#i think he is a bit more leaning to the monster side in this verse but that doesn't stop him from being silly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

genshinboys · 3 years

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Thigh job with Genshin Boys - Xiao

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Fem reader x Xiao

When you enter your flat, a handsome but grumpy Yaksha is sitting cross-legged on your bed resting his chin in the palm of his small hand. He grimaces and shoots something that can be referred to as a death stare in your direction.

Here we go again. You think to yourself as you close the door behind you.

„You are late.” He basically growls at you fixing you with another menacing glare.

„It’s nice to see you too, Baby.” You approach the sulking adeptus and lean in to kiss his forehead but, alas, he backs away and frowns in turn.

„Oh, no kisses then?” A smile on your face but a sneer in your voice makes his blood boil.

It is like a match in a powder barrel.

„Don’t play dumb with me, Y/N!” He warns. „I know all of your cheap tricks.”

You let out an annoyed huff. Arms crossed on your chest.

„Why would you even ask when I saw you following me all the damn time, hmm?” You accuse your boyfriend, gazing right into Xiao's averting eyes.

„I wasn’t follow-,” and then he goes silent knowing fully well that lying isn’t an option with you.

„So?” You nag, hoping for any kind of response. „No need to be this jealous, Xiao.”

„Don’t get weird ideas in your head.” The boy deadpans. „I’m not jealous!” He defends himself but it doesn’t sound convincing enough even for his own ears. He blushes and turns his head away.

You let out a sigh and smile warmly at your boyfriend’s pettiness.

Does he even realise how cute he is? You briefly wonder and then you reach for his silky hair and ruffle it affectionately.

It’s been a taxing, full of ups and downs journey since you met the haunted by karmic debt Yaksha. At first, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. You were just another bothersome individual and he could not care less about your existence. It was unnerving. He was snarky, seething with rage for no reason, hiding his feelings for so long that it seemed to you that they were going to explode inside of him one day leading to his utter despair and demise. You got to know about his past and the weight of his karmic debt from Zhongli. You took pity. Somehow you felt compelled to help the boy, regardless of his repulsive demeanour. The golden-eyed Yaksha was of a different opinion, though.

Xiao didn’t want you to get close to him. He couldn’t make any sense of your stubbornness. Why would you even want to have anything to do with him? Him?

A barbaric monster, eaten up alive by remorse and regret.

A blood-thirsty fiend whose sole purpose of breathing is to slaughter and spread fear wherever he shows his face.

These were the thoughts so deeply engraved in his unfortunate soul that he couldn’t allow anyone to come near him.

He perceived himself as a hollow, barren of any human emotions vessel. The only feelings he was familiar with were pain and the burden of his legacy that he is forced to carry up to this day.

Bizarrely, as time had passed he was taken aback by some unfamiliar sensation of tightness in his chest. It wasn’t painful. Nothing that would come close to the distress caused by the divine will. It wasn’t permanent, either. It only happened in your presence, as Yaksha would hesitantly observe. Sometimes it got even worse. It would be accompanied by this fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach.

„Why are you this close? Huh? Do you have a death wish?”

„Move, I don’t have time to sit around and be idle like you do.”

„You have no respect for the adepti. Stop fooling around.”

The more he pushed you away the more you were determined to lure him in. You couldn’t stop laughing when one day Zhongli informed you that the troubled Yaksha came to him to seek advice regarding this weird tightness in his chest and an upset stomach when you were around.

And so, you smile fondly at your boyfriend as he yanks your hand away not liking the way you tousle the emerald green strands.

„I’m sorry XIao. I didn’t mean to be late. Just wanted to buy some jewellery.” You point to your thigh to get the adeptus’ attention back where it should be, which is you, not the wall.

Xiao glances at your thigh doing his best to remain impassive and uninterested. Unfortunately, his eyes widen a little and his mouth is somehow stuck hanging open as if he were to say something but the words never come out.

„You saw me bargaining with the shopkeeper, nothing wrong about that, right?” You explain to the adeptus currently captivated by the glimmering golden chain adorning your thigh.

Xiao has a lot to learn when it comes to dealing with his own emotions. You are acutely aware of that. He doesn’t know how to react, how to show that he cares or process what he feels. He doesn’t also entirely understand the purpose of half of the things that you insist on doing to him. Playful bites, tickling, holding his hand in public. He doesn’t question these actions even though it’s all a novelty. He does know for sure that it makes him feel flustered and all hot inside.

Does he despise it? No.

Would he like for you to continue? The answer to that question is definitely affirmative but Xiao is not going to admit it out loud.

He also has no clue how to initiate all of these things. Is he supposed to bite you back as well? What if he hurts you? Everything is so overwhelming as he’s endured years of solitude and sadness. You have to patiently teach him everything from square one. Nevertheless, it’s incredibly rewarding and you find yourself falling for him a bit more with each clumsy kiss, a shy but warm hug and an awkward attempt at complimenting you.

However, despite being not well-versed in sexual encounters, Xiao does pleasantly surprise you by catching up with everything real quick.

So, as his eyes are fixated on the trinket, you once again run your hand through his lush and long hair.

„Why would you even buy it? Pointless.” The boy retorts grumpily this time showing no signs of objection to your tender gesture. He moves his head up a little, losing himself to the tingling sensation going down his scalp.

„So that you can stare at me like that with those needy eyes?” You answer truthfully, barring the real intent behind your actions.

He snorts and his face turns into that lovely shade of pink and then deep red within seconds.

He would absolutely turn his gaze away if not for the fact that you take his chin in your hand and thrust his face upwards forcing him to look you straight in the eyes.

„If you don’t like it you can take it off.”

„No need.”

You chuckle softly.

„Let me make amends for my delay.”

You take a step forward and place your knee on the verge of the bed. Xiao drinks in the view of your thigh-highs squeezing into the meat of your legs. The chain shimmering lightly right above the lacy material.

„You can touch it, Baby.” You encourage the nervous Yaksha.

Visibly tensed, he reaches for the exposed skin and lightly traces the chain with his unsure fingers. It almost tickles but you let him do as he pleases and soon Xiao attempts to fully envelop your thigh with his greedy hand. He does cover half of it at best, but he seems satisfied and proceeds to squeeze it. It feels soft to the touch and he shivers at how warm and inviting your legs are in contrast to his icy-cold and sweaty palms. Bewitched, Xiao aches for more and he selfishly pulls you in so that you are now kneeling in front of him on the bed.

He stops breathing when you swiftly unbutton your shorts and undress for him. You let his eyes roam over your half-naked body for some time enthralled by the way Xiao’s pupils dilate in awe.

You lean into him as Xiao pulls you towards him for a messy kiss. It isn’t gentle as usual but full of passion and urgency. He whines when you bite on his lower lip but then you gently stroke him with your tongue to ease the discomfort.

Slowly, very very slowly, your hands go down his torso only to finally stop at the bulge in Xiao’s loose pants. You tug at the waistband and Xiao lifts his ass a bit to help you strip him naked. His penis, hard and heavy, resting now on his lower belly. He hisses when you palm his hard erection and that simple touch sends jolts of electricity down his spine. It leaves him intoxicated once you start gliding with the heel of your palm up and down the underside of his member. You repeat the movement and Xiao’s body jerks in response.

„Don’t tease.” The adeptus pleads through gritted teeth.

„I’m so sorry, Baby. Gonna make you feel real good.”

Xiao can feel himself growing impossibly harder when you place your feet on either side of his hips. When he looks down he can see your wet folds and the pinkish colour of your tight hole. Lying on your back, you prop yourself on your elbows so that you can look at Xiao’s face in the process. You scoot a bit closer to the confused boy, your bum is right in front of his erected shaft. You take his cock in your hand and guide him in between your thighs. In the beginning, you try to be delicate. You gently rub the tip of his cock, circle his shaft with your fingers and with a fisted hand spread his pre-cum all the way down to his pubic hair so that he is thoroughly lubricated. You wouldn’t like to hurt the boy during the whole ordeal.

His breath is shallow. Excitedly, you clasp your thighs together and start playing with his dick. You rotate your hips and massage his cock. It slides in and out and Xiao growls feeling ecstatic. You exchange between rubbing him with your thighs or gliding your hand along his cock, starting at the very top and working your way down to the bottom until Xiao can’t stifle his cries anymore. A few more strokes and he is definitely going to beg.

Xiao is on fire. It feels too good to be true and he wants this moment to last forever. He licks his dry lips and moans wantonly thrusting his hips forward. He meets you mid-way and the friction it creates every time he pushes his dick in between your legs leaves him gasping.

„You’re making me cum, Y/N.” He cries out for the last time before it is too late to warn you.

„Then cum for me, Baby.”

Obediently, Xiao shoots his thick and heavy load all over your lower body. For a moment the world around him seems out of focus and it makes him dizzy. He pants heavily and can’t catch his breath. He feels as if he was drowning. But then, your loving arms envelop him and he is safe again. You gently stroke his chest hugging him from behind. He melts in your embrace letting his head rest on your shoulder. His erratic heartbeat slowly going back to its usual rhythm.

„I think it looks pretty on you.”

„Hmm?” You want the boy to clarify what he meant.

„The chain... Looks pretty.”

„Oh.”

Shakily, he reaches out to put your hand into his and he squeezes them together.

„I’ll never let you lose yourself again, XIao. I love you and I will protect you forever.”

Xiao recognizes the familiar feeling of tightness in his chest. A single tear rolls down his cheek but he hurriedly wipes it before you can notice.

„Shut up.” The boy responds angrily and kisses you breathless.

Other boys:

Albedo

Diluc

Kaeya

Childe

Zhongli

Kazuha

#xiao #xiao smut #xiao headcanons #xiao scenarios #xiao reader #xiao x reader #xiao you #xiao x you #xiao imagines #xiao drabbles #xiao genshin impact #genshin scenarios #genshin smut #genshin headcanons #genshin drabbles #genshin imagines

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summerrainwinterbreeze · 2 years

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Hey! I was wondering if you can do a yeonjun smut based on this pic?

A/N: I dunno, babes, I hop you like it, but a note to all others that wish to request, don't be afraid to give me more to go off of. I took hours to brainstorm an idea and only decided to bring a bit of daddy kink yeonjun cuz I wanted to change up my yeonjun-based smut a bit.

Pairing: Yeonjun x gn! reader

Word count: 1.4k made this as brief as possible.

Status: Requested

Warnings: Public sex, daddy kink, mild profanity, mention of being dared into things, I made yeonjun on the bit of the tired, calmer side, anxious reader she's still bossy though, protection less penetration.

“Yeonjun,” you gasp as a series of heated kisses fall to your neck, washing over your skin in a delicately saccharine wave, “behave.”

Yeonjun pulls away to look at you through the mirror, eyes dark, glistening as the saliva that slicks his lips, glossed and shimmering when he pouts. He stands fully behind you, hands a gentle reassurance on your hips, tapping every other second. Slowly, he drops his chin to your collarbone, breathing your scent in deeply, then huffing in submission. “Tell me what you really want.” He pulls away to let you think, leaving only his softened presence and unhurried demeanour. “I want you to be honest.”

What did you want? Like you knew. This was no more than a very, very blown out of proportion dare. Your friend Maia’s idea. ‘Y’know those cute ass couple photos? The one’s in the dressing room. Yeah, babe, you and Yeonjun should do that.’ You curse your past self — past being fifteen minutes ago but that doesn’t matter right now — for being so foolish.

After profusely refusing Maia’s proposal, with Yeonjun at your side offering neither agreement nor objection, the pink-haired gremlin had probed your ego, obviously riling you up and driving you to a point of no return.

So the answer to the question: What did you want? To pluck the monster of every strand of hair that graced her lithe body. You’re feeling kind today, though. So instead, you say, “I want you, but I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

After years of dating, Yeonjun had grown well versed in the tongue of your insanity. It was labelled anxiety. That horrid thing that drives you mad at the mildest of events and constantly leaves you looking like a fool when the gravity of the situation passed. “I’m not doing anything without verbal consent. You know that.” You did — you do — and you love it. The words throb like q conscious thing, warm and melodic, nestling deeply within your heart — calming you.

Admittedly, though, despite the situation, he had managed to rile your body to a pleasantly aching thrum, sensitivity heightening, pulse-quickening. The first of the series of pictures you had already taken required the two of you to kiss. One thing led to another and he’d scooped you into his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, fingers roughly fisting his hair, his tongue tasting your own as a groan of primal satisfaction loosed within his throat, body tensing and relaxing rhythmically.

You slip your phone into your pocket, turn to him, bringing your palms to cup his cheeks, thumb grazing the apples of his cheeks. You kiss him them. A tender lip-lock and pull the heat of his sigh into your lungs, feeling alive with him this close, the intimacy solely his presence provided. “I’m just a little nervous,” you confess, kissing him again, a brief peck. “But I want this — I want you.”

He looks at you with analysis-saturated eyes, and only when he deems your words to be true does he lean in to return your kiss, slow at first, a gentle back-and-forth exchange, like the rock of a boat, gradually picking up fever, his palms, warm and calloused, find your face, pull you in, pressing his body fully against your own, the soft skate of his hoodie against your exposed stomach sends a sweeping wave of bliss against your skin, and he smiles when you shudder. You dig your fingers into his mullet, the hair that drapes beneath his eyes tickling your nose when he bends to deepen your kiss. “Then have me,” he says.

“Ah, wait, baby, one more picture, okay?” The notion obviously disappoints him, but you know and have been proved time and time again over the years that he’d be damned if he let it show.

“One more,” he conforms. “Which one?”

You smile and slid a hand up his chest, gently pushing him onto the stool to your left, pulling out your phone to say, “Kiss my stomach.”

Yeonjun laughs at that moment, a breathy thing that heats your very core. “You’re so bossy.”

“You love it.”

“I do,” he says, lips dappling open-mouthed kisses to your tummy, teeth grating, tongue licking the goosebumps that gather across your skin. Yeonjun looks up at you with warm, open eyes and you swoon for the nth time, moan broiling at your throat, lips empty but unseamed.

You’re quick to snap the final picture, sending it to Maia, turning your phone off before you can receive a response, body ablaze with strengthening desire. “Touch me,” you pant and Yeonjun does not hesitate, kisses sloppy, hands a silken glide, fondling, teasing. “Can we? Please?”

He stops at that request and doesn’t need to speak for you to read the question in his eyes. Yeonjun preferred to rile you to a state of abysmal pleasure before he even considered allowing your release. If you weren’t to your very knees in arousal, you weren’t ready. But today you proposed a change. As things stood, you were beyond ready to have him inside of you. You bite your lips and avert your gaze as a wave of embarrassment hits you, nonetheless, you say, “Daddy? Please?”

“Don’t be shy.” Yeonjun's hand rubs your elbow soothingly. “Say it again. Say my name.”

“It’s embarrassing Yeonjun, I dunno.” This wasn’t a kink that you experimented with often, so every time you brought it up, you couldn’t help the slight humiliation that accompanied it.

Yeonjun, however, with a gaze of steel, and a heart of gold, pulls you to his lap, running his hand up from your wrist, to your neck, to your ear. “Daddy wants to hear you, baby.” You try and fail to withhold your scorched cheeks and dry mouth.

“I-,” you pause, “Daddy.” Fuck. Shit. Crap. “Horny.” You guide his hand to cloak your sex. “Help.” You can tell that Yeonjun is more than pleased. He licks up your neck, kissing your jaw and grinding his palm against your pulsing heat, the cumulation of pleasure a deadly weapon. One he wields with both grace and skill.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel really good, okay?” He lifts you for long enough to pull your pants to your ankles before sinking you back onto his lap, the material of your jeans trapping you in place, serving as an additional source of pressure. “You want this to be quick?” He kisses your cheek, “I’ve gotcha, baby. Daddy’s gotcha.”

And slowly but surely he sinks into you, body stiff, but sure in its movements, gripping you tightly enough to bruise. You wail when he, at last, sheathes himself within you, clenching sporadically around him, how he filled you, his cock a hot brand bulging at your stomach, filling you wholly.

He wraps a hand around your throat, not choking you but barely applying pressure to the sides of your neck, pulling you in to run his tongue along the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath into it distinct as he tugs the lobe into his mouth.

Yeonjun’s thrusts are nothing short of brutal and you worry for a breath that someone beyond the flimsy doors of the dressing room might hear the vigorous slap of his skin to yours. He brings a finger to your mouth, “Spit.” Is all he says, a single-worded command. You don’t hesitate, dribbling over his fingers, groaning as he brings them to the junction of your bodies, slipping his hand from your throat to lift your shirt, sucking a desire-peaked nipple into his mouth, pebbles hardening farther, groping you in gentle strokes.

“Daddy,” you throw your head back in a moan, unbothered by any restraints, grinding your body against his, demanding additional pleasure.

“That’s my baby. Be good for me. Cum.” Your body, at that instant, is no longer yours, and you lose yourself to the rapid succession of convulses that stiffen your body, seizing it within jaws of steel before releasing it, quivering and breathless.

Yeonjun waits until the final sweep of your orgasm blows past before he allows himself to release, grunting his pleasure into the nape of your neck, tightening his hold, and then releasing it. “That’s right. You’re my baby, aren’t you?” You whimper in response. He smiles — a broad deadly grin — and pulls you into his arms. “Always so good for daddy.”

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just-horrible-things · 2 years

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'Verse: Resistance Story: Unlikely Salvation Timeline: Ariadne is in training with the feds

The Merry Whump of May 12: "How squeamish are you?" Panic attack | Blowtorch | Basement @themerrywhumpofmay Also inspired by chatter with @magnificenthurt

---

Ariadne didn't even know they had a blowtorch. Seeing it in Riven's hand makes her stomach do a weird little lurch. "You're not serious," she says, unsure how much she’s joking. "Getting cold feet?" Riven quips with a grin. He gesticulates with the blowtorch, flicking it on for a second. "I could warm them up for you." "Very funny." "This guy's a tough nut, you’re not getting anywhere with the whip. This little thing is a bit scarier, don't you think?"

The warlock in question is a real monster. Multiple murders, terrorism, you name it. He definitely deserves everything he has coming. When Ari doesn’t move to unlock the cell door, Riven does it for her, and catches her arm casually to drag her in after him.

The prisoner snorts, watching him manhandle her, and spits blood onto the floor. She sees the moment that he spots the blowtorch. He goes rigid, derision falling from his face. Riven grins at him. "Scared?" he mocks. "You should be."

He puts the blowtorch directly into Ariadne’s hand, and keeps his hands over hers just long enough to switch it on. The flame is shockingly loud in the claustrophobic confines of the cell.

"Go ahead," he pushes her forwards. "Make Mr. Tough Guy here scream."

The warlock – the murderer's – eyes are wide with panic now, and that’s a first from him. Riven is right. The blowtorch is more effective. He bares his bloodied teeth at Ari, trying to force the same smug grin he’s levelled at her every day since he got here. It’s nothing like a grin.

