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heliads · 2 years

Note

Hi there! I really love your work, you are so talented and i wanted to send in a request for some time now so,could I possibly ask for a george weasley imagine?🥰

How about this: Reader (a slytherin) gets caught up in one of the pranks devised by the twins. Given the fact that they are dating George, an agreement was made where the reader doesn't become a victim of the serious pranks they play on slytherins. This time an accident happened and something of theirs got destroyed (anything you want-but with great emotional value). Reader is tired of always being supportive,patient and loving while not receiving the same amount of emotions from their peers back. Reader tells George they need a break. -sad, angst and hopefully a fluff ending cause I'm a sucker for happy endings🥺

Thank you so much and it's totally okay if you don't want to do it💛

yes yes yes i would never pass up a chance for angst

masterlist

You don’t know that you’ve ever seen your boyfriend look more suspicious in your life. The two of you are supposed to be having a normal study session in one of the louder corners of the library, but he’s long since left off even pretending to glance at his textbooks. Instead, he keeps frantically scribbling something on a scrap of parchment that’s already been jinxed so no one can read the words but him.

At last, you give up your Potions essay and crumple up an excess piece of parchment into a ball, lobbing it at your boyfriend for the pure joy of seeing it bounce off his coppery hair. George Weasley gasps in horror, although it does nothing to quiet your laugh.

“Rude, Y/N,” he says, hand clasped to his chest in the throes of mock betrayal, “I can’t believe you’d attack me like this. I thought we were supposed to have a nice afternoon together.”

“I thought so too,” you comment while shooting an obvious look towards the hidden scrap of parchment in front of George, “but you’ve been a little distracted. What’s that about?”

George considers the paper, then sighs melodramatically. “Alright, alright. Let’s just say that Fred and I have a little something planned for later tonight.”

You learn forward, feeling a familiar prick of excitement take its marks at your chest. George and Fred are notorious for their mad genius, something you’ve long since learned to appreciate in your time at Hogwarts. “Don’t tell me you’ve already got another prank lined up. We’ve barely recovered from the last one.”

George holds a teasing finger up to his lips. “Not a word, Y/N. It’s supposed to be a secret, you know.”

At your exasperated expression, he relents. “Perhaps we’re planning something after all. No one’s supposed to know about it, though.”

George lets his gaze stray towards the emerald lining of your robes, and you understand at once. “No telling anyone from my house, you mean?”

To say that it came as a surprise when George Weasley of all people started dating a Slytherin is an understatement. It practically caused a Gryffindor civil war until Fred had to talk to everyone and convince them it was alright. Yes, you’ve been a Slytherin since that Sorting Hat touched your head back in first year, and yes, you love George with every iota of the twisted, blackened heart everyone seems to think you have. No, those two facts don’t have to contradict each other.

You never planned on falling for George, but you’ve been plummeting to the depths of your crush for a while now. Truth be told, were it not for the long and proud Weasley tradition of being lionhearted and red-cloaked until the day they die, you wouldn’t be surprised if George himself might have been sorted into Slytherin. Perhaps there’s an alternate universe far from here where house ties don’t matter quite as much, and the Weasley Twins could be allowed to realize their full ambitious potential alongside your cunning counterparts.

This world, however, is daring enough as it is. George likes that you never try to silence a single one of his dreams, and you like that he’s willing to spill a thousand souls’ worth of ideas out to you every night. Loving him is living like you’ve never known it. Your house may set you up to win, but George makes you want the stakes to be even higher than before. You cannot have one or the other, you’ve always been raised to want a little more than the average saint.

That’s not to say that the fact that you’re a Slytherin and George is a pureblood Gryffindor hasn’t ever caused a clash. As much as you hate to admit it, Gryffindor and Slytherin will have it out for each other until the end of days. So, whenever George and Fred launch another one of their infamous pranks, the Slytherin students are usually the ones they target the most.

You’ve been trying to get George to change this, but it’s a slow and rocky hill to die on. You’ve argued a thousand times that it would be best if he could make sure his pranks impact all the Hogwarts houses equally, and he certainly has gotten better about that over time, but you don’t know that even your love is enough to truly make him change.

You’re safe, though. That was George’s primary clause. No matter the prank, he either tells you about it first or makes sure that you won’t be affected by a single spell. He’s not about to risk his relationship with you, even if he gets the perfect shot at your house. You’re perfectly fine with that, too. Why mess up your boots stepping over a battalion of hexes if you can avoid it?

Besides, no matter how much you’d rather spare your house a little of Gryffindor’s ire, you don’t want to let the pranks come in between you and George. Not once, not ever. That’s why you pretend not to see how Slytherin chafes every time the Weasley twins launch another magical crusade, and you always focus on the majesty of their creativity instead of anything else. It’s not hard to do, the pranks truly are impressive. You just wish you didn’t feel a knife splitting you from your house every time you look the other way.

Still, you’re happy with George. He makes you feel far more important than a pureblood’s history book. You’d be lying to say that some part of you hasn’t always wondered what it would be like to live the way he does, all snapping teeth through laughing grins and a thousand spells not even the most experienced wizards have thought to touch.

So, you don’t press George for details on his latest prank, and instead just smile knowingly to yourself. You’ll see the aftereffects of his shenanigans soon enough, and you’ve never had to worry about what happens. George keeps you safe, he always does. There is no reason to doubt that he would do anything else.

You bid your boyfriend goodbye soon enough, after gathering up your books and quills. He walks you to the very edge of the dungeons so he can talk with you for as long as possible. The stone walls are cold around here, so George kisses you before he goes, leaving you breathless and feeling far more fiery than you had a few seconds before. It is perfect.

Once inside the Slytherin common room, you take up a position by the fireplace with your other friends. They tease you accordingly about skipping out on them to spend time with George yet again, although there’s no malice behind their words. Your friends have long since accepted that George makes you happy, and that in turn makes them happy. That doesn’t spare you from playful accusations that your soul should be torn in half if you were to marry a Gryffindor, however.

A quiet evening slips into a quiet night, and you find yourself distracted from the conversation. Glancing around the Slytherin common room, you can’t help but feel a wave of comfort wash over you. This place is your home, after all, the mahogany carvings and fantastically embroidered green silk call your name as soothingly as a parent.

It is your contemplative study that permits you to be aware of the second the glass cracks. There is a massive bay of windows at the far end of the common room, it looks out into the Great Lake on campus. Every year, freshmen swear they can see mermaids curving through the depths, but right now you spot something even more shocking: hairline fractures weaving themselves across the surface of the glass sheets. Your brow furrows, and you’ve just opened your mouth to point out this anomaly to your friends when it all shatters.

Looking back, it isn’t as bad as you first thought. The entire window didn’t collapse, only pinprick holes in a specific pattern. What it seems like in the beginning, though, is a tidal wave that suddenly pours into the common room, and it’s hard to realize anything through the shrieks of students who have been suddenly drenched by gray-green water.

You’re on your feet in a matter of moments, joining the surge of Slytherins all scrambling to figure out something to do. The Prefects and older students walk towards the punctured windows, whipping out their wands and starting to murmur spells to stop the flood of water. You help them too, and soon enough the cracks have been sealed once more, although there’s still a pattern etched into the glass where the breaks had once been. It seems to be in the shape of a letter ‘W’ with a star on the right tip.

It makes you sick to your stomach, even as water continues to slosh against your ankles and shins. Someone’s starting to get rid of that, too, but it feels like all you can do is stare at the hair-thin etching. You know who did this, don’t you? He was talking to you about a new prank just an hour or so ago. You think you know what it is now.

A third-year shouts that the boys’ and girls’ dorms had the same thing happen to their windows, and you race up the stairs, going door by door to help stop most of the damage. You stop by your year’s dorm room soon enough, and feel your entire body ache with horror as you look at the aftermath of all that water.

It gets cold down here in the dungeons, so you’d had a quilt from home stretched out across your bed. It was a beautiful emerald green, made for you by your grandmother with the magic of generations of your family. It had been your favorite thing on this earth other than your wand, but it’s in ruins now. The once pristine stitches have grown waterlogged, the colors leaching away as you watch.

The quilt has been yours for quite a long time, and the water forces itself into every wound that time has dealt the fabric, shriveling and staining wherever it can. Perhaps if the seams hadn’t been quite so worn, if the cloth hadn’t received quite so much use, the water wouldn’t have been able to deal this much damage. If you hadn’t loved the quilt as deeply as you have, it might have survived.

You stare at it uncomprehendingly. There are no existing patterns to remake it, and the fabrics have long since stopped being produced. This was all you had, and it’s now gone. Your friends from your year appear in the doorway, and you watch them go through similar bouts of grief for books, photos, mementos that have now been too damaged by water to function properly anymore.

You swallow hard. “How do we fix all of this?”

One of your friends turns to look at you, and you shrink beneath the weight of her stare. “You tell me, Y/N. The one who did this was your boyfriend.”

That should cut, you think, and it does on some level, but you’re already feeling so betrayed and useless that you hardly feel the blood leave you.

Instead, you shake your head. “Not for long.”

George Weasley looks surprised when you slam the dripping, wrecked mass of what had once been your grandmother’s quilt down onto the table in front of him. Word has not yet gotten out about the prank, the Slytherins always keep to themselves even through catastrophe, but George knows. His eyes have already started to color with guilt.

“What is this?” He asks, voice deceptively casual.

You look at him coolly. “You tell me. Does this look like your protection, your safety? Whatever happened to making sure I was never affected by your pranks?”

George’s eyes widen now that he’s had final confirmation that this is his fault. “Y/N– this wasn’t supposed to happen–”

Your voice is strong where his is not, deadly cold. “No, it wasn’t, was it? Yet it did. You already walked me down to the door of my common room today so you could scout out the place one last time before the prank started, I’m surprised you messed it up this badly. I mean, what did you even think was going to happen? You’d flood our dorms and we’d all laugh about it?”

George quails beneath the sheer fury in your gaze. “It wasn’t supposed to be that much, I swear. Only the common room. None of the personal possessions were supposed to be damaged.”

You fold your arms across your chest. “Yeah, that might have happened. Only problem is that none of us can spare a single spell towards our own stuff because we’re trying to fix our own common room. I can’t believe you. Usually, you at least pretend your work is funny, but this? This is cruel. I want no part of this.”

George lurches to his feet, a look of dread in his eyes when he realizes what you mean. “Y/N, what are you saying?”

You scoff. “Merlin, do I have to spell everything out for you? I’m sick of this. Sick of feeling like I always have to pick you over my house. You want to dedicate your life to making all Slytherins miserable? Fine, but I’m a Slytherin too. I have spent months making sure that you’ll be able to have your pranks and me, that you’ll never feel the slightest bit of guilt for hurting my friends. I’m done with that. If you want to suddenly develop a conscience, you’ll have to do that without me holding your hand.”

George rears back. “Stop trying to make me a monster, Y/N. I’m not like that.”

“Oh, but I am, aren’t I?” You say. “I’m a Slytherin, and you’ll never be able to deal with that if it ever comes between you and your pranks. Tell you what, George, you don’t have to worry about that anymore. Do what you will, but I’m not helping you anymore.”

You start to turn around, and George shouts desperately at your back. “So what now? You’re breaking up with me because of one prank?”

“No,” you proclaim with shoulders still raised, “I’m breaking up with you because of all of them. I want no more of this, George. I want no more of you.”

He doesn’t try to keep you back after that, and you walk away, ruined quilt in hand. The Slytherin common room is still trying to put itself back together, and you join the masses in casting spell after spell without another word. You can see your friends shooting each other stunned looks out of the corner of your eye, but they must be able to tell what you’ve done, because they stand by you without another word.

The friend who’d confronted you earlier holds out her hand for your quilt. “I’ve learned a few spells about repelling water in the last half hour,” she says, “Let me see what I can do.”

You hand the damaged wad of fabric over to her without another word. She smiles at you tentatively, and after a second, you smile back. Your house is your family, it always will be, and family has your back. That’s what George doesn’t get about why he can’t just separate you out from the other Slytherins: there is no them and you, just one great group of people. You’re not leaving them, but you are leaving him.

It takes a while to put the Slytherin common room back together. The teachers help out once they learn of what’s happened, and after a few days, you’d never know anything happened. The ‘W’ is gone from the windows, and all is back to normal.

All is normal, that is, except for you and George. You refuse to even look at him, and stalk past groups of Gryffindors without a backward glance, despite his numerous attempts to call out to you. You don’t think he realized how serious you were about leaving him. Perhaps even you didn’t know how serious you were, but you’re sticking to it now. He doesn’t get to disrespect you and your friends like that and still have you on his arm after the dust settles.

That isn’t to say that you don’t miss him, though. You’ll be in class and absentmindedly turn to him to share a joke you’ve just thought of, only to remember that he’s across the room and trying his best to not stare at you. You keep acting on autopilot, walking halfway to the library before you realize that he won’t be waiting for you anymore.

The school is far more lonely without him, even without the entirety of Slytherin House at your back. You have always been too greedy when it comes to life, you want your bright sunshine and rainbows without the storms, the top grades in a class without the hours put into studying. You want George without the Hogwarts house divisions, a universe in which you can pick and choose everything you have ever loved. Even with all your blind ambitions, that’s still too much for the world to give you.

Still, that isn’t to say that George hasn’t been trying just as hard as you to reroute fate. You’re walking back to your common room after class one day when he appears by your side, a slight hitch in his step the only sign that he isn’t totally confident to approach you after everything.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, voice a little too casual, “I’ve been wrong. Very wrong. Even before the prank.”

You shoot him a curious glance, but he keeps his gaze locked dead ahead. After a moment, he continues on.

“I can’t expect you to put up with me unfairly targeting your house. It’s not like you stop being a Slytherin when you’re with me, and I can’t treat you in that way. I want you to know that I’ve talked to Fred and we’re going to back off. Everyone gets hit or no one does. That’s how it should always have been.”

You nod carefully. “And what about the rest of your house? What do they say to that?”

“Well,” Fred says, something almost like a smile pricking at his lips, “My friend Lee Jordan said that I could join Slytherin myself if it meant I would stop moping about. Apparently, I’m really bringing down the vibe of the whole house.”

That makes you laugh, even though you try to silence the sound as soon as it comes out. You can see George’s stature shift once you do, relaxing imperceptibly.

“You were right, though. I never should have done any of that. It was too strong a prank. You don’t owe me your forgiveness, but I want you to know that I’m sorry. Really, truly sorry. That’s all.”

He starts to walk away, but you pick up your pace so you’re side by side again.

“I accept your apology,” you say, and George whips around to look at you at last.

“Really?” He asks, eyes alight with hope.

“Really,” you confirm. “I’ve missed you, George. All I needed to know is that you’d change, and you have. I never thought you would.”

“Neither did I,” George confesses, “but I realized that I’d do just about anything to get you back. Turns out it feels a lot better if I don’t lock myself up within all those house rivalries. There’s a lot less guilt.”

You smile. “See? What did I tell you?”

George laughs. “You were right as always. I’ll never dare to doubt you again.”

He’s grinning, though, and you are too.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @frenchgirlinlondon

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rocksandrobots · 2 years

Text

Phantoms of the Past: Chapter 41 - Thanksgiving

"Turkey, cranberries, yams, box stuffing, gravy..." Aunt Cass read her grocery list out loud. "We'll need more butter, and eggs...Am I missing anything?"

"Don't forget the yeast rolls." Hiro informed her as he joined everyone else at the kitchen table.

"And the potatoes." Tadashi added, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh right, thank you." She scribbled that down. "Is there anything you'd like to add, Varian?"

Varian only shrugged. "I don't know what Americans usually have for their harvest feast, but we'd always have spiced bimberry wine during the Goodwill Festival."

"What the heck is a 'bimberry'?" Tadashi asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry sweetie, but we're not having any wine with Thanksgiving dinner." Aunt Cass shook her head. "But, I'll let you make any side dish that you want."

"Hmmm... maybe I'll just saute some green beans or something."

"I think green beans will be a nice side." Aunt Cass agreed.

"Then can you pick up some mushrooms and onions to go with it?"

Aunt Cass nodded and wrote that down on her list. "Now, what should we have for dessert?"

"Pumpkin pie."

"Apple pie."

Hiro and Varian blurted out their personal pie preference simultaneously, and then eyed each other challengingly as soon as the words were out of their mouth.

"Pumpkin pie is a tradition." Hiro argued.

"For you maybe. Apple pie is a classic harvest festival food the world over." Varian argued back.

"Boys, boys," Aunt Cass interrupted. "Perhaps we can compromise? What if I made a fusion Apple-Pumpkin Pie? Huh?"

She smiled wide, getting excited at the prospect of experimental baking, but the two teens only looked at her in horror.

"Combine pumpkin puree with chunks of apple?" Varian gagged.

"It'd be like eating baby food." Hiro agreed.

"What blaspheme do you speak, woman?" Varian finished.

Aunt Cass gave him a very unamused glare, and he apologetically smiled and backed away. She sighed. "Tadashi, you haven't weighed in yet. Which pie would you want?"

Tadashi had been reclining in the kitchen chair, eyes closed, one foot balanced against the table leg, with his hands cradling the back of his head. He had listened to his brothers' argument with amusement, not really having a stake in either option.

He opened one eye and gave the two boys beside him a wry smile. "Ah, I've always been partial to pecan pie myself."

Aunt Cass rolled her eyes, and Hiro and Varian went straight back to arguing.

"Apple."

"Pumpkin."

"Apple."

"Pumpkin."

"Apple."

"Pumpkin."

"Pecan." Tadashi threw in at the end in the most frustratingly cheerful manner possible.

"Ugh! Enough!" Aunt Cass shouted. "I'm not making three separate pies for Thanksgiving. There's only going to be six of us, and Baymax doesn't even eat."

"Nuh-uh, nine if you count Ruddiger, Lorenzo, and Mochi." Varian said, picking up the hapless cat on the counter and holding him aloft.

Aunt Cass stalled as Mochi gave a confused meow.

"No animals at the dinner table." She said.

Varian sulked and hugged the cat close to him but didn't protest further.

"Is Krei not joining us?" Tadashi asked and Hiro glared daggers at him.

"No, he's spending the holiday with his mother in Italy." Aunt Cass shrugged and walked back to the grocery list and sat down. "How about a chocolate pie, instead? Everyone likes chocolate."

Hiro raised an eyebrow, "And you're not just saying that because chocolate pie is your favorite?"

Aunt Cass gave a smug smile. "As the person buying the groceries, I'm making an executive decision, chocolate it is." And she wrote down pie shells and chocolate on the list.

"Now wait a minute, we haven't asked Baba yet what she'd like?" Tadashi pointed out.

"I'm not putting grandma in the middle of your squabbles, and besides..." Aunt Cass pulled out her phone to look at the time. "She's about to board her flight. She couldn't tell us what she wanted now even if we did call her, and I want to get the shopping done before we pick her up at the airport."

She stood up back up and walked over to the pantry. "Let me make sure we have enough noodles for th- Ruddiger!" She stopped short upon opening the cabinet and saw the glutinous raccoon gorging himself on the last can of whipped cream, again.

The wild creature scurried away when he saw her furious expression, and Aunt Cass silently counted to ten. "Well, I guess I need to add whipped cream to the list, and more child safety locks." she grumbled.

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

The airport was beyond busy as people traveled for the upcoming holiday. The Hamada family hurried through the crowd to the exit ramp where Grandma Hamada was supposed to off-board.

Varian couldn't completely stave off his nerves as he waited with his new found family, impatiently tapping his foot and occasionally biting his lower lip, as he crossed his arms and stood there in thought.

