#It sounds very peaceful and quiet. I DEEPLY miss being able to go to my grandparents' house and just wander alone in the woods for hours.

[underratedandoverit]

okay, i do have another orangekip one because this one is just so soft - ”your hands were made to hold mine,”

576 words orangekip (orange cassidy/kip sabian)

just drabbling these out for now lol. i probably could have made something more out of this but yeah. heres a small scene 💜

its just fluff but just a heads up theres mentions of alcohol and oc is kinda drunk so. read accordingly

@stormbornpirate

on ao3

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

Kip’s head bounced up from the armrest of the couch as the front door of the house was slammed shut, suddenly jolting him awake from the peaceful sleep he had fallen into. He quickly sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before glancing over his shoulder towards the doorway of the living room, hearing quiet shuffling and footsteps in the hallway.

“…Clementine?” he finally called out, listening as the sounds stopped, soon being replaced by hurried footsteps approaching the living room. A little tired smile crossed his lips as Kip saw the familiar blond pop into his view, stopping on the doorway to lean against the door frame, observing him from a few feet away, clearly somewhat surprised to see Kip was still awake and had been waiting for him to get back home.

“Welcome back. Did you have fun?”

Kip barely got the words out of his mouth before Cassidy already approached him, soon enough finding himself on the couch next to him, hands covering both of Kip’s cheeks and pulling him into a kiss. The Brit didn’t resist, but tried to respond in a calmer manner to the passionate, almost desperate feeling show of affection as he registered the slightly sweet, but definitely overpowering taste of alcohol on Cassidy’s lips.

“I missed you,” Cassidy breathed at him as he pulled away a little bit, breaking the kiss apart, his quiet words very soft and trembling. If that wasn’t a giveaway of his state, the smell of a night of drinking linger in the air after he spoke just a few words definitely was. “So much.”

Kip chuckled at him softly, offering him a smile.

“You were gone for just a few hours. I’m not going anywhere.”

Cassidy didn’t reply, instead just leaned in for another kiss, with his body weight pushing both of them down on the couch. Kip didn’t resist him, but he chuckled softly, one arm wrapping around Cassidy’s waist as the other felt around for his hand, taking a tight hold of it. He knew that Cassidy liked to use these kinds of compromising situations to his advantage, and he also knew that he definitely wasn’t in condition to do that properly tonight, but Cassidy wasn’t going to be able to help himself unless Kip actually stopped him.

The blond slowly pulled away from the kiss, finding himself effectively trapped on top of Kip on the couch, his eyes slowly dragging down to the hand Kip was holding, watching as the other man carefully laced their fingers together, giving his hand a small squeeze.

Cassidy sighed quietly, Kip watching a small smile climbing on his lips as Cassidy laid his head down on his chest, observing their interlaced fingers in clear awe. There was something very precious about him, and Kip adored every second that he was able to watch him like this.

“Your hands were made to hold mine,” Cassidy finally mumbled, eyes never leaving their hands. Kip could feel him squeezing his hand gently. “They are so perfect. God you’re so perfect.”

Even if his words were laced with alcohol, Kip could feel nothing but sincerity and adoration from them. He smiled, leaning closer a little to press a soft kiss on top of Cassidy’s head, watching the blond inhale deeply as he closed his eyes.

“You are perfect,” Kip purred at him, watching the smile grow a bit bigger on Cassidy’s lips. “My perfect little Clementine.”

[pallastrology]

jupiter vs. saturn: virgo

jupiter

they are more maternal. virgo is a sign that, while not known for being affectionate, has a lot of love to give. with jupiter's warm, expansive nature in virgo, the native is quite motherly. they're the type to show their love through things like making sure their loved ones are eating well, checking they got home safely, nudging them to go and book that doctor's appointment or catch up on their schoolwork. they may not say 'i love you' much, but they show it often.

they are more suited to leadership roles. this maternal quality that jupiter in virgo has makes them well-suited to management roles in life. at home, they manage their household and family, and in work, they manage accounts, appointments, or their team. they can find it very difficult to switch off because they're constantly trying to fix situations and people. it's part of the virgo curse, getting so wrapped up in trying to fix that they can forget to just be.

they are more suited to teaching. when i think of jupiter in virgo, i think of my secondary school english teacher. she was a lovely lady; she didn't miss a beat and was a harsh critic, but never cruel or callous, and had a way of tailoring assignments to each pupil so as to help them find their voice. jupiter in virgo is quite a natural teacher, with a surprisingly good sense of humour and a sharp eye.

saturn

they are more reserved. virgo is never a party animal, but while jupiter is a little better with people, saturn in virgo thrives alone. they need peace and quiet to focus and to get in touch with themselves, which, in turn, allows them to do their best work. the native is often quite sensitive, prone to anxieties and stress-induced health issues, and it's important that they learn to manage their stress levels and engage with a meaningful self-care routine.

they are more patient. saturn in virgo is a placement of dedication and devotion, and as well as their impressive work ethic and attention to detail, they possess an almost immeasurable patience. the native, when they are calm enough to understand where they want to go, is able to effectively plan and then chip away at their goals, analysing and adapting their methods as they go.

they are more distracted by work. one of the biggest difficulties saturn in virgo faces is balancing their tendency towards burying themselves in work. they can sometimes be defined, or even define themselves, by their work, and it can become something of a comfort blanket for the native. this doesn't seem like that much of a problem, but sometimes they don't know who they are outside of work.

both

they are both cautious. virgo is known for being risk-averse and thoughtful. in jupiter, this isn't quite as pervasive, and we tend to see that 'mother hen' quality where they worry and peck at others, compared to how they go through their own life. conversely, saturn in virgo sometimes looks calmer and more distant on the surface, but the decisions and directions that they take are carefully chosen after intense, sometimes agonising analysis.

they are diligent. the anxiety of virgo makes our natives hardworking and dedicated individuals. they care deeply about the 'little things' in life, which aren't really so little. in fact, virgo is one of the signs that truly understand the meaning and empowerment that can be found in the mundane; in jupiter, the little details of life are expanded upon, respected, shared and taught. in saturn, the mundane is built upon, with the native finding strength and drive to achieve great things through it.

they are both grounded. earth signs in general are known for their feet being planted firmly on the ground, but with jupiter and saturn in virgo, the natives are guided by the elements. when i think of jupiter, i think of a language teacher, breaking the language down into its building blocks and demonstrating how to create poetry out of letters and sounds. when i think of saturn, i think of a writer, taking the unformed feelings and experiences of a person and shaping them, transforming them into an almost-universally understood concept through a novel.

they are skilled. carrying my last point through here, virgo placements are posited towards learning and building. they work best with the tangible, things they can see and hear and touch; but as a mutable sign, virgo is a little better equipped to take ephemeral concepts and form them into something material. they both tend toward construction in that sense, with jupiter needing to understand in order to share and teach, and saturn needing to understand so they can make something of themselves and from the intangible. our natives are very much guided by the concept of 'a labour of love'.

[parulite]

repost and rate your muse's traits out of 10 in each category !

COMPASSION: 9/10. Driven by a deep desire to alleviate others' suffering (when she isn't too wrapped up in her own head), Kiri chose the path and rites of a healer. Right now she mostly deals in physical ailments, but she hopes to build the skills of spiritual aid too.

BITTERNESS: 6/10. There's a general sense that she's carrying a lot of confusion and discontent. She feels estranged from her peers and even her family, and doesn't understand why she is just so different. Why it had to be her.

HAPPINESS: 4/10. Really going through it™ with the awkward teenage years, made much much worse by the re-arrival of the RDA and the destruction of so much of her home. She lost two dear friends; the shaman of songs who lived deep in the forest was killed by the inferno of the arriving ships, and in the months that followed the first ikran Kiri was bonded with was shot and killed by a SpecOps soldier (& that's really only the beginning...)

POLITENESS: 5/10. Generally knows her place and respects tradition and those with more experience than her, but isn't afraid to give a little lip and form her own opinions. Occasionally prone to nyeh nyeh nyeh and sticking her tongue out. Currently going through a little bit of a "everyone in my family is so embarassing" phase.

MORALITY: like... 8/10? I don't know. She has a set of beliefs she lives by and holds to them. But .. as things are changing around her, choices are getting harder, and she's pushed at these lines in the name of protecting and defending her loved ones. As well, I have.. a thought about that some of that... being able to hear and feel Eywa is driving her to make choices she would have shied from just a year ago. Which begs the questions of if they're her morals, or something else. Which sounds very scary to me.

PRIDE: 7/10. Working on lowish personal self esteem/ego, but has high value on her home, her family, her clan, her planet. Does not take kindly at all to insults and shaming; does not take these things silently, either. She will at least try to stand up for herself, but she's twice as active when standing up for/with others (especially her family. Especially Neteyam.)

HONESTY: 8/10. A little sneaking away here, a little keeps-things-to-herself there, but mostly honest about her choices. She aims to be reliable and trustworthy, someone people can come to, and in general just doesn't like to lie. Leaves a bad taste in the mouth.

BRAVERY: 5/10. There will be much worrying, and grumbling, and hesitance. Will notably step up much more directly when it comes to defending others, especially her siblings and, presumably, other/younger children. Otherwise, she'd much rather make peace and/or flee than fight.

RECKLESSNESS: 4/10. Fairly sensible on her own, a little absent minded sometimes but not particularly prone to risk taking. Also susceptible to following others (i.e. Lo'ak and Spider) into nonsense out of a reluctance to miss out, but it almost works out because then she can act as a voice of reason those situations and at least slow them down a little.

AMBITION: 3/10. Genuinely just wants to live a 'normal' life, a quiet life she feels she belongs to, in harmony with nature.

LOYALTY: 8/10. Bends her personal values for the sake of others.

LOVE: 6/10. Deeply emotional, but afraid to commit to it. She withholds herself a lot, often hiding behind a vague leave-me-alone attitude (that she, of course, secretly and silently wants people to ignore, and see her through it anyway. But only if they're going to really love her. You know how it is.)

SENSE OF FAMILY: 7/10. Very connected to her parents and siblings and loves them dearly. Also feels ostracized, being 'technically an orphan', and every now and then is afraid that she is not quite as much of her parents child as her siblings are, like there is somehow a difference between them and her that means she doesn't really count.

ATTRACTIVENESS: I...... Don't want to use a number in this instance? She doesn't strike me as having a high opinion of her own looks, but I don't think it's necessarily a point of focus for her. I do think, though, she's got a lot of features that could be considered more human-influenced, such as her four fingers and smaller nose, defined brows, and smaller canines. This probably effects others' opinions of her beauty, but I doubt (at least among her own clan) as much as she thinks it does.

AGILITY: 9/10. Mostly she likes to take her time and tends to sort of ...drift around, but when pressured or excited, she's light on her feet and difficult to catch. Notably, she's an incredibly quick climber, and excels at moving over both the forest floor and higher pathways among the branches. She's still learning & building her skillset but I imagine she's showing signs of this in the water, too.

[crystalkleure]

Very Strong sneaking suspicion that I might have AVPD

[faeryarchives]

lean on me

sometimes being blinded by the countless responsibilities, one tends to forget everything and drive themselves to their limit so that is why it takes one to let the other know that they always have someone to lean on

riddle rosehearts x gender neutral reader!

"oh great sevens, i feel like my eyes are going to fall off at this rate."

heaving out a long sigh, you let your head rest on the book you were reviewing for ages. mister trein announced that there will be a big test next week in history that covers 30% of your grade so of course you couldn't risk losing that part of your grade by failing so it is in the most prioritized thing in your list.

but as always, and miraculously none of your plans went the way you expected them to be.

about to open a book? "prefect do you have time to spare? i need a little help with the ghosts bothering the warehouse near the garden."

going to create index cards to recap your lessons? "(nickname)~ so listen, listen i really found this new place downtown but i can't visit it alone! can you come with me?"

looking for jack to copy his notes? "oh there you are (name)-san! i have a favor to ask you! hmm? what am i doing? why of course still looking for a way to send you back home and certainly not reading the latest manga release!"

before you even notice it, the announcement was made six days ago and it turns out studying the day before the exam is not a good idea.

"sometimes i just want to be like leona being able to laze around instead." mindlessly flipping through your notes, the sound of a person entering your room and approaching from behind went unnoticed until they gave you a gentle pat your head causing you to turn around only to see riddle with a worried look on his face.

feeling the energy rushing back to you being faced to face with your boyfriend, you let out a cheer before hugging his waist. "riddle! i missed you so much~ what are you doing here?"

"have you ever heard of rest, (name)? ace and deuce told me that you've been in this library for hours now and even grim had a hard time convincing you to take a break."

"no offense but you out of all people talking about taking a break? it's like the world is going to end." riddle just let out an angry huff, sitting at the empty chair next to you. "well now the world is going to end because you are taking a break, right now."

the dorm leader put his hand on top of yours, holding them gently while looking you right in the eyes - you can clearly see how worried the male is.

"i know that you are very capable of yourself love, really. but sometimes, it wouldn't hurt to lean on your friends- to lean on me." looking at the amount of books piled around you, he took out some of your favorite snack and placed it in the middle of the table.

"as for someone always being asked for favors, you should always remember that you still need to put yourself first okay?" riddle saw it all - how you couldn't help but to help others in need whether be it a small or big matter and how it always seems to cheer you up at the end of the day knowing that you made someone's day better.

contemplating on your next choice of action, a nervous laugh escaped your lips. who wouldn't be nervous when the love of your life is staring deeply into your soul?

not being able to stand reading another phrase in your book, you rest your head on riddle's shoulder before grabbing the snack he bought for you and took a bite. "well if i end up failing this test i am telling mister trein its your fault."

"you won't fail, i'll help you review later after you rest."

"wait, are you for real?"

"mmm, you don't want to?"

"are you kidding me? you are the best riddle i love you!" you tackled him into a big hug. the once peaceful and quiet room is now filled with your giggles and chat with riddle, feeling the previous pressure on your shoulder slowly disappear.

maybe sometimes it's not bad to rely on your friends at all.

extra.

"aww man i got a forty nine, i really thought i'll get over fifty this time!"

"sixty-four out of eighty! in the exam that's good enough!" ace turned to around facing deuce who seemed to be troubled while looking at his paper.

"huh what's wrong deucey? did you fail?" the blue haired boy shrugged his shoulders and showed his paper to the three of you - eventually everyone in the room could hear shout of surprise coming from your group.

"seventy?!"

"no way did you got possessed by a studious ghost?!"

"congrats deuce!"

"hahaha, it was just a stroke of luck that i studied the hardest part in the exam. what about you (nickname)?" before the three could see your paper, mister trein walked up to the group and surprisingly gave you a pat on your shoulder - stunning every person in the room when a smile appeared on his face.

"good job in getting a perfect score on the exam (last name). you did really great this time."

"thank you mister trein, learning more about this world's history was also pretty fun especially with a person who is very knowledgable in it~"

...

"a perfect score?!?!?!"

"i better treat riddle to a date as a thank you ahihi."

[youryanderedaddy]

Every breath you take

You heard of Corpse husband, now get ready for corpse wife--

tw: female reader, necrophilia so non - con, murder, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, dirty talk, overall nasty shit that i needed to get out of my system, pls don't read if such stuff makes u uncomfortable

Jack couldn’t bear to look at you without feeling his stomach crumble and twist sharply and violently. You looked almost normal. Besides the empty stare in your now dark lightless eyes and the dead weight of your arms stilled tightly by your side. Besides the necklace of pretty sky - coloured bruises and purple bite marks around your delicate neck. If your boyfriend was to simply press his lips against yours in a desperate attempt to savour your final cries, he might just be able to feel their silky softness - the smooth edges of your tiny side smile against his cheek, the pure scarlet warmth of your slightly open mouth and the millions pained whispers falling out with each heartbeat of your very soul. And If the man was to hold your hand he could pretend it wasn’t colder than ice itself.

It was an accident. It had to be, otherwise Jack wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Just minutes ago you were safe and sound in his embrace, screaming, thrashing and fighting at every turn, but still safe none the less. Then you had told him you hated him. That you could never love someone as cruel and sick as him. He didn’t remember much from the resulting argument, other than him on top of you with his hand around your throat, your lips turning blue and your eyes closing slowly as you lost consciousness completely. Your boyfriend was ready to give everything for you to shout at him again, for you to squirm around like a battered animal like you used to, insead of watching you lay on the ground, motionless and still, peaceful like an angel. He wanted the old you back, the you who wasn’t quite living (since you always went on about how Jack had stolen your life away from you), but breathing and alive. You were quiet and obedient just like your captor had always wanted, such a good girl for him now that you were dead and unable to protest any of his sick, twisted desires. 

A single tear ran down the man’s black charcoal eyes as he lowered his head and kissed you softly, careful and wary, like you would wake up any moment and push him away in horror. The graze was airy and almost sweet, so different from all the other rough invasive kisses he had forced upon you in the past as a reminder of your place beneath him. Yet this one tasted of nothing, but blood and ice. Your lips were cold, but your body was still warm somewhere under that flimsy blue sundress your boyfriend had helped you put on in the morning. It made you look so innocent, so childlike in your eternal sleep. Jack stared at you for what felt like an infinity, unable to look away, hypnotized. He ran a finger through your exposed collarbone, then laid his head on your chest, listening to the silence. You were dead, but your breasts were still so soft and squishy, the man decided. Jack’s hands were glued to your waist, admiring your curves as he dug his nails deep into the loose fabric, ripping it away from your figure, causing shivers down the delicate skin. Your back hit the ground, sinking into the soil and the mud, a couple of daisies forming a crown above your head. You were so beautiful all vulnerable like that, his sweet Persephone, queen of the underworld and of his heart, too. 

“You’re so lovely, dear.“ The man spoke out as he positioned himself above you, his eyes hungry and sharp as he stroked your cheek, devoid of any colour. “No panties, huh?“ Jack whispered lustfully, his voice raspy and deranged, and cupped your sex. If you were still alive you would have turned red, stuttering as you explained that it was him who ordered you to go bare under the dress, but now you remained quiet like a blushing bride on her wedding day. The lack of protest only managed to stir the maniac up further, and he unbuckled his jeans to free his half - hard member. “LIttle minx.“ He cooed at you and ruffled your hair, fisting your locks to pull your head down, thus arching your back and exposing your neck to his sharp teeth. “I am going to use you, precious. You want to be useful to me, don’t you?“ Your boyfriend muttered against your throat as he covered it in harsh lovebites and hickeys, only growing satisfied when there wasn’t even an inch unmarked. “Because you are mine, baby. You are my good girl.“ He kept going, stroking himself in the process until his cock was practically oozing with pre - cum. Jack smirked when he didn’t hear the typical whimpers and cries of disgust you usually showered him in when he let himself act possessive of you. The man wasn’t sure why you always denied the truth - you were his and his alone, even after death did you part.

Your tormentor spent the next ten minutes squeezing and kneading your breasts, pinching the nipples, covering them in sticky white semen. Jack almost missed the way your chest would rise and fall with each soft breath escaping your rosy lips. When he was done playing with your body like you were nothing more than a rag doll your boyfriend spread your legs wide open, and his mouth watered at the godly sight. “You have such a pretty cunt, dear.” He commented lovingly, his fingers pushing and poking at your pink slit, abusing the nerve ending still functional despite its owner not being able to. “I am doing to force my cock deep inside your pussy, and there is nothing you can do about it, baby.” The man laughed manically, high off this new found power and control over your lifeless body. When you were alive you would beg him to stop by this point, crying and whimpering helplessly. Now he could pretend that you actually wanted him to ruin you. That you needed him as much as he needed you. 

Your boyfriend entered your tight hole with a sharp deep thrust, his lenght reaching your cervix with each and every brutal move. In and out, in and out again and again. The man felt like he could fuck into you forever - there was no pressure to stop and your muscles were completely relaxed now so it was up to him to take his own pleasure from your unwilling uncooperative body. “You’re so loose, honey.” He growled, biting your earlobe and moaning into your ear. “Guess I really wore you out the past few months.” Jack suggested playfully, a hint of pride apparent in his thick voice. Soon enough he was groaning loudly and ruthlessly pounding into you, covering your whole body in mud and grass. The pale moonlight lit up your sweaty face, making you look lively and vibrant once again. Your captor claimed your lips hungrily, licking and biting them into a swollen bloody mess. “Fuck, take it, my love.” He commanded as he lifted your body in order to go even deeped into you. “Take all of me inside.” The man added quickly, thrusting one last time before the pleasure overtook his senses and he arched his back in delight. He inhaled deeply as he pulled out of your used up hole, dripping with his seed. 

In that moment the man knew that he had to let go of you eventually. It wouldn’t be too long before your perfect little body decomposed and your beauty faded in the face of death, but there was some time between now and then. And he intended to make good use of it. 

[fe-fictions]

Can u pleaaaase re upload the story "lost in a blizzard" with Dimitri ? And also the one where nobles are bad talking about Byleth ? I would be soooo grateful ! I loved them so much !!!

(Oh can I ever)

It was the first time you were visiting Faerghus. Well, beyond your wedding, which was a blur before your honeymoon, and you left from there to the church…

You were excited to visit your husband’s homeland. Yet you had noticed as soon as the snow fell that it was going to be different from expected.

Namely, that your husband was very, very interested in everything you were doing. He was constantly concerned about everything you were doing, determined to make sure you were with him at all times.

You adored Dimitri’s company, but having him stuck to your side was…suffocating.

You were a lone wolf since childhood. Even when you started as a professor, you had space. During the war, you had time alone.

Not having a moment to recharge and recuperate was starting to eat at your nerves.

You were only on day four of twelve.

So you took one of your very few opportunities to wake before Dimitri, quietly slipping out of bed (after expertly lifting his arms off you), and slipped on something simple, searching for some place wher you might find some solace.

Of course, being completely unfamiliar with the castle (and having no time to explore it), you opted for the next best thing.

“Excuse me, miss.” You called to a maid bustling around in the early gray.

“Oh, good morning, My Queen! I did not expect to see so early- it is a lovely surprise!” She greeted you with a curtsy, head bowed. “What can I do to assist you, milady?”

“I was wondering if you know a place where I can be alone with my thoughts.”

“I suppose…have you tried the royal library? It is a lovely, quiet place with the biggest collection of books in all of Faerghus!”

“That does sound ideal, but…” You trailed off; knowing Dimitri and his uncanny ability to hunt you down, he’d likely check there, first. The training room and the courtyards, second and third. “Maybe other than locations- are there any activities you could recommend me that I might be able to enjoy, alone?”

“Aside from a good book? My goodness, I can hardly think of any, milady! Is there something specific you wish for? Perhaps you wish to meditate, or self-reflect?”

“Yes. Precisely.” You agreed with her in an instant, “Where should I go?”

“I find long walks outside the castle grounds quite effective. There are beautiful cliffs just by the water, near the edge of the castle,” She pointed past the walls, to the east. “There’s a lovely path, and it’s quiet and peaceful…whenever I wish to get away, that’s where I go!”

“Perfect.” You said with a small smile, “Please, will you tell me how I might reach the path?”

“Of course, My Queen. It is-”

“Beloved!” Dimitri’s voice was far too awake compared to his usual morning voice. You straightened at his call, turning to see the man coming up with a relieved look on his face.

“Good morning, Dimitri.”

“My king!”

“Good morning, to you both.” He greeted the handmaid, albeit dismissively as he took your hand. “Beloved, where were you? I woke without you beside me, and I feared you had disappeared.”

“I’m here, Dimitri.” You assured him, “I was asking for some sort of pastime I could enjoy when I have a spare moment.”

“What few you have.” He joked, leading you back to the bedroom. A small part of you wanted to pull away.