Pulse racing, Ari brings the torch close enough for him to feel the heat. He flinches away from it – cuffs rattling against the wall – like she hasn’t been able to get him to flinch from anything else. She’s the one grinning now. The torch has power.

“This is your last chance,” she tells him, sneering as she waves the torch closer and watches his face scrunch up as he tries to lean away. “You can still get out of this.” "Like hell I can," he snaps back. The fear is loud in his voice. "I already told you I don't know shit about any Resistance I've answered your fucking questions you're barking up the wrong tree!" "Liar."

Ariadne lifts the torch, dragging the heat up the length of his arm, just close enough to watch the skin warm pink. The warlock squirms, jerking the arm side to side in a futile attempt to get it further from the flame. Close to his hands and she gets to watch his fingers curl desperately, cuffs digging deep into his bruised wrists as he strains against them.

“I’m not fucking lying! I don’t know them, don’t do this!” Her hands are shaking. All she has to do is touch the cone of blue to his skin. The warlock sees her hesitation and seizes on it. “You don’t want to do this,” he observes, breathless. Then louder, “You don’t want to do this. Don’t do it come on don’t do this to me.”

Anger is a sudden sourness in the back of Ari’s mouth. It’s not really any worse than the whip, is it?

She can imagine what the whip feels like. She can’t imagine touching the blazing heat in her hands to her own skin. Will it blacken and char?

“Don’t,” the warlock is repeating, almost moaning, “don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do this.”

"Quit playing around," Riven drawls from behind her. "What's the problem, are you squeamish now?" “I’m doing it,” she almost snaps, looking round as she hears him step closer. “Get off my back.” Insubordination in front of a prisoner is a disciplinary offence, but she just needs enough room to breathe. Riven’s tone gentles a fraction in response to her nerves. “It’s only a taste of his own medicine, you know. He’s burned people.” “That’s a lie,” the prisoner refutes frantically. “That’s a lie, I never, I never did!” “Lit a building on fire one time and a man burned to death. You’re practically tickling him by comparison.” “That’s a lie it’s a lie come on!”

It’s not a lie. Ariadne’s read his file. Her mouth tightens to a grim line. Suddenly the blowtorch doesn’t seem so overkill after all.

She touches the flame to his arm just below the cuffed wrist, and the lies dissolve into a panicked, agonized scream. “Atta girl,” Riven praises, almost shouting to be heard over the guy’s shrieking. “Keep it moving.”

She starts to obey, and then the stench hits her.

Suddenly she is stumbling back from the warlock, free hand coming up to her mouth as she gags. She barely manages to turn the torch off before she has to drop it so she can double over the floor drain and empty her stomach.

The warlock’s screaming breaks apart into something hysterical part way between laughing and sobbing. “Aw come on,” Riven throws up his hands. “You were doing so well.” As soon as she’s done retching, he grabs the back of Ari’s shirt collar and all but throws her towards the door. “Get out of here,” he barks. “Go on! Fucking pathetic.”

Face burning, still fighting her heaving stomach, Ari flees.

Riven’s voice follows her out into the hall: “Clean yourself up, and don’t come back ‘til you’ve got it together! We’ll be talking about this!”

She’s not even at the bathroom before the warlock is screaming again. It makes bile rise in her throat again, and fury with it. He doesn’t deserve her sympathy. He doesn’t have her sympathy. It’s just the smell, she was just caught off guard by the smell.

#my writing #the merry whump of may #how squeamish are you?#verse: resistance #unlikely salvation #ariadne milonas #riven maclauren

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rebelhan · 4 years

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yield

pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

word count: 5.2k

warning: 18+, explicit sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before u tap it), fluff, a bit of pining, sword fighting as foreplay... if u squint

a/n: this was just an excuse to put fighting with geralt and smut in the same story oops

masterlist

AO3 link

“You think you can take me?” The question is asked with an amused lilt and you can see the smirk playing on the Witcher’s face. Though his hand is on the hilt of the sword at his hip, as if he already knows your answer.

You juggle the question for a moment. Realistically, no. You could not take him. You were going to end up flat on your ass in a few minutes and you knew this. Though you also knew a duel with Geralt would only help you improve your own skills. So, not two minutes earlier, you had asked him tauntingly, “You up for a fight, Witcher?” That, and Jaskier had been sent off to fish in a nearby river so you were alone with Geralt. Being alone around him made your mind foggy in a way you didn’t know how to deal with.

Geralt wouldn’t have entertained the thought of saying yes to you had he not seen your skills with a blade first hand. The Golem he had encountered just under a month ago was quite the challenge, even for him. And of course Jaskier was of no help against the beast. Then you had appeared out of nowhere and slain the monster with your meteorite sword. When you had shyly asked to accompany him to his next destination, Geralt had already made up his mind to say yes before Jaskier begged him to agree.

It was twenty-eight days since that encounter and the three of you had been making your way through the lands, eliminating the monsters that plagued the towns you visited in exchange for coin. Geralt half expected you to end your journey with them at each inn you stopped at, but the next morning you were always ready to go, on to the next adventure. Geralt didn’t mind as much as he thought he would. You could take care of yourself and you pulled your weight, proving a valuable ally against beasts more than once.

So here you stood in this clearing of woods, the sun shining low in the sky. Instead of answering his question, you unsheathe your sword from its place slung over your back and point the tip of the blade at Geralt’s chest, a sly smile on your face.

You can’t even blink before his steel blade clangs with your own, the force of the vibration rippling down your arm. You duck as he slashes, his sword slicing through the air where you once stood. You stab towards him and he avoids it with a step to the side. When he jabs at you again, you spin against the blade, catching his sword with your own near his hilt. The sound it makes is grating and you know he felt that clash in his wrist.

You step away from him to catch your breath. He knows you’re winded. “Is that all you’ve got?” you goad, though you are the one panting. A low chuckle rumbles through his chest at the taunt; with the way you’re breathing, he knows there’s no bite behind it. He spins the blade once in his wrist while you fill your lungs and you charge at him again, hoping to catch him by surprise. The sound of your blades crashing together over and over rings through the air. It’s punctuated by the sound of your grunts, struggling with the force of each move. The birds have long fled the trees around you from the sounds of your fighting and the sun falls lower in the sky with each meeting of blades.

With the next jab, your swords lock together at the hilt. Between the cross of the blades, your face is near Geralt’s, close enough to see the vein protruding his forehead in effort. You push against his sword, groaning with the strain of holding him back. “Not strong enough to beat a human?” you jest, but the words are grunted out and you know you will lose soon enough. You may be a decent sword fighter, but your strength is no match for a Witcher’s. As you strain with the effort of holding him back, you take pride in the fact that he’s breathing hard, too. At least you weren’t making this easy for him. You weigh your options quickly, your arms are trembling and you know you can’t hold him off much longer.

Before you can maneuver away, the ground disappears from beneath your feet and you hit the dirt with a yelp, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Geralt had kicked a leg behind your ankles and sent you tumbling to the ground. He stands above you, the tip of his sword touching the fabric at the center of your chest. The smile on his face reaches his amber eyes. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for the words to end the fight.

You huff in annoyance. “I yield.”

“Is that all you’ve got?” he teases, throwing your words back at you. You can’t help the matching grin that falls on your face. He sheathes his sword again before offering you a gloved hand. You sit up, grabbing his hand, a retort on the tip of your tongue. But when he pulls you up, you stand with your torso against his, looking up at him. You’re close enough that you can feel the rise and fall of his chest and trace the specks of black in the yellow of his eyes. It’s like the wind has been knocked out of you all over again.

“What? No witty remark?” he asks, tilting his head closer to yours, just slightly. You feel the words rumble through his chest and it sends a shiver up your spine. Heat creeps up your neck and you’re not sure how much longer you can stand to be this close to him. The sly grin on his face tells you nothing. Either he doesn’t notice your dumbstruck expression and is content to tease you on the outcome of your duel, or he is entirely aware of the effect he’s having on you.

Your hand is still gripping his in a vice, unable to find the biting words you had planned to say. You’re lost in his eyes, the orange of the setting sun bringing out the same shade in his irises.

Then, just as suddenly, you hear Jaskier’s voice. “Oi! Look what I’ve caught.” You jump away from Geralt and miss the look of disappointment that flashes across his face. Jaskier seems to be blissfully ignorant of the position the two of you were just in, cheerfully gesturing at the net in his hand holding two fish. You move to pick your sword up from the where it had landed during your fall and resheathe it while Geralt and Jaskier start a fire.

You eat in silence, but Jaskier fills the quiet, prodding the two of you to approve of his new lyrics every few minutes. By the time you’ve eaten, the sun is long gone and Jaskier has the makings of two new verses. He has taken to singing them over and over again in the name of perfecting them. You glance up at Geralt across the fire as Jaskier is beginning to sing the same line for the seventh time. His gaze was already trained on you, his eyes glowing against the low flames of the dying fire. Your heart jumps into motion again and the heat of the fire suddenly feels suffocating. You give a half-hearted excuse about needing some rest and step away from the fire to find a flat area to get comfortable on for the night.

When you wake to the sun streaming in through the trees, the thump of your heart has not subsided. Your hand falls to your neck where the ghost of a pair of lips lingers. With a jolt, you sit up, mortified. You had dreamt of him. You shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to forget, but it’s a mistake and the images of your dream flash behind your eyes. His hands wrapped tightly around you, ghosting your cheeks, running down the sides of your body. His lips on your chest, your neck, squarely against yours. His eyes piercing yours as pleasure overtook you. His hair, falling around your face as he leaned down and kissed you, your hands tangled in white mane with his head between your legs.

The heat returned to your cheeks and you furiously rubbed at your eyes, hoping to dispel both the offending images and the last remnants of sleep. A rustling noise pulls you from your thoughts and your eyes open to Geralt packing up camp and stroking Roach’s mane. It takes everything in you not to curl up into a ball and the thought of running away crosses your mind before you chastise yourself for being stupid.

The day of walking is uneventful. You keep a safe distance between yourself and the Witcher, necessary to keep your heart at bay. Though you’re consumed with your own feelings, you think you maintain an air of nonchalance successfully, especially if Jaskier’s indifference to the situation is anything to go by. The regular banter between the three of you is easy to fall into despite your thoughts being elsewhere. And when the sun beating down is too much and silence encompasses your companions, Jaskier never fails to sweetly croon, “Toss a coin to your Witcher.”

“O Valley of Plenty,” you follow without fail. It brings a smile to both your faces. Though Geralt walking behind the two of you only responds with a disapproving grunt, you can hear the smile on his face, too.

You arrive at the nearest town just as nightfall is settling in. The sole inn of the village is above a rowdy bar and though the three of you are weary from the journey, the promise of strong ale is too good to resist. You pile your things into the single available room before crowding around a table together, pitchers of golden liquid filled to the brim in front of you. Jaskier downs his first pint in the blink of an eye and his second and third go just as fast. While you’re still working on your first, Jaskier grabs his lute and leads the patrons of the bar in a drunken rendition of The Fishmonger’s Daughter. The crowd takes to him rather quickly and you’ve lost sight of him in the middle of the establishment, though his voice still rings out clear above the others.

Geralt looks out at him and though his gaze is steely, you swear there’s a hint of affection behind the hardness. You admire the straight line of his jaw over the rim of your glass, content to observe him while he’s distracted. Then his head twists towards you and you rush to move your gaze down to your drink, taking a hefty gulp and nearly choking on it in your attempt to pretend you weren’t ogling him.

You drop the glass down to the table with a thunk and dab at the ale that escaped your mouth with your sleeve. When you look back up, Geralt’s amber eyes are still fixated on you. It’s an effort to keep your voice steady when he’s staring at you so intently. “Penny for your thoughts?” you prompt him.

You’re met with his silence. Then he shrugs and his eyes flit about the bar, as if he’s deciding what he should reveal to you. “You’re not bad with a sword,” he says.

The heat flares in your cheeks. Was he thinking about the day before? Just as you had been? Compliments from the Witcher came few and far between and you dared to guess this was only the second one you had ever received, though it barely qualified.

“Though not as good as me,” he continues. The corner of his lip is raised. He’s teasing again. Whatever fluttering was in your belly is quashed by your indignation.

“I beg to disagree! You won because you’re stronger than me, that I’ll admit. Had you not been a Witcher I would’ve had you on the ground in seconds. And I was barely winded!” It’s a bit of an exaggeration, yes, but he had successfully baited your competitive nature. His face reveals amusement at the flare of your temper. He takes a generous sip of his ale before returning his attention to you.

His eyes are alight with mischief. Even before he opens his mouth, you know he’s about to say something meant to rile you up and get some reaction from you. Though, there’s no way for you to anticipate the exact words he utters.

“Your heartbeat said otherwise” The memory has blood rushing to your cheeks again. He pauses, waiting for your retort, and when none comes he continues. “Or maybe that’s just because you like me.”

Your chest seizes in shock. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, unable to come up with anything to defend yourself. Damn his Witcher senses. He hides his grin behind another sip of ale and you can’t meet his eyes anymore, your gaze drilling a hole into the wooden table. The tavern around you is loud and lively and Jaskier is still leading the crowd in some other drunkard’s song but all you can hear is your heart thumping in your ears.

Between Geralt’s piercing gaze and the small table, there is nowhere for you to run and you quickly calculate the fastest escape you can make to save yourself from any further mortification. With clumsy hands, you raise your glass and down what remains, clearing your throat at the burn. “I think I’ll retire for the night,” you say, your voice uncharacteristically meek. Although there is just the one room, you figure you can fall asleep, or at least pretend to be asleep, by the time Geralt is done drinking, and Jaskier will no doubt find himself in someone else’s bed for the night. If you’re lucky, maybe Geralt will make his way to a brothel and save you from the embarrassment of being around him.

Just as you get up and scrape your chair back, his voice cuts through your thoughts. “I think I will, too.”

There is no way out, you conclude. You’re fated to die of embarrassment tonight. As you make your way through the tavern towards the stairs, you spare a desperate glance towards Jaskier, but his eyes are glazed over in drunkenness and he is draped over the lap of a beautiful maiden: he will be of no help.

The hallway of the upper level of the inn creaks with each step you take. Geralt follows closely behind you as you carefully walk to the end of the hall where your room is. He is so close that you can feel the warmth emanating from his body, even through the clothes he wears. If you were to stop walking, he’d surely bump into you.

When you stop at your door and fumble with the latch, his chest is mere inches from your back. The proximity has every one of your nerves on edge. The bolt creaks against the wood as it slides out from the door frame. Before you can push the door to open it, Geralt’s arm comes up beside your head and does it for you, caging you between himself and the door.

Your mind clouds with lust at the simple action and you push forward into the room to give yourself some distance to clear your head. He enters behind you and you turn to close the door and bolt it when you find his chest at your back yet again. He places his hand over yours and you freeze. You’re sure the pounding of your heart is loud enough for him to pick up with his Witcher senses. When you fail to move, he gently pushes your fingers to help you bolt the door.

You pull your hand out from underneath his and spin around, your intention to duck away from him. But you find yourself trapped between Geralt’s body and the door at your back, his arms on either side of you to keep you in place. You can’t bring your eyes to his face, instead dropping your gaze to your hands which you clutch together in front of you. The question of what he’s doing flits through your mind, though you settle on the answer that he’s figured out you like him and he’s now enjoying teasing you and watching you squirm.

“Look at me,” he says quietly, though your combative nature is stronger than your embarrassment and you keep your gaze on your own fidgeting fingers as some form of protest.

“Look at me,” he repeats. This time, there’s something in his voice you can’t place. It’s a little gentler than you’re used to, the banter between you has always been abrasive. Regardless, you can’t seem to stop your body from listening as your head tilts up and your eyes find his. The stupid smirk is still on his face and that is enough to solidify the idea that he is making fun of you.

Your ears heat in anger and you huff indignantly, “Fine, I like you. There’s no need to be an ass about it.” There’s an angry line dividing your brow and you don’t cease the wringing of your hands until one of his hands leaves its place on the door to stop the motion.

He leans down, until there is but a hair’s breadth between the two of you. You hold your breath. Your eyes drop to his lips, and even as your heart is hammering in your ears, you’re still convinced that he’ll play out this teasing for as long as he can.

And then his lips are on yours.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders and one of his grabs at your waist. And even as you move your mouth against his, your mind is still racing. Just how committed was he to maintaining this ruse? And as much as you were enjoying this, at what point should you push him away and come back to reality?

Then, his tongue swipes at your lips, begging for entrance, and all thoughts fly out of your mind. He licks into your mouth and you are entirely consumed by how solid he is under your hands. His frame envelops you and you are pressed between his chest and the door. His lips leave yours to venture down the side of your neck and a whine involuntarily escapes your throat. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin at the sound and you fight through the pleasure that clouds your brain to push him away. He looks at you questioningly as you take a moment to catch your breath.

“All right, I think that’s quite enough of teasing me. Wasn’t it enough for you to let me die of embarrassment, you had to take it this far?” you ask him, jabbing a finger at his chest accusingly. His face morphs from confusion to amusement to incredulity in the span of a second.

“You’re as thick as a brick, woman.”

Your indignation is halfway out of your mouth before he slams his lips against yours once again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if you had missed something, but then his nimble fingers are at the ties at the front of your blouse and you can’t hold on to a single thought as the garment is loosened and his rough palm is splayed against the bare skin of your chest.

He grabs at your flesh and drags a coarse thumb over your nipple, drawing air from your chest in a gasp. That sound is enough encouragement for him to repeat the action and pinch the nub until it’s hardened. He gives the same treatment to your other breast before seemingly growing impatient. He pulls away to tug your blouse off completely and lets it fall to the ground. His gaze lingers on your heaving chest for a moment before traveling up to meet your eyes.

The yellow of his irises is nearly swallowed by his pupils in a darkened look you have never seen on him before. With a jolt, you register for the first time that your feelings may not be one sided. He holds your gaze while you allow yourself to process that thought. When you bring yourself back to reality, your brow is set in a determination Geralt only sees when you’ve got a steel sword in your hand and the taste of a fight on your tongue.

With renewed fervor, you surge toward him, a hand grabbing at the nape of his neck and crashing your lips against his. The kiss is desperate and bruising. He nips at your bottom lip as you claw at the material of his shirt, breaking away for a moment to tug the piece of clothing over his head. He spins you around, walking you back until the backs of your knees knock against the rickety frame of the tavern bed.

His teeth bite at your pulse point, eliciting a whimper from you. One hand makes quick work of the laces of your breeches and when the material pools at your ankles along with your undergarments, he presses against you until you fall onto the bed. You raise yourself onto your elbows and watch as he undoes his own breeches and takes them off. As he crawls on top of you, you’re caught between the embarrassment of holding his gaze and his arms that cage you in.

Geralt’s golden eyes scan your face, enjoying the way your wild eyes glance around and breath passes through your kiss bitten lips. He drops his head into the crook of your neck, pressing his lips against the dips of your collarbone. One hand trails your side in a feather light touch and comes to rest at the top of your thigh. A sharp nip at your skin has your chest arching up towards his, but his hand on your leg holds you down and he eases the reddening spot with a swipe of his tongue.