This would be his first time meaning Tadashi's and Hiro's grandmother. She lived in Japan and only came to visit on rare occasions. Meanwhile it was even more difficult for Aunt Cass to get the time off to make the trip the other way around. Tadashi and Hiro had only been once or twice themselves when they were very young; back when their parents had been alive.

Of course there were phones and emails in this world, so they could still keep in contact with each other, though given her age, 'Baba', as she was called by her grandkids, couldn't always keep up with the newer technology. Varian had overheard their conversations before, but he barely understood them as he wasn't fluent in Japanese yet, though he was learning here and there.

Either way the little family was overjoyed to be seeing her again, but Varian however was a bundle of nerves. What was he supposed to call her? Baba as well? She wasn't his grandmother technically speaking. He never had grandparents before. His own, having died before he was born, all save for his mother's father, but he had passed away when Varian was still a baby. He had no memories of the man.

What would the woman think of him? What had his step brothers told her of him? Would she too treat him as family? Or just be distant but polite? Would she be confused by his presence? Would she even like him? Would he like her? What if she hated him? What then?

Aunt Cass noticed him tapping his foot even faster as he stewed. She placed a calming hand on his shoulder and he took a deep steady breath.

"Don't worry. I'm sure the flight went well and she'll be here soon. She must be gathering her bags right now." Aunt Cass said.

"Wait I see her." Hiro called out and pointed to a little old lady shuffling out of the exit ramp door. She was thin and withered with age, her thick gray hair was piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, and she had what looked like a kind face creased with laugh lines.

"Baba!" Tadashi called out and rushed to her. He scooped her up into a hug, nearly lifting the petite woman off of the ground as he did so.

"Konnichiwa, Grandma. Genki desuka?" Hiro greeted her as he joined them. The grandmother made a surprised, joyous face upon seeing him.

"Oya oya, kon'nani se ga takaku natta no ne." She proclaimed and held her hand up to comment on Hiro's increased height. Though really, they were the same size. Then she wrapped her youngest grandson into a tight hug.

Aunt Cass gently grabbed Varian's hand and pulled him along to meet the woman.

"Hi Grandma Hamada, It's so nice to see you again." Aunt Cass said, slowly and a little louder than usual.

Tadashi interpreted for her, but there was little need as the old lady recognized her instantly.

"Cass?" She said the thick accent, a huge smile spreading on her face. "Cass!' and hugged the other woman as well before breaking away and eyeing Varian with interest.

"Sore de, kono hito wa daredesu ka?"

Tadashi introduced them and Varian offered his hand to shake. "He-hello, ma'am it's nice to meet you."

The older woman ignored his hand and reached up to cup his face, squishing his cheeks.

"Omae wa nante hansamuna yatsuda!"

"Hai, kyasu obasan ga yōshi ni mukaemasu. Kare wa watashitachi no atarashī kyōdai no yōdesu."

"Ē to, anata no kyōdai wa watashi no magodesu. O bāchan to yonde kudasai, Varian-chan."

"She says to just call her Baba." Tadashi informed him.

"Really? Th-that's great." Varian tried to smile though it came out looking more like a grimace as his cheeks were still being squished.

Baba Hamada returned his smile and finally let him go. She then wrapped one arm around Tadashi's and another around his own as they all started to leave the airport.

"I can't wait to show you what I've been working on when we get home Baba." Tadashi continued on. "Odorokidesu!"

"Ā, watashi wa odoroki ga daisukidesu!"

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

Baba sat upon the living room couch, her hands covering her eyes, dutifully waiting for her grandson to tell her she can look again.

Tadashi finished carrying Baymax's charging case down the stairs and sat it in front of the elderly woman.

"Okay... you can open your eyes.... now." He then pressed a button on the case and stepped away as Baymax inflated.

Baba opened her eyes just in time to see the robot unfurl.

"Hello. I am Baymax, your personal healthcare companion."

The robotic nurse waved and a huge smile spread across the old woman's face. She gasped with joy and applauded her grandson.

"Ō, Tadashi-chan, nante kashikoi gajetto o tsukutta nda!"

"I detect that you speak Japanese. Allow me to translate. Kon'nichiwa. Watashi wa beimakkusu, anata no pāsonaruherusukeakonpaniondesu. Ima, sukyan o kanryō shite imasu. Anata wa karada-teki ni kenkōdesuga, ninshishō no shoki no chōkō ni kurushinde imasu. Tekisetsuna kea ni wa,-tai o ugokasu koto, kenkō-tekina shokuji, jūbun'na suimin, kazoku ya yūjin to sugosu jikan ga fukuma remasu."

"What did he say?" Varian whispered to Hiro.

"He said that grandma is at high risk for dementia. She's been kind of forgetful of things lately." Hiro sadly whispered back.

"I made him for you Baba." Tadashi said. "That way you can have someone to help you when we can't be there."

"Watashi no tame?"

"Anata no tame ni. O mochikaeridesu."

Just then a second Baymax waddled down the stairs.

"Hello." He waived.

"Kon'nichiwa," the first Baymax waved back.

"I don't know if the world can handle two Baymaxs at once." Varian joked, as the two robots started to repeat everything back to each other.

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

Varian wiped his hands off on his apron as he walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. He had been helping Aunt Cass with preparing for tomorrow's supper, and he was covered in flour from mixing the pie crusts.

He found his brothers and Baba sitting on the couch looking through a photo album.

"Sore ga sotsugyōshiki no otōsandesu. Kare wa totemo kōfun shite imashita!"

Varian moved closer and peered over their shoulders to see what they were looking at. He didn't understand what Baba was saying but he saw a man who looked very similar to Tadashi wearing glasses and holding a diploma, but the faded edges of the picture told Varian that it was Tadashi's father instead.

"Hey Aunt Cass wants help with the clean up." He informed them.

"Then why did you come in here?" Hiro asked.

"I cooked." Varian snapped back.

Tadashi rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'll go do the dishes." he volunteered with a sigh.

As he left, Baba beckoned Varian to come sit next to her. He did so, though he didn't fully understand why. He didn't know any of the people in the photo album.

Baba lifted up the album and pointed to one particular picture, this one of a portly gentleman.

"Soshite kochira ga Shoi ojisandesu."

Varian looked to Hiro for clarification.

"That's Uncle Shoi."

"Soshite Shikishi obasan."

"Aunt Shikishi." Hiro echoed for Varian's benefit.

Varian stared at the faded photographs with interest. It was easy to take for granted in this world full of modern marvels that such instant images were yet another scientific miracle that Corona didn't have. Portraits were expensive and laborious affairs. Many people didn't have them and they certainly didn't have ones depicting everyday normal life. At best you'd get a lovely but formal family gathering or a stuffy imposing painting to try and show off how wealthy you were.

But here, the pictures were full of smiling people, laughing, loving, and just goofing off. Varian snickered at what looked like Aunt Cass and her sister having an eating contest and trying to stuff their faces with noodles.

The photos brought the past to life in a way that stories and paintings just couldn't. These were all people who once lived full lives and somehow they all made an impact upon the world, however seemingly small or distant.

Varian pointed to a picture that interested him, of a pilot standing next to an old timey airplane.

"Ā, soreha watashinochichideshita. Kare wa sensō de tonda." Baba said.

"She says that's our great grandfather. Her dad. He was a pilot during War World II."

Varian frowned. "Wasn't Japan and America enemies in that war?"

"Yeah, but that was decades ago. No one really thinks about it now."

Varian's mind turned to the Saporians and their centuries long feud with Corona, but declined to mention the stark difference.

"Chichi mo hikōki o tsukurimashita. Kare wa enjiniadeshita. Kare wa Itaria de kōkū o mananda. Tōji, watashi wa wazuka 4-saideshita."

Varian's ears perked up at the familiar word.

"Itaria? You mean Italy?"

She nodded.

"Parli italiano, allora?" He asked in Italian.

"Ooh, molto poco." She laughed back in Italian as well.

"This is great! Now we can talk to each other!" Varian said and he launched into hurried conversation in Italian with Baba answering in much shorter and simpler sentences.

"Dove hai vissuto in Italia?"

"Napoli"

"Oh non sono mai stato a Napoli, ma ho sempre voluto andare a Venezia. Hanno tutte le migliori università. Hai studiato anche lì?"

Baba held up one finger "Un anno. Sonogo, watashitachiha Nihon ni modorimashita."

Now it was Hiro's turn to feel completely lost. "Wait, you speak Italian too?"

"Of course." Varian scoffed. "All of the most important scientific dissertations are printed in either Italian or Latin."

Then ignoring his brother's dumbfounded look, Varian turned the page on the album and pointed to another picture. This one of a very little girl in ponytails. "Sei tu?"

Baba nodded. "Watashi wa sonotoki 6-saideshita. Sei."

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

Tadashi and Aunt Cass walked out of the kitchen to find Varian and Baba engrossed in a conversation together. They were both speaking what sounded like Italian of all things! He was helping her crochet while the new Baymax bot sat next to them holding the yarn and translating every now and then when either of them got stuck.

Hiro sat in the chair across from them playing a game of chess with his own Baymax, while Mochi was curled up in his lap.

Aunt Cass smiled. "Isn't this nice? We have the whole family together. The only one missing is..."

She paused as realization hit her. She turned back around, ran into the kitchen again, and flung open the pantry.

"Ruddiger!"

The raccoon clutched at the can of whip cream in his mouth and started to run away. Aunt Cass gave chase with a broom.

"Get back here you sweet cream thief!"

Tadashi doubled over with laughter at the sight, while Varian rushed to help, and Ruddiger jumped on top of Hiro's head. Baba only viewed the speckle with mild curiosity. Which only made Tadashi laugh harder.

"Stop laughing, help!" Hiro ordered.

"Okay, okay," He wheezed as he also gave chase, avoiding whipped cream as it splattered everywhere out of the punctured can. Man, he loved his chaotic family.

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

"Are you still up, sweetheart? It's almost one." Aunt Cass yawned when she found Varian sitting at the kitchen table. He was looking through one of her old photo albums.

"I'm going to bed in a minute." He distractedly said as he turned another page.

Aunt Cass knew that it was a reflexive answer, but she didn't press the matter. Instead she poured them each a glass of milk and took a seat next to him.

"What's on your mind?'' she asked.

"Just… wishing I had my own old family photographs to look at."

Aunt Cass pouted. "They're back in Old Corona, aren't they?"

Varian shook his head. "They never existed. People don't have cameras to take them."

"No one?" Aunt Cass balked. "Not even on a cellphone?"

"There's no phones either. Cell or otherwise."

Aunt Cass rubbed her temples with both her hands. "Wait. You're telling me that you come from a country without cars, phones, cameras, and or even electric ovens?"

"There's no electricity at all, aaanndd, um, n-no indoor plumbing." He admitted.

Cass blinked in disbelief. "And you all travel in hot air balloons!?"

"Oh, no. Only the Saporians have airships."

"Of course. Silly me." Aunt Cass said as she gave a strained smile. "And what else do they not have? Television, clocks, the wheel?"

Varian only responded to her sarcasm with a reproachful look.

Aunt Cass sighed. "I'm sorry. It's.. it just a lot to wrap my head around. I guess not everywhere is just like San Fransokyo and it's easy to forget that sometimes."

"It's okay." Varian forgave her and went back to looking through the album.

"So you don't have any pictures of your family at all?"

"Well dad once had a family portrait painted. I was just a baby at the time….. It-it's the only image I have of my mom…. I remember little things about her; like, helping her in her lab, or watching her bake pies in the kitchen, b-but I can't see her face clearly."

Aunt Cass didn't say anything. She simply placed a comforting hand on his back. That pulled him out of his melancholy thoughts and he gave her a sad smile.

"I bet you two would have gotten along great."

Aunt Cass returned the smile. "Yeah, I bet we would've been the best of friends."

"What about you? Don't you have any pictures of your parents?"

Aunt Cass seemed momentarily tripped up by such a question. "Well, I do, actually. In fact I think there's a few in this photo album even."

She turned the book all the way to the back. There were only three photos therein.

One was of a man and woman on their wedding day. Then second was the same man and woman standing on a front porch with two little girls. The third was of Aunt Cass and her sister as teenagers.

Varian was confused. "That's it?"

"Well, that's all there is in this album. I have more. I would just have to dig them up. They're probably in the attic…"

"But I don't understand. I've never seen pictures of these people hanging up. I recognize your sister here, but…"

"Oh well, that's my mom, and that's my dad, and that's me and Mary as kids." She helpfully pointed out.

Varian gave her a disappointed frown. He knew when adults were trying to avoid a subject of conversation.

Aunt Cass to tell he was going to let the matter drop. She let out a long slow breath and cast her eyes upwards as she thought of the best way to explain.

"I… had a complicated relationship with my parents."

"Complicated?"

"I loved them, and they loved me… when they were around that is. My father worked in construction. He'd build things like banks and grocery stores, or gas stations, all over the country. He was often the head site manager and his work would send him away weeks, sometimes, months at a time."

She softly laughed as she remembered something. "He'd always come back with presents for us, and he'd always say how sorry he was for missing a soccer game or a chorus recital. Once he even missed my birthday…. And I suppose he really was sorry, but he still had to work."

"That sounds like my dad. He never traveled that far away, but he was always busy. B-but I get it. Running an entire village takes up a lot of time, and it's an important job. Vital even."

Aunt Cass gave him an empathetic look. "But it still hurts, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "What about your mom, did she work too?"

"She did. Uh, she was a bank teller, and she was home a lot more often."

"But?"

"She… well, she struggled with an illness and she was in and out of rehab all throughout her life. In a lot of ways, my big sister raised me more than even our own parents did. Oooh she used to make me so mad!" Aunt Cass smiled as the subject turned to her sister. "Little Miss Perfect. That's what I'd call her to annoy her. She never got in trouble. She always had good grades. She had her life together by age twenty one, while I was still mucking about and messing things up well after college. She'd always be the one to hunt me down and drag back home whenever I'd run off to do something stupid."

"You? Do something dumb and reckless? Never." Varian mocked.

Aunt Cass rolled her eyes. "Yes. I was the 'problem child' growing up. I drove my parents crazy. B-but sometimes, that was the only way I could get their attention."

She gave a thoughtful distance look as she stared past the pictures in album.

"So you keep their photos in here, so that you only have to remember them when you want to." Varian said, giving voice to her reluctance.

"Yeah. Sometimes it's just easier, in order to remember someone for the good moments over the bad."

Varian slowly nodded his understanding before looking back down at the pictures.

"So what's a good memory then?"

"Umm… well, that picture was taken on Easter." She pointed to the one of all of them on the front porch. "Dad had the whole week off, and brought all of us new Sunday dresses. Mom boiled eggs for us to color, and dad hid them out in the front lawn, and Mary and I just had a blast going egg hunting."

"Egg hunting?"

"Yeah, it's when you hide a bunch of eggs and you go look for them."

"Why?"

Aunt Cass shrugged. "Well because it's fun, for one, and two it's tradition here."

"We paint eggs for Easter in Corona too, but I never heard of hiding them."

"Well what do you do with them?"

"We put them into Easter baskets for good luck."

Aunt Cass smiled. "Yeah we have Easter baskets here too. Only we put candy in ours instead of eggs. Unless it's eggs with candy inside of them."

Varian made a face at the thought of boiled eggs with chocolate inside them. "How would you even get the candy inside of it? Is it like a sweet deviled egg or…"

"Oh! Oh no." Aunt Cass laughed. "It's a plastic egg. You open it up to find a treat inside."

"Oooh… yeah that makes a lot more sense." Varian laughed with her. "I guess different cultures would have different holiday traditions, huh?"

"Yeah, oh and speaking of holidays, tomorrow is Thanksgiving! We're getting up early in the morning to finish cooking so you should get some rest."

"Alright. Night Aunt Cass."

"Goodnight."

She kissed him on the top of his head as she stood up to leave and then waved him goodnight.

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

Varian tossed and turned in the dim twilight of early morning. He had been woken up by another nightmare, but it wasn't the rocks nor the faceless monster from his dreams that haunted him now. Instead he was plagued by memories of his past, some of them bad but most were just bittersweet.

His thoughts turned to the Goodwill Festival. It was Corona's harvest festival and the closest thing Varian could compare to America's Thanksgiving.

Instead of turkey, they would have had boiled ham, fresh fish and other seafood, baked capon, roasted lamb, and his father would have gone hunting the day before. They would have had rabbit, quail, duck, and if they were fortunate that year, his father may have even caught a deer to share at the feast.

For all of this world's wonders and plentiful goods, Varian found himself missing the simpler dishes of his home; humble pie, black sausage, hasenpfeffer, pickled herring, things that most Americans either never heard of or would turn their nose up at in disgust.

Oh and the bread! The women of the village would have spent all morning in the castle kitchens baking every type of bread and pastry imaginable. His entire home would smell like a bakery for days; boiled puddings, rye loafs, pies, quiches, soft pretzels, tarts, sweet cakes, cookies of all kinds, yeast rolls, buttery scones, sticky buns with raisins...The list went on and on.

And as the women baked, the men would be grilling with fire pits outside. Varian would run between them, back and forth, finding ways to help, and excuses to taste test the mouth watering treats. There would have been grilled parsnips, boiled cabbage, stewed beats, pickled radishes, potatoes baked directly on the hot coals or fried into pancakes, eggplants smothered in cheese, squash soup severed in it's hollowed out gourd, ground mustard, glazed carrots, and roasted chestnuts.

Both fresh and preserved fruit of all kinds would be piled high upon the serving table; winter berries, frosted grapes, bilberry jam, freshly picked persimmons, the last of the summer cherries preserved in jelly, mashed pumpkin pudding, coveted oranges imported from spain and bought at the island market, juicy pears, candied lemon peels, and apples by the barrel full.

Apples were Old Corona's main crop, and they served them every which way imaginable; stewed, baked, boiled, roasted, mashed... They baked them in pies. They baked them in cakes. They fried them into crispy fritters. There were apple doughnuts, apple turnovers, apple croissants with apple butter, apple cider, apple crepes, dried apple leather, and apple crumbles with oatmeal. A man could get sick with apples at the harvest feast, but not Varian. It was one of his favorite foods.

His mouth began to water at the thought of sliced ham braised with onions and covered in applesauce. With a large hunk of cheese on the side and pumpernickel bread to sop everything up. He'd wash it all down with a good pint of beer, and for dessert, maybe some sweet gooey butterscotch drizzled over apple dumplings.

In addition to all the baked goods, there would have been candies and confectioneries galore laid out for people to snack on; honey coated walnuts, marzipan dipped in chocolate, fragile airy meringues, hard candies of various assorted flavors, salt water taffy, and chewy caramels. Many of these sweets would have been purchased from Monty's Sweet Shope in the capital and brought back to the village along with the oranges, coffee, and shellfish.

Varian was often tasked with the shopping. He was smart enough to keep count of the money and knew enough languages so as to not be cheated by any of the traveling merchants who just sailed into port. Plus it was a good excuse to check out the festivities on the island.

The islanders loved to play games like gopher grab, bobbing for apples, nine pins, axe throwing, eating contests, greased pole climbing, log sawing competitions, and Varian's favorite, Quartet. It was a simple card game, played with two decks, where you tried to collect as many four-of-a-kinds as possible. The person with the collectively highest number of cards won. Like all card games, it was ultimately more about numbers and strategy as opposed to strength and athletic skill; which Varian much preferred.

Then again there was still plenty to do beyond just playing games. Often there would be stage plays and puppet shows for the younger kids. Vendors from the world over would set up stalls selling rare goods, eager to make a profit off the holiday. A few local merchants would join in as well, though they tended to only stay open half the day. Sometimes there were fireworks over the docks towards the evening, and all throughout the day there was music and dancing in the town square. But of course, Varian couldn't spend the entire time exploring the pageantry on the island. Oh no, he had to return to the village before nightfall. That was when the real fun began.

