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ggukkieland · 4 years

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📕CURRENT READS (2020 October)

🌹 Fics I’ve enjoyed reading this October, with some few unread ones (still have 4 to 5 days to finish!). Waah I have read a lot 😲 I can’t believe I’m almost complete with this list 🥳. Usually when I post and organize the list, half of it are still on #toread status. I thought of curating Halloween-themed fics 🎃 but I ended up reading any genre anyway😁.

Again, credit goes to these awesome writers! Sending them lots of love and virtual hugs 🥰🤗💜🥰🤗💜🥰🤗 .

✅ - done reading | S (smut) F (fluff) A (angst)

🥕[Ongoing Series - to check weekly]

Still reading the ongoing series from last month’s reading list, whenever there is an update 😊

I Feel You in my Heart by @purpletaecup - MYG | exes au, second chances, some chapters have smau elements | A, S, F (really good story development 😭)

[7/?] nearly 2 months after their divorce, yoongi and y/n wade through the aftermath of the fallout by themselves. yoongi is moving on with someone else while y/n finds herself stuck in waves of anxiety and depression. soon enough, they are brought together again by an unfortunate accident

If it Harms None, Do What You Will by purpletaecup - JJK | smau, comedy, supernatural au, fantasy au, witch!reader, demon!jungkook | F, S 🎃

[6/?] it’s the beginning of October and green witch y/n has been preparing for all of the spooky activities she needs to do for all hallow’s eve. one of her older friends gives her a ritual candle for protection. a couple of drops of blood and a wonky magic circle later, there is a high level demon sitting on the floor of her living room.

We Live with a Ghost by @smaubts - JJK | smau, comedy, ghost au, roommates au | F 🎃

[6/13] when jungkook convinces his roommate, y/n, that their house is haunted by an evil ghost, they decide their best option is to contact with it and make it leave but end up summoning an actual ghost by accident.

Swan Black by CharWrites [AO3] - JJK | fantasy, supernatural, enemies to lovers, dark fantasy, apocalypse, Fae!Jungkook, Fae!Yoongi, Fae!Taehyung, LOTR/Mortal Instruments/Labyrinth vibes | A, S (I love this! It’s like watching LOTR 😍) 🎃

[10/?] So's twin brother, Jimin, has been kissed by darkness: an evil that has spread across the land and has claimed many souls. They only have weeks until the darkness consumes him. Once consumed, he will be governed by the unsullied: a powerful race of Dark Fae that has overtaken the world.

So seeks out a rogue Fae Prince, Kook, who is her only hope, if she can survive his deadly charms and irresistible lure especially when he is much more interested in possessing her, mind body and soul.

Third Wheeling by @taetaewonderland - MYG | strangers to lovers au, ceo!yoongi | A, F, S 🥰

[1/?] Min Yoongi is a strict man. Time is money to the CEO of Kisung Connected. He isn’t interested in conventional things or wastes of time. He’s an asshole. But, you didn’t realize until it was too late. Until you met him at the club and it changed your life forever.

Bad Friends by @hollyxqx- MYG | friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, neighbor au, college au, fwb au | A, S, F (what a good angst 😥)

[1/3] hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

House of Lilies by @suqakoo - JJK | mafia au, arranged marriage au | A, F, S

[3/?] Jeon Jungkook is the only heir to Dal Gurimja. He is the poster child for mafia bosses. He’s a feared hit-man among the underground world, and a successful CEO among the socialites of Seoul. Pair him with a castaway girl who’s been out of society for twelve years, and… what do you get?

Your Eyes Tell by @njkbangtan - JJK | soulmate au, enemies to lovers au, roommates au, sugar baby (but not really), slow burn | A, F

[5/?] You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

I hate u, I love u by @bbangpanmen - JJK | fwb au, friends to lovers au, smau | A

[17/23] he uses you to forget her; you let him because you love him.

Puzzle by @kimvvantae - JJK | fwb au, friends to lovers au, college au | A, S, F (I’ve read this before, around 2018-19 and I thought it was discontinued. Glad there’s an update ^_^)

[7/?] the line between friendship and something more has never been crossed - but that changes after a break up and a drunken night, when you not-so-accidentally cross this line to something much more. what happens when after this accident your non-matching puzzle pieces seem to match in a way you’ve never imagined?

The Lesson/Min Boy by @adventuresinwonderlust - MYG | bad boy!yoongi, dom-sub elements, enemies to lovers, brat!reader | S, A, F

[6/8] No summary provided but it’s the twisted story between bad boy Yoongi with angsty backstory and this brat/rich kid. I really liked how it was written though. I made a mistake of reading part 4: Two Months Too Long, which should’ve been the 6th story to read if you follow the author’s sequence.

Popular-ish by @hansolmates - JJK | popular!jungkook, college au, fwb to lovers, shy!oc | F, S, A

[9/?] drabble series: you are way out of jungkook’s league. Or is it the other way around?

Date Me by @latetaektalk - JJK | enemies to lovers, fake dating au, rich kid au | A, F,

[prologue + 1/?] when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.

All Over You by @zibermuda - JJK | enemies to lovers, nerd!jk, fuckgirl!reader | S, F

[2/?] you don’t usually go for the quiet, nerdy type, but Jungkook’s by far the best looking guy in your year. You just can’t help yourself. You have to have him. Small hiccup; he hates you

Effortlessly by @gyukult - JJK | friends to lovers, neighbors au,

[8/?] “Reciprocate feelings?” Jungkook crosses his arms before he continues, “They should know that you’re the only girl in my life.“ Jungkook has been your best friend and neighbor since you could remember, but what you can’t recall is when your feelings began develop for him.

HEI$T: A JJK Fic by lucidly [AO3] - JJK | heist au, action, bangtan are thieves, vigilante au | A, S

[3/?] Six years after being thrown into the world of forgery, espionage, and heists, Mona and her team face competition like never before: The Bulletproof Boy Scouts, a fabled Korean gang of thieves that everybody seems to know, but no one has seen. When she comes face to face with all 7 of them, Mona knows: they're real, and this job won't be like the others. For years she has followed the money, but could it be time that she follow her heart instead?

🥕[Completed AUs/Series- to read]

✅ - done reading (also there seems to be a lot of JJK fics)

Creep @xjoonchildx - MYG | S, pwp, yandere ✅

Guilty @xjoonchildx - KNJ | A, S, mafia au, second part of Guarded AU (an awesome JHS series)

Chapter One: How Odd Chapter Two: Incheon Mall Tube Tops Final Chapter: Is Something Burning? Epilogue: Better Than Okay

Paddle with Me @yoongs-jeontae - JJK | A, S, enemies to lovers, camp counselor au, pwp ✅

Hate Me @themfchase - JJK | S, collegel!au, enemies to lovers au, fuckboy!jk, pwp ✅

Devil in a Blue Suit @yeojaa - JJK | F, S, idiots to lovers, established au, good boy!jungkook

main story ✅ + drabbles ✅

Sweetest Crush @minjoonalist - JHS | F, S, brother’s best friend au

Fake Love @aquaminwrites - JHS | F, S, A, fake dating au, enemies to lovers ✅

Faded Love @jamaisjoons - PJM | A, S, marriage au, infidelity ✅

Brown-Eyed Baby @vinterjeon - JJK | A, S, F, exes to lovers, single dad!jk

01 02 ✅

Why We Got Married @ktheist - KTH | F, S, arranged marriage au, slow burn ✅

Lonely Hearts Club @dovechim - JJK | S, F, enemies to lovers, wedding au ✅

Come to Me @jeonsweetpea - JJK | S, A, F ,friends to lovers, college au ✅

Satan on the Strip @noir0neko - JJK | S, A, demon!jungkook ✅ 🎃

No Face @seokoloqy - MYG | A, S, F, demon au, supernatural au ✅ 🎃

Take a Chance @crystaljins - JJK | A, Hanahaki au, co-workers, very angsty but Seokjin provides comic relief

01 02 03 04 05 06 07 ✅

The Lottery Offering @skswriting - JJK | A, F, S, werewolf au, sort-of arranged marriage au ✅

A Beautiful Epiphany @onherwings - JJK | A, S, F, friends to lovers, unrequited love, artist!jungkook ✅

Au Naturel (sequel) - drabble, established au ✅

Broken Dreams @ddaenysus - JJK | A, soulmate au, unrequited ✅

And Mended Hearts (sequel) - A, S, soulmate au, college au ✅

Coin Toss @yoondoze - JJK | A, mafia au, detective au, exes au, plot twist 👀 ✅

I Knew It Was You @hoseokmylovesworld - JJK | S, F, werewolf au, college au ✅ 🎃

Little Blue @pars-ley - JJK | F, S, friends to lovers, college au, with TW ✅

Little Blue Pill @dreamescapeswriting - JJK | S, pwp, friends to lovers ✅

Smitten @megahwn - JJK | F, S, arranged marriage au, strangers to lovers au ✅

Hit Me with Your Best Shot @namfine - JJK | S, pwp, martial arts, friends to lovers ✅

Slow and Steady @yoonia - JJK | S, A, artist!jungkook, infidelity, established au ✅

Cockblocked @mercurygguk - JJK | A, S, F, friends to lovers, roommates au ✅

everything I ever wanted (drabble) - morning after ✅

What are you Afraid Of? @cupofteaguk - JJK | F, avatar the last bender au

Part 2 (prompt: if you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed) - avatar au, F, S

demon-etized @jungkxook - KNJ | S, youtube au, ghost hunter au 🎃

Spellbound @jeonseok - JJK | F, slight S, demon au, crack, romcom ✅ 🎃

Raising Demons (sequel) - fluffy, smut, established au, crack ✅ 🎃

What’s in a Name? @minsimagines - JJK | A, F, demon au, soul selling scenario, romance

01 02 03 ✅ 🎃

The Big Yellow School Bus [15k] fringesofsanity [AO3] - JJK | S, A, F, noona, fwb au ✅

once bitten, twice shy [5.6k] obiwrites [AO3] - JJK | A, F, implied S, exes au, parents au ✅

Lose Somebody [26k] @kooala - JJK | A, F, slight S, exes au, camping au ✅

Oh What a World [100k] @taestybae - PJM | A, S, F, fake marriage au, fallen idol au (been wanting to read this since July (!), will finally get to reading this 🥰)

series masterlist [18 chapters + epilogue]

🥕[Drabbles]

okay I just realized they’re all JJK drabbles 😅

Incandesce @eunoiabliss - 544 words | JJK | fantasy au, fluff ✅

Forgetful Confession @suhdays - 991 words | JJK | fluff, slight angst, college au, friends to ??? ✅

Club @taleasnewastime - 2k | JJK | fluff, bestfriends ✅

JJK Reincarnation drabble @ktheist - 571 words | JJK | F, reincarnation (?) | love love this 🥰 ✅

Pup @whipped-for-kpop-fics - 1.5k | JJK | F, humour, werewolf au, established au | this is cute and funny 🤣 ✅

A Line Crossed @underthejoon - 723 words | JJK | A, bodyguard au ✅

Rousing Rendezvous @rookiegukie - 1.5k | JJK | smut, frenemies with benefits, modern royalty au ✅

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years

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Different but the Same (pt. 10)

Word count: ~6.3

Rating: R18+/M

Omegaverse AU, Rating: 18+/M

Pairings: Iwaizumi x fem!reader, Ushijima x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected encounter at the Inter-High tournament tossed you into a whirlwind. Being tugged between two males, two different packs, who will reign supreme in this battle for your heart?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 10: A Seijoh Summer

“Hey!” The black shades were plucked from her face, causing her to blink at the sudden light. “Are you just going to lay here instead of hanging out with me?” Kyotani crouched down beside her, glaring at the Omega. She sighed, propping herself up on her hands. She had been leaning against Iwaizumi, who was napping, acting as his shade as she read a book.

“Iwa-chan! (Nickname)-chan! Come play with us.” Oikawa towered over the trio, casting shade on her face. Iwaizumi groaned, plucking the book away from his mate to cover his face. “We came here to hang out, not lounge around like potatoes!”

“We never get peace, do we, Haji?” The Omega giggled, elbowing her mate. He grunted in response, face still hidden in the book. She stood up, dusting the sand off. “What are we playing?” Oikawa pointed off the distance towards the other third-years. Mattsun and Makki were playing 2-on-2 with Kindaichi and Yahaba. Kumini was wading in the ocean along with Watari. She furrowed her brows. “I call playing with Hiro and Mattsu!” The Omega announced, sprinting off into the distance.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi shouted after her, sitting up as the book slid off his chest. He scowled as she high-fived the two third-years.

“There’s one more spot,” Oikawa teased. “Mine!” And he raced off. Iwaizumi cursed, jumping to his feet as he darted after his best friend. Kyotani growled at being left behind, and quickly ran after them both. Iwaizumi had always been faster than Oikawa and Kyotani, so it was no surprise that he managed to beat them to the court. Oikawa pouted before he joined Kindaichi’s and Yahaba’s side.

“I’m gonna beat you,” Kyotani challenged, as he stood in the middle blocker position, opposite from Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi smirked. “Good luck.”

After each set, they ended up switching players. One of the last games they played featured (Name), Oikawa, Kyotani, and Mattsun against Makki, Yahaba, Iwaizumi, and Kindaichi. “Chance ball!” (Name) shouted, holding her arms out to receive the ball.

“Mad-dog-chan!” Oikawa yelled, setting the ball to him. Kyotani spiked it, only for Iwaizumi to narrowly tap it.

“One touch!”

“Makki-san!” Kindaichi called, sending the ball that way.

“Iwaizumi!” Makki set the ball up high for the ace, only for Iwaizumi to send the ball flying towards his mate. With a startled yelp, she narrowly brought her arms up to block her face. Sand kicked up as she stumbled.

The ball bounced off her forearm, flying towards the net and fell to the ground. “Sorry!” She panted, bending over as she rested her arms on her knees. Redness dotted her forearms.

“You okay, babe?” Iwaizumi slid under the net, running to her side. She smiled at him, patting his face.

“I’m fine! I’m so glad I never have to play you,” she teased, standing up. She surveyed the group. “The sun will be setting soon. I’m gonna go get the fire started!”

“I’ll go with you,” Iwaizumi offered, but she waved him off.

“Stay and play.” By now, the other boys had stopped playing in the water and were sitting in the sand watching. She looked at them, waving Watari over. “Watari-kun can help me. Kumini-kun, can you sub in for me?” Kumini made a face, before standing up and making his way to Oikawa’s side. Mattsun and Iwaizumi switched.

“What are we doing?” Watari asked as he walked beside the Omega.

“I wanna get the fire going for the bonfire,” she smiled at him, patting his head. As they made their way back to their stuff, she talked to him about school and asked how he liked being a part of the pack. By the time the boys had made it back, the fire was already stoked, logs had been pulled over to make artificial benches, and (Name) and Watari were digging into some meat that they grilled beside the fire.

“Hey! I didn’t know we brought this,” Mattsun grinned, plopping down beside the grill as he eyed the meat.

“You know (Name)-chan wouldn’t let us go hungry,” Oikawa grinned.

Iwaizumi leaned down beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You really do too much for this pack,” he murmured, rubbing his nose into her hair. A pleasant hum was given in response as the strawberry scent clung to his nose. She affectionately patted his arm with her left hand as she tended to the meat with her right. There were already trays of cooked meat out, so the boys made quick work of it.

“There are rice-balls in the cooler over there,” she gestured with the tongs. “And the cooler-bag beside that one has drinks.”

Brown eyes gleamed at her. “You shouldn’t have brought us alcohol, (Name)-chan!”