The hand lingering at your hip ghosts towards your center and he presses his thumb at your bundle of nerves. You suck in a sudden breath and you can feel his lips form a smile on your skin yet again, though the haze of pleasure is too thick for you to come up with a witty remark to wipe the smirk of his face. Two fingers at your entrance gather the wetness there and your body tenses in anticipation.

He suddenly raises his head to look you in the eyes. With a start, you realize he’s asking for permission. And when you nod yes to him, two fingers slip past your folds. His eyes shut in appreciation and he groans at the sensation of your warmth around his fingers. The sound comes from his chest and has wetness pooling at your core. He moves his digits in and out slowly, scissoring them gently. Each of your whimpers has a grunt falling from his lips, like he draws his pleasure from yours. His thumb presses circles at your clit, slowly increasing pace as your pleasure builds, spreading from your core to every inch of your body. He slips a third finger inside you and your hands find purchase in his white hair, tugging at the strands.

Your chest arches up, toes curling and thighs tensing, head falling back as you near closer and closer to the edge. And then his hand is gone. You groan at the loss of the sensation, having been so close to coming. A thin sheen of sweat coats your skin and when you open your eyes again, Geralt’s face is twisted into that cocky smirk that you are quickly coming to despise.

“I was so close,” you glare at him indignantly, though the quick rise and fall of your chest and the wetness between your legs gives you little leverage against him. He controls your pleasure and by the grin he sports, he is well aware of this fact, but he presses a gentle kiss to your lips in apology.

He leans back to stroke himself twice before he’s positioning himself at your entrance. This time, he asks you aloud, “Can I?”

You nod quickly, but he’s intent on teasing you at least a little longer.

“I need to hear you say it.” There’s mirth on his face but it’s overwhelmed by lust. He can’t hold back much longer.

Your response is breathless. “Yes.”

He enters you slowly, groaning with the feeling until he bottoms out. He pauses to let you adjust. Your eyes are screwed shut as you struggle to get used to his girth. When the sensation subsides you nod that you’re ready and he begins rocking into you.

His pace is steady and you meet each thrust with a raise of your hips. The pleasure slowly builds again and you feel warmth creep into every extremity of your body. His hands grab at your thighs and push them up until you lock your ankles behind his back, allowing him to hit a new spot inside you that has you babbling praises and curses alike.

His hips move faster, slamming against yours with each movement. The bed creaks rhythmically, though you barely register the sound amongst that of Geralt’s skin slapping yours and the guttural noises that fall from his throat. As you near the edge yet again, he snakes and hand between your bodies to flick tight circles against your clit, eliciting his name from your lips.

“Geralt Geralt Geralt…" you mumble like a mantra, unable to form any other phrase as the coil in your gut twists tighter and tighter

And even in the throes of pleasure you recognize the glint in his eyes that tells you he’s about to say something to rile you up.

It’s a single word, grunted as a command.

“Yield.”

You comply, tumbling over the edge as every nerve in your skin is set alight. White flashes behind your eyes and a long drawn out whine escapes from your throat. Your thighs tremble around him as he moves through your release, chasing his own high. With a few quick thrusts, he spills inside you, your name falling from his lips in a gasp, spoken like a prayer.

He collapses above you, your chests heaving in harmony as the buzz lingers in the air around you. You feel his lips at your neck again, pressing a few breathless kisses, before he rolls over onto his back. His hair is a mess from the agitation of your hands and sweat lingers on his skin.

For a beat, the nerves return and you wonder if you should say something, or perhaps get dressed and make yourself scarce, but Geralt wordlessly tugs you to him until your head rests on his chest and pulls a thin sheet over your bodies.

“Sleep,” he says, and for once, you’re content to listen to him, falling into a slumber almost immediately.

You awaken to sunlight filtering in through the dingy window of the room. You lay in the same position you had fallen asleep in, save for the thin sheet now pooled at your waist. In the morning light, the memory of your actions brings heat to your face . You hastily decide that detangling yourself from the Witcher, getting dressed, and disappearing until it is time to leave is the best way for you to avoid the embarrassment of confronting your lingering feelings.

You’re sitting at the edge of the modest bed, tugging your breeches up your legs and overthinking how to avoid talking to Geralt, when his sleep laden voice promptly cuts through your frantic thoughts.

“Where are you going?”

You nearly jump from fright, but calm your heart enough to remain indignant. You twist towards him to find the man propped up on one elbow on his side, shamelessly observing your form. The sheet across his waist leaves little to the imagination and despite the previous night’s activities, the image still has you flustered.

You turn forward again to continue dressing and mutter, “Nowhere.”

“Turn around,” you follow, “I would like some privacy, please.” The ire in your voice is apparent and you focus on the feeling. At least while you directed your energy towards anger, you could avoid thinking about everything else.

“Why?” he retorts. “It’s not like I didn’t see it all last night.”

Your hands pause at the laces of your breeches as you process how difficult he is making it to avoid discussing what happened. “It was... dark,” you respond lamely.

“Did you forget I’m a Witcher?” There’s an amused lilt to his tone and sure enough when you turn around again his lips are raised on one side. You scowl at the expression and his grin only grows wider at your irritation.

Before you can decide between smacking the smirk off his face and begging him to leave you alone, he raises himself to sit and leans forward, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. His palm tenderly cups your cheek and you feel his thumb stroke the ridge of your cheekbone. When he pulls away, all traces of anger have left your face.

He rises off the bed to get dressed and the wood creaks with the loss of the weight. The kiss, though sweet and short, leaves you inexplicably giddy and you fumble with your blouse thrice before fastening it properly.

Geralt sits back down beside you on the bed to lace up his boots as you do your own. When you finish, he stands and offers you a hand, looking at you expectantly with golden eyes. The voice in your head screams through frantic thoughts to run away from that hand as fast as you can, but you ignore it. You clasp his work worn hand with your own and he pulls you up off the bed. He lets go momentarily, strapping his swords to his back and grabbing his belongings while you do the same with your rucksack. At the door to your room, he takes your hand and tugs you out into the hallway while your mind is still catching up to the feeling of your fingers interlocked with his.

You find Jaskier in the lower level of the inn, looking miserably hungover in front of a plate of eggs. He doesn’t register your presence until the two of you are standing right in front of him. The bard nods solemnly and rises from the table to leave, anything but eager to start the day’s journey. If he notices the hands clasped between yourself and Geralt, he says nothing. Though you suspect his Witcher song will have a new verse by dusk.

It’s your mistake that you hum the melody to Toss A Coin To Your Witcher that night at your campfire, even if you are bored out of your mind. Jaskier’s colorful new verse, featuring a rather suggestive description of yourself, has you chasing him around the clearing with your sword in hand. Jaskier begs for mercy while Geralt looks on in fond amusement.

thank you for reading!

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WHAT BENNY DOESN’T KNOW | Chapter 3

A TRIPLE FRONTIER STORY

Summary: When you find yourself stranded at a bar, Will is luckily on hand to take you home.

Warnings: Mature 18+ ONLY!!! The smut train is back kids, you have been warned. This chapter features strong language and scenes of a sexual nature. (oral male receiving, unprotected sex {you know the old saying kids, don’t be silly})

Word Count: 4815

A/N- This ones for the Will Miller fans. I’ve just come from a very chaotic work shift so I cannot wait to get all your wonderful feedback as always to make me feel better. I also want to take a moment to give some unspoken subtext for clarity due to some of the aspects of this chapter. Reader is very open about their body and so all TF gents are aware of birth control situation and that reader is protected in that way. Also I have never been on a motorbike so take this chapter as creative license and forgive me. I also just want to say I have written the Italy chapter which will be coming to you Monday. It is a fucking monster (pardon my language) and I can’t wait for you all to read it, but for now enjoy chapter three.

PART THREE | 6 MONTHS LATER

You and Santiago's had both gone on missions mere days later which saw you away from home for a good six months. When you got back you found that Santi had come back for a few weeks about a month ago but had had to take off again before you'd had a chance to see him.

You had been back for a couple of days and decided to organise an evening at your favourite local bar with your sister for a catch up. You sat on the bar stool waiting anxiously, the bar tender giving you looks of pity ever couple of minutes. You're phone, which you had placed on the bar top pinged and you eagerly checked the text on the screen. 'Sorry, something came up with Jared and I'm not gonna make it. Can we take a rain check?' you slammed your phone back onto the bar top as you let out a small animalistic grunt of frustration.

“Well you look like you're nights going just as well as mine is.” came a familiar voice from beside you. You looked up to find Will taking the seat beside you. “When did you get back?” he asked an arm coming out to wrap around you, pulling you into him.

“Two days ago.” you said into his ear, your head resting comfortably against the top of his shoulder as you hugged him. “What are you doing here?” you asked him as you pulled your arms back, shifting yourself on your bar stool to get a better look at him.

“Shitty date.” he said.

“I didn't realise you were putting yourself back out there.” you said, your fingers reaching to fiddle with your glass in front of you.

“Yeah, well I can't mope around forever.” he sighed deeply. “You want another one?” he questioned, pointing to the now empty glass in your hand.

“Uh, I was supposed to be meeting my sister but she bailed on me.” you began to explain.

“Shitty husband?”

“Shitty husband.” you confirmed. Will was well versed in your family drama. He'd once had to break up a fight between your sister's husband and Benny at a BBQ when Jared had gotten drunk and decided to challenge Benny. It had not been pretty.

“Still you want to stick around for another drink with me or...?” He let the question hang openly in the air between you.

“Sure.” you said. “I mean it'll probably take a while before I can get a taxi home anyway.”

“I've got my bike outside if you want me to give you a lift back, save you spending money on cab. I mean if you don't mind the bike that is?”

You thought about it a moment looking back down at your glass before looking back up to meet his eyes again. “Uh yeah, okay. That'll be great. Thanks.” you said. He turned and gave the bar tender a nod, grabbing you two more drinks.

“So what have I missed?” you asked.

“Well, Pope came back last month. I hadn't seen him since we all went out for Benny's birthday.” you raised your eyebrows in disbelief. “Yeah. We hung out with him a bit while he was back. Kept going on about some girl he'd slept with that night, saying it was the best sex he'd ever had. Brought it up any chance he could get.” you snorted and choked slightly as your drink went down the wrong hole, the statement leaving you shocked. “Hey, you okay?” Will said, a hand gently patting your back.

“Uh yeah. I'm fine, just went down the wrong hole.” you coughed, wiping at your face with your sleeve. “Um did he say when he was coming back next.”

“No. I think he said maybe four months but he said it could be longer depending. What about you? How long you back for?” he questioned.

“Not sure yet.” you replied. “Until the next assignment comes in I guess.”

You carried on talking like that for another 40 minutes, the conversation flowing easily. “Hey you ready to go?” he asked when he noticed you'd finished your drink.

“Uh yeah, of course.”

You followed Will out the front to where his bike was sat waiting. He handed you his spare helmet. “You bring this just in case your date went well?” you teased him, poking him with the helmet before you began placing it on your head.

“Yeah, something like that.” he said, giving you a sheepish grin. He hooked his leg over the bike and you climbed on behind him, your arms wrapping tightly around his torso. “When's the last time you were on a bike?” he asked you as the bike roared to life beneath you.

“Probably Columbia, two years ago.” you shouted over the noise. You felt his body shake as he let out a laugh. He was about to enjoy this.

He took off quickly, speeding out of the parking lot, catching you off guard making you let out a squeal as you took a moment to find your balance. You felt his stomach move beneath your fingers as he let out another chuckle at your expense. You gave him a playful slap before resting your head against his back, easing into the feeling of the air around you and the hum of the engine between your legs. You wrapped your arms tighter around him and buried your nose into him, breathing in his smell. Will always smelt good. He took a hand off one of the handle bars, brushing the back of your hand gently, reassuringly, before securing it back to the bike. The feeling had sent a buzz through your skin and you couldn't help but be aware of the way it passed through your body. You felt a fluttering feeling between your legs and you bit your lip. Uh Oh. No, no this was not happening, this couldn't be happening. You were getting turned on by this.

You quickly adjusted your hold around him, trying to focus and ground yourself but your hand ended up brushing against his crotch. It had only been a brief second but it had made you flinch in embarrassment and you wrapped your arms around him even tighter, pulling yourself forward on the bike, grinding into his butt between your legs. Shit! If he hadn't felt your hand brush against his cock he had definitely felt that. You braced yourself as he stopped at a red light, your breath held tightly in your chest. You nibbled your lip anxiously, your eye's squeezing shut waiting for him to do something, mock you or chastise you. What he did do next surprised you.

He took his hand off the handle bar again, his fingers searching for yours across his abs. He wrapped his hand around them, lifting it gently away from where you had been holding him and intentionally moving your hand down, placing it over the growing bulge in his jeans. You lifted your head up to look at him, but he kept his eyes forward. He let go of your hand, reaching to run his fingers along your thigh, resting against the side of the bike. You licked your lips nervously. What was happening right now?

The traffic light before you turned amber and Will placed his hand back on the handle bars, revving the engine of the bike in preparation but also sending a flood of extra vibrations through the bike that buzzed against your core. You couldn't fault the Captain, he knew exactly what he was doing.

You still had one hand around his waist and one hand over his cock, when he pulled up outside your place. There was a sudden silence as the engine cut out and he climbed off the bike. You couldn't help but watch him intently. Will was more of a man of action than a man of words. He took off his helmet, threading it onto the handle bars, before turning towards you and leaning against the bike. His arms folded before you as he waited for you to gingerly take your own helmet off, not once breaking eye contact with him.

“So what do you wanna do?” he finally asked when you had decided to remain silent. You licked your lips as you thought over the best way to respond.

“Do you want to come in?” was the line you finally decided on, but your voice was timid, it lacked conviction. You wanted him to take control. He nodded slightly before taking a step back, allowing you some room to attempt to get off the bike as gracefully as you could. You placed the helmet on the seat, while Will put his hands in his pockets. He fiddled with his keys as he attempted to hide his nervousness.

He'd be lying to himself if he had said he'd never thought about you in that way before. Seeing you in a bikini when you had all taken a trip to the beach. When you had gone out dancing for his birthday and chosen the skimpiest dress in your closet to wear. On lazy Sundays when you had stayed over at his and Benny's place, your tiny pyjama shorts riding up as you reached for things off the top shelves of their kitchen cabinets. That's exactly where his eyes fell now as he followed you up to your apartment. Your jeans hugging your ass just right as you walked up the stairs ahead of him.

You gave him a sheepish smile as you unlocked the door, ushering him inside. The silence was filled with the clicking of light switches as you began to switch on lamps, creating a cosy atmosphere. He was so stealthy you hadn't notice him come up behind you until you turn and was faced with his chest. You slowly lifted your eyes up, your head tilting to allow you to look at his lips, then up further to his eyes. “Just tell me if you want to stop.” he said before placing his finger under your chin, guiding your face closer to his.

You couldn't even call it a kiss the way his lips barely grazed yours but it was electric, sending shivers throughout your whole body making you want to throw yourself at him. He whispered your name against your lips, a question, he wanted you to answer the previous statement.

You gave your head a slight shake. “No.” your voice was quiet. “No, I don't want to stop.” you closed the gap between his lips and your own, your hands snaking up to wrap around his neck. He wrapped his arms around your lower back, pulling you closer to him, deepening the kiss. You exhaled deeply through your nose as you let out a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.

Will brought one of his hands up, to brush away the hair that was falling over the side of your face, getting in the way. He tucked it behind your ear, before letting his fingers rest around the base of your head, his thumb grazing your jaw. You found yourself moaning hungrily into the kiss, but then a thought crossed your mind that made your rapidly break away. “Wait, wait.” you said breathlessly. He dropped his hold around the back of your head and leaned back to get a better look at you. He waited silently for you to continue as you caught your breath. “There's something I have to tell you.” you said licking your lips, already missing the feeling of his against them. You relaxed your hands from around his neck, allowing them to rest on his shoulders and you were glad when he didn't try and pull away. “I was the girl Santiago slept with after Benny's birthday.” you said trying to make your words as calm as possible.

Of all the things Will was expecting you to say, it was not that. He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he lowered his head slightly shaking it. You weren't sure if it was a grin on his face or a grimace. “I just thought I should say. I don't want to make things complicated between you guys.”

He took a step back from you, a small huffed chuckle escaping his lips as he ran a hand up through his hair. Your face fell to the floor. Shit you'd fucked this up. You shouldn't have said anything. “Does this change everything?” you asked timidly to the floor.

Will chuffed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?” he asked stepping forward to you, making you look up at him. “If you heard the way he talks about that night. You think I'd give up the chance to experience that?” Your eyes looked at him hopefully. He closed the space between you, smashing his lips into yours, his hands planted firmly either side of your face, not allowing you to get away from him. You flung your arms around his neck and he dropped his own hands down to cup underneath your ass. He lifted you up into his arms seamlessly and began carrying you towards your bedroom.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed so you were straddling his lap. You broke off the kiss, reaching down to lift your shirt up over your head, throwing it across the room, Will following your actions quickly took off his own. He took a moment to take in your boobs, his hands reaching up to grab them, leading your body back closer to his so he could attach his lips to yours again. You fixed your hands around his shoulders, pushing them backwards towards the bed. Your lips followed his the whole way down, your hair falling around both your faces.

You reluctantly broke your lips away, leaning back to flick your hair out of the way, but also to give your hands the space to move between your two bodies as you began to unbutton his jeans. You slid yourself backwards off of Will and the bed, your knees hitting the carpet as you pulled both his jeans and pants down at the same time, his hips lifting slightly allowing you to get them off easier.

You pulled the items of clothing off of his ankles throwing them behind you. You were aware of him shifting slightly on the bed and looked up to find he'd propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you on the floor before him. His gaze made you pause a moment, fully taking him in. All of you had been out of active service for years but Will looked exactly the same as he had at the height of his career. You knew his younger brother took good care of his body, what with him now having a ‘somewhat’ career as a prize fighter, but you hadn't realised just how well Will had maintained his muscular physique.

You let your eyes drop from his piercing eyes, letting them trail down the defined lines of his chest then abs, until finally they landed on his half ready member. You looked back up to his eyes, keeping eye contact with him as you sat yourself up properly again, his legs adjusting slightly to allow you a better position between them as your hand slowly raked up the muscles of his thighs until they reached the prize that lay patiently waiting for you at the top of them.

You watched intently as Will's head dropped backwards, his eyes closing in bliss at the feeling of your hands wrapping around his cock, your gentle grasp slowly working him up. A small grin began to take over your face in reaction to the feeling of his member growing and getting ever harder under your controlled touch, a sensation of power taking over you.