While the castle he lived in had a dinning hall large enough to hold the entire village, the townspeople preferred to have the main feast outside with a roaring bonfire. They would play music, dance, sing, and compete in their own traditional games.

Varian would participate in it all. He'd bring his guitar and join in with the band, and sometimes he'd lead the village in song. Usually an old folk song that everyone knew, like Lavender Blue, Into the Green, Green Woods, or Grossvatertanz. Then other times he would dance alongside the other men of his village, performing the same steps that had been passed down from generation to generation for centuries. And he and his father would always perform prisyádka, a dance from his dad's home country, for the rest of the villagers.

Then there would be toasts and blessings, and prayers for a safe winter and an even bigger bounty for next year. His father would give a heartfelt speech talking about how proud he was of his people and how much he loved his home. And truly he did. His dad was normally a man of few words, and though his speeches were always short, they were full of joy and warmth. Quirin loved few things more than farming and his adopted home. Only his son could equal them in his heart.

Varian blinked back tears at the thought of his father. He turned his mind away from the traumatic memories that threatened to float up the surface as he tried to focus on the happier moments as he reminisced.

After the toasts, the feasting would recommence, the music would continue to play, and there would have been more games. The young men of the village, all older than Varian though, would play Hold the Stein, hoping to impress the ladies with their strength and endurance. While the girls would toss wreaths. Superstition had it that the girl who managed to land her wreath around the miniature maypole would be a spring bride.

As for the elders of the village, they enjoyed Schafkopf. It was another card game, one where you would team up with a partner and lay down cards with increasing or decreasing numbers or matching suits. The winner was the one to form the shape of a sheep's head with the cards, hence the name of the game, Schafkopf, or sheepshead.

Varian of course was never invited to participate in these games, as the village still viewed him as a little kid, even when he would insist that he was not. So he was left to just watch and cheer people on. Instead he was expected to play with the much younger children of the village and watch over them. They would run around playing things like tag, forfeits, or blindman's bluff; though being the oldest, Varian would mostly supervise so that the little ones wouldn't get hurt. With each passing year, it felt more and more as if he was stuck in the middle. Too young to be considered an respected adult but too old to fully join in with the tinier tots and their more rambunctious activities. He was taller, faster, and stronger than them and he knew it. He always had to hold back in order to give them a fair shot or even outright give up and feign defeat in order to make them happy.

Not that he minded too much. The other kids always giggled with delight when they managed to 'best' him at wrestling or catch and toss, and Varian was more than happy to boost their little egos.

He remembered them all by name. Gertie and her missing tooth; she probably would have grown in a new one by now. Curly haired Lisa and her baby brother Brian; he was barely old enough to walk last time Varian saw him. Then there was Henry, the oldest next to Varian. He was still only seven though. Wait... no.... he'd be nine.

Varian frowned.

Two years of his life were just gone, and it was sometimes difficult to reconcile that with the whirlwind of changes he'd gone through. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he still pretended as if he could someday return to his old life as if nothing had happened. As if his home and the people that lived in it were just frozen in time and if he could find them again then he could resume his life once more as if nothing bad had happened; maybe even with the addition of his new family.

Though in reality he knew this was just a fantasy.

He hadn't seen his people since King Frederic had them 'relocated'. They had been told that they were being granted more land, to start anew with. Right before the snowstorm, Varian had watched them leave, piled up into carriages and carts with their meager possessions, bundled up in their warmest winter clothes, and smiles of hope on their faces. He and his dad were supposed to join them later. They never did. They were given promises of money, seeds for new crops, extra livestock, and fresh timber to build new homes. This was all lies.

Perhaps in the beginning, when his Father was still alive and over seeing the move, this had genuinely been the plan. Yet Varian quickly found out that Frederic had failed to keep his promises. In typical royal fashion, his people were scattered across the country and unceremoniously dumped upon other communities who suddenly had to shoulder the burden of helping these people resettle.

After the revolution, Varian had made a vain attempt to reconnect with the Old Cornians but most did not answer his summons. He found Old Earl in the fishing village of Kaims; he had to sell his sheep to make ends meet and was now eking out a living repairing fishing nets in a shack by the sea. Then there was the widow Becca had joined the convent because they promised her food and shelter. They treated her well, and she seemed happy enough, but Varian knew it wasn't her first choice to live her life in devoted penance. He'd gotten a letter from Otis, posted marked from Vardaros. He'd had given up trying to till what little land he'd been granted outside of Likuts as the soil was too poor to grow anything. Finally he had stumbled upon Frances begging in the streets of the capital, unable to find work.

Varian had given him a job as assistant caretaker of the mountain retreat. It was a holiday home for the royals, well stocked and secluded. The Saporians had no interest in it as it wasn't on the island and therefore they had no need of knowing Varian's relationship to the man. It was safer that way.

He had escorted Frances to the mountain top manor and informed the head caretaker there that he was the new royal adviser. With his official paperwork and royal signet, few dared question him. Frances was given the position of head stable hand. Perhaps not the most glamorous job, but given how little anyone visited, it would have been easy enough work, and he'd be paid with free room and board.

Varian had stayed only long enough to make sure Frances was settled in and was then on his way. He traveled down the mountain back to Old Corona and continued on with his experiments. That was the last time he had spoken to anyone from his village before being flung into San Fransokyo.

Varian wondered if they were all still there? Rapunzel was back and presumably in charge again. The ditzy, hair-brained, dopey-eyed princess probably never gave more than two seconds of thought to the missing people of Old Corona; blindly believing her father and his empty promises without question. She wouldn't disturb any of the remaining villagers, but neither would she go out of her way to help them.

For all Varian knew, the evil king could have sent most of his people to the prison colony in the Lost Sea to be worked to death. His stomach turned at the thought. Frederic was well known to banish people on the flimsiest of reasons, and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

Varian could only hope that Frederic decided that such an act would be too hard to hide from his people and so decided that subtly was the better part of valor. Frederic valued his reputation above all. It was his good standing with his brainwashed subjects that protected his power and allowed no one to question his actions or motivations... until it was too late that was. People critical of the royals often were criminalized with trumped up charges in order to tarnish their own reputations in the eyes of the public so that their pleas fell on deaf ears. Which might work on a poor orphan cut off from everyone he knows, not so much with an entire village. Hence why Frederic probably separated them all instead of granting them the means to start a new town, giving them paltry plots of land scattered about the kingdom, with no other resources, so as to claim that he fulfilled his promise.

Varian gritted his teeth and squeezed his hand into a tight fist as he took deep breaths to calm himself. He still hated the king with every fiber of his being and he often questioned if simply wiping his memories with Saporian magic was punishment enough. He wanted Frederic to rot away in a dungeon same as his victims had. He wanted to him to stew in his misery with full knowledge of what he had done and how he had only brought such torture upon himself.

Varian had to remind himself that controlling the royals was more beneficial to the public overall than outright punishing them. If the king and queen were supposedly on your side then no one would question your authority. But if the citizens thought their beloved leaders were in danger, then the fighting would have never stopped. Varian didn't want anyone to die in his quest for revenge... not anymore at least.

Guilt stabbed at his chest as the image of the townspeople returning, battered, bruised, and dirty from the mines to present their 'quotas' to him, valuable minerals and gemstones for his research, flashed through his mind. It was all to save his dad, he had told himself. They had refused to help before so Varian had made them help. He was teaching them a lesson, he had lied to himself.

Varian choked back a sob. God, how was he any different from Frederic?

Varian started to toss and turn once more. He flipped around on his stomach and hit his pillow as he cried, before collapsing once more as he sobbed.

It wasn't fair! He just wanted to go home. He just wanted to see his dad! Why was he made the bad guy for that!?

Ruddiger awoke at the sound of his tears. His faithful pet hoped off the plastic log Varian had hung up in the corner of the room and jumped up onto his bed. Varian sniffled as Ruddiger nuzzled him with his nose. The raccoon's whiskers tickled his face.

Varian sat up and hugged his pet close to him.

"You're all I have left, Ruddiger."

For the first time in two years, that statement truly felt like the truth to him. His home was gone. There would be no more fields to plow, fresh apples to harvest, or festivals to dance at. He'd never see his people again, the friends and neighbors that he'd grown up with. He would never see his dad ag- No!

He couldn't give up on his dad. Not yet. He could accept that his village was gone. He could accept that he'd never see his people again. But he could not accept that his father was gone forever. He couldn't accept that he'd be responsible for such a horror.

He let out a shakey breath and looked around at the his new bed room. He had put up posters of wrestlers and musicians that he liked on the walls and added more books to the shelf above his desk. Said desk was covered in papers, and held both his notes and Demantius journal. Over in the opposite corner, in addition to the fake log, there was also a cat tower for both Ruddiger and Mochi to play on. His skateboard and helmet were also leaning next to it. There were corners of clothing sticking out of the drawers of his dresser and he had his coat, goggles, and backpack hanging from a coat hanger screwed to his door. There was a hope chest at the foot of his bed where he kept his various possessions, and he had his boots, sneakers, and other shoes lined neatly in front of it.

It wasn't quite as familiar to him as his old bedroom in the castle, but after six months it finally looked 'lived in'. It was his own space, with his own stuff, and he was at least safe here. But would it ever be 'home'?

Varian pouted as he pulled his pet closer and buried his face in to Ruddiger's soft fur. The raccoon only purred in response.

He liked San Fansokyo. He enjoyed going to school and having friends. He loved being part of a family again. Especially such a loving and accepting one.... but as wonderful as things were here, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was all temporary. That everything would be ripped away from all over again. He knew that the rocks couldn't reach him here, but he wasn't as safe from Corona nor from his past as he once thought.

'What if everyone found out what I really was?' He thought. If they ever found out the truth, the extent of his misdeeds, would they still want him around? Where would he go then?

He had joked about buying land and building a castle for Honey Lemon, but would she ever agree to be with him if she knew how much of a monster he once was. Still was.....

He looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, hanging by his dresser. Large blue eyes stared back at him, sad and confused. His bangs hung low, threatening to cover his eyes. The sunrise slipping through the blinds of his window glinted against his hair streak, making it appear to glow. He still looked so much like the frightened little boy lost in the snow that he had been two years ago, especially in the soft morning light. The only subtle difference was that there was now a faint stubble on his chin from where he had shaved the other day.

"Knock, knock."

Aunt Cass's voice shattered his thoughts as she opened the door a crack.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I know it's still early, but grandma is already up and she's..."

The cheerful smile fell away when she noticed the tears streaks on his face.

"Oh sweetheart, what's wrong?"

She took a seat on the bed next to him and stroked his bangs out of his face.

"N-nothing." He lied.

Aunt Cass wasn't buying it. She continued sit there, waiting for him to open up.

He sighed. "I guess... I'm just... feeling a little homesick... th-that's all."

"Oh, sweetie." She wrapped him in a hug and kissed his forehead. Then she pulled away and lifted his chin to her. "Listen, I know you miss the harvest festivals that your village always held, but we're going to make this the best Thanksgiving ever. It'll be different than what you're used to, I'm sure, but it'll be no less fun, and I even got you a surprise for dinner."

She gave him a big smile, clearly proud of herself for whatever it was she had planned.

Varian couldn't help but return the smile himself.

"I'm the one helping you cook dinner. I'm going to see whatever it is you're hiding." He snickered.

"Oh I have my ways." She grinned. "Speaking of Thanksgiving. I need to drag the decorations out of the attic. Do you mind keeping grandma company for me?"

"No of course not." He said as he finally got out of bed, his fears banished from his mind for the time being.

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

Hiro found Varian and Baba in the living room playing Gomoku together.

"Morning." He stretched and yawned. "Who's wining?"

"Varian is ahead so far, but Baba has a chance to catch up." The New Baymax stated helpfully.

"Gomoku is a strategy game that helps with memory and cognitive skills." The original Baymax added behind him.

"Will you buzz off?" Varian waved them away with faux annoyance. "You're distracting me."

He then made his move, "Ha! Only one more to go and no matter which way you block it, I can still complete the set! Cosa hai intenzione di fare al riguardo, Baba?" He bragged.

Grandma Hamada didn't answer. Instead her face lit up as she laid her piece down on the board and to Varian's surprise completed the needed five in a row in an area of the board he hadn't been paying enough attention to.

"Io vinco!" She clapped.

Hiro gently pushed a gobsmacked Varian out of his seat. "Come on. Get up. I get to play the winner."

He took the seat and placed the first piece down on the board. "O bāchan ni keikoku suru yo, kantan ni wa ikanai yo."

Baba chuckled and winked. "Soshite, watashi mo sō shimasen"

As Varian watched them play, Aunt Cass and Tadashi came down the stairs carrying boxes full of decorations.

"Who wants to help decorate!?" Aunt Cass sang out.

"I will." Varian volunteered.

"I'll help too, after I win." Hiro said, as he placed another piece down on the board.

Tadashi placed his box on the table and waked over to join them.

"I get the next game."

Aunt Cass pulled out a tablecloth with fall leaves printed on it, then she noticed the clock on the wall. "Oh! It's almost time for the parade. Someone turn the tv on."

"Parade?" Varian echoed as Tadashi picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels.

"The Macy's Day parade." Hiro answered without taking his eyes off the board. "They throw a huge parade in New York every year and the whole country watches it."

"This is Bluff Dunder, reporting live from New York City and man is it freezing! Brrr!" The news anchor announced. "We're standing at the front of the parade line waiting for the parade to start. In the meantime let's check out the Macy's square where the Radio City Hall Rockettes will be performing for us a 'Holiday Medley.'"

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

The morning went by in a blur. After decorating and laying out the table set and silverware. The whole family pitched in with the rest of the cooking; rotating in and out of the kitchen as the parade played on in the background. Varian enjoyed the musical performances and he was impressed by the size of some of the balloons, but there were obviously things associated with the holiday that he didn't quite understand.

He didn't get the obsession with turkeys, even when there were other people on the tv who admitted to preferring to eat things like ham or brisket for their dinners instead. He also didn't fully understand the lore behind the holiday, and Tadashi said that it was mostly fake, anyways, or at least highly exaggerated at best. He also didn't understand all the Christmas stuff that was present. Christmas was a whole other month away.

After the parade was over and they were finishing up the last minute stuff, like warming up the rolls in the oven or reheating the potatoes that was prepared last night, Baba and her grandkids played a couple more rounds of gomoku. They also enjoyed chess and Varian taught everyone how to play Quartet.

"So it's basically 'Go Fish' but with extra cards." Hiro confirmed, and Varian couldn't argue with that assessment as he didn't know what 'Go Fish' was.

"Dinner's ready!" Aunt Cass called out. Varian and Tadashi rushed over to help her with the heavy turkey she was carrying and placed it in the center of the table. Varian had to admit that it was an impressively large bird. Not even geese grew that big, and he'd eaten more of his share of goose in his time. He was beginning to understand Americans' love of the traditional entrée. You could feed a huge family with such a fowl and still have leftovers.

Next came the sides; candied yams, mashed potatoes, gravy, hot buttery yeast rolls, Varian's sautéed green beans with mushrooms and caramelized onions, and instead of mac and cheese, Aunt Cass had made a cheesy ramen dish. Best of all however was the surprise apple-cranberry sauce that she had made in advance, and canned as a jelly.

For dessert there was chocolate pecan pie, as a compromise between her and Tadashi, pumpkin cheesecake, which Hiro said was even better than just a regular pie, and as a special treat, Baba had made her favorite fall dessert, persimmon pudding.

Aunt Cass and Tadashi took each seat at the head of the table. Varian and Baba sat on one side and opposite to them sat Hiro and the two Baymaxs. In the corner was a designated space for the pets. Mochi got a special turkey flavored wet canned food, as opposed to his usual dry catfood. Ruddiger was allowed some whip cream in a bowl, and Tadashi had brought Lorenzo up in his special mobile tank.

"Gotcha some fancy fish food for ya buddy." He said as he sprinkled the fish flakes into the tank.

Once everyone was settled, Tadashi stood up to carve the turkey.

"Now first things first, before I cut into this bird we gotta go around and tell everyone what we're thankful for."

"Another tradition?" Varian asked.

"Yeah, hence the name, Thanksgiving." Aunt Cass smiled. "I'll go first. I'm thankful that we were able to celebrate this year with everyone present. We all love having you here Baba. We wished you could visit more."

The new Baymax translated for her and Baba gave Cass a huge smile.

"I'll go next." Hiro said. "I'm thankful for my brothers. Last year it was just me, Aunt Cass and Baymax, and I'm really glad that this year that's not the case."

Tadashi thought for a moment, trying to think of a response; "Well... I'm thankful that both my brothers are a couple of insufferable super geniuses that are too stubborn to give up anything. Especially myself. Baymaxs? Are you thankful for anything?"

"I am thankful that everyone is safe and in good health." Both robots said simultaneously.

"Baba?"

"Oishi-sōna o ryōri o itsumo arigatōgozaimasu! Soshite, kyasu obasan, kon'nani sutekina shokuji o tsukutte kurete arigatō!"

“She says she’s thankful for what a great cook you are, and for such a wonderful meal,” Tadashi translated for her, and Aunt Cass expressed her gratitude for the sentiment.

That was when Ruddiger tried to steal a persimmon off of Baba's plate.

"Hey! Stop that!" Varian scolded and snatched the raccoon up, but not before the mischievous pet had grabbed the fruit anyways.

Instead of being angry, Baba only laughed. She gently tapped the creature's nose, said in a mock scolding manner. "Uh-nuh-uh. Naughty Tanuki!"

The raccoon happily munched upon his stolen reward in response.

"What about you, Ruddiger? What are you thankful for?" Tadashi asked, a smile playing his lips.

Ruddiger held up the persimmon high with one paw and pointed at it with his other paw in answer.

Tadashi blinked in surprise.

"H-how is it that you can train him to do that on command but not to break into the food pantry?"

Varian shrugged. "Cause I don't train him. He just does what he wants. Anyways, he says he's grateful for the food as well Aunt Cass."

Aunt Cass fought hard not to roll her eyes. "He should be. He ate like half of the pudding before we could stop him."

Hiro fought hard to suppress a giggle, and turned back towards the rest of the pets. "What about you Mochi? Are you thankful for anything?"

The cat only meowed blankly.

"Alright, Lorenzo, let's show-up the trash pandas here. Tell everyone how thankful you are for being apart if the family."

The mobile tank spun around in a circle, though the lobster showed no other change in emotion.

"See? Lorenzo can do tricks too." He smugly smiled, before Hiro stood up and removed his baseball hat revealing a neurotransmitter band underneath.

"Nice try but I saw you working on building that the other night." Hiro said.

"Hey. I'm telling you need to get a patent on it, no telling what unscrupulous characters could use this for their own nefarious ends." Tadashi mocked.

This only elected more laughter from gathered party.

"Wait, we almost forgot..." Aunt Cass fought back her laughter. "Varian? What about you sweetie?"

Varian turned to look at everyone present one by one, as he thought about the question seriously. Aunt Cass's loving care. Hiro's support and belief in him, no matter how many times he had screwed up. Baymax's comforting and helpful advice. Tadashi's protective nature and good humor. And now there was Baba, and her grandmotherly doting and calm patience. Varian's heart swelled and tears threatened to form. What would describe this much warmth and love?

He cast his eyes around the house. It was so different from everything he had ever known, and yet it was every bit as wonderful and precious as his village, and the people before him now were as much his family as his own father.

"I'm... thankful to be home." He slowly said, a content smile forming on his face.

"I say three cheers, for that," Tadashi proclaimed as he picked up the carving knife and fork once more, "and now let's eat!"

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

Dinner was amazing. Everyone had their fill of turkey, stuffing, and gravy. Varian was so full he could barely move. It didn't stop him from trying Baba's persimmon pudding though.