She threw her empty bottle at him, shooting the captain a disgruntled look. “Don’t be stupid, Oiks. I’m not going to promote underaged drinking here.”

“But the third-years are already 18!” Makki complained, sitting down at the log opposite from her.

“There are still underaged kids here, and this is a team excursion,” she reprimanded, (e/c) eyes hardening. “You four are more than welcome to drink in the comfort of your own homes, but not at team gatherings.”

“Ugh, she’s stricter than Iwa-chan,” Oikawa muttered, only to be nailed in the head by his best friend.

“Someone has to be responsible,” the Omega retorted, clicking the tongs at him threateningly. Iwaizumi sat down to the side of his mate, his legs encasing hers as her back met his chest. An arm was loosely slung around her waist. Besides them, on (Name)’s other side, was Kyotani watching the fire. Across from them, Oikawa sat with Makki and Mattsun. The third bench held Watari, Kindaichi, and Kumini. Though all faces looked tired, they all looked cheerful as they idly chatted about random topics.

“Thanks for planning this,” Iwaizumi whispered into her ear, the warm ear blowing the loose strands apart. She pulled the last of the meat off, snuffing the fire out as she did so.

(Name) hummed in response. “You guys have been working so hard. You definitely deserve it.” The Aoba Johsai volleyball club had just finished their week-long summer training camp, and as a reward, she and Watari had planned this beach trip. It was tradition for them to have a bonfire after each training camp, regardless of the weather. They sat in silence as they enjoyed the company. Oikawa’s bluetooth speakers blew as some pop songs came on. The boys were all joking, shoving at one another to compete for the last pieces of meat. Mattsun and Kyotani had an arm-wrestling match for the last rice-ball only for Kindaichi to end up eating it because he didn’t know what was going on. “We have marshmallows and stuff if you guys wanna make s’mores!”

That ended up being a disaster - which, to be fair, they should have expected. Oikawa ended up being overly excited about roasting his marshmallow that he ended up putting his fingers too close to the flames and dropped his skewer. Kyotani had laughed so much that he didn’t notice his own marshmallow falling off into the flames until it was too late. When Oikawa laughed at Kyotani, the younger Alpha began pelting Oikawa with marshmallows, nailing him right between his eyes. The other third-years were about to join in on the food fight when they were stopped by a fierce glare from (Name). At that point, the Omega just shook her head and confiscated the marshmallows, roasting them for the rowdy boys. “We can’t take you guys anywhere,” Iwaizumi grumbled, holding two skewers into the flames as he helped his mate put the s’mores together.

Soon, the flames began dying down as the night got darker. “Hiro, Mattsu, do you mind going to get the van ready? Haji, Kyo, can you throw the coals out of the grill? There’s a bag there for that.” (Name) asked, pointing at all the tasks that needed to be done. Kindaichi sneezed, pulling his sweater tightly to himself. The Omega pulled out a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. She surveyed the scene, tapping her chin lightly. “You can go with Makki and Mattsun,” (Name) smiled. “Actually, if you’re already finished packing your stuff, feel free to head back first!” A majority of the things had already been placed into the trash-bags that they had brought so there wasn’t much left to clean-up other than the bonfire and the grill. The first and second years headed back to the van first with their senpais, Oikawa eagerly leading the pack as they carried away; the captain hated the cold.

As she stood there, pulling her tote bag over her shoulders, she let out a sigh of relief. “You did good, baby.” A chaste kiss to her forehead, his arms wrapping around her waist. Kyotani started walking back, carrying the grill with him. The Omega turned in Iwaizumi’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned in. Their lips met, and she shivered at the electricity that shot through her body. She would never get used to that. “God I love you.” He decorated her faces with kisses, causing her to let out a soft laugh.

“And I love you.” Warm lips pressed against his. “Always.”

“Hurry up lovebirds or we’re gonna leave you!” Mattsun shouted, and they looked up to see their friends waving their arms laughing at them.

“Race ya back!” The Omega winked, shoving the tote bag into his arms as she took off.

After a moment of confusion, he tore after her, slipping in the loose sand. “That’s cheating!” He snapped, easily catching up to her. With a loud squeal, he had her over his shoulder as he climbed the hill.

“Haji!” She screamed, playfully beating at his back. They arrived at the van, and most people were already loaded up.

“Here are the keys,” Mattsun handed them to Iwaizumi, who pocketed them. Mattsun climbed in, taking his seat next to Makki.

“Get out the front seat, Trashykawa,” Iwaizumi growled as he opened the door, abruptly yanking his best friend out.

“You’re so mean to me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined before he sat next to Mattsun. “It’s not fair that (Name)-chan can sit in the front, she’s literally the smallest out of all of us!” Iwaizumi placed his mate into the front-seat, buckling her in and stealing a kiss despite the noises of disgust from his team-mates.

“You’re just jealous you haven’t found your mates yet,” (Name) teased, turning around and winking at them. Iwaizumi climbed into the driver’s seat, starting the van. Kindaichi, Watari, Yahaba, and Kyotani were squeezed into the back, though Kyotani looked annoyed at being pressed up against the others. Makki, Mattsun, and Oikawa were in the middle row. She let out a happy chirp as she turned to face the front, her comforting scent filling the car. “Will you be okay to drive?” She asked, glancing at her mate. He hummed in response, one hand holding hers as he rubbed her knuckles. He faced forward, focusing on the road. “Let me know if you need me to switch off, okay?”

Iwaizumi chuckled, pulling her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

The melody of gentle snores filled the car. “I love you,” she whispered looking out the window as the radio placed soft love songs.

“Love you too.”

“I love you too Iwa-chan, (Name)-chan!”

Mattsun elbowed the captain harshly for his comment, causing him to let out a soft whine of pain.

“Love you too, Oiks.” (Name) giggled, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand. The scent and warmth of her mate, along with the sounds of their pack, filled her with comfort. He squeezed her hand as a low purr began in her chest. The steady drumming noise soothed her pack-mates who all slipped into various degrees of sleep.

*****

“Hey, are you ready yet?”

“Almost!” She called, readjusting the golden kanzashi.

Iwaizumi opens the door, poking his head in. The Alpha was wearing a navy blue yukata with a silver obi while the Omega was wearing her own navy blue yukata with light purple and white flowers. She was wearing a matching silver obi.

“Iwaizumi-kun.”

“Yes?” Iwaizumi straightened, meeting (Name)’s father’s gaze.

“We have a gift for you.” (Name)’s mother handed him a box. “Go change in the restroom and meet us in the living room.”

“Yes sir.” Iwaizumi bowed, taking the gift before disappearing into the restroom.

When he returned, he was greeted with the sight of his mate wearing a matching yukata while she chatted with her parents. “Oh perfect!” (Name)’s mother grinned. “I was hoping that it’d fit.”

“Thank you very much, (L.name)-san.” Iwaizumi bowed again, causing her mother to wave her hand.

“Nonsense, you’re a part of the family now, Iwaizumi-kun.”

“Let’s go to the festival, shall we?” (Name)’s father asked, clearing his throat.

As they left the apartment, Iwaizumi slid his fingers into his mate’s hand. “Your parents didn’t have to get me this.”

She chuckled, squeezing his hand. “What, you don’t like matching with me?”

He rolled his eyes, scratching at his neck awkwardly. “I feel bad.”

(Name) stopped slightly, tugging him back as their eyes met. His heart stuttered at the soft expression on her face. “Don’t. You’re my mate, and this is how they wanted to welcome you to the family, ok?”

Iwaizumi’s face cracked into a smile. “Ok.”

“Good! Now, let’s have fun at our very first festival together,” she chirped.

Iwaizumi let out a low whistle, eyes sparkling as he committed the look to his memory. “Damn, you are looking absolutely beautiful tonight. Whoever is your mate must be a lucky guy.”

(Name) giggled, fiddling with the hair-piece once more. “What can I say, my mate has excellent taste.”

Iwaizumi chuckles, coming to stand behind her to fix her obi before he wrapped his arms around her waist. He buried his face into her neck. “Do we have to go?”

“Do you remember what happened last time?” She chided, sinking into his warm embrace. “It took Oikawa forever to forgive us.”

He snorts in response. “Yeah, and he definitely took advantage of you. Remember how much milk-bread you ended up baking?”

She giggled, nodding. “C’mon, they’re probably waiting for us already.”

Iwaizumi sighed, nosing her scent gland. “Lemme just scent you real quick.” When the Omega had told him what had happened at the Tokyo festival, his blood had boiled. How dare those Alphas corner an Omega? Not to mention, Ushiwaka had to go in and save her. It had taken every bit of his self-control to admit that Ushijima had done him a favour by doing so, but the words and the idea still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

(Name) softly hummed, waiting patiently for Iwaizumi to finish scenting her before turning in his arms to scent him back. His eyes fluttered shut, taking in deep breaths to appreciate her scent. “I think we’re finally ready,” she teased, causing him to open his eyes.

“Hmm, I think I’m forgetting something.” He playfully tapped on his chin.

“What is it?”

“This.” He leaned down, capturing her lips with his. She made a soft noise in the back of her throat as she leaned into it, fingers playing with the folds of his yukata. “Alright, now I’m ready,” he said in a soft tone, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Me too,” she breathed. The couple remained still for a moment longer until Iwaizumi’s phone went off.

He growled, picking it up. “What?” The Omega giggled, hearing Oikawa’s voice on the other line. (Name) gently tugged Iwaizumi out of her apartment as they made their way down the street towards Seijoh. “We’re on the way, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed. “No, I’m not buying you food.” He laced his fingers in hers as the Omega scanned their surroundings. Other couples and families were making their way towards the festivities as well.

“Why not?!” Oikawa whined loudly.

“Because you can buy your own food, and I want to spoil (Name).” The named Omega flashed him a grin before looking back forward, watching with fondness as a mother and father swung their child in between them. Iwaizumi smirked slightly, squeezing her hand. “We’re almost there, we’ll see you soon, Stupidkawa.” Iwaizumi abruptly hung up, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “That idiot will be the death of me, I swear,” he muttered.

(Name) laughed, pressing a chaste kiss to his knuckles. “Hopefully not before we’re officially mated.” He hummed, warmth sweeping over him. Her birthday was coming up soon. Iwaizumi couldn’t wait to finally have her as his and only his.

“There they are!” Makki called, waving at the couple. (Name) waved back, pulling Iwaizumi so that he moved faster.

“You guys took forever,” Oikawa groaned, pouting.

Iwaizumi smacked the Alpha over the head. “Yeah, well we’re here.”

“Is everyone else here yet?” (Name) asked, scanning the group.

Mattsun shook his head. “We’re just missing Kyotani. But I’m not sure he was coming. He never said if he was.”

(Name) pursed her lips slightly before shaking her head. “I’ll shoot him a text. Let’s just go ahead first, yeah?”

“(Name)-san!” Yahaba called, waving.

She turned, grinning as Kindaichi, Kumini, Yahaba, and Watari surrounded her. “We missed you so much!” Watari said, blinking innocently up at (Name).

“Will you go explore the festival with us?” Kindaichi asked, scratching at his neck awkwardly as he tried to look anywhere at the Omega. Kumini rolled his eyes as he noticed the redness that crept up Kindaichi’s neck.

“Of course, I’ve missed you guys so much.” (Name) said warmly, pulling them into a warm hug. The boys grinned at each other, holding the Omega tightly before pulling back. Watari and Yahaba grabbed onto her arms and led her towards the festival. She glanced over at Iwaizumi who was still chatting with the rest of the third-years. “Shall we head out?” She called to them. Warm brown eyes met hers as her mate gave her an affirmative nod.

The Seijioh pack made their way down the street as (Name) pulled out her phone to text Kyotani.

(Name): Hey Kyo! We’re missing you at the festival. Please feel free to come join us, even if you’ll be late. Hope to see you soon!

“Who are you texting, (Name)-san?” Yahaba peeked down at her phone.

“Just Kyotani,” she hummed before tucking her phone away into her sleeve. Looking up at the festival sign, she glanced at the mix of Alphas and Betas with her. “So, where are we headed first?”

“Ooh, I wanna look at the games!” Kindaichi’s eyes brightened.

“Food sounds really good though,” Watari mused, eyeing some teenagers with takoyaki.

“What if they run out of the good prizes though?” Yahaba argued, crossing his arms as he looked at the rest of the group.

“There were some food stalls near the games,” the Omega interjected. “So Watari-kun could get some food while the rest of you guys play the games.”

They all exchanged glances before nodding. “I forgot that you came here yesterday,” Kumini muttered as he fell in line with the Omega. The other three had already sprinted towards the games.

(Name) chuckled, nodding her head. “It’s been a tradition for Iwa and I to go early.”

“That looks good, doesn’t it?” Iwaizumi asked, pointing out a new booth. The Omega’s eyes brightened at the prospect.

“I’ve never heard of rolled ice cream at a festival,” (Name) mused, licking her lips.

Iwaizumi grinned, pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead as they stepped into line. She leaned into him, facing him with her arms around his waist as he ordered her favorite so that they could share. “What do you want to try after this?” He asked, glancing around to the other booths.

“I don’t mind what we try as long as it’s with you.”

Iwaizumi chuckled, feeding her a spoon of ice cream. “You’re lucky this only happens once a year. I can’t imagine how much sugar you’d consume if this happened more often.”

She shrugged, leaning up to kiss him. He shivered under her cold lips. “But you’d still indulge me!” (Name) looked over as a child ran past her. “Ooh! I think I want a custard taiyaki now.”

He rolled his eyes, scooping another spoonful of ice cream for himself only to have the Omega steal it. “Oi!”

“Love you Haji.” She grinned before tugging him towards the taiyaki booth.

He stopped, glancing over at the booth on the opposite end. (Name) turned back, tilting her head until she realised what he was looking at. “C’mon.” He handed her the ice cream before heading under the cover of the booth. Rough fingers gently carded through the choices, pulling out a white yukata with roses on it. “This one please.” Iwaizumi looked at the clerk.

As he left the store, (Name) peeked into the bag. “Y’know, you don’t have to get me a new yukata every year.”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Why don’t you just let me spoil you?”

“Will you buy me my taiyaki now?”

“Never mind, I don’t want to spoil you anymore.”

“Haji!”

“Don’t you get tired of going though?” Kumini asked, glancing over at the Omega.

“Not at all,” she replied as they watched Yahaba and Kindaichi playing a ball-toss game. She glanced over at Watari who had gone to the takoyaki stand across the aisle. “It’s always nice for us to go alone, but I really enjoy going with the pack too.” Kumini remained silent, just giving her a stiff nod in response. He personally didn’t particularly care for the festival, but he had missed (Name)’s presence and so he went.

In the corner of her eye, she spots the rest of the third-years playing the goldfish game. She shakes her head, amused as Iwaizumi yelled at Oikawa for bumping into him.

“(Name)-san, look!” Yahaba called, bringing her attention back to the second year. Watari had just come back and was standing beside Kumini, looking very happy with his purchase. Yahaba held up the succulent that he had won. “Here you go,” he grinned, handing it to the Omega.

“Aw, thank you, Yahaba-kun.” She took it while ruffling his head, causing him to stick out his chest in pride.

Kindaichi eyed them, determination flaring in his eyes. “I bet you I can win something better for (Name)-san!” He challenged.

“Bring it on, first-year,” Yahaba turned back to Kindaichi.

“Now, now, you guys don’t have to win anything for me,” the Omega interrupted, stepping between them. “I want you guys to have fun! I don’t need any of these things.”

“But-”

“No buts!” she corrected, before shoo-ing them towards the rest of the games. “Now go play to your heart’s content.”

Kumini snorted, watching as his team-mates sprinted off towards the next game, which was the balloon popping game. The Omega flashed him a grin, waiting for Watari and Kumini before they trailed after the two boys.

