#'he just GOES AROUND courting whoever the FUCK he wants to without taking MY FEELINGS into account

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[fruitcoops]

You write Moody so well! I would love to see something where Moody and Remus talk for the first time after Coops was outed. Whether it happens after the meeting Coops had with Arthur and Alice or after the all star break. I feel like they have such a good relationship!

Thanks! This was partially inspired by watching The Karate Kid (1984) last night, so I hope y'all are ready for some mentor hurt/ comfort this fine Sunday! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for mentioned forced outing

Remus was almost done. He only had a few more drawers to clean out. The whiteboards were as squeaky and shiny as the day he arrived; the desk had a few more dents and coffee stains decorating the surface, but overall it looked decent. He still couldn’t bring himself to take the pictures off, though. It was his life. His friends. He just couldn’t do it.

The sleeve of his ancient Wisconsin hoodie was still damp when he smudged it under his runny nose. No tears had fallen, but he could feel the maelstrom gathering in his throat. Everything he had worked for, gone because of one stupid mistake.

Not Sirius, of course. Sirius would never be a mistake. It was Remus’ fault they had been caught in the first place.

He stared around his office in misery—no official notice of his layoff had arrived, but he knew it would come, and it was always better to be prepared. Maybe it would hurt less if he did it himself, one final ‘fuck you’ to the homophobes before he trooped off with his tail between his legs.

The tiles were cold through the seat of his comfiest jeans. He tucked his knees closer to his chest.

A quiet knock at the door interrupted the suffocating silence. He didn’t answer.

“Kid?”

Remus’ lower lip wobbled and he croaked out a ‘come in’ with as much strength as he could muster; it wasn’t much. The door opened with a creak—he had never gotten around to having it fixed, after all—and uneven footsteps shuffled in, followed by a sigh as his visitor settled next to him on the floor.

“You have a chair, you know.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“Not all of us have young knees. Doesn’t your ass hurt?”

Remus nodded.

Moody huffed through his nose and hoisted him up by the arm. “Well Christ, kid, up you come. You’re awfully dense for a beanpole. What, you got concrete for bones or something?”

“No,” Remus mumbled as he followed Moody across the hall and allowed himself to be plonked down in the soft chair by the door. It was his favorite of both their offices; as far as he knew, Moody never let anyone else sit there. His chest seized as a sob tried to fight its way out. “I’m sorry.”

Moody shot him a look at he got comfortable in the adjacent seat. “For what?”

“I dunno.”

“I don’t like useless apologies, Lupin.”

Remus sniffled. “I should’ve told you.”

“Says who?” Moody snorted. “Your business is your business. You’re a bright young man, none of this is your f—oh. Okay, Lupin, easy does it.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus blubbered as the tears finally started to fall. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like crying, but I’m kind of a wreck right now.”

Moody made a few soft shushing noises, inching closer until he could wrap an arm around Remus’ shoulders and pat his arm like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

The sobs were near-silent; Remus never cried loudly if he could help it, and he already felt bad enough for dripping his perpetual raincloud all over Moody’s office. He caught his breath after a few hitching inhales and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Remus pulled his knees up again and hugged them tight to his chest. “I haven’t called my parents yet.”

“Did they know?”

His heart gave another painful yank. “Nobody knew. Nobody. And—and now it’s everywhere and people won’t leave me alone and I’m gonna get fired—”

“Woah, deep breaths,” Moody interrupted gently, giving him a little shake. “You’re not getting fired.”

“Yes, I am.” Everything felt gross and cold and sad.

“Who told you that?”

“Coach said it might happen ‘cause I’m a doctor.”

Moody scanned his face for a moment, then reached over and grabbed a box of tissues off his desk. “First of all, take some of these. You look like a mud puddle, Lupin. It’s very unsettling. Second, this is a complicated situation and I wouldn’t be too quick to make assumptions. And third, I’ll go to bat for you.”

He paused midway through blowing his nose. “What?”

“You’re a good man. An excellent PT. The best colleague I’ve ever had, actually. You know your shit and if they try to fire you over this, I’m not going to make it easy for them.”

More tears threatened to fall over the edge of his itchy eyes. “You’d do that for me?”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Moody grumbled.

“He hasn’t called.”

“Who?”

“Sirius.” Remus swallowed hard and, before he could second guess himself, leaned his head on Moody’s solid shoulder. “I’ve called him 23 times and he hasn’t answered a single one. He just…left. Didn’t even look at me.”

“He’s making a mistake.”

“I ruined his life.”

“Hey.” Moody’s tone turned stern. “You don’t get to talk shit about yourself in my office. This is a Lupin Appreciation Zone.”

Remus’ shoulders shook and he closed his eyes; he wished he could just dissolve into the floor and stay there until someone mopped him up. Everything hurt. The world sucked. Moody—

Moody was petting his hair.

The tears stopped abruptly and Remus hiccupped in pure confusion. “What’re you doing?”

“I’m bad at comfort, kid, gimme a break.” The sat in silence for a few seconds as Moody continued to pat his head and muss his hair, which was in dire need of a cut but just long enough to cover his eyes when it was pushed forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, actually. How did you…?”

Something akin to embarrassment tinted Moody’s cheeks and he cleared his throat. “My cat hates thunderstorms.”

“Oh. Cool. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Thanks,” Remus said again, much quieter. Moody’s office always felt safe; all the clutter was in its proper place, clean and homey. The touch of familiarity was more of a comfort than he cared to admit. He sat up straight and wiped his face clean, then leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “If I do get fired—”

“You won’t.”

“If I do, I wanted to say thank you for changing my life.” The words hung in the air. “You—without you, I would never have felt at home here. You were the best mentor I could ever ask for and I’m never going to forget that. You did more than just teaching me routines. Thank you.”

Moody cleared his throat again. “Tissues.”

Remus silently passed the box.

“If anyone gives you shit for being gay, you call me and I’ll take care of it,” Moody said once the tissue had disappeared into the depths of his pocket.

Remis blinked at him. “Are you offering to hurt someone for me?”

“I’ll deny it in court.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he laughed. “Fuckin’ hell, this is a mess. I’m a mess.”

“You just got outed and your boyfriend ditched you in an airport,” Moody said bluntly, fixing Remus with a look. “You’re allowed to be a mess. Now go talk to Lily. Call your mom. Do whatever you do that makes you so sunshiney, and then we’re gonna unpack all your shit and put it back where it belongs.”

Remus swallowed hard. Fuck it. Fuck the NHL, fuck the homophobes, and fuck being sad.

Moody narrowed his eyes. “You want to use the kicking bag, don’t you?”

“I really, really do.”

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

“Stupid—fucking—son of a bitch!” Remus gritted out as the beat-up and half-folded gym mat squeaked under his assault. It was two inches of plastic and therapy—he was 90% sure Moody had stolen it from a middle school gym, and it had rapidly become the team’s favorite way of winding down after a frustrating day.

“Harder!” Moody barked behind him.

Remus wound up and slammed his foot into it again. “I worked too damn hard to be kicked out for this bullshit!”

“Damn right you did!”

The kicking bag creased in the center. “And I’ve got too much student debt to walk out of here like—like a coward!”

“Yes, you do!”

His grief had burnt off at least five minutes prior. Remus was well and truly pissed now. “And it’s nobody’s goddamn business who I kiss!”

“That’s the spirit!” Moody cheered.

“And maybe his face is stupidly pretty!” Remus threw his shoulder against the mat before he resumed kicking it. “And, yeah, he has really nice shoulders and a great ass—”

“Lupin—”

“But fuck him for leaving me in an airport! What kind of douchebag does that to a guy? I’m hot and smart and nice and I can date whoever the hell I want if he doesn’t appreciate that!”

“That’s certainly one approach!”

Remus stopped with a harsh exhale and dropped one last halfhearted kick to the base. “I don’t want anyone else, though. And I miss his stupid pretty face.”

A hand, heavy but gentle, squeezed his shoulder. “Then go get him.”

[wolfish-trickster]

Old oak tree

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 2,3K+

Warning: typos, angst, itsi bitsi fluff at the end

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @forevernthensome @kozkaboi

"So, what do you think?" Loki asked spreading his arms and showing you his new outfit.

You shrugged. "Looks good to me."

"Don't you think it's too much?" he checked himself in your mirror.

"Is anything EVER too much for you?" you asked with a smirk.

"I just...I really like her and I don't want to mess up."

"You won't, trust me," you reassured him.

He hugged you tightly, to your surprise. "What would I do without such a friend like you?"

The younger prince bolted from your room faster than you could answer. You sighed and closed the doors after him so no one could hear your heart breaking, again.

You and Loki were friends. Best friends actually. But you started to to see him more than that years ago. And you hated it.

You already accepted the fact he'll see you as only his supportive friend. If only he could stop asking you to help him woo his love interests. He always asked your opinion on everything. Flowers, his outfits, gifts he wanted to give them.

Once he even asked to kiss you so he could practice. It was in general your and his first kiss ever. Your head spinned when your life long best friend and crush in one person gently placed his lips on yours, his tongue sliding to your mouth. When he pulled away he just mumbled simple 'thanks' and ran away, leaving you flustered and with a face on fire under your favourite tree. At first you often sat under that old oak, remembering the feeling and smiling to yourself. However with every new interest of Loki you started to avoid the poor tree. Hate it even. You hated how it represented how you foolishly threw away your first kiss.

You still stood by Loki. What else could you do? Confess your feelings? As if that'll help.

You started to see pattern in his interests and you never managed to tic the boxes. You were only average among everything; intelligence, looks, skills. There were hundred and one people who were exactly like you. Loki would never choose you over a noble woman or man he was used to courting.

Now, when you were finally alone, you could think about what are you going to do about your never ending crush. You layed down on your bed and stared at your white ceiling. You already tried to avoid him in hopes you will loose your feelings for him, that didn't work. You wrote down every negative thing about him, trick your mind he isn't a good boyfriend material. Didn't work either since he is the kindest person you've ever met. And the gentlest. And nicest. With the most beautiful smile and eyes. And arms that give the coziest hugs.

"Fuck," you whispered and closed your eyes. It always ended like this. No matter how much you tried, you could never see him as something less than a great person he was.

Suddenly you heard his melodic laughter under your windows. As well as some girl's. You couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what? If he can date around, so can I!" you told yourself in pure desperation to get rid of the jealousy and pain from knowing he will never love you.

First thing you did was hiding everything he gave you as a child, every little trinket you cherished in false thought he's starting to catch feelings for you. You removed all of it from your shelves and put in a big box sliding it under your bed.

There, now onto the more complicated part: the oak of your very first kiss. Your heart ached with every step you took towards it. It was already old and not so full of life like it used to be. Its bark was dry and overgrown with moss. The poor thing didn't have enough energy to grow its leaves as viscoulsy like few years ago. No one visited it anymore. It was lonely just like you.

"Looks like you're few years from death, old buddy," you patted its trunk. "Let's end your missery now."

*

You were on your way back to your room holding a little pot filled with soil. Nothing was growing out yet, but in few months you were expecting a small oak sappling to grow. You couldn’t say goodbye to your old wooden friend just yet.

There, deep in halls, sounds are resonating. Sounds you soon came to hate. Kissing, Loki chuckling, some woman moaning, door closing.

You sadly looked down at the pot and took the biggest diversion to your room, avoiding coming any near Loki's bedroom.

*

Few days later you still avoided Loki. That time was the first time he had brought anyone to his bedroom to do....that. It was good he didn't ask you to practice on you. If he did, you would've.... you don't know what would you do. Probably panic first and get angry next.

While Loki was, let's say, occupied you got closer to one soldier, Arne. He was kind, tall, ginger with freckles and very skilled fighter. He wasn't the smartest but he had a sense of humor and always tried to make you laugh. He wasn't Loki though, but it didn't matter. At least you kept yourself busy, so your heart could heal.

Right now you were in stables with Arne. He was telling you how he got his first horse when he finished his soldier training few decades back. You were braiding his mare's mane as he stood right beside you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. Everything was at peace.

"Y/N! Y/N, WHERE ARE YOU?" came Loki's voice.

Almost everything.

You turned your head towards his voice. He was rushing towards you until he stopped when he noticed Arne standing so close to you.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked a little irritated.

"Well-"

"It doesn't matter, I have to show you something," he took you by the hand and started dragging you out of the stables only for you to slip your hand from his and hugging Arne. "See you tomorrow," you waved him goodbye and walked out, Loki trailing after you.

"So, what is it you wanted to show me?"

"What the Hel was that?" he pointed at you and behind him at the stables, completely ignoring your question.

"A hug. Why?"

"Since when are you hugging random soldiers? And since when are you even hanging out with low ranking soldiers like Hofferson?"

"His first name is Arne, and I'm allowed to hug whoever I want. Same goes for hanging out. Now are you going to show me the thing or can I return to him?"

"Right," he remember, took your hand again and ran to gardens. To the familiar now empty corner. "Look what some bastard did," he pointed at the wide oak stump.

"Yeah, I know."

"You do? Oh, darling," he threw his arms around you. You fought with yourself internally to not hug him back, but being close to him after a very long time felt just too good not to give in.

"I'm so sorry. I know it was your favourite tree. I will find the culprit and-"

"You don't have to," you interrupted and pulled yourself away from him.

"I do! That tree meant a lot to me too. I was actually working on a spell to bring life into it again."

"And how exactly did it mean a lot to you? I never saw you even near that tree."

Loki stuttered. "E-ehm, we had our first kiss underneath it."

"As if that meant anything to you," you muttered.

"What?"

"I said it was old and it had to be cut down."

"Well you could've asked me before you killed it," he spat rather angrily.

"My family planted it, I get to do whatever I want with it!"

"Did it mean so little to you?"

"No. On the contrary, it meant the world to me! That's why I had to cut it down!"

"What? Why? I don't understand you," he shook his head.

"Well excuse me for wanting to destroy the biggest thing that reminded me how my best friend stole my first kiss!"

"Stole? I asked and you complied!" Loki defended himself.

You groaned. "Okay fine, you didn't steal it, I lost it. Now can I go back to Arne?"

"Lost it?! Have you got any idea how many people would murder for a kiss from a prince? And why do you want to go to Arne so desperatelly? You never talked to soldiers before, so why the change of heart?"

"I like him, he's nice and courageous and-"

"I forbid it."

"What?!" you couldn't believe your ears.

"I forbid it. You can't whore around with soldiers like him, think about your reputation!" he crossed his arms infront of him.

"Whore around? Look who's talking! You've had at least 5 lovers in the past month!"

"T-that's different."

"And how exactly is it different, Loki?"

"I-"

You waited. Nothing came out of him.

"That's what I thought."

*

Few days passed, you continued avoiding Loki and he started to close off from everyone. Occasionally you saw some green sparkles in a shape of a person sitting on the oak stump. You figured that must be Loki under cloaking spell. All you wanted to do was run to him and hug him, he looked so depressed and lonely. Just like you were when you saw him with all those lovers in the past.

You felt bad for him. But you doubted he felt bad for you back then. Or now. So you always walked pass him, pretending you didn't notice him.

*

*knock knock*

You looked up from watering your growing oak sapling. Who could it be? You weren't expecting anyone. "Who's there?"

"Guess," came a dull voice.

You put away your watering kettle and hid the pot behind courtains. "Come in, Loki."

He stepped inside wearing one of his ordinary clothes, his hair wasn't slicked back like he used to style it and he had apologetic expression on his face.

"Y/N, I came to apologize."

Loki is apologizing. Now that's new. "What for?" you asked teasingly.

He sighed. "For saying you were whoring around. It wasn't right from me," he pulled out your favourite flower from behind his back, "friends?"

You took the flower. "Okay, friends."

Loki clapped his hands excitedly. "Great, now that we're at good terms with eachother I-"

"No!" you silenced him. You knew there had to be a catch. He made up with you just so he could ask you for help. Just like always.

"You don't even know what I was about to say."

"Oh, I think I do. You want me to give you advices again. Well, guess what? That's not happening. So you can, as mortals say, do 180 and walk out that door," you pointed behind him to your bedroom door.

Loki held out his hands in surrender. "I wasn't going to ask you that! I just want to talk."

"Oh," now you felt stupid. "Okay, a little talk never killed anyone I guess."

"Thank you," he let his hands fall down and took a walk around your room. "I see you were redecorating," he noticed all of his trinkets he gave you were gone. He assumed you most likely threw them out or burned them. Just the thought of it hurt him.

"Yeah," you hugged your arms to comfort yourself. "I still have them, I just didn't want to look at them anymore."

He turned towards you. "Why? First the tree, then my little gifts. What's next, me?" he joked to ease both your and his growing anxiety.

You chuckled lightly and shook your head. "No, don't worry."

He walked to you and put his hand on your shoulders. "Then why? We're best friends, right? We can tell eachother everything."

"That's exactly what I can't do," you grabbed his hand on your shoulder and slowly removed them.

"Why? Do you... do you hate me?"

"What? Heavens no! I could never hate you!"

He sighed from relief. "Good. But then why? I can't think of a single reason you would do those things. Wait. On a second thought," he held his chin between his thumb and index finger and looked down like he always does when he was thinking. He shook his head then and chuckled to himself. "No, that's absurd. You could never be in love with me."

You involuntarily tensed up. He noticed.

"Or could you?"

Tears started burning in your eyes as you nodded. "Sorry."

"For how long?"

After few minutes of thinking you shook your head. "I don't remember when it happened. It just happened."

"Well, when did you realise then? That you...you know? Are in love with me?"

"Few days before the oak kiss, I guess."

"But that was decades ago! This long time and I never saw," he facepalmed.

"And you...?" you asked hopefully. Maybe he will tell you he loves you too, right?

He sighed. "I'm sorry Y/N. I love you, but not like that. You have always been like a little sister I always wanted."

You nodded. Of course he doesn't love you like that. How even could he? You turned away from him and let some tears escape.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rubbed your back. "We can still be friends. Nothing will change between us. I promise."

But it already did. Everything changed for you. How could you even look him in the eye?

You wiped away your tears and put on a perfectly rehearsed fake smile. "Okay, I can work with that," you offered him your hand, "friends?"

Instead of shaking it he hugged you. "Friends."

You hugged him back and let your fake smile fall. Your naive little self told you he will change his mind in the future. You are already so close with eachother. Closer than anyone you know. It's just a matter of time. For now, you can only dream.

[basically-i-write-shit]

That’s the thing about a/b/o; it’s such a good vehicle for certain kinks. I’m just going to go with the first half of the list and say Tsukkiyama… any of: 6, 11, 14, 19 or 28.

Any, some, all or none! Up to you!

All of your fics are great!

This is exactly my thought. I picked two of the ones you sent from the prompt list, feel free to send more if you want!

6. Alpha voice 14. Claim fuck

Here’s the ao3 link 

- MINORS DNI -

Tsukishima Kei is not prone to letting his emotions or his instincts get the best of him. It’s tiring, and just not worth it most of the time. Often, this isn’t an issue; he doesn’t feel anything too strongly, and he’s not exactly eager to get into just any omega’s pants, so even when an omega goes into heat in public he’s able to keep a level head. He doesn’t feel that primal urge inside himself to claim, to mate- 

Or, at least, for the most part. It’s becoming more of an issue lately, and it’s frustrating. He doesn’t know what it is, but lately whenever he finds himself out with friends, he’s just the slightest bit annoyed, just a little more prone to snapping back. He chalks it up to just having outgrown the idea of going out every weekend now that he’s an adult with a job, and yet whenever a certain childhood friend of his asks him to come out he does without hesitation. 

...Which leads to his other issue. 

Yamaguchi Tadashi has always been a soft spot for Kei, he’s always wanted to protect him- ever since they first became friends in elementary school. Now that they’ve long since graduated highschool, and recently college, however, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Kei’s soft spot for Tadashi is more than he lets on. And Tadashi has always been naïve, but it’s never been more aggravating to get him out of the situations he manages to get himself in when he’s a little tipsy. And Yamaguchi likes to let loose on the weekends. 

And letting loose he is. 

Kei hadn’t even wanted to go out tonight. He was barely leaving the museum when his phone rang, the caller ID reading Kuroo’s phone number, and he’d immediately rejected the call. However, not even two seconds later he received a text with the simple words: “We have freckles with us already so you might as well just come over now instead of fighting it.” So he did. And that familiar annoyance and quick temper has returned, only fueled by the loud music bumping in the over-crowded club that Bokuto and Kuroo dragged his omega to-

There it is again. Yamaguchi isn’t his. He isn’t Kei’s, and he knows this. Even still, in his head, he calls him that. He doesn’t know when he that started, just that he never stopped, and he doesn’t see any harm in it; after all, anyone who’s spent more than a few hours with them can clearly see Kei’s laid his claim on Yamaguchi even if he hasn’t actually marked him. Or even tried to court him. His influence is all over, however, from the clothes Kei buys him just so he can scent them before he gifts them to the fading hickeys Yamaguchi asks Kei to give him before they go out to deter alphas from hitting on him when they’re clubbing. 

Even still, those only seem to work if the other person knows them, and isn’t some stranger in the club. To strangers, Kei’s scent and the hickeys he peppers on Yamaguchi’s neck are just hints of a promiscuous omega, a tease who gets busy with more than one person in one night- and they tend to get angry when their advances are rejected by a “slut.” 

Kei doesn’t know when he lost Yamaguchi, just that he’s been increasingly more annoyed by his other friends as they progressively get drunker. And so he does what he usually does when he gets fed up with them: goes to find Yamaguchi so he can leave. It takes a long moment to find him, and when he does, he doesn’t like what he finds. 

He can’t hear over the music and the loud conversations surrounding them, but he can see the snarl on the alpha’s face as he leans far too close to Yamaguchi. The omega -his omega- is leaning as far away as he can, but his back is pressed against the wall with nowhere else to go. It takes three seconds to get from the bar to where they are, just in time for the alpha to reach a hand up Yamaguchi’s skirt and promptly get punched in the jaw by Yamaguchi. Immediately the area around them clears around them so Kei can step in between them. 

“You bit-” 

The alpha goes to punch back, but freezes when he sees Kei standing there. “You’d really punch an omega that just hit you so hard you had those cartoon birds flying around your head? That’s kind of pathetic, man.” 

“Who are you, this little slut’s babysitter? Why don’t you tell ‘im to-” 

“I’d stop right there, or I’ll let him loose on you again. Do you want an omega to knock you out?” 

The alpha growls, but he backs off, flicking them off once more before he disappears into the crowd. Kei turns to Yamaguchi as the people immediately around them dissolve back into the club mentality, ignoring the two as soon as the drama is over. When Kei turns around, Yamaguchi’s fist is still clenched, skirt ridden up just the slightest, and he’s shaking. 

“Yamaguchi, let’s go.” 

“What? I- I’m fine, Tsukki. Let’s just go find the others,” 

“I just left them, I was coming to find you anyway.” 

“But I wanna stay,” 

“And get groped by some stranger again? I don’t think so.” Kei says. 

Yamaguchi huffs. “Come on Tsukki, please? I barely have a buzz, I-” 

“And if you get any drunker, you’re gonna get taken advantage of by some random alpha.” 

“And what if I want that?” 

“I- What?” Kei’s eyes narrow and he glares at Yamaguchi, stepping closer to him. “You’re okay with just anyone taking you home? What if one of them marks you? What if they get you pregnant?” 

Yamaguchi crosses his arms and glares right back. “And what if they do? It’s not like you are.” 

Something in Kei snaps then, and he growls, taking Yamaguchi by the wrist and pulling him against his chest. He isn’t one to use his alpha status above an omega, but he can’t help himself as he commands Yamaguchi with his alpha voice, “We’re leaving. Now.” 

Yamaguchi doesn’t protest as Kei drags him out of the club, and Kei ignores the whoops and hollers from a drunk Bokuto and Kuroo, both of whom are trying to reign in a drunk Hinata before he climbs onto the bar and shows all of Sendai the dance moves he’d learned in Brazil. Once out of the club, his senses sharpen and he feels a bit better, but anger still boils in his chest as he drags Yamaguchi down the street and to the closest train station. After swiping their metro cards he takes Yamaguchi and pins him against the wall, kissing him roughly while they wait for their train. 

“Is this what you wanted? Attention from me? Is that why you wore this little number and went off and almost got yourself groped in the club by whoever you could get to touch you so I would get jealous?” 

“M- Maybe,” Yamaguchi murmurs against Kei’s lips, gasping when Kei’s knee slips between his thighs, arms hiding him from the rest of the underground station. “I was tired of your fucking pretending like there isn’t something between us, so I figured I’d give you a push. Is that so wrong?” 

“It is when my omega is backed into a corner with a hand up his skirt by someone that’s not me.” 

“So you admit I’m yours?” 

“Of fucking course you are! When have you ever not been?” Yamaguchi swallows thickly, his wide-eyed gaze looking at Kei like he hung the goddamn moon, and Kei growls. “As soon as we get back to my place I’m fucking you so goddamn hard and you’re getting a bond mark right,” he nips at the junction of Yamaguchi’s neck and shoulder, “There. Understand? No one is going to mistake you for single after this.” 

“Y- Yes, alpha.” 

“That’s what I like to hear.” They continue to kiss while they wait, and once again when their train arrives. Once they reach their stop, Kei’s hand once again finds Yamaguchi’s wrist and he pulls him along, feeling a little guilty when he sees it’s bright red from being grabbed so roughly; it’ll definitely bruise before the night is over. He doesn’t have time to feel guilty, however, because Yamaguchi’s hand slips into Kei’s front pants pocket and pulls his keys out of it, unlocking his apartment and pushing him inside. Kei grins, pulling Yamaguchi by his collar into a kiss as they scramble to take their shoes off while still kissing. “Feisty now, huh?” 

“Just impatient. I’ve been waiting for this moment since we were seventeen.” 

Kei groans against Tadashi’s lips. “You mean I could’ve been fucking you since second year? That was six years ago,” 

“I didn’t think you liked me back until, like, six months ago Tsukki! And I thought you would make the first move, since you’re an alpha.” 

“You know I’m just as stubborn as you, did you really think I’d give up my pride and confess?” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault you’re stupid. Now are you going to claim me or not?” 

“You don’t have to ask twice,” Now out of their shoes, Kei lifts Tadashi and carries him down the hall to his bedroom. He has half the mind to fuck him right on the floor in the genkan, but he at least has the sense to make sure Yamaguchi is comfortable while he fucks his brains out. Once in his bedroom, he drops Yamaguchi on the bed, his hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Yamaguchi pulls away just the slightest to pull his top off, wiggling out of his skirt while Kei shucks off his own shirt and begins undoing the buttons on his slacks. He growls when he sees Yamaguchi’s nearly naked form underneath him, the light pink boxer briefs damp and tenting his dick. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous, you know that?” 

“That’s coming from you? You’re a literal god, Kei.” 

Something about Yamaguchi calling him by his given name screams to the primal side inside of Kei. Nipping at his lips, Kei’s hands find Yamaguchi’s hips and pulls them flush against his. “You’re so fucking hot. I’m going to make sure the only think you can say is my name.” 

“Yes, please.” Yamaguchi whispers. Resisting the urge to rip Yamaguchi’s underwear, he slides it off as quickly and as gracelessly as possible, losing his cool immediately when the scent of slick unhidden by clothing hits his nose. He pulls away to get a good look at Yamaguchi totally naked, now, and he growls. 

“You’re dripping. Have you been slicked up the whole way home, or did I just work you up in the few minutes we’ve been back home?” 

“Th- The first option,” 

"Well I’m going to treat you so good, don’t you worry. I know I could probably slip right in with how wet you are right now, but I’m gonna prep you, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

One of Kei’s hands spreads Yamaguchi’s thighs, the other moving to tease at his rim. Yamaguchi whines, his knees trying to close, and Kei nips at his jaw, keeping his legs spread with a firm grip. “Don’t hide yourself. I’m going to be seeing a while lot of you, so there’s no point in being shy.” 

Whimpering, Tadashi nods slowly, and relaxes somewhat as Kei slips two fingers inside of his hole. Kei’s fingers are long and slim, and slip inside easily, slick coating them immediately. He probably didn’t even need to prepare the omega, because he’s reacting so well to Kei’s touch and opening up with little prodding; his little cock sits rock-hard and dripping, untouched, and Kei’s own cock twitches at the sight of the man in front of him. Yamaguchi gasps when Kei’s fingers shift inside of him and Kei grins, dragging his fingers over the same spot. He revels in the way Yamaguchi moans and whines, rolling his hips to get more stimulation. 

“Fuck, Kei...N- Need you, now. Please. Please,” 

Suddenly Kei’s confidence wanes and he hesitates, looking down at Yamaguchi. “I don’t want to hurt you, Tadashi.” 

Yamaguchi groans. “I can take it, Tsukki. Come on, fuck me.” 

“Right. Right, I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to claim you. Got it?” 

“Got it.” 

Kei slides his fingers out of Yamaguchi’s hole, positioning his member and pushing inside. As soon as the tip slips in he groans, pleasure overtaking him as he bottoms out with one quick thrust that brings out a loud cry from the omega underneath him. He growls, connecting their lips once more, as he fucks into Yamaguchi roughly. His hands wander Yamaguchi’s body, the omega reacting to his touch so well, his back arching off the bed. Kei sucks in every little sound, every little tightening around his cock, quickly losing control of himself. 

