#i like the purple ones. they’re a little earthy and a little sweet but they don’t clash with the others

[sepulchritude]

tell me more about the four kinds of potatoes

I’m so glad you asked!

So russet potatoes (the regular brown kind) tend to dissolve into the broth. Good for potato soup! Makes the broth thick and filling. Less good if you like big chunks. If you want a potato to hold it’s shape without breaking apart when cooked, you’ll want red or yellow potatoes.

But I wanted to do both! So for my soup (guinness beef stew) I planned to use one large russet potato so it would dissolve into the broth and a handful of small yellow potatoes for chunks. Except at the store I found a bag of mixed baby potatoes! It contained red, yellow, and purple potatoes!! So obviously I wasn’t going to pass up on that.

Thus, four kinds of potatoes!

[lovelikedestiny]

For @socialanxietyrabbit<3 I hope some blind!Nicky can cheer you up a little.

Tip-tap. Tip-tap-tip-tap. Tiptaptiptap.

The rain creates an unique symphony of sound, each droplet of water forming a different tune as they’re pouring their life-spending beauty over the world. Jewels of the sky. Crystal and glass, so fragile and yet unbreakable. 

Nicky tilts his head a bit more to the side, fully immersing himself in the masterful piece nature is only playing for him. A private concert meant to be cherished. Meant to remind mankind of the humble gifts their environment offers them every day. Meant to make them aware what they have been blessed with and what they tend to forget in the fast paced daily routine. When they cannot even take a tiny fragment of time to themselves to simply breathe and exist. 

That’s precisely what Nicky is doing at this very moment. He is.

Letting his mind wander without aim or intention, relishing in the various sounds, smells and other sensations he can perceive during this magnificent cloudburst. 

The air tastes vivid and promising with a hint of lightning’s tingling electricity, the rich earthiness of the forest surrounding their current residence, and the sweet humidity of the rain Nicky is listening to.

He can smell the trees more clearly through the extreme moisture, distinguish the whiff of delicate moss and comforting resin. It’s the promising tale of summer, already speaking of days filled with kind sunshine and mild evenings under a sky Joe likes to describe to him as a kiss between night and day, moon and sun, before he kisses Nicky, because “you’re my moon in darkness, habibi, how can I kiss you not?”. 

Nile simply describes the sky as purple.

The raindrops sound differently when they splash on leaves, a staggered rhythm created as they get unexpectedly caught by branches in various heights on their way down. On the rooftop of their safehouse it resonates constantly, almost like a monotonous lullaby, and on the meadow it is nearly quiet like the rain wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping flowers, thriving in its fall. 

Nicky is so engrossed in harking to what mother nature is telling him that he misses Joe’s soft, unhasty footsteps approaching behind him, and only registers his presence by his scent having accompanied him for centuries, the whiff of freshly brewed coffee, and a gentle touch on his shoulder.

He doesn’t flinch, though.

“Thank you,” he says as Joe places a warm mug in his outstretched hand, letting his fingers linger longer on Nicky’s knuckles, caressing the sensitive, thin skin.

“Not for that.” Joe’s voice is drenched in the honey of love and Nicky wants to tell him that he will thank him every day as long as they live for his mere presence and each smile Joe gifts Nicky with which he may not be able to see but can feel whenever he maps his beloved’s face with his hands.

Nicky only smiles, because Joe knows his trail of thought, savoring the cinnamony steam of his hot beverage.

It is strange how the pure simplicity like Joe being aware of the way Nicky prefers to drink his coffee - black with just a touch of cinnamon - can have so much power to make his heart stutter in his chest.

The real source for the comfort seeping into his bones and erasing the last remains of the past mission however, is the missing taste of copper in the air.

Joe has freshly showered and the clean, soapy scent of an unharmed body without the sticky, overwhelming thickness of blood and death lets Nicky relax with a silent exhale of relief.

On their job this morning, in the crisp, breathtaking cold of dawn, Joe had been shot three times while shielding the abducted children with his body to protect them.

A heart too big for this world.

Even though it hasn’t been the first time one of them has died and it certainly won’t be the last, Nicky had still waited in agony next to Joe, anxiously spending the dragging on seconds it took his husband to heal listening for a sharp inhale or feeling for the onset of his heartbeat under shaking hands, pressed to Joe’s chest.

The physical reminder of this nightmare may be swept away, down the drain, but Joe’s missing breathing and warmth have persistently taken root in Nicky’s own chest. A parasite in its own form.

Joe and he sit and drink in silence for a few minutes, content with each other’s company, shoulders touching, thighs plastered together. Nicky is focused intensively on the sounds Joe creates, not paying attention to the rainstorm anymore - cooling blows in his mug, sipping the hot fluid, black like Nicky’s own, but with precisely three tablespoons of sugar. Focused on any signs of discomfort, a tense shift of Joe’s posture, a suppressed hiss of pain, an uneven breath.

He perceives none of that but one reassurance is left for the sake of Nicky’s soul.

The hand he holds out to the love of his life moves hesitantly, almost timidly, and his voice is nothing more than a whisper. “May I?”

Joe hums fondly before grabbing Nicky’s wrist, slim artist fingers curling protectively around delicate bones, to guide his palm to the place where Joe’s heart is reliably and strongly beating in his ribcage.

“You never have to ask, Nicolo.”

Joe places his own hand on Nicky’s, sensing the familiar thump of the other half of his soul, the rhythm engraved in his very bones.

And finally, finally, the last trace of unease diminishes, melting away under the sheer devotion Joe radiates like a cozy campfire with his warmth.

Nicky’s own personal sun.

“I’m okay,” Joe promises him and crosses their fingers until their palms are slotted together like a perfect matching puzzle.

“I’m glad you are,” Nicky replies, allowing the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth to come into bloom.

Joe kisses the top of his thumb, letting Nicky’s breath hitch with a faint touch just like this, and continues to press his lips to each of his fingertips. “I was worried about you.”

Incredulously Nicky moves his head to the side, a twitch of confusion, and instinctively tightens his grip on Joe’s hand. “About me? You got shot,” he reminds him softly, oh so softly as to not rouse the begone horrors of today. “You died, Yusuf.”

“But I know how it feels for you and I am sorry it happened this morning, hayati.” 

The uncertainty. The suffocating vines of nothingness. The overwhelming thorns of fear. The helplessness of listening, praying, for a noise of life. The disorientation.

Most of the time, Nicky doesn’t miss his sight. How could he miss something he never had? But whenever the other half of his soul dies, he feels so utterly lost it frightens him, shaking him to his core. How dependent he is on sound. 

Spending seconds without an indication of Joe coming back to life, returning to a world they both share, is excruciating. Torture. Making his handicap more obvious to him which ignites a spark of self-hatred in him that comes with the dangerous feeling of being useless.

Nicky stays silent a little too long, prompting Joe to scoot closer to him, bridging the last minimum of free space between them, so that their whole sides are pressed together. Sharing warmth and comfort like life-spending oxygen.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, more gentle this time. The real apology behind it brushes gossamer over Nicky’s cheekbone. 

I’m sorry for leaving you.

Nicky shakes his head no, an automatism because he never has to apologize for something he has no power over. 

A heart too full of love.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he points out, setting his mug carefully down on one step of the stairs they’re perched on to use his free hand to touch Joe’s face, cupping his beautiful jaw like something infinitely precious.

Joe smiles, lips curling into the beloved shape under Nicky’s thumb. “It wasn’t yours either.”

Yes. Because I hadn’t got your back. Because I couldn’t protect you. Because I was useless.

“You led the children to safety.” Joe has guessed where his bad thoughts have dragged him. Of course he has. “You did great, Nicolo.”

I didn’t do enough.

He doesn’t voice it, though, Joe can read the words clearly on his face anyway and makes an unhappy guttural sound.

“You saved them,” Nicky points out.

Joe doesn’t respond to that but the stiffness in the atmosphere gives Nicky enough indication. As he withdraws his hand from Joe’s face, letting it fall limp in his lap, Jow draws a pattern onto the skin of the hand he is still holding. Each brush of his fingers conveys another emotion Joe is wordlessly communicating to him. Pride. Trust. Devotion. Support. Concern. Heartache and sadness for the troubled thoughts on Nicky’s mind.

“Doesn’t change the fact that you did great, ya amar. We saved them. Together.” Needless to say, Joe knows of these moments of doubt and self-consciousness Nicky experiences from time to time about his missing sight. And as always he does what he can do best: show Nicky his love.

You’re not worthless, their first kiss tells him.

You’re worth something, the second says.

You're worth everything, the third and final kiss expresses.

Exhaling deeply, his nose buried in the safe crook of Joe’s neck, Nicky stays for a few minutes, allowing the supporting words of his partner to wash over him, plucking the seeds of self hatred out of his heart before they can sprout.

Joe holds him without disrupting the pleasant rush of the rain weaving a protecting cocoon around them. Hiding them in their personal little bubble. For now.

“How can I make it up to you?” Joe eventually wants to know tenderly, not for Nicky’s but his own sake, his own guilt for contributing to Nicky’s feelings although he certainly is not to blame.

Nicky moves his nose slowly across Joe’s mouth, following the curve of his cheek until it boops slightly against Joe’s, causing the latter to huff in amusement. 

“Enjoy this concert with me,” he invites him with a lopsided smile.

Relaxed, Joe settles back, reaching for his mug again, but not breaking their skin-to-skin contact one. “It would be my pleasure, tesoro. What is it called, if I may ask?”

“The lullaby of the rain.”

[wildemaven]

Weekends with Frankie: Flea Market Finds

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Reader

Words: 1,002

Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of food; let me know if I missed anything

A/N: Getting this out later than I wanted to, this sickness hit me hard. This isn’t beta’s and kind of feels like a mess. My brain feels like mush, so I’m not even sure I like the ending, nothing was working as I was writing it— it is what it is now lol.

Weekends with Frankie Masterlist / Masterlist

The paper cup is warm, its contents fueling this chilly morning. You’re tucked into Frankie’s side, your favorite spot to reside on the weekends.

It’s the third Sunday of the month. Which means it’s not your slow serene kind of morning. But sometimes sacrifices equal greater rewards.

The house you share with Frankie is modest but homey.

When you moved in, while spacious, it was lacking a sense of style. No fault to Frankie, the man is simple in his ways and never put much thought into decorating his home.

That was years ago. Since then, with Frankie’s approval, you’d been able to meld both of your aesthetics to design your home— his warm earthy tones and your contemporary mid century modern.

But it was your shared appreciation for all things from decades before that gave character throughout the space. Items laced with history from those who had previously owned them.

Thrift stores and flea markets are where gravitate towards when purchasing things.

That’s where you find yourselves this morning. Bundled in layers, ready to browse through a treasure trove of collectibles and piles of rare nicknacks strewn out for pickers to rummage through.

You didn’t necessarily need any one item in particular. Through thrifting together, you’d both found a love for collecting.

Frankie’s collection of vinyls was impressive. He had a real knack for finding some old gems. His most prized one being Prince’s Purple Rain album. More often than not, it was streaming through your home.

He was diligent in his purchases. Each album had to hold meaning or reference a time in his life.

You found joy in collecting old film cameras. You’d grown up before digital was the norm, and pictures took close to a week before you were able to see them. You love the accessibility of your phone for quick snaps but there’s just something about the click and winding of a vintage camera body.

Frankie appreciated the photos around your home even more so because they were taken by you. Your sweet little Canon AE-1 was always stowed in your bag when leaving the house. It accompanied you on many camping trips to the mountains. It was always with in arms reach during barbecues with the guys— you made each of them photo books through out the years of birthdays, weddings and group vacations.

Today your find yourselves digging through a pile of well worn tshirts, Frankie’s second love. It’s stacks and stacks of band tees, the images so faded they’re just barely visible. They’re aged to perfection, the fabrics so buttery soft from years of wear and tear.

You’d gifted Frankie a vintage Fleetwood Mac shirt when you’d first got together. It had quickly become his favorite. Dark blue, faded in some areas now littered with holes all over it. The offer to replace had been brought up several times, but he refused stating it was just starting to break in and fit right— it makes the man happy.

Sifting through a few piles, he’d found a few winners— new to him Styx and Rolling Stone tees.

Frankie and you have a love affair with books. Your home is filled with them, any and every subject. Early on in dating, Frankie had mentioned his aversion for reading when he joined the army. With all the studying he’d done over the years for flight school, he swore he’d never pick up a book again. But it was on his first deployment, the long days filled with trepidation and uncertainty, where he found books were the one thing that made his down time a little more tolerable. They kept his mind busy getting lost in the pages, the words leaving a lasting impression on him. Books were his escape.

You’d found him a first edition of East of Eden, the book that resolved his love for reading. He’d briefly mentioned it on your second date, a mere fact he’d given that you tucked away for a later time. When he’d unwrapped it 3 years later for Christmas, he was speechless. It was in perfect mint condition, every page crisp and pristine— but also he was so in awe that you’d remembered such a small thing he had mentioned years prior. It sits on his nightstand now, his watch and glasses placed on top neatly every night before climbing into bed, nestling himself against your sleeping frame.

It’s a small stack of books that you’ve both decided were worthy of a new shelf life in your home. Their pages grayed and worn with faintly legible marks littering the page margins, a glimpse into the thoughts of those who’d found wisdom among the lengthy chapters. Both of you looking forward to adding your own remarks in time.

Items tucked away in the trunk safely, as Frankie drives you home. The leather creaks as you shift forward to adjust the vents, the air ambient and warm. You relax back into the seat, sensation slowly coming back to your frozen fingers. Movement from the driver’s seat pulls you from thought. Frankie’s saying something, but the afternoon sun is filtering through the driver side window— you’re taken aback by his backlit presence.

The golden rays peeking through his over grown curls. That breathtaking dimple making an appearance as he reflects on the day, your life’s mission to make him smile just so you can witness it. He’s a force that makes life memorable and authentic.

You both haven’t moved since settling into your be couch when you arrived home, not before trading your warm layers for one of Frankie’s soft tees and leggings. Containers of pasta from your favorite Italian cafe are strewn out on the coffee table— stomachs satiated and nearly bursting. The low hum of the record player fills the room, Purple Rain. Frankie flips through one of the books from today, dog-earing pages as he reads.

The weekend nears its end with work life on the horizon. Your mind is already reeling with what’s in store for next weekend.

[inkyquince]

Patreon Post: Unwilling Sacrifice (Quincy- Nu Carnival)

content warning: Predator/Prey, Tsundere, Rough Sex

You should be more afraid of a playful predator than an aggressive one. A dog snarling, a lion growling, a snake hissing, show that they’re afraid, even just a bit. They want you to back up, they want you to leave.

Playful predators have time. Have patience. Have a streak of mischievous delight in watching you. They look down at you.

What you were never told was what to do with a silent predator.

You knew how to handle Kuya. Play along, and he loses interest. Don’t rise to the bait. Try to look small. As a yokai, you were already safer than most other people, like humans. Kuya had always been your home, one of his preferred little followers, but he had become… Enraptured with the brown haired human that would come by sometimes. You weren’t a big fan of Kuya’s “playful” antics, but it meant things were always interesting.

Maybe the boredom had gotten to you, to the point you absolutely fucked up, to the worst degree.

“Bored… Are you?” Kuya stood above you, purple robes billowing gently despite there being no wind.

“I-I d-didn’t see you there, m-my-”

“Good thing you didn’t.” He replied airly, his grin too big for his elegant face. “I would never have learned that my favourite little pet was oh so bored here.”

You tried to deny it all, you were happy, you just missed Kuya, but you could tell nothing you were saying was actually sitting with him. He was just nodding, smiling as you stammered before putting an arm around your shoulders, ushering you away from the others. His hand even drifted down to curl his fingers into the soft fur of your tail.

“I would never want you to be bored~” He murmurs, nosing along your ear. “Why don’t I set you up with a playdate with my friend?”

His friend. The silent predator. Quincy.

Your soft, silky clothes were ripped, filthy as you tried to hide in the underbrush. Your breathing felt far too loud, so much so you doubt you could even hear any branches or leaves cracking underfoot. But you knew it was fruitless. You could feel his eyes no matter where you went.

With a desperate whine, you began to crawl deeper into the foliage, just needing to be able to get out of the forest and back home, that’s all Kuya wanted from you. He’d never put you in… Direct danger, would he? Maybe in a precarious, embarrassing position, but not… Dead? The words he left you with, was that since he wasn’t up to parr for your entertainment, why doesn’t his lovely friend see to it? You whine to yourself again, worried about what that meant. What good could come from being hunted by a lonely, quiet hunter?

Well, he could tell you… Show you… If only you poked those cute little ears up again.