Will let out a breathy groan of satisfaction as he suddenly felt your tongue, swipe up his entire length. “Fuck.” he exclaimed as he pulled his head back up to look at you, one of his arms reaching out to place a caring hand around the side of your head, guiding you as you began to take his length into your mouth. You both made an effort to keep eye contact as you bobbed up and down on his dick but Will lost it when you took him to the point he hit the back of your throat and you gagged slightly. His eyes closed as his head hung back in bliss again. For a moment it felt like he'd died and gone to heaven and it took him a second to put himself back into the room. He couldn't believe this was happening.

You pulled back, allowing yourself a moment to breath, as you used your hand to continue working at his saliva covered cock. Will looked down at you once more and before you had a chance to take his length into your mouth again, he was sitting himself up, reaching his hands out for your face, pulling you into a deep kiss instead. He made you stand up straight and you had to let go of his cock as his fingers brushed down your body until he reached the waistband of your pants. You stared down at him in silence as his fingers began undoing the buttons of your jeans. He leant forward to leave kisses across your stomach as he gently pulled down your jeans and underwear at the same time, just like you had for him. His lips tickled against your skin and you found your hands reaching out to steady yourself against his shoulders as your eyes closed, head relaxing due to the sensation passing from his touch that sent a fuzzy feeling all the way up to the very tip top of your skull.

You felt the fabric pool thickly at your ankles and you maintained your hold on his shoulders as you pulled your feet free from the tangle of denim that engulfed them. He tossed the jeans out of the way with one hand, the other taking a firm hold of your hip, his thumb circling across the bare skin. “Will.” his name fell breathily from your lips and he looked up to take you in, his other hand coming to rest on your other hip, his hold becoming firmer.

“Come here.” his voice came back, gentle yet commanding as he pulled you back onto the bed on top of him as he lay back against the mattress. His hands came up to grasp either side of your head, his fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled your lips down against his own. You felt his tongue brush against your lower lip and you happily relaxed further into his mouth, your tongue coming out to gently melt against his.

You felt his hips grind up into you, his erection rubbing against your clit sending a sensation through your core and you sighed into him. He used the opportunity to suck your lower lip in between his lips, pulling at it slightly, only intensifying the feeling growing between your legs. You felt one of his arms reach around your lower back and before you could even acknowledge the feeling of his other hand becoming firmer on the back of your head, you found your whole body being flipped round, Will settling himself on top of you between your thighs.

He manoeuvred his arm out from under your back so he could run his hand up the length of your leg, encouraging it to wrap around his side. You broke away from his lips to look intensely into his eyes in anticipation. He brushed his thumb across your cheek with the hand that still cradles your head while his other hand lines himself up with your entrance. You exhale sharply when you feel him drag his cock through your slick folds, the tip nudging your sensitive clit. You feel the hand against your cheek grow firmer as he forces you to keep eye contact with him as he gently eases himself into you, your mouth hanging open in a silent gasp as you adjust to his size. You pursed your lips together and you watched as Will's eyes followed the movement before he smashed his lips back against them, his hips rolling himself deeper inside you. You let out another gasp against his lips at the sensation. “Ah fuck.” you breathed the words against his mouth as he gave you a moment to adjust, the hand against your face smoothing your hair back.

You began moulding your lips to him once more and he took that as his sign to begin slowly thrusting his cock in and out of you. He was in the perfect position without even trying, his cock dragging against your gspot with every agonisingly slow thrust. You brought your hands up either side of his face and pushed his forehead into your own as your mouth hung open, breathing becoming laboured. His pace was torturous, controlled, making you feel every motion his cock made inside you. He forced you to continue looking at him, his eyes watching your every facial expression carefully, forcing you to stay in this moment with him, to be aware of every sensation and remember who it was who was making you feel that way.

This wasn't just some quick shag or one night stand, this was a friend making love to another friend. Just like Santiago before him, Will didn't know if this would ever happen again between you and he wanted to make sure he savoured every second. Wanted you to know the love he had for you. He wanted to make you feel good. He wanted you to remember this moment and how he made you feel in it.

Your hips began to squirm as your orgasm steadily built in your core, desperate for something more, desperate for that release. “Will please?” you breathlessly begged against his lips. Will grunted at hearing you begging for him to make you cum, but he didn't want to rush this. He felt your back arch as you tried to change the angle slightly, drive him deeper, reach that release. He snaked his arm around your back, pulling you tighter to his body, lifting you from the bed. Your hold around his neck became tighter and you buried your head into his shoulder as he lifted you up, his cock still deeply inside you.

He turned you both around and he sat on the bed, pulling you down even further onto his cock. The new position really allowed you to grind down into him but forced you to maintain the slower pace Will wanted to keep. “Oh my god.” you groaned into his neck, your head still firmly buried into the crook of his neck. He kept both his arms firmly around your back, forcing your body to remain tightly to him, guiding you as you moved up and down on his cock. The feeling that had built inside you was fit to burst and when he lifted his hips and thrust up into you, you lost out. Your orgasm was shattering and you buried your head even deeper into his neck, your eyes firmly screwed up, tears threatening to spill out of the corner creases from how sensitive you felt.

Will continued to slowly thrust up into you, his arm wrapped around you tightly making you maintain the slow steady rhythm you had created together. Your clit dragged across his skin from how close your bodies were and it did nothing but increase the orgasm taking over you. You're moans of pleasure came out stuttering between breaths as you felt yourself clamped tightly around his cock. You were so earth shatteringly aware of everything.

You forced yourself up straight, wanting to look directly into Will's eyes, allowing him to see the devastation and bliss he was causing you. His lips attached hungrily to yours at the sight. He felt your overstimulated body stutter and freeze, desperate for a break but he wasn't done with you yet. As you tried to take a moment to let your orgasm pass and compose yourself once more ready to do it again, Will lay himself back down upon the bed. With you're arms still wrapped tightly around his neck you happily let your body relax with him, resting against him, your head finding a home in the crook of his neck once more, taking in deep breaths.

He had allowed you maybe two seconds to appreciate and acknowledge your come down before his arms tightened around you, holding you in place against his chest as he brought his legs up onto the bed. He dug his heels into the mattress and began thrusting up into you at a rapid speed. Your fingers clawed at his skin as you felt another orgasm rapidly building inside you once more. You cried out as the sensation took over you once more, your body practically going limp. You attempted to use his shoulders as leverage to prop yourself up, hoping a change in angle would lessen the sensitivity in your fluttering cunt. Will reached up to take your face in his hands. You're arms went weak and gave out slightly and you were grateful that Will did have a hold of your head, to keep it up right.

He maintained each devastating thrust and watching as your eyes became unfocussed, completely cock dumb for him. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. “Ah fuck.” he grunted as his thrust became sloppy, his own release so fucking close with how you were looking at him like that. You whispered his name and he lost it completely, his thrusts stuttering as he quickly pulled out, his own release over taking him as he closed his eyes, pushing his head back into the mattress.

He gently released your head from his hold and you relaxed it against his shoulder, your back arched inward, your breathes heavy and laboured as you worked through your come down. Will let out a deep breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and turned his head to try and get a better look at you. Almost like you sensed what he was trying to do, you lifted your head to meet his eyes. A goofy grin broke out across his face.

You attempted to climb off his lap but your legs were spent and wobbled like a new born deer. He laughed at you as you collapsed onto the bed beside him. “That was,” your voice said heavily beside him, you laughed a giddy feeling from your orgasm washing over you. He propped himself up to look at your face but you just turned it away from him, burying it into the bed, bashful. He laughed at you again before mustering as much energy as he could to stand and go find something to clean you both up with.

When he came back into the room, damp cloth in hand, he watched you intensely, a smile plastered across your face, as you still struggled to make eye contact with him. Your still overstimulated core was making you rub your legs together in an attempt to channel the energy there. He let out a chuckle, he had never had this reaction from being with a girl before and the fact it was you made him feel even more special.

You finally met his eyes and smiled back at him. He felt like you were reading his mind and he too now felt bashful. He tossed the cloth he'd been fiddling with between his fingers at you in an attempt to stop the silent conversation that was going on between you. You caught the rag between your fingers, your body rolling slightly and relaxing as you took him in, your gaze softening.

Neither of you needed to say anything. You both knew what this was. It was a comfortable curiosity. You were his best friend and he was yours. There was no doubt of the platonic love you had for one another and now you just had a greater appreciation for each other.

You cleaned yourself up as Will pulled his boxers back on, before climbing back onto the bed with you. You tossed the cloth across the room, aiming for your hamper but it missed landing on the floor as Will wrapped an arm around you. You cuddled into him, your head resting against his shoulder, his fingers drawing lazy circles across your skin. “I love you.” you said softly but confidently.

“I know.” he said back, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of your head, a content smile fixed permanently to his face.

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

Hope I didn’t forget to tag anyone and as always if you want to be added to the tag list just pop it in writing and I’ll add you for next time. As always if your tag doesn’t work properly I’m sorry.

@icanbeyourjedi @theshiningharmony @darnitdraco @kesskirata @wyn-dixie @rosiefridayrogersunday @actual-spawn-of-satan @clydesducktape @asta-lily @honey-hi @heythere-mel @heidi-toevs @wigofokoye @choricenter @goodgriefitsawildworld @lostgirlheather @d0uwannkn0w @justdrawings101 @nicotinebirds @bisexualolympus @babyratt19 @cookiecat22 @peterhollandkait @a-bang-for-your-bucky @asta-lily @codenamewife @lazyunknownwerewolf @emmy626 @natura1phenomenon @fanfics-that-hit-my-feels @fangirl-316 @thisisthewaytofiction @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @aficwhore @slayerx147 @alberta-sunrise @itspdameronthings @nano-pax

#triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #will miller #william ironhead miller #will miller x reader #reader insert #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #benny miller #what benny doesn’t know

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awkwardgtace · 3 years

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Oooo how about "why are you looking at me like that" with Corus and Mira?

This is a bit of a teaser for them dealing with stuff in their og verse after something I'm working on right now.

Why are you looking at me like that?

She’d been running for what felt like hours. Mira had to get there, to stop this. She never expected something like this to happen. She’d finally made it to the tree line, it felt too slow and too fast. She kept running, they were so much further than she realized. He wasn’t awake yet, she still had time. She had to push herself harder. She finally saw the tree that meant she was almost home.

Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough. Right as she reached it the ground shook. It was bad enough she had been knocked off her feet. He was asleep and she should have had time. She started crawling to try and warn them, to get them safe. He would make sure they couldn’t do anything again. She had to stop it. She screamed when fingers squeezed her side just a little too hard.

“Mira,” he crooned. She stared up at the human she thought she could trust. Those blue eyes filled with nothing but malice and hatred. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Corus, please don’t. They won’t do anything again I promise. Please,” she begged. He brought her close to his face. He didn’t feel like the person she’d grown to love. He felt like a monster.

“Hmm, maybe you can change my mind.” He made a show of kneeling, blocking the entrance he knew about and leaning his elbows heavily on the tree. This had to be enough of a warning. They had to be able to get away. They had more entrances.

“I-I’ll do anything.”

She hated the look in his eyes. When did he get like this? It felt like he was enjoying the fear he was causing her. He started to roll her between his fingers like a toy. She tried desperately not to care about the awful feeling it caused. He got a twisted smile one his face before squeezing her slightly. She yelped and the look he gave her made her feel sick. He lifted his arms slightly before dropping them on the tree again. She looked at him with fear.

“I can’t seem to think of anything to make sure they don’t take you away,” he lied. She knew what he wanted. She’d hate him for this, he was supposed to be good. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to give him her ideas. The same ones she’d escaped from each time he tried it.

“I-I have ideas Corus,” she shouted. She needed him to stop this, she could always give up her life for her home. “I have so many ideas of how I can help you make sure I can’t be taken.”

“Please tell me, before I have no choice.” He banged on the tree again, this time she heard a noise that sounded like cracking.

She felt a shiver run down her back at the look he gave her. The longer this conversation went on the more like a monster he seemed. His eyes seemed more cat-like with slit pupils. His teeth seemed to get longer and sharper. Even his voice seemed to sound distorted. His nails seemed to get longer and sharper too, almost like claws. Something in her said this wasn’t really Corus, but who else could it be. She felt her eyes starting to burn, but fought back her tears. If she cried he’d do something again.

“You could,” she started. The glint in his eye terrified her. “You could put me in a cage and weigh it down so I can’t get out, or always keep me with you, or…or…”

“Mira… Mira… Mira….” His voice sounded far away, but more like who she knew. She looked up at the face of the person holding her. It just looked like a monster this wasn’t Corus. “Mira wake up, what’s going on?”

“Wake up?” The feeling of the fingers grabbing her started to fade. At first she was terrified, but everything was just going dark.

“It’s a nightmare Mira, just wake up. It’s not real.”

She sat up panting her eyes wide. She looked around the room, almost relieved to see Corus looking exactly like himself. He was so close though, he wasn’t supposed to be this close yet. When they locked eyes he backed up quickly. Sitting back on his bed across the room. It had been a few months already and they were trying to fix things, but it hadn’t been an easy road for either of them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t want to get so close, but I just couldn’t ignore the way you were grunting. I’d heard you call my name and then I just couldn’t stop worrying…” he explained. She nodded, of course she cried out in her dream. Thankfully just a horrible, horrible dream. “...Mira, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because when you look like you I know it’s safe,” she said. He gave her a confused look, but just nodded. He knew better than to ask after the first time she’d had one of these nightmares. She watched the way he flexed his hands. She still didn’t feel safe too close yet.

“Go back to sleep, if you have another nightmare I’ll wake you up again ok?” She nodded. They both were struggling to move forward. The day still played in her mind and she was sure he hadn’t stopped seeing it or playing the what ifs either. They were making progress, slowly but surely.

#gt #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #giant tiny #gt writing #OC:Mira #OC:Corus #gt asks #oc asks #awkwardanswers

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arloelilly · 3 years

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I seen you on Wattpad and really liked your stories! I hope it's okay to drop an ask. How would Leo or Raph react to their girlfriend being turned into a mutant with no way of turning back? Like Shredder or Krang created a new formula that is irreversible. Oh, and could you make the reader a mutant turtle? Thanks for the opportunity! 😁

Oooo, I like this idea. Thank you for asking! And I think I'll do both Leo and Raph for this one!

Warning(s): Sad and angry toirtle bois

Leo

He would feel miserable. He would train for countless hours trying to keep his mind off of what happened but it was all that was he could think about. Leo was the one that had to make sure everyone played their part and play it safely, but he felt he failed his. The thought of failing to protect you would plague his mind. When Donnie showed him the mutagen that was in their blood verses the mutagen that is in yours he was a bit confused; however, his confusion would turn to regret.

His own thoughts would distract him, almost pulling him into a depressed state. He'd probably take these feelings to his grave if it weren't for you. When you heard the news you had your own moment was depression but you eventually accepted who you were now. Those feeling weren't going to change you back, and nothing would so why dwell on what you can't change? You'd find him in his room, sitting at the edge of his bed, head berried in his hands. You'd walk up to him, taking his hands in yours so you could lean down and press your forehead to his.

You'd see the sorrow in his clouded eyes but give him a comforting smile as your fingers entangle his. You would nuzzle your nose to his before guiding his hands to your face. "I love you," Your voice was soft and angelic to his ears. He'd swallow the lump in his throat, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks, "I love you too." Pulling him up from his bed, your loving hands would trail up his sides to rest on his pecks as the room fell silent again. "Why don't we go for a walk?" You'd suggest with a sweet smile on your face.

The both of you walked for a few hours, you would talk to him and try telling him a few jokes until you got tired of his silence and ask him what was on his mind. "I...I'm sor-" "Don't apologize. This wasn't your fault, Leo. You may feel it is but trust me, it wasn't. And...feeling depressed all the time isn't going to change me back. I've accepted what I am now because of that. Being a mutant isn't going to change how I feel about you or anyone else and I wouldn't have it any other way." Leo would sigh at your words, he knew you were right, the feeling of depression slowly beginning to unravel and fade away.

Sure it still took a few days for him to return to his normal self but all that mattered to you was that he didn't hate himself anymore. He was the fearless, honor boy you came to love again.

Raph

When he first seen you he was shocked. His mind didn't accept the fact that you had been mutated until Kraang had been defeated and you all managed to get back to the sewers before anyone seen you all. He became protective asking Donnie what he was doing when he started to draw a sample of your blood. Donnie would tell Raph his intentions and would tell him to calm down. "Calm down? How the hell can I calm down when Shredder turned my girl into a monster like us, huh?" He didn't mean to come off so harsh and you knew that as you watched him start to pace.

Donnie took his time to make sure your blood wouldn't have a bad reaction to the reversed formula of the mutagen; however, he soon found out that the mutagen used on you wasn't the same as the one in their blood. The mutagen used on them ate away at the cells in your blood. When he found out the mutagen used for you was completely different and changing you back could harm you greatly or even kill you, he showed you and Raph as he explained what would happen. Raph could feel his blood boil as the thought of his girl never being able to return to society. Her life practically torn from her and now she had to live under ground like them. It hurt him.

Raph would work out intensely, ending up needing to get a new punching bag since the last one could no longer handle the beating it got. None of his workouts seemed to help him though and he seemed to become more aggressive towards his brothers until him and Leo got into it. Leo was tired of Raph treating them so rudely but Raph wasn't backing down either. You were quick to step in as things started to escalate, taking Raph by his arms and trying your best to pull him away from the situation.

You'd be more worried than angry at him. Most of the walk being quiet until you two were somewhere secluded. That's when you tell him to let you know what's on his mind. He'd brush it off, not wanting to talk about it. "Raph, don't you understand how you're acting? It's putting everyone on edge and I can't help but worry about you because you won't talk to anyone. You just glare at them or tell them to leave you alone. I'm not stupid, I know you're hurting inside. I just want you to talk to me so I can help. Just like I need you to be there for me." You pled, your voice breaking as tears stung your eyes.

Raph's hand found your cheek and cupped it. "I'll always be there for ya. Always. But it kills me knowin that I can't do anything to turn you back. You don't deserve this. Ya don't deserve to waste yer life away in a sew'a. Not bein able to walk in the sunlight or hang out with yer friend. And I wasn't there to protect you from this and now you have to pay the consequences." He'd turn his back towards you as the tight knot in his chest grew tighter. "I'm not wasting my life away though. I'm spending it with you and your family. And if you think that's wasting my life then so be it but I refuse to let what happen to me stop me from living my life how I want to. As long as I have you and the others, I have all the fresh air I need, Raph." Your hands were still quite smaller compared to his as your fingers gently entangle with his.

His muscles would start to relax and he'd look down at you, his emerald eyes turning soft as he looked into your e/c ones before he would lean down to kiss your lips.

#tmnt x reader #bayverse turtles #fan fiction

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kmikaelsonimagines · 4 years

Text

The Lakes: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: The Lakes by Taylor Swift. Can Kol save the reader from drowning?