“Is that (Name)-san?” At the sound of her name, she turned to see some familiar faces. “It is!” Goshiki grinned, sprinting towards her. “Hi (Name)-san!”

“Hello, Goshiki-kun.” Kumini and Watari turned, eyeing the males who had interrupted as the Omega stepped forward slightly. “Hi Shirabu-kun, Taichi-kun!”

“Hello (Name)-san.” Shirabu replied, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Hello!” Taichi offered the girl a smile.

Shirabu eyed her company. “I’m guessing you’re here with Aoba Johsai?” He asked haughtily, his eyes flickering.

(Name) ignored the malice that was laced in his voice as she nodded. “Yep! Gotta spend time with my pack,” she grinned.

“(Name)-san!” The Omega turned back as Kindaichi and Yahaba approached them. Yahaba’s lips were pursed as Kindaichi sported a massive Vulpix plushie. “Look what I won for you!” Kindaichi grinned, holding it out.

“Wow, thanks Kindaichi-kun!” (Name) smiled, ruffling his hair and taking it. “I’m going to run out of arms soon,” she teased the two. Behind her, Goshiki was glaring at the first year. How could a Beta win her prizes when Goshiki himself couldn’t win her anything?

Taichi, sensing the heavy tension that was building, cleared his throat. “Anyways, we’ll see you at practice, (Name)-san.”

“Oh! Right, bye boys! Take care of yourselves okay?” (Name) smiled, waving at them as Taichi dragged Shirabu and Goshiki off into the opposite direction.

“Was that Shiratorizawa?” Yahaba asked, eyes narrowing. Out of the group, he was the only Alpha. Kumini and Kindaich were Betas whereas Watari was an Omega.

“Yep.” Kumini replied blankly, sending a text to the team group-chat.

“Never mind them,” Watari interjected. “They’re leaving, let’s go back to having fun, ok?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” She encouraged them to try more games. As Kindaichi and Kumini went off to check out one of the booths, she exchanged looks with Yahaba and Watari. They were the only ones who could smell the bitter tang of jealousy from the other boys. They both decided to stick close to the Omega this time, keeping an eye out for other members of that pack. Kumini sighed, hoping that there wouldn’t be any more unnecessary drama.

*****

“Look who finally made it,” Mattsun teased from his position against a tree. “We’ve been waiting forever for you.”

“It’s been like three minutes since I got your text, Mattsu,” the Omega dead-panned, rolling her eyes. She turned back to the rest of the group. “You guys go off and get whatever you’d like. Iwaizumi and I will set up while we wait for you.”

“Thanks (Name)-san!” Kindaichi dipped his head to the Omega before dragging Kumini away.

“Oi, wait up!” Watari protested, as he and Yahaba followed the eager first-year towards the food stands.

“Alright, we’re out,” Makki added, giving them a two-finger salute before he dragged Mattsun away as well. Oikawa hadn’t joined them and was preoccupied flirting with some Omegas in the distance.

“How were they?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at his mate as he put down the bag of blankets.

(Name) hummed as she withdrew one of the blankets, laying it out. It was tradition for the pack to claim this spot. Iwaizumi and the Omega would set-up the picnic area so that they could watch the fireworks together as a group while the rest did whatever they’d like. “Pretty good,” she said finally, smoothing out the fabric.

Iwaizumi glanced at the plushie and succulent. “Did they win that for ya?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes, nodding. “I told them I didn’t want it, but Yahaba and Kindaichi got into a competition about who could win me the best thing.”

“Lemme guess, Kindaichi won the plush?”

“Yep!”

Iwaizumi chuckled. They both worked in peace, unfolding another blanket until they’d set-up four blankets in the area. The Alpha plopped down, tugging his mate down to sit beside him. She was facing the festival while Iwaizumi was overlooking the hill. He carefully laid her so that her back on his lap as he pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Did you have fun?” He asked softly.

A pensive expression filled her face. “Yeah, I really missed them.”

“They’ve missed you too,” Iwaizumi admitted, glancing up at the sky. They both stared at the stars, hearing Oikawa’s voice pointing out and naming the various constellations in the back of their minds.

“Is that right?”

He hummed, a finger lightly stroking her cheek. “They always ask about you, every week. They look forward to Wednesdays ‘cause they know that’s when they’ll be able to see you.” Iwaizumi chuckled, looking down at his mate and adjusting the hair-piece.

“Alright, ten more receive drills and then you guys could take a break!” Oikawa clapped his hands, surveying his team-mates. They were all on-edge, continuously glancing at the door in anticipation. Kyotani froze, tilting his head to sniff the air before throwing the ball away. Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, only for Kyotani to sprint towards the door. The other team members exchanged glances until Yahaba’s eyes widened. He too ran towards the door as Kyotani threw it open. The third years glanced at each other, amused at their underclassmen’s antics.

A yelp echoed around the room as Kyotani threw himself at the Omega, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Kyo!” She laughed, “how did you know?”

“Smelled ya.” He grunted as Yahaba joined him. Kyotani glared at the second year setter before huffing and allowing him to hug her as well. Excitedly, the rest of the underclassmen exchanged looks - making a move to head towards the Omega while they ignored the captain who was desperately trying to restrain himself from running to (Name) and hugging her as well.

“Oi!” Iwaizumi called, amusement flickering in his eyes. “We’re in the middle of practice. You can say your ‘hellos’ during the break.”

Kindaichi exchanged a look with Kumini before reluctantly dragging his feet back to the court. As soon as they’d finished their drills, they immediately sought out and surrounded the Omega once more - each clambering for attention.

“Man, they really missed her, huh?” Mattsun commented, beady eyes surveying the crowd.

“It’s not like they see her every weekend like us.” Makki glanced at Iwaizumi. “Or every day like Iwa.”

They chuckled as they watched Oikawa weasel his way into the center of the mass, attaching himself to the Omega as he vyed for her attention. Even though there were other Omegas present, the atmosphere had lightened significantly when (Name) had walked in. Iwaizumi shook his head slightly, a bittersweet taste in his mouth. If only she had gone to Seijoh instead of Shiratorizawa.

“Omega-chan!” They heard someone sing.

Iwaizumi’s jaw clenched, his nostrils flaring slightly as a familiar scent washed over them.

“Tendou?” The Omega’s eyes widened as she sat up, her heart-rate spiking in alarm as she glanced at her mate. Tendou and Semi had approached. The red-head was hovering over her, pulling her onto her feet as he attempted to pull her into a hug.

“Oi!” Semi scowled, putting his arm out to stop the other Alpha. “Sorry, Iwaizumi.” Apologetic brown eyes met darkened brown eyes. Iwaizumi gave him a stiff nod.

“Semi.”

“Ooh, are you here with your mate then?” Tendou asked, pouting slightly as he turned back to (Name). “Is this why you wouldn’t win me more prizes?”

As the Omega launched into a calm explanation on how she had plans and that she had already told them that she wouldn’t go with Tendou just for the sake of winning prizes, another scent joined the fray. This time, Iwaizumi struggled to suppress his urges, his fists clenching and unclenching as brown eyes turned black. “Ushijima.”

“Iwaizumi.”

Besides them, the playful argument got more and more heated as the Omega started ranting about how she never saw her pack anymore because she’s always with Shiratorizawa. A wave of satisfaction coursed through Iwaizumi at her words.

The two Alphas stared at each other, sizing up his rival. In the corner of his eyes, Ushijima noticed a familiar golden hair-piece, causing his own satisfaction to peak. Iwaizumi’s eyes narrowed, wondering what could possibly be making Ushijima feel satisfied when a bitter mint scent greeted them. “Ushijima. Leave my pack-mates alone.”

The Seijoh pack members glanced up to see Oikawa standing there. He had his arms crossed, his eyes and voice cold as he stared challengingly at Ushijima. The other third-years were there as well, arms laden with boxes of food. Behind him, Kyotani had made his appearances, knuckles white as he clenched his jaw. The youngest Alpha glared at Ushijima, his scent bitter and sharp to their noses.

Ushijima took a deep, steadying breath before glancing at Tendou and Semi. “Come, let’s go find the rest of the pack.”

“Fineee,” Tendou said, before moving to pat the Omega’s head.

Warning growls were issued from the Seijoh pack-members, causing Semi’s hand to catch Tendou’s wrist. “C’mon, let’s go.” Semi waved apologetically to (Name) and Iwaizumi once more. “I’ll see you later, (Name).”

Oikawa’s brown eyes followed them, sneering as they disappeared into the crowd. Kyotani snarled at them as they brushed past him, causing Semi to flinch slightly. “Good riddance,” Oikawa muttered before turning back to his best friend and the Omega. “Are you alright, (Nickname)-chan?”

She nodded, relieved that a fight hadn’t just broken out.

Iwaizumi plopped back down, yanking the Omega down and twisting her so that she was seated between his legs. He leaned forward, scenting her. Mattsun and Makki exchanged small glances before settling themselves on Iwaizumi’s left side. Mattsun leaned against Makki’s chest, swinging his legs onto the Omega’s as he placed their food onto his lap. “Got you guys some food,” he offered, giving (Name) a soft smile. Kyotani plopped down in front of Oikawa, laying against the Omega’s legs possessively.

Iwaizumi grunted, eyes slowly lightening as he continued to scent her.

“Thanks Mattsu, you guys are so sweet,” the Omega smiled at them, her heart rate just settling. Oikawa plopped himself down on Iwaizumi’s right side, pulling out a jar of konpeito and plopping those onto (Name)’s lap. “Oooh, Oiks! You didn’t have to,” she squealed, leaning out of Iwaizumi’s grip to hug Oikawa.

He shrugged, puffing out his chest slightly. “Anything for my favorite Omega,” he winked at her as she released him. Iwaizumi fixed him with a hard stare, causing Oikawa to swallow. “Oh, look! There’s the rest of the pack.” He stood again, waving the others over.

As the rest settled onto the mess of blankets that Iwaizumi and (Name) had spread out, (Name) leaned deeper into her mate’s chest. One of her hands scratched at Kyotani’s head. “I love you,” she whispered, peeking up at his tense face. She reached up, smoothing out his forehead. “If you keep doing that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” she teased. In the corner of her eye, she could see Oikawa wanting to make a comment, but after scenting the air and sensing the residual bitterness from Iwaizumi, it appeared that he thought better of it.

“I love you too,” Iwaizumi muttered finally.

(Name) leaned up, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re the only Alpha for me, promise.”

He let out a sigh, his warm breath fanning her face as he forced his muscles to relax. “Yeah, I know.” Loud explosions filled the warm night air, redirecting most people’s attention to the sky. Instead, Iwaizumi just leaned down, capturing her lips. “I love you so much,” he mumbled against her lips.

“I love you too.”

Bonus

“Is this how we do it?” Kindaichi asked, looking down at the ball in his hand frowning.

The Omega glanced over from her work. She had been measuring out ingredients for the marinade. “Try wetting your hands a bit, Kindaichi-kun. It’ll prevent the rice from sticking to you.” She looked over at the ball in Watari’s hands. “That’s looking really good Watari-kun!”

“Thank you (Name)-san!” He grinned, carefully adding the seaweed to make a cute face.

“What type of filling should I use, (Name)-san?” Kumini asked, eyeing all the various containers out.

“Anything you’d like! These are for you guys, remember?” She grinned, before turning back to her own.

“Well, what type of filling do you like?” Watari asked.

She paused, blinking. It had been a really long time since she thought about it. “Salmon or egg has to be my favorite.”

Needless to say, a majority of the onigiri made that day ended up being salmon and egg.

*****

[Kumini]: Shiratorizawa is here

[Capt. Oikawa]: Why tf are they here?

[Mattsun]: You can’t gate-keep a festival Oikawa. Did something happen, Kumini?

[Yahaba]: That first year wanna-be and the two second years went up to (Name)-san earlier while she was with us

[Makki]: No Ushijima?

[Kumini]: Not with them at least

[Iwaizumi]: Don’t let her out of your sights.

[Yahaba]: Yes sir

[Capt. Oikawa]: how come you guys never call ME sir?

[Mattsun]: they’d have to respect you first

“I’m literally Captain! Why don’t they respect me?” Oikawa whined, crossing his arms.

“Because you do shit like that, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. The third-years had stopped playing games and were heading towards their picnic area.

“Ooh Kageyama!” A body ran into Iwaizumi causing the entire group to stop.

“Karasuno,” Oikawa growled, glaring at Kageyama who appeared suddenly.

“S-Seijoh!” Hinata stuttered, stepping back and falling into Kageyama.

“You better be training hard,” Iwaizumi commented, brushing off his yukata.

“No matter how hard you train, we’ll beat you at the Spring Tournament,” Oikawa snapped, pointing at his rival.

“C’mon, let’s go before (Nickname)-chan gets there,” Makki intervened, grabbing Oikawa’s collar and dragging him back on track only for the Captain to get distracted by his fan-girls.

Hinata shivered, looking over at Kageyama who had his arms crossed and a dark expression on his face. “They’re intimidating.” Turning to look for the rest of his team, he ran into a hard chest. Looking up, Hinata almost screeched.

“Hinata Shoyo. Kageyama Tobio.” Ushijima looked unimpressed at the two underclassmen. “Enjoy yourself. You’ll have more time for fun after we beat you at the Spring Tournament.” After this, Ushijima made his way towards Tendou and Semi who were checking out a food stand.

“We’ll beat them!” Hinata’s eyebrows furrowed, determination coursing through him.

“Get better first and then you can make threats.”

“So mean Kageyama!”

Fun Facts

💟 Kyotani and Omega were very close - which wasn’t a surprise to most of the pack considering how approachable (Name) is

💟 Omegas in Seijoh were in charge of planning fun activities like the beach outing

💟 Watari and the first years were extremely happy to spend quality time with her while they were cooking and learning how to make her special onigiris. The others were jealous when they found out, leading to (Name) promising to host more cooking sessions to placate them

💟 Iwaizumi had to step in when Kyotani threatened Kindaichi for eating the rice-ball

💟 The first years were a little sad that (Name) didn’t have a nickname for them, though they’d never tell her that.

💟 Yahaba had a tradition of getting (Name) succulents. Her bedroom had a shelf dedicated to them

💟 Since meeting, Iwaizumi and (Name) had a tradition of going to festivals together. They’d go for one day alone, and then the next night with the rest of Seijoh. One time, they’d skipped the Seijoh outing. The other third-years ignored them for over a week until they hosted a sleepover and gave each individual apologies

💟 Whenever (Name) says “her pack”, she’s almost always referring to Aoba Johsai - a fact that isn’t missed by the Shiratorizawa pack members, which makes the underclassmen a little upset

💟 Kyotani has the best sense of smell out of Seijoh

💟 Tendou had known that Iwaizumi was there, but he wanted to provoke both him and Ushijima into action

💟 Iwaizumi didn’t know that Ushijima had been the one to buy her the hair-piece

💟 The only reason why Iwaizumi didn’t start a fight was because he knew that (Name) would be upset with him. Oikawa also wanted to start a fight, but decided not to ruin the mood. Kyotani on the other hand only stopped because Iwaizumi glared at him

AN: I’m celebrating 400! Please feel free to send in requests for matchups & song-fics 💞 More info here.

Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

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agoodgoddamnshot · 5 years

Text

Lovely Bitter Water [E] - Geralt/Jaskier

[Gif isn’t mine]

Originally posted on my AO3 account - Rated E

Based on THIS post from @g-e-r-a-s-k-i-e-r

Word of it doesn’t even reach his ears. A crowd of farmhands gathered around a neighbouring booth in the tavern talk about it, just loud enough to be heard over the crackle of the fire pit and the dozens of other conversations swirling around him.