Quincy could practically smell you. Scared little thing, your perfume sweet and foreign against the natural, earthy scent of the forest. He’d never thank Kuya, not for as long as he lives, but he needed this so badly. Saliva pooled on his tongue as he crept through the foliage, blending perfectly in spite of his stocky build. It was cute that you thought that he was going to hurt you. Not you. A little yokai who was stumbling around, getting smacked in the face with low hanging branches and ripping your clothes. But even Quincy wasn’t able to properly formulate what he wanted, not even to himself. He could rut into Eiden day after day and still struggle to actually speak his desires… Which he usually ignored anyway. But he has a taste now. A taste that curled on his tongue and it tinged the air around him as he made his way towards you.

Scared, quivering little thing.

Quincy had never gotten to get his hands on a yokai like you before. One of Kuya’s favourite little attendants, and the way you were actually… Scared? Of him? Was delicious. Kuya was the maestro of his craft, and you must have picked up some tips from him. You also knew the tricky fox bastard. Yet you were shaking in your little boots because of him?

Whilst pondering this, another thought slipped into Quincy’s mind.

Has Kuya fucked you?

Normally the thought of getting the bastard’s… “Sloppy Seconds” as Eiden gleefully called it, he would be pissed. Annoyed. Would throw you back into Kuya’s face. That image does make Quincy’s lips twitch. But he’s not angry.

He’d gladly take any chance to taste a Yokai, especially you. Cute little thing.

The sound of a branch breaking has his eyes pinning to your form, trying to trot away as quickly as possible. Pathetic.

You don’t even hear him. A harsh force shoving you from behind, sending you tumbling into the leaves and dirt. The massive weight against your back has you gasping, struggling to inhale before it lifted and you were roughly turned onto your back.

“D-Don’t hurt me!” You gasped out, before actually looking up at your attacker, stunned. It’s… The hunter.

And the hunter has a hard on.

That hard on was fucking your insides into the shape of his cock. He didn’t even say anything. Just desperately started tearing at your clothes and you just gaped at him. Fucked is better than dead. Much better.

Bruises were pressed into your hips, blooming over your skin as you were roughly jerked down, onto his cock over and over again. Bites trailed all up your throat, before Quincy licks into your mouth. He was so selfish with his own pleasure, so it was purely by accident that he had brought you to orgasm thrice over already. Fat, cruel cock, using your hole like one of those fleshlights Eiden had talked about. The hunter made no noises, his harsh breaths loud in your ears.

Something in your gut knew that you were not going to be set free for a long time, but being drained of orgasm after orgasm was worth it.

[frankiejay03]

I made like five really long comments on this tumblr post I came across and I hate @ing people so I won’t but it was essentially another HashiMada vs MadaTobi vs IzuTobi vs… uh whatever else there is and here are my two cents.

Before I begin, we’re on tumblr. Yes, we’re making this up. We met the founders for like two episodes or whatever like. Yeah. This is an anime about moon aliens trying to take over the world because some not-grandpa somehow spent 80 years alone in a cave surviving on resentment and sheer spite alone. Don’t give me that bullshit. If you didn’t actually care about made-up stories/romances you wouldn’t be here.

Moving on.

In regards to the HashiMada/MadaTobi/IzuTobi argument, I have one main point that blows every (Hashirama) ship argument out of the water:

Mito Uzumaki.

Okay, backtracking.

To summarize these ships, I think HashiMada, when viewed romantically, is too sweet and… typical, yknow? Like stereotypical Romeo and Juliet and yeah I like the occasional Hashimada post, yknow, it’s not BAD it’s just… meh. IzuTobi is fun because they can have an incredibly strong rivalry going on, but I think Izuna is waaay too toxic/aggressive for anyone… he’s like… he gives me… like… *squints* incel vibes sometimes yknow? It’s so hard to explain, but I know exactly what I mean. Now, MadaTobi? Gorgeous. In the anime/manga they’re like perfect opposites yknow? Well, not PERFECT like SNS but like… so complimentary (kinda… ish).

Okay look, Hashi and Mito are very complimentary. Bright red/white vs earthy green/brown. Girl boss vs malewife. Incredibly intelligent vs incredibly powerful. I love HashiMito, they’re just so good for each other.

On the other hand, HashiMada is a little strange because they don’t mesh so well; earthy green/brown vs angry red/black/purple, malewife vs Tired DadTM, both ridiculous powerhouses, one centered around peace and prosperity while the other is centered around his family. It CAN work but it’s not nearly as poetic and perfect (and yes I mean PERFECT) as HashiMito is. Again, no problem with HashiMada but… Madara is not The One for Hashirama, yknow? I’m all for the gays but come on, you’re gonna overlook an icon like Mito? Unacceptable.

Now I can’t say I understand Izuna very well but I do understand (I think) Madara and Tobirama decently well. Back to compliments, angry red/black/purple vs icy blue/white/red aren’t COMPLIMENTARY but it is very indicative of Tobirama and Madara’s natures. Tired DadTM vs Adopts-all-the-strays single mother, family centered vs found family/family of choice centered, incredibly powerful vs incredibly intelligent (wait a minute, that sounds a little familiar…), and (my fav) a very rough exterior to hide a very hurt, war-traumatized person underneath (Hashirama was always a little too… idealistic to truly understand that no, you can’t stop fighting your ancestral enemy just because you WANT to).

Again, I dont really have Izuna pegged very well but… he’s just a little sus (and whiny seriously I’ll never get over him snitching on Madara and Hashirama at the river or his constant dOnT tRuSt ThE sEnJu like bitch (lovingly, tiredly) shut up) ((I don’t hate Izuna!! He’s just… a brat actually that’s kind of the theme with younger Uchiha brothers lol))

Uh, I feel like people won’t understand my characterizations so here is how I understand the founders which may not be correct/what was intended but I don’t care and neither should you:

Hashirama - eldest son which usually implies having the heaviest load (for example, Madara) but he’s actually a little spoiled. His enthusiasm/generally cheery demeanor isn’t like Naruto’s (a coping mechanism and also he’s a little dumb because no one ever taught him otherwise or gave him the time of day), it’s more like he’s JUST like that. He’s incredibly short sighted/narrow minded. Spending the entire war blowing up entire battlefields for fun (he didn’t kill anyone, sure, but he didn’t help anyone either) just to fight with his friend knowing he’s going to deny all overtures of peace? Yes, Hashirama will survive the battle, but his clansmen won’t. He’s striving for peace so the children can have better lives but… his method is so… terrible. He’s just not the brightest bulb even if he has good intentions. So, malewife, super powerful, idealistic.

Mito - cant say I know her incredibly well but I know she’s incredibly smart (her little chakra diamond thing on her head already displays a sort of forward thinking Hashirama is incapable of) which is a different kind of powerful but powerful nonetheless, she’s Uzushio’s princess so… take from that what you will, I just think it further pushes her need to be intelligent to be able to survive being royalty.

Madara - right, Tired DadTM means like Madara is always so worried about his brother and his clan mates. He is driven by the need to protect them, something that typically male animals in nature have in common: the NEED to protect what is theirs. Madara is smart, sure, but more than that he’s incredibly powerful (Mokuton alone puts Hashirama leagues above the rest of the ninja world, to be able to compete with that and survive without the god ex-machina that is Mokuton is quite the testament to Madara’s abilities as a ninja) Madara doesn’t care about peace for peace’s sake but rather for his clan and family’s sake (which is why it’s all the more detrimental when peace is achieved but when the main reason he worked towards it is gone, Madara drifts astray)

Tobirama: my beloved. He’s an idiot but he’s the smartest man in the room ALWAYS. Where his brother will always be stronger (and coincidentally the strongest ever), Tobirama is a genius. (Jutsu creation is NOT an easy feat, much less what is essentially teleportation via what amounts to scribbles of ink of paper) while Hashirama got to live in his happy little bubble of “ooh like at the nice boy I met at the river I’m sure nothing could go wrong there!” and “I am guaranteed the seat of power because of my status of clan head’s first son and mokuton wielder” Tobirama got none of the above. A weirdo in every sense (albino, freakishly intelligent, lacking in a few moral codes that keep most other people from fucking with mortality (which, yes, was a coping mechanism from his brothers dying in his childhood but not the point)), Tobirama has a completely different worldview than his brother. When they do achieve peace, Tobirama focuses on his brother’s goal more than his own brother: peace for the children. While Tobirama, war-traumatized and just a little socially inept, goes about it in the worst way it is still the only way he knows. He adopts all the strays and nurtures them to the point where they won’t NEED protection (in animals, this is typically the female’s role *hint hint*) ((how well his methods work is also debateable *COUGH COUGH* danzo *COUGH COUGH*)) oh and the family of choice thing referred to his band of gremlins from different clans

If you’re the type of person to say “ToBiRaMa WaS rAcIsT” then I know you have never experienced true racism in your life. I am a queer gender-fluid (most often perceived as a woman, idfc) person of color who has experienced ALL SORTS of -isms and -phobias, don’t tell me your male anime characters (WHO ARE ALL THE SAME RACE) are being RACIST to each other when they LITERALLY CANNOT BE. Was Tobirama particularly prejudiced and bigoted towards a specific clan? Yes. 100%. Was it justified? That is up to the reader to decide (((a little))). Was he racist? Go fuck yourself.

[hythlodaes]

day 4 - charm 1k words || minaiph x cadrien (belongs to @lavampira)

—

The afternoon sun beams down just a little warmer than usual.

It’s not enough to chase away the chill that carries in with the breeze, but it’s a clear day—the light a soft echo on the sea of mountains, standing rocky and white peaked in the distance. It’s a sight Min’s grown used to after living on Alderaan for years. He’s far away from the young man who dragged his best friend here, desire burning through every beat of his heart, but he’s not all that different. 

There’s an outdoor market in Juranno, where Min’s determined to find kebroot seeds. As the spring wanes, it’s just about the right time to begin planting. It’s a hobby he picked up very shortly after he and Cadrien moved here, something satisfying about watching his garden grow, planning for the future and seeing it arrive. 

And there’s something about that—building a life together. 

It doesn’t take him long to find the seeds, purchasing them from a Twi’lek who does a fair job at hiding the wariness in their eyes. He smiles as he takes the little cloth bag from them, bowing his head slightly before he turns away from the stall. He scans the market for Cadrien, eyes roving over all kinds of little shops selling homemade cakes and sweets, candles that he’s far too tempted to buy, and one full of little tins of loose leaf teas, which is where he thought he’d find his husband. 

Instead he spots Cadrien at a flower stall, sunlight pouring over him as he lifts a single flower up to his face, dipping his head as he breathes it in. Min watches with a warmth stirring in his stomach as Cadrien adds it to a small collection of flowers in his other hand, and lifts another one, breathing it in slowly. 

Fondness is a well worn, familiar feeling by now. 

Despite the busy marketplace, Min can feel the moment Cadrien pinpoints his energy. Just a second later, Cadrien’s head turns to him, the flower still held close to his chin as a gentle smile pulls at his lips. Even after all this time, Min still feels this need to be near him, something that pulls him closer before the thought even crosses his mind. 

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Cadrien asks.

“We’ll be swimming in kebroot by the winter,” he answers. “What about you?”

Cadrien responds by lifting the bouquet in his hand. “Do you like these?” 

They’re a mix of soft and muted pinks and purples, a few small white flowers gathered at the side, but the green of the stems and leaves makes the bouquet lush and vibrant. He looks back up at Cadrien. That same stubborn lock of hair falls over his forehead and brushes against the top of his mask, and there’s such a softness about him like this—all warmth in the cold light, relaxed and open and at peace. 

It’s what he deserves after everything they’ve been through. 

“They’re beautiful, Cade,” Min says. “They’d look nice by the window in the kitchen.” 

His husband smiles in return. “Good.”

He goes to pay for them while Min waits at the edge of the stall, running his fingertips over the waxy leaves of a plant he doesn’t recognize. When Cadrien comes back, he holds the flowers out towards Min. 

“For you.”

Min merely watches him for a moment before he takes them, breathing in the sweet but earthy fragrance, what Cadrien thoughtfully picked out by scent alone. 

“Thank you,” he says, slipping his free hand into Cadrien’s now empty one as they continue through the market. “I should probably tell you though, I’m already married.” 

A confused line works at Cadrien’s mouth for a moment, but for some reason he always keeps up with Min’s antics. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Min says, squeezing his hand. “He’s a real sweetheart, you know.”

“He’s a smart man, if he married you.”

And yeah—that fondness is always, always there. 

“I don’t know, I think I must’ve gotten lucky,” Min says as they turn down an empty aisle, the sound of the crowd softening in the distance. Min looks down at the flowers in his hand. “After all, I didn’t know it was possible to feel this loved in life—not until he loved me the way he does.” 

Cadrien slows to a stop beside him, their joint hands tethering them close together as Min stops as well, and he pulls him in, kisses him with a warmth that spreads through Min’s chest. It’s quick, familiar, and Min half chases him when he pulls away until he remembers where they are. 

“You charmer,” Cadrien murmurs. 

And Min laughs. “You’re the one that bought me flowers.” 

He watches the way a small smile works at the corners of Cadrien’s lips in response, and he wants to kiss him again but he always wants to kiss him, so he merely clutches the bouquet a little tighter as they slip back into the crowd. 

—

This is what it’s like to marry your best friend:

That evening, Min cooks dinner in the last light of the day, a smile on his lips every time his eye catches the flowers now in a vase under the kitchen window. When he glances up beyond it, he sees the distant figure of Cadrien walking towards the house, having just checked on the kell dragons for the night. 

His husband puts on music when he comes in, something soft that sinks under the sound of their voices, and Min lights the candles that he did, in fact, go back and buy earlier. It’s the little things that make it feel like home, that closes in the space around them and shuts out the world beyond them. They share easy conversation while they eat, their knees pressed together under the table, never tiring of this routine—

It’s like this:

I love you and I still love you. We chose this life together, honey. I’m all yours.

And later, in the dark, their world narrows in even further. 

As they settle in for bed, Min seeks out his husband’s warmth without thought, tucking himself into his chest and breathing in the familiar scent of his skin. Cadrien wraps his arms around him, kisses him goodnight. Sometimes it’s sweet and soft, other times open and wanting, but it’s always with the feeling of home, it’s always with the promise of waking beside each other in the morning. 

It’s that simple.  

[boydkorsholm0]

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[the-cult-of-russo]

In the Stars (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request: So, first of all, I love your writing so much. I've just finished reading "In the stars" and I've loved it! Idk if you're taking requests but I was wondering if maybe you could do a part 2?

A/N: You guys… I had so many fucking requests for part two of this, I love you. I'm honestly overwhelmed by how much you guys engage with my work on here. 

Side note; I don't actually know much about astrology so take anything I say with a pinch of salt since it's done with surface level research for this. I'm more of a tarot girl myself and originally I was gonna switch the astrology to tarot since I know all about that. But I didn't wanna deviate from the request too much so I stuck with astrology. 

Warnings: cursing, bit of fluff, idk flirting? Talk of sex but no actual sex? 

If you guys want a part three to this which would mostly be smut then hit me up lmaoooo 

-----------

You were lounging on a beat up sofa that was in the greenhouse at the back of the flower shop. The plants were watered and it was a nice day. You were taking a moment to relax and let the sun come through the glass above you like a cat basking in the warm glow. You knew a customer had come in a little bit a go. You'd heard a gruff voice ask Gemma for advice on flowers for his girl. But since you were never needed in the front, you just chilled out for a bit after popping some headphones in and vibing in the sun as you leisurely scrolled on an astrology site you were on. 

Maybe, just maybe, you'd been thinking about Mr Fancy Coffee man in the past three days since you ran right into him. You'd been sure you'd see him again at the time but it hadn't happened so far. Either way, you kept thinking back to his smile and his obsidian eyes and you smirked as you read what you'd already known when you'd called back after him to give him your own sign. 

'Aries and Scorpio Sex:

Aries and Scorpio like to turn the heat up with everything they do! So, you can imagine the bedroom as being one feisty! Aries is a fire sign, and Scorpio is a water sign. Mix fire and water and what do you get? Yes, it is steam! With this duo between the sheets, we pray the wallpaper can withstand the steam-effect! Aries and Scorpio are the same when it comes to an intense libido. They are energetic with enough energy to keep each other up all night long.'

You ripped your headphones out, tossing your phone on the worn out faded pink cushions as you bounded to the door to the main shop.

"Hey, Gem! Did you know that Aries and Scorpio are like hella compatible for sex? I mean we'd just be riding each other all ni-" your words died on your lips as you slipped through the beaded curtain to find the man from earlier who hadn't actually left yet. He was a little rough looking but he wore a look of shock and thorough amusement at your words as you smacked a hand over your mouth with a laugh. It wasn't really appropriate talk in front of a customer but even Gemma bit her lip to stifle her incredulous laughter. 