So, I’ve included the second verse of the song before the chorus in this which I don’t usually do, because otherwise it would be very short. Hope this is okay for you lovely, and enjoy x

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

The Lakes

Is it romantic how all my elegies eulogize me? I'm not cut out for all these cynical clones These hunters with cell phones

It started with an accident.

It was dark, and it sounded cliché, but you had always been told not to walk by the Bayou late at night. Maybe that was why you had defied every bit of advice you’d been given, warned about the monsters that lurked in the most sinister part of New Orleans.

Vampires. Werewolves. Yeah, right.

You hadn’t been saying that when there was a man sinking his teeth into your neck, draining you of blood. You were sure you were going to die, that you would fall to the floor lifeless, already thinking about what your friends would say at your funeral.

But then the man had stopped, clearly thinking you were dead. He had thrown you into the Bayou, and had left with inhuman speed. You could swim, but you were weak, and couldn’t muster up the strength. You weren’t cut out for this life, you realised, as you felt the oxygen leave your lungs.

You were going to drown and then-

And then a pair of arms lifted you out of the lake and there was a wrist held up to your lips.

“Drink. It’ll help.”

You looked up at the stranger, the first time you ever saw Kol Mikaelson genuinely smile.

What should be over burrowed under my skin In heart-stopping waves of hurt

He had saved you, and as a result, Kol Mikaelson didn’t let you out of his sight.

He explained to you who he was, what he was, and told you to be more careful, to promise him that you wouldn’t take a late night stroll in this part of town ever again. You would have been stupid not to agree.

That was a week ago.

You had felt his stare on you as you continued on with your life, could feel him burrowed under your skin. There was something about him that had you captivated, and every time you looked over at him, hoping he wouldn’t notice you caring about whether or not or he was paying attention to you, you felt your heart stop.

He was stunning. Out of your league, definitely, but nonetheless stunning.

You were grabbing a coffee when you felt him staring at you again, just across the street. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, the potential for hurt to form in your heart when you inevitably realised that he was only there to check up on you, not because he cared like you wanted him to.

You turned and faced him, and he caught you looking, the second time you ever saw Kol Mikaelson genuinely smile.

I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze Tell me what are my words worth

“Maybe you’d like to get dinner with me some time, Y/N?”

Two weeks since he had saved you, two weeks since you had met someone who made you feel so different from everyone else. You had been with men before, sleazes who didn’t value you for your intellectual worth, who criticised everything you said before trying to get you into bed.

You had a feeling that Kol Mikaelson wasn’t like that. He had saved your life after all, saved you from falling into a murky abyss permanently.

So maybe he wasn’t the conventional date, what with immortality and the desire for blood, not to mention he was definitely an older guy, but maybe that was what you needed. He made your heart flutter in a way no-one had ever made it flutter before, made your dreams so much sweeter as his image appeared in your mind.

He made you think that you could find happiness, made you think that you could live your life valued and feeling like you were worth loving. Your answer was easy.

“I’d like that.”

He named a time and a place, the third time you ever saw Kol Mikaelson genuinely smile.

Take me to the Lakes where all the poets went to die I don't belong and, my beloved, neither do you

It was three weeks since that perfect first date, three weeks into a miracle of a relationship with Kol Mikaelson, when you made the decision to go back to the Bayou.

“Are you sure, Y/N?”

You nodded, knowing that Kol would be with you every step of the way. The event that had allowed you and Kol to meet had haunted you since it had happened, and you needed to face that lake again, to battle your fears.

He held your hand tightly as you looked out on it, his fingers wrapped around yours as he kissed your temple. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

And thank God for that. You were sure that without him, you would have crumbled. The vast expanse of water scared you still, and you never wanted to feel what it had made you feel again. Emptiness, death looming closer than you ever thought it would.

You didn’t belong in the place where the dead lived. Neither did Kol. And you knew that, as long as you had him by your side, you wouldn’t be going there anytime soon. You leaned into him and whispered the words that you had never said to him before. “I love you.”

The Original uttered them back, the fourth time you ever saw Kol Mikaelson genuinely smile.

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse

On the anniversary of the day that Kol had saved Y/N, the Original crept out of bed. He pulled on his clothes, quietly so as not to wake her, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

She had been through Hell and back, even after the accident, as was expected in joining his family. She had been through it all, not a single complaint on her lips, and he loved her for it. Kol got into his car and drove, always thinking of her, thinking of the joy on her face when she learnt what he was up to.

He imagined there would be some tears too, from both of them, no doubt brought on by his question and by the beautiful mountainous backdrop he envisaged. He had everything planned out, but there was just one more thing to do.

He entered the shop, and showed the owner the diamond in his hand. “I need a necklace out of this,” Kol sighed, “and one massive engagement ring.”

It was the first step towards Kol and Y/N setting off and living the perfect life together. She was his everything, and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. She had been so troubled, and she deserved the best. He only hoped he could be that for her.

He couldn’t wait to see her genuinely smile.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

#the vampire diaries #TVD #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #the originals #to #the originals imagines #the originals imagine #Kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagines #kol mikaelson imagine #kol mikaelson x reader #nate buzolic #nate buzz #Nathaniel Buzolic

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

To give without knowing (12/?)

word count: ~10k

read on AO3

previous / next / masterpost

content warning: self-deprication, fear of abandonment

The tap room was smaller and quieter than the average one Geralt encountered on the Path. It was a nice change. People enjoying their quiet meant that Jaskier didn’t leave Geralt’s side too often to play and when he did, he was not once met with angry criticism or things being thrown at him.

Right now, Geralt was leaning back on the bench at the edge of the room, watching Jaskier perform with a quiet smile that no one but Jaskier would notice.

Jaskier was sitting perched on top of a table with some sailors banging on the surface in rhythm of the sea shanty they had requested. Today must be one of the rare days that they asked for more music than usual. Perhaps as a last farewell before going back to sea the next day.

Whatever the reason, Geralt didn’t complain, not when Jaskier had found such an appreciative audience.

This was so different from how Jaskier usually performed, but it was obvious that Jaskier was enjoying himself. His face was flushed and every once in a while he interrupted his singing and let one of the sailors improvise a new verse. As he sang foreign songs of sailors longing for their loves they had left behind on land, he kept glancing at Geralt.

It sent a shiver down Geralt’s spine and he couldn’t have torn his eyes away from Jaskier if he had wanted to.

Geralt wasn’t foolish enough to let himself believe that this eye contact meant anything. Jaskier just wanted to share this happy moment with his friend, nothing more. And it should have been enough, really. But there was no harm in imagining that there was more to it. If Geralt’s eyes lingered on the curve of Jaskier’s smile a little too long while he imagined what it would feel like to taste that smile, no one needed to know. Jaskier would never need to find out that for just this moment, Geralt let himself dream that maybe Jaskier wanted to kiss Geralt until his perpetual scowl turned into a smile of his own.

With the way Jaskier’s eyes were shining with joy when they found Geralt, it wasn’t hard to pretend that Jaskier didn’t want to ever look away from him.

But he did.

Vaguely, Geralt was aware of the door opening. It didn’t really matter until Jaskier’s eyes drifted to whoever had wandered in. His entire face lit up with the brightest smile and something cold settled in Geralt’s stomach. He had gotten too used to that smile being directed at only him that he had forgotten what it felt like to see Jaskier look at someone else like that.

Without meaning to, he turned to follow Jaskier’s gaze. The pit in his stomach grew when his eyes landed on the woman. There was no reason for him to scowl at her and will her to go away, but apparently the selfish part of him that wanted to keep Jaskier’s smiles to himself didn’t need a reason.

He wanted to get up, to disrupt Jaskier’s song and ask him to leave; anything to stop him from talking to her.

But as he watched the woman return Jaskier’s smile and wave at him, Geralt knew that it was already too late.

Which was fine. Geralt had no right to stop Jaskier from talking to others, especially not when the sight of them evidently made him happy.

Even in the dim light of the tap room, Geralt could see the woman’s strikingly blue eyes that were almost as bright as Jaskier’s. At least that was true for the one eye Geralt could see. The other one was hidden behind a strand of light blond hair that fell into her face. It was the sort of thing that Jaskier would be able to sing countless ballads about. The sort of thing he would take as a temptation. In his mind Geralt could already see Jaskier brushing the hair behind the woman’s ear before leaning in for a kiss.

Geralt’s insides twisted, even though he told himself that his worries were unfunded and unfair. Jaskier was just greeting her, nothing more. Even if he did kiss her, it was none of Geralt’s concern. Jaskier could kiss whomever he wanted. What was it any of Geralt’s business if that was anyone but him?

Despite his pathetic attempts to calm himself, the twist in his gut didn’t go away. His treacherous thoughts were bad enough, but the reality of the situation was so much worse.

Jaskier stopped playing mid-song. Jaskier never interrupted a performance – except, of course, for when Geralt came into a room bleeding and covered in monster innards, but that hardly counted. It wasn’t as if any attention would stay on Jaskier if Geralt appeared like that.

Now, though, Jaskier jumped from his spot on the table and left the sailors to continue the song on their own. He swung his lute onto his back and spread his arms wide as he walked towards the woman with purpose.

“A sight for sore eyes,” he declared with a grin.

Before Jaskier could reach her, she rolled her pretty eyes at him. “Don’t think you can distract me with compliments from the fact that you stopped playing as soon as I came in.” She quirked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “Scared I’d leave again if I had to listen to you sing?”

Geralt’s frown deepened with every word and he gripped the edge of the table tightly to stop himself from getting up and putting himself between Jaskier and the woman who dared to insult him like that. Jaskier could handle insults well enough on his own, but that didn’t chance the fact that Geralt’s insides twisted at her words. Just moments ago, Jaskier had been brimming with happiness. He had been so excited about learning those new songs and having appreciative company to sing with.

Geralt’s chest clenched at the thought of Jaskier’s face falling at the woman’s words.

But Jaskier’s face didn’t fall. His shoulders didn’t slump and he didn’t turn tail in dejection. Instead he threw his head back with a hearty laugh, as comfortable as if he had known the woman for years. As if her words hadn’t been insults at all but intimate teasing, not unlike the way Geralt bantered with Jaskier whenever he asked him for a review for his songs. But that was their thing.

Once Jaskier’s laughter subsided, he breached the last bit of distance between himself and the woman and pulled her into a tight hug, kissing her cheeks.

Geralt couldn’t see Jaskier’s face when he pulled back, but he was certain he knew exactly how Jaskier looked at the woman. It must be the same way he had looked at countless other pretty people. The same way that Geralt looked at Jaskier.

Except contrary to Geralt, Jaskier was allowed to admire, to touch, to kiss.

This was... This was fine. Good even. Jaskier shouldn't have to admire from afar. He deserved to be happy. And oh, he looked so happy right at this moment.

And Geralt... He was happy for Jaskier. It didn't matter that his smile had turned into a thin-lipped line or that his hands were clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his own skin painfully.

When Jaskier gestured over to him and took the woman by the hand to lead her to Geralt's table, he forced himself to relax. He didn't know what to feel. A part of him was preening with satisfaction because Jaskier had remembered him even though he had the attention of a beautiful woman on him. Another bigger part of him wished Jaskier could have forgotten about him and went somewhere else instead. He dreaded what was surely to come. It was one thing to know what Jaskier was up to while he was out of sight. It was something else entirely having to sit at the same table and bear witness to how Jaskier looked at and touched someone else into he was Geralt longed for.

An ugly green-eyed beast reared its head inside Geralt’s chest and it took all of his willpower to stop himself from scowling at the woman who sat down next to Jaskier, opposite of Geralt.

Jaskier deserves to be happy. He repeated over and over in his mind. I can't scare her off. She’ll be gone by tomorrow morning anyway.

“Geralt, this is Essi. The second-best bard on the continent,” He gave Essi a playful smirk that only got wider when she elbowed him in the ribs, “and a dear friend of mine.”

Geralt’s clenched fists relaxed and the frown slowly disappeared from his face. Of course. She was a friend. Not everyone Jaskier met was someone he’d want to kiss – Geralt was living proof of that. The hint of a real smile tugged at Geralt’s lips. It was nice to meet a friend of Jaskier’s instead of an old lover for once.

Evidently encouraged by Geralt’s smile, Jaskier added, “Maybe you’ve even heard of her before? Though probably under a different name. She goes by Little Eye, for obvious reasons. She might be the second-best bard, but alas, even I can’t pretend that she isn’t the one with the prettiest eyes.”

Geralt almost opened his mouth to protest, when he froze. It was – no. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be her.

With all his might, Geralt tried to keep the memory out of his mind, but the lines Jaskier had sung so many times, praising his beloved and longing for them – for her – came back to him unbidden.

Lines about blazing eyes that were beautiful enough that Jaskier wanted to spend all day looking into them.

How often had Geralt scoffed at those verses, not only out of jealousy? He had always thought that no pair of eyes could be remarkable enough for Jaskier to fall for them so deeply. But now here he was, attempting to make his friend blush with sweet words about her eyes.

He looked at Essi more closely, desperate to find something that would disprove his dreadful suspicion.

But Essi’s blond hair could surely be described as moonlight-strands and the way she moved was undoubtedly graceful, maybe even as deadly elegant and dancelike as Jaskier called it in his song. Jaskier’s rhymes for his beloved spoke of bravery and kindness. Certainly, no one who willingly followed Jaskier to sit at the same table as a witcher could be anything other than brave and kind.

With every second spend trying to find some flaw in Essi, some hint that she couldn’t be the one Jaskier had yearned for for who knew how long, Geralt only found more and more evidence – more and more reason for Jaskier to be fascinated by her, to adore her.

In one word, Essi was beautiful. Exactly the type of person Jaskier would fall in love with with naught but a glance. Geralt had seen such a thing happen countless times before, but foolishly he had hoped that he wouldn’t have to witness it again. Now that he knew what it felt like to fall in love, he didn’t think he would be able to bear seeing Jaskier do so again.

There had been verses about gentle and talented hands that created the most wonderful things– and what hands could be gentler than those of a bard who was able to create music out of thin air? After all, Geralt had stared at such hands before, craving their touch. Why wouldn’t Jaskier do the same?

And what better reason to come to the coast than to finally find the woman he had been singing about for months?

As if Jaskier had read Geralt’s thoughts, he said, “I’ve been meaning to visit her for ages.”

Essi lifted one perfect eyebrow in amusement. “Is that so? I was under the impression that you were avoiding me. Or rather, you were avoiding introducing me to your companion.”

Jaskier spluttered something unintelligible and rubbed the back of his neck, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Geralt’s heart dropped. He knew that Jaskier enjoyed his company, but he also had other people that were important to him. Loved ones that evidently he hadn’t been able to see in a long time because of Geralt.

Was it because despite liking spending time with Geralt, he was ashamed to be seen with him? Surely there was a difference between appearing together in towns were no one knew them personally and showing his friends who he was travelling with. Or had Jaskier hesitated to let Geralt meet his friends because he knew that Geralt would make them feel uncomfortable?

Hadn’t Geralt known that all along? That his looming presence was the thing that kept Jaskier’s beloved away from him?

Whatever the reason, Geralt had been the one who had kept Jaskier away from people that were important to Jaskier, even without meaning to.

He couldn’t ruin this for him, not again, not now, not when he had been so happy to see Essi.

Geralt couldn’t bring himself to thaw his smile, but he nodded at Essi in greeting. She didn’t seem to mind his rudeness. As if Geralt’s behaviour was perfectly normal and polite, she leaned forward and looked at him with barely concealed interest.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to meet you." Her cocked her head to the side and the strand of her fell away from her face. "You know, Jaskier normally doesn't hesitate to talk about the people he lo-"

Before she could finish that sentence, Jaskier cut in. "Ah, Essi, dear, could we maybe talk about that later?" His eyes darted between Geralt and Essi, while he tried and failed to look nonchalant. "Somewhere a little more private? Alone?"

Jaskier wasn't especially subtle in telling Geralt that he and Essi would need a room later nor was this his best attempt at flirting. If Geralt hadn't known any better, he'd even say that he wasn't flirting at all.

Except that Jaskier flirted with everyone. Almost everyone.

Perhaps he had known and courted Essi for long enough that there was no more need for subtlety. She certainly didn't seem to mind the clumsiness of it, if the widening of her grin was any indication.

"By the way, Jaskier, you're looking gorgeous today, as always." Jaskier gave her a confused look, but then he blanched and gave her the tiniest but still empathetic shake of the head that she ignored. "Wouldn't you agree, Geralt?"

Geralt's throat went dry. He couldn't - what was he supposed to say? He couldn't very well tell her the truth, that there was nothing as beautiful as when Jaskier laughed and that he didn't want to ever look away from his eyes when they sparkled with joy. He couldn't say that. Not to Jaskier and certainly not to the woman who probably got to see his smiles far more often than Geralt did.

So instead he just let out a grunt that came out more strangled than it should have. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jaskier's shoulders fall, probably in relief that Geralt hadn't said anything incriminating.

Geralt didn't want to know how Jaskier would react if he had told him the truth.

Essi didn't seem to mind Geralt's non-answer. She was clearly having the time of her life watching Geralt squirm uncomfortably, for her attention didn't drift back to Jaskier as it should.

"So, Geralt, tell me about what it's like travelling with Jaskier. It must be wonderful to spend so much time with him. Surely something one would want to do for the rest of their life?"

It was wonderful. The best thing that had ever happened to Geralt. And lately, ever since Jaskier had started talking of how he would stay with Geralt, he has started to hope that he could have this. That he could keep Jaskier by his side for the rest of his life.

Now he wasn't so sure anymore. When Jaskier has said those things, there had been no pretty woman sitting next to him, implying that he could stay with her instead.

Geralt's jaw clenched and he did his best to ignore the sound of Jaskier drumming a nervous rhythm onto his own thigh.

He swallowed thickly and searched for what he could say that was close enough to the truth but far enough that it wouldn't make Jaskier uncomfortable in the presence of his conquest.

"It's... different. I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

How could he, when all he had known before were cold, quiet, lonely nights and sneers, shouts and stones?

Despite his best efforts to keep his tone neutral, his voice must have shown some of what he felt, for Jaskier let out a shuddering breath and Essi’s brows furrowed.

"That's it? Different?" she asked in disappointment. "But different how? What are the best parts of being with Jaskier? What do you love most about him? I'm sure there is a lot to love after all and –“

"Essi," Jaskier said quietly and his face was unreadable as he placed a hand on her arm. "Please." Something shifted in her expression. It became soft and almost protective. She put her hand on Jaskier's hand gave it a gentle squeeze as she nodded.

With seemingly no trouble at all, she steered the conversation in a different direction, but Geralt paid no attention to it. His mind was too preoccupied with the question that had sounded so innocent and that was so impossible to answer at the same time.

There was too much that he loved about Jaskier. The way he leaned against him while laughing about a particularly bad joke. The way he would quiet down when he noticed that Geralt needed it. The way he was dishevelled in the mornings, uncaring that he didn't look as perfect as he normally did. To Geralt he did then too. Maybe even more so than when he dressed up for balls or banquets. It wasn't Geralt's favourite part of travelling with Jaskier - it was impossible to pick just one - but the way Jaskier would blink up at Geralt in the mornings, maybe grumble a bit as he hid under the covers, might just be Geralt's favourite part of each day.