As he polished off the last bite, and let Ruddiger lick his dish clean, Tadashi stood up quite suddenly as he looked at his watch.

"The game's on!" He yelled and then ran back towards the living room.

"Which game are we playing?" Varian asked confused.

"He means the football game on the tv." Hiro explained as they followed him.

Varian stood there for a moment as his brothers plopped on the couch and turned on the tv.

He watched the coin toss and the first kickoff, but was soon lost as to what was going on. Two teams kept running into one another trying to grab an oval ball. When someone got ahold of the ball they started to run towards one of the end goals on the field. But Varian didn't think this was a desirable outcome as everyone would chase after the person with the ball and try to dog pile them.

Hiro and Tadashi would cheer or boo depending upon which team got tackled or not. They were rooting for the ones wearing red, as opposed to the blue team, but Varian couldn't see what the difference was between them.

Finally, he gave up trying to understand the sport and went back to help Aunt Cass and Baba clean up from the dinner.

"I'm going to make turkey udon noodle soup out of the leftovers tomorrow." Aunt Cass said as she put the last of the meat into tupperware containers and placed them in the fridge.

"Ashita wa nokorimono de shichimenchō udon o tsukurimasu." One of the Baymax's translated for Baba. Varian had long ago given up trying to tell the two apart.

"E la mattina preparo i maritozzi per colazione." Varian told her in Italian.

"What's that?" Aunt Cass asked him.

"Maritozzi? It's a sweet roll with whipped cream, and we got plenty of coffee to go with it too."

Baba looked thrilled at the sound of both dishes.

The kitchen was cleaned up and the table cleared in no time. Aunt Cass left out some desert and a couple of snacks on the table in case anyone got hungry later. Though she had to shoo Ruddiger away from the roasted peanuts, every now and then.

Everyone reconvened back in the living room where the game was still on.

Aunt Cass and Baba sat in the recliners, as they chatted over coffee. Baymax, or one of them at least, translating for them.

Varian joined his brothers on the couch, but instead of paying attention to the game he pulled out his cellphone.

He chatted with everyone; sharing with them greetings of the season. Most of his friends texted him pictures of their holiday celebrations. Wasabi and his parents were having a traditional turkey dinner. Sam was with him and met Wasabi's parents for the first time. In Trina's family, Carl was the only one that needed to eat, so thay had pitched in together to fix him the best turkey club sandwich ever. Honey's Lemon's family were having a grill out with beef and tacos. While Gogo sent him a picture of 'kung pao turkey' with noodles. The Cruzs were having baked ham, according to Megan. Karmi sent him a picture of a mouthwatering chicken curry dish with rice. Finally Fred was in New York visiting relatives and they were having pizza!

Varian guessed everyone everywhere had their own harvest festival traditions.

"I'll see you Monday at school." Honey Lemon finished texting him.

"Can't wait." He texted back with a cute heart eyed emoji.

She sent him an image of a puppy dog holding a paper heart in return.

Varian wasn't entirely sure what that meant, if it meant anything at all. Cellphones somehow made courtship even more cryptic than it already was.

Still, he couldn't wipe the smile from his face as he closed out the chat. This had been a near perfect day. He was surrounded by family physically, and by friends in spirit. Everyone was safe. Everyone was happy. They were all well fed, and having a good time enjoying each other's company.

He did indeed have a lot to be thankful for. But most of all, he found himself feeling a little less homesick than before. Thanksgiving was no Goodwill Festival, but it didn't have to be. It was a wonderful harvest pageant all on its own.

'Dad's going to love this holiday.' he thought, right before Tadashi jumped up, shook Varian excitedly, and shouted.

"Woot! We won! 10 to 7! Take that Rams! Ha! San Fransokyo is still the best!"

Hiro joined him in his cheering, as they grunted a victory chant, and Baba clapped along from her chair.

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

Hiro yawned as he stumbled downstairs the next morning. He found Varian already dressed and putting on a coat and scarf as he stood at the foot of the stairwell.

"What are you doing?"

"We're out of milk." Varian explained matter of factly. "I need to get some more to make the sweet rolls I promised Baba for breakfast."

He started to open the door, only for Hiro to rush towards him and slam the door close.

"Woah! Woah! Woah! You can not go out there!" Hiro warned as he blocked the entire doorway with his body. "It's Black Friday."

Varian looked at him as if he was talking in tongues.

"What is that? A curse?"

"No… well for some people it might be. Depends if you work in the service industry or not."

Varian rolled his eyes and waved his little brother away. "Look, grandma will be up at any moment so I'm just going to drive down to the corner store and…"

"And you may not come back alive." Hiro said as he shoved himself between Varian and the door once more.

"You're just trying to scare me for some prank. Now move." Varian tried to more firmly push Hiro out of the way, but Hiro remained resolute.

"I am trying to warn you! Okay? Black Friday is when everything goes on sale."

"Wonderful! Maybe the milk will be half off." Varian grunted as he physically picked Hiro up and deposited on the bottom stair out of the way.

"You don't understand. Everything is on sale. Everything! Everywhere!"

"Yeah, and what's the problem?" Varian asked as he opened the door.

"Everyone is going to be out there trying to get the sale."

"You're not out there."

"Yeah, because I have sense. I'm telling you Varian, it's a madhouse. You've never seen anything like it… are you listening to me?"

"Yeah, I'll be really crowded. Got it!" Varian replied before closing the door behind him.

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

"Where's Varian?" Aunt Cass as she took a sip of her coffee. "I thought he was going to make breakfast this morning?"

"He went out to get milk." Hiro said as he took a bite of cereal.

"On Black Friday?"

"You did warn him about Black Friday, didn't you?" Tadashi asked as he sat across from Hiro.

"I tried too. He didn't listen."

Just then, they heard the door slam open and Varian loudly huffing and puffing as he made his way up the stairs.

"I… uh… I did it!" He shouted as he made it to the kitchen. His shirt was ripped, his hair disheveled, and his coat has footprints on it. He ignored everyone's concerned looks and held aloft a half gallon cartoon. "I have retrieved the milk!.... And I'm going to faint now."

He promptly fell forward, flat on his face.

Aunt Cass rushed forward. "Oh Varian, are you okay?"

"On a scale of one to ten; how would you rate your pain?" Baymax asked as he waddled over.

"I'm… I'm okay." Came Varian's muffled voice. "Here."

He held up the carton for someone to take it from him, but still remained lying face down while doing so.

Aunt Cass took it from him, but then read the label on the carton.

"Ummm… this says Eggnog."

Varian let out an indistinct whine.

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

Everyone hugged Grandma goodbye as they stood in the airport once more.

"Bye, Baba. I would use the portal to send you home, but Chief Cruz says that would be illegal." Varian said as he gave the little old lady a tight squeeze. "Ciao, nonna."

Baba gently pinched his cheek as he let her go. "Fai il bravo."

Hiro was next. "I hope to see you soon grandma. O-genki de."

"Ki wo tsukete." Tadashi added. "I packed Baymax for you. Call me if you need help turning him on. Le ni kaettara denwa shite." He made a phone gesture with his hand as he repeated himself.

"Yarimasu, yarimasu." She reassured him.

"O bāchan, daisukidayo."

"`A~a, Tadashi-chan mo daisukida yo. Min'na daisukida yo. Baba ni mōichido hagu shite agete."

She spread her arms wide and encouraged her grandsons to give her a big group hug. All three of them. They didn't have to be asked twiced.

"Oh, it's 3:10. You better start boarding soon." Aunt Cass said, interrupting the moment. "Bye bye, see you soon!"

All four of them waved bye as Baba made her way to the plane, rolling her new robotic nurse, safely tucked in his charging case, behind her on wheels.

#varian #tangled #Hiro Hamada #big hero 6 #aunt cass #baymax #tadashi hamada #tangled the series #big hero 6 the series #rapunzel's tangled adventure #BH6 the series #bh6 #rta #tts #ruddiger

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whumpofdory · 2 years

Text

The Spoiled Prince, Part 8

CW: Whipping, human pets mention, slavery mention, fear of death, cursing, lmk if I missed anything

Two days later, the king was still debating what to do with the prisoners. Killing them could cause a war, so that was not his first option. He was angry even now, wanting revenge. And to have Callum so close, within his power… the temptation was almost intoxicating. I have to come to a solid decision first, he scolded himself. It wouldn’t do to get carried away.

Best to list his options. He sat down with purpose at his desk and began quickly scribbling.

Kill them

Kill one of them (Callum)

Offer them jobs

Torture them for information (probably just Callum, the servant is scared enough to tell me the truth for anything) NOTE: Ask the manservant’s name

Torture Callum for catharsis

He looked back over the list. Jobs was a good idea. Of course they could only be well-treated slaves by technicality; they would not be allowed to go free, as that would completely undermine Alvard’s word. But he would treat them well (the boy at least).

A pet. The tradition came to Alvard in an instant. The rulers of Slivgrad had a long standing habit of taking human pets as a status symbol. He had declined the offer of the nobles to take one of their children as a pet but Callum… what better way to teach an insolent prince his new place? And it certainly would make a statement. Training would give time for torture and revenge, but always moving toward a goal. How perfect.

The manservant could be offered a job in the castle. Alvard was certain the boy would take it, and eventually enjoy his new life. He didn’t give the impression of a troublemaker and might even have a better life here than he did before. Even the nobles were not allowed to carry out violence on servants or slaves without evidence of good reason here.

Evine sat uncomfortable on the thin mat in his cell. He was sure their execution would be carried out at any moment. Even so, he was worried about Callum. Until now, Evine had never seen him cry, except maybe with laughter. Now the prince’s eyes were red, his silvery blond hair dishevelled. “Callum? Are you okay?” Evine asked quietly.

“Obviously I’m not okay! My father abandoned me here and gods know what that evil asshole has planned! Leave me alone!” Callum’s words came out loud and quick, almost a jumble of panic and despair.

“Sorry. Just know I’m here. He seems okay with me, maybe I can talk to him and-”

“I don’t need you to speak to a king on my behalf!” Callum snarled. “Just keep your fucking mouth shut and maybe we’ll get out of here alive.”

Evine was startled at the idea of staying alive. All he’d been hoping for since he arrived was a quick death. Anything better seemed beyond his reach. He stayed silent and waited in silence.

Eventually the king appeared, regal and gloating. Callum tried to put on bravado, and Evine shrank back. “Good evening, boys. And how are we today?” Evine spoke before Callum could say something inflammatory.

“We’re doing well, thank you. Still a bit sore from the letter.” They both glanced at Callum. “And you?” He added nervously.

“I’m doing fantastic. Finally decided what to do with the two of you.” Both prisoners’ heads perked up at this.

“Let me guess, you’re going to kill us? How stupid are you? My father may not want me back,” his voice cracked with sadness and anger, “but if new gets out that I’m dead he’ll kill your sister. Cassie, or whatever the bitch’s name is.” Callum thought insults would make him feel better, or at the very least make the king angry and get Alvard to kill him quickly. His plan clearly hadn’t worked. Alvard’s face darkened.

“On the contrary,” the king’s voice was low and dangerous. Evine looked on in horror as Alvard continued, “I’ve decided to keep you both alive for the foreseeable future. Are either of you familiar with Slivgradian pets?”

Callum looked confused, but realisation dawned over Evine’s face. “I’ve heard of them.” he said. “Are you going to make us…”

“Just Callum. Would you care to explain to him, or shall I?”

“I- I’ll leave that to you, your Majesty.” The king grinned and turned to Callum.

“For centuries my family has had a tradition of making pets out of people. Collar and all. Usually they’re of high rank, and used as a symbol of our power. And I think,” he flourished his hands and a dark purple strap of leather came into view. “you’d be perfect for the job.” His smile grew as he watched his words sink in. He could almost see the cogs turning in the prince’s brain.

“Oh HELL no. You are not putting that thing on me.”

“I am. And I think you deserve a little something for calling my sister a bitch earlier. Her name is Kalah, by the way.” Alvard advanced into the cell and tried to grab Callum, but the smaller man evaded him, ducking to the side at the last minute. The prince tried to hit the king in the ribs, but with inhuman speed Alvard caught his hand and wrenched it up, dropping the collar to do so.

He lifted the manacles up, ignoring the writhing and kicking boy attached to them, and hung the centre chain on a hook on the ceiling with practised agility. Callum’s feet now barely reached the floor, his body almost dangling in the middle of the open space. The king took a step back to double check his work, then a step to the side to pick up the collar.

“Let me down from here immediately. I’m warning you.”

“Or what, you’ll talk me to death?” Alvard audibly laughed, then became serious. “You ought to save your voice. You’ll need it for your punishment.” he walked behind the prince and put the collar on as gently as he could.

The collar was uncomfortable. He felt like at any moment his breathing would be cut off again. Just like the king had done the first time they met. He made up his mind here and now he would not become a pet. He would never degrade himself that way. He didn’t know much about it, of course, but for how happy it made King Alvard it must be bad for him.

“A punishment?” Callum sounded angry, incredulous, and the slightest bit scared.

“Of course. You’ve called Kalah a bitch twice now, and spoken very disrespectfully to me, your Master. That is obviously what you will call me now, pet.” As happy as the king was at driving the point home, it only made Callum angrier.

“Like fuck I will. Now let me down.”

The king waved his hand and a long whip appeared. He dramatically cracked it a few times to the side before stepping behind the prince.

“Now hold on, just wait a moment Ki-”

The whip cracked down against his back and he screamed. He never had to feel pain like this. His station in life ensured that. Now his station was ensuring he was whipped and wore a collar.

“Wait plea-”

Another crack, another long wide line of anguish. He didn’t have time to say anything as the next strokes snapped up and down at different angles along his flesh. Eventually, Callum stopped trying to speak, resigning himself to the loop of sound and pain. He almost wished he’d taken Evine up on his offer to try to negotiate with the king.

After an eternity, Alvard stopped and slowly took Callum off the hook. He couldn’t have the prince passing out; he still had more information to give him. More like orders. The difference didn’t really matter anymore. Callum groaned with the feeling of his skin contracting as he was taken down and laid on the floor.

The king crouched to just above his level and grabbed his hair to look him in the eye. “Next time I am here, you will receive a punishment if your collar is off. You will also receive a punishment if you fail to address me as “Master”. Do you understand?

Callum wanted to spit in his face. His eyes drifted to the now bloody whip in the king’s hand. He nodded as well as he could with Alvard’s hand holding his head up.

“Good. See you boys tomorrow.” And with that the king vanished.

Taglist: @whumpy-butterflies , @pigeonwhumps , @wolves-and-winters

#whump #whump ideas #whump blog #whump scenario #royal whumpee #royal whumper #whumper #whumpee #pet whump #Callum #Alvard #Evine #collar

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chordsykat · 2 years

Text

Alright so, more than anything else I get questions about comic books. That's all-inclusive, mind you... From writing them to drawing them, getting work doing them, and all points in between. I don't know if I could ever explain all of that in a single post but figured I could at least show you all what I'm doing currently... which is putting together a submission packet for a publisher.

My way of doing things in 2022 are a mix between digital and traditional methods. I started this process by drawing very rough full-page layouts in Photoshop. Actually, that’s a lie. I started this process by looking up the publisher’s submission guidelines and finding out how many pages they want (usually no more than 5), what format, and any restrictions or special requests that come with submitting artwork to them.

And believe me, when I say I drew the first parts rough, we're not just talking ball and stick rough, but blob, scribble, and what-the-hell-was-i-drawing-here rough. What you see in the images above came after about three layers of fine-tuning. Now, I wanna say something about the comic page, itself here, and it’s very important... The temptation to take things panel-by-panel is gonna be huge, buuuut if you're an artist drawing in comic book format, especially if your end product will be printed as an actual book, you gotta keep one thing in mind:

The page, and any page opposite it, should be treated as one whole piece of art.

Yes, the compositions on each individual panel can matter and need to be considered as you go about laying out your art... but the whole of the comic page is your first concern.

That means changing up camera angles, the size of your figures, and how much or how little background will be seen, etc. are not only paramount to the success of how each panel reads, but the page as a whole. Too -- you’re going to have to keep things like margins, gutters, safe areas and where text boxes and word ballons will fit, in mind. I'll get into more detail about all that in future posts, I’m sure... But for now, here's what my process has been once I finally had digital "breakdowns" of the art and how it would all lay out on a page.

My first stop was the UPS Store, to get some 11"x17" prints of my digital stuff, so it could be transferred onto comic board bristol (100lb. smooth bristol -- sometimes called cold-press board)

Using graphite, I coat the whole back-side of the page with scribbles. You can also use carbon paper, but if you can't find it or it's otherwise cost-prohibitive, just do the scribble method. I find things transfer about the same, if not a bit lighter when using graphite, and I tend to prefer the lines from my breakdowns be lighter at this point, anyway...

Next step is to line the prints up, cabon-side down, onto the bristol. I tape the paper in corners where there is no art needing traced with a little double-sided tape. Then, using my graphite pencil, I pain-in-the-buttingly go over each line to transfer it onto the comic board. I also trace the corners of my panels... I don't trace the whole edge since I'll be using a ruler to get those right on the final art, and really just need guidelines at this point.

Once EVERY DAMN LINE is traced... You get a light transfer to work your final lines off of. Buuuut we're not quite done yet. Grab your work-pencil (I have been a fan of the good ol’ Staedtler Mars pencils with 0.5 lead since the dawn of time), graphite, gum eraser and fine-point eraser, because we’re going to be doing some light detail work on those breakdowns.

The final phase of this process is to go in and lightly re-draw the transferred breakdown lines. try to keep things light as you work. Smudges are the bane of a penciller’s existence and I sometimes work with a sheet of paper under my palm as I begin to work on the bristol, to keep things from smearing around. Once I’ve got my lines covered to a point that I could work off of them without looking at my digital copies to figure out what the heck I was even drawing, the page is ready for the final pencils.

If I was doing the inking for these pages, and (perhaps most importantly) I had an editor who trusted me, I might even be bold enough as to go in and start doing that, to save time. But a pencilling portfolio is hardly the place to show off my inking abilities, so we’ll leave the process right here, for now.

Join me next time as I do finished pencil work on these gargs!

#comic book stuff #how to comic book #my process #comic book design #layout #more than you ever cared to give a crap about

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self-shipper-snowdrop · 1 year

Text

Self Ship Valentines - Day 1

Prompt: “Will you be my Valentine?”

Description: Bronwen had other things to worry about; she had suddenly become Serentir’s queen and Fódlan was plunged into the depths of war, but the whims of the heart know care little about timing. Bronwen wasn’t certain what compelled her to do this, to finally act on something brewing deep within her soul for years, but she found herself crafting a delicate little card by hand for someone special.

There was so much that was happening within the world at that time. Bronwen stood in Garreg Mach, her formal school where she once laughed and learned with dear friends from across the land, now decorated in the traditional queen’s garb of her land. A long cape of vibrant pink, a pale rose dress accented by gold, and a circlet adorned with gems that glimmered like stars. But, unlike before the war, she only had one accenting gem on the back of her circlet. Blue; the bright, rich blue of Faerghus, a symbol of her kingdom’s alliance with them in the war.

It truly hurt; knowing who she stood against. Edelgard had been a dear friend; as had Hubert, Caspar, Ferdinand.... but now they stood on the other side. It pained her to see them standing on that opposing half of the battlefield, but that was life. Bronwen, in this, perhaps also saw just how cruel the world could be to the hearts of its people.