"I uh… I'm sorry," you murmured, a sly smirk on your face that said you weren't really sorry but said it anyway to be polite. He barked out a laugh and shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. Sounds like a hell of a time," he replied with a chuckle. It put you at ease that he wasn't going to start something about your behaviour, threaten to take his business elsewhere. It wouldn't be the first time you'd done that. 

"Don't mind her. She's the crazy plant lady," Gemma grinned as she continued adding flowers to the bouquet on the counter. Some pretty forget-me-nots. 

"Hey! I'm not crazy just because I talk and sing to them. It's science! If I didn't do that then all these beauties would be withering away in misery," you pouted playfully, earning another laugh from your best friend and chuckle from the man. 

You looked at him then and he was already looking at you. His gaze wandered your face and hair like you held the secrets to the universe and you quirked a brow curiously. Knowing he was caught out, he glanced away and cleared his throat but his eyes flit back to you. It wasn't like you weren't used to looks since you were anything but ordinary, but he looked almost like he knew you or something.

"Sorry… just… thought I recognised you," he muttered apologetically. 

"Oh trust me, you'd know if you'd met her before. She leaves quite the impression," Gemma snorted. 

"I bet she does," the man said with a small smile as he looked at you again like he knew something you didn't. Or maybe you were imagining it.

You grinned as you walked towards the counter, leaning your arms on it as you admired her work. The bouquet was filled with purples and blues and it was breathtaking. 

"Serious relationship?" You asked casually. The man looked slightly taken aback by your bold question and Gemma swatted your arm as you gave her a look.

"What?" You asked with a huff. The man smiled and shook his head.

"Nah, it's fine. It is. Been together for a little over a year now," he had a lovesick look on his face and you found yourself smiling back at him. 

"You love her?" You asked softly. He rubbed the scruff on his chin with a bashful look that looked at odds with the rest of him as he nodded.

"That I do," he murmured fondly. 

You pushed up and leaned your hands on the counter as you glanced from the flowers back to him.

"You should get her a succulent," you declared. Gemma snorted again as she trimmed the ends off some roses and the man quirked his brow.

"You mean like… a cactus or some shit?" He asked, sounding confused and amused. 

You rolled your eyes, whizzing into the back and grabbing a small terracotta pot with a baby succulent in it. It looked almost like a flower with how it's leaves were arranged. You bought it back out to the front and back to him as you set it down on the counter.

"Meet Emily. She's cute and sweet and she says forever," you shot him a cheeky grin and he snorted, eyes darting from the plant to you.

"I'm sorry… Emily?" He asked with a smirk 

"Hey, she's a living thing like you and me, why shouldn't she have a name? And don't tell the others but… she's my favourite," you whispered the last part, eyes darting to the beaded curtain like you didn't want the others to hear and when you looked back at him he was smiling and shaking his head at you. 

"Look… flowers are great and all, a nice gesture and pretty to look at, but they wither and die. They go from pretty to morbid which is why they're great for special occasions but they don't last. But these cuties… they don't take much maintenance, it's hard to kill them and they're more… permanent. Flowers are a great way to say 'I love you' in a shorter sense, but nothing says 'I'll love you forever' more than one of these," you mused with a fond look at the plant. 

The man stared at the plant for a moment appearing deep in thought and when you glanced to Gemma, she was grinning from ear to ear as she wrapped up the arrangement in pretty pale purple paper. A similar shade to your current hair color.

"Fuck it. I'll take… Emily, too," he declared after a moment. You beamed and slid the pot over to Gemma so she could pack her up with the rest of the goods and ring him up. 

"You're good at this," the man said after a moment. You flushed a little at his words and snorted. 

"I just care about the plants," you shrugged with a smile. 

Gemma finished the wrapping and started ringing up the purchases as the man's eyes darted between you both.

"So… you two ladies got any plans later?" He asked casually. He didn't seem the type to make unnecessary small talk but Gemma opened her mouth to indulge him anyway. 

"A few of us are going out later to the bar down the street. The Lizard? It's not been open that long but it's pretty chill. It's nothing fancy though," Gemma smiled softly as she accepted the money from him, opening the register.

"Fancy places wouldn't let us in," you snorted with a smirk, toying with one of the many rings on your fingers.

"They wouldn't let you in. Besides, they have good music there and they don't mind when we let loose and get a little weird," Gemma laughed. The man chuckled with a nod before glancing back at you. He still had that look of recognition in his eyes and you tried to think if you'd ever seen him before. 

"Sounds like my kinda place. I might have to go with Karen and some friends sometime," he mused with a nod.

"You should, if you run into us let me know if she loves Emily. You've basically both adopted a cute earthy child so…" you grinned mischievously. He snorted, seemingly unaffected by you being yourself and you liked it. It wasn't often you got to talk to customers like this which is why you often stayed hidden in the back.

"I will. Have fun ladies and thanks for these," with that he was off and you and Gemma grinned at each other. It was nice to have a customer like that man, even if he did look completely out of place in a flower shop. You had a feeling he'd come back for more things for this Karen woman he was smitten with. 

---------

Billy sipped his beer, dark gaze flitting around the bar before he settled on his best friend. Karen was leaning on his shoulder and the pair had been nauseatingly close since they got here. Curtis and David were also at the table relaxing and talking to one another. 

"Is there a reason we're here?" Billy drawled as he sat back in his chair a little more. This wasn't their usual haunt and they didn't normally deviate from it. It wasn't so much that he didn't like the place. It was relaxed and quite similar to where they usually ended up. But it was a break in routine and he wasn't sure why. 

Frank shot him a sly smirk as he sipped his beer and it made Billy narrow his eyes a little.

"Well… I have it on good authority that little Ms Aries is gonna be here," he said smugly. Billy hated himself the moment he sat up straighter like an eager schoolgirl, especially when his friends all cheered and laughed at the news. He'd only told Frank about her, but Frank being Frank… well he'd told Karen and Karen told Curtis and David and in three short days it had become a running joke that he was hung up on a girl he hadn't even been able to get the name of.

Billy tilted his head, long fingers tapping on the beer bottle as he levelled his gaze at Frank.

"And how would you know that when we don't even know who she is?" He asked with a raised brow. Frank had a shit eating grin on his face as he leaned forward on the table a bit.

"Because I found her at her work earlier," he grinned. Billy blinked at him for a moment, mouth floundering as he tried to absorb that tidbit.

"Okay… so as my best friend and therefore wingman, is there a reason you didn't mention it until now?" He asked dryly. 

"Nah, I thought it would be a nice surprise and I didn't want you to talk yourself outta comin' here. Never seen you hung up on a girl before and I gotta say, she's a fuckin' riot," Frank snorted. Billy felt an unnecessary pang of envy at him then. Envy that his best friend managed to find her, spend some time with her maybe more than he had in the street. He knew it was stupid. His best friend was head over heels for Karen after all, but it was there all the same. 

"She works at the flower shop," Karen supplied with a soft smile as she looped her arms around Frank's larger one. Great, so Frank told her before he told him. Did everyone but him know? Why he was feeling like a petulant child, he didn't know, but before he could open his mouth to no doubt say something ridiculous, Frank's sly grin widened as he inclined his head to the door. 

Billy would lie until the day he took his last breath about how fast his head whipped to the door. He almost broke his damn neck. But there she was in all her purple haired glory and Jesus fuck was she the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid his eyes on. How did she get even more attractive in three days? Shit was ridiculous. But not as ridiculous at the nerves that bloomed in his belly at the sight of her. He was Billy Russo. Ex Spec Ops sniper. Former marine. CEO of Anvil. Serial womaniser. But now he was just Billy. Dumbfounded, actually kind of nervous and moon-eyed Billy. 

He watched as she and another girl she came in with walked over to the table with a few people and hugged them. Her smile was radiant and his eye twitched when she hugged the guys at her table. He kept waiting like she'd lean in and kiss one of them. To feel that crushing blow. But it never happened. In fact, the girl she'd come in with snuggled up to the one of the guys and the other had his arm wrapped around another girl at the table. 

"Well… you gonna go and get her name or what, Bill?" Frank asked with a snort. Billy cleared his throat, rolling his shoulder and glancing back to his beer before he shrugged.

"After my drink," he tried to sound casual but Frank's gaze softened a little and he hated that his best friend knew him better than anyone. He was just thankful Frank didn't call him out for it.

---------

You and Gemma had gotten to the bar a little later than usual because Gemma's cat snuck out the apartment and you'd had to hunt him down. He was cute but a menace but once he was back safe at home you'd both made a beeline for the bar. You had a few shots in quick succession to make up for the lost time and you weren't drunk but you felt the pleasant warmth spreading through you as you laughed and joked with your friends.

"Oh, I love this song, dance with me," you beamed, not giving Gemma a chance to protest as you grabbed her hand and moved a little from the table. It wasn't a club and there wasn't a dance floor but there was adequate space between the tables to dance. No one else was dancing but it was hardly the first time you and Gemma did this. It was always fun and amusing. 

You wrapped your arms around her shoulders and hers went around your waist as the pair of you giggled and swayed your hips. There were a few cat calls but it was all in jest. It was obvious you two were joking around by your over exaggerated movements and Gemma singing loudly and very off key, with your friends joining in the chorus. You loved your group of little weirdos. 

You turned around in her arms, hands still around her neck from behind as you swung your hips, eyes closed and a smile on your face. But when you opened them, they landed right on Mr Handsome himself who was at a table with some others and he was staring at you with wide eyes and a small smile. A grin spread across your face as you continued to dance. You knew you'd see him again. You paid little attention to anyone else as your eyes locked with his and he sat up a little straighter as he noticed he had your attention. 

You smirked, flashing him a cheeky wink as a call back to when you last met before you spun back around to face Gemma.

"So… the super hot guy over there in a maroon sweater? Looks like he's stepped right off of vogue? He's Coffee guy," you murmured giddily. Gemma didn't even hide the look she shot him before she laughed and looked back at you.

"First of all… wow. And second, he's like legit staring at you so hard right now," Gemma smirked.

You bit your lip with a smile as the song ended. Gemma gave you a hug before returning to her seat and then you made your way over to the bar and waited for the bartender so you could grab a beer.

"Can I get you a drink, astrology girl?" His smooth voice sent a shiver down your spine and you glanced over to where he was now standing next to you. 

"Of course. Beer please, Coffee boy," you grinned cheekily at him. He chuckled, ducking his head as he waved over the bartender and asked for two beers. 

"I told you we'd meet again," you murmured with a smirk, sipping the beer once it was placed in front of you. 

"You did. Although I think my friend Frank had somethin' to do with that," he replied with a smile as he glanced over his shoulder. You followed his gaze to his table and saw the man from the flower shop. Your eyes widened as an incredulous laugh left your lips and you gave him a thumbs up. You heard his laugh from across the bar. The woman with him was smiling wide and also watching you both, as were the other two men at his table. You had a feeling if you glanced over at your own friends they'd be doing the same thing. 

"So… do I get your name yet?" He asked, leaning his forearms on the bar. His shoulder brushed yours and it felt like a jolt of electricity shot through you. You glanced at him, a coy smile on your lips as you took another sip of beer. Your tongue darted out and swiped over your lower lip to catch a drop and you didn't miss how his dark eyes were drawn to the motion. It made your stomach clench. 

"Y/N," you smiled softly. You couldn't help it, you'd have given him anything he asked right then with the way he was looking at you. His face brightened when you relinquished your name, his eyes crinkling a little as he grinned. His teeth are perfect. I want him to bite every inch of me with those things.

"Billy," he offered, raising his beer bottle. You grinned as you clinked yours with his and you both took a drink. 

"I read some pretty interesting things about the sexual compatibility of an Aries and Scorpio," you murmured with a wry grin, nibbling your lower lip as you looked at him through your lashes. He was so close to you and you could feel his warmth through the layers of both of your clothes. And he smelt good. It almost made you dizzy.

"Is that so?" He asked, dark eyes intent on you and only you. His voice was lower than before and you fought the urge to jump him right there. You flashed him a toothy grin, a mix of flirtatious and just plain impish that made him smile.

"Apparently we're a match made in sexual heaven," you teased softly. 

You watched as he swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he did. His almost black eyes felt like they were setting you on fire from the inside out with how heated his gaze was.

"Well now I gotta problem. Because I wanted to ask you on a date first but you're makin' it really hard for me to have any restraint," he purred. Shiiiiit. That tone alone would have you needing to change your panties when you got home. 

You smirked, all sinful as you leaned into his ear, your hand going to his firm forearm. You heard his breathing hitch before you even said anything as your hot breath landed on his ear.

"I'd really like that date," you whispered with a saccharine smile. Honestly, you weren't known for your patience and you wanted nothing more than to drag him back to your place and fuck him until neither of you could walk again. But the idea of a date, of dragging it out a bit, it intrigued you. The man had lived rent free in your brain since you both collided three days ago and as much as it would kill you, you knew the wait would be worth it and only make it better. 

You moved back a bit, your face still ridiculously close to his and he flashed you a devilish smile all of his own before he leaned down and kissed you. It was an intense kiss. Full of hunger and passion you'd never felt before and you didn't hesitate to kiss him back eagerly. There were some cat calls and you had a feeling a few came from your friends but you were hardly fazed by your brazen kiss with the most handsome man in the world. 

When you broke away, you were both panting and you felt your cheeks flush a little at how he looked at you. There was definitely arousal there but he also looked slightly awestruck. You flashed him another grin before slurping some of your beer and he chuckled as he did the same. 

You spent the next few hours sitting beside Billy at the bar as you got to know one another, all the little mundane details that really made up a person. You felt like you'd never get tired of looking at him, of hearing that smooth as silk voice or watching how expressive his face and eyes could be. And no matter what you said, whether it was embarrassing stories about your friends or about the plants at work, he acted like you'd just told him the best story ever. He was attentive and soaked up all of your words greedily. You couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel like this. 

You left the bar that night after agreeing for him to pick you up at 8 the next night and exchanging numbers. You'd kissed him that time and it was full of as many promises as his kiss had been. And you didn't miss the way Frank clapped his back once he returned to his seat either. The wait would definitely be worth it. 

[avintagekiss24]

SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble​​ mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”

author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!

The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.

They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.

You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.

The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.

You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.

You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.

Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.

That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.

You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.

The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.

Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.

You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.

“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”

He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”

His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.

“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.

You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”

You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.

“Packing up the car.”

You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.

“Steve is really excited.” He says.

You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.

There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”

You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.

“She’s up.”

You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.

“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.

Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”

“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”

You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”

“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”

That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.

Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.

You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”

“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”

“The blue one?”

“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”

You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.

“Thank you.” You offer gently.

Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.

“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”

“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”

Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”

It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.

You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.

You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.

You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.

“Good?” Bucky asks.

You nod, “Good.”

The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”

“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”

Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.

You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.

You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.

“How many?”

“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”

“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”

They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly.  When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.

Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.

You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.

Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.

You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.

You feel like yourself again.

When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.

Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.

You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.

Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.

“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”

You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.

Defense mechanism.

You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.

What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.

They haven’t.

They won’t.

The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.

“We promise.” Steve adds on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.

The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.

Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.

He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.

It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.

Not anymore.

It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.

You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.

Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.

Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.

Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.

You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.

Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.

Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…

You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.

You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.

He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.

Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.

You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.

Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

[falsemood]

Ok, Prinxiety singer/celebrity AU

This is basically an entire fic I haven’t written yet

TW: Slight swearing, mentions of trauma/ traumatic childhoods, high expectations, mentions of money issues, mentions of trying to “fix” queer/autistic characters, lying, crying, very emotional moments, feelings of betrayal/heartbreak, anxiety, depression, kissing, mention of food, social media/toxic fanbase, mentions of government, mentions of war, Let me know if more needs to be added.

Reblogs > Likes

Roman and Remus were forced into child acting when they were like 2

Got really famous (and also a lotta bit traumatized because Hollywood)

Whilst a teenager, Roman creates a pop-punk singing career

Songs about societal standards, toxic masculinity, homoph*bia, etc.

He’s a bad ass is what I’m saying

Except really he’s overworking himself because what really is he without his audience and he must always please them-

Anyway

Roman, trying to escape paparazzi or get out of some celebrity chore, ends up in a little run-down diner

The guy serving him is actually really cute and has purple hair and piercings and, oh god, a pride pin on his lanyard

(Can you guess who it is?)

So they actually end up talking for a couple hours, just small chat

Shockingly, Virgil has literal no idea about Roman or his fame

Roman doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it much better that way.

And a couple days later, Roman gets a weird craving for cheap french fries and dirt coffee

It becomes a regular thing, making as many excuses as possible to go to the little diner just to talk to Virgil

Virgil really enjoys the company, because no one really visits the place to use more than the restroom anyway

And because Roman tips generously, both in charm and in, like, a solid 15 dollars.

Subplot: Remus and Janus (who’s also famous, go with it) get awfully suspicious on why Roman always disappears on them and why his music is becoming sappier by the song. They become detectives.