It made Geralt want to brush his ruffled hair out of his face and kiss him.

Gods, how Geralt wanted to kiss him. In the mornings when they were both barely awake, when his eyes shone during a performance, when it was just the two of them in a quiet forest clearing, when they were surrounded by other people and Jaskier was the only safety beside him.

It was just a fantasy - an impossible one at that, now more so than ever - but Geralt treasured it, even if all he could do was watch Jaskier and admire him from afar even as they were sat right next to each other. Even so, Geralt knew he wasn't allowed to look at Jaskier in the way he wanted to. In the way everyone else was allowed to, those people who might give Jaskier coy smiles and openly admiring glances until in return Jaskier gifted them with a kiss and his love.

Geralt wanted that. He wanted it so much it hurt.

But maybe he had something even better. Because Jaskier didn't stay with his lovers. They didn't keep his kisses and undivided attention for long.

Geralt, however, Geralt has had Jaskier by his side for years. No matter how alluring a lover was or how much they begged Jaskier to stay with them, he would always return to Geralt.

Some days, this knowledge was the only thing keeping Geralt's chest from splitting wide open when he watched Jaskier approach someone else with a smile and the clear intention to charm and fall in love. Knowing that Jaskier always came back, even though all Geralt could offer was friendship and a hard Path, might be what Geralt loved the most about Jaskier. It wasn't much but it had always been enough, just how Geralt for some inexplicable reason had always been enough for Jaskier to return to.

Except now it - he - might not be enough anymore. Jaskier obviously knew Essi, had clearly held her dear for a long while. And he had come back to her. From the way he looked at her now and joked with her easily, Geralt was sure that Jaskier would happily return to her again and again. Worse even, with his song Jaskier had unmistakably declared that he would want to stay with her forever.

Would Geralt now become one in a long line of people left behind heartbroken by Jaskier while he stayed with someone he held more dear, forgetting all about him?

Geralt had thought having to watch Jaskier fall in love would have been hard, but this was so much more painful. Jaskier was already in love. Maybe even with one who would finally drive him from Geralt's side.

Essi was stunning. She clearly was talented, if the way Jaskier had praised her before was any indication. She was someone Jaskier might just stay in love with.

Cold dread pooled in Geralt's stomach. It was just as clear that Essi loved Jaskier - and how could she not? She knew that Jaskier was beautiful, she already imagined living with him forever, just like Geralt did. Except he was sure that Jaskier wasn't imagining living with him forever, no matter what he said. With Essi however...

Geralt wanted him to stay. No matter how selfish and unfair, he wanted Jaskier to never leave him.

"And this is the first one I found after the bear broke."

Jaskier's voice tore Geralt out of his thoughts. His eyes left Jaskier's face just long enough to see that he had taken out the wooden bird Geralt had carved so many months ago. Essi's eyes widened.

"You found two of them?" she asked, her voice full of wonder. She hesitated for a heartbeat, asking Jaskier for permission with her eyes before she reverently touched the bird. Something inside Geralt grew hot and acidic at the sight. Luckily, Essi didn't notice. "They are so rare! Most people are lucky if they find one."

Jaskier's smile became smug and his lifted his chin. "Oh, my darling Essi, I have found far more than two. The others are in my room. I just like having the bird with me for good luck while I sing."

"How... Jaskier that's incredible." She took a sidelong glance at Geralt. "Is it because you're travelling together? A witcher and a bard, that must be something the fae would find interesting."

Jaskier hesitated before sharing a knowing look with Geralt, though Geralt couldn't figure out for the life of him what exactly that look was supposed to mean, what secret knowledge they were supposed to share.

"Well, I can't really tell why I'm getting all those gifts. But they appear more often when Geralt is happy. Or they seem to make him happier after I got them."

Essi's lips twitched. "Better keep him happy then."

Jaskier blushed furiously but didn't respond.

He didn't need to. Geralt spoke up before Jaskier could even think about opening his mouth.

"It's not about me. Those are for Jaskier and only him. To make him happy, not me."

Both bards looked at him dumbfounded for a second. Essi was the first to get a grip of herself, turning her attention back to the bird in Jaskier's hands. Jaskier on the other hand kept his eyes on Geralt, an unreadable expression on his face that made Geralt want to lean forward and trace the small crease between his brows with his fingers until it disappeared under his tender ministrations.

"Have you ever found any carvings, Geralt?" Essi asked him curiously.

He shook his head, grateful for the excuse to avert his eyes from Jaskier's burning gaze, though simultaneously he mourned the loss.

"I have no need for them. Witchers don't need luck. We don't get gifts." With a hint of bitterness, the next words slipped out before he could stop himself, "We don't get to have beautiful things."

He forced himself not to look at Jaskier at those last words. It didn't help that he heard his soft gasp anyway and that Jaskier's hand found his where it was balled to a fist in the table. He relaxed under the almost tender touch and it took all of his will power not to turn his hand and intertwine their fingers.

When he met Essi’s eyes, he tensed. There was something in the way she looked at him that unnerved him. Her eyes drifted to where Jaskier was touching him and then back to his face, searching. Then, her eyes widened in recognition and Geralt’s stomach dropped.

She knew. Somehow she knew what he felt for Jaskier.

Cold sweat tickled down his neck and he forced himself to pull his hand away from Jaskier’s touch despite how desperately he wanted to keep him close. With Essi watching him like a hawk, he knew he wasn’t allowed to indulge in this hopeless fantasy anymore. He wouldn’t hinder Jaskier’s happiness with Essi by making her think Jaskier would stay with someone like him. He wished Jaskier would want to. He wished Jaskier’s assurances that he did could be believed. And he had believed them. He had trusted Jaskier; he still did.

And maybe that was the problem. Jaskier had promised Geralt he’d stay by his side. Geralt didn’t doubt he had meant it. But now…either Jaskier would break his word and Geralt’s heart or he would keep his word and break his own heart.

Geralt knew which one he preferred.

When he had first heard the song about Essi, he had been torn about what he’d do if he ever met the object of Jaskier’s love. If he was being honest with himself, he still didn’t have a clear answer. A part of him still wanted to make sure Jaskier would stay with him. Another part that put a heaviness into his chest knew that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Maybe he wouldn’t be strong enough to tell Essi to confess her love to Jaskier, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything to keep them apart.

He wanted Jaskier to be with him, more than anything, but not at the cost of his happiness. Geralt couldn’t be Jaskier’s happiness. But maybe Essi could.

So Geralt plastered the hints of a smile on his face, trying desperately to ignore the way Jaskier’s face fell when Geralt pulled away from him and turned the conversation and Jaskier’s focus back to Essi where it belonged.

Too bad the only thing Geralt could think to say, was still related to his own aching heart.

“Have you ever found one of the fae-gifts?”

He cursed his own words as soon as they had left his lips. He didn’t know what answer he feared more. It was irrational and petty, but he didn’t want Essi to have one of his carvings. For years it had been none of his concern who kept hold of them, but now it seemed to be of utmost importance that Essi didn’t have one of them.

But maybe worse than that would be if she had never found any. True, Jaskier was protective of his collection, but he had given away the sheep to someone who was practically a stranger. There was no guarantee he would hesitate to give one of his animals to Essi.

Perhaps the bird, to compliment her undoubtedly beautiful singing voice. Or maybe he would give her the cat and make a play of words on a cat chasing a songbird or something of the sense. Surely not the fish, because Geralt couldn’t for the life of him figure out a way in which Jaskier could possibly give Horse to Essi without it coming across as an insult. The same was true for the snake.

Geralt’s stomach churned. He couldn’t even bring himself to think of the possibility that Jaskier might give away the wolf. The mere idea was enough for nausea to rise up in him.

So lost in his own thoughts, Geralt barely caught Essi’s reply.

“Sadly not. Not all of us can get so lucky as Jaskier.” She grinned at Geralt as if they were friends, as if she wasn’t about to take the most important person in Geralt’s life away from him. “Then again, he needs all the luck he can get and then some.”

Jaskier squawked in indignation, utterly undignified in the particular way he normally only was when Geralt complained teasingly about his music. “Excuse me? What is that supposed to mean?” He huffed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, but after a brief pause and a glance at Geralt that Geralt tried his best not to read anything into, Jaskier’s eyes softened. “I believe I can count myself very lucky. Probably the luckiest man on the continent.”

Geralt snorted before he could stop himself. The very notion of Jaskier being lucky was ridiculous. Jaskier didn’t need luck. He was charming and talented and beautiful. He had earned every single good thing that had befallen him.

Geralt on the other hand still didn’t have the slightest clue what had earned him Jaskier’s presence in his life. Out of the two of them, Geralt had no doubt that he was the lucky one.

Thankfully, before Geralt had a chance to run his mouth and voice any of his incriminating thoughts, the sailors from before called out for another song.

Jaskier looked at Geralt as if asking for permission to get up and play again. Geralt did his best to give him a look that conveyed that he was good enough and needn’t fear playing in front of Essi despite her teasing. It must have worked, for Jaskier picked up his lute again before turning to Essi.

"Will you join me?" The teasing twinkle was back in his eyes. "Play a little duet to determine once and for all which one of us is better?"

Essi snorted, her lips curling up. "I think we both know who is superior." She waved him off with a hand and a mischievous grin. "You go play first. I wouldn't want to take all the glory away from you without giving you a chance to get some applause first."

Jaskier hesitated, his eyes darting between Geralt and Essi.

"Fine," he sighed eventually when the shouts demanding another song continued. "Be nice, Essi."

"I always am."

It was strange that Jaskier didn't warn Geralt to not scare her off. Maybe he didn't think it would be of any use. After all, he had known Jaskier for long enough to know that Geralt's attempts at being nice weren't very successful most of the time.

Jaskier bit his lip for a second and looked down at the bird he had still clutched in his hand. Geralt's insides twisted. Any moment now Jaskier would hand the figure to Essi.

He didn't. Instead he held it out to Geralt, as if it was the most natural thing; as if there wasn't a pretty woman right next to him who would love to hold the figure in her hand.

Geralt's heart stuttered in his chest and he had to will it to slow back down when Jaskier gave him an indecipherable look.

"Take care of the songbird?"

Geralt enclosed the bird with both of his hands and his fingers brushed against Jaskier's as he slowly let go.

"I always do." Geralt's voice was more serious than the situation called for, but for whatever reason, Jaskier approved, for he gave Geralt one of his brilliant smiles before he left, a song already on his lips.

A lump formed in Geralt's throat as he watched Jaskier take his place in the middle of the room once more. His attention was so fixated on Jaskier that it took him embarrassingly long to notice Essi scrutinizing him curiously with her chin propped up on her hand.

When he finally noticed, she lifted an eyebrow knowingly and her lips twitched.

"Oh, don't let me stop you from watching him," she teased. "He is a bit pretty, isn't he?"

Geralt didn't reply, not knowing what kind of answer would be acceptable.

Still, something must have shown on his face, for something shifted in Essi's expression. Her gaze dropped to the songbird held carefully in Geralt's hands.

"He seems to think you need luck talking to me," she said with a nod to the bird.

Geralt's brows rose. "Do I?"

He was sure that he already knew the answer.

"That really depends."

Dread pooled in Geralt's stomach. "On what?"

"On whether or not you're planning on hurting him." Essi's eyes narrowed and the easy smile from before fell away, revealing a calm sort of sternness that would have intimidated any man who wasn't used to facing worse than an angry woman. It might even come close to the look Vesemir got before scolding the younger wolves. "Because if you do hurt him, no amount of luck in the world will keep you safe."

The words were clearly meant as a threat, but something unwound in Geralt's chest. "He's really important to you, isn't he?" he asked quietly. "You won't let anything happen to him?"

"Never," she said heatedly. "I'd fight the world before I'd let him get hurt. I'll fight you if you ever so much as think about hurting him."

"I won't," Geralt said and it felt like a confession.

He didn't have Essi's empathetic words, but he had this certainty in his chest that whatever he did, he would do everything in his power to keep Jaskier safe. Then again, travelling with Geralt was the most dangerous thing Jaskier could do. Even if Geralt would never hurt him, he couldn't promise that no harm would come to Jaskier as long as he was with Geralt.

A wry smile twisted Geralt's lips. "But I don't think you'll have to worry. We both know he won't be travelling with me for much longer."

Not if he could be with Essi instead. Geralt didn’t want to think about this possibility, but it wouldn't be fair towards Jaskier to drag him away from her. Geralt wouldn't stand in Jaskier's way, even if it led him away from Geralt.

"Why?" Essi asked with sudden urgency. "For years Jaskier had only talked about you but he refused to let me meet you. Why now? What has changed between the two of you?"

Geralt faltered at the question. His mind was racing, trying to come up with an answer, but he found none. Nothing had changed with Jaskier. He had been happy as ever.

It was true, he had sung more of those yearning love songs but that wasn't anything irregular. Nothing in his behaviour had even hinted at him wanting to leave Geralt anytime soon. If anything, he had been more adamant than ever to stay, touching him with increasing confidence and laughing with him more carefree than ever.

So if Jaskier hadn't changed that only left one conclusion. The problem wasn't Jaskier's changed feelings, it was Geralt's.

Though they hadn't exactly changed either. Geralt had just finally realised what had been there all along. He had finally found a word to the feeling that had been creeping up on him and ensnared him without him realising or resisting.

But Geralt had thought... He hadn't behaved any differently, had he? He hadn't said anything to let his secret slip and he hadn't let his eyes and hands wander to Jaskier too often. Or maybe he had?

He must have done something wrong to tip Jaskier off.

Fear's icy claws plunged into Geralt's chest. Jaskier knew. Of course he did. He sang about love and yearning constantly. If anyone were able to recognise Geralt's emotions, it would be Jaskier. Perhaps he had even known for longer but had been able and willing to ignore it as long as Geralt hadn't acted on it. But now that Geralt knew what he felt as well, maybe Jaskier was uncomfortable being around him? It was one thing being a witcher's friend, but it wasn't unlikely that even Jaskier drew the line at being loved by one.

An abyss opened up in Geralt's chest. Was this truly it? He didn't want to believe it, but it was the only explanation he could come up with that made sense.

Judging from his songs, Jaskier had been yearning for Essi for a while now. So what better excuse to get away from Geralt than to pursue his own love? If Jaskier broke Geralt's heart in the process and made sure Geralt would stay away from him because of his hurt feelings, then that was just an added bonus. Perhaps he even wanted Geralt's protection to get to the coast, a convenient way to get there safely.

Geralt couldn't imagine that was it, didn't want to imagine. Jaskier was many things, but he wasn't cruel. He was Geralt's friend and Geralt trusted him.

Or perhaps this was Jaskier's way of being kind, of letting Geralt down gently? If Jaskier showed him now whom he had to compete with - as if Geralt could ever have any hope of winning Jaskier's heart even without competition - then surely Geralt would forget about his feelings before he'd do something stupid like confess his feelings and make them both uncomfortable and miserable.

Well, if that had been Jaskier's goal, he had failed. Though not too long ago Geralt himself had thought that he would be able to get rid of this ache in his chest when he saw Jaskier with his beloved, he now knew better. He wouldn't be able to forget this feeling, whether he had his heart broken or not. And he didn't want to forget. He'd rather watch Jaskier be in love and still admire how his eyes softened when he looked at his beloved than never feel that warmth in his chest again, however painful it was. Jaskier was too important for him to just forget.

But oh, how painful it was. Right at this moment, as Jaskier sang if love and the fear of loss, his eyes drifted over to them - no, not to them, to Essi - so full of longing and aching and love.

How could Geralt not recognise the look when it was the same one he gave Jaskier when he wouldn't notice? When it was how he wished he could look at Jaskier openly? When it was how he wanted Jaskier to look at him?

But he didn't. He never would. Geralt could fantasise all he wanted that he was the one Jaskier's eyes were resting on with so much wanting, but he knew it wasn't the truth. He knew the real object of Jaskier's longing was sitting right across from Geralt, still waiting for an answer she wouldn't receive from him.

Maybe she already knew. Judging from the way she looked between him and Jaskier there was no hiding from her. It didn't matter anyway. Geralt knew he stood no chance against her. He was no threat to someone like her.

She must be aware of that too, for her eyes crinkled with a smile that unnerved Geralt more than any threat could.

“It must be the fae-gifts,” Geralt blurted out. It was an obvious and pitiful attempt to distract from what he felt, but it was better than letting the truth hang between them. It was better than giving Essi the chance to say it out loud. “He started finding them in spring. He said that those who find them will find their true love within a year.” And evidently Jaskier had known perfectly well where exactly he had to search for his love to find her.

Something shifted in Essi’s expression and for a moment she looked like she wanted to say something before her mouth snapped shut. There was a question in her eyes, then a realisation.

Geralt’s stomach sank and he was left feeling cold.

Essi hadn’t known. Somehow, through some miracle, she hadn’t known what Jaskier felt for her, even though his affection was as clear as day to anyone who bothered to look at him for longer than a second.

And now Geralt had brought forth her realisation. He didn’t know what was worse; the guilt of taking away Jaskier’s chance to confess his feelings properly or the fact that she now focussed back on Jaskier, a determined look on her face and stood up.

“Excuse me,” she said, sounding not at all apologetic, “I believe it is time for me to join Jaskier.”

Geralt didn’t protest, though his fingers twitched to hold her back. Not that it would make a difference. It was already too late for him, whether Essi joined Jaskier or not.

Still, it was a special kind of torture watching her lean in close to Jaskier and whisper something in his ear that made his eyes widen and a blush spread across his cheeks.

Geralt’s mouth went dry when Essi started playing the intro of the next song while Jaskier still stood frozen, watching her, transfixed.

It didn’t take long for Geralt to understand this reaction. It wasn’t just that Essi was good, it was that the song she was playing was the song. The one about beautiful eyes and moonlit hair. The one about her.

Jaskier threw a helpless, almost panicked look over at Geralt who offered him an encouraging and apologetic smile that hopefully didn’t look as forced as it felt.

Jaskier accepted Geralt’s smile and silent apology with a small nod. Though he didn’t appear any less anxious, his voice was clear and full of feeling when he joined in the song, harmonising perfectly with Essi.

With a sudden jolt of his heart, a calm washed over Geralt that was almost enough to push the agonising burn in his chest away.

This was what Jaskier deserved, standing on stage with another bard. Someone who could be close to him and understand him in a way Geralt would never be able to. Someone who could compliment his voice with theirs just as they could give compliments to him; words that weren’t clumsy and almost insulting even as they were meant to make him feel appreciated. This wasn’t just what Jaskier had yearned for. It was what Jaskier deserved. Essi was.

They looked beautiful together. Like they belonged together. Whereas when Geralt stood next to Jaskier, the bard’s beauty only made Geralt’s flaws all the more apparent. No one would ever look at Geralt and think that he could belong to the beautiful, brilliant bard.