You were confused by your feelings. You loved Dimitri, and would gladly throw your life down to protect him, but you found yourself annoyed by his touch. It wasn’t fair, especially to the man who cared for you so deeply.

“While I admire your desire to find some recreation to enjoy, my love,” He opened the door for you, giving your hand a squeeze, “I wish you would alert me when you go. Waking up without you is jarring, now that you’re here.”

“Do you think something terrible has happened if I don’t?”

“At first, yes. I know it’s silly, since we’ve been at peace for a little while. But also…if I am being honest, it’s because we only have a short time together before you depart. We’ve only a week and a few days before you return to the monastery.”

“It’s not ideal.” You agreed with a soft frown, feeling his arms come around your waist. “But distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Perhaps that’s why I can’t bear a second apart when you’re here.” He mused as he kissed your forehead. “So please, Byleth, if you must wake early, won’t you tell me?”

“If you know I’m up early, you pull me back into bed.” You reminded him, something he’d done on the second and third mornings without hesitation. Dimitri smiled sheepishly, a soft blush coloring his cheeks.

“I suppose you’re right, but even so. I wish to spend every percious moment here, beside you.” He insisted, and cupped your cheek. “Won’t you please indulge me? Just this once?”

“I’ve been indulging you for days,” Is what you wanted to say. Instead, you pursed your lips and nodded. He beamed, shoulders relaxing in your agreement to do as he asked.

He kissed you, then again and again after. “Thank you, Beloved! I am truly the happiest man alive.”

You could only give him something of a grin as he showered you in affection yet again, unsure if you were entirely pleased with your decision.

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

The days wore on, and sure enough, Dimitri’s clingy-ness worsened.

The date of your departure was closing in, so he was doing everything in his power to stay by your side more than ever before.

It was frustrating, because the only moments you had to yourself now were when you had to use the lavatory, for those few, precious seconds.

So when you woke up the morning of the ninth day, you had enough. You were up before the dawn and ready for some time alone. Dimitri was asleep, arm around your waist as always.

You maneuvered away expertly, and searched for your armor and clothes. You were going to take up that handmaid’s advice, and you were going to enjoy that walk.

You could feel the cold air that threatened to seep in from the sealed windows when you walked past, but you hardly cared. You were ready to get out and spend some time away from your husband.

You stopped short of just leaving with no explanation, however. Instead you wrote him a small note, placed it on his bedside, and kissed his head before you slipped out of the room unnoticed.

The brisk, bitter cold already started biting at your skin the instant you left the gates (with specific instruction for the guards not to follow you), and you started for the cliffs.

You were excited to see what waited for you out there, past all the snow and white that was starting to dilute your vision. You were having trouble making out a path as it piled up, clearly having started early last night.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around you, determined to insulate as much as possible despite the cold freezing your armor. You’d warm up if you kept moving, you told yourself through chattering teeth.

Just keep moving.

You wondered what was so peaceful about a walk in this weather. It seemed more arduous than anything. Yet you persevered, determined to enjoy what time you had.

You were starting to lose feeling in your toes as the snow fell faster and thicker. The wind was picking up, whipping around you and slicing through your cloak. You pulled it tighter, but it didn’t help.

You looked back, wondering if you had perhaps made a mistake. You wondered if Dimitri was up yet, and if he’d seen your note. Maybe he would know how to navigate winter walks like this. If you had asked him to accompany you, you were sure he would be glad to escort you.

Yes, perhaps it would be better to do this with him. You didn’t need to be out here alone. You could find some other pastime, like reading in a corner of the library. The warm, dry library…

You searched in the snow for the castle. It was gone.

You felt a whisper of panic in your heart, realizing the snow was so thick and angry you could barely see ten feet behind you. You couldn’t even see the tallest towers of the castle. Had you really walked that far?

You looked to the ground, and realized your steps were nowhere to be found. You knew you’d gone in a fairly straight line along the path, but to think the snow had fallen so quickly you couldn’t find your footsteps was disarming.

You needed to go back.

You resolved to go, yet when you forced your legs around, they were heavy. Far too heavy. You couldn’t feel your feet. Or your hands. Or your face, really. You were so very cold, trembling violently. At least, you thought it was violent.

You were having trouble feeling much else but the numbing cold.

You needed to rest. This was too hard for your body. You were cold. Tired. Cold.

You were asleep in the snow.

All alone.

-----

“Byleth!” Dimitri had risen hardly an hour after you’d left, and he was starting to worry. He looked around the room, and realizing your armor was gone, he figured you’d gone off somewhere.

He quickly dressed, frowning to himself. You agreed to wake him whenever you were planning on getting up. You had promised him that much, at least. Why did you ignore his request this morning?

He went to the bedside to put on his signet ring, and found your note.

“Good morning, Dima. I’m going for a walk this morning. I’ll be back by sunrise.”

Dimitri looked out the window for point of reference. The sun was nowhere to be found, much like his wife.

It was snowing fast and thick. His jaw tightened. Where exactly had you gone on a walk? Surely you hadn’t gone out into the snow, had you? You, who was barely accustomed to the bitter cold of Faerghus?

Surely you knew better.

Dimitri reassured himself as he exited the room, and started for the courtyards in search of you. If anything, you likely went to explore. You would never leave without saying anything. You knew how important it was that he knew where you were.

He asked the maids; nothing. The butlers were unsure of your location. No council men or women had seen you, and you weren’t in the kitchen. No one knew where you were.

Dimitri was at a loss. You weren’t in the castle. Or maybe…you were hiding?

He thought of the best locations to check- the library, perhaps? Or the training grounds. Though there wasn’t a need to take a walk there, seeing how close they were to-

“Organize the search party, quickly! Assign two healers to each group.”

“Should we bring out the wyverns?”

“No- it’ll be impossible for them to navigate. Bring horses if you must. The time we spend trying to gear everyone up, the more we waste searching for the Queen!”

Dimitri had never frozen up like he did that instant.

He watched a blur of Dedue and his men go past, heading for the front gates. A search party for the Queen??

“Dedue!!” Dimitri’s voice was hoarse and unfamiliar to him, thick with a fear he didn’t like.

The captain of the guard looked to him and immediately his face paled. Not a great sign.

“King Dimitri! I just sent a messenger for you- we have an emergency!!”

“What’s going on?” He demanded, hand twitching for a weapon.

“The Queen is missing, milord. She went out into the blizzard this morning and hasn’t returned.”

Dimitri couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“S-she did…she’s what??” He croaked out.

He leaned against the closest pillar to keep from his legs giving out.

Dedue nodded grimly. “She went out alone this morning, ordering us not to accompany her. We fear her life is in danger.”

Dimitri pulled himself up long enough to rush the front gates, grabbing the closest spear he oculd find and leaping on one of the few horses they had just taken from the stables.

He drove his heels into the beast’s sides and galloped into the snow, leaving behind the shouts of his men.

You were missing. You were out there, alone. You had been lost to the snow and he was going to find you before it was too late.

He had waited so long for this, to bring you home with him, to show you a peaceful kingdom.

He had only been able to love you for such a short time.

He’d be damned if he lost you like this.

“Byleth!!!” He shouted over the whistle of the winds, scanning the snow frantically for a scrap of cloth or lock of hair. “Byleth, where are you?!”

He pressed onward, galloping further and further away from the castle. It had been a while since you left, if Dedue was planning to send out a group to find you. There was no telling how far you’d gone before the weather got so bad.

“Byleth!!!” He called for you louder, his voice cracking against the ice on his tongue.

His hands trembled around the reins he snapped, but not because of the cold. Damn the cold.

He couldn’t even think of the cold when you were missing.

Again and again he called, pressing onward every time he didn’t get a response. The castle was long gone by now. Had you truly made it this far? Had you arrived at the cliffs and were just waiting for an escort back to the castle?

Were you-

DImitri’s thoughts were loudly interrupted when the horse whinnied and reared back, a frightened noise coming from the beast and snapping him back into focus.

“Easy-! be still!!” Dimitri pulled at the reins, “What’s gotten into you? We can’t le-” He looked to where the horse had turned away, and gasped.

Your cloak was nearly covered in the snow. As was the woman beneath it.

His wife.

“BYLETH!!” He shouted out, leaping from the horses back and tumbling into the snow. He dug you out in panicked movements, throwing the snow aside and revealing the blueish hue of your icy body.

Dimitri sucked in a painful breath, drawing you out of the snow. Tears that couldn’t fall blurred his vision, forming into ice on his lashes as he tried desperately to wake you.

You were completely unresponsive, limp and heavy in his arms. Cold.

So very, very cold

“O-oh, Beloved- please hold on! Hold on, h-hold on, please…please wake up!” He cradled your face, your lips an unnatural shade. He shuddered, a hollow iciness filling him far more bitterly than any snow ever could.

He hoisted you up with sluggish limbs, hardly able to fathom what state his wife had fallen into.

You were so frail, and so very, very cold.

It was like he was carrying a dead body.

Another loved one gone.

Another one lost because he wasn’t there to help, he wasn’t able to-

“King Dimitri!!”

Dedue and his men were galloping towards him, not realizing that he had forced his horse into a canter while his mind cratered.

Dimitri could only stare at them, wordless as he clutched you in his arms, his body trembling from head to toe. Dedue took one look at you and understood.

“Quickly, milord- the clerics are standing by in your quarters. We must hurry! She’s not gone yet!”

You weren’t gone yet.

Dimitri looked at you, and faintly, oh so painfully faintly, did he see the smallest of breaths move your chest. You were still with him.

“Hold…h-hold on, Beloved. I beg of you, hold on.” He whispered hoarsely, racing back to the castle to bring you back.

He could only pray that Sothis have mercy on him this once.

Just this once.

This was the one soul that he couldn’t bear to carry on without.

Not now.

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

The first thing you realized when you came to was that you were warm.

You were someplace safe, and soft, and heavy.

Heavy, you realized through a throbbing headache and blurred vision, because there was a heavy mountain of blankets on top of you.

Al thick, and furry, and well-insulated, but they were bearing down on you enough to awaken you from the discomfort.

You shifted some beneath them with a grunt, then a groan.

You were awake.

Inside the castle.

Your eyebrows drew together in the silence, the roar of the crackling fire a familiar sound.

You’d heard it every morning and every night since you’d come to Faerghus.

But that was impossible- you had gone, alone. Had the guards actually trailed after you and rescued you? Or had they come for you after you’d been gone too long?

Maybe Dimitri read your note and decided to come after you, and saved you just in the nick of time.

Your eyes slid open, properly.

Dimitri.

You turned your head despite the throbbing in your skull, your whole body protesting any sort of movement.

But you looked to the side, and then the other. Dimitri was nowhere to be found. You grimaced.

The waves of guilt crashed into you much like the ice when you had collapsed. You must have worried him.

He was probably the one who sent for your rescue- for you to turn up in the snow must have been horrifying to him.

All because what, you wanted some alone time?

You bit your lip, a sting in the corners of your eyes. This was the worst. Your poor husband. He most likely extremely cross with you, which is what you deserved.

If he just came in and started yelling at you, you wouldn’t blame him at all. In fact, you’d welcome it.

“Beloved!!”

Okay, maybe not welcome it.

“Hmm…?” You grimaced again as the painful volume worsened the headache, but Dimitri didn’t notice.

He had burst into the room with a legion of clerics, his voice hopeful despite the loudness.

“You’re awake!” He knelt at the bedside, his expression full of something you hadn’t seen in a long while, not since the war.

You had scared him.

“Oh, Beloved, you’re all right! You’re f-finally awake, and I thought you would be asleep forever…but you’re all right!”

He whispered frantically, one hand on your face while the other found your hand beneath the blankets. His smile was wobbly and close to tears, but it was a smile all the same.

You couldn’t find a trace of anger in his expression, and that only made the guilt worse.

“When Dedue told me what happened, I wasted no time. I was on a horse and out in the snow before he finished talking.” Dimitri said with a soft laugh, though it was empty.

You looked at him, seeing the troubled crease between his eyebrows. His lips were stretched thin in a single line, yet you could see them moving downwards.

He had much he wished to say, but he didn’t know how.

“Dima…” You called to him weakly, drawing his eyes back to yo immediately. “Are you okay?”

He stared at you for a moment, then blinked, and gave a genuine chuckle. “Byleth- you’re asking me if I’m all right? You’re the one buried beneath every blanket in the castle!”

“It is heavy.” You commented. “But I want to know. Are you okay?”

“That is a complicated question, love.” He sighed, rising to his feet so he might start removing the blankets from the bed. “I am glad that you’re okay, and you’re safe. But I am…confused. I wondered why you disappeared without telling me. I was grateful for the note, but— you promised to speak to me if you went somewhere.”

“I did.” You agreed, exhaling and inhaling deeply when the weight lifted from your chest. Dimitri left the thickest blanket, as you were both sure he’d be scolded for taking away all your layers.

“If you knew, then why…?”

“Because I wanted to be alone.” Your reply was honest, and it caused his mouth to close once again. “I love being with you, Dimitri, and I love you. But I am someone who needs time alone. I know you want to spend time with me before I go, but…it is uncomfortable.”

“You…find my presence…uncomfortable?” He sounded so hurt you wanted to shove all those words back into your mouth and throw yourself into the castle moat.

“N-no, it’s not that. It’s when you’re…always attached at my side, arm in arm, rather than simply walking beside each other. You’re constantly with me, even when I’m doing something like reading ordinances. It can’t be entertaining to sit while I’m working.”

“I do not sit with you because I find it entertaining. I do it because I wish to be with you.”

“And I am very glad for that, but…just because we’re married doesn’t mean we have to be next to each other every second. Finding you pacing outside the lavatory when I’ve only been gone a few minutes is not normal behavior, don’t you think?”

“Ah.” His cheeks flushed, “I suppose that is…a bit much.”

“I’m not saying I want to stay away from you, or leave early, or anything like that. I want to treasure every moment we have together.” You promised him, and reached your hand out to him from beneath the covers. Dimitri near instantly took it.

“I just need some time to myself, too.” You finally said.

Dimitri bowed his head a little, looking down and a good bit defeated. But he understood you. He loved you, and only wanted you to be happy. If it meant leaving you for minutes a day…

“Very well.” He finally agreed, squeezing your hand once more before he started to pull away. “I…suppose you’d like me to give you some time alone now; I’m sure you can’t rest if I’m making a fuss.”

“Oh, Beloved.” He breathed, waste no time in joining you beneath the covers,s opening his arms and welcoming you into his broad chest without hesitation. You clung to him, a bit tightly, burying your face in his chest.

“Oh, Beloved.” He wasted no time in joining you beneath the covers, welcoming you into his arms without hesitation. You clung to him, burying your face in his chest.

“Thank you, Dima. And…I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize. It’s my fault for not understanding your needs.”

“I don’t want to ever hurt you. I shouldn’t have gone out into the snow, alone.”

“Not even people from Faerghus are brave enough to do that. There was no warning with this snowstorm- had I known it was coming, I would have had the front gates sealed immediately.”

“I see…” You hummed, yawning into his warm sweater. Dimitri beamed as he squeezed you closer. You were so very precious.

“Please tell me whenever you need time alone. I will do all I can to ensure you have a peaceful respite.”

“I will. And I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Oh?”

“You’re my husband, Dimitri.” You peeked up at him, making his heart pound painfully. “I want you to know that you’re loved.”

“I-I…I know that I am.” He swallowed thickly, unable to comprehend how much he loved this woman. “I love you, too.”

“I’ll make sure you remember it, every day.”

“I look forward to seeing your methods.”

“They will be very effective. You’ll never forget- by any means necessary.”

“…Beloved…is that a threat or a promise?”

“Hmm...”

"B-Beloved?"

You fell asleep before Dimitri couldn't decide if he was afraid or touched.

Probably both.

[egcdeath]

act natural

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: sometimes, you just have to share the bed. 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: fluff, sharing a bed, idiots in love, cheesy

a/n: this is really just an excuse for me to write a lot of self indulgent bants, but it’s also a part of @stargazingfangirl18’s soft!dark challenge, and i decided to write something soft and use the prompt of only having one bed! (p.s. i like did not edit this at all so if a few words are used a lot pls forgive me) 

Dinner at the safehouse was finally wrapping up after a long day of getting your ass beat by an angry android and a few enhanced teenagers. You and everyone else around you seemed to be more than exhausted from the extensive day of revisiting deeply repressed traumas, and petty arguments between teammates over who was truly at fault for every predicament you found yourselves in.

You took a long and final swig from a beer bottle, glancing up to Bruce and Nat as they stood up and pushed in their chairs, retiring for the night. 

“Thanks for hosting us, Laura,” Natasha offered, grabbing her plate from the dinner table, and dropping it off in the dishwasher.

“Of course, guys. Any time,” she gave a half smile to her friend, then looked back at the table, where everyone else had taken the memo, and found themselves somewhere in the process of leaving the table, or grabbing their dishes, “but before you all go, I wanted to warn you that someone else is gonna have to share a room tonight.”

You glanced over at Steve, who was on your left, and Tony, who was sat at the head of the table. You and Steve shared an awkward chuckle at the thought of being in the same bed, not even considering the similarly uncomfortable situation of sharing a bed with Tony. 

“I think I’ll be rooming alone. These two lovebirds can share,” Tony chided before either of you even had a chance to think of a response. You looked back over at Steve, whose cheeks were currently dusted with a light shade of pink, and the bigger man quickly looked away from you.

“Tony, you know we are not- you know what, nevermind,” you huffed, deciding the argument was not worth it. 

Tony shook his head as he dropped his dishes off in the dishwasher. “So no objections?” he asked teasingly, eyeing you both with a smirk on his way back from the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?” You could’ve sworn you heard Clint and Fury laughing to themselves before excusing themselves from the table, and dispursting though the house.

Besides the slight humiliation of being teased for your situation, you weren’t too concerned about the act of spending the night, or next few nights with Steve. You and Steve were friends, or something like that. Just a few pals with crushes that you refused to admit to each other (or yourselves).

Pushing this thought aside, you grabbed the neck of your empty beer bottle, along with a few pieces of silverware and marched off to the mechanical cleaner yourself. You dropped off the things that needed to be cleaned, tossed your bottle in the recycling bin, then went to turn away when Steve grabbed your arm, automatically catching your attention. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked, letting his vice grip on your arm go.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you upstairs,” you muttered before speeding off, and heading upstairs where you strolled into the only vacant room, with the door wide open, and both your own and Steve’s duffle bags on the floor. 

You made a mental note to thank whoever brought them in (probably Laura), and dug through your bag to find something even slightly comfortable to sleep in, eventually settling on an oversized shirt and your favorite cotton shorts. 

You had just barely finished changing in the tiny closet when you heard the soft click of the room door, notifying you of Steve’s arrival. You slid open the closet door, and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto the left side, and reaching for your phone as a distraction. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Steve asked, searching through his own bag until he found the only clean comfortable pair of pants he had in there, that just happened to be a jokey Christmas gift donned with a red white and blue color scheme, and graphics of mini shields on it.  

“What the hell, Steve. Of course not,” you set your phone down so that you could get a better look at him. “We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” You could live with that excuse, especially considering that it would not be very becoming of you to tell your crush that missing an opportunity to sleep in the same bed as him feels like a federal crime. 

He stood up from his squatting position, squeezing into the tight space of the closet so that he could change into the corny pants, and finally get out of his clothes from the day, “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Well, they won’t be as long as you stay on your side, okay?” You said petulantly, setting two pillows across the middle of the queen sized bed and attempting to ignore the excited butterflies in your stomach. 

“I will,” Steve responded, exiting the closet slipping into the right side of the bed cautiously, and looking at the wall that was facing him.

You glanced over at Steve, and when you caught wind of his shirtless torso, you couldn’t help but to look away with a warm face,“this is so awkward now,” you said after a beat. “Why couldn’t you have roomed with Tony?”

“Tony is the worst bed mate ever. Total blanket and pillow hog,” Steve chuckled, attempting to ease up some of the tension.

“You’re no saint either. I’ve heard you’re a cuddler,” you bantered back, allowing yourself one more glance at the man. Steve seemed to be having the same thought as you at the same time as you, as your eyes briefly met. 

It was uncomfortably silent in the room once more, and you reached over to your nightstand to turn off the bedside lamp, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Steve,” you turned your back to the border of pillows, fell into a fetal position, and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of peace after such a bizarre day. You tried not to dwell so much on the horrors you’d been forced to face earlier, and instead relied on the rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to you to ground you.

----

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but a jolting of your bed, and a bit of a commotion coming from somewhere in your room pulled you away from your unsettling dreams.

Blinking yourself awake, you uncurled your body, and rolled over to look at Steve, whose legs were thrown over the edge of the bed while he panted heavily.

“Steve?” you slurred sleepily, “you ‘kay?”

“’m fine,” he yawned.

“Well you woke me up,” you mumbled, throwing your head back against a pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was having a shitty dream anyway.”

“Really? I was too,” Steve refused to look at you, staring blankly at the wall.

“So tell me about it,” you hummed.

“It’s just… I keep thinking about how I missed out on so many things from the past. I could’ve been happy, living out my days in a semi-peaceful and familiar world. Not anything like this.”

You sat up as you listened, pushing aside a pillow from the border you’d constructed to move closer to Steve and set a reassuring hand on his back.

“I guess I just wish that I was there. With everyone and everything I used to know.”

“But it’s not all bad, right?” you offered, and Steve shrugged before looking down. 

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that I’ll never truly understand that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’re here now, and you have no other choice but to make the best of it. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if you spend all of your time in the present lamenting about what things could’ve been in the past, you’re just gonna be miserable forever,” you rambled sleepily, words slurring occasionally. 

“Your experience is so unique, so I could be getting this all wrong, but there are plenty of good things here in the now. I mean, a world without the internet? I don’t know if that’s a world worth living in,” you chuckled softly, and were joined in your quiet laughter by the man on the other side of your bed.

“Seriously, though. I know you can’t control your dreams, but maybe your subconscious is letting you know that it’s okay to let go. Of like, the past. It might just be time for you to move on and be happy. I’m sure that Peggy and everyone else from your past would’ve wanted that for you too.” In the dark, you saw the silhouette of Steve’s head nodding. 

“You always know what to say, huh?” he asked, kicking his legs back over onto the bed while you scooted back over into your previous space. 

“I’m like half asleep right now, Steve. If you asked me to repeat half of what I just said, I would not know what to say,” you giggled. 

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Steve asked in a concerned tone. 

“Mmm, I actually just wanna go to sleep. As crazy as that may sound,” 

“Is there anything that I can do to help you not have another bad one?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, becoming a bit more lethargic by the moment. “Spoon me?”

“As you wish,” Steve happily obliged, grabbing one of the pillows from the middle of the bed and adding it to his stash of pillows. 

You threw a pillow from the border between your knees, and received a strange look from Steve. “What? I heard it’s good for your back.” He still didn’t seem convinced. “Stop being so judgy and cuddle me already,” you murmured, turning your body so that you could lay on your side.

Steve scooted closer to you, and you pressed your back to the front of his chest. He tossed an arm over you and somehow managed to pull you even closer to him. You swore you hadn’t been this comfortable since you left the womb, and you nearly purred in response. 

“Can I make a request?” he asked.

You simply nodded.

“Can we just… talk until we fall back asleep?” 

“That’s really cute,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“You just have a relaxing voice!” he defended playfully.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just tell me about… I dunno, anything.”

“That was so helpful, Steven.”

“My bad. Tell me about your favorite… mission?”

“Mm, probably that one time you and I had to go undercover for like a month to bust that arms dealer.”

“Which one?”

“Some dude in the Midwest. Can’t remember his name.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I know who you’re talking about.”

