#Faye writes

[f4ye-4]

youtube ❤︎

featuring:Ace, Usopp, Nami, Robin

Prompt : what do they watch on youtube ? | a lil swf hc 💆🏻‍♀️

•𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐠𝐚𝐬 .𝐃 𝐀𝐂𝐄

you know the indian home-builders ? the ones you come across randomly at 3 am, yea those ones

obvi mugbang videos w/ luffy >:)

tuto videos like « how to restore a burned car »

videos of ppl risking their life by climb into buildings it has a name but i forgot it , he secretly wanna film some videos like this too

•𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏

slingshot tricks

prob videos like « stars before and after » or « the most dangerous waters slides of THE WORLD » ft.Luffy :D

hair care and haircuts tips

i really don’t know why but asmr videos but like it’s his little secret yk

slime recipes without glue, floor, borax, water, eye drops and wtv

•𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

fashion vids, i bet she would be into doin’ her own 🤭

fashion shows

« how to make money easily »

« how to make money off people »

« how to pull off the heist of the century discreetly and easily in three steps »

it’s progressively getting worse

a lot of makeup vids too and self/skin care

•𝐍. 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

JAZZ

like jazz replays of her fav albums or sum

archeological digs

most important history moments

historic full of childish vids bc of chopper like « cotton candy eating for 10 hours straight »

but also « #top ten kids falls » or vines

a short one piece hc but i felt like writing self indulgent stuff recently :) | back2blog

[faye-writes-stuff]

welp here we go again

INCORRECT QUOTES TIMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

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Y/n: petition to remove the 'd' from Wednesday Dream: Wednesay Y/n: Not what I had in mind, but I'm flexible

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Y/n: Dream, stop! This isn't you, you've gone mad with power! Dream: Well of course I have. Dream: Have you ever tried going mad without power? Dream: It's boring.

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Y/n: Today is a day of running through hurdles. Ranboo: Aren’t you supposed to jump OVER hurdles? Y/n: Whatever. Fear is only something to be afraid of if you let it scare you.

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Y/n: Ranboo... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor? Ranboo: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned. Y/n: Y/n: I wrote sanitize, Ranboo

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Y/n: Sorry it took me so long to bail you out of jail Sapnap: No it’s my fault, I shouldn’t’ve used my one phone call to prank call the police

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Y/n: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Sapnap: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

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George: Welcome, fellow idiots Y/n: Hello, George George: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot Y/n: You underestimate me

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George: *Gets down on one knee* Y/n: Oh my god, it’s finally happening. George: *Falls over* Y/n: The poison is kicking in.

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Tommy: Change is inedible. Y/n: Don't you mean inevitable? Tommy, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

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Tommy: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Y/n's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get them out...

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Tubbo: Man, I only ever see you awake, do you ever shut down or stop running? Y/n: Oh, I’m always running Y/n: The question is from what

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Tubbo: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are. Y/n: It’s not a joke. Y/n: *sniffles* Y/n: I’m a legit snack.

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Foolish: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao Y/n: What did you do op? Foolish: A MISTAKE

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Y/n: Foolish... Foolish: Oh no, 'Foolish' in b-flat. Foolish: You're disappointed.

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Technoblade: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Y/n: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Technoblade, desperately, as Y/n bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n: Oh! B positive. Technoblade: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Y/n:

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

Technoblade, in a meeting: My policy is if you see something, say something. Y/n: I saw a squirrel in a tree today! Technoblade, with the tone of someone who is used to Y/n: Outstanding. Technoblade: This is what I’m talking about people.

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Technoblade: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Y/n: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Technoblade: Absolutely not.

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

i accidentally hit post on this too early so if you saw this b4 it was finished- no you didn't

ANYWAYS enjoy, because the last one got over 300 likes so

ic master list :)

[dancingwiththefae]

at the end of all things

1.3k, Milva & Jaskier, reference to torture, flashbacks, hurt/comfort, potential (mild) book spoilers In a quiet moment in Brokilon, Milva and Jaskier come to understand each other AO3

“Rience is dead.”

The words came from the witcher's mouth with a wheeze. It wasn't a name she recognised, but then why would she. She waited for the bard's response. When none came, she risked a glance in at them. Jaskier sat with his back to her, leaning over Geralt. The witcher was still bed-bound. Sometimes she wondered how he was still breathing. For the first time since she met him, the bard was quiet. It was unnerving. When he eventually spoke, she had to strain her ears to hear.

“Are you sure?” There was a wobble to his voice. An uncertainty that she only ever heard from him in moments like this, when she really shouldn't be listening. But she couldn't help it. These people were strangers in her home. Her safe place. The witcher, she understood. Eithne vouched for him. They had a history, an understanding. The bard was a different story. Every inch the human. Swanning in here like he owned the place. His incessant chatter and naivety grated on her. He didn't belong here. He belonged in the comfort of cities. In moments like this she wasn't so sure. And that was what irritated her the most.

“Killed him myself,” the witcher replied. The tension eased from the bard's shoulders ever so slightly. He took a deep breath and dropped his head.

“Good,” he said at last, almost at a whisper, “that's- that's good.”

Jaskier turned away and Milva slipped away from the entrance.

“You should rest,” he mumbled, “I'll come back to check on you in a bit.”

The witcher hummed and Milva heard shuffling as Jaskier rose from the ground. He breezed straight past her as he left, either unaware or uncaring of her presence. Curiosity got the better of her and she followed close behind.

“Who's Rience?” she asked as she matched pace beside him. He didn't answer at first, heading away from the settlement. She followed in silence.

“He's a mage.” She almost jumped, she was starting to suspect he wouldn't answer at all. “With a penchant for fire.”

He stopped then and turned to face her. She studied him carefully. He refused to look her in the eye, he looked at almost anything but her. He worried at his fingers, a habit that she had noticed since he got here. He seemed to curl in on himself slightly. There was more to this than that.

“He hurt you?” she guessed.

Jaskier pursed his lips and looked down at his hands. And then he sighed and sat down on a log.

“He wanted information,” he began slowly, “information that I didn't have. But he wouldn't take no for an answer.”

Milva frowned, considering his words.

“He tortured you,” she said as she sat down opposite him. The bard gave a short nod towards the ground. They both descended into silence. She didn't know what to say to that. Something soft. Reassuring. Something like, 'it wasn't your fault' or 'it's going to be okay. They were not words that she could say because she knew that they were not true.

A small child with a bow in her hand who only ever wanted to please her father.

“Life's unfair like that,” she settled on instead, “the world is harsh.”

The bard chewed his lip, thinking over what she had said.

“You're right,” he replied softly, “but forgive me for wanting to believe otherwise.”