Essi however…she looked gorgeous. Someone Jaskier didn’t have to be ashamed of being seen with. As long as he was with her people would throw roses instead of stones and praise instead of insults.

Geralt averted his eyes. They fell on his own twisted reflection on a dirty window.

His jaw clenched. He wanted nothing more than to flee. He didn’t. There was no doubt that Jaskier would notice if Geralt stormed off, even if his eyes were trained on Essi and Geralt couldn’t risk ruining this moment for him.

When the song finally ended and the two bards returned to their table, Geralt let out a relieved sigh. Not that watching them touch and smile at each other this closely was any better.

But for some reason, Jaskier didn’t stay close to Essi. Instead he slid onto the bench next to Geralt, so close that their thighs were almost touching. Geralt had to resist the urge to breach the distance. It wouldn’t do to lean into him. Especially not now that Jaskier’s love was letting herself fall into a seat opposite him. Perhaps that was the reason why Jaskier had sat down next to Geralt; not to be close to him, but so he could better look at Essi. The gods knew she was more pleasing to look at than Geralt.

Especially now that she leaned forward and brushed the strand of hair behind her ear, revealing both of her sky-blue eyes that Jaskier was so enamoured with.

“So, Geralt,” she began and tipped her head to the side, “we need you to be our unbiased judge. Which one of us it better?”

Geralt risked a glance at Jaskier out of the corner of his eye. His cheeks were tinged with pink and his tongue darted out to lick over his lips, undoubtedly nervous that Geralt would say something wrong.

Geralt’s jaw worked as he frantically searched for an answer that would help Jaskier with Essi, even though a small treacherous voice in the back of his mind told him that this was his chance to say something that would let him keep Jaskier.

But that would never happen. Either he would lose Jaskier to Essi or he would drive him away by keeping him from his happiness. Either way he would lose him. The only difference was whether Jaskier would remember him with affection or disdain.

His hand clenched around the bird he was still holding onto tightly, as if it would fly away if Geralt weakened his grip. As if it was the most important thing in the world to keep for as long as he was allowed to. A poor substitute for the real songbird that was slipping through his fingers at this very moment.

“I think…” he said slowly, doing his best and failing miserably to avoid Jaskier’s anxiously expectant gaze, “I think that I might be the least unbiased person in this room.”

Essi’s smile grew wider. “You really like Jaskier’s singing, don’t you?”

Yes.

But Geralt was afraid that if he said as much as that one simple word, he wouldn’t be able to keep its true meaning out of his voice.

He plastered a sarcastic smile on his face, hoping against hope that it would be enough to fool the two masters of acting. “Maybe I’ve just heard him often enough to find him boring by now.”

“Boring!” Jaskier gasped in outrage and swatted Geralt’s chest. “How dare you accuse me of such a horrible thing.”

Jaskier’s indignation was familiar. Soothing.

Geralt’s smile became more real. “I said ‘maybe’.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him. “Nice try to save that. You still owe me a better apology.”

“Oh?” Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier. He pretended not to notice the way their shoulders brushed. “And what do you want me to do to make it up to you?”

“Oh, that’s easy, my friend. You already know what to do.” Jaskier lifted his chin, a triumphant smirk on his lips. It took all of Geralt’s strength not to let his eyes linger on his lips. “Give us an honest review. Three words or less.”

Us.

There it was again. That reminder that this wasn’t a moment Jaskier and Geralt shared. It was one that Geralt intruded on.

He drew back again, putting enough distance between himself and Jaskier so that they wouldn’t be able to touch accidentally.

“You’re good together,” he said in a hollow voice. Geralt swallowed thickly and pushed himself off the table. After a painful moment of hesitation, he let go of the songbird and put it on the table between the two bards. “So I’ll better leave you to it.”

Jaskier’s hand shot out and grabbed Geralt by the hand. “What do you �� Geralt, where are you going?” Inexplicably, dejection flashed over Jaskier’s face and the fingers of his free hand started fidgeting. “I thought we wanted to go stargazing later?”

Geralt’s stomach twisted painfully as he gave Jaskier a meaningful look. “I don’t think I’m the one who wants to look at the stars with you.”

It was a lie. But Geralt had been telling a lot of them lately, whether with his words or by pretending with his actions. It was for the better. Geralt might want to spend the night with Jaskier looking at the stars and watch in wonder how Jaskier’s face shone in the pale moonlight, but Jaskier would be better off doing it with Essi who might find a way to describe to him how breath-taking he looked with the moonlight illuminating him.

Maybe when Jaskier left him, he would remember Geralt as the one who had helped him get into romantic situations with Essi. It wouldn’t have been romantic with Geralt. Jaskier wouldn’t have been as happy with him.

And perhaps there was a little pettiness involved as well as Geralt pulled his hand out of Jaskier’s grip and made his way to their room with pointed casualness.

As long as Geralt occupied their shared room, Jaskier wouldn’t bring Essi there to spend the night. It was a small consolation to know that they would go somewhere else to do what Geralt didn’t even want to imagine, but it was a consolation nonetheless.

It didn’t help keeping the images of the two bards together out of his head. All he could think about was Jaskier holding Essi in a lover’s embrace in a different room or maybe even underneath the moon. He would kiss her and whisper in her ear how beautiful she was, how perfect. Maybe he would even repeat the words of his song to her, intimately like a promise. And she would be allowed to return those words to him. She would be allowed to run her fingers down his back and pull him ever closer.

All the while Geralt would be alone in this room that was too big for one person. He stared at the bed in disdain and let himself fall onto it. It was too big. Too cold. Too empty. He should have shared it with Jaskier. They should have traded jokes and whispered stories before falling asleep within reach of each other and maybe entangling their limps as they slept.

Perhaps, if Geralt was lucky, Jaskier wouldn’t stay the night with Essi. Maybe after they were done, he would come back here and Geralt would get to hold him again, despite him smelling of Essi and the joy Geralt couldn’t give him.

It was a stupid thought. Jaskier wouldn’t return. He would spend the night with his love and in the morning he would only come to Geralt to tell him that he would stay with Essi.

It had been a while since Jaskier had last sought out company for a night. Geralt had known, of course, that it had only been a matter of time until Jaskier fell into bed with someone again. The thought hadn’t bothered him. Too much. But now, with her, it was different. From the way Jaskier had sung about her, his beloved wasn’t someone he’d forget after a night. She was someone he wanted to be with for as long as he’d allow him to.

Despite himself, despite his aching heart, Geralt hoped that Essi would keep him forever. She would keep his heart safe and if there was one person Geralt trusted to keep Jaskier happy, it was this woman who had threatened a witcher should he harm Jaskier.

A long breath that was almost a groan left Geralt and got lost in the too quiet room. He had to squeeze his eyes shut as if that could stop the pictures of Jaskier and Essi intertwined from forming in his mind.

It felt like hours of restless tossing and turning until he finally sat up. As much as he had wanted to find refuge in this room, it now felt suffocating to him.

Surely by now Jaskier and Essi won’t be downstairs anymore. They must have either found a bed to fall into or gone to the beach to look at the stars, like Geralt had planned on doing with Jaskier.

But wherever they were, there was little to no chance that Geralt would come across them. There would be no harm in going to the stables to clear his head talking to Roach. Or in trying to get drunk instead and dulling his thoughts until none of the ache and the poisonous images of Jaskier looking lovingly at Essi were left.

He shouldn’t have hoped that it would be so easy. Too lost in his own glum thoughts, Geralt didn’t notice Jaskier’s familiar heartbeat in the tap room until it was already too late.

Geralt should leave. But his body wouldn’t obey him. He stood transfixed in the shadows at the edge of the room and stared at Jaskier and Essi who sat in an even more secluded corner than before. Jaskier leaned heavily against Essi who whispered soothing nothings into his ears and petted his hair comfortingly. Lovingly.

Geralt’s stomach churned at the sight.

He knew he shouldn’t listen in. He didn’t want to.

But the look on Jaskier’s face was so strange. Geralt would call it heartbroken if he hadn’t known any better. Maybe it was just a trick of the dim light, but Geralt could have sworn that his eyes were red-rimmed. There was no reason for Jaskier to look like that. Geralt had left him alone with his love, he had made sure they could have a romantic night together. He had done all that he could. Jaskier should be happy.

Evidently, he was not.

“Thank you for listening.” Geralt had to strain his ears to hear the words Jaskier muttered into Essi’s shoulder. His voice sounded tight and choked. “I really needed this. It feels good to finally tell someone.”

“Why not tell him?”

Geralt’s breath got stuck in his throat at Essi’s words. It was the same question prodding at his own mind. Why hadn’t Jaskier come to him to talk about what bothered him so much? Geralt knew he was horrible at giving advice, but surely Jaskier knew that he cared. Surely, he knew that he could trust Geralt.

Then again, could he really? After all, wasn’t Geralt eavesdropping on him at this very moment? Hadn’t he toyed with the thought of whisking Jaskier away from his beloved?

“You know I can’t. He’s…he wouldn’t want to hear something like that.”

Geralt’s chest tightened and he had to press himself against the wall to not do something stupid like cross the room and assure Jaskier that he would listen to him, that he always would be there for him when Jaskier needed him.

“I think he’d listen to you,” Essi said softly and brushed Jaskier’s hair out of his forehead. Gently she lifted his chin so that he would look up at her. “You said you were friends, didn’t you?”

“Yes. We are,” Jaskier’s voice broke off. Their faces were so close and Jaskier looked so desperate. “But, Essi, I’m in love.”

He sounded so broken, so hopeless.

Geralt didn’t want her to say it back. He didn’t think he could bear it if she did, if he had to watch Jaskier’s face light up at her confession and kiss her.

What Essi said instead was worse.

“You always are.”

Essi smiled and Geralt’s blood turned to ice. She wasn’t taking Jaskier seriously. Yes, Geralt too had been consoling himself with the knowledge that Jaskier’s loves were fleeting more often than not, but he wasn’t the one Jaskier was in love with. If he was, he would treasure every second he was granted being loved by Jaskier, however briefly. And Essi who had Jaskier’s love, who had his trust, who had said she’d fight the world to keep him from hurting… she was breaking his heart.

“Not like this.” Jaskier looked so lost. So small. And yet, despite Essi’s dismissal, a bittersweet smile danced across his lips. “It has never been this beautiful. It had never hurt like this. Gods, it hurts. I’ve been in love for years and sometimes I think it might be requited, but then…we could be watching the stars right now. And instead I am a mess sobbing at your shoulder.” His voice became quiet enough that even Geralt could barely hear his next words. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll fall out of love again.” Words meant to soothe made Jaskier wince like they were cutting into him like a knife.

“I don’t want to.” With a jolt, Jaskier sat up straight and stared at her imploringly, begging her to understand. “This time it’s different. I want to stay and I want to love and I…I don’t want to ruin what we have. It’s too important to me.”

“You won’t ruin anything,” Essi cupped his face with her hands, stroking tenderly across his cheeks with her thumbs. “I promise you. You are one of the most amazing people I know. You are a wonderful bard and an even better friend. Anyone who wouldn’t love you back would be a fool. You know how important you are to me. I wouldn’t lie to you about this. I promise.”

Jaskier was quiet for such a long time that Geralt began to wonder whether he would speak up again at all. A hint of hope flickered across Jaskier’s face and his voice wavered when he asked, “How could I not ruin it?”

“You could just say it.”

Jaskier let out a bitter laugh and a sour grimace twisted his lips. “What, just like that? I should just say I love you?” He shook his head and his smile became softer again. Geralt couldn’t see it from where he was, but he could have sworn that Jaskier’s eyes would be full of fondness as he looked at Essi now. “That’s not enough. That doesn’t even come close to what I feel. I want to say so much more. Words aren’t enough for this.”

Essi tilted her head to the side and one of her hands wandered back to Jaskier’s hair. “Why don’t you show it then?”

Geralt couldn’t do it. He couldn’t watch this anymore. He wouldn’t be able to bear watching Jaskier follow Essi’s advice. He couldn’t watch them kiss.

For once in his life, he wished that his heart was truly as hard as people said. Then at least it couldn’t shatter as it did now.

How foolish he had been to think that the ache in his chest would ever go away. Geralt doubted he would ever be rid of it. Perhaps it would be the only thing he would get to keep of Jaskier; a painful memory of what he had lost, of what had never been his to begin with.

Without another look at Jaskier, he pushed himself off the wall and fled.

---

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Monsters in the Closet

Title: Monsters in the Closet

Summary: “You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

Roman knows he can’t change the past. He can’t change the way he treated Virgil horribly, driving him to feel the only way he could be accepted was to be the villain of the story. But he can sit there and feel guilty knowing he is not worthy of any of the trust this young Virgil has placed in him.

(Part of the Tiny Virgil verse, takes place after An Itsy Bitsy Nightmare)

Word-Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Brotherly Prinixety

Warnings: Guilt, Panic/Anxiety, Treating Someone Wrongfully in the Past, Deaging, Hurt/Comfort

This part of a very late birthday present for @theeternalspace! I’m so sorry this took so long, please forgive me and I hope you enjoy! :)

Roman lets out a sigh and opens his eyes. Virgil is still snuggled close to his chest, asleep again after waking up what appeared to be a horrible nightmare. Roman can’t find himself to fall back asleep. His mind refuses to settle, refuses to let go of what Virgil said to him moments ago.

“You’re so much nicer when you’re bigger.”

The words rumble in Roman’s mind like that of a great and fearsome thunderstorm. How could it not? All the more confirmation that regardless of the unfounded trust young Virgil placed in him, he’d still expected to inevitably be treated terribly.

And that? The guilt of that stings deeper than any sting of the blade or a bandersnatch’s ferocious bite.

It also makes him wonder what exactly the Ankle-Terror thought was going on. Kids aren’t stupid. Naïve, yes, but that’s different from being stupid. They’re creative and innovative in ways adults couldn’t dream to be. Plus, they tended to love engaging in-depth conversations about Disney.

Sometimes, Roman misses the days when Thomas was a kid. Back when they were free to run around in the backyard and reimagine the swings as a spaceship or the underneath of the trampoline as the lair of an evil sorcerer. Back when they weren’t bound by inane things such as time constraints and the logistics of translating an idea into a real-world possibility.

He could get Thomas and the others roped in a fantastical make-believe for hours. Weeks even of stretching an incredible imaginary world to its limits. The only things that ever stood in their way was the outside forces of school, parents and bedtime.

Nowadays, the reminiscing with a tinge of regret. There always had to be villains to fight, you see. An evil mad scientist. A corrupt king. A greedy dragon. The list goes on and on. He never ever played the villain. He’d always cast himself and Thomas as the heroes. Logan and Patton were the supporting stars. Virgil and the rest? The villains through and through.

Virgil at this age would be used to this treatment. Rather than in his rightful heroic role as Protector, Defender, Watcher of All Perceived Threats--he played roles such as a wicked sorcerer who cast fear and disgrace upon the entire kingdom with his heinous sorcery.

He took to the roles without much grumbling. Oftentimes, he didn’t perform to young Roman’s expectations. Roman would chastise his performances, critiquing every bit. He wasn’t ever scary or evil enough for a Side responsible for making Thomas scared of monsters under his bed.

Virgil would also veto actions such as climbing super high up a tree and using it as a crow’s nest for a pirate ship. Much to Roman’s dismay, the others would side with him. Logan because Thomas could break a bone if he should fall and Patton because their parents wouldn’t approve. Thus making Virgil a major downer at times in Roman’s eyes and all the more deserving of the villain title.

It wasn’t until Thomas was older, closer to middle school, that Virgil started lashing out. He refused to play along, slinking off to sulk in his room. His influence had also grown and suddenly it wasn’t just monsters under the bed anymore--the monsters were everywhere. Homework, Teachers, Friends, Family. Roman worked overtime to help Thomas escape to worlds unfettered by these fears.

Of course, back then, he presumed this was Virgil fully showing his true colors as an antagonist. Thomas himself believed it, wishing vehemently for Virgil to just disappear. It was Roman’s responsibility, nay his purpose, to make Thomas’s dreams and desires come true. He was the Fairy Godmother to Thomas’s Cinderella. So for years and years he’d pursued this dream, desperate to make Thomas happy, proud even.

Now, he knows better. He knows that Virgil is more than just Anxiety, just like Roman and the others are more than what their title implies. He is vigilant, he keeps Thomas safe from external threats. Sometimes he can be overzealous, but he means well. And shutting him out isn’t the answer. It never was.

With all that in mind, he wonders if the Boy Terror thinks this is one of Roman’s elaborate make-believe games. Roman could easily picture a younger him coming up with a make-believe game involving himself and the others being adults. True, Thomas back then liked envisioning himself as a kid defeating the evil dragon like kids his age did in the media he watched.

But all kids at some point wonder what it’d be like to be an adult. They imagined themselves in the most exciting professions that made a real impact on the world. Then they’d grow up and very few of them made it to such professions.

(Except Thomas of course. Roman is incredibly proud of him and his accomplishments as an Ex-Viner turned Youtuber. Yes, they are still far from achieving feats such as Hollywood or Broadway, but still! For a while Thomas had to settle for a real, sensible job such as a chemical engineer. While science interested him, it didn’t drive him the way that creative pursuits such as singing and acting had. Thomas is lucky to be able to have a platform to do what he loves. Roman tries reminding himself of this during incredibly rare moments of insecurity.)

Kid Fright must be ecstatic about this. For possibly the first time in his life Creativity is including him in a game without making him the villain. Adult Virgil doesn’t talk much about the past--the few times Roman has tried to breach the topic it’d been an instant shutdown.

But Virgil has always cared for them, even before they’d all realized this. He must’ve taken any part Roman gave him out of a desperation to be with them and keep them safe. It sickens Roman just thinking about it. He doesn’t know how Virgil stayed strong for so long. Roman doesn’t know if he could’ve lasted a day in Virgil’s place.

He is probably also terrified and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Regardless of his age, Virgil always expects the worst out of any scenario. Even now that’s been a year since he’s been accepted among the core sides that make up Thomas. He can’t help it, it’s in his nature. Roman can’t blame him for it. One year isn’t enough to undo the damages that the other twenty-nine years caused.

One thing is for certain: if he does think this is one of Roman’s make-believe games, he must think Thomas is still a kid. And Roman’s not sure if he should let Virgil know any different. In fact, it might be best to keep Virgil distracted while the others work to find the solution to this strange vexing problem. Because he knows Virgil won’t take it well to finding his host all grown-up. He thinks that none of them would in his place.

So he’ll keep Fall Out Kid safe away in the mindscape and continue being the Prince he deserved. He’ll allow Virgil to be the hero and he’ll play all the other roles. Sidekick, damsel-in-distress, villain--if he must. It’s silly, but he’s almost buzzing with excitement at all the worlds they could explore from within the common area. Cowboys, Spaceship, Space Cowboys. The possibilities are endless!

