striking hearing a child ask their parent this question, especially given the internalized self-hatred that many people of color can often feel. It was a question I deeply related to after experiencing multiple instances and levels of racism during my undergraduate years at the University of Oklahoma, where fragile egos and unappreciated privilege due to artificial social hierarchy created a poisonous cloud of toxicity that suffocated me until graduating and moving to NYC. Glover doesn’t present a world of irreconcilable doom, though, and my favorite part of this album is how Glover uses the question of self-love to end on an ultimately optimistic note:

Never said it even though I prolly should (Woah) I said I love me, l said I love me, ah, yeah There is love in every moment Under the sun, girl I did what I wanted to - Childish Gambino, “53.49”

“53.49” is a celebration of Childish Gambino, a victory lap of joy in the impact one can make on the world while keeping love in their heart. This song is really special to me because of what it represents in my own life: over the past two years I’ve been able to reflect on and unpack a lot of internalized hatred and insecurity through psychedelic self-examination, putting me on a path of love for myself, other people, and the world around me. In so many ways, this album feels like a representation of the aspects of life that I have been celebrating, struggling with, and figuring out over the past few years: technology, love, impact, identity, racism, family, existence, and environment. Glover does so by taking the influences from hip-hop, R&B, soul, funk, and pop of his previous albums and shredding them through a psychedelic ego death to conjure 3.15.20: this album is a masterpiece not because Glover took advantage of his position as one of the most accomplished creative talents of our generation, but because he sounds like a human being dealing with uncertainty, struggle, and what it means to have a life worth living.

[pictureday2005]

hi new followers!!! this blog is run almost entirely via a queue. i have posts scheduled for holidays as well. most of the found images are from flickr and archived blogs/personal websites. if you see an image thats yours and would like it removed or credited, dont hesitate to shoot me an ask or a message!

i dont care who follows, as long as theres no nsfw on the blog you reblog to! age regressors, c/gl, ab/dl and babyfur are all welcome here*, but considering this blog relates to my actual childhood id really really appreciate it if you only reblog these onto sfw blogs!!!

you can call me Care! i was born in 99' and lived in new england so most of the posts will usually have that sort of vibe about them.

i especially love build a bear, littlest pet shop, american girl dolls, sandylion stickers, humongous entertainment and all things spooky scary!

my webkinz helping paws code: TPSKMR

spotify playlist can be found here

pinterest and tiktok usernames are the same as here!

tags i use: (some may be blank, the queue will kick them through eventually)

#outside

#day out (stores and stuff)

#rainy

#summer

#vacation

#roadtrip

#the great escape (childhood six flags, but most posts will likely not be from the actual park)

#sleepover (images that just have the vibe. you know what i mean)

#backyard

#fourth of july

#fall

#halloween

#trick or treat! (decor and candy)

#classroom (actual rooms snd things youd find in a classroom)

#snack time (food)

#playground

#indoor recess (its rainy out!)

#silent reading (books)

#daycare

#sunday school

#winter

#christmas

#snow day (home from school)

#sick day (same as last)

#cartoons

#vcr (and vhs tapes)

#spring

#easter

#birthday party

#playdate (feels like friends houses)

#home (feels like my childhood home)

#goodnight (bedding and stuffed animals)

#good morning

#toybox

#littlest pet shop

#my little pony

#boardgames

#playroom

#stuffed animals

#blues clues

#bear in the big blue house

#bedroom

#aunties house (lumped two of my aunts into this)

#aunt saras (my dads sister, lives in their childhood home)

#grammys house

#dads house

#evelyn (old friend who passed in 2006)

i will also occasionally tag years, even if they arent mentioned in the post. they will likely be incorrect, but they make me think of that year!

ill add to this as i go!

* this, of course, excludes "maps/nomaps", and sexual babyfurs/cub. i will not tolerate any sexual content (functional included) those who cannot consent, nor those making/consuming this content. this, of course, extends to proshippers as well. i am not interested in sparking a discussion on the subject. you will be blocked on site.

those experiencing dangerous paraphilias are encouraged to reach out to a mental health professional. most of these are rooted in childhood abuse, and there are people who are more than willing to help you process these experiences, and you could be saving the life of another potential victim. you can end the cycle of trauma. there is no shame in finding help.

[baecvlt]

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

[wrathandgreed]

A crafty MC making goodbye gifts for the demon bros (unromanced and romanced).

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I’m a huge crafter (knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver, cross stitcher, etc)  and I’m currently knitting my husband a winter hat, so I started trying to figure out what a crafty MC would make the brothers as goodbye gifts when they go back to the human world.

Also, this got REALLY REALLY long.

Lucifer

(Unromanced)

This guy is hard to make stuff for. 

His aesthetic is VERY tight and leaves no room for mistakes

So a simple winter scarf, in business-black, is probably the way to go. 

Somewhat lux yarn, cashmere/silk or alpaca/silk, so it has a sheen

He travels to the human world sometimes, and Diavolo has winter themed events in Devildom sometimes, so a scarf isn’t totally impractical.

He would appreciate the amount of time you spent making it, even if he didn’t get a chance to wear it that often.

(Romanced)

Let’s get more personal, now. You still have the same problem with his aesthetic, and the fact that if you want to give him something ~~personal~~ he won’t be able to wear it openly. His pride says no.

He’s stern in public, but affectionate in private.

You knit a medium-sized decorative pillow cover for his bed, in his signature wine-red.

It’s simple and elegant and can sit on his bed like it’s something he picked up in a Hellhome Goods store, and only *he* knows it’s a private gift.

After swearing him to secrecy, you get Solomon to help you charm the pillow, so it never pills up or wears out, and it maintains your scent forever. (Actually, it’s fair to say you do this for all of the romanced gifts).

“I thought, you know, if I can’t be there with you every night, something of me can?”

Awkward MC is awkward.

He not only appreciates how much time went into the gift (who knows how busy you are better than Lucifer?) but that you spent that much time thinking about him.

Mr. Acts of Service over here. Every stitch is something you did *for him*

You assume he’ll just leave it on the bed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll help you be the last thing he thinks of at night and the first thing he thinks of in the morning. 

Maybe he’ll smile when he sees it, and some of his weariness will lift.

Oh, if only you knew.

Mr. “Stern In Public” wraps himself around the pillow every night. Well. Every time he manages to sleep. Which, let’s face it, isn’t every night. 

But when he DOES sleep, it’s with that pillow. If he can’t sleep wrapped around you, this will have to suffice.

Finds he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, because he refuses to bring the pillow with him.

If asked, he says it’s because it’s not important.

But he just doesn’t want to lose it.

It’s too important to him.

Mammon

(Unromanced)

You’ve seen this boy’s room.

You’re not spending hours and hours and tons of money making him something.

You love the guy, but you’ve seen how he takes care of his possessions.

Most of what he owns is chucked aside when the next new-shiny comes along.

You know he loves you to bits and he’ll be careful with whatever you give him.

But “careful” has a different definition for Mammon than for some of the others.

So you knit him a hat. A trendy, slightly-too-small hat in black with a small yellow stripe on the brim.

You can use some lux yarn because, for a single-skein project, investing in cashmere or mohair or something isn’t too awful.

It looks really great on him - the fluff of his white hair, the small yellow stripe, then the wash of black as contrast. It makes his eyes pop and his skin look even warmer.

He wears it to a shoot one day and the photographer loves it

Now everyone wants one

But he has the only one because it’s handmade

Suck it, losers!

The Avatar of Greed finally has something everyone else wants that no one else can get!

(Romanced)

Yeah, you’ve seen his room. You’ve practically lived in his room. But you know he’ll be careful with anything you give him because he loves you. 

It would break his heart to have to ask you to fix something you made for him.

You know he’s going to suffer when you leave

You want him to know that you’re always there, even if you’re not *there*

So you knit him a sweater

A big, oversized sweater out of super soft chunky wool with tons of texture.

You finish it early so you can wear it around your room for a few weeks. On the rare nights you sleep alone, you sleep in it.

Again, get Solomon to enchant it.

Now it smells like you.

You wouldn’t notice, but a demon’s sense of smell is far stronger.

“I know it’s not, like, fashionable or anything. But it’s comfy and it can be…..a portable hug?”

His face turns red and he winds up stammering. Obviously. So he puts it on to avoid having to look at you.

Chucks it on over his tshirt. He immediately pulls the neckband back up over his face to take a deep inhale from the fabric.

He looks really cute in it

(He looks really cute in anything, let’s face it)

Might start crying.

Hug him pls.

Any night he feels lonely (which is most nights) he wears this sweater. Falls asleep in it half the time.

It really is like a hug, and the boy needs all the hugs he can get.

Leviathan

(Unromanced)

Out of all the brothers, Levi is the one who will appreciate STUFF. No matter what you make for him, he’ll love it. 

It’s limited edition! No one else has anything like this!

So this boy is getting crocheted plushies.

(They’re called amigurumi, and he’ll appreciate knowing that)

You make a mobile for his room

Hanging from it are little plushies of all his favorite sea creatures

Henry 2.0 is the biggest

But there’s a few jellyfish

A whale

You had to completely invent a pattern for a kraken, and it came out okay!

You had some extra yarn, so you made a few extra jellyfish

They get suction cups. 

Now he has jellyfish in his tanks and outside his tanks

Spends the next hour rigging up the mobile over his tub so he can see them before he goes to sleep and remember how much his true friend cares about him.

(Romanced)

This took….time to make.

You had to basically invent two patterns from scratch

There was a LOT of frogging.

And swearing.

When Levi opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper, there’s two crocheted figures

One of each of you

(The one of you may or may not be dressed as Ruri-Chan)

“You made these…..for me?”

Tell him you made ONE of them for him. You take the one of him and hug it, “This one comes with me. So I’ve still got you.”

(Don’t let him cry!)

(Too late)

Then you show him the best part - each figure has a magnet in one hand.

When they get close to each other, the magnets snap together and the figures hold hands :)

Even though the two amigurumi will be in two separate realms, those magnets will want to find their partner.

Levi is floored - this is just like something out of an anime! Like two halves of a locket or something!

He can’t even find words. Possibly not for the next hour or two.

But he makes the cutest little squeaks and the verbal equivalent of keysmashes.

Like Lucifer, he sleeps with your gift. But he also carries it around his room. It has pride of place on his desk, and he purchases a stand so you can sit with him while he games or does his online schooling.

He talks to it like he would talk to you, especially on busy days when you can’t actually talk to him on the D.D.D.

It eases the feeling that you left Devildom and forgot about him. Eases - just a little - the jealousy of every human in your world who gets to talk to you. Because none of THEM have a handmade you. Just him.

Satan

(Unromanced)

This guy is either the easiest one to make for, or the hardest.

Like, you could make him a stuffed kitty. Or knit him a tie. But he’s not a super sentimental guy (unless romanced) and, in the end, that’s just stuff. His room is FULL of stuff.

Soooooo, you take out your sewing skills and sew him a traditional Sherlock hat - the deerstalker one, the one that never was actually in the books, but is still associated with the character.

The most straightforward of the brothers, Satan is indeed touched that you spent so long making something for him and he tells you so.

Insists he’ll wear it when solving mysteries.

You laugh, but he actually does wear the hat when reading mysteries now. 

It reminds him of the trip to London - how he got to solve an actual mystery, save his brother, and see the sites with his friend.

(Romanced)

YouTube made it look so easy.

It’s just paper, right? Paper and thread and a needle. You can sew clothes and stuffed animals. How hard can it be to sew together pages to make a book?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

You considered actually pulping and making your own paper, but after the seventh ruined batch of signatures you’re grateful you talked yourself out of that one.

You also considered an actual leather binding, but go for boards and a more simple Japanese sewing technique. 

This project is the perfect thing to give to Satan - not just because it’s a book, but because making it is causing you SO MUCH RAGE.

Who needs firewood when you have the ruined attempts of your gift?

You may have thrown various attempts on the floor and stomped on them before chucking them in the fire.

It takes weeks but you finally get the book together. Now the REAL work can begin.

Every book the two of you read together. Every book you discussed. Every book you recommended to him. Every single one gets a page - a title, a date, and a discussion of your discussion of the book.