She hated him for that. She envied him. To still feel like there was good in this world, that things would work out for you in the end. She wanted to dismiss the thought outright. Call him foolish for entertaining the idea even after what he had been through. What his friend had been through. It was unfair. Unjust. Cruel. And that's the way it has always been. Will always be. The only thing to do was to harden yourself to it. If you saw it coming, it wouldn't hurt so much when it arrived. Yet he, who could worm his way even into Brokilon, who talks and sings incessantly, who has little regard for anyone but himself. He is allowed to think different. That, she decided, was what was truly unfair.

As they sat together, away from everyone else, she allowed herself a moment to feel the weight of it, just as he felt the weight of his own burdens. There was something different about him here. Like she was able to glimpse behind the mask, see the man that was underneath. If it was a facade he had, it was a solid one. But then, was she any different. He looked as though he had more to say, a crease forming on his brow, lips parted slightly.

“I thought-” Jaskier cut himself off and frowned. She waited silently for him to continue. “I thought it would be better when he was dead. I thought I would feel...happier. But I just feel the same.”

Her stepfather on the ground, spitting blood. The rage that had built up inside of her cooling in an instant. She gave him a few kicks and ran.

“If only it were that simple,” she uttered, almost under her breath, but the bard heard it anyway. The way he looked at her made her uncomfortable. It was like he could really see her. She had his full undivided attention, his sympathy, his understanding. She didn't like it. It was too personal. A part of her wished he would go back to being the idiot she had let into the forest so that she had an excuse to yell at him again. Eventually his eyes slipped away from her and she let out a breath. He seemed lost in thought. The air around them, though heavy, was peaceful and so she dared not disturb it by asking what was on his mind. It wouldn't have took much to guess anyway.

She followed his line of sight down to his hands, where he was rubbing his thumb across his fingers. Back and forth, back and forth. It was then that she finally noticed what he was doing. It was faint, but from this close, she could see the scarring. He worried at it rhythmically, soothingly. She couldn't help but lean forward to get a better look. Milva had been around long enough to recognise the tightness of the skin, the change in tone. They were burns. He pulled his hand back suddenly. She looked up to find him staring back at her. He looked as though he'd been caught, though she couldn't understand why. He opened and closed his mouth a few times and then stood abruptly.

“I should check on geralt.”

He made to leave. She reached her arm out to stop him.

“The waters,” she explained, nodding towards the scars, “they can heal you too.”

“Oh,” he smiled, the mask was firmly back in place, “don't waste it on an old fool like me.”

Milva wanted to argue, but something in his face told her not to. Instead she stepped aside to allow him past. He offered a small nod as he left, nothing more. She watched him as he walked towards where Geralt lay. The way he stood straighter as he left the safety of their hideaway. As he walked away, she was sure that what was shared between them would never be spoken about again. He was a fool. Fivolous and naïve of what lay ahead. But for a moment, she glimpsed something more, something deeper than that. And, she feared, he had seen the same in her. Well, if the idiot was going to walk straight into a war without thinking to protect himself, she was just going to have to do it for him. She went in search of her bow. It was time to go hunting.

[kratosnaturals]

Deyr fé, deyja frændr, deyr sjálfr it sama, en orðstírr deyr aldregi, hveim er sér góðan getr. Deyr fé, deyja frændr, deyr sjálfr it sama, ek veit einn at aldri deyr, dómr um dauðan hvern.

If Miraak had to translate it to the modern tongue for anyone, it‘d mean as much as;

Cattle die, kinsmen die, thyself too soon must die, but one thing never, I ween, will die, fair fame of one who has earned. Cattle die, kinsmen die, thyself too soon must die, but one thing never, I ween, will die, the doom on each one dead.

Just two verses of a much larger collection of ancient poetry - such was taught to every atmoran child since their holy ancestors‘ time. They do not understand it however, for what is such poetry to the simple mind of a child?

He himself did not understand his elders words for a long, long time. Only when he finally came of age did he realise that those honeyed words were simply well-worded motivation to stick to what he was taught and not stray from the path of a great, obedient priest.

The true meaning did not matter, really. His father had such a way with words, after all; to drive the stake of fear into his sons heart. He would always find a way to teach his child a valuable lesson, preferably with a whip or his deep, booming growl of a voice.

Being trapped in Apocrypha gave him countless lifetimes to reflect on those words. Of great men and their lives, of their conquests, of superior morality, to heed the lessons taught by ones elders and life.

He memorised every verse, every sentence, every word. He studied the old scrolls of poetry like a scholar, a poet, a critic. He‘d whisper it among himself and the mute Seekers like a mantra.

Until he finally understood their meaning, much too late to aid him in his life -

Gráðugr halr, nema geðs viti, etr sér aldrtrega; oft fær hlægis er með horskum kemr, manni heimskum magi. If Miraak had to translate it to the modern tongue for anyone, it‘d mean as much as; A greedy man, if he be not mindful, eats to his own life's hurt; oft the belly of the fool will bring him to scorn, when he seeks the circle of the wise.

He stopped studying the poems then, more inclined to undo the choices he made in his mortal life; to reclaim all that he had lost, all that was ripped from him.

So he lay down the torn scrolls of parchment, no more gazes cast upon the smeared, eroding ink, and made corrupted gold his new face; he who would defy his master again. He would reclaim his freedom; through blood and death, out of the ashes and dust of his regrets.

Now up! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/52995712/chapters/134067436)

[fayes-fics]

More about James Darby and his siblings from Moments

Moments masterpost

No one asked for this, I’m just getting out of my head and onto this blog haha.

James and what he calls his parents

In Moments, James called John ‘Papa’ and calls his mother ‘Mama’ up until during their stay at Aubrey Hall when he changed it to ‘Mummy’. (Not sure if anyone noticed that switch, I tried to keep it subtle)

Why? Because Benedict keeps referring to her as “your mummy” and James looks up to him so much, he starts calling her Mummy instead 🥹 It’s also why he chooses Daddy for Benedict when they ask, because Daddy goes with Mummy, and James hoped Benedict would love it, and of course he did. (Tbh I think the greatest love story I’ll ever tell is Benedict and James lol.)

As James gets older he changes what he calls his parents. When he is 11 he starts calling them Mother and Father on occasion, mostly in formal settings, to seem more grown up, or when he’s annoyed at them about something (see Moments Epilogue 2). When he’s happy and excited he still calls them Mummy and Daddy until he is about 18.

About James’ parentage

James’ mother never tells him who his true father is until he asks outright. As he grows up his memory of John Darby fades. When he is fourteen he finally confronts his mother about it and she comes clean, saying yes Benedict is in fact his father, telling him she wanted so much for him to know the truth, but also wants him to believe he is the rightful Viscount. She says John was incapable of having children (not exactly a lie) but loved James as his own and always wanted him to be Viscount. James is upset at first but grows to understand why his mother kept it from him. He and the Bridgertons never tell a soul the truth, but rumours swirl his whole life due to his overwhelming resemblance to Benedict.

Relationship with his siblings

There is a 6 year age gap between him and Isobel, 8 years to Amelia and 10 years to Thomas. He is very protective over them all, particularly Amelia whom he is closest to. He knows that Isobel can more than hold her own, but will leap to her defence if needed. Thomas is his baby brother but realises once he grows taller than James that he would turn to him in a fight, not the other way around.