Geralt tends not to listen to tavern talk. Most of the time, the gossip is mundane and bring and not of much use to anyone – especially to him. He doesn’t care for whose husband was cuckolded by who, or what the nearest royal family’s scandal is.

But his ears do prick at the mention of a bard; a quite famous bard, one that had ridden with the White Wolf. One of the farmers sniggers into his tankard. “Ridden in more ways than one, apparently.” It earns a raucous laugh out of the others.

Geralt tries not to crush his own cup with how pale his knuckles turn.

“Bard wandered right through the next town over,” a farmer says, scratching a patchy beard. "You know what folk are like over there. They don’t particularly like Witchers. Hate them, in fact.”

Geralt turns his head. The group hasn’t seen him. He made sure to pick a booth in the darkest and furthest corner in the tavern, content to just drink until the sun went down; and then he could get some sleep.

But now, ale and sleep are the last things on his mind.

“They’ve been trying to get their hands on a Witcher for years,” another farmer joins in, picking at some leftover food on his plate.

The first man shrugs, lifting his tankard to his mouth. “If you can’t go about killing an actual Witcher, do the next best thing: kill it’s bed-warmer.”

It’s like he wasn’t there at all. Geralt makes quick work of leaving, making sure not to storm out of the place, leaving as much destruction as he can in his wake. But with a town like that so close, he can’t bring any attention to himself. And tearing up an inn that was more than willing to feed and shelter him for the night isn’t worth doing. But something heavy churns around in his stomach; as if he needs to be sick but can’t.

He half-expects Roach to huff at being pulled away from her freshly bedded stall and full oat bucket. But Roach, the old girl, always seemed to have this connection with her rider. Whatever crossed Geralt’s mind often did the same with her. As soon as he gathers and slips on her tack, and lifts himself up on to her, the mare takes off at a gallop. The main road cuts through fallowed fields. This is crop country: and most of the crop has been taken in for the winter. That, and there are whisperings of Nilfgaard soldiers starting to march further into the continent. People who depend on the land are keen to reap their crops now.

Roach keeps galloping. She lets out an occasional sharp huff and a chesty cough, but even when Geralt tries to slow her down into a more manageable canter, she keeps galloping. She isn’t a filly anymore. Truthfully, Geralt can’t even remember how old the mare is. But despite all of that, she keeps going.

The town is nearer than he thought. It’s a market town, straddling a junction of a crossroads. Getting inside is easy enough, even when one of his hands drifts to the pommel of his sword. He expected someone to be standing guard at the gates. But as Roach slows into a trot as they enter the town, it chills Geralt’s skin to see how empty the streets and houses are. The layout of the town is easy enough to navigate; four main roads running through it, with smaller alleys branching off of them. The roads meet in a large open space: the town’s square. It’s nothing elaborate, mainly lined with market stalls and the fronts of shops.

Roach knickers as she slides into a walk. She shakes her head, distressed by something. Geralt sets his hand against her neck. But he’s just as riled up as her. The blood running through him is hot. The thoughts that flickered through his head on the ride over weren’t kind. It has to be Jaskier – he doesn’t know of any other bards who would journey with Witchers. He doesn’t know of any Witchers who would allow their company to be with a bard.

What in the names of the gods is he doing this far away from the main cities? Was he by himself?

And memories of the mountain all those years ago nip at his nape.

Everyone in the town, and possibly others from somewhere else, gather in the square. A sea, swarming around a single wooden pole in the centre of the square, Geralt can barely make out what people are gathered around. He cranes his neck. Even on his horse, he can’t see much.

Then he hears it. A sharp crack rips through the air. Quickly followed by a hoarse cry.

The people standing just in front of him jeer. Roach tosses her head, taking a few tentative steps back. The onslaught of noise even makes Geralt wince. He leans forward and swings his leg over Roach’s back, sliding down off of the mare. He lifts a finger. “Stay nearby,” he says stiffly.

Wandering through the crowd is almost like wading into the sea. The back rows have a scattering of people, and they easily part as he stalks through. Mothers grab their children and yank them back to their chests, sheltering them from looking at the Witcher. Geralt swallows a growl. But they have no problem with them cheering on a whipping.

Husbands try and shove at him, moving him back from the square. Geralt anchors his feet to the ground, unmoving. When hands slap against his chest, trying to push him back, he doesn’t’ flinch. Wives or lovers or even sisters pull them away, but curse Geralt as he continues past.

The whip cracks through the air. More pained and agonised cries follow.

Geralt’s fists ball by his side. He’ll boil over – he can feel it. It isn’t often that Geralt gets angry. He learned to douse that fire a long time ago, before it ever has a chance to swallow him whole.

But he isn’t angry now: he’s fucking furious.

It isn’t until a guttural yell of Witcher! thunders over the crowd does a hush fall over the entire town.

The rest of the crowd parts, letting him stalk through. A few people spit and hiss as he passes: noise that is blocked out. They aren’t the first to hate his kind. They certainly won’t be the last. But something is boiling his blood, and it isn’t these monsters cursing him.

When the last of the people step to the side, and he sets his sights on what they’ve gathered to watch, Geralt’s hands fist at his sides. It would be easy to draw his sword. It’s what some primal part of him wants to do. It’s been whispering into his ear ever since he and Roach set out from the tavern. But he ran a sword through a town once before, and he promised that he wouldn’t do it again.

But this particular town is really starting to test that promise.

In the centre of the square, there’s a small platform. Rooted in the middle is a pole. A man stands nearby, dressed in black leather garb, a cowl covering some of his face. A whip is coiled in one hand. Droplets of blood splatter on to the ground. Geralt looks at the pole. It is wood, but you could only tell so by the top of it – birchwood that hasn’t been stained red. Crumpled on the ground, hunched over, is a half-naked form. Geralt’s breath catches in his throat.

He clenches his jaw. “I heard that you have something that belongs to me,” he says lowly, lifting his eyes back to the man with the whip.

The man glowers back at him. He spares a quick glance down at the body by his feet. “We were hoping that you would come,” he says a bit too airily.

The body coils in on itself. Shuffling around on the ground, blue eyes suddenly glance up at him. Geralt’s breath is punched out of him. “Jaskier?”

The bard winces as he moves. Geralt tries not to look, but with so much of the ground already wet with blood, how could he not. Long open lashes mar his back. When Jaskier uncoils further, Geralt spots more lines on his chest and stomach. Geralt schools his expression. He could give into the fire. Every fibre of him wants to. But he won’t. He can’t. Rage won’t help him.

The man holding the whip steps forward, and Jaskier flinches. Something flickers through his eyes; and it only feeds the fire brewing inside Geralt. “You’ve been running ragged through our country for too long, Witcher. Surrender to us to stand trial, and we’ll release your harlot back into the wilds.”

The shriek of his unsheathing sword sets the crowd back. One of them, a more well-dressed man, calls out. “The Butcher of Blaviken,” he snarls. “What now, Witcher? Are you going to cut through another town? Put a blade to women and children?”

A rumble of chatter laps over the crowd.

A small voice grabs his attention, though. “Geralt?”

He looks down. Blue bleary eyes blink up at him. One side of Jaskier’s haw is purple and swollen. He swallows thickly. “Don’t,” he rasps.

Geralt sets his jaw. A moment passes before he growls, sliding his sword back into its sheath. He stalks forward. The crowd still moves back; but the man, who Geralt has a sneaking suspicion is the mayor, holds firm. Leaning into the man’s space, Geralt growls. “Listen to me, you spineless rat. This shithole of a town is not even on the maps. The Continent won’t care if it loses some of its people: especially if it’s people like you.”

The man lifts his chin. “Word will spread, Witcher,” he says as firmly as he can. But Geralt can hear the slightest of tremor in his voice. “They’ll know you went on another rampage.”

“Word will spread,” Geralt agrees. “They’ll know that you falsely imprisoned and tortured a bard on your own prejudices. And when that word spreads, I imagine it’ll reach the bigger cities: where that very bard once sang in their royals’ courts.”

His hands twitch by his sides, a finger brushing the pommel of his sword.

“I imagine that those particular cities won’t be very happy,” Geralt says lowly, leaning down to speak directly into the man’s ear. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch away. But the creature does tremble slightly. There’s a sharp stench of fear coming off of him. “Your town relies on trading, doesn’t it? Think of what will happen when cities who appreciated my bard’s services will do once they find out what you did to him.”

He keeps his voice low. The mayor keeps his gaze forward, over Geralt’s shoulder.

“Trading lines will avoid your town altogether. Everyone in this rat’s nest of a town will starve,” Geralt snarls. “Most of them will try and move somewhere else; but everywhere in this province seems to appreciate what I have done for them too. So I think your people will have quite a hard time trying to find somewhere else to live.”

People towards the back of the crowd start to slip away. Mostly, it’s mothers and their children. Geralt reaches out, putting a hand on the mayor’s shoulder. He can feel a slight jolt underneath his hand. “You will let me and the bard leave this shithole of a town,” Geralt says, squeezing his hand around the man’s shoulder. “You won’t follow us. You won’t try and find us. You’ll leave us alone. Understood?”

The man’s jaw bulges. But he nods stiffly. The people behind him lower their eyes, soft snarls still pulling at their lips. Hatred won’t leave a place like this: but he can shut it up. They’ll curse his name as soon as he’s gone. It doesn’t bother him. Fuck it, they can try can cast as many stones as they like.

When he turns his back to the man, he waits for the blade. He stalks over to the pole, slipping a knife out of his belt and cutting Jaskier’s arms free. The skin on his wrists is bruised and rubbed raw, but it’s the least of his worries at the minute. Geralt takes a quick glance at the bard’s back.

He unclasps his cloak. Jaskier flinches at the first touch of the cloth against his skin. “It’s alright,” Geralt grunts, holding up his hands. Jaskier’s eyes run all over him. Some soft sight of recognition flickers over his eyes. Geralt wraps as much of his cloak as he can around Jaskier. He tries his best to avoid the wounds, but there’s so many, that it’s hard not to graze one. Jaskier tries to wriggle away, the wool scratching against gaping wounds, but Geralt wraps his arms around him. “Hold on to me, if you can,” he says lowly, helping Jaskier get an arm over the Witcher’s shoulders. Geralt picks him up and whistles sharply. Roach whinnies. People part for the mare. Even those that are too slow to move out of the way, she merely trots straight through, bumping them away with her ears flat against her head.

Roach stands stock-still as Geralt puts Jaskier on her back. The crowd seeps out of the main square, but spit and hiss at him as they pass. Roach snaps her tail. Geralt sets a hand against her neck. “Take us back,” he says quietly, before hoisting himself up on to her. Jaskier slumps back against his chest, his head lolling on to his shoulder. Faint breath huffs against his bared neck. “Stay with me,” Geralt grunts, tightening his hold on Roach’s reins.

The mare wants to run. He can feel it in the way she tugs at her own reins, wanting to gallop back to the tavern. But Geralt knows that the movement will only other Jaskier’s injuries even more. That being said, Geralt sets on putting them as much distance as he can between them and that rat’s nest of a town. For their entire walk back along the main road, he glances over his shoulder. No one follows them. No mounted townsfolk with pickaxes and torches come galloping up the road.

Geralt keeps his arms firm, making sure Jaskier doesn’t slip off of Roach. He’s careful to avoid the bard’s abdomen and chest, but he can feel wetness against his chest. Red still stains his mind. The ground of the town’s square was more blood than gravel. How Jaskier is still alive is a wonder in itself. But peering down at the bard, feeling faint breath struggle out of him, he’ll need to be seen too.

He made sure not to cancel his room with the tavern by the roadside. Though, when he returns, half-handing Roach off to a stableboy, he’s still surprised to see that the room was actually kept for him. Or, more specifically, for Jaskier.

Geralt barely sets foot in the tavern before a woman with greying hair waves them over to a flight of stairs. Geralt vaguely recognises her as the innkeep. “If he’s injured, he’ll need a bed,” she says gravely, watching him carry the bard inside. Jaskier lies in his arms as if he weighed nothing. Curled slightly into Geralt’s chest, his breathing is faint and quick. One of his arms splays out to the side, bobbing with every quick but cautious step that Geralt takes. Streams of blood trickle down along his arm. When one drop drips off of Jaskier’s finger, splattering on to a step of the stairs, Geralt barely swallows a growl.

He wants to turn around and go back to the town.

He wants to light their small, insignificant town on fire.

But what’s coursing through him is hatred, and he’s learned in his many years of wandering the Continent to not act on hatred alone.

The woman’s face tightens. “Do you need a healer, lad?” she rushes up the stairs before Geralt, showing him to the saved room. “A farmer who lives nearby has this daughter – Marta. She went to some fancy school in the capital. She’s the best healer around.”

Geralt sets Jaskier down on to one side of the bed. The bard’s face screws up, a groan wrenching out of his throat. Geralt glances down. His cloak, even though black, is starting to soak red. He looks over to the woman, still standing at the door. “How soon could she be here?” he asks stiffly.

“The house is across the road. She’ll be quick,” the woman says before rushing off down the hall. Distantly, Geralt can hear her barking some orders at another maid to keep an eye on the tavern until she’s back.

Jaskier’s eyes are open and looking around; but they’re clouded and not entirely focusing on anything specific. Geralt tries to unwrap his cloak from the bard. The heavy scent of blood hits him, coating the roof of his mouth. It’s a familiar smell. He’s earned his own fair share of injuries out in the wilds. Too much of his own blood has soaked the ground of the Continent. But this is different. This is Jaskier’s blood staining his cloak and hands. Geralt sets the cloak to the side. His own pack has salves and potions – all too powerful for a human. All he can do is wait: and he fucking hates it.

The room is warm. A hearth is lit nearby, amply fed with coal and wood. Geralt has half a mind to stoke it, keep the fire going, but he finds himself still at Jaskier’s bedside. Mumbled ramblings leave the bard’s lips. Words barely strung together, not meaning anything at all. Geralt takes a chair from the other side of the room and sets it by the bedside.

Jaskier whimpers, turning his head to the side. His eyes narrow slightly, taking in the somewhat hunched form of the Witcher. “Geralt?” he mumbles.

“It’s me,” Geralt nods, reaching up to push some hair back from Jaskier’s face. For a terrible moment when he first laid eyes on the bard, he didn’t recognise him. His hair has grown long. Some of it is matted from drying blood mixing with dirt. A smattering of a beard covers his jaw. Geralt’s fingers linger in Jaskier’s hair, trying to undo a small knot. Jaskier’s eyelids flicker shut. Underneath his fingers, Geralt can feel how warm Jaskier’s skin is. The whipping didn’t seem to stretch on for long – but Geralt has to wonder if Jaskier was even placed into a cell, with a roof over his head, or left tied in the middle of the square.

He remembers the rainstorm that almost flooded the roads yesterday. Fire returns to his veins.

“Is this a dream?” the words are so faint, Geralt almost doesn’t hear them. Jaskier’s lips barely move as he mumbles them.

Geralt shakes his head. “No, Jaskier. This isn’t a dream.” The room is quiet. There’s a slight wheeze to the bard’s breathing – probably from being out in the cold for so long. Without Geralt’s cloak covering him, Jaskier shakes. Gooseflesh bubbles along his skin. But with every slight movement he does, Jaskier winces and cries out. Geralt glances down to his middle. Lines mar his skin. None too deep, cutting muscle. But the lines aren’t even, and they bleed. Some of them run over each other. Geralt tries rubbing at Jaskier’s arm, trying to heat up his skin. “A healer is on her way. You’ll be fine.”