“Fuck, Tadashi...You’re mine. I’m not going to let anyone touch you ever again, you’re mine and only mine, you understand?” 

Yamaguchi keens, a shiver running down his spine, and nods. His hands, tangled in Kei’s hair, grips tighter with every thrust. 

“If any other alpha even looks at you after this, I’m gonna fucking kill him.” 

“Possessive of me already? You haven’t even- hn, you haven’t even marked me yet.” 

“If you want to rush me, Tadashi, I can gladly make you cum faster, but I quite like this pace more,” Kei growls, thrusting harder, and he hears Yamaguchi’s breath hitch. 

“F- Fuck, please, Kei, faster. Please. ‘m so close, so ready, plea-” Yamaguchi gasps, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and Kei grins. He nips at Yamaguchi’s neck, right where he’s preparing to mark him, and reaches a hand down to stroke Yamaguchi’s dick. Yamaguchi reacts to the touch with a shout that will more than likely get Kei a noise complaint from his neighbors, but he doesn’t care one bit. Kei’s own orgasm builds closer and closer as he continues fucking into Yamaguchi ruthlessly, and he knows Yamaguchi is close by how much he starts to tighten around his cock. 

“Tadashi...Tadashi, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fill you up so good, baby,” He pants, “You’re going to be full of my pups soon enough. I’m going to claim you and get you pregnant as soon as possible, so everyone knows you’re mine. You’re mine, hear that? Mine.” 

“Fuck, Kei..! Please, please, ‘m coming, claim me alpha, ple- agh!” 

Kei wastes no time in biting down on the junction of Yamaguchi’s neck and shoulder, claiming the omega as he comes. As his teeth sink into flesh, Kei’s own orgasm spills inside of Yamaguchi and he thrusts one final time as his knot swells and locks them together. An indescribable pleasure washes over him as he feels the mating bond form between them. Once they’ve both finished, Kei collapses on top of Yamaguchi, both of them panting breathlessly. 

In the morning, Kei will likely be embarrassed about letting his inner alpha out like this, but for now, he allows himself to feel the bliss of a fresh bond with the man he loves. 

[jacks-wylan]

Follow me home

Here’s my @thewitchersecretsanta for @itsmajel. Sorry for the late, darling! I hope you like it, even if it’s not what I had in mind at first and rushed a bit at the end (life got in the way sobs). Still, i hope you appreciate geralt and jaskier being horse girls, the almost-not-fake-marriage and a little cameo of Valdo Marx that does nothing at all (but come on, everyone wants Valdo to be present at Jaskier’s wedding right?)

                                      ❀

The missive is delivered right in his hand one fine morning, at the start of spring. Geralt is minding his own business, sipping a piss–tasting ale in the darkest corner of a tavern in Oxenfurt, and he's waiting for his bard to deign him of his flamboyant presence as he has done for almost twenty years now.

Jaskier is late, though, and Geralt can't help but frown, worried, when a boy – a young boy, dressed in a rich uniform – bows to him and calls him Sir Witcher, handing him the letter. To be honest, the whole gesture scares him: no one ever bowed to him before.

When he opens the missive, Geralt sighs, recognizing immediately Jaskier's flourish handwriting.

“My dearest friend,” he reads, and that is not a good sign. “If I only try to write the real reason of my absence there by your side in Oxenfurt, a single parchment would not be enough, and I am quite sure you would not even read the whole ordeal, ignoring my request of aid. Once you reach for me here in my birthplace, I will explain everything. Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” Geralt blinks, “What the fuck.”

Geralt feels his heart dropping down in his stomach, dread pooling there as he scrambles up from the chair, grabs his swords, leaves some coins on the table, and runs outside. He doesn't even mind the next words written in the missive, the gentle, “Yours always, Jaskier.”

He just puts the already crumpled piece of parchment in Roach's saddlebag, hops on the horse, and heads towards Lettenhove – ignoring the shouts of the same boy that has delivered the missive. He knows the way, he doesn't fucking need company, and also, whoever he was he would just slow him down.

And Jaskier hasn't much time left.

He rides for a day and a half, avoiding inns and taverns, sleeping just when needed. He follows the seashore, remembering from conversation that Geralt pretended to ignore that Jaskier passed his childhood bathing in salty waters, breathing fish–smelling air. He remembers that whenever he played in Kerack courts, he always said that it felt like home.

Jaskier never once mentioned Lettenhove, though.

Geralt arrives in Lettenhove by twilight. It's a cheerful city, decorated for a festivity he has no knowledge of. There is a bonfire in the middle of the marketplace, already lit, with some people dancing and drinking wine around it, children laughing and screaming as they play catch. He watches around, in search of a familiar colorful figure, but he sees nothing of importance, so he heads toward the nearest tavern, set on asking every single soul if they know anything of Jaskier the Bard.

He growls at the stableboy, when he takes Roach's reins from his hands. “You know of a bard around here?” he asks the boy, helping him take the saddle off Roach.

The boy nods, guarded, “Well, yes! A bard is going to play tomorrow, for the wedding!”

“Wedding?”

“Don't you know, sir?” the boy cocks his head to the side, watching him from the other side of Roach. Another one that calls him sir, that's kind of creepy. “The long lost Viscount is finally going to marry tomorrow! That's why we are all celebrating.”

Geralt hums. Jaskier probably has been called to play at his birthplace court, and he needs assistance for this. Maybe one of the many ladies he loves is the future bride of the Viscount, who probably Jaskier hates for no reason at all, and for this Jaskier has brought misfortune upon his head: what if he's imprisoned? What if tomorrow, instead of his performance, Jaskier will be hanged beside the bonfire because he fucked the wrong maiden?

Damn him and his cock, “And this bard, you remember his name?”

“No, sir. I'm just a stableboy.” the boy shrugs, “Don't know who're the lord's hosts. But I got a glimpse of him when he came the other day, and he's really...” he scrunches his young face, “Excessive.”

Gods, yes. That's definitively Jaskier.

Geralt nods as a thanks, trying not to think about the the worst, and heads towards the inn. It's not the first time Geralt has to pay for Jaskier's debt in order to take him out of prison, and it's definitely not the first time he has to help Jaskier escape from imprisonment, and yet, now something seems... off. Geralt can't quite pinpoint what, though.

He eats soup, and drinks water. No one is looking at him feed himself alone at a table, too busy in the wedding's arrangements to pay attention to a lonely Witcher – as weird as it is. He takes a room, and the innkeeper doesn't grimace nor make him pay more while handing him the key, and it's probably the merry time around that makes all this people happy and all, but it still feels so damn strange.

“We will tell the Viscount of your arrival!” says the innkeeper, as he goes upstairs. Geralt just shrugs: he doesn't know why, and he doesn't care. If they have a job for him, he can ask Jaskier's freedom as a payment, at least.

For now, he just drops his belongings on the floor next to his bed, and lays on it to try gaining some sleep. Tomorrow, whatever happens, surely Geralt has to fight against something – be it a drowner or two, or a regiment of soldiers.

The next day, Geralt wakes up with someone stomping as they run up the stairs, stopping in front of his door and knocking loudly, too loudly. He groans, and glancing at the window he left open the night before, he notices that it's barely dawn – he has a half mind to just ignore the nuisance and go back to sleep, but he suddenly remember why he finds himself in Lettenhove in the first place and thinks better of it.

Slowly, he gets up, passing a hand on his eyes to wipe the sleep away, and the person on the other side of the door hasn't enough patience nor time, this morning, because they knock again and shout: “Geralt! Open up, I know you're awake, you oaf!”

Geralt blinks. That voice is definitely Jaskier's.

He walks to the door and unlocks it. Immediately, Jaskier pushes the handle, and if Geralt wasn't a fucking Witcher with quite good reflexes, the angle of the door would have definitely hit his forehead. Not a great start, for the day, it would be. “Geralt! My darling friend! You are here just in time!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, calmly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What does it mean, what the fuck I am doing here?” Jaskier passes under his raised arm to enter inside his room, in his hand a heavy bag from where a mouth–watering smell comes. “That was I that called you here, remember? I believe you got my letter. I brought breakfast!”

Geralt grits his teeth, following him as he makes himself at home. “Yes, that's why I don't understand why you aren't in prison.”

Jaskier frowns, as he puts fruits and sweet rolls out of the bag. “I totally have no idea why you think I should be in prison right now.”

“You little– here, look.” Geralt grabs his satchel and takes out Jaskier's letter, showing him the peculiar words he'd chosen. “Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” he reads with a growl. Gods, seeing him here safe and sound is a relief, but he feels like he's been mocked, and it irritates him. “I though you were in danger, Jaskier, so I came here– wait, why you signed it...? Yours always...?”

Jaskier tears the letter off his hands, a panicked expression twisting his face, “It was in the heat of the moment, alright? I though I was gonna die any day without you – I mean, without your help to take me out of this mess. Don't mind it!” he folds the letter and puts it in his silk trouser's pocket. “Anyway, I think that explanations are in order.”

“You think?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. Then, he motions at the food he's served on the bed, “In the meantime, eat. The tale is long, and kinda boring.” Once Geralt is seated on the floor by the bed, a sweet roll in his mouth, Jaskier seems to be enough satisfied to start explaining. He does it with a huff, blowing a strand of hair away from his eyes – and Geralt no, he has totally not followed the motion with barely concealed awe, “My friend, before your arrival, I really thought this would have been the end for me. You are my only hope to make it out alive.”

“What have you done?” Geralt asks, flatly.

“Absolutely nothing – apart being born. You see, my darling Witcher, there are things that are... expected from me. My father actually pretends those things that I, no, I totally refuse to do. One of those things, is marring a completely unknown rich woman just for the sake of... you know, I really don't know why. Perhaps is because people will now stop spreading rumors about me, or worse yet because my father expects an, ugh, an heir. From me! My sister gave birth last summer, and he still expects me to have an heir! Isn't one enough, I wonder? How many heirs a Count needs, to be in peace with himself? It's really beyond my comprehension.”

“Jaskier, wait.” Geralt almost chokes on the sweet roll he is swallowing at Jaskier's words. Did he hear it right? Is he talking about marriage and children? Is he really Jaskier the man in front of him, or he's a doppler trying to fuck up with him? “The wedding is yours?” he asks, and that was really the last of his worries, but evidently all his mind and mouth were able to elaborate is just that.

“Unfortunately, yes. Thank all the Gods that you are here just in time, Geralt! One more day, and it would have been one day too late.” Jaskier walks towards the window, and looks down at the decorations with a dreadful grimace pulling his mouth. “Can you believe that hateful man how far is gone with this farce? With this charade? Hell, he even called the worst bard of the entire Continent to play during the banquet!” he sniffs, outraged. “But you're here! I shouldn't have doubted you! I have a plan to make all of this blown up, and you are the centerpiece of it.”

“The stableboy mentioned this bard. I thought it was you, by his description.”

Jaskier gapes, widening his big, blue eyes in a comical way, “Sad that he's gonna lose his job for this! Gods, how dares he compare me to that... that scoundrel–”

Geralt shakes his head, an amused smile tugging his lips. He's gonna admit it, he feels mostly confused by the stream of words coming out of Jaskier, as always. He just understands that he has an important role in his plan to not get married, and he guesses that he will help him regardless of his motives. Jaskier is... a free spirit. Geralt can't see him married off with someone, unless his wife–to–be is alright in never see him again because he'll be too busy walk the Path with him.

Hm. That is why the thought of Jaskier married is so foreign, so strange, so unbelievable? Because that would mean Geralt will never have him around again, in that case?

Geralt frowns, and raises his eyes to look how the bard is still muttering offenses against the young stableboy, “Isn't the Viscount the one who's gonna get married?”

“Yes, 'tis I, Julian Alfred Pankratz, the willingly estranged Viscount that has finally returned home to his so boring obligations and blah blah blah.” Jaskier motions in the air with his hand. Then, he blinks, looking down at Geralt, “I did never tell you this, didn't I?”

“That you were a fucking Viscount? No, Jaskier.” says Geralt, and he knows that he's able to conceal the bitterness in his voice – and yet, considering the guilty faces Jaskier is making, he probably didn't do it right this time.

“I beg for your forgiveness, my friend. I never told you this not because I don't trust you, because I do. You know that, and never doubt it again.” Jaskier sighs, and finally he walks away from the window to sit next to him on the floor, “It's just that... I always run away from this life, even in my mind it's always been like I've never lived here before, never borne here, that there weren't people waiting for me to stop being egoistical and take my responsibilities. This is the reason I never mentioned it before, you have nothing to do with that.”

Geralt can understands this, and he'd be too hypocritical of him to say that he doesn't do the same – he, too, runs away from unwanted, from scaring, responsibilities. So he just nods, and Jaskier smiles, relieved.

“I bet you are wondering why I am here, then. Why I don't run away from here once again.”

“I bet you're gonna tell me anyway.”

Jaskier gasps, a hand dramatically posed on his lips, “That I'll do! How did you know that?” he chuckles, then gets quiet. “Mhh, well, it's for another egoistical reason. I'm just tired to run away from... from what is my home, after all, I hate it or not, it still is. My mother died this summer, and I wasn't here to give her one last kiss. Actually, I don't ever remember the last time I've seen her, and now all I have is a grave.” he shrugs, as if he doesn't even care. Geralt can smell, though, in his scent, a touch of sadness, and regret. “My sister gave birth to the chubbiest baby I've ever met in my entire life, and I wasn't here for her. I wasn't here for her for her wedding either. What I'm trying to say, Geralt, is that I want too much to be free to also come here, just once in a while, to bring present to my nephew and lay flowers on my mother's tomb.”

Geralt clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable, “I'm sorry for your mother.”

“Don't be. Last time I've seen her, I was eighteen. My sister almost didn't remember my face, when I came here a couple of months ago.”

Geralt hums, and grabs an apple. “So, this plan?”

“Yes, the plan.” Jaskier claps his hands, and absentmindedly accepts the apple Geralt is handing him. “Today is the wedding day, and I'm going to meet the lovely lady my father has chosen for me, but! Listen this, because you will totally praise my brilliant mind this time.” he takes a bite at the apple, munching with fervor as he tries to gather the words to explain his so brilliant plan, and Geralt feels a smile tugging at his lips at the sight. He's ridiculous. Geralt is, too, obviously. “I organized a horse race.”

Geralt frowns, “Good.”

“It'll make sense, hear me out. I somehow convinced my father to accept this my... caprice. He thinks that it is just to entertain the guests, but I made very clear that it will be the winner who's gonna marry me! At this point, I guess my father doesn't really care who will be my bride, as long as I'll be married once and for all. And, and,” he stops Geralt before he could ask clarifications with a finger closing his lips, “I will participate. You will do in my behalf, of course, you know I can't ride a horse for shit, and I am so sure that Roach will make the other horses eat her dust! I will win the race, and I'm gonna marry myself.”

“That's...”

“Brilliant?”

“Stupid. It will never work.”

“Whaaat?” Jaskier pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, “Why? It has to work!”

Geralt knows that nobles gets embarrassingly excited by these kind of things – the scoops, the scandals, and whatever they comports – but he doesn't think that a scam like this will work. Not that Geralt knows his father at all, in what way he's going to react at Jaskier's, hm, trap, but if he really wants Jaskier married and soon–to–be–father, he won't surely accept the whole 'I won at a game so I will marry myself' thing.

Hence, this is stupid. But looking at the sad pout on Jaskier's face, Geralt can't find in himself the power to tell him that his plan has all kinds of holes in it. So, he mutters, “If... if you're sure about it.”

“I am! So, you're on?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course,” Jaskier rolls his eyes, fondly, as he does every time Geralt says something uncalled for. “You always have a choice, my dear. After all, there will be a lot of nobles, a lot of meaningless chatters, a lot of stabbing behind the backs, a lot of songs from a terribly bard. I wouldn't wish it even to my worst enemy. Well, sure, without your help I'd die within the day, slicing my own throat with a cutlery out of desperation and boredom, but this is not a forcing towards you by any means.”

Geralt smacks his shoulder, and Jaskier shrieks an amused ouch, massaging the hit spot. Put like this, he no, he really doesn't have a choice. How could he leave him be, when Jaskier is looking at him with those puppy eyes, with his lower lip slightly protruding, with those desperate words about his demise?

Well, he knew that he wouldn't have any choice since he received his letter back in Oxenfurt.

“Fine.” he sighs, then, “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing too complicated, darling. You just have to be faster than my... fiance's horse. Actually, I think Roach would do most the work. Never joined a horse race before?”

“Have you ever seen me in one?” he asks, rhetorically. No one would challenge him in anything, nor offer him to join a competition that, usually, is for noble's entertainment, so it's naive of Jaskier to ask something like this. But Geralt knows that Jaskier, most of the time, doesn't fully comprehend how people take Geralt at arm's length, and gets mad when he witnesses the – maybe deserved, maybe not – cruelty they have towards him.

“No, but maybe you have in my absence. Who knows what you do when I'm not around!”

“I do what I always do, Jaskier. I walk the Path, I fight, and I try to survive. I have no time for games.”

Jaskier scrunches his face, clearly discontent of his words, “So unfair.”

It doesn't matter if it's fair or unfair, it's still Geralt's life, and Jaskier needs to understand that nothing will ever change, no matter the fact that he doesn't like it and he deems it humanly wrong.

So Geralt doesn't respond, and a quiet silence falls on them whilst they finish their breakfast. Jaskier wipes away the apple juice from his mouth with the hem of his luxurious chemise, and the gesture is so little nobility that Geralt still doesn't believe the fact that in front of him there is a Viscount. That the bard that followed him for almost two decades is a Viscount – and he had no clue at all.

Jaskier winces and grimaces, when people start to shout and sing and claps from the roads outside. “We need to go. My wife–to–be is probably arrived.” he rolls his eyes, raising from the floor and reaching out to help him do the same. “I bet my precious lute that she is as unhappy as me about this arrangement. Gods, I don't even know her name! She probably doesn't know mine either! This is bullshit.”

Grabbing his stretched hand, Geralt prepares himself to what's about to happen.

He doesn't have a good feeling about this.

Jaskier's fiance is flawless, with a curved body and straight blond hair. She's not a teenager as Pavetta was during her wedding – the only banquet Geralt has ever participated, and he's for the first time in all his long life praying that this won't end like hers ended – and she walks with her chin held high, an expressionless stare pointed in front of her. Maybe it's her face, but Geralt thinks that Jaskier is probably right, and she's as unhappy as he is in this whole situation. After all, a lot of years passed since Jaskier was twenty and ready – for his father, at least – to get married: she has probably found someone else to love in Jaskier's absence, because her brown, stricken eyes resemble so much Pavetta's.

Well, Geralt thinks. Maybe Jaskier's plans will work, if he has his fiance's support.

Geralt watches as Jaskier and his fiance's meet for the first time in the farthest corner of the main square, with Roach neighing quietly next to him. Jaskier's eyes are full of pity, as he, with a sweet, small smile, kisses the back of her hand, so lightly that his lips doesn't even touch her sun–kissed skin. They don't exchange words apart for empty pleasantries, and Geralt feels an hollow inside of him at the sight.

He doesn't want a meaningless, unloved marriage for Jaskier.

He nudges Roach forward as the cheerful crowd follows the soon–to–be–wed couple to the magnificent palace at the end of the main road. He doesn't think Geralt will be welcomed there inside, no matter what Jaskier wants – he is too busy with his father and fiance, right now, to mind his comfort – but he thinks that, at least, he can go in the Pankratz's stables, considering that Roach will be one of the horses that will compete.

He is surprised, though, to find a servant in there that shows him the way inside the palace, indicating him where to go to the chambers allocated to him. He's too confused to try asking for explanations, and too stunned to growl at the stableman as he takes Roach's reins from his hands.

Maids prepare him a bath, and new, perfumed clothes are brought to him. Geralt doesn't feel enough relaxed to take off his armor and stay only with the clothes Jaskier – obviously – sent to him, so when he heads to the stables again, he tries to ignores the confused stares from servants and maids as he walks the corridors with frilly, clean clothes under his stained, clearly old armor.

In the stable, he finds himself to be surprised again, when he sees Jaskier nuzzling Roach's nose, hugging her neck from time to time as he murmurs sweet nothings in her flicking ears. “You will be my forever heroin, Roach, if you win this race. I know, I know, it's child's play for you, my horses – or, everyone's horses, don't get so offended, Gods – are snails compared to you, my girl. Still, you have to give all your might, regardless of the incompetence of others.”

Roach snorts, and tries to bite Jaskier's fingers. Geralt suffocates a laugh just to not interrupt whatever is going on between her and Jaskier.

Jaskier gasps, but the idiot doesn't take his hands off the horse, “You're so touchy! I didn't say that you are incompetent! Gods, sometimes you are worst than your owner. Ohw! I said sometimes!” his words are followed by a couple of kisses on her muzzle that she tries to shy away from – with not much force, though. Geralt knows that Roach is totally able to headbutt Jaskier out of her way, if she really wants to. “Anyway, what I meant, you prickly horse, is that mistakes are not allowed. Not if you still want me run after you throughout the Continent! And I know you want me. Who else is gonna give you this, if not me?” he asks, taking a small sugar cube from his pocket.

Roach stops stomping her foot on the ground, suddenly very docile.

“Yeah, I know. If you help me, dear girl, I will give you a whole bag full of your favorite treats. All for you, to eat all at once if you wish!”

“Are you done spoiling my horse?”

Jaskier jumps and a bunch of sugar cubes falls from his closed palm, “Holy shit, Geralt, do you perhaps want me to have a heart attack? You almost succeeded here!”

“Dramatic.”

“I'm serious, Gods.” Jaskier leans on Roach hugging her with an arm, and she doesn't mind at all, too busy eating all the treats fallen on the dusty ground. His other hands is posed against his chest, at the height of the heart. “That's why Roach is my favorite: she at least huffs and snorts to make her presence known.”

Geralt caresses Roach's neck, and her ears flick in acknowledgment. “Trying to bribe her won't work.”

Jaskier pouts, and frowns at the now clean ground where just second before the treats he brought for Roach laid, “It was working before you interrupted so rudely. By the way, did you rest? I see you changed with the clothes I had sent to you. They are really nice on you, I have to admit, but, dear, you don't need your armor in a horse race.”

“You will never know.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow at him, “Aaand that's why you are the wise one between us. Uhm, I'm gonna buy you a new armor, though. This one is falling to pieces.”

“You don't have to buy me anything, Jaskier.” Geralt sighs, and drops his eyes off Jaskier to pay attention to Roach, distract himself in adjusting her saddle and controlling her shoes. If she has to race, she has to have all the needed comforts – in no way Geralt would ride her with a broken shoe or a loose saddle.

“But I want to! Whatever. You are saving my life, it's the least I can do. Money won't be a problem at all, on the contrary: for the first time, my father's money – also mine, I'd like to stress – would be finally used for something useful. He spends all our wealth in women and wine, the old fucker!”

Geralt almost says that put it like this, Jaskier isn't so different from his father, but he thinks better of it. So he just hums, letting him continue blabbing about the disgraceful ways his father lives even before his mother's death.

He really has a lot to say regarding this argument. Distractedly, Geralt wonders if Jaskier will remember that they have a horse race to win before it's too late, or if he'll be too preoccupied in blaming his father for all his bad habits to notice the hours pass. He will probably find himself already married the moment he'll finally stop talking.

Suddenly, Jaskier claps his hands, “Now, Geralt, we have to go, we wasted enough time in chitchats. I already talked to my father, and he knows that you will be the other participant. You are competing against the best knight serving my fiance's family – I didn't even bother learning his name.”

“Do you at least know your fiance's name, now?”

“Yes, but I want to forget, as she wants to forget mine. We want absolutely nothing do to with each other, and believe me, for the first time in my entire life, I'm relieved to know that someone hates me.” Jaskier shrugs, and takes his hand in his, tightening slightly his long fingers around his much larger palm. For a second, he gets distracted by the casual gesture: he will never comprehend how a man's touch can be so warm, how can it make his skin tingle so strangely and yet so pleasurably. “Let's go now, I want to show you where the racecourse is located. It's a circular racetrack, really, the horses have to run around the stands where my family and my fiance's family will be to watch the... the challenge, and the first one that reaches the starting point is the winner.” he sniffs, “I feel strange, Gods, I'm starting to feel anxious. Don't get me wrong, I know you are going to win without any doubt, but I can't get out of my mind the feeling that something will go irremediably wrong.”

Geralt has the same feeling since the very beginning, but he just follows Jaskier silently out of the stable after giving Roach a see–you–later kiss on her muzzle. He doesn't add anything more to Jaskier's worries, and he mostly ignores the townsfolk that stop them on their way to the racetrack, giving Jaskier gifts as small bouquets of wildflowers and flower crowns.

A young girl tries to give him one too, and Geralt almost panicked as he crouches before her and she puts the too small crown on his head. Her mother doesn't even try to snatch her away from him, and Geralt supposes that it's thanks to Jaskier's influence. The whole town is acting as he is just one of the many guests came here for the wedding.

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn't comment Geralt awkwardness.

Jaskier shows the racecourse when they finally reach it, situated in a dusty clearing just out of town. Geralt doesn't care as Jaskier starts telling him how the workers have built this in no more than a week time, but he is particularly aware of Jaskier's hand still closed tight around his.

Jaskier stops midsentence when a sudden strum of a lute echoes around the empty racecourse, and the disturbing scent of anger and disgust coming off Jaskier imbues his senses. They both raise they stares and up on the stands, seated there with no care at all with a lute posed on his lap, there is a bard, apparently.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Jaskier fumes, and if only stares could kill, the bard would be dust on the ground. “Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Practicing for you wedding, Julian.” the bard answers, throwing them an amused grin, “There's chaos out there, and talent needs tranquility to reach its peak. Speaking of, why are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in your chambers to get ready for your grand day?”

Jaskier stomps a foot on the ground, petulantly, “There will be no grand day! Get out of my way!”

“I won't be so sure of myself in your place, Julian. I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face. But I am your servant today, so, as the lord commands.” the bard bows with a hand posed against his chest, then hops down the stands and disappears back towards town, as Jaskier's face becomes purple with anger.

Geralt asks, “Who is he?”

“My worst enemy, my recurrent nightmare, my crux and disgrace.” Jaskier passes a hand through his hair, “So, no one you needed to meet, no one important to know.” with a frown, he looks up the sky, a hand shadowing his eyes against the shining sun. “It's almost midday. It's a matter of time for the guests to start to arrive. Geralt, my friend.” Jaskier turns to him and, sadly, his hand leaves the grip on his. “I need to go. Win this race, and I'll be forever yours.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Forever in your debt, I meant!” Jaskier shrieks, red in face, as he runs away the same way the bard disappeared, a cloud of dust raising from his feet in the haste of it.

With a resigned snort, Geralt turns around to go to Roach and get her ready for the race.

But the bard's words keep swirling inside his head, amplifying the bad feeling about Jaskier's plan: I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face.

Well.

The stands are full the moment Geralt comes back at the racecourse with Roach trotting happily next to him. Jaskier is there with his family, seated at the center of it, at one of his side an older man that is his spitting image if not for the gray hair and serious expression, the other his fiance.

A young lady with a chubby baby sits beside his father, and even if she doesn't resemble Jaskier a lot, Geralt thinks that she's the sister he talked about.

Geralt is welcomed with a grand applause, followed by another when a knight in a white armor, riding a equally white stallion – the irony – takes place next to him at the starting point. They give him a thumbs up as Jaskier's father is shouting the rules and the motives of this sudden, at his saying uncalled for, race from his position.

As he talks, Geralt looks at Jaskier. He has a stricken expression twisting the usually smooth lines of his face, a vein popping on his forehead as the same bard they met before sings and strums behind him. He's not relaxed at all, even though he said that he is not afraid of Geralt to lose the race. So, why so tense?

The bed feeling intensifies.

Geralt caresses Roach's neck as she snorts, a bit annoyed by the cheerful crowd around them. He murmurs words of comfort, not dissimilar to the ones Jaskier told her in the stables whilst trying to bribe her – that is, until Jaskier's father shouts to them to get ready and in position.

There is a short countdown, and Roach tenses.

When the “Go!” is shouted, Roach runs. It's blurry after that, all Geralt can see – even with his enhanced senses – is just the road in front of them, all his – theirs – attention is to win this competition and get over with all of this.

He hears the stallion behind him, and Roach cleverly, with his guidance, gets in front of it to block its way, so it can't go past her and it's forced to slow down like this.

Clever, clever girl. A wave of pride overwhelms him, and he's sure that also Jaskier, up where he is enjoying the show, is feeling the same way.

Obviously, he and Roach are the first to cross the finish line, and everyone around them shout and scream and cheer the winner – and considering that it's Geralt the winner, it feels so strange. He drops off Roach and she seems to balks at the praises the people are shouting at her and at her clever talent, stomping her feet at the ground and neighing happily. She even trots around herself, in a very funny dance. Somewhere behind him, Jaskier's laugh trills, louder than any cheer.

The knight drops down their stallion too and gets closer to him. They takes off their helmet and Geralt is surprised to see that his challenger is a beautiful woman, with cropped short hair and a satisfied grin on her sweaty face. She stretches an arm towards him to shake their hands, before going.