A small hand tugs at his sleeve, tugging him away from his thoughts altogether. He looks down at the inquisitive eyes slightly shrouded by a mop of dirty blond hair.

“Yes, little prince?” He says, trying to blink away the prickling sensation in his eyes.

He refuses to cry again in front of the Little Shop of Terror. He knows he will have to confront his bubbling guilt and sorrow at some point, but for now he must push it aside. He is used to this. Being a hero means sometimes remaining strong and not showing vulnerability to loved ones.

“M’hungry.” Virgil murmurs into his chest, little arms wrapped around Roman’s neck. It’s almost endearing with how much he resembles a baby possum clinging to their mother. Roman isn’t used to a Virgil so physically affectionate.

Virgil is like a feral cat. You couldn’t hug or pat him on the shoulder without warning. You had to ask and very rarely did he accept, even if it came from Patton. No, the best way is to let him initiate it. Let him lean his head against your shoulder, or his leg overlapping your own during a movie night.

You also don’t acknowledge it and by not acknowledging it, Virgil then inches his way more until it grows into a proper hug. Then he would withdraw and promptly act like nothing happened. Like you were to forget the interaction ever occured in the first place.

Logan has a theory that it’s because Virgil is the Fight-or-Flight instincts and physical affection lowers his guard in a way he isn’t completely comfortable with. Roman now has a theory that it’s a lot more heartbreaking than that.

“You’re hungry?” Roman asks, attempting to steer his mind out of Despairing Drive and into Present Place.

A small growling noise occurs and Jack Smallington ducks his head down, embarrassed.

Roman isn’t entirely surprised considering that it’s been about eight hours since they discovered approximately five-year-old Virgil in the place of grown-up Virgil. Who knows how long he’d been like that, alone in his room, before that. Virgil also rarely eats so the poor kid probably woke up hungry.

Roman feels so stupid. If it’d been Patton or Logan watching him, the first thing they would’ve made sure is if he was hungry. Because kid or not, it isn’t in Virgil’s nature to be self-advocating. That type of stuff freaks him out. Yet another reason Roman is completely unqualified to watch over Virgil.

“Okay,” Roman breaths in, smiling, “thanks for letting me know, big guy. To the kitchen at once!”

With that, he hoists Virgil up, settling him on top of his shoulders. There’s a squawk of surprise and Roman’s almost worried until it turns into a gleeful giggle. When Roman lets out a neigh, pretending he’s a horse, Virgil’s giggles grow louder.

“You’re not a horse,” Virgil says.

“Neigh I am!” Roman says, “I am your trusty steed and we’re embarking on a perilous-but-completely-safe journey to the kitchen!”

He treks towards the kitchen, clicking his tongue in an imitation of a horse clip-clopping along.

“Faster,” Virgil urges, resting his hands on top of Roman’s head.

“Faster?” Roman asks, almost stopping in surprise.

“Yeah!” Virgil insists, “We gotta get there as fast as possible before any monsters come and eat us!”

“Never fear,” Roman says, “For I shall get us there before any monster even thinks of gobbling us up!”

With that Roman quickens his pace, ensuring he had a firm hold onto Virgil to keep him falling off.

“Faster, faster, faster!” Virgil chants in an anxious yet excited tone, “I think I see one!”

“Oh?” Roman turns his head back, “Oh, I see him too! Neigh, we better hurry!”

There isn’t an actual monster there. No sharp fangs or numerous eyes glaring menacingly in their direction. He can’t tell if Virgil is making up a game or if he actually believes there is one there. Either way, Roman is Creativity. If there’s one thing he knows best, it’s how to combat imaginary foes. Such as reaching the threshold of the kitchen.

With one great bound, he makes it onto the black-and-white checkered tiles.

“Aha! Now no monsters can attack us while we feast in the dwelling of this noble kitchen!” Roman grins, setting Virgil atop the kitchen counter before jumping up to sit beside him.

Virgil beams up at him, face wide with utter delight and awe. Roman is left dumbfounded at this. Even as a kid, Virgil had been very closed-off with his emotions. So shy and distrustful of everyone and everything. But here he looks at Roman like he’s some great hero or something.

‘How,’ Roman wonders, ‘how can you look at me like this when I’m the obstinate villain of this story?’

“Princey,” Virgil swings his legs, “won’t Dad be upset if he finds us sitting on the counter?”

Roman blinks. At first he thinks Virgil is referring to Thomas’s father until he remembers Patton also goes by Dad. For the longest time, Pat had even been insistent that was his name. In the way that young children believe their parents’ real names really are Mom and Dad.

“Well,” Roman says, offering a pinky, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Okay.” Virgil hesitates before interlocking his tiny pinky with Roman’s.

“Excellent! Now what would you like to eat?”

“Ummmm, I--I don’t know.” Virgil bites his lips, eyes flickering around the kitchen. Roman’s heart squeezes at this. He should’ve known such an open-ended question would set his anxiety off. They’ve learned recently that it was better giving Virgil the option of clearly-defined choices rather than vague ones.

“Would you like grilled cheese or spaghetti?” He asks kindly instead.

“Grilled cheese? With applesauce?” Virgil doesn’t meet his gaze, as if afraid Roman will condemn his choices.

Roman smiles, “Your wish is my command.”

He could’ve just snapped the food into existence right then and there. A few years back, it would’ve been enough to suffice. But as much as the Sides influence Thomas, the same holds true the other way around. Thomas once saw a fanart of Patton cooking breakfast for the sides and the idea stuck.

Now Roman could still summon fully prepared meals but they weren’t super filling. Roman didn’t mind too much; contrary to popular belief (Logan) cooking could be a very creative endeavor. As Thomas’s creativity he could make up steps to dishes and still have them turn out perfect in the end. He may or may not enjoy it simply because it frustrated Logan to no end.

He hops off the kitchen counter, snapping a finger. Instantly cabinet doors magically open as the ingredients and the materials he needed floated out onto the countertop beside the stove. Okay, so he cheated a bit, but just because the others lacked a little imagination didn’t mean he couldn’t bend reality in a place where reality is inconsequential.

Roman turns to Virgil, unable to hide his smile at Virgil’s gobsmacked expression.

“Here, you can help put butter on the bread,” He tells Virgil, handing him a butter knife.

Grilled cheese sandwiches are a quick and easy meal. Before too long, Roman hands the kid a plate with a plain grilled cheese cut in halves and a cup of prepackaged apple sauce.

“Thank you,” Virgil squeaks out before digging in.

“Of course.” Roman says, resisting the urge to ruffle the Little Terror’s hair. Instead he takes a bite of his own grilled cheese. Admittedly, he went a bit overboard with his own grilled cheese sandwich; three different types of cheese with lettuce, tomato and pickles. He isn’t quite sure if he’s a fan of the pickles but ah well. So it goes when in the pursuit of creativity.

They eat on top of the kitchen counters with relative silence. Roman hums a bit between bites of grilled cheese. Halfway through, he notices Virgil sending him glances when he thinks Roman isn’t looking. The kid squirms a bit in place, his face twisting in apprehension.

“Is there something troubling you, Little Prince?” Roman asks at last.

“Princey, where are the others? A--are they okay?!”

Oh. Oh, of course. Roman’s heart aches knowing how much Virgil worries and cares for everyone, even at such a young age. He’s so quick to reassure him that he doesn’t even pause to think about the phrasing of his words.

“They’re perfectly fine, rest assured. Logan is shut away in his room reading like the insufferable nerd he is and Patton is simply checking up on our dear Thomas--”

“Thomas?” Virgil breathes in, eyes bright with alarm. His shoulders raise to his ears like hackles raising on a frightened cat.

It is at this moment Roman knew that he messed up.

“Virgil, wait--” Roman pleads, attempting to place a placating hand on his shoulder.

Roman is too late. His hand meets air as Virgil disappears in front of him with a loud crackle. All that’s left is a plate of half-eaten grilled cheese clattering to the countertops and a terror that shakes the entirety of the mindscape.

#sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #brotherly prinixety #kat writes #*slaps roman* this bad boy can fit so much angst and regret #also this more setting up the next fic in the series than anything else #hope you still enjoy it tho

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delimeful · 4 years

Text

taking the fall (1)

BTHB: Framed

decided to return to my borrower roots for this BTHB prompt! it was fun to work in a 'verse like this again.

warnings: snakes, injury, captivity, janus being a little bit of a prick, using 'it' for a person

Virgil should have known something was up from the moment Roman wasn’t there to greet him at their normal rendezvous point.

It was a little alcove between the roots of a sapling on the border between the oversized apartment building and the small forest Virgil called home. The perfect compromise for soft insiders that were terrified of local wildlife and outies like him that wouldn’t be caught dead in a human building.

He’d waited there for about two marks after their normal arranged meeting time, and when someone had finally arrived, he’d been on the brink of irritability. It hadn’t lasted long, not in the face of the other borrower’s clear panic and weariness.

“What’s going on?” he’d asked, and was then treated to a rambling, half-incoherent explanation about how Roman was desperately sick and hurt, and they couldn’t find any human medicine but they knew he had to have something up his sleeve, right?

He’d tried to ask for symptoms, make it clear that he would have to figure out exactly how sick Roman was before finding the necessary herbs to treat it, but the other borrower-- what was her name? Elli? Ari?-- was persistent and desperate, and hurried him into the apartment despite his protests. He’d even had to leave his spear behind to fit in the walls properly.

Despite his complaints, he wouldn’t leave a friend in need just because they were stuck in a bean’s walls. So he went, and he was so intent on mentally taking stock of his current medicine supply that he only barely noticed when the insider-- Mari? That sounded closer.-- led him to a crack in the wallpaper that led directly into one of the human’s homes.

He’d dug in his heels there, but only for as long as it took her to weave a story about Roman being stuck under a television stand and too weak to be towed back to the nearest exit. Like an idiot, he’d believed it, too consumed with worry to question her further. If Roman, master of putting up a facade of bravado, had admitted he didn’t think he could make it to an exit, things were worse than he thought.

He’d swallowed down his nerves about being so out of his comfort zone in the name of helping Roman and maybe even doing something that would make the insiders stop looking at him like something scraped off a human’s shoe. Relatively speaking, he’d felt pretty good about it even.

Then, as they sidestepped past the faucet in the kitchen, a pair of hands firmly shoved against his back, hard enough that he didn’t have a chance to recover.

And now he was here, in the bottom of a human’s shiny, slick-sided sink, leg throbbing, looking up at the insider who’d put him there.

“Sorry,” she had the gall to say, “but I don’t have any other choice.”

Virgil may have been gritting his teeth against the pain, but he always had time to snark. “Really? You hate me so much that you had to do all this?” Insiders. Couldn’t even get their own hands dirty.

“What? No.” The borrower’s expression was hard to make out from all the way up on the counter, but her tone was incredulous. “No, I just needed-- I was seen. You get it?”

“I get that you’re out of your mind,” he bit back. “Don’t you people have a rule for that? I thought you were supposed to move out, not push someone into a sink!”

“It’s hardly even spring, and we don’t have enough supplies to make it!” the backstabber protested. “We’re not outies, and if this human doesn’t get what he wants, he could call pest control on all of us, not just me. He threatened it, even.”

“So that makes it okay to offer me up like some sacrificial lamb?” Virgil rolled onto hands and knees, and then bit back a whimper as he hurriedly kept all pressure off his left leg. Standing was out of the question.

“It’s for the good of all of us. And if you ever cared about Roman even a little bit, you’ll follow our rules for once and keep your mouth shut when he finds you.”

Virgil went still. “Was he in on this? Roman?”

Mari’s voice turned sorrowful. “Roman’s already gone. He was the first one to vanish, probably to this very human and his wretched snakes.”

“Snakes?” Virgil asked, his voice pitching embarrassingly high. And then, as his heart dropped, “Roman’s gone?”

Mari continued on, half to herself. “If he were still here, though, he’d be on my side. I don't know what he was thinking, cavorting around with you, but he knows that I’m just doing what’s best for the colony. We have children to look after.”

She took a step forward as she spoke, and then another, and Virgil felt his heart jump into his throat. “Don’t leave!”

He bristled helplessly at the pity-filled look she gave him, not halting her slow progression back across the counter ledge. “Like I said, it’s for the best. You’re not getting out of this, and me staying here would just give you false hope. I’m sure the human will be home soon, so just… try and come to terms with things.”

“Come to terms with things?!” Virgil howled as she finally vanished from sight. “You’re literally leaving me here to certain death for your own selfish ends! I could… I could help you move. I know how to travel safely, find food, for thunder’s sake don’t just leave me here!”

There was no response to his pleas, not even the sound of her footsteps across the counter. Roman wore soft cloth coverings to muffle his footsteps, Virgil remembered somewhat hysterically. He couldn't remember how far the exit was. How reassuring that even if he managed to get out of the sink, he wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving in a human house.

He was so fucked.

---

Janus sighed as he shoved his apartment door up slightly, twisting the knob and pushing it open so that the hinges didn’t make a sound. His footsteps were immediately muffled by the rug he’d placed at the door.

Just a few of the… security measures he’d come up with.

Really, if the little thieves living in the walls had any brains at all, they should’ve long ago memorized his schedule. Seeing as they avoided his traps so effectively, he didn’t have much hope of randomly catching one unawares.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t try. If he was lucky, he would at least unsettle them with how stealthy he could be.

Four steps into the living room, he heard it. A tiny clink, just barely audible past the fan lazily rotating overhead. It was coming from the kitchen.

He set his bag down, a disbelieving smile flitting over his face. Were they really that stupid, to steal food from his apartment when there were safer targets in practically any of the other units?

All the better for him, he supposed.

Carefully, slowly, he approached the other room, pausing to listen in the doorway. He didn’t see any movement on the counters, but…

Miracle of miracles, the noise came again. Janus recognized it this time— the sound of glass on metal. It was a dish being moved in the sink. He wondered for a moment if maybe it was just a small animal that had snuck in. Why would one of them be in the sink, after all?

He crept closer, and peered over the edge of the counter. Despite his doubts, it was a tiny person, slowly pushing one of the crumb-covered dishes towards the other side of the sink, where a small tower of dishware was building up. Janus couldn’t see a hook. The little creature didn’t seem to have any supplies at all, actually.

“Stuck, are we?” he asked, finally breaking his silence.

The tiny person jumped like a startled cat, and in the next moment, they were already trying to scramble up the makeshift stairs to freedom. Janus reached out and grabbed one of the glasses in the sink, plonking it over the little creature. “Not so fast.”

He took a moment to lean against the counter and observe them closer as they backed up to the far edge of the cup. Clearly handmade clothing, dark hair and sun-tanned skin, a badly-hidden limp from some injury in their left leg.

“You're not the one from before,” he mused out loud. “I don’t think they’d be dumb enough to trap themselves like this.”

That tiny expression darkened for a moment, but still not a word. Janus sighed, and decided that this was going to require more preparation than a glass, unless he wanted to suffocate the tiny stranger. He straightened up and walked out of the kitchen without a word.

One closet-scouring later, he’d found his prize and set it up in his bedroom, with only a little extra decoration for mockery purposes.

When he returned, the tiny person was pretending not to have moved, though the glass had clearly been shifted perilously close to the edge of the plate. Janus wasted no time in picking up the plate, glass, and passenger.

The tiny stranger dropped to hands and knees to brace themself, and Janus did try to make sure his steps were smooth so as to not agitate their wound. He wasn’t a complete monster.

Once he reached his room, it was simple enough to transfer them from the glass to the old terrarium he’d prepared. They made a lunge for his sleeves, as though to latch on, but between their injured state and Janus’s experience with snakes, he was quick enough to avoid them.

He clicked his tongue, but the moment he’d removed himself from the terrarium, the tiny person had ceased to focus on him completely. They immediately hobbled to press their back against the glass, staring at the fake plastic plants inside as though… Hm.

Janus tapped the glass, eliciting a flinch-glare combination. “There’s nothing alive in there but you. Relax a little.”

If looks could kill, Janus would have been dead twice over. He ignored the glare. “I know you can talk, so let’s skip the part where you pretend to be mute, shall we? You’re a new face, but I’m assuming you know who I am.”

Still no response. Janus rolled his eyes. “I suppose I don’t need you to be talkative if I’m going to be using you as a hostage.”

—-

Virgil couldn’t help the harsh laugh that bubbled out of him, shaking his head sharply like that would reverse the sound. What a joke.

“Care to share?” That oil-slick voice again.

The human looming over him waited patiently for an explanation, and Virgil scowled. He couldn’t imagine that Roman had done well under such pressure. The guy loved the sound of his own voice.

The thought felt harsher, now that he knew Roman was… dead. He’d never hear him again.

He shuddered, glancing back over his shoulder at the fake greenery around him. If this wasn’t where the snakes were kept, then where were they?

It occurred to him that he could ask. What was stopping him? Loyalty to rules that had already been broken? To someone who had already been killed by this very human?

“The snakes,” he said, voice barely there. He tried again. “Where are the snakes?”

“Oh? You know about them,” the human seemed pleased, sickeningly enough. “How about this, you answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

Virgil hesitated, but it wasn’t like the answer was giving all that much away. “You found me in a sink. No gear. Injured. You think the ones who put me there are going to give you anything? I’m not some valuable hostage. Just let me go.”

"I see." The human’s face had shifted somewhat, but it only assessed him for a moment longer before turning to the large, glass boxes nearby. It reached into one.

“They outgrew that old terrarium years ago, now I’ve got a much fancier set for them over here.”

The sentence seemed like nonsense, until the human returned with a snake wrapped around its wrist. Virgil froze, staring at the vibrant green coils as they shifted.

“This is Jekyll,” the human said, as though Virgil cared to be introduced to those beady yellow eyes. Though, it didn’t look large enough to eat an entire borrower. Virgil had faced larger garden snakes. “He’s the timid sort, no claim to the doctor title unfortunately.”

He watched the human rummage around in the other terrarium, and come back out with a much larger snake. He felt the blood drain from his face as the pale, patterned snake was brought closer.

“And this,” the human said, carefully running a finger along it's spine, “is Hyde. She’s a little moodier, as boas tend to be.”

Virgil slowly shifted back, knowing logically that there was glass between him and the creature, but also that the human could change that at any time. Had changed it, in Roman’s case. It was only a matter of when.

The human tracked his motion, head tilted in an uncanny parody of his snakes.

“I don’t let them wander loose in the household,” it said, finally. “They won't hurt you, despite what your friends may have told you.”

I only had one friend, Virgil thought, not stopping until he’d found the back corner of the cage, and that’s exactly why I don’t believe you.

He drew his limbs up around himself, silent, and waited until the human finally left him alone to start tending his wounds.

The more advantages he had for his escape, the better.

#sanders sides #g/t #borrowers #ts virgil #ts janus #ttf #taking the fall #writing #my writing #bthb #injury tw #ask to tag #angst #i guess?#i spent like an hour looking up snakes for this one #snakes tw

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