The innkeep returns with the healer within a few minutes. Both of the women gasp for breath as they scramble into the room. The healer – Marta, Geralt remembers – sets a worn-leather bag down at the foot of the bed. Geralt takes himself and his chair out of the way, letting the woman in to see the extent of the injuries.

But he still stays within an arm’s reach. He’s out of it, teetering on the edge of consciousness: but Geralt won’t have him be alone.

“What happened to him?” Marta frowns.

Geralt folds his arms. “Townspeople in the next town over whipped him.”

Marta rolls her eyes. “Those fuckers,” she grunts. The innkeep still stands by the door, either watching Marta examine the bard or the bard himself. She grimaces at every cut-off groan Jaskier lets out at being touched. She worries her hands together.

Geralt grunts. “There are more cuts on his back.”

Marta gestures. “Turn him on his side.”

Geralt moves to the other side of the bed, kneeling on to the free space. He tries his best to get his arms underneath and around the bard, hoping to whatever gods sit among the clouds that Jaskier won’t be in pain for much longer. But he cries out at being moved. Geralt winces, letting Jaskier bury his face into the hollow of his neck. He can feel wetness against his skin. One of the bard’s arms lands heavily over his shoulder, holding on. It’s been a long time since Geralt was bothered by blood staining his clothes.

Marta clicks her tongue at what she finds. Even with the sun starting to fade outside, she can still make out the wounds. “They aren’t deep,” she says, placing gentled fingers over the ridges of the cuts. “But I’m worried about infection and blood loss.”

Jaskier mumbles something into Geralt’s neck. He turns his head slightly. “What?”

There’s another mumble, but nothing he can make out.

“He’s been talking like this since we left,” Geralt tells Marta.

The woman nods stiffly. “He’s in shock.” She rolls her sleeves up to her elbows. Marta turns to the innkeep. “Could you get me warm water and clean strips of cloth?” The innkeep rushes away. Marta turns back to the bed. Ruffling through her bag, she pulls out clear glass vials and sets them on to the mattress. Even without opening them, Geralt can scent the echinacea in the salves.

She gathers handfuls of a clear gel and bastes most of it over the open wounds along Jaskier’s back. Jaskier’s light hold on him turns tighter. A hoarse groan is buried into Geralt’s neck. Marta clicks her tongue. “It stings, I know.” She says to Jaskier. “But it’ll help kill any infection that might be there.”

Geralt finds some unmarked strip of skin along Jaskier’s back, just underneath his shoulder blade. He sets a hand against it, hoping that some warmth in him will just transfer over. “You’ll be okay,” he says quietly. Whether it’s to him or Jaskier, he isn’t sure.

The innkeep returns with everything Marta asked for. “I have to tend to things downstairs,” she says, wringing her hands together. “Will you be alright up here?”

Marta nods. “We can manage. Thank you, Lora.”

Geralt glances up at the woman. “Thank you,” he says softly.

The innkeep nods firmly.

Marta works silently, coating most of the open wounds with the salve. She tells him about what needs to happen: it’ll have to sit over the cuts for a moment before she can start washing out the cuts. The infection needs to be killed first. As they wait for the salve to dry up slightly, Geralt’s fingers draw patterns along Jaskier’s unmarred skin. After the salve is washed off and the wounds are flushed, Marta picks up a needle and a long string of wire. Glancing up at Geralt, her eyes harden. “This might hurt him,” she says simply, threading the needle.

Jaskier’s arms tighten around him again. He smells of blood and echinacea and sweat. If Jaskier’s usual self was present, Geralt imagines that he wouldn’t be too pleased with the state of his body now. He can almost hear his voice over his shoulder. The Jaskier in his arms, trying to muffle cries and groans into his neck, is so far from the Jaskier he knows.

Knew.

The correction makes him pause. He remembers the mountain. Of course he does. He isn’t going to sit here and say that he doesn’t remember it. It’s not like the words of what he said whisper to him almost every day, reminding him why it is that people believe so firmly that Witchers don’t have emotions.

Marta looks up from her work. “Could you hand me that cloth?”

And they work like that for almost an hour. Most of the cloth is red by the time Marta stands. She wipes her forehead with her arm. Her hands are stained too, but she doesn’t seem bothered by that at all. “I can give him something to help him sleep,” she says, wandering over to a nearby washbasin. “If the bandages seep, change them. The wounds have to be kept dry.”

She glances over her shoulder. “I trust that you can look after all of that?”

Geralt looks down at the bed. He lies on his side, one leg brought up and propped slightly, easing the pressure on his back and stomach. “I can watch him,” Geralt says almost as an afterthought.

Marta hums, wiping the last of the blood and salve from her hands.

The tavern downstairs still breathes. There’s a faint hum of conversation that floats up through the floorboards. Every couple of minutes there’s a chorus of raucous laughter or a shout. A minstrel strikes up a lyre, and people sing along. Geralt’s chest tightens. He takes his chair back to Jaskier’s bedside.

The healer watches out of the corner of her eye. “Is it true, then?” she asks quietly, scrubbing at her hands. “What they say about you and him?”

Geralt sits back in the chair. He’s quiet for a moment. Not answering her is answering her all the same. “What do they say about me and him?”

Marta sighs. “It’s alright. You won’t find much hatred for that sort of thing here,” she says, “despite those fuckers in Falkmor.”

Well, at least he knows what the shithole is called now.

Marta dries her hands, wandering back over to the bed. “I heard a few of his songs, you know.” He never even took in her face. Looking at her now, in the soft light of the hearth and candles dotted throughout the room, she looks far too young to have spent several years at a healer’s school. But he’s heard of incredibly bright people graduating early. It leaves him with the question of why is she back at a roadside village like this. She folds her arms over her chest. “I always wanted to see who the bard’s muse was. I’ve heard of those kinds of ballads before from other bards. They all started to sound the same after a while. But writing songs like those, it takes a special talent.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Geralt grunts, “his head is big enough as it is.”

Marta snorts. She packs away her things, leaving Geralt with vials of nightshades and poppy’s milk: one is for sleep, the other is for pain. Give him a drop of each, and no more. When she leaves, he’s struck with how quiet the room turns. It seemed quiet as soon as Jaskier fell asleep. But now, he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

His watch last throughout the night. He changes bandages that either speckle or soak with blood, and feeds Jaskier drops of medicine when he starts to surface, wincing slightly at the pull of stitches.

Jaskier, thankfully, does sleep throughout the night. Geralt nods off every so often, slumped slightly in his chair. But he always catches himself, not wading too far into sleep. The other side of the bed is available, largely untouched by blood or anything else. But he doesn’t want to risk it: rolling over in the night, seeking Jaskier out, and causing him even more pain.

He doesn’t even know if Jaskier will let him lie next to him.

The thought makes him sit up a bit straighter. It chills the fire still licking at his veins.

Geralt will talk to him. When the last of the poppy milk and nightshade has left him, when Jaskier has his mind back again, Geralt will talk to him. About the mountain, about what he’s been doing in the years since their leaving of each other.

He thinks idly about asking Lora to bring up some ale. It won’t do anything, of course. Witchers can’t get drunk: well, drunk enough to forget things. All it’ll bring him is a hazed mind and a loosened tongue.

The innkeep, Lora, leaves them with two plates of food when the morning comes around. “For when he wakes up,” she explained, casting a quick glance over to the bed where Jaskier still slept. Geralt nods a firm thanks and sets the plates on a nearby table.

Sleep pulls at him. He’s gone longer without it. If his body starts to slow, he’ll just meditate for an hour. But even though sleep reaches out for him, he can’t find it in himself to follow it down. Jaskier’s wounds need to be treated. And he won’t have the bard’s life slip away just because Geralt was sleeping.

He wanders over to the window every so often. The room is one of the few ones that look out on to the main road. Vendors pass with wagons laden with wares. Passing soldiers from the capital march through, checking everything is in order.

Geralt’s hands curl into fists. He has half a mind to call out: tell them to go to the next town and look at the square, ask why in the gods’ names townspeople would take out their hatred of a Witcher onto a bard. It’s one of his oldest promises – not to meddle in the affairs of men. It’s a promise he made to Vesemir. It’s a Witcher’s promise.

His ears prick at the sound of a soft groan. Looking over his shoulder, Geralt blinks when familiar blue eyes blearily stare back at him. “Geralt?” Jaskier mumbles.

Geralt turns. He crosses the room in a matter of strides, sliding back on to his chair. “Are you in pain?” he asks. “There’s some poppy milk here if you need it.”

Jaskier sighs into the pillow. “I’m alright,” he rasps. His voice sounds so strained and cracked. It’s enough to make him wince. Jaskier always drank teas that smelt too sweet and spiced in the name of protecting his voice. Hearing it now only makes Geralt wince.

“Do you want anything to eat? Lora, the innkeep, left a plate of food for you. It’s just bread and stock, but I can ask her for something else if you want-”

Words stop rushing out at him when a soft huff of a laugh leaves Jaskier. “I’m alright,” he repeats. “I’m just tired.”

It’s midday. Or, he thinks it’s midday. He watched the night drag on for what seemed like years, and then suddenly, watery winter morning light finally found its way through the window. How long the sun has been up, he doesn’t know. But with winter now settling over the Continent, days don’t last long – nights come quickly yet drag on for hours. Some part of him wants to keep Jaskier awake. The room is so quiet, he can’t fucking bear it. The tavern breathes underneath him. He kept a fire on, and it’s occasional snapping and hiss breaks the silence every couple of minutes. Lora has been up a handful of times, informing him that his horse is being looked after – even though she did try to kick a stablehand in the shin for walking up to her a bit too quickly.

Jaskier’s eyelids have slipped closed. His breathing has improved. It’s deep now, even. What Geralt remembers from having him sleep an arm’s reach away all those years ago. Jaskier’s eyelids flicker open again. He spends almost a minute just looking at Geralt – at the change of clothes Lora’s husband gladly gave to him while his were being washed, at how he’s almost slumped in the chair. At how dark circles are starting to settle underneath his eyes.

“I thought I was dreaming,” Jaskier says softly. “When I looked up and saw you. I thought you were part of a dream.”

Is this a dream? he remembers the bard asking, desperately trying to hang on to wakefulness by the tips of his fingers.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “Get some sleep,” Geralt relents, leaning forward to set his elbows on his knees. “I’ll be right here.”

Jaskier’s blink is slow – like a cat warming itself on a cobblestone road during the summer. He tries to stay awake. Geralt recognises the struggle all too well. He tilts his head. “Do you want something to help you sleep? Some nightshade?”

A long, slow sigh leaves Jaskier. Within seconds, sleep has washed over him again. Propped on his side, he’s been in the same position for a long time. It’s to take the strain off of his abdomen and back, but it can’t be comfortable. He’s spent the night mostly uncovered, too. A thin sheet is slung over his waist, mostly there to keep him covered. Whatever clothes had survived being torn off and whipped were soaked in blood and crusting with dirt. What could be saved, Lora took to a nearby woman who can sew. But small beads of sweat dampen his forehead.

Geralt dips a piece of cloth into a basin of clean water. He wrings it out, dabbing it lightly over Jaskier’s forehead. It’ll wrangle the slight fever out of him. It’ll make him stop trembling like a leaf. Ever since the last of shock left Jaskier, he’s just been so tired and cold. Geralt’s fingers brush against his forehead, feeling briefly how warm his skin is. It’s not as bad as the hours before, but still not great. Marta said she’d come back with more salves at some point during the day. Until then, he’s content to just sit here, watching over the bard.

The combination of poppy milk and nightshade in him keeps him under. A soft snore leaves Jaskier every couple of breaths; and it isn’t until then does Geralt realises how much he’s missed Jaskier’s sounds. He missed the incessant chattering on the road, the rhythm of a heartbeat underneath his cheek. Ever since Jaskier left – ever since Geralt sent him away, he corrects himself – it’s been so fucking quiet. Taverns and inns, full of speech and laughter and music doesn’t settle with him. The voices talking don’t belong to Jaskier. A bard making a shoddy rendition of Jaskier’s ballads isn’t him.

Geralt shuffles his chair closer. One of Jaskier’s arms is splayed out over the edge of the bed. As gently as he can, though he doubts anything could wake the bard from the concoction of drugs in his system, he moves Jaskier’s arm to rest over one of his thighs.

“I am so sorry,” Geralt says to Jaskier’s sleeping form. “I’m sorry for what I said on that mountain. I was angry and took that anger out on you. And you didn’t deserve that.”

The body doesn’t move much. Jaskier’s back barely lifts with each breath he takes. Half of his face is mashed into his pillow, some strands of hair skewing over his face. One of his hands twitches. As gently as he can, he reaches out: brushing the strands away. Looking at Jaskier now, with long hair and a beard, the bard doesn’t look like himself. He’s pretty sure that he has a tie somewhere for when Jaskier wakes up: if he doesn’t want to cut his hair straight away.

Geralt sighs. “I’m sorry that this has been done to you.” He lets his eyes drift lower. The wounds will heal, and Jaskier will return to being his usual self. But faint white lines will forever mar his skin: all because of Geralt.

The thought of it makes him wince. His own skin is damaged: despite the efforts of potions and oils he’s taking trying to make them fade. But he’s a Witcher. He’s supposed to be scarred. He has a vague image of Eskel in his mind, a terrible scar running over half of the man’s face.

But his bard is different. Someone who regarded their looks so highly will have to wake up to the fact that his skin will be damaged. All because of Geralt.

Geralt sniffs. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

The hand resting on his thigh twitches.

As Marta cuts and re-sews Jaskier’s stitches, Geralt slips out and walks down to the stables just behind the tavern. Roach knickers, bumping her head into Geralt’s shoulder as soon as he’s close. Geralt gathers her head in his arms, scratching along her cheek. “I’m sorry I haven’t been out to see you,” he says lowly, mindful of stablehands nearby. He glances to her feed bucket: filled for the afternoon, as is her water trough. A hay net hangs from the edge of the stall. He’ll make sure to pay off their extra stay with Lora – and extra for taking care of his horse.

Content that Roach has been fed, watered, and groomed, Geralt wanders back into the tavern. None of the people inside pay him much mind – but he does know that they watch him out of the corner of his mind. Word spreads like wildfire over a dry field.

The maids clearing tables offer him soft greetings. One young girl, Lora’s daughter, asks him how his friend is. The girl barely stands up to his shoulder. Geralt’s usual stony expression softens slightly. “He’s sleeping,” he says simply.

Lora appears from a backroom, shooing the girl away. She gives him an apologetic look before being called to the other side of the tavern.

When he gets back to the room, he finds Jaskier a bit more awake – he’s able to string together sentences that last longer than four words. Marta smiles at his ramblings about something or other. She presses against the dressing, hushing his abrupt yelp. “Oh stop,” she rolls her eyes. “You have enough poppy milk in your blood to knock out a bull.”

Geralt steps into the room. One of the floorboards creaks ever so slightly, giving him away. Marta sets the last of the clean bandages against Jaskier’s wounds. “They still need a couple of more days for the skin to join together again, but I think you’ll be alright to travel after that.”

Geralt stiffens. Glancing down at Jaskier, the bard’s face is unreadable. Marta gathers her stuff and leaves. A silence falls over the room. It’s the first time where Jaskier can look at him, and nightshade doesn’t cloud his eyes. Pain is still being tempered by poppy milk, but he’s sure that the bard will be able to stay awake.

“I can take you wherever you want,” Geralt fits in quickly and firmly. “If you need to get somewhere safe, I can get you there. The capital is a couple of days of a ride away from here, but it has main roads that lead back to the centre of the Continent.” Geralt rubs the back of his neck.

A quiet moment settles over the both of them. It’s one that he’s desperate to fill with words. The silence isn’t entirely comfortable.