Roman and Virgil slowly start to hang out in different places

Roman always tries to be obscure so he doesn’t get recognized

While on a walk through the corner of a trashy park, the subject of music comes up

Insert sweaty and nervous Roman

But Virgil admits to actually playing ukulele and writing his own, very personal songs

This leads into a rant about his broken childhood, his difficulty of growing up autistic and queer, and trying to just make it financially.

Roman, being very careful about his word choice, talks about heavy expectations, people publicly comparing and judging him, and then basically admits how much he cherishes his time with Virgil.

It’s all very tooth-rotting sweet.

But it gets very late. Being the area that it is, Roman (understandably) gets too terrified to walk back to his car

And he could call and uber orrrrr

Virgil can just offer he stay the night at his nearby apartment 

Once there, Roman manages to easily convince Virgil into playing him a song. It’s a slow, optimistic one that’s just full of heart.

Virgil has always used a rough and low voice when speaking, so imagine the shock when his singing voice is practically crystal and silk.

Roman kisses him as soon as it’s done. Yay! First relationship milestone! Besides pouring your hearts out to each other 10 minutes ago.

Remus and Janus continue to be all confused on why Roman has been gone for an entire day now

They’re not very good detectives, actually. They’re trying their best.

Whenever they both have free time, Roman and Virgil spend almost all of it together.

Flirting, laughing, singing and kissing. They learn a lot about their different styles of music.

Virgil’s is much more earthy and romantic, the lyrics are more poetic and subtle. It’s like a love letter to art and human creation.

Roman’s is snappier and dramatic. His instrumentals take a lot of twists and turns that all wraps up beautifully. It’s basically a demand for love and attention.

During this, Roman spends less and less time on social media. His fans get slightly concerned but Roman just mentions a “Special, secret” album in a tweet and they all go crazy again.

It’s not entirely a lie, he fleshes out each of his songs more to something satisfying and touching. It’s still very punk and counter-culture, but it has more of a re-listen ability. He’s very proud of it, even it it takes much longer.

Weird. He feels better about himself when he takes the time and patience to make something good. Smells like character development.

Remus and Janus are still very bad detectives but they like the new music so...

Roman and Virgil would regularly write snippets of songs together as a pass time but they accidentally create something amazing

It’s an acoustic guitar, duet song about two lovers watching the sky as a nuclear war destroys the world. Very classy.

(Let me act like I haven’t already written this entire thing in my head for a second) It’s honestly a very bittersweet and a little edgy song, like a conversation about how the government is destroying something so beautiful but “hey at least I get to spend my last moments with you, babe”.

Roman, being incredibly proud of the song and his boyfriend, records the audio of them singing together

Classic phone hack situation, the entire recording gets out. Idk the story isn’t entirely deep yet, work with me.

Roman’s fans are very excited and intrigued because they can’t tell who the other singer is, his managers are confused because they’ve never heard anything like this from him and he’s just hoping to god Virgil doesn’t find out

Virgil finds out.

Virgil never really used social media, it made him uncomfortable, but when he sees his song plastered in at least 10 gossipy news articles, he had to click it.

Spends the next two days just learning everything about Roman and Remus Kingsley and how his boyfriend is one of biggest celebrities of the year and he didn’t even know???

And now his very, very personal, shared experience with Roman is somehow currently on the same trending page as Global politics

The same Roman who tipped more then he ever needed, Roman who would let Virgil keep his shirts, Roman who would stay up all night to talk about ridiculous conspiracy theories, Roman who taught him to be more direct when pouring his feelings into his songs. His Roman had shared what was possibly the most intimate moment between the two for millions of people to see.

Almost a month, he doesn’t answer the phone and doesn’t leave his home. He tries not to think of it, he gets to scared every time. He tries his best to erase Roman from his mind.

It breaks both of their hearts.

Roman explains very clearly that the song was never meant to be shared. But this only gets the public more interested. He refuses to explain himself on any talk shows, he stops writing music and only explains the whole story to Remus and Janus while crying his eyes out.

The detective squad sets out to find Virgil and break into his house (wth guys)

And they explain everything.

Even knowing the leak wasn’t Roman’s fault, he still feels lied to and scared of what the public now knows of him.

But, as much as it’s terrifying, he still wants to see Roman. He still loves him. *Enter audience clapping*

And so, the meet up in Roman’s house for the first time. It’s big, it’s nice and they drove there in an expensive car. Virgil is very out of his comfort zone.

And the two just talk, again.

Roman “I fell in love with you as soon as you said you’ve never seen me before” Kingsley.

He just rants about how tough child acting was, how his reputation weighed him down, how the public both saw him as someone above them and as entertainment that worked for them. And how he didn’t want Virgil to see him like that, or even worse, for Virgil to been seen like that.

He cries a lot, so does Virgil.

It’s a slow apology, but he’s forgiven.

*End?*

Ok hold on-

Notice how my writing gets choppier as then bullets go on. Yeah, started this at midnight and it is now 4 AM. Fun.

These are

Bonus Bullets

I guess for just points for the story

The conclusion or Epilogue is that they both agree to continue to write and release their own music, but just at their own pace and without unwanted additions like live performances or music videos or promotions.

Logan and Patton should definitely be incorporated somewhere, probably join the detective squad.

I’m a sucker for subplots, especially funny ones. But I think some angst would be good, too. An idea is Remus no longer allowing his parents to force him into movie roles he doesn’t want.

Janus/Patton/Logan could also possibly be Managers in a way? Like father figures to Roman and Remus.

It’s a little blurry, but I have great ideas for Virgil’s backstory. They most include a mother trying to “fix” his “flaws”.

My main issue is that this would be a very long term and slow-written fic, which I am no good at. I can attempt, but really no promises. If someone else wants to use this idea in anyway, I completely encourage. I just wish to be tagged and created for the basis.

Am I asking to be credited for taking Thomas’ @thatsthat24 characters and putting them into my own plot? Yes, yes I am.

Unfortunately, I have run out of tag space. Buuuut, if I need to add any TWs to the beginning, let me know.

And if you read all this....honestly you must have really good patience, I’m getting sick of myself. Thank you, though. 🖤

[kirishibi]

Hi! I just found your blog and I love it! I was wondering if I could request something with Shinsou, Kaminari, Kirishima, Todoroki, and maybe Bakugou (sorry if that’s a lot) to where their shy crush (with a flower quirk) confesses to them and gives them a bouquet of flowers? Thank you either way (i understand wholeheartedly if not)!!! 💛

Warnings: None!

Pairings: Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader, Kaminari Denki x Reader, Todoroki Shoto x Reader, Kirishima Ejirou x Reader, Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

a/n: omg you’re a sweetheart, thank you so much! i went ahead and did these as headcanons, hopefully that's alright - enjoy! 💛

p.s. through writing this, i discovered that i don’t know shit about flowers

Shinsou Hitoshi

The moment the words ‘I have feelings for you’ fall from your lips, Shinsou’s stunned into silence

Unexpected is an understatement, but he’s not complaining in the slightest

Of course he has a crush on you. How could he not?

You’re the gorgeous, yet reserved and soft spoken badass of class 1a. To him, anyone who doesn’t recognize that is an idiot

He never intended to make a move on you, though. You’re too perfect to have feelings for a guy like him, or so he thought

He can’t help but stare wide-eyed as you present a beautifully wrapped bundle of purple flowers to him with shaky fingers. 

“I like lilacs a lot… t-they remind me of you, so- um- I grew some for you with my quirk.” A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you look away, anxiously nibbling on your bottom lip

He watches as you timidly fidget with the flowers’ stems

He desperately wishes your were holding his hand rather than the bouquet

Shinsou doesn’t realize how badly he wants to kiss you until the feeling becomes overwhelming, and he can no longer help himself

His body moves before his mind has time to catch up

A strong hand cups your jaw, calling your attention back to him and gently tilting your chin upward

It takes all of Shinsou’s self control not to press his lips to yours

He instead opts to kiss you on the forehead, deciding to save the real thing for when the time is right

You deserve a truly special first kiss, after all

He feels warmth creep up his neck to his cheeks, his face beginning to flush 

“These are beautiful, but sadly I don’t have anything to put them in.”

When you begin to stutter out an apology, he presses a finger to your lips

His other hand grabs the flowers from you, his lingering touch electric on your skin

A cool smile cracks his characteristically stern expression.

“It’s still pretty early in the evening. How about I take you to dinner, and afterwards we can try to find a vase worthy of them?”

Kaminari Denki

Denki tries to play it cool, really he does

He also fails, horribly

His mouth goes dry as he takes the bundle of flowers from you, “These are so cool! Did you grow them yourself?”

This boy has been so damned in love with you for so long 

Since he met you, truthfully

Normally, he’d just ask you out casually and brush it off if you rejected him

That’s what he does with every other girl, at least

But you’re not every other girl. He actually cares about you, and wants you to care for him too

He’d been waiting for the perfect moment to finally tell you about his feelings for you

He’s typically an impatient guy, but you’re special. You’re worth the wait

And now you were giving him flowers?!

For months he’d been planning the best way to confess how he feels for you, and now you’re the one telling him how he makes your heart flutter and knees weak

The moment you nervously glance away to gather your thoughts, he’s pinching himself just to make sure he’s not dreaming

He can hear his heart pounding in his chest as you talk

He’s sure you can hear it too

One hand is gripping the bouquet so tightly his palm has gone numb

The other nervously thumbs the petals of a chrysanthemum - yellow, to match his hair

When your words trail off, and you nervously look up, awaiting his response, he finds himself tongue tied

All he do is timidly pat your head and smile, “You’re so cute it’s unfair. How could I not like you back?”

Todoroki Shoto

This feeling was entirely new to Shoto

When he first met you, he just thought you were pretty

Later, he discovered that you had a wonderful personality as well, and by then he found himself unable to take his eyes off you - be it during in-the-field lessons or in the classroom

You’re the reason he scored lower than Midoriya on the last practical exam and had to endure an earful from Endeavor the following day

Watching you use your quirk so elegantly and tactfully during a mock battle, though, was entirely worth it

Something about you is alluring. You spark feelings in him that he didn’t even know existed

Do you have a second quirk? To him, there was no other explanation

He tried to ask Midoriya about it, hoping to find an answer as to why his mouth goes dry when you’re around, why his palms get sweaty when you talk to him, and his body grows hot at every lingering touch

Apparently, his friend wasn’t in the mood to answer questions, because he only turned red and backed away, telling Shoto to just talk to you himself.

He asks you to take a walk with him so that he can confront you directly, to which you agree, stating you have something to talk to him about as well

At some point, you stop to sit in a grassy area and rest

As he watches red and white roses grow under your fingertips, he finds his breath taken away once again

You pluck the freshly grown flowers, tying them together with a ribbon that had previously been wrapped around your wrist

Then, you confess your feelings for him

Hearing you put into words exactly how he’d felt about you for so long makes him entirely confused yet so elated he can hardly keep still

“So, you feel that way when you’re around me… because you like me? That’s what that feeling is?”

You nod, and a small smile upturns the corners of his mouth. 

“Oh. Well, then I like you too.” He says so casually that it leaves you speechless. “Does this mean I get to date you now?”

Kirishima Ejirou

When you ask to speak to Kirishima alone, he gets so excited he can hardly contain himself

He doesn’t even know what you want to discuss, but getting to talk to you one-on-one always does that to him

And when you tell him you have something to give him? Oh boy, he’s like a puppy who’s owner just said ‘treat’

Flowers aren’t exactly the manliest gift, especially when they’re from you, the girl Kirishima been trying to impress since his first day at UA

Making you smile makes him feel very manly, though, so he gladly accepts the scarlet bouquet when you offer it to him

He doesn’t quite know what to do with the flowers, so he takes a sniff

They smell like you, sweet and earthy

The overjoyed look on your face when he calls the flowers pretty only delights him more

In that moment, he decides he loves flowers, bouquets, and you everything else that interests you.

If it makes you happy, it makes Ejirou ecstatic 

He’s so lost in thought that he almost doesn’t hear you timidly clear your throat and begin telling him the reason you’d wanted to be alone

He listens with a wide, sharp-toothed smile as you explain your feelings

If you stumble on your words, he’s quick to rub your back with his free hand until you’re calm enough to continue talking

Once your done, he wraps you in a tight hug

He rests his chin on your head as you bury your face in his chest 

“Don’t worry, (Y/n), I feel the same way about you!”

He plants a loving kiss atop your head before pulling away

“I’d love to be your guy if you’ll let me.” He smiles at you once again, feigning calm when inside his heart’s about to explode

He looks back down at the bouquet, a look of mild concern replacing his joyous expression. 

“The only problem is, uh, I’ve never taken care of flowers before. I don’t really know what to do with these, but I want to make you proud… can you teach me?”

Bakugou Katsuki

Oh FUCK this tsundre gremlin isn’t gonna make confessing easy on you. Nuh uh. Good luck, he’s a little shit

You knock on his bedroom door a little while after he’d loudly declared to you and your peers that he was going to bed

You’d slipped away moments after his announcement as the rest of class A played some card game in the common room

When he opens the door, he’s expecting to see Kaminari or Kirishima with a big dumb smile, standing there ready to bug him as was typical at this time of night

Instead, he’s greeted by you, holding a bouquet of orange flowers and nervously toeing the ground

If you hadn’t been looking elsewhere, you’d have caught a brief smirk flash across his lips before it was forced away, replaced by his iconic scowl

“Whatdya want and what the hell is that.”

When you ask to come in so that you can talk in private, it takes everything in him not to respond with an eager ‘yes’

He continues his forced frown as he steps aside, folding his arms across his chest as you enter the dimly lit room

He kicks the door closed behind you with a huff. “‘Kay, what is it? I’ve gotta sleep, ya know.”

You nervously stutter out your confession as his angry gaze warms your skin and slicks your palms with sweat

When you finish, he silently takes the bouquet from your hand, eyeing it skeptically

He’s convinced this is a dirty prank, some ploy thought up by the idiots that hang out with him

He’s got no clue how they knew he had a thing for you, but he’s getting more pissed by the second as he tells himself there’s no way this is real

There was no way that you, the girl he’d been quietly admiring for what seemed like forever, had a crush on him

You’re too sweet to want someone so bitter. Even he knows that

As he looks up from the vibrantly colored bundle of flowers and back to your worried expression, though, he realizes there’s no way this is fake 

His angry demeanor softens as he watches the anxious fidget of your fingers, the way your hands shake and shoulders cave in uncertainty

“You’re serious?”

“Ye- um, well, I-” You stutter out, trying to prepare for a brutal rejection, tears threatening to well up in your eyes

“Spit it out. Yes or no?”

“Yes. I’m serious”

He sets the bouquet down on his desk with more care and grace than you’d thought possible for the blond brute, before folding his arms across his chest yet again

“I’ll keep the flowers, but if you tell anyone, you’re dead. I mean it.”

You nod in understanding, still bracing yourself for him to raise his voice or insult you

“... And I’ll be your boyfriend or whatever, but that means you’re mine and only mine, got it? If anyone other than me lays a finger on you, tell me so I can kill ‘em.”

[skellebonez]

Happy Birthday Kit!!!

It’s your birthday @kitkat1003​ heck yeah! And for your birthday Spirit is going to have a good day because I and many other people love them a lot! I hope you like this fic as much as I loved writing it!

It was possibly the oddest favor Spirit had done for anyone, ever. But, if they were being at least a tiny bit honest with themselves, it sounded like it could have been one of the more enjoyable ones. Well… technically Pigsy said it was “not a favor I’m just asking you to do this”. So. Potato potahtoe.

Specifically he asked if Spirit would “spend the day with him.” That was it. Simple, easy, long to be sure but not as long as many of the other favors that required a fetch quest at the very least. That was the original bare bones request, vague as it was. Just spend the entire with with Pigsy, 9 AM to 9 PM, and they would be right as rain.

And it wasn’t even like that would be hard! They already had work scheduled for the day, helping Pigsy open the shop and working the register. Why, they could even finish up the task while at work, two bird one stone and all that!

At least, that was what Spirit thought. Before Pigsy met them at the shop entrance and announced in a tired voice after chugging some very very clearly fresh and not sweetened coffee-

“Store’s closed for the day. We’re going shopping.”

Store closed.

For the day.

And going shopping.

Going.

Shopping.

Spirit pushed down their immediate shudder of “oh, that’s not what we had planned today and now today is different oh no I was not prepared for this oh dear oh jeepers” that ran up their spine.

“Uh- o-ok… where are we headed?”

“Food market, mostly,” Pigsy said with a shrug as he adjusted a few reusable baskets in his hands. He must have had a lot on the list for the day or he was buying a lot in advance. “Thinkin of hitting up another place or two in the area if we got time, but nothing too strenuous.”