Personalities of his siblings

James is so much like Benedict in looks and temperament, artistic, soulful and empathetic but with a sense of fun. Isobel is a force of nature, intelligent and forthright in her opinions on everything (she idolises her aunt Eloise). Amelia is the sweet, cheeky one who inherited her dads love for pulling a funny face, has everyone laughing with her antics and loves an audience. Thomas is the most easy going and nothing seems to rile him, he is also naturally very athletic and grows up to be the tallest, towering 4 inches over his dad and older brother. I won’t say any more about them, as I have some story ideas for them all 😊

[night-faye]

Chapters: 59/? Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Knights of the Round Table & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gwaine & Gwaine's Sister (Merlin), Gwen & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Agravaine (Merlin), Morgana (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Elyan (Merlin), Percival (Merlin), Aithusa (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Caerleon (Merlin), Queen Annis (Merlin), Morgause (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin), Gwaine's Sister (Merlin), Freya (Merlin), Sefa (Merlin) Additional Tags: Grief, Canon Divergence - Episode: s04e01-02 The Darkest Hour, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Merlin's magic revealed to the knights of the round table, I hated the stew scene in Aithusa so I FIXED IT, The knights being great, Aithusa is an adorable baby, What is a dragon if not a scaly cat that can breathe fire?, Gwen is great we love Gwen, Merlin's magic is revealed to Gwen, Uther lives past The Wicked Day, Oh we're getting to the intrigue now, Arthur's incredibly complicated relationship with his father is explored, Arthur actually has a few braincells rattling around in there, Mysteries, Gwaine's nobility is explored, Very minor Arwen (There's some focus on it but it's not the main thing), Uther's never ending suckiness, Morgana Redemption (Merlin), Possibly inaccurate horses for the time but dragons exist so it's fine, Not beta read we die like Lancelot shouldn't have, What happens when an Arthurian nerd watches Merlin? This does Summary:

“I was born with magic, Arthur. So please, stop saying it’s evil.”

“Merlin…”

“It’s just a tool, Arthur, like your sword. It’s only as evil or as good as the one who wields it.”

[fvaleraye]

Odd Jobs

heyyyyyyyy guys

it's been a while since we've posted any real writing, but we finished smth a few days ago. it's for Hunter, not Scintillam, sorry, but we had to write something and Hunter was what we could get ourself to type out, so Hunter is what you get "well why did it take you a few days to post it" well, for one, we had to get it proofread rq(thanks to @artnerd1123 for that <3), and secondly we just... kind of ended up overthinking ourself into a downward death spiral over it. we're not getting into why.

fun fact, actually- this third chapter of Hunter had over FIVE complete rewrites! some of those earlier versions are going to be reworked into later chapters, but the long and short of it is just "it feels too early to jump into the main meat of the story, and we have character building to do" so we're doing a bit more character building

anywhere, here u go

A small, desert planet. Relatively close to Terran Standard Hours, but not quite. Mostly empty, save for an early settlement or two, and a few camps. Temperate for most of the year, despite its ecology. Might not even need terraforming to grow plants. The main issue was the wildlife. But those were all facts for planetary settlers to worry about.

The planet’s gravity was what one was focused on today. It was slightly heavier than something like earth. Not enough to affect day to day life, for the most part.

But it was enough to affect the trajectory of a bullet. 

Bang. “Shit-!”

Nothing new to an interplanetary bounty hunter, however. Just some slight calibrations, that was all that was needed.  Raise the scope by a few micrometers. 

Bang.

Increase power to the chamber. 

Bang.

A few more micrometers, accounting for the heavier rounds.

Bang.

Steep walls around the camp, nestled in a ravine. Account for tailwind.

Bang.

A stomach flat on the ground. Low. Shields charged, just in case. Comfortable, laying next to a neat stack of fresh mags. The boxy magazines were heavy enough you could kill someone just by hitting them with it. The bullets were large, and each mag held two dozen. Quick kills, long distance, armor piercing. Perhaps a bit expensive to be shooting at common pirates, but everyone would get one. She made sure she brought enough to share with the whole class.

Two pirates stood nestled behind a rock, cowering from the shooting range their camp had turned into, rifles at the ready. Others were ducked tightly, hugging the ground around the camp as they found cover, while the unlucky ones littered the killbox. The armored ones had holes blown in their chest pieces. The more fragile ones had limb scattered about, a few heads that simply vanished.

“The fuck are you lot waitin’ for?!” The big one yelled from across the way, voice gravely and slightly distorted by a low quality speaker in his helmet. He was bulky, armored, with two sets of arms- clearly the leader, or the closest thing the pirates had to one left. “Get out there or-!”

“All due respect, hoss,” another called, human, frontier accent, “that ain’t happenin’.”

“It’s one hunter!” He bellowed in return towards his uppity accomplice. “One human-! They can’t kill us all!”

“True enough, everyone willin’ to gamble their heads in that open sightline, say aye!” He gave a snarky, shiteating grin as he glanced around at the sheer reluctance that permeated the camp. “... sounds like the crowd has spoken. God bless democracy.”

“Shut up, scragfuck-!”

Bang.

Everyone flinched, and one fell to the ground in a panic, nearly dropping his weapon as the bullet pierced his cover and impacted the dirt next to him.

“It was your idea to set up camp here, ‘hoss’.”  The big one growled, hunkering down as much as his frame and joints would allow.

“... that it were, that it were indeed.” He admitted, sucking in a reluctant breath of air. “I said it would be defensible, and… well, it is, but…”

“But, our gods damned camp is getting slaughtered by one sniper because there’s no scragfucking cover!”

“I am acutely aware, hoss-”

“Well then come up with a solution, ‘deputy’-!”

“I am working on it, scragshit-!”

Bang. “Fuck-!” The deep, bassy explosion of the bullet exiting the barrel once again shook the nerves of everyone in camp, this time managing to pierce the steel wall one was hiding behind, going limp from their prior crouched position.

He took a breath.

He looked around at everyone at camp, all the crouched figures, the one standing next to him, and all the bodies. He raised his gun around the rocky corner, slowly deliberately, and tossed it to the ground.

A moment of silence later, and he stepped out from his cover, hands up.

“What are you doing-?!” The boss whispered, gripping his weapon.

“Shh-!” He stepped forward, towards the mouth of the ravine. Bang. Everyone flinched, but no-one flinched quite as hard as the deputy, tripping over his own two feet and landing on his ass as the bullet landed mere inches from his foot. “Fuck-!”

“Not one step closer, ‘hoss’.” The voice on the other end of the scope called, voice modulated slightly and boosted moderately by the high quality speaker in her suit.

“I ain’t armed! See?” He gestured to the rifle on the ground, slowly accumulating desert dust as he slowly made his way to his feet, hands still in the air. “They pay more for alive than dead, don’t they? Like in the movies?” He forced a lighthearted chuckle, halfway between a smile and a wince.

“We may be in a desert, and you might be dressed like a cowboy, but this isn’t a western.” Ariis retorted, unmoving.

“Look- we… we got a lot of money back here!” He loosened his posture slightly, shrugging. “I’m just saying! We could pay ya a lot more than whatever those hick colonists are payin’ ya!”

“And you’ll shoot me in the back when I come to collect. Or you’ll try to, anyway. Cute.”

“No- ma’am, you have my word, on my gentlemanly honor,” he placed a hand on his chest, and one in the air, “no harm shall come to you, if you deliver no more harm unto us. You can take the money and go.”

“Is that even your real accent?”

His voice hitched a bit, stammering quietly and briefly. “I… y-yeah? ‘Course it is-”

“Oh, so you’re just leaning into the bit, then?”

“Well, I… I-I-I have a reputation to uphold, y’see.”

“I am aware.” She shot, coldly, finger menacingly depressing the trigger slightly, despite no living thing being close enough to witness the threat. “People pay a lot for reputations, ‘y’see’.”

He swallowed a ball of fear, glancing towards the sweet embrace of the rock he was previously hunkered behind.

“Unfortunately for you and your gang, your reputation is the sort that gets me paid just as good dead as alive, because they’re gonna kill you anyway.”

“... w-why uh… haven’t ya shot me, then?”

She shrugged invisibly, not disturbing her firing stance. “Curiosity, mostly.”

“... w-well… if it makes a lick a’ difference, uh… i-it ain’t my gang-”

“Semantics.” She sucked in air, holding it in her lungs.  “... and semantics isn’t my line of work.” Bang.

A shot through the heart, left arm ripped violently from its socket and flying halfway across the ravine. Dead, instantly.

Exhale.

“This is an odd job, boys.” She called from her perch, smiling under her helmet. “You know what that means? That means I don’t have anywhere better to be. Go ahead. If anyone else wants to be a hero or a smartass, then step forward.”

The stand off continued well into the night. It wasn’t until the sun broke the horizon that the last of them were dead. A few more bullets spent than she’d like, but such is life. Nobody’s perfect.

She took a few souvenirs, just things to show to the client to prove the job was done, and collect her reward. A shootout with some hick gang on a backwater planet… a far cry from the diplomatic assassination from months ago. But there always had to be smaller jobs like this when things got slow, to break up the monotony.

“And they’re all dead?” The representative questioned, looking the hunter up and down.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be back if they weren’t.” Ariis snapped, arms crossed as her attitude was growing increasingly cross. “I did all the paperwork. You can either give me my money, or I can file a complaint with my handler.”

“That- that won’t be necessary, miss Sol-” They coughed awkwardly, and started to fidget with a tablet. “The money will be in your account before you go offworld. Thank you for your service.”

She just wordlessly stepped out. Funny how she always felt more at home staring down a kill zone through a scope in a dusty ravine than in a clean office filing paperwork. Bureaucracy scared her more than any mark.

She was about to hop in her ship after that, at least until she saw a familiar ‘face’ lumbering his way up to her at the shipyard.

“Wait… is that-?”

[There she is.] The voice was deep, heavily modulated and very low quality, using an old speaker to broadcast an ancient translator in a patchwork junker of an environment suit. A juggernaut of a sentient, various multicolored tubes sticking out of and snaking into various ports.

“Uncle Guz!” She called, stepping back down from her ship’s side and towards him, meeting him halfway up the landing pad. “It’s been too long, what are you doing in this backwater?”

[Looking for you, actually.] He muttered, face hidden behind the emotionless, multi eyed faceplate of his env suit.

“For me?” She parroted skeptically. “... I’m guessing it’s not just to say hi.”

[Smart girl.] He handed a tablet off to her, staying silent for a moment as she browsed its contents. [Wanted to take you along for a jank. Gib. J-] Guz smacked the side of his helmet, a reverberating clang startling the technicians, but not Ariis. [Job.]

She just let out a sigh. “... this isn’t a salvage job.”

[Salvaging isn’t my only culling. Calling.] A very muffled, bubbly groan that wasn’t picked up by the translator barely managed to make its way out of the suit. He was going to need to replace that translator eventually.

“I know.” She handed the tablet back off, the giant shuffling it back into a pack at his side. “But still, was hoping we were going to get drinks or something.”

[Maybe after, toddler.] Another barely audible groan.

“Yeah, that nickname never translates well, even with the new ones.” She chuckled lightly. “Still, I just got done clearing pirates, and now I’m getting dragged along to kill more…”

[No-one is dragging you along.]

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not coming.” She tilted her head slightly. “You wanna take my ship? It’s faster.

[No. Too quiet. If a ship’s too quiet-]

“-then something’s broken, I know.” She sighed. “You’re attached to your junker.”

[Gertrude just has character.]

“A spaceship has as much character as you give it.” She turned on her heel, heading back towards her own spaceship. “See you there, then. Don’t break down on the way.”

[No promises.] Despite the monotone of the translator, she could feel the sarcasm as he turned and started to board his own characteristically boxy, patchwork ship. Compared to hers, it looked like a brick. That was part of its charm, though. Always was.

… never a dull day.

[cutiecrpze]

Oc x Canon Week 2023 - Day 6

Touching Foreheads

@theocxcanonweek

Characters: Maria Elise Lucille ( oc ) & Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd (FE3H)

TW: mentions of war and implications of death,nightmares.

CW: OC x Canon, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a happy ending.

Ship: Dimaria ( Dimitri/ Maria( f!oc) )

Summary: a horrible nightmare wakes Maria up, but luckily, she has her loving husband to comfort her.

A/N: please forgive me if my characterization for Dimitri is a little off! I’m still very much a baby in terms of writing fanfic (Ｔ＿Ｔ),also this fic takes place in the Azure Moon route after the war.

Dimitri woke to an empty bed, which led him to the conclusion that something had happened to Maria.

Dimitri got up, looking around, eyes adjusting to the darkness before they locked onto someone.

It was his wife ,Maria, standing by the window, illuminated by the moonlight, sobbing.

It didn’t take Dimitri long to get out of bed and approach his wife, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“My beloved..what has you up this late? Why are you crying?”

Maria looked up, eyes red from the amount of tears she had shed.

“Dimitri?...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. You..you weren’t in bed..a-and as I tried to sleep..I had a horrible dream.”

The woman wiped her eyes before continuing on.

“It..it was..I had dreamt that I was amidst a raging conflict, and I could not find you, it..it felt so real, ‘Mitri, like the war that has just ended, and I wondered what had happened to you, and in that moment, I…I found you..you..you were..”

Maria was brought to tears once again, and Dimitri’s embrace got tighter as she continued to sob.

“It’s alright my love, it was only a bad dream..”

He let go of Maria, turning to face her, and pressed his forehead against hers.