“I was on my own when they captured me,” Jaskier says slowly. He looks off to a corner of the room, looking at nothing in particular. Geralt can see how his jaw tightens slightly.

Geralt winces. He doesn’t want to think about it. Terrible things have whispered to him throughout the night – thoughts about the bard being attacked and dragged away from the road. Did they know who he was straight away?

But he flinches at his hand being caught. “I heard you last night,” Jaskier mumbles. “When you apologised for the mountain: I heard you.”

Geralt stares down at their joined hands. Jaskier’s hold is slightly limp, muscles loose from opiates and nightshade potions. But he makes a go of squeezing Geralt’s hand. “I want us to talk about it,” he says after a time. “But I don’t think now is a good time.”

Geralt nods. A lump claws up his throat, trying to lodge and block words coming out.

Jaskier frowns. “Did you sleep on that chair?” he nods blearily to the item of furniture.

Geralt blinks. “Yes? Well, no. I sat in the chair. All night. I didn’t sleep.”

Jaskier sighs and waves his hand tiredly. “That won’t do.” He gestures vaguely to the other side of the bed. “Get some sleep. I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

The comment sits with him for a moment. But watching Jaskier drift back down into sleep with a long and drawn-out sigh, his body twitches. He sits down in his chair, taking up his post again for the next few hours while Jaskier sleeps off the last few drops of the potions.

He doesn’t deserve Jaskier’s forgiveness. All the bard ever had for him was goodness. He was a companion when others didn’t so much as glance in his direction – and when they did, it was with so much disdain and revulsion that he just ended up thickening his skin. He made his life a lot easier in the grand scheme of things. Jobs fell into his lap, threw at him by those very people who once hated him, and now revered him for what he would be able to do to help.

He owes Jaskier a lot: more than he can ever repay.

And he had the nerve to take the bard’s heart and throw it off of that mountain.

It’s another two days before Marta assures them both that Jaskier can sit up without doing a great deal of damage to himself.

“Thank the fucking gods,” Jaskier sighs under his breath. “I can draw the left side of the room from memory.”

The movements pull at the stitches, and Geralt catches every time the bard winces, but eventually, he’s able to help Jaskier back on to a soft mound of pillows pushed up against the headboard of the bed. With the bard propped up, he takes a second to take a quick surveying glance around the room. His clothes – re-sewn and washed – hang on the back of a nearby chair. A couple of empty glass vials sit on the desk.

Marta takes one last look at Jaskier’s wounds. “The stitches can come out tomorrow if the healed skin is strong enough,” she says, binding the bandages to Jaskier’s skin.

Jaskier offers a small smile. “Thank you,” he says. “For everything.”

Marta shrugs a shoulder. “You aren’t the first victim of Falkmor I’ve treated,” she says with a slight tightness to her voice.

Geralt watches from the other side of the room, arms folded tightly over his chest. He lifts his chin. “Has the capital ever done anything about them?”

Marta washes and dries her hands. She bites her lip. “It’s an important town for trade, sitting on an important junction. The capital has given all of the warnings it can give, but ultimately it can’t do anything. What can they do? Send in their soldiers and upend the place?”

Jaskier glances over to Geralt. A small frown shadows his face. Words that Geralt hissed into a man’s face still come to him like afterimages. They’re in Geralt’s mind too. Rage like it doesn’t just fade away. Even almost three days later, he has to catch himself from marching back to the town and lighting the place on fire.

Marta packs up the last of her things, offering both of them a small smile before leaving. Geralt locks the door behind her. A plate of food sits on the nearby table. Lora has brought up something for Jaskier at every meal of the day – regardless of whether or not the bard is actually awake for it or not.

Geralt brings it over, handing it to Jaskier. He fights the urge to snatch his hand back when their fingers briefly brush.

It’s nothing substantial: a bone broth and a slice of bread. But it’s enough to keep his energy up. Jaskier picks at the bread, tearing it into manageable pieces. “You said that you would bring me somewhere,” he says suddenly, looking up from his food. “What did you mean by that?”

Geralt’s hands fidget by his side. “I meant that if you need to go somewhere, I can bring you there.” He tilts his head slightly. “There aren’t many other ways I can say it.”

A heavy silence falls over them for a moment. “And if I did,” Jaskier fiddles with the bread, dipping some of it into the broth, “and you...escorted me...there, what would you do once I was settled?”

“That’s up to you.”

Jaskier stares at him for a minute. “That’s up to me,” he repeats, mulling the words over.

“If you wanted me to go, I would go.”

“Why would I want you to go?”

“I imagined that,” Geralt takes in a steady breath, “that you wouldn’t want to be in my presence after...”

Jaskier nods to the edge of the bed. “Sit.”

Geralt’s feet act before his brain can catch up. He crosses back through the room in a matter of strides, perching down on the edge of the bed. Jaskier takes a couple more bites of food before setting it on to the bedside table. A small grimace flashes over his face, but Jaskier quickly schools it away. “I’m adequately sober from Marta’s potions,” he says, sitting back into the mound of pillows with a small sigh. “So I think we should talk now.”

And Geralt has faced all sorts of creatures that would have frightened him at one point. He was afraid of Kaer Morhen as it towered over him when he barely stood as high as Vesemir’s chest. He was afraid of the first time he was led into a room by people with leather aprons and metal tools. He was afraid every single time he faced off against a new monster in the flesh: it was so much different than reading about them. But he eventually learned to temper that fear. Or get rid of it entirely.

But now, his hands shake: and he can’t make them stop.

Jaskier bites his lip. “I heard you before,” he says after a time. “When you said that you were sorry for what happened on the mountain. I told myself, when I reached the foot of it, that if you came down after me, I would let it go. I knew you could get angry and fed up with things: and that entire dragon hunt was one shit show after another. I knew what you could be like when you were annoyed. You say things that you don’t mean. But the way you looked at me...” A wince flashes over Jaskier’s face. “I wanted to believe that you would come down after me. But I kept walking, and by the time I hit the next village, and saw no sign of you, I knew that you weren’t just being angry. You must have meant what you said.”

Geralt lowers his gaze. He can’t hold Jaskier’s eyes while he speaks. His words hit harder than any whip.

Jaskier sniffs. “But I heard you apologise. And I don’t know whether it was the nightshade or the poppy milk, or whether it was something else entirely, but I heard how sad you sounded.” Their hands barely brush against the top of the sheets. The bard has this otherworldly ability to make him gravitate towards him, wherever they are. Geralt looks down at their hands. Both of the tips of their little fingers hover close to each other. “I tried to stay awake, but whatever Marta gave me was too much. But when I slept, I had dreams about you. I’ve always had dreams about you, one way or another. Whether they were memories of what we used to be, or fantasies I had about tracking you down and beating you with your own sword.”

Geralt huffs a breath. It’s not an entire laugh, but not a sigh either. When he looks up, he swallows. Jaskier’s eyes are red, with tears brimming, threatening to fall. “I heard you and you sounded so sad. And I knew that I heard that before, because that was me. I knew then that maybe you really were sorry.”

His voice trembles. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Geralt breathes. He gestures to the wraps holding Jaskier’s skin together. “I’ve caused you so much pain and torment. How could you ever forgive me?”

The bard tilts his head back, blinking. A tear escapes, streaming down his face. He loosens a harsh sigh. “Because some part of me is just as stubborn as you are: and it keeps reminding me that I still love you.”

And it does nothing to stop his heart from hammering in his chest. It might just break through his ribcage and fall on to the mattress with them. He does loosen a breath though, one he didn’t even know that he was holding.

He flinches at warmth spreading on one side of his face. Jaskier’s hand cups his cheek, his thumb gently brushing over the arch of his cheekbone. Geralt’s eyelids flicker shut. Memories come to him like afterimages – their old life together just an arm’s reach away, blurred from the years of separation. Jaskier sighs. “I thought that you hated me,” he mutters, “I thought that you had always hated me. But when I looked up and saw you standing there, facing down a village for me...”

“I never hated you,” Geralt breathes.

Jaskier’s lips flatten into a thin line. “I know that now,” he amends.

It’s only then does Geralt realise how close he’s sitting to the other man. He could have perched at the end of the bed, or a bit further down. But he’s close – Jaskier was able to reach for him so easily. His eyes flicker down to the bard’s mouth. Seeing him with a beard is still so odd. He imagines that he’ll want it gone, as well as his hair tidied, before they set off.

Together? The question floats aimlessly around Geralt’s mind. He doesn’t want to hope. Hope is so fleeting in the world nowadays that he doesn’t want to put stock in it.

His brain and the rest of his body aren’t connected. Before he knows truly what he’s doing, he leans forward, setting his forehead against Jaskier’s. He doesn’t put much into it. If Jaskier wants to lean back, separating them, he can. But he doesn’t. A sigh leaves the bard. Moving slightly, their noses brush. A shared breath swirls between them.

It’s him who leans forward. The first touch of their lips sends him back to those years before the mountain: the days spent wandering through villages and towns, following contracts; the nights curled around each other in the beds of taverns.

A groan crawls up his throat when Jaskier kisses back, tilting his head slightly. The hand against Geralt’s cheek holds there. His thumb moving in a gentle caress.

He wants to do more: he wants to reach for Jaskier’s legs, pull him closer, and mould him around himself. He wants to lean over and shield Jaskier entirely from the outside world. He wants to pepper nicks and bruises into the length of the bard’s neck. He wants to rediscover all of the freckles speckled throughout his skin, scattered over his entire body.

But a sharp hiss from Jaskier reminds him that the bard is injured. Geralt pulls away, but keeps their foreheads touching, noses brushing against each other. He puts some space between their chests. The harsh, sharp medicinal scent of echinacea and herbs that coat Jaskier’s cuts floats up towards him.

Geralt reaches out, carding his fingers through Jaskier’s long hair. He tucks some of it behind his ear. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he repeats, his voice nothing more than a rumble.

Jaskier brushes their noses together. “My forgiveness is mine to give. And I give it to you.”

Jaskier catches his lips again. Gods, it’s so familiar. Like the years that separated him didn’t even happen. The scratch of a beard against his own is different, but Jaskier sometimes had stubble in the mornings he rose a little too late.

When another muffled gasp leaves the bard, when one of them leans a bit too close to the other, Geralt pulls away again. “We’ll leave when Marta says that you’re able for the road,” Geralt promises. “We can go wherever you like. Together.”

#geralt #jaskier #geraskier #the witcher #henry cavill #joey batey #geralt of rivia #dandelion #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x dandelion #geralt/dandelion #geralt of rivia x jaskier #geralt of rivia/jaskier #geralt of rivia x dandelion #geralt of rivia/dandelion #yourqueenforayear #agoodgoddamnshot

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gae-gae-homosexual-gae · 4 years

Text

maybe cliffdiving can be our always || oidai

this is an oidai fic i’ve already posted to ao3 and wattpad, but hasn’t gotten much traction. it’s established relationship fluff, and has background tensuga.

I based this fic off of a playlist I made! Here's the spotify link ;)

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4RFJ4i79gs3XOuCcYo0SEs?si=hNO0vTehQZmKKdREeA58cQ

“Daichi! Are you crazy!”

Tōru shrieked through his laugh, fear mixing with elation as Daichi held onto him on their way down. The pair were in the US for a trip, and Daichi had claimed he always wanted to go cliff diving, so here they were.

The fall was freeing. Tōru felt on top of the world, like he’d never even had a lick of pride in his life because this was the moment he felt most in control- even though he had absolutely none. His hair floated in the wind, ears popping as the air pressure changed.

He looked to Daichi, molten chocolate eyes blown wide but filled with so much joy, a smile bold enough to stop the turn of the Earth itself.

He’ll never regret this.

Daichi promised to hold Tōru on the way down, to wade in the water until he was sure that he was safe, to help him back to shore if needed. It had taken a lot of convincing to get Tōru to even agree to these terms, so he didn’t want to test his luck.

“Yes! But you love me for it!”

The two laughed, Tōru’s still filled with some slight screaming, and Daichi told Tōru to take a breath less than two seconds before they hit the water, bubbles filling their ears.

Tōru opened his eyes wide, hair floating around his face, and started kicking his way to the surface. He would never tell Daichi, but that was so fucking fun.

Daichi was already on the surface by the time Tōru got there, water dripping from his hair and a wide smile on his face.

“I told you it was fun, Tōru!”

Tōru didn’t even have the energy to fight back- it was fun. It was so, so fun, and he already wanted to do it again.

“Race you back?”

“You’re on.”

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“Dai, do we really have to go back to Japan?”

“Do you want to stay in Washington?”

Tōru thought for a moment. There was a kind of quiet chaos here. It was almost like he and Daichi could discover something new every day for the rest of their lives and still not find everything Forks had to offer.

“And if I said yes?”

“I would do anything for you, princess, you know that.”

Tōru blushed at the nickname.

“You deserve to be happy too, ‘Chi.”

“I’m happy wherever I am with you. We can always go back to visit. I’m sure we can find jobs here. Besides, Iwaizumi said you needed to stop playing, at least professionally.”

Tōru agreed silently, his knee twinging, though he was still bitter about it. It wasn’t like he only excelled in volleyball, but it was the only thing besides his boyfriend that made him happiest.

“What about-”

“Tōru, look at me.”

He felt a strong hand grip his chin, turning his face to meet Daichi’s eyes.

“Stop worrying about everyone else for once. You don’t owe anyone anything. What would make you happy, first and foremost?”

Fuck. Daichi always knew when Tōru started spiraling, which he was about to do.

“I guess we should start looking for jobs and a new place, huh?”

Their lips met, Daichi smiling through their kiss.

He wanted this too.

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Moving across a city or two is stressful enough, but moving countries is a whole other story. It wasn’t the worst thing Tōru’s experienced, not by a long shot, but it was definitely wearing on his nerves. He gripped the mug full of tea so tightly it made his knuckles whiten, the ceramic warm enough to burn anyone else’s skin.

Getting jobs was hard enough- and Tōru was immediately grateful that Daichi had made him go to college, or he’d be stuck working a minimum-wage job.

He’d secured a job as a trainer at a local gym, and he already had seven clients booked by the time he got home from his first shift- everyone wanted to work with the Olympic gold medalist.

Daichi got a job as a fireman, his toned muscles being an easy sell. The two were constantly busy and massages had become a regular thing in the shitty motel they’d called home for the last few weeks.

Tōru was going to need so many fucking massages when they finished moving everything into their apartment.

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“Sacchan!! Guess what?”

“What is it, Oi?”

“I can marry Dai here!”

The line was silent for a few seconds. One of the biggest barriers of their relationships had been the laws against their marriages in Japan. Satori and Kōshi had moved to France, for the redhead’s dreams of being a chocolatier and the silver-haired man’s dreams of living in the city of love, and they’d gotten engaged there recently.

“Does Daikkun know that?”

“I don’t know, but I just saw a same-sex wedding on TV, so I had to look it up!”

Tōru heard a sigh on the other line, followed by some shuffling. A new voice responded, though a welcome one.

“Tōru, love, we both know Daichi is a dense man. You might have to drop hints, or he’ll never get it.”

“Kō, I want him to be the one to figure it out. All I know is that I’m going to be late for our date, so I’ll talk to you later! I love both of you, so much!”

“We love you too, Tōru. Have fun on your date.”

The line clicked. Tōru knew Kōshi was right, that his boyfriend wasn’t the smartest sometimes, but Tōru knew their love was completely genuine. Daichi would do anything for him and Tōru would do the same.

Dress comfortably, Daichi had told him. They’d been in Forks for two years now, but still Tōru hadn’t a single clue what the two would be doing for the evening. He tugged on a pair of his own jeans and one of Daichi’s worn-out band tees, opting for comfort over style.