A bit of Spirit’s tension eased from their shoulders and spine at this. They’d been to the market plenty of times before, so even though it was out of the blue it wasn’t exactly that unusual for them. The last time they went had been with Pigsy and Tang, and while their fighting over which carrots looked “good enough” wasn’t the most… fun conversation to be present for, it was nice.

Pigsy had even bought them a snack, insisting there were no strings attached. No favors. Just a snack from a friend to a friend. And that memory was nice… nice enough to help elevate any extra anxiety still lingering in the demon’s spine (that came from the news anyway, the regular anxiety was as there as always).

“Well, best to head as quickly as possible?” They offered, following Pigsy as he lead the way. “Want to get there fast to get the pick of the best vegetables, right?”

“You’re speakin my language!”

~

The market was surprisingly calm and quiet. Maybe it was because it wasn’t one of the usual busy days, or maybe it was because of how early they were in the day, but instead of the loud bustle and clutter and yells of vendors there was just a set of clearly dedicated loyal customers and relaxed vendors making small talk.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” Pigsy said suddenly as they made their way down to where he would usually buy root vegetables. “They do this sort of thing a couple times a month where the market isn’t open to the public for a couple hours. It’s a little somethin to help out the local restaurants and other businesses who come here for their supplies.”

“Is that why that guy at the entrance looked at me like I was about to steal a child’s lunch money?”

That hadn’t been fun at all. Until Pigsy had stepped up beside him Spirit thought they were genuinely in some sort of trouble they didn’t know about.

Then again. That happened a lot. Thinking they were in trouble they didn’t know about. Pigsy was trying to make sure that didn’t happen as much. “If I could tell their brain to stop it wouldn’t happen at all” was what he said when Spirit overheard him talking to Tang about them.

It wasn’t good to snoop, Spirit knew that, but… it was. Nice. Oddly nice. He wasn’t going to be able to just tell Spirit’s brain to stop telling them things, and before Spirit would be confused and maybe a little horrified at the idea, but after spending so much time with the pig demon it felt. Nice.

Their conversation continued on for a moment, Pigsy explaining what the market on these special days was like and how the deals here were so helpful and every stall they stopped at Pigsy made it a point to keep the conversation going with the vendor himself. Just open enough for Spirit to insert themselves if they wanted, though they didn’t except at the vendor selling oddly colored flowers (which led into a short explanation about how they were made) and an explanation of how many of the dried ones on sale were imported from other countries and difficult to find outside their stall.

They didn’t know why Pigsy was buying flowers, though. At least, not the specific reason. Dried, fresh, some with stems and some with only the heads. Some bulbs as well. Maybe he was going to try some more floral broths or flower infused noodles? He’d done that in the past apparently! And Spirit had watched him made odder things, experimental dishes that didn’t really change much with the old recipes so much as they simply added more depth to them.

Spirit did notice, however, most of the flowers he had purchased were… purple. Or, in the case of one, blue. An odd one out to be sure.

“Alright, we’re done!” Pigsy announced, smiling widely at his haul. Which, all things considered… wasn’t actually as much as Spirit expected. Still, a good haul. “We’re going to put this all away at the shop, I have an appointment with Sandy later but we’re not expected at any specific time so there isn’t really a need to rush.”

“AH, hold on just one moment!” The flower stall vendor said as he came out from behind his stall. “Pigsy, I want you both to have these. For being a wonderful return customer and for the nice conversation.”

Spirit watched as he tucked a purple flower behind Pigsy’s ear, a daisy if Spirit was correct. And then he did the same to them, making them tense in surprise. If they said anything after that Spirit didn’t realize due to their shock, but the next thing they registered was Pigsy gently guiding them out of the entrance.

~

Sandy was more than ready for them when they arrived, urging Spirit inside and to his couch while Pigsy and he talked about… something.

Spirit wasn’t paying as much attention as they normally would when they were immediately swarmed with cats.

Cats on their lap, cats on their arms, cats on their shoulders. Cats. Cats everywhere. So many cats.

“Uh… S-Sandy…” Spirit started, an uncertain chuckle bubbling up as another cat plopped down on their head. “Do your cats… smell fear? Or do I smell delicious? They’re vibrating very violently. And… rubbing against me. A lot. I mean, I know they’re purring but this is weird.”

Sandy turned toward Spirit, covering his mouth to keep himself from laughing at the sight.

“No, no they don’t and you do not,” he said with a shake of his head, and he gave a look toward Pigsy. “You probably got some catnip on you somehow at the market. You’re just their favorite person right now.”

“… oh,” Spirit breathed out, reaching up to pat one of the cats on his lap carefully. The cat let out a trill, rolling onto their back as they pressed harder into Spirit’s side. Spirit couldn’t help it. They gave in to the temptation to quote a video Mei showed him long ago. “… I have been chosen.”

They didn’t even pay attention to Sandy and Pigsy until something on a trey was placed on the table between all of them, the clinking jolting some of the cats and making them roll off Spirit (who was grateful for the use of their arms back).

“So… I was hoping you might want to taste test something I wanted to add to the menu for special occasions that Sandy is teaching me to make,” Pigsy said with a smile, gesturing to the trey. “He actually made these in advance, they take a long while to dry properly, but they’re supposed to be worth it. But I, uh, can’t guarantee anything.”

It was very… purple and blue. A clear cup filled with what Spirit assumed was blue tea and a purple… stick of some kind that seemed to be flowers dipped in sugar? The only thing that seemed to stand out was the tiny cup of what smelled like lemon juice between them.

“The stick is candied lavender!” Sandy explained, gesturing to the hardened blossom. “You can use it to stir the tea and add sweetness or just eat it as is! But before you choose, pour that little cup into the tea.”

Spirit raised an eyebrow, almost wondering if this was some kind of prank. It didn’t feel like Pigsy and Sandy would pull a prank like this but. Well. Who knows… but they wanted to trust that they weren’t so they did as asked, slowly pouring the lemon juice into… the…

“It’s turning purple,” Spirit whisper shouted, eyes wide and awed as the blue tea slowly turned from the brilliant blue to a more brilliant purple from the bottom of the cup up. “What. Purple? It’s purple! The tea changes colors!”

Pigsy chuckled, nodding his head with a wide smile. “Yup.”

“It’s called Butterfly Pea Flower tea,’ Sandy explained, smile just as wide. "Lemon and lime juice made it do that! It’s not really a rare tea, but we added some extra stuff to the lavender that should make it taste even better when you mix it all in. Go on, give it a try!”

Spirit looked between the two of them and picked up the lavender stick and tea cup, mixing them together as they sat back and took a sip.

It was… amazing. Earthy and slightly bitter from the lemon juice. There must have been honey as well as sugar in the lavender stick, bringing a bright sweetness to the drink. There was a bit of spice to it, maybe cinnamon, as well. It was nothing like anything Spirit had ever drank before. It was warm without being too hot, and combined with the purring of the cats surrounding them…

They realized they felt. Good. Not perfect, not completely relaxed. They didn’t know if that was possible. But they felt good. Happy.

“I think… I think people will love this.”

[amphxtrite]

3 • Hurricane

series summary: alone almost everyday from the moment you were born, thrown to the side by everyone in society because of who your parents were and who you were said to be, a death eater. Your parents were to of the most powerful dark wizards ever known and because of that you were shunned everywhere you went. When the hufflepuff golden boy sees you for the first time and falls, but is he willing to be judged, feared, and hated, and how far will he go,  To Be At Her Side.

chapter summary: everything seemed to be going well, for a short amount of time everything felt right. cedric had grown closer to you and became a friend. But all good things come to an end, and yours came with something you could have never seen or expected.

warnings: flashbacks, mentions of violence, threats.

tag list: @mullthingsoverinthehotwater​ @hoe4cedricdiggory​ @queenl04​ @persephone-archives​ @0niko-san​ @annasdani​ @joalinbenefits​ @awritingtree​ @confuscita​ @badgal-jackie​ @cedricsfluffyhair​ @degeathesaviour

word count: 3.9k

a/n: there’s quite a lot to absorb in this chapter, but I love how it turned out!

enjoy <3

__________________________________________

“In the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet for just a moment.”

Before every storm, there is a calm. When everything feels right, everything seems to fall into place. You think everythings is going to be alright.

And for a while it was.

You had someone beside you, a friend you could nod at in the hallways, or talk about homework with, and it was enough. You spent your entire life doing everything alone, and suddenly it all changed. A grey eyed hufflepuff had managed to sneak into your lonely existence and put a smile on your face. It was sweetly excruciating. You were truly grateful for his company, and enjoyed having Cedric around, it was just hard showing him that, when you had never had a friend before. You were in forigen territory and you could tell Cedric found it hilarious.

You’d catch him smirking when you struggled to ask him for assistance with anything, but in the end, he’d always help you through it, reassuring you and putting up with your awkward demeanor and your confusion towards his jokes.

“Come on y/n, you’re supposed to laugh!” Cedric chuckles, clutching his stomach as you stare on at him, book clutched in your grip as you cock your head sideways.

“Oh- um… Haha.” You deadpan, flicking your attention back to the novel residing in your hands as Cedric rolls his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what jokes are either.” He huffs, standing from the table and plucking the book from your hands.

“I was raised alone, Cedric. Not under a rock.” You comment with a small smirk, swiping it back and pressing back the pages Cedric had wrinkled.

“Okay, okay. We’ve been here all day though, can we please at least go to the courtyard, my legs are starting to go numb from sitting in this bloody chair.” Cedric pouts, glancing longingly out the windows.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug, shutting your book and picking up your bag. “You’re sure about being seen with me?” You inquire softly.

“You don’t have to ask that everytime we go somewhere y/n.” The brunette huffs with a smile and a light shake of his head.

“Just need to make sure.” You remark, pursing your lips.

You never would get used to walking the halls with someone. A friend.

You could tell Cedric’s struggles about being seen with you grew less and less apparent as your friendship progressed. You even dealt with less harassment from your peers as Cedric spent more time with you. Aside from the occasional scoff or glare from one of Cedric’s admirers or a person that hates you, everything was going alright.

You round the corner to the clocktower courtyard, drop yourself onto the stone structure and pull out the transfigurations homework you had yet to finish.

“Oh no you don’t!” Cedric sighs, taking your hands and plucking the papers away. You flinch back at the sudden contact.

Cedric’s eyes widen as he realizes what he did. “Oh my goodness, y/n I’m so sorry.”

“N-No, Cedric it’s alright. You just scared me is all.” You reassure, brushing it off with a light chuckle.

Cedric’s tensed shoulders begin to relax and he offers his hand to you again. “I still think it’s too early for homework. How about a walk around instead?” Cedric suggests, smiling to himself as you roll your eyes, but eventually take his outstretched hand.

“I guess a walk wouldn’t hurt.”

The afternoon faded to evening, but Cedric continued to walk around the Hogwarts ground with you. He laughed and joked, ran around the trees and dipped his hands into the freezing cold lake, while you stood beside him and allowed a small grin on your face as you breathed in the summer air and enjoyed the soft breeze.

Everything was perfect, everything felt right, everything except the strange pink coat that dusted Cedric’s cheeks whenever he’d managed to make you smile. You had no idea what that could possibly be, so you chose to ignore it. Cedric seemed so happy, it must be from all his running around.

“Hey Ced, it’s almost dinner, we should probably head back to the castle now.” You sigh as the sun became no more than a bright line in the purple stained sky.

“Oh alright.” He chuckles, standing from his spot on the field. “For you.” He smiles as he lifts a small white wildflower to your face.

You smile at the small bloom and reach your hand out to take it between your fingers when a sense of strange dread washes over you.

You freeze as the feeling passes, a mix of being watched and being cursed. Cedric doesn’t seem to notice at first, but as your eyes glass over and your hand freezes, he knows something is up.

He hears a rustle from the outskirts of the forbidden forest and two blurry shadows emerge.

“Y/n, we have to go now!” He whispers hurriedly as you snap yourself out of your daze and nod. Cedric tucks the wildflower behind your ear and creeps behind the large bushes with you in tow. The two of you are quick to make a mad dash as soon as you’re out of immediate sight of whatever creature was lurking on the edge of the forest, and entering the familiar, warm hallways of Hogwarts.

“D-Did you feel that too?” You ask over the sound of your heavy breathing.

“Feel what?”

“That we were being watched! L-Like someone was going to hex us.” You stammer, glancing back every few moments at the strange burning feeling at the back of your neck.

“No… Maybe you’re just tired y/n, I’ll walk you back to your common room.” Cedric sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and pulling his cloak a little closer to his body despite the warm temperature.

You nod gently and begin the walk down to the slytherin common room, removing the flower from your hair and gently playing with the petals.

“Anyways, do you have any plans for the summer?” Cedric chimes in an attempt to rid of the thought hanging limp in your mind.

“Y/n?” He questions again when you don’t respond.

“Hm? Oh, usually I spend the summers at my old house, after I grew old enough the orphanage kicked me out and the ministry allows me to live by myself under strict conditions.” You sigh, thinking of the loneliness you would have to endure after school ended for holidays later this month.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything it’s still better than being stuck in the orphanage that did not want me.” You murmur, pursing your lips and sticking the blossom behind your ear again.

“I-I don’t mean to intrude, but do you ever… Miss your parents?” Cedric inquires softly.

You pause for a moment, choosing your words carefully.

“Every child misses their parents when they’re away. The problem is I barely knew my parents so I miss them in a different way.” You begin. Cedric looks at you to continue.

“If... You’re given a present on Christmas, but you aren’t allowed to open it, or know what’s inside, then obviously you’d be very upset. But as you go about your holiday, people tell you what they believe is inside the present. They tell you horrible things, and now you wonder if you really do want to open your gift.” You sigh, rounding the last corner to your common room. “They’re my parents, I obviously miss them. It’s just I don’t know what to think after all that’s happened through my life.” you pause, curling your hands into fists and letting out a loud sigh.

“Thanks for walking me back Cedric, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You nod to the brunette, whispering the password and stepping into the empty common room. Everyone must still be at dinner.

Cedric looks as though he wants to say more so you wait with an expecting look.

“I- good night y/n.”

“Good night Cedric.” You respond, allowing the door to creak to a close behind you.

Cedric curses himself in front of the door. This wasn’t how he had wanted that to go. He could have said anything, called you beautiful, invited you to go to the great hall to get some food before you went to bed, anything would have been better than stuttering out a goodnight!

He was just so deep in thought thinking about your story. How little people really chose to know and understand about you. He walked away with joy about the day’s activities, but also with a new feeling of disappointment and worry.

You collapse into your four poster with a light smile on your face as you hold the small flower in your hand and bring it to your nose again. Earthy rain and sweet petals fill your nose as you replay your day with Cedric over and over again. It was nice to have a friend like him in your life, but a strange feeling in your stomach gave you a new kind of sensation. One you hadn’t felt before, and you liked it.

As the great authors you’d read would say, it was like butterflies swarming her stomach, a loss for words when you looked into his eyes and the urge to hold him in your arms.

“No, Cedric is just a friend.” You laugh to yourself, hoping tomorrow would be just as amazing as today.

You lift your wand from your pocket and run your fingers across the beautiful design, breathing deeply as you cast a charm to keep the flower from wilting. You smile and set the blossom on your desk when a small crack brings your attention back to the real world, and a short cackle makes your blood run cold.

“Well, well, well. It’s been a long time, trouble.” A breathy high pitched voice rings from the shadows in the corner of your room.

“Oh do be nice darling, poor thing probably doesn’t remember who we are.” A lower, deeper voice calls from beside her.

You raise your wand again, this time with more malicious intentions than to charm a flower.

“Who are you? A-And what are you doing in my dorm?” You demand, pointing it back a forth from the man and woman in the pair.

“Oh poppet.” The woman laughs, stepping out of the dark corner.

“After everything we’ve done to get back to you that hardly seems the appropriate response.” She smiles.

Your jaw drops and as the man steps out from behind the curtain of darkness your hand flies to your locket. It couldn’t be! Your parents were locked away in Azkaban! How in Merlin’s name could they possibly be standing in front of you in Hogwarts of all places.

Your head snaps up and down towards the clean cut couple in the locket to the crazed, disgruntled pair standing before you.

“You…”

“Oh look dear, she still has the locket.” Your mother exclaims, pulling on your father's tattered sleeve as he nods slowly.

Your mother takes another step closer, and you can see the dirt and grime smeared on her face, the longing look in her eyes. She looked exhausted, but psychotic at the same time. You glance over at your father, but he makes no move. Stoic, as your mother creeps closer to you in the most disturbing manner, almost as if she were sizing up her prey.

“Sixteen long years we’ve been kept apart.” She breathes heavily, finally reaching you and running the back of her hand down your cheek.