“It was fun being your life partner for a month. We were really good at being domestic.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, we really were. Do you remember that cookout?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed at the memory. “Everyone else was getting so drunk, but you just… couldn’t. They were like Joseph, you’re such a beast, and shit. And who would’ve guessed that you, the old timer would be such a beast on the grill.”

“Well, who would’ve guessed that you were so good at cornhole?”

“Was I really that good? Or were you just really bad? Like really bad, especially for someone whose skill set revolves around having good aim,” you teased.

Steve scoffed and laughed, shaking his head at you. 

“How didn’t those people recognize us? I just don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised how much a beard and dyed hair can change your look.”

“I guess,” you sighed softly, and set a hand on top of Steve’s. “Does this feel counterproductive to you? We’re just sitting here giggling. We’re probably getting less tired.”

“I guess I am less tired. But I’m also not thinking about the impending robot apocalypse.”

“Well now that you brought it up, I’m thinking about the impending robot apocalypse. You better fix this, Rogers.” Emboldened by what must’ve been the butterflies in your stomach falling asleep, you began to roll a bit in his arms so you were facing each other, kicking away the pillow between your legs in the process. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“You’re the man with a plan, right? Think of something,” your lip quirked slightly in a smirk.

Steve leaned in just the smallest amount, before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “I got it. We can do one of those one word stories until we fall asleep.”

Well, that’s not exactly how you thought this moment was going to go. 

“Okay, I’ll start then,” you nodded, pressing your head down against a soft pillow, and looking up at Steve, “once.”

“There,” Steve added.

“Was.”

“A.”

“Death-bot,” you giggled. 

“Okay, Y/N. No. No more stories. We can just listen to each other breathe now until we fall asleep like before since you wanna ruin the mood.”

“What mood? And you listened to me breathe?”

“What else was I gonna listen to?” he furrowed his brows, “it’s too late for this anyway. We can talk in the morning.”

“All you had to do was tell me that it’s way past your bedtime, and I would be understanding. But goodnight anyway, Stevie,” you cracked him one last smile, not budging from your position as you closed your eyes. 

It was silent for a few minutes before Steve whispered up out of the blue, “you still awake?”

You slurred something into the pillow, much more asleep than awake. 

“Well, I really like you a lot. Maybe one day I’ll get the guts to tell you that when you’re not completely out of it.”

You grunted as a response, and Steve couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, not while he was falling asleep, and certainly not during his rather pleasant dreams.

——

You just couldn’t seem to catch a break with your wake up calls. While you and Steve seemed to sleep through the rapping against the door, and the door itself opening, you both seemed to become aware after the artificial shutter of an iPhone camera flooded through your ears.

“You guys just looked so cute, I wanted to archive this moment for the rest of time. And I’m sure the team will be glad to see that you got along well last night,” Nat teased as your eyes widened and you shot up. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, by the way.”

Well, you two were going to have a great time explaining this one. 

[wistfulrat]

a 4-part rec list of my fave drarry fics - the thrillers, dramas, soft bois, and wankbanks getting me through 2020′s shitstorm

[the soft boi list is here and truly i’m not surprised this rec is going to be the longest bc if there’s one thing a bitch is going to do, it’s yearn.

as always! if you love a fic, follow the authors, leave kudos & comments, send them nice msgs bc free art is still labor xoxo]

part 3: soft bois

mood: for when I need respite, a balm to the all-consuming shittiness of life

includes: fluff, comfort, low-stakes, slow-burn fics. a wistful look, a rainy morning, an unexpected grace, a stupidly disarming joke. i could live inside these fics. the smallness of human lives removed from the site of that which hurts & irreparably changes. the story-equivalent of a deep breath after a long day. pregnant silences & pensive mundanity & shy smiles. banter with bite but without the cruelty. the color lavender. weirdly whimsical. soft fics are not necessarily conflict-averse (no drarry fic rly can be, considering the context) but, they offer the reader a generous distance from the initial harm. they’re the quiet cleaning up after a storm. sometimes healing is an exacting surgical knife and other times it’s a slow scabbing. you read these fics to be reassured that the way forward is not always ruthless. and honestly?? they deserve a semblance of peace godDAMmit.

The Way Down by @letteredlettered - 65k - T “and I thought that if someone talked to you as though you were a human being you might—maybe you could act like one” --the way i think about this line daily. the characterization of draco in this fic is one my favorites bc he’s earnest and neurotic and tired of harry’s shit. which is to say, he cares so so much. and harry doesn’t know what to do with that bc he’s got a monster in his chest and lives as a recluse. but they both humanize each other in ways no one else can. “you’re just a person” has to be some kind of drarry ethics of belonging and it makes me CRY. -

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by @greaseonmymouth and dustmouth - 96k - T “Maybe it’s not about deserving it? Maybe you just get to have it anyway. . .I’m allowing myself to want something and to let myself have it and to fight for it.” --harry runs a daycare and also works at a library. draco spends a lot of time in said library. they bond over sci-fi books and therapy anecdotes and quiet philosophical conversations held over cafeteria soup. and harry’s struggling to understand his asexuality. draco’s learning how to live with anxiety and depression. they both want to be deserving of love. incredible fic with beautiful art by dustmouth. - 

Open for Repairs by @drarrytrash - 35k - T “A few leaves rustle in the gutter and the muggle world pays no mind to them, to two lost boys holding on for dear life.” --all of their fics feel exactly like this. like you’ve been allowed to look at something private, tender, unexpected. draco, known abba fan, is a repairman in the muggle world & harry can’t stop breaking thrifted things in order to see him? say less, i'm thERE. also “I think I have a crush on you” goddddd  - other faves by them: Counting Down By Ten - 2k - T: draco’s stepped outside of the party for a smoke. harry follows him bc of course he does. i could read this 100 times and not get tired of it. - Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon - 36k - E: FUCKING HILARIOUS I CACKLED THROUGH THE WHOLE THING. draco’s wolfy problem and harry helping him and harry being flustered by how much he likes draco and draco’s hot heroic moment. shutup it’s perfect. “He almost asks if Draco ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit all the time, but he knows that he, personally, never ever gets tired of being a miserable complaining shit.” and “It’s the traumas,” Harry says gravely” --lines that live rent free in my head -

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn't Really Want, Thanks by seefin - 70k - E “That was the only logical thing to do here, wasn’t it? It was the next step, it was the end of hurting each other and the beginning of the exact opposite.” --harry lives with luna and neville and also he dreams about the future sometimes? and he keeps running into draco. draco thinks this is sus as hell, until he doesn’t. feat. taxi rides, museums, cinemas, rooftop conversations beneath a lunar eclipse, mid-sex innocuous banter, draco and harry discussing nicki minaj. this fic charmed my ass off. seefin writes the most effortlessly hilarious dialogues. i smiled at my phone like an idiot at least 7 times. -  other faves by them: Wild - 93k - E: “he liked feeling needed, for the things that he was needed for back at the house in Ireland. For cooking and gardening and driving. Easy things.” --this shit makes me cry it’s so good. harry lives in Ireland with these three brilliant, hilarious, wandless witches and draco’s a potions student who's come to study under one of the housemates and the boys have so much shit to work through but their love becomes so tender and honest. draco yells at harry a lot and harry lets him and they both keep each other grounded in something real and fuCK.  - Divination for Dickheads - 7k - G: “I’m terrible at having crushes. I’ve never played anything cool a day in my life.” -- oh harry, we knOW. a bus ride, a fortune teller, an aquarium birthday party. god i love this fic. -

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic​ - 61k - E “But we’ve worked so hard at this, haven’t we? Yeah, I know it’s a horror to have to talk about it, but fuck it. We’re friends now, but it took so long to get here. Have you ever had to work so hard at something before?" --the steady blossoming of their friendship in this fic is so goddamn beautiful i want to yell. it’s draco and harry learning to trust each other and the whole thing unfolds so slowly, in this whimsical mix of london streets, wizarding politics, church halls feat. a Hot vicar, and a magical antique shop owner who’s married to literal poseidon?? goD the environment of this fic. immaculate. [also there’s a tender shower scene that makes me cry every single fucking time so if you read this fic pls dm me so we can be embarrassing about it together tbh] -

Nice Things by aideomai - 22k - M “He kept waiting for the weird shock of touch to not knock him clean out of his head, leave him quiet and warm and happy.” --8th year. harry forms an unlikely friendship with draco that begins with smoking weed on a windowsill. harry is touch-starved and draco touches him like he touches all his close friends - like it’s easy. the quiet affection in this fic, the way harry burrows himself into touch bc he’s been without it for his entire life. reading this is like being held. -

Running On Air by @tinyhistory​ - 74k - T “do you remember when we were eleven?” --alexa play coldplay’s the scientist it’s sad girl hours and we’re about to fucking yearn. you’ve seen this fic rec on every drarry list under the sun and i'm here to be redundant. the hype is so goddamn real. this story is a lyrical masterpiece held together by lines that act as refrains that will rattle around your brain until you die, probably. draco’s been missing for 3yrs. harry goes to find him. it’s their odyssey of homecoming. -

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken - 12k - T “But Draco, Draco was everything but boring. Draco made sitting in the rain watching an empty house fun.” --auror partners pining and draco being eccentric and harry being very earnestly gay about draco’s eccentricities!! god this fic is so genuinely fun skskd feat. undercover missions, murderous faeries, a book heist, a stunning navy dress, harry’s eyelashes. -

How We Throw Our Shadows Down by @thistle-verse - 14k - T “Draco is about to say something else— to thank Potter for what he’d done, however poorly— but Harry is smiling at him again, and it’s so soft and perfect that Draco holds in any inadequate words, lest he spoil it.” --draco collects tea cozies and of course harry has the one he wants. the sad and tender gays are at it again feat. conversations in the rain at a train station, melancholy Blaise, muggle photos, wizarding e-bay, the Dursleys.  -

Helix by Saras_Girl - 92k - E “Draco sighs in his sleep and Harry clings on to consciousness, needing to hold on, to give this tiny, insignificant moment the attention it deserves” --I think maybe you can describe every soft Saras_Girl story as giving tiny, insignificant moments the attention they deserve. like, this is an 8th year fic about snails and it’s full of whimsy, grief, compassion, and easy humor. an absolute must-read author in this genre if you want languorous, episodic fics full of distinct OCs and affectionate creatures. - other faves by them: Light up the Night Sky - 98k - M “Draco, sometimes you make my head feel like soup” --the one where harry is a fireworks artist and has a pet chameleon named ken. draco is on the wizarding arts council. they both pine like hell. - Headlights in the Snow - 71k - M “they stare at each other in silence, Harry’s heart beating so loud in his chest that he thinks the biddies must be able to hear it over the sound of their card game.” --the one where draco drives the knight bus and carts around the biddy club, a group of rambunctious old ladies who knit and drink tea and gossip. harry can’t help but fall in love with the everything about this. -

Follow the Water by @xanthippe74 - 38k - T “Harry’s heavy thoughts lift at the sight, like dark clouds blown away from the sun by the wind. The tent doesn’t feel so cramped and stifling now. It feels cozy. And safe. It’s the same feeling that Harry gets when he’s at the Burrow for Sunday roasts, when a group of people who care for each other deeply are crammed into too-small a space.” --harry wanders to the lovegood house on a sunday afternoon. he’s baffled to see that luna’s taken pansy, greg, and draco under her wing. what follows is a summer of forest walks, scavenger hunts, gardening, water fights, odd cakes, faerie rings, and picnics. so many picnics. i love the pace of this fic, the innocent return to childhood things, the way luna brings out the best in all her friends. reluctantly soft slytherins are just *chefs kiss*!! -

Going Postal (A 125pg comic) by dustmouth - T what. a. beautiful. ass. comic. the wizarding fashion, the textures, the character design!! harry travels a lot for his job as a resourcer. draco works in the regulations dept. they pine like a bunch of lovesick idiots via field report notes. god i love dustmouth’s art. -

All the Earnest Young Men by @tepre​ - 29k - E “Draco is twenty-seven layers of personality wrapped up in drama and humour, and a wit so sharp it still stings when he doesn’t see it coming. But there is something below that, too. Something that makes Harry ache just looking at him.” --the way i would lay down my little life for tepre’s characterization of draco, whom invented the word earnest. he’s a magical art theory expert and portraits are disappearing all over London and harry’s the auror assigned to this case. and well. they’re both so very avoidant about how gay they are for each other and it’s like!! shutup and kiss!! which they do in fact, shutup and kiss.  -

Trenches by sara_holmes - 3k - M “Somewhere in the distant part of his mind that hasn't frozen solid, he thinks that maybe he and Draco are about to become more than auror partners, smoking buddies, wine-mates and co-inhabitants of a snow filled trench somewhere in western Scotland.” --the plot line here is literally “it’s cold and i need a fucking cigarette” but let me tell you how I never tire of the shared loaded-silences of two emotionally repressed gays. -

The Years Before Love by lomonaaeren - 13k - M “That’s one of the meanings of peace, he thinks, as Hermione hugs him...That he can do things slowly, softly, without worrying that they won’t be there tomorrow.” --andromeda taking harry under her wing and harry finding solace in teddy. narcissa and draco showing up and the tentative relationships that slowly develop in the quiet calm of andromeda’s house. found families and kisses in the snow and special xmas gifts ugh what’s not to love -

The Moon Looks Lovely Tonight by Omi_Ohmy - 35k - M “I want this to be a house where people are welcome, where they don’t have to be any one way or another” --in which harry collects lost things--owls, best friends, inept bakers, potions experimenters--and turns the mausoleum that is grimmauld place into a home. feat. your fave drarry tropes like shared-beds and reluctant waltzing partners. -

[part 1: thrillers | part 2: dramas | part 3: soft bois | part 4: wankbanks]

[drabbles-mc]

Up All Night

Nestor Oceteva x F!Reader

Request by @garbinge​: “Meeting the love of your life in a police station does not make for a good story to tell your children, but definitely an interesting one.”

Warnings: the littlest tiniest dash of angst, and Nestor being a softie

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Anj sent me this prompt and I immediately got in my soft Nestor feelings. So now you guys get to have him as a dad. I will not be taking any criticism at this time, for I am too busy being soft.

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You heard the front door shut, followed by a very loud sigh from Nestor. You bit back your laugh in an attempt to stay quiet, desperate to not wake the sleeping baby that was cradled in your arms. Rocking slowly in the chair, you waited for him to appear in the doorway. The upside of having a baby that struggled to sleep through the night was that you were usually awake when he got home from work these days.

Like clockwork, within seconds he was leaning against the doorframe. The exhaustion was clearly written all over his face, but despite that he was still smiling at the two of you curled up together on the chair. You smiled over at him, letting out a quiet hum in greeting as you fought to keep your own eyes open.

He walked over, leaning down to press a light kiss to your forehead. His voice was hardly a whisper as he spoke, “Another rough night?”

You gave a tiny shrug, trying not to move too much, “More of the same,” you looked up at him, “What about you? Rough night?”

He shook his head, unable to take his eyes off the little infant in your arms, “Just long. Nothing bad, though.”

“Everyone’s safe?”

He kissed your temple, “Everyone’s safe.”

Seeing that you weren’t ready to get up and try to put her back in the crib just yet, Nestor pulled her small toy chest over and sat down on top of it to join the two of you. He leaned onto the arm of the chair, thumb tracing lightly back and forth over your forearm as both of you looked down at the little bundle of joy in your arms.

“She’s beautiful.”

You let you a quiet chuckle as you nodded, “Remember that when she wakes up crying in another hour or so.”

He leaned over, kissing you on the cheek, “That’s why they make ‘em so cute.”

“Oh? Is it? I thought she just got all my good genes.”

He smiled, “That didn’t hurt.”

You leaned back against the chair as he rested the side of his head against the outside of your arm. The house was silent save for the sounds of your breathing. There was something peaceful about spending the small hours of the morning in the nursery together despite the tiredness that was weighing on both your mind and Nestor’s.

“I want to go lay down,” you whispered, “but I don’t want to risk waking her up.”

He chuckled, “Can’t spend your whole life in the rocking chair,” he looked down at the peaceful expression on your daughter’s face, “Pretty sure she’s out.”

Taking a deep breath, you slowly stand up from the rocking chair. You pause, relief flooding over you when you see her eyes still closed. You slowly walked over to the crib, laying her down. You leaned on the railing of it for a few moments, watching her sleeping soundly. Nestor’s arms wrapped around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he joined you. Reaching up, you lightly traced your fingertips along his cheek. He leaned into your touch, humming in approval.

“Ready?” he mumbled against your shoulder.

You nodded, “I think so.”

You walked back to your room, Nestor’s arms still wrapped around you. You laughed softly as he scooped you up and set you on the bed. He changed into an old t-shirt and pair of sweatpants before crawling into bed beside you. He pulled the blanket up over the both of you, pulling you tight against his chest and letting out a deep sigh.

Neither of you fell right to sleep despite the fact that your bodies were begging for rest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat as his hands massaged circles into the small of your back. Quiet moments with just the two of you were rare and more precious than they’d ever been. He inhaled deeply, squeezing you tight for a moment.

“I love you,” he kissed your forehead.

You smiled into his chest, “I love you too.”

That was all the two of you said, falling back into peaceful, comfortable silence once more. You felt your eyes starting to grow heavy, letting yourself melt into Nestor as you drifted off to sleep. He could feel you leaning more and more of your weight onto him and he took comfort in the sensation, liking that he could feel you pressed to close to him.

Just as he was about to fall asleep as well, the sound of crying came in through the baby monitor. You woke up instantly, sitting straight up in bed as you began to wipe the sleep from your eyes. You went to pull the blanket down off of yourself but Nestor motioned for you to stop.

“I got it,” he leaned in and kissed you, “Get some rest.”

You smiled, flopping back onto your pillow with no hesitation, “Thank you.”

He chuckled quietly to himself as he stood up and made his way out of the bedroom. You listened on the baby monitor and could hear him walking into the nursery. Your eyes drifted shut again but you were still listening intently as the scene unfolded a couple rooms down the hall.

“Hey, now,” he said with a soft smile on his face, “what’s all this about?” he scooped her up and carefully cradled her in his arms, “Hm? What’s wrong?”

He paced around the nursery, swaying slightly as he continued to whisper and coo in an attempt to quiet her cries. He shifted her so that she was laying against his shoulder. Her tiny little hands gripping what they could of the fabric of his t-shirt as her crying slowly but surely began to lessen. He hummed absent-mindedly as he continued to walk around the room. His feet adopted a rhythm without him even realizing it as he gently rubbed her back.

“You’re alright,” he whispered once her crying had quieted, “I’ve got you.”

You hadn’t been able to stay in bed. As quietly as you could manage, you made your way to the doorway of the nursery, watching Nestor get wrapped up with his daughter falling back to sleep against him. She looked so small as she rested against him. Nestor never seemed as comfortable and gentle as when he was holding her.

He turned around, eyebrows raising slightly when he saw you in the doorway. He laughed quietly, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

You stepped in, shaking your head with a smile, “Sounded more fun in here,” you walked behind him to get a good look at your daughter’s face and smiled when you saw that she was already falling back to sleep, “You’ve got the magic touch. Think it might be the dancing.”

He chuckled, “I might not have much, but I do have rhythm.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Sometimes.”

Nestor managed to get her to fall completely back sleep and tucked back away in her crib. He sat down in the rocking chair, motioning for you to come and join him. You laughed softly as you walked over, taking the hand that he offered you as you curled up into his lap. You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms completely around you. Both of you had your eyes on the crib as Nestor began to make the chair sway slightly.

“Gonna put me back to sleep too?” you asked quietly.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “Maybe.”

“You know what I was thinking about the other day?” you asked, not taking your eyes off of your daughter.

“What’s that?”

“What are we going to tell her when she asks how we met?”

He pulled away, looking down at you with a confused look on his face, “What do you mean? We’ll tell her the truth.”

You laughed, “Really? Are you sure you wanna do that?”

“Why not?”

“Being in holding cells next to each other isn’t exactly a sweetheart romance story.”

His lips curled into a smile as they rested against the side of your head, “Meeting the love of your life in a police station may not make for a good story to tell your children, but definitely makes for an interesting one.”

“You going to tell her what you were in for?”

“I’ll tell her what you were in for,” he laughed, “Make sure your daughter knows that her mother used to be a hot-head.”

You smiled, “Used to be?”

“It’s been a while since you’ve gotten in someone’s face. Especially a cop’s. Especially while you’re drunk.”

You chuckled, “That’s fair. That guy deserved it, though.”

“I’m sure.”

You looked up at him, “What were you in for again? Street racing?”

“Yea,” he shook his head, “Me and my brother.”

You laughed, “That’s right. Good thing we both decided to get into trouble that night.”

“Good thing my brother had money to post your bail.”

“Yea. How’d you swing that anyway?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “You really wanna know?”

“I really do.”

“I told him, she’s cute, and she tried to punch a cop in the face. We gotta bail her out. And that was all it took.”

“So you both always had a problem with authority, huh?”

“Yea. You had that in common with us, Miss ‘Drunk & Disorderly’. I remember when they brought you in and threw you in the cell next to ours. Looking like a mess, all pissed off. Pretty sure I was already in love with you by the time they locked the door.”

You giggled quietly, leaning into him. It felt like lifetimes ago, and in a lot of ways it was. So much had changed since then. You took a deep breath as you felt his arms wrap a little tighter around you.  He didn’t talk about his brother very often, but in those soft, quiet moments it felt safe to do so. For a few minutes everything was still just like it was back then—no responsibilities, no extra weight to carry from day to day. You could tell that he was getting lost in it all by the way his breathing changed slightly.

“We did alright,” you whispered, trying to lighten the mood, “for a couple of degenerates. Right?”

You could feel him smiling against you as he nodded, “Yea, I’d say so.”

“We’re gonna have out hands full, aren’t we?”

He laughed, “I’d be willing to bet money on it.”

[justfangirlthingies]

Intruders (Helmut Zemo)

This is my first ever finished fic for our beloved Zemo, who definitely deserves to have his sword in the mcu.

I've had this scenario in my head for a while now and usually I find it hard to properly write out my thoughts to text. I honestly have no idea what's gotten into me that allowed me to write my thoughts into a fic, but whatever it is, it can come and bless me with its presence more often

Summary: You were planning on having a relaxing evening when a group of "intruders" turned your plans around

Warnings: I think there's one or more curse words, a sword (but nothing dangerous happens with it) if you think there's anything that I missed and/or should be added as a warning here please let me know

Word count: 2137 words

Transaltion: If you are familiar with Zemo fics you probably know what "draga" means. In case you don't know draga = dear/beloved

You were relaxing in the bathtub, eyes closed, as the warm water embraced you. You dipped the back of your head into the water in order to get all your hair wet properly, a soft sigh escaping your lips. It was peaceful and quiet, until you heard something that sounded suspiciously like the front door opening and closing that is. Immediately, you sat up in the water, which started to slosh from the sudden movement, and pulled your knees closer to your body as you listened attentively. Maybe you just imagined the noise. You were probably just being paranoid. Living alone in a house as big as this just seemed to have taken it's toll on you. What you had not expected however, was to hear more noises. Oh you definitely weren't imagining this. Loud footsteps accompanied by voices could be heard throughout your home.

In distress, you quietly jumped out of the bathtub, your body and hair still dripping with water as you stepped foot on the towel on the floor. Well you certainly wouldn't be able to defend yourself wearing only a towel. You stayed alert while you let your gaze wander through the room swiftly, in order to find something to wear and also something to defend yourself. That's when you spotted it. His bathrobe.