“I’m here. I’m alright, Maria. Now come back to bed, you need rest, my love.”

Dimitri takes her by the hand, leading her back to their shared bed.

“Thank you, dear..” Maria said as she sat down on the side of the bed.

“ There’s no need to thank me, it is simply in my job as your husband to care for you in times like this.” Maria eventually laid down on the bed, shuffling closer to Dimitri.

Dimitri smiled, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle, but firm embrace.

“Goodnight, my beloved.” He said as he gently kissed the top of her head.

In that moment, Maria realized that she wouldn’t have to handle things alone anymore. She had someone who would be there for her, someone who loved her.

And for the first time since she was woken up by that horrible dream, she shut her eyes.

[faye-tale]

*Tells self to write only 300 words of Professor Bridgerton.*

*Writes 1k without blinking.*

Dammit that’s not a drabble, you dipshit 🙊

[firstdove15]

When you're looking over your outline for your fanfic and realize you're slowly but surely coming up to a bridge you need to burn

[harryforvogue]

a fic about harry and faye where faye needs to be picked up because it's snowed so bad and also she's feeling very very needy. has smut so be careful. or not. do whatever you like. DO leave feedback though or else i will fucking haunt you

***

Faye calls Harry at around 6pm.

He’s asleep, his iPad abandoned by his side with the pen still between his fingertips. He doesn’t know what time he dozed off, but he’s got to thank Faye for the portable heater she bought him for Christmas. It’s magnificent.

Getting himself out of bed to reach for his phone is difficult. When he finally manages, the only thing that makes him pick up is Faye’s photo.

He brings it to his ear. “Hi, baby.”

Immediately, he can hear the frown in her voice. “Oh no. I woke you up.”

“It’s all right,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to sleep anyways. I’ll barely get a few hours at night if I nap now.” He brings his phone back to his bed and sits down. “What’s up?”

“Um, well I just finished rehearsals.”

“Yeah? That’s good. Got out early?”

“Yes, it’s snowing pretty bad now.”

“Mm, is it?” He forces himself to get back up and take a peek out his curtains. She’s right; the snow lays on the roads, flurries all around still. “You wanna stay on the phone with me until you get home?”

“That’s kind of the thing. I’ve been at this bus stop for 15 minutes and my app keeps saying the bus is about to come, but the roads aren’t properly cleared so I don’t think it’s coming.”

Harry frowns. “You’re outside?”

“Yeah. I walked to the stop, but it’s like a ghost town here. Nobody’s out driving. The buses may have all been canceled.”

“Oh shit. Are you wearing warm clothes? Gloves and all?”

“Yup.”

“Good. Which stop are you at today? I’ll come get you.”

There’s instant relief in her voice. “Thank you.” She tells him which stop and then sighs softly. “It’s not that cold which is good. I suppose I should sit down on the bench but there’s ice on it and I already slipped while walking here. My butt still hurts.”

Harry groans as he tugs his jacket on and grabs an extra beanie. He shoves his feet into his shoes and grabs his keys. “Don’t tell me that,” he says. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Faye laughs. “I’m okay.”

“Think you can hold on for 15 minutes?”

“Yes, but Harry you have to drive safely, okay? The inner roads aren’t cleared at all.”

Harry sticks a piece of gum in his mouth. “Yeah, love, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”

“Wanna stay on the phone with me?”

“Um, I would, but I can barely feel my fingers.”

Harry has to groan again. He’s outside now and thankfully his car isn’t looking too bad. He’ll still need to defrost it a bit. “Faye, you just told me you had gloves!”

“Whoops.”

“Okay, I’m going to hang up, but please try to get warm. Go into one of those shops nearby.”

“The only shop open near me is the chicken shop.”

“Go in there.”

“I don’t like the smell of chicken.”

“I must say that you are insanely difficult today.”

Faye giggles. “I’m not.” She must hear him turn his ignition on. “Okay, bye now. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

She hangs up. Harry has to step out of the car with his snow brush, pushing his way over to clean his windshields. He’s blasting the heat on the inside, and within ten minutes, he’s ready to go. When he gets back in his car, he’s muttering swears, trembling with the cold. “Not that cold, my ass.”

And Faye’s right. The inner roads are horrendous. He drives so below the speed limit, he may as well walk to get her. 15 minutes turn into 20 and by the time he’s pulling up to her bus stop, he’s very worried Faye may be a frozen block of ice. 

Faye wobbles her way over to the car, yanking the door open and all but throwing herself inside. She’s shivering so bad, Harry puts the car in park and reaches over the console to hug her tightly.

“For fuck’s sake, Faye,” he mutters, suppressing a shiver at her cold face pressed into his neck. “I told you to go into the shop!”

“If y-you made me wait any longer, I would have!”

“I drove as fast as I could.”

Harry turns the heat up higher and rubs her arms firmly, trying to get her tight muscles to relax. She’s wearing a winter jacket, yes, but her head is uncovered and she doesn’t even have a scarf. He pulls back to look at her, hoping there’s disappointment on his face. But Faye’s eyes just light up and then she’s lifting her head to get a kiss.

He can’t say no.

He cups her face and softly kisses her. Her lips are cold, but he can still taste the cherry chapstick as if she kept reapplying it every few minutes. She kisses him several more times, but when she places her frozen hands on his neck, he pulls away sharply.

“Faye!” He holds his neck as if wounded. “That’s so cold!”

Faye’s knees bounce. “Sorry!"

She doesn’t look sorry.

He grabs the beanie he’s brought her and throws it onto her head. Her bangs get caught on her forehead, momentarily blinding her, and she laughs, fixing the hat. Her black hair frames her cheeks. She reaches in for another kiss, but Harry stops her with a shake of his head.

“Get warm first. Or else you’ll get hypothermia and then I’ll have nobody to kiss.”

Faye says, “Wow you sound a lot like me.” She holds her trembling hands by the vents, shivering so bad, she’s compelled to make audible noises to show how cold she is, her jaw quivering. Harry starts driving the car again, and once he gets off the main street, he reaches for her hand and holds it in his lap.

“How were rehearsals?”

“Okay,” she says, shoulders shaking. “Maybe people couldn’t come in today because of the snow. I had to do, like, three roles.”

“Opening night is next month, right?”

“Yup. I got you your tickets.”

Harry kisses the back of her hand, squeezing her pale fingertips hard. She's painted her nails dark blue, he notices. “Thank you. Are you hungry?”

“Mhm.”

“Let’s get something to eat then. I don’t have anything at home. Didn’t cook today.”

“Oh. Are we going to yours?”

“Yes.”

“Can I stay over?”

Harry smiles. “Yes.”

“Is Timmy home?”

“Nope.”

“Can we play that video game again?”

Harry sends her a look. “I thought you’d want to watch a movie or something.”

“Well, if you want to. But I had a lot of fun playing that game.”

“Yes, you were so good at it.”

She was not. Harry spent the entire night trying to save her, getting himself killed, and then yelling and begging her to stay alive until he could be revived. Faye had a lot of fun it seems, though Harry wouldn’t say it was a very productive night.