“Kept away by those imbeciles at the ministry.” She continues using a mocking tone at the word ministry, lifting your chin up and inspecting your face.

“You’ve grown so much, trouble. Those disgusting little creatures will pay for what they’ve done.” She growls. “All will be well when the dark lord rises again.”

Your jaw drops and your blood runs with fear. “H-He’s coming back?!”

Your mother giggles as if you’ve just said the most hilarious thing and looks at you as though you were a puppy.

“Of course darling! And when he rules, everything will be right again. Order restored.” She cackles. “You’ll be with us again poppet, we promise.” Your father finally speaks, his cracked lips pulling into a dangerous smile.

“Severus will watch over you for the time being, at least until they know we’re gone.” You mother giggles again. “It was nice to see you again poppet.” Your mother smiles darkly.

“Now rest.” She demands, pushing her wand against your forehead and watching as you collapse against the mattress.

“Are you sure we can’t bring her with us, Diana?” Your father asks with a sigh.

“She’ll have her time when she’s ready, Anguis. Now I told Narcissa to take her for the summer, she’ll be safe with the Malfoys for now.” She smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“When the Dark Lord rises again, we can be the family we were meant to be.” She promises softly pushing the hair on your face behind your ear. “She looks just like us Anguis.”

“Yes, I suppose she does.” He nods.

“Now let’s go, before someone senses us.” Your mother sighs, flicking her wand.

“Hush my darling, don’t say a word. Papa’s gonna buy you a mockingbird, and If that mockingbird don’t sing. Papa’s gonna send you a hurricane, and if that hurricane won’t strike. I’ll kill them myself, don’t you strife.”

Your mother’s lullaby.

She’d sing it to you every night as you lay in the crib.

She was in the middle of singing it when the Aurors came and took them away. You could hear your parent’s screams as they were forced to the ground and taken away. Why were you remembering this now? What was happening...

“Y/n wake up.” A low, hushed voice whispers pulling you from your memory.

Your eyes blink rapidly as you adjust your eyes to the light.

“Mr. Severus? What are you doing here.” You question, wondering why the head of house was standing in your room.

“To keep the other students from attempting to kill you.” He states plainly placing a newspaper down into your lap.

‘Anguis and Diana L/n have escaped Azkaban, please keep a lookout for these two wizards.’ The headline read with the mugshots of your parents staring maliciously back at you.

“So it wasn’t a dream…”

“They came here didn’t they?” Snape sighs, flicking his wand to pack your suitcase with all your belongings. “Yes, what are you doing? How did you-”

“They weren’t supposed to stop here. Now Dumbledore knows they want you and he’s asked you to leave early.” Snape explains. “You’ll be staying with Narcissa and Lucius until we get this figured out, let’s go to Dumbledore’s office so we can Floo you there.” Snape sighs, ushering you out the door with your suitcase in tow.

Everything seems silent at first, but as soon as the door to the common room opens, you’re met with an eruption of shouting.

“This is all your fault!”

“My family is going to die because of you!”

“Death Eater! Death Eater!”

Were all common screams that were thrown your way. You kept your head down and followed Professor Snape’s flowing black robe as he did his best to keep the rest of the students at bay.

You did have to endure a couple of hits, but it was nothing you weren’t already used to.

“She’s going to blow us up like her parents did to the ministry!”

“Send her to Azkaban!”

“That’s enough!” Snape booms, his wand pressed against his throat must’ve meant he was using sonorus, and the students go quiet, they must not have realized he was there. You move behind him so you can continue on your way without the glares and shouts.

“T-They don’t know where I’m going do they?” You ask, worrying for the Malfoy’s.

“No Y/n, besides Lucius was rather eager to invite you. He and your father are rather close.”

“I just-”

“No one will come for the Malfoy’s. They made sure to keep your relocation a secret. You’ll still be back at Hogwarts next year.” He reassures.

You nod and your ears prick up at the sound of heavy breathing and several footfalls.

“Get out of my way! Y/n!” A familiar soft voice calls for you. Cedric.

“Shove off Tartal! Y/n, there you are.” The brunette gasps, catching his breath as he comes up behind you. “Cedric I-”

“Mister Diggory that’s quite enough. All of you get to your classes!” Snape seethes as most of the students disperse with disapproving expressions.

“Wait! Take this, please.” Cedric exclaims, passing you a piece of parchment as you gently take his hand into yours. “Cedric. Stay safe.” You smile, squeezing your intertwined hands.

“I’ll see you next year! I promise!” The brunette whispers one last time before walking to his next class.

‘Write to me.’ The slip read with his address printed in neat handwriting.

You smile as Snape ushers you forwards murmuring the password to the Headmaster’s office and walking up the winding stairs.

You finally reach the top to find the Head of Houses all standing around the room with Dumbledore at his desk in the middle.

“Ah Miss L/n. I do hope you know this is a mere precaution we must take to protect the school.” Dumbledore’s calm voice calls to you as you enter.

“O-Of course sir.” You nod, keeping your head down low as you notice the other teachers looking at you with tensed expression.

“Follow me Y/n.” Snape sighs, shooting the other teacher's death glares as he ushers you to the raging fire and hands you a bowl of floo powder.

“You know what to do.”

You nod and take a handful. Throwing it into the flames you step into the now green flames, tuck your arms into your side and as clearly as you can say your destination.

“Malfoy Manor.”

And in a puff of smoke you were gone.

“Severus-”

“She’s just a child and you know that. All of you know that.” He seethes, stomping out of the office.

You had never met the afamed Malfoys. You knew that they must have been close enough to your family for Draco to nod ‘hello’ every once in a while, but it wasn’t until you emerged from the pristine fireplace did you realize how close your parents really were to Lucius and Narcissa.

“Oh Lucius, y/n is here!” A woman’s soft voice calls from beside the fireplace. That must be Narcissa. “Ah, the young L/n. Nice to finally meet you.” A man answers back, walking into the room and up to you to shake your hand. Lucius, you could see the resemblance to Draco.

“Mr and Mrs. Malfoy, It’s a pleasure.” You smile, shaking Lucius’s hand and turning to Narcissa. “Oh y/n, there’s no need for this kind of formality with your family.” She smiles, wrapping you in a hug.

You tense as your heart drops to your stomach and your vision begins to swim and cloud. How could you have other family members? You were left alone for sixteen bloody years...

“F-Family?”

“Did you not know? Your mother is my sister darling.” Narcissa laughs, running her hand down your head.

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Y-You mean to tell me I’ve spent sixteen years helplessly alone, and I’ve had family this entire time?” You question, pulling back from Narcissa’s arms.

Her eyes widen and you can feel the atmosphere in the room change. “Oh my Merlin, y/n no! We were already being watched by the ministry, we couldn’t take you in while we were still being trialled for Azkaban as well!” She explains hurriedly.

“Your parents knew we had no real involvement with any big events, so they wanted us to wait until we were truly clear to look after you!” She finishes, noticing the look of pain written all over your features.

“We’ve finally got the ministry off our backs dear, you can stay here now.”

“She’s telling the truth y/n, this was for the better.” Lucius sighs, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to be reassuring, but you felt rather queasy instead.

You fake a smile and clear your throat.

“Where will I be staying? I-I’m rather tired and would like to lay down.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip and doing your best to keep yourself upright.

“Oh! Of course dear, please follow me.” Narcissa smiles warmly, leading you up a staircase as your suitcase floats up behind you.

You round a corner to a lightly furnished room near the back of the Manor and step inside.

“Get some rest, I’ll call someone to fetch you when dinner is ready.” Narcissa sighs, nodding and wrapping you in another short hug. You don’t know how to reciprocate so you pat her back gently and she lets go.

“It’s good to have you with us Y/n, it’s truly been too long.” She nods, leaving you to unpack your belongings.

“A-And I hope you understand, I do truly apologize for how long it took.” She comments sadly as you sit on the bed with an unreadable expression.

“No- No, it’s alright Aunt Narcissa. I-I’m glad you told me.” You murmur, popping open the clasp to your suitcase.

The woman seems relieved by this and she smiles, finally closing the door and walking back downstairs.

You couldn’t believe everything that had happened in less than 24 hours. Your parents escaped Azkaban, came to visit you and the next thing you knew you were shipped out to the Malfoy’s where you discovered they had been family, who left you alone for sixteen years.

You couldn’t exactly stay mad at them though. Narcissa was right, Draco would have lost his parents too if they had taken you in right away.

Maybe that’s why the blonde had always nodded hello, you were cousins and you didn’t even know.

You flip open the suitcase to find all your textbooks, clothing, quills and books nearly piled in with a newspaper wrapped around something resting at the top.

You reach for the paper and unroll it to read the rest of the article from this morning, but it was a different story. More recent to be exact.

‘L/n’s daughter Y/n has disappeared as search for Anguis and Diana continue. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore says, “she has been relocated for her safety and ours. She is not a threat, but her parents are and we cannot have them coming back.” We are once again asking to keep a lookout for these dangerous criminals please contact...

You sigh and place the newspaper on the bedside drawer and turn back to unpack when something else catches your attention.

Something was wrapped in the newspaper and had fallen from the paper onto your books.

The white wildflower. You smile as you pick it up, remembering all the fun you had only a few short hours ago.

White flowers. The blossom that represents purity and innocence, that also means death.

You chuckle at the irony of it all; Innocence and death, but you knew it really meant more.

Something was coming, your calm was over.

In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment, and your moment was up.

The storm was upon you once again, and this time, it was stronger than ever.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

The Fae

Geralt takes a contract to hunt down a fae, but he was not ready for what he found.

For @loveyprophet​ - Happy Birthday!

 Dusk was creeping in, the light of the day dwindling as the sun sank towards the horizon.

The steady beat of Roach’s hooves against the old worn track slowed as they approached the small village. The old wooden houses were coloured by the dust and mud that ran through the centre of the town and lit by the flickering light of the lanterns that hung by the doors.

The town was quiet—not filled with the usual sounds of laughter and talk from the tavern.

Geralt pulled back on the reigns, slowing Roach more as they made their through the town.

“Witcher!” a man called out.

Geralt was almost taken aback by the tone of the man’s voice; he was so used to the word being shouted with viciousness and disgust, not relief or excitement.

A man stepped into the light of the balcony of the inn—a stocky man with long greying beard and an apron that had been dirtied from a day’s work.

“I have a contract for you, if you choose to take it?” the inn keeper proposed.

Geralt nodded briskly.

“There’s a fae that’s been terrorising out village. I’m willing to pay if you will get rid of it.”

“I will not take your coin,” Geralt said, dismounting Roach and reaching back up to help Ciri down from the saddle. “You can pay me by putting me and my ward up for a few nights.”

“It’s a deal,” the inn keeper replied.

“I shall begin hunting at dawn,” Geralt promised, walking Roach over to a nearby wooden bench and tying his reigns to the post.

He dug into one of the pouches on Roach’s saddle, pulling out a handful of oats and feeding them to him.

Roach ate the oats and farewelled Geralt with a snort.

Geralt stepped over to Ciri’s side, gently setting his hand on her shoulder and guiding her towards the door.

“I’ll see you to your rooms,” the inn keeper said, leading the way into the building.

The man walked them upstairs and into a room. It was sparsely furnished—two beds standing side by side and a fireplace on the far wall.

The inn keeper lit the fire, nodding politely as he excused himself from the room.

Ciri sat down on the bed by the fire, holding her hands out as the flames warmed her chilled fingers.

“Can I come with you tomorrow?” Ciri asked.

“No,” Geralt answered shortly.

Ciri spun around to face him. “Why not?”

“Fae are dangerous creatures,” he explained. “Some believe them to be demons, others think they’re demoted angles or spirits of the dead. Whatever the case; they’re devious, cunning, powerful, and dangerous. I will not put you in danger.”

Ciri bowed her head, turning back to the fire. “I want to be able to help you. I want to be able to fight.”

“Then I’ll train you,” Geralt offered. “But first, you need to bathe and you need sleep.”

Ciri pulled her boots off and turned to see Geralt preparing a bath for her.

“Very well.”

------------------------- 

 Geralt lifted the tankard to his lips, gulping down the cool, fresh water.

“Something struck me last night. There was a bard who came through town a few days ago. He was a little odd, but he spent the evening playing music in the tavern the night of the last sighting—the night before last. The strange part is he didn’t stay the night in the inn,” the inn keeper explained. “He’s most likely camping out in the woods. He might have seen something; if you find him, he might be able to help you.”

Geralt nodded.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, setting down the tankard and tossing a coin across the bar.

“You do not need to pay,” the inn keeper said, sliding the coin back across the counter. “Meals and drink are counted towards your say; it’s the least I can offer for your service.”

Geralt nodded briskly, returning the coin to his coin pouch.

He glanced towards the staircase.

“I’ll keep her safe,” the inn keeper promised.

“Thank you,” Geralt said, stepping back from the counter. He turned and made his way out into the street.

Even during the day, the town was quiet. Market stalls were set up along the streets; fruit stalls, stands stacked with bundles of cloth, fine silks and tailored clothes, and merchants who talked quietly among themselves. Yellow straw was strewn across the ground, tousled by the unsettling breeze that rolled through the streets, bringing with it a familiar smell: soft musk and the floral scent of buttercups and roses—a smell he had not encountered since the mountain.

Geralt felt a spike of fear drive itself through his heart.

The inn keeper had mentioned a bard, but Geralt hadn’t thought it’d be his bard.

He drew in a steady breath, making his way down the dusty track that led out the back of the town and into the woods and walking in the direction that the inn keeper had said the creature had flown in.

The dry husks of leaves crackled beneath his feet, the rich smell of sweet petrichor filling his lungs as they walked along the muddy train and further into the woods. The trees towered over him, beams of light shining through the canopy.

Crystal-like droplets of dew gathered on the wavering blades of grass and delicate flowers grew along the edge of the path, filling the undergrowth with bursts of colour: white, purple, yellow, and blue.

He was surrounded by towering trees and thick shrubs, full of autumn tones of brown, gold and red, and lingering black shadows. Dense foliage hung overhead, enclosing the space, shutting out the sky and filtering the sunlight. Thin streams of light filtered through the leaves, scattering glimpses of light across the forest floor.

The sweet aroma of musk, roses and buttercups seemed to grow stronger, mingling with the smells of the forest. As he walked deeper into the forest, he was met with the bitter smell of ashes and charred wood. Further up the past he stumbled upon a campsite; a small pile for locks stacked in the centre of the clearing, blackened by fire and surrounded by grey ash.

Beside the small campfire lay a bedroll.

There was no blood, no odd smells—just Jaskier’s earthy scent.

The blanket of leaves on the forest floor was disturbed, a trail leading through the shadows of the trees and towards another clearing.

Geralt’s foot falls were silent as he moved through the shadows towards the other clearing.

The breeze brought with it the sound of music; a soft melody of strumming strings.

Geralt slowed as he approached, listening to the sweet voice as the creature hummed along to the melody.

They sat on the moss-covered stump of a fallen tree with their back turned to Geralt. The radiant sunlight played across his pale skin. The soft breeze blew through the tousled mess of his dark hair. He’s dressed in a golden brown jacket, decorated with brown lace and gold embroidery; unbuttoned and hanging open to expose a white dress shirt.

The streams of sunlight seemed to sparkle as it danced around him.

Their wings rested against their back, gleaming as they caught the light. They were like fine lace—translucent and covered in swirls of golden patterns like fine embroidery or ornate filigree.

He held onto a mahogany lute, strumming at the strings as he began to sing the words to the familiar tune.

“The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool.

Better stay out of sight

I’m weak my love, and I am wanting.”

Geralt listened, his heart aching as he couldn’t help but say his name.

“Jaskier.”

The fae stopped singing, the sounds of the forest falling silent around them. He didn’t turn around to face Geralt—he didn’t need to; Geralt knew who he was.

“I know you’d find me one day,” Jaskier said, his voice saddened and quiet. “I had assumed it would happen later than this, but it looks like destiny is set on cursing you with my presence.”

Geralt grunted.

He wanted to say sorry, he wanted to say that he wanted Jaskier back in his life, but the words couldn’t come out. He wasn’t ready for this.

He had thought up a million ways to apologise to the bard; a million scenarios, ranging from those that ended in passionate kisses to those that ended with punches and bloodshed. But he wasn’t prepared for this.

“Well, Witcher,” Jaskier said, shaking Geralt from his thoughts. “How is this going to go? I imagine you’re here for a contract, so what is it they want: my head, my wings? I hope my death will at least bring you a large sum.”

Geralt was taken aback. Did Jaskier really think Geralt could ever hurt him? He’d never say it out loud, but the bard was his friend. But the words rang in his head: “If life could give me one blessing it would be to take you off my hands.”

He had hurt him in the worst possible way.

“I’m not here for a contract,” Geralt replied.

Jaskier turned to face him.