The book itself becomes a tour through your growing relationship.

While not as stern as Lucifer in public, Satan is also definitely fond in private - he’s completely unsurprised to receive a book as a present, but once he begins leafing through it, the semi-smug smile vanishes.

He looks shocked, and his hold on the book gentles.

His fingers run down the page, tracing your handwriting on a page particularly precious to him.

Speechless for a few minutes, he finally returns with only “I love it.”

Said so softly and sincerely that you can’t doubt his sincerity.

There are blank pages at the end and he begins to use them to document newer books he’s reading - ones he wants to discuss with you later.

Asmodeus

(Unromanced)

Good luck keeping your gift a secret!

Asmo loves craft and crafty things, so he’s always curious about what you’re making and fascinated with the process.

Probably helps with suggestions for the others, especially for a romanced brother (although WHAT you see in them is beyond him, after all, what can THEY have that Asmo doesn’t?)

Because he seems to pop up out of nowhere, he’s already seen his gift a few times. Thankfully, he thinks you’re making it for yourself.

Bonus, he’s whiny and jealous about it, and obviously wants it for himself. So, score. You know he’ll like it.

It seems simple; a pair of fingerless gloves in his signature hot pink. But the yarn is mohair lace (you’ve cursed at it many, many times for tangling on you) held double with merino/silk black yarn.

The gloves are lacy and airy, sensual and soft. They feel wonderful to wear, and look great with a majority of his outfits. 

He absolutely squeals and hugs you when he opens up the gift - the gift he was so jealous of! Of COURSE you were making it for him this whole time!

Wears them constantly. His Devilgram pics start having a lot of “what am I holding?” themes. Cups of coffee or hot chocolate. Someone else’s hand. A ticket for an absolutely fabulous play. And a LOT of peace signs and finger-hearts  :)

(Romanced) 

This one requires the cooperation - willing or not - of everyone in the house.

You start with your DDD. That’s easy enough.

Since you’ll need Sol’s help anyway, it’s easy enough to plunder the pictures on his phone, too.

The rest of the brothers you get, one by one. Belphie’s you steal while he’s sleeping, although you found nothing useful on it. Beel just lets you borrow his phone. You ask to borrow Mammon’s while he’s gambling and he doesn’t notice that it takes you an hour to give it back. Satan - the real photographer - must be taken into your confidence - you might need his help later anyway. But he’s particularly close to Asmo, and knows how to keep his mouth shut.

You stalk Lucifer for a few weeks. You ask Satan for advice. You consider asking Diavolo to just order Lucifer to hand over his phone.

Finally you just ask him for it.

Getting a hold of Asmo’s phone is the hardest bit. You have to wait until he’s deep in a spa day, hanging around in his tub with both a sheet mask AND cucumber slices.

Then you make off with his phone. And go through the photos.

His wonderful Devilgram-worthy pictures you ignore. You start looking for the ones that he rejected, but kept. The one where both of you cracked up laughing right before the photo snapped. The one where he dropped his hot chocolate and then stole yours.

The two of you in clay face masks and toe spacers? Yep. The one you took of him with super-wide eyes as he put on mascara? Definitely. Selfies of you two surrounded by his brothers, by Sol, by Simeon, even a few with Luke.

The one Satan took of the two of you dancing at one of Diavolo’s balls, so lost in each other that the rest of the ball might as well not exist? Of course.

You combine them with the ones taken by everyone else in the house.

Culling them for the best takes weeks. Because you don’t just want the ~~prettiest~~ pictures or the ones designed for social media.

You pick the ones with emotional meaning, ones of important events, but mostly you choose pictures of genuine laughter and affection. Ones that show how much the two of you love each other, and how much true friendship exists in the house. 

How much he’s not alone, and how much he is loved. How much the people around him appreciate him.

With Satan and Solomon, you gather and enchant a simple glass cube.

It displays these photos, gently lit up, like the digital picture frames in the human world.

“I want you to remember me,” you say quietly. “I want you to remember how much fun we’ve had, and how much I love you for you.”

Not gonna lie, Asmo cries.

The cube moves around his rooms depending on where he is - it’s by his tub if he’s taking a bath. It’s on his vanity when he’s putting on  his makeup. He credits it with helping his relaxation and makeup game.

It’s always on a nightstand by his bed before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he just lays on his back, puts the cube on his stomach, and watches memories float through it.

What you wanted - for him to remember that he’s loved for more than his sexual prowess - comes true. The pictures remind him of the life he has outside of a bedroom.

He starts spending more time with his brothers. He starts taking more pictures.

His followers appreciate the diversification in his content :)

He appreciates how much you love getting texts of those photos - the not-social-media-ready ones, but the REAL ones.

Beelzebub

(Unromanced)

I mean, you could just bake the guy a dozen cakes.

But then he’d eat them and they’d be gone.

And you can’t make him anything that looks like food, because he’d eat it.

You’ve finished your gifts for half of the brothers before you even figure out what to make for him.

And then it comes to you…..socks.

He’ll use them.

He won’t eat them.

They’re not the most interesting gift, but you’re running out of time.

You actually manage to find a pattern covered with colorwork triangles that mimic his usual shirt.

You get Satan to charm them for you - the problem with handmade socks is that they wear out FAST. Not anymore!

Beel LOVES them.

(To be fair, he’d probably love anything you gave him)

Once he knows they won’t wear out, they become his Game Socks.

Like most athletes, he becomes superstitiously obsessed with the socks, wearing them for absolutely every game he plays.

Is convinced they help him win.

(Romanced)

You encounter basically the same problem as above - what on earth to make him?

You want something that reminds him how much you love him, and it absolutely can’t be anything he could even be tempted to eat, because he’d never forgive himself.

You try a number of times to build a small tapestry loom, but that skill seems to be beyond you.

Finally you have to beg Lucifer to pick one up for you in the human world.

Once you get it, you’re off and running.

Now, just because things can’t look like food doesn’t mean it can’t be inspired by it.

Red yarn, the exact juicy red of an apple - but here, just an abstract circle. Mixes of pale cream, yellow, and red in a triangle - an abstract pizza slice. 

Those cookies Barbatos makes? There. The broccoli-cheddar soup you learned to make for her? Now just an orange blob with tiny green squiggles. And on, and on. 

And buried, scattered throughout, little woven hearts.

The hearts are made of slightly different yarn, puffier and thicker, so they stand out just a little bit.

In the end, you have a decent-sized wall hanging, full of texture and shapes that are just reminiscent enough of food to bring a smile to Beel’s face, but not enough to actually be worth eating.

He passes the hanging every day, and every day he brushes his fingers over the yarn or through the fringe; a physical reminder of you.

Belphegor

(Unromanced)

This guy is probably the easiest one to make things for.

Is it soft? Is it cuddly? Can he use it as a pillow? Can he snuggle it like a stuffed animal? 

Click “yes” on any of those questions, and you have a happy - well, a slightly less annoyed - Belphie.

Which is why you take this as a challenge. The easy answer - a pillow - is BORING. And the other easy answer - a blanket - would take WAY too much time.

So, like Levi, he gets a plushie.

But not just any plushie.

He gets a plushie of Lucifer.

Lucifer…..on a pastel unicorn.

Belphie starts cackling the moment he opens it, which is fair, because you laughed a fair bit designing and making it.

He starts leaving it where Lucifer can find it, then saying that the elder can’t do anything about it, because MC made it and there’s no way he’d want to harm anything made by MC.

Satan tries to steal it.

In the end, an “anonymous” Devilgram is created, dedicated to the “adventures” of this particular plushie.

It’s all fun and games until Diavolo wants one.

(Romanced)

Well, for your boyfriend, the time and effort involved in making a blanket is just fine.

You debate endlessly - comprehensive color scheme? Granny squares or stripes? How heavy?

You go with your gut instinct - this isn’t a boy who cares about color schemes or blanket styles.

(Just look at his clothes, seriously.)

He cares about one thing - comfort.

You find the softest, smushiest yarn you can, and a pattern you can tolerate working on for like 100 hours.

You go old-school; a granny square blanket like the ones that pretty much every person had thrown over the couch in the 70s and 80s. The perfect nap blanket.

Black… mostly black, with some bright accent colors. Kind of obnoxious accent colors, actually. You figure it’ll appeal to his (dubious) sense of humor. Also it’ll piss Lucifer off seeing it around the house, clashing with literally everything in the oh-so-perfectly-decorated Gothic interior.

This one requires….special enchantment.

A little bit of ritual, and that blanket will fold up into a tiny square; easy to carry from place to place.

Belphie is torn between wanting to carry it around everywhere, like his pillow, and to leave it in the attic room, always waiting for him.

Depending on his mood, he’ll do one or the other.

But no matter what, he also sleeps juuuust a little bit better under it, snuggled up under your love.

You make him the Lucifer plushie, too. It’s too funny not to :)

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[turtle-steverogers]

hii, it's the unsent project anon again!! sometimes i think about steve. instead of going back in time for yk, he goes back in time to see his mother again. and has a dance with his mother because he never got to before for several reasons. it would be more rocking from foot to foot than anything else. and steve can barely see through his clumped up lashes from the tears while she strokes the side of his head before cradling it (its a bit of a stretch because he is all big and healthy now) while muttering, "my stevie, my boy" and steve just grins "it's me, ma".

(he would come back after spending some time with her, with a heavy heart but still)

was thinking about this at like 3 in the morning

anon i genuinely think you're trying to murder me lakjdflksjfaskdjflksf

anyway i wrote another fic

-

There are extra white jackets in the back closet, and Steve steals one that’s approximately his size, despite the shoulders being a bit too tight. Pants are a little harder to come by, but he manages to find a pair that look like they’ll fit him in some poor chap’s locker. He tugs them on, grimacing at the way they hug his thighs and fall only to his ankles. They’ll have to do.

He’d already scoped out the hospital the night before-- he knows she’s on the third floor in a private ward. Good, he thinks. She deserves it, if nothing else.

He is focused as he moves through the halls, head down as he passes other nurses. There’s a clipboard discarded on a table near the children’s ward and he swiftly picks it up, squinting at it. He doesn’t process any of the words on the page, but his act seems sound, because nobody stops him.

He makes it to the stairwell at the end of the hall, pushes open the door and takes the steps two at a time. The smell is one that is achingly familiar-- the walls grey and hazy. The air seems thicker, the lights yellow and dim. And though he’s been removed from the past for over a decade, it still feels like home. Like normal. His normal.

But he does not belong anymore, and he will not stay. He’s already been a ghost once. He’s hesitant to be one again.

Especially now, when he is out there somewhere. Most likely in the shitty tenement he shared with Bucky, but also possibly at the grocer he worked at, his ma’s telegram in his pocket. Savoring the bits of her that he could salvage with the knowledge he’d never see her again, even while she’s alive.

Closure has been something Steve always felt he lacked. But he’s seen hell now-- lived in its fiery pits for more years than he can count. He can take some goddamn closure for himself.

The third floor is nearly vacant. No one is in the hallway when Steve steps out of the stairwell, but he can hear voices in the rooms that line the sides. Coughs echo ominously off the walls, and Steve’s toes curl in his shoes, a brief wave of anxiety washing over him. He hadn’t missed these hospitals, and he’d hoped to never deliberately step foot in one again. But this is necessary. This is worth it.

He walks swiftly towards the end of the hall where the private wards are and stops in front of the first room. The name next to the door is incorrect, so he continues on until he sees it, heart stopping in his chest, then speeding up enough to make his lungs tighten.

Sarah Rogers-- TB. Alternative uniform required.

Steve closes his eyes against the blood rushing from his head. He wants to tell himself it’s been so long since he’s felt this detached from reality-- this out of place in a space that should feel so familiar-- but it hasn’t. The feeling, he’s realizing, never truly left him when he woke up from the ice, and the reverse here is strange.

And there’s something even stranger about reconciling this, because he’d lost his ma far before he’d ever died. This grief is an old wound-- one that’s scabbed over only to bleed circumstantially. He’d grown used to living with this particular, bone deep pain. He isn’t sure if he’s here to lance that, or if he’ll walk away with a deeper wound. He isn’t sure it matters, either.