“Father!” Geralt hears Jaskier say out loud. Raising his eyes, Geralt sees him standing in front of his father, excitement written on his face. Next to him, his fiance has finally lost her stricken face, and she seems so relieved that she just stays seated there, with eyes closed, and a hand against her heart. “My challenger has won. So it means I won!”

“Yes, my son. The Witcher has won.” repeats his father, calmly.

“Exactly. So I can marry my–”

“Your Witcher. You can marry him. It's what you were after since the beginning, weren't you?”

Jaskier inhales sharply, dropping his mouth wide open. “W–Wh–w–whha–”

The bard bursts out laughing, almost falling down on his butt.

Geralt panics, and hopes he did hear wrong for the first time in his life. He looks at Jaskier, waiting for something, anything that would hint him their next move, but Jaskier seems to be turned into a stone, eyes growing distant.

“I won, father.” he says, in the end, with a thin voice. “I've got to chose, now.”

“No, the Witcher has won, Julian. And you did chose: it was you that organized all of this and let the Witcher participate.” his father says, candidly. Then, he turns towards Geralt, the blue eyes that so much resembles his son's looking down at him with no particular emotion hidden behind them, “So, Witcher. Will you merry my son?”

Geralt is still panicking, sadly. That's why he says, “Yes..?” right before biting his tongue.

Jaskier winces as if slapped. His ex–fiance is looking at the scene with a curious gaze.

The bard is still laughing his arse off somewhere on the ground.

When Jaskier's father claps his hands and orders his servant to take Geralt back to the palace so he can get ready for tonight ceremony, it all clicks in Geralt's mind.

He's fucked.

Three hours later, the sun is almost setting down over the horizon, and Geralt finds himself in his chambers, in front of a mirror, trying to close the white doublet the maids brought to him.

He's angry, and not just because the buttons have no intentions to stay put. He's angry because he doesn't like at all the situation he's finding himself in, and he's even banned from going to see Jaskier wherever he is right now, to ask for explanations, to at least know how is he supposed to do to take them both out of this mess.

He feels like relaxing a bit, though, when he hears familiar steps approaching his door. “Come in,” he says even before Jaskier tries to knock.

Geralt hears a sigh, then opens his door with the utmost care as if scared to make even the smallest of the noises. When the door clicks shut behind him, Jaskier finally raises his eyes to meet his stare on the mirror. “Geralt, I–” he blinks, “Wow. You are quite a sight in white.”

Geralt just snorts, fuming. He gives up trying to close the buttons of the doublet to turn toward Jaskier with a dark glare, arms crossed against his chest, and the strange twinkling inside Jaskier's eyes dim, walking closer to him with a subdued posture. “Geralt... uh, are you mad at me?”

Geralt sighs. And, as always happens, he can't stay mad at him for too long: especially if he looks at him with those puppy eyes, so expressive that they seem to beg more than his mouth could ever do. “No.”

“Oh thank the Gods. I am so, so sorry, Geralt, it wasn't supposed to go like this! I mean, I am actually really surprised that you said yes to my father when he asked you if you wanted to marry me, but–”

“I didn't know what to say!”

“I know, calm down! It's okay, really, I already made up a new plan.” Jaskier says, excited.

“This doesn't make me feel better.”

“Miscreant!” Jaskier huffs, the gets closer and starts ruffling with his clothes, closing the buttons of his doublet and straightening the wrinkles, “I understand that the simpler plan is the most effective. You just have to say I don't, when the Melitele's priestess will tell the vows and ask you again if you want to marry me. The ceremony will be very brief, you don't have to worry about this, considering the little time we had, so you don't even have to prepare a speech. Aren't you happy? All you have to say is I don't!”

“That's it?” Geralt doubts it very much.

“That's it!”

Geralt grunts, unconvinced. “And your father will leave you alone, even if you don't get married?”

“I talked to my sister before coming here. Apparently, being left at the altar is a scandal. No one wants a groom or a bride that another disavowed, no matter the reasons.” Jaskier shrugs, “Gods forbid if an abandoned person gets a second chance.” he adds, sarcastically.

“And you're okay with it?”

Jaskier looks at him incredulously, “You're kidding? I'm more than okay. I don't want to marry anybody, Geralt, not now, nor ever. My life is perfectly fine as it is.”

Geralt finds himself frowning at the ground, something akin at nervousness churning his stomach at Jaskier's words. He should not care, after all, what Jaskier wants to do with his life, it's nothing of his business – and yet, he doesn't like the thought that Jaskier will never want someone stable to love for the rest of his life.

Is he starting to think like Jaskier's father?

Shit.

Jaskier probably notices his face darkens, because he gets even closer and grabs one of his shoulders, tightening slightly his grip when no reaction comes from Geralt, “Are you fine, Geralt? Believe me, I am truly, truly sorry for throwing all my family's mess onto you. But fret not, my friend! This will be the end, at least I can assure you this.”

Geralt looks at him. He has a plain robe on, clearly he was also preparing for the ceremony before sneaking out to come here, to him; his face is blotched red, maybe for embarrassment, maybe nervousness, Geralt can't say; his scent is mostly covered by some sweet perfume he used while bathing. He still is making puppy eyes at him, hoping to soften him as he begs for forgiveness.

But in the end, there's no motive for him to ask for forgiveness: it was Geralt who panicked and said that yes, he wanted to marry him. Thank fuck that it's all going to end soon, because this whole situation is becoming ridiculous.

There's a lot of ridiculous things he's done for Jaskier, after all.

But this? This beats them all.

“Whatever, I have a little gift for you.” Jaskier says, searching inside the pocket of his robe and taking out of there a silk, blue hair ribbon. “I know that I've already broken traditions by coming here, because one should see the bride – in this case, the groom – right on the altar, not before. But,” he says, showing him the ribbon. Geralt touches it with a knuckle, and it's as smooth as it looks. “this one is nice. They say that we need something old, something new, and something blue. You are what we have of old,” he laughs at this, and Geralt just smiles at him, “and our clothes are relatively new. What we missed is something blue, and all I've found is this. May I comb your hair?”

Geralt looks at him, then at the ribbon. At last, he sighs, “Sure.”

Actually, he feels a bit in trepidation as Jaskier commands him to sit at the vanity and settles behind him. His long fingers starts, slowly, almost carefully, to separate the white strands in three parts. Geralt watches as he combs his hair with care and confidence – it's not the first time he does that after all – but somehow this time it feels... different. Sacred, he would say, if only he was a poet.

Jaskier's hums under his breath does help the moment, making it even more intimate. He makes a plain braid, not too complicated, but taking his time nonetheless. Geralt definitely doesn't shivers when Jaskier's fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and no, he's definitely not too aware of Jaskier's breath too close to his ear when he leans to catch loose strands of hair.

Definitely not.

“Here you go!” Jaskier concludes, as he makes a flourish bow with the ribbon at the end of the braid. “Perfection.”

Geralt tells himself that he doesn't notice Jaskier's fingers lingering a bit more than necessary on his hair.

“I should go, now. I hope no one notices my absence.”

Geralt nods, “Hm. Go then.”

“Yeah, I–” Jaskier bites his lower lip, as he poses his hands on his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the mirror, and Jaskier seems to almost be saying something, but then thinks better of it. He smiles at him, with an healthy glow on his cheeks. “Thank you again, Geralt. What you're doing really means a lot to me.”

Said that, Jaskier leans towards him and leaves a smooch on his cheek, loud and a bit wet.

Then, he literally runs. “Ta!” he shouts as the door closes behind him.

Geralt freezes on the spot, a hand pressed on his cheek, where the ghost of that brief kiss still lingers there. His head completely shuts down. What the fuck was that?!

His mind can't make a coherent thought for the rest of the evening, finding himself by the altar without knowing how and when it happened. Jaskier is slightly late – if he understood well, they were supposed to reach the altar together – but Geralt knows why he isn't here yet, and in his altered mind he still can't get over that kiss.

Not that Jaskier never touched him before, being so tactical and friendly even with complete strangers – but, but kisses were always off limits. Combing hair? Yes, sure. It happened plenty of times. Massages? Also okay. Geralt still remembers fondly when Jaskier helped with his very uncomfortable problem on his bottom. Sleeping together and finding their limbs tangled together the morning after? Nothing wrong with that at all, it always happens when friends sleep together.

Right?

Hm. Put it like this, the kiss – on the cheek, mind you – seems to be the less intimate thing they've ever shared.

Then why..? Why does it bother him so much?!

Jaskier appears next to him on thin air, apparently, because Geralt didn't acknowledge his arrival at all, not until his tense laughter trills beside him as he almost trips on the last step of the altar. When he motions at him to try and steady him, Geralt's mind shut down again as his eyes finally fall on him.

Jaskier is also dressed in white like him, with golden embroidery running through his doublet and trousers, and he has an ephemeral aura around him that almost blinds his eyes. Jaskier returns his gaze with a sheepish smile, a blush on his cheeks and a quick shrug, as if to say Sorry for the late. Even if it's all a farce, I had to be on top regardless.

And on top he is, fucking hell.

Geralt can't quite take his eyes off Jaskier, as the Melitele's priestess starts talking out loud for all the guests to hear. Every time Jaskier notices his gaze, Geralt lowers his eyes as if caught doing something prohibited. Gods, he feels like a teenager. He feels like a real groom on his real wedding day – maybe? He doesn't really know what a groom may feel during a wedding.

This exchange of stares happens three times more. At last, Jaskier chuckles and the priestess looks at him oddly.

Suddenly, Jaskier takes his hands in his, raising them at heart length. They both turn towards each other, staring into each other faces. Geralt panics slightly, having heard not a single word that came out of the priestess' mouth. Jaskier is biting his lips, red in faces – he's probably trying to suppress one of his usual loud laughs. He's laughing at him!

He doesn't matter that at the moment Jaskier is the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his pitiful long life, he's ridiculing him and now he's mad. Kinda.

“I do.” says Jaskier, solemnly.

Geralt frowns. What was the question?

The priestess nods, then turns her pretty face towards Geralt, “And you, Geralt of Rivia?”

Shit. Fuck. What was the question?!

“I...” he asks Jaskier for help with a begging look, but Jaskier just tilts his head to the side. “I... do.”

The priestess nods again, but Jaskier blinks, “What?” he mouths.

“Was that..?” Geralt panics, because oh Gods, he now understands that the question was the question, the only question he needed to answer, the question Jaskier clearly has told him to say I don't. “Shit, no. I don't. I... don't.” The priestess jerks as he tries to mend his terrible mistake, “I don't want to marry, you heard me? I don't.”

Chaos erupts around them as Jaskier's father shrieks a “What?!”; the bard laughs his arse off again somewhere, hidden in the middle of the crowd; Jaskier's sister has a hand on her lips, feigning a surprise she doesn't really feel.

Jaskier is, instead, looking at him with a curious expression. Their hands are still tangled together in a firm grip, and Jaskier tightens slightly the grip to bring his attention on him and him only – not that Geralt had attention on anyone or anything, or else this mess wouldn't have happened in the first place, but still. Jaskier's thumbs are caressing the back of his hands, and the gesture is making him so aware of him and totally not of their surrounding.

“You said...” Jaskier prompts, after a minute passed just looking at each other.

“I panicked.”

Jaskier chuckles, “I noticed. Why?”

Geralt pursues his lips. Fuck, Jaskier is mocking him again, “I was distracted, and I haven't heard what the priestess said, so–”

Jaskier says, “You were looking at me, I know this. I distracted you?” Jaskier gets closer, almost a breath away from Geralt's face. Geralt feels trapped. “Tell me, I distracted you? Were you enough inebriated by my presence that the thought of marry me crossed your mind, and you weren't against it at all?”

Geralt says nothing.

“Geralt?”

“Will you marry me?” he blurts out, regretting it the second after. Yes, alright? He was thinking since that blasted kiss in his chambers that he would mind being Jaskier's husband, and being kissed again, and maybe meet his nephew and accompany him to bring flowers to his mother's tomb. So? Sue him for living in a fantasy for once in his life.

“No, darling.”

Of course not. How could he? He didn't want to marry that beautiful lady, surely he has no intention to marry a blasted, stinky, grumpy Witcher. “Alright.” he swallows down the bitterness of rejection, even if he shouldn't really feel so bad. He knew the response the second he asked, so.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, though. He actually feels really surprised when Jaskier leans on him and kisses him. Not a smooch on his cheek, no, a kiss on his lips. His head, obviously, shuts down again so he doesn't reciprocate, just enjoys the soft lips moving on him, and finally his scent, under the layers of sweet perfume, reaching his nose. “Silly Witcher. No, I don't want to marry you, or anyone really. I believe that I needn't to demonstrate to no one my love: not to my father, and not to Melitele herself. So I needn't a frivolous ceremony and a signed contract, a white doublet and a hundreds of testimonies to love you 'til death do us part.”

“Okay.” says Geralt, even if nothing is okay, because surely he got something wrong? He doesn't think he fully understands what Jaskier means.

“You marvelous, silly, naive man.” Jaskier sighs, fondly, “Did you know that we can make love even without a marriage contract? Let's leave everyone to their scandal. My sister is having the time of her life, she'll take care of everything.”

“Make what?” Geralt's almost afraid to ask, but Jaskier's expression is soft and fond – he seems in love. More than he's ever been, that is.

Jaskier winks, “I'm gladly going to show you, love.”

What happens next is a blur, Geralt notices just Jaskier's kisses, hugs, and soft, naked skin under his fingertips.

This time he understands the whole situation very, very clear.

[janiedean]

10 year prompts: FAIRY TALE AU FOR STANNIS E DAVOS <3 If any of your other OTPs acts as a background/helpers "because they have been there" it would be lovely, especially since they are all different takes on the Beauty and the Beast story. But also because it would be really fun to see idk, Sandor trying to give Davos dating advice "as someone who was in Stannis position before". Thank you so much for accepting prompts!

HELLO ANON have uh... the pseudo cinderella reverse au of doom that I don't know where it's from, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT pls presume every westeros kingdom is separated for this and same sex marriage is allowed

buy me a coffee | commissions open

1.

"Well, it seems like we are at an impasse, and I need you to fucking compromise," Robert says, and Stannis has to stop himself from gritting his teeth loudly.

"I am not," Stannis replies, "compromising on this."

"You do realize," Robert says, "that -"

"That according to whichever stupid law your precious Westeros council still hasn't managed to change when they have damned well should -"

"You know it's not a priority -"

"Of course for the seven of you it's not a priority," Stannis groans, "but I do know that if I don't get married Renly can't marry his precious Loras Tyrell either, and for the umpteenth time, as I did compromise years ago and I had to marry someone I didn't even like and who didn't like me and we all know how it ended up, you can forget I will compromise on marrying the first person you find suitable especially when I'm not sure they would be kind to my daughter, and I'm not making that mistake again."

"Oh, come on, you're being unreasonable -"

"Robert, no woman in Westeros actually wants someone with my background and I'm not subjecting my daughter to someone who hates her, and I'm not backing down on that."

"And what if I found some woman who did?"

"I am not marrying anyone I don't like. Not anymore." He's going to stand his ground on that. He hasn't done that for his entire life and both his brothers always ended up ahead of him and he didn't even complain because it was his duty, but -

But now he's not doing that.

Robert sighs. "Do you hate your brother that much?"

"I accepted someone I didn't like once, Robert. And it's not just me anymore now."

Robert sighs louder. "All right, all right. Let's say I strike a deal with bloody Rhaegar Targaryen and he lends me the ballroom in King's Landing, I throw a ball for your hand and you choose whoever you want?"

"No one is going to show up at a ball for me," Stannis grits out. "Do you really want to humiliate me that much?"

"You can choose," Robert says, "as long as you fucking get married. Take it or leave it or I choose someone for you. I'm not letting a Tyrell alliance go to waste because you're too stubborn."

Stannis really doesn't want to agree with this, but.

But if he doesn't agree it's just going to be worse after, and at this point he might as well try to make the best out of it.

"Whatever," he says, "fine."

Out of whoever goes to this fucking ball, maybe there will be someone halfway decent.

Maybe.

2.

Well, Davos thinks, couldn't be faulted for trying, even if he hadn't exactly predicted dying in an execution on the damned public square because fucking Randyll Tarly decided that since some fucking stupid royal ball is happening each single criminal has to be dealt with swiftly.

Also, he was an idiot to get caught, but then again, it's not like he was given a trial or anything and him asking for one had made the arse laugh and say to not waste his precious time, so he supposes he is going to get hanged on the public square.

To think that he's managed to be a smuggler without getting caught for years and now he's here because -

"Lord Tarly," someone says just as Davos gets dragged in front of the noose, "what is this about now?"

"My lord," Tarly says with... somewhat distaste. Davos dares looking ahead. The other guy is... definitely a lord, dressed finely in black and just a smish of gold embroidered in his clothing, but at least it's sober. Definitely a few years younger than Davos, has to be around thirty at most, and while he's not what you'd call astonishing in a man, Davos can't help noticing that he has a nice pair of blue eyes, though they're steely as they look at Tarly as if he's nowhere near pleased with any of this circus. Certainly Davos is not, either. "This man was caught committing a foul deed and I don't want criminals running around with the occasion you know of is looming, so if you'd let me do your job -"

"And what was this foul deed we're talking about?"

"I do not see why we have to discuss -"

"Because," the other lord replies, "the occasion that is looming is supposedly for my own benefit and I would like to know and I do not like to see people killed for something potentially useless. So?"

Tarly shrugs. "Very well. He got caught stealing food, a lot of it, and then it turned out he was a notorious smuggler we have been looking for for a long time, so -"

"So he only ever smuggled goods and stole food? And why did you steal that food?"

It takes Davos one second to realize that the lord is talking to him.

He clears his throat.

"There's a family living next door to me in Flea Bottom," Davos says. "I was friends with the father. He - died recently. Couldn't make enough gold to feed all of them so he gave up on his own food, he worked at the port and died helping unloading a ship." That was bringing Dornish wine for whichever feast they're holding at the palace. "His wife didn't have anything to eat, either. I stole some bread from a bakery near the castle and they caught me."

"I imagine these neighbors of yours haven't eaten that bread now, did they?" The lord asks.

"My lord, you aren't believing him, are -"

"Lord Tarly, kindly let him talk."

Davos shakes his head. "No."

"How many children are you talking about?"

"Five," Davos sighs, wondering how bad they're having it right now.

"I think we should see if he's telling the truth," the lord says.

"Lord Stannis, this is nonsense -"

"I wish to see if he is," the man goes on, "and I would like to remind you, Lord Tarly, that my brother is your sovereign, so how about we do that and see if he's lying or not?"

If anything, I'll get to live a little longer.

Davos leads the way and throughout the entire trip, Lord Stannis does not talk or say anything, just looks ahead with gritting teeth, and when he sees that Davos was, in fact, not lying, he shakes his head, mutters something about Robert and everyone else not having their priorities straight and then shakes his head again.

"Lord Tarly," he says, "get someone to give these people some food. They're bloody starving. And he wasn't lying - that woman kept on singing his praises and honestly, again, he's a criminal but he's never killed anyone, or has he?"

"Not that we know of," Tarly says.

"What's your name?" Lord Stannis asks, and wait, is he talking directly to him for the second time, this is just - no single lord in existence ever looks at commoners this way, as far as he knows -

"Davos Seaworth," he says, "my lord."

"Well, as far as I can see here, you only ever stole and you were trying to do something decent and - never quite mind that. I think," he goes on, "that no one should hang and he swears to not commit crimes anymore and since he still should be punished, he loses the joints in his left hand for that and that's all there is to it."

"But -" Lord Tarly tries to object.

"What do you say?" Lord Stannis asks.

"That I would take that one deal in a heartbeat," Davos replies.

"Well then," Lord Stannis says, "I proposed it, I will do it myself so that no golden cloak of Lord Tarly's gets ideas about taking your whole hand."

Davos decides that it's wildly beyond his expectations, and nods.

He asks to keep the bones.

Lord Stannis looks at him as if he doesn't know why he would but he can, for all he cares, and Tarly's sour face is enough to make Davos forget the pain he feels when the sharp knife goes down almost instantly.

Lord Stannis tells him to try and behave properly from now and leaves muttering something about just wanting to go back to Storm's End, and -

Davos needs to know more.

The moment his fingertips don't bleed anymore and he has the bones safely stored in a pouch, he grabs his old cloak and heads for the tavern where everyone from the golden cloaks and the court hangs out.

Maybe he can find out more about who that one lord is, because sure as the Seven Hells he never ran into one like that.

3.

The last thing he expects to find when he starts asking around the inn is that Sandor Clegane sits down in front of him.

If anything because the man shouldn't even hang around here - last he checked, he hasn't since he stopped going by that Hound nickname and ended up married to the Warden of the North's daughter somehow, and he doesn't even live in King's Landing anymore, but apparently he is, and - well. Davos had seen him around, back in the day. Now he looks... happier, he thinks. Not as angry. And those scars on his face haven't changed but his face looks somehow softer than before.

"I heard," he says, "you're askin' around about bloody Stannis Baratheon."

Oh, Davos thinks, so that was why Lord Tarly was that deferring to him. He could have gotten there when Stannis told him his brother was Lord Tarly's king, but - well. He hadn't been paying that much attention.

"Well," Davos says, "he made sure I didn't end up hanged and he just - I never knew any lord like that."

"Believe me, not many lords are like that one." Clegane takes a sip of ale, then shrugs. "Well, what did you need to know?"

"Just, shouldn't he be in the Stormlands? And what's this occasion thing that was for him that Lord Tarly was ranting about?"

"... You don't know, but of fucking course you wouldn't," Sandor shrugs, "it's not like they'd announce shit in Flea Bottom. Well, you know the royal ball they're holding at the Red Keep tomorrow?"

"Yes?"

"That's for him to pick someone he wants to marry," Clegane shrugs, "and he hates every second of it, not that anyone could blame his sorry ass."

"... Explain," Davos says. That just doesn't fucking make sense.

"I'll make it short," Clegane shrugs, "but he married this... lady Florent something some ten years ago 'cause his brother picked her for him and apparently he's the only one in that family who gets the short straw about everyfuckingthing. And when they went for the bedding they found Robert in bed with some other woman."

"His marriage bed?"

"Well, yeah," Clegane goes on, "and then they had a daughter but she was born with grayscale so half of her face is scarred, her mother fell in with some witch from Asshai and decided that her daughter was an abomination and turned out she wanted to burn her alive, long story short when it happened of course he broke off the marriage and I have no idea where the fuck she ended, but since then he hasn't had anyone offer their daughter's hand. Because everyone thinks he's dull and he said that even if he had a son with another woman he'd consider his daughter his heir or anyway he wouldn't let her get the fucking short straw, too, and like, while a second Baratheon son is not fucking little, he has no offers. But now it looks like he has to get fucking married or his younger brother can't marry bloody Loras Tyrell, either, and they came to that ball compromise. If you wonder how I know all of this, my lady wife spent the entire trip to King's Landing from Winterfell sharing about that and saying that it was a pity poor Stannis never got his good love story, so there's fucking that."

"And the ball's point is...?"

"That if he likes anyone he meets he gets to pick his bride. Or whatever the fuck else."

Davos nods. "I see," he says. "And you're saying people think he's dull?"

Clegane shrugs again. "I mean, I don't personally give a fuck and I think he's all right, but his brothers are both... more suited for fucking court, I guess. And he obviously hates court. And he says he won't have anyone who won't accept his daughter, which means whoever shows up will be really desperate daughters of minor lords. Does this satisfy your questions?"

"It does," Davos says, looking down at his hand.

"Wait," Clegane says, "he did that?"

"The alternative was Lord Tarly hanging me, Ser," Davos replies.

"I'm not one and good fucking riddance to me. Huh." He looks at Davos, and Davos holds the stare, wishing he knew what the man was thinking, and then -

"You want to go to that ball, don't you."

It's not posed as a question.

Davos swallows. "I mean," he says, "I - if he had been some knight or not a fucking lord I'd have... tried to talk to him, I guess. I just - he didn't seem stuck-up like the others. And he did save my life. But please, and how would I even get in there? I'm a fucking smuggler and I was born and bred in Flea Bottom of all places, certainly I am not invited."

"No," Sandor replies, "but - ah, fucking bugger it to the seven hells and back, I've been in his place."

"Lord Stannis's?"

"Yes," he says, "as in, I thought no one would ever look at me like that, except that it happened and you are sort of having that look while thinking about him, and I highly doubt he wants a fucking princess or whatever."

What in the Seven Hells - Davos thinks, but then Clegane half-smiles, the scarred side of his mouth curling up in what looks a damned genuine grin, and -

"You're a smuggler, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes?" Davos replies. "Even if I guess I shouldn't risk it anymore, should -"

"Think you can be at that small bay near the kitchens tomorrow at this hour?"

"I - I could?"

"Be there," Clegane says, "I absolutely want to see the fucking faces of all those arses after."

"After what?"

"You'll find out," the man says, and then stands up and leaves.

He looks cheerful.

What the fucking fuck, Davos thinks, and then decides that he has nothing to lose. He can be there tomorrow.

4.

He expects Clegane to be there.

Instead -

"Davos Seaworth?" A tall, blonde woman with very pretty blue eyes, a nose that was broken twice and shoulders worthy of a knight tells him - she's dressed in good male garb, and she has a knife at her hip, but she doesn't sound hostile.

"Uh, yes," he says, "lady...?"

"Brienne of Tarth," she introduces herself and wait -

"Aren't you - Ser Jaime Lannister's -"

"Yes," she interrupts him, "and Sandor told me to come get you and believe me, I was much glad to because that ball is a stupid farce and I get why Stannis would hate it and I have my reasons to want to have a laugh at everyone else's antics. Do follow me," she says, and leads him through some tunnel going inside the castle from the small cave nearby.

Davos tries to remember how the hell she got married to Lannister - it was pretty talked about in the city, back in the day. He still was in the Kingsguard and she had been in Renly Baratheon's following and they ended up fighting in some tourney and they tied and two weeks later he had resigned from the Kingsguard somehow - his sister, the Queen regent, hadn't apparently been happy but Rhaegar Targaryen agreed to it, so Davos supposes he had some leverage - and they eloped on Tarth and he's halfway sure Tywin Lannister still has his son disowned for that, or half-disowned, but he still obviously is invited to courtly events. Davos has no fucking clue how nobles do this, but he follows Brienne thought a few more tunnels until she leads him out and into a corridor and into a small but richly furnished room.

"Right," she says, "just... wait a bit here. And - well. I, uh, didn't know your Lord Stannis much before we... ended up talking to each other a while ago, and - I get where he's been and no one wants to be the center of a feast where they know they're going to be laughed at. So, I'm pretty sure he will be relieved."

"Of what?"

"You'll know shortly," she half-smiles, and then closes the door.

What the fuck, Davos thinks for the umpteenth time, and a few moments later the door opens.

Now.

Davos has heard of Jaime Lannister enough to know on sight that the blonde man coming through the door is him, and the younger girl on the side with bright auburn hair and blue eyes - oh. She has a Stark sigil on her dress. Is she -

"Lady Sansa," Lannister says, "your husband wasn't lying, was he?"

"No," she smiles back, "but this is going to be good."

"My lord," Davos stammers, "my lady. Uh, what is this about?"

"Oh," Sansa replies, grinning, "it's about getting you to that ball. Ser," she tells Lannister, "mind instructing him while I find him the right clothing?"

"Absolutely," Lannister smiles wider.

Seven fucking hells, Davos thinks, I'm never going to survive this.

5.

"See," Lannister goes on, "when Clegane told me that he thought you might want to go to the ball because you actually did like Stannis we about all fainted in our little corner of no one thoughts we should have married the way we did so we'll leave you alone, but honestly, the guy pretty much does his brother's job because Robert doesn't really give a damn about being a decent ruler, then he pretty much gave up everything he wanted for either of his brothers and they never said thanks and he was one of the few idiots who when I, uh, resigned, said I should be able to." He shrugs. "Also, he was nicer to Brienne than his actual brother that she wanted to swear herself to, so. I kind of owe him and his daughter is a nice girl. She doesn't deserve a shit stepmother."

"And you all decided that I am the solution to the problem?" Davos asks from behind a screen where he's trying on the clothes Sansa brought him after she got a bath brought over to the room and he had to hear Lannister giving him tips to get through the ball while he was washing.

"You're here and you're thanking the guy for having cut off your finger joints, please. And no one cares where you come from - at least the four of us - and he certainly won't. Come on, out of that screen."

Davos sighs and does, and Sansa does whistle a bit. "Told you," she says, "they'd fit."

"Oh, they do," Lannister replies, and tells Davos to go look at himself in the mirror near the window.

Davos does, and -

Well. He felt out of place dressed in fine dark green silks with golden embroideries and a velvet brown coat, but it does fit him, and the black new leather boots Sansa got him are the best shoes he's ever worn, and now that he could get a good cleaning - well. He's still himself, but he's pretty sure half of his friends wouldn't recognize him.

"Take this," Lannister says, handing him a sword. "Now, what could the story be - oh, he's some hedge knight I met while killing bandits with Brienne and we thought to invite him?"

"Sounds good," Sansa nods, "and you could invite him. He probably shouldn't say he's from King's Landing, though."

"Absolutely not," Lannister agrees. "Hm. How about Cape Wrath?"

"Better," she nods, "though I suppose his real name shouldn't come out."

"No," Lannister shakes his head. "Ser, choose one. Oh, should he be a bastard? Imagine their faces."

"I think we should absolutely go for that," she grins back. "So, a name?"

"Uh, Allard?" Davos blurts his father's name, may his soul rest in peace.

"Allard Storm, sounds good," Lannister grins. "Well, you're a hedge knight, you met me and my lady wife while chasing bandits and we invited you because why the hell not," he says. "I hope you can dance, Seaworth."

"... I don't think so," Davos replies. "I mean, I never did."

Maybe he should have lied.

Maybe he'd have spared himself those two actually teaching him on the spot.

When he's pushed out of the room a while later, he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing here, but -

But he still doesn't want to run away.

Fuck, what did I get myself into? He asks himself, and then walks on anyway.

6.

“I should have never agreed to this farce,” Stannis whispers as he sloshes wine he knows he won’t drink in his glass.

Good thing he’s telling Brienne of Tarth that and not anyone else, because he thinks no one else in this room would understand how it feels - she nods, and thankfully she doesn’t argue about it.

But what should she argue? Each single lady who came looked at him like her father forced her here, it’s a ball in his name and he’s technically not danced with anyone yet, not that he would want to, Renly and Loras meanwhile are doing it and everyone is looking at them anyway, which... is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Never mind his daughter who asked him fifteen times if they really had to participate and he thinks wasn’t openly laughed at yet just because anyone who might has been properly scolded by their lordly parents on that one topic, but the last time he saw her she was standing miserably to the side.

“I’ve been there,” she says, “and I wouldn’t want to be in your position ever again anyway. But -” She clears her throat, “I think that you might change your mind.”

“Oh, and how?”

“Jaime, uh, he made a friend the other day. While we were out checking the woods.”

“And?”

“And he invited him along. I think that you might... well. Like him. Or at least not be thoroughly bored.”

“At least,” Stannis sighs, and really, he doesn’t begrudge her for having found better than his damned brother, because she did deserve it as much as he’d have never bet a coin on Jaime Lannister of everyone being anyone’s ideal partner, but still, this entire exercise is just reminding him of how much no one actually would want him even for... companionship, if nothing else, and -

Why did he even agree to this bloody farce, he really wishes -

“Oh, here they are,” she says, and yes, Lannister is apparently arguing with - Lord Varys, seven hells, of course he was in charge of vetoing who was allowed in, and there’s a man next to him, indeed, but he has a hood over his head - a nice velvet coat without too many pretenses, so he can’t see his face, but then it seems like Lannister has his way and manages to get the man in, and then he whispers something his way and - comes over to the both of them?

“Stannis,” he smiles, entirely too gloating about it, “it’s your event and you let your brother steal the spotlight?”

“What do you think even happened?” Stannis sighs back - he’s not even going to antagonize him.

“I see I have to do everything tonight. Brienne, fancy making sure that people stop only having eyes for Renly while he mingles?”

“I fancy,” she grins, and of course she does, the room usually starts whispering the moment they dance together since she’s never not led and it’s apparently worth whispering about, and so when they’re off, Stannis sighs and walks to the side, figuring he will try to make an effort and talk to anyone who will -

And then he sees that Lannister’s mysterious friend is talking to his daughter and she’s smiling at him before running off somewhere - oh, where Tyrion Lannister is lounging, Stannis notices, and what -

“Ser,” he clears his throat, moving closer, “would it be too much if I asked you how you got my daughter to - do that?” He blurts, hating how awkward he sounds -

“I told her,” the man replies, and wait, isn’t the voice familiar, “that she looked very lonely, she explained me how she loathed this feast and I suggested her that she might want to talk to someone who likes what she does, and Ser Jaime has told me enough about his brother to know they might have something to discuss. But I am hardly a ser, my lord.”

Stannis glances down at the man’s left hand while the man pulls down the hood.

Oh.

Oh.

He’s - he doesn’t have the finger joints on his left hand.

He’s -

“I see you understood,” the man - what was his name, Davos Seaworth - says.

“I might,” Stannis replies, “and may I inquire how you’re here?”

He’ll be thrice fucked if Davos didn’t... sort of flush under his beard. Which... looks a lot better now that it’s well-groomed, and then a pair of warm brown eyes meets his own, and -

“I asked around who you might be, since no one else in your place would have actually insisted to save the life of... well. A common criminal, let’s put it like that. And I met someone who decided that I sounded entirely too interested and I should attend the ball and they helped me sneak in, and I never felt like it was a mistake, so... sounds like I am here. But if you don’t wish me to -”

“Please,” Stannis shakes his head, feeling slightly dizzy, “no one until now made me feel like they actually weren’t forced to be here and... you went through all that effort to just... talk to me peer to peer? Or, well. The closest one might get to it.”

“I thought I’d just want to thank you in person,” Davos replies, “but now that I’m here, I think I’d like to stay a while, and not just for the good food. Fancy taking a stroll out, my lord? Unless you’d rather watch your brother seethe.”

“Renly is doing what,” Stannis replies, and turns to look at the scene -

Well.

Renly is seething because everyone is whispering about Brienne twirling Jaime Lannister around the floor like she was born to do that. He shouldn’t be smiling. But maybe he is, a tiny bit.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head, “I shouldn’t, but - well.”

“I won’t judge people for being petty,” Davos replies, “but - is there a reason why?”

Stannis shrugs. “Well, he kind of hates that he hasn’t managed to... be officially with his intended because of me, and he never fails to remind me that everyone thinks me dull in comparison to him, and I never quite forgot that he once said it would be a miracle if I’d find anyone who’d take my daughter because of her face, so. Well. If Brienne is upstaging him, I’ll live with it.”

Davos looks at him, then at the rest of the room.

“I see,” he says, “and I can’t blame you. She was perfectly nice with me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Stannis says, “but - maybe I would like that stroll.” What is he even saying -

“Then we should,” Davos replies, half-smiling, and he looks so damned kind -

What the hell is happening?

7.

The hell, Stannis realizes, is that he actually does like this man.

They just - they just talked while music came faintly from the outside, and it’s probably sad that it’s novel experience to talk to someone who actually seems to give a damn about what he has to say and listens to him except Davos actually does, and when Davos talks about how he ended up becoming a criminal and almost hanged he kind of can’t help feeling guilty when he looks down at the man’s left hand.

Fucking Seven Hells, he might be a smuggler, but when someone tells you well where I came from it was a struggle to put any food on the table at all and with my first smuggling job when I was fourteen I could pay for it for a month can you even blame them for not having looked back and found an honest job?

He thinks about how he never had to worry about his next meal.

“I think I have to apologize to you,” he says quietly when Davos finishes telling him about how he couldn’t sleep at night hearing those starving children wail.

“... You don’t,” Davos replies, shaking his head.

“I do,” Stannis goes on. “I mean... I still think stealing is a crime and crimes should be punished or - or what else makes sense, but when one hears your circumstances... I feel like I should have just have you swear you wouldn’t live that life anymore. I could. And instead -”

“Oh, you made sure I didn’t lose an entire hand or hang, and we both know Lord Tarly wouldn’t have been happy with just letting me go. I can appreciate fair play, my lord, and I mean, I did commit crimes. I did keep the bones, anyway.”

“You - did?”

Davos nods towards... oh. A small pouch that he has hanging around his neck. Stannis hadn’t noticed it before, but -

“I decided I’d keep them in memory of the one time one lord was actually fair to me, but then - then I met Clegane and he told me to show up here. Also... shouldn’t someone have looked for us by now?”

It’s been a while. The music is still playing. No one did.

He shakes his head. “As if they’d care,” he says, “most likely they were just waiting for me to leave so they could stop pretending to be nice.”

Davos just looks at him, and then he swallows, and -

“Beg your pardon if this is too forward,” he asks, “but maybe my lord fancies dancing somewhere not in front of all those people?”

“I - I don’t generally do that,” Stannis replies. Why is his heart beating faster?

“Oh, I don’t dance to that kind of music either, but who is going to see us?”

Stannis has slipped his hand into Davos’s before he can think on it.

What am I even doing, he thinks, noticing how the other man’s hands are roughened - he took away the gloves and he can feel how the right one is all clean but calloused skin and the left has fresh scarring on the joints, but they hold his own so very gently, and -

And neither of them is really good at this, because he hasn’t danced in years and Davos is obviously winging it based on what he saw in the hall, but it’s nice, and twirling around the garden without anyone staring at him feels nice, and when he looks at Davos’s kind, warm brown eyes his stomach flips over again, and -

“This - this is nice,” he finally admits.

“It... it is,” Davos says back, and he’s half-smiling and - “If this is the first and last time I get to be at a royal ball, I’m not going to think it wasted time at all.”

Gods, gods, why the idea that he wouldn’t see him again is making him feel like the ground will fall open under his feet and swallow him whole?

“What if I don’t want it to be?” He finds himself saying, and Davos gasps at it.

“... Really?”

“Really,” he says, feeling like his head is spinning and he can’t stop talking, “never mind that - no one I know managed to make my daughter happy like that talking to her once. And - that was one of the conditions I had for Robert. That I wouldn’t... be with anyone who’d treat her poorly.”

“Why would anyone? She’s a lovely girl,” Davos replies, and oh, if he knew.

“You saw her. And her mother wanted to burn her alive. Not many people agree with you.”

“Then most people are idiots,” Davos replies, “if I may be so bold.”

“You may,” Stannis replies, and they’re still swinging, and - “You may be as bold as you like.”

He doesn’t know how he said that. He doesn’t even know where that comes from.

What he knows is that Davos’s mouth is on his the moment after and -

And he’s fucking kissing back the moment it happens and had he been hoping for it? Gods maybe he had, and the few times he kissed Selyse were nothing like this, she never - it never felt like she wanted to actually do it and Davos does, there is no fucking way he doesn’t, and his tongue is slipping into Stannis’s mouth and he groaned into it, oh fuck -

“Stannis, where the fuck did you end up?”

Oh, damn it, that was Robert -

They break apart and Stannis is about to tell Davos to just stay and that he’ll deal with it, but then other people talk and -

“Damn,” Davos says, “that’s Lord Tarly, and he will recognize me.”

... He would, Stannis realizes, and -

“Oh, fuck,” Davos says, and then he takes the pouch with the bones from his neck and slams it into Stannis’s palm and -

“If you want me to come back,” Davos replies, half-smiling, “you just have to bring them back to me. You know where I live, my lord.”

“I - I do,” Stannis whispers.

“Then - then I hope to see you soon, my lord. If not... I’m not regretting that you’ll get to keep that.”

And then he’s gone and Robert and his fucking search group have shown up a moment later.

“What were you even doing out here?” Robert asks. “You know that you have to choose a wife before the feast is over?”

Oh, fuck him and fuck them all, Stannis thinks.

“About that,” he says, “I think I know. But I can tell you when we go back in.”

It’s going to be a goddamned problem, he knows, but -

But.

He’s almost never trusted his gut his entire life and it only ever brought him trouble, and now he wants to, and -

And.

And he knows.

8.

“You’re not marrying a criminal!” Robert explodes later, when the hall has been emptied except for them, Renly, his daughter, Lord Tarly, the present Tyrells, Starks and Lannisters and of course Rhaegar Targaryen and the members of the small council, but he seems to be uninterested in how this ends one way or the other.

“I said I could choose whoever I wanted, didn’t you?” He stares back.

“I didn’t mean a damned criminal, Stannis! And how did a commoner even get in here? Lannister, what were you thinking?”

Jaime Lannister merely shrugs, half-grinning while his father looks at him like he’s a lost cause. His sister... Stannis isn’t even going to think about that. “That he looked and sounded like someone he’d like and so I invited him. Sure, we did tell him to not introduce himself with his real name, for obvious reasons, but -”

“A bloody commoner, Lannister!”

“Oh,” Lannister shrugs, “and so what? He stole some things. He never harmed anyone as far as we knew. You could have worse brothers in law.”

“Are you bloody serious - Stannis, please, no way -”

“And why?” He counteracts. “I am not interested in having any more children,” he goes on, “I do have an heir, and he would certainly not try to make sure she stops being that, and I wanted someone she’d like too, and I think she did, or -”

“I did,” she replies quietly, and Robert rolls his eyes.

“Shireen, this man is a smuggler, your father isn’t reasoning -”

“Well,” she says, “I have talked to him once and he was nicer than just about anyone else at the feast. Or - well. I don’t think I should say.”

“Shireen, you can.”

“I don’t think I can tell you. It wouldn’t be polite. And you would be sad.”

“Let’s say,” Lannister says, “that she can tell me in all confidence outside the room and I can come back with the answer if it’s something that could be shared?” 

Stannis should be worried that Shireen seems fine with that, but then again he’s the brother of the guy who entertained her for half of the feast, right? And why would she think he would be sad?

Anyway. Lannister brings her out of the room, and then comes back and -

“I told her she could go find my brother,” he says, and oh, the youngest Lannister did flee the premises while they were arguing, “and - well. Renly,” he says, “honestly, she said that the criminal commoner was nicer to her in five minutes than you’ve ever been your entire life, maybe you should think about that sometimes.”

Oh

Of course -

At least Renly has the grace to look ashamed, and Robert groans again, and -

Ah, seven hells.

“Robert,” he says, “this entire farce was to make sure I would find anyone suitable so Renly could have his lavish wedding and whatnot. You said I could choose anyone. I happen to have chosen. If my daughter likes him, too, even better, and honestly, you are the king, Renly will have the Tyrell alliance and certainly my daughter won’t be your heir, so what do you care? People will talk and decide I lost my wits, and would that be any news? Just stop being unreasonable.”

Robert stares at him, and then -

“Seven hells,” he sighs, “you never stood up that much for anything in your life as much as - whatever this is. Fucking - ah, well, I suppose I can just find some way to make sure the three of you aren’t around court too much.”

“Believe me, both Shireen and I would be thoroughly pleased,” Stannis says, and then Robert raises his hands to the ceiling.

“Whatever. Go ahead, find this guy, as long as I can move forward with the other damned wedding.”

“Why, thank you, extremely kind of you, Your Grace,” he says, and then he turns on his heel and gets out of the room.

He’s not surprised when Lannister follows him. “Should I tell my brother to keep your daughter entertained for a while longer?”

“Please,” he says, “and I don’t know how much I have to thank you, but -”

“Just go get the guy and remember that Brienne’s father is only too glad to host her friends on Tarth. He’s exceedingly glad she has some,” he winks, and then goes to - find his brother and Shireen, he supposes, and -

“My lord,” Sandor Clegane says, appearing suddenly at his right as he gets out of the castle, “you need an escort to Flea Bottom, mayhaps?”

“I don’t even want to know how you knew,” he sighs, and stops asking himself why apparently is there some kind of conspiracy to help him out with - whatever this is.

He also doesn’t want to know how Clegane says he knows the way when Stannis asks him if he remembers how to get to the house he visited a few days ago.

9.

Davos had half expected the knock on the door.

He hadn’t been sure it would happen, but -

He’s nowhere near surprised when he opens it and Stannis is there with Sandor Clegane in the background winking at him and then making himself scarce.

“This place is a lot fouler by night than by day, if possible,” Stannis says, walking into Davos’s one-room shack, not that he could afford any better.

“But you knew that already, my lord, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Stannis whispers, and his eyes look so blue in the candlelight, and then he’s handing Davos back the pouch with the bones - 

“Is it.. I thought it was heavier,” Davos says, taking it.

Stannis shrugs, lifting up his cloak. He has a similar pouch tied to his waist.

What -

“I took the liberty to split it,” he whispers, “if - if it’s not a problem.”

“It’s not,” Davos says, “but does it mean that -”

“My brother has agreed to... my choice, if we lay low. But I think that it woudn’t be a problem. And - I never do things not overthinking them. But - my daughter likes you, and I like you, and honestly, no one would have gone through the effort you did just to... talk to me or whatever, and -  this is, if -”

“Yes,” Davos interrupts.

“Wait, yes?”

“I can’t believe I actually am saying it myself, but of course. I do.. quite like you, my lord.”

“Well, if we are to be... to be, maybe you can do away with that?”

“I could be persuaded,” Davos says, and he leans in and they’re kissing again and this time is slower and Stannis’s hand is slightly trembling as he touches the back of his hair and he’s not even wearing his fine clothes now, he put them away before but Stannis doesn’t seem to care an inch and when he groans into Davos’s mouth again he grasps at the back of his head and -

Well.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to navigate things considering that he can’t even bloody damn well read, but who cares. He’ll learn. He just -

He likes Stannis, damn it, and he wants to see it through, and if it means they’ll have to lay low because other lords are damned stupid, who cares.

10.

“Well,” Jaime says, “we can expect a lot of gossip.”

“In what sense?” Brienne replies, wishing she didn’t have to reply to ravens when they’re on Tarth, but his father insists that she does because she’ll take his place one day.

“My brother writes me that Shireen Baratheon writes him that she’s never been happier now that they’re at that castle in Cape Wrath, that she’s taught Seaworth to read admirably well and she has a lot of fun with that and that she’s delighted because he is actually a thoroughly nice guy and her father is happy and she’s never seen him happy before, they didn’t go to Renly’s wedding and they didn’t miss it at all and apparently everyone in town is happy they’re there because they don’t have to go to Robert for inquiries or asking anything and Sannis is a lot fairer than Robert was anyway, and no one is actually dying of hunger in there anymore, so I guess that they’re doing well - oh, this is golden.”

“What is golden?”

“That Robert is of course not taking a wife until Lyanna Stark capitulates to his courting but he’s certainly having children here and there, so he’s sending some of them to their place and I think they have what, two of them there, and Shireen is delighted because she finally has some company, and imagine that, Sansa Stark came visiting there with her husband and sister once because I suppose she wanted to see how well her matchmaking had worked and her sister is smitten with one of said bastard sons. And they had to lay low, imagine that,” he laughs. “Well, when were they supposed to visit?”

“A month from now?”

“There’s going to be so much gossip,” he keeps on muttering, and she lets him - he has all the reasons to gloat about it.

She smiles to herself as she takes another raven and starts penning it - she might as well send them some more congratulations before they come visit.

After all, after they became friendly, she did hope that he’d find someone he would be happy with same as she did instead of always staying in Renly’s shadow, which she’d have been happy with herself... before realizing she deserved better.

She’s really glad he did.

And she can’t wait to host them too - if they got the happy ending, no point in not celebrating it, isn’t it?

[phantaloon-books]

Alright I got a couple comments asking for a continuation so here's part 2 of neil finding out the feds were onto smth when they recommended witness protection program

part 1

(Also thank you so much, I genuinely didn't expect such a good reception, everything I write is purely self indulgent)

Andrew is gonna fucking lose it. It's been over three weeks and not a single word from Neil fucking Josten. He's never hated him more, and this time he means it when he says hate. Actually he's not sure he hates himself or Neil more, but he feels hatred and rage and that's what matters. But of course the rabbit just left. Once a rabbit, always a rabbit.

He wanted so desperately to believe that, that Neil chose to run, that he chose to leave him them and keep running because that's what he knows best. Even if believing Neil chose to leave hurts him more than he'll ever admit, it's the best thing to believe. It's best to believe that Neil left than to believe something happened. It's best to believe Neil grew tired and bored of him them than to listen to the worry and dread Andrew's been feeling for months. It's best to believe Neil didn't want him than to let himself think of worst case scenarios.

But he can't make himself think that Neil left willingly and because he wanted to (and not it's not because he wants to believe that Neil wouldn't leave him). Neil would never run without his things, not without his stupid binder and money and contacts, not without clothes or any resources. If he ran away he would do it properly. He wouldn't leave with running clothes and his stupid flip phone. And most importantly Andrew knows that Neil has been restless lately. He's seen the way Neil checks every corner or every place, observes the people, looks for threats. He'd left those habits behind, so something has to have happened. Neil didn't just leave him.

The best thing is the other foxes aren't convinced Neil would run either. He had no one to run from, and he had a family now. And even if he was feeling overwhelmed or anxious, he would have come back. He wouldn't have taken three weeks. So they know, they know, Neil didn't leave because he wanted or needed to. And they're all anxious as hell about that bc if he didn't leave where is he?

They narrow it down eventually, and conclude that he got in a fight and is dead in a ditch somewhere, he had an accident in a coma in a hospital somewhere, he somehow got lost and/or lost his memory, someone killed him accidentally or not and his body is buried somewhere far away, or he's been taken. And Andrew cannot take the stress that he doesn't know where the fuck Neil is any longer.

He almost killed Kevin and several federal agents when Neil went missing for a few hours. This time, he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but that hasn't stopped him from tearing every dorm apart and the stadium and the police station and the hospital and getting in fights with the FBI. He's desperate enough that he called Browning, hell, he's desperate enough that he contacted the Moriyamas, which wasn't a pleasant experience, but Ichirou had promised Neil protection and this definitely called for mafia intervention. So far neither the FBI or the Moriyamas had helped - yes they had, they informed him regularly that they were looking for Neil, but they had nothing, no clues no trails, and Andrew couldn't believe their incompetence, like for fucks sake the Moriyamas were yakuza, they ought to know what could have happened to one of their most valuable assets. And anyway if he ran, and wasn't taken, they for sure would be behind him, looking to kill him of course, but they still couldn't find him.

Andrew hasn't tried to kill anyone yet but he will soon if he doesn't find Neil, and he's sure he will start with himself. He can't remember the last time he slept or ate well, or went to exy practice, but he doesn't care. He can't care until he knows something. The lack of knowledge is driving him crazy. At this point knowing that Neil is dead and has been rotting in the countryside of Poland would be better than not knowing anything.

He hates this so much. He hates Neil for disappearing. He hates whoever went and got him. He hates the Moriyamas for not being able to find him and not keeping him safe in the first place. He hates himself for becoming so attached. He should have known better. He knew better. He knew it was a bad idea to feel all the things he feels for Neil, especially because it's Neil, the unpredictable rabbit. But he fell for the fake hope that they would make it, that he wouldn't be hurt again, that Neil would stay. He knew letting someone in again could kill him. He knows that if they don't find him, it will. He can't keep going like this. He was stupid enough to feel hopeful, but he won't be able to live once the hope dies.

He's laying in Neil's bed. He knows it's pathetic, but frankly he doesn't care. Everyday is worse than the last one. He's slipping and when he falls it's game over, he's going to make sure of that. If Neil genuinely cared, he'd be pissed at Andrew for even thinking about this. No he'd be upset, but not pissed, about the fact that he's considering taking his life over this. But he opened the door to feelings, and he won't be able to cope with them and he won't be able to close that door again. He's giving up.

Faint buzzing interrumps his thoughts. Someone's calling him. He couldn't stomach the runaway song that matched with Neil's but he couldn't stomach changing it either, so he leaves in on vibrate now. He looks at his screen. It's an unknown number. Most likely the FBI or the Moriyamas or a random police station ready to take him out of his misery and just tell him they found Neil's body. The code says it's from Minnesota. He considers not answering, but he might as well get over it.

He flips the phone open, "I only care about this if you are from the FBI or the literal mafia, so if you aren't from either, feel free to hang up." The other line stays silent for a few seconds, but when he looks at his phone, it's still going. The person didn't hang up. He doesn't have the patience for this. "I'm just gonna hang up then-"

"Andrew, wait." It's barely a hesitant whisper. The voice is absolutely shattered, rough and hoarse and very painful-sounding. There's wheezing too and labored breaths. But god. No matter how wrecked he sounds, he'd recognize that voice anywhere. In half a second he's up and falling from the bed in his haste, alert at last. He can't believe it. He wants to but he doesn't want to believe the call is real.

"Neil? Neil is that you?" He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but the thought dies quickly. There's no way, no way this is real. A sob breaks through the line, and oh it sounds so full of pain and fear.

"Andrew, I-I need you to stay safe. I don't know if they're coming for you, for the foxes. I need you to find a place where you're safe. Call Browning or Ich- the little Lord and make sure they can protect you guys for a while."

Okay that's definitely Neil even if he didn't answer the question. And Andrew's heart is going a thousand miles an hour, he doesn't feel his body anymore.

"Neil where are you? I'm coming to get you, I'll call Browning but where are you?"

"'Drew," another sob, and this one manages to break Andrew's walls more than than the whispered 'Drew', "promise me you'll stay safe, don't come looking for me, you can't take them down, please don't come looking for me."

The exhaustion and terror in his voice doesn't sit well with Andrew. The Neil he knows is not this. "For fucks sake Neil just tell me where in Minnesota you are, I'm coming to get you."

"No- no you're not, I'm not calling you because I want you to come. I just need you to promise you'll be safe."

"Neil who took you? Where are you? I can send the FBI or the japanese shits over, I swear to god I can send them to come get you if you just tell me where you are and who took you. I'll - I'll try my best to keep the others safe, but who took you?"

"I'm sorry, Andrew, I- I didn't mean to, please believe I didn't mean to leave, they- some of the Butcher's pals found me, I'm so sorry- I put all of you in danger again."

"Okay, that's something we can work with, now where are you Neil?"

"Andrew-" his breath hitches, he gasps and whimpers, "I'm so sorry, I have to go, I need to leave Andrew. Please stay safe. Look I- I love you okay? I'm sorry I didn't say it earlier."

"Neil wait don't hang up-"

And the line goes dead.

The world is falling apart, collapsing all around Andrew. He's numb but he feels encompassing terror. He can't feel a thing, he can't think. He was so close. It feels like Neil just slipped past his fingers, like he just let go of Neil and let him fall to the darkness. He thinks he may be falling too. He needs to call Browning. He does it instinctively, he doesn't register he has his phone to his ear until the FBI agents voice is calling to him. He also goes with what he's gonna say with the same instinct he pulled in Baltimore, knowing he can't mention certain mafia.

"Neil just called me, I have no idea from where, I have no idea how he got a hold of me, he didn't say a thing, he refused to say a thing other than we're in danger, the foxes, and that whoever took him will come for us- oh and apparently it's someone involved with the Butcher."

How he managed to be as apathetic and unattached to everything he said is beyond him. But whatever he says and whatever Browning says, FBI agents are now guarding them in the locker room of the Foxhole Court, with mattresses and mats laid down on the floor. and he doesn't know how they got here and he's cuffed all over again, but this time to Renee even if he doesn't remember being violent. Even the stupid rookies are here, looking extremely panicked and terrified despite most of them not giving a fuck that Neil was gone just hours ago. The other foxes - Neil's family - are pressing Andrew for answers, but he can't deal with anything at the moment.

He needs to call Ichirou too. That's the call that matters, because that's the call that can bring Neil home because he can't do that himself while cuffed to Renee and being guarded by the fucking FBI. He somehow convinces the agent to let him make a call, to his therapist he says, to grant him privacy even if that's utter bullshit. He's dragging Renee into the eye of the storm but oh well, why did they cuff him to her in the first place, it's not his fault. He calls the Moriyama representative he's been dealing with and thank Renee's god the woman answers.

"I need to talk to- to Lord Ichirou, it's about Neil Josten's whereabouts, I got important information about him." He can feel both the condescension from the other end of the line and poorly veiled shock from Renee. "I know where he is, I know about who's got him, I need to talk to Lord Moriyama."

He isn't sure how he managed it. He doesn't know how he convinced them to let them talk to their mafia boss, or how he's able to keep his cool for long enough to actually talk to the man himself. He thinks having Renee there, who asks no questions and keeps her hand on top of Andrew's with no hesitation, is part of the solution but he's not admitting that. Either or, he talks to Ichirou (he can't deny he's not terrified of messing up with the man who keeps Neil alive, but he's not admitting that either), reminds him of how Neil is important to the Moriyamas, both as an exy player and as a Wesninski, and how Neil, Kevin and Jean are loyal to the Moriyamas, hints at how Ichirou promised protection. He has perfect memory, but he will never remember how he convinced Ichirou Moriyama to send people to Minnesota and look for him all over the state and surrounding states, all he knows is that Ichirou stuck to his promise, all is good, he didn't fuck up.

Weeks pass again, nothing happens. There's no news from the Moriyamas, the FBI keeps telling him they're doing what they can. Andrew is done. No one came looking for them at least, which is nice bc they didn't die but it doesn't feel worth it when Neil wasn't back. He feels stupid for hoping he would come back safe and alive. The Moriyamas might as well have killed him for being such an inconvenience. Things are going to hell. Andrew was an idiot for falling so hard for Neil Josten. It was a mistake. He should have known better.

His anger is gone, and numbness has settled. It was becoming a habit for him to remain lying down most of the day. It was also becoming a habit for the foxes to take care of him when he did this. He can't even bother to shower if someone doesn't remind him every day, or eat, or drink water for that matter. He's a mess and he would be incredibly embarrassed if he cared a little, but he's slipping and he doesn't mind falling. Nothing is fine. Until it is.

It comes in the form of a text one morning, while he's lying on the couch in the living room. An unknown number again, New York code, and it only reads, "Threat has been dealt with - I". And what the fuck does that mean. It tells him absolutely nothing. If Ichirou bothered to text him he could at least be clear as to what the fuck that meant. Was Neil even alive? There is a soft knock at the door. Of course, someone bothers him when no other fox is at the dorm. They couldn't ditch every class to make sure Andrew didn't combust spontaneously.