Maybe that was why craft supplies laid out on her desk table, a half-finished card left there alongside a pile of scribbled notes of what to say or what to make. The edges of some were crumpled, evidently having been caught in the rain when she was writing outside and the droplets began to fall before drying out, and others had little tears in them due to her nervous habit. It was always easy to tell when she’d handled a paper while anxious- the sides always had little rips along them, as she fiddled and fiddled with them until small tears formed along paper edges. But now, it rest abandoned, Bronwen’s mind swimming with too many thoughts to process at once. It was only a calm, steady voice that seemed to break her free of it- slightly muffled through the door of her room. She knew it well; even if he didn’t speak, the caring knock would have told her enough.

“Your Majesty?”

Bronwen turned away from the sunset visible on her balcony. “Come in, Dedue. please- you don’t need to use that title for me. You’re a friend.”

Dedue carefully entered the room, bowing to Bronwen regardless. “That aside, Queen Bronwen, you are still royalty of our allied kingdom. It would reflect poorly on His Majesty, King Dimitri if I spoke so casually to you.”

“Not when I’ve asked you otherwise, Dedue.” Bronwen insisted, gaze soft as she walked up to him, gently tilting his head up so he knew he could look at her. “Come now- don’t make me think I’ve lost a friend in this royalty mess.”

Dedue shook his head, “Of course not.”

“Then, at least when we’re alone, don’t be so formal. It feels so wrong to have a dear friend speak of me in such tones.” Bronwen smiled at him, taking a step back before turning to close her balcony doors, “Now- what did you need?”

“I don’t mean to pry, Your Ma- my apologies, Bronwen. But I found this not far away from your preferred stargazing spot.” Dedue said, holding out a paper with those same, torn edges to her, “I know you have the habit of leaving a few tears in papers you hold. I was wondering if it was important to you.”

Bronwen’s eyes widened and she spun around quick as a flash, face going bright red when she saw what paper it was. She quickly took the page and crumpled it up, tossing it into the bin by her desk as her body went rigid. How could she be so careless?!

“I-It’s nothing! Just some doodle paper that I must have forgotten to throw away! Silly me, right? Somehow I’m a queen despite my silliness! Truly, I don’t know how I ended up as the Queen of Serentir here anyway!” Bronwen laughed nervously, very blatantly flipping her cape to cover her desk as she leaned against it, “I’m not doing anything with silly papers other than drawing absentmindedly as I do! Nothing at all! Actually, what’s paper? I don’t know if I’ve ever held paper in my life anyway-”

“Your Majesty, you’re babbling.”

Bronwen stopped talking. She glanced around the room, very pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I.... I’ll shut up now.”

Dedue sighed. He pointed to the desk, “You’re very clearly hiding something.”

“Me? Hiding something? No, never! I’m just a lazybones, you know? Always leaning against things!” Bronwen laughed again, somehow twice as painfully awkward as before, “You know me!”

He was not convinced... at all.

“You may very well be one of the hardest working members of our army. Perhaps as much as His Majesty.... even more so, even, at times.” Dedue remarked, “If this is something related to King Dimitri, you know I will need to alert him. Even... even if it’s you, any conspiracy to harm him cannot be permitted.”

Bronwen’s stomach dropped. She quickly stood up, cape flying up and papers getting mixed together, but somehow still staying on the desk. “No! Never, Dedue, I wouldn’t even be able to stomach the thought! I...”

She paused. Then, Bronwen sighed, gesturing for Dedue to come closer to the desk. He did so, and Bronwen organized the papers and cut outs a bit, letting him see them in their entirety.

“...I’m just being a moron again.” Bronwen said, glancing off to the side, holding herself as Dedue looked through the papers with the utmost care. “I know we’re at war, and I need to focus on battles, our kingdoms and working out our new partnership with Claude in the Alliance, but- but the Day of Devotion is upcoming and I haven’t been near Dimitri in five years! I know it’s so bizarre to think about, but.... but the thought of just never saying anything and maybe even losing him to the war is torture!”

Bronwen didn’t notice Dedue looking closely at a particular paper as she started to pace, still spilling her mess of thoughts out into the open, like a dam that finally gave way.

“I tried to give him a gift back in the Academy during the Pegasus Moon, but then he gave me one and we just said it was friendly and I looked like an idiot! Then, during the Garland Moon a little later, i gave him a flower crown using roses to try and say I liked him as more than a friend but that failed too! I couldn’t explain Serentir’s flower language to him, and soon after I was being buried in garlands made by random men who I didn’t even know! Like, hello?! Was it not obvious that I was trying to talk with Dimi? Seriously, I don’t even know where to start and now the only time I can think of attempting is when the country is basically the battle equivalent of on fire and-”

“Bronwen- you’re doing all this to profess feelings for His Majesty?”

Bronwen froze. Dedue looked towards her, and Bronwen couldn’t seem to move, as if just saying that out loud made her heart stop beating. Her face was red as a strawberry, putting the Empire’s flags to shame from how dark her blush was. She looked towards the floor, toying with her own intertwined hands before nodding silently.

“...maybe...”

Dedue sighed in response before he smiled, gently taking Bronwen’s hands into his own. Bronwen was admittedly surprised, but paused, letting him lead her back to the desk towards the notes.

“For the sake of His Majesty, I won’t say what I know.... but I can say that you don’t need to overthink this. The design you started here is beautiful, and I am certain he will love it.” Dedue told the queen, “In fact, anything you give him is something I know he will treasure greatly. So long as it comes from your heart.”

Bronwen paused. She picked up the card she’d been working on- a light blue one, with a half-finished overlay of white paper patterning on top. Bronwen opened the card to emptiness, aside from a pair of pop-out hearts- one pink, and one deep blue, with their crest symbols drawn in the centres.

“From my heart....”

Dedue nodded in reply. “You are very dear to His Majesty’s heart. Any gift or card you choose to give will be a great honour for him to receive. So please- don’t fret over the composition too much. Just be certain it is unmistakably you.”

Then the knight left the room, leaving Bronwen by herself as the sun set and stars began to slowly show in Fódlan’s fair sky. Bronwen quickly hurried to light lanterns for the evening, Dedue’s advice ringing in her head as she started up on the card again. Working deep into the night, by the time Bronwen at last had made a card she deemed perfect, she had collapsed upon her bed almost the moment she stood up from her chair.

~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks... two long, painful weeks of waiting. But in that time Bronwen had spent some time making sure to find a good craftsman who could craft a quality pair of riding boots, and now, she had her card and gift prepared. So heading deeper into the monastery, Bronwen looked around for Dimitri, her heart pounding all the while. Soon enough, however, that vibrant blue cape of his decorated by thick furs crossed her eye.

“Dimi?”

He stopped and turned around, smiling a bit at the sight of her. Bronwen felt her heart jump in her chest, but she tried to swallow the feeling.

“Bronwen! It’s good to see you- happy Day of Devotion. Have you been resting today? Dedue told me that you’d been staying up quite late recently. Today is a holiday- I was hoping you’d use it to relax.”

Bronwen smiled a little, swallowing her feelings quietly. “Oh, I suppose you could say that... but, actually, I’ve been looking for you. I... I wanted to give you something.”

“Hm? Give me a gift?” Dimitri asked. He looked surprised when Bronwen nodded, even more so when she placed the gift and a card in his hands with care.

Bronwen took a small step back. “I had these made for you- I noticed your old riding boots were worn. These are made from Serentir’s finest leather, and the highest quality steel in Faerghus for the buckles. They should last quite some time. I... I hope you like them.”

Dimitri was utterly stunned, and nervous, Bronwen bowed as she sputtered.

“H-Happy Day of Devotion, Dimi!”

Bronwen then rushed off, quickly hopping on her horse nearby and riding off into the distance before Dimitri could so much as say a word. He paused, looking at the boots with care- they even had his initials carved into the side, a small heart even beside it on each boot. But then; the card. Clearly one lovingly made, the detailing using such delicate handiwork he was surprised it was cut and not drawn on. With care, he flipped the card open, showing a set of hearts with their crest symbols popping out, matching the colours of their nations. The houses the lead in the academy days. But, more important to him, was the message on the inside.

My dearest Dimi,

For all these years, I have missed you with all my heart. My soul has yearned for your company since we parted five years ago and this war began. Yet, that distance has not made this feeling dim in the slightest.

Back in those academy days, I tried to express the depth of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t seem to convey it clearly. So this time- even if the timing may touch off, being in the throes of war- I must state it clearly.

I love you, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

On this Day of Devotion, I ask you to be my companion. If not, I understand. Just please- tell me if you feel the same way.

With all the love in my heart,

Bronwen.

Dimitri was utterly stunned. Rushing right towards his room, Dimitri ran past friends along the way, leaving the card safely in his room and switching into the riding boots; he needed to follow her. Dimitri knew he did- he couldn’t just let her think that he didn’t feel the same way about her. As he rushed past Sylvain and Felix, who were chatting up until then, he heard them call out to him.

“Hey, Boar! Where are you rushing off to?” Felix shouted after him. Sylvain chuckled, “Training calling you that loudly?”

“No- it’s Bronwen!” Dimitri shouted back, “She gave me a Day of Devotion gift!”

Sylvain looked confused, “She does that! Bronwen loves giving presents!”

“Bronwen’s card- she said loves me!”

Dimitri was gone moments after, leaving Felix and Sylvain shocked, completely frozen for a few moments. They turned to look at one another, baffled, before Felix broke the silence with a shout.

“She WHAT?!”

Dimitri, however, was already on his horse and riding as fast as he could to the only place he could think of. It was nearing the time to watch the sunset- so if Bronwen rode off somewhere, there was only one place that she’d be. There was a hill nearby towards the north, facing Faerghus territory, which they always used to lay on together and watch the stars far too late into the night. The image of her face, smiling and laughing as she let her long hair free from its braid flashed across his mind as he rode faster still. Soon enough, he managed to reach it, seeing a spot of pink at the hill’s top. Her.

Tying up his horse near hers, Dimitri quickly made his way up the hill, rushing towards Bronwen with a desperation not even seen in the midst of the most brutal of battles that were at last nearing an end. He called out her name, his heart racing even more when her chocolate eyes met his blue one. She seemed shocked to find him there; and in truth, she was.

“Dimi?” Bronwen said as he stopped by her side, the woman standing up as Dimitri reached the top of the hill, “Wha- why are you here?”

Letting out a deep sigh, Dimitri’s gaze went soft as he looked at her. “Bronwen.... your card. That’s why I’m here. Did you really think it so impossible that I would return your feelings?”

The queen froze. She seemed shocked by the very thought of it.

“You... you really...?”

Dimitri nodded, gently placing his hands on her shoulders. “Of course I do. I have since the moment we met. Do you think I was simply joking that night on the Goddess Tower? Or that I was simply dancing with you that night out of obligation?”

Bronwen was still shocked as one of his hands landed on her cheek, but she leaned into his touch anyway, as if it were the most natural thing to do.

“I just.... I assumed that, after my failed attempts with the garland and the gift on the Day of Devotion during the academy years that I was just being silly.” She said.

Dimitri shook his head. “Absolutely not. I must admit... I was quite dense back then regarding such matters. But- I must say, you were as well. I did give you flowers on every possible occasion, and always did look to spend my nights with you. I thought I was being obvious.”

Bronwen was silent for a second, but then, she found herself laughing.

“Oh.... that was what that was? Goddess- I was so convinced it was just a friendship thing!” She sighed, placing one of her hands over his, “To think we were both feeling this way for five years.... it’s almost painfully absurd, standing here in this moment.”

Dimitri nodded in reply. “Indeed. But now that we know.... may I make up for lost time, and ask for you to be my companion today?”

Bronwen rolled her eyes. “You dummy, I asked you first!”

“Then would this suffice to fill in for all our time apart?”

Dimitri leaned down, the hand once on Bronwen’s shoulder now on her waist as his lips connected to hers. Bronwen froze up in shock for a moment, but seconds later, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled them closer. They stayed still there as the sun set, only parting once they had no other choice but to breathe; smiling at one another with all the love that had once been repressed out of fear of losing the other.

“I think it will be enough.... but I may need a few more to be sure.” Bronwe whispered, kissing Dimitri’s cheek. He chuckled in reply, but she could tell he was a bit flustered himself from the warmth radiating from his cheeks.

“Then I’ll give you as many as it takes and more, my beloved.”

#self ship #romantic; my heart is in your hands #the dreamer’s diary of escapism #I'M SOFT AND ALSO VERY DUMB #I SEE DIMI AND MY BRAIN GOES JHVFHJCDVJHBVDJBHHVBJHBJDVBHJVHJBVDFJHBDFV MELTED #ANYWAY;;;#selfship valentines #self ship valentines

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halloweeneveryday · 7 months

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Table for three

I hope this won't be too much to read, but this too has stayed with me.

In the late 90s, I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I was waitressing at a family restaurant on the outskirts of a big city.

Just a little background: I had been working there for a couple of years by that time. It was the sort of high quality establishment that had a bar attached, a big lobby, and so on; it could seat about one hundred people when full. Traditional food, full meals, and for the most part, traditional customers. On All-Ireland match days, we’d be mad busy, and it might get a bit rowdy and whatnot, but other than that it was a place you’d come to to have candles on the tables, starters, main course, dessert, coffee, wine, and generally stay a while.

One particular Saturday night, I was the only one serving meals at about 10 pm or so; the dining room was more or less empty so I wasn’t rushed off my feet. I did have a couple of supervisors working with me but they were not out on the floor serving/cleaning/seating people like I was.

I was wiping a table in one corner, and three people walked in. A couple, and who I guessed was their daughter, not much older than me. So maybe they were in their forties or fifties. Nicely dressed up for the evening. I stopped wiping, walked over, asked them if they wanted a smoking or non smoking table, seated them, put menus in front of them. As you do.

Went and fetched them a jug of water. Went back to my cleaning.

Soon the couple looked ready to order (they were making eye contact with me) and even though the girl had gone to the ladies’, I went over with my little notebook and pen. Scribbled down his order, her order. Everything was normal.

There was a pause. I said, and I’ll never forget this, “do you want to wait for her to come back, or do you already know what she wants to order?” I thought it was a perfectly reasonable thing to ask, but I got a puzzled look from both of them.

I think it was the man who asked me to repeat. I did, and they brushed me off, “ah, no, no, it’s just us tonight.” Now, the thing to do would have been to listen to them, and walk away into the kitchen and put their order through and forget it.

Instead, stubborn me stood there, wanting to be sure they understood what I was asking, to avoid confusion later. I said something like, “is she not eating, then?” or similar. “No, no, we’re by ourselves, thanks.” And then I was getting annoyed that even if she didn’t want to eat, with them they could at least acknowledge my acknowledgment of her presence! I said (and I was never, before or after, so brisk with a customer; in that place you could get into awful trouble for being cheeky) “okay then, but I was only asking about the person who was with you. That’s fine, though.”

Then they looked at me properly for the first time, and asked me what I was talking about. So I said about the person who was with them when they came in, but at that point I took the order and went away, deciding not to spend an evening discussing it and looking silly or whatever. (Too late, I think!)

I spent the next ten minutes silently putting bread rolls on their table, wiping other tables, serving the few customers we had at other tables, and generally not engaging too much with the couple.

The daughter did not return so I shrugged it off. I had to. Before I brought their meals out, they called me over. They were both looking a little bit troubled, and he was definitely pale now.

I didn’t know what to say to that, but they told me that what convinced them I saw her, it was my absolute insistence, that I wouldn’t leave it alone, to the point I was nearly rude. Because I’d seen her, knew she was a young woman, likely to be their daughter etc. I didn’t just get a vague idea of three people. The couple had seemed like the type that would stay for dessert, the works. He got up and went quickly out to the lobby to make a phone call halfway or so through their meal.

I was not scared, I should add that. At no point. I wasn’t threatened, wasn’t chilled or anything. I just wondered... how. All these years.

source: https://www.boards.ie/discussion/comment/94240170/#Comment_94240170

#my life is creepy #halloweeneveryday #halloween everyday #haunting #mylifeiscreepy #ghost #haunted #paranormal #ghosts #supernatural

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shadowbunnydragon · 2 years

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Found: Samhain Special

MWAHAHAHAHA! Shenanigans shall be had on this night, as Audrey has hatched a plan filled with fright! Her grandpup's feelings are plain to see, yet speaking them aloud has proven not to be easy. His crush clearly feels the same way, yet Aiko too is under a blushing silent sway. So into the Maze Grandmaw shall send the pre-teens, with traps and ambushes crafted to bring screams. Alone the two shall finally confess, and surely nothing could turn this all into one big mess?

And so my favorite holiday is almost upon us! The weather is cooling off, scary movies are becoming more prevalent, costumes, pumpkins, and candy galore! This year, I decided to make a special side-story with my favorite time of year in mind! I hope that you enjoy it!

Found (Samhain Special)

Elite Shade

"Okay, so with time to spare, we'll have finished dropping off all the collected recyclables to the recycling center and can then head on over to the Hunter Ranch to help Marcus and his family with their haunted corn maze," Travis said while scribbling in a notebook. "Any questions?" He was dressed in his Ranger Scout uniform, beaming at the rest of his friends who were sitting in their usual meeting spot in the forest clearing.

Ty was wearing an orange hoodie, a purple streak in his headfur that matched the purple streak going down the side of his black shorts. He was laying on a stump on his back, staring up at the sky. "Shouldn't it be called a Haunted Maize Maze?" he asked, earning a snicker from Lizzy. The grizzly was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans. She reached down to ruffle his headfur, much to the much smaller mammal's annoyance. "Also, why again is the Haunted Maze being set up and tested now? It's two weeks until Samhain."

Marcus chimed in. "Accordin' ta Grandmaw, it's so that we can test some new things we're tryin' this year. This way, by the time Samhain arrives, we'll know if somethin' works 'r doesn't, and have a chance ta fix 'em." His Meadowlands accent had become more pronounced, taking after his father.

Lizzy then raised a massive paw. "OH! I actually have to help with the bakery, so I'm gunna be a little late getting to the haunted house."

"That's okay, Lizzy, I remembered and factored it in," Travis said. The deer buck looked over to Mina, who nodded before straightening her white skirt and blouse. The goat girl cleared her throat before speaking.

"I would like to say that Ty and I were successful in putting up the posters and handing out the flyers advertising the Ranger Scout Charity Haunted House. Not just here in the North Meadowlands, but also down in the Southern Meadowlands too! Based on the interest garnered, it's looking like this year's Samhain will be even better than last year's!"

"I can't wait to see what the corn maze looks like," Aiko said as she fiddled with her white and orange-striped scarf. She was wearing a white coat with a pink skirt and black leggings. Setting her paw down, she quickly pulled it back after touching Marcus' hand, the two looking away and blushing.

"Uhm, y-yeah," Marcus stammered a bit, choosing to move the discussion along. He heard Ty snicker but ignored it and pressed on. "Helpin' out makin' it with Grandmaw and Grandpaw, it looks purdy impressive in the daytime. My aunts 'n uncles are visitin' ta help out decoratin' it and settin' up the scares. Grandmaw made me promise not to go a-peekin' as she wanted it ta be a surprise fer me as well as the pups comin' ta explore it, so I'm excited to see what it'll look like too." He was wearing his favorite coat, the tiger-themed one, along with a black long-sleeved shirt underneath, and his blue jeans.

"It was real nice for her to invite us to participate in the Hunter Family tradition," Travis said, covering his muzzle to hide his chuckle at seeing Marcus and Aiko's reaction.

"Anyone else think she sounded kinda insistent about it?" Ty asked, sitting up to look at the others.

Marcus blushed and started to rub the back of his head. "Yeah, I think my Grandmaw was just bein' super enthusiastic 'bout me havin' ma friends over fer the tradition..."

Meanwhile...

"Alright, girls," Audrey said, looking at her (mostly) unofficial daughter's in law, all of whom, Malcolm counted in their number, were assembled before the older she-wolf. "So the plan is a simple one. We send in Marcus and his friends on a 'test run', where we'll use different traps and such ta get him and Aiko separated from the rest of their group and alone together. That way the two of them can talk while in a spooky settin'. A few jumpscares in the dusk should have them clingin' ta each other. And then, hopefully, that will be enough ta get them talkin' ta each other about their feelin's and put a stop ta this silly blushin'-crushin' once and fer all." Audrey beamed happily at her plan, while most of the Hunter gals smiled excitedly.

Vanna, however, was pinching the bridge of her nose. "I still cannot believe that you talked me into doing this to my son," she said.

"Aw, c'mon Kit-Kat," Ada said, leaning over to sling an arm around Vanna's shoulder. "Dose two clearly likes each udda, but instead of doin' somethin' about it, dey's just dancin' around it."

"Actually, I agree with Vanna," Dawn said. She was patting her still-swollen belly, a little jealous that Vanna and Audrey no longer had to worry about being pregnant. Her doctor said that soon she might have to go on bed-rest. As it was, her job in this scheme was mainly watching over her new little niece and her brand new sisters-in-law. She looked up at Giselle, who had already put on part of her Alarmhead costume.

The giraffe had two plastic cones hanging on her neck, fixed in place attached to a third cone around her head made to look like speakers. She was going to put on a skin-tight outfit with some fake lanky arms ending in claws that she would fit her hooves into to operate. There was even going to be a speaker hooked up to her phone to blare a siren when she would start chasing someone in the maze. "Giselle, your costume is gunna look wonderfully spooky! Now, yer primary job during the test run is ta keep track of where Marcus and Aiko are in the maze, and relay that information ta the rest of us," Audrey said, causing the giraffe to give her a salute.

"I won't letcha down, Audrey," she said, her cockney voice sounding a bit tinny due to the cone. "I even got m'self some stilts to make me taller so I can see even more."

"Oh, uh, Giselle, are ya sure that that will be alright?" Malcolm asked, sounding a bit worried. "What if ya tripped and fell?" Giselle waved a dismissive hoof at his concerns.

"I'll be just fine. My long legs are already practically stilts as it is, this'll be no different." The other Hunter girls gave each other sidelong glances, choosing not to voice what they were thinking.

"Malcolm, Qali, and Honey, you three will be laying in wait in the scheduled locations. You'll close off areas behind the pups, trying to get Marcus and Aiko separated from the others."

Qali jumped up and down in excitement, she was dressed as a zombie, with some fake blood painted dribbling down her chin. "This is gunna be so much fun and just so cute!"

She was caught by the hood of her gray hoodie by Ada, who was dressed as a Zoodoo priestess, complete with white skull face paint.

"Easy 'dere, fluff for brains! We haven't even started yet. Also, remembah what happened last year? When youse ran around dat maze and ended up gettin' all tangled up in some strings of lights?"

The arctic vixen crossed her arms and pouted. "That was totally not my fault! It was dark out!"

"Dose lights was lit up and bright orange. Anyone coulda seen them a mile away," Ada said with a chuckle, seeing Qali stick her tongue out in response. Honey's costume was that of a faceless monk in a robe, with symbols in gold running down the sleeves. "The chances of the plan working aren't great. But it's still worth a shot."

"That actually does remind me, Ada, Vanna, while ya two will also be helpin' ta scare the pups and assist the others, y'all are ta be on the lookout fer Zach. If he catches wind of this plan, he will try ta disrupt it."

Vanna briefly considered letting him, until she remembered that Zach would blow things way out of proportion and possibly scare off Aiko and maybe even Marcus' friends. She sighed, as that was how Audrey was able to convince her in the first place. She wasn't wearing a costume, instead wearing a black sweater and jeans, in order to stealthily stalk from within the corn itself. She looked to Audrey and nodded.

"I just don't feel right about this," Vanna said. "They should just talk to each other about their feelings when they're ready."

"And they will. We're just givin' them a little help to do it, that's all," Audrey said, giving the tigress a hug. Vanna still looked uncomfortable but returned the hug no less. Audrey let go and then turned to address Dawn, who was sitting in a lawn chair next to a playpen set up with her little girls and her newest grandpup, Rose, set in it, playing with some soft toys. The ewe was wearing an orange maternity dress with a green smiling jack-o-lantern face over her large belly.

"Now, Dawn'll be in charge of lookin' after the girls." The ewe cooed as she reached in to tickle Rose, the little tiger/wolf hybrid squealing in delight as she looked around with excited and curious yellow eyes. She was wearing a purple onesie with a smiling ghost on it. Her orange and black-striped fur was fluffed out, her short canid snout twitching as she took in different smells on the breeze. Rose's long skinny tail that ended in a fluffy tuft swish-wagged, thumping on the floor of the playpen. Next to her was Sadie, who was starting to whimper at getting some dirt, somehow, on her paw. The tiny black pup tried chewing on a red stacking ring to calm down. Over in one corner of the playpen was Rachel, dressed in an orange and purple shirt and denim overalls. The little gray wolf's tail was wagging as she watched a grasshopper hop by, reaching out her tiny paws, as if trying to get to it. And over in the other corner was Quinnley, wearing a black and red onesie. She sucked on a binky while looking at the latch to the playpen. She grinned happily and mischievously, her white and black-splotched fur being tousled by a gentle breeze.

"These pups won't be going anywhere," Dawn said with confidence, keeping an eye on Quinnley, the little troublemaker known for stealing things like wallets to chew on or somehow put into a toilet, and for attempted escapes from her crib and playpens.

"Now the boys're setting up the decorations and such, so try ta keep an eye out and not run into them or anythang like that. They know about the plan tonight and will not interfere, except of course fer Zach and Ully."

"Wait, where are those two?" Malcolm asked. He was dressed in an apron with fake blood on it, holding a rubber meat cleaver in his paw.

"I decided ta keep them preoccupied. In Zach's case, I had Dori take him on a wild goose chase."

At that moment...

"Geeze, Pa, I thought I really had him that time!" Zach said while sitting in the passenger seat of his father's cruiser, the older law wolf presently driving and chuckling to himself. He looked over at his son, whose uniform was torn in several places, with some fresh scratches on his muzzle, and white feathers stuck to him.

"Well, we're still on his trail. When we get to the Howlson's farm, you can try again," Dori said. Zach narrowed his eyes as he stared at the wild goose nicknamed Goliath that had gotten loose from the Flattail's Ranch.

"Oh I'm gunna catch 'im, don't you worry about that Pa," he said, a look of determination on his muzzle.

Also at that moment...

"Hiya, Ully, whatcha got there?" Vernon asked, Lily and Alice riding on his shoulders while Trevor walked behind him, carrying a milk crate with plastic skeleton pieces in it.

The nervous-looking black wolf with the streak of pink in his headfur looked at his brother and shrugged.

"It's a bucket of sand. Mama told me to hold it and not spill any of it, as it was gunna be super important later tonight. She didn't tell me why though," Ulric said.

"What do ya think the sand will be fer, Daddy?" Lily asked. She was dressed as a princess with a sheriff's hat and badge, as well as a holstered toy tranq gun. Alice was dressed as a ballerina in a pink leotard and tutu. Trevor's costume was similar to Aunt Honey's, in that he was dressed in the robes of a cultist that worshiped an ancient eldritch god. Needless to say, the little black lamb's costume made Ulric very nervous.

"Oh I'm sure it will be a surprise," Vernon said with a chuckle, continuing on with what he and his pups were doing, giving his brother a wave. "Keep up that good work, Ully."

Later...

As the early evening settled in, with the shadows growing longer and a chill hanging in the air, the sun began dipping towards the horizon. Marcus stood with his friends, having been dropped off by Travis' parents, at the opening to the corn maze. In the growing gloom, it was already looking different than it had in the daylight. More sinister and mysterious.

"Thank you pups so much fer helpin' us out with this trial run," Audrey said, dressed like a witch in a pointed black hat and robes, the hemline of which ended just below the older she-wolf's knees. Her tail was wagging, a warm smile on her muzzle as she looked at the pups. "Now we were thinkin' of y'all enterin' in groups of two and waitin' fer a beat before sendin' in the next pairin'."

"I think I get it," Travis chimed in with a grin. Audrey's ears perked up, concerned that their scheme had been figured out. "This way, one pair goes in one direction with another going in another. From here I can see three paths we can pick from." Audrey internally sighed while she nodded to the buck.

"That's right, sweetie," she said, pointing into the maze. "There's already quite a few tricks and traps and scares set up, with my boys and girls settin' up more as we speak. So instead of goin' alone, in pairs we can see how the different initial paths work out, and not have to worry about someone gettin' lost alone."

"This is going to be a lot of fun!" Mina said, clapping her hooves while Ty just rolled his eyes.

"So who's going with who?" the raccoon asked, trying to look disinterested, but his striped tail kept twitching, which Marcus had learned meant he was excited. Ty let out a shrill yelp as he was scooped up and plopped onto Lizzy's head.

"There, now we got you acting as a lookout, and if we have to run, I don't have to worry about you lagging behind," Lizzy giggled as Ty took ahold of some locks of her dyed white fauxhawk. The young grizzly bear was raring to go. Without another word, she charged straight in with Ty yelping again, the two heading straight down the middle path. Audrey and Aiko both giggled at that.

"And there they go," Travis said with a chuckle. He turned to his three remaining friends. "So who else will be pairing up? Should we keep it boy/girl? Or maybe to shake things up, have me and Marcus as a pair and Aiko and Mina as another?" Audrey's breath caught in her throat. They did have a contingency plan if that was the case, but it would be harder to pull off.

"I think with my sense of direction, if Mina and I were left alone together to try and find our way through, we'd somehow end up in the Nocturnal District," Aiko said, laughing and rubbing the back of her head. "No offense to you, Mina." "None taken," the goat girl said. "I can get lost on my way to my closet in my own room."

"Well then, Aiko, you can ride on my shoulders, if you'd like, and you can use my horns to hold onto for support," Travis offered.

"Thanks, but I really feel like walking."

"Alright then, it's settled," Audrey said, clapping her paws together. "Travis shall go with Mina, and Marcus and Aiko will couple up." Hearing that, Marcus and Aiko both started to blush. They looked at each other, before looking away.

"S-sounds good to me," Marcus said.

"Same!" Aiko, despite the wind, wiped her forehead.

"In that case, how about we flip a coin to decide which pair goes where?" Travis said, pulling out a quarter. "Heads goes left, tails goes right?" With the other three agreeing, he flipped the coin. Mina called it and soon she and Travis were walking into the maze, taking an immediate left. Marcus and Aiko followed them in, taking a right. With the pups out of sight, Audrey breathed a sigh of relief. "They even took the right path. Everything is going according to plan," Audrey said, her tail wagging faster.

Elsewhere...

"I toldja I'd catch 'im this time, Pa!" Zach excitedly held up a squirming and honking burlap sack. "Now we can head on home and help out with the maze!"

"Uh... that's great, Son," Dorian said, scratching his head, having figured that it would have taken Zach much longer to catch Goliath, what with the goose's reputation for being crafty during its many escapades. He was trying to think of a reason why they couldn't just go home as Zach carried the sack over to the farmhouse, having ended up right back at where they had started the chase through many twists and turns.

"Oh boy, I told Auddey that this was gunna go screwball on us," he mumbled to himself under his breath.

Back at the ranch...

"Okay, the maze this year is definitely harder," Ty said as he and Lizzy went around one corner after another, nearing the treeline.

"I'll say! I wonder what the prize will be to complete it this year?" Lizzy wondered.

"I dunno. Maybe some freshly baked pumpkin pies from Mrs. Hunter?"

"Oh, that sounds so good," Lizzy said, patting her stomach. They came to a dead end, with a tall and leafless tree just beyond the corn border.

"Huh, what a creepy-looking tree," Ty said aloud. It was a long and lanky light brown tree. It had two branches jutting out at two different angles halfway up, with a tall branch standing straight up. It had something near the top. Lizzy looked up and squinted.

"What are those cones?" she asked. Just then, the two branches twitched and started to move in jerky motions. It was just before the alarm started to blare from the speakers that Ty realized what this was.

"No way... they put in an Alarmhead!" At first, the raccoon boy was excited, before the Alarmhead before them took a large step towards them. Wordlessly, Lizzy turned and started to run from the blaring alarm behind her, hearing loud and clunky footsteps. Ty was holding on for dear life, looking back and seeing Alarmhead stalking towards them, clumsily swinging its massive clawed arms.

"We need to go faster," he said.

Giselle giggled to herself. "This is so much fun! Also, the targets took a left," she said into the mic in the cone around her head. Her stilts stumbled a little, but she caught herself, unaware she knocked over a scarecrow as she pursued the grizzly bear and raccoon riding her shoulders.

A few rows over, Travis and Mina heard the siren. "What is that?" the goat girl asked, shivering a little.

"Some kind of alarm? Probably some kind of trap triggered by someone," Travis said, rubbing his chin. They came to a fork. The left path had some fake cobwebs draped about the stalks. The right path was lit with strings of small jack-o-lantern lights, held up by posts stuck in the ground. "Which way do you think we should go?"

Mina looked at the fake cobwebs and shuddered. "Since I'm guessing that the left path will have something to do with spiders, I say we try the right path."

"Alright, right it is!" Travis started walking with Mina sticking close to the buck's side. From within the stalks Qali watched and clamped a paw over her muzzle, lest her excited giggling give her location away. She scampered up ahead and got into position. The moment that Travis and Mina got close enough to the puppet disguised as one of the many creepy scarecrows set up along the different paths, she would tug on the fishing line strings, making it lunge at them, hopefully making them hurry down the right offshoot, instead of continuing forward. Her ears perked up at the sound of the soft hoofsteps and the chatting from the two as they approached. Qali held her breath as the kits came in sight, and then yanked the strings while also hissing as ferociously as she could.

Mina's eyes went wide as a faceless sack-cloth scarecrow wearing an old flannel shirt and jeans jumped out at her. She let out a shriek and started to run down the offshoot. "Slow down, Mina," Travis called after her. While Qali felt a little bad at scaring the kits, she still admitted to herself that it was fun, and it was to help serve a greater good. She then dashed across the path, tripping on a string of lights. As she ran, her bushy white tail wagging, she was unaware that the string of pumpkin lights had gotten tangled with her foot.

Further up north, Marcus and Aiko were walking along a path, surprised at how calm and peaceful everything seemed. There were some scarecrows and cobwebs and strings of lights, and there was the alarm from earlier that had stopped all of a sudden, adding to the spooky atmosphere, but overall they hadn't run into any scares yet. The two then came onto a clearing. Set down in the center of the clearing was a red and white checkered blanket with a picnic basket sitting right on top of it. Aiko sniffed the air, smelling fresh baked sweets with a hint of chocolate.

"Huh... that doesn't seem too scary," Marcus said, scratching his head in confusion.

"I think I can smell chocolate chip cookies," Aiko said, her stomach letting out a loud grumble.

Marcus sniffed and blushed, only barely able to smell the cookies. "I think I can smell them... but it could just be a trick."

"Agreed," Aiko said as they approached the basket. The red panda girl carefully lifted up a corner of the blanket, confirming there was no hole being covered up. Marcus lightly tapped the basket with his boot, with both of them silently backing away quickly. The basket made no sound or anything. Slowly, they approached it again, Aiko reaching out and quickly tossing open the lid. Inside were over a dozen golden-brown chocolate chip cookies. The smell of the cookies hit the two of them and, both taking a moment to look around, they sat down on the picnic blanket and each grabbed one.

"This is so nice," Aiko said, biting into a cookie.

"I'll say," Marcus said with a wide grin, recognizing the taste of his Grandmaw's cookies. "Maybe this is a li'l rest area? Ta give folks a break from all the spookiness?"

"Maybe! This whole maze is just so wonderful and fun!"

Marcus reached into the basket without looking, and felt his fingers brush up against something fuzzy and warm. He looked down and saw that he and Aiko, presumably reaching for the same cookie, had instead grabbed each other's hands. She looked up at him as he looked down at her, blushes on both of their faces. They quickly let go and turned to look away. Marcus looked up at the sky, noticing some stars starting to twinkle into existence.

"Uhm... it's a really nice night out," he said, feeling embarrassed that that was all he was able to think to say.

"Y-yeah," Aiko stammered, feeling a bit flustered.

"Uhm... Aiko?" Marcus asked, feeling nervous.

"Yes, Marcus?"

"Do ya... I mean, is there any mammal that you... uh... l-like?" Aiko looked over, surprised, her face even redder than before, feeling butterflies flutter about in her stomach.

"Wh-what?!" she asked, clamping her muzzle shut as she looked down at her wringing hands.

"I-I just was... curious."

"W-well... y-yes... there's someone I l-like... but I don't know if h-he feels the same way," Aiko said, looking up at Marcus. He looked away.

"O-oh... is he someone I know?" Now Marcus' face was becoming even more red.

"Yes. D-do you like anybody?" Aiko asked without thinking, hoping she didn't sound too curious.

"... Yes... but I don't know iffin she feels the same way either," Marcus said in a quiet voice. Aiko leaned forward, setting her hand down on the blanket right next to Marcus'. Marcus looked down at her, and also leaned forward. He gulped and shifted his hand, so that it was now resting on top of Aiko's. They looked into each other's eyes, and began to lean in closer. Audrey watched and withheld a coo. The plan had worked perfectly. That is until a high pitched yip rang out. Marcus and Aiko, almost nose to nose, froze, turning their heads, along with Audrey, in the direction of the sound.

In crawled Rose, the little wolf/tiger hybrid giggling and squealing happily as she made a beeline right for her big brother. Marcus and Aiko both scooted away from one another, still blushing. Marcus cracked a wide grin and held his arms open, scooping up his baby sister and cradling her. Her tail, which was long and skinny, but ended in an orange and black striped fluff at the end, swish-wagged as she purred in Marcus' arms.

"Hi there, Rose," Marcus said, tickling her little feet, eliciting more giggles from the baby.

"How did she get here?" Aiko asked, scooting closer to coo at the cute little hybrid.

"I dunno, but I suspect that Quinnley was involved," Marcus said, grinning down to Aiko, who smiled back up at him. "But I think maybe we should try ta find the exit. This maze might be too scary for Rose."

"Agreed," Aiko said, standing up and grabbing the picnic basket. As the two walked out of the clearing and down the path they had come, Audrey watched from within the corn, her mouth hanging wide open. It was then that she realized her phone was buzzing. She pulled it out and swiped it to see a text from Dawn.

Quinnley staged a jailbreak. She, Sadie, and Rachel were caught, but Rose is missing! Audrey sighed and smiled warmly, sending Dawn a quick text explaining that Rose had been found. The older she-wolf chuckled. Rose must've sniffed out Marcus' scent and followed that. She moved back out through the stalks, coming upon a strange sight. Yuri and Wade were both lying underneath Giselle, who was splayed out on her back. Near the giraffe's stilts was a tangled ball of now blinking lights and Qali, with Trent trying to untangle her.

"Sweet sawgrass, Snowball, how'd ya go an get yerself all tangled up in the lights again this year?" he asked while Qali whined.

"It wasn't my fault this time! I mean, okay, my foot got caught in them and then I tripped and got my legs and arms tangled, but I was about to get out of it until Giselle stumbled through the patch, her stilts getting caught and dragging me along before she finally tripped and fell over onto Wade and Yuri!" Qali looked up at her mate with pleading eyes while the white wolf just chuckled and continued his slow and meticulous work.

"Wade, please tell yer mate to get off us before she crushes us to death," Yuri groaned and growled. Wade also groaned but was more concerned with Giselle.

"Hon, are ya okay?"