Geralt lost himself in his eyes; the same azure blue eye that were as bright as the sky above.

But there was something about him; without the glamour to hide his power, he seemed even more beautiful; radiant.

“So, you’re here for a personal kill? To kill a fae and gloat of your victory I know that it’s a high praise for a Witcher to bag such a kill.”

Geralt felt his heart drop.

It hurt that Jaskier would think so little of him, that he’d assume the worst in him. Granted, he did deserve the sharp retorts and the anger that dwelled beneath those pools of blue; he had every right to feel hurt after what Geralt had said.

Geralt shook his head. “I could never harm you… not like that. You are no monster or something to hunt for sport.”

Jaskier tilted his head slightly, looking at Geralt with curiosity.

“Then what are you heard for.”

Geralt let out a measured breath. He took a step closer to Jaskier, then another, until he stood beside him, meeting his gaze.

Geralt looked deep into his eyes as he said, “I’m here to beg for forgiveness.”

“Forgiveness for what?”

Geralt hesitates—words were never one of his strengths; neither was emotion. He had Jaskier for that.

He drew in a deep breath.

“For hurting you,” he said. “For blaming you for things that were never in your control. For taking my anger out on you unjustly. For… For everything.”

Jaskier’s bottom lip quivered, his breathing shallow as his eyes began to glisten with tears.

“But, most of all, for not realising how much you truly mean to me. For not realising that I took you – and everything you did for me – for granted.”

Tears threatened to spill over as Jaskier desperately tried to hold them back. All the hurt—all the heartache he had held for months—fading away as he settled into the familiar warm feeling he felt in Geralt’s presence.

A tear fell past his lashes, glistening in the sunlight as it caressed the pale skin of his cheek.

Geralt slowly reached up with his hand, Cupping Jaskier’s cheek as he gently brushed away the tear with the ball of his thumb.

Neither of them knows who leant in first, but it didn’t matter; what mattered was what they felt when their lips met.

It was indescribable; a mix of passion and tenderness that made them feel complete.

One of Jaskier’s hands glided up Geralt’s arm, up his bicep and across his shoulder blade. His other hand ran up the nape of Geralt’s neck, lacing his fingers through his long, silver hair.

Geralit sighed in return, craning his neck as he deepened the kiss.

He drew back slowly, resting his forehead against Jaskier’s as he drew in ragged breaths.

Jaskier tilted his chin, bringing their lips together again.

They lost themselves in the kiss, letting the world slip away as they melted into each other’s embrace.

After a while, Geralt finally returned to his senses.

“How did you manage to hide this for so long?”

“I used a glamour to disguise myself,” Jaskier admitted.

“But I would have sensed it,” Geralt replied.

“It was strong enough to hide effectively, but weak enough that you – or any other Witchers – wouldn’t pick up on it,” Jaskier admitted.

Geralt nodded He’d never say it, but he was impressed.

“Why?”

“Why did I hide among humans?” Jaskier reiterated, trying to extract Geralt’s question. “Because I wanted a chance to fit in.”

He met Geralt’s gaze.

“And I found one.”

Geralt lifted his brow questioningly.

“With you,” Jaskier replied. “I’ve never felt like I belonged until I met you. I’m just sorry my presence brought you so much chaos and misfortune.”

“You are not to blame,” Geralt said, his voice soft but firm.

Jaskier’s met his gaze with a pained look. “I heard Cintra burnt.”

“The child is safe,” Geralt replied. “She’s in town, waiting for me to return.”

A look of relief passed over Jaskier’s face.

“You’re welcome to return with me,” Geralt said, a hint of pleading in his voice.

Jaskier blinked in surprise. “Are you sure you’d want me? I only ever bring you bad luck.”

“Bad luck follows me no matter what,” Geralt replied. “And I’ve never been more sure.”

Within the blink of an eye, Jaskier’s wings disappeared; the glamour returning his image to what Geralt had remembered.

  -------------------------

 “Witcher,” the inn keeper greeted him as he returned to the town.

“The fae has been banished,” Geralt lied.

“Thank you,” man said with a sigh of relief. “You and the girl are welcome to stay a few more nights.”

Geralt nodded.

Geralt made his way upstairs to the room, Jaskier following after him. He pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

“You’re back!” Ciri called out, her voice a mix of delight and relief. She ran to Geralt’s side and threw her arms around his waist.

He tried to hide his soft smile as he hugged her back. He stepped back, turning slightly so that Ciri could see the man that walked in.

“Ciri, this is Jaskier,” Geralt introduced. “He’s… a friend.”

Jaskier’s eyes softened as he looked at the young girl.

“You’re just as beautiful as your mother,” he said softly.

Ciri smiled, but there was a sad note to it.

“Will you stay with us?” she asked.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt.

The Witcher met his gaze, his orange eyes somewhat pleading.

Jaskier couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I will.”

[dawnsrose]

BASIC QUESTIONS

first name?  aurora

surname?  capulet

middle names?  josephine antoinette

nicknames?  briar rose / rose ... i guess heh

date of birth?  february 26th

age?  twenty - five

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

height?  5′6ft / 1.70m

weight?  121lbs / 55kg

build?  slim

hair colour?  very light blonde, golden - like

hair style?  straight and lightly curled at the end, with bangs

eye colour?  violet, kind of a purple-ish blue

eye shape?  almond

glasses or contact lenses?  neither

distinguishing facial features?  the color of her eyes, but also her lips are naturally a really pretty pinkish color

which facial feature is most prominent? i don’t think there is one ?  her face is very well balanced, although i guess her eyes are the most attention - catching part

which bodily feature is most prominent?  her waist, it is quite small!

other distinguishing features?  nope

skin?  fair ,  and her skin do be clear af we love to see it

hands?  small and dainty

make up?  she doesn’t really wear makeup, but she thinks its fascinating! her favorite items are mascara and lipstick

scars?  none

birthmarks?  none

tattoos?  none

physical handicaps?  none

type of clothes?  dresses ,  though she would love to incorporate some pants into her wardrobe .  usually wears neutral / earthy tones ,  unless it’s a special occasion ,  in which she’ll wear either pink or blue .  loves a nice skirt .  think cottagecore outfits !

how do they wear their clothes?  again ,  light and cottagecore outfits .  think of outfits like these: 1 2 3 4 5

what are their feet like? (type of shoes, state of shoes, socks, feet, pristine, dirty, worn, etc)  aurora takes really good care of her feet ,  so they’re pristine !  she really hates wearing shoes ,  but wears them when she’s in public so as not to seem weird .  she really enjoys the feeling of her feet touching the grass though ,  as it reminds her of home

race / ethnicity?  caucasian

mannerisms?  classy ,  delicate and polite .  very ballerina like ,  except her gestures aren’t as grandiose .  i would say a good example of her demeanor is audrey hepburn ,  or the movements in old / classic barbie movies like nutcracker or swan lake .

are they in good health?  for the most part !  she has a bit of anxiety when surrounded by many people ,  but it’s getting better .

do they have any disabilities?  none

PERSONALITY

what words or phrases do they overuse?  little expressions of surprise like “ goodness! ”  or  “oh!”

do they have a catchphrase? none

are they more optimistic or pessimistic?  optimistic for sure

are they introverted or extroverted?  ambiverted leaning towards introverted 

do they ever put on airs?  not at all !

what bad habits do they have?  sleeping in heheh she may be an early bird ,  but aurora really enjoys sleeping in and napping

what makes them laugh out loud?  philip being a clown. honestly it’s not hard to make aurora laugh, especially over silly things

how do they display affection?  gentle touches, words of affirmation, poetry, tender gazes

mental handicaps?  none

how do they want to be seen by others?  as someone who cares about them and that can be trusted

how do they see themselves?  as someone who still has a lot to live and learn and give, but who appreciates every little thing around her. she sees herself as a good person who is just trying her best

how are they seen by others?  i think people see her as someone kind and full of life. something like the embodiment of hope. maleficent probably sees her as a nuisance though

strongest character trait?  i’d say it’s a tie between how much she believes in goodness and kindness, and how perserverant she is 

weakest character trait?  she dispairs quite easily, but always ends up collecting herself

how competitive are they?  not very !  it’s about the experience ,  not the result 

do they make snap judgements or take time to consider?  it depends on the situation, i think. but more often than not, aurora is capable of thinking things through before reacting --- except for when it comes to her feelings.

how do they react to praise?  lots of blushing and dismissal ,  though she appreciates it always

how do they react to criticism?  lots of self doubting and crying at first, but she’s thankful and appreciative of it all, because she assumes it means the other cares about her improvement and well being 

what is their greatest fear?  being alone

what are their biggest secrets?  that she doesn’t hate maleficent , and wants to meet and talk to her

what is their philosophy of life?  treat others as you wish to be treated and have faith in love

when was the last time they cried?  when she first saw philip in elias

what haunts them?  fear of never meeting her parents

what are their political views?  she knows nothing about politcs, just wants everyone to be treated with respect and equally

what will they stand up for?  prejudice ,  unnecessary rudeness ,  racism ,  homophobia ,  mysogyny ,  literally anything that puts someone in an uncomfortable spot .

who do they quote?  probably her aunts heh

are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?  outdoorsy !

what is their sinful little habit?  she’s very secretive and sneaky about her thoughts ,  and likes finding little loopholes in things

what sense do they most rely on?  touch and hearing

how do they treat people better than them?  with respect ,  would like to learn from them as well

how do they treat people worse than them?  also with respect , tries to find common ground and understand why they are that way 

what quality do they most value in a friend?  kindness and support

what do they consider an overrated virtue?  detachment 

if they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?  how dependent of others she feels .  it’s not her fault of course, but she wishes she had more control of her life .

what is their obsession?  the feeling of being loved 

what are their pet peeves?  loud sounds / people arguing over silly things

what are their idiosyncrasies?  she tends to panic and overthink things at times, which can be bad

FRIENDS & FAMILY

is their family big or small? who does it consist of?  i’d say it’s decent sized / kind of big ,  considering she still considers the good fairies family .  plus ,  philip’s also become part of her family ,  and his family is huge .

what is their perception of family?  any and everyone who is there for you when you need them most and cares for you as you care about them

do they have siblings? older or younger?  none .

describe their best friend.  i don’t think she has one ?  give her a best friend :(  philip can’t be both okay that’s too much.

ideal best friend?  just someone she can be a silly romantic with, who’ll watch movies and read books and sing or dance with her, maybe go on walks / play with animals too ! 

describe their other friends.  most of aurora’s friends are really sweet ,  nice people .  she’s also protective of many of them ,  like dani for example .  there’s others she actually looks up to ,  like penelope for example or emily .  she thinks they’re both absurdly glamorous and beautiful .

describe their acquaintances.

do they have any pets?  not really, but aurora loves animals and gets along with them so well so ...  who knows heheh she had lots of animal companions back home though

who are their natural allies?  the charmont family

who are their surprising allies?  not too sure but thackery binx and i think hercules zevrous would be an ally to her as well!

PAST & FUTURE

what was your character like as a baby? as a child?  not too different from how they are now. aurora was a very lively, happy child! she was also absurdly kind and was full of life, while being naturally graceful and poised. i don’t think she was one to cry a lot either, and was most grateful for everything the good fairies did for her.

did they grow up rich or poor?  while she wasn’t poor, aurora had a fairly modest upbringing, since she did live in a cottage in the glen back home, but nothing lacked for her in terms of essentials and etc.

did they grow up nurtured or neglected?  nurtured by the good fairies! aurora grew up knowing nothing but love.

what is the most offensive thing they ever said?  i legit don’t think aurora has ever offended anyone like that? if she doesn’t have anything good to say she’d rather not say anything at all, and nothing has annoyed to the point of doing so. at least not thus far.

what is their greatest achievement?  i think still being alive lmao

what was their first kiss like?  oh i don’t know yet 👀

what is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?  i legit can’t think of anything other than her argument with the fairies about philip, but she came around soon enough.

what are their ambitions?  to be reunited with her family, to have a big wedding with philip, to understand maleficent’s ideals, to become more independent.

what advice would they give their younger self?  to just believe in herself, and that everything will fall into place. 

what smells remind them of their childhood?  fresh flowers and grass.

what was their childhood ambition?  to find love.

what is their best childhood memory?

what is their worst childhood memory?

did they have an imaginary childhood friend?  nope!  she had a fair amount of animal companions, so there was never any need for imaginary ones. 

when was the last time they were crushed with disappointment?  that brief moment when meeting philip in elias where she thought she would have to ignore him for the rest of her life due to being engaged to someone.

what past act are they most ashamed of?  arguing with her aunts over love and being so sad/crying so much about it.  still, she doesn’t think she could have behaved any other way.

what past act are they most proud of?  i think she’s extremely proud of how she’s been living in elias so far,  not relying on others for help and taking good care of herself.

has anyone ever saved their life?  i think in a way, everyone who’s been involved in keeping her away from maleficent has saved her life.

strongest childhood memory?

LOVE

do they believe in love at first sight?  OH HELL YEAH

are they in a relationship?  yes !  happily married :`)

how do they behave in a relationship?  not much different from how she normally does, but she definitely blushes and sighs a lot more every time she thinks of philip.  also loves to talk about him, please ask her about her man.

when did you character last have sex?  ... never 👀

what sort of sex do they have?  none lmao

has your character ever been in love?  OH YEAH

have they ever had their heart broken?  yes, but it wasn’t his fault.

CONFLICT

how do they respond to a threat?  by keeping composure and trying to reason with the person.

are they most likely to fight with their fists or their tongue?  tongue !

what is your character’s kryptonite?  her loved ones, children and animals.

if your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?  a letter from her aunts, which they gave her before she came to elias.

how do they perceive strangers?  as something she has to be on the lookout for despite nothing they’re not always dangerous.

what do they love to hate?  cold weather. 

what are their phobias?  being alone in a large crowd/surrounded by unfamiliar people, losing her loved ones, being in a completely unfamiliar situation. 

what is their choice of weapon?  words, but i think aurora would secretly love to learn how to use a sword. Let Her Fight.

what living person do they most despise?  i guess the easy answer would be maleficent, but aurora really holds no hatred towards her. if anything, she sympathizes.

have they ever been bullied or teased? no.

where do they go when they’re angry?  wherever there’s lots of flowers and warmth.  or to philip.

who are their enemies and why?  maleficent, and that’s because of her father’s clownery !

WORK, EDUCATION & HOBBIES

what is their current job? n/a.

what do they think about their current job? n/a.

what are some of their past jobs? n/a.

what are their hobbies?  dancing (she’s been learning ballet in elias! ), singing, gardening / caring for her flowers, reading.

educational background?  homeschooled by the good fairies, i’d say she has a good grasp on history, mathematics and a few languages, plus other things she’s learned on her own.

intelligence level? slightly above average.

do they have any specialist training? no.

do they have a natural talent for something?  singing !  she’s very gifted when it comes to music and dancing, but singing is definitely where her talent lies.

do they play a sport? are they any good? nope, and no, but she could be !

what is their socioeconomic status?  despite still leaving a fairly common life in elias, aurora is a princess, so she is extremely wealthy. her family is in charge of her expenses in elias, yet she doesn’t spend a lot.

FAVORITES

what is their favorite animal?  she loves all fauna, but bunnies and birds hold a special place in her arms.

which animal do they dislike the most?  crows. for some reason they give her a bad vibe, though she likes birds.  snakes and dragons also make her shiver.

what place would they most like to visit?  honesty ... her home lmao.

what is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen?  sunrise !  aurora loves waking up in the morning and watching the sky’s pretty colors.  she also adores sunset.

what is their favorite song?  love dance by sergei perkofiev,  fee des lilas by tchaikovsky, quelqu'un m'a dit by carla bruni, moon river by audrey hepburn.

music, art, reading preferred?  all sorts of music but espeically clasical and old love songs. she loves classic literature, but also mystery and romance novels, and her favorite art movements would be romanticism and renaissance.

what is their favorite color? pink ,  but don’t tell merryweather !

what is their password?  briarrose59

favorite food:  i feel like aurora would absolutely love pasta if she tried it.

what is their favorite work of art?  springtime by pierre-auguste cot

who is their favorite artist? jean-honoré fragonard

what is their favorite day of the week?  wednesday 

POSSESSIONS 

what is in their fridge?  a number of juices, some fruits like watermelon and strawberries, milk, ice cream.

what is on their bedside table?  a lamp,  lavander oil, a difuser , perfume bottle and a novel

what is in their car?  doesn’t have one !

what is in their bin? paper bags, crumbled up paper balls, a couple of candy wrappers 

what is in their purse or wallet?  a credit card, some dollar bills and she always has a coinpurse around, just in case.

what is in their pockets? i think some seeds for birds to eat.

what is their most treasured possession?  a gold necklace with a heart pendant, the letter the good fairies gave her.