He pushes open the door.

The room is lit with natural light. There is a desk with a vase and a water pitcher on it, along with a few medicine bottles and a tissue box. The bed is pressed against the far wall, the covers barely disturbed save for the frail figure that lies in it.

Sarah turns her head and looks at Steve.

Steve’s world stops.

He hadn’t seen his ma when she was this ill. His last memories of her are of when she was healthy-- cheeks red and full of life, eyes alight with an optimism he still valiantly tries to uphold. Life had not been kind to Sarah Rogers, but she was the kindest soul Steve had ever known, even in the shadow of his father’s violence.

Is, he corrects himself as he looks at her. She is the kindest soul. She’s there. She’s right there.

She’s right there, and she looks weak. She is gaunt and frail, eyes sunken in and cheekbones sharp against papery looking skin. There’s an exhaustion in the lines of her young face that Steve recognizes as the long standing effects of illness-- your body praying to be done fighting while your mind begs otherwise.

Steve resists the urge to turn and run.

Sarah’s face does something strange as she looks at Steve, and he realizes that he’s been standing there for longer than would be normal for a nurse-- shell shocked and silent. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, eyes widening as she seems to process what she’s looking at. Or who she’s looking at, most likely.

A wizened hand comes up to cover her mouth and she gasps, fear flashing through her eyes and no, no, no--

Fuck, he’d thought of this. He’d had a fucking plan for this, but he can’t remember it now and he really doesn��t want his ma calling security on him, because he has so much to say, and--

“Ma,” he says frantically, taking an aborted step forward. She shies away and he stops, hands flexing at his sides. “Ma, it’s me. I swear it’s me, I can explain.”

Sarah looks suddenly furious. “This is not funny, young man. I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave this instant.”

Fuck, her voice. Her goddamn voice, as weak as it is now, still has the same strong cadence. The subtle Irish twang. And fuck, Steve can’t help it. He bursts into tears.

“Fuck,” he says, falling to his knees. Why did he think he could do this? Why did he think he could stomach the weight of everything that’s happened since he last saw her-- handle standing in front of her with blood on his hands, underneath his fingernails. In his goddamn soul. What would she even think of him now?

He sobs, biting down on a knuckle to keep silent, his other arm going around his stomach. It’s how he used to cry when he was much younger, and more frantic, and that seems to convince Sarah more than anything.

“Steven?” she says. She sounds incredulous. Damnit, she probably thinks she’s hallucinating. Steve had hallucinated a couple times when he was ill enough and his fever was high. Mostly his father, but he’ll digress.

He looks up, and he can barely see her through the tears that clump on his eyelashes. Sarah’s face does something complicated, then softens, and she reaches out a hand. Steve looks at it and sobs harder.

“Oh, Stevie. My boy, come here,” she says, because maybe he is a goddamn hallucination, but her instinct was always to comfort those in pain. She was a nurse, after all.

Steve is goddamn helpless.

He manages to get to her bedside, chest heaving as he buries his face in her stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “It’s me, ma. I promise it’s me. I can explain, I swear.”

“I don’t doubt that you can explain,” Sarah says sternly, and fuck, he’d missed her chastising him. He can’t help it, he laughs, breathless and watery. “What happened to you? Why are you--” Big. Healthy. “Steven, you can’t be in here. I’m highly contagious.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t matter. I can’t get sick.” And oh, his accent is back. He hasn’t had one in years. Decades. A goddamn century.

Sarah lets out a strangled laugh that quickly turns into coughing, and Steve briefly wonders how close she is to death. She died in Winter, and it is sometime in Fall right now. Close then, he thinks. He hugs her harder as the coughing dies down.

“A stór, do you hear yourself? You had pneumonia last Summer.”

Summer. Last Summer. In this world, it had only been a mere few months without her. A fresh wave of grief washes over Steve, and then he can’t help another laugh, then another, and suddenly he’s cracking up into her stomach. Laughing like the insane man he feels he often is.

Sarah freezes, then reaches out to lift his face, their eyes meeting. His laughing stops. She gasps again.

“It really is you,” she murmurs, thumbs moving to the outside corners of his eyes, where there are two identical freckles. Little stars, she used to call them.

Steve offers her a brave smile. “Yeah, ma. It is.”

Sarah shakes her head. “What happened?” she asks again.

“I… so much,” Steve breathes. “I don’t know how to explain it all. I-- I don’t know where to start, but god, I just wanted to see you. I needed to see you.”

Sarah studies his face. “You’re so tired,” she says, thumb stroking his eye again. He leans into the touch, closing his eyes. His lip trembles.

“So tired,” he agrees.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” Sarah says. “I’m not sure I want to know. But I just… Steven, you look so different.”

Steve laughs, wiping at his eyes. “In a few years, there’s a war,” he says. Blunt-- they’d always been so straightforward with each other. “A scientist-- god, please don’t be mad-- a scientist offered, or… offers? Offered me an opportunity, and I took it.”

“Of course you did,” Sarah murmurs, looking fond and angry despite. She seems to set that train of thought aside. “Germany?” and oh, right. It’s already been in the news, the new reign.

“Yeah.”

Sarah hums. “My dear, you look like you’ve seen more than just war.”

Just war. As if any war was just anything.

As if his war ever truly stopped.

He casts his gaze down.

“Yeah,” he says again, and he thinks of Bucky, who’s also yet to come home from the war. Bucky, who is probably somewhere at the docks right now, untouched by anything but insecurity and financial hell. He desperately wishes they both can soon. This visit, he hopes, will bring him one step closer.

Sarah must read his mind, because her face clouds over.

“Bucky…?”

“Survives,” Steve says quickly, then backtracks. “Kind of. We both kind of died, then came back to life in the future and--” Sarah looks horrified now, and Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. He’s alive. We’re together.”

“Alright,” Sarah says slowly. “As long as you’re together.”

Steve nods, and fuck, he wishes he could have brought Bucky, too. Sam as well-- showed his ma his new friends. The brave new family he’s made for himself. The thought has his eyes swimming again, and he screws up his face, trying not to cry. He’s a goddamn mess. It’s ridiculous.

“I must admit, I’m quite confused,” Sarah says. “And sweetheart, you’re not talking.”

Steve shakes his head, and her arms come around him. He melts into the hold-- savors the feeling. Memorizes the pressure, her smell, and pockets it away for later.

“I just missed you so much is all,” he croaks. “And I-- ma… I’ve done so much. I’ve hurt so many people. Killed so many people, and I still feel so lost, and everything hurts and oh Christ, I’ve just-- I miss you.”

He had sworn to himself, before coming in, that he wouldn’t unload any of this onto her. But her warmth is all encompassing, and he craves her comfort. Her approval. Her strong, sure tone telling him everything will be okay.

That he will be okay. He has to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s not.

“Lord’s name,” Sarah murmurs, and Steve huffs another laugh. She runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what happened to you. I don’t know how any of this is possible, but I do know you, dearheart. And I know that you are a good person. A gentle person-- my gentle boy, if you’d had a choice, you wouldn’t have chosen violence. But you know more than anyone how mean the world can be. You might have had to make hard decisions, done bad things, but you, Steven, are not bad.”

Steve’s lips part. It doesn’t fix everything, the words-- it barely scrapes the surface of the wall of pain and guilt that suffocates him. But for a moment, the world seems clearer. Quieter. The ache in his chest lanced for one, freeing breath.

“Ma…” Steve says. He doesn’t know how to thank her-- what to say-- because here she is, offering him warmth and closure, even though she might still think he’s nothing but a figment of her imagination. He craves her compassion; her generosity. Swears to uphold it as best he can.

You always stand up, she once told him. He will still, he thinks. He always will. And he will now.

He’ll go home to his family-- his life-- and goddamn live finally. He’s been surviving for so long, he realizes. It’s about damn time for him to stand up and live.

“You’ve still got the same heart,” Sarah continues. She pokes his freckles again. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Steve lifts a hand to cover hers. Her hands are as soft as they always were and he turns his face to kiss her knuckles, then leans forward to kiss her cheek, eyes closing as memories of doing that before running off to school or to play flash through his mind. She smells faintly of vanilla. He wonders if she still dabs it behind her ears.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you, ma. I love you. I love you so much-- thank you for being there for me. For raising me, and loving me.”

Sarah hugs him. Outside the room, there are voices; shuffling. He needs to go. The window is open, and they’re only three floors up.

“Loving you is the easiest thing that I’ve ever done,” Sarah says. She looks at the door. The voices are closer now. She kisses his forehead. Another echo of a life long gone. “Go now, Steven. Go home.”

Steve looks at her one last time, drinking in the love in her eyes. And as he climbs out the window, the too-tight doctor’s coat ripping around the shoulder seams, he can’t help but think that he’d gotten her eyes right whenever he’d painted her.

Her love won’t be something so easily forgotten.

-

Bucky catches him before he can collapse as he reappears on the launch pad. He lowers them to the ground, cradling Steve’s head with and letting him practically climb into his lap as he weeps, overwhelmed.

After a few minutes, he pulls back. Bucky’s watching him, concerned, and Steve leans in to gently kiss him.

“Steve?” Bucky asks, wary as they pull apart. He reaches out to swipe some tears off Steve’s cheeks.

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’m fine,” he says. “All the stones are back-- everything’s okay. It’s over. It’s all over.”

Relief washes over Bucky’s face and he kisses Steve, smiling. “Oh god,” he murmurs. “Thank god.”

Steve wraps his arms around his neck, humming in agreement. Sam and Bruce are somewhere-- Steve can hear them talking-- but it’s distant.

They’re quiet for a long time, breathing in each other. Bucky’s arms feel so goddamn safe that Steve feels his resolve slipping again. He can tell Bucky things. He can be here with him now. Home.

“I went to see her,” he whispers.

Bucky stills where he was previously rocking them lightly.

“Her…” Bucky says, then shifts. “Your ma?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Bucky squeezes him tighter. “How-- how was that? How did she…”

“She was confused. I don’t even know if she knew I was real.”

Bucky pauses, then kisses behind his ear. Steve thinks of vanilla again.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmurs.

“No, it was-- good. Needed. I feel… good.”

“That’s so good, honey.”

“She asked about you-- wanted to know if you were, um, alive. I told her you were.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and there’s a small smile on his face now. Bucky had loved Sarah as if she were another mother, and Steve had done the same with Winnifred. It was a privilege to have had both of their protective arms. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘as long as we’re together’.”

Bucky smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. Steve wants to reach out and touch, so he does, because he can do that now. Bucky is tangible. He is here.

“She’s got a point,” Bucky says. He goes back to rocking them and Steve rests his head on his shoulder. He hears Bucky start to say something, then stop.

“What?” he asks, pulling back.

Bucky studies him. “Did you want to stay?” It isn’t accusatory, just curious, and Steve considers it.

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Just… instinctively. It’s an opportunity I might have taken up if someone offered it ten years ago, but… I’m a ghost there now, like I was a ghost here, and I don’t want to do that again.” He bites his lip, shaking his head. “I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to.”

Bucky nods, cupping Steve’s cheek and thumbing his jaw affectionately. “I hear you,” he says. “I was just wondering.”

“And besides, my ma told me to go home before I left,” Steve said, cupping Bucky’s cheek in return. “So I did.”

Bucky smiles, and presses their foreheads together.

“We can do that now,” Bucky says. “We can go home. We can rest.”

And there are still things to do-- Steve doesn’t think there ever won’t be things to be done. But that can wait for another day.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He’s grungy, dirt digging in bone deep from the whirlwind of the last few weeks. He smirks, climbing off Bucky’s lap. “But I call first shower.”

Bucky snorts and stands, pulling Steve up.

“Yeah, whatever, asshole.”

Yeah. The world can wait another day.

-

There’s a bottle of vanilla in the spice cabinet. Steve sees it as he’s looking for the cinnamon. The kitchen is empty, but for the first time in years, he knows he’s not alone.

He takes the vanilla out and dabs some onto his fingers, gently rubbing it behind his ears. He closes his eyes, letting the smell wash over him. He can still feel his ma’s arms around him, keeping him warm.