The tee hung loosely from his body- Daichi had always been the more built one of the two- and he looked fucking phenomenal. Tōru grabbed Daichi’s second leather jacket, knowing they’d be taking his bike tonight.

When Daichi got home he didn’t even bother to come inside, opting instead to honk at Tōru, shocking him out of his thoughts.

“Hey babe,” Daichi greeted Tōru, sealing it with a kiss. “You look amazing.”

Tōru blushed, still not accustomed to the way Daichi genuinely meant every compliment he gave.

“Ready?”

Tōru nodded, putting on his helmet and climbing behind his boyfriend, wrapping his arms around him.

“You bet.”

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The two rode out of the city, towards the coast. They took the highway that stretched for miles against the beach, sunset casting beautiful orange and pink tones to the sands. Daichi pulled to a stop near a small 50’s themed diner, grabbing Tōru’s hand and leading him inside.

“We came all this way for a diner?”

“Patience is a virtue, Tōru.”

Daichi ordered food for the both of them; he’d always seemed to know what Tōru would like best. They chatted and locked their legs under the table, tossing the occasional fry at each other and filling the nearly empty diner with their combined laughter.

After he finished eating, Tōru rested his head in his hand, staring at Daichi who was paying their bill before returning with a huge smile on his face.

“I love you, ‘Chi.”

“I love you too. Let’s go, we have one more stop before we go home.”

“Let’s get going then.”

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Their final destination was back near Forks- leaving Tōru even more confused as to why they travelled all that way to eat some greasy diner food- though he wasn’t complaining. The food had been amazing, after all.

They pulled to a stop at an all-too-familiar stretch of cliffs.

“Dai?”

“Remember this place? We went cliff diving on our first day in Washington, two years ago today. You were so scared, I told you it would be okay but you still screamed the whole way down. When the first jump was over, though, you asked to do it again and again. You even complained when we had to go back to the hotel.”

Tōru stared at his Daichi, who was staring out into the water. The last remnants of sunshine clung to his tanned skin, made his eyes sparkle.

“We had so much fun. You tried your first American-style cheeseburger that night, because you refused to eat them with me until you were too tired to argue anymore. I fell even more in love with you when the ketchup sat in the corner of your mouth and you wiped it away.”

Tōru grimaced a little- he hated having food anywhere on his face.

“Tōru, I don’t just love you. I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you and all of the beauty that comes with it. I’m in love with the way you scrunch your nose when you don’t like my joke, I’m in love with your bedhead, I’m in love with the way you look in my clothes. I’m in love with the way you always smell like freshly brewed coffee even though you hate the taste. I’m in love with the way you begged me to take you to Roswell for the aliens. I’m in love with the way you are so passionate about everything, from politics to your favourite kind of sweeteners to add to different kinds of tea. I’m so hopelessly in love with you, Tōru.”

Tōru stayed silent, processing everything his boyfriend just said. It was a lot to take in- all of the things his past lovers had complained about were the same things Daichi loved about him. Exactly how the hell did he get so lucky?

“I’m so fucking in love with you, I know that and you know that and our family knows that. We all know that but still, I can’t help but want to make everyone know that.”

All of a sudden, Daichi was on his knee, holding Tōru’s hands in his own. Tōru gasped slightly, blush rising furiously onto his face.

“I’m in love with you, Tōru, and I want to share everything with you- especially my last name. Will you take it, like you took my heart?”

The ring, though simple, was gorgeous. Even so, it held nothing to the way Daichi looked. Tōru has it bad for the man currently beneath him.

“Of course I will.”

Maybe he underestimated Daichi, and so did Satori and Kōshi.

He didn’t need to drop any hints.

He just needed to live the rest of his life with his overly warm fiancé.

#mine #my fanfic #oidai #oikawa #oikawa tooru #daichi #sawamura daichi #sugawara koushi #tendou satori #tendou #suga #sugawara #tensuga #one-shot

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mimiswitchywrites · 3 years

Text

Not A Burden: Chapter 12

TW: SH references, S*x**l a****lt near the beginning

Period typical h***ph**ia and internalised, alcohol mentions?

Master list or read on AO3

5.8k words (I'm so sorry, it wasn't meant to be this long)

If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!

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The sun was beginning to fall behind the tree line, and she still hadn’t found the tavern, electing to ask a passing guard. He looked her up and down for a minute, before pointing down the path and saying to take a right at the cart with the cabbages.

She arrived, mind still looping. The tavern was humming with chatter inside – hopefully good chatter – and the street glowed from the light of the candles. It was quite beautiful, she thought.

She stepped forward to open the door, hopped back as a large man stormed out - scowling - and then dashed inside before the door slammed shut again.

There was a long work top spanning half the room, with two men and a grinning maiden behind serving out tankards. Tables lined the walls with long benches, all covered with various states of intoxicated patrons.

Miriam approached the bar, eyes locked on a greenish tile behind the maiden – not wanting to interact with any of the drunk men brawling on the table closest to her. She hopped on one of the stools, feet dangling. She smiled at the lady as she came over to serve her, head darting around the room at a loud crash behind her. “Hey there, love, what can I do you for?” The woman – slightly taller than Miriam – asked with a sympathetic tone. Her eyes were soft, sensing Miriam’s discomfort at the chaotic crowd.

“A tankard of your strongest stuff, please.”

The maiden nodded in response, finding a mug, and wiping the inside with the apron tied around her waist. She dropped the mug into a bucket of liquid and dried the edges, placing it in front of Miriam with another curt bow of the head.

Miriam hummed her thanks, hands gripping the tankard. The liquid was brown and smelt putrid, but she smiled at her reflection on the surface. It tasted vile, she noted with a grimace, but, as the warmth spread through her body, she knew it would do the trick.

She had her head tipped back, fishing for the last drops of the ale when he sat next to her. He was a big, burly man, with the bottom of his hairy stomach peering out from under his sained shirt. He smelt terrible – Miriam could practically taste his aroma, even with her drink so close to her nose – but he didn’t seem to care. He lent forward in his seat, elbows on knees, barely a hands length from Miriam. She placed her empty tankard on the bar in front of her and turned to him. He smiled, teeth crooked and blackened. She could see a string of meat stuck in between his front two.

“’ello bird.” He sneered – smiled? At her, hand landing on her thigh.

She shuffled sideways as much as she could, face concealing her immense discomfort.

“Good evening, sir.”

“I ain’t no ‘sir’.” He stood, arms coming to either side of her – trapping her in her seat. “But,” a grimy finger came up to her cheek, “I could preten’ to be, if tha’s what you’re after?”

She lent as far back into the bar as she could, arms pulling around her chest in a feeble attempt at protection.

A hand – a clean one, this time – landed on the fat man’s shoulder. He was pulled round to face the newcomer, shoulders squaring in preparation.

“Hands off the lass.” Miriam recognised the gravely voice, struggling to place it. Her eyes were too blurred with tears to put together his face.

“Or what? You paid for her already?” Miriam hated the way her skin crawled as his hand found the inside of her thigh. With a deep breath – shaking – she pushed it away and slid off the stool.

He swung round, face ablaze.

The new man grabbed his forearm before he could touch her again and pinned it behind his back. He pushed the man against the worktop – breath knocked out of him. “Or I’ll report you to the King. Hand’s off, by order of Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot.”

Miriam’s eye’s cleared long enough to see the vile mans face drop, blood draining. Sir Gwaine let him go and watched as he backed out of the Tavern, fear struck. Gwaine tossed a coin onto the bar, waving one of the male servers down, “Two ales please, Henry.”

The server – Henry – nodded, face drawn in concern for the knight that was swaying slightly. He placed the drinks down in front of them and turned to a patron calling him from the other end of the bar.

Gwaine took his tankard, downing half of it in one gulp before looking at Miriam. She was shaking, eyes glossy, but analysing him. “Gwaine. I was with Merlin when we found you.” Her mouth dropped, eyes widening in realisation. She let out a soft “oh” in acknowledgment.

With hesitation, she lifted herself back onto the stool and sat forward again. She took a sip of the ale, made a bitter face, and took another.

“Are you alright? Would you like me to walk you home?” He was facing her again, face shrouded in empathy with a slight haze from the drinking. She shook her head, nodding to her tankard.

“I just need to drink, preferably without anymore creeps interrupting.” He barked a laugh at that, throwing his drink back again, and she felt her face warm. “So, Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot,” he rolled his eyes, chuckling, “may I ask what brings you here tonight.”

“Aye, you can, but whether or not I’ll answer is something entirely different,” He stood, reaching out a hand to her, “but first, would you care to dance?” There was a group of men and two women at the back of the tavern creating music. They were singing, one man had a crumhorn, another a lute, and the last two were tapping on the wood of the chairs beneath them. The women’s voices carried across the whole room in beautiful harmony. They danced together, skirts billowing around them, and, one by one, others from the crowd joined in. Men and women, sons and daughters, strangers, all took each other’s arms and span and laughed and sang together. Smile working its way onto her face, Miriam nodded, taking Gwaine’s extended hand.

She didn’t consider herself much of a dancer – never really having the opportunity to learn – but here, dancing with this man she hardly knew, she felt right. They stumbled and fell against each other, stopping their spins every so often as they got too dizzy, and they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. Years of sadness lifted from both their faces, leaving them youthful once again.

By the time they stopped – music slowing down too much for their liking – they were red faced and the world continued spinning without them. They stumbled over to one of the cushioned seats at the side of the room – a large table in front of it – and sprawled onto it, in hysterics. Their drinks (fresh ones they had picked up from Henry before wading through the room) spilled onto the table slightly, prompting another burst of laughter.

After a few gasped attempts at calming down, they shuffled so they were sat up, leaning against each other for support. Gwaine’s hair fell across his face, stuck to the sweat on his forehead and neck. Miriam’s was still tied from work but falling from its leather string in segments.

“You know,” Miriam’s words were more slurred than she had expected; Gwaine snorted at her shocked expression which resulted in him receiving a gentle slap on the shoulder, “When we first met, I dreamt about you.”

His brows shot up, mind too fuzzy to decide between making a sexual remark and asking for more info and so he just sat, expressions rotating over his face until she continued. “Your hair, specifically.” She leant forward, peeling it from his face and running her hands through the tangles. He turned away from her to give her easier access. “I dreamt I was plaiting daisies into it. You have beautiful hair, Sir Gwaine.”

He turned his head to talk to her, “You know, you don’t actually have to call me Sir each time. ‘Gwaine’ is okay.”

Her mouth dropped open at this revelation; he laughed again and turned back to the front.

“Do you frequently dream of plaiting strangers’ hair?” He was genuinely curious but chuckled as he asked.

She shook her head, realised he couldn’t see, and then replied, “No, not often. But you do have very nice hair.” She nodded to herself and took a deep swig of her drink, spluttering slightly at the taste. Gwaine copied, only barely grimacing.

Gwaine enjoyed the feel of the girl’s fingers running through his hair. They sat like that for another twenty minutes at least – exchanging odd thoughts every so often but generally just enjoying the others company. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, head too tingly to place where each strand of hair was going, but it was relaxing, and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He finished his drink, waving Henry over for another, and went back to sipping on the ale. The Rising Sun was by far the best Inn in Camelot, but they had truly vile alcohol. It did the job though, and that was all the Knight was after. Until Miriam came along, anyhow.

She was really quite lovely, he had noticed. He knew she was something special when they had found her – the way she bantered, even when half alive, was enough to warm even his painfully cold heart – but he hadn’t expected to enjoy her company quite so much. He wasn’t attracted to her but she was kind and funny and he could see so much of himself in her and, for some reason, that made him care for her. Granted, they had only been speaking for half an hour now (two hours? Time was a funny thing) and they had both knocked a few back, but he was sure that, if she wanted, they could maintain a friendship. For Gwaine, the man that only had Merlin as a friend for years and none before that, this was quite the realisation.

He sniffled, taking another swig and blaming the lump in his throat on the brown liquid this establishment classed as a ‘drink’.

“There,” she patted his head, “you’re all done.” She spun him round – his eyes widening as he tried to save his tankard from spilling – and she checked out her handy work from the front. Her lips parted in, what was it, awe? “Pretty…” she muttered to herself. He felt his cheeks flush, already red from the drinking, and he giggled (though he would deny it if anyone asked).

She shook her head, eyes closing tightly and then opening again, “Not that you weren’t pretty before, that is. You have a very nice,” she gestured to his face and he bit his knuckle to prevent himself from bursting out in a laugh, “face?” She tilted her head to the side, going over what she said with confusion.

“Aye, well thank you for that lass.” He nodded to her, lifting his tankard and waiting for her to do the same, “To pretty faces!” He toasted. Their drinks sloshed into each other and they tipped them back, wiping mouths on the backs of hands.

They sat in silence for some time, watching the crowd in front of them. There was a particularly beautiful maiden in a red dress that was strutting across the room to a lean man with black hair and a rugged beard. She had a stern look on her face and walked with such vigour that not even the king would have been able to stop her. Gwaine wondered what the man had done, and Miriam just stared at her, warmth pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

The woman stopped in front of the man who had terror in his eyes that Gwaine could see from the other side of the room and slapped him. The sound rang out, silencing the crowd for a second. Gwaine turned to Miriam next to him, hearing her gasp and, curiously, her cheeks stain red. He smiled at that, potential reasons circling his mind.

The crowd ended up blocking the couple from Gwaine and Miriam’s view (much to both their dismay) and their attention returned to the other. Bringing a hand up to her mouth, Miriam stifled a yawn, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“You’re tired.” She shook her head but her heavy eye’s betrayed her, “I should get you back to your room. It would be improper to keep you out so long, or something.” He wasn’t entirely sure if it did count as improper or if he would usually care, but he had no desire to have Lancelot, Merlin and Arthur on his back for keeping the new girl out for so long. He was sure they would spin some tale about him sleeping with her (not that he could dispute it, given his reputation) and Lancelot had looked hurt enough these last few days that he was sure the noble knight would snap. It would not be a pretty sight.

Something best avoided, he supposed.

“Yeah, you are, come on now lass, best us getting going before some twat starts a fight anyhow.” She snorted at this and resigned, standing up. The pair shuffled their way out from behind the table and headed out with a quick wave to Henry before the ducked through the door.

They walked through the lower town slowly, Miriam leaning against him for support and him doing his best not to sway too much. The inn became a distant echo, leaving them in their own little world. They were basked in the soft glow of dying candles and moonlight.

“What’s wrong with you?” She stopped, thinking over her phrasing before adding: “Merlin say’s you’ve been off since you found me in the woods. I think he’s worried.”

Gwaine clenched his jaw, forearms tingling. He took a deep breath before tacking on his jovial persona. “Nothing’s wrong, he’s just an old fart that doesn’t understand the point of a fun night down the Inn.”

She stayed in her spot - even as he took a few more steps towards the inner city - and watched him. She saw her own mannerisms in the way he moved. The clenched fists and jaw, the way he kept his wrists close to his body and his back and shoulders were tensed. “You’re lying.” She sang, feeling the effects of her drink.

His eye’s bulged at her bluntness but a part of him respected her for it. He was tired of the others tiptoeing around him and whatever they assumed was wrong, it was refreshing to have someone get to the point, even if it were a point he didn’t like.

He sighed, calculating the amount of information he could give away without exposing himself or how weak he truly was. He turned back to face her. “Not entirely, Merlin really is an old fart that doesn’t understand the joy one can have with a bucket of ale and a good brawl.” She squinted at him, doing her best to show how little she believed his façade.