But, if she wants to do it, then they will.

“I feel like I’ll be better tonight,” Faye says, leaning forward to put her face against the air vent. Her eyes flutter shut. “We’ll get to the next level.”

“You mean level two.”

She laughs.

Harry’s pulling up to the take out shop they’ve agreed on when his phone goes off. He answers it on the car’s speakerphone.

“Yeah, mate?”

“Hey,” Timothée’s voice rings out. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m with Faye picking up food.”

“Oh cool. Hey, can you pick me up from the shop, man? My car’s fucking buried.”

Harry sighs. “Yeah, that’s fine. When are you off work?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, I’ll get you.”

“Cool, and hey–”

“Yeah?”

“Can you grab me some food? I’ll pay you back.”

Harry says, “I’ll think about it.”

There’s silence on the other line until Timmy says, “Faye?”

She leans in. “Yeah?”

“Can you make sure he gets me food? I’ll Venmo you right now.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks. Bye!” And then he hangs up.

Harry rubs his eye and then unbuckles his seat belt. Faye goes to do the same, but he stops her, shaking his head. “No, you need to stay warm.”

“I’m fine!”

“Nope.” He locks the car after opening his door and gives her a meaningful look. She watches him disappear into the shop.

When he comes back, he thinks she’s looking a lot better. The red in her cheeks has returned and she’s reapplying her chapstick without shaking fingers. He leans over and kisses her, pleased that her lips aren’t frozen anymore. Unexpectedly, she holds onto his collar and kisses him harder, and she doesn’t let him go until he’s chuckling against her lips and trying to pry away.

“What’s gotten into you?” he murmurs, peppering kisses down to her jaw. She shivers, but not from the cold this time.

“Just missed you.”

“Mm.” He kisses her cheek. “I missed you too.”

It’s a lot harder to drive after that, especially because Harry’s hand rests on Faye’s thigh, and she keeps playing with his fingers, occasionally pulling his hand up to kiss his palm. 

When they get to the shop, Timmy rushes into the car and slaps a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Thank you, man. This is great. Thanks. Hey, Faye.”

“Hi.”

“You’re coming over?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Did you get me any food?”

“Yes we did.” She hands him the aux cord when he asks for it. They listen to his odd taste in music for the ride home.

Harry takes Faye up to his room when they get home. Timmy’s nearly falling asleep so he eats his food quietly and then heads to his own room with a reminder through the walls that he’d appreciate it if Harry and Faye kept it down.

Faye says, “I don’t know why he always says that,” as she’s climbing into Harry’s lap on his bed in his shirt only. He looks up at her, eyes shining, his hands resting just below her butt. She wraps her arms around his neck. “We’ve never been that loud.”

“I mean I certainly haven’t,” Harry teases, pulling her down onto his thighs.

“Me neither!”

“Sure.”

Faye can’t come up with a response, so she kisses him, and then turns around in his lap, back pressed to his warm, strong chest. He places his hand on her thigh, holding her to him. As he’s setting up the game, she reaches over and grabs his iPad, turning it on to see his latest sketch.

It’s a very daunting looking dragon with detailed wings and scales. She zooms in to see all of it, thoroughly impressed. “This is so cool, Harry!”

“Yeah? Thanks, baby. Had a client say she wanted a big dragon piece so I’ve been brainstorming.”

“Where does she want it?”

“Around her bicep.”

“It must hurt like crazy.”

Harry hooks his chin over her shoulder and hugs her tight to him. “Yeah, but as long as they’re happy with it, right?”

She turns her head to look at him with her devastatingly pretty eyes. “Have you done any cool ones this week?”

He makes a show of thinking really hard. “Did a decent snake two days ago.”

“Ooh. Will you post the pictures?”

“Yeah. Haven’t had the time to.”

Faye cradles his face and kisses his cheek. “I’ll be the first person to like it.”

“You always are,” he murmurs, tilting his head back so she can continue her kisses down his neck.

His eyes flutter shut as Faye’s hands run over his arms, gently pressing herself back against him. He feels her breath hitch.

“Faye,” he softly admonishes. “You said you wanted to play the game.” 

“It’s still loading,” she whispers back, shaking him off to be able to turn in his arms again. The force she kisses him with throws him off. He’s pushed back, hands flying out to steady himself against his mattress. She wraps her legs around him and kisses him breathless, her fingers trailing up the sides of his head and then burying themselves into his curls. She presses herself against him again, and then she gently licks at him. Harry welcomes her tongue when he parts his lips.

She kisses him like she hasn’t been kissed properly in years – which is simply untrue because he kisses her until she forgets her name on a routined basis. Faye presses herself even closer, and when the first whine leaves her throat, Harry’s arms are around her, dragging her hips against his. She sighs as if that small contact between them has caused her such release.

The TV makes a noise to tell them the game has finished loading. Faye’s mouth shows no signs of letting him up. Harry pulls up for a second to breathe, and then kisses her again, leaning into her with his hands spread out against her back. They stay there until he’s sliding his fingers under his shirt that she wears, slowly pushing her until she’s laying on her back and Harry’s hovering over her.

“The game,” he whispers.

“Hm?” she manages, rolling her hips against his again, her eyes both innocent and flirty.

He breathes out a swear and then works on pulling the shirt off of her. Faye shivers immediately, but he kisses down her neck and collarbones to warm her up, letting her adjust when she catches onto what he wants to do. She slides back and lets him move further down her body.

“Harry–”

“Yes, baby?”

She changes her mind when Harry’s fingers hook into her underwear. “Oh. Oh, nothing.”

“Tell me,” he says, dragging them down. 

“Well, it’s only that I thought I’d do this for you. Because you, um, picked me up and I wanted to thank you.”

Harry chuckles. “You can do that after this, but right now I have a feeling you’re going to explode if I don’t touch you. Care to tell me what’s got you so worked up? I fucked you so well just two days ago.”

Faye throws a hand over her eyes and Harry doesn’t know if it’s because she’s forced to answer his question while unclothed or if it’s his words that embarrass her. Possibly both.

“It’s because you came to get me and your voice was so deep and raspy and tired and your hand on my thigh and–”

Harry situates himself between her legs and lets her knees come up besides his head. He kisses her soft inner thighs and wraps his arms around them. Faye lifts her head to glance down at him and then moans softly when he licks into her. Slowly. Teasingly.

Her black hair is fanned out around her, her breath coming hard and fast. Her lips are parted, pink and swollen from their kisses. She looks ruined already. Harry will never get used to the sight. He never wants to.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, throwing her head down. Her eyes flutter shut as Harry leans in and takes over completely, his skilled mouth ruthless against her. His fingers dig into her hips, holding her down though she desperately raises herself to meet his mouth.

“Oh, I love you,” she whispers, threading her fingers into his hair. “So much.”