He truly doesn't want to get up. He doesn't want to go answer the door. It's too much a bother. If it's someone important they'll either knock again aor shout for him to open up. He curls up in bed. He honestly wants to disappear. There's another knock, a little harder than the first. But there's no voice, no demand, no nothing. Maybe it's a Moriyama. Maybe he'll feel so disrespected or whatever he's gonna barge in and end his misery. Whatever. "Fuck off", he shouts from the couch, hoping for the best. There's another knock, for fuck's sake, can they just walk in already? Another, and he's up. Pissed and going for the door.

"Fucking hell, what do you want?" His anger is back with a passion, and he's practically stomping to the door, throwing it wide open, "Just barge through the fucking door, and get it over with-"

He has to stop exploding when people don't answer to him right away. Maybe he should work on his patience. Because frankly it has been working against him at the worst times. No it's not his fault. It's the idiot's fault for appearing at out nowhere and stealing his breath away. Everything is Neil Josten's fault.

"Hey Drew," said idiot's voice is impossibly more hoarse than when he called him before. Andrew can't tell if his heart is beating too fast or not at all. He thought he was a mess, but Neil looks like he's been through hell and back. Well, he's been through hell and back too many times before, but he's never looked this bad, and he was a mess after Evermore. His face is beaten so badly, so swollen, if he didn't know him and those stupidly blue eyes so well. Even his eyes are different, there's no spark, they're dull and hazy. He's wearing a large hoodie and sweatpants, so Andrew can't see the damage beyon his face, but at least his hands remain okay, there's no new damage. "Looks like I still have it in me to leave you speechless, huh."

Andrew takes a deep breath and he sighs. And his heart breaks. Neil. Neil. Neil is here. Andrew wants to craddle him and hold him and never let him go again. He doesn't care if it's soft, Neil is here. He raises his hands, frames Neil's face like he has before. He presses a hand to Neil's neck, looking for a pulse, and he finds it. He's alive.

"Neil," he breathes, and he feels. He feels. "You're alive, I thought, you-"

They're both silent. Andrew doesn't notice when Neil raises his hands, framing his own face. They've been here before.

"I'm not leaving you, I promised right? You're not getting rid of me that easily. "

He hates feeling this much, "You've got some explaining to do, but- it can wait."

"That's good yeah, because I'm not sure how much longer I can remain conscious and the Moriyamas weren't the best at patching everything up, so I'd really appreciate it if you call Abby."

He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth, so he guides Neil inside, holding on to his hand like a tether. Neil deflates, he grimaces as Andrew helps him to the couch. He's obviously hiding something below the clothes. Andrew stands to call Abby, but Neil grips his hand tightly. When Andrew looks up, he sees the fear and exhaustion he heard on the call weeks ago. Neil isn't able to keep up the act of being okay for long.

"Stay, pl- just," he looks away, and Andrew doesn't know how to feel about the pause, he didn't say the word, "can you stay?"

And he does. Things aren't fine. Neil is a mess. So is Andrew. They have to work through stuff. Andrew clearly has to work on the apparent dependancy issues. But they'll have time now. Neil is safe. He's alive and safe. He lost consciousness not long after he sat down, but Abby, Wymack and the foxes are on their way. They're not fine. But Neil is lying next to him, and he isn't gonna let him go again. They'll be fine.

[dapandapod]

31. The cold sharp smell of snow, dealers choice for characters?

Ahaha, ahaha sorry, I meant for this to be short! 1343 words later ahaha. I also meant for it to be either fluffy and angsty, but look, we got some of both! 

Thank you so very much for this prompt, it absolutely made my day so much brighter, hope you enjoy! 

Send me a prompt?

On Ao3 here <3

Things are coming to an end. Again.

Geralt hates hates hates it, the way that the leaves turn rust and gold and the wind start to show its fangs.

Not because they are heading towards darker times. Not because it is getting colder, not even because how his elbow aches from that one time it broke badly.

He hates it because he knows what he must leave.

During the summer his path often crosses with his friends. He meets Triss as he takes a break at whatever court she is at at the time. He meets his brothers sometimes, coming together to fight a royal griffin or just make a local tavern a great deal richer. He meets Yennefer all the times, their paths entwined that is both pain and pleasure.

But the one he looks forward to the most, is the one accompanied with a lute.

Jaskier spends a few weeks at the time with Geralt every year. Most of the year actually, if circumstance allows it. And as soon as the leaves fall, so does Jaskiers smiles.

They both know it is time to part.

Geralt has spent many a winter adrift, but never together with his friend. Probably more than a friend, if he is honest, and Geralt prides himself with lying to no one but himself.

This year is particularly hard. Because Geralt is finally realizing that he actually is lying to himself about how he feels for the bard.

Lying to yourself is one thing, but lying to your friend is completely another.

But Jaskier never asks, because there is nothing to ask about is there? But he wants him to ask, oh how he wants him to. It drives Geralt up the wall, to see their parting coming but doing nothing about it.

So he watches Jaskiers smiles falter, and dreams about making it stay.

He feels the ache right into his core, even before they part.

The emptiness that comes when he leaves the bard behind.

~

Jaskier watches his witcher.

There is something about the fall that makes Geralt sad, and Jaskier is not sure how to help. His brow furrows, his sighs are deeper, drawing further and further away.

Something small, dark and terrible in the back of Jaskiers head tells him Geralt is tiring of him. That he is too much, that he is driving the witcher away. Because away the witcher goes, every year without a fail. After the leaves fall, before the snow comes, Geralt leaves him behind.

It is that time of the year again, and Jaskier makes a decision. Rip off the band aid, let it bleed for a while.

“I'm leaving tomorrow.” He tells Geralt. The witcher looks stunned, opening and closing his mouth before choosing his words.

“Fine.” is all he gets, then Geralt walks out into the woods.

He is gone for hours, and it hurts. But it is better this way. Better to not wear out his welcome.

Because something is different this year. Geralt looks at him for long moments at the time when he thinks Jaskier isn’t paying attention. Jaskier always pays attention.

Geralt has started touching him more. Not anything big, but a hand on the shoulder here, a pat on the back there. It sends him into flutters every time, it’s hard not to fall straight into that sweet trap his mind is snaring him into. That maybe Geralt cares. Maybe Geralt wants him around.

But fall comes, like it does every year, and Geralt prepares to leave. Draws back.

So it is time to protect himself.

The next morning he sets out, leaving Geralt back at the camp, Pegasus reluctantly taking him towards the nearest inn.

~

Geralt is half a day away when it happens.

He breaks. His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths is coming fast.

Jaskier left him.

No.

He can’t take it.

Not this time. Not ever again, if he can help it.

When he turns Roach around she is eagerly taking them back from where they came. Geralt's elbow aches, his heart aches, he feels so lonely it hurts.

He hates hates hates this.

~

Jaskier rents a room above the tavern. He will stay for a week and preform, earning some coin for the road.

He unpacks some of his doublets, going through them to see what needs mending.

Just one, he notices.

The others have Geralt's precise stitches on them, and fuck, what is he doing?

Why? Why did he leave?

What if Geralt never comes back for him?

He takes the stitched up doublet and presses it against his chest, as if he could bring Geralt closer. Bring him back.

There is a commotion downstairs, but there always is in places like this, so he pays it no mind. He focus on the sharp sting in his eyes, the tightness in his throat.

Then someone is at his door, pounding hard.

Through the wood he can hear protests, the barkeep very much disliking whoever it is.

“Master witcher, this is most irregular!” He shouts and oh.

Jaskeir throws the door open, doublet still clutched to his chest, and there is Geralt.

They stare at each other, both breathing hard.

There are red blotches on Geralt's cheeks, his fists clenched at his sides. He seems unharmed, but his eyes looks like someone tore out his heart.

“Geralt.” Jaskier breathes, and the spell is broken.

Geralt lunges forward, hugging Jaskier close, kicking the door in the barkeeps face. He is stil complaining but Jaskier can’t care about it for a moment, because his heart is doing kickflips in his chest, his throat so tight it hurts.

His arms are stuck between them, Geralt pressing him close with an arm around his back and one hand on the back of his head.

His nose is cold when he burrows it into the side of Jaskiers neck, and Jaskier draws a jagged breath.

Wriggles to free his arms and the doublet fall at their feet when they come free and he hugs him right back.

“Come with me.” Geralt says to his neck. “Come home with me.”

Jaskier breaks.

His heart beats violently, his hands start to shake and his breaths are coming fast.

“I’ll go anywhere if it’s with you.” He sobs, he feels his chin wrinkle and his can’t see through the tears, but Geralt makes a sobbing sound too, a wet chuckle, and oh.

They stay the night at the tavern.

Geralt only leaves to make sure Roach is stabled next to Pegasus. And in the morning, they leave together.

Towards the mountains.

~

The air is crisp up here. The sky clear, the sun bright.

They arrive early at the keep, it’s looming walls promising a safe haven of the darkness that is to come.

Jaskier can’t stop smiling, and it is the best decision Geralt ever made. Grabbing his hand, taking a jump.

He shows Jaskier around, all the dizzying paths and empty halls.

They stop on top of a tower, looking down at the land below. There are no leaves up here, only pine needles. Rolling green hills up and down the mountainside. Jaskiers teeth are clattering, the wind running straight through his clothes despite the cloak Geralt draped over him.

So Geralt stands behind him and hugs him close.

With Jaskier leaning against his chest, far above the world, the cold, sharp smell of snow reaches him. The clouds are forming up in the distance, dark and angry. The cold pinches his cheeks, his breath fog.

He kisses the back of Jaskiers head, the bard humming in response and gripping his hands.

“I always hated fall.” Geralt confesses. “I hated having to leave.”

“I always hated watching you go.” Jaskier replies, snuggling closer into the embrace. It is very cold up here, and it is only going to get worse.

“Next time, I’ll follow you. Wherever it might be.”

Jaskier presses Geralt's gloved hand to his lips, and despite the cold, Geralt is burning like a thousand suns.

[brittledame]

Pairing: Shirabu Kenjirou/Reader

Warnings: Explicit, A/B/O dynamics, rough sex, degradation, arguing, unprotected sex, knotting, biting, mention of blood, dirty talk, possessive undertones, slight humiliation, fem!masturbation, Alpha Shirabu, Omega Reader

Word Count: 5.0K

Summary:  An argument that breaks out between you and Shirabu leads you to a surprising realisation as you get turned on by him insulting you. When Shirabu figures this out, he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of it.

It wouldn’t be an average afternoon of practice at Shiratorizawa if at least one minor disagreement wasn’t made between teammates. While they were usually mild debates discussing the superior Ramune flavour or something else just as trivial, there were a few big ones that brought the elation of completing another successful training session to a standstill. More times often than not, those bigger arguments always involved Shirabu in some sense, whether as the facilitator or was the parties arguing.

This argument however had to be the biggest the boys had the horror to watch. Practice had started with the usual motions of stretching, starting practice on whatever coach Washijou assigned them to focus on, get yelled at by said coach, a short practice match and a wind down session. It was all perfectly fine, even if Shirabu was a bit more snappish towards Semi’s good-willed critiques and Tendou’s playful jibes.

That was all until you showed up after disappearing mid-practice with a large box. The boys rushed to finish their clean up chores, curious looks staved off by your stern demeanour. It was amusing to watch Yamagata push Tendou around, scolding him to hurry up so they could find out what was in the box. They acted like a bunch of kids on Christmas day at the mystery laying besides your feet.

As soon as the box was opened and the contents were handed out, Shirabu’s already bad mood plummeted straight to hell and you had the pleasure of baring the brunt of it.

“Are you so stupid to not even notice something like that when you picked it up?” Shirabu’s face is scrunched up in disdain and it only served to spur you on, frustrated at his accusations.

“It’s out of my hands! How was I supposed to know they’d mess up the order? We’ve never had an issue with them before.” You gestured towards the innocent box that served as the spark that lit Shirabu’s extraordinarily short fuse.

“The jerseys don’t fit.” He seethed and if looks could kill, you’d be a pile of dust on the shiny lacquered wood flooring of the gym. “Shiratorizawa is going to look like a joke at our next match.”

“It’s a practice match, it’s not that big of a deal to wear your practice gear.” You exasperatedly respond, pinching the bridge of your nose.

The stress of the approaching exams weren’t helping anyone at the moment, but you never would have guessed that Shirabu, the poster child of cool and collected, would be the first to snap.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s the principle of the matter. You should be competent enough as our manager to be able to stay organised and follow up on this kind of thing.” His voice was tight, trying to refrain from raising his voice. It didn’t matter, the sharp sting of his scent in the air and his scowling face was loud enough for you and everyone else to pick up that he was pissed.

Speaking of them, whoever stayed behind to receive their uniform is gathered around your standoff, watching the back and forth argument with the same intent of observing a fast-paced volleyball game where the next score would win the match. The white and purple child-sized jerseys hung limp in their grasps as they eye each other, wondering who had the guts to step in and diffuse the situation.

“For the last time. It’s. Not. My. Fault.” You raise your chin, not backing down. You weren’t going to be pushed around by him just because he was in a shitty mood. He’s going to realise that the jerseys coming in kid sizes and not adult sizing was a stroke of misfortune that can be swiftly fixed by the company that apologised profusely over the phone to you.

You’re going to make sure he feels ashamed about blowing up on you over something so trivial.

Shirabu goes scarily still, a blank mask slips into place. This was infinitely more worse than his anger. You stood there, frozen, as he crosses the meagre space between your bodies.

Leaning forward to get into your face, Shirabu forces you to devote your attention to no one else but him.

“Maybe you are just a vapid little omega who only joined the team to get alpha dick. That would at least explain your utter incompetency to do basic tasks.” He accuses, voice cold enough to freeze and yet it had the polar opposite effect on you.

A rush of heat that was most definitely not anger burns through your veins and settles in your abdomen. Heart rate picking up, you were utterly bewildered as to why you were reacting so viscerally to his insult.

You sharply inhale when it hits you not even a moment later, remembering other moments you’ve felt like this. Blood rushes to your cheeks, causing them stain red. Shirabu watches on as your eyes widen and you break eye contact to look off to the side.

Oh shit, you cover your open mouth with a shaky hand and let your hair shield your face as much as possible from Shirabu’s pointed stare. The realisation that you were turned on was not a pleasant one, shame battling with arousal in the pit of your stomach.

What kind of person even gets off on that? You, apparently.

Although, it didn’t make much sense that you’re a blushing mess now when you’ve never felt like this when coach Washijou, teachers or anyone else speaks down to you like that. Hell, it infuriates you to no end when others belittle you.

The only difference here was that it was Shirabu with his neat copper-toned blond hair and stupidly slanted fringe that made more sense on the cover of a vogue magazine instead of on a volleyball court. You refrain from cursing out loud as your seniors finally get involved.

Reon steps up to Shirabu with a reproachful expression. “Woah, okay now that was a bit far. Calm it, Shirabu.”

While you were having an existential crisis at the birth of a kink you never wanted to have, the team’s faces show concern at your odd behaviour. This is the first time they’ve seen you like this, and the newness of the situation has them feeling like they were standing on a bed of needles, one wrong move and they end up in a world of pain.

“Besides, she said that she had got in contact with them and that it’ll be sorted out by next week. No big deal.” Tendou adds, wrapping an arm around a glowering Shirabu’s shoulders, promptly walking him out of your vicinity. Shirabu huffed but says nothing as he tears his gaze away from your covered face.

Once he was a few paces away, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. This turned out to possibly be the worst thing you could’ve done. The lingering bitter scent of Shirabu’s aggression filled your noise.

Battling the need to keen out loud, you’re appropriately distracted from your moment of weakness brought on by basal instincts as a large hand is placed comfortingly on your shoulder.

“Hey, are you alright?” Semi asked, face pinched in worry. “I promise that he’ll never speak to you like that again when I’m through him.” He finishes darkly.

You stifle a hysterical laugh and minutely nod your head with downcast eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be taking my leave now. Again, I’m sorry about the jerseys.”

“We said it was fine, don’t stress about it! We’re fine with playing in our training gear until they arrive.” Semi smiles widely and you felt ease flow through you.

You raise your head and give him a small smile. With that, you walk out of the gym with your entire body held stiffly, trying your hardest not to run but you got pretty damn close to it as you feel their eyes trace after your fleeing figure.

A beat of silence follows as they listen to your shuffling footsteps. It’s only when they can no longer hear them that Tendou releases Shirabu’s shoulder and the team confronts him.

“Shirabu, what in the absolute fuck. She did not deserve that.” Semi hisses, hands clenching in restrained rage that he wished to unleash upon the belligerent second year. “She even fucking apologised, but you had to keep pushing.”

Shirabu glanced over to Taichi, to gauge just how badly he’s fucked up. The ginger wears a small frown and that’s all Shirabu needed to know that he was six feet below without even releasing it.

“You’re really stinking up the place too,” Tendou changes the topic, moving the conversation along like a rapid instead of a river. Shirabu swung his head around to meet the red-head’s raised eyebrows, wondering what in the hell the sporadic third year meant by that. “Just because you’re struggling with exam hell week is soon doesn’t mean you can take all your frustrations out on poor ol’ manager-chan.”

Shirabu clenches his fist and wills away the red haze that clouded his mind the moment he held his supposed uniform for the year. He worked so damn hard for his place on the court with Semi nipping at his heels, and the jersey symbolised all that hard work. And his uniform was a dozen sizes too small, it was almost like a joke.

He didn’t know what came over him in that instant but god, the rush he felt was something else. And the way you had blushed before you shied away was just as heady as scoring a no-touch ace.

“Okay, I get it. I may have blown it just a bit out of proportion.” Yamagata and Semi snort at that and Shirabu shoots them a glare.

“You should go apologise to her after you’ve both cooled off.” Ushijima helpfully suggests. Shirabu feels slightly ashamed that Ushijima had to see him like that. The disapproving look on his captain’s normally stoic face hurt.

“Yeah, sure.” Shirabu mumbled, unable to meet Ushijima’s eyes.

“Good,” Ushijima grunted. Thinking Shirabu understands the depth of his actions, he turns to the rest and speaks again. “Lets finish cleaning up so we can have dinner.”

His words remind the players of their hunger. They walk away, pick up their forgotten cleaning tools and resumed whatever they had been doing before the fight broke out

“You’re lucky the coaches weren’t here, or your ass would be benched so fucking quickly your head would spin.” Semi says, before he goes back to mopping, not giving Shirabu a chance to reply.

The words hung heavy in the air and trailed after him as Shirabu moves away and finishes picking up stray balls from the botched serving attempts by the first year recruits. He allows his mind to wonder as boredom quickly set in. He knew that the coaches would have his ass on a platter if they heard him speak down to you at that – Hell, he’s surprised that no one was wringing his neck right now for that stunt with how protective of you the team is.

An image of your flushed cheeks and pink mouth dropping open flashes through his mind. The rubber ball in his hand groans under the force of his grip. Frowning, Shirabu tosses it into the basket and picks up the next one, more considerate of his strength.

The sight was new and definitely something he liked if the tell-tale rush of blood southwards was anything to go by. Shirabu finds himself thinking that he wants to see that face again and again until he’s sated.

You’ve never been more thankful for your roommate’s stupidly rich father and his tendency to whisk her away on spontaneous trips. She would have asked too many questions when you arrived to your room, looking all out of sorts. You didn’t even think about locking the door behind you, instead rushing to seek the comfort of your bed.

Not bothering to turn on the lights, the moonlight through the open window served as enough illumination for you to get to bed, which you promptly collapse face-first on.

“Fuck.” You groan loudly into the sheets.

You stay like that until you almost feel like yourself again and breathing starts to get hard.

Lifting up the sheets, you slot into a cocoon of comfort, not at all caring that you’re missing dinner tonight. There were study snacks hidden away in the depths of you desk drawers, so you weren’t too fussed.

Turns out laying there in the dark was counter-intuitive to trying to sort out the storm inside your head. Shirabu’s words replayed in your head like a broken cassette, not allowing you a moment of reprieve.

You end up kicking off the sheets in frustration, glaring up at the white ceiling like it was the one to personally offended you.

While you weren’t exactly freaking out over the unexpected revelation that Shirabu catalysed, you were far from calm. You could almost swear you could still smell him, but a quick check assures you that he hadn’t somehow snuck into your room, and you chalked it up to your horny mind trying to torture you.

The more you thought about the argument, the more worked up you got, and the more worked up you got, you could feel your core pulse dully around nothing.

Wrapping your blanket around your hands, you begged for the feeling away. It was bad enough that you got wet in the first place, you didn’t want to further hurt your pride by indulging the fucked up feeling. As the seconds stretched on and your core refused to be ignored, you surrender to the urge with a muttered ‘goddamn it’.

Wanting to get it over and done with as quickly and effectively as possible, you shucked of your shorts and keep your underwear around your ankles, knowing it was going to be done soon and you’d rather not look around in the dark for them.

You frown as you encounter wetness between your folds. Damn, you had honestly underestimated just how turned on you were from the setter’s barbs.

You shrug it off and set to work, pulling out all the tricks to finish quickly. However, it seemed nothing wanted to go your way tonight as your peak evaded you no matter what you did.

Suddenly, knocks at the door startle you out of your frustration. Panicked, you rip up your panties and conceal the noise you made at the feeling of wet cotton rubbing against your clit. You held still and hoped that whoever it was would assume that you’re either in the dinner hall or asleep.

A shit afternoon turned into an even shittier night as the door handle turns and the door creaks open. In a rush, you fling the sheets over your body and face the wall, feigning at being asleep. Hopefully, they’ll get the hint and leave you alone.

Hesitant footsteps trail into your room, the door clicking shut behind the intruder. You silently wished that it was one of your friends. An unhelpful voice in the back of your head tells you that they’d never enter without announcing themselves. You tell that voice to shut up.

The person comes to a stop besides your bed, silent. Trying your hardest to not shiver under their gaze, you do your best to emulate being peacefully asleep.

“You can stop pretending to be asleep now.” Shirabu’s voice rang out, irritated.

Heart doing a summersault in your chest, you curse whatever god was listening. Not wanting him to be in your space for any longer than necessary, you reply.

“Well I was before you came in,” You say spitefully, still not facing him. “You aren’t allowed in here. Whatever you came here for can wait until tomorrow.”

You could almost swear you could hear him rolling his eyes.

“Our seniors won’t get off of my ass until I apologise, and I’d rather get this over and done with sooner than later.” He grits out.

You hear shifting but you keep your eyes fastening on the small mark you left on the wall when you threw your phone onto the bed and it banged into the wall in your first year.

Shirabu snaps. “You could at least have the common decency to look at me while I apologise.”

Content with ignoring him, you bide your time. Surely after a few more minutes of this, he’ll either get fed up and leave or give his shitty apology and leave. In either case he leaves and you’ll be free to ruminate in your own shame at feeling excitement over his presence in your room.

Fed up with your petulant behaviour, Shirabu grasps the sheets concealing you from him and rips them off of your curled form.

“Hey!” You exclaim, shock colouring your words as you twist onto your back and gape up at him.

The reason for your wilful ignorance of his presence comes in the form of a wall of pheromones hitting Shirabu paired with your barely dressed form. He blinks down at you, nostrils flaring as he picks up the sweet smell of your arousal.

His neutral expression is quickly replaced with a darker one as he draws nearer. Getting the gist of what was going on, you watch with bated breath as he climbs onto your bed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what you were getting up to before he rocked up and Shirabu couldn’t pass up the delicious look of embarrassment on your cute face.

What exactly brought this on, however, he’s not completely sure of. He has an inkling what turned you on, with your odd exit earlier on, and he wants to test his theory out.

The bed dips where his knee meets it. Placing his hands besides your shoulders, leaning over you way too close for comfort, Shirabu smirks down at you.

“You’re fucking filthy.”

Your breath catches. Shirabu’s smirk widens. I got you now.

“Such a horny omega.” He tuts, leaning down more, now close enough that you could see flecks of gold in his honeyed irises. “The team thinks that you’re up here crying and instead I find you getting off.”

“No, I wasn’t.” You say hurriedly but at Shirabu’s ‘really’ look you frown and look over his shoulder, not brave enough to meet his eyes.

Shirabu catches a glimpse of your glistening fingers and grabs them. Your eyes snap back to him, not fighting him as he brings your fingers to his mouth and licks your slick off of them with a hum.

“You taste as sweet as you smell, did you know that?”

You grind your teeth together, refusing to break the stare down with Shirabu. At the feel of his teeth scraping along the pads of your fingers, you release a short breath and glance down to catch his lips quirking into smug smile.

“You have the whole team thinking that you’re something precious to be protected and yet here you are touching yourself to the thought of me telling you just how worthless you are.” He berates, eyes lidded and voice low. You shiver.

Seeing you so complacent under him, Shirabu felt invigorated to explore your body and see how far he could push before breaking you.

A calloused-roughened hand drifts southward and your breathing picks up in anticipation. He ignores your reaction to his touch in favour for pressing the wet cotton against your folds. Teeth sink into his bottom lip at the breathy noise you make.

Not wasting time, he pulls your panties down and tosses them over his shoulder. The position he was in wouldn’t do for what he had in store for you, so he climbed onto the bed and rested on his knees between your legs.

Recognising the flare of embarrassment that you’ve become well acquainted with today, you press your thighs together. Shirabu is unamused with this and you find yourself at the mercy of his sharp tongue yet again.

“No need to get shy now. I already know how filthy you are,” Shirabu says indifferently, prying your thighs apart with strong hands and taking you in.

“Look at how wet you are.” His fingers ghost over your hole, gathering some slick before inserting two of them in one swift move.

You yelp at the sudden move, feeling full from his fingers alone. His fingers were much larger and thicker than yours were, already stretching your walls. It was almost enough to scratch the itch you’ve felt since the argument.

“S-shit.” You stammer, grabbing at his shoulders as he begins to pump them into you.

“You’re soaking,” Shirabu admires the slick dribbling from your sopping hole. “You like being treated like this.”

“Shut up.” You say, narrowing your eyes at him, hating his smug little smile.

He doesn’t verbally respond, instead fanning out his fingers as wide as they go. You throw your head back and give a low moan and his smile stretches wider.

“You can say whatever you want, but your body doesn’t lie.” He presses his fingers together and wind them around each other and starts pumping them in and out of you.

Your chest heaves as you restrain the lewd noises that tried to claw their way out of your throat. You wanted to curse at him for walking into your room without permission. You wanted to pull at his hair for triggering your dirty realisation. You wanted to fuck him for working magic with his fingers.

“Please.” The words slip out without realisation and your eyes fly open, feeling betrayed by your own body.

Has your whole damn body turned against you? It answers your question by sending a wave of fresh slick at Shirabu’s hungry expression.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He says, grabbing your legs and pulling them wider apart, completely exposing you. You covered your face in embarrassment. “I guess even dirty girls have manners.”

A hand leaves your leg for a brief moment and you refuse to look down as you hear a zipper and the sound of fabric being pulled down. But just like with how today has been going, your eyes disobey and stray towards his groin.

Shirabu held his length at the base, but his hand doesn’t conceal the slight upwards curve that you just knew would feel amazing inside. You note with surprise that he’s just a bit bigger than you expected in both girth and length.

Maybe his dick of a personality at times was to compensate for more than his pretty boy looks.

You very nearly choke on your own spit as he rubs his length along the inside your folds that he holds open, slicking himself up. Your juices glisten along his length and highlight the veins decorating the sides, causing your thighs to tense with the knowledge that it was soon going to be inside of you.

Releasing his length, his hands slot in the back of your knees, pull your legs wide apart and press your thighs to your chest. The position has you exposed in a way you’ve never been before. Your face is hot with embarrassment as Shirabu watches at the way your entrance twitches.

“Let’s see if you can take cock as well as you take criticism.”

Shirabu then slams himself inside in one thrust and you bite back a yell. You’ve never felt so full in your life with his rigid length stuffed inside and stretching you so completely.

Shirabu doesn’t wait for you adjust, a scream dies in your throat as he pulls out and rams back in with intent force. Right at the beginning, Shirabu doesn’t afford you the luxury of deluding yourself into thinking this was anything but fucking in its most primal form.

The pressure inside of you built with every clap of your hips. You swore his tip brushed against the entrance to your cervix a few times, wrenching a cry from your lips.

Every noise you made served to spur him on, hands becoming a bruising force holding on your legs. The pace was punishing but you felt rewarded every time his cock dragged out and in, creating friction that had your toes curling and mind clouding over.

The cock pummelling inside of you was much larger and longer than his fingers, the stretch edged with pain that made it hard to breathe. This added a new layer to your ecstasy and had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“I wonder how they would react to seeing you being used by me.” He growls, pressing in deep.

“They’d want to join in. You’d probably enjoy getting used and marked up by them. I bet you would even beg for their cum.”

“No –“

“Then why are you getting tighter? You’re such a dirty little slut getting off to the thought of the team using you like a fuck toy.”

“I –“ Shirabu cuts you off again.

“Not that it matters, I wouldn’t them. They wouldn’t know how to satisfy this greedy hole of yours.” The bruising pressure of his hands almost distract you from his long, hard thrusts, reaching much deeper than you thought possible. You let out a loud moan.

“But I do.” He grins.

Taking in your lewd noises, he proceeds to litter your chest with indents of his sharp teeth. A few times he has you clenching down fiercely on his cock as he bites hard enough to draw blood and for tears to well up. The pain was another layer to the decadent feast that Shirabu was subjecting you to at no cost except for your total submission. You’d be lying if you said the thought of submitting to him more often didn’t turn you on, causing fresh slick to rush out and make squelching noises whenever your bodies connected.

He lands another hard thrust that has your walls fluttering around his length. You dig your nails into his shoulders, able to feel his base swell, signifying your tryst nearing its end as his pace grows less rhythmic and more frantic as Shirabu obviously getting close to his peak.

Knowing it wasn’t going to be long before he lost himself, he nosed along the exposed column of your throat, seeking out the sensitive patch of skin. You release a whimper as he brushes against your scent gland and while you were out of heat, it was still incredibly sensitive to the touch of his lips.

His sharp canines scrape against your skin and you pulse around him at the feeling. You run your nails across his shoulders as he does it again, this time applying more pressure.

“Yes. Fuck, please.”

Shirabu laughs cruelly into your ear.

“You think you’ve deserved my mark?” He demands, working through your tightness with a sneer. If you got any tighter, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. “Fuck you’re so tight for me.”

The coil inside your gut grows tighter and tighter with each passing second. You were so damn close, but you needed something more. The words to plead for more were lost under his frenzied thrusts. You choose to whine, knowing it will convey enough to him.

“You’re close, huh?” His hot breath washes over your sweaty skin. “Then cum for me. Lets see what kind of face you make now.”

The points of his canines scrape harshly against the scent gland one last time before he buries them into the crook your neck, piercing skin and drawing blood. This time you do shout. You have no idea if it was his name or even a word at all, mind preoccupied as you were pushed off the edge and into the mind-numbing waters below.

Shirabu groaned as blood fills his mouth and your warmth squeezed down on his length hard. Breaking away from your skin, a few beads of blood escapes the puncture wounds as he grips your legs even harder as he tries to work his knot into you.

With one last deep thrust, his knot catches and he releases inside of you. Your voice is hoarse as you whimper at the sensation of him spilling into you, hot and heavy.

Shirabu hovers above you, elbows locked to prevent from collapsing on top of you as he continues to fill you. His characteristically pinched expression is traded for one of bliss and if you weren’t already winded, it would’ve stolen your breath away.

He cracks an eye open to see you staring back with a face similar to the one you made earlier this afternoon. A swell of pride rises within him at how wrecked you looked. Unspilt tears in your eyes, bare chest littered in violet and fuchsia splotches and hair a mess, you’ve never looked so alluring.

If his knot wasn’t already buried inside of you, Shirabu was sure he could go for another round. Instead, he sighs as he carefully lowers himself onto his forearms to give his aching arms a rest.

You hiss as the knot pulls at your entrance with his movement. He murmurs an apology, ragged voice weirdly soothing you. Relaxing into pillows under your head, you let him rest his head against your shoulder.

A comfortable silence settles over your exhausted forms as you both patiently wait for the knot to go down enough for him to slip out so you can have a much-needed shower.

“I swear if you insult me like that in front of the team again, I will maim you.” You say, needing him to know this – whatever this was – is to stay between them and the four walls of the room.

Shirabu huffs a laugh and brings up a hand to roll a pert nipple, drawing out a quiet gasp from you.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

“It better be.” You grumble, not bothering to bat away his hand with how stubborn he can be.

You ride out his knot with him messing around with your chest, going between stroking the bruised skin that already ached to flicking your pert buds. You reciprocated by running your fingers across the raised lines spreading across his shoulders, feeling vindicated.

In this quiet moment with no words exchanged except for soft caresses, you let yourself relax under a placated Shirabu.

Notes: I’m not entirely happy with this but it’s been sitting in my wips for two months and I had to finish it… I may come back and re-write this one day when my head isn’t scrambled by exams and assignments ahaha

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!!

[obxparadise]

Red Flags

JJ Maybank x Reader  

Word Count: 1,937

Requested: @maybebanks

~A fic in which JJ finds out you’ve been abused by your boyfriend, Rafe~

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and drugs

A/N: If you enjoyed this, leave a comment!

*GIF is not mine. Credit to the owner.* 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re stupid.”

“You’re worthless.”

“I don’t know what I see in you.”

Another day, another insult, another bruise.

The diamond tile floor is cold against your body. Blood is pumping through your veins, dripping from your lip, and soaking through your white tank top. Words are on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t speak. You know better. Speaking would be signing your death sentence, and you aren’t ready to die just yet. There’s still some fight left in you.

Rafe Cameron stands over you, his once pale face now red with fury, hands balled into fists that have drops of your blood on them. He breathes hard, eyes wide and darting around the room in a frenzy. His arms are shaking and his pupils, usually small and scrutinizing, are larger than normal. There’s only one reason for it.

Cocaine.

And he loves it more than you.

That was the first red flag. His obsession with cocaine clouded his mind, fucked with his ability to think straight. At the start of your relationship, he hid it. Three months later, you walked into his room and caught him snorting the end of a line. And you ignored it.

He’d stolen from his father Ward, several times. That was the second red flag. Rafe was blessed to have been born into a wealthy family. He never worked a day in his life. The drug money came from Ward’s private safe, or from gold watches Rafe had pawned off without his father’s knowledge. And as you watched Rafe steal ten thousand dollars from the safe, you ignored it.

You arrived at his house three minutes later than you said you would. The party had gotten out of hand and you lost track of time. As you tried to explain and calm him down, his hand connected with your cheek. Red flag number three. Ignored.

“I used to get chills looking at you,” Rafe says, emotionless. “Now? I’m fucking sick of looking at you.”

There was a time Rafe Cameron did love you, if only briefly, if only for two months. He courted you, kissed you, held your hand in public. He opened doors for you, complimented you, and made love to you.

No more.

His kisses? Replaced with bruises.

Compliments? What were those?

You watch as Rafe stiffens, the sound of a car door slamming shut startling the both of you. The glass table in the dining room is just out of reach. You peer up at Rafe through wet lashes just in time to see him pull you to your feet.

His thumb collects leftover blood from your lip. It’s the closest thing to a tender touch you’ve received in years. As you stare into his eyes, you notice his pupils have shrunk down to their normal size.

“Rafe, I--.”

“Get yourself changed,” he says, eyes flickering to your blood-stained shirt. With one last look, he turns his back. “And get out of my sight.”

~~~

The Chateau is your safe haven. Though old and run down, John B’s little shack feels more like a home than the spare bedroom in the Cameron mansion. The room is occupied by whoever decides to crash there, either by yourself or JJ. This time, it was yours.

Standing in front of the mirror, you slowly lift your shirt, sucking in a breath at the sight of the bright purple bruise decorating your hip. Slightly pulling down your bathing suit bottoms, you sighed as you noticed another bruise, small and brown. How are you supposed to go swimming like this?

“Knock, knock,” Pope says, tapping the door. You pull down your shirt just in time. “Ready to go?”

No, you’re not, but staying back will only cause suspicion, and the last thing you need is the Pogues asking questions.

~~~

The sun is warm on your skin, water cold as your feet hang off the side of the HMS Pogue. A beer in your hand, you watch as Kiara and Pope play a game of Marco Polo. John B treads in the water, staying close to you, while JJ continuously throws himself off the boat.

“How was that splash?” JJ asks, lifting a hand to block the sun from his eyes.

“Eh, I give it a four,” you tease. “I’ve seen better.”

“Show me how it’s done, then,” JJ challenges, pulling himself up onto the boat. Water drips from his sun kissed skin, bathing suit clinging to his thighs. “You haven’t even gotten in the water yet today.”

“Today?” John B snickers. “We’ve been out here four days this week. You love to swim, Y/N, what’s up with you?”

You offer John B a shrug. “Just you know, not feeling it.”

“That’s code for time of the month,” JJ grins, screeching as your hand barely misses hitting his leg.

“That’s what tampons are for, JJ,” Kiara shouts.

You snort and take another swig of beer, cringing underneath John B’s skeptical gaze. Normally, he’s able to see right through you. Right now, you pray he can’t.

~~~

“Y/N, there’s pizza out here,” Pope calls out.

“I’ll be right in,” you answer from the spare room. Stripping off your bathing suit, you throw it in a pile on the floor before pulling on a pair of black sweatpants and an old OBX hoodie. The side of your hip throbs slightly and you wince, lifting the hoodie to reexamine the bruise. Your fingertips brush over the swollen flesh just as John B pushes open the door, freezing in place.

A breath is trapped in your throat as you quickly cover the bruise, swallowing as John B’s eyes burn into yours.

“Y/N…” John B says slowly. He approaches carefully, noticing the apprehension on your face. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

“It’s a bruise,” you reply simply. “I fell down the last few steps at Rafe’s house. No biggie. Y’all know I’m clumsy.”

“Y/N,--.”

“John B,” your voice has an edge to it. “I’m fine. It was an accident,” you pat his cheek softly, offering a smile. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

~~~

“I need to talk to you.”

As you, Kiara, and Pope tend to the bonfire, John B pulls JJ aside. His lip is raw from the constant biting, wondering how he is supposed to break the news to his best friend.

“What’s up, man?” JJ asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He notices the uneasiness in John B’s eyes.  “Bro, you good?”

“I think,” John B pulls a hand through his hair. “I think Y/N is in trouble.”

JJ stiffens. “What kind of trouble?”

“Rafe trouble,” John B replies, gnawing the inside of his cheek. “I don’t want to make any assumptions…”

“Spit it out.”

John B sighs. “I think he hits her.”

Tension in the air is thick as both boys remain unmoving. The blood in JJ’s body runs cold as the words process in his brain. “What do you mean you think?”

“On her hip,” John B says, lowering his voice. He pulls up his shirt, demonstrating. “There’s a huge bruise. She acted like it was nothing, but JJ, I swear to you, I saw it.”

“Where’s my gun?” JJ asks, fists balled tightly as he begins to head back toward the Chateau.

John B’s hand stops him. “Not now, bro. You’re on probation. This isn’t the time to be stupid. I just figured maybe you could talk to her, since you know…” John B motions to the fading black and blue rim around JJ’s eye.

“This is Y/N we’re talking about,” JJ shoots back, voice pained. “I’d die for any one of you. But for her, I’d kill a man.”

~~~

You search the Chateau rooms, gathering as many blankets as your arms can carry. Pope is fixing the fire as Kiara sets up individual chairs for everyone to sit in.

Checking the spare room, you peek under the bed for any extra blankets, and the bedroom door slams shut, startling you. Peering over the bed from your knees, a distraught JJ stands with his back against the door.

“I’ll be out in a second, just getting blankets.”

“We need to talk.”

The four words no one ever wants to hear. Swallowing, you pull yourself to your feet, reminding yourself to keep your composure. “What’s up?”

JJ says nothing at first, eyes directed at the floor as he flicks the lighter in his hand. Sweat drips down your back as he finally looks up at you. “How are you, Y/N?”

Not what you were expecting. “I’m good. How are you?” You step up to him, abandoning the blankets in your hand to touch the ring around his eye. He flinches, and your heart breaks. I know how it feels, you think to yourself. “Your eye is looking much better.”

“Better than your hip,” JJ mutters.

You step back, blinking. “W-what?”

“When the hell were you going to tell me Rafe beats you?” JJ’s voice is gravelly as he steps toward you. “What the fuck happened to Pogues for life, huh?”

“JJ, what are you talking about?” You ask defensively, praying your face doesn’t betray you. “Rafe doesn’t hit me. Why are you accusing him?”

“So you’re saying he doesn’t?” JJ sneers. He pulls a hand through his blonde hair, tugging the ends before slapping his palm against his thigh. “I noticed today your lip was split down the middle. How’d that happen?”

The walls seem to close around you. Your chest constricts, labored breaths leaving your mouth. You can’t speak, only stare as JJ’s eyes scan your face. “I, uh, b-bit it too hard.”

Unconvinced, he steps forward, grabbing your jaw before you can move. There’s hurt in his eyes, and fear in yours. “Lift up your shirt.”

“JJ, don’t--.”

“Lift up your shirt,” he repeats quietly, lip quivering. “It’s just you and me.”

Tears gather in your eyes as the realization hits you. He knows.

Your fingers shake as they grab the bottom of your hoodie, lifting slowly to reveal the bruise. JJ immediately sucks in a breath, the size of the bruise unsettling. His hand goes to your hip just as you pull away from him. JJ’s heart sinks as a tear slides down your face. He reaches out and collects it with his thumb, gently rubbing your cheek as your head leans into his touch. “How long?”

“Two years,” you say, hiding the bruise once more. “I would’ve hidden it longer if J.B. didn’t open his mouth.”

“He shouldn’t have had to tell me,” JJ responds, gaze fixated on your face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you have done?”

“I would have been there for you!” He says it without hesitation, offended that you even had to ask. “You were the first person I told about my father. Shit, you were there for me more than anyone. You didn’t let me struggle by myself. And now…and now I find out this whole time, you’ve been letting yourself suffer when you know any one of us would’ve helped you.”

His words hurt, but they’re the truth. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

JJ’s hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as your fingers wrap around his wrists. “I am always going to worry about you,” he rests his forehead against yours, and there’s something intimate about the gesture. “Always.”

Sighing, you pull JJ in for a hug, nestling your face in his neck as his arms circle your waist. His embrace is warm and you sink into it. A protective barrier. And for once in your life, you feel safe.

[badatjokezz]

Haikyuu!! Rare Pair Fic Recs

i’ve been so hype about some Hq rarepairs lately now imma list some of my fav fanfics, mostly OiSuga mwehehe.... 

(probably gonna add some more in the future)

Oisuga (Oikawa x Sugawara)

1. Stuck in the Middle With You by overlymetaromantic

It's not the kind of blossoming relationship either of them would expect, but maybe, just maybe, it could lead to something good.

1. In which Suga and Oikawa run into each other on a late night convenience store run.

2. In which Suga and Oikawa inadvertently switch bags and end up with the other’s uniform.

3. In which Suga gives Oikawa the lecture he doesn't want but probably needs, and Oikawa might accidentally be a little in love.

4. In which Oikawa won't shut up about Suga, and Iwaizumi plays matchmaker just to make him stop.

5. In which there is not a date, and Suga likes spicy things much more than sweet.

6. In which Karasuno and Aobajousai hold training camps in the same neck of the woods, and the trip back proves to be more revealing than it probably should.

7. In which there might just be a future to this after all.

(Dis is so fluffy i might die)

2. moving on (growing up) by _helios (neocitz)

‘I’ll do it,’ Suga says, walking into their prep school and dropping his bag on the floor next to Oikawa. He shoves the melon bun and drink forward into Oikawa’s hands, and stands there looking down at him because he knows that he needs to not chicken out.

‘You’ll do what?’ Oikawa looks up through his glasses, eyes wide and confused as the other students stream in around them.

‘The fake dating thing, I’ll do it.’

‘Fuck. Yes.’ Oikawa says with a fist pump.

(It’s been AGES since i read Fake/Pretend Relationship fic, this one is goood)

3. how strange, to be remembered by venusintwelfthFandoms

"He is not formed of the type of dust that makes up stars. Suga is not the type of person that stays in the mind of one like Oikawa Tooru, ten years later. He is formed of the type of dust you shake off, the type that settles into the ground."

Ten years after Suga last steps off a high-school court, Oikawa recollects a "Mr. Refreshing" in a post-game interview, and Suga is left scrambling.

(Cute one-shot, Oikawa still remember Mr. Refreshing from Karasuno)

4. all the small things by Authoress for lemedy

Sugawara Koushi.

Oikawa’s brain supplies the name of the person standing at the other end of the aisle before Oikawa can even register him, attuned to spitting out facts about other volleyball players on a second’s notice, even after all these years. Karasuno High vice-captain. 174 cm…no, more like 176 now. Skilled at raising morale and bringing an element of surprise to their strategy. Troublesome. Refreshing. Setter.

The enemy.

(Single Dad! Oikawa, cuuutee ugh)

5. Win Some by kingdra (aroceu) for Icie

Tooru does not have a problem, its name is certainly not Sugawara Koushi, and he is not going to the Karasuno practices just to watch him. Regardless of whatever Iwa-chan says.

(High school romane~)

6. Even as bright as you are? by BKAKCANON

That night when he goes to sleep, he includes "the safety of fairies" on his prayers, making a promise to whoever was listening him, that he'd protect all the fairies and keep their secret safe forever.

[Where Oikawa meets Suga when they are kids and Oikawa believes Suga is secretly a fairy and decides he has to protect his secret all costs.]

(This is basically matches my headcanon)

7. getting to know you by oisugasuga

Suga feels like he’s back on the court then, his heart thudding hard in his ears… so hard he almost misses what Oikawa says. Unfortunately, though, he doesn’t.

"My, my. What a surprise," Oikawa Tooru says. And then… "Hello, Mr. Refreshing."

(Haven’t finished yet but DAMN I LOVE OIKAWA AND SUGA IN HERE, single dad! oikawa, and Suga babysitting oikawa’s kid, def slow burn. Imma follow this fic till death)

8. Dear Reader by hyirule

No one seems to read the paper anymore. But Oikawa likes to for the sports section. One day he finds himself reading a section called "Dear Reader" and finds a submission he can relate to.

Basically messages sent through a page on a newspaper brings to unlikely souls together, who maybe have more in common than they first thought.

(Cannon compliant, simple and... refreshing(?))

9. rest by shicchaan

Tooru looks at the sleeping person beside him as he waits for the lights change into green. The growing fringe of his husband started to cover his eyes but he can still see the beautiful birthmark under the silver haired's left eye.

(Established relationship, fluff fluff!!!)

10. long is the road (that leads me home) by ichweissnichtauch

He thinks about himself, deleting contacts from his phone and throwing coffee cups away without even looking at the string of numbers scrawled in Sharpie ink underneath, and he’s tired of hiding, tired of carefully treading the lines he’d drawn for himself all those years ago.

Just this once, Tooru wants— he thinks he wants to be brave.

Oikawa Tooru is not a stranger to wanting.

(like... 20% Oisuga but i like the way this story follows the Cannon till he get to Argentina)

11. It's Always Been About You by mintycarrots

Every time Tooru had envisioned meeting his soulmate, it was a confession of love, filled with tears of happiness and a lot of making out. It would be a faceless petite girl that would support Tooru in whatever he chose to pursue and would understand when Tooru prioritized volleyball over all else.

It was never a boy on the rival team.

(Soulmate AU)

12. a play in three acts by venusintwelfth

"The first time Sugawara Koushi sees Oikawa Tooru play, he thinks that if he wasn’t so set on volleyball, he’d do well in theater."

the first seijoh x karasuno match through the eyes of suga.

(Kinda poetic i guess, well written af)

13. colors by dazeful

Sugawara Koushi's colorful life as an archer.

(this is like the perfect oisuga one shot ive ever read)

___

IwaSuga (Iwaizumi x Sugawara)

1. And so the moon cried by iwriteinpenFandoms:

The hillocks are the domain of unearthly creatures. Creatures of rot and fog, of music and dance. Like ghosts in the night they travel without leaving footprints, they disappear in a flurry of long dresses and pale hair. Those who are fated to see them risk curses far worse than death. You may hear them, a giggle in the wind. You may smell them, the smell of the fog rolling in through the trees. You should pray you never see them. Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man. He works a simple farm job and enjoys simple things. After one morning where he woke next to a perfect circle of death and only the memory of brown eyes and cold hands, he finds himself inexplicably drawn to the forest. Will the tales of his childhood play out with him at the center or will he have to disregard all reason?

(Danish Folklore AU)

2. Cry Just A Little by DreadfulMind

Suga was whistling a tune to himself as he opened the door to the bathroom, so he didn't hear the muffled crying through the door. But he could hear it clearly once he was inside. He heard the sharp sob of someone trying to stop.

"Iwaizumi?" He asked, "are you sure you're alright?"

(Simple but c u t e)

3. Generations by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor), mozaikmage

Professional sports blogger Sugawara Koushi writes an article about a volleyball match that bears special meaning to him and his former kouhai: a showdown between Kitagawa Daiichi and Yukigaoka Middle School, ten years after the teams faced off for the first time. He doesn't plan on capturing the attention of the world of sports journalism, and he certainly doesn't expect himself to end up having a thing for one of the coaches involved, one Iwaizumi Hajime.

(Time-Skip, I loved it)

___

KuroTsuki (Kuroo x Tsukishima)

1. Invictus by Chiru

Kuroo T. » So let me get this straight (gay?) Kuroo T. » You want me to pretend to be your perfect and fabulous boyfriend, so that your little freckled friend will stop trying to set you up with cute little highschool girls? Tsukishima Kei » yes Kuroo T. » Aha. Tsukishima Kei » you'll do it? Kuroo T. » I don't know. I missed the part where I get something out of it. Tsukishima Kei » you get to annoy me. Unfortunately Kuroo T. » Tempting, Tsukki, very tempting indeed.

(Fake/Pretend Relationship, some fluff, some angst, i read this in the middle of the night and cried, fortunately happy ending)

2. hold onto hope if you got it by nekolyssi

"Now, in the beginning of their third year of high school, the obnoxious hollering and incessant spirit of his teammates became normalcy to Kei. And now, normalcy is this. Weekly psych meetings. Pharmacy waiting rooms. Prescriptions. Refusal of prescriptions. More prescriptions."

(Not finished yet but yep prolly gonna put this one to one of those best haikyuu fics ive ever read. I wasnt so interested at first but i really like the idea of mental ilness etc, this is g o o d!!)

3. [KuroTsuki Fest Week 2017] Traces by Heartythrills 

Kuroo’s disappeared for a little over a week now, and suddenly a 4 year old who looks like him appears before Tsukishima’s apartment.

(Age regression, fluff)

4. I swear by xArtemisx

Like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there

"What are you doing here, Tetsu? It's cold." Kei asked softly. Tetsurou smiled. Hearing his name came out of Kei's lips is always music to his ears.

"Nothing. I just came to think that whatever memory we make, may it be happy or sad memories, the bright moon and the starry night sky is always there to be the witness. Did you notice?" The alpha answered and Kei nodded. He also noticed it.

"Yes, I did noticed it."

(I love agony and sad ending....)

5. Honeybee by ClosetGoblin

Tsukishima has trouble sleeping one night during a Third Gym Camping Trip. So, he takes his acoustic guitar and passes the time with some music, and gets a visitor. Maybe he doesn't mind Kuroo's voice as he does the screeching that Lev and Hinata call singing.

(Simple but sweet)

6. Say You Like Me by the_madame21

It's been three months. And Tsukishima Kei is going to see Kuroo Tetsurou.

(light angst and.. s m u t. Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamic)

7. trying to get to you by mytsukkishine

Everything came crashing down on Kuroo when Kei had left him alone with nothing but the moon shining down on him.

Wherein, Kuroo was struggling to move on and decided that he wouldn't mind being with Kei again.

(sad beginning? yes. sad ending? y e s. you’re a masochist? come get your juice)

8. Please Hold by ThemooncatFandoms

Kei was expecting Kuroo to do one of two things; Send a text to the office saying that they will have to call back another time and continue what they started, or excuse himself from Kei to answer the call, which was most likely. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Kuroo does neither of those things.

(short but hot. what’s hotter than quiet sex?)

___

Ushijima x Oikawa

1. This Insignificant Pride and Prejudice by Mysecretfanmoments, Pouler (poulerslashes)

Oikawa Tooru graduated high school with the burning desire to succeed in his college career. He'd hoped that might include taking down his arch-nemesis along the way, but when he finds that his college team hosts an offensively familiar face, he can't help but think that the universe might be conspiring against him. After all, what could be worse than playing on the same team as Ushijima?

(It was funny for me reading oikawa/ushijima fic with that “you should’ve come to Shiratorizawa” joke at first but somehow i found this one... endearing :3, cute poor ushiwaka)

___

Atsumu x Nishinoya

1. All the things I love about Yuu by KilluCoulomb

Atsumu Miya is fixated in Nishinoya. The way the boy acts, talks, plays. He Carefully observes from afar, but he slowly warms up to the Libero. Friendship becomes more and more intimate. Atsumu realizes Nishinoya is not that simple guy he met three years ago. And he loves it.

(pro volleyball players AU)

2. i'll see you then by noyabeans (snowdrops)

Nishinoya Yuu and Miya Atsumu build a rivalry and something more.

“Oh, it's Karasuno’s libero,” he says, mildly surprised to see Nishinoya’s face staring back at him from the brochure, grinning wide with his arms folded over his chest.

Contains spoilers for the current manga arc, up to chapter 380.

[spidercakes]

Starker high school AU featuring fem!Omega!Tony and alpha!Peter where Tony is well known for being a real bitch to anyone who tries to court him. Peter knows better than to think he hates getting gifts.

Warning for references to domestic violence (Howard).

*

Peter watches Tony from across the hall trying mostly unsuccessfully to shove his stuff into his locker. He’s already in a bad mood that much is clear but when Justin Hammer walks up looking far too confident his mood appears to take a nosedive for the worst. He watches Tony turn away from trying to stuff his leather jacket into his locker to Hammer, aggression clear in his features but that doesn’t seem to deter Hammer any. Bad sign, Tony hates that but Peter leaves him to it because its almost funny to watch Tony tear his suitors to shreds and he’s mean when he gets going. Or at least it would be funny if people didn’t keep disrespecting Tony’s very clear and well known boundaries and if Tony didn’t sometimes go a little far in his vicious takedowns.

But he doesn’t really like Justin Hammer that much and neither does Tony, he’s not shy about saying it. So when he holds out a box Peter knows he’s about to go ape on this guy. MJ walks up beside him and shakes her head, “one, stop fantasizing about being the only one to tame that beast. He’s a privileged brat, get better taste. Two, privileged brat or not he’s preferable to Hammer so I want to see this,” she says, looking satisfied as Tony glares Hammer down.

“He’s not a brat,” Peter tells her, “he just doesn’t like jewelry and no one seems to get the point.” Or at least he’s pretty sure that’s what that is anyway but its hard to tell because omegas almost never get stuff that isn’t jewelry. Peter doesn’t get why that is when he’s never actually seen an omega wear any of it. Mostly they range from irate like Tony about it to mildly uncomfortable and unsure what to do with expensive things they don’t want like Liz. Either way Peter thinks its about time someone actually paid attention to what their crushes like and give them something that’s not stupid expensive that they might actually like. But that’s probably the fact that he’s too poor to do much more than get small things talking even if Liz agrees.

“Turn the fuck around right now,” Tony tells Hammer. MJ raises an eyebrow at him but they both agree that unwanted attention should earn a person a smack so Tony is actually being really polite right now according to those standards.

“I got you-” Hammer starts but Tony cuts him off.

“You could have Nicolas II the last Czar of Russia in that box and I couldn’t give two shits. Turn around and walk away,” Tony says.

Peter doesn’t mean to let out a sharp peel of laughter but its funny, okay? Tony turns to glare him down but softens slightly when he notices that Peter isn’t laughing at him specifically. He still turns away like he’s been stuck with a hot poker because Christ, Tony isn’t supposed to see him watching. “He’s not staring anymore,” MJ tells him helpfully so he risks looking back over.

Tony is unlucky enough to have Hammer’s gift all but shoved into his grasp and oh, Tony hates that too. Peter isn’t entirely surprised when Tony makes an offended noise and walks to the nearest trash can to chuck the box into it. “For ten fucking seconds I want some time to myself to stick my jacket in my locker and you fucks can’t even give me that!” he snaps as he storms off, unconcerned with the fact that his jacket is on the ground and his locker is wide open.

“Well that was a fun way to start the day,” MJ says. “Think we’ll get more entertainment by lunch?” Given the way people seem to lust after Tony Peter wouldn’t really be surprised.

*

Rhodey is used to people asking him about Tony, it happens all the time and he’d never say anything. Or at least he’d never say anything to anyone Tony didn’t already approve of so he’s gotten a reputation for being as difficult and bullheaded as Tony. Neither of them have high standards so its pretty sad that people consistently fail them but it is what it is. So when a lanky looking alpha walks up to him at least having the sense to look nervous Rhodey isn’t surprised. He’s not the usual type, that goes to whoever is overconfident enough to think they’ll actually get something from Tony and this guy does not look the type if his blush is any indication.

“Um, hey. I’m Peter. Parker. Peter Parker, yeah, um. God, this is bad I’m so glad Tony doesn’t have to- here,” he says, handing Rhodey a small box. “Tell him its not jewelry.” He turns to walk away looking pretty harassed but Rhodey is curious.

“Why’d you give it to me?” he asks before Parker can run off anywhere.

He doesn’t look impressed about it but he does turn to give Rhodey his attention. “Tony doesn’t like being handed stuff, but he seems to take stuff from you and Pepper. You seemed less scary than Pepper but I think maybe I was wrong and both of you are terrifying.”

He doesn’t mean to laugh a little but its kind of funny and he gave an answer Rhodey likes. “If he doesn’t want it I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day,” he tells Peter.

Peter nods and walks away with a soft ‘thanks’ and Rhodey decides he likes that too but he won’t tell Tony about it unless he likes the gift. Not that he would have even got it if he didn’t like Peter anyway, he knows Tony well enough to know when he won’t like someone and he’d probably appreciate the help weeding them out. He doesn’t even know why people try at this point, not when Tony is so damn nasty about his day being disrupted. He doesn’t know about anyone else but if he watched a guy toss a twelve thousand dollar necklace in a pond because he didn’t like it he’d probably think that guy was an asshole and avoid him forever.

He knows better than to think Tony is the asshole here, but without context he’s go to wonder what the hell everyone else is thinking. Its not like they all know Tony is as rich as he is when he doesn’t hint at it, and they don’t know that he hates jewelry because his asshole of a father used to give his mother something sparkly after he beat her, and they definitely don’t have any boundaries, but he still wants to know what goes through their mind. He wants to know what it feels like to be so confident he thinks he can win over an omega who actively hates jewelry with jewelry. It must be some kind of adrenaline rush mixed with a Darwin Award and he wants to know.

The fact that its so common is so weird to him too, its like no one here has basic observation skills. Sometimes he pretends like he’s an anthropologist trying to figure out how the students in this school work because their behavior is so counterintuitive. Other times he texts Pepper so they can privately roast whoever Tony harshly turned down now.

By the time he gets to lunch Tony reports three more people- and there seem to be unlimited people at this school Rhodey swears- who have tried to give him gifts. None of them anything but jewelry and Rhodey can do with a little key change to his day so he pulls out that Peter Parker kid’s box. “Here,” he tells Tony, who frowns at it for a second before looking kind of hurt. It takes a second for Rhodey to catch on and when he does he wrinkles his nose, “look man, if I wanted to court you I would have and I don’t. I just can’t look at you the same way after that time I witnessed you triple yourself,” he says. “Its from some kid named Peter Parker and he says its not jewelry so I figured it was promising.”

“Do I even want to know what tripling oneself is?” Pepper asks, coming up behind Rhodey and sitting beside him.

“Shit, piss, and puke in sync,” Rhodey and Tony say together, both sounding dismayed and a little disgusted. The look on Pepper’s face tells him he should be ashamed that this is information he has.

“I can’t believe I associate with you two,” she mumbles, shaking her head at least until she spots the box sitting in front of Tony. “What’s that?” she asks.

Tony shrugs, “don’t know but he survived Rhodey so I assume he doesn’t suck.”

“As long as its not another Sunset,” Pepper says, shaking her head.

It earns a small sigh out of Tony and he picks up the box, probably looking for a subject change. He looks exhausted with it already so that’s how Rhodey knows his reaction is genuine. He pulls a scrap of paper from the box and snorts before he starts laughing, cracking up the the point of doubling over and Rhodey would like to know what’s on that paper.

Pepper has the same idea because she snatches it. “Nicholas II the last Czar of Russia?” she reads, clearly confused.

Tony is already distracted by something else in the box because he’s staring at it with a smile on his face. Rhodey beats Pepper to snatching it this time and he smiles when he reads the pin too. “That’s cute,” he says, handing it to Pepper.

“Ah! the element of surprise. I don’t get the Czar thing but Tony clearly did so that and this pin make for a clever combination,” she says. “So you know this one has brains. Just make sure he’s not the type who thinks being clever every once and awhile is a replacement for a personality.”

“Ew, don’t ruin the only good gift I’ve ever gotten,” Tony tells her, taking his pin and scrap of paper back. “The Czar thing was me insulting Hammer. God, can you guys believe he tried to give me anything? I’d rather stick my dick in a bee hive.”

Rhodey and Pepper exchange a look because there might be something here and Rhodey, for one, wants to figure out what it is.

*

Tony finds Peter after school and quickly learns that he’s jumpy when he all but tosses himself nearly into his locker because Tony spooked him by accident. “You’re interesting, I don’t think I’ve met you before,” he says. He’s certain he hasn’t actually and Peter’s cute, in a boyish way. And he already knows he’s not a dunce so there’s that too.

“I um, you have actually. We’ve had like three science classes and two math classes together but I um, usually sit at the back so.”

Yeah, bad excuse because that’s where he sits too but that’s sweet of him to try and give Tony a reason for not noticing his existence. “Okay, so maybe I can be a little self absorbed. Cute gift though, the element of surprise thing was kind of clever.”

It seems to take Peter a few seconds to catch on to his own joke and that’s... weird. “Oh my god, its like I’m the element of surprise! Yeah, okay, I didn’t even think of that I just thought it was kind of cute and sarcastic and you like science so...” he trails off, wincing.

Its adorable and also telling. So he did put thought into it, just not the way Tony thought and that’s actually better for him. “Think you can come up with another gift by tomorrow?” he asks in maybe a little too cocky a tone. And then he kind of thinks of the implications and winces, “I um, I don’t really want stuff I just want to know that you like, give a shit about who I am. And uh, yikes, that wasn’t an improvement. You can just forget this ever happened,” he says, for some reason feeling the need to finger gun his way out of this, passing Peter quickly as he scrambles the hell out of there.

*

Peter doesn’t really know if Tony likes vinyl but he definitely likes AD/DC so he leaves it in front of his locker and figures Tony will make up his mind. In the meantime he finds Liz so he can focus on something that isn’t losing his mind or passing out. “If you were a sandwich what would you be?” she asks as he walks up. Ned looks mad beside her and that’s weird because Ned never gets mad.

“I don’t know, a BLT I guess,” he says.

Liz throws her hands up, “the only correct answer is a grilled cheese, why do you guys like in anarchy?”

“Meatball sub!” Ned says, staking his claim but Peter frowns.

“Ned, a sub isn’t a sandwich yours doesn’t even qualify.”

Ned looks offended about this, “Peter, its meat in bread. That’s the exact same as a sandwich, just because the bread is shaped different doesn’t mean its not a sandwich.”

MJ chooses then to walk over so Peter pounces on it, “is a sub a sandwich, MJ?”

She squints at him like he’s stupid, “no. Why is this even a question.”

“Liz lives in denial that if we were sandwiches the best option is meatball sub,” Ned explains.

That gets him another ‘what the fuck’ look. “First of all I maintain that a sub is not a sandwich and obviously the only right answer is grilled cheese.”

Peter frowns, “why does grilled cheese count as a sandwich?”

“It has ‘sandwich’ in the name Peter- a grilled cheese sandwich,” Liz points out.

“What was his answer?” MJ asks.

“BLT,” Peter in Ned say in sync.

“Savage,” MJ accuses and frowns for a moment, leaning around him. “Oh, and he’s about to get his penance, we should probably check ourselves before we wreck ourselves,” she says, nodding at something behind Peter. He turns to find Tony walking towards him with the record he left at his locker and winces because he doesn’t want to like... get smacked with it or something equally unpleasant.

When he turns back to his friend group he finds that they’ve all abandoned him like cowards but in their defense he wishes he could abandon himself like a coward too. But unfortunately he’s him so he can’t. “Um, hey,” he says once Tony is in ear shot.

Tony grins, “AC/DC!” he says excitedly.

“Oh, yeah. You like them, and like... most eighties rock but a lot of sixties and seventies stuff too. Why are you looking at me like that, you wear a lot of band shirts,” Peter says. Like a lot of them, but enough of them are AC/DC shirts that Peter assumes he has a preference.

“Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I do. Sorry, I’m just not used to people noticing really obvious stuff about me- I, you know what. Uh, thanks,” Tony says, scattering before Peter can say anything. From across the hall he has no less than six people staring at him in shock and Peter frowns.

“What? It wasn’t hard to find something he liked.” Which is true, but he’s at least somewhat benefitted by the fact that his competition seems to think trying the same thing over and over again despite atrocious results will work.

“I gave him like, twelve things!” the one guy says and Peter rolls his eyes.

“Ten bucks says it was all jewelry,” he mumbles to himself and walks away. He doesn’t get why people keep trying to throw shiny things at Tony when he obviously doesn’t like it.

*

When Tony finds the box he doesn’t expect much mostly because good things don’t seem to last where he’s concerned, so he’s pleasantly surprised by its contents. “That is the ugliest scarf I have ever seen,” some alpha a couple lockers down from him says, giving the scarf a distasteful look.

Tony doesn’t remember anything about her except that he can’t stand her. “Then you clearly don’t get the reference,” he snaps, putting the scarf in his locker before he goes to class.

Rhodey raises an eyebrow at him as he walks up but he says nothing as he sits down. “What, no rant about gifts today?”

He shakes his head, “no. People seem to be picking up on the fact that Peter is doing a better job than any of them. Today I got Four’s scarf.”

“Nice,” Rhodey says, grinning and giving a nod of approval. “Now that you have a not shit suitor I feel like I can finally say that I cannot believe you threw a twelve thousand dollar necklace in a pond because you didn’t like it. You could have pawned it,” he points out.

“And get money I don’t need? Let someone else find it and cash in and I thought you hated Killian anyway.” Rhodey had been the one to warn him off not that Tony needed a warning to stay away from Killian.

“Could have donated it to charity. And I don’t, which is why I laughed when you tossed it. But damn man, twelve grand. I can’t imagine having that much money to just throw aside for a courting gift.” He shakes his head but Tony is well aware there’s more to it than that. Its not like his being on the lower end of middle class is a secret, and Tony knows that Rhodey doesn’t really believe him when he says most omegas don’t actually want jewelry. Tony is pretty sure Rhodey thinks that’s a bias on his part and it is, but only because he has an active reason to dislike jewelry, not because omegas secretly do want jewelry.

But the pressure is there and Tony knows Rhodey has avoided dating because he can’t afford that kind of thing. He figures he’ll grow out of the pressure to perform courting in a certain way but that doesn’t make things suck less for him now.

“If Killian knew anything about me he would have donated it to charity himself. And even if I didn’t hate jewelry that thing was god awful, you can’t expect me to have liked that gaudy ass thing. It looked kind of like this hideous necklace my great grandmother snuck out of Italy when she fled fascism during World War Two.”

Rhodey snorts and cracks up, shaking his head. “Okay, I will give you that it was very ugly but it was also stupid expensive.”

“I didn’t know that before it was tossed and yes, I could tell that it cost money because I know what good jewelry looks like but also I wouldn’t have paid more than ten bucks for something that hideous. Someone designed it that way on purpose and they should be fired for their sins.” And that’s before he even gets into the mess that Killian is specifically. Rude, entitled, arrogant, a mean streak a mile wide, and a total inability to not go into full meltdown mode when he’s told ‘no.’ Tony learned his lesson when he was a freshman and Killian decided to hit on him with an uncomfortable amount of aggression and then got mad when Tony agreed to meet him elsewhere to get him the hell out of his face only to not show up.

Needless to say the ensuing meltdown led to somehow deciding to win Tony back, not that he ever had him to begin with, with jewelry. It’d been the first time he’d ever been given anything and the situation resembled the cycle he’s watched his parents go through a million times so closely that he kind of lost it a little. Admittedly it wasn’t the nicest thing in the world to throw the necklace in a pond and start shrieking but he also feels like, at least in context, the reaction wasn’t totally irrational. Just mostly.

“So Four’s scarf,” Rhodey says, transitioning away from Killian thankfully. “Not a bad choice, even if you prefer Ten.”

“What are you two on about?” Pepper asks, arriving to the conversation late.

“Doctor Who,” Tony says and fills her in on the rest. She also gives a nod of approval and its almost harder to impress her than Rhodey. Rhodey only wins out because he’s grown a protective streak for Tony and Pepper has it too, but she’s a lot less likely to go ham on someone at least publicly. Usually Rhodey is good at pretending not to be an impulsive moron but there’s something about Tonys presence that makes him lose a brain cell or two and do dumb shit like get suspended for punching Killian in the face. Twice.

*

Peter didn’t really think Tony would actually like any of the stuff he got, minus the record because he knows Tony likes the band, but it turns out he’s actually really good at this. Tony liked the other pin he got too mostly because ‘UM confusion’ on a pin is pretty much how he feels about this whole thing and he figured Tony felt similarly. And its cute and matches the other pin.

The last thing he expects is for Tony to put the pins on his jacket and wear the scarf he got him. What he expects less than that is the sheer amount of people asking him for advice on how to court Tony seems how his efforts are working. Which is why he finds himself on the top of a table in the cafeteria kind of annoyed that he even has to do this.

“Hey. Um. Hey!” he says a little louder, drawing more attention that time. “So um. You guys keep asking me for advice on how to court Tony but you guys like... really don’t need advice on that. You guys need advice on how to follow boundaries and not harass the shit out of people. And also really, really basic observation skills. Tony doesn’t like jewelry you idiots, how did you not realize that when he kept throwing stuff out? Are you guys stupid?” he asks, fully prepared to continue on this rant when he notices a teacher beelining their way over and he sighs. “Whatever, point is if you can’t figure out how to court the omega you’d like to maybe you should take that as a sign that you don’t like them, you like what they look like. Courting someone shouldn’t be so hard that no one but me I guess figured out that Tony hates jewelry. Didn’t think he’d have to write that one down for you guys considering he throws everything he gets out,” he says, throwing his arms up before he jumps down from the table only to nearly run into Tony.

He looks pleased with himself so at least there’s that. Peter mostly tries to avoid looking at his legs in that skirt because its rude even if he looks good. “Peter Parker I think I owe you a date,” he says, grinning.

Peter blinks, shocked. “Um. What?”

Tony smiles wider, “I said I owe you a date and seems how you’ve been doing all the work so far I’ll handle it.”

“That’d be great, thanks,” he says. “I’m not great at this.”

Behind Tony Rhodey snorts, “you were better at it than the whole school and don’t have a problem with Tony taking the lead to boot. He’s probably gunna marry you.”

[the-pen-and-the-stethoscope]

So while Six of Crows has been on my to read list for a while now when I saw that Shadow and Bone was coming to Netflix and realized they were all part of the same little universe I was like *rolls up sleeves* K guess it’s time to read five books in one month to prepare for this new series drop. (special shout out to @darklesmylove​ because it’s mostly your blog posts that convinced me I had to read this series...I give you this as a gift...) 

And now I present to you (in the order which I read them) the events in the Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows books that made me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL (wow there’s a lot more of these than I thought there were). 

- “The problem with wanting,” he whispered, his mouth trailing along my jaw until it hovered over my lips, “is that it makes us weak.” (unfortunately the last time I was seduced by the Darkling - NEVER AGAIN BAD SIR! But this was fucking hot) 

- THE. FIGHT. OVER. THE. STAG. (Just...Alina not killing it, the Darkling is here, now he’s going to kill it. NOW ALINA IS IN FRONT OF THE STAG SAVING IT. NOW SHE WANTS MAL TO SACRIFICE HER. NOW THE COLLAR IS AROUND HER NECK AND NOW SHE’S UNDER HIS POWER AHHHHH) Bonus: “Shhhh. Quiet now, or I will let Ivan kill him. Slowly.” 

- When Alina figures out the dream and TAKES THE POWER BACK!!! (yaaaaasss queen!)

- When the Darkling finds Alina and Mal in Cofton and that whole fight scene and her getting bit and then I had to WAIT UNTIL THE REST OF THE BOOKS CAME IN THE MAIL

- “From what I know of the Ice Court, whoever stole my DeKappel is exactly who I need for this job.” “Then you’d be better off hiring him. Or her.” “Indeed. But I’ll have to settle for you.” (I’m 50 pages in and in love with Kaz Bekker, someone help me) 

- “Not just yet, Inej.” The rasp of stone on stone. Her eyes flew open. Kaz. (ugh my cold cold heart is awake and beats only for them!) 

- Because I’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to you for two days. (literally like......)

- When Jordie and Kaz get tricked. (I mean all of Kaz’s back story but that was...ugh..........)

- It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and the deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted. 

- When Nina runs into the guards and the alarm goes off and I realize that I’m an idiot and OBVIOUSLY THINGS WERE GOING TO GO WRONG. 

- WHEN INEJ TOUCHES KAZ’S FACE. His eyes were nearly black, the pupils dilated. She could see it took every last bit of his terrible will for him to remain still beneath her touch. And yet, he did not pull away. She knew it was the best he could offer. It was not enough. 

- He slammed his fist against the window. “Do not speak my name.” Then he smiled, a smile as cold and unforgiving as the northern sea. “Welcome to the Ice Court, Nina Zenik. Now our debt is paid.” (like FUCK MATTHIAS GOT ME TOO. WHAT A GOOD ACT!)

- I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath. It was the vow of the druskelle to Fjerda. And now it was Matthias’ promise to her. (OMGGGGGG) 

- “This is going to sting a bit,” said the druskelle holding the whip. His voice was rasping, familiar. His hands were gloved. “But if we live, you’ll thank me later.” His hood slid off, and Kaz Brekker looked back at them. 

- The sun was out for once, and Inej had turned her face to it. Her eyes were shut, her oil-black lashes fanned over her cheeks. The harbor wind had lifted her dark hair, and for a moment Kaz was a boy again, sure that there was magic in this world. (YEAH OKAY. AND THIS IS HIS LAST THOUGHT BEFORE DROWNING.) 

- WHEN THEY STEAL THE TANK. THE TANK. AND THEN DRIVE IT THROUGH THE FUCKING TOWN. 

- Nina on parem. 

- “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.” (SCREEAAAAMS. BANGS HAND AGAINST BOOK. DIES.) 

- “Kaz knew the instant he made his mistake...in that moment of threat, when he should have thought only of the fight, he looked at Inej.” (asdlfkasgkjasglk;sdfjl) 

- I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl. (YEAH BITCH!) 

- When Alina first sees the Darkling while they are traveling the fold (I froze, I read it like four times, I couldn’t believe what was happening)

- When Mal suggests they go to that stupid party and then Alina actually agrees (I literally was like...well something bad is going to happen and I hate it here) 

- When the Darkling shows up after Alina and Mal kiss. “Another otkazat’sya, Alina?” the Darkling mocked. (sdflkajd) 

- “I can’t decide if you’re an idiot, or an idiot.” (ugh Nikolai, marry me) 

- two pages later: “You’re a spectacular actor,” I said drily. “Do you think so?” he asked. Then he leaned in and whispered, “I’m doing ‘humble’ right now.” (FUCK ME)

- “I want to kiss you,” Nikolai said. “But I won’t. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him.” (Am I the only one who found this cute??? Why did Alina get upset??? Do I have Nikolai-colored goggles on??? Maybe...) 

- When the Darkling came to Alina in her sleep and then PRETENDED TO BE MAL SO HE COULD HAVE HIS WAY WITH HER?!?!?!?!?! (ahhhhhhhhhh) “I missed you too, Alina.” That voice. Cool and smooth as glass. (AHHHHH)

- Nikolai stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the parquet floor. “When did you lift the blockades? How long have the roads been open?” (LSDAKLFSDLFDKASLDKLSKLKLL) 

- “Not bad looking?” said another voice. “He’s damnably handsome.” Luchenko scowled. “Since when - “ “Brave in battle, smart as a whip.” Now the voice seemed to be coming from above us. Luchenko craned his neck, peering into the trees. “An excellent dancer,” said the voice. “Oh, and an even better shot.” (And then I damn near died.) 

- There’s a whole three pages (that I will not re-type here) after they arrive at the Spinning Wheel of Nikolai just being *chef’s kiss* flawless. Some great lines include: “Everyone needs a hobby.” “I thought yours was preening.” “Two hobbies.” “Should I be offended that he doesn’t want to dine with us? I set an excellent table, and I rarely drool.” “What a filthy mind you have. I was referring to puzzles and the perusal of edifying texts.” “Last chance to run.” 

- “Alina, I’ll be back to fetch you for dinner, but should you grow restless, do feel free to run screaming from the room or take a dagger to her. Whatever seems most fitting at the time.” (asldjkasl;dkfs;lkd NIKOLAI) 

- Okay gunna skip ahead - you can assume any time Nikolai said anything I screamed. 

- Nikolia’s second proposal (THE EMERALD!!! JUST HOW HE PUTS IT ON TOP OF THE WALL) 

- Nikolai’s third proposal. Nikolai’s skin was warm, his grip gentle. I’d wondered if I would ever feel something so simple again or if the power in me would just keep jumping and crackling. (THIS is why he is perfect for her - no jolt of electricity, just warmth and comfort!!!) 

- SERGEI!!!!

- When Nikolai gets fucking taken over by a nichevo’ya (I HATE EVERYONE)

- When Baghra sacrifices herself 

- When we finally FINALLY find out what makes Mal so special (I mean....his tracking was OTHERWORLDLY I can’t believe people weren’t more fucking freaked out by him) 

- “The Darkling marched on Keramzin.” (Literally screamed: “MY HEART HURTS.” I was crying. I nearly threw the book down. “BUT THE CHILDREN!” I say with my fists in the air. I am become a blade.) 

- Nikolai visiting Alina while he is the monster and trying to make himself better (ahhhhh tears!!! THE EMERALD!!!) The words died on my lips. Nikolai turned my palm over and slid the ring onto my finger. (FUUUUCK. PAAAAIN.) 

- When Nikolai comes back and FIGHTS FOR THEM IN THE FOLD!!!! HE MAY BE A MONSTER BUT HE IS NOT THE DARKLING’S MONSTER, BITCH!! 

- “Please,” I sobbed. “Bring him back to me.” (lkadsflkj this was actually devastating even though I’m not a huge Mal fan)

- “We need more light,” he said. A choked laugh escaped me. I held up my hands, pleading with the light and with any Saint who had ever lived. it was no good. (UGHHHH. MORE PAIN.) 

- Tamar sobbed. Toyla swore. And there it was again: the thready, miraculous sound of Mal drawing breath. (and also the first time I breathed for an entire chapter!) 

- “Alina,” he said and kissed the scar on my palm, “I remember everything.” (Literally the last like twenty pages of this book I just gave up and was like actually Mal is adorable and I need to protect him at all costs.) 

- “Really I just wanted to look at the words.” (ughhhhh) 

- Once a man arrived with a fleet of toy boats that the children launched on the creek in a miniature regatta. The teachers noted that the stranger was young and handsome, with golden hair and hazel eyes, but most definitely off. He stayed late to dinner and never once removed his gloves. (NIKOLAI SIGHTING IN THE EPILOGUE MY HEART GOES ON)

- When Van Eck thinks Kaz is coming to get Inej and then he tells Inej and then she is WILLING HIM to not show up and then it is revealed he wasn’t there all along (BOOM BITCH THAT’S HOW KAZ BREKKER FUCKING WORKS.)

- “Those were my mother’s favorite flower.” 

- “Why the net, Kaz?” I couldn’t bear to watch you fall. (POETRY OKAY?)

- Jesper and Wylan going to see Wylan’s mother and just fucking everything about that chapter. 

- When Inej almost FALLS INTO THE FUCKING SILO AND IT’S THE END OF THE GD CHAPTER 

- “Pick up the pace,” Kaz said, eyeing his watch. “If I spill a single drop of this, it will burn straight through the floor onto my father’s dinner guests.” “Take your time.” 

- “We’ll fight our way out together,” Inej whispered. Nina glanced from Inej to Kaz and saw they both wore the same expression. Nina new that look. It came after the shipwreck, when the tide moved against you and the sky had gone dar. It was the first sight of land, the hope of shelter and even salvation that might await you on a distant shore. (AHHHHHH) 

- Wylan’s first thought was that this boy had the most perfectly shaped lips he’d ever seen. His second was that his father had sent someone new to kill him. (Wylan you are so adorable it’s adorable) 

- Inej was moving before she thought of it. She couldn’t just watch him die, she wouldn’t. They had him down now, heavy boots kicking and stomping at his body. her knives were in her hands. She’d kill them all. She’d pile the bodies to the rafters for the stadwatch to find. But in that moment, through the wide slats in the banister landing, she saw his eyes were open. His gaze found hers. He’d known she was there all along. Of course he had. He always kew how to find her. He age the barest shake of his bloodied head. (THESE TWO!!)

- “My leg! My leg!” “I recommend a cane,” Kaz said. (cackling) 

- When Sturmhond (aka Nikolai ***swoons***) showed up in Crooked Kingdom. (What actually happened: me reading a description of a “fox-like” man with Genya and Zoya and screaming and saying to myself “OMG WHEN I TURN THE PAGE IT WILL CONFIRM THAT NIKOLAI IS IN THE BUILDING I CAN’T” (did I mention I’m in love with him??? already??? k))

- When Jesper and Wylan FINALLY kiss FOR REAL (this was a big chapter for me) This was the kiss he’d been waiting for. It was a gunshot. It was prairie fire. it was the spin of Makker’s Wheel. Jesper felt the pounding of his heart - or was it Wylan’s? - like a stampede in his chest, and the only thought in his head was a happy, startled, Oh. 

- CHAPTER 33 - just everything, everything about the reveals in this chapter. The money being funneled to the Shu, not being able to trace even the RANSOM NOTE back to Kaz. WYLAN SHOWING UP!!!! “ARE YOU SURE THEY WERE PEKKA’S MEN?” !!!!!!!!

- “Do something,” Matthias growled at Kaz. “This is about to turn ugly.” Kaz’s face was as impassive as always. “Do you think so?” (bahahahahaha) 

- Nina’s just complete glee over the chaos she creates!!! “She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.” 

- Jesper using his fucking power!!!!!! 

- She stared up at him. He was going to miss that look of surprise. (HE’S GOING TO LET HER GO. HE KNOWS HE IS GOING TO LET HER GO.)

- KAZ’S PLAN BECOMING CLEAR IN IT’S BRILLIANCE AS EACH CHAPTER GOES BY. 

- Inej frowned. “I thought you and Nina chose four outbreak sites on the Staves.” Kaz straightened his cuffs. “I also had her stop at the Menagerie.” She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again. (AHHHHHHHHHHHHH) 

- “A sedative,” said the medik. “Is that safe for a pregnant woman?” “For me.” (This is just FLAWLESS in its depiction of people who don’t do OB care regularly.)

- Matthias saw the anger there, the rage. He knew it well. But he was still surprised when he heard the shot. (NOOOOOOOO!!!) 

- “Has she at least done it before?” said Kaz. “For this purpose?” asked Sturmhond. “I’ve seen her do it twice. It worked splendidly. Once.” (NIKOLAI I BEG YOU!) 

- When Matthias DIES?!??! (I’M SORRY WHO LET THIS HAPPEN??)

- “You will meet him again in the next life,” said Inej. “But only if you suffer this now.” 

- Wylan getting all of his father’s money because KAZ HAS BEEN PLANNING THIS ALL ALONG??!

- Jesper leaned in and said, quietly enough that no one else could hear, “I can read to him.” (alksdflk;jasfl;jkd that was hot) 

- “Well hopefully the medik will be here to fix my ribs soon,” he said as he headed back into the parlor. “Yeah?” “Yes,” said Wylan, glancing briefly over his shoulder, his cheeks now red as cherries. “I’d like to make a down payment.” (OMG WYLAN?!?!?! IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?!?! IS THIS ALLOWED?!?!)

- At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.” (TEARS.)

- She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. (I gasped so loud i literally woke my cat up from a deep sleep.)

- “Wait,” he said. The burn of his voice was rougher than usual. “Is my tie straight?” Inej laughed, her hood falling back from her hair. “That’s the laugh,” he murmured. (THAT’S THE LAUGH. THAT’S THE LAUGH. AHHHHH) 

Okay done. Gunna go stare at the ceiling until tomorrow night/whenever I finally get King of Scars and Rule of Wolves in the mail (BECAUSE YOU KNOW MY SORRY ASS IS DYING AT THE THOUGHT OF TWO BOOKS ALL ABOUT NIKOLAI) 

[palettes-and-prompts]

Soulmate AU Prompts

Dialogue Prompts

1) "I refuse to believe this creature is my soulmate." "You better believe it, baby, I'm your soulmate and I'm the only one you're getting." 2) "I've met my soulmate and they are disgusting and foul and the most annoying person on the planet." "Yes, but they were chosen for you for a reason." 3) "Where's your mark at?" "Inside of my thigh." "Can I see it?" "If you'd like to hear from my fucking lawyer later then sure." 4) "Oh my god they're so stupid." "Hey, their soulmark kind of looks like yours." "Oh fuck." 5) "I don't believe in soulmates." "That's because you don't have one." "I have one, I have a mark." "Sorry, you're right, you have one. You just don't believe in them because you're upset they aren't around here." 6) "If when they get their soulmark it matches mine I will jump off this bridge." "Oh! Looks like you're gonna have to jump! Looks like you're going to have to do it!" "Shut the fuck up, C." 7) "You're a werewolf!" "But I'm still your soulmate." "Oh my god, am I a furry?" "Hey, fuck you!" 8) "Should we kiss? To see if we're soulmates?" "If you kiss me I'll kill you." 9) "What if we're soulmates, you don't even want to try and see?" "No." 10) "We're soulmates." "I don't believe in that shit." "I thought you liked me." "Well, then, I guess you thought wrong." 11) "Hey, I like your drawing. This looks like my soulmark I have on my hip." "This mark?" "Yeah." "This is on your hip?" "Yeah, why?" "Holy shit." 12) "What's your mark say? What are your soulmates first words to you?" "'Can you move out of my way, I'm trying to find my girlfriend/boyfriend.'" "Oh shit." "Yeah, I know." 13) "What are the first words your soulmate is going to say to you?" "'Damn, your ass looks good in those jeans tonight, bit--oh shit, oh my god I'm so sorry, I thought you were my friend Person A.'" "That's what yours says!? I can't even begin to imagine what theirs says." 14) "I'd take a bullet for you." "No you wouldn't." "No, I wouldn't. But I want to want to take a bullet for you." "Sometimes I think you'd make a better soulmate than whoever my soulmate is." 15) "Holy shit you're hot." "You're my soulmate?" "Okay, well, the way it's written on my wrist never sounded like that in my head. I figured the way you'd say it would be like ‘Damn! You're my soulmate?’ Like you were lucky I looked so good." "Oh no..." "Wha--Oh no? What do you mean oh no? I'm a catch. This is my friend Person A, they can tell you what a catch I am. Tell them." "I'm supposed to be getting married today!" "Ooh, yeah, okay, now I can see why you're upset. For a second I was rapidly losing confidence." 16) "You're my soulmate? No. No fucking way. I'm not living my life with this nightmare of a person." "Nightmare? I am not a nightmare. I am a goddamn dream. I'm pleasant to be around! I'm a national fucking treasure and Nick Cage wishes he could steal me!" 17) "Okay so don't be mad." "I'm already livid, please continue." "I may or may not have got in the wrong line to get my soulmark and accidentally mixed up my place and got the same mark as you." "Oh my god, are you kidding me?" "Look, I'm not pleased either. I'm not good at being on time, alright?" "The one time I decide to work with you you decide to ruin my life forever." "I'm not even the worst soulmate you could have. You could have gotten stuck with a murderer! Hmm? That would have been fun." "But my misery wouldn't be continuing like this if I'd gotten stuck with a murderer." 18) "You think I asked to be your soulmate? You think I asked to listen to you bitch and complain about every little fucking detail of everything? I wish I'd had my mark removed and my memory wiped because you are the worst soulmate in the history of soulmates." "If you don't want the mark then we'll just get them removed and we can forget about these arguments. We can forget about each other." 19) "Why didn't you tell me you were my soulmate?" "And get in the way of you and Person A? No way. You look at them like they're your whole world, you don't look at me like that. Just because we're soulmates doesn't mean you have to love me." "So you don't love me?" "I never said that." 20) "I don't care if A has my soulmark. You're my soulmate. You've always been my soulmate."

Regular Prompts

1) A comes from a wealthy family while B doesn't. B's excited that A is their soulmate but A is annoyed and offers the get the marks removed and pay B a large sum of money for the removal treatments and to keep B as far away from them as possible. 2) A's always been excited to meet their soulmate and can't wait to meet them. B's never believed in soulmates. When they meet A is excited and tells them they've always wanted to meet them and that they're excited to finally start a life with someone. B immediately lets A know they're not interested and don't care about the whole soulmate thing. A decides to spend their time convincing B that soulmates are a good thing and that they're perfect for one another. B tells them they'll spend a month with them but if they don't feel anything by the end of it A has to go with them to get it removed. 3) A's parents keep A isolated from the world for most of their life until it's time to meet their soulmate. They expect a to move in with and marry their soulmate within the first six months of meeting them because that's how things go. But when they meet their soulmate and their mark is activated their soulmate, person B, is already seeing someone born without a mark. When A explains that they're their soulmate B gets an apartment with them but refuses to break things off with Person C. A stays in their room for the most part while B comes and goes. A tries to win B's heart by cooking and eating dinner with them, but B insists they only moved in with them because they would have been arrested if they didn't. B tells them to give up but A insists they don't give up and that they're going to make B fall for them. 4) A goes to a marking ceremony where they stamp you with the marks based on compatibility, but when A and B get their position in line mixed up they end up getting marked as each other's soulmate. They don't get along at all and decide to ask the court if they can fix it. They tell them there's a removal process but that it takes months and cash. The two work hard and try to come up with ways to get money so they can afford it and when they get half the amount they need they realize they work well together. They laugh about it and decide to just try kissing as a joke or something. But when they kiss it's intense and they laugh it off until one's bold enough to ask if the other wants to do it again. When they do the two end up having incredible sex and decide maybe they should put off the removal process for a while so they can earn more money for important things they want and go to their friends weddings and things. But they just keep going to things and agreeing to go to places together that the thought of removal just disappears from their minds. (Bonus if it ends with their wedding.) 5) A is a super villain and B is a superhero. They meet in their normal identities and hit it off really well but keep making excuses to leave and save people or do bad things. They fight all the time but are never too badly injured for the other to notice. It's only when B is knocked unconscious by something that A unmasks them and panics, quickly making sure they'll be fine and set them on a roof so no one can find them but they're able to get up and go whenever they recover. A pretends not to know anything but B is curious as to why their rival hasn't shown their face in a while. They use their villain persona to invite B to a private meeting and tell them that they want to reveal themselves to them. B is confused but ready to take them in to the police. But when A reveals themselves to be their soulmate things get complicated. 6) A and B are from two different kingdoms and ice kingdom and a fire kingdom. When people are born with a soulmark from the opposite kingdom they are normally killed or their family hides the mark for them so no one can tell. A is the prince/princess of the ice kingdom and B is the prince/princess of the fire kingdom. When they're born with opposite marks their parents keep their marks hidden. When the two kings meet to keep peace and not start a war A and B join their meal and when they lock eyes they find themselves drawn to one another. When they excuse themselves to do something they reveal their marks to one another and touch hands, realizing they're unable to hurt one another. They agree to meet at the gate and have long chats about leaving home to be alone somewhere else. But when they leave the two kingdoms go to war and they know if they don't return people will die. When they return they do so holding hands, exposing their marks and revealing that they love one another. Their parents are shocked but don't know how to proceed. 7) A is an incredibly famous actress/actor who normally hides their mark to keep people from seeing it, but when it's leaked in a movie trailer by accident everyone desperately wants to have it. B is a baker who is trying to come up with more ideas for baked goods. When A comes in and sees B's mark they're annoyed and act rude thinking they're a fan who got the mark tattooed like many others have. B finds A incredibly obnoxious and explains they have no idea who they are but politely asks them to leave if they're going to be rude. A keeps coming back and trying new items while asking about B's soulmate. B claims that their soulmate is away, which A can tell is a lie. They end up growing closer and A invites B out to a movie premiere which B finds incredibly flashy but they agree because they do want to hang out with A. When it gets to the scene in the movie where A's soulmark is revealed they look over to see if B noticed but finds them asleep on their shoulder from baking all night to come up with another recipe. A is frustrated and decides to just come out to B and say it, surprising them. 8) (This one's long so I'll shorten it here by saying it's an AU where soulmate marks only form whenever soulmates kiss for the first time.) A is an incredibly famous musician who's known for being someone who is extremely money, sex, drugs, whatever. Person B is a model or an actor/actress who's famous but also known for being incredibly professional, doesn't drink or do drugs and is typically described as a buzzkill. When they're forced to work together for A's music video they're both annoyed. Person A finds B to be uptight and high maintenance and Person B finds A to be childish and annoying. A thinks the song is good while B makes an offhand comment that their songs aren't as good as they used to be. This upsets A and they leave the shoot telling everyone it's cancelled while B's boss tells them to fix it. They go to A's place to fix it but find A high out of their mind and insisting that B stay and that they can't call the hospital. B agrees and they listen to A go on about how B was right and that they worked on new songs and they have a moment but when A goes to kiss them B insists it isn't a good idea. When A comes down they remember everything and the two don't see each other for a while. But when they meet again to make the music video they find they have to kiss in a bathtub or something. When they kiss for the first time their soulmate marks form on their necks for the first time on camera and the music video ends with them pulling from each other and looking into each other's eyes as they realize they're soulmates. 9) A's a cam boy/cam girl that never shows their face while B constantly gets off too when they're alone. A and B form a kind of friendship. A's admits to never being really sold on the whole soulmate thing and doesn't really believe in it. B admits they do believe in soulmates but they've never met anyone with a mark that even looks remotely similar to theirs. A and B eventually start texting and talk about meeting up but never really end up doing it due to being too busy. When B tells them they just got a bonus and tell them they'll give the whole thing to see their face A tells them they like them and they'll do it for free if they send one back. They exchange nudes and B notices their soulmark on the back of A's neck. They immediately tell A they don't care how busy they are to meet them in person. A thinks it's just gonna be a hook up or something B just kisses them. A immediately sinks into it and B shows off their soulmark and A tells them they were actually really hoping their soulmate would be B. 10) A and B have known each other since they were kids. They have two incredibly similar soulmate marks but they're not completely identical. They become close friends and find themselves falling in love with each other as they get older. Neither one is brave enough to admit their feelings until they decide to tell each other on new years. But Person C shows up and their mark is identical to A's. B is devastated but happy for A. A is unhappy with C but assumes they're that way because of their feelings for B they've yet to get over. A tells C they're not ready to be intimate and C understands. When A's wedding comes up A finds them self looking at B the entire time longingly. A tells their family they aren't really ready to marry C and that they don't love them but B is the one that tells them it's okay. As A is about to say yes the ceremony is stopped and A's mom/dad admits they had A's mark tattooed to make it different from B's because they didn't want B to marry A. While A's other parent and the crowd are pissed A and B are just running into each others arms and just feel too complete to be angry in the moment.

[reallybadfeeling]

QuiObi Omegaverse Week - DAY 5

DAY 5: Small omega cock │ Intersex omega

Song: Body Moves - DNCE

Headcanon/Not-Fic:

So, while my song pick might feel pretty random (like always), the "girl next door" phrase in the song put this wonderful idea for a modern-ish AU (and yes, I can absolutely fit both these prompt in this idea!). I specifically say -ish because I actually picture this on earth (so no Force, Jedi or Sith) but somewhere between the 50s and the 60s. Basically Obi-Wan is a cute Omega that moves next door from where Qui-Gon lives and Obi-Wan at the time is in his 20s, baby face without a beard and longish hair always perfectly styled in either fancy updos when he's strolling around town or practical braiding when he's working on his garden/at home. But the most important thing is I can't help imagining him wearing these very stereotypical 50s dresses tight on his waist and with voluminous skirts, and cute frilly aprons when he bakes, because, of course he's a good cook! (I gotta be honest, I kinda want him to have a pet too, because I love the idea of him taking a dog for a walk while wearing high heals).

He's basically perfect housewife material, yet no matter how many Alpha's try to court him, he always pushes them away. So Qui-Gon doesn't even try to show off for Obi-Wan! For one, Qui-Gon knows he's way too old. Second, he's the divorced Alpha everyone gossips about (since at the time it's very scandalous to divorce and it's always assumed it's the Alpha's fault). Third, Obi-Wan barely speaks to him so it's pretty obvious that any other kind of attention isn't gonna be well received. Then one day Obi-Wan is picked to host a garden party for the whole neighborhood since he has a nice pool in his backyard (nobody even knows why he has so much money while still being single). And Qui-Gon can't help but stare at Obi-Wan's tiny tits, and his small waist and the slight bulge of his tiny cock showing because of the tight fitting swimsuit he wears. Of course Obi-Wan notices, but instead of calling him out or slapping him for being a pervert, he just blushes and smile at Qui-Gon and strikes multiple conversations with him. And it keeps happening after that. Obi-Wan is outdoor doing some gardening and Qui-Gon comes back from work? They talk about their past and have a glass of iced tea together, which is when Qui-Gon finds out that Obi-Wan is actually a widower, and he changed town because his previous husband (I'm thinking Maul) was involved with the Mafia or something and he's been killed (which means he inherited the money). Qui-Gon is retrieving his mail early in the morning before going to work and Obi-Wan waves at him from the kitchen window? Qui-Gon ends up being invited to Obi-Wan's house for breakfast (it doesn't matter that Qui-Gon already ate an apple and called it a day, he goes and enjoys Obi-Wan's cooking). Which is when Qui-Gon opens up about his divorce (I don't know, pick whoever you want) and he ends up being super later for work. They meet at the grocery store? They end up doing their shopping together and Obi-Wan invites him to have lunch at his to repay Qui-Gon for being a gentlemen and carrying Obi-Wan's groceries too. It feels innocent enough, but Obi-Wan is always leaning close to Qui-Gon, or holding onto his arm when they walk side by side and... Is Qui-Gon going mad or has Obi-Wan stopped taking his suppressants?! He smells so sweet! And of course Qui-Gon just can't stop himself, he has to give up and ask Obi-Wan if he wants to go on a proper date, like if he wants to have dinner at a fancy restaurant that Qui-Gon isn't even sure he can afford but wants Obi-Wan to go to anyway. To which Obi-Wan kind of chuckles in his face 'cause Obi-Wan thought they'd been dating for weeks, he even gave a kiss on the corner of Qui-Gon's lips last time he accompanied Obi-Wan back to his home. And how the fuck did Qui-Gon not notice this? He is SO DUMB! So, they obviously go from very slow to very fast because Qui-Gon has lost enough time and boi oh boi does he want to worship Obi-Wan's perfect body!

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Guilty. (Part 11).

Part Eleven.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: A bit of dirty talk, You’re unsure about how Steve feels about you until he decides to make things official. You say the three words. Angst, fluff, a bit of smut? Wanda is a bitch, but in a meaningful way? Natasha is the long lost sister I always wish I had.

Notes: As you can see, I know nothing about law so I grazed over the actual trial. However, we’ve reached a stepping stone in the relationship. Everyone give Steve a slow clap for making progress with Y/n. 

Masterlist

Part Eleven:

Of all things to anticipate to go wrong, you never prepared for Steve being late. At first you figured he was just stopping for coffee, had to swing by the office or something. Because you hadn't heard from him yet, which is uncommon for Steve. He never runs late, and he never runs late without calling you to explain why.

But you're starting to work yourself up into an anxious nervousness, pacing the lobby of the court house, Natasha watching your every move, Tony looking beyond bored, Rumlow half asleep in one of the chairs lined up against the wall. Bucky Barnes looks like he's about to pass out.

Steve promised to lead this case, he promised to win this case, and now he's running late.

The confidence you felt, the confidence you all felt in him is dwindling away by the minute.

The trial is scheduled to start in less than half an hour, you were supposed to prep one last time together, everyone here for the occasion. You feel embarrassed, your partner let you down, and you have nothing to say to everyone else who is expecting answers.

"Alright, Y/n. We've waited long enough. Where's your guy?" Tony stands, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't he leading the case?" Barnes takes a step forward, stepping between you and Tony. "Are you stepping up?"

You swallow, nervous, on the spot, you don't know what to do.

Natasha grabs your arm, her cell phone pressed to her ear, and she pulls you away from the small group, heading towards the door.

Once you're outside, you take a deep breath, the fresh air helping to clear your mind, your panic subsiding.

"He's going to show." Is the first thing she says, digging into her bag on her shoulder. 'You're sweating off your makeup, you need to relax." She blots your forehead and nose, powders your face with a layer of translucent powder, and retouches your lipstick. "No more coffee for you, you're on an adrenaline high."

Her ability to stay calm is admirable. "Thank you," You sigh, deflating a little. "I didn't mean to freak, it's just-"

"Your career and reputation are both resting on the shoulders of a guy who can't set an alarm for his big day in court?" She smiles, sarcastically. "Yeah, been there, done that."

She sighs, handing you a plastic bottle. It's not until you open the top that you realize that the clear liquid isn't water. "Vodka? Really?"

"Take a sip." She balances her phone between her ear and shoulder. "You need it." Her attention is off of you, turning to look off into the horizon, the city is alive with people rushing to work, cars, busses, the sound of traffic muting her voice to your ears. "And you, Steve Rogers need to step on it. Poor Y/n is stressed to all hell."

Knowing that she at least got him on the phone is good enough for you. You didn't plan for him not showing up. Maybe you should have, just in case.

"He's dead to me." You say, handing her the bottle. "If he can't hear me, tell him. He's dead."

He promised to take care of everything, promised everything will be fine, then he didn't show up on time, leaving you to look like an idiot.

"Unbelievable."

The caffeine in your system only seems to work up your nervousness even further, but the sip of vodka helps. It gives you a bit of clarity, courage to face the group of men demanding answers from you.

"The asshole is just running late, forgot to set an alarm." You call over to them, heels echoing through the empty lobby. "He's coming."

Tony's eyebrows shoot up, "Oh, he's in the dog house tonight for sure."

You can bet your ass on that one, Stark.

When he does show, he looks a mess, hair ruffled, eyes cracked red with lack of sleep, and it pisses you off even more. He slept in and still didn't get any sleep.

Tony offers to take him into the restroom, so does Natasha, but this is one you want to handle yourself. You tell them to go out there, "We'll be out in five."

Steve trails after you like a lost puppy, he knows he fucked up, and you double check twice to make sure no one is around, pulling him into the men's bathroom.

You wet your hands, running them through his hair, flattening the fluffy tufts that stick out. All the while his eyes are on you, trying to read your expression, silent as you fix him up. You straighten his tie, tuck in his shirt, fasten his belt one hole tighter.

There's nothing else you can do about his face, red eyes, scruff lining his jaw.

"Don't be mad."

He has the nerve to try to talk you down, as if he isn't in the wrong, as if it's perfectly okay for you to finish dressing him in the bathroom five minutes before you're scheduled to appear in court.

"What were you doing last night?" You ask, leaning over the sink, staring at him through his reflection in the mirror.

"Prep." He shrugs, lips quirking up into half a smirk, "A little stress relief."

You snort, resolve breaking as your mind runs wild. "You're late to court because you touched yourself last night?"

He laughs, inching forward, his hands on your waist. "No, I'm late because I passed out after beating my dick to the thought of you."

You're shocked at his words, speechless, and you're putty in his hands when he starts to pull you back against his chest, his chin resting on your shoulder, his lips against your ear.

"Me?"

He hums, kissing your ear, snagging your earing between his teeth. "Yes, you. And everything I'm going to do to you as soon as we leave this place."

He presses you flat against him, the outline of his cock pressing against your ass, and it takes everything within you not to moan, not to bend over the sink and let him fuck you right now.

Anyone could walk in, anyone could hear you, and that dangerous thrill makes it all the more exciting. So you turn, finding your confidence, feeding into the warmth and temptation of vodka, and you kiss him.

You ruin the work you just did to fix his hair, fingers threading through the strands at his neck and tugging, his lips crashing to yours with a desperation you equally share. You've been edging each other for weeks, teasing each other every day to prepare you for this. For today.

"I'm going to tear your pussy apart." He whispers against your lips, backing you up against the sink. "I'm going to fuck you until you pass out, I'm going to make you forget why you're so mad at me." He licks into your mouth, tongue brushing yours. "I'm going to fuck you until you pass out and make you late for work tomorrow."

Before you can say anything else, before you can sit back on the edge of the sink and wrap your legs around his waist, before you can pull him closer and tell him how badly you want it, the door flies open.

Rather than push apart, Steve pulls you closer, as if shielding you from whoever decided to walk in.

"I fucking knew it." Tony glares at the both of you, arms crossed over his chest. "You can't wait just one more hour? Literally you can fuck until the sun goes down. But here? Now? It's like you want to throw all of this away."

This is strike two. First Steve was late showing up, now you're both risking getting caught, and already things are starting off terribly.

You rush to fix his hair, then rush after Tony, leaving Steve to gather his nerve to follow you.

"Tony, wait."

He sighs, stopping, turning to you with a look on his face that you can't quite place. "I get it, okay? I do. You're hot, and young, and this is exciting for you. I would take you in the bathroom and fuck you myself if I were in Steve's shoes." He says, "But I'm not. I have a family, a business, a very delicate career and reputation, and it's all resting on your shoulders. And you're in there literally fucking around!"

He stops paces, turns back to you, "And it's not just me! It's Barnes and Rumlow, even Natasha is involved now."

"Okay, I get it!" You cut him off before he can say anything else. "Don't yell at me like I'm a child, don't act like I haven't been sticking my neck out there for all of you this entire time! Fine, you caught us kissing in the bathroom, is that really the problem?"

He looks, stressed. Like he could also use a good swig of Natasha's water bottle.

"Sorry." He holds his hands up in surrender. "I lost my cool, not cool. Just seeing that asshole sitting in there looking so smug, I really hope we win this."

"We will." Steve joins you, dress shoes clicking against the polished floors of the lobby. "But everyone in there probably thinks we're no shows at this rate." Steve sighs, nodding to you, then to Stark. "Shall we?"

Things are about to change. Drastically.

The moment you step into that room, it's game on. The Steve you're standing with right now will be replaced by a completely different person. No more shared glances, no more secret kisses or unseen touches.

So you grab his hand one last time, giving it a good squeeze before he opens the door. His hand slips from yours, and you turn off your racing mind.

You scan the stands for familiar faces, Natasha, Rumlow and Barnes are seated and waiting for you. On the other side, Zeke Stane looks much different in person than in his photos. So does Pietro Maximoff. And...

Wanda, her eyes are angry as she looks at you. You feel betrayed, but you force the emotion down, stone faced as you walk down the aisle and take your seat. You will not let her see the effect it has on you, you will not give them a single thing to use against you.

Attachments are a weakness. Steve taught you that, and if there's any time to do him proud, it would be now.

"Just brush it off." He leans down to whisper in your ear. "We'll talk about it later."

You nod, hands folded and resting in your lap.

Steve doesn't speak to you again.

He speaks to the court room in a manner of professionalism you didn't think he could pull off based on how he showed up. He didn't acknowledge you once, didn't spare you a single glance. You became part of the wall, unnoticed by everyone in the room, which was the plan. You were Steve's weakest link, allowing you to do anything now would cost you everything, you understand why Steve thought it was so important to be the face of the case.

Wanda knew about your relationship, if the attention is brought on you for even a moment, you have no doubt in your mind that Pietro Maximoff would exploit it.

When Natasha is called to the stand, she kisses your cheek before getting up, and for a moment, just a split second you see Steve's gaze linger on your face, a longing that you're afraid someone will pick up on.

No one does.

As usual, she charms her way into the favor of those around her. She's friendly, funny, open. You've never seen her act so hard before, you knew it would be a good idea to use her.

Tony however doesn't change a thing about himself, which makes his statements authentic. He doesn't have to act like a people pleaser, he is a people pleaser. He has the jury eating out of the palm of his hand, and you can tell Steve is satisfied in the way he smirks during his closing statement.

You'll give it to Pietro, he did try. He's a good lawyer, he nearly had the case in his favor, up until you called your witnesses to the stand. All four of them.

When both judge and jury vote in favor of team Barnes, you instantly feel a sense of relief wash over you. All your hard work had paid off. You did it. Steve did it, the smile on his face brings one to your own.

You feel proud of him, proud of yourself.

Until you look across the room.

It's like you're stuck in time, Wanda is staring right at you, walking in your direction. The celebration is short lived, she stands in front of you with a hatred you hoped to never see in her. You had hoped she wouldn't turn out like you, yet here she is, a determination in her eyes that scares you.

"Don't think you've won." She says, voice low. "I told Steve that I had to do this, he didn't listen."

You turn to look at Steve, he's already watching.

"We won, let it go." You try to reason with her. "We can put this behind us, we can work on a different case together, something less risky and less personal."

She turns to look at her brother, and you understand that it's no use. She's devoted to him, a loyalty binding them that you can relate to. You feel the same for Steve, you would do the same for Steve if he asked. You don't blame her. But you can't let her get away with it either.

"I'm warning you, because you never did wrong by me. This isn't personal." For a moment she looks sad. "By noon your secret will be out. They'll call for a retrial."

She leaves you with that information, you feel the presence of Steve behind you, his hands on your shoulders, trying to get your attention.

But you feel numb.

It hurts that she ended up on the wrong side of things, it hurts that she failed to learn the lesson you tried to teach her.

Steve knew he shouldn't have let Wanda leave. He knew that the situation would blow up in his face, he knew that she was up to no good and that she should have been investigated rather than let go.

But in his mind, the few moments of peace it gave you was worth it. You not knowing was better.

But now it's beyond his control.

Everything was about to blow up in your face, and there's nothing you can do about it.

"Y/n, get it together." His grip tightens on your shoulder, bringing you back. "We need to return to the office, calculate our next move."

Noon will be in a couple of hours, you don't have much time.

"Steve, it won't matter." You shake your head. "She's going to out us, everything you did today will-"

"Shh." He shushes you, tugging you a little closer. "I knew this would happen. The day she stormed out, I caught her trying to steal case evidence. I planned for this."

The fact that he knew this would happen only adds to your anger. No matter which way you turn, no matter how close you are to having things go your way, Steve finds some way to mess it up. There's always some plot you don't know about, some surprise information to slap you in the face and make you feel stupid for believing that you're actually partners.

Steve Rogers still doesn't trust you.

But you don't have time to dwell on it now.

"What do you suggest we do then, since you have it all planned out?" You don't even bother to hide the attitude, you realize you don't care anymore.

Everything is on the line, it's all about to come crashing down around you. So who cares?

"We put out a statement about our relationship before she does." He seems so sure of himself, so confident that this will be the answer that it makes you laugh.

"What relationship?" This isn't the place to talk about it, this isn't the time to have a lovers feud. But this is the last straw for you. "I've been kept in the dark about everything from the very beginning, and now you want to act like we're a team? A couple?"

There's a hard set in his jaw that tells you he won't let you carry on like this much longer. He's losing his patience with you, but you press on.

"You make me look like a piece of arm candy, undermine my abilities as a lawyer ad if you aren't the person who taught me everything I know, you plot against me to have things go in your favor, and then when things blow up you expect me to just sit back and trust you to handle it?"

You can feel eyes on you, Natasha, Tony, even James is invested in the argument.

"I trust you, but you don't trust me." You shove him, as childish as it is, you need to express how upset you really are. "You trained me, but you don't believe in me. You use me as a lap dog to run your errands, fetch your research and build your case for you so that you can present it and get all the credit. And now, I have to deal with this? My assistant turned on me, and you knew about it?"

"Y/n, hun, this isn't the best place to do this." Natasha grabs your arms, pulls you a few steps back away from Steve. "We have a lot to discuss, we need to get a story out before Wanda does, I can help. But we need to leave."

You want to pry away from her, slap Steve across his righteous looking face, knock his ego down a few pegs and prove that he can't control everything.

He can't control you.

But what would that prove? How young you are, how childish you are, how in need of his guidance you are? The point you made would be lost if you acted out irrationally.

"Yeah, okay." You take a deep breath, eyes shifting from Steve to Tony. "I could use your help, you know about damage control better than anyone."

"My office or yours?" Natasha asks.

"Yours. It's bigger." And as if nothing happened, you turn to Steve and smile, watching as he raises and eyebrow in question. "Are you coming with? Are you going to reveal your glorious plan to me now?"

All he can do is nod, shocked into a lack of words, and Tony snickers beside him.

You smooth out your suit jacket, push your hair back off of your face and put on your best award winning smile. "James, Brock, we'll have to have dinner to celebrate. Congratulations on your victory, I'll ensure that Stark Industries is in contact with you both about your settlements soon."

"Hopefully the next dinner goes better than the last one." Bucky Barnes smiles back, shaking your hand. "You're one hell of a lawyer, Y/n. I wish I could have seen you in action."

"Yeah, me too."

The next time you see them, you hope it's because you have good news.

Natasha holds you hand as you leave the court house, fingers entwined and walking a few paces behind everyone else. She slips you a tiny bit more vodka, taking a sip of her own, and together you giggle about how stupid and dramatic the entire situation had been.

Since the very beginning, things had been unusual. You only hope that you can recover from it, that everyone can walk away with a happy ending. You and Steve included.

Natasha tugs you to a stop before you get to your car, nodding over towards Steve, who stands watching you. "Ride with him." She whispers in your ear. "Either he's going to fuck you in his car or apologize to you."

His eyes are set on your face, cold, unrecognizable, a chill snaking up your spine at the thought of what he's going to do to you.

She giggles in your ear, giving your arm a light squeeze before leaving you to your fate.

Steve looks, indifferent. Not upset like you thought he would be, more like he expected it, and accepted it. He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back against his mustang, and for a moment he isn't a lawyer. He's a dangerous boy you might have met while you were in college, with a loud car, lose mouth, and no morals. He's someone you would get so caught up that you just might lose yourself, and perhaps that's what happened.

He taught you things, showed you things, had you wrapped around his finger, and now you're not so sure where you stand anymore.

"Did you enjoy getting that out of your system?" He asks, reaching out for you when you get close enough.

"A little." You shrug. "I'm not sure it's out of my system just yet."

He smirks, tugging you hand. "That's alright, you can take it out on me later." His voice is a tone that you can't mistake, low, sultry, and you know exactly what he means. "But for now, I need to ask you something."

You tilt your head, curious, almost shy as the air grows thick between you.

"Do you want to make this official between us?" He asks. "No more hiding, no more sneaking around. Just me and you, for real."

For real, as if everything between you was pretend. And maybe it was, because you wanted so much more from him that you forced yourself to be okay with living in secret.

"Steve, that's all I ever wanted."

He takes your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss so soft you aren't sure who he is anymore. This is a side of Steve you've never seen before.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry I couldn't give it to your sooner." He says. "I'm sorry that I had to put you through so much."

His apology sounds sincere, and that's a first for you. You've never seen him so vulnerable, it means so much more to you than he'll ever know.

"I love you." You say it with all the confidence you can muster, watching as a smile works its way across his lips.

"I love you more."

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I’m not sure when the next update will be up, but it will be STEAMY. 

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