You never bothered to take it off of it's hanger. Doing so, would have made the situation you lived in come crashing down on you and you couldn't have that, now could you? Besides, it still contained traces of his intriguing smell, you'd never find the willpower to discard something that carries his smell still.

Without giving it much thought, you grabbed the robe and put it on, quickly tying it up as you continued to scavenge the room for some kind of weapon or defense. After coming to the conclusion that there was nothing of use for you in this room you sighed silently. Panic settled in your system as you felt your heartbeat and breathing speed up. You tried desperately to calm yourself, your hand wandering to a little ceramic bowl that usually held soap in it. This would have to do.

Only when you reached out for the handle of the bathroom door, you remembered. The sword! There was a sword just conveniently hanging on one of the walls in the hallway. He had shown you how to use it. You probably forgot half of what he had taught you back then, but it would have to do to save your life. That's why he taught you in the first place, to defend yourself.

The bowl made no sound when you put it down, seeing as you placed it on a piece of fabric, in order to avoid making noise. Carefully, you opened the door and tiptoed your way out into the hallway. As soon as you had stepped foot onto the ground of the corridor, the voices grew clearer, but you needed to focus on your current goal, which was to go and get the sword hanging on the wall and not to listen to the intruders. So, that's exactly what you did.

Getting the sword off the wall turned out to be more challenging than you anticipated, as it was quite heavy. A lot heavier than what you remembered it to be. After struggling with it for a good minute or two ,you finally managed to lift it off the wall and the weight of the full sword, without it being supported on the wall anymore, nearly caused you to drop it, seeing as you only held it with one hand. The odds seemed to be in your favour, for you caught the weapon mid-air and while it still made contact with the ground, the carpet covering the floor managed to absorb the sound of the sword clinking against the floor.

You took a deep breath and pushed the big and wide sleeves of the robe up a bit, to keep them from disturbing you. The voices you had been hearing didn't seem to stray far from the living room and kitchen area. Putting on a straight and brave face, you exhaled deeply and lifted the sword like you had been taught, you also tried to keep the stance you were supposed to have as you made your way down the hall.

You came to a halt right around the corner to the kitchen and living room area, where you attempted to calm your breathing and heartbeat once again. "Now what?" you thought. Should you walk into the room and confront them? Or should you pull the attention to yourself from here right away?

You decided on the first option, this way you could still take a few minutes to calm yourself down and- CRASH!

"Oh no. Oh no this is bad. Shit! What do I do now?" You cursed under your breath as you looked at the object you had accidentally run over. Someone had placed a bag, which you accidentally shoved with your foot because you didn't know it was there, right next to a lamp. It is save to say, that said lamp now laid before your feet in shards and the placement of the bag also wasn't your doing. In fact, the bag didn't even belong to you.

"I thought you said this is your place and no one lives here" a man's voice growled. "Show yourself!" shouted another voice in your direction. You contemplated running away and hiding for a moment, but there was no backing out now. So, you gathered all your might and confidence together and tried to keep your voice steady you spoke "Who are you and what are you doing in my home? I will ask you to leave only this once" Your demand came out more shaky than you would have liked, but it would have to do "And-and I'm armed" You added, realizing you had forgotten to mention it previously.

What you were not aware of was that he stat around the corner with the two men and when your voice reached the Baron's ears, his eyes widened, though he promptly covered up his surprised expression from the others. "You knew about this didn't you?!" Sam jumped up from his seat "This was your plan all along!" "I assure you Samuel, I was not aware anyone was here" Zemo retorted quickly. "What a load of crap!" Samuel shouted back.

You however, didn't get a chance to take notice of the conversation the two were having because you noticed someone else approaching you. You quickly took your stance to fight for your life, the sleeves of the oversized bathrobe rolling back down your arms and covering your hands, which were placed on the sword's handle, as you did so. As soon as you caught size of the man approaching you, you noticed a feature he had. An arm made of metal. This was going to be harder than you thought. You swung your sword at the man who caught the blade mid-swing, with ease in his metal hand. "I'm very sorry for intruding. We were not aware that someone lives here." "Well, I obviously live here" you grumbled.

You kept struggling against him even after he had grabbed your arm and rendered your attacks useless. Even when he had started walking you back around the corner, you still keep the sword tight in your grip, ready to put up a fight again as soon as danger was near.

What you didn't expect though, was to see him. Baron Helmut Zemo. You dropped the sword as soon as you saw him, it landed on the tiled floor making a loud reverberating noise, that immediately caught his attention. "Helmut" you mumbled, not believing your own eyes as they began to water.

As soon as the sword fell, all of Zemo's attention was on you. The way you stood in a poise and secure stance, much like the one he showed you. The sword which he remembered to be decorating the hallway lying before your feet. Your (h/c) hair still wet from what he presumed must have been a bath. He didn't fail to notice his robe, which even though it was tied tightly and securely around your waist, still seemed to hang loosely around your body. Your hands were covered by the sleeves of his robe, yet he didn't miss the way something briefly reflected the light of the room from underneath one of the sleeves. So, you still wore the ring he had given to you. Hearing your voice sounded like music to his ears. Another thing he noticed, was that it seemed like you didn't age a day. Were you possibly taken by the blip?

Helmut Zemo could read you like a book, the expression on your face however, was the only thing that was hard for him to read right now. There were so many different emotions covering your features, but as soon as he took notice of your beautiful pools of (e/c) swimming with tears, he jumped up from his seat, ready to take you into his arms and just hold you tightly and securely to his body. "(Y/n)" he whispered back to you.

Sam Wilson queered the Baron's pitch, by holding him back from crossing the room to reach you. You took notice of what Zemo was trying to do. It was something you also wanted. Something you needed right now. It seemed you were in luck once again because the man with the metal arm had loosened his hold on your arm and it was easy for you to slip from his grip.

Without giving it another thought, you sprinted across the room and ran right into Helmut's arms, not caring about the man who was holding him back. You held each other tightly, enjoying his warmth and familiarity. Sadly, the bliss you were experiencing was suddenly cut short by the man with the metal arm.

"Let me go!" You struggled against the man's arm again. "James let go of them." Zemo demanded calmly. "Do you even know who that is you're throwing your arms around here?!" The guy asked you, his voice sounded more like a growl, which caused you to thrash around more. "Of course I know who that is!" you snarled back at him in irritation. "I think I can recognize my husband myself, thank you very much. Now let me go!" you sassed. The statement had caught the man named James off guard and he loosened his grip on you again, the other man doing the same with Zemo.

You had gotten married shortly before the Baron blew up the UN. It was the only way for him to come to terms with his past and while you were not happy with the decision he made, you understood why he did what he did. That doesn't mean you agreed with his ways of doing this. God knows you had tried to talk him out of it many times after you found out about his plans. You didn't even know what you were looking at when you saw the plans and even though Zemo knew you were not aware of his plan, even after looking at some of the blueprints, he wanted to be honest with you. So, he told you everything he had planned. There was no stopping him from at least trying and while you used to give yourself the fault for not stopping him, which would have been impossible anyways, you had come to terms with it over the years.

"Draga" your husband exhaled as he wrapped his arms around you again. His embrace was something you had missed for a long time, a smile formed onto your lips as you hugged him back and nestled your face in his neck. "I missed you Helmut." your voice was muffled by his shirt and skin. "I missed you too" Zemo immediately returned your statement, his lips resting on the top of your head as he inhaled your scent, that he loved and missed so much. "You smell nice" he murmured against your head making you giggle.

"You do know you'll have some explaining to do about all of...well, this" you pulled away a bit, looking at him as you gestured to him and the other two people in the room, who just watched this whole situation unfold in complete and utter bewilderment.

"I know, I know, but for now let us enjoy the moment just a little longer" he smiled at you as he pulled you closer again, before leaning forward a bit to whisper in your ear "My bathrobe suits you well dear" You lightly hit his shoulder for that statement and because you could practically hear the very evident smirk adorning his face.

Taglist: @ateez-star @littlemissnoname13 @gwlvr @handmaiden-of-mischief

[wastelandcth]

Coney Island - cth

summary: Will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care?

author’s notes: this was...wow. i hope you all enjoy shoutout to @in-superbloom and @hoodhoran for letting me give them sneak peeks to hype myself up over it! 

warnings: mentions of a car accident, mentions of a hospital, angst, sorry there’s a cliffhanger. 

masterlist || request || more songs for calum

You’d always been told that finding your passion at a young age was a blessing. That finding the one thing you wanted to do for the rest of your life and running with it was a blessing in disguise. You’d never understood why everyone would say that to you, you loved making art and there had never been a downside to creating art. There had never been a point in your life where your job had become a stressor and where you’d regretted ever wanting to chase the thrill of canvas and paint. Every day you’d wake up and have the time and space to create scenery you’d seen in dreams or in real life, little pockets in time you could freeze on canvas for the world to see. It’d been a rough start, selling your work for whatever amount you were offered until you had your break and found yourself in a museum overseas staring at the large painting hanging on the wall of some museum you’d dreamed about. You’d been standing there in the empty halls, breathing in the quiet of the hall, the occasional footsteps bringing you back into the moments before a shadow next to you brought your attention away from your splatter of colors and lines to the person who stood next to you. And that’s how you first met Calum, in the silence of an art museum where his eyes studied your work as if he’d been trying to find all the secrets you’d hidden in the paint. It was where you’d told him about the painting, where you’d both found one another in more ways than one. 

That’s when you finally understood the blessing in disguise. 

Coney Island had always been a warm and distant memory to you, the boardwalk lined with thrills on either side, waiting to be explored. You remembered cotton candy dreams and spending days in the sun with your friends. Coney Island has been love and laughter, sunshine and summer days, and a place where the pit in your stomach was gone. It had been all you could think about when summer was mentioned, an inspiration to the painting you’d whispered to Calum about. The colorful swirls of paint and oils that gave you your first real break in the art world had all come from the place where boardwalks and rides had brought you nothing but happiness. 

But now, the boardwalk was silent and you felt like a ghost walking through it. 

The ocean was inviting, a teasing view from wherever you stood, tempting you to step into the sand and sink into its secrets. The boardwalk echoed with every step you took, bouncing the noise up into the sky where it returned as a sharp crack of thunder. The empty bench you’d found was hard and cold, leaving your bones aching with a chill you weren’t sure would ever go away. The wind thumping against your ears as you took in the cold ocean air into your lungs, letting the salty breeze burn them and leave you gasping for air. Your eyes searched the water, a muted gray and blue that seemed to stretch on for as far as your eyes could see, swirling with white foam from the waves that crashed onto the sand every so often. 

The lights from the amusement park flickered against the shore, strobing in and out of view which left you shaking and with teary eyes. The waves filled your head with the screeching of tires and breaking glass. The swirling of the ocean putting the same fear in the pit of your stomach as when you’d heard Calum’s scream. The scream that had been cut off as the call went dead. 

“I know I promised I’d be able to make it to dinner…” you mumbled hesitantly, frowning as you heard Calum’s sigh, “But I-”

“Let me guess, you have a very important gallery show and it just happened to slip your mind again so you’ll have to skip dinner with the band?” Calum mumbled, the annoyance in his voice obvious, “Yeah, I’ve heard it before. It’s fine, you’ll still make it to the show, right?”

“Well…” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair as the busy streets of Brooklyn surrounded you, “I’m really sorry, Cal.”

“Are you serious?” he scoffed, “We’ve had this planned for weeks now! You can’t just-”

“Calum? Calum?! Honey?”

The hospital had become a maze, turns, and twists that only led your farther and farther from your destination. With every squeak of your shoes against the vinyl floor, you felt yourself drifting farther away from him, from the man who’d you’d been putting second to your job and the one you didn’t know you’d be able to see again. Your adrenaline had been on high since the moment the emergency worker had answered the tenth call you’d made to Calum’s phone, telling you the what, when, and where had happened to Calum. You’d raced through the busy sidewalks, trying to find the hospital where Calum’s unconscious self was being sent to. But even as you walked through the barren halls, hands shaking and dried tears on your cheeks, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it all. What if he never woke up and the last words you’d shared between one another was a fight? What if he never knew that you loved him more than anything in the world? What if all the nights away from him could’ve been switched for time spent together? 

“Darling?” one of the nurses said softly, breaking you out of the hurricane of thoughts, “Hey, take deep breaths, how can I help you? Are you hurt?”

“Where’s….they said he’d be here but I don’t..” 

“Who are you looking for, honey?”

“Where did my baby go?”

You’d been ready to answer, to tell them that you needed to see Calum and hold his hand. To make sure he was okay and that he’d be able to make it to his show that night, to be happy on stage. But that was all thrown out the door when the doors opened, bringing a gust of cold and rainy wind into the room as well as the man you’d talked to on the phone only minutes before. Your breath caught in your throat, your body going stiff as you watched them wheel him into the building and then away from you. He was bloody and bruised, his eyes shut in a way that seemed too peaceful for the situation he was in. His hair was flat against his head, the usual curls that had roamed freely on his head now matted with blood, and you couldn’t help but rush out of the building. The walls had started to close in, trapping you in as you watched Calum disappear behind a crowd of nurses and doctors, and you finally took a breath of air as the door shut behind you and the hospital was behind you.

The waves were louder now, crashing against the shore with a force so strong they shook the boardwalk beneath your feet. You hadn’t realized how far you’d walked, not until the familiar lights of the boardwalk shone beneath the fog that had come with the rain, how far you’d walked away from him again. It wasn’t like he’d want you there anyways, the annoyance in his voice had been a clue if you’d ever seen one. You had just pushed him aside again in order to go to another gallery you knew deep down you could afford to miss. It had been like that for weeks now, you both danced around the fact that you hadn’t been in the same city for months on end. Daily phone calls or text messages were replaced with a silence neither of you enjoyed and airplane trips became lonely. You’d been off traveling the globe as your newest works were displayed all across and Calum had been off promoting the band’s latest album. It hadn’t been the first time both of your jobs had overlapped schedules and being away from one another for this long had happened, but the silence was new. 

Which is why the fact that you were both finally in the same city was so important for Calum, and for you. But the idea of finally seeing him had caused the pit of anxiety to form and you found yourself looking for excuses to push him away. And now your last memories of him would be seeing his bruised body being wheeled away from you, the way his voice had cut off with a squeal of tires, and the sound of glass breaking. All because you’d put a distance between the both of you because you felt that intense feeling that you could no longer ignore. It had first started that night when his back became a canvas for your art, and his soft gasps whenever the cold paint hit his skin had ingrained themselves in your brain. The gasps and giggles mixed in with the smell of paint and you felt yourself falling more and more in love with Calum, seeing yourself old and gray with him. It had been terrifying and the shapes you’d made with paint had become nothing but a blur of colors. 

“I love you,” he mumbled against his arm, watching as you’d started packing up the paints and brushes you’d just used on his skin, “You know that?”

“Mhm, and lucky for you,” you teased, pushing down the pit of fear into the back of your mind, “I am deeply in love with you.” 

That’s what loving Calum had always been, a blur of beautiful colors. 

The air had begun to pick up now, swirling and swinging around the sky as the storm grew closer and closer. Not that it mattered much, your face was already soaked with tears and stained by the black mascara that had been running down ever since you’d walked out of the hospital. You wished he’d be by your side, hugging you and telling you it would all be okay. If you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could hear his voice, modulated over the speaker of your phone as he told you about his day. He’d been trying to distract you again, the frustration of your newest piece not looking how you’d imagined bringing you close to tears. 

“I’ll see you soon, yeah? And then you can paint all over my body so you can find inspiration. I promise.” he chuckled quietly, probably laying in a dark room across an ocean. 

“I miss you,” you sighed, watching the sunrise out your window and rubbing at your tired eyes. 

“I love you,” he whispered, a smile in his voice, as if those were the only three words you needed to hear. Maybe they were, maybe those were the three little words you would remember before the crash pulled him away from you. 

Time seemed to tick by slowly, almost torturing you, as your eyes drifted from the ocean storm ahead to the screen of your phone. You knew it was coming, the call that would change your life forever. The one that would leave you broken and shattered on the beach like the shells that had crunched under your feet. Soon enough, the buzz of your phone would bring the time with Calum to an end. Soon, it would just be you, the ocean breeze, and the memory of Calum. The crack of thunder shook the world around you, almost making you miss the sharp shrill that came from your phone, the screen lighting up with a picture of Calum you’d taken a few months back. Your lungs froze, hands shaking as your thumb slid over the screen and accepted the call, bracing yourself for the inevitable. 

“H-hello?” you asked, mentally preparing for the tears that would fill the ocean with salty tears. 

“I think I-I forgot to say your name and they wouldn’t let me in no matter how many times I asked,” you stuttered out, your feet carrying you back towards the sidewalk, towards Calum, “I love you so much I’m so sorry I’ve been so far away.” 

That’s what you would’ve said to Calum, if you’d only had more time and if you had said no to more events. You would’ve spilled your heart out to him, telling him all the secret words you had only whispered in the darkness of the room when you were sure Calum was asleep and his soft snores confirmed he’d never hear them. And even then, as the static of the ocean makes it hard for you to hear the call connect, the waves crashing onto the shore as the wind picks up doesn’t matter. Nothing matters then because the sharp inhale of air brings them to a dangerous silence, a silence that hurts your ears as the ocean, the waves, thunder, and air all come to an end with a soft whisper. 

“Baby?” Calum’s voice spoke out, the softness of it laced with a pain you wished you could take away. But it was Calum’s voice and that itself felt like a lightning bolt to the chest, a breath of fresh air, and a cold wave to wake them up. 

And that cold bench on Coney Island feels like the warmth of his voice. 

join my taglist: @hoodhoran​ @moonlightcriess @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lowkeyflop  @whoyougonnafind @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @ashtonsunflower @2fangirl4u @multistann @wiiildflowerrr @himbohood @in-superbloom @ashtonsunflower @suchalonelysunflower @killmywildflower @sebsbrokentoe @nicebasscalum

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt. 3

Pairing: Eventual Frankie Morales x F!Reader Warnings: Clumsy injury, more stupid fighting Length: 2.5k Notes: If these two dummies could have one (1) adult conversation they’d be in bed together by now. Instead, we get this! *waves around vaguely*

PART ONE, TWO

Money was tight. You had been trying to ignore the dwindling stack of cash, telling yourself that you didn’t actually need to fix the cracked drywall, replace the old oven, or fill in the missing patches of shingles. 

That ignorance had finally come to bite you in the butt. You were rudely woken at three a.m. to the clap of thunder and the pat-pat-pat of rain hitting the house. You loved storms, the excitement of the lighting, and how fresh the air smelled once the rain had passed. 

You rolled over onto your back so you could watch the lightning flashing between the cracks of your curtains. A tap on your forehead quickly destroyed the excitement you were feeling. The wet ‘splat’ was quickly followed by another, and another, and before you were able to scramble up and search for the closest thing resembling a bucket, it had turned into a steady stream.

“Fuuuuuuuck!”

The next morning, the sun rose and shed its light upon a beautiful scene. The leaves, now free from dust, were beginning to turn, the grass glimmered with raindrops, and the sky was clear. You, on the other hand, were a verifiable disaster. 

Hair unkempt, heavy bags under your eyes, and wearing the first items of clothing you could find in your scramble last night. Your exhaustion was so complete, it hadn’t even dawned on you to change or freshen up a bit before going out into the public eye. All you could focus on was getting to Hank’s Hardware and buying all the shingles you could get your hands on.

Once again, however, you were harshly reminded of your dwindling savings and just how expensive fixing up a house could be. The owner, Allan if you remembered correctly, had shown you the right size and style for your home’s roof and you nearly choked at the price.

“You know,” he had said gently, “we do have the option of a payment plan. I don’t let just anyone use it either. It’s for trusted customers. I have a good gut on who I can trust.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a little pathetic while also knowing now was not the time to let pride ruin such a good thing. “And, um, what does your gut tell you about me?”

“Welllll,” he smiled, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders and leaning back a little to size you up. “You’re hard-working, feel like you have something to prove, won’t back down from a challenge, and are in way over your head with that damn old house.”

“Oh.”

“No offense, ma’am! Sometimes I forget myself and talk to strangers the same way I’d talk to my friends.” He patted your forearm gently then hooked it back into his suspenders, pretending he didn’t notice you jumping at the physical contact. “But it’s true. No denying you won’t be able to shingle all by yourself. I’d offer, but I’m in no shape to be climbing up roofs.”

“That’s very sweet of you, truly. But I’ll manage! I doubt I could afford a handyman, so it’ll be me and my stubborn self scrambling around up there.” You joked, but it fell a little flat since the both of you knew it was the truth.

“I’ve got an idea...” Hank trailed off, his gaze searching around by the till. “Maybe you two can help each other out?” He fiddled at the computer for a minute, then grabbed a flyer from the corkboard mounted behind the counter before handing you two pieces of paper. One was a receipt of what you owed him after this latest excursion and a detailed timeline of when small payments could be made. 

Glancing up at him, you gave him a watery smile and thanked him for being so kind. Allan waved you off and pointed to the second paper.

‘Help Wanted’ it read, ‘Morales Acres. Light physical labour, quiet environment, rate of pay dependent on quality of work.’

“So friendly and welcoming,” you murmured, sarcastically, under your breath. Not quietly enough though because Allan snorted out a laugh and agreed that the ad was worded very abruptly. However, he vetted for the owner of the farm and suggested you head over to see if he would be willing to trade labour for labour.

Or at the very least, you thought, pay you so you can afford a roofer.

Following the directions Allan had provided for you, you quickly found Morales Acres. Surprisingly, it was a very short distance from your own home, making you wonder if the owner had been one of the people to drop by during your first weeks here.

The driveway was a beautiful, winding drive. The view of the farm was obscured by thickets of trees on either side of the road but you managed to catch glimpses of a pond and a few bales of hay before rounding a bend and driving into the yard.

A small gasp left your lips at the sight. It was picturesque! Something out of a travel magazine, or on every city girl’s Pinterest board. The driveway came to an end in front of a statuesque barn painted in the classic red and white, stone walls cordoned off certain areas that, from where you sat, looked like they could be used to house sheep or hens. A few small sheds were lined up along the other edge of the yard but the main attraction was the neatly lined rows of apple trees all heavy with fruit.

Climbing out of the cab, you slowly made your way into the yard with your mouth hanging open dumbly. It was just so peaceful here and it was obvious that the owner cared deeply for the property. You were enchanted and fell immediately in love.

“You must be the help Allan called to say he was sending over,” a warm voice rang out.

Looking around for the source your gaze widened, then immediately hardened, when you caught sight of who was talking to you.

“You!”

“You?!”

To say it had been a smooth business agreement would be a total lie. You and Market Asshole, Frankie you reminded yourself to call him, had bickered back and forth for the better part of an hour before shaking hands. Surprisingly, you had both argued more for the other person’s benefit, something you had been mulling over since.

If this guy was such an ass, why was he also acting like his help with your renovations wouldn’t be worth as much as you picking apples? You knew your presence disturbed his peace, and that you weren’t as strong as he might have hoped his helper would be, and he still hadn’t trusted you with all the workings of his orchard. 

So, while you weren’t going to argue anymore, you knew you were getting the better end of the deal: you help him gather his harvest and get it safely stored in the barn, then he spends the same amount of hours helping you. While the weather during September was prone to drizzle, you had convinced him that a tarp thrown over the baldest patches of roof would be fine and that the apples couldn’t wait. 

He had grumpily conceded your point but had sworn that as soon as the last of the fruit was picked he’d be over to do a proper job of it. So continued the uneasy truce between the two of you for the past four weeks. The first week was the hardest as your hands, unaccustomed to work, blistered, and your muscles ached from sudden use. You had initially tried to pass the time by making conversation but you got the hint and stayed quiet once Frankie started choosing trees farther and farther from yours.

Slowly, however, the blisters healed and gave way to callouses. Your muscles became accustomed to the work and you were able to carry twice the amount as you had started off with. Your home could now boast electricity and running water everywhere it should be, and the pile of discarded furniture had been reduced to ash by a spectacular bonfire which Jacquie and her family had joined you in admiring.

Today started off as a normal day. You showed up for harvesting at the break of dawn, having discovered you much preferred the cool morning air over being up on a ladder with the midday sun beating down on you. The trees were obscured by a low fog that had yet to burn up, but you knew what section you needed to start on. 

Enjoying the way the fog enveloped you, making you feel like you were in a magical world, you began to hum and your steps took on a dreamy dance-like quality. You had never taken lessons or had even been allowed to make such a spectacle of yourself while living with Brad but now you felt free enough to spin, twirl, and glide. Overcome with the joy your freedom gave you, you began to belt out “These Are a Few of my Favourite Things”, The Sound of Music having been played on repeat when you were a child. 

Once you reached the ladder, you hoisted the basket onto your back and continued to sing whatever songs you could remember while you worked. A particularly boisterous rendition of “Do Re Mi” had you flinging your arm out wide and leaning back on the ladder for a dramatic finish.

The apples threw you off balance. 

With a screech, you fell backward, managing to twist yourself around to land awkwardly on your hands and knees instead of on the basket of apples strapped to your back. You seemed to have come away unscathed, with just scratched knees and a throbbing in one wrist. Thankfully it wasn’t your dominant hand.

“Whoa!” Frankie called out, catching sight of you on the ground with the ladder tipped on its side, “Everything okay? Are you okay?”

Coming to a skidding stop next to you, he grasped the basket and slipped it off your back with ease. 

You took a few deep breaths and nodded. “Fine! Fine, just bruised knees and ego...” you assured him.

“What were you thinking?!” He tore into you, “You could have broken your neck! Or ruined a whole barrel of apples! Then what would I do?! This job doesn’t come with health insurance for Christ's sakes!” Running his hands through his curly, brown hair he let out a huff of air and walked over to where your ladder lay on the ground.

“Un-be-fucking-lievable!” You called out, incredulously. While trying to get to your feet, to march over and wag your finger in his face, you put too much pressure on your injured wrist that caused pain to scream down your arm.

You managed to mask the cry of pain as a cry of frustration and got to your feet. Surreptitiously cradling your hand against your chest, you grabbed another basket and walked past Frankie to start climbing the ladder again. Looking at the ground so he wouldn’t see the tears of pain in your eyes, you mumbled, “I’ll be more careful, alright? I’m sorry.”

Stopping your ascent with a hand on your arm he stuttered out what might have been the beginning of an apology but he couldn’t quite seem to put the right words together so he just cleared his throat.

“Just...” he said in a much softer tone, “just be more careful. Okay? I can’t lose my best worker.” 

The lame joke made you smile despite yourself. 

“Employee of the month,” you replied in a dry tone, “hurrah.” 

You shared wry smiles while a silent apology passed between the two of you. His dark brown eyes held a warmth to them you had never noticed before. Their hue reminding you of every tree in the orchard from the early light to the sunset, golden flecks reminiscent of the sun. His face, weathered from so much time spent outdoors, was marked with laugh lines, worry lines, and a small scar gracing his left cheek. 

Your eyes wandered past the scar to note how long his scruffy facial hair had grown and how it had started to obscure those pleasantly pouty lips. 

Then, with a start, you realized you were staring at this infuriating man’s lips like a hormonal teenager. With an embarrassed squeak, you quickly scurried up the ladder, hooking your elbow around each rung to avoid any more pressure on your wrist.

To say Frankie was coping well with having someone around would be a gross overstatement. 

It’s not that he didn’t like the company or wanted to be alone. The problem was that he was starting to like her company too much, to care too much. And caring too much had been the root cause of all Frankie’s sorrows.

First, there had been his Dad, trying to impress the man who never even wanted kids. Then the force, always feeling like he needed to prove himself and desperate for praise. After that was his wife, ex-wife, and trying to be someone he wasn’t so she would stay interested and in love. The pressure created by caring about these people and the expectations they had for him drove him to abuse drugs. Then his friends came calling and Frankie went against his gut because they had cared so deeply about something and he had cared deeply for them.

His wife, his kid, his family, his job, his friends. He had cared more than they did and he had come away worse off. At least now he was clean and sober, and was very aware of the irony of him now making and selling an alcoholic drink.

No, it was best to stay alone. He loved too freely and put too much stock in being loved back and every. single. time. it hurt him.

So, he closed himself off from you. Initially, he didn’t think it was going to be an issue, especially considering how you two had met. But then he found himself smiling at your stories, idly leaning against a branch so he could watch your graceful moments. He hated watching you leave, knowing you were going home to that piece of shit house that he should really be fixing up for you.

He recognized the signs and nipped them in the bud; working farther away, replying to questions with the fewest possible words, focusing purely on work, and maintaining a professional relationship. It pained him to push you away but deep down he knew it was best for the both of you.

Which brings him back to this moment.

Frankie was too stunned to notice your awkward climb up the ladder. Standing there, dumbly, for another few seconds. Wondering, all the way back to the idling tractor, what the hell had just happened.

One minute he was just driving the tractor minding his own business and the next he was having a mild heart attack after seeing his only worker laying limp on the ground. Then, after arguing like usual, you had shared a...a moment and stared at his mouth almost long enough to tempt him to use it.

Part Four

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@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[j-pankratz]

Stuck in the Middle with You

A gift for the lovely @chubbykatsudon for the Novigrad Gift Exchange 2021!

Geraskefer, minor Lamden. 16507 Words. Can also be read here on ao3! Rated M for an abundance of cursing and deeply suggestive flirting! Tags for a small amount of canon typical violence, & a very big dog (Roach, my love)! Other tags include: Oh My God The Were Neighbors, Enemies to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Idiots to Lovers, We're Really Running The Gamut Here, Going viral on TikTok, The best lease of all fucking time, apple juice, and ever changing groupchat names.

x

“A year! A full year. Two! THREE!”

“Hmm.” Geralt muttered. In one hand above his head, he dangled the dead-though-still-writhing remains of a drowner. He’d stabbed it in the spine— nerve damage, unfortunate stuff. At his feet, the groveling man who’d gotten him into this mess in the first place. About 75% of the people he had to rescue from monsters, he found, were the rich sticking their noses places they oughtn’t, out of pure arrogance. This one, a landlord, apparently, had decided to wander off drunkenly from a party and go poking about the river.

He whimpered. “I— I’ll throw in maintenance! Please, Witcher, I—”

“Do you allow pets,” he asked dryly, “I need a place for Roach.” He gestured with his head to Roach, who was watching the thrashing drowner body with interest.

“Ah, no, we don’t—” Geralt dug his thumb into a wound in the deceased drowner’s neck, causing it to hiss and send out spittle. The kneeling landlord cried in fear.

“Yes! Yes! Fine, we can accept your dog, please, please Witcher I can’t die, I—”

“Deal,” Geralt said, and thrust his sword through the drowner once more, severing its head from its body. The man yelped as blood and assorted monster bits sprayed out. Geralt dropped the remnants of its head and neck to the ground, landing with a sickening splat, and the man wailed again.

“When’s move in?”

——

Move-in, as it turned out, was a week and a half later, the first of the month. It was a good apartment, better than he’d have ever rented for himself— a quiet street, an elevator, laundry in the basement, and a doorman half the time. Geralt had a view of the city from his bedroom and of the tree-lined street below from his brightly and naturally lit living room, while the second bedroom had a view of the apartment’s courtyard. The kitchen was a good size, though he didn’t cook much, and it had a dishwasher, which was worth its weight in gold. There was a corner shop at the end of the block, and a few restaurants, coffee shops, and bars within walking distance. Eskel and Coën would love visiting, at least, and if he got a decent enough couch and tv, Lambert would too. Not that they’d have much opportunity to visit, but he could have his dreams, few and minor as they were.

It was on the 8th floor, which was high enough to feel safe. There were only four apartments to a floor, which helped. Ultimately, he figured, nobody would really suspect a Witcher to live in a regular apartment building. And if anyone came after him, well, he’d deal with that then. With Ciri away at school, he would have less to stress about. He’d be subtle, wouldn’t tell people in the building he was a Witcher, wouldn’t talk much to anyone, would hope they wouldn’t notice his eyes. He’d wear sunglasses. It would be fine! This apartment was probably the second most favorable payment he’d ever had from a contract—the first of course, being Ciri— he wasn’t about to turn it down, or regret taking it.

Even when he was stuck in the elevator with, quite possibly, the most annoying man on earth.

Geralt was taking the last of his suitcases upstairs, which was really Roach’s suitcase, and a box of his cooking supplies— an embarrassingly small number of pots, pans, bowls, plates, and utensils. Just as the door was closing—

“WAIT! Hold that, hold that, if you’d please, fuck!”

A man with brown hair came barreling toward the elevator, just barely sticking his expensive looking brown leather shoe in the doors before they closed. They slid open with a soft ding, and the man, out of breath, tumbled inside.

He was tall, with a mop of brown hair and egregiously bright teal pants, a slightly lighter blue dress shirt tucked in to match. He heaved against the elevator walls, breathing heavily and eventually sinking down to a crouch to catch his breath.

“Good save,” Geralt said.

“Thank you,” the man said between gasps. “You saved my life.”

“I didn’t do anything."

The man waved his hand at the buttons. “Button. Button. You. Press. You pressed the— you know.”

“No I didn’t.”

The man paused, his breathing slowly going back to normal. “You didn’t—” He looked up at Geralt, his eyes a brilliant, piercing blue. He was frowning. “What do you mean you didn’t? You didn’t press the button?”

“Nope.”

The man came to standing, and Geralt found that the man wasn’t just tall, he was nearly Geralt’s height. “You mean to tell me, you see a man running for the elevator, screaming for you to hold the door, and instead you just— just stand there and watch?”

Geralt lifted his box a bit. “Got my hands full.”

“You have elbows! Two of them, might I add!” the man cut in before Geralt could lift the suitcase tucked into the crook of one arm. Instead, he shrugged.

“More fun to watch you run.”

“More fun to— I cannot believe this,” the man said, looking up at the floor numbers. The elevator continued to rise, and he suddenly groaned. “Ah, fuck, we’ve missed my floor,” he said, fumbling over to the buttons. Geralt frowned.

“We’re only on the fifth floor.” He watched the man press the button for the second floor. “You ran to the elevator… to go to the second floor?”

“I don’t like stairs!” he complained; Geralt could tell he’d had to give this explanation many times before.

“You like running more than stairs?”

“I would run toward convenience any day.”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed softly.

They stood in silence for a moment. “Sorry, who are you? New neighbor, then?”

“Yep.”

“Do you have a name, or must I call you Mildly Rude Elevator Man? You wouldn’t be the first to earn a title from me. I don’t even know the woman’s name who lives in the Penthouse so now she’s just Penthouse Lady. But surely you have a name?”

Geralt smiled. “8b.”

“Oh, hilarious, 8b, alright, then I’m 2d. Lovely to meet you, 8b,” he said as the doors slid open to the 8th floor. “Do you need some help with those?”

“No,” Geralt said, and maneuvered himself out of the elevator carefully.

“Alright, fine then, if you say so, but I’m very helpful, actually, when I need to be. I have two hands, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Geralt grunted and approached his door. Fishing in his pocket for his keys for a moment, he found himself turned to the man in the elevator— 2d— and watched as his eyes grew wide as they fell on Geralt’s medallion, just as the elevator dinged and the doors began to slide closed. Well. Fuck.

“Wait— is that—” 2d’s eyes grew wide, and then a grin split across his face. “You’re a Witcher, aren’t you! Wait!” but the doors had already met, and the elevator began its descent.

Okay, so, subtlety gone, and given how chatty 2d had been, he figured it was only a matter of time before the entire building knew. That was the price for a free 3-year lease in a building far above his price range at the best of times, he supposed.

There was no way this would be worth it.

——

There were three days of peace, before 2d came knocking.

It was mid-afternoon, and in the living room the sunlight streamed through his new windows onto the small amount of furniture he’d arranged so far. Roach’s bed, his orange couch, a small tv, a chair, a barstool, a bookcase. Everything else was either still in boxes or simply not purchased yet— he’d never had need for it. He didn’t even know what to do with an apartment he could enjoy spending time in. The morning had been spent sitting on the couch, letting his coffee go cold as he looked around and tried to figure out what to do with this place he might actually be able to relax in. Until, of course, the knocking began.

He tried to ignore it, but 2d was persistent. After the 5th set of knocks, Geralt groggily rose from his chair, coffee in hand, and opened the door.

“Good morning! Hi, ah, hope you’re alright, settling in well?”

“What do you want.”

“Oh, glad to see you’re in a good mood,” 2d replied easily. His outfit was just as bright today, his pants a vibrant green with a mango pattern on them, his shirt a matching orange, with yellow cuffs, and a… oh, gods above, a guitar case strapped to his back, the leather strap running across his chest, hugging him closely. His clothes fit remarkably well, Geralt noticed, and then tried to promptly un-notice. But it was hard. 2d’s eyes looked especially blue today, which was bullshit. Geralt raised an eyebrow and hoped he wasn’t being obvious about anything, though it wasn’t as if Witchers let their faces be easily readable.

“Listen. You’re a Witcher. Very neat, very cool, I could smell the heroics and heartbreak on you in that elevator, I’m getting whiffs of it even now—”

“That’s sweat. Or coffee.”

“Well, okay, it’s not, but okay. My point here is, you have stories. And I write stories. Well, I write songs. Music. Poetry, art, etcetera. And I’m good, I promise I’m fairly decently good—”

“Was that you on Sunday singing the song about the… rabbit? And the moon?” He didn’t remember it well, but whoever was singing had definitely mentioned worms, as well.

“The… oh! Yes! Ah,” he cleared his throat and began. “But have you heard the story of the rabbit in the moon? Or the cow that hopped the planets while straddling a spoon? Right? Yes, love that one, it’s a fun one to sing at bars. Great warm-up song. Cosmo Sheldrake! Gotta love them, strange bastards. I should record that for TikTok, now that I think of it.”

“Sure.” The man’s singing voice was… light, airy, with something like a faint rasp in there, but he dipped down low into his register another was a whole new layer of sound there as well. It sounded like him, but it was somehow completely different than what Geralt would have expected the man’s singing voice to be like. “Cows don’t do that, though. And the references to beasts in your other songs were just as unrealistic. You shouldn’t be confusing people, monsters are serious business. Someone could get hurt.”

“Perfect!” 2d cried excitedly. “See! You know these things. I would like to learn these things. Think of it as educating the public, and helping out your great new friend Jaskier. Which, hello, I’m Jaskier. You’re Geralt, right? Of Rivia?”

Geralt shifted on his feet. It shouldn’t have surprised him. There were only so many witchers, let alone ones with long white hair and a wolf medallion. Damn internet. “And if I am?”

Jaskier’s wide grin turned sly. “Then I know for a fact you have stories.”

The witcher sighed. Well. He’d bore this man with his bad storytelling, and he’d get bored, and he’d leave. In the meantime, Geralt would get to look at 2d’s well-fitting clothes and shoulders that looked terrifically broad. It could be worse. There was a long pause.

“Fine. This once. But I’m not your friend.”

“Brilliant! Beautiful, fantastic,” Jaskier was saying, and slipped past Geralt and in to the apartment.

And then Roach barreled in.

“OH, HOLY FUCK!” Jaskier screamed in surprise, as the great Dane barked, getting right up to Jaskier before Geralt quieted her with a quick command. She plopped down at Jaskier’s feet obediently, and stared up at him with big, watery brown eyes. Jaskier’s hands were raised high above his head, and when he spoke, it came out as a raspy whisper.

“I did not know you had a dog. Have you always had this dog? Whose dog is this, this is your dog? How have I missed this. What’s his name?”

“Her name is Roach.”

“Her names Roach,” he repeated in the same horse whisper. “Why have you named your dog after an insect.”

“Can’t get rid of her,” Geralt replied, though he knew that made it sound like he didn’t absolutely adore her. The name had been a joke, and it had stuck, simple as that.

“Oh. Lovely. Okay. Will she eat me? She won’t eat me, right? This is a good dog, a good dog with manners?”

“She won’t eat you. Unless I tell her to.”

“Stop that!! Oh, stop that, oh my gods. Okay. Okay. Hello puppy. Nice, non-murdering puppy. Not a puppy. Good… large dog. Good large girl. You’re nice, aren’t you. You won’t kill me at all, not even a little bit.” He slowly let one hand come down to his side, and Roach surged forward to lick it. Jaskier yanked his hand back up and shut his eyes tightly.

“Okay. Maybe I should come back. At another time when I am more prepared for your non-murdering, not at all monstrous 4-foot tall dog.”

“She’s more like 2 1/2 feet tall.” Geralt cocked his head to the side. “Maybe three.”

“Fuck. Gods. Okay. Okay. Another day then! But definitely. I will want to hear these stories. Okay?”

“Sure,” Geralt agreed. This was more entertainment than he had expected today. He held back laughs, smiling while Jaskier’s eyes were still shut tightly. “Another day, then.”

“Okay. I’m backing out now, he said, and slowly began to do so, not turning away from Roach. She came to standing, and he jumped back at the sound of her nails against the tile floor of the kitchen, eyes still squeezed shut. “OKAY, OH, NO, okay doggie, no following me. No following. Thank you. Okay. I will. See you soon. Okay? Okay.”

And then Jaskier was out the door, and running down the stairwell. Geralt closed the door behind him, and turned to see Roach looking at him, her head cocked. He laughed, and bent down to pet her.

——

It took just over 24 hours for 2d— no, no, Jaskier— to come knocking once more. This time, Geralt answered the door more quickly; best to either get this over with, or get some more laughs out of it while he could. Behind the door stood Jaskier, mildly nervous looking, already glancing over Geralt’s shoulder into the apartment.

It was either a blessing or a curse that Jaskier’s outfit was not nearly as tight-fitting today, though the strap of his guitar case still cut close to his figure against his lavender sweater. In his arms, he held a variety of brand-new-looking dog toys; kongs and bones and pull-ropes and even some balls.

“Hi! Ah, this time, I’ve come prepared! With distractions and assurances your Roach will not eat me. If you’d still be available for relaying some stories?”

“…You bought her toys?”

“Ah…. maybe a bit? Well, yes, I certainly don’t have a dog, I just did some searching for what kind of things abnormally large dogs might enjoy and picked some up on a walk this morning. Nothing big.” Geralt looked again at the pile in Jaskier’s arms. He’d… bought toys. For Roach. Who he’d just met the day previously, and had scared him silly.

The more time he spent around Jaskier, the less he understood about the man.

Geralt took a step back and gave a whistle, and soon Roach was trotting in from his bedroom. He could smell the tension off Jaskier, and put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. “Try to relax. She’ll know if you’re stressed.”

“Right. No stress, just a dog who could swallow me whole. That’s fine, this is fine.”

“Put your hand out low, so she can sniff.”

After a bit of hesitation, Jaskier took a deep breath and did as he was told. “Friendly, Roach,” Geralt said as she sniffed loudly around Jaskier’s hand. And a moment later, she was licking his hand, sobering all over it. Jaskier laughed nervously, a light and airy sound Geralt found himself enjoying a bit too much. His smile was radiant, the relief in his broad shoulders palpable. He carefully moved his hand to give her a scratch on the cheek, and Roach leaned into it, pressing up against him, her tag wagging a mile a minute.

“Feel better?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes, yes,” Jaskier said, pulling his attention away from Roach. “I’m really not usually scared of dogs. She’s just… very large, and was unexpected. But you’re a good girl, aren’t you? You’re not nearly as scary as you look! Just like your owner, isn’t that right.”

Geralt frowned. He knew he was frightening, there was no sense in denying it. He had frightened nearly every human he came across, at least in some small way. But even since Jaskier had realized he was a witcher, Geralt hadn’t smelled fear on him. Only just now, when he’d met Roach.

Again, he understood Jaskier less than before.

Geralt stepped back wordlessly and allowed Jaskier to step further into the apartment. He pulled out one of the balls tucked into the pile of toys in his arm and threw it further into the living room, and Roach excitedly ran after it, plopping down to chew on it next to her well-loved gray bed.

Jaskier followed, moving through the room like the breeze, before sitting on the couch, kicking his shoes off, and shoving his feet between the cushions.

“So! Where should we begin! Tales of your early days, your first forays with beasts? Your most recent victories? Epic quests?”

Geralt stared at Jaskier, an eye twitching. “Don’t— what are you doing?”

“Well, I figured we’d be here a while, might as well get comfortable!”

“On a stranger’s couch. A witcher’s couch.”

“On my new, good friend Geralt-The-Witcher’s couch! We’re hardly neighbors, we’re strangers! Wait, no, sorry, hardly strangers, we’re— where are you going?”

Geralt had turned and walked to his bedroom. He quietly shut the door behind him, walked to his bed, grabbed a pillow, and screamed into it. He was good at controlling his emotions. He barely had them, after all, that’s what they said about witchers. But this man, this self-proclaimed friend was driving him to madness, and it had only been four days in the building. He briefly considered moving, abandoning the apartment entirely, giving it to someone else. Or perhaps throwing this Jaskier out the window. But none of those were worth the time, or the inevitable paperwork. He could kick Jaskier out, but he’d come back, he knew he would.

It was best to just be boring. Just be boring, refuse to tell the good stories, and tell the boring ones he did have, badly. Jaskier would get tired of it, take what he got, and discover there was nothing interesting or worth telling about witches. Who would want to hear songs about him, anyway? Humans, in large part, still thought witchers were monsters. It had gotten better the past few decades, but… not much.

He took a deep breath and pulled the over-worn pillow away from his face. Time to just get it over with, he supposed. Another deep breath and he returned to the living room, where Jaskier had pulled out a pad of paper, several pens, his guitar, a small bag of what looked to be popcorn, and three notebooks that looked completely filled already. Jaskier whipped around to see him and gave a big, toothy smile.

He was doing this, Geralt thought, just to get the writer out of his hair. No more, no less. It had absolutely nothing to do with anything else.

“Geralt! I am perfectly ready, and if you can’t think of where to start I have dozens of questions for you. Hundreds, really, so don’t worry about it at all! Sit down, sit down.”

“This is my house,” Geralt said, grabbing the only other chair and sitting a ways from Jaskier, “I should be inviting you to take a seat.”

“Well, that might be the case if you were an experienced host, but I get the feeling it’s not really your forte. Alright, ready to begin?”

“Did you notice how I didn’t invite you to take a seat?”

“I did, actually! Again, I can tell you’re not a natural at the hosting thing. Not to worry, I’m plenty comfortable now.” There was a glint in his eye that told Geralt he knew exactly what he was doing.

Geralt sighed, and fought off the thought that Jaskier was very, very lucky he was pretty.

A few hours later, Jaskier had gathered up his things, ready to head out. “Don’t worry, Geralt, you were plenty helpful. And our next session we will absolutely get to some… even more interesting stories, I’m sure we’ve only just barely scratched the surface.”

“What.”

Geralt had been as boring as he could possibly manage, giving only the barest of details. Jaskier had still seemed intrigued, still prodded. His eyes had been full of life and wonder at the smallest details, he’d taken fervent notes, he’d looked like an oil painting when the sun had begun to set and cast him in vibrant golds, showing off the warmth in his cheeks and the well-hidden but sharp lines of his body. This had nearly killed Geralt. And now Jaskier wanted to do it again?!