Home. He’s home.

-

thanks for reading yall aflkdjflaksjdf

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

on ao3

All his life, Jaskier has only wanted to be enough. In forty years, he’s found a lot of people he can't please no matter how hard he tries, but never any who are willing to try in return. He's too loud, too annoying, too much. There are also a startling number of people who want him only as a placeholder - a bed warmer, an entertainer - before quickly ushering him from their lives once they've had their fill. As a child, it was devastating every time he was told to be quiet or to find someone else to talk to. As an adult, he thought he'd grown numb to disinterest or fleeting interest, but then he'd met Geralt.

With Geralt, he thought he had finally found someone who might keep him. Even if it wasn't perfect, even if Jaskier still found himself longing for more, Geralt allowed him to stay. His jabs didn't hurt the way others did and after some time they even started to sound fond coming from his Witcher. And he was truly happy for the first time in a long time.

But good things are not meant to last. Not at least, for Jaskier. And on the top of a mountain north of Barefield, Geralt had proved without a doubt that Jaskier wasn't numb to heartbreak.

But that seems like a lifetime ago, now.

When their paths had crossed again, it was by complete accident. Jaskier had been in Oxenfurt over the winter to regroup after a difficult autumn and he'd headed back out into the wilderness late. It was a routine of sorts, setting out on the road after winter, and he'd followed the Pontar east, heading nowhere in particular. The last person he had been expecting to come across was his Witcher.

But there they both were; Geralt with his child surprise in tow and Jaskier with nothing but the lute on his back and a notebook overflowing with verse after verse of heartbreak. Ciri, at least, had been happy to see him, but it was plain to see Geralt didn't share her enthusiasm. She is the reason for their (somewhat forced) reconciliation, not some change of heart or some grand apology; just a lost little girl clinging to whatever sense of normalcy she can find. And an unwilling father trying to give it to her.

Lucky for him, Jaskier is a familiar face to the young princess and Geralt had agreed when Ciri had asked for him to come along with them. And it's not all bad; travelling with companions is much less lonely than travelling alone and he and Geralt have made things work between them, enough at least, for Ciri's wellbeing.

But there's a feeling Jaskier gets right before he's ousted from someone's life, a tingling sort of ache right in the pit of his stomach, and he's been feeling that for months now.

Spring has faded into summer and their little group carries on. They keep to the path most nights, camping amongst the trees or tucked away under a shelf of rock or in an abandoned cave. Jaskier doesn't know the whole story, but he knows Nilfgaard is looking for Ciri and as good a protector as Geralt is, he's unlikely to defeat an entire Nilgaardian troop should they run into one. So he keeps them away from town unless they need to replenish their supplies or the weather is too bad to allow for sleeping outside. On those occasions, they prepare in advance. Geralt will go ahead and ensure the room is ready and whatever else they need, while Jaskier will wait behind and do what he can to disguise Ciri. She's the most important thing in Geralt's life now and if he can't make amends with the man himself, he'll do what he can to help Ciri. At the very least, it gives him a sense of purpose and keeps him from feeling quite so out of place with them.

Tonight is a camping night. Geralt is asleep already and Ciri appears to be if she isn't, but the grass is damp and cool beneath them and Jaskier can't get comfortable. In the morning, their bedding will be damp at best and that means packing damp bedding and sleeping on it again tomorrow night. He's mulling over the idea of hanging his bedroll over a tree branch and lying directly on the grass - at least it will save him one night of discomfort - when Geralt stirs across from him.

Jaskier looks up, instinctively alert, but Ciri is still peacefully asleep and there doesn't appear to be any sign of danger. Geralt's face is twisted though, pinched tight in pain or fear and Jaskier recognizes the expression. For years, he'd been there to soothe Geralt’s discomfort, to curl up against him and run a hand up his chest until his breathing evened out again and the pain eased from his face. Geralt’s nightmares have never been uncommon, but since joining up with him again, Jaskier has noticed a marked increase of uneasy nights for the Witcher.

But he's no longer in a place to soothe him and so he watches regretfully as Ciri blinks awake and props herself up to look at him. She crawls from her own bedroll and in a practiced motion, slips between Geralt's arms, pressing herself up against his chest. She whispers something that Jaskier can't hear and he squeezes his eyes shut as Geralt hums sleepily against her hair.

He aches to fill that space against him once more, to be able to soothe the turmoil in Geralt’s heart, to give Geralt anything. He used to be the one who could ease his pain, but he's been replaced. And he can't blame Geralt for it; he was never a very good travel companion, but he did try and he'd like to be able to try again, but that doesn't seem to be the way things are going for him.

"Who is she?" Ciri asks, only just loud enough to Jaskier to hear her. "Who's Renfri?"

"I don't know," he breathes, low to keep his voice steady, "Geralt met her before me and he doesn't talk about it."

Ciri makes a disappointed sound and Jaskier doesn't have to be able to see her face to know she's scowling at the man wrapped around her. He would be too. Geralt does so much to protect the ones he loves and yet refuses to accept anything in return. Jaskier understands the frustration and once upon a time, he'd developed a method of tricking Geralt into doing things for himself, making it seem like it was for the good of someone else. He makes a mental note to tell Ciri about it.

Once Ciri and Geralt are settled once more, Jaskier slips from his bedroll, picking it up and hanging it in the hopes that it will dry some before morning. He's awake now, his head swimming with things unsaid and what ifs and he knows he won't sleep any time soon, so there's no point in trying.

He crosses the camp as silently as he can to where the horses are tethered and he settles himself between the thick roots of a tree, leaning back against the trunk. Roach leans down to him, nudging his shoulder and Jaskier looks up to find both of them looking at him, Jaskier's own horse with her head over Roach's back to see what he's doing. She gives a snort of confusion and Jaskier just looks up at her with a forced smile that does apparently nothing to appease her curiosity.

For some time, he just sits there, wondering where exactly he went wrong in his life until eventually, cold and emotionally exhausted, sleep overtakes him.

At first, Jaskier had hoped that this distance between them was just a side-effect of Geralt adjusting to parenthood and he tried to help in any way he could. But he can't teach Ciri to fight and Geralt knows more about herbs and how to use them than he does, and otherwise, Ciri is mostly self-sufficient. Other than her magic, which Jaskier soon learns, she's being trained in as well.

Yennefer blows back into his life in a big way on a sunny afternoon in mid-summer. She seems softer than the last time they'd seen each other and she smiles when she spots Ciri practicing with a wooden sword next to the river. Jaskier has learned well enough in the past not to disturb her, so he keeps quiet and continues with his task of gathering firewood. He hadn't understood at the time, why Geralt had wanted to make camp so early in the day, but it seems clear now that this was an arranged meeting place and he doesn't suspect they'll be leaving again before morning.

So while Geralt is busy with Yen and Ciri, Jaskier may as well make himself useful. Maybe he can't be emotionally available to Geralt the way he used to, but he can still help. So he sets off deeper into the trees, intent on finding enough wood to keep them going for the evening. But when he returns to the smell of smoke and a crackling fire, his heart sinks. As he sets his gathered firewood down, his only solace is that no one seems to have noticed him and he's able to slip away again quietly.

Yen travels with them after that. She doesn't seem concerned about Jaskier's presence and, on occasion, she'll even speak to him without sounding inconvenienced. It's more than she's ever offered in the past and considering his tenuous position with them, Jaskier's almost pleased about it.

But with Yen comes more training for Ciri, this time in magic, which means she has less time to listen to Jaskier play or tell him about her adventures with Geralt. Which is fine; she's still young and she needs to be able to understand her power as much as she needs to be able to fight with a sword. So Jaskier takes another step back.

After the mountain incident, Jaskier had hoped someday that things might go back to normal for him and Geralt. Now, despite Yennefer's improved attitude toward him, their relationship seems tenser than ever. And after a couple of weeks travelling with Yen, Jaskier starts to wonder if he really fits with them anymore.

But he can barely complain, what with Ciri having lost everyone she ever knew and loved. And Yen's history. And Geralt's inability to enter certain towns without being shouted at and called a monster. In relation, Jaskier's problems are not that bad. It doesn't stop it from hurting, but it stops him from talking about it because he doesn't really have a good enough reason to be upset. And his relationship with Geralt is already strained at best, he doesn't want to make things more complicated between them and end up losing Geralt again, maybe for good this time.

Only keeping things to himself is harder than it seems because Jaskier constantly feels unwanted and unneeded. Because Geralt has Yen and Ciri, Ciri has her training with both of them, and Yen never really much cared for him to begin with. So where is he supposed to fit in with that? What can he do for them that someone else isn't already doing? Everything he used to do for Geralt has been taken over by someone new and as the days drag on, Jaskier begins to wonder if he's not just hindering them by tagging along.

But where would he go without him?

They're all sitting around the fire one night after Ciri's gone to bed and Jaskier's writing in his notebook, trying to force the lyrics to a ballad that just doesn't want to come. He has the tune, but he can't quite get the words right, so he hums under his breath, trying to work through it as Geralt pokes at the fire.

"Jaskier," Geralt grunts and Jaskier looks up at him, surprised and a little nervous. "Be quiet, Ciri's asleep."

"Oh," he says, "right."

He shuts his notebook and measures his breathing, trying to keep from getting too upset. It makes perfect sense that Geralt would ask him to be quiet, Ciri doesn't sleep well a lot of the time and he shouldn't disturb her when she does. It still hurts, but he packs his things back up and turns in for the night.

Geralt seems unfazed but Jaskier lays out his bedroll right at the edge of their camp and settles in. He doesn't know what else to do with himself; whatever he and Geralt once has is clearly gone now, everything is about Geralt and Ciri now or just about Geralt, off on his own to provide for a child he never wanted. There’s no room in his life for Jaskier now that he has Ciri.

As he lies down, he tries to think back to before Geralt, but he doesn't remember what he did with himself back then. He was young and foolish and a very different person than he is now. And even after, when he and Geralt were separated but still friendly, Jaskier would write about him or sing about him and tell stories about their adventures together. But it was all about Geralt. For two decades of his life, everything centred around Geralt and now he's faced with the prospect of losing him completely.

Geralt is a simple man; he needs food and coin and sex - most nights he won't even blink at sleeping out in the rain. Jaskier can offer him none of those things when they're staying away from towns, so why is he still here? He wants what they used to have when he could at least keep Geralt company during the long nights. Now, he can't even offer him that. Things can't go back to the way they used to be because Geralt has Ciri now and Yen is back in his life and Jaskier just... is.

And every time he tries to think about what he did wrong, he can only picture Geralt's face on the top of that mountain, how angry he sounded when he told Jaskier he wanted him gone.

Jaskier looks at Ciri, curled under Geralt's spare blanket, and he knows Geralt blames him for this responsibility that he never wanted. And maybe it is his fault because Geralt never would have been at the banquet otherwise. And maybe Yen leaving was his fault, too because Geralt never would have met her if Jaskier had just left the damn djinn bottle alone. Maybe all of this is his own fault. Jaskier lays his head down, fighting back tears as he wonders how he could have single-handedly ruined the one good thing that life ever gave him.

Summer fades into autumn and things only get worse.

Yen joins them again when the air starts to cool and Jaskier finds the only thing left for him to do is to distract Ciri when Yen and Geralt disappear off on their own. He doesn't want to think about what they get up to and he's certain Ciri doesn't want to know. The pair of them share a tent, which Jaskier is thankful for only because it means he shares with Ciri and he would prefer that to sharing with either Geralt or Yen. Ciri trusts him and when they're alone she still likes to sit and listen to him sing, plus the one perk of travelling with a sorceress is extravagant magic tents.

When it starts to get really cold, Jaskier's thoughts turn back to Oxenfurt. If he's going to go back for the winter, he needs to leave soon before it gets too cold to travel. He knows Geralt is taking Yen and Ciri to Kaer Morhen with him and he doesn't think he could stand spending the entire winter with them, even if he was invited.

He gives it a couple days' consideration before deciding he can't bear this any longer. He'll go to Oxenfurt for the winter and come spring he'll just have to figure out how to move on with his life because all of this is too much. Ciri has both Yen and Geralt now, and if he thought being in love with Geralt was hard before, it's nothing compared to how it feels now.

He's in the middle of organizing his things for the long ride out to the coast when Ciri finds him. She comes up and plops herself next to him, peeking over to see what he's doing.

"We're not leaving yet," she says, "why are you packing?"

"I have to go."

"You aren't coming to Kaer Morhen with us?"

"No."

He doesn't elaborate because he can already feel his chest contract and he has to be able to hold it together for a little longer. Ciri huffs and as she walks away, Jakier's hands still on his pack. He doesn't want to leave her and he feels bad about it, but it will be better for all of them in the long run.

Jaskier finishes packing and getting Buttercup saddled and he's just about ready to leave when Geralt approaches him. Jaskier hasn't spoken to him about leaving, but since he and Yen rarely talk to him, he didn't think he had to. But Geralt rests a hand on his forearm and when Jaskier turns to look at him, he seems conflicted.

"Ciri wants you to come with us," is all he says and Jaskier deflates a little. He was so close to making a clean break, but Ciri has lost so much and if she wants him there, who is he to deny her a little familiarity? He doesn't say anything to Geralt, but he unslings his lute from his back and leans it up against the tree and it seems to be enough.

But they travel to Kaer Morhen and once Jaskier is over the stunning scenery, it's just more of the same only warmer. The guest room in the keep is spacious and the fireplace is more than enough to keep him warm, but he stands at the top of the stairs and as he looks around, his shoulders slump. He and Geralt have always shared a room, even when an abundance of coin would have made it easy to rent two rooms. Jaskier didn't really expect to be sharing with Geralt after everything but knowing it wasn't even a thought hurts.

He reminds himself that he's doing this because Ciri wanted it and urges his feet to move, crossing to the bed in the centre of the room. At least when he needs a place to escape to, he can come here and not want for warmth or inspiration. His balcony has a beautiful view of the valley and so long as he's willing to fill it himself, there's a large tub to one side of the room. He's stayed in much worse places all in all, and he's grown accustomed to spending a lot of time alone. Maybe it won't be so bad.

But once everyone has arrived, he realizes he was wrong. The Witchers are friendly enough, even the two from other schools who Jaskier has never heard of before. Ciri tells him one of them is Lambert's boyfriend and it was a big scandal last year when he showed up. Jaskier's heart just sinks, realizing even Ciri is included in all of this and he knows nothing of them. He's not even sure which one Lambert is because Geralt has never been a very descriptive person. It’s just another reminder of what he’s lost and he forces a smile to keep from showing his feelings.

Watching them all finally gathered together in the main hall, Jaskier realizes he's made a mistake in coming. He felt like an outsider with their little group travelling the wilderness, but it's nothing to the way he feels now. Like an intruder, an interloper who's snuck his way in when no one wanted him. Even the reminder that Ciri asked for him doesn't help now because Geralt has his old family and his new family and what could a bunch of Witchers and a sorceress possibly want with a bard?

He has enough rations left in his pack that he skips supper the first night. He can't bear to listen to Geralt talking to everyone when Jaskier can barely get a few words out of him these days. Some things just aren't destined to be. Sometimes it's better to let something die than it is to suffer meaninglessly.

Jaskier slips away up to his room and goes to sit on the balcony. The weather is still fairly decent, warm enough that the cold doesn't get to him until after dark. It's only when he returns inside that he realizes he only has one lit candle and it's too dark to look around now. So he strips out of his clothes and climbs into the cold bed, blowing out his single candle before curling in on himself and shutting his eyes.

In the morning, Geralt and Eskel set out to clear some mine or other of kikimores. Jaskier doesn't come down from his room until later that evening and the only joy he gets from it is catching the tail end of Eskel's story about the mine. But that doesn't last long, so he makes his way down the halls because if he's going to be staying here a while, he might as well get to know the place.

But barely half an hour into his exploration and just as his nerves are starting to settle, Jaskier comes upon a room with an open door. He doesn't look in, but he hears Geralt's voice, grumbling about something or other and then Yen mumbling, just get in the damn bath so I can wash this shit out of your hair and something inside him that was just barely holding on shatters.

That one hurts more than anything. It had taken him years for Geralt to be comfortable enough to let him stick around while he was in the bath. Longer, even, to let Jaskier take care of him the way Yen apparently does now. Something sticks in his throat and as soon as he rounds the corner, he slumps against the wall, choking back a sob.

All he ever wanted was to love him, in whatever way Geralt would let him, but this is almost worse than being told to leave. This time, Geralt won't even do him the service of telling him he wants him gone, this time he'll just replace him slowly but surely, finding someone new to do all the things Jaskier once did for him. This time, Jaskier doesn't need to be told to leave; he can tell when he's not wanted.

He waits three days, ensuring he has enough supplies, before seeking out Yen. She won't care enough to tell anyone right away, but she cares for Ciri, so if Ciri asks after him, she'll know. Plus, if he tells Geralt he’s leaving, he'd have to see the utter lack of emotion on his face, and he couldn't bear that.

Jaskier makes his way down through the courtyard without interruption, stopping at the stables to bid farewell to his horse. He hasn't had her long, but she's been good to him and he hopes she'll be just as good for Ciri.

For hours, Jaskier walks, recalling the path from memory, then just as it gets dark, it starts to snow. And once it starts, it doesn't stop and he's forced to take shelter in the first place he can find. It's cold and hard to trudge through the deepening snow and he didn't consider how hard it would be to find food up in the mountains. But none of that matters because the only place he can find to sleep is a cave, the entrance just barely visible to him in the dark, and when its resident comes home, he's liable to be eaten before he has to set out again.

He tries to build a fire, but the only wood he can find are the small trees just outside the mouth of the cave and they're soaked from the snow. Bitterly, he thinks that it's never this difficult for Geralt and at once, something clicks into place.

This isn't his life. The reason he doesn't fit is because he doesn’t belong. He tried to make it work and maybe for a little while he did, but he belongs in the city, not out in the wilderness. The reason he doesn't fit is because he's trying to be something that he's not. He's a bard, not an adventurer.

With a sigh, he sinks to his knees and wonders if he'll make it through the night. Maybe he should have waited at the keep until spring. He's never been out on his own like this - not so far north in unfamiliar territory -, but even now the thought of staying up there with Geralt and Yen makes his stomach turn. So he pulls his knees up against his chest and wraps his blanket around him. He tries to sleep, but the wind howls and snow blows in through the mouth of the cave and he just ends up damp and cold and miserable.

Jaskier hadn't realized he was asleep until a sound near the mouth of the cave wakes him. Assuming it's whatever lives here, he's thankful that at least the cold will no longer be a problem for him. He doesn't want to die, but being eaten by a monster is better than slowly freezing to death. But when he opens his eyes, there's a person at the mouth of the cave, not a monster. The first thing he thinks is who the hell is out in this storm? but it doesn't take long before he has an answer.

"Jaskier?" Fuck. "Jaskier, are you in there?" He wonders if he's quiet if the monster might come back and eat him after all.

"Yeah," he mumbles and it's all he can manage, but he knows Geralt will hear. And he does. And he pushes through the snowdrift, breathing heavily as he drops to his knees before Jaskier and hauls him into his arms.

"What were fucking thinking?" he growls and Jaskier winces at the anger in his voice, but then he's being pulled forward against Geralt's chest. "Idiot. You're frozen."

"Snow," Jaskier mumbles, not quite sure what to do with his arms. He doesn't know what's happening, but it ages before Geralt moves again, though he never stops telling Jaskier he's an idiot. That much, at least, feels familiar.

When he does finally pull away, Jaskier can barely see him in the dark but he knows Geralt can see him. Which means he can see his puffy eyes and he probably knows how scared and confused he is right now. And he hates it. He wants to push him away, but Geralt is warm and Jaskier is freezing and he finds himself swaying back toward his body. And after a quick once-over, Geralt lets him.

Once he's apparently satisfied that Jaskier isn't in immediate danger, he settles against the wall of the cave and pulls him into his lap.

"Why didn't you light a fire?" he asks and most of the anger has left his voice, replaced with soft concern.

"Couldn't get it lit," Jaskier shrugs, "wet wood."

For a while, Geralt is quiet again, tugging Jaskier's blanket up around him and just holding him. It doesn't occur to him until much later that Geralt is trying to get his body temperature up.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Hmm?" Jaskier had nearly drifted off, wrapped in the warmth of Geralt's body, but the question startles him awake again.

"Why did you leave without telling anyone?"

"I told Yen," he offers, but he knows it's weak.

"You told-" Geralt scoffs, exasperated and Jaskier can't figure out what the big deal is. No one wanted him there, anyway.

"Why are you here?" he counters, "why didn't you just stay in the keep?"

Geralt stills and Jaskier turns to look at him, knowing he won't be able to see much in the dark, but it feels better having this conversation face-to-face.

"Why the fuck do you think, Jaskier?" And Jaskier just looks at him because he doesn't know. He can't fathom what brought Geralt out here in the storm. Because even if he did come to retrieve him out of some kind of sense of responsibility, surely he wouldn't risk leaving Ciri without a caretaker. When he doesn't answer, Geralt gets very quiet.

"Where were you going?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oxenfurt."

"You'd die before you got there," Geralt exclaims, the anger returning to his voice with a vengeance.

"I brought provisions. Where's Ciri?"

"With Eskel and Lambert. Why would you just leave without telling anyone?" Geralt asks and Jaskier realizes in this context, that anyone means me.

Jaskier pulls away from him, irritation winning out over the desire to be warm. "Because I didn't really think anyone would care," he says "I don't belong anymore, not since-" he sighs and readjusts so he's sitting across from Geralt. "What happened on the mountain can't be fixed, Geralt. And I told Yen, I figured she'd pass the message along."

Geralt lets out an exasperated laugh and Jaskier wants to slap him for it. He never should have come up here in the first place.

"Jaskier, if anything from that day is irreparable, it's my relationship with Yen. We only travel together because of Ciri, because it's beneficial for both of us."

"So why do you keep me around then? What good am I?" He doesn't mean for it to come out, but it does and he holds his ground, hoping he looks more determined than he feels.

"You're my friend, Jaskier. And Ciri loves you. You're the only one who feeds Roach those little sugar cubes she likes so much. You know, she gets snippy with me now if I don't have them for her. I even think Yen is beginning to enjoy your company." Geralt's voice softens and he reaches out, tentatively brushing Jaskier's hair away from his face.

"What about you?" Jaskier asks, trying to keep the unsteadiness from his voice.

"Do you really think if I didn't want you around I would have let you follow me out of Posada? Roach could easily have outrun you if I wanted to." His hand slips to cup his cheek and Jaskier barely resists shutting his eyes. It feels too close to intimacy, but he knows Geralt better than to think this is anything real. But he's forgotten what it feels like to be touched so softly and when Geralt bundles him back into his arms, Jaskier sinks into it despite his reservations.

"Jaskier," he breathes right next to his ear. "That day on the mountain, I was angry because Yen was right about me and I didn't want to face it. I had to take responsibility and then you-" he exhales deeply, tucking his head into the crook of Jaskier's neck. "I was struggling with my… feelings. I felt like I'd somehow forced you to stay with me the way I did with Yen. I couldn't bear to hear the same things from you so I-"

"Pushed me away?" Jaskier asks.

"Hmm,” Geralt says and his voice is tense with understanding. “You left tonight because of me."

"I didn't think you wanted me around anymore," he mumbles and it's not until Geralt shifts that Jaskier realizes he's got both hands fisted in his cloak. "I thought I'd save myself having to hear it from you. I didn't want anyone's pity."

Geralt hauls him up into his lap so the only way for him to sit comfortably is to wrap his legs around Geralt's waist. For a moment, that ferocity is back, but then Geralt tugs the blanket tighter around him, holds him closer.

"Why wouldn't I want you around?"

"You have Yen and Ciri and the other Witchers, what could you possibly want me for? Everything I used to do for you-" he chokes on a sob and curses himself for it before burying his face in Geralt's shoulder. "Everything I did for you, someone else does now."

"What are you talking about?"

"Just... everything. All the things I used to do for you. When you don't sleep because of your nightmares, Ciri goes to you. When I tried to get wood for the fire it was already done when I got back-" he sighs and shifts away from Geralt a little. "The other night in the bath, Yen-"

"Yen?"

"I heard you," Jaskier says, "you don't have to hide it now. I know. It doesn't matter that much I just... I don't know what I can do for you when everyone else is doing what I used to do."

"Jaskier you don't need to do anything. You're my friend. And Yen- that's not what you thought it was. "

Jaskier isn't quite sure what to do with any of that, but when Geralt tugs him close again, he lets himself be held and buries his face in his shoulder. Geralt allows it, letting one hand slip up between his shoulder blades and bringing him closer. They stay like that for some time and Jaskier's heart aches for more than he should want. This is so much more than he ever expected but now with Geralt wrapped around him, he wants more.

When Geralt finally pulls himself away, he regards Jaskier for a moment before running a hand down his arm.

"Are you warm enough," he asks and Jaskier nods because even if he wasn't, he can't take much more of this before he breaks and says or does something he'll regret. "We should get you back to the keep and into a warm bath."

The idea of a bath is tempting, but more so is the idea of staying here in Geralt's arms for as long as he's allowed. Stil, Jaskier lets himself be pulled to his feet and led toward the mouth of the cave.

Their return to the keep is quiet and Jaskier isn't sure anyone else even realized he was gone until Geralt pauses and doubles back on himself, heading toward his own room rather than the guest room.

"Eskel's got a bath ready," he says by way of explanation.

"How did he-" Jaskier starts but he realizes the answer before he can finish. They were probably keeping watch, waiting for Geralt to return.

"I told him to," Geralt says, approaching the door and stepping back so Jaskier can enter the room first. It's darker than the room he's staying in, but there's a balcony off the far wall that lets in a little light, and candles placed on every surface. The bath is at the right side of the room and Geralt guides him toward it.

"It shouldn't be too hot," he says, "so it doesn't shock your body, but there's more water boiling by the fire if you need to warm it up."

"Thank you," Jaskier whispers. Guilt curdles in his gut and he pulls the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. He's still cold and eager to get into the tub, but more than anything he's dreading having to get undressed in front of Geralt. Luckily, he's spared that embarrassment.

Geralt claps a hand on his shoulder, lingering just a moment too long. "I'll find you something to eat," he says, "try to warm up."

Jaskier nods dumbly, waiting until Geralt has left the room to let the blanket slip from his shoulders. To say he doesn't understand would be an understatement. He's never seen Geralt like this, not even with Ciri, and a part of him wonders if he didn't freeze to death in that cave and this is some sort of weird afterlife. But the water is hot against his skin, a little too hot to begin with and his skin tingles as he slips into the bath and shuts his eyes. And Geralt's hands felt real, right down to the callouses. But it all seems a bit off.

Jaskier has been hypothermic before, more than once, and it wasn't like this. He's left Geralt in much worse ways than this and it's never ended with him in a bath drawn especially for him. But Jaskier isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he warms himself up without even having to use the extra water and upon getting out of the tub, realizes all his clothes are cold and soaked.

Frowning, he looks around the room and spots Geralt's pack dumped on a chair in the corner. Surely, Geralt wouldn't mind if he just borrowed some of his clothes. Just for a little while. Jaskier is the one who washes them anyway - or he used to be. His heart sinks again, but he pushes away the feeling, crossing to pull clean clothes out of the pack.

They fit him surprisingly well and they smell like Geralt which is both comforting and nerve-wracking all at once. The blanket is wet now too, so he hangs that with his clothes where they won't drip on anything important and heads down to the kitchen.

Geralt isn't there, but he can hear him shuffling around on the opposite side of the fire, so Jaskier settles himself at one of the tables to wait patiently. He doesn't hear Eskel approach, so he must already have been there, talking to Geralt, but their conversation suddenly gets louder before something crashes to the floor.

Jaskier keeps quiet, trying not to listen in because he knows it's not his place, but they're arguing in earnest now and Geralt sounds passive and ashamed in a way that's very unlike him. Then there's a grunt from Geralt and Eskel says, "you didn't fucking tell him," like he’s only just realizing this. Jaskier focuses very hard on a knot in the tabletop.

It's an accusation, not a question and it's followed by heavy footsteps coming toward him. He tenses up, not prepared to deal with an angry Geralt, but it's Eskel who comes through the door. He pauses when he sees Jaskier, gives him a sympathetic sort of look and mumbles something that sounds like goodnight before continuing onward up the stairs.

Jaskier sits and waits and eventually, Geralt appears through the doorway with two bowls of stew and rolls. He sits next to him, pushing one of the bowls toward him and Jaskier tries not to show just how hungry he is. They sit in companionable silence, which is more than he can say for the last few weeks and Jaskier settles. When they're finished, Geralt is the one to speak first, angling his body so he's facing Jaskier but not looking directly at him.

"It's getting late," is all he says but Jaskier understands. He moves to take their bowls away but Geralt rests a hand on his wrist and takes the bowls from him. "I'll meet you upstairs."

Jaskier nods slowly, not quite understanding. He makes for his own room, climbing up as far as the staircase goes and pushing the door open. He's quite frankly exhausted and doesn't even think to get changed before climbing up onto the bed. The snow on the balcony lights the room well enough, but he fumbles with a candle for a few minutes anyway before giving up on that idea. He's alone in the dim room for a few minutes before Geralt knocks on the door and Jaskier mumbles for him to come in.

Geralt comes to sit on the side of the bed and Jaskier's heart feels like it's pounding out of his chest. He doesn't know what to say or even how to process what they've already said, but in his need to fill the silence, he blurts out, "why do you and Yen share a tent?" And it's the last thing he means to say and he does want to know, but this is not at all the time.

Only Geralt smiles. It's a small thing, barely a quirk of his lips, but it's there and for the first time in forever, Jaskier feels comfortable in his presence.

"Because Ciri asked to share with you. You're a good memory for her, one of the few she has of home."

"Oh."

"Before you came back, she shared with Yen." Geralt looks down at him and the almost-smile turns to confusion. "You're wearing my clothes."

"Mine were wet, I can change if-"

"No," Geralt interrupts and Jaskier can feel his eyes on him, taking him in, "it's fine."

"Oh. Right. I'll wash them in the morning then."

"You don't have to, they look good on you. You should sleep now, though. Goodnight, Jaskier."

Jaskier's heart thuds. He doesn't want to let Geralt go before he gets a chance to finish their conversation from earlier. "Geralt?" he asks and the Witcher turns back to him in the dark. "If it's not too much to ask, could you stay? Just for a little bit?"

Geralt doesn't say anything, but he comes back, pulling off his boots before climbing up onto the bed next to him. He lays still and Jaskier doesn't reach out and touch, as much as he wants to.

Geralt is the first to move, shifting onto his side and reaching into the space between them.

"Can I-?" he asks and Jaskier nods without hesitation, unsure of what's being requested. Seemingly pleased with his consent, Geralt's hand slips over his side and around his back, nudging him a little closer as he gets comfortable. Jaskier doesn't know what to do with himself.

It's too much and not enough all at once and he wants to pull away, but he doesn't want to break this moment of trust. So he pushes through, presses into the touch and tips his head down to keep Geralt from seeing the mess of emotions that are sure to be plain on his face. Not that he wouldn't be able to feel them anyway, but still.

"I'm sorry things have been different since you came back," he breathes. "Sorry if I made you feel..."

"Unwanted?" Jaskier offers and Geralt winces at the word, his arm pulling just a little tighter around Jaskier's back.

"Mmm."

"Are we... okay?" Jaskier asks tentatively, finally risking a glance up at Geralt's face.

"As long as you don't do that again," Geraly mumbles, "you... scared me tonight. I've been thinking so much about how to protect Ciri that I didn't consider losing you."

"You won't," Jaskier promises. "I won't." He moves closer, testing Geralt's limits, but his guard seems to be down tonight; Jaskier presses right up against him before Geralt so much as moves. And then, it's only to hold him closer.

He must have been genuinely worried, Jaskier thinks, to allow this right now. Which is the only reason he says the next thing that comes out of his mouth.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he says softly, slipping one hand up to cautiously rest against Geralt's chest. "I didn't think-" he shakes his head, pushing away the thoughts, "well, I didn't think you would come out after me. I'm sorry."

"Maybe..." Geralt starts then turns his head away like the words are difficult for him. Jaskier braces himself for something he doesn't want to hear, trying hard not to pull away defensively, but Geralt surprises him. "Maybe we both need to be better at saying what we mean."

Instead of drawing away, Jaskier slips his hand up to rest against the side of Geralt's neck. This is absolutely uncharted territory for them and he's not quite sure what to do here. What do you do when the least communicative person you know says you should talk about things more. But he's not wrong and Jaskier's touch seems to relax him a little, so armed with that information, Jaskier presses forward.

"You're right," he says. "So if we're going to... say what we mean, I should tell you that all of this with Ciri and Yen and everyone up here - it scares me, Geralt." Geralt opens his mouth to speak, but Jaskier just shakes his head. "Please just let me finish. Yen is a sorceress. Even if your relationship with her is over, she will always be a part of your life. Ciri has powers I can't even begin to comprehend. Your brothers and the others- they're Witchers, Geralt. All of them will be with you for years to come and all of them have been with you - barring, Ciri - for years. How can I live up to that? How can I possibly find a place in your life when soon I'll be gone and they'll just-" he chokes on the last word and can't bring himself to continue.

Words are his livelihood and yet when he needs them the most, they seem to fail him entirely. Luckily for him, Geralt is accustomed to non-verbal communication and understands. But in the faint light of the room, he looks like he wants to retreat, to pull away and forget everything he said before. He doesn't and Jaskier realizes this is just as difficult for Geralt as it is for him.

"Jaskier," he shuts his eyes and Jaskier holds his breath. For one awful moment, everything is silent, then Geralt speaks again, quiet and soft. "Everyone else in my life has been brought to me by forces outside of my control. I never chose to become a Witcher, to be brought here as a child as raised with dozens of other boys who would never make it to adulthood. I never intended to bind myself to Yen - Djinn are tricky and bend wishes to their own amusement. And Ciri- how was I to know Pavetta was already with child when I claimed the law of surprise?"

Jaskier wants to remind him of the multiple other occasions in which the law of surprise has gifted someone a child, but he doubts this is the place to bring up Geralt's mistakes.

"But you," Geralt continues, speaking slower like each word is pulled unwillingly from his lips. "You came to me on a whim. I could have left you in Posada, ridden away and left you in the tavern." He sighs, tips his head up so his forehead presses against Jaskier's. "But I chose not to. I chose to let you come with me. And I regretted it, in the beginning."

"I certainly hope you said nicer things to Yen when you found each other again."

Geralt huffs a laugh, just the fainted sound in the dark, but his breath is warm against Jaskier's cheek. "Let me finish."

"Do you promise you'll say nicer things about me?"

"Hmm, maybe."

"Fine then, finish your story."

"I regretted it, in the beginning, but it was still my own choice, mine to regret. Over time I grew... attached. That first time you left me was the first time I really felt lonely since undergoing the trials."

"You leave your brothers every spring," Jaskier says, an attempt to mask the hammering of his heart.

"I do, but so is the life of a Witcher. It's the way it's supposed to be. There's no room for loneliness. There were no rules attached to you and so when you left it seemed too quiet."

"Are you... are you saying you like having me around?" Jaskier asks, the hopeful tone in his voice a backdrop to the thudding in his chest.

"Yes," Geralt replies, "I dread the winters when I come up here alone."

"Then why do you? And why did you say Ciri wanted me to come?"

Geralt makes a noise that sounds something like embarrassment and Jaskier's sure if he could see properly, he would be blushing.

"I'm sorry," he says again, "I couldn't ask because if you said no I- but I knew you'd never say no to her. She told me you were leaving and I knew if I let you go I wouldn't see you again."

"You idiot, you could have just asked me. I follow you into swamps and monster dens and worse- why would I say no to spending the winter here?" He shifts to run his fingers along Geralt's jaw and sighs. "You're my-"

"Friend?" Geralt offers and the sound of that word on his lips makes something warm swell in Jaskier's chest, but he remembers his promise to speak plainly.

"More than that" he admits. He ducks his chin, unable to look at Geralt while he speaks, this time. "I tried so hard to just be a good friend to you, but it's always been more than that. I don't expect anything from you, of course, but you said we should-" He's cut off by gentle fingers tracing the line of his jaw and he shuts his eyes, waiting for the inevitable downfall. But it doesn't come.

"Jaskier," he breathes, "if you're worried about your place in my life, this is it." Geralt tips his head up and their lips brush against each other just for a second, but Jaskier is certain his heart stops beating altogether.

"Geralt?" he whispers but it comes out as an uncertain whimper. Geralt hums in response, shifting to cradle Jaskier's head in one hand, and he presses in again.

This time Jaskier knows it's intentional. The lips against his own are warm and soft, whispering silent promises and asking for the same in return. Jaskier responds tentatively, but as soon as he does, Geralt is gathering him up against him and his uncertainty vanishes.

He's seen Geralt kiss before, but this is nothing like that. Geralt kisses him with a passion that speaks of years of repression and guilt, begging for forgiveness for something Jaskier hadn't realized he was even doing. And Jaskier forgives, tangling his fingers in Geralt's hair and submitting readily when Geralt rolls him onto his back.

Geralt gets a knee between his thighs and Jaskier's breath catches as Geralt's hand slips under the hem of his borrowed shirt. He'd be more than happy to lay here and let Geralt kiss him senseless, but when Geralt's teeth graze against his lip, Jaskier groans, effectively shattering the moment.

Geralt draws back, looking down on him and Jaskier slips his hands around the back of his neck. "Do you mean that?" Jaskier asks, “about me belonging with you?” Geralt nods.

"Of course, if you want to leave, I'll take you back to Oxenfurt, but I'd prefer if you stayed here."

"Right here?" Jaskier asks, sprawling under him against the mattress.

"Right here," Geralt confirms with a soft smile. "With me."

[watchmegetobsessed]

The best present - Harry Styles

Sequel to UPDATE

on demand, this is a fluffy little sequel to update, hope you’ll like it! tagging the people who asked for said sequel: @urdadbtch​ @f-vasquezp​ 

word count: 3k

masterlist

Harry has a soft spot for surprises. Especially if he is the one planning them for a loved one. The overflowing joy he sees in one’s eyes upon receiving a carefully planned surprise just gives him a different type of satisfaction in life, one he couldn’t live without.

His life has taken a pleasant turn ever since Y/N entered it, virtually and in a real dimension. It hasn’t been the easiest with his hectic schedule and her anchored life in Spokane, but with some time paid to adjusting to the situation they managed to make it work. He wouldn’t have settled for anything else, because he just simply couldn’t imagine his life without her anymore and luckily she felt the same way.

Harry fell in love with her quicker than what it took for the weather to turn cold in the fall. It felt like the most natural thing that has ever happened to him, to fall for her whole being, everything that’s her on the inside and outside. Harry often caught himself thinking what he did in life to earn such a beautiful person in his life. He hasn’t figured that one out yet.

Y/N was like a warm summer breeze on a hot august evening, easily charmed anyone and everyone Harry introduced her to. She slowly but surely met some of the most important people in Harry’s life and he just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it felt like she’s been part of his life since forever even on the first meetings.

“She is wonderful, I love her,” his mother told him when they finally had the chance to meet upon a weekend they spent in New York. It was a lucky time when both his mother and Y/N were free and he took the chance to cook up a mini vacation in the city right away. Anne was thrilled to meet the woman that had her son wrapped around her fingers even before meeting.

Harry felt like he was on the top of the world when he saw the two women get along like they’ve been friends for years, it filled his heart even more.

The situation was quite the same with Gemma, in just a blink of an eye they were making plans on their own not including Harry, which hit him a little hard in the chest, but he was happy knowing they found the common ground.

“You amaze me so much,” he once told Y/N when they were spending the night at her place, one of those weekends when Harry flew all the way to Spokane just to spend less than 48 hours with her. Even with the long flights and hustle that came with the traveling he wouldn’t have done it any other way. If he could see her smile for just ten minutes he would have travelled days.

“I do?” she asked smirking up at him, putting her book aside as she rested her chin on his tattooed chest.

“Mhm,” he hummed with a quirky smile. “In so many ways.”

“Write a song about them so I can listen to it,” she told him as a joke. Little did she know that not even a week later that’s exactly what Harry did. It was another addition to the endless list of songs she inspired.

December creeped its way around the corner faster than they were expecting and in a blink of an eye every store was filled with Christmas ornaments and wrapping papers, the most iconic Christmas songs were played everywhere, making those who work at retail want to throw Michael Bublé and Mariah Carey right out the window for every having the thought of recording Christmas music.

Harry and Y/N had plans for the holidays. They agreed on spending three days from 22nd to 24th with his family and then fly to Portland to be with her family from the 25th to 27th before they head to New York City to spend the last few days left from the year together and celebrate the new year at a party Harry was invited to.

These plans were set in stone right until Harry decided to surprise his lover with the best gift he could think about. It was a tough call and took him weeks to arrange but Harry was able to get Y/N’s brother to leave for the holidays earlier, on the 21st instead of just the 26th.

“Why are we changing it again?” Y/N asks curiously as she sits on Harry’s lap when they are changing their plane tickets so they could start the holidays at her family instead of his.

“Mom is not going to be home until the 24th,” he lies and then adds: “Gemma is also gonna only arrive on the 23rd. Figured it would work better. We would be at your parents’ from the 21st to the 23rd, go to the UK from 24th to 26th and there is an early flight so we would be in Portland by the time your brother arrives.”

He had spent a long time figuring out how to manage the dates so she wouldn’t be suspicious. Seemingly, it worked, because Y/N nods as she stands up and walks over to the kitchen.

“Alright. But isn’t that too much of a hustle to go back and forth two times?”

“Not that horrible,” Harry smiles in her way, his fingers moving fast on the keyboard to make the right changes for their trips before she returns and sees that the dates are not exactly the same as he told her. Luckily, she hops onto the kitchen counter as he finishes up and closes his laptop feeling ecstatic about the surprise he has planned for her.

“It’s gonna be busy,” she points out as Harry walks over to her, placing his hands on each side of her on the counter.

“But we will be busy together,” he grins leaning closer to steal a kiss.

As the days pass by Harry is growing more and more excited about the surprise. He almost slipped a few times upon talking about the holidays, but managed to save the situation just in time. Y/N had no idea what he had in store for her.

“That’s all your stuff for our trip?” Y/N asks when Harry arrives to her place with his decent, normal sized suitcase that has his essentials for the next about seven days while they will be on the road. He glances down at his bag before walking inside and setting it down in the hallway.

“Love, I’ve learned how to pack in a smart way,” he tells her teasingly before pecking her on the lips while he takes his coat off and hangs it in the hallway.

“Yeah, but it’s an entire week. I’m going with twice this much.”

“’Cuz you are packing for New York as well. We’ll be staying in my place, remember? I don’t need stuff for that time,” he reminds her and he is right, but she is still amazed at how he managed to fit everything he needs into just one suitcase.

That night Harry lies awake with her sleeping form next to him. Looking around the room he thinks about how this is the same place he fell in love with her, but it was through just a screen. All the plants, the furniture, the bed he saw behind her in the videos are now his reality as well and in just a few short months they have grown so close to each other, he couldn’t imagine his life in a different way.

“What’s the matter?” he hears her groggy voice coming from next to him and looking to the side he sees that she is blinking at him in the dark.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning to his side to face her, noses almost touching on the pillow.

“Then why aren’t you sleeping?” she asks, sneaking a hand to his back under the covers and she starts to gently stroke his skin with his fingertips, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Just… excited about the holidays,” he whispers with a shrug. He can’t tell her that he is excited to meet your family, especially your brother since he is kind of the reason you ever got the chance to meet. He feels like he is too worked up about meeting her parents and cousins, but he can’t wait to feel like he is part of her family. What he doesn’t know is that she already sees him as part of it, has been since she realized how deeply in love she is with him.

“Mmm, excited about your gifts?” she teases him with closed eyes, but her fingers are still moving on his back. Harry lets out a soft chuckle.

“Especially about those.”

He brings his arm around her frame and pulls her to his chest as they make themselves comfortable under the covers, legs tangled, her face resting on his chest as he gently strokes her arms, soothing her back into sleep.

“I love you,” he whispers thinking she has already fallen back asleep. It wasn’t the first time he has said the words to her, but tonight just feels a little different.

“Love you too,” she mumbles back pressing a kiss to his naked chest before she sighs and lets herself fall back into sleep.

 Her family knew about the change in Sammy’s arrival, but Harry made them promise they won’t say a word to Y/N, keeping it as a surprise.

Her mother welcomes the two of them with warm excitement, the house already smelling amazing from all the different cookies she’s been baking, the dinner is also in the making on the stove.

“Finally here!” she hugs both of them, even though she hasn’t officially met Harry, only talked to him on the phone about Sammy’s early arrival. “Come on in!”

The two of them get rid of their winter attire before Harry turns to her mother holding out a hand to make their first meeting official.

“So nice to meet ya, I’m Harry.”

Instead of taking his hand her mother pulls him into another tight hug that he returns with a soft chuckle.

“I’m so happy you are finally here! I’ve heard so much good about you,” she tells him with a sly, knowing smile while Y/N is not looking. “I can tell you are a blessing to the family already.”

“Thank you,” he nods smiling.

Harry meets Y/N’s dad and two of her cousins who have arrived earlier and they all gather in the living room just talking at first, then soon enough they start playing board games. They get stuck on Activity, the pairs are Y/N and Harry, her mom and dad, and her two cousins. The competition is burning up the house, Harry can tell they all take the game very seriously.

Through the game Harry keeps glancing out the window, waiting for a car to park at the driveway. He has sent a car to pick Sammy up, but since he didn’t have his phone on him just yet he couldn’t let Harry know when he would be arriving exactly.

Just after he is done drawing in one of the rounds he sees the black car pull up at the house. Harry pretends to get a call and he can see the excitement grow in her parents’ eyes as they already know what this means, while Y/N is oblivious to anything that’s about to happen. Harry quietly makes his way out of the house hoping he didn’t draw her attention, and that’s when Sammy gets out of the car thanking the driver for the ride. As he turns around Harry is stunned to see how much the two of them resemble. He sees her eyes in his, their ears curl the same way and he has the exactly same hair color as her. There was no doubt the two of them were related.

“Harry, right?” he asks holding his hand out firmly that Harry takes smiling.

“Yeah. Sammy, I supposed.”

“The one and only,” he chuckles holding his bag’s strap over his shoulder.

“I would love to chat more, but I think we should move inside first,” Harry suggests and Sammy follows him up the few stairs that leads to the front door.

“Harry! Come on, we are up next!” Y/N calls out from the living room as the two guys walk inside.

She is seated on the floor, her back to the hallway so she doesn’t see when the two men walk in, grinning from ear to ear. She only notices something is happening when she sees her mother gasp happily at the sight of her son.

“What—“ she starts but turning around her words disappear as she stares up at her brother who she hasn’t seen in what feels like ages.

Harry overflows with joy when he sees how shocked she is, in the best way possible. He watches her leap to her feet and jolt right at Sammy, throwing herself into his arms as he lifts her up, twirling her around in excitement.

“Hi there, little sis,” he chuckles still holding her close as she is fighting with her tears upon the surprise she just had.

“How… What are you doing here early?” she asks in total awe as she tries to comprehend that he is truly here, in her arms.

“Ask you boyfriend,” Sammy chuckles looking in Harry’s direction. “He arranged an early leaving for me, I don’t know how, but he did,” Sammy adds letting go of his sister.

As her parents make their way to their son Y/N moves over to Harry, still in complete disbelief that he did this.

“How?” she asks, arms snaking up around his neck while his hands get a hold of her waist.

“I have… connections,” he shrugs shyly and she just shakes her head laughing before she pulls him down for the sweetest thank you kiss.

“I can’t believe you,” she sighs pecking his lips once again.

“What I can’t believe is that he could keep it a secret this long,” Sammy speaks up.

“Wait, how long have you known this?”

“A couple weeks. Got it finalized early December,” Harry admits, feeling proud that he could make this happen.

“So this is why we had to change the tickets!” she gasps in realization. “When do we have to leave for real then?”

“We are staying until the 25th, our plane leaves in the afternoon,” he smiles warmly as he sees her eyes light up. According to the original plans they would have had only two days with Sammy at home, but this way it’s almost four entire days. “This was the most I could get, Love,” Harry adds, feeling a bit guilty that they are leaving to see his family, but Y/N shakes her head.

“This is absolutely perfect. You gave me the best present,” she smiles cupping his face in her hands as she pulls him down for another kiss.

This Christmas goes down as the best one she has ever had. The time they spend with her family holds a special place in her heart, especially because she loves seeing her family and Harry get along so well. She now knows what he felt when she met his mother and sister. Seeing him be so kind to her mom and have loads of things to talk about with her dad and brother warms her in a way only Harry can make her feel.

The feeling doesn’t change when they arrive to his home. She feels like she is part of the family just as much as he is. They spend some splendid days with his extended family, enjoying the spirit of the holidays and she is almost sad when it’s time for them to leave.

“Come back soon, Sweetheart,” Anne tells her when they are saying goodbye at the airport.

“I will, if he is okay with bringing me next time,” she chuckles glancing at Harry by her side.

“Oh I sure am, Love,” he smiles kissing the top of her head.

Those couple of days they spend together in the city holds memories they will surely never forget. They finally get to spend time together without anything interrupting them, just enjoying the little moments, falling deeper in love with each passing day.

The last day arrives in a fast pace and neither of them can believe the year is ending so soon. They spend the day in bed mostly before it’s time to get ready for the party one of Harry’s friends is hosting in Manhattan.

It’s a nice way to end such a wonderful year, they mix and mingle with the guests but keep each other close, especially when they reach the last minutes of the year left. Harry takes her hand and pulls her out to the balcony to have some privacy before the countdown.

“Crazy how we are here,” he sighs as his arms are wrapped around her figure, warming her body as much as he can in the New York City winter time.

“Who would have thought?” she chuckles placing a sweet kiss to his jawline.

“Not me,” he admits laughing. “But I’m glad it’s my reality now.”

Y/N smiles up at him with gratitude in her eyes, just when the countdown starts inside.

“Have you ever had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” Harry asks as he pulls her closer, if that’s even possible.

“Sadly, I have not.”

“Then can I have the pleasure to be your first?” he smirks down at her and she just nods biting into her bottom lip.

“Three! Two! One!” the guests call out inside as the whole city erupts at the same time, fireworks go off and cheering echoes through the building, but it all fades into nothing as Harry leans down and kisses her sweetly. They spend the first couple of moments of the new year melted together until they pull back for air. The crispy winter air has turned his nose red quickly and she is lost in how adorable but handsome he still manages to look.

“Harry Styles,” she sighs feeling defeated by her own feelings. “You are one wonderful creature, you know that?” she wonders, as if she was saying her inner thoughts out loud. Harry chuckles as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“That makes the two of us, Love.”

I’m opening a Harry taglist, let me know if you are interested in being on it!

[lovehugsandcandy]

just close enough (Logan x MC, RoD)

A/N: I am sorry, I have been very out of touch. I apologize for not responding to tags and chats. Things haven’t been great and I am surprised that I have anything for rodaw. Please keep tagging me on your stuff!

Pairing: Logan x MC, ROD

Length: ~1700 words

Rating/Warnings: N*FW (sorry, in rereading this, yeah, you probably shouldn’t read this at work)

Summary: Distance can be measured in miles and inches, and none of it is too far for Logan to travel.

.

He’s almost asleep, sliding into the hazy space between full alertness (how he spends every waking moment) and complete unconsciousness (where any dream he regretfully remembers is from a past best totally forgotten). The couch cushions are rough along his spine, spring digging into a shoulder blade, but he’s slept in worse places. He’s almost blessedly asleep, darkness warm and welcoming and-

“Logan?”

His eyes fly open and he jolts up, instantly awake. The room is in shadows, light of the moon filtering through the LA smog, bathing his surroundings in a sleepy glow. He turns his head; other than the call of his name, the loft is quiet, still. With a lifetime spent attuned for threats, he can sense that the calm in the air signals safety.

“Logan?” she slurs again, voice tinged with sleep.

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

He blinks, squinting over at the lump under his sheets. “What?”

“You’re too far away. Come here.”

God, he wants that, more than anything. In the daylight, when the corners of the shop gleam sharp and lethal, he knows it is too dangerous to get close. That distance is the one thing that will save her from mistakes he has spent a lifetime making and atoning for. But here, in the stillness of night, when the scratching fabric chafes his back and the siren in his bed calls, he feels his resolve weaken, scattering in shards to the floorboards to join the dust and grime underneath.

He pads over, the rhythm of his footsteps matching the soft sigh of her breath, and cautiously perches on the mattress, giving her a beat to reconsider before he swings his legs over and slides under the covers. She is soft and warm, coconut and sunshine next to his grease and oil, and she rolls over to edge soft on his side.

“Close enough?” he asks into the curls pillowing over his shoulder.

“Mmh… almost.” 

He chuckles as he catalogues the space between them, an inch where her waist curves concave from his, a rumpled barrier of fabric where her feet are entangled. They could barely be closer, but somehow, he still agrees with Ellie. 

The smile is still on his face as he drifts off into a contented sleep.

~~~~~

He’s not used to being in the passenger seat. 

The view is different here, shifted, the rows of parked cars tilted and angled askew, but he sat relaxed, legs splayed and hair catching the wind the entire way. It’s a testament to her driving; she’s brilliant behind the wheel, beaming with every acceleration, leaning into every curve, and he can tell - she finds the call of the road freeing, just like he does. She’s come a long way from the shy bookworm whose path he stepped in front of. It’s barely been a few weeks, but it feels like forever.

He wishes it could go on forever.

He inhales harshly through his nose, recalling the day they met, the hushed conversations that preceded it. She deserves to know the truth and here, parked in this lot waiting on a disconcertingly mysterious job, seems like the perfect place to tell her.

But before he can find the words, she turns, fixing him with a devious smirk.

“Come here.” Her finger beckons and, just past it, a devious smirk glows in the multicolor shades alight from the dash. 

“What do you…”

“Come here. You’re too far away.”

He leans forward, and the center console digs into his ribs. It doesn’t matter, not when she tugs on a strand of hair to pull him closer, so close he can map the lines of her smile with an intensity usually saved for fuel intake lines and racetracks. “Better?”

“Nope.”

He inches forward. “How about now?”

“Nope.” Her voice is teasing, soft, a whisper of air against his lips, the tingling of excitement before the fall.

He’s completely in her space, so close he can’t see beyond the dark of her eyes, the apples of her cheeks. There is no world beyond the girl in the driver’s seat. “Now?”

“... almost.” She breathes the response into his mouth as their lips finally meet; he realizes with a start that he will never be closer to anyone, here in this stadium parking lot, with his hands tangled in her hair and poisonous secrets in his heart.

Even when they are close as can be, he still feels the distance.

~~~~~

Logan’s just catching his breath, skating a shaking palm over her side. “Are you ready?” The words make him pause.

“No.” He blinks at her as she rests against the pillow in Vaughn’s spare bedroom, hair spilling down against the pillow; the strands curl around his finger as he absentmindedly runs his fingers in a tense pattern. He could never be ready for this, to see the one person he ever trusted, the one person he ever loved, race for their freedom on a pitch-black highway.

“We don’t really have a choice.”

“I know.” 

“Logan, we need to do this.” She props herself up on her elbow, and his heart falls.

“I know. I just… I hate the thought of not being with you, not being able to protect you.” 

She blinks down at him, and his fingers reach up to tangle in one graceful coil of hair strands soft on the pads on his fingers. “You know I can drive.”

“Of course, Troublemaker, I’ve seen you drive. I just… I don’t want you to be in danger. I hate that you’re going to be out there where I can’t help you.”

“I’ll be too far away?”

“Yeah.” For as close at they are now, where he can catalogue the distance between them (millimeters between his shoulder and hers, three inches between their lips, and no distance at all where his cock is just stirring, again, into the soft skin of her stomach), he knows that the waiting, the space on the highway --- it will wreck him.

She smiles, faintly, distantly, her eyes echoing his own pain. “I’m here right now.”

“You are.” He spins, hand on her hip pushing until he is over her, legs intertwined, fingertips around her waist, every inch of them aligned and in sync. “And I’m going to make the most of it.”

~~~~~

You’re too far away.

The words are high in the wind and he whips his head around frantically, as memories collide with the storm brewing outside. The first flake is a shock, pelting his forehead in an icy portent and, mere seconds later, the grey clouds above part in a mass of ice and slush.

It never snowed in LA.

Logan cranes his neck up to feel the full brunt of the storm hammer his face, each frosty blast a jolting reminder of how far he traveled from the last few months, the distance between him and his old stomping ground washed away as the frozen water melts over his face, droplets pouring down his brow and drenching his hair.

His face is frozen when he steps back into the shop, some run-down shithole he found in inner-city Detroit. Here, locals don’t ask questions, and there are no reminders of the mentor who was almost like a father and the girl who was almost like forever.

This time, they are miles and days and utter lives apart, and he worries that nothing on the earth will bring them together again.

~~~~~

The years flow like molasses. Fall edges into winter, which thaws into spring and heats into summer, and then it starts all over again, punishing, never ending.

The cities stack up almost as easily. After Detroit, it’s Miami, then Houston, a long stretch in Nashville before Milwaukee calls and then, finally, to the East Coast. He stops for a spell in DC, walking through shaded paths as the cherry blossoms sway above him. The pink defies imagination. He’s used to vehicle-grade candy paint, each car brighter and more audacious than the last, a parade of vibrant neons and sultry veneers that spin rainbows around tracks. 

This pink is soft, petals even softer against his fingertips, and Logan feels an irrational stab of guilt for the calluses that dare grace the blossoms swaying in the wind. His dark past makes him unworthy to touch such beauty and, as he watches the petals flutter to the ground, he thinks of another beauty that slipped through his fingers.

He stays for a few months, enough to learn the grid of southeast DC and the bisecting avenues, but then spring tiptoes into summer. He’s used to the sun but the goddamn humidity makes his hair pouf into patterns he knows gentle fingers would soothe, so he heads north.

It’s a quick drive, the four lanes of 95 providing ample room to swerve and fly; he imagines another car with another driver speeding down these roads.

Finally, the wheels lead him to New York, where he trembles on a doorstep under flickering lights in this apartment building, fighting up five floors where every step made him want to vomit.

He breathes through his nose. He didn’t come all this way (trans versing the United States, multiple times, him and the Devore burning miles and gas but subsisting on memories and love) for nothing. His fingers shake and he rings the doorbell.

When it opens, she looks just as she does in his memory, eyes warm and bright, smile breaking out over the apples of her cheeks. His heart leaps.

“Logan?”

“Hi,” he breathes. He had been unsure of his reception but now, with her blinking up serenely at him, the years fade away and he’s brought back to the moment in front of her fathers house, watching the tears pool in her eyes and wishing futility on every star that life could be different.

They move at the same time; she jumps forward, and he pulls her in and their lips meet as if no time had passed, as if they had never been apart, as if distance were meaningless in the troublemaker's face who stole his heart.

 “Close enough now?” He beams at her, smile so wide it hurts, cheeks pinching unfamiliarly, and he never wants to leave her side.

Her answering smile shines brighter than any shooting star he’s seen, and he knows he is right where he needs to be. “Finally.”

.

Tags:

Perma

@leelee10898, @client-327, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @choicesarehard, @burnsoslow, @zaffrenotes, @kat-tia801, @desiree-pow-35-1986, @ritachacha

ROD

@omgjasminesimone, @mskaneko, @alyssalauren