"Oof. I think I'm fine, love. Oi! That's my tail that's bein' tugged on!" The giraffe snorted with a laugh.

"I know my Mookie wouldn't go and feels up some otha goil, especially not one of my sisters," Ada said with her arms crossed as she stepped out from the corn, looking down at her mate. Yuri winced but held up both of his paws.

"Ain't me, Ada," he said.

"Sorry, Gizzy," Wade said with a slight blush, pulling his paws out from underneath. "I thought I was grabbin' the light string." Giselle rolled over a little, allowing the two black wolves to scramble out from underneath her and get to their feet.

Honey and Vanna both stepped out from the corn as well, the badger chuckling while Vanna sighed and shook her head.

"Why am I not surprised," the tigress said. She looked over and saw Travis and Mina as well as Lizzy and Ty staring at the group.

"Oh no," Travis said, stepping forward. "Is Miss Giselle okay?"

"Aside from a little soreness, I'm just fine. Once we get the lights untangled from my stilts, I'll be able to take 'em off and get up," Giselle explained. After a few minutes, Giselle and Qali were freed, and the Giraffe was helped up by her mate. Sending the pups on ahead, Audrey quietly explained what happened. "Serves us right," Vanna said, looking uncomfortable, "tricking the kittens like that."

"From what it sounds like," Trent interjected, "it sounds like we at least got the ball rollin'."

"Oh my goodness, it just sounds so cute!" Qali practically squealed, jumping for joy as they exited the maze. They found Malcolm, Xavier, and Vernon just outside the maze. Apparently, the siren caused Ully to panic and he dropped the sand, yelling something about that being a zombie attack siren and ran into the maze. Honey sighed.

"I'll go find him," she said, turning and heading back into the maze. Marcus and Aiko were sharing the cookies with their friends, as well as with Alice, Travor, and Lily. The kids were all ushered inside the house, with promises of pumpkin pie. Most of the adults headed inside as well, leaving Audrey and Vanna standing out in the gloom.

"I'm just glad that Goofball wasn't here for this, otherwise it could have gotten a lot worse," Vanna said.

"Well, I'm sure he's startin' to come around to likin' those pups," Audrey replied, just as Dorian's cruiser pulled in. Out hopped Zach who sprinted straight into the maze.

"Don't worry, son, Pa's comin'!" he cried as he ran, quickly becoming lost from sight.

Dorian approached his mate and daughter-in-law with a sigh. "Zach started questionin' why ol' Goliath got out a second and third time today, and he guessed that I wasn't bein' truthful 'bout somethin'. I tried my best ta keep from spillin' the beans about the plan, but the boy's got the Hunter's nose, and sniffed right through each lie. Finally, I figured that I could explain ta him the plan and how Aiko's a nice girl on the way back, but he just flew into a panic and reached over with his foot to stomp on the gas."

Vanna facepawed, thankful her mate and Papa Hunter hadn't been in an accident as a result. In the corn maze, Zach was aware of Vanna calling his name, but he ignored it, following Marcus' scent. Through some twists and turns, he came onto a clearing. In the center, standing on a red and white checkered picnic blanket, stood Ulric, with his back to Zach. Quickly, the auburn wolf approached his fidgeting brother.

"Hey, Ully, have ya seen Marcus and Aiko?" he asked. Ulric yelped and turned, his eyes wide. He reached into his pocket and threw something into Zach's eyes.

"Pocket sand!" Ulric cried, before running off into the corn while Zach spluttered and whined, rubbing his eyes.

I really hope that you all enjoyed the special Samhain Side-Story! I hope that you all have a fun and safe Samhain as well!

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parkerpeter24 · 2 years

Text

get a mistletoe

pairing ➳ peter parker

warnings ➳ just fluff :)

anybody ask for a spoiler free, cute christmas fic? here, i got you one. a special thanks to @glowunderthemoon for inspiration <3

peter was all about gifts. gifting stuff to the people he deeply cared about was one of his favorite things in the whole world. seeing the priceless expression of joy and surprise etched onto the faces of his loved ones made him feel warm. so there he was, on the day of christmas eve, and your annual traditional party, in an alley, changing back into his regular clothes quickly so he could do some last minute gift shopping for you.

he shivered as another cold breeze hit his bare legs, making him hurry up and pull his pants up. this, in his opinion, was the most boring part of the job. peter enjoyed catching criminals in the middle of a big, planned hiest, or even a small bank robbery was good, but this was no fun. changing into his normal clothes and then changing back into his suit. boring.

peter remembered the way you rubbed the tip of your nose with the palm of your hand just to feel it because it was so cold outside, or the way your muffler was complimenting your jacket because of the colour combination you chose. he also noticed the way your hands were missing gloves. the slight shivering in them made him offer to warm them up with his own, blaming the blush that rose to his cheeks on the ferocious cold.

you spoke softly as you both stood near a tree in central park. you had called him there to invite him and may over at yours for christmas eve dinner and he wasn’t hesitant in saying yes. it was a christmas tradition after all.

year after year, your families carried on spending christmas together and neither of you would have had it any other way. may’s fruitcake and your mom’s “famous”, as peter liked to refer to it, roasted chicken.

“i invited ned, mj and harry as well. you don’t mind, do you? they seemed pretty excited.” you said with a smile, feeling the warmth of both of peter’s hands engulfing yours.

“the more, the merrier?” he shrugged and both of you let out a chuckle.

so as promised, peter was hoping to show up at the party. shaking the provocative thought of wanting a holiday around christmas, the friendly neighborhood- no, peter, entered the newly opened giftshop a little further from his apartment that he had noticed one evening while patrolling.

“what are you making?” peter asked as he peeked into your paper, you instantly pulling it out of his vision as a response.

“hey! no peeping, draw your own card!” you answered, grabbing another crayon from amongst the ones that were sprawled out over the table, dodging your hot chocolate cup by mere inches.

“aren’t we a little old for this?” peter asked, taking a sip from his cup, a little masked jedi printed over the cup you gifted him last year for christmas. he placed the artifact down before picking up a green marker and scribbling down, ‘merry christmas! from, peter parker :)’

“we’re never too old for this, peter, it’s christmas cards!” grinning as you wrote down your own wishes, you said, catching a glimpse of peter really focused on giving his tree dimensions with the gray crayon, his tongue poking out. ‘thought so’ rang all over in your head but you didn’t dare spit it out, wanting to watch him like that for as long as possible.

“all done!” peter triumphed, instantly grabbing his cup to take another sip from his delicious, hot chocolate, but his hand slipped and the liquid went down, making a big blotch all over the drawing he’d made, “NO!”

peter was devastated. how could he be so careless. he remembered bringing his wallet along with him when he left his apartment, but now it was missing. “must’ve dropped out of my bag or something.” he mumbled grubly, keeping down the unwrapped gift, that he was looking forward to buy for you, back onto the counter.

the lady at the counter sympathised with peter as he searched the pockets in his jacket to find some extra money he might’ve left there but, not to his luck, there wasn’t anything. he looked up at the young woman and smiled apologetically, “is there any way-”

peter’s sentence was cut short by the hair at the nape of his neck rising. a thing he was all too familiar with now. he looked around with the evidence of a suspicious brow raised for anything that seemed shady.

the place wasn’t full of people but there were considerable amount of customers there and he was sure his intuition was right. so he turned around awkwardly and made a beeline for the exit of the gift shop, quickly making his way out.

and there went he, back to the alleyway.

“see, how’s that?” you held out the card to him, showing him the renovations you had made ‘merry christmas and a happy new year, from y/n! and peter!’, “good as ever! right?”

peter stared at the card, taking an instant liking to it after his gaze fell on both your names written side by side, “it’s even better than mine.”

“okay, ned, it’s your turn!” you clapped your hands together, settling in between harry and peter, and throwing an arm around the brunette’s shoulder, after handing ned the gift you’d bought for him.

peter smiled, watching his best friend dig through the large box decorated with cheap christmas gift wrap and pull out a darth vader sweater and the smile that instantly covered his face was worth it, “thanks, y/n, this is so awesome!” the boy cheered.

you chuckled and your head then turned towards peter, leaving a very excited ned, pulling his new darth vader sweater over his head. a grin was plastered on your face, “and what have you brought for me?”

you and your friends were doing secret santa this year. betty had given mj a book on the theory of relativity to which the girl with curly brunette locks smiled; mj handed harry a set of three dimensional puzzles, along with a sketch of him from that time when he had fell down in the ground during lunch; harry had bought an over the top expensive watch for peter which he hesitated to accept; ned had given his gift to betty, handmade, matching, beaded bracelets that spelled the others’ name; and since peter was now the only one left, it was very safe to say that he was the one giving you the gift.

“actually, i...” peter hesitated, looking at your beaming smile. he knew you would be disappointed but after watching your face he couldn’t have the courage to tell you that he couldn’t get you anything, “um, actually, can i give it to you somewhere private, where there are not so many people?”

your friends were understanding and gave you two some privacy. peter closed the door to your room after everyone left and turned around to you still sitting on the bed.

you. you who cared so much to invite all of your friends to this party. you who reached early to every christmas eve dinner which was held at their apartment and helped may set the table. you who didn’t even know about his brewing feelings for you. you who never said no to his requests of letting him stop by your apartment for a late night snack. you who were the most important to him.

then how could he fail to get a simple christmas present for you.

“i’m sorry.” he sighed, moving towards your bed and leaning against one of its bedposts.

you stood up, moving over to him, “sorry? what for, pete?”

“you know why?” spider-man asked, covering the man’s mouth with a press of his web shooters, “because that’s what you deserve!” the thief who was now hanging upside-down was struggling to get out of the everlasting hold of the white fluid.

with a command for karen to call the police, he wasn’t too long to leave the scene before he found himself swinging away.

and that’s how he ended up not getting a gift for you.

peter stood in front of you, hands going to grab your arms, “i haven’t been the greatest best friend lately..” he cringed at himself. at the mention of himself as your ‘best friend’.

“what are you talking about? you’ve been great, bestie!” you tried to act normal, chuckling as though him being this close to you didn’t affect you in the slightest. but peter could hear the puff of air that left your mouth and the increase in your heartbeat when his hand raised up to your face and pushed back a strand of hair, that threatened to fall in front of it, he could see the enlargement of your pupils.

you thought he couldn’t possibly move closer to your body but he somehow did. chests pressed against each other as peter rested his forehead on yours, “but the thing that i’m trying to say is-”

knock. a sudden knock on the door pulled both yours and peter’s attention to the intrusive sound, and unfortunately, away from each other.

“kids! it’s time for dinner, come on out!” may’s voice called from the other side of the door.

you looked to the door as peter gave you a slight nod, lips pursed as ever, to go ahead and open it.

“hey, may! we were just coming out anyway.” you smiled, looking back to peter who made his way to the door with a sullen look, “don’t worry, champ, you can give me your gift later!” you chuckled to lighten his mood before the couple of you followed may out to the dinner table.

the atmosphere was already lively and filled with everyone telling stories from past. you joined them, sitting across from peter as you joined the conversation.

it was when your dad was telling a story about the first time he visited the farm with his grandpa that you noticed peter staring down at his dessert plate.

without thinking, you slid your foot further, under the table, until it was nudging his. peter’s eyes snapped up and he caught you already looking at him. you raised your eyebrows in question and made a sad face just like his was a few seconds ago.

he gave you a shrug, dismissing the topic altogether. you could tell peter was trying hard to focus on the stories but something was on his mind.

once again, you extended your foot and tapped it against his gently, indicating him to follow you before excusing yourselves, “guys, me and peter will just be back in a second.”

you stood up and peter followed behind quickly, leaving the others to continue with their chatter.

“what’s wrong?” you asked the brunette once the two of you were out of the others’ hearing range.

“it’s just that...” peter sighed. obviously he had to tell you now, “i couldn’t get you a gift.” you scrunched your eyebrows at that statement, peter completely misreading your demeanor and expecting the worst, “i-i know i should have, and believe me i went to, i was in the shop! but then something happened, but it is my fault, and specially since i really like you, so much, but that’s such an uncalled for reason.”

“woah woah woah, peter.” you placed your hands over his, eyes softening at the boy who looked nervous than ever, “hey, it’s okay, i understand. i just...” you could practically feel your cheeks warming up as you tried to frame a sentence, “did you say that you like me?”

you couldn’t believe that he had said that. maybe your mind was playing tricks on you and it was just a misunderstanding. but all that went to the waters when peter slowly nodded his head, a blush rising to his cheeks.

you looked into his soft brown eyes conveying so many emotions. most prominent among those was nervousness. you could clearly see that he was growing anxious with every second that you remained silent.

“can i kiss you?” you finally found yourself saying after making sure your friends and family were still indulged in laughing and talking.

“y-you wanna kiss me?”

“yeah, that’s why i asked.” you chuckled softly, not helping peter’s blush and as if his face could get any more red than it already was, it did. he nodded, closing his eyes, his lips puckering out in a pout.

you adored this boy. caressing his cheek with one hand, the other travelling to back his head to play with the tiny curls, you pressed your lips against his. you felt his soft lips move against yours and it felt just right, like you’d never wanna part for air.

but before that thought could leave your mind, the sound of ned shrieking made you jump apart from one another.

“dudes! it’s christmas, at least get yourself a mistletoe!”

taglist ✨ masterlist

taglist + mutuals and blogs that i luv : @celestialholland // @spideyspeaches // @prancerrparkerr // @hollandslittlekoala // @deepika-padukone // @theglitterymess // @quaksonhehe // @lowkey-holland // @hollandbroz-n-haz // @spooky-season-bitch // @piscesparker // @oxyparker // @wildxwidow // @samaraaaaa // @annab-nana // @lovelytholland // @wideeyegaze // @hollanderfangirl // @sleighbellspideyy // @kelieah // @veryholland // @osterfieldshollandgirl // @the-girl-in-the-chair // @hollandsmushroom // @okbutwhatifidontwantto // @t-lostinworlds // @parkersdahlia // @tomhollandsblog // @astrosurreptitious // @devotion // @screamholland

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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shipskicksandgiggles · 2 years

Text

Title: Lucky Number 13

Pairing: Harley Keener x Peter Parker

Summary:

Warnings: none

A/N: sorry, 13 is my lucky number, so here's this

AO3 Link

~~~

One

“It’s going to be a good day. I’m calling it right now.”

Rhodey placed a cup of coffee in his hands. “Is it now?”

Tony slid a plate of breakfast across the counter. “Harley, it’s Friday the 13th.”

Harley grinned. “Exactly. It’s my lucky day.”

Two

“Where’s the meeting?”

“It is on the-” Pepper checked her notes and shuddered. “It’s on the 13th floor.”

“Most buildings don’t have a 13th floor,” Harley mentioned.

“Well, it’s a bad omen, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Harley said. “I think it means we’re going to nail this.”

She gave him a weird look, but straightened her posture. “You know what? Yeah we are.”

Three

Harley scribbled on his tablet as quickly as the woman spoke. If he was able to work out the potential investment outcome before Pepper could make a snap judgment, they might not have to turn her down.

Finally, the woman came to her conclusion. “We know starting at $13,000 is low, and you have no reason to take on something that won’t make a substantial addition in your profit, but please consider us on merit alone?”

“I agree, your merit is valuable, but if you really want this deal…” Pepper trailed off as Harley whispered in her ear and showed the calculations. She nodded, and he stepped back. “…you wouldn’t be so unsure of yourself. You have yourself a deal, Doctor Fray. Watch for an email with an SI tag within the next week.”

“Oh my god, thank you,” the woman gasped. “Thank you, so much.”

“It’s risky,” Pepper mumbled as they walked back into the elevator.

“Calculated risks are exactly that: calculated. Not to mention I ran a background check on the company, and they’re legit. Can you take me to school? I don’t want to be late.”

Four

“And here we are, 15 minutes early.”

“The clock on the car is slow, we’re actually 13 minutes early.”

Pepper patted his cheek affectionately. “You are a strange child. Go on, make some friends. Your dad is picking you up later.”

“Thanks Pep! See you later!”

He stepped out of the car and dragged his school bag with him. His friends should be there by now, and he was looking forward to his last day of school before the weekend.

Five

“Did you get the answer to number 13?”

“On the stats homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Harley shuffled through his bag and pulled out a blue binder. “Is it the problem on mutual exclusion?”

Ned nodded miserably. “I don’t know why it’s not clicking.”

“It happens, don’t worry about it. Just think about a venn diagram. What doesn’t go in the middle.”

He watched him try to work it out for a second before jotting down an answer and checking it against Harley’s. “Huh.”

“You got it?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Is Harley saving your math grade again?” Peter dropped his lunch across the table from them.

“When is he not?”

“Like you don’t need my help in English, Parker.”

“Watch your mouth or I won’t tutor you in Spanish anymore. You still good to give me a lift to work later?”

“Dad’s driving me home, so sure. He probably won’t kick you out of the car if you give me shit again.” The bell rang, and Harley tossed his trash in the nearest bin. “I’ll come walk you from your last hour. You’ve got history right?”

“Just meet me at my locker. I can walk myself back.”

They parted ways, and before Harley had a chance to ask why Peter didn’t want him to come to his last hour, Ned answered. “He doesn’t want to give Flash any more ammunition than he already has.”

“Noted.”

The gears were already turning in Harley’s head.

Six

Room 313. Astronomy.

It was a small class. Not many people cared about stars at a school designed for more traditional STEM fields, but it was Harley’s favorite class of the day.

He sat in his usual seat next to MJ, and snuck a look at her notebook.

“Mind your business, Keener.”

“Never, Jones.”

“Any reason you’re wearing a suit today?”

“Had to work this morning.”

“And yet you’re still in an uncharacteristically good mood.”

“It’s my lucky day. I thought you’d agree.”

“I just like Friday the 13th because it freaks everyone else out.”

“There’s my MJ.”

“Yo Keener!”

Harley paused and let out a long sigh before turning away from Michelle. “What, Eugene?”

“Is there any reason you look like more of a bitch than usual today?”

“Is there any reason you’re more of an asshole?”

Flash made a face at him. “Let me guess, another day of ‘working’ for Stark Industries?”

“Well you know me, it’s not work if it doesn’t take any effort. Helps that I love it.”

“Christ, you’re awful.”

“I actually think I’m quite lovely,” Harley snarked.

“Fuck off,” Flash scoffed.

He turned back to MJ and rolled his eyes. “Anyways, speaking of good luck, Peter has history last period, right?”

Seven

Because Harley’s chemistry teacher didn’t really want to be there on Friday afternoons either, he let the class out a few minutes early. That’s how he ended up in front of Peter’s history class at 2:13pm.

He stood off to the side of the door, just out of sight, but he popped his head around the corner and caught Peter’s gaze, who rolled his eyes at his antics. Unfortunately, this meant Flash noticed him too.

When the class let out, he saw Peter rush to shove his notebook in his bag. He ducked into the classroom and leaned against the desk in front of his.

“I told you I’d meet you at our lockers.”

“And I told you I’d walk you back from class. You’re on my way anyways.”

Peter sighed. “I wish you hadn’t.”

“Aww, does Penis Parker need a bodyguard? That’s cute.” Flash Thompson needed to learn a lesson in minding his own business.

“Actually, I do,” Harley told him.

“You need a bodyguard?” Flash scoffed. “Sure, I can’t imagine what you would be like if someone hit your pretty face.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He acted touched. “I just need a body to act as a guard so I don’t hurt people who aren’t worth the effort.”

Flash rolled his eyes. “You’re a bitch, Keener.”

“You’re an ass, Thompson. Ready to go, darlin’?”

Peter gave him half a smile and took the arm Harley extended. “Jerk.”

“You love it,” Harley winked.

Eight

-list of lives I've broken reach from here to hell // Bad luck wind been blowing at my back // I pray you don't look at me, I pray I don't look back

“What the hell are you listening to?”

“That’s no way to greet your dear old dad.” Rhodey unlocked the car doors and popped the trunk.

“Exactly, you’re old, which means you shouldn’t subject us to your taste in music. Seriously, what is this?” Harley didn’t even wait for an answer before he grabbed his phone. “Thirteen by Johnny Cash? Really?”

“It’s just what came on,” he shrugged. “ And I wanted to be on theme. Anyways, you love my taste in music, don’t lie.”

“Whatever man. Change it please.”

“As you wish, your Highness. How are you, Peter?”

“Hi Colonel Rhodes! I’m good.”

“Good, back to the Tower then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll change the music back if you two are quiet for the rest of the ride.”

“Deal” they chorused. After all, it wasn’t too far of a drive.

Nine

“Are you working on chem?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m stuck. Come help?”

It was fairly common that before either of them did any lab work, they would work on any homework they had left.

Peter pushed his chair away from his own desk. “Where?”

“There,” Harley pointed at a formula. “Something isn’t fitting right.”

“I think you’re missing an element,” Peter said, squinting at it. “You totally are. Try again, add your favorite element.”

“How on earth does mercury fit in with this?” Harley asked, baffled. “The chemical properties would probably cause it to react in a way that-”

“Hey, super genius,” Peter interrupted. “Your favorite element. Atomic number 13.”

Harley paused. “Aluminum? Really?” He looked back down at his notebook. “Would you look at that? Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Ten

“What are you working on?”

Homework tucked away in his school bag, Harley was absorbed in one of his side projects until Peter started him out of his reverie.

“Birthday present for Abbie. She turns 13 next month.”

“She’s officially going to be a teenager. How’s that feel?”

He set down his screwdriver and looked up at Peter. “It feels like I’m getting old. She’s my baby sister, she’s not allowed to grow up.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Whatever you make her is going to be great, I know it.

Eleven

“How long do you think Manhattan is?”

Peter gave him a weird look. “Why do you want to know?”

“Curiosity mostly. I can have JARVIS check.”

“Manhattan is approximately 13 miles in length, sir,” JARVIS answered.

“What are you thinking?” Peter asked.

“Ironlad vs Spider-Man. Want to race?”

"Oh you're on."

Twelve

Tony greeted them in the living room. “We’re having a movie night if you want to join us.”

“He’s trying to make me watch 13 Going On 30 kids! Save me!” Rhodey called from the couch.”

“Really, pops?” Harley asked, unimpressed. “That’s your 13 themed movie?”

“Thank you, Harley,” his dad said. “I keep saying we should watch Ocean's 13.”

“How did it get worse?”

“Are you not watching Friday the 13th because it’s too obvious or…?” Peter trailed.

“None of us really like horror movies,” Harley shrugged. “Could I offer a compromise?”

“Sure,” Tony allowed. “I don’t know how you could possibly get better than 13 Going On 30, but whatever.”

“Apollo 13?”

“Oh, I love that movie,” Peter said.

“In all fairness, we haven’t seen it in forever. I think we’re due a rewatch.”

Tony gasped dramatically. “My own husband turned against me in my hour of need. How dare you?”

Rhodey gave him an unimpressed look. “Just get your popcorn and sit down, dumbass. Take your seats, boys, the movie is about to begin.”

Thirteen

It was late, but Harley was laying upside down on his bed while Peter sat in his desk chair. The movie had ended a while ago, but neither of them wanted to turn in for the night.

“Can you explain it again? I don’t get it.”

Peter sighed. “You need to give me a number between one and fifty, and I’ll read off whichever prompt that number aligns with.”

“Do I even need to tell you a number?”

“I bet I can guess. Alright, so number 13… Actually, this is a stupid game, let’s do something else.”

“This was your idea dude, come on, just read the thing.”

“Fine, fine. ‘Look at the person to your right and tell them what song they remind you of, and then listen to that song as well’.”

“You know what? You’re right, this is a stupid game.”

“Harley, you made me read the prompt. Just answer the question. I’ll answer it too if it makes you feel more comfortable. That way we can both listen to something and no one has to suffer in silence. Deal?”

“I’ll take it.”

“Alright, send me a link to your song when you have it.”

Harley hesitated between two songs. Finally, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and chose.

He sent it to Peter.

“I’ll go find my spare set of headphones while you find your song,” he said, getting up and walking to one of his shelves.

“Don’t bother, I have mine with me.” Peter pulled his earbuds out of his pocket. “Just sent yours through.”

“Great, thanks.” He connected his headphones and clicked on the song.

Don’t you hear me? I’m talking to you. Across the water, across the deep blue ocean, under the ocean sky, oh my-

Harley glanced up at Peter before looking back down at his phone just so he could gauge his reaction. He knew he picked a risky song, but it was about time he took a risk.

Peter needed to hear it.

Finding that song without Peter’s influence was a miracle. He was always the one who liked sci-fi books. Hitchhikers was his favorite.

Still, Harley loved that song, it always made him think of Peter.

You make it easier when life gets hard. I’m lucky I’m in love with my best friend-

His eyes shot back up. What? This song reminded Peter of him?

There was almost a whole minute after Harley’s song ended before Peter’s did. Harley knew because he counted the seconds, holding his breath.

“Are you making fun of me?” Peter asked. “Because honestly, I’m flattered, and this song is… Harley? Are you okay?”

“Are you in love with me?” Harley asked quietly. Breathlessly. He could feel his face burning.

Peter’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“It’s a yes or no question Peter. Because if you’re not, and if you’re mocking me, you’d better knock it off.”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes I’m in love with you.”

Harley stared at him for a moment. “Holy fucking shit.”

“I’m sorry. If that freaks you out, I can-”

Harley launched himself off the bed and dragged Peter up out of his chair.

“Oh my god, please don’t hit me.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?” Harley repeated. “Because I really want to kiss you right now.”

“Okay.”

Kissing Peter felt like coming home.

When they came apart, Harley let out a hysterical giggle.

“What now?”

He looked at Peter with a smile. “It really is my lucky day.”

#parkner #ellis writes #harley keener #peter parker #fluff

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Text

The Love We Have

Part 1/5 - AO3 - Next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen... only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None?? Maybe... I'll add them later if I remember any.

(Written as a prompt that got way out of hand for @dani-dandelino and beta'd by @professorjaskier)

____

The path up the mountain was steep, treacherous and fucking cold. Jaskier felt himself slipping on the loose rocks underfoot. He yelped, ready to meet his maker but Geralt’s strong arms wrapped around his waist before he could hit the floor. It was all very reminiscent of a lover’s embrace.

One could only dream.

Geralt had been particularly stoic on the trek up The Killer, barely responding to even direct questions and grunting orders when they set up camp for the night, but there was none of their usual banter. Unfortunately, Jaskier’s fingers had been too frozen to pluck at his lute, leaving a deafening silence between them. To top it off Geralt was now glaring at him from across the campfire.

Jaskier sighed, stuffing his hands under his armpits, pulling his hood closer around his ears. “Geralt?”

Geralt’s eyes widened as he seemed to finally register their surroundings, and he let out a low hum.

“Have- have I done something wrong?”

The crease between Geralt’s brows deepened, his jaws clenching. “No.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, scoffing haughtily. “Oh sure. Sure. So that’s why you’re acting all…” Jaskier trailed off, gesturing at Geralt’s direction with a flick of his wrist.

“Hmm.”

“Oh no. No, no, no. We are not doing this!” Jaskier tried to put his hands on his hips but the motion let a biting cold breeze into the thick woollen travelling coat that Geralt had insisted he buy for the journey to Kaer Morhen. “You’ve been grumpier than usual and honestly, I wasn’t sure that was possible. What’s going on, Geralt?”

Geralt let out a long heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wore a weary expression that Jaskier thought was utterly adorable; not that he would ever tell Geralt that. He’d learnt the hard way how much a witcher’s punch to the gut could hurt. Instead, he rested his chin on his knees and pouted at his friend. “Come on, Geralt, you invited me here. No pretending that we aren’t friends anymore.”

Geralt smiled faintly at that and then sighed once more. “I haven’t been honest with you.”

“About us being friends?” Jaskier laughed “I stopped caring about that years ago. Your actions speak louder than words, my dear.”

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut. He was barely able to conceal his gleeful smirk. This felt like coming home after the stone-cold silences of the last few days. It almost warmed the chill in his bones; almost. It would take a veritable miracle at this stage to fend off the frost bite.

“Done?” Geralt growled and Jaskier nodded. Pressing his lips together. “We have an old tradition at Kaer Morhen, ever since…” Geralt trailed off with a growl. “It’s to protect us, our home.”

Jaskier raised his eyebrow, tongue flicking out to lick his lip, a habit he’d picked up to prevent himself from interrupting Geralt. His witcher often took longer to find the right words, and Jaskier had learnt it was better to be patient.

“Only significant others are allowed.”

Jaskier blinked and Geralt’s words hung heavy in the air.

“I’m. I’m sorry, what?” he gaped.

Significant other?

“You heard me, bard.”

Jaskier let out a nervous laugh, wringing his hands in his lap. “But. but we’re. we’re not?”

Oh, if only they were.

“I know that.”

“Then why?!” Jaskier wasn’t proud of the way his voice squeaked, jumping two octaves.

“I. I trust you.”

Jaskier scoffed. After nearly a decade of friendship he sincerely hoped that the witcher trusted him. He had been absolutely delighted when Geralt had extended the invitation to his elusive home in the mountains. He hated leaving Geralt over winter, the cold making his dorms at Oxenfurt seem even lonelier… but to pretend they were dating?

It was a little too close to the truth for comfort.

He was surprised Geralt had asked him at all. The witcher rarely admitted they were friends. Jaskier couldn’t imagine he’d be particularly thrilled about pretending to be lovers, and he had a brilliant imagination!

Unless, of course, Jaskier had gotten the wrong end of the stick. He could be jumping to conclusions. Geralt probably hadn’t meant for them to pretend to be lovers at all. It was just a pre-warning that Jaskier might not be entirely welcome until he earned the other witcher’s trust. They were breaking the rules. That was it.

“So…” he trailed off, not knowing how to voice his question. Geralt, helpfully grunted in response. Jaskier rolled his eyes and tried again. “Are you nervous about breaking the rules?”

Geralt frowned, that adorable little crease on his forehead deepening and Jaskier yearned to smooth it out with a press of his thumb, but alas the witcher remained grumpy and unobtainable. “They won’t know,” he huffed.

If Jaskier had been eating or drinking at that moment, then he certainly would have choked on it or spat it out all over the floor in his shock. As it was, he almost fell off the log he was perching on. “I’m sorry?”

“They’ll make assumptions. We won’t correct them.”

Jaskier was sure that his jaw would never leave the floor. “We. we won’t?”

“No.”

“Alrighty…”

An awkward silence fell over the camp. The crackling of the fire suddenly sounded louder than any tavern in Oxenfurt. Jaskier could hear every breath like a hurricane blowing through the camp, the howling of distant wolves clawing down his spine. What felt like hours was probably only seconds when the silence became too much to bear.

“Oh ho ho, no. No, no, no. No. I’m sorry. What the fuck, Geralt?”

Geralt sighed and pressed his fingers to his forehead. “I should have asked sooner.”

“Do you even know what you’re asking of me?” Jaskier peered suspiciously at the witcher, wringing his hands in his lap and flexing his fingers. He desperately wanted his lute, his notebook… something, anything.

“Just don’t correct them?”

Jaskier snorted. “Just don’t correct them?” he asked incredulously “Oh sure, it’s that simple. Geralt, my dear, you’re asking me to pretend I’m in love with you.”

Jaskier barely managed to conceal his flinch.

Pretend.

Hah!

If only it were that simple. He was a pretty decent actor, most graduates of Oxenfurt were, but to act like he was only pretending to be in love with Geralt? That would be perhaps his toughest role to date.

And it would fucking hurt. Especially since Geralt hadn’t seemed to have realised he would have to do the same.

“Fuck.”

Jaskier tilted his head at the witcher, brushing his fringe from his eyes, his hand shivering from the cold. The penny had apparently dropped; finally.

He smirked, “Well, I was thinking we’d only have to kiss but if you insist?”

Geralt growled and pushed him onto the floor.

____

That night had been a particularly awkward one. The biting cold meant that Jaskier had to curl up into Geralt’s side to prevent himself from freezing to death. Geralt would normally wrap his arms around Jaskier in his sleep, making it more comfortable for both of them. But when he woke Geralt was lying rigid next to him; only staying as close as absolutely necessary and nothing more.

They ate their breakfast in silence, with even Jaskier’s normal chatter and noise absent. Jaskier was starting to get really sick of silences but he knew that Geralt needed a chance to process. The witcher would only blow up in his face if he said something now. It was a struggle for both of them. Jaskier was always desperate to fill the silence. He never enjoyed being left alone with his own thoughts and chattering about everything and nothing helped to calm the anxiety inducing void, and yet he knew that Geralt sometimes needed time. He would normally be scribbling away in his notebook, or carving patterns into the dirt with his boots, anything to keep busy, keep moving. Instead, he tapped out silent lute fingerings on his leg beneath the cloak and chewed on his lip, only stopping when he tasted the sharp tang of blood.

It was only after they had packed up camp and been walking for a few minutes that Geralt finally spoke, seemingly calmed by Roach’s reins in his hand.

“We should plan.”

Jaskier, still shivering under his cloak, snorted; a cloud swirling in front of his face like he was some kind of draconid. “Plan?”

“Hmm.”

“Pray tell me, dear witcher, what are we planning?”

Geralt grunted, gesturing between them, a trace of a blush on his cheeks which utterly delighted Jaskier. The blush meant that Geralt could only mean one thing, and Jaskier was having a ball!

His grumpy, allergic to feelings, witcher wanted to plan how they were going to convince a keep full of witchers that they were not only dating but seriously involved. Geralt wanted to talk about it. That was a first. Perhaps the witcher was treating this like just another contract to prepare for. That thought made Jaskier’s heart clench in his chest.

Just another contract.

Fuck.

He plastered a bright smile on his face before Geralt could notice his inner turmoil and clapped his friend on the back. “What’s there to plan?” he asked cheerfully, voice full of fake camaraderie. “We’re pretending to be in love, should be easy! I’m a bard, a troubadour, a graduate of the famed Oxenfurt academy!”

“Jaskier, shut up.”

Jaskier gaped and shoved Geralt in the chest. “You wanted to talk, Geralt!”

“We need boundaries.”

Jaskier’s heart sank and his smile faltered. “Right, yes, of course. I was. I was joking, last night, when I said…”

“I know.”

“We probably will have to kiss though.” he mumbled, his cheeks were a blazing fire and he probably resembled a tomato. Hopefully Geralt would just think he was cold, which he really really was. Honestly, he was starting to think that he might never be warm again. What was heat anyway? He swallowed, digging his nails into his palm. “Maybe just on the cheek. Think your family will buy that?” Geralt shook his head. “Well… bollocks.”

Geralt chuckled and Jaskier looked up at him with a sheepish smile. Geralt actually had the decency to look apologetic for the mess he’d gotten them into. “It’ll be just enough to convince them, nothing more.”

Nothing more. Of course it was nothing more. These were the boundaries that Geralt was talking about. He didn’t want Jaskier to think it was anything more than an act. Well, message received loud and clear! He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He should be ecstatic, finally a chance to kiss Geralt… but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he wanted.

It wasn’t real.

Geralt grunted, his own hands were buried in Roach’s mane as they walked side by side up the perilous mountain. He paused suddenly and began fussing with Roach’s saddlebags. Jaskier wrapped his arms around himself, shuffling from one foot to another to keep moving. He had to keep moving or he might freeze to death. He could already feel his toes going numb and the perpetual stinging in his fingers. Oh he was definitely getting frostbite. He watched Geralt for a few moments. The witcher’s shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched. Jaskier sighed and placed a hand on Geralt’s arm, enjoying the soft warmth that radiated from the witcher, letting it seep into his frozen bones.

“Do. Do you want to practice?”

“What?”

“Kissing,” Jaskier said with a flick of his wrist. “You want boundaries, so let’s practice. That way we’ll know what we’re comfortable with”

“You want to kiss me?” Geralt asked, brow furrowed and arms crossed in front of his chest.

Jaskier scoffed at Geralt’s emotionally constipated antics. He was nearly at his limit with stupid witchers and he hadn’t even reached Kaer Morhen yet. Maybe this whole thing was a bad idea.

Jaskier poked Geralt in the chest. “You suggested it!” he pointed out “and I’m never going to refuse the opportunity to kiss such a gorgeous person. You, dear witcher, are no exception!” He hoped that Geralt would be fooled by his nonchalant flirting. He did this all the time in taverns and courts all around the Continent and Geralt had witnessed it on many occasions. This was just what Jaskier did, nothing out of the ordinary… nothing to worry about.

He swallowed, a bubble of fear rising up in his chest and he couldn’t calm his racing heart. Oh gods, this was really far too close to the truth.

Geralt just gave a hum but let go of Roach’s reins. He gripped Jaskier’s shoulder and cocked his head, giving Jaskier the fondest of smiles. “Last chance to back out, bard.”

Jaskier grinned, raising his chin. He had a stubborn streak that would serve him well here. He never could say no to a challenge. “Just kiss me, you coward.”

A lie. Geralt was no coward. If anyone were it would be Jaskier. He couldn’t even tell Geralt the true depth of his feelings. They were concealed in songs for the whole Continent to hear but he couldn’t tell the one person that really ought to know. It was pathetic, pining over his best friend for years and years instead of moving on or just… admitting the truth?

Luckily Jaskier’s joke seemed to break the tension between them. Geralt hummed and cupped his cheek with more tenderness than he’d expected. Chapped lips pressed against his, warm and gentle as Geralt’s thumb stroked his cheek, calloused fingers brushing against the stubble that was beginning to prickle up through his skin. Jaskier wasn’t sure where to put his hands. He yearned to cup the nape of Geralt’s neck, to pull his lover closer and never let go. In a more passionate affair, his hands would land on his partner’s arse, squeezing cheekily as the kiss deepened.

Jaskier wanted to cry. It was all so sweet, so perfect, and none of it was real. This was his fate. Like a character in one of his ballads, a flower doomed to wither away without the heart of his beloved.

But this was Geralt.

This was his friend.

He settled for holding onto Geralt’s waist, his fingers digging into the wool of Geralt’s cloak. The kiss was over all too soon, leaving his head spinning. He felt breathless, like all his soul had been poured into the kiss. He pulled back from Geralt’s embrace in a hopeless attempt to calm his beating heart, but it was too late. The damage was done. With a single kiss Geralt had ruined Jaskier for all other love. Before it had been pitiful yearning but now…

Gods…

He was utterly done for.

His fingers itched for his quill. Oh, the poems and ballads he could pull from just a single kiss. A buttercup crushed under the paws of a great wolf as he roamed through the forests. Okay, that one might be a tad obvious. He preferred to at least try and hide in plain sight.

A dandelion perhaps?

Geralt would never need to know that Jaskier had almost chosen a different flower as his namesake.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier blinked and looked up at Geralt. Normally Jaskier was able to pick up the most minute changes in Geralt’s expression and his eyes were usually an open book. The witcher’s face gave away nothing and it was bloody infuriating.

“That…. that went well?” he stammered, pulling at a loose thread in his cloak.

“Hmm. We’ll be fine,” Geralt turned from him, looking more and more like the Butcher of Blaviken of old, and less like Jaskier’s darling White Wolf. “It’s not long now. We should get going.”

And get going they did.

#the witcher #geraskier #fake dating #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #kaer morhen #wolfie's witcher writing

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