SPIRITUALITY

who or what is your character’s guardian angel?  OK LETS GO. i would say the good fairies or thackery are her guardian angels, but if i had to name an actual angel, i think it would be chamuel.

do they believe in the afterlife?  yes, she believes everyone that leaves is going somewhere else.

what are their religious views?  she doesn’t really follow any religion in particular, but believes a lot in karma and in the whole “do no harm but take no s***”, “treat others as you want to be treated” way of life.  she does, however, believe in a higher power.

what do they think heaven is?  a place where there’s no sadness, no pain, no evil. somewhere where there’s nothing but love and joy and people are able to live in eternal bliss.

what do they think hell is?  a place where people who hurt others and lived a selfish life learn from / are punished for their mistakes and hopefully become better. maybe one day they’ll reach heaven.

are they superstitious?  a little ,  but not to the point where it clouds her judgement .

what would they like to be reincarnated as?  a bird or a beautiful flower .

how would they like to die?  peacefully ,  before philip ,  hopefully in her sleep and surrounded by her loved ones 

what is your character’s spirit animal? a swan or dove

what is their zodiac sign?  pisces 

VALUES

what do they think is the worst thing that can be done to a person?  i think lying/keeping someone in the dark all their life as was done to aurora is something she would never want anyone to go through. that and betrayal. 

what is their view of ‘freedom’?  to be able to follow your dreams without fear or worries, to live the life you want.

when did they last lie?  she doesn’t lie !

what’s their view of lying?  incredibly wrong and hurtful. please don’t lie to her.

when did they last make a promise?  not sure.

did they keep or break their last promise?  she always keeps her promises.

DAILY LIFE

what are their eating habits?  she’s very healthy, eats all her greens and fruits and veggies, but will allow herself to indulge in sweets every other week. aurora grew up healthy, but there’s a lot of delicious food in elias and out in the world, and she would like to try it all !

do they have any allergies?  she’s allergic to a few metals, which results in all of her jewelry being real gold. 

describe their home.  i suck at words so here’s a few pictures that i think fit the vibe of her home !  bedroom / bathroom / random wall / kitchen / corner of living room  

are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?  minimalist !

what do they do first thing on a weekday morning?  shower !

what do they do on a Sunday afternoon?  she usually goes for strolls around town, the library or mama odie’s for a nice snack !

what do they do on a Friday night?  relaxing bubble bath and netflix, no joke

what is the soft drink of choice?  none

what is their alcoholic drink of choice?  she doesn’t usually drink alcohol, but isn’t opposed to a bit of wine

MISCELLANEOUS

what or who would your character dress up as for halloween?  i can definitely see aurora dressing up as titania or a fairy of sorts.

are they comfortable with technology?  it was a bit difficult at first, but now she’s much better at it !  still messes up quite a bit though.

if they could save one person, who would it be?  i think philip, since the fairies probably wouldn’t need her help.

if they could call one person for help, who would it be?  in elias, probably thackery and if not him, philip. however, if she’s panicking, philip will probably come first. 

what is their greatest extravagance?  she has a

what is their greatest regret?  doubting her family’s concern for her even if for just a split second, as well as arguing with the fairies.

what is their perception of redemption?  she thinks everyone deserves a chance at it.

what would they do if they won the lottery?  charity.  everything goes to charity.

what is their favourite fairytale?  steadfast tin soldier.

what fairytale do they hate?  the little match girl, for it just makes her cry a lot.

do they believe in happy endings?  absolutely !

what is their idea of perfect happiness?  to be surrounded by people who love you just as much as you love them.

what would they ask a fortune teller?  if her family and kingdom will be alright , and if maleficent will change for the better.

if your character could travel through time, where would they go?  i think the day of her baptism, just to see what really transpired.

what sport do they excel at?  i feel like she could be very good at tennis, equestrianism and fencing !

what sport do they suck at?  i can’t see her being good at anything that overly relies on strength, as aurora is too graceful and delicate. she legit doesn’t wanna do anything that’s too brutal or something.

if they could have a superpower, what would they choose?  to fly or to properly speak to animals.  maybe shapeshifting / changing her appearance so as to hide with easy could be helpful.

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (new beginnings)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - Also, a talk about Merlin and grief. It’s big feelings time. (part two)

Warnings: Swearing, theres like three bad puns and at least one meme im sorry

Word Count: 2713

A/N: inspired by the fact that i recently moved states and it was the most tedious trip ever. It took the entire day. i was bored out of my mind. So i decided to write about going on a long boring roadtrip with Douxie instead. also, i have a black cat myself and i can attest that they are little domesticated demons. she didn’t like the long trip either.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Douxie deadpanned when he saw (Name) run up to join him on the ship, perching on the edge. “Well I’m coming with you, obviously.” Douxie had known the young woman long enough to know that there would not be a point in arguing. They would just go round and round for hours before she ultimately won. She fought dirty, puppy dog eyes and all. He didn’t have time for this.

After making sure that Archie and Nari were secure, Doux turned back to (Name), “You’re absolutely sure about this decision, love? Once we take off there’s no going back. We could even be running for the rest of our lives. You really should stay with the others,” he warned.

She looked annoyed. “Yes, Doux. I am absolutely sure. I wouldn’t want you to do this alone. And besides, you’ll need me.”

He blushed for a second before realizing she meant he would need her as in extra backup and not that he needed her needed her. Trying not to show the slight disappointment that was written on his face, he chuckled and covered his cheek with his palm, “Of course.”

They set off into the early morning sky. After waving goodbye to the rest of the gang, (Name) clung to the golden railing, looking out over California in amazement. It was like she was in a movie. This was her life changing magic carpet ride. Of course, a lot about her life had seemed to be out of a movie lately. Ever since she discovered her gift for sorcery. Ever since she got mixed up in all this Arcadian mess. Ever since she met Douxie.

Surprisingly, Douxie was really talkative for the first few hours of the trip. (Name) had expected him to be a bit more closed off, considering the week they had just gone through. He was really gushy too, with his heart on his sleeve even more so than usual, and that’s saying something for Douxie. Maybe momentary death was good for unclogging heart pipes.  (Name) was loving it. Not the momentary death thing. That had almost stopped her heart. No, it was so nice to be having such lighthearted conversation with her friends. Kept her from dwelling on things. Once night got closer, though, she couldn’t help it. What could she say, the pink splattered purple sunset made her sentimental. She and Douxie had slipped into a little talk about Arcadia, about the kids, about what had happened, and about what was next for them. Despite her gushing about how happy she was to be here with him, Douxie still felt really guilty that he put her through all this. She made the mistake of telling him how much it scared her, everything that happened earlier. She made a bigger mistake telling him how she cried over his body, refusing to accept that he was gone. He wasn’t of course, but she didn’t know that.

He suddenly got quiet after that. The conversation lulled. Even Nari and Archie seemed to sense that something was off and kept quiet. After watching the stars roll by in silence for a few hours, (Name) started to feel the tug of sleep. She tried to find a cozy spot, but failed, because she was on a ship. A pretty basic little vessel. There were no seats or anything even kind of cushiony. She contemplated using Archie as a pillow, but that probably wouldn’t fly well with him. Pun intended.

Douxie was still as statue, staring out straight ahead into the clouds. Like a grizzled old sea captain. The bags under his eyes were getting worse than usual, but (Name) decided to not to say anything to him and let it be. He looked like he was enjoying the silence. She didn’t think he’d sleep tonight. How could he? She mused. (Name) herself hadn’t even begun to truly process all that had happened. She wished she knew what to say. Anything to comfort him, to let him know she’s be there. But (Name) was no use now, in her sleepy state. She might make it worse. She’d try talking to him in the morning. If he even wanted to talk.

In the end, (Name) wound up leaning against the corner, using her balled up over-shirt as a pillow. It was a bit colder now, but with Nari snuggled up in her lap and Archie stretched out over her legs, she’d be just fine. They might as well had been heaters. Doux wouldn’t join them, insisting that they needed to fly through the entire night to put as much distance between them and Arcadia as possible. He assured them that he’d wake them up if something was the matter. Of course, they were sleeping on an open deck floor. Any sort of trouble would wake them up immediately anyway, but it was a nice thought. (Name) snuggled into her makeshift pillow. She took one last look at Douxie, brooding at the helm, before slipping off to dreamland. It was a mediocre dream.

The morning sun came sooner than (Name) wanted. The cheeky bugger. There was no use trying to go back to sleep. The sun was too big and bright. so, so bright. Nari also stirred when the sun beam hit her face. She blinked blearily and let out a cute yawn. Or at least it would have been cute, had it not been directly into (Name)’s face. (Name) had to give it to Nari though, her morning breath actually didn’t smell bad. It was earthy, floral even. Damn nature spirits. Despite (Name) and Nari being awake, the sun’s rays seemed to have little to no effect on Archie. He could sleep through anything, on anything, at any time. Damn cats.

Douxie looked like the dead. His raven hair was a mess, lips chapped from the wind. Those eyebags had somehow gotten even worse. Douxie gave Tim Burton characters a run for their money. (Name) decided it might be better to wait until she was a bit more awake and articulate to try and talk to him more about… the, ah, events from yesterday. Yet, she was fully aware that if she kept procrastinating, the conversation was just going to get worse and worse. But the timing’s not right. Yes, the timing’s just not right. The stars, they’re not in position. In fact it might be easier if she got him to take a nap first. Yeah, no need to cause sleep deprived Douxie to have an unnecessary breakdown.

It took some convincing, but (Name) finally got him to agree to let her take the helm and get that well deserved rest. Not that Douxie thought he deserved it. He wasn’t too happy about leaving (Name) and Nari alone, figuratively, while he was unconscious and unable to protect them. He wasn’t too happy about a lot of things, really. He especially didn’t care to be alone with his subconscious. But with the worried look (Name) gave him, he couldn’t help but comply with her demands. Her and her bloody puppy dog eyes.

He woke up to the sound of (Name)’s singing. She probably hadn’t meant to wake him up, with her soft voice hushed, but nonetheless he was awake. Douxie was a light sleeper. He had to be, after all his troublesome years. She was singing a sweet little love song. He felt a drumming in his chest as he listened. Speaking of his chest, there seemed to be a bit of pressure on it. A familiar pressure. It started to purr, sending the comforting vibrations through his ribcage. He gave Arch a good scritch behind the ears before sitting up.

“Your voice is so lovely, you know. I cannot imagine why you’re always hiding it.”

Name startled. “Did I wake you?” she asked, concerned since he hadn’t been out but for a few hours.

“Yes, you had,” He began gently, “But, I’m glad.”

“You’re glad?”

“Of course, I got to hear that beautiful singing voice of yours. Quite the rarity, innit?”

(Name) flushed. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered by his compliments or embarrassed that he had caught her singing once again. Still, she tried to refute his words but all that came out was a flustered sputter. Thankfully, Nari came to the rescue. Unintentionally, but a rescue all the same.

“Hisirdoux, now that you are awake, may I ask where it is that we are going?” the small goddess asked.

“Oh, uh, about that,” Doux wrapped his arms behind his back and sucked some air through his teeth, “I actually didn’t have a set place in mind. I think we’ll just wing it. On our winged boat.”

(Name) whipped her head towards him so fast she’d get whiplash. She didn’t even acknowledge the terrible joke. “I’m terribly sorry, but you what.”

“I just thought we’d head northeast for now. Once we run out of land, we’ll pick a new direction. It’s not like we’d be able to stay too long in a place, after all. It’s safer to be constantly moving.” He tried not to sound to unsure in this rambling. He did have a plan, just not one that looked too solid on a piece of paper. It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.

“I- okay.” She didn’t sound too panicked, which Douxie counted as a win. Still, he didn’t want her to be too stressed about the uncertainties. He figured he might as well just pick a place to ease her fears a bit. She couldn’t worry herself raw, that was his job.

“How about New York City? That can be our first official destination on the Never-Ending Roadtrip.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. New York City, that sounds nice.” Victory.

***

“Ugh, we’ve been flying over basically the same damn thing forever! Can’t this thing go any faster?” (Name) whined as she leaned over the edge like a wilted flower. Her wind-mussed hair hung over her face. It took everything in Douxie not to flinch whenever she got to close to where she might fall out. Sure, she would most likely be able to break her fall with magic, not coming out with too many scratches, but it still scared him just the same. (Name) was gonna give him a heart attack one of these days.

“It’s a fucking magical flying boat, (Name). It goes eighty miles per hour tops. Do you know how advanced that was in the twelfth century? It was a fucking miracle of technology, (Name). It’s not the boat’s fault we’re currently travelling through Kansas.” Doux huffed. He quickly felt guilty for snapping at her and apologized. He felt a bit on edge lately. Their conversation last night kind of freaked him out. He wanted to be a little more protective of her now since she told him about how scared she was, but snapping at her would just accomplish the opposite of getting across how much he cared.

Name sighed. Looking around the ship, she noticed that Nari and Archie were just napping in the sun, completely unbothered by her and Douxie’s loud outbursts. She looked back out into the seemingly infinite grass field again.

“Well, I guess now is a pretty good time,” She said cryptically, “Hisirdoux, we need to talk.”

It was like she just injected ice water into his veins. He didn’t like her tone, plus, those words were never proceeded by something good. Never. “To talk?” he asked with a nervous tinge in his voice, hoping if she elaborated it wouldn’t be as bad as the conclusions he was jumping to.

“Yeah. Talk. About your feelings.” Well now he was panicking. She said that so solemnly. How did she know? Fuzzbuckets, she was about to reject him, on this boat they were stuck on, in the middle of Kansas. Rip out his heart and throw it into the grassy void.

“To talk, about my feelings?” he repeated her again, incredulously. He put on his best fake smile.

“Yes, Doux.” She sat down on the railing near him and crossed her legs. “I just- I think it’s time we had a proper conversation about stuff. Like say, I don’t know, how you’re handling your grief over a certain mentor.”

Douxie quickly let go of the breath, he wasn’t sure when he started holding, in a loud sigh of relief. Oh thank Merlin, he thought this was going to be bad. That’s what she wanted to talk about? Okay, not the problem he was expecting, but one he could deal with. He’s already had a couple of good cries. He spent most of last night mulling over not just Merlin but the whole concept of death. He could talk about the weight of grief hanging over his heart, no big deal.

“I believe I am handling it well, thank you for your concern, Love.” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Hisirdoux Casperan, you stared out into the distance with unblinking glassy eyes for hours last night and barely spoke to any of us. Hell, you fucking died yesterday, Doux. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that. You’re not fine. And you’re not weaseling your way out of this conversation either.” She said sternly. They entered an unspoken staring contest.

“Alright, Love, fine. I am fine. Okay?” She quirked her brow. “I am, truly. I’m at peace. He lived a good life and I’ll continue his legacy with honour. Of course I’m still sad about it, but I’ve got other things to focus on right now. Sure, my chest is still heavy, but it’s not crushing like it was when the wound was fresh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “And I did get my last goodbye talk with him when I was dead,” He chuckled to try and lighten that last bit up, but name still winced at his words.

“Douxie, I just- I know what it’s like, ya know. To suddenly no longer have that father figure in your life. Someone you looked up to for so long. It’s hard Doux, I get that.” She sympathized. She tipped her head down towards the deck floor.

“Well, in a way, he’s already been gone for about, say, nine centuries. I’ve had my time away from him, so I know that I can do it. It’s the knowing that now he’s gone gone that’s the real kicker.” He glanced across the boat over to the sleeping pile of fur and greenery. Nari was curled up into a ball while Archie mirrored the same, but on top of her. They were like a couple of stacked buns. Douxie smiled at the sight. “And yet, do you know what makes it all feel better?” Name looked back up at him and furrowed her brows.

“You. And Archie. And Zoe. And Claire. And my bandmates and my coworkers and the rest of the Arcadia gang. I’ve got plenty of people in the world now. I know I’ve got all kinds of love.”  He hung his arm over her shoulders. He had made up his mind, he was going to open his heart to her soon. Almost dying really puts one’s priorities in view. “Recently, a great man, well, a great dragon, told me that family is not just who you have, it’s also who you’re with. If one thing I’ve learned in this nightmare week, it’s that you’ve got to enjoy people while you can. Because once they’re gone, they’re gone. You can’t dwell on past love, you’ve got to soak in the love you’ve got now, or you’ll miss it.”

“I guess I understand that.” (Name) said softly. She took in his words. Focus on the now love, huh. She could use to do that too. She felt his hand move from her shoulder to the small of her back.

“Oh hey look at that, we’re coming up on Missouri. How about we stop for brunch, Love?”

“Oh I’m starving,” Archie butt into the conversation and flew over to rest on (Name)’s shoulder. He did one of those black cat yawns where they turn their entire faces inside out and they become nothing more than a black hole with teeth, “I could really go for a bagel with extra lox right now.”