“Yes, of course, I’ll need to do some writing and then come back to you for more— really, I think I should just accompany you on your next contract, I think I’d get much more out of it— not to say you didn’t do wonderfully, dear, but I can hardly imagine that anything compares to the real thing.”

“No. Too dangerous.”

“I can keep out of the way!” Jaskier said, hefting the guitar case onto his back.

“You can’t, you won’t it wouldn’t matter if you could. No.”

“Oh, I’ll wear you down.” Geralt was deeply afraid that this was correct. “Gods, I should probably eat. What time is it? It’s not Thursday, is it? Is it Tuesday? Oh, I wonder if Posada’s is doing their wings night tonight. You’ve had them, right?” Geralt stared back blankly. “Geralt. Ohhhhh, Geralt, you cannot tell me you haven’t had Posada’s wings yet.” Geralt raised a single eyebrow.

“I’ve been here four days.”

“And what have you eaten!”

“…Food?” The real answer was anything that took less than 15 minutes to prepare, cook, and eat, but he wasn’t about to say that, was he? That’s not a thing you say to people.

“Ohhh, no, Geralt. No no no.” Jaskier shrugged off his Guitar case and whipped out his phone. “No, this is my treat. Oh fuck, it’s Thurs—no, nope, sorry, saw the T and got worried. It is in fact Tuesday, and it’s 7pm so we’re in the clear; we are in fact doing Posada’s wings deal. This is half the reason rent on this place is worth it— not that you have to worry about that. I mean, neither do I but, whatever. Sit down, I’ll order now. Wait, no, you get the plates, I’ll order, okay.”

Geralt stared blankly at Jaskier as he bustled through the apartment, around the unopened boxes and suitcases, the few pieces of furniture, all while on his phone, ordering takeout for the both of them. He seemed to be a natural at almost everything— except talking, somehow, which didn’t give Geralt much hope for his lyricism. But he flowed through the apartment like water, the lilt of his voice carried through the air like honeysuckle on a breeze.

(If you asked Geralt how Jaskier had managed to stay at his apartment from 1 in the afternoon until 10:30 in the evening, Geralt wouldn’t be able to tell you. It involved some toys for Roach, some terrible storytelling, and a wing deal that seemed like it should be financially devastating for Posada’s. And if you asked him at what point Jaskier had started feeling like, well, maybe one of the better things in his life, he would deny it was so early as a mere few days after they met.

He’d be lying, but he likely wouldn’t quite realize that.)

——

Contracts weren’t especially plentiful in the early spring like they had been in years past, but the ones that did crop up were often fairly big. Such was the one Geralt happened to find on a walk with Roach, a week later on a billboard outside the largest park in the city.

A Griffin’s nest. He could probably relocate them, if he had help. He didn’t like killing monsters when he could avoid it— and griffins weren’t horribly dangerous when left well enough alone. It wasn’t their fault society had branched outwards, into their natural habitats. They shouldn’t have to pay for the mistakes of humans.

Besides, he understood monsters more than people, half the time.

So, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of the flyer. The chat was used so infrequently that he didn’t even bother to scroll for it, he just typed in the names with one hand, the other busy wrapped Roach’s leash. Slowly, the names appeared. ESKEL, LAMBERT, COËN.

He sends the picture with a short message; ‘Anyone in, or am I doing this myself’ before tucking the phone back in his pocket. Geralt had learned years ago to keep his phone on Do Not Disturb when on walks with Roach; it was his quiet time. If he didn’t have his walks with Roach, he would lose his mind. When he arrived back at the building, he checked the phone in the elevator.

24 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Coën – Just now

I don’t think that’s how flamethrowers work??

And before he could even open up the messages, another notification popped up as he stepped out of the elevator;

25 Messages from GETTING LIT WITH CITY WITCHERS

Lambert – Just now

Fine ruin my dreams fuck

He smirked and put it away to let himself and Roach into the apartment. A turn of the key and he let go of the leash, Roach pushing the door open and bolting for the couch, rolling all over the orange cushions. Before Geralt stepped in, he heard the sound of music fluttering up from the second floor; this time, Jaskier was writing a new song, getting stuck on different chords and changing his idea on the words every few seconds. The stop and go nature of it should have bothered him, having to hear someone all the way from the second floor should bother him (why did Jaskier insist on having the windows constantly opened??) but instead, he found it… pleasant.

That could not possibly be good.

——

When the four returned back from the contract, they were bruised, had splinters in truly unspeakable places, and were covered in grime. But, four griffin eggs successfully relocated, a mother griffin tolerant of her new home, and a decent paycheck to split amongst the four of them. Roach, dirtiest of all of them, ran into the apartment first and rolled around on the cool tile of the kitchen. At least it wasn’t on the couch, Geralt supposed, as he led in his fellow witchers. His apartment had been the closest when they’d returned to the city, and he’d agreed to let them all crash.

“Geralt holy fuck,” Lambert said, sounding incredulous as he began to shed his armor. “This is ridiculous! I know you saved the landlord, but shirts, did you show him a good time too?! This is unbelievable.”

“Damn, Geralt. You did good,” Eskel agreed with a pat on his younger brother’s back.

“It’s really nice. You could use some… decoration, though,” Coën added. “Just, you know. Anything on the walls. Pictures, posters, something.”

“I just moved in. Do you guys want coffee?”

The three groaned, and Lambert flopped on the couch, sufficiently de-armored. “I want to sleep for a hundred years, Geralt. No I don’t want fucking coffee.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, and put up a pot.

“It’s 11pm,” Coën said blankly. “Do Wolves not sleep? Is this a thing? I thought it was only Cats who didn’t sleep.”

Lambert shifted carefully onto his side. His next words were said almost in rote, as though he’d heard someone else say them a thousand times before. “Cats sleep pretty soundly, they just don’t do it at night. They have better things to do."

Coën shrugged and headed for the bathroom, but Eskel and Geralt sent each other a look. Eskel’s eyes squinted a bit, and they slowly turned to look at Lambert, motionless on the couch. There was a long moment of silence, as they just stared at the youngest wolf.

“Where’d you learn that one, lil Lamb?” Eskel asked carefully. Geralt caught a whiff of anxiety emanating off his younger brother for a moment.

“What? Oh. Uh, yeah, I met a Cat. So what?” He turned to look at his brothers, and he frowned. “Hey! So what?! You have something to say?! I can make friends!”

“You get this defensive about all your friends?”

“Geralt I will throw your couch out the fucking window, I swear to God.”

“What’s your new pal’s name?” Eskel asked. “This buddy of yours. Your chum.”

“I fucking hate you both!” Lambert shouted, and buried his face in a pillow.

With the coffee done, Geralt poured himself a mug and sat down at the kitchen bar, watching Lambert toss around on the couch. Eskel settled into one of Geralt’s only other chairs, and sat back.

“Are you gonna tell us about him?”

“…I need to be fucked up for that,” Lambert muttered. Geralt gave a gesture with his head to Eskel, who rose and opened a cabinet in the closet to reveal two bottles of White Gull. Eskel barked a laugh.

Lambert groaned and let his head fall back against the cushion once more. “Fucking hate you guys. Give me one of those.”

x

This was not the first time the halls were muddy.

Over the past two and a half weeks, the floor of the lobby had often been tracked with mud. She had tried to ignore this. The annoying musician, (her mortal enemy on the second floor), had been particularly stuck on some new song that was both uninspired and going nowhere. She had tried to ignore this, as well. She’d ignored Jane on the fourth floor’s delivery fiasco, and the fact that Eiman from floor 6’s fire alarm had gone off in the middle of some careful brewing she’d been doing. She had even tried to ignore the barks of a large dog from the new tenant in what was supposed to be a strictly no-dog apartment building.

(It wasn’t that she cared about the rules, she couldn’t give a shit about rules. She just hated them being broken when it inconvenienced her.)

What she could not ignore, however, what had pushed her decidedly past her breaking point, was what sounded like a heard of grown men who had trampled through the lobby, made their way up the stairs, undoubtedly coating it with mud, and were now somewhere several floors below her, all the windows thrown open, one of them lamenting about some man who he was infatuated with.

It wasn’t even good gossip. It had stopped being good gossip an hour ago, when he’d become so drunk he’d just started repeating the same things about this man— Adam, or Adrien, or Aiden, or something like that— over and over and over again.

And they were doing all of this past quiet hours. Did she have insulated, noise cancelling windows, yes. Did she herself enjoy a good night in with friends, or even a party, sometimes past quiet hours? Of course. Had she occasionally made a mess in the lobby? Possibly.

But she’d cleaned up, taken responsibility, and not made it everyone else’s problem at 2am on a Wednesday night when she’d very much like to have the windows open for a fucking breeze.

This, Yennefer thought, was not what she paid rent on a Penthouse for.

She groaned, checked her phone, and turned her bedside light on with a wave of her hand. Hadn’t anyone told these poor bastards about the witch who lived in the Penthouse? She stared at the hour again; it was 2:06am. Did she want to deal with this now? Or did she want to save raining down unholy terror for a reasonable hour, and instead capitalize on time differences.

It wasn’t a difficult decision. She pressed a few buttons, and her video chat call began to ring. A few moments later, a smiling but confused looking Anica lit up her phone, adjusting her tortoiseshell glasses.

“Yennefer! It’s lovely to hear from you but… what time is it there?”

She groaned. “2am. Don’t remind me. New neighbors suck. Tell me something fun you’re working on.”

Anica smiled. “Oh, if you want something fun, you’ve come at exactly the right moment. This week Sabrina’s here, and we’re working on a warding charm against fungi in gardens— I figure we could likely scale it up to fields, but I want to have things worked out just right before we move on….”

Yennefer smiled as her friend went on, and tried not to wince every time she heard a faint wail come from several floors beneath her.

x

“And— he sucks. Like, he’s fucking. Sly, and cocky and shit. Where does he get off being all—” 3 hours after he had begun, the deeply drunken Lambert was still talking, gesturing wildly in front of them. “—You know?! It’s no v’y thoughtful.” He drifted into silence once more, while Coën, Eskel, and Geralt just nodded. Most of what that had gathered was that Lambert’s overwhelming crush on this mysterious Cat Witcher, Aiden, had hit him like a truck a year or so back and he still hadn’t made a move. Which meant he was serious about this one.

Coën opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. There wasn’t much to say— Lambert was a goner. He hadn’t quite fallen asleep yet, so far as Geralt could tell from the rise and fall of his chest, but he was getting there. Eskel slowly began to stand up and collect the empty bottle of White Gull they’d finished. Suddenly, Lambert’s eyes flew open, and he careened forward, arms waving wildly. “AND HIS HAIR?! I fucking hate him! He’s awful. He’s so fucking hot and I hate everything. He sucks. How do I get him to sleep with me?!”

Eskel sat down again with a sigh.

x

“Wait. Geralt, you went on a contract without me?! After I specifically asked to go?! Geralt!” Jaskier huffed, his tub of sesame chicken nearly spilling. The nature documentary in front of them hummed along, though neither payed it much mind. They never did, really.

“Griffin nests are too dangerous,” Geralt said around a bite of noodles. Jaskier’s presence in his life could be described with many negative adjectives, but he had to admit, he was better fed when the musician was around. “Besides, that was two weeks ago now. You’re behind.”

“All the more offensive that I’m just hearing about it now!”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You going to come watch me deal with these Wyverns, or not?” He might as well just let Jaskier tag along for something small. Maybe he wouldn’t be a disaster, and then he’d stop pestering Geralt for stories he didn’t want to tell, much less be broadcast to the entire world. Unfortunately, he was beginning to admit to himself that he rather enjoyed Jaskier’s company, but that was all the more reason to cut him out of his life, wasn’t it? He was too big of a liability.

Jaskier had started helping to brighten up Geralt’s apartment, both figuratively and literally. There were now some framed pictures on the wall, as well bright takeout menus (“At least it’s something, Geralt, you need color in your life!”) and even a plant hanging by the window, which was thankfully fake. When Jaskier was around, everything seemed to fit well enough.

When he wasn’t though, the living room was discordant, this wall decor was now big and bold in places and nothing matched, and very few things were things he’d pick out himself. When he saw it in the mornings, he often sighed and shook his head, and tried not to think about it too much, or who had put it there.

He tried really quite hard not to think about Jaskier very much at all, but he was over nearly every day now. It was hard not to.

If Geralt had also finally bought himself a sturdy bedframe, bedside tables, and good sheets for himself, well, that had nothing to do with Jaskier at all. It’s not like Jaskier would ever see it, after all.

“Fine,” Jaskier replied after some internal debate, “But I want to see griffins, someday.”

“Mmm. Look them up, if you’re so keen on seeing one.”

“It’s not the same! Do you think it’s the same?! Ugh.”

“So, you’re coming?”

“Of course I’m coming! What sort of question is that? When do we leave? What should I bring? Ooo, what do I wear?!”

Geralt sighed deeply. “Don’t wear anything baggy, or bright, or anything that will make much sound. Don’t bring anything. Your phone, but only for if you get lost. Do NOT get lost. We leave here tomorrow at 5am.”

Jaskier choked on a piece of chicken. “Five a— Geralt, we cannot possibly leave here at 5am. Why! God, the things I do for music. How non-vibrant do my clothes have to be? Does a sort of forest-y green work? Do I have to wear camouflage? Please say no. You’re already severely limiting my wardrobe options, please don’t also make me commit fashion crimes.”

“Jaskier, you’re not going anywhere where you have to… impress people. You’re watching me catch, tag, and release a wyvern outside the city. That’s it.”

“I think the Wyverns deserve a good outfit! Besides, this is my first hunt! Our first big outing! I want to mark the occasion, but you and your rules prevent me. Frankly, I’m hurt.”

“Would you rather get eaten?”

“At least I’d leave a handsome corpse!” Geralt chuckled, and took a swig of beer as Jaskier swallowed thickly and continued. “But, ah, no, I’d really prefer to avoid death and injury as much as possible. Really. Truly. Not a masochist. Which surprises some people, weirdly. Do I give off a vibe? Geralt, do I give off vibes? I don’t give off any vibes, right?”

The biggest benefit of having Jaskier around, Geralt found, was that he could tease to his heart’s content, and Jaskier wouldn’t realize until Geralt had gotten a good laugh out of it.

Geralt nodded. “I can see that. There are definitely vibes.”

Jaskier gaped, and then stuttered in response. “I—you—no! That’s—there is no way—how—and what do—what’s—abs—there—I—you—that is not—!”

If Geralt could fight off his smirk a little longer, he’d get to watch Jaskier fumble for at least another minute… and it would take his mind off of trying not to picture Jaskier on his bed, pale skin and dark chest hair fully revealed, arching his back while Geralt indulged him in some fictional, masochistic tendencies. No, couldn’t think about that. Not realistic, anyway.

And then the image flipped, now with Jaskier above him, gazing down lovingly, raking his nails against Geralt’s exposed chest…

“I—the—Geralt! I thought we were friends!!”

Geralt shook it off. Not realistic.

——

The contract was supposed to be for the removal of a particularly pesky wyvern, who’d made a habit of sleeping on the top of a high rise on the other side of town, occasionally swooping down on unsuspecting residents on their balconies. Recently, it’d nabbed a little girl’s doll, which shouldn’t have tugged on his heartstrings, but after Ciri had come into his life, all bets were off. So, a nasty wyvern, somewhere it shouldn’t, who needed to be returned to a suitable habitat and tagged for tracking purposes. It had happened before, there was nothing suspicious about the contract.

Unfortunately, things were rarely so cut and dry in Geralt’s world.

It was 7 o’clock before Geralt and Jaskier finally dragged themselves back to their building; muddy, grimy and tracking it all through the lobby. Geralt’s chest was somehow still sore from being thwacked by a steel baseball bat. The contract had been a sham, and he and Jaskier had been… detained, Geralt would say, kidnapped being too strong a word, by some idiots who wanted to prove they could best a witcher. He’d hoped they’d mostly left violent displays of superiority back a few decades ago, but humans never failed to live up to the worst of themselves, he thought bitterly.

If they woke up from their concussions, hanging upside down from some pipes in the basement they’d chosen for their assault, Geralt was fairly sure they wouldn’t bother with witchers again.

“So, this was a less dangerous one, mm?” Jaskier asked groggily as they piled into the elevator. “Wanna come to mine? I feel like I’m five minutes from sleep.”

Geralt shrugged. He hadn’t actually seen Jaskier’s apartment. Not that he wanted to, of course. Jaskier mashed his finger into the button for the second floor, swaying on his feet. He slumped against one of the walls and let his eyes fall closed, and Geralt found it hard not to stare. His dark green shirt was ripped, exposing some pale skin and shallow cuts and bruises he’d received. His pants were filthy, and his face was still covered in grime, while bits of his hair stuck out at odd angles. Small prices to pay for making it out alive.

In fact, Jaskier had put up much more of a fight than he’d been expecting. He wasn’t a trained fighter by any means but he’d made himself more than useful. Geralt might not have made it out without his quick thinking—a phone flashlight to the eyes of their assailants, a kick to the back of the knee of another, biting the wrist of a third when it shot past his face, as he had lunged for Geralt. Jaskier had been damn near feral. Adrenaline, Geralt supposed. Hell of a drug.

Witchers felt adrenaline too, though it was different. Similar enough, though, that he was sure his overwhelming fear of seeing Jaskier hurt, how he’d screamed at their captors to let Jaskier go, how he’d been a second away from ending them in retaliation before he’d realized how far he’d gone, yes, he was sure that all of that was nothing more than adrenaline. Even if it had only kicked in when he realized Jaskier was in danger, rather than just himself, rather than when they’d spat obscenities at him. It had been when Jaskier had spat at them, called them bastards, and earned a kick in the stomach for it.

The elevator was silent as the doors slid shut.

“Do people always look at you like that?”

“You mean with a dagger in their hands?”

Jaskier frowned, chin still tipped toward the sky, arms folded close to his chest, eye lazily shut.

“No. I figure you wouldn’t have brought me, if that happened very often. But they were so…” he shook his head. “They were fucking hateful. They were monsters.”

Geralt huffed a laugh. “Monsters chasing a monster.”

“No, you’re not. Hey. Geralt. No, you’re not.” Jaskier had opened his eyes and waited Geralt to meet them. The witcher looked away as the doors slid open. “You’re not a fucking monster, I don’t care what they say. I know you by now.”

“Just open the door.”

Jaskier sighed and shuffled over to his door, opening it after a bit of a fumble with the keys.

The layout of his apartment was different, Geralt noticed—the front door let out into the living room, not the kitchen, and his bathroom was on the left, not the right. It seemed like there was only one bedroom, and his main window looked out over the cityscape. But it was, predictably, the décor that stood out the most.

Jaskier had lined his ceiling molding with little lights, and as they entered, they flicked on, drifting smoothly between all colors of the rainbow. The place itself was messy, notebooks strewn about everywhere, cords coming out of various outlets without rhyme or reason, cups and plates scattered about. Geralt spotted what he thought might have been pants in one corner, but he chose not to look so hard. Jaskier flicked on the light switch, and Geralt could see how bright and colorful Jaskier had made his home—it worked somehow, though it seemed as though if a single piece were removed it would look wrong, somehow.

His instruments all looked remarkably well-kept, though. They hung on the wall in specialized mounts; two guitars, a violin, some other string instruments Geralt didn’t recognize. There was a small black case maybe holding a wind instrument sitting next to a rather impressive-looking keyboard, and the table where they sat was the only tidy area in the apartment, so far as he could see. Of course, he hadn’t seen Jaskier’s bedroom. Yet. Not that he would want to, of course. Or ever have cause to.

Jaskier plopped down on a vibrant green velvet chair and waved one hand at the room, the other covering his eyes. “Sorry for the mess. You can sit anywhere. Oh, wait, there’s cider in the fridge, would you mind? Second shelf. And don’t laugh at me for drinking cider.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I know it’s too sweet. I get it. But if you drink beer or wine every night it gets boring. And if I ever grew bored of alcohol, I’d be devastated.”

“Won’t disagree with you,” Geralt muttered as he returned to the living room with a 6-pack. He sat down on the couch and opened the bottles, handing one to Jaskier. They drank in silence, and Geralt tried to get comfortable on the overly plush blue couch.

“Sorry you got dragged in—”

“No, no, stop that. I asked to come. Specifically. You had no way of knowing. Besides, I’d rather be with you to deal with that, instead of you… oh, disappearing to your apartment for days and not answering me.”

Mm. He’d done that, once or twice. Maybe three times. “Sorry.”

“Geralt. It’s fine. It’s their fault. You did nothing wrong, you were just trying to help.”

“Mm.”

They drank in silence for a bit. The cider was, in fact, too sweet, but it suited Jaskier. Geralt find he didn’t mind it much as he should have. He tried not to think of kissing it off his lips.

Jaskier gave a snort in the silence. Geralt looked over and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, it’s just—got any other enemies I should know about?”

Geralt smiled and leaned back. “Mm. A few. Lot of humans.”

“Right, just, in general. Alright, so just ‘most humans’, got it. Next?”

“Monsters. Don’t know why, they just don’t like me.”

Jaskier laughed. “How unfair of them! They ought to give you a chance. Anyone else?”

“Mmm… some other witchers. None from my school, though. Definitely some mages.”

“Oh, fuck mages,” Jaskier said.

“Don’t fuck mages,” Geralt teased, “It won’t end well.”

“Ugh. Trust me, I know.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows until Jaskier looked at him and groaned. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve only done it a few times, and I’ve sworn off them.” He finished his cider and reached for another.

“Do you have any enemies I should know about, Jaskier?”

“Valdo fucking Marx,” Jaskier spat immediately, kicking his legs up on the table. “Garbage. Absolute garbage. Stole my work at Oxenfurt. Deeply fucked up man. I want him dead. Not in a, ‘I’d hire someone to kill him’ way, but in a, ‘if he died in an untimely and horrific way tomorrow, I would spend the weekend celebrating’ way. Shouldn’t say untimely. His death will absolutely timely, whenever it comes. Really, maybe untimely because it’ll be late. Hmph.”

Geralt nodded, kicking his feet up as well. “Anyone else?”

“Mmm, no. Oh! Well, Penthouse Lady, or as I like to call her, The Bitch of the 13th Floor. She’s a mage, you know.”

Geralt stared at Jaskier. “Oh, no, no, don’t think like that. That is decidedly not one of the mages I was speaking about. No, Penthouse Lady is just… I mean, gorgeous, but evil. Extremely, wickedly beautiful, which should be a crime. She will take your clothes out of the washing machine, wet, just because you’ve left them there a bit too long. A minute. 35 seconds, minutes, whatever, really. And if you break one of the building rules and catch her in a bad mood, she will eviscerate you. She’s made people move out before, out of pure terror.”

“But not you?”

“No! No, I’m not leaving. She’s can’t make me. We’ve been mortal enemies for years now, that’s a commitment.”

Geralt laughed. “How do you afford to live here, anyway? You haven’t got a job.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, lowering his cider with a smile, “How dare you. You have no idea. I could be employed. I could have several jobs, you don’t know.”

“Jaskier, I met you at 3pm on a Monday. You come over at all hours of the day. You are rarely doing anything one could describe as ‘work’.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. It’s a… parents thing. And grandparents. Whole family, really. Ever been to Lettenhove?” Geralt thought a bit, and then nodded—it had been awhile. “Yep. That’s us. Earls and whatnot. Technically, I’m a viscount, but I prefer the title ‘Family Disappointment’. More accurate.”

Geralt pushed Jaskier’s foot with his own. “Stop that.”