He groaned, hand running through hair. “Fine. Yes, my mind has been doing all sort of stupid things since I saw you – not like that, you’re a fair maiden but not…” He sighed again as he massaged his temples, sober thoughts and it’s accompanied headache returning.

“You’re like me?” Her voice was soft, eye’s gentle as if she was worried the question would break him. If hadn’t spent the night out with her, it probably would have. He felt water fill his treacherous eyes – the golden lights in the street blurring in a wet mosaic. He watched her wobbling silhouette approach and place a soft hand on his cheek. His heart was racing, ocean in his ears, and he couldn’t tell if his stomach was doing flips due to the time in The Rising Sun or because, holy shit, someone knows.

“Hey,” came her gentle voice, bringing him back to reality. She moved her fingers softly against his skin and he felt himself lean into her hand. “I’ve never met someone else like me.” Despite the fear and hurt and anger, he smiled. She looked so innocent: stood on the tips of her toes to reach his face, cheeks flushed and tears welling in her own eyes. He opened his mouth, not yet sure what he wanted to say, just as the heavens above opened.

Rain poured down, soaking them both in seconds. Her hair stuck to her face and her thin shirt turned see through. He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, before taking her hand. “Let’s get inside.” He called over the rain, thunder rumbling in the distance. She had a large, beautiful, grin on her face as she nodded, blowing a wet strand of hair from her eyes.

She gripped his hand, and they ran. They ran past couples hiding under canvas, past children staying out far too late dancing in the rain, past drunkards emptying their stomachs in the hay. They ran all the way up to the castle, free hands on sides to ease stiches.

By the time they pulled to a stop, hiding under the roof at the top of the entrance stairs and looking out at the courtyard, they were wheezing with laughter and creating puddles at their feet.

“Well,” Miriam panted, “That woke me up some.” Gwaine snorted and shook his hair like a dog, spraying Miriam who squealed in response. She shoved him, trying to get her own back, but slipped and fell. He caught her by the forearms but quickly let go as he noticed her grimace in pain. She ended sprawled on the floor, eyes watering but laughing still. His face fell in concern and he knelt next to her.

“Shit, Miriam, I’m sorry.” She shook her head, waving him off but she cradled her arms to her chest still. “Should we go to Gaius or Merlin? I’m sure—” She butt in, eyes wide.

“No, no, not Merlin. I’m fine, really Gwaine.”

“What’s wrong with Merlin?” He tried not to get defensive but drinking always made him more affectionate for his friends, even when they weren’t there.

She sighed, bringing her legs up to her chest and dropping her head on her knees. “I fucked up with Gwen and now everyone hates me and then I did something even worse this morning.” Her voice was muffled but Gwaine caught it all, mouth dropping slightly. He sat down properly, slotting himself next to her and gently wrapping and arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you—”

“They do, and if they didn’t already, what I did this morning certainly confirmed it. By the looks I was getting in the Kitchens this morning, everyone knows. Wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur sends me away tomorrow.” Her voice cracked and she nuzzled herself into Gwaine’s side. He pulled his arm tighter around her and she let out a content sigh.

“What could you have done that was so bad, eh? You threaten Princess or something?” he nudged her gently, in jest, but she lifted her head and stared at him with such sad eyes that his heart broke for her. “How about we get warmed up in my chambers and talk about this? Does that sound alright?” She sniffled, nodding. He stood first and extended his hand for her. The walk to the Knights quarters was quiet – just the patting of their feet and the sound of distant rain – but both their minds were reeling.

Miriam still didn’t quite understand what she had done wrong in the first place and so explaining it to Gwaine was going to be a mammoth task, and then she would also have to explain what her and Juliana had done that morning and what would he even think of that? Would he be disgusted? She couldn’t blame him but if he were, what would she do next? She had had a good night with him, and she knew she could get him to talk of his own issues eventually which would make Merlin happy, so she really wasn’t fond of the idea of loosing him so soon after befriending him. Befriending? Were they truly friends now or had they just happened to have gotten drunk together?

Oh bother, it was all far too much for her hazy mind to comprehend.

Gwaine opened a heavy oak door and stood to the side, waving her in. She bowed her head and obeyed – might as well do as he says so these last few hours of being his friend go as smoothly as possible.

She lit the fire as Gwaine gathered blankets and pillows for them to sit on. Once it was roaring, she leant sat on one of the pillows and stretched her feet out to warm them.

“I have spare clothes you could wear, if you would like? You should get out of your wet clothes, at least.” Face blank – her thoughts were too fast for her to convey emotion anymore – she nodded and pulled her shirt and trousers off, leaving her in just a damp chemise. She pulled a blanket round her shoulders and another over her arms.

Gwaine caught a brief look of what she was covering and had to close his eyes, trying to stop his mind from going down the dark path yet again.

He removed his own clothes, pulling on his night trousers and covering himself in a similar manner to her. They sat, watching the fire dance, and basked in the others presence.

“If it matters any,” he began, taking a deep breath, “I don’t think you could do anything to disgust me. I have explored nearly all the lands of Isles, partaken in most endeavours, so I struggle to imagine you could say something I haven’t seen or experienced myself already.” He kept his head forward, allowing her the space to process his words. He didn’t know what Miriam could have done to elicit such fear in herself, but he meant every word of what he had said. Bar threatening or hurting someone, he couldn’t think of anything she could have done wrong.

She bit her lip, puling the blanket tighter around her and picked at an exposed red stripe on her wrist. She had taken the bandages off after work – they had got covered in so much food that they were more harm than good – and hadn’t wrapped them again. They had scabbed over nicely, according to Gaius, but that made the temptation to scratch at them far worse than before. Especially now, with such an uncomfortable conversation approaching.

“Women sleeping with other women. I know it’s wrong, I know it is against the gods and all that is natural,” If she turned her head, she would have seen the confusion on Gwaine’s face, “And yet, no matter how many times I’ve tried to force out such disgusting temptations, it is something I do.” Gwaine sighed a breath of relief, and then his brows furrowed in concern as he fully processed what she said.

“Forced them out? Of yourself?” He turned towards her, shuffling closer. She allowed herself a moment to glance at his face, before turning back to the fire. She didn’t understand the look he wore. It wasn’t quite anger, nor was it agreement.

“Yes. Sleeping with men, letting them have their way with me, you understand.”

He cocked his head at that, even more confused. “I’m not sure I do, Miriam.”

She turned to face him properly now, crossing her legs to keep distance between them. He mimicked her and let his knees brush hers. “Supposedly you sleep with any woman that will allow you, is that not because you want to avoid something? To change something in yourself?” Judging by the way he averted his eyes, she was right.

“But it never changes anything.” His voice was hoarse, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

“No, no it doesn’t.

There was another pause. Gwaine stood, blanket still covering his arms, and made his way to a cupboard in the corner. He returned with a large ceramic jar and a fruit cake, setting both down next to his seat. He took a large swig from the jar – a home brewed spirit – coughed slightly and passed it to Miriam who did the same.

“So, what did you do wrong?” He thought it a simple enough question and yet the look she made at him suggested otherwise.

After mulling her answer over and taking another swig, she began, “Well, other than the obvious crime—“ she ignored his attempt to interrupt, “I was talking to Gwen. About Lancelot and I. And then she said how she felt there was no man made for her. And then I, hopeful, I suppose, asked if she had explored the prospect of women. And I know that that was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have said it and I apologised as such but the way she looked at me, the way she held such disappointment in those truly beautiful eyes… I fucked up.” She stopped, taking a shaky breath and a piece of the cake.

Once she had finished chewing, he nodded for her to continue. “And then Merlin and I were in my new rooms – talking about you, actually – and she asked for me and I tried to apologise again but I think I did it wrong because she stormed off and Merlin not long followed and—” she cut herself off with a frustrated groan, hands racking through her hair. The blanket fell from her arms, exposing the harsh lines coating them.

Gwaine took another drink.

“And you say you did something worse this morning?”

Her cheeks flushed at that, “Depends who you ask but yes, much worse. Though, Juliana enjoyed it if I do say so myself.” It took him a second, but he caught on with an ‘oh? Oh.’ And she nodded in response.

“But Gwen saw, I am certain of it. Not the whole thing, mind, but the way Juliana was talking to me, and then us going into the storeroom at the back and… I have truly fucked up, Gwaine.” She fell back, staring at the ceiling. He lay down next to her, eyes tracing patterns in the beams running across his room.

He liked to think he knew Merlin and Gwen well - well enough to judge their reactions - and he was sure Miriam was missing something important. Namely that same sex relations such as the ones she mentioned were not a crime in Camelot. Sure, they weren’t the norm, but Arthur, the King himself, partook in them and so the common people were quickly allowing themselves to give into such temptations. Supposedly, even Uther wasn’t that harsh on those found doing such things, although it was never something reported that he did himself. He was also sure that she was leaving out that she had feelings for Gwen and was beating herself up the attraction. Not that he blamed her for liking her – he had tried to pursue her when he had first arrived in Camelot too. She was something special, even the blind could see that.

He turned on his side to face her and waited for her to do the same. “What do you know about Camelot? About it’s attitudes to such things?” Her face scrunched up as she thought about it.

Really, she hadn’t heard anything about what Camelot thought about it. She never intended to end up here – she had gone from town to town for work and the forest she was found in was two days ride away from the citedale. She had intented to make her way as far north as north could go but never had any specific town in her head. She knew that Merlin and Arthur were handsy with each other and she had seen the way they slept together after Merlin had given her his role mat that night, but she assumed that was just something royals did with their servants. Same as they would with a woman.

And yet, with the line of questioning Gwaine was going down, she could sense that she was wrong somewhere along the line. “I don’t know anything about Camelot, save for Uther having been King here a few years past and everyone knows about him. But I have seen how Arthur and Merlin are and I expect you are asking because Merlin isn’t just a body to warm the Princesses bed?”

Gwaine laughed at that, happy she still referred to Arthur as that. “You’d be right there. Why are you so against people like that? People like yourself?” This time she looked angry and, if Gwaine looked close enough, scared. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

She nodded, chewing her lip and scratching her wrists again. He took her hands in his, keeping them still.

“May I ask you something now, Gwaine?” He nodded slowly. “Could I see you? What you’ve done to yourself?” He sat up, dropping her hands. The blanket fell away but all she could see was his back from where she lay.

“I’m sorry. I just,” she sat up, not looking at him so he could have some privacy, “I want to know what it’s like for other people. And you’re a knight, you’re brave and yet you still did it and I just…” she grew quiet, water welling in her eyes once more, “I always thought myself a coward but maybe I’m not.”

She heard him sigh from next to her.

“I don’t think I’m all that brave, lass. Sometimes I think about joining those troops that go round preforming for lords and ladies. Gwaine the Freak. I’m sure I could draw in a pretty penny.” He laughed but there was no humour in it.

Slowly, he turned to face Miriam, and she followed suit. They locked eyes, her trying to show trust and him trying to confirm it, and then he dropped his blanket.

She couldn’t help the way she leant forward, hands itching to draw over his body. His chest and arms were littered in scars – some from fights and brawls, others from himself. There were a few burn marks, likely from run ins with magical beings. She met his eyes again, asking for permission, before she gave into temptation and traced the patterns marring his skin. She started over his chest, tracing over his heart, down to his ribs and then past a particularly nasty white mound by his naval. She then took his hand in her own, placing it on her knee. She began at his hand, tickling swirls over his palm which made him smile despite himself, and then, slowly, she worked her way up. There were fresh red streaks over the blue streams under his skin. They got less calculated the further up his forearm she got: more erratic, more angry, more hurt. He averted his eyes as she gently trailed her fingers over the fresh ones, not wanting her to see the tears slipping through his lashes. She found the circular scar at his shoulder where he had been skewered by a spear – that one still caused him pain in the winter. Finally, her hands trailed up his neck and cupped his jaw. She pulled his face to look at her again, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine.” Her voice was light, genuine, and it broke him. He tried to snort, to play it off like it was nothing, but he couldn’t. Those traitorous tears broke the banks and came pouring down. She brought his head down to meet hers, foreheads resting on each other, and he shook. He distantly felt her arms wrap around him, and soft whispers near his ear, but he couldn’t be sure. You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine. And he knew she meant it, he could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She didn’t strike him as the kind of girl to dish words like that out and somehow, that made it so much worse. He felt as if he had let her down by being like this, despite knowing being like this was why she was drawn to him. He had never had anyone care for him before (bar Merlin), not truly, and even Merlin hid things from him. He wasn’t stupid, no matter how the other Knights joked: he could see that Merlin had a secret and he was almost certain it was to do with magic, but Merlin didn’t trust him with that, and he could feel the wedge that drove between them. But here was Miriam. A stranger, practically. And here was Miriam, sharing a secret with him that had practically killed her just days before, and here was Miriam, taking him in her arms and making his heart warm in ways it hadn’t since his father had died all those years ago. And here was Miriam, caring. Something so simple, and yet, so rare for him that he no longer knew what to do but cry.

He felt disgusting, snot dripping down his face like a child, and body growing hot sat so close to the fire, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He sighed, tears slowing, and sank deeper against Miriam. She moved her head, resting it on his shoulder and bringing him closer to her. He listened to their heart beats – both still beating wildly from their run and subsequent outbursts.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours but was only a quarter of one. The fire was growing low, desperate for more wood. When they pulled apart from each other, a tangle of sweaty limbs, they stayed silent, basking in the loving atmosphere. Gwaine leant forward, throwing two more logs onto the embers, and sat back again.

Gently, he brought one of his calloused hands to her cheek – just as she had with his – and smiled. It was one of the most genuine smiles he had ever pulled, and he knew she could sense that. “Thank you.” It was barely a whisper, but she nodded, hearing it still.

They ended up working their way through the cake and the spirit, trading stories from the lands they had lived in, and ignoring what had happened before. They were both appreciative for the interaction, but neither was emotionally prepared to dive back into it and so they focused their energy on stuffing their guts.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time they passed out.

#not a burden #mimiswitchywrites #merlin #merlin fic #bbc merlin #gwaine #oc #fem!oc #sir gwaine

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fweeble · 4 years

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Mafia Romcom (1/?)

Title: None Fandom: SVSSS Pairing(s): LBHxSY, LQGxSY, LBHxLQG, YQYxSQQ Warnings: unrealistic mafia, badly written romcom, unbeta’d Summary: Cang Qiong’s Shen Yuan has been kidnapped. His brother, Shen Qingqiu is in a frenzy. Liu Qingge and Cang Qiong’s greatest enemy, Luo Binghe, are determined to rescue him. A/N: Thank you @freykugel, my favorite cannibal oniisan, for being patient with me and even reading some of it despite knowing fuck all about SVSSS, xianxia, and everything else. You are the best hyung I could ever ask for. This is what happens when the world is batshit insane, I’m allowed to play Piofiore and read yakuza manga, and know fuck-all about the Chinese Triad.

Liu Qingge is welcomed into the building with the muffled sounds of Shen Qingqiu shouting. A harassed looking underling bows, offering strained apologies and offering to bring breakfast up to his office soon. It isn’t the first time that Shen Qingqiu has thrown a fit that has shaken the Cang Qiong mansion to its foundation and it likely won’t be the last. No matter how soundproof Yue Qingyuan tries to make every room in the mansion, Shen Qingqiu’s voice carries. For a moment, Liu Qingge entertains the idea of tendering his resignation. When he reaches his office, all that will be waiting for him are piles of paperwork and an endless revolving door of men making their reports for their day. No matter how loyal he is to Cang Qiong, he feels his grip on his sanity bleed out through his ears with every tick of the clock as he is stuck behind a desk. He has done enough that he should be able to retire, surely? Weathering the continued existence of Shen Qingqiu is far and beyