#yes i am feeling things about vesper right now

[swoomoo]

The Banu Haqim are the sexiest clan hands down. They are the hotties that don't realize they are hot. They are frothing at the mouth for the sweet crimson honey that all other vampires have. They are dangerous. Everything given to them have made them excellent at killing. They will often court others by death battles to win favor and the risk of them ripping your throat out because they can't contain themselves is always there. Their burning passion also shows in their desire to do what they think is right.

If you think the Banu Haqim are the cop clan, fuck you. They are a clan that stands up for what they believe in just like the Brujah, they just approach it differently. (Of course clans are not people and people make up clans but this goes over so many heads)

I feel people are so scared to enjoy the Banu Haqim because of their cultural start. It's okay to like them people, I promise. If you lean into the Middle-Eastern stuff it's okay. If you avoid it completely that's okay too.

If they were reskinned to be Japanese, people would go nuts for them because they are literally anime characters. They have super speed, they can deflect bullets with their swords, they disappear and reappear, run up walls, walk on water, cast magic during battles.

Sure you can fist of caine someone with other clans but you will never be as cool as the Banu are with killing. It's an art and they've been studying the blade while other kindred were having sex. They were one of the main clans that fought in the Baali wars so they are also like doomslayer.

Put some respect on this clan and please if you are sexually active, sleep with one. They tend to be awkward and need it.

[trans-peridot]

FFxivWrite Day 2: Horizon

I wrote another one! A little bit late because I only just got off work. This one takes place extremely early on in Tayfun’s story, about three years before the start of ARR. She's never received training so she's basically level 1/4 at this point.

Tayfun wasn’t sure why Horizon of all places was such a bustling place. By all means it didn’t seem to have a whole lot going on, barely a Brass Blades checkpoint along the highway. So why did it have its own aetheryte? And why were people so often using it, just to beeline straight west out of the town?

Tayfun didn’t know how to use aetherytes and didn’t have the money for a chocobo porter, so she had to walk there on foot for the off-chance they’d have work for her. When she first set upon the path of an adventurer, she wouldn’t have expected just how much damned walking it involved. And the beasts along the way had taken notice of her, so her walk here had honestly been more of a run. No matter. It would all be worth it when she finally got some work.

“Hello, are you the levemete here?”

“Yes ma’am, Totonowa at your service. Are you here for- goodness me!” Totonowa straightened up from his bow, seeing a young lady just casually peppered in gashes. “So sorry to have lost my composure, madam. Are you quite alright?”

“What? Oh, yes, I’m quite well thanks! I’ve simply had a run-in or two with some beastkin on the way here, but I'm ready and raring for work!”

“I see. There are some frightening creatures along the way from Vesper Bay, and now you're here for some lesser prey to win your confidence back! I believe I have the leve for you, take a look!”

“Vesper Bay? No, I came from Ul'dah. What do you mean lesser beasts, those things were huge and terrifying!”

Totonowa didn't need this today. Too many kids with dreams of glory and riches throwing their lives away on quests they would never survive. “I tell you what, dear. Make your way back to Scorpion Crossing and speak with Graceful Song, a nice young lady who's the levemete there. She'll have work for you, I'm certain of it.”

“I... If you insist, sir. Thank you.”

As Tayfun was moving to leave, someone warped into Horizon by the aetheryte, landing right in front of her. “Oh, so sorry my dear. Though, perhaps it was part of the twelves’ plan for us to meet this day.” The man leaned over and kissed the back of Tayfun's hand. “Not every day you meet somebody so gorgeous, is it? I speak of my meeting you, of course. I'm not quite so vain as to call myself ‘somebody so gorgeous’ without giving you the chance to say it first.”

Totonowa saw this happen, yet again, and let out a yelp from his station, “Thancred, you slut! Leave the girl alone and go wherever it is you go when you're so kind as to leave this town!”

“My my, my dear, it would seem our meeting has been cut short. I feel certain we shall meet again. Until then!” Thancred turned and walked away to the west.

Tayfun boggled at Totonowa. “Who the hells was that?”

“Some rogue who insists on passing through our town almost daily. A notorious womanizer who isn't even good at sex to back it up.” Totonowa panicked and turned bright red. “Or- or so I am told! Good day to you, madam! And don't worry, I am certain you'll never cross paths with that man again!”

-----

Three years later, Tayfun was being inducted into some sort of secret society.

“Okay, my turn to introduce someone! That there is Thancred!”

“Oh gods... It's Thancred Yooslutt. We've met.”

[tarobii]

I'm like only a bit sure nobody has sent this to you yet if someone has feel free to ignore this but here you go

1. who's your favorite oc?

2. who was your first oc?

3. how many ocs do you have?

4. have you kept all of your

ocs since the beginning?

5. are any of your ocs based

off of a show/book you like?

if so, who?

6. what is the species of the

majority of your ocs?

7. are any of your ocs an

original species? if so,

what's the species and who?

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

9. write a few sentences as

(oc name)!

10. are any of your ocs part

of a story? if so, what is it

about and who's in it?

11. do you have any twin ocs?

12. are any of your ocs

siblings?

13. what is the gender of the

majority of your ocs?

14. make up a new oc right now

based on (concept/show/color/

etc.)!

15. would you ever give up any

of your ocs?

16. who is your oldest oc

(age-wise)?

17. have you ever roleplayed

as your ocs?

18. how many of your ocs were

adopted from someone else?

19. who is your least favorite

oc?

20. which oc do you think has

changed the most since you

made them?

21. who is your newest oc?

22. have you ever cosplayed

your own ocs? if so, who?

23. which oc do you think has

affected you the most as youve

grown with them?

24. have you gotten cosplayers

of your ocs? if so, of whom?

25. do you have any ocs that

you havent drawn/written as/

talked about in a long time?

if so, who?

OH MY STARS THANK YOU WAHAHAHA

OMG OK

ok. ok.o k

it's brainrot time :)

I've answered like 3 of these already so I'll just be copy-pasting the answers for those ones ^^

answers under the cut bc this is gonna be looooong hehe ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

1. who’s your favorite oc?

Haruto: "Well obviously it's me. They haven't stopped thinking about me for like a month now~"

Raiden: "No, it's clearly me. Despite all the changes, I'm their longest lasting OC in terms of interest."

Haru and Den: *arguing* Olivier: "...?"

Olivier: "...What are they doing??"

Olivier's my favorite :)

2. who was your first oc?

uhhhh I think it was either Moonlight or Jasmine(??? I think that was her name)

3. how many ocs do you have?

182 and counting!

edit: more if you count the Undersociation cast, as well as the aus (yes, I've made aus of my ocs lol)

4. have you kept all of your ocs since the beginning?

[copied fr prev ask]

yep :)

every. single. one.

(I dont,,, use them anymore,,, but like they're still here lol)

addition from present me: there's actually a small group of ocs I had in elementary school that I had to let go bc I've pretty much completely forgotten about them, so I can't bring them back 😔

5. are any of your ocs based off of a show/book you like? if so, who?

[copied fr prev ask]

yep! Alice in Wonderland! I have ocs for the queen, the white rabbit, mad hatter, blue caterpillar, cheshire cat, and some in the same universe that aren't directly based on Alice in Wonderland characters.

I've only actually drawn two of them but here!

Haruto (Blue Caterpillar) and Chess (Cheshire Cat)

there's a bit more lore to it than them just. being the same characters from the story (bc,,, they're not,,,,,) (they're the descendants of the og cast) but yk lol

6. what is the species of the majority of your ocs?

Human, according to my spreadsheet. 57/182 are human. The rest are various other species lol.

7. are any of your ocs an original species? if so, what’s the species and who?

yes! a lot of them are original species just because,,, idk what species they are lmao,,,, for example: butterfly thing, fog thing, ghost??? monster????? thing??????

but do have a few original species ocs that I actually know what they are lol

these ones are the aureses ocudau! (these specific ones are named Tie and Zip!)

8. if you can, draw (oc name)!

random number generator go!

Florian!

he has my favorite name tbh ~Florian~ so fun

9. write a few sentences as (oc name)!

random number generator go! again!

Vesper! how thematic! Vesper is Florian's best friend, ehe

(I,,, am not a writer,,, oh no,,, here we go,,,,)

"Florian, are you kidding me?" "Ehehe, oops?" Vesper grabs Florian by the shoulders. "Florian. Florian. F L O R I A N. Did you seriously fall into a fountain chasing a cat???" "Haha. Perhaps..." Vesper gives Florian the Look™️. Florian flounders a little. "Listen..." "I'm listening." "In my defense... it was reaaaally cute." Vesper deadpans. "Seriously?"

10. are any of your ocs part of a story? if so, what is it about and who’s in it?

[copied from prev ask]

yesn't

they're all in one connected multiverse, and I like thinking of silly little scenarios, so technically they're all in a slice of life

with one exception!!

Undersocation!

which is a work in progress but the basic plot synopsis is that it starts as a slice of life and shenanigans with the association employees

but then the Catalyst happens and what's basically the apocalypse happens

our main characters are Sans (Spade) and Kyrian, and their main goal is to find their respective brothers, Papyrus (Clover) and Evelin

they don't know if Pap and Eve are okay or even alive, because they were out of town on a mission--but they were due to come back on the day the catalyst happened, so their status is unconfirmed

11. do you have any twin ocs?

yep! two pairs (that I remember lol) Moonlight and Midnight, and Yuuto and Yuki! (don't. question my naming conventions lmao. the first two are from when I was in elementary school and the second two have the Yu- "prefix" so to speak running through the whole family lol)

12. are any of your ocs siblings?

yes! many of them here are a few ^^ in a (slightly outdated) chart

these two (Keiran and Evelin) specifically have a new younger brother (Kyrian):

13. what is the gender of the majority of your ocs?

male, probably

14. make up a new oc right now based on (concept/show/color/etc.)!

her name is sabie :)

15. would you ever give up any of your ocs?

unless I specifically made them for that purpose (ex. adoptable, a gift) no <3

16. who is your oldest oc (age-wise)?

my oldest named oc is Haruto at a whopping 737 years old

but my actual oldest oc is his dad lol

17. have you ever roleplayed as your ocs?

yeah, kind of. I semi-roleplay as Olivier in a minecraft server I'm in

18. how many of your ocs were adopted from someone else?

none that I remember

19. who is your least favorite oc?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh

I like all of them tho :(

20. which oc do you think has changed the most since you made them?

Raiden, hands down.

My guy got a complete design and backstory overhaul

before and after

(fuckin hell that lighting is trash lmao)

21. who is your newest oc? optional- doodle them to show!

sabie is lol

but besides her, them!

Siren!

they're Felix's older sibling (❁´◡`❁)

22. have you ever cosplayed your own ocs? if so, who?

yep! Nikolai (I only have videos of this cosplay lol, hence the blurry screenshot)

23. which oc do you think has affected you the most as youve grown with them?

[copied fr prev ask]

THIS FUCKING TWINK

his name is Raiden and he's my oldest oc that I still actually use and I am so very attached to him he's my bbg through and through

he's also the oc with one of the most batshit insane backstories lol (hint: all of those funeral pictures in the second one are *all* him)

24. have you gotten cosplayers of your ocs? if so, of whom?

nah, just me

25. do you have any ocs that you havent drawn/written as/talked about in a long time? if so, who?

[copied from prev ask]

yeah, almost everyone on my old deviantart

[evelhak]

I am interested!!! So...

🔥+ alternative nutrition (bugs flours, genetic modified veggies ecc...).

Thank you so much babe!

Vesper

I'm so sorry that I might be totally underprepared to answer this question. My first thought was literally... "I had grasshopper bread once, it was bread". But it also didn't stay in stores for long, because no one bought it. I guess I've had too many acute problems in my life to think too carefully about anything where the effects don't come close to me yet? (I mean that mostly in the sense of immediate bodily needs, I do think about broader experiences and abstract stuff quite a lot even if it doesn't concern me specifically.) I just don't have enough energy I guess. I spent so much of my life not being able to eat much that now that I can, even though I have been for more than ten years, I still haven't really branched out from just being enamoured with everything I can eat. 😂 All this to say that I know I should be thinking of possible eco catastrophes but I haven't really, not in high detail, because there's no shortage of food in my country, 80% of food is local, and yes I get the bigger picture but also my own energy is very limited... So I have no wise detailed perception of good specific solutions for a future food crisis.

Soo... I think it's great that people are developing alternatives, because they will be needed at some point, in some places sooner than others. I don't think there can be one-size-fits all solutions since environments are so different. I think solutions should always be based on the particular environment if at all possible, and I think people need to (re)learn to live with the changes and fluctuations of their home instead of looking for some absolute solution.

However I don't have a particular opinion on different alternative nutrition sources? I've barely thought about genetic modification, since it's so restricted in EU anyway. I know there's some grasshopper farming in Finland, which is probably a good thing? I tend to think anything local is good and if it could balance the overuse of meat that would be great.

However I'm kinda sceptical that people will start to truly consider these alternative sources before it's absolutely necessary, and that means a big portion of people are probably gonna die. Yes, I know I'm part of the problem. Relative to most people I probably don't have a huge carbon footprint (like I don't drive and most of the meat I eat was hunted by my dad) but I'm also not going to pretend that I'm gonna think about the future of earth when I want a burger.

I am very concerned about the suffering in front of me, and can go to great lengths to try to change things sometimes but... also when I think about the human race destroying itself or even the earth, I'm like... so what? I know that may seem contradictory because it's like every life is inherently valuable but simultaneously no species or a planet as a whole is inherently valuable? 😅 Like, my life matters to me, but when I think about myself not getting to do some things or not existing, it's like... Well, it's okay, because someone else still can do those things and exist. And when I think like that far enough, then nothing matters, because there's probably always gonna be some form of life and someone experiencing the world, and in thinking that I can always be content. But that's not practical so then I always find my way right back to just enjoying what I get and what's in front of me, because thinking like I do, I can't commit to living for the future.

This became mostly about why I haven't bothered to think about or do research about your question. Sorry. I know I'm thinking a lot of this because I feel powerless and like the end is gonna come, so I might at least enjoy myself waiting for it, or something. I know a lot of people have a different experience but I'm used to responding to problems as they rise, and it's not really something I can change about myself at this point.

[halfbaked00q]

#oooo i haven't read all of these #off the books i HAVE i read it almost in one go in a trance and then just kind of sat there for a bit it does so many interesting things #and that last one ohhhh yeah “his soul's wandered off and left him behind” is EXACTLY it #whenever he has sex i like to just stare at his face and contemplate like. Why is he doing this and what's he getting out of it #the Why of solange in casino royale is easy because he straight up says it lol (and then doesn't actually go through with it the second #he's gotten the information he wanted). and then next is vesper and in qos miss fields i.e. at least ostensibly the the first times he #sleeps with someone just like for the hell with it. and in that context i think a lot about the way he watches vesper go on that last #morning like when she's gotten up and he's still in the bed. and also with fields the moment where he's just got his chin on her shoulder #AND that one kiss with camille. all three of those to Me (<- probably some level of ace) feel much less like Horny and more. cat bumping its #face up against yours so that you keep petting it. it feels like it's about TOUCH in and of itself much less than it is about Fuckin. #if you're in a situation where the only times someone touches you is violence or sex and you're a guy who Likes to be touched (which i do #think he is) and you're used to sex being what you do when you can tell that the other person wants that from you and you can use it for #something. of course you'd initiate sex if you want someone to touch you even if you don't actually feel very much in the mood for the sex #itself. and add the layer of like. living weapon and everything you touch seems to wither and die etc and it just gets VEYR messy. which is #delicious obviously. anyway my point is mostly. scene where he and q are having sex maybe not for the first time and q's like OKAY THIS #time we're figuring out what YOU want instead of you giving me what i want (which was excellent last time good job). and bond evades the #question and gets this vaguely trapped look because what he actually wants right now is to like. lie on the sofa with his head in q's lap #while q just sort of pets him snd he doesn't have to think about anything or calculate anything but you can't just SAY that like why would #someone want to touch him unless they're getting something out of it. you don't touch a weapon unless you plan to use it right #and q does get this out of him and they cuddle and if bond could hed be producing the single loudest purring you've ever heard in your life

@weidli i am kissing u on the mouth, this is literally it all of this it's like u read my mind, this is exactly yes down to the like ace/ace adjacent thing (the director's cut version of this post had some thing about, like,... hey can we talk about like either a sort of ace/demi or like ace/demi-adjacent Bond-- but I was also trying to figure out how to be like, yes this is due to his life experiences I'd think, but without it sounding like the "aces are ace cuz of trauma" wrongtake. I don't know that desensitized to it was exactly the right term to use but like,.. that's kind of what I was trying to get at.. *gestures* in another post I may have followed that sidebar and tried to add in all of the qualifications but this post was already so long lmao so I was like. this is going to have to do... anyway I guess I will sidebar here. but I was trying to be like. I don't mean he is ace or demi as an immutable label the way I feel like sometimes these sexuality/identity labels are used/seen but as more of like, a functional categorization(?) term so to speak. like not in the sense of he was Always that and is discovering it now but in that he, like, experiences the world differently now due to everything he's been through but also as a natural product of aging and changing w time and now his experience more aligns with what people would define as ace/demi ....oh god wait I had a half-formed branching thought that I discarded before it fully percolated - it was going to be something like going on about yeah also part of it could be like he's had so MUCH sex already too that it's like, he doesn't really want/need to have sex just to have sex, and the word sated came into this somehow which is what reminded me--- but yeah it reminds me of another fic I need to add to the web-weaving-- okay, see end for it // )

also ur so galaxy brain for this image: ... feel much less like Horny and more. cat bumping its face up against yours so that you keep petting it. it feels like it's about TOUCH in and of itself much less than it is about Fuckin YES. YES he is cat shoving his nose into your nose and mouth to show his affection and cat BOMPING you to keep petting (also. continuing my hey where is my ACTUAL catboy/catman Bond?? campaign. like. we gotta get on this and start makin it happennn)

100% to the he seeks sex more for the touch than the sex itself but sex is a way he can get the touch, and 100% to the "we are going to figure out what YOU want" and then he just wants to be cuddled and petted, I probably have some like half-formed stuff jotted down exactly of this floating around somewhere lol 🤝🤝🤝

----

Okay one more fic for the Further Reading / Web-Weaving / You May Also Like:

Everyone presumed that he always was sated, with all the sex he had out in the field; they didn't seem to realise that those encounters were planned to the detail, that sometimes he wasn't even attracted to the people he had to seduce and bed and even when he was, it still wasn't about him: it was about subtly manipulating the mark and attempting to turn them against whoever they were working for - sex during missions was a dangerous game, one that he had grown very good at playing but that hardly ever was enjoyable in the way people thought it would be.