“No, it’s not—it’s not a bad thing, to disappoint those people. You know? If I’m disappointing them, I’m doing something right. Besides, they keep throwing money at me in hopes that it’ll change something. Which, you know. I’ll take it.” They sat quietly for a moment. “I have been published, to be fair. And I do go out to sing at bars on Thursdays and Saturdays. I have some followers on Spotify, TikTok and what have you. I’m not nothing. It’s just not up to their standards. ‘S why I have a pen name in the first place.”

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, and his friend nodded. “It’s a good name.”

“Why thank you.” There was quiet for a moment. “You know what they named me? Julian Alfred Pankratz. What a name. That’s the thing, with them, and their traditions—I’ve got two other people’s names, and none of my own. ‘S why I picked one for myself.”

“Mm,” Geralt said softly. Jaskier hadn’t ever said much about himself, now that he thought of it. Might as well take the plunge. “Don’t know what my surname was. Just have Geralt. Witchers are left to their schools and made to pick their own names. Picked Rivia out of a hat, essentially.”

Jaskier looked at him oddly, before raising his bottle. “To families that don’t know what they’re missing,” he said softly, and Geralt clinked their bottles together, the sound short and sweet.

——

A few hours and ciders later, Jaskier had slipped asleep, chest rising and falling gently. It hadn’t been a hard call for Geralt to make; he’d slipped Jaskier’s shoes off and carried him to his bedroom, laying him down on the bed, maneuvering him under the sheets. The bedroom was subtler than his living room—a cream color, beautiful loose paintings and sketches on the walls of flowers, hung up with tape, and dozens of pictures; some framed, some loose polaroids hanging on strings, all of friends and places he must have travelled. His oval mirror had sticky notes around the edges—what looked like scraps of songs, chord progressions, passwords, dates to remember, and a small note of encouragement to himself— ‘Keep Going!!’

Geralt smiled, found an unused sticky note, and grabbed a pen. When he was done, he smiled to himself, and put it just below the ‘Keep Going’ note.

After leaving a glass of water on his bedside table, Geralt slipped out of Jaskier’s apartment taking the elevator up. When the doors slid closed, he took out his phone.

4 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE (ES….)

Lambert – 48 minutes ago

God, this shit should NOT be so hard.

To: CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE (ESKEL, LAMBERT, COËN)

Message: yeah, I feel you

He slipped it away, and hoped nobody would question it in the morning.

x

Yennefer stretched, sun hitting her eyes, and sucked in a lungful of the breeze coming through the window. It was… nice. Pleasant.

Boring.

She took out her phone.

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: Who wants to go clubbing this weekend. I’m bored. Also Sabrina I know you’re 200 miles away w Anica don’t be snarky

She rose and began to stretch, sparing only a glance when her phone dinged.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Sabrina – Just Now

Sure count me in. I’d love that. Woohoo

She rolled her eyes and smiled, ignoring that her friend should absolutely still be asleep, given the time difference.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta– Just Now

I’m down for a barhop at least but only if we’re coordinating outfits I’m begging you I don’t want a repeat of last month!!

Yennefer finished her stretches and flicked her hand to start the coffee pot in the kitchen. She needed a change of pace. Things had gotten too predictable. Maybe she’d take someone home, that would be fun. She checked her phone again.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – 7 minutes ago

Why is anyone awake??? Go back to sleep

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: Frin it’s 7am. This is a normal hour.

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Fringilla – Just Now

Not on my day off it’s not

She sighed. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t end up clubbing, not given everyone’s moods this week. But at least she’d get out of the apartment, and maybe get someone else into bed.

x

9:37am

Thursday, March 12th

2 Messages from Jaskier

Just now

Oh, and the note, I’m just seeing this now. “Reminder: Don’t Fuck Mages.” Thanks, Geralt, what would I do without you? My witcher in… slightly muddy armor, last I checked. ;)

7 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT A DATE

Eskel – 19 minutes ago

“YEAH I FEEL YOU??” GERALT????? (sent with Echo)

NEWS

New Novigrad Times – 2 hours ago

Three men suspected of breaking and entering, larceny, and assault found suspended upside-down in a residential downtown building. This story is will be updated as new information is revealed.

14 more notifications

x

The next afternoon, he heard it while on a walk with Roach, and tried to brush it off. A voice sounding suspiciously like Jaskier’s was emanating from some teenager’s cell phone. “Oh Valley of Plenty, Oh-” the voice sang, before he tuned it out. It was deeply unlikely it was Jaskier. Something in seeing him asleep a few nights before must have poisoned Geralt’s brain.

He heard snatches of it, though, everywhere he went.

Toss a—

They came after me , with masterful—

Brings you to mourn—

That’s my epic tale—

It drove him mad, but he shook it off every time. What was the likelihood of it being Jaskier, anyway?

It’s in the lobby, where he realized. The doorman, Sonny, was swiping through his phone as Geralt checked his mailbox. When he turned back around—

With Geralt of Rivia, along came this song…

Geralt grimaced. “Fuck.”

When he returned to his apartment, he found a sticky note waiting on the door for him.

If you track mud into this building one more

time, I will make you kneel and fix it yourself.

All the best, ~Penthouse.

x

Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta – 17 minutes ago

Yen! Isn’t this your ~enemy~??? That guy from the second floor who takes like 3 hours with laundry?? http://vm.tiktok…

——

Jaskier -- 15 minutes ago

So. I may have gone viral,

——

To: Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Message: How the hell does this have 700 thousand likes already? It was only posted today

——

Jaskier -- 5 minutes ago

This is a good thing though, right??? Is this the wrong time to invite you to see me perform tomorrow night

Ciri -- Just Now

Hey uh??? Dad??? I think someone wrote a song about you???

——

Anica -- Just Now

Yennefer, I am so so sorry, but I already have it stuck in my head. I’ve only watched it twice now I swear

——

8 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT (AND GERALT) DATES

Lambert – 1 minute ago

Literally how the fuck does this happen to you

Jaskier -- Just Now

Hey that rhymed!!

x

Jaskier had told him not to stress about what to wear, that he could just ‘sit in the corner and brood’ and that ‘nobody would recognize him’, but nothing about this felt like a good idea to Geralt. Is this what having friends was? Going to places he didn’t want to be, at times he didn’t want to be there, just to make someone else happy? It was terrible, and frankly, he wanted a refund.

Geralt slipped into the bar a few hours before Jaskier was slated to go on—just to get a booth decently near the stage where nobody would bother him. He didn’t care about seeing Jaskier warm up. He was on stage, tuning his instrument that wasn’t quite a guitar—either a mandolin or a lute, Geralt thought. He was listening for something, adjusting things, getting a feel of the space. His brows were furrowed and he looked to be deep in thought. Not wanting to bother him, Geralt bought whatever was on tap (some earthy beer he would tolerate for the evening) and slipped into a booth near the stage, far enough out of the light so that he wouldn’t be noticed easily by people.

He sat, watching Jaskier, letting his eyes wander down his teal and red ensemble. The pants were a tight fit, but the shirt was airy, unbuttoned a bit more than might be decent, and Geralt found himself mentally unbuttoning more, and more, and more, until his eyes flashed up and made contact with Jaskier’s.

The musician lit up like the sun, a wide beaming smile, and he quickly hopped down from the stage. “Geralt! You made it! And early, too! Oh, I’m so glad. Okay, I’m 3rd up, so you will have to sit through some other people, but not too many. I’ll join you when I’m done! You’ll enjoy it. Well, I don’t think you’ll love it, but you’ll probably tolerate it for your dear dear friend, who is slowly but surely making you famous. Right? Okay!”

“You’ll be fine,” Geralt said. He knew Jaskier’s nervous energy speeches by now.

“What? Oh.” Some tension in Jaskier’s shoulders loosened. “Thank you. I just haven’t been on a stage since suddenly so many people know my face. I did post about this, but I don’t think very many people will come. Maybe I shouldn’t have? I dunno. Still navigating fame! Alright, I should get back. I’ll see you soon!”

x

“I’m making an executive decision,” Fringilla said, turning on her heel. They’d been walking for 45 minutes, trying to decide on a bar. “We’re going here. We are too damn old to be spending half the night walking around.”

“Fine,” Yennefer relented, taking Coral’s arm, “but if it sucks we’re going out again tomorrow and it’s my pick.”

The three entered the bar, a dimly lit place, mostly wooden and already fairly active with people bustling about, a stage in the back looking ready for a musician.

“Oh, I love live music, yes! You get us a table near the stage and I’ll get the drinks,” Coral said; “Dry Martini and a Whiskey Sour?”

“You know us so well,” Fringilla said, and she and Yennefer left to find a table. They ended up at a booth egregiously close to the stage, in Yennefer’s opinion. They got comfortable, settling in for the night, most likely. Until one of them found someone to go home with, at least.

When Yennefer looked up, it was to a tidal wave of people entering.

It wasn’t to say the place wasn’t busy before, but soon she could barely see the bar, as giddy looking patrons took up tables and booths, and eventually, just whatever standing room they could find. Coral managed to cut through the crowd, levitating the three drinks, looking frazzled. “When did all these people get here?!”

“No idea,” Fringilla said, reaching for her Whiskey Sour, “but I’m glad we’ll at least be able to see.”

“Mm,” Yennefer agreed, grabbing her Martini, raking her eyes over the crown. Options, she thought. It was always so good to have options.

“Any idea who’s performing tonight?” Coral asked. “I couldn’t find a poster or anything that said—probably someone good, for all these people to be here”

“No idea,” Yennefer replied absentmindedly. It’s not like it mattered. She couldn’t imagine herself giving much of a shit about who was on stage, anyway.

x

The first performer was fine. Geralt thought they were a little boring, but they weren’t who he was there to see, anyway. Yennefer couldn’t be bothered, staring instead at a handsome young woman in a low-cut satin dress. When she finally made eye contact, though, she gave a friendly, decidedly not flirtatious smile, and Yennefer moved on.

The second performer, a kind of musical comedian, was pretty good. She capitalized off of the energy in the room, which Geralt had to admit was palpable. As soon as people had flooded in, he’d made a point to look intimidating—much as it had prevented people from sitting at his booth, it hadn’t stopped them from buzzing around the bar, and he realized they must be there for Jaskier. It put a pit in his stomach, but also made something in his chest whizz around in joy. Ah, fuck.

And then, up was Jaskier. The announcer welcomed him on stage, and Jaskier bounced on, to the warmest welcome thus far.

“Gooooood evening everyone, lovely to see you all. And I do mean all. How many people are here? There are at least…” he counted for a moment. “At least 12. Possibly more.” He got a laugh, and winked at someone in the middle of the audience as he sat down on a stool in front of the mic.

“I cannot fucking believe this,” Yennefer groaned quietly. Fringilla patted her on the back. “There, there. Maybe he’ll be terrible.”

Jaskier hummed softly, warming up his voice. No, Yennefer though, he wouldn’t be terrible, because unfortunately, he was quite fucking good.

His first song was another one that had also blown up after his sudden viral-ness of the past week, an original he’d told Geralt he’d written in university, and never stopped being proud of. Geralt smiled into his second drink of the night, enjoying watching Jaskier get comfortable on the stage.

His second song finished to applause and cheers, and Jaskier got up to bow, pushing the stool far behind him with his foot. Yennefer put a fist in her hair. Unfortunately, her mortal enemy was fucking magnetic.

“Freak him out, like you said you do,” Coral whispered to her. Yennefer frowned, but nodded soon after. At least she could make this fun for herself.

Jaskier grabbed the mic and moved it off to the side of the stage, throwing some smiles to people who had their phone out, before stopping and speaking into it when the crowd had quieted a bit.

“Hey,” Jaskier said gently, his voice commanding the bar, as he looked out into the crowd. He found Geralt’s face, and beamed at him, before turning back to the sea of people. “Is uh… is anyone here on TikTok?” The crowd cheered and he launched into Toss a Coin, forgoing the stool entirely, choosing to dance around the stage.

To Geralt’s complete mortification, at the top of the first chorus Jaskier suddenly pointed to him. “Toss a coin to your witcher, Oh valley of plenty, oh!”

By the third chorus, Geralt had been sufficiently pummeled with coins, bills, and what looked like a gift card to a café, when Jaskier tipped back his head to the other side of the stage. Yennefer was sitting back, arms folded, a single eyebrow raised, flanked by Fringilla and Coral on either side, looking expectant of the musician, mimicking their friend’s pose. Yennefer thought she was fighting off her smirk, but it was hard to say. Her eyes met his, and for a brief, brief moment his smile faltered, before he let out a cackle, continuing to play. The audience ate out of his hand, and he seemed to grow more and more at ease, preening at the attention.

“It was worth a shot,” Fringilla said with a huff of laughter and a shake of her head, returning to her glass. “He’s really got something, hate to admit.”

When the song finished, he took a deep bow to riotous applause and caught a coin someone threw to him, tucking it in his pocket.

Behind him, a witcher and a mage made eye contact for the first time; gold met violet, and the air between them seemed to electrify.

“I think we’re on our own for tonight, Coral,” Fringilla said with eyebrows raised, watching her friend stare across the room, and Coral giggled in response. Yennefer made a point to use a fraction of her chaos to stir her martini from afar, so this man knew what he might be getting into.

“Thank you, thank you all. I think we have time for one more quick song. And I do hope you’ll give our next artist after the break the same amount of attention, as a personal favor to me,” Jaskier said, getting some laughs, and tuned his instrument for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve been a dream. Really, truly, thank you. I fully expect this kind of turn out every week, though, so cancel all your other Saturday night plans for the next, oh, 7 to 8 years.”

A smattering of laughter again from the audience, and then Jaskier was starting Fishmonger's Daughter, a song Geralt had deemed dirty enough to ignore the lyrics of. He looked away from the woman, clearly a mage, across the stage from him—she was gorgeous, long black hair and bright violet eyes. She was flanked by two other women in similar deep velvet dresses—the first a rosy pink, the third a midnight blue, while the woman’s he’d locked eyes with was pitch black, matching a choker around her neck. She tilted her head to expose more soft tan skin, examining him from afar as she stirred her drink with magic, graceful and languid.

Do not fuck mages. Do not fuck mages. Do not fuck mages.

He sat back in his chair, and suddenly realized that Jaskier’s set had ended; his friend was bowing, and then disappeared off the stage in favor of the announcer. The bar was buzzing, people milling around, and then Jaskier, blue eyes gleaming, cheeks flushed, smile stretched from ear to ear, was sitting in front of him.

“Geralt! Was it good? Give me your thoughts.”

“Not bad,” Geralt said with a smile, and a pat on his friend’s shoulder. Was it too much? He gave it a small squeeze, and something small in Jaskier’s face changed. He looked up and down Geralt’s face, and suddenly the witcher realized how close they were, that Jaskier was licking his lips, that he hadn’t taken his hand off his shoulder, that the world had disappeared around them. His gaze dropped for a moment to Jaskier’s lips. He could smell arousal, and excitement, and happiness, but he was in a bar, there was too much to take in, no way to know for sure it was coming from Jaskier. He held his breath, and met Jaskier’s eyes again.

His phone rang.

They kept staring.

Another ring, and someone tapped on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I should—you get that, Geralt, I’ll be a moment, just ah, have to say hello to the adoring public, I’ll be back!”

Geralt let his witcher-slow heartbeat a few more times, dazed, before looking down at his phone to see Lambert was calling. He answered, putting a finger in his other ear.

“Geralt!” Lambert hissed. Geralt could barely hear him over the noise of the bar. “Geralt! Have you seen the group chat?!”

“No. Speak louder, I can barely hear you.”

“I can’t! He’s in my apartment, Geralt! What the fuck do I do! He brought booze! He looks fucking fancy!”

Geralt frowned. “Are you on a date?”

“Not that I’m fucking aware of!”

Geralt frowned deeper. “It sounds like you’re on a date.”

“We can’t be on a date! He just asked if I wanted to do dinner! That’s not a date!”

“It can be. Clearly is. Just—take him out somewhere.”

“Fucking WHERE, Geralt!”

“Don’t you have a sushi place around the corner? Do that. Or somewhere else. Doesn’t matter, just wear something decent and go.”

“How the fuck—” Lambert was asking when Geralt hung up. He looked at his phone screen—98 unread messages from the clowns. He shook his head and looked up—Jaskier was peacocking around the bar, flirting with everyone who seemed receptive. He was a natural, winding his way through the crowd, making them all feel special. Someone was buying him a drink, and it looked like he was already part of the way through another. He delighted over everyone, taking selfies, accepting compliments, giving them in return to appreciative and giddy smiles.

That was how Jaskier was, Geralt thought. With everyone. Little moments didn’t necessarily mean anything.

He turned back to look at the sorceress across from him. Her companions had left her, disappearing into the crowd for more drinks, perhaps. She was playing with something on her table, and glanced up to see him staring. She smirked, picked up the small object, and began to levitate it over to him.

Geralt watched as through the crowd, over the stage, the object floated over to him.

When it finally arrived at his table, Geralt watched as a small coin was dropped neatly in front of him, giving a small clink.

He smirked. It was a parlor trick, and barely that, for a mage. But it was intriguing. She was intriguing. And Jaskier was busy being fawned over by fans, so it’s not as though Geralt would be missed. He stood and waded his way through the masses, towering over many of the other patrons, before finally making it to his destination. He held up the coin.

The woman smiled up at him, sly, and spoke before he did. “No need to thank me, just doing as the song requested. Are you so often followed around by… loyal bards?”

He laughed. He hadn’t heard someone use ‘bard’ in decades. “Not until recently. To who do I owe the pleasure?”

“Whom, I think,” she quipped, and offered her hand. “Yennefer.”

“Geralt,” he said, and she laughed as he sat down across from her.

“Yes, I’ve heard as much. The White Wolf. Quite the title.”

“I didn’t pick it myself, I assure you.”

“You don’t seem to mind it all that much.”

“… I suppose not. Better than some of the other titles I haven’t picked.”

“Do you have many of those?”

“Plenty. Couldn’t tell you what most of them were, though. Hard to hear when you’re dodging enemies.”

She titled her head slightly and sat back to let her gaze drag over him. “So, none from lovers, then?”

He smiled again. “Cheeky.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Take it however you’d like.”

“You’re not much for flattering yourself, are you, Geralt.”

“That’s what I’ve got my bard for.”

She laughed, a light thing that he knew would be echoing around his chest for days. She leaned back in, looking around conspiratorially. He leaned in a touch as well, their faces only inches from each other now. “Tell me, Geralt. Are you as noble and chivalrous as that song made you out to be?”

“It flatters me. But I do my best for… those in need.”

“And if I were in need, you would do something for me?”

“I might be able to do that.”

“Well then.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I would be entirely grateful, Geralt… if you get me some apple juice.” He leaned back in confusion, while she pressed the coin he still held further into his hand. “This should cover it.”

When he leaned away, she wore an unmistakably coquettish smile, biting back a laugh. He smiled despite himself, brows furrowed as he looked down at the coin, and back at her, before letting out a small laugh himself.

“Alright. One apple juice, fair mage. I will do my best.”

“Take care on your dangerous voyage!” She called after him, as he slipped into the crowd. She whipped out her phone; the break would be lasting another 15 or so minutes, just enough to play a game on her phone. Whether or not Geralt made it back to his table in time for the next set was none of her concern. Besides, he’d somehow befriended her most recent mortal enemy, so anything that happened tonight would have to be a one-time thing. If anything happened, of course, but Yennefer was not in the habit of letting a good time pass her by.

Things were perfectly right in her world, as she waited for her phone to load, until suddenly someone dressed in frankly garish teal and red was standing before her. She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Ahem?”

She continued looking at her phone. The damn thing wouldn’t load.

“You know, it’s very rude to keep your most reviled enemy waiting.”

It still wouldn’t fucking load. She groaned and put it down. “What do you want, Jaskier?” Her neighbor, grinning widely and holding two glasses of punchy looking drinks, sat down across from her. “No one else hesitated to applaud my wonderful performance except… for you. Come on. You must have some review for me. Three words or less.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him for a moment. “I don’t buy it.”

He frowned. “No, that’s four. What don’t you buy?”

“The song. You expect me to believe you willingly put yourself within 10 miles of danger? You already complain that the second floor is too dangerous for you.”

“It is dangerous, and I sleep there, so it’s different. Really, it did happen, you could ask Geralt. Actually, gods, no, don’t ask Geralt. Don’t talk to him, actually. You’d hate each other, definitely, best stay away.”

“Oh dear. Someone’s already jealous.”

“I am not—!” he squeaked, before leaning in. “I am not jealous, I just don’t need you and your…” he waved a hand at her, “your face-ness scaring him off!”

“My face?”

“Yes! It’s full of… secrets. And… plots. Evil plots!”

“Right. Do you know what your face is full of?”

“Charm? Charisma? An air of mystery?”

She swiftly grabbed one of his drinks and splashed it in his face, while he gaped. She swiped a finger across his cheek and tasted it. “Mmm, no… something fruity. Strawberry?”

“Raspberry,” he corrected. His face dripped. “I had that coming, a bit.”

“Oh, absolutely.” She waved a hand, and the drink was gone—his face, shirt, the table all now dry. “Don’t take that as a kindness. I just don’t want to pay for your dry cleaning.”

“Of course,” he replied, touching his now dry face. “And I don’t want any more battles with you in the laundry genre, if I can help it.” Despite herself, she laughed.

“Ah, I see there is a brain behind those blue eyes after all.”

“You just like seeing me covered in liquid and at your mercy.”

“Maybe,” she admitted.

He sat back in the booth. “You know, if you weren’t utterly terrifying, I could write songs about you as well. I’m sure you’ve got stories. We could make some together.”

“I am the story.”

“See, that’s good! Have you considered abandoning magic and the position of ‘very sexy, very scary witch’, and instead working towards of ‘very sexy, very charming poet’? At least then we’d be competitors in the same field. Same playing ground! Same weapons, which is to say, absolutely no weapons.”

“Mm. And have you considered abandoning your current title of ‘unfortunately charming, unfortunately talented, deeply annoying musician’ and opting instead for ‘very quiet, mildly charming eye candy’? It would suit you more.”

“The day I stop talking is the day I run out of breath.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Dear Ms. Penthouse, I’m sure you’ll be the one to bring it about.”

“Wouldn’t you love to be so lucky. Besides, haven’t you got a wolf in shining armor to protect you?” Just then, a sound went over the loudspeakers. 5 minutes until the end of the break, then.

“Well, much as I’d love to continue this lovely and for me, a frankly sexually confusing chat, I must grab my drinks before our next musicians are on.”

“Take care, then. I’d hate to see you die without getting to be a part of it,” she said, giving him a pat on the arm, her hand lingering as he looked at her for a moment, licking his lips and then hurrying off.

It was only moments before Geralt returned.

“One apple juice,” he said, setting a tall glass in front of her with a straw. Yennefer smiled and pulled it closer to her, taking a sip. “Is it to your liking, fair mage?”

It was quite good, actually. “Acceptable. Thank you, dear witcher, for your services.”

“Any others you’d like to request of me?”

“Mmm… give me the evening to think of one.”

“I can’t promise I’ll be here forever.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll think of something. You just go… sit in the corner and brood.”

He laughed. “You’re not the first one to say that to me tonight.”

“Mm, so you’re completing quests for others? Should I be worried?” She snuck a glance toward the crowd, and Geralt followed her eyes to land on Jaskier, fliting between people, drinking something that this time looked icy and blue. “Just a friend, I hope?”

Geralt turned to look back at her. His face had too many things subtly happening for her to read it well, and after only a moment Fringilla and Coral had returned, beginning to slip into the booth.

“Will you be joining us?” Fringilla asked, but Geralt shook his head.