He sucks and licks and laps diligently until her back is gently arching off his mattress and she has to bite down on her knuckles to keep her noises in. Seeing her like this turns Harry on, his body on alert. He feels like every cell of his body has been electrified, but despite his arousal, all he wants is for Faye to fall apart against him.

It doesn’t take her long. Her thighs tremble. She cries out and yanks his hair. The pain is distant to him. Harry lets her use his tongue to ride out her high, and when she’s done, she’s whimpering from sensitivity. Harry only pulls away when she’s whining, “Ah, okay, okay, that’s it, please. No more.”

He grins at her, gently wiping the corners of his mouth. “Always so good for me.”

Faye covers her face. Harry helps her back into her clothes and then lays beside her until she’s ready to turn to him and kiss him. He kisses her hair. “My darling girl,” he whispers. “My baby. So perfect."

She’s straddling him before five minutes are up, her hands resting on his chest, hair falling like curtains around her flushed face. The strands hit Harry’s cheek. His hands are on her thighs again, and he’s smiling lazily at her.

“I love you too,” he murmurs, running his hand up to her waist. 

Faye swallows and grinds down on his length through his sweatpants. “My turn?”

“We can take a break if you w–”

“No,” she says immediately, fingers already pulling Harry’s shirt up. Her eyes hungrily take in every tattoo she slowly reveals. Harry lifts his head to pull the shirt off.

Faye seems to have something in mind already. So Harry just lets her undress him, enjoying the kisses she trails after her hands. She has plenty of energy, preferring to stay on top of him instead of switching back over. 

She works herself over him until she’s throwing her head back and nearly sobbing with relief. Harry watches the pleasure roll over her, her hands in tight fists against his chest. 

“I love you,” she says again, taking deep breaths when it’s over. Her face is a gentle pink, her chest flushed. “I love you so bad, Harry.”

Once he’s pulled out of her, he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her down to him, wrapping his arms around her tight. “I love you,” he says, kissing all over her face, wiping the corners of her eyes. “My pretty girl, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Spent, Faye lets him cuddle her, her face pressed against his neck. His body is warm and as comforting as always. He mutters how much he loves her several more times.

Some time later again, Faye raises her head from his chest and says in her scratchy voice, “Should we play now?”

And Harry kisses her and says, “Yes, baby.”

[f4ye-4]

SLEEP.

Prompt : what is it to sleep w/ different op boys ?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ft. Usopp, Sanji. Part.2 -⊹ ࣪ ˖gn/fem!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ fluff

⊹ ࣪ ˖ headcanon

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏

makes his bed RIGHT after getting up

agressive 8/10

it’s soothing to sleep w/ this man

Clean sheets 😎

his room is so fresh bc this housewife airs his room every morning

is kinda shy with the concept of « cuddling » at first but gets comfortable the more you sleep together (you told him several times that it was okay if his put his hand on your arm or if he slipped his fingers down your body)

if you can’t find slumber, then he'll tell you countless wild and adventurous stories! (full of lies)

doesn’t snore but i’m SURE he drools and smile when he imagine himself being the hero of his dream and saving people with the help of his 8000 crewmates, , proudly waving the captain usopp flag

owns handmade plushies and drowns you in them.

★

𝐕.𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

omg-

no no, his room does NOT smell like rose or any « romantic scent »

it smells like smoke.

even if there’s no way he bring a single cigarette in his room, his clothes even furnitures ! are drenched with the smell of cigarettes…

he had to beg you on his knees to convince you to come and move on with him

not shy about cuddling 😹

will shamelessly touch you when wrapping his arms around your neck 😀

affectionate forehead kisses before sleeping

make sure you ate well because « no way you sleep with an empty stomach ! >:( « 

little or big spoon, no preference as long as he gets to sleep beside you

intertwines his COLD feet with yours 😇

one less on the list, was so funny to write this because i imagined the situations in my head lol - shoulda make a part 3? if yes, with who?

hashtags :

[faye-writes-stuff]

Slimecicle with a reader who is physically bigger than him? and please include/mention something to do with hugging at least once

(c! or cc!, i'm fine with both)

omg please this is so cute help

not sure what pronouns so I’m just going with gender neutral, you can dm me or send an ask to have them changed!

———————

cc!

ok so like first off going with what you said, cuddles are everything

like I would say reader is big spoon most of the time because he deffo likes being little spoon

but like when he’s big spoon>>>

he’s like a little less than a foot shorter so it’s quite the sight to see him big spoon

OKOKOK HEAR ME OUT

you would totally put things on the top shelves so he would have to ask for your help to get them

like

“really y/n, again”

“Whatever do you mean dearest?”

“get your goddamn Viking ass out here and get my corn from the top shelf or I’ll break your kneecaps”

“okay babes on my wAY”

kinda ooc idk I thought it was funny 😭😭

Randomly coming behind him while he’s streaming and hugging him and chat going NUTS

surprise hugs from behind are huge

happen a lot, like he will hug you too and it’s adorable

a lot of chaos with this guys

lots of slimin (don’t make it weird 🤨)

lots of glorpin

chat would eat up your interactions

——————— c!

bestie is oblivious but adorably cuddley

he may be slimy but give that man a big hug

he will just melt

smol guy=big hug

quackity would be skeptical of you at first but once he sees how down bad Charlie is he’ll chill

like literally

“so uh, who’s this slime?” The leader of Las Nevadas says, mildly intimidated by this person who is much larger than him.

“Well, Quackity from Las Nevadas, this is y/n from Elsewhere! You two should become friends!”

With a disarming smile from Charlie and a gentle handshake from you, Quackity decided to give you a chance.

Safe to say you were fast allies.

Charlie would always run and hug you from behind, his slimy arms stretching to envelope your larger figure.

———————

Omg woah me posting?

unheard of

anyways I’m back from my unofficial hiatus and I’m answering asks 🤪

ok love you by

[dancingwiththefae]

hi there! for the song fic thing, if you’re up to it, how about geraskier and stray italian greyhound by vienna teng?

Hi sorry this took a while <3

This song is great, the lyrics are so playful. I went more with the theme of the song for this one.

modern au, no warnings

wc: 1.1k

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

Jaskier stared down at his coffee cup. He was running late but he couldn't bring himself to move any faster. He wasn't paying much attention to his surroundings as he dragged his feet to work, too pre-occupied with how much he wanted to be going anywhere else. Which was probably why he crashed straight into the hulking mass in front of him. He let out a noise of surprise as he crashed into the man in front of him. When they pulled apart, Jaskier gasped in horror at the coffee drenching the man's shirt.

“Oh fuck. Oh gods. I'm so sorry-”

He looked up from the stain that was continuing to grow and suddenly words stopped. His mind halted in its tracks. Of course he ran straight into the most terrifying and attractive man he had ever seen. White hair pulled back into a bun. Warm, honey eyes that stared back at him in a frown. And Jaskier had gone and spilled coffee all down his shirt. Gods, he was such an idiot. He was either going to die of embarrassment or get a punch to the face and he wasn't sure which option was worse.