👆 thiiiis specific quote this specific bit from this fic (also this fic has CBT in it which I find to be severely underrepresented in this fandom given Casino Royale. like. I think I watched that back when I was into Hannibal cuz Mads was in it and was like. .......what am I seeing, is this just. gay porn. lmao)

(also yeah why AREN'T there more cbt fics in this fandom. I think I tried looking for, like, bond/le chiffre even and it's a desert out there, guys.)

thinking about, like... the exploration of James Bond × the tangled messy web of complications he'd pick up around sex given like past relationships and also the inherently fucky sexual politics of honeypot missions and etc.

it's like. when your body is as much a tool in your aresenal as any of your skills so you're able to handle/tolerate/work through levels of what, in another context, may be considered personal violations, that would be overwhelming to untrained civvies-- but at the same time that very training that gives you some level of divide/partition/insulation from said trespasses on your person, also rather inherently creates bifurcations in your autonomy which then conversely and maybe ironically, still unavoidably act as violations against your personhood

the interesting added layer to that is to go deeper into exploring how honeypotting is/can be inherently traumatic not just to the victim but also the perpetrator, and the resulting psychological effects on the honeypotting agent

anyway here are some fics that I either reread recently, or I remember noting about, that go into these topics

-----------

Further Reading / Web-Weaving / "You May Also Like":

This fic imo does a great job of exploring/interweaving PTSD through the narration in an organic-feeling, believable, and very visceral way. Towards the end-ish of the currently available chaps there's a section where Bond is thinking about sex and like doomspiraling cuz he's assuming what Q would want and having a crisis about it because he's like, I can't provide that without panicking or dissociating - which I find suuuuuper interesting and complex, and it's especially interesting to have this level of exploration on the subject from Bond's POV.

the specific aspect I find really interesting about this is the way I can see this Bond as becoming, like.... desensitized? in a sense, to sex, on a more emotional level, but also how it becomes even in general sort of a trauma in itself, with his concerns about either reacting violently to a trigger, or dissociating during the act and how he worries if that happens that Q will find it hollow and falling short.

the dissociating bit really sticks out to me because it reminds me of an anecdote my high school psych teacher told about a friend of hers who through therapy realized that she was dissociating during sex with her husband and like mentally taking a walk down.. some sidewalk or other, but basically I can't remember if any other fic had this like, aspect of explicitly mentioning dissociating (others do talk about like him going a bit dead-eyed when putting on his TM Seduction act which is like adjacent to this, but not like specifically from inside Bond's head reflecting on this specific type of trauma response)

---

Has this banger section that, like, puts the *points above* into words from a third party's POV:

“Part of what makes it work -- with Scar and me -- is that I have no expectations on that front, so she doesn’t have to... perform. It’s second nature to them, to figure out what you want and give it to you…” The pause was horrible, and her expression deeply sad. “Whether it’s what they want or not.” Q felt a little sick. People sometimes joked about the honeypot missions, calling them ‘plush’ or talking as though they were somehow easier. Q had never really thought about it, except to think that it wouldn’t be easy for him. But now…

---

the warmth of your doorways:

has whole sections of James reflecting introspectively on honeypot missions. also has the added spicy layer of James being tapped to train/guide the guy who is meant to replace him for honeypot missions, and the added turbulance of all that (this fic also has a lot going for it on other levels that I enjoy a lot- this post us just specifically about JB × his fucked up sex politics stuff)

---

Bond and Q talk about sex stuff and Q is horrified to realize how bad Bond's training for honeypotting male targets was, which eventually leads to them talking about sexualuties, which leads to Q introducing Bond to the Kinsey scale lmao, and etc. also this banger from the author in the comments:

Craig has this one facial expression that makes me think, as Q put it in my fic, like Bond's soul has wandered off and left him behind. We see it occasionally when he's laying in wait to kill but most commonly when he's seducing a female mark. The best example of the face I mean is when he's seducing the widow in Spectre. It's a little dispassionate, a lot distant and it really makes me think very hard about what that means. To me, that facial expression makes me think perhaps Bond has a certain distance from his own actions. His body belongs to England, he is Her weapon and he will do as She needs.

[tatzelwyrm]

Matt: You see columns ahead of you, and they tend to wind and curl like a labyrinth made of bookcases, to no end. It's very Escher-esque in how the further up you look, they tend to curve and shift and bend around each other. Your eyes, now attuned to the realms beyond mortality, you catch glimpses of shifting wind gathering books and turning pages. Spirits of the library, though sparse as they may be from this entry point, organizing. Reading and learning from whatever words are within. You begin to almost get vertigo, trying to contemplate the strange and overwhelming construction of such a wondrous place. An endless sea of stories. Spectral custodians keeping the tales of each other and the history of Exandria past, present, and binding the pages to tell what will eventually be the present, currently the future.

Taliesin: “I've dreamed of this place. This is immortality. This is everything... I may never leave.” [I glide over to Vex and hold her close.] “This is stunning. My god, I think they may have actually forgotten all the idiot things I said yesterday.”

Laura: “Feels pretty good, doesn't it?“

Taliesin: “I think they've completely forgotten. I'm sorry. May have panicked.”

Laura: [I give him a kiss.]

Taliesin: “I'll be right back.” [I'm going to run towards one of those stacks, like a child.]

Matt: Okay. You begin to take the first–

Taliesin I'm doing a title run. I want to figure out the organizational system before I touch a book.

Matt: There are no words on any of the spines.

Taliesin: I pick one up. I look around to see if anybody has a problem. And I turn to the title page.

Matt: It's ironic you do this, because the book is in Celestial.

Taliesin: I read Celestial.

Matt: You do. It's ironic that you did that. Glancing through, it appears to be describing a birth, describing a tunnel, then a light, then a cry.

Taliesin: I skip to the end. Last page.

Matt: It seems to be an older man, surrounded by his family.

Taliesin: I've got it. I put it down. I pick up another one.

Matt: You glance through this book.

Taliesin: First page!

Matt: Begins very similarly to the last one.

Taliesin: Last page!

Matt: This one actually ends with what appears to be a horseback riding accident.

Taliesin: 115 pages in.

Matt: 115 pages in you get to a page that seems to talk about the sorrow of a lost romance, and trying to deal, coping at a young adult age.

Taliesin: [I put it back and I turn.] “They're made of people!”

Laura: “Wait, what? It's skin books?”

Taliesin: “It's people!” [And I'm going to find the most interesting spine and I'm going to turn to the first. Birth. Death.]

Laura: “I can't read that, dear.”

Taliesin: “Birth! Death! Sex. Birth, death, some disappointment.” [I am just gone. I'm running back and forth, finding whatever interesting spine I can. Are they all in Celestial?] 

Matt: They are currently. All the ones you've picked up are in Celestial.

Taliesin: “Oh my god! Okay. This is great. All right.” [I'm eventually probably going to pass out from mild hyperventilation and have to sit down.]

Laura: “We should maybe find Ioun, don't you think?”

Taliesin: “If we must, yes.” [Just as an experiment, I'm going to think about Vesper and try and touch a book. I don't expect this to work, but I'm going to close my eyes and think about–think about her– and pick it up and flip through it.]

Matt: Make a religion check.

Taliesin: Nope.

Matt: You grab a tome and pull it forth, and as you read through the story, it's an unfamiliar one.

Taliesin: “There's a system! I will discover the system!” [I'm going to keep running around like a kid.]

[theshotsheardacrossworlds]

Far

Set during 4.0. Agi is pining for Estinien the night before the Nadaam when a new friend finds her. SFW.

Agnes sat on a large rock in the Azim Steppe and stared not at the glorious night sky but at a piece of metal in her hands. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him. So long. Longer still when we finally return to Eorzea and begin the assault in Ala Mhigo…but first the Nadaam. First Doma. Gods, I just want him to hold me. She closed her eyes and felt tears running down her pale cheeks. I miss him so much.

“My friend, are you well?”

Agnes quickly put the remains of the Halonic rosary back in her pocket. “Fine, Hien. Just needed some time alone. It was all a bit much at the feast.” I normally enjoy such time with new friends, chatting over a homecooked meal. But I miss him.

Sitting next to her, Hien laughed. “Ah yes, though I should say be thankful the feast wasn’t thrown by the Oronir or Dotharl tribes. I hear those can be quite something.”

Agnes giggled. “I don’t doubt it. Everything was good. The Mol tribe has been so kind to us.” But I miss him. I can’t get him out of my mind. Can’t focus. I miss him.

“They have been, as you have been kind to us. I never got a chance to say thank you for helping my people when they arrived in Eorzea.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble. We weren’t about to leave your people in Vesper Bay with nothing. I’m just sad that they couldn’t stay in Ul’dah, but Revenant’s Toll is happy to have them.” Agnes once again stared into the distance, while Hien quietly contemplated her.

“Agnes,” Hien said carefully. “are you sure you’re well? You’ve been crying.”

Shit. Agnes tried to laugh and wiped her eyes. “O-oh, I’m okay. Just missing my Mum.” It’s not technically a lie. I do miss Mum so fucking much too. I just…I really need…him.

“Is your mother still living?”

“Yes. She’s back in Costa del Sol. In order to keep our movements secret, we’ve established no outside the Scions communications, so…” So I can’t write to my Mum. Or him. I left gifts with Tataru to send for namedays and Starlight, but it’s not the same.

Hien nodded. “My own mother passed when I was young, and you know what happened to my father. There are days when I miss them so greatly it feels like grief will crush my heart. However,” he glanced at her and smiled softly. “As you well know, we must find a way to go on.”

Agnes returned his smile. “And know they’re always with us.”

A comfortable silence settled between the two for a while before Hien spoke again. “I, erm, saw you put a piece of metal in your pocket. What was it?”

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. Fuck. Balls. Twat. Blushing, Agnes fidgeted. “Well, it’s…a memento from…a friend.” I am so shit at this. Why didn’t you say it’s from Mum?!?!

Hien raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”

YOUR BOYFRIEND! “A very good friend.”

To her surprise, Hien laughed and clapped his hand on her back. “I won’t tell a soul, Agnes. I swear.”

“I…umm…thanks.” Can the ground just swallow me now?!?!?!

“Do they…treat you well?” Hien asked kindly, hand still on Agnes’s back.

OH SHIT. OH FUCK. My cheeks are burning so much right now! “H-he does, Hien. He treats me very well.”

“Good!” Hien boomed. “For if he didn’t, then he would meet my blade!” Hien, you’re such a dear, but you’re no match against Estinien and Nidhogg. Not even close.

“I just…I miss him.” There. Now it’s out in the open. Agnes sighed and took the charred Halonic cross out of her pocket. “He gave this to me before we left for Kugane. Wanted me to have it as a token of his love and devotion. The others, they don’t—"

“As I said, your secret is safe with me.”

Hien and Agnes sat and looked at the stars and talked for some time, and as Agnes found out, Hien had a secret “special friend” of his own. It’s nice that we can talk to each other about these things.

But I still miss him.

[wherethewordsare]

Sweater Weather- Mutual Pining for Jay’s 400 Follower Bingo!!

He’d found it after a movie night, draped over the back of the couch. He held it up to confirm and yep. There was no mistaking the hood and the bulky black sleeves. It looked like it may have gone through the dryer about twelve times too many and the zipper pull was barely hanging on. He let his thumb rub against the hem of the sleeve, shaking his head. Jaskier tucked the hoodie under his arm as he pulled out his phone, smiling to himself. 

geralt

u left ur hoodie

its cold and everything how do u forget that

ur worse than ciri smh 

Just hold onto it, I’ll grab it next time. 

And I am not worse than Ciri. I’m not the one who’s left his phone in the Denny’s bathroom at 2am…. Twice…

Last month. 

shhhhh :P

Throwing his phone down, Jaskier went to his closet. He was going to just hang up the hoodie and Geralt would get it eventually. Honestly, he was going to put it away. But then he pressed his face into the shoulder and sighed.  

This was wrong. He should just hang it up and return it when they saw each other again. He wasn’t about to let this silly little infatuation with Geralt ruin a perfectly good friendship. Especially not over a stupid hoodie.

Unfortunately, Jaskier's self restraint had taken the night off. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier was sliding his arms in, zipping up the front and crawling into bed. One night of indulging wasn’t going to hurt anyone. Even if it felt like his chest was splitting open. He shifted a little under the covers, burying his nose into the collar as he drifted off to sleep. They had been through so much together since they met in high school, wasn’t Jaskier allowed this one little thing, just this once?

-o-O-o-

i still have ur hoodie

u want it back cause we could like meet up for coffee 

we could go to the nag :) 

He snapped a picture of the hoodie and a travel mug in his passenger seat, sending it off. 

Can’t today. :(

Parent teacher meetings and then Dad wants us to help him fix the roof.

I could use my hoodie today, it’s cold… 

omgl finally

thought id have to do it

Jask… no. 

:/ fine then

see if i try to be helpful again

jk jk

dont die

I dont wanna do handywork :3 

Geralt had been right. It was cold, and Jaskier had forgotten his own jacket at home. He frowned down at the hoodie and sighed. It was only because it was chilly. Nothing else. He tried to ignore how it still smelled so strongly of Geralt. He walked around the gallery wrapped in Geralt’s hoodie, the front unzipped and his hands buried in the sleeves. 

-o-O-o-

hehe crispy leaf time

the cold is coming 

Yes, Jaskier. That’s how seasons work

u know what that means~

Geralt did not in fact, know what that meant but he soon found out. He was in the middle of typing when a picture came up with the caption “stolen hoodie weather :3” with Jaskier curled up on his couch at home, snuggled up in the black zip up hoodie Geralt only remembered leaving there early last Spring. 

Something in his stomach flipped and he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. Why? Why would it matter if someone saw him? It was just Jaskier.

He frowned and started typing again. He stopped and erased it, fighting down the small smile that was starting to tilt the corners of his mouth. 

You kept it?

Way to go, Geralt. That was really fucking smooth. What was he supposed to mean by that?

unlike u :(((

abandoner of hoodies

some of us appreciate the gift of comfort geralt

Geralt felt like his brain was melting. That thing in his stomach seemed to purr with satisfaction at the idea of Jaskier wearing his hoodie. It was petty and ridiculous and oh no, Geralt couldn't take his eyes off the way the black material framed Jaskier's collarbone. 

No. No no. This way lay madness, he told himself. He would simply get the hoodie back and that was that. 

hey when do u wanna do our next movie night

its been like

7099039 years

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He had never hesitated when it came to Jaskier. They had known each other for far too long. 

Sure. My turn to pick?

not if u choose a history documentary

Spy movie?

:0 promise?

yes pls

Should I bring wine?

Wait, no that would be a very bad idea. 

:) you know it

bring the good shit

eskels secret one

i know you can find it 

It’s called “google” Jaskier. Even I know that. And I will see what I can do.

same time and place as normal right

It’s a date.

Geralt felt as though his soul had left his body when he had hit send. Had he lost his entire mind? He was in the middle of typing a follow up, trying to word the best way to dismiss his complete and total departure from sanity when the little dots popped up then disappeared then popped up again.

It’s a date. :)

Jaskier nearly slammed the door back into Geralt’s face in shock. Geralt was standing in the hall, bottle of wine in one hand, movie and carry out in the other. Then there was the shirt. Jaskier had actually helped him pick it out. The black button up, the sleeves rolled up and was his hair actually combed back? He looked good. Jaskier swallowed hard. He looked really damn good. 

But that wasn’t even the weird part. No, the weird part was the way Geralt’s eyes widened when he had opened the door. He recovered quickly though, nodding at Jaskier as he stepped in. 

“Didn’t think you’d let the apartment be cold enough you’d need to wear a hoodie.” He smirked, setting the bag down on the table before going right into the kitchen. 

“Comfort, Geralt. I’m telling you, I just don’t think you appreciate it enough.”  Jaskier followed him in. It was routine for them, the way Geralt got the wine open, Jaskier grabbed plates and silverware; the way they bickered and snarked, barely suppressing laughs through barbs. 

-o-O-o-

The coffee table was littered with cartons of orange chicken and fried noodles. Geralt set his plate down as he leaned back, slinging his arm across the back of the couch. He had to smile at the sense of deja vu that struck him. Casino Royale wasn’t just a comfort movie for them. It had been their first movie night nearly fifteen years ago. 

By now, they could practically quote the entire thing, make quips at Bond’s smugness and only just sit through that one scene without wincing. At least that’s what they told themselves. 

Now they watched as Bond and Vesper reconnect outside of that fancy English rehab center. Jaskier chorused him as they both rolled their eyes and sighed at Bond’s shitty lines about little fingers. 

“God he’s the worst.” Jaskier took a sip of wine, making a gagging sound. 

“Quantum still exists.” he chuckled. 

“Valid!” Jaskier set his wine down. 

Geralt leaned over as Bond delivered his next line, syncing his tone and dropping into a soft gravelly murmur. 

“Whatever I am, I’m yours.” It was supposed to be cheesy and ridiculous but Geralt found that it felt far too honest. There was truth to them that he couldn’t think to deny now.

Jaskier nearly choked as he looked up, his eyes going wide. Geralt watched as he leaned into his personal space. Time felt like it stuttered to a halt in that moment, Jaskier inches from him, still draped in his hoodie. Geralt wet his lips anxiously. The tension between them felt like a powerline pulled too tight; everything seemed to crackle with it. 

“Geralt-” 

Whatever he was going to say was lost the second Geralt closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Jaskier’s. It was nearly magnetic and there was no pulling away. Geralt’s hands strayed down to Jaskier’s thighs without his realizing it. There was no way he could stop himself now. He’d wanted this for far too long to just let it go. Part of him would mourn the loss of his oldest friendship, but that was Tomorrow Geralt’s problem. 

Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer as Geralt tugged Jaskier into his lap clumsily. 

Geralt had to break the kiss first, pulling back gasping for air and pressing their foreheads together.

“Jask… Wait. Wait,” Geralt choked. He had to tilt his head back to get his words out as Jaskier dipped back in to start kissing him again. “Shit. Jaskier…” He already sounded wrecked to his own ears. His hands were on Jaskier’s hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles against his sides as he looked up, eyes searching. “Are you sure you want this?” 

He needed to hear it. He needed to know he was allowed to have this. It was one thing to say it would be Tomorrow Geralt’s problem, but it was another to actively throw away the best friendship he had ever had. He had spent too long pretending they could be just friends for it to fall apart like this. 

Jaskier crowded in closer and it took everything in him not to just give in to it because fuck that felt amazing. There was an easy smile across his lips that made Geralt feel like he was starving. 

“Geralt, I swear to the gods, don’t you dare start questioning this now,” as open as his face was, his voice trembled slightly. It was then that Geralt realized that Jaskier was practically vibrating under his palms. It was instinct the way he wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s middle, pulling him closer. “I’ve been wanting this for at least a solid decade.” 

Geralt blinked hard as he gaped up at Jaskier. 

“Are you really that surprised, Geralt?” Jaskier hummed, leaning back down and pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Hmm. Maybe not.” He found himself chuckling, trying to breathe around the bubble of light that was threatening to fill his entire chest. He caught Jaskier’s mouth again, his hand coming up to slide into his hair, holding him close. 

It was hard to tell who had deepened the kiss further but the laughter died on his tongue when he felt Jaskier roll his hips down into his lap. Suddenly everything was too much and achingly not enough. The hoodie slipped down Jaskier’s shoulders and what little attention span Geralt had left zeroed into that same spot along Jaskier’s collarbone. 

Pulling Jaskier closer, he made a trail of graceless open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the firm column of his neck, his teeth raking over the spot with careless abandon. He was rewarded with a soft keen and Jaskier squirming in his arms. Long dexterous fingers wound into his hair, cradling his head as his own found their way up the back of Jaskier’s shirt. 

“Geralt-” There was a tug in his hair and fuck shit yes. He must have made some kind of noise because he felt Jaskier chuckle fondly. “Geralt, as much as I am enjoying this,” he gasped, back arching as Geralt nipped just below his ear, “Bedroom. Now.”

There was no arguing with that tone nor could he bring himself to find anything to argue about. Geralt tilted his head back up, Jaskier’s lips crushing in against his, taking every last remaining shred of doubt away. He felt his body switch to autopilot as he scooped Jaskier up from under his thighs, pleased at the way his legs wrapped around him automatically. He carried him easily, stopping only for a moment to pin Jaskier to the wall to adjust his grip under him, long enough to flick the lights off. 

Jaskier snorted, pulling away. “So considerate.” He teased. Geralt gave him a playful swat on his thigh and the chuckling was cut off by one of those delicious keening noises. 

Geralt half stumbled, half marched to where he knew Jaskier’s bedroom to be, blindly pushing the door open with his foot. He let himself bask in the heat of Jaskier’s body pressed to his, taking his bottom lip and biting it. 

The reality of where he was came crashing down on him and time was doing that thing again, slowing down as someone else with his hands kneeled against the side of the bed, letting them both tumble back into ridiculously lavish sheets. Years of habitual teasing were only tamped down by Jaskier’s insistent fingers making quick work of the buttons on the front of Geralt’s shirt. 

“You just had to wear this one, didn’t you.” Apparently not everyone was so distracted not to tease. “Do you know how hard it was not to just pull you into my apartment and kiss that ridiculous face of yours?” 

Geralt gave a wry smile. “Do you know how hard it’s been for fifteen years, being your best friend and thinking I would never get to kiss that beautiful face of yours?” 

He had to bite the inside of his lip as Jaskier’s whole face and neck flushed brilliant pink in the low light. 

“Geralt!” he practically whined and Geralt couldn’t stop from laughing softly at that, bending back down to kiss him again. He decided he couldn’t help himself, not really. 

This was too good. If he could just bottle this moment and tuck it away for every rainy day for the rest of his life, he would.  

“I guess I’ll just have to make it up to you now.” Geralt hummed happily. He shifted, the hand under Jaskier’s thigh moving to tug his hips flush with Geralt’s as his other hand moved to cup his face. “As long as you’re okay with that.” 

Geralt was pretty sure they were too far gone to ever go back, but even now, he had to make sure.

“Geralt Roger Eric…” Jaskier groused. “If you do not come back down here and kiss-” his words were muffled by Geralt’s mouth, his tongue sliding over Jaskier’s bottom lip and swallowing whatever ridiculous threats may have been lobbed at him. 

He found that kissing Jaskier had been easier than breathing. Before he knew it, Geralt was pulling back to pull off his shirt but his hands froze. He cursed under what breath he had left because the view of Jaskier under him, lips kiss bruised and shining, the needy look in his eyes, and the way his hair was pushed in every direction nearly undid Geralt completely. 

He snapped back to work, stripping out of his shirt and pushing at his jeans, letting them slide away. 

“C'mere you gorgeous thing.” Geralt murmured softly, pulling Jaskier to him before rolling, his back pressed up against the headboard. 

Jaskier shimmied out of his own jeans before straddling Geralt’s thighs, letting his fingers trail up the planes of Geralt’s chest, a stray fingernail grazing over his nipple, making him groan. Jaskier only grinned, leaning in, and nipping at Geralt’s neck. 

All Geralt could do was groan and tilt his head back, his hands sliding over Jaskier’s back. He was just aware enough to realize when Jaskier started to work his way down his body. Looking down, he watched in complete awe as nimble fingers hooked into his boxers. 

The first touch of Jaskier’s mouth to the jut of Geralt’s hip had his blood singing and he could only drop his head back against the wall. He hadn’t realized how achingly hard he was until Jaskier was biting down gently on Geralt’s upper thigh making him jump. 

There was a low chuckle from somewhere around his groin and then there was a sharp tug on his boxers. Jaskier wasted no time getting a hand around Geralt’s cock while he still playfully nipped at Geralt’s hip and thigh and abs. This was how he was going to die, he thought absently as he let his hand move to the back of Jaskier’s head. He let his fingers tangle there, tugging gently and Jaskier seemed to get the message though he could feel the smirk against his inner thigh. 

The weight of Jaskier between his thighs, one hand sliding up Geralt’s torso as the other stroked him lightly left Geralt breathless, his eyes fluttering at every touch. But it was when Jaskier wrapped his mouth around the head of his cock that Geralt felt like he was going to vibrate out of his skin. He bucked his hips instinctively into the hot slick of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

For long moments, all Geralt could do was hold on. Jaskier took him slowly, seeming to savor the newly found ground between them as he bobbed further and further until Geralt was nudging the back of his throat. He gasped, his back arching when Jaskier swallowed around him, his responding hum a little too self satisfied. 

Geralt tightened his grip in Jaskier’s hair only slightly, tugging him up. It was messy and Jaskier’s mouth was open and slick, his eyes glazed slightly with a need that left Geralt breathless. He looked debauched and it was honestly the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen. 

“Fuck,” he groaned pulling Jaskier back into his lap, his hips stuttering to grind up against Jaskier’s thigh. 

Jaskier pressed in close, panting slightly as he broke a kiss that had been more teeth than anything, leaning his forehead to Geralt’s. “Mm, fuck. We- Ah,” He chuckled as Geralt dipped in to kiss him again, dodging away gracefully. “Geralt, I need-” he licked his lips , taking a shaky breath. “Want you to-” 

Geralt was already nodding. He would agree to anything Jaskier asked for but the way his hips ground down against Geralt’s lap, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. He wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s middle, rolling them gently until Jaskier was under him his knees still bracketed around Geralt’s thighs as he arched and keened.

“Under the notebook in the-” Jaskier breathed his hands not leaving Geralt’s skin for a moment, fingers greedily mapping out the lines of his back. 

“I know, you haven’t changed your hiding place since college,” Geralt teased. To his surprise Jaskier snorted under him, his head tilting back in the pillows as he laughed. It left the column of his neck exposed to Geralt and he couldn’t help himself but lean down and bite small marks into it. He was rewarded by more delicious noises endlessly streaming from Jaskier. 

He pulled away only for the time it would take to retrieve the lube before sliding back down into Jaskier’s arms and kissing him thoroughly. His hands traveled down Jaskier’s bare chest, his fingers brushing along the top of his boxers and he gave a low huff into Jaskier’s mouth. 

“Why are these still on?” he grumbled, smirking when Jaskier rolled his eyes at him. 

“Someone’s been slacking in getting me undressed,” Jaskier shot back. 

TheirThere next kiss was a mess of chuckles and grins. Geralt shifted them again, moving to get Jaskier’s boxers down. The laughter died in Jaskier’s throat when Geralt’s fingers brushed low down his back and grazed over the swell of his ass, he buried his face into Geralt’s neck. Geralt didn’t tease for long before pulling away. It made Jaskier groan and nip at his neck until slick fingers returned to his entrance, circling slowly. 

“Fuck!” Jaskier moaned, his hips already rocking back greedily. 

Geralt quietly cursed himself for letting so much time get away from him as he slowly worked Jaskier open, enjoying the way he shivered and babbled under him with every push of his fingers. When he slipped a third finger in, Jaskier bucked under him, his eyes slamming shut as he gave a shout. 

“Geralt! Fuck, dear heart, please, for the love of all that is good-” he pleaded, his hips rocking back onto Geralt’s fingers eagerly. “If you don’t fuck me soon I’m going to combust.” 

Geralt leaned down, muffling the rest of the curses that were probably coming with a hard kiss. Jaskier arched under him as he pulled his hands away. It was easy after that, letting their bodies slot together and letting himself slide into Jaskier’s tight warmth. It felt like a gut punch. It felt like coming home. 

Jaskier wound his legs around his waist, hands reaching up to thread into Geralt’s hair as he rolled his hips, taking Geralt deeper, causing them both to groan. 

“Jask.” Geralt pressed his face to Jaskier’s shoulder panting as he started a steady pace. Soon only the sound of their heavy breathing and Jaskier’s soft moans filled the room around them. 

Time around them seemed to hold still as Jaskier tugged gently on Geralt’s hair, prying him away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes. The look Geralt found there left the world spinning. Jaskier’s eyes were bright and his smile warm even as his cheeks flushed. He was pliant and open and completely wrecked and the sight of him tugged at Geralt’s chest. The words came tumbling out before he could stop himself, his hips slowly rolling into Jaskier as they moved. 

“I love you, Julek,” he murmured as he kissed him slowly. 

Jaskier whined under him, his fingers tightening in Geralt’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer. When they finally broke apart to gasp for air, Jaskier's eyes were searching his as he bit his lip around a low moan. He huffed a wet sounding laugh as a hand slid from Geralt’s hair to rest on his cheek, a well calloused thumb tracing along his chin. “Oh, dear heart,” he shifted, canting his hips to make Geralt move. The angle shifted and Geralt seemed to nudge right against where Jaskier needed him most as he arched from the mattress and groaned. 

Geralt pushed up to sit, pulling Jaskier up with him until he was in his lap. They rocked together, shuddering every time Geralt bottomed out. He gripped Jaskier’s hip tightly with one hand as his other slid between them, wrapping around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier pushed up into his hand, swaying between his grip and his cock, they both seemed drunk on it. It was only a matter of time after that that Jaskier was crying out, Geralt’s name tumbling from his lips, his orgasm tearing through him like a whirlwind and Geralt could do nothing but hold onto him. 

Geralt steadied him, his hand holding Jaskier still as he thrust up into him, reveling in the small fucked out noises Jaskier whimpered into his neck before he too was shaking apart, spilling into Jaskier with a low satisfied rumble. 

They kissed again, lazy and sated, their chests a mess with Jaskier’s spend. He broke the kiss first, pulling back with that smile that always left Geralt feeling dazed.

“I love you, too. I love-” he didn’t get to finish because Geralt was pressing him down into the mattress again with a hard kiss, smiling. 

He was allowed. Everything that had happened seemed to catch up with him but instead of the sheer panic he had been expecting, the only thing that wrapped around him in that moment was the bright light that was Jaskier’s answering laugh. 

--

Everything was sore but in that pleasant kind of way after a good lay. Jaskier rolled over, pressing his nose into the pillow beside him. He smiled when he realized it still smelled like Geralt. 

Geralt. Fuck!

His hand reached out before he let himself open his eyes, wincing against the bright morning light that streamed in through his windows. The space beside him was empty.

But… Geralt had said it first? Where-? Jaskier’s heart sank, his throat tightening. He knew it was too good to be true. The moment Geralt had kissed him on the couch, he had pushed down every part of him that had screamed that he was going to end up hurt by time the sun came. 

He reached for his phone though he didn’t know who he was going to text. Essi wouldn’t even be awake yet on a Saturday. The space by his lamp was also empty. He realized he must have left his phone in the living room the night before when-

He tried not to think about how easily Geralt had lifted him up and carried him to bed. He had tried not to think about how there were now bruises on his hips that were shaped like Geralt’s hands or the trail of stinging bites that he would have to carry around his empty apartment for days. He pressed the heals of his hands to his eyes and groaned. 

“Idiot,” he berated himself. 

“Cause you left your phone in the living room and now it’s dead?” Geralt asked, pushing the door open with his foot. He was in a pair of Jaskier’s sweatpants and nothing else carrying in two cups of coffee. He looked up from where he had been concentrating, trying not to spill them. “What?”

“You’re here,” Jaskier chuckled. Something in his chest lifted and he let go of a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

“I… yes?” Geralt looked around. There was a lovely mark in the shape of Jaskier’s mouth on his shoulder and it made Jaskier’s toes curl. Geralt looked at the space beside Jaskier then at his face. He made a little oh with his mouth before he started to shake his head. “Oh! I see, hmm.” He set the coffee down gently on the side table and slid back into bed and into Jaskier’s arms. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“So we’re…” Jaskier looked away, rubbing his palms over his covered thighs. “We’re okay?” He didn’t dare hope. Not just yet. Not in the bright light of day. 

“Well, that depends,” Geralt  chuckled, pulling him into  his lap easily. He leaned in and kissed Jaskier’s chin. “Yenn messaged. Something about brunch. I think they know. Are you okay with that?”

Jaskier snorted, leaning over to grab his coffee. “Essi. I told her it was just movie night. I tell her it’s just movie night every time and-” He realized what he was saying, the cup of coffee hovering just at his lips. He looked sideways at Geralt who was tilting his head and smirking. 

“The biggest gossip we know and that’s the one you decide to confide in?” He took the cup from Jaskier’s hands and set it down again before rolling them both to pin Jaskier under him. 

Jaskier squawked indignity, his arms wrapping around Geralt. He let himself be kissed and hummed happily when Geralt slotted easily back between his thighs. 

“We’re going to be late for brunch,” he sighed as Geralt’s hand slipped down to his thigh, fingers brushing gently over the marks from the night before. 

“Hmm, don’t care.” 

They ended up missing brunch altogether but neither seemed to mind. 

---

The weather was crisp and dry and Jaskier was bundled in the black hoodie, but now pressed against Geralt’s side as they walked into Magnolia’s. It had been easier than Geralt was expecting though he groaned as he watched several fairly large wads of cash exchange hands. 

“Pay up, Jask,” Essi grinned. 

“What?” Geralt turned, scowling. Jaskier gave a chagrined shrug as he handed over money. “So little faith?” Geralt teased. 

“You too, pretty boy!” Lambert smirked across the table. 

Jaskier gasped beside him, leaning away “So little faith, Geralt?” The sleeves of the hoodie fell over his wrists and Geralt only smiled, pulling him back against his side. 

“I don’t mind being wrong this time.” 

[mi6-cafe]

THE DRABBLES ARE IN! COME READ THEM AND VOTE!

GUYS, WE HAVE 15 AWESOME DRABBLES FOR YOU!

Our writers did an excellent job. All of them wrote 100-word drabbles  based on this picture:

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Now, here are the drabbles!

#1

Title: Arson Author: artsytarts / Misha Warnings: None

Summary: If there is one talent James Bond has, it’s to give his Quartermaster a headache.

“Can I ask you a question, 007?”

“Not like you’d respect my wishes if I said no, Q. Go ahead.”

“Why is it that you always, without fail, find some way to cause an explosion? I’m starting to believe you have an arsonist streak.”

“I don’t do it on purpose, it just… happens.”

“You do know that you’re supposed to keep things quiet, right? ‘Secret’. It’s in the job description.”

“Not my fault their base lay beneath a firework factory.”

“Wouldn’t have been a problem if you didn’t blow it up!”

“Debatable.”

“I’m sure you mean ‘yes, Q’.”

“Yes, Q.”

#2

Title: Occupational Hazards Author: storm-of-sharp-things Warnings: none Summary: Q would willingly pay extra for the option to have a boring vacation…

Q sat back against James in the little rowboat and stared across the lake as bright jets of sparks shot up from the island. The fiery glow amid the trees was beautiful in the reflection of the dark water. James settled the blanket more comfortably around them, keeping the chill off their bare skin.

“I liked that cabin,” Q finally said.

James sighed. “What’s the probability that our rental cabin would be a hidden entrance to a secret arsenal of explosives?”

With a splash, Alec finally surfaced next to the boat, grinning wickedly.

Q scowled. “One hundred percent, I’d say.”

#3

Title: Postcard Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: Bond stops in the middle of a mission for a view Q shouldn’t absolutely miss.

“Bond, stop dallying”

“Look, Q”

He sighed, squinting at the screen broadcasting the grainy images coming from the small camera that he had managed to disguise as a lapel pin “What exactly am I looking at?”

“Wait for it”

“Bond, need I to remind you that you’re on- Oh”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Q was enraptured in the blue fire shooting up towards the dark of night: he couldn’t remember the last time he had looked up at the sky, eyes full of awe “Yes, it really is” he admitted “Thank you, James. Move along now: your contact is waiting”

“Yessir”

#4

Title:Flare Author: Hexiva Warnings: Angst Summary: Alec and James on a stakeout. One moment of hope.

What James remembers from that night in Canada is the fireworks. Fireworks reflecting off the lake as he sat in the dark waiting for morning when their target would walk by. Fireworks reflecting in Alec’s eyes, a manic gleam as he leaned in to adjust Bond’s hand on his rifle. And in the darkness between displays, they looked at each other, the instruments of their bloody work forgotten.

Years later, after everything, after the betrayal, James doesn’t remember who reached out first. All he remembers is the sound of fireworks as they kissed, clinging to each other in the darkness.

#5

Title: Rest & Relaxation Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: None Summary: James and Q kiss goodbye to yet another security deposit.

“This was fun. We should do it more often.”

James watched an explosion illuminate the sky, showering white sparks on the carnage below.

“Did you hit your head?”

“What?” Q frowned. “No! Why?”

“You want to do this-” James gestured at the flames, “more often?”

Another loud crack, and the cabin roof collapsed, sending up a plume of smoke.

“Well, maybe not the part where your ex-boyfriend tries to burn us to death in our sleep…”

“So just the murder, then?”

“Pillock.”

James laughed. “If this is what holidays with you are like, I’d love to do it more often.”

#6

Title: Efficiency Author: Anyawen Warnings: None Summary: Bond appreciates competence, whatever it wears.

James ignores the cold of the Canadian spring night, attention focused on the far side of the lake.

“I can get closer,” he offers quietly over comms.

“Stay where you are, Bond. I’ve got this,” Q answers.

Q’s frenzied typing stills, and James hears satisfaction in the silence a moment before an explosion rocks the lodge. He watches, bemused, as stray fireworks streak into the sky.

“The security on their firework storage facility needs work,” Q remarks dryly before utterly failing to stifle a yawn.

Another firework explodes, illuminating James’ fond smile.

“Not bad for a man in his pyjamas.”

#7

Title: Isle of Bond Author: Warnings: none Summary: No man is an island.

They say, “no man is an island,” and they’re right.

Bond would disagree; would claim the title for himself.

He would say that he is a man for himself, as he trusts his life in the hands of friends. He would build a fortress of solitude, only to fly from it in a blaze of glory. He would fence his heart with spikes, spark, smirks, and sex. Until someone is unafraid to get stung.

Bond would lay life, death, heart, and gun at the feet of true love.

“They say, no man is an island, and they’re right,” Bond says.

#8

Title: forget the past Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: In the woods, in the middle of the night, two friends are trying to make peace with everything.

“This is ridiculous,” says Q, looking at Moneypenny. “It’s not New Year’s. Also, do you know how harmful it is to animals?”

She gives him the side-eye: “Your complaining already scared everything within ten miles of here. And it’s symbolic, actually. Because he’s not coming back, not to me, not to you. We need to start over, with a bang. Help me set this off.”

With a sigh, he does.

And here they are, watching fireworks in the middle of March, both feeling lost.

But as she slips her hand in his, he thinks that maybe they will be alright.

#9

Title: Inferno Author: oldestcharm Warnings: fire Summary: Q appreciates the scenery. Bond isn’t pleased.

Q’s eyes are glued to the live feed from the helicopter. “This is very scenic,” he comments. Bond huffs. “Are you talking about the forest fire, the flare guns, or the volcano that’s about to burst now that I obliterated this guy’s lair?” Q hums, considering. “All of the above.” “I’m pleased to know you care so much for my safety.” “You’re just fine, 007,” Q assures him. “I’m standing in the middle of burning debris,” Bond points out. “There is a lake right beside you. Grab a bucket.” “You didn’t equip me with a bucket.” “Maybe next time then.”

#10

Title: Birthday Celebration Author: Nana-41175 Warnings: n/a Summary: Q is gifted with spectacular fireworks for his birthday by Bond

Q was sure he would dislike camping. He did not feel kindly toward the idea of a million insects descending upon him while they roughed it out in the woods. Plus, no internet. Hideous.

But he liked fireworks at dusk, especially when viewed over water. He was touched that Bond wanted him to see this: the lake, the dark circle of trees surrounding the warm, cheery glow of a campfire, the slender strands of bright light as they shot up toward the night sky.

Most of all he adored being in Bond’s arms as his boyfriend whispered, “Happy birthday, darling.”

#11

Title: In the End Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: One last goodbye.

Bond stared as the island of Mr. White burned away in a final fiery glow. So many things had been set in place there. Thoughts of Vesper slid through his mind, like a dark oil slick on water. Never to truly be erased. He felt something slide into his hand. A weapon. Something strong and flexible. He squeezed and felt bones move. Q. Something else that had been set in place. A gift, from one madman to another. Silva’s little cogwheel in the bigger scheme of things had inadvertently delivered Q to MI6…and James. He kissed those fingers. His weapon.

#12

Title: Miscalculation Author: Merc/moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Bond makes a strategic mistake. Q improvises to save the day.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?”

“No, not really. They’re an unnecessary waste of money, spread heavy metals and other contaminants in the environment, cause noise pollution, not to mention the stress to animals and people who don’t like them–”

“Alright! Fine. I should have asked you first.”

“Or used your head for once. I told you; the cats and I are a package deal. If you plan for me you plan for them. I’m not having fun when my darlings are terrified.”

Before the mood sours, Q pulls James into a kiss.

“But we can always stay in. I’ll show you fireworks.”

#13

Title: How Does He Do That? Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: Things blowing up, Canon typical violence, 006 and explody stuff Summary: Bond and Q watching the end of a 006 mission

Bond watched intently as Q focused on the terse commentary from the extraction team. Trust 006 to find one of the few primary forests left in Europe to play hide and seek with terrorists. Injured, bleeding but in possession of valued intel he’d been sent after, Trevelyan was being sought by both sides. One of the drone cameras blazed with light, flaring streamers rising from a central explosion. Q blinked, eyes watering before the screen dimmed.

“How does he do that every bloody time? I never issued him any explosives.”

Bond just shrugged, grinning. “When has that ever stopped Alec?”

#14

Title: Beacon Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None Summary: Q is very good at reading even the smallest signs.

“Come on,” Q murmured.

Images flashed by on his screens: satellite feeds, CCTV stills, personal security system hacks, social media posts – anything he could think of. Windows overlapped, flashed, jockeyed for space and called for attention as new information poured in. Then, at last, a filter-covered photograph from one website or another, a tiny island lit up by a few explosive columns of light, drew Q’s notice.

Unexpected fireworks off the coast, the caption read.

Q checked the location. He checked the time. He smiled.

“There you are,” he sighed, and began the work of piecing together Bond’s trail.

#15

Title: We Don’t Need Fireworks Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence Summary: Bond makes things explode. Q watches from afar.

The skies were ablaze with stardust and fire. It could’ve been beautiful, Q thought, had it not been his job to clean up the mess after.

Damn Bond and his dramatics.

Footsteps approached from behind, and Q couldn’t help but smile as an arm looped around his waist.

“007,” Gareth sighed. Q snorted, leaning into the warmth. Something exploded in the distance.

“Wish you could join him?” Gareth asked. “Share the action?”

Q turned his head, watching the fireworks reflect in his eyes.

“I got all the fire I need right here,” Q smiled, and leaned in for a kiss.

Go vote!

[drarryruinedme7]

kinktober, day 6. priest au

To @onbeinganangel 💓 thanks to my bb @fictional for the beta! This was way out of my comfort zone, I hope it makes at least a little bit of sense.

When he became a priest, Harry’s first thought was of Draco Malfoy.

Honestly, it was pretty unexpected. They went to high school together and always hated each other.

Malfoy used to make fun of Harry’s belief and faith, using every moment he had to spread stupid rumours about him and trying to rile Harry up, only to then shout in his face that he shouldn’t get angry. Isn’t your God against violence?

Indeed. The path to becoming a priest had been long and hard but Harry knew it was the right choice. It was what he had wanted.

In the end all the anger, all the spite was left behind. Oh, how Harry had wanted to rub it in Malfoy's face. It was petty and immature and very un-godly, but really.

Harry could see it.

“Your obsession for Malfoy isn’t sane, you should know that,” Hermione had told him once. “Aren’t priests supposed to be wise?”

“Yes,” Harry had said. “But we’re humans after all. There’s only one God.”

Right. That same God said (Matthew, 5:30): “And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away.”

Harry should be armless by now. And would have been for a very long time. Of all the things Harry had given up for his faith, sex had been the hardest.

And, God, dear God, forgive him, but nothing would ever make Harry stop wanking over Malfoy’s pictures, plastered everywhere in fashion magazines.

A model, he became. Of fucking course. To torment Harry even after taking his vows. And there Harry would end, every night.

He would say mass, have dinner with his brothers, recite solemn Vespers and holy fuck, wank the hell out on Malfoy’s pictures. Mark every inch of his pointy, stupid face with his spunk.

One of Harry’s favourite holy moments.

That’s how he almost tripped over a bench, one Saturday night as he was closing the church for the night.

“Malfoy?” He asked incredulously, feeling his cheeks aflame. Harry almost didn’t recognise his face without his spunk splattered all over it.

“Potter, may I say. I’m impressed. You really took the vows, in the end,” Malfoy said, a wide, fake smile on his face. Dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slightly hunched— there was something dark about him that cried help me. And wasn’t Harry’s mission to help those in need?

“Is there a specific reason you’re here? And it’s Father Harry to you.”

Malfoy’s eyebrows shot up as his lips quirked in a half smirk. “Father Harry,” he whispered, leaning in. “Indeed, I am looking for… redemption for I have sinned,” he concluded.

Harry looked into his eyes. “I have no doubt,” he replied, crossing his arms. “We can go to the confessional if you so prefer.”

“Oh, I do,” Malfoy replied with a dangerous glint to his eyes. “But tell me, Father.” His entire body was entirely too close for Harry’s tastes. Having the real Malfoy there was starting to be quite hard. Literally. “How can you listen to me and tell me what to do when you have no idea what sinning is?”

“Don’t I, though?” Oh, Harry didn’t mean it that way. But Malfoy’s eyelashes fluttered and Harry’s cock jolted. He closed his eyes, every teaching about self-control of his years in retreat flashing in his mind.

Malfoy’s lips suddenly brushed Harry’s ear. “I knew it.”

It was surreal. The wrongest thing in the entire world. The opposite of what he had spent the last three years of his life dedicated to.

Ten minutes later Malfoy was kneeling before Harry in the confessional.

“Tell me, Father, what can I do to atone for my sins?”

Harry smirked, drawing his cock out of his trousers. “Stop whining and put your mouth to better use,” he commanded. “Don’t forget to recite your prayers.”

Malfoy sucked Harry’s cock in, licked around it. “Our father,” he bit Harry’s thigh, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”

If this is hell, Harry thought, Lord, my holy Lord, let me sink in it.

[amani-outrider]

pt2 of Adrestes and the Maw Walker Hanging Out + vibing 

“I must ask…” Adrestes breaks the silence between them. 

They’re in Bastion, of course, once again relaxing. ‘Hanging out,’ but this time in a different spot- in the shade of a tree by one of the glittering ponds, far from the more bustling areas of Bastion.

The Maw Walker is splayed out on the grass the more bulky, uncomfortable pieces of their armor discarded to rest against the tree trunk, their eyes closed but one opens to look at him.

The words stumble where they’re forming in his throat, somehow their attention gives him pause. They’re friends; he’s comfortable in saying that now, but he wonders if the question is too personal to ask like this. 

But he is curious. He must know.

He looks away from them, towards the flittering silhouettes of young ascended practicing their flying in the distance. 

“Why did you side with the venthyr?” 

He hears them shift next to him, the faint rustle of the grass as they adjust. One of the Ascended starts the obstacle course anew, obviously fresh to their wings, their movements awkward and unsure.

The Maw Walker is silent and Adrestes wonders briefly if he’d phrased the question poorly. He didn’t mean to imply there was any ‘siding’ to be done, as if their choice had slighted the other covenants in some way. And maybe at first it had felt that way, but the anima flowing anew in their realms was proof enough that they were working for the betterment of them all, and the Kyrian had managed to rebuild the destroyed Crest of Ascension eventually. 

“I don’t think there was any one reason,” they say finally. 

A tension eases from Adrestes’ shoulders that he didn’t realize he’d been keeping. He turns his head slightly to catch a glance at them.

Their eyes are open, staring at the leaves of the tree that flutter in an unfelt breeze, opalescent purple melting into pale gold at the tips. 

They shrug.

“I guess I just clicked with them.”

The answer hangs in the air like the Ascended in the distance hovers, more confident with their wings than before.

“There must have been something,” he presses lightly. “You are a hero in your mortal world are you not? You would have fit in well in Bastion.” He imagines them in crisp whites, blues, and golds, traditional Bastion garb- cannot help the indulgent thought of them with wings like his. Indulgent, yes, but it ultimately rings hollow and the blues shift back to the vibrant reds, the rest tarnishing to smoky black. 

They laugh, something light and pure that resonates within him like the ring of a vesper.

“I think all of the covenants would say the same thing honestly,” they say as they sit up. “But…” their smile fades, their eyes growing distant as they stare at the water in front of them. Snapjaws swim lazily under the glittering surface, their noses breaking the still waters every now and then for breath sending ripples cascading outward. “I wouldn’t consider myself a hero. Done some heroic things yeah, maybe, but I’ve done just as much bad, too.” A shadow passes over their features. “Awful things that I regret.”  

They lapse into silence. Adrestes has only heard about what they’ve done through rumor- Revendreth’s prince never wasting a chance to gush about their accomplishments- or their own passing comments. All of their deeds thus far in the Shadowlands would seem selfless enough to be chosen for Bastion, but that hadn’t been their choice. And he knows nothing of what might haunt them.

The shadow fades from their face, their eyes focusing more on the present again.

“I guess I just liked the idea of being able to face and overcome that without forgetting.” 

He nods, understanding as much as he’s able to. He was never mortal- or if he was the memories had faded long long ago- and he’d never worked closely with the mortal souls like other Kyrian, but he knew that the memories were the hardest part of the Path for many. They clung to their past the more it faded away and he could not fault them for it.

"Besides, if I'd joined the Kyrian would we be able to spend time together like this?"

No, his duty within the kyrian would demand he act as their superior in rank no matter what. He would never have known the hospitality of the Venthyr nor the joy of their friendship. The thought of that makes his chest ache.

"You made the right choice then," Adrestes says. 

"I think so, too," they're smiling, their face bright and shining despite the darkness that had just lingered there- that still lingers within. 

He reaches out suddenly without thinking, placing his hand gently on theirs. They tense- shoulders going rigid for just a moment before relaxing. Adrestes stares at his hand, the vibrant blue contrasting against their skin, surprised by his own impulsive action.

“I…” He’s unsure of what he even wants to say. The unease that’s settled in his gut is unfamiliar. “I am sorry.” He says finally.

They look at him confused, but not pulling away.

He bows his head.

“I did not mean to unearth bad memories. Nor did I intend to doubt your choice.” 

They shift their hand under his- to pull away, he thinks at first, but instead they move so their hands slot together more surely, palm-to-palm. 

“It’s okay,” they say and squeeze his hand. Comforting, reassuring. “There’s no need to apologize.” 

Their thumb caresses idly over the back of his hand, drawing his attention again. Such gestures… were not typical of the Kyrian, especially the Ascended and unheard of with the Polemarches. 

It’s not unpleasant.

Something inside him gives way, like a wall crumbling against the crash of a wave. A feeling; warmth blossoming, unfurling like the petals of rising glory.

The sensation strikes him like a blow to the stomach, a soft noise escaping his throat in surprise.

They glance at him, their thumb stilling its motions.

“Are you okay?”

The answer should be no. It should be. Because he can recognize plainly that these are emotions he should not be feeling. He should take himself to be cleansed, to meditate in solitude to remind himself of his duty to Bastion, to the Archon and rebuild the wall inside of him. 

But he finds he doesn’t want to.

“Yes,” he says, breathing out slowly to steady himself. “I am fine.”

They say nothing, but there is another faint squeeze of his hand.

More than fine, he thinks.

[starrysnowdrop]

“Wait, are those-? Are those bruises?”

I can’t believe this ended up being 1,261 words long!!! 😖 But thank you so much @meepsthemiqo for the prompt!! I got so inspired with this one, so I hope y’all enjoy it!

Having safely landed the Enterprise in Ul’dah after their encounter with the XIV Legion’s Legatus, Gaius van Baelsar himself, and a fully operational Ultima Weapon, Yume, Cid, and Alphinaud decided that they should reconvene in Vesper Bay, to see how they can find their fellow Scions. Alphinaud was the first to go on his way, and Yume stood waiting in the Airship Landing while Cid spoke with the Arrivals Attendant.

As she grasped her right side of her abdomen, Yume reached into her pouch with her left hand and took out a potion. In one swift motion, she opened the vial and downed the blue liquid in one gulp.

Yume quickly put the empty vial back into the pouch slung around her shoulder as Cid walked back over to his Raen companion and smiled brightly, “Alright, we are all checked in now. Think we need any provisions before we head out ourselves?”

Returning his smile, Yume nodded in response. “I might need to grab a few potions, but that shall not take too long.”

“Is it alright if I accompany you?” Cid asked with a twinge of hesitance in his voice.

“As if you had to ask.” Yume winked at the Garlean man with a light giggle.

Though she wanted to move along to their next destination as quickly as possible, her body would not allow her. As soon as she took two steps forward, a jolt of pain shot through her abdomen and up her spine. Yume instinctively grabbed her right side just above her hip to dull the pain.

“Yume? Are you alright?” She heard Cid ask while holding her eyes shut.

The Raen shook her head and waved her hand at Cid. “I... I will be fine. Just a minor wound from Garuda. ‘Tis nothing to fret over.”

“Just a minor wound, is it? Then why are you looking like you might double over in pain?”

“Please, I will be alright.”

As Yume grasped at the stabbing pain, the fabric of her shirt rose up just enough so that Cid could see dark purple marks on her skin.

“Wait, are those—? Are those bruises?”

Yume was in so much pain that she didn’t even have the strength to explain to Cid what was going on. Her vision started to blur as Cid ran over and pulled up her shirt a little more, revealing bruises that covered the entire right side of her abdomen, surrounding the scar that reached from her hip across to her belly button.

Cid audibly gasped, “Seven hells, Yume!” He placed one arm behind her back and the other underneath her knees, lifting her up to carry her bridal style. “You need a chirurgeon now!”

She whispered his name as she reached up to touch his cheek, but she soon began to lose consciousness. “Cid...”

———

The Raen had no recollection of how she found herself in a bed, but Yume awoke with the light from the morning sun hitting her face. Looking over the room, she recognized the amenities immediately as an Inn Room at the Quicksand. Her eyes scanned the room until an unexpected sight made her heart skip a beat.

Standing upright and leaning against the wall, Cid Garlond had his arms folded and his eyes closed, breathing in deeply. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep, in silent meditation, or just lost in thought, but she sighed with relief at seeing him standing vigil over her.

After a few moments of gazing over at his serene form, Yume called out to him, “Cid? Are you awake?”

As if lightning struck him, the Garlean swiftly opened his eyes and looked over to the Auri woman laying in bed. “I’m here. How are you feeling?”

Cid walked over to Yume’s side and reached out to take her hand in his. His silver eyes gleamed in the morning sun as he gave her a gentle smile.

With a nod, Yume pulled back the covers so that she could look down at herself. “Better.” She glanced downward to see that she had on a loose white gown and she could feel bandages covering her entire right side of her abdomen. “I see that I am healed.”

Cid nodded. “Yes, you are now. The chirurgeon said you had internal bleeding and that you needed to rest for another day before you can travel.”

“What about Alphinaud?”

“He has already been informed, and he’s actually waiting for us here in Ul’dah.”

Cid finally looked away from Yume’s sunlit face towards the ground, but still held her hand gently. “I am curious though...”

Yume looked back at Cid in anticipation, though she already knew what he was going to ask.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you were injured and needed help?”

Yume closed her eyes, fighting back the emotions that were rising to the surface. A flood of memories rushed back to her; there were so many times that she had to survive purely on her own stubbornness and willpower, especially in the years following her exile. She was no healer... in fact, she could not wield white magic at all. But what was even greater than her stubbornness was what she felt for the man standing next to her. The last thing she wanted was to make him worry... yet that was exactly what she had done.

Shamefully, she pulled the covers back over her chest and looked to the ceiling.

“‘Tis just... I am used to drinking potions and letting my wounds tend themselves.”

Cid shook his head as he looked back at Yume with concern. “Even the greatest warriors need a trained healer and lots of rest. Why do you keep pushing yourself?”

Yume’s voice shook as she tried to explain her actions. “I just... I tend to not dwell on myself. I must do my duty as a Scion of the Seventh Dawn...”

Cid crossed his arms and scowled. “Even Scions need others to help them. If you tried to go into battle with your internal wounds, you could have done even more serious damage. Your scar could have reopened!”

As Cid raised his voice, Yume responded in kind, “I know that! I am not in need of a lecture, Cid.”

Cid unfolded his arms as he continued his barrage, “Then why do you not care about your health? Are you trying to kill yourself?!”

Yume’s temper flared as she lifted her head off of the pillow and sat upright. Her tail swished in the bedding as she grasped the blanket with two fists. “No, I am not! Why are you so angry about it?!”

“Because I lo—“ Cid quickly cleared his throat as he tried to recover. “I mean, I care about you, Gods damn it! I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you!”

Cid then turned completely away from Yume as she looked at him in shock. He held his face in his hands as he fought back tears. He deeply sighed as he struggled to regain his composure.

Yume’s heart sunk at seeing the man she has grown so fond of so distraught. She instinctively reached out to him, attempting to call him back to her bedside. “Cid?”

With a few strokes of his beard, Cid turned back to Yume. “Please, just promise me to take the time to get healed and to rest properly. Take better care of yourself, alright?”

Yume quickly nodded and smiled through the tears that threatened to overflow. “I promise. Pray forgive me for my recklessness.”

[yourdeepestfathoms]

what did the chickadee and phoenix say to the hybrid?

this was supposed to be a short snippet,,,,,,, anyway, Lydia meets the Maitlands but make it the ~wing au~

----------------------------------------

  “Greeting ghosts,” Said the strange little fledging that entered the attic. “I am Lydia Deetz. Do not be afraid.”

  “Why aren’t you afraid of us?” Barbara asked.

  “Because you aren’t scary,” Lydia said. “I mean, look at me in comparison.” She spread her sagging wings (did she ever lift them?), and Barbara realized there were four of them. “I’m probably the freakiest thing to ever walk among the avians. You got competition.”

Realization dawned on Barbara, but Adam got to it first.

  “You’re a hybrid!” Her husband yelled, nearly flinging his sheet right off of him when he pointed to Lydia.

  “Adam!” Barbara scolded.

  “No, it’s okay,” Lydia said. “I prefer the term ‘hybrid’ over ‘mutant’ and ‘monster.’”

  “I was gonna say it’s rude to point,” Barbara said, pushing Adam’s hand down.

  “Ah,” Lydia nodded. “But yes. I am a hybrid. In the blood. Unfortunately.”

She spread her wings in a mock bow to them, and Barbara could see veins of white riddling the insides of the upper pair. She then winced, fangs flashing in the dim attic light when she grimaced in obvious pain, and let her wings go limp. They landed in a heap on the ground, strewn out like scraps of ruined cloth.

  “Are you alright?” Barbara asked worriedly, feeling a flash of maternal instincts zip through her like lightning.

  “Fine,” Lydia answered before the question could completely leave Barbara’s mouth, as if it were normal for her to brush off her discomfort when around other people. She shuffled her feet and tilted her head at Barbara and Adam. “Why are you in sheets?”

  “We were trying to scare you,” Adam told her.

  “You’re not doing a very good job,” Lydia said. “What do you look like under there? Are you horribly disfigured?” Her shoulders lifted, but her big bat ears remained completely drooped. “Are you like me? May I see?”

Barbara and Adam took off their sheets. Lydia’s expression dimmed.

  “Oh,” Lydia seemed disappointed. “You’re pureblooded.” She sniffed. “No offense.”

  “None taken,” Adam said. “I’m Adam, this is Barbara.”

  “Oh, woah,” Lydia’s eyes dilated hugely, like a cat that just saw its owner’s foot move under the blankets. “You’re so shiny.”

Barbara blinked, then realized Lydia was talking about her. Even in death, her feathers continued to glow like fire. She extended one of her wings to Lydia.

  “You can touch them, if you’d like.”

Lydia looked up at her in shock. “Really? You’re not afraid of me, like, contaminating you?”

  “No...”

  “Or infecting you with my ‘dirty blood’?”

  “No.”

  “Or ripping your wings out of your back like I’m a feral WingEater because I’m jealous of how pretty and normal you are and want to ruin all purebreds in an envious rage?”

  “No! Do people really say that stuff to you?!”

Lydia actually laughed. “Wow, you really haven’t met a hybrid before.” She shuffled her feet. “But-- I can really touch them?”

Barbara smiled warmly at her. “Of course, sweetheart.” She nudged her wing closer. “Go on. I promise I don’t have Drop Feather Fever.”

  “Even if you did, I don’t have feathers!” Lydia said, then reached out and brushed Barbara’s wing. Her touch was light and gentle, as if she were worried she may hurt her new friend, and her short, stubby claws tickled against the skin beneath the feathers. “Wow... They’re so soft! And warm!”

  “Yup!” Adam strode over, looking proud. “You, little bat-moth, are looking at a real Phoenix Avem! WAIT--”

Lydia leapt backwards and the mane of yellow-orange flannel moth fur around her neck and chest bristled like a startled cat.

  “YOU CAN SEE US?!” Adam yelled.

It was only then that Barbara realized that Lydia shouldn’t have been able to see her or Adam. She had been so distracted by the adorable fledgling that it hadn’t dawned on her at all.

  “Uhh,” Lydia’s fur settled. “Yeah?”

  “But we were told that the living ignore the strange and usual,” Adam said.

  “Well, perhaps it’s because I, myself, am strange and unusual,” Lydia said. “Also all of my internal organs are purple and I can’t have a period due to a ‘compromised reproductive system caused by faulty genetics,’ so I’m not exactly very far from the boat you’re rocking in.”

  “Trust me, sweetie, the no period thing is a blessing,” Barbara said.

  “Everything else is a curse, though,” Lydia said with a sad smile.

Barbara frowned at that, but before she could press on what she meant, Adam stepped in.

  “Okay, well, since you can see us, do you mind leaving and never coming back?”

  “Adam!” Barbara flared. She thought of not seeing this little girl again, and it made a cold pit open up inside of her and she couldn’t really explain why.

  “Not her,” Adam said quickly. “Her family!”

Lydia scoffed. “We’re not a family.” She sounded a touch offended. “We’re father, daughter, and Delia.”

Furrowing her eyebrows, Barbara inquired, “Your mother, she...?”

Just when Barbara thought Lydia’s ears couldn’t droop any further, they somehow got even lower.

  “She... She’s dead...”

Adam grimaced. Barbara’s wings tensed against her back for bringing such a traumatic experience up.

The good news, though, was that the role of mother was up for the taking. And since Lydia clearly felt anything but a parental bond with that Delia woman, Barbara knew it was at good as hers.

She could feel the mammary feathers and nesting season hormones coming in already! Literally. She imprinted on Lydia when she touched her wing. That was her chick now.

  “Oh, honey,” Barbara murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

Lydia shook her head, making her ears slap around her face. She gazed around the attic with sparkling eyes, as if she were holding back tears.

  “She would have loved this place,” Lydia said. “She was Vesper! Which, you know, explains,” She gestured to herself. “She would call me her ‘weird little moon,’ but it was never in a mean way. And we used to have our own little full moon festivals so I would grow up with proper Vesper traditions and culture! We would hang up all the blankets in the house on the trees and make these forts that we would burrow in and watch the moon from. She taught me how to properly pray to Valtiel and everything! And we would do the moon dances on the ground because I can’t fly, but she made the effort to learn how to for me. We couldn’t actually go to the festivals, though, because,” She gestured again. “She worried about me all the time and didn’t let me do a lot of things, but what we did do was amazing.” She then blinked out of her daze and shook her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you talking about my mom.”

  “No, it’s okay!” Barbara assured her. “We don’t mind!”

  “Really?” Lydia tilted her head and her ears flopped over with the movement. “‘Cause my dad never wants me to talk about her. It’s basically against the law in the house. Among many things.” She raised her wings slightly and did a voice that was apparently supposed to be her cicada Cimex father, “‘Lydia, no talking about your mom! Lydia, no eating bugs, it’s weird and basically cannibalism! Lydia, no coming around me because even though I say I’m trying to change my views of you I still see you as an unrepentant monster who I fear will eat my throat out while I’m sleeping and it makes me guilty not because the way I think of you but because I fear of what you’ll do to society and I was the one who brought you into the world to wreak suck destruction on civilization!’”

Barbara and Adam stared at her in shock.

  “Dads, am I right?”

  “That’s…very concerning,” Adam said.

Lydia shrugged nonchalantly. “Everything about my existence is concerning, so…” Her face then scrunched up and she pressed her floppy ears against the sides of her head like she was trying to keep out a noise that Barbara and Adam’s Avem ears couldn’t pick up. “Oh, ow. Stop worrying so loudly! I’m okay! I’m, like, basically immune to it at this point!”

Barbara and Adam both blinked in confusion, but then Barbara understood.

  “You’re a mind reader.”

Lydia pulled her hands away and smiled slightly. “In the flesh.”

Barbara wondered what that was like--

  “It’s pretty cool, actually.”

--to hear everyone’s thoughts, all the different ways they thought about you and judged you, possibly pretending they liked you when really they hated your guts.

  “When you put it like that…”

  “You surprise me more and more, Lydia,” Adam said.

  “Better than scaring you,” Lydia said. “You guys are really cool. I like you. You’re probably the best thing about this stupid house.”

  “This house is not stupid!” Adam blustered. He grabbed Lydia by the shoulders, making them lurch and the moth fur bristle, and spun her around to him so he could scold her. “It’s a classic Victiorian-- OWW!!!”

Adam ripped away from Lydia as if he had touched fire, while Lydia shrunk away, instinctively wrapping her wings around herself. Adam shook his hands in the air while flapping his wings in obvious distress. 

  “Ow! Ow! Ow! What HAPPENED?” Adam yelped.

  “Sorry,” Lydia whispered. 

  “Are you okay?” Barbara asked her husband. He splayed his hands open for her, and she winced when she saw angry red blisters starting to form all across his palms. “Oh.”

  “It isn’t lethal!” Lydia said, and she sounded very meek compared to the snarky girl that had been talking a few seconds before. “Well, I don’t think it is… But you’re dead, so it’s okay! The pain will go away within a few hours!”

  “HOURS?!” Adam squawked, as if he were a parrot and not a chickadee. He made a woeful noise. “Just cut my hands off!”

Lydia’s ears drooped even lower. “I’m really sorry, Mr. Maitland. I should have told you.”

  “That your really soft fur is EVIL?” Adam said, and Barbara knew he was playing with Lydia, now. However, the little fledgling didn’t seem to realize because she still looked anxious.

  “It’s-- I take after the moth my Cimex side is from. A southern flannel. The worms have venomous hairs, so…” Lydia fluffed her collar of fur. “I do, too. And they sting pretty badly. But not all the time! Only when I bristle them. Thank the goddesses.” She shuffled her feet. “I’m really sorry.”

  “It’s alright,” Adam assured her. “A little blistering never hurt anyone. Oh, look, boils! Wonderful!” He laughed. “It builds character!”

Lydia cracked a small smile at that. When her nervousness didn’t recede, Barbara opened one wing to her, beckoning her to come closer. After a moment of shock and delight, gauging if it were a trap, Lydia skittered over and burrowed herself into Barbara’s feathers.

She fit perfectly. 

[smolbeandrabbles]

Selfish pt.8 - Sheriff of Nottingham x Reader (Robin Hood 2018)

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Author’s Note: This sat in my drafts for ages with a note screaming that I had all the plot points and just had to write it. At least it made me chuckle every time I looked at it! But it’s finally done! And I get to bring you more of the Sheriff and his Norse Goddess. (Come on, we know she is.)

I read this back out loud and made myself laugh a bunch of times. But also there are SO many great conversations in this. It’s another piece of mine I like very much 🥰

Disclaimer: Robin Hood characters & plot not mine  / mad world still courtesy of Otto Bathust / lyrics not mine

Premise: The more you look at Nottingham the more you see corruption in it’s power structure, and you turn to the one man you can confront. There are things that you want to move forward with in your relationship, but not until you’re on exactly the same page...

Words: 9575

Warnings: Sexual Pre-Amble / All the plot threads for the movie pick up and our girl is not best pleased with any of them / Scars/Sheriff’s Backstory

______

I tried to warn her this ain’t a friendly game It’s just warfare by a different name She won’t listen so I’m tryin' to pretend That I don’t know how the story’s gonna end It’s like a tight rope hangin' by a thread A vicious cycle where no one comes out ahead She’s divin’ in to try to save a drowning man But I’ll take her down with me if I can My heart stays locked away somewhere You’re the reason that it’s there

---

Fighting for the things you give me I wanna share your love Feelin' like a wounded soldier Strength is not enough And I can't win this battle on my own My sword has long been buried Piled on with dirt Speak to me your promises Resurrect your word I'll rise up and be your voice I made my choice This is my story Your songs are stored inside my heart So break me apart It's for your glory Let it pour out of me Let it pour out of me It's for your glory So ride out on your wings of love Show me that you're here Cast down on my enemies Trembling with fear Cuz I can't win this battle on my own No I can't win this battle on my own I'll rise up and be your voice I made my choice This is my story

---

Months more passed into your marriage, and you could happily - hand-on-heart - say that you were enjoying it. Askel became a little softer on it, but kept trying to point out that he wouldn’t see it as a real marriage until at least he was involved. When you put it to Marcus, as the witness, he simply held his hands up. “Look, I just did what I was asked. But if it was just for a certificate to prove something… I dunno if it counts.” You would let the Church argue that one. Tuck would have the answer, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear it or not. It was a marriage, and that’s what Wil was putting to the people, documents standing or not. It wasn’t something you even had to push down or to the back of your mind, it was just something you never thought on. At least your brother was starting to realise how much happier you were now, and that your husband continued to make you happy. That was what mattered. And their relationship was certainly getting better because of it. Askel’s English was broken, and his accent at times make it difficult (not that he cared), but he was trying now. That made you proud of him, especially when the Sheriff responded in kind with Norse. That made Askel happy – to see you were not the only one trying in your relationship. Both of you were making an effort for the other.  It had Askel thinking this might work after all, although on occasion he’d grumble to you about not getting the opportunity to stab the guy on behalf of your father, and then take you back home. Teasingly you offered to let Askel return home but he always refused, preferring to ‘protect’ you. Although you weren’t sure you needed it. Askel did like spending a lot of time down at the docks now, however, as the Norse ships started arriving – you knew he was enjoying being around your people again. You weren’t always on duty with your guard, and you had them all pretty well trained by now. Marcus liked to, on occasion, give you breaks and you seemed to be given a lot more advisory meetings to attend. Luckily Lucian was still around to help you with those. You weren’t sure you wanted to put unnecessary stress on someone who was meant to be retiring, but he simply chuckled: “My dear, these are the hardest fought battles. Political ones, you’re doing excellent work out there I can already see that. But now I must help you master these. Besides, I would feel better doing something for the Sheriff. Wil does need guidance on occasion! He made the right choice with you, of that I am certain.” He didn’t need to add that statement, and you were certainly humbled. You were done with those today, though, and you knew that Wil would be busy for the rest of his own. Considering how much complaining he’d done this morning whilst dressing. To save him from leaving looking riled up – especially as the Lords decided to make it their mission to collect him - you pulled him back from the door at the last second and into a fierce kiss. At least he’d left with a smile, if not a yearning to spend the remainder of his day alone with you. He’d been continually busy for the past few weeks, and less time could therefore be spent with him outside of quiet morning and night hours. You were aware that during this time Vesper had been able to stretch his legs less and less, and that horse was growing restless. You were off duty, and with nothing else much to do other than read or sit with your thoughts, you believed you could provide the perfect solution. You approached the Sheriff’s office fairly cautiously, greeted with a smile by Alden, who was now every so often joining your guard in training. Although you seldom saw the point, because he was already very good. He didn’t need you – but he wanted to be involved and that was sweet. “Good day, my lady.” He stood to attention and you politely inclined your head, “How is he?” “On and off. You’ll be welcome respite.” “What a shame that it is only to ask one question, is he with anyone?” “No, and he’d prefer for it to be kept that way until his next meeting. Of course, you will be a notable exception.” “I’ll knock anyway!” And you did so, but didn’t wait for a response before entering. “…Oh, thank God. I was beginning to think my personal guard wasn’t doing his job.” “You specifically told him I could enter?” “I don’t think he’d stop you.” Wil pushed his chair out to stand but you stilled him, “No, please, stay seated it’s just one question and I’ll be leaving! You have much to do.” “Well, you may ask when ready.” “Vesper.” “…Yes?” His head tilted. “May I take him out? Beyond the walls? I just… You’ve been busy and I’d like to make sure that he doesn’t get… too restless.” “Ah. Well I’ll defer to you, if you think he’ll be fine.” There were a few seconds of silence between you, before he smiled and added, “I think he trusts you, but do be careful.” “I will, I promise!” You beamed – it was all about respect, but you would want to keep control of a stallion like that. You’d watched Wil with him enough to know how it was done. Thinking better of just turning and running back out, instead you approached his desk, leaning down to catch his lips – this kiss far more gentle. “Enjoy your day.” The smile that graced his face was a delight to watch, “Thank you. I’ll try my upmost to make that so.” Wil took your hand in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles to bid you farewell, you couldn’t help beaming as you left the room, closing the door behind you and wishing Alden well. You were certainly about to have a good day. Marcus had told you previously that Vesper only let the Sheriff anywhere near him to ride. So you knew that if this worked it was another number to add to the apparent ‘miracles’ that were happening here because of you. Then again, you’d always had an understanding with this horse; he was considerably calmer with you than the others, and it didn’t take long for you to persuade him to let you saddle him up, hands through his mane and over his neck, before stroking his muzzle – whispering gentle words in Norse. The same ones you used to use with your own horse before he was fully used to you; until Vesper allowed you to slip on his reigns. “Okay, Vesper…” You stroked him delicately again, before swinging yourself up onto his back, “let’s get you running!” Although you were careful with him through the streets of Nottingham, you could feel the both of you getting used to each other, figuring the other out. He was tall and steady, more than Eyhamel was – but you had to remind yourself he wasn’t the same kind of horse. Which gave him the edge out here – he was used to walking streets like this now. Eyha was still nervous about how close some of them were; in the mines especially – he was used to small spread out houses, sea air and countryside. You wondered how long Wil and Vesper had been a partnership, did Vesper grow up on streets like this, or did he know Wil’s country estate? The one where his family had- Vesper tugged the reigns sharply and you gasped, knowing you’d have got distracted, out of sync. Angrily thinking on something you shouldn’t have been. It had transferred through you into him, and you were forced to take a calming breath. “Sorry. That one’s on me.” Both of you were eager to get running, and you could feel that energy as you approached the gates. You’d come a different way to usual today, and this one led out to the toll bridge; the ground was a little flatter and smoothed out down a slope, with no trees here you knew you could let the power in the horse beneath you fly. Although you didn’t get to do that right away, because as you pulled up to the toll bridge the scene unfolding in front of you demanded your attention. The guards operating the bridge were currently yelling in the faces of a couple of scared looking peasants. And when the yelling didn’t work, they were dragged to the floor and promptly beaten. The anger running through you into Vesper had him starting forward, and you were glad of it, not attempting to pull him back. “STOP!!! STOP!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?”  Your shouts were at least controlled as you put Vesper between the guards and the people, forcing them to back up. Your look was hard and if they thought you were done with them- “What. Are. You. Doing?” You demanded once more, glaring. “They have to pay the toll, can’t pay, no entry.” The guard very nearly spat, as if you were the problem. Clearly he wasn’t impressed with your intervention. “Are you Nottingham guard?” If they were yours you were about to axe them on the spot, “Who do you report to?” “The council.” Oh, that meant they weren’t charged with defending the city. “We are not the guard.” “I should hope not.” You forced them to back up again, Vesper was happy to aid in the fact that you were having none of it, “I’d see you off my guard before you could think. Who authorised you to do this!?” “The Sheriff. We have our orders.” You stilled Vesper for a moment with one single blink, Wil? Wil was just letting this happen? Did he know it happened like this? You knew you didn’t want to believe it. “We’ll see about that.” If you weren’t so determined to take Vesper out you’d be marching back up to the palace and dragging him down here to witness for himself. “Let them through.” “On whose authority?” You folded your arms, “My husbands. My own. I don’t care – you should be ashamed of yourselves.” Power, give them a drop and things like this happened… You wheeled Vesper around to the two peasants, recovering themselves and their goods. “Are you alright? Do you need assistance?” Your face and voice were considerably softer. That would be a short trek, you wouldn’t have minded doing that.  But they both shook their heads, bowing their thanks to you. “No, M’lady! Thank you.” “Truly, it’s nothing. I can only apologise.” You waited to make sure that they got inside before turning back to the guard, “I catch you doing this again, you really will have to answer to someone higher than me, and I can promise you, you won’t be keeping your positions either.” You made sure to let that sink in with enough fierce in your voice, before once again turning his horse on a dime and urging Vesper out over the bridge. Well, now you’d need to spend some time out here cooling off, too.

The Sheriff, whilst all this was happening, had left his office. As much to be truly alone as to catch a glimpse of you, finding the highest point in the palace to keep an eye on as large an area of the outskirts as possible. He took his work with him, although he couldn’t say he wasn’t distracted. This could at least have been brushed off for a few days, the opportunity to watch you run his horse was not something to be missed. Wil found himself smiling uncontrollably as you did appear, and when you said run Vesper, you’d really meant it. You pushed him hard, galloping across the flat plains, fluctuating between sweeping and tight turns to add variety to the speed. But there were rivers and streams that you strayed into and Wil could swear he heard your laugh from all the way out there. And on the other side, lush long grass bled into the scenery and slopping hills, before it ended in forest. You never strayed up there, but you certainly strolled out of sight every so often. On these occasions he would just watch and wait for you to come back, instead of getting anything done. He sighed gently, before chuckling – wishing he could be beside you right now, wind rushing through his hair. A distraction maybe, but a welcome one. The Sheriff’s blue eyes flicked back down to his documents, before he firmly placed them to one side, focusing back on you. Voice soft as he mused to himself, “Well, Y/N… you’ve done it again…”

***

 Your escapades at the toll booth this morning didn’t take long to reach the Lords and, when eventually the Sheriff had to abandon his seat in favour of the Lords meeting, they were quick to jump on the subject with him. If he were honest, he was happy that you seemed to be taking control, using your voice, showing Nottingham your authority here. As you were married, he didn’t see anything wrong with you using him as your leverage. Wil supposed that the Lords didn’t like that you were female. He wasn’t about to let that kind of thinking stop you – and the Sheriff knew for a fact you weren’t either. However, apparently, you’d been busy in town this morning. “-She’s been messing with the toll bridge! That’s there for a reason, but she’s threatened the guard! They aren’t the city guard, not hers! She’s letting people through without paying the toll! This is unbelievable! She’s going to destroy everything we’re putting into place-!” Wil sat back in his chair, and stretched, looking between them all as they all began fussing and agreeing. He’d let them all talk, but not listen to a word. That was the reason you were here after all, was it not? You were here to shake things up, that was the purpose of putting you in charge. “With all due respect, gentleman, she is in her position to challenge the way things are done.” “She means to topple us.” The Sheriff held his hands up, “No, No. My wife will make things better for our city. I’m sure whatever happened at the toll was a misunderstanding. She already has our defences in better shape. She’ll do much more for us than that.” Pembroke gave him a look of significance, “The war effort?” His eyes narrowed, what was Pembroke suggesting? “She has no part in that, nor reason to know anything about it.” “The tolls-” “I will make sure that I explain to her the importance.” Wil took a breath, “I have this under control.” “Do you?” The Sheriff chuckled, “You think I can’t handle a woman like her? She’s young, she does not understand all our ways yet. She’s malleable – she’ll toe the line. I won’t even need to ask it of her.” He knew that you probably had a better grasp of things than he’d admit to them; but the war wasn’t anything he’d needed to involve you in, it was so far away. Getting you mixed up in it was unnecessary – besides that, he was sure that his side of the plan was something you could agree with. Also, right now William had to play the game the men in front of him wanted him to play – assumed he was playing. The Sheriff had to show that he could control you, that you weren’t unruly. It wouldn’t take much for one man in the room to think you were a little above your station and want you shipped back home. Or worse, there was so much worse that could be done… Wil crossed his arms over his body, just so the hidden blade pressed flat into his chest – they were underestimating the both of you. It anyone came for you, he’d protect you with his life, of that the Sheriff was already sure. You had a duty to defend him and his city, and you might think it to be that – whether you loved him or not. But he would certainly be doing this for love; the knowledge he’d never meet anyone quite like you ever again. Shaking Nottingham up was not the only thing you’d done, after all. You were undoing him piece by piece, and it had been so subtle at first Wil hadn’t even noticed – but now he wanted all these things he’d never considered before… and he wanted to share them with you. “See it done, Sheriff.” Oh he would. Just not in the way they thought.

*** By the time you got back it was late afternoon, you made sure to come back through the gate you went out of – shooting the guards a look, just so they knew you’d be going straight to the Sheriff with this. Luckily you weren’t in a nice dress today; you and Vesper by this point drying off nicely, but certainly a little worse for wear. Water stains and mud flecked your dress and his lower body. You couldn’t help but be glad you’d got to ride him, and from the signals he was giving off, Vesper was happy too. You dismounted as soon as you entered the palace grounds, laughing as you led him back towards the stable. You were happy to go and brush him down yourself, but when a stable hand came to relieve you of him – promising that all would be okay when you warned him of Vesper’s temperament – you found yourself void of things to do. Not for long, your curiosity had you running back to Wil to see if he’d be back from his duties today. Not in his office anymore, but his ready room. Doors and windows open, light flooded him and you had to pause and catch your breath at the way it broke over his form, his eyes, sifting through his hair, the occasional glint off his signet ring. You felt a knot in your stomach for a moment and couldn’t help but softly gasp as the heat ran through you. Oh. It was like that…

Eventually he put his quill down and his eyes raised to you. A small smile on his face as this time he did get up from his seat, “Darling, forgive me, come come…” The Sheriff waved you forward. “Oh, I-!” You walked to him, “I wasn’t waiting for your permission, I-” you took his hands in yours, loving the way the smile on his face grew exponentially as you did so, “I’m sorry. I was… a little dazed.” He chuckled, “By me?” letting your hands go he cupped your face, and that smile of his became a smug smirk. “Who else?” Your voice was soft, and you let him lead you to his lips. Even though his kiss was sweet and short it just made you want him more. But Wil cleared his throat: “What happened at the toll booth today?” You took a step back from him, hoping that tone wasn’t really as accusatory as it sounded to you, “Do you know what they are doing to your people-!!?” Suddenly all your outrage from this morning came flooding back, “I understand that tolls must be paid, but beating it out of people!?! If they can’t pay, turn them around, but BEAT them!?” “Y/N-” “NO! NO! Listen to me, do you have any idea how badly that reflects on you?” Wil’s eyebrows furrowed, how much you cared for him really was admirable, but you had to understand how this worked; “Y/N, those are the rules. You care too much. You do. It doesn’t matter what they think of me, but how they follow the rules.” “They’re BEATING pe-” you stopped yourself short, you knew he understood that. Hell, you knew he understood that better than anyone. “It matters. You are not a bad person. Stop… stop trying to make me believe you are.” “This is the way it goes.” “You’re better than this.” “I’m not.” You hated that sincerity in his eyes, why wasn’t he fighting this? “You are.” You shook your head, drawing him back to you, “You can stop this.” “You know it doesn’t work that way.” He stepped back and towards his desk, “Your actions are reflecting on you and if they think you’re pushing a little too far they will…” Wil left that sentence to finish itself. Any sexual excitement within you was suddenly gone at how nonchalant he was being, “I would like to see them try!” “This’s not the point, is it.” “You can’t ignore what they are doing on the pretence of protecting me, what if it was your idea?” The look in those blue eyes was almost haunting, “The Church is fine with this!?” “Backs bent, heads bowed.” The Sheriff’s voice sounded tired – something he’d heard and repeated all too often. Too much history. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” The shake of your head was not only in disappointment, but that you really hadn’t fathomed how big that barrier was to him. A wall you couldn’t see, and maybe one you’d never clear. “It’s not me you need to apologise to, but the people of your city. What they think of you matters, if only to me. And it should matter to you.” “They will think what they think, I have very little say in that. You on the other hand…” The Sheriff collected something from his desk, and held it out for you. “I care what they think of you very much. And whilst I may have my own barriers… you influence the thinking of this City. They will tolerate me to love you. And if you are swaying the people…” You took the letter from him delicately, “The Church can’t put a stop to that?” He nodded encouragingly as you turned your eyes to the parchment, and they widened at the seal, “…My- My father-!?” “I thought it only right for you to be the one to open it.” “Thank you.” The look in your eyes and that smile were so sincere. The kind he got to see on your face when all your defences were down, when you could be yourself with only him. Something Wil wished he could see much more often than he did. You broke the seal and read, small smile immediately widening, eyes scanning the English. It was a little grammatically incorrect… but the sentiment was there. It was English for your husband, that much was for certain. And your smile became a joyous laugh as you wiped a tear from your eye. “It’s a congratulatory letter on our marriage!” “Really!?” And the tone in the Sheriff’s voice made you look to him immediately; you didn’t ever think you’d heard it so light. So overjoyed. The wall was suddenly down as genuine awe crossed his face, eyes bright and wide. You gave a nod, before beckoning him to you, and as he rounded you Wil wound his arms around your waist, propping his head on your shoulder to read. You watched him curiously, at the way he tried and failed to hide that smile – eventually doing so by placing a kiss into your skin. “Well, the honour is certainly all mine.” You laughed, hands over his, “We’re getting somewhere.” “Anything is progress.” He agreed, “Long may that continue… But, with you here, perhaps there is nothing we can’t do.” “Well,” you reached behind you to run your fingers into his hair, “As long as I can change that attitude of yours. Keep your people on side… You keep running things as you do. We make quite the team.” This time the Sheriff’s kiss was to your neck, and he lingered there, making you shudder. “On that, I can agree.”

***

 Eventually you discovered that perhaps the Sheriff was not really protecting you at all. Perhaps he was protecting himself, perhaps his fairly blasé approach to the treatment of his people was not on account of the Lords and the Church. It was just more spun rhetoric; but spun to you? That hurt more than you expected. Clearly you weren’t supposed to find this out, but you had only just missed him in his ready room – with the window open and the wax still melted, a stack of draft notices ready to be signed; that right around now you had half a mind to burn - and all the signs that the room had been hastily vacated, made you believe that Wil was unexpectedly interrupted and he would return soon. You were fine with waiting but were looking a little too closely at the papers on his desk; one immediately confusing you, that looked like Arabic writing… And as you pulled it from out of the stack you gasped instantly in shock. Panic overtook you for a minute and in your wish not to believe it was what it so clearly depicted, you leafed through the documents to hide it again. But you knew you couldn’t leave it out of sight out of mind, and for all he had said to you, the Sheriff owed you an explanation. Wil took the stairs back up to his space with a grumble. Why anyone had thought that small breakages were important enough to interrupt him for he didn’t know. Other than him turning his annoyance on them “Just FIX it then!” and muttering about time wasting. He didn’t need to survey the evidence, all they needed to do was mend it: in fact the Sheriff wasn’t even sure he would have noticed if they hadn’t had directed his attention to it. When he reached his ready room, he was surprised to see you there, pouring over the papers on his desk. Wil thought this odd; you’d never been interested in draft noticed before now. You didn’t need to be either, he’d already said that he wasn’t about to touch your city guard. The Sheriff entered the room cautiously, and quiet, craning to see exactly what you were staring at. Unfortunately the angle of the rest of his stacks of documents didn’t make that so easy, and he was so tall you couldn’t fail to miss him. Wil didn’t even get to open his mouth. “This better be a peace treaty because not only is that Arabic, that’s the Church seal and there’s NO way in hell I want you involved with that!” You’d allow him an explanation, but your look to his face told the Sheriff he better not even think about lying to you now. Wil swallowed hard; his mouth opened then he thought better of it. You turned away from the desk, stance fairly aggressive – and that extended to the look in your eyes, colour vibrant with anger. Wil raised a hand to stop you before you started, you had to hear it from him, no matter how hard it might be for the Sheriff to say. “Y/N… It’s not- it’s not like that.” “Those are numbers, Wil, what are you doing!? Are you paying the enemy-!?” He pressed a finger to his lips “SHH!” and his tone was insistent, “Let me explain this!” “I don’t think you need to-! If you’re plotting with them that’s treason! What about the King!? And with the Church!?” You were clearly shocked, and Wil stepped back to close the door, eyes still on you, “After what they’ve done to you!? Being in league with them!?! The King is responsible for our union! He sent me here-!” “This has been going on a little longer than you’ve been present in my life and it’s not about that, it’s a means to an end!” “If they find out they will KILL you! You’ll be made a spectacle of! This is your country! Why send so many innocent men out there to die for a cause that you’re clearly working against! What is the play-!?” You took a step back as he took one forward, flinching. This wasn’t good, and Wil had to get you back on side quickly – but there was something about what you were saying, you still only cared for him. That’s what you were worried about, what would happen to him. “Is- Is that why you must be so silent!?” “Y/N. It’s not… please, it isn’t what you’re thinking. It is not that our King is bad, it is not… a means to seize power, that is just the outcome of an idea. But I need the support of the Church to take this all the way to being in power. Think about it, if I have unlimited power… control of England, then I have the means to stop the Church. There’ll be no more control, not of me, of the people, of everyone else they oppress just because they hold power through their ‘Divine’ cause.” He swallowed, exhaling deep and trying not to sound so fanatical, “…This only works if the King is removed. That will only happen if the enemy win. Then, once I am in place… Well, the Moors will bring their religion with them too, as you have.” You took one thing from this. “You don’t believe.” “Would you?” “…Wil…” That hurt so much, “Wil, you… you are lost!” No belief? No faith? In anything…? You stepped away from him again, which was too much for the Sheriff’s heart to take and his hand shot out to grasp your wrist, dragging you closer to him: “No! No. Not with you. I have never been lost with you.” He kept you there, but the look in your eyes was breaking his heart, “The King lets this happen. To me, to countless others… and so it continues. I can’t touch the Foundling House, I can’t stop this without winning this war, this way. What kind of King lets these things happen, Y/N!? Would your father!?” “There’s another way. Wil there is a better way. Working with the Church is not the answer.” “They will never see it coming if I involve them. They think the power is shared, really for the first time it is me using them. But, make no mistake, Y/N, I need them.” “No…” You wriggled free of his grip, but cupped his face instead, “You don’t.” “You told me I was a better person than this. Now you understand I’m not.” He indicated to the paper, “But I need you with me on this. And it is the only thing I will ask. Bad, yes, I admit as much… But to do a world of good? You must see that?” You looked away from him and back to the parchment, glaring hard. The Sheriff’s hands settled on your waist, but you didn’t back away from him this time. Your look was steely, and he was going to hear this once and once only and heed you on it. “I do not approve of this. But I am with you on it - IF at the end of all this I may slay some of these Lords and these people who hurt you. And I don’t want to hear another word from you on supporting our soldiers out there. You are going to tell me the truth, William, or I’ll take this to the King myself. Do you understand me? Not one secret.” There were a few more seconds of silence than you would like but eventually he nodded, “Yes, yes.  I understand.” And the Sheriff knew there was no way to threaten you or have you back down on this. You’d be much more likely to slit his throat than listen to his demands. You took a step back, “Find yourself. Because I don’t think you’ll do it in me.” Head down you brushed passed him and exited the room, deeply troubled. Wil turned to watch you go with a soft sigh; you had it all wrong. You were all of his faith that he had left. Nothing good had ever come of believing in a higher power or doing as the Church requested… but you, something had brought you across the water, and to him… The Sheriff wasn’t inclined to think that was just good luck. You stopped on the stairs and had to sit for a moment, hand against the wall; breathing hard to make sure you didn’t cry instead. You hated that you somehow sympathised with this cause. That you understood him. It was treason, it was crazy, Wil would bet his life on something so insane that may not even work out for him. You knew he was power hungry too… you didn’t like it but it was there, and you doubted he would deny it. The Sheriff wasn’t going to find taking that crown a burden, he would relish it. But after all the pain they had caused him in the past, if his end goal truly was to rid this country of its oppression under the Church, then you couldn’t help but agree it might be something desperately needed. It wasn’t just him after all – and it was quite clearly also affecting his present. Haunting Wil in everyone he had the misfortune of interacting with. After all, the Sheriff might be free of that house, but he was not free of them.

 *** The Sheriff certainly became more careful of the way that he spoke around you in meetings. But when you knew all the pieces at play, it was fascinating to watch them talk. You wondered if everyone in this room was in on it. Just a few of them? You started accompanying him to Church a little more just to keep your eyes on them. At night though, Wil would sit you down, or take you in his arms and he’d spill all those secrets that no one else would. Things that, by the way he told them, only you knew. When you asked if this was only because you asked, or if he really trusted you with such information he only smiled. ‘You should know.’ So, for the imminent attack of what every Town Hall meeting called ‘the far enemy’ you had begun challenging Marcus, Alden and Askel to defend the walls. Each of them picked a specialist crew from your guard and tried to defend the wall from you. Armed with a training sword and bow. The idea was to stop you from making your way inside the walls, but every so often another member of the guard was selected as a target and you had to get to them. Honestly it was the most fun you’d had in a while, even if it produced mixed results and some of the teams were far better at stopping you, or slowing you down, than others. Sometimes you wouldn’t even have scaled the walls or made it to the first gate. Sometimes you’d end up cornered on top of the wall, but you’d put up a pretty good fight before they finally caught you. Sometimes you could get through, but they’d slowed you down enough to gather a force up at the palace or to move your ‘target’ far from the scene. Sometimes they’d still be peering over the wall and you’d have to whistle them from an opposite roof, waving. Sometimes you’d end up dragging the target back to them and saying, “Well, my husband would be dead by now. Congratulations!” When they dared you to do the same thing, you were nearly always successful. Askel always scoffed and said that was just because you were so adamant at defending your man – not necessarily your city. Your argument was you were head of the Nottingham guard, so if you couldn’t stop people they might as well dismiss you now. (But you might also concede his point.) But it was a laugh, and you all enjoyed it so much that it became a regular drill, and you’d practice all times of day and in all weathers. The greatest thing was just to hear Wil turn it into propaganda; how the guard were preparing for all eventualities, that they were going to defend Nottingham just as the soldiers were defending ‘us’ in the Crusade. You’d only allow it because he always looked so happy to talk about good things happening and the Church always looked kinda sour about it. You did your best to act as a Lady of Nottingham would and not smugly smirk over at them… you didn’t always succeed. But pretty soon you and Askel were teaching the best and brightest to free run the roof tops and scale the palace in good time. Marcus was built a little heavier and it wasn’t his forte, but you admired him trying, before he eventually concluded he’d rather keep his feet on the ground. Alden however was quicker than you, and as you started to figure out how useful he’d be, you were actually glad of the Sheriff’s offer of his personal guard to the cause when necessary. More important to you, of course, was that you had to worry less about who Wil had to defend him, when you could see clear evidence of how good Alden was, and how much he’d grown, right in front of you. Lucien liked watching you with a shake of his head as if you were all young, naive idiots and, usually when you’d made it to the roof, called up to you that he didn’t realise Nottingham needed an ariel team. He wasn’t about to hide how proud he was of his guard growing, and almost literally flying, with you. One thing was for sure, if the far enemy did ever get over here, no matter what the Sheriff’s arrangement was, you and your boys would defend this city. You wouldn’t let innocent lives you were charged with protecting die just so he could take power. That, you vowed.

***

To show solidarity with your trainees - and those now returning to the city from war unable to be much use there anymore, but still wishing to help out, that you’d taken into your guard – every so often you would stand the wall yourself. You certainly didn’t mind it; everyone was in fairly good spirits and would call to each other up and down the wall. Sometimes they sung songs that you didn’t really understand and if Wil passed below you, he’d yell up about using such language around a Lady with a shake of his head. Only with them throwing back that you were ‘hardly a Lady’. You didn’t mind it much, you were just happy that everyone else enjoyed themselves and you got to look out across the landscape and dream about riding out as far as your eyes could see. Sometimes you could see smoke whisps coming from far off villages and on the occasions that you were facing Shirebrook you could only smile as you thought of Charles and Cara. They seemed due a visit, you would make a mental note of that. One thing you did always make sure to check on was the mines and the tolls. Regular contact with your people kept you popular and Marian, along with her Will, were always welcoming. Especially if you took Tuck with you. The four of you would discuss policy that you had no qualms taking back to your husband for your night talks; even if he blustered and told you he’d hear no more on it. As long as there was one voice in his ear attempting to help the people, you were happy being it. Especially away from the smoke and mirrors world of the Lords – who you trusted less and less the more they opened their mouths. Today you were back on the wall, and in a moment of true boredom, doing nothing more than passing the time of day with Marcus. There were still a few complaints you had that you’d only tell him, and as usual he’d simply chuckle about it and offer solidarity. Sometimes advice, but even just lending his ear helped you sort through things in your brain. Luckily it was a clear day, and the suns rays were warming but not beating down on you. Good on all accounts. However, you were distracted from the conversation by someone calling you: “My Lady-!” At first you couldn’t find the source, not the wall, or below you, “My Lady!” Turning you realised that they were in the street behind you, a small group on horseback. You approached the edge of the wall cautiously, Marcus walked in step, hand on the hilt of his sword, almost making you laugh to see how quick he would be to defend you from nothing. “Yes?” “My Lady, do you… perhaps know where we can find the Sheriff?” You tilted your head, why would they ask you? You’d been out here all day. “Your husband is expecting some very important members of his jurisdiction. They have arrived and urgently wish to speak to him but, we have looked everywhere. We were hoping you may be able to assist?” Instead of offering them any places you’d be convinced they wouldn’t have checked – that he wouldn’t want anyone else knowing of anyway – you simply chuckled, “Yes. I will find him for you, whereabouts would you like him sent?” “The main hall, if you please My Lady. Thank you.” You turned back to Marcus, “Well, right hand, I leave my watch in your capable hands.” “Go on. Aid him to his meeting. In fact stay, he’ll need you, I can imagine it’ll only be tedium!” You headed towards the set of steps with another barked laugh, “Thank you, Marcus! You’re sending me to that tedium too!” It didn’t take you long to figure out where Wil would be. If they’d been thorough in their search, there was only one room they wouldn’t dare enter. Each and every room you could knock on and, alright you’d be facing his wrath if you entered without permission, but you’d have still found him. If they couldn’t find him, then he was out – unlikely, considering Wil often told you if he was to be away from the palace for too long – or he was here. You knocked gently on your room door and upon receiving no answer opened it softly. Your assumption was correct and you closed the door quick, but silently, behind you. Wil was lying on his front on the bed, arms folded under his chin, completely unbothered by the day. You stilled for a second, wondering why he might have left his shirt off. You weren’t about to ignore how much those scars still made your heart ache. He was clearly here to hide away from the world, you weren’t about to stop him. “Darling, what’s wrong?” Your voice was soft, as you walked forward, studying him for any signs that it was anything of significance. Illness? He’d been alright when you’d left him this morning. Wil sighed, shuffling, “To be honest I’m fed up with everyone. I just needed some quiet time alone. Not to be shirking my duties, but…” You paused, not wishing to be intrusive if he didn’t want, “From me too?” “No… No…” He chuckled, “You can stay.” You clambered onto the bed, still surveying his body; “You’re tense…” “I’m what?” “Tense… It’s all in your body language… your shoulders are tense, are you okay?” Wil opened his mouth, but clamped it shut, lucky that you wouldn’t see. No, he dare not tell you about what was going on in his head. “Yes, I’m… fine.” “Just close your eyes and try to relax…” He was suddenly aware of a pressure on his lower back, and your legs brushed against his as you settled yourself on top of him, trying to make sure not to pressure him with too much of your weight. Suddenly your hands were on Wil’s shoulders, pushing gently against all the tensions that had built themselves up in his muscles. “What are you doing?” “It’s just a massage… don’t worry, I’m pretty good at it, you can thank your rigorous guard training for this – my mother passed it on to all her children and now all you guard are perfecting it too. Good for war and training injuries but, also tension… and you, husband dearest, are extremely tense. I will not ask what is troubling you, but I would like to relieve you of it.” He groaned gently as you worked at the knots, which made you smile, at least he was enjoying it, “That feels good…” “Yeah?” “Yeah… Where have you been all my life?” He moved his arms from under himself at your insistence. “Well, now you know. Just come to me!” The Sheriff groaned again as you worked down his arms, into his fingers, and then back up, “Can you do it a little harder?” “Oh I forgot, it’s not fun if it’s not painful.” You smacked him playfully, “Sure, whatever you say.” But that only made him elicit more contented groans, louder than before. “Shhhh!” Although you couldn’t help but giggle, “You’re meant to be hiding from the world, aren’t you?” “Harder!” “Wil – I don’t want to hurt you-! Y’know there’s a fine line between relaxing your muscles and tearing them!” You ran your knuckles up his spine; and the growl he elicited made you smirk; you did the motion again, if only to keep the Sheriff growling like that…  “Agh-----!!!” “I told you it’d hurt.” “That didn’t hurt, that was good, do it again.” Unbelievable. “You’re very good at this.” “Happy to help!” You made your circles a little lighter, assured that even when working tension out of him you wanted to be gentle. There was probably a lot of scar tissue under his skin, and you didn’t want to upset it, or cause twinges in him. He chuckled slightly, running his hands gently along your legs under your dress, you couldn’t help but sigh against his fingertips. Although you couldn’t see the Sheriff’s face, you were sure that pulled a smirk from him.   “I don’t know want to be too rough…” “Nothing wrong with being rough.” You wondered if you were supposed to take that with the sexual edge of his voice. Probably. You swallowed hard, happy that if you were blushing he also wouldn’t see your face. You pushed your fingers to his neck, and then through the ends of his hair, the Sheriff sighed again as you pulled your fingernails back down, and then over his shoulders and ran his spine; Wil shivered a little, which made you giggle. “Isn’t gentle so much better?” “I get the feeling this isn’t a massage…” You refused to rise to that, even if that heat that hadn’t flooded you for a little while – since you’d seen him in that glorious sunshine before speaking about the toll booth in fact – returned at just the sound of Wil’s voice right now. You continued circular motions up his back, pushing harder in areas and softer in others; what the Sheriff didn’t realise of course was you’d spent the first few run-throughs seeing what he liked best and where, so now you could give him a proper massage. All you wanted was his emotional responses the way he’d given them to you before. “Ahhhhhhh---!!” You smirked slightly; “Better?” He growled; hands back on your legs, “Harder---!!” Ignoring Wil’s command for his whole body, just pushed harder through the parts that wanted it, you refused to strain anything on him. You supposed this was fairly intimate, considering you’d not actually officially consummated your marriage yet… if you could call it a real marriage. He still messed with your feelings too much, you didn’t want to give yourself to him once more until you could trust him to keep your happiness paramount, to keep you completely in the loop. Your body let you know exactly how it felt about that idea, and threatened to shake, you pushed back through his hair, and stopped. The Sheriff’s smile was present in his voice, “Finished?” “If you want me to stop?” And you thought that was probably for the best. “Well. Lady’s choice.” You laughed, and sat back, so you were between his legs and not sitting on him anymore. Wil turned so that he was leaning on his elbow, and could look at you, “What is your verdict, should I be partaking more often?” “It’s possibly not the only way you can relieve tension.” The smirk twitched on his lips and Wil took your hand in his, guiding you a little close to him, “Well, I’m certainly fine with staying here and learning more.” This time you knew you were blushing horribly, and your body was fine with completely betraying you. “Well, I believe I should be telling you that you have visitors, but I will greet them for you as your wife… I wish for you to stay here. And rest, you do enough.” You smiled gently, “I’m glad you thought it was okay.” “Okay?” Wil shook his head, and leaned in, for your efforts you received a series of short and incredibly sweet kisses, “It was a lot better than just okay.” he murmured against your lips before kissing you one last time.

***

Quiet mornings were nice between you, today you didn’t need to be anywhere in particular until much later in the day and even then, the Sheriff had extended his invitation as a courtesy. Certainly, therefore, a meeting to present only as his wife and not an important advisor. You’d probably decide if you were turning up or not at the very last minute. Wil was getting ready for the day, but, sitting there at the end of the bed talking to him in your white nightgown was distracting at best. You had one foot dangling off the edge of the bed and your other tucked up under you as you rested your arms and head on your knee. Due to this, your nightgown had ridden up, and both legs were fully exposed to him. This wasn’t unusual, he couldn’t lie about that – but… this morning looking at you was getting him a little worked up. The Sheriff supposed that was mostly because he had a lot on his mind right now, especially about you. His movements were sluggish as he got dressed, and Wil felt uncomfortable at best, breathing heavily. He bit his lips together, hoping you weren’t noticing this… and yet perhaps hoping that you were… Good God he wanted you, but, did you want him? Did you really? There were too many mixed signals, an he needed to be sure.

The Sheriff cleared his throat, approaching you, “Y/N... I realise that... we have not been intimate in a long time. And I don’t know if that is because you don’t trust me, you don’t want me- Well, with what you know it almost doesn’t surprise me. Although I... have been in conversation with Tuck.” You immediately looked up; eyes wide, attentive to what he was about to say. Clearly you couldn’t trust anybody anymore. “And he... imparted to me that you have been in conversation about... the possibility of children?” Of course Tuck would betray such a conversation. After all the confessional visits; this was a big one. “I...” You blinked a few times, unsure of exactly where this conversation was going to lead. It wasn’t one you’d ever had; you didn’t have the faintest idea of Wil’s stance on it. “I have talked to my handmaidens about it, yes.” The Sheriff stepped forward, taking your hand in his as he sank to his knee, “Oh, so… you would… want to-” He paused for a minute to think on his phrasing, “Do you want this with me?” “I never exactly envisioned this conversation happening this way.” “Well, what better time?” “Why did he even mention it?” Wil shrugged delicately, “He thought I might like to know.” Your eyes dropped from his face and you chewed your lip, “Forgive my thinking, but I wasn’t so sure – with your own past – you would want to have children.” “It wasn’t something I suspected to get the opportunity to-” He waved a hand, and then smiled gently, “Forgive me, but the prospect is exciting, isn’t it?” You swallowed thickly, “It is.” You wouldn’t deny that, “But I cannot bring a child into a world where we are not on the same side about where we’re going.” “Aren’t we?” “…Wil. There are problems here, and I will not have a child with you to fix them.” Your hand was still in his and you squeezed it, as his eyes dulled and you knew you were hurting him, “…But,” and it was a big but, “I am ready to try. While we figure everything else out.” Then you took his other hand in yours, “And we will, figure it all out, together.” The smile on the Sheriff’s face, the brightness in his eyes, the way he laced your fingers had your body screaming at you. Louder than ever before, than even that first night. “We will.” He agreed, “But do not doubt that I want this, with you.” That emphasis was clear, you knew all about the other women; but you were his only focus now. Your body trembled and you hoped that it was not betraying you to him; was that excitement? Or desire? Or both? ‘It’s now or never!’ was all you could think. ‘If you want him as bad as you know you do, what better time than when he is asking you for this.’ “Do you, have anything important to do today?” The Sheriff’s head tipped, eyebrow raised, wondering if you were going where he hoped you were: “Not, particularly.” “I do not wish for you to just shirk your duty for this…” Although there was a tiny smirk on your face. “Is my duty not to you?” and to our future. “Stay. With me.” “Now?” This wasn’t just the conversation about what could be, this was the conversation. His eyes brightened, “Of course, I will stay. If my wife insists.” “Oh…” You pulled him off his knees and to your lips, as Wil already shrugging himself out of his coat, “I do.” Wil’s hands glided up your legs, as his kisses became a little harder, a little hotter. Your nightdress moved up your body and it was all you could do to help him, pulling at the ties at the top to wriggle out of it. You looped your arms around his neck, already moaning against his kisses, knowing that your arousal was already plain to see on your inner thighs. The Sheriff stripped himself of his jacket and undershirt, and then his trousers and undergarments. His hands on the inside of your thighs as you kept kissing him, parting your legs delicately as he laid you back. That sticky sweetness already lingering on his fingertips, he couldn’t help but chuckle. “How long?” “Too long…” Was your only breathless answer as Wil pulled his lips from yours to lick his fingers, “Oh, Y/N. You should have said something.” You shook your head, but he denied you the opportunity to recapture his lips as he ran his fingers through your wetness – causing you to shudder. “…You just said it for me.” That smirk of his was bigger than usual as he tasted you again, and this time when he kissed you harshly, the Sheriff pressed his tongue to yours, giving you the opportunity to taste yourself. You moaned quietly again, pulling his body to completely cover yours and he held you strong in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his. “I love you.” You pulled back for just a moment, just to study his face as he said it. “Do you?” “You know I do.” You were once again struck by the vulnerability, the way Wil said it with such conviction. No games, no lies. There was no room for any of that here, not between the two of you. Not here. “I love you too…” He shuddered at the Norse. Your hands were up in his hair, gentle kiss to his forehead, then his lips, “I want this… and I need you… Wil, I need you.” He held your hands once more as he pushed into you, gentler than before – but so different. Your body tingled, coils in your stomach radiating the same heat as before. Everything was suddenly so pleasant. It had been before, but now… perhaps that was just you thinking on context. Before it was about you, it was about becoming his… This wasn’t; this was about both of you, about your future. The possibility of having a family… You pulled him closer, and mixed with your moaning were distinct words; Norse – what else? The Sheriff smiled into your skin, pressing lingering kisses against your shoulder. “I want to hear them, Y/N, even if I don’t understand them…” But you both knew he already did. The sentiment, the million different ways you were capable of telling him how much you loved him. The million different ways you always would…

---

💜Thank you for reading! I don’t think I’ll get 9 done by the end of the year but I’m happy that we’re at this point and we can start heading towards the movie plot now!💙

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Due to recent events, I am changing this rule. It’s hard for me to receive messages unexpectedly, and I hate to imply that I’ll be able to get to these quicker because it isn’t the truth. Quicker, better responses come from the inbox. However, there have been too many incidents lately in which people needed to speak privately and had to make that a request. If you’re having a problem and need to vent, request sensitive advice, etc.? It’s alright, go ahead and drop me a PM, y’all. I’ll get back to you as soon as I am able. Please, do not be angry with me if I respond to inbox things or my queue is running! You’re important to me, I just might not have the requisite social cognition and energy you deserve at that time.

Aggressive inbox messages will be responded to in kind. I don’t care if you are on anon or not, if you haven’t an ounce of polite communication skills, I won’t have them either. This is not a “we don’t publish anon hate” blog.

I highly encourage asks and submissions on any and all RP topics, and it’s perfectly alright to be salty as fuck in them, you can totally vent here, but don’t take out your frustration on me or be demanding of me. I am always happy to help with information, advice, or just a response to your venting-it’s important to know someone is listening. However, it may take me a few days to a week to get to you, be patient. 

If you are going to vent, leave out usernames. This isn’t a callout or burnbook blog. It’s fine to state characters and fandoms, but if this becomes a problem, it’ll have to change. I don’t want this becoming a salt blog for one or two fandoms I very likely can’t even stand. Practice the fine art of alluding to things, its good experience for your writing! Besides, RPC problems are RPC problems, I promise. It might feel like it’s just your fandom, but there is something relatable in all corners.

I will not overly police comments. Keep the slurs and shit out of it, though. If there is an issue going on pertaining to a serious instance of hate speech, or behavior I, personally, deem as too inappropriate and/or immature to be taking place on my post, I will step in. Otherwise, I expect everyone to be adults in the comments and reblogs too. If you want to argue with each other, that’s your business. If you want to argue with me, I’m not sorry in advance.

Addition to the above: this is not a blog in which it will be tolerated that commentators or those submitting with the URLS are targeted for callouts, shaming, or other instances of bullying. No, I cannot make those people stop bothering you by blocking them, but the least I can do is address that by shutting down their access to this blog and it’s posts by blocking on the URLs I have for them. And I will. Fuck that “we can’t be responsible for” shit. It’s my blog, it’s my content I’m putting out there, I’m not going to just ignore shit like what went down over on COAR, thanks. Not. Cool.

This is definitely not a place for:

people who think giving muses labels, including top/bottom “dynamics,” is a good substitute for character traits, personality, and development

those with no reading comprehension skills

folks dependent upon aesthetics and aesthetics-based purple prose as filler for actual writing

anti-original character/just wants to fuck a FC or canon character club, get the fuck out immediately

y’all who see writing as an obstacle to getting down to action, be that smut, drama, or fight scenes...it’s literally a writing hobby

politics, any manner of phobe or ism, violent/non-inclusive feminists, purity/rpc/fandom/content police of any manner, and exactly any manner of racism, sexism, or religious intolerance - I give not a shit if it’s popular to hate the straights, for example, I neither believe in nor tolerate reactionary classifying of any group as blanket-statement evil

people who are going to tack onto my posts shit like, “it’s okay, OP, you can say x character.” Trust me, if I were talking about one character, I fucking would name drop them, don’t bring me into your fandom drama, I doubt I know or want to know who that anime guy is who looks like 12 other anime guys to me.

About Vespertine

You can call me that, Vespertine. I’d rather you didn’t go with Vesper, but as it is unfortunately so likely to happen, I won’t feed you to the dogs over it either. RPB Mun is also acceptable.

I’m alright with either she/her or he/him, they/them is also fine. Apparently, that was big enough clue-in for the poor reading comp crowd, so while I feel it is not of importance, I’m nonbinary, yes.

Late 30′s, chronically ill but still working adult with neurodivergence. I’m both busy and Busy, and always sick. This limits my brain power and ability to be here. I have an active RP blog that I won’t be sharing to keep responsible distance. That is always going to be my priority, it is my primary hobby.

Please, don’t tumblr message me totally random things if we don’t have that kind of relationship! I’m too ill and busy, and it really fucks my nerves to have a bunch of messages/have to suddenly interact socially with people. Don’t do it. Use my inbox, use the submit, comment on posts. I cannot do random messages of “hey” and so forth.

I only do written RP, don’t expect me to understand much of anything from tabletop. I’ve RPed for the last 23 years consistently, on every platform from AOL chats to forums to messengers and here. I also don’t do RP in discord, so I’m sorry, but I can’t advise you much on anything with a word count, except to stop it for serious RP. Other than that, I promise you that I’ve seen the trends, the drama, the fandoms. I can give a lot of advice and perspective on a wide range of topics, situations, and characters! When I don’t have a clue at all, I’ll try to do enough research to give you an answer.

Do I come off as a horrible, strict asshole? I do! I’m not going to say that I am just a shy bean who is more scared of you than you are me. I’m not. I’m honestly feral, but have common decency, compassion, and sense. All of which are lacking in the general RPC. So, if you can inbox/common/otherwise interact with anyone else on this site, you can totally handle me!

Honesty and openness are policies.

And in the spirit of that, I repeat; you can fucking do better, tumblr RPC!

[darling-i-read-it]

Swimming Questions

James Bond x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: insinuation to smut, naked reader and James for a bit but no actual smut

Author’s Note: Me, realizing I had never written for James Bond before: what...you mean I haven’t accurately shown my love for Daniel Craig until now? IMPOSSIBLE! (but seriously i super super super super super liked writing this and just the way James Bond is never fails to make me SOAR)

Summary: Just some swimming and kissing and chating and James Bond

Genre: flufffffff

(not my gif)

James stared at you from the bed. You were standing on the balcony and you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull but you didn’t turn around. The city below you knew nothing about than what you had seen in your most recent adventure with James.

The two of you were both agents of high accord and had been together in some form of way for years now. You had started before he had ever met Vesper and you had been there long after her. He had never imagined the two of you would become so dependent on one another but it had been months since you had seen each other when this trip came round and your emotions melded into some kind of independent but codependent relationship.

You were wearing his white button up because it wasn’t that cold outside where ever you were. You had been on so many missions together, gone rouge together, it was hard to keep track of the cities names. All you remembered of the last few days is James’ hands and your lips on his.

Little of the action stuck with you. Allowed you to let go of the bad things quicker.

You heard the phone ring and that was what made you turn around. His eyes darted away from you and picked up the phone off the floor by the bed. It was yours but he answered it anyway.

“Bond.” Your bare feet padded back into the room and you carefully laid down beside him. He put his arm around you and held the phone to his ear. You kissed his jaw and trailed down to his neck. He wasn’t fazed. “It’s for you,” he said handing it to you. You let out a small sigh and took it from him.

“Y/L/N.”

“So you’re making it your life's mission to make it hard to reach you don’t you?” One of your agent friends that worked closely with you was on the other line. She didn’t work as closely as you and James did but she wasn’t too far away either.

“Yes well it is my day off,” you told her annoyingly. James’ hands reached up and down your side, eventually finding their way under his shirt you were wearing and onto your bare skin. You shivered but didn’t dare look at him in fear you would give yourself away entirely.

“And you’re spending it with Bond?”

“Just living the dream darling. Is there something you need? I’m on a press for time here.” James chuckled against your back where he was now kissing the back of your neck gingerly. Your friend cleared her throat.

“I was going to ask you if you had gotten the containment information processed because it isn’t showing up on our end but it just went through. Sorry to waste precious sex time and give Bond my best.” You rolled your eyes.

“I will. Please inform M he is right where he needs to be darling.”

“Oh between your legs is where he got ordered to b-”

You hung up the phone and tossed it to the floor once more, turning back to James. His hands had wandered again and you grabbed them firmly as they roamed, stopping his kissing enough to look up at you.

“Did you transfer the right information?” you asked him quietly. You were supposed to do that yourself but you had given it to James to do because you were finishing up a part of his work he had left a loose end of. He gave you a look that confirmed your question. He had not given the right information over.

“It will take them the day to realize its wrong and then a day for it to process again and then another day to encrypt that one. That is three whole days to spend in this bed with my best girl,” he told you, blue eyes looking deeply into your own from above you. Your lips upturned in a smile and you watched him a moment longer like you were trying to figure out what you already knew.

“Old dog you have some new tricks in your sleeve left don’t you?” you teased. He moved down and kissed you gently and you reciprocated, knowing now you had three whole days to spare, three days the two of you very rarely got.

“Would you like to join me in the pool?” he questioned, pulling away every slightly. You nodded and brought a hand to his face, running a finger over his jaw, consciously aware that his leg was over yours and how close you were.

“I would very much enjoy that Mr.Bond yes,” you confirmed. He slowly got off of you and walked to the bathroom naked. You wondered if he was really going to put something back on and was slightly disappointed when he returned in swimming shorts. Still shirtless though which gained him some points.

You stood up, keeping the sheet firmly across your body to annoy him and changed into your swimsuit, throwing on one of his t shirts as well. The two of you walked down the hotel stairs to avoid being caught in the elevator alone and landed in the small pool area. It was enclosed on the floor just below your room which was still fairly high up. You had a view through the wall windows and it was empty, the afternoon sun just setting in. You slipped off your shirt and dove into the deep end, coming up and putting your hair back. While you were under James had come in as well. You tread water as he swam over to you, taking you firmly in his grasp and kissing you gently.

“We could have just done this in the room you know,” you said with a bit of laughter. He rolled his eyes and dragged you to the point where he could touch the ground, holding you to his chest.

“Where is any of your spy danger in that?” he questioned. You put your palms to his cheeks and pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss.

“You know I’ve always wondered what made you stick around with me. Not to get philosophical but just because you’re James Bond and I’m curious to know why I am the woman you continue coming back to.” You felt your heart cut open as you said that, the wonder you had always given to him. You had thought perhaps it was just because he was sure you would always come crawling back, perhaps it was because he knew what you could and couldn’t do. He thought about it for a moment, his eyes on the view behind you, the tips of tall buildings.

“Because I love you.”

Your eyes went wide. Hadn’t been expecting that.

“Don’t know why or when it happened but I know that when you’re in danger I can feel it in my gut. A panic I don’t feel for myself or anyone else. A weakness I suppose.”

If you weren’t already just unable to touch you would have felt like you were flying but you tried not to show it.

“Yes, a weakness. Terrible terrible weakness Bond.”

“You never call me Bond,” he whispered, his eyes scanning your face.

“Because it isn’t your name but just then I was mocking the system.” He couldn’t help but laugh and then he fell serious again but still there was a faint joking air to it.

“But why?”

“Because I love you. James.”

He moved forward and kissed you again and this time you made no protest to where you were when he did it because you wanted it and you knew he did too.