“I’ve been told to go brood,” he replied, and made his way back to his booth.

——

Geralt did, in his defense, make an attempt to listen to the other performers. Jaskier spent the evening continuing to flirt around the room, hands lingering on him, his own hands gently caressing shoulders and arms. Geralt could tell already he’d be going home alone that night. Well, not alone. Yennefer and he had been sharing glances as the night progressed, and he was fairly certain he knew where that was heading.

He just wouldn’t be going home with Jaskier, who would himself undoubtedly be going home with some fan or other patron. He had his pick of the room, for the most part. Which was good. Geralt knew he sought the praise, the fame. Besides, Jaskier and he had only planned to spend the late night catching up on their weekly nature documentary.

Another man paid for Jaskier’s next drink, a fizzy concoction, and Geralt felt himself give the tiniest hint of a growl.

Eventually, Yennefer’s companions slipped out, and he returned to her booth.

“Do you have a quest for me, then?”

“Mmm. How about, protect me here, until it’s time to leave, and then walk me back to my apartment?”

Geralt nodded. “That, I can do.”

The night pushed onward. After a few performers more, Geralt looked around in between sets and realized he’d lost track of Jaskier entirely. It would be unlike him to not give a heads-up before going home with somebody. Geralt frowned and checked his phone. A few dozen messages from Eskel and Coën, and; one missed call from Jaskier. Shit. He took a deep breath—he could smell his friend in the air, but not quite which direction it came from, not with so many people. Yennefer gave him a look.

“What’s wrong?”

“Missed a call. Hold on.” He pressed the redial and held it to his ear. It rang three times before it picked up. “Jaskier?”

“Mmm. Ger. Ger’lt. Do you wanna go home? With me.”

“You want me to take you home?” He shot an apologetic look at Yennefer.

“Come home with me.”

“Okay, Jaskier. Where are you?”

“Outside.”

“Alright. Be there soon.” Geralt hung up and began to slide out of the booth. “Sorry. He’s had a big night.”

“I could tag along,” Yennefer offered. “And then you’ll have doubly earned your rewards tonight.”

“I—sure, sure,” and they were off, navigating around the bar and out the door. “He doesn’t live that far away,” Geralt began to explain.

“Oh, I know.” Geralt shot her a questioning look as they exited the front door.

——

Jaskier was right there, leaning against the wall. His head ached—he’d had possibly more to drink in this night than he had for the past two weeks combined. It had all caught up with him, and he’d found himself outside, taking deep breaths of fresh air, clutching his lute bag to his chest.

He’d flirted around all night, but nothing, nobody had been worth his time. How was he supposed to focus on anyone when Geralt was right there? Not that he was interested, of course. But he’d come out, he’d come early, just to see Jaskier perform. Well, to be fair, his hit song, (he had one of those now!) was about Geralt, so that was probably why he came. But he wanted to pretend it was just for him. That Geralt had wanted to see Jaskier perform. He was miles out of Jaskier’s league, but oh, could he could absolutely dream some very, very sexy dreams.

And then his mortal enemy had been there, and wasn’t that a treat. She’d looked gorgeous. It was unfair. His building was full of beautiful people, all who only tolerated him, were abysmally out of his league, or would eat him for breakfast, if they had the chance. At least fighting with her gave him the excuse to look at her, talk to her. She’d splashed a drink in his face and he’d needed to slip away to the bathroom when they’d finished talking, just to calm himself down. That was unfair. Don’t fuck mages, he reminded himself. Not that she ever would. He’d had at least 6 more drinks after that, just to push the thought away.

He’d thought he’d been doing a bit better, the past few minutes. But clearly, he wasn’t, as he must have been hallucinating.

Before him stood Geralt (gorgeous, fascinating, generous, kind, warm-hearted Geralt), looking a bit dazed himself, as well as The Bitch of the 13th Floor (intriguing, deadly, witty, beautiful). So, his sexual fantasy that he had not until that moment realized existed.

“Oh dear. I’m worse than I thought.”

“Jaskier, what’s wrong?”

“Too much to drink. Now I’m hallucinating.”

Geralt frowned. “What do you see?”

Jaskier pointed to the woman in front of him and then shut his eyes tightly. “Unless… unless it’s a magic thing.”

“No—Jaskier, this is Yennefer. Yennefer, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes flew open. “You know this woman? Of course you know this woman. So you do have a name!”

“Of course I have a name.”

“I don’t know, maybe mages don’t all have names.”

“You two know each other?”

Jaskier smiled loosely. “That’s my mortal enemy.”

“This is not Valdo Marx.”

“No! Penthouse Lady. Second one.”

“Oh. The Bitch of the 13th Floor.”

“Glad to know I hold a reputation in your circles, Jaskier,” she said lightly. “Though I’m a touch offended I’m only number 2.”

He frowned, and reached out for her arm, and held it lightly, then did the same with Geralt.

“Oh fuck. You are both here.”

“Right. Let’s get you back home.” Carefully, Geralt lifted Jaskier’s arm over his shoulders, and the three began to walk, Yennefer on his other side. They went to walk before he stopped, pulling Jaskier’s arm off him, and bent down.

“What are you--?”

“Your shoe strap is undone,” Geralt explained, before flashing a grin up at her. “I suppose this isn’t what you meant when you told me to kneel.”

“As I recall, I haven’t asked you to do that yet. I was saving it for the bedroom.”

Geralt finished with her shoe and then rose up, and they began walking. “The sticky note. ‘I will make you kneel and fix it yourself’?”

“…You’re the new tenant?! You’re the muddy bastard?!”

“Wait, you two were going to have sex?!” Jaskier whined.

“Let’s not jump to any conclusions.”

“I thought it was ‘Don’t fuck mages’, not ‘Don’t fuck mages unless they’re really hot, then that’s the exception’!”

“I can’t believe this,” Yennefer said. Her world fell apart and clicked into place all at once as they crossed the street. “Oh my god.”

“Did you not know?”

“Of course I didn’t know! You didn’t say how you knew him!”

“Well, there it is,” Geralt sighed. “And Jaskier, don’t just to conclusions, I wouldn’t presume that of her. All I did was buy her apple juice.”

“Now what kind of metaphor is that!”

“The kind that isn’t a metaphor at all.”

“Jaskier, if you say a single word about my apple juice—”

“I’m not saying anything about apple juice! It’s a noble beverage! But your apple juice leads to some implications!”

“And what if it does!” “Well! Well!” Jaskier flustered. “Well! We were going to watch our nature documentary tonight!”

“No we weren’t,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier looked at him, hurt. “What?”

“We weren’t going to watch the documentary, Jaskier. You were going to find someone to go home with.”

“I did find someone to go home with!” He said, bumping his hip into Geralt.

“I don’t count,” Geralt muttered, as they finally made it into the building.

“Why don’t you count?”

“Because, Jaskier, you weren’t planning to sleep with me.”

“Says who!”

“Let’s just go to mine,” Yennefer said as they stepped in the elevator. “I don’t want to try and navigate his apartment in the dark. I’m sure it’s a wreck.”

“It’s fine, actually,” Jaskier muttered. “Geralt I know we wouldn’t have slept together, you have standards, but—”

“Well, more like because he was planning on sleeping with me, thank you very much.”

“Watch out, Lady of the Penthouse, or I’ll… write a song about you.”

“Who said I was planning or not planning on sleeping with anyone?”

“You did!”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“That’s the point!”

“So, you two… aren’t sleeping together?”

“What’s your point?!” Geralt demanded, oblivious to Yennefer’s question.

“Well, that’s how you know someone doesn’t want to sleep with you! One of the many ways. They don’t say they do! You’ve made it clear we’re just… you know. Pals.”

“I never said that!”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Jaskier, for once in your life, would you say something with some sense?!” “I said, ‘come home with me’! How much more clear do I have to be than ‘I’d rather spend the night with you’?! Actually, frankly, with both of you, this is nice. Loud, but nice. I can’t believe I’m saying this about my sworn nemesis.”

“Now, hold on—”

“Everybody shut up!” Yennefer said, loud enough that the boys shut their mouths. “No more speaking. We will be at my apartment soon. I will be going into my kitchen to get you,” she pointed at Jaskier, “something to ensure you don’t get sick all over the elevator.”

“I’m—I’m feeling a lot better, really,” he said. She made a shushing motion against his lips, and she could feel his hot breath, could sense his heartbeat race faster, watched his cheeks flush. Interesting.

“By the time I’m back, I want you two sorted.” The doors dinged, and they emerged on a landing in front of an intricate white door, which Yennefer opened with a wave of her hand. “I’ll be back in a moment. Just… let me know who Geralt will be kneeling for,” she said, and then walked into the kitchen, heels snapping against the tile.

She looked at her cabinets, opening one and retrieving the bottle she wanted. Well. They’d need more than a few seconds, surely. She placed it carefully on the counter and listened.

“I…” Geralt was saying. “Um.”

“I didn’t… Geralt. I’m sorry. I don’t want to… ruin things.”

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“You’ve hardly shown interest, I know you’re not…”

“I’m bad at these things. Talking. You know that.”

“Okay, then…” Jaskier trailed off, and took a big breath. “Then show me.”

“Show you?”

“What you mean. Or… what you don’t mean. I don’t know. But if there’s… Geralt, if there’s something, anything about me that you want, in that way, I am asking you to show me. It’s fine if not. But… I’m here, I want it, if you do. I mean, I want it either way, really. Have for a bit.”

“…You’re drunk.”

“I won’t be, once Yennefer gets that… thing. And it’ll be the same. I promise.

“I don’t want you regretting anything.”

“How could I regret you? Show me, Geralt. Please.”

“…Show you."

“Yes, yes, please, Geralt. Pl—”

And there was silence. Or, there was the sound of mouths sliding against each other, soft, deep moans reverberating in their chests. She let them have the moment, and then Jaskier gave a soft whine, and she smiled. That was her cue.

She clicked into the foyer, bottle held aloft.

“A gift,” she said, and the two staggered apart, “for my nemesis. Purely because his white wolf brought me apple juice, let it be known. And thank you for the show. Both at the bar and here.” Jaskier stepped toward her and took the bottle.

“I must warn you,” she said, “it tastes like goat piss.” Jaskier popped the cork, and chugged the bottle before making a face.

“How long does it take to— oh, fuck—”

“Pretty instantaneous,” Yennefer said as he grabbed her shoulder to support himself. Geralt came up behind him.

“The room stopped spinning. I didn’t even realize it was spinning,” he frowned. He shook his head for a moment, turned back to Geralt, and grabbed his neck, pulling them to meet in a firm kiss. “See? Meant it.”

“Maybe I need some of that too,” Geralt muttered. “Things are spinning.”

“As much as I enjoy playing cupid,” Yennefer said, taking back the bottle, “it seems as though I’ve been a bit removed from the equation, so you two had best be off, I suppose.”

“Someday, you’ll be won over by my charms,” Jaskier said with a kiss to her knuckles. “But if you two had… plans… I could always wait a night. Unless you’d like both of us in your bed,” he half-joked to her.

“I don’t know how this is happening to me,” Geralt muttered.

“Oh, be careful what you wish for, Jaskier,” she hummed, “you might just get it.”

“Does this mean I’ve won you over?”

“It means I don’t let a good night pass me by.”

“Oh, so you think I’ll be good, you admit that.”

“It means I’m open to you proving me wrong. But I saw you play. You can make good use of those hands. Geralt?”

Geralt was leaning against the wall, staring into the middle distance, looking lost. “I just. A lot has happened. I thought you hated each other?”

“I told you she was gorgeous, I don’t just say things.”

“You do very much just say things.”

“Well, then, someone’s going to have to shut me up.”

Yennefer tilted his head back to face her and pulled him down into a kiss—languid and slow, as one of his arms grabbed her waist and pulled her upwards and to him, just enough that she was standing on tip toe. She ran her hands up his chest, coming to rest around his neck, playing with his hair. He finally pulled away, just to kiss a line down one side of her jaw, sucking a small mark onto her neck.

She looked back at Geralt, still a bit dazed but with a fire behind his eyes. “Well,” she said, detaching herself from Jaskier. “Will you be joining?”

Rather than answer, Geralt took a few steps forward toward her. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her—gentle and almost pleading. They fit together so easily, he thought. He hadn’t ever fit with someone like he had with two people tonight. How had he earned this? How had he made it to this point in his life?

Jaskier was suddenly behind him, kissing his back, running one hand up his chest, the other against Yennefer’s hand, which had reached his shoulder. He couldn’t have all this, could he?

“You think so loudly, Geralt,” Yennefer teased him.

“It’s true,” Jaskier agreed. “Even I hear it, darling.”

“Okay. Then… take me somewhere I don’t have to think.”

Yennefer smiled, took his hand in hers, and Jaskier’s in her other. “I’m glad your place was the bedroom,” Jaskier whispered, “Because honestly, mine would probably be the zoo.”

Yennefer pinched his hand, “Ow! But am I wrong?! You don’t need your brain for the zoo!” and led them on.

x

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

16 Messages from Aretuza Takes Novigrad

Coral Lytta — 9 hours ago

okay, thanks for letting us know, yen!!! have fun!!

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

Wait, I’m sorry, were the two people you just went home with the witcher and the musician? The guy you hate?

Sabrina — 9 hours ago

What on earth is happening

Fringilla – 9 hours ago

She didn’t specify which two guys she went home with, but I’m pretty sure I just saw them all leave together.

Sabrina — 8 hours ago

I can’t believe drama is happening without me

Coral Lytta — 7 hours ago

its not drama drama is frin getting the number of someone with a green hair when she specifically said she’d sworn off of green hair for at least a year

Sabrina — 7 hours ago

omfg

Fringilla – 6 hours ago

Coral!! Where are you, I’m not letting you get away with this! They’re cute! You can’t shame me.

Coral Lytta — 5 hours ago

update everyone we got a car home and frin has been texting green hair (jesu) the whole way home if youre reading this its too late for me it was nice knowing u

Sabrina – 3 hours ago

Loving this. Just blew up half a field with Anica. She says hi

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

Hey yen I am seeing this mystery enemy of yours on tiktok people filmed his set

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

He’s hot good job

Sabrina – 2 hours ago

But why is he playing a fucking lute

Coral Lytta – 1 hour ago

morning all yennefer please send pics of ur hot date(s)

Fringilla – 15 minutes ago

Are we not addressing that Sabrina and Anica blew up a field?!

Sabrina — Just Now

Lol

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

167 Messages from CITY WITCHERS GETTING LAMBERT (AND GERALT) DATES… Showing 16

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Okay I made him laugh and now I’m in the bathroom what the fuck now??

Eskel – 10 hours ago

Pay for the bill, leave a good tip for that waiter for saving your ass, and then ask him if he wants to go back to yours. You’ve done this before, Lamb.

Coën – 10 hours ago

He’s been flirting with you all night, you’ll be fine.

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Fuck Okay If you never hear from me again it’s because I died of embarrassment

Lambert – 10 hours ago

Bye forever

Eskel – 9 hours ago

Drama queen. Hey Geralt how’s it going?

Coën – 9 hours ago

He’s in it too deep. He probably watched that guy play live and just died.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Sex is so awesome

Eskel – 6 hours ago

Congrats bro. I’m sleeping now.

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Don’t you wanna hear about how great sex is

Eskel – 6 hours ago

I know it’s great, Lambert. I’ve had sex before

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Are we sure are we super sure you had sex cause like I just had GREAT sex possibly the best

Coën – 6 hours ago

It is two in the morning. I am begging you to shut up

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Put us on silent so I can talk about how great sex is

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Ha beat you to this one Geralt bet you didn’t have sex with someone hot tonight. HA

Lambert – 6 hours ago

Okay gotta go round two bye

8:24am

Sunday, April 3rd

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You coming back to the table?

Geralt – 10 hours ago

If I’m gone when you get back let me know when you get home

Geralt – 10 hours ago

You did really good, Jaskier. I’m proud of you

TikTok – 2 hours ago

You have 25,634 new followers!

TikTok – 1 hour ago

You hit 2.3 million views! Click here to see what people are saying…

Spotify – 15 minutes ago

You have 5,785 new followers and 806,216 new listens on Toss a Coin EP

Maybe: Yennefer – 5 minutes ago

It's Yennefer, send me that selfie of all of us you took, I wanna freak out my group chat

Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Maybe: Yennefer – 4 minutes ago

I can’t believe I’m the one doing this, but I guess we need a group chat.

To: Geralt, Maybe: Yennefer

Message: 1 image

Here’s the selfie for you both!! Use it wisely ;)

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 3 minutes ago

Geralt get me apple juice while you’re up

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Yennefer – 2 minutes ago

Jaskier, this chat name, you cannot be serious

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

Haha

A Sorceress, A Witcher, and a Handsome Bard Walk into a Bar…

Geralt – Just now

:)

[tooweirdforyou]

Valentine’s » Eustass Kid

A/N : :O. Valentine’s fic for Eustass Kid? Yes. :D hope you enjoy it.

I definitely changed my idea halfway so this might be a weird transition or just a bad fic because UGH idk man, Kid is hard.

I just realized all of these are school themed.

Summary : Valentine’s Day, Kid’s most hated holiday.

-

“Chocolates? No, I haven’t. Why?”

Nami sighs in exasperation at your obliviousness. “What do you mean why!? Aren’t you going to give anyone one?”

You raise a brow and continue to walk beside her in the halls, heading towards lunch.

“Why would I? Not like I like anyone enough to make chocolates especially for them. Plus, it’s a waste of time.”

Nami deadpans at you for a moment before exhaling in defeat. “Right, there’s no one that would like someone like you anyways.”

“And that means?” You narrow your eyes at her, who immediately jumps and raises her hands in defense.

“I-I mean with your reputation around the school and all! I mean, you beat up kids and you pick fights like some delinquent.”

You relax your shoulders at her response and turn away from her to face the halls.

“Rumors are rumors, Nami.”

Glancing at the ginger out of the corner of your eyes, who visibly stared at you in surprise.

“But they’re true.”

Nami’s bewildered and baffled expression erupted a laugh from you, smiling at her in amusement.

“Don’t worry, I only pick on the ones that mess with the weak students. I saved Usopp’s ass a couple times too, so I’m doing him a favor.” You shrug as you see the cafeteria approaching closer and entered it.

“I guess that’s better.. but to me, picking fights like that is really too much. You’re no different from Eustass Kid to me.”

“Eustass Kid?”

“Haven’t heard the rumors about him? The red head who’s loud and brash and just an insensitive asshole to be around. You’re a lot like him.”

“Gee. Thanks. I always knew you loved me.” You roll your eyes at the ginger who merely giggles as she walks with you to your table.

Passing many others, you see several girls handing out chocolates to many of the boys.

“Law sure is popular..”

No doubt, the tall stoic male had a large line of girls waiting to give their chocolates.

“Many of the guys in our school is popular.. everyone we know has gotten at least one. Even Koby, the shyest one at our school has at least five.” Nami says as she continues to look around.

“And? What about you? Did you give yours to Luffy?”

Nami’s eyes widens at question and she scoffs. “That dumbass? Why would I?” She turns away but you saw the very faint flush of her cheeks, making your smile.

“Oh, I guess even Kid is getting some..” wandering your eyes around, you land on the particular red-head and find a girl bowing to him timidly and holding out the box.

“A-Ah, Eustass.. I-I wanted to give you some chocolates! For Valentine’s Day..”

You watch silently and stopped in your tracks to see what he would do.

And to your surprise, Kid stares blankly at it.

“I refuse.”

Needless to say, the girl was quite shocked. “W-What?”

“Get that disgusting shit away from me.” He immediately slaps the box of chocolates out of her hands and into the floor, making you scoff.

“How stuck up.” You mutter and turn away, not knowing Kid’s keen senses of hearing heard you from where he was.

“The fuck was that?”

You roll your eyes, mentally cursing to yourself for getting his attention and turned to his direction, going towards the female, who had tears streaming down her cheeks at the embarrassment.

You walk past the two and knelt down to the box of chocolates. By then, everyone in the cafeteria was watching closely, silent to see what would happen.

Picking up the box, you dust it off and inspected it before smiling lightly and walking to the girl.

“[Name]..”

“Hey, it’s not damaged, and it’s still edible. I’m sure they taste amazing so don’t bother giving it to this asshole right here, okay?”

Kid’s brow twitches with every word you spoke, his fists clenching tightly as he scowls.

“He’s just an insensitive prick who needs to feel superior so don’t waste any time with him. Give this to someone else, who deserves this.” Holding out the box, you offer a kind smile.

The female only widens her eyes before nodding firmly. “Thank you, [Name].” She gives one last look to Kid before running off.

Shoving your hands into your pocket, you began to walk back to Nami when his voice called you.

“Oi.”

You stop in your tracks and stood there, unmoving.

“Are you shittin’ with me right now?”

“Pardon?”

Kid stands up, Killer quick to get up and place a hand on his shoulder. “Kid.”

“You got a problem with me? You prissy bitch.”

You tilt your head and smirked a little in amusement, hearing Nami rushing up to you and grabbing your hand. “[Name], let’s go already!” She hisses.

“Quite the vulgar tongue, Eustass. I’m surprised you even had a girl offer you chocolates.” You mock, ignoring Nami’s protests.

Suddenly, Kid was in front of you, lifting you up a bit as he grips the collar of your shirt.

He growls as he glares daggers into you. “Why, you little—!” He suddenly smirks at he stares down at you. “At least I had someone offer me that shit. I heard no one even wants to get near you.”

Your smirk drops as you stare coldly at the red-head. “It doesn’t matter whether I got one or not. People think I’m not deserving of any gifts anyways. People will believe any rumor they hear.” You mutter, raising your hand to place it on Kid’s and forced it off, making him let go.

“What did you say?..”

Kid didn’t say anything as he continues to glare at you deeply but you didn’t pay any mind.

“How about you quit being such a dick every second of the day, for once? I bet you can’t even handle that.” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him and turned to Nami. “I’m leaving.”

“Piece of shit.” You curse him under your breath as you ignored the stares you received as you left the cafeteria.

“Rumors..”

-

The rest of the day, you intentionally avoided everyone who came up to you.

With the simple excuse that you needed to get home, you were allowed some peace as you packed up your things and went to your shoe locker to switch out your shoes.

Unfortunately, luck was not on your side.

“Hey.”

You took in a deep breath and shut your shoe locker and stared at it blankly before turning around to face the owner of the voice.

“What do you want, Eustass Kid?”

Kid glares a tad bit at the sound of his name coming out of your lips like that before clicking his tongue.

“Take this.” In his hand was a chocolate bar, to which he tossed at you. With ease, you caught it and stared down at it with furrowed brows.

“What’s this?” Kid rolls his eyes and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Are you blind? It’s a chocolate bar from the vending machine, dumbass.”

Your brow twitched are his response. “I meant.. what this is for.” Kid exhaled deeply and grunts.

“... Just take it. I don’t get why you people like this chocolate shit but..” His eyes flashes over to you before his mind began to think back on your expression earlier in the lunchroom.

Despite the tone and harshness your voice was heard, Kid just briefly was able to read your pained and hurt look in your eyes.

It irritated him when he saw it.

“..Tch. Whatever, Happy Valentine’s or some shit.”

You blink a couple times at the chocolate bar in your hands before looking up at Kid, who began walking off with a quiet grumble.

“...” The faint smile began to become visible on your lips as you clutch the bar tightly and hum.

Maybe the rumors of Eustass Kid himself weren’t all true either.

Lost in thought, you miss Kid’s glance back at your figure and saw the small lip curve upwards, and something stirred in his chest.

It suddenly felt warm at the sight of it.

“..Tch..”