“I'll uh- I'll buy you a new shirt? Or something?” He checked the time in a panic. “Oh fuck I am so late. Just- just-”

He had no idea what to do. The man hadn't said a word but he also hadn't received a punch in the gut so that was something.

“Here.”

Jaskier shucked off his jacket and handed it over. With bemusement, the man took it. He looked it over before looking back at him. He huffed what Jaskier assumed to be in amusement and put it on. It was a little tight, and did not match his style at all, but at least it fit. And it hid the enormous stain decorating the front of his shirt.

“Suits you,” he couldn't help but comment. The barest hint of a smile appeared on the man's face and Jaskier wondered what he'd look like when he laughed.

“Give me your number.”

It was the first words he'd spoken and had caught Jaskier completely off-guard.

“What?”

The man sighed.

“Your number,” he repeated, “so I can return this.”

His voice was like gravel. He would be lying if he said it wasn't doing anything for him. It took him a moment to actually process what he had just said.

“Oh. Oh yes, of course.” He fished his phone out from his pocket. “I'm Jaskier, by the way.”

“Geralt.”

They exchanged numbers and then the next second Geralt was gone, off to continue his day while Jaskier stood there wondering what the hell had just happened. And then he remembered that he was exceptionally late.

He spent the rest of the day in a daze. He was sure people had spoken to him and he had responded, but he couldn't recall any of the conversation. His mind was firmly stuck on the events of the morning, cycling through embarrassment, excitement and the inconvenient urge to hit on him. Which was ridiculous, really. Sorry about your shirt, how about we go for a drink? No one in their right mind would go for that. Besides, he'd grown used to being alone.

***

“What are you wearing?”

Ciri spotted him as soon as he walked through the door, eyes raking over him with a confused amusement. With a huff, he unbuttoned the jacket and dropped it onto the sofa. Her amusement only grew when she spotted the sizeable stain he was sporting.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

“Language,” he scolded. “Some idiot ran into me on the way to work this morning.”

“And he gave you his jacket?” She queried, rubbing her thumb across the rainbow pin on the collar. It was the first time he really looked at it. Faded denim and covered in patches and pins that Geralt could only assume were bands that he had never heard of. It was- well, it suited the man he met this morning. It certainly wasn't his style. Too clean for a start.

“So, what did he look like? This idiot?”

Ciri held a smirk that was all too-knowing for a teenager.

“Tall, dark hair,” Geralt shrugged.

“Handsome?”

Handsome? He had only saw him for a few minutes at most. Though he did remember shockingly blue eyes that looked at him. Really looked at him. Most people averted their gaze around him. There was panic in them, but more so at the situation than directed at him. He remembered how his cheeks had flushed when he finally looked up at Geralt.

“He was...fine.”

“A compliment, coming from you,” Ciri replied with an arch of her brow.

“I'm not talking about this with you.” He wagged a finger at her and left the room to change.

***

It's Geralt. Are you free friday to return the jacket?

“Who are you texting?”

Ciri appeared from behind him, trying to peek over his shoulder at his phone. He covered it on instinct.

“Jaskier,” he replied, “about the jacket.”

“Oh, he has a name now, does he?”

Geralt rolled his eyes in response. Ciri didn't know what she was talking about. She'd obviously been reading too much fiction and now her head was filled with romance. And then Jaskier responded.

“I think he's flirting with me.” His voice didn't betray the mild panic that had set in but Ciri picked up on it anyway.

“So flirt back. What's the worst that could happen?” she teased gently.

Geralt stared down at the phone in his hand with a frown.

“You've been alone too long,” Ciri sighed, and left him to it.

Maybe he had. He was used to everything going a certain way. He was used to it just being himself and Ciri. To people judging him harshly by his appearance. And yet, here he was. Being flirted with by a complete fool who had quite literally crashed into his life. Geralt wasn't usually one for spontaneity. But maybe today he was.

***

It's Geralt. Are you free friday to return the jacket?

Jaskier stared at his phone, and then at the half empty wine bottle in front of him. Maybe if was in a clearer frame of mind he would have responded politely and a little more formally. However, he'd had a long day and was finally feeling relaxed, the warmth of the wine settling inside him. So instead, he decided to be bold.

Sure, I'm free. How about we grab some coffee too? I promise I won't spill it on you this time.

As soon as he sent it, he regretted it. Could he even joke about it? He didn't know this man, other than the one very brief and equally disastrous encounter when they met. Geralt might not see the funny side of it. There was no way he would agree.

Sure. I'll pay as long as I don't come home wearing it.

Well, that was something. He filled his glass with a small smile. He sat back in his chair and watched his phone light up with another text from Geralt. He couldn't wait for friday.

[kratosnaturals]

Chapters: 3/15 Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Miraak (Elder Scrolls), Dovahkiin | Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Miraak Lives (Elder Scrolls), Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Discovery, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Rivalry, Rating May Change, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Named Dovahkiin | Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Canon-Typical Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Dynamic (At first), Enemies to... tolerating each other, Getting to Know Each Other

Chapter 2: Sound

      "I assumed you fainted. I‘m glad to know I don‘t have to drag your dead weight inside," the woman quipped.

      "You will not get rid of me so easily," Miraak sneered, easing his body upright again. Cracking joint for cracking joint he bit his lips to stop the groans of pain bubbling in his chest from escaping as he heaved himself to his feet.

      "I won‘t?" Lleana said, leaning against the door frame with the smallest upturn of her lips.

The cold took a toll on his body however, legs buckling and shaking as the man took the first step towards the door. He cursed his body for trembling violently against his will and tripping over itself. Another body leapt to steady him - strong arms, one under his right, another wrapping loosely around his waist. His ears picked up the smallest surprised inhale before his head fell on a golden-brown cushion of hair. The woman's breathing was even and calm against his chest, a wisp of warmth against the frozen fabric. Miraak was sure he heard just the faintest crackle of magic with the first few exhales she gave.

      "Looks like I will have to drag you in after all," Lleana said, voice muffled.

The man sneered as he pulled out of her hold, crashing into the stone wall for support instead, "get off of me."

      "You are the one who fell into my arms," tutted Lleana before giving an annoyed huff, "get inside, then. Unless you intend to go hungry too, of course."

[fayes-fics]

Am I finally writing Temptation follow up? 🤔 Yes, yes I am.

Here, have a snippet:

——

“Does your door lock?” he asks softly, ghosting over your lips as he manoeuvers you towards your own bed.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“Is it locked right now?“ his tone gets even lower.

“Yes,” it’s barely audible.

He cups your face in his hands. “Good.” He says the word languorous and decadently and you feel something inside you catch fire. “Are you ready to learn some new things?” A finger traces the bow of your lips as he asks.

“Yes husband.” It’s fervent and breathy.

“I’m not your husband yet,” he simpers. “If I was, you would be screaming my name about now.”

——

EDIT: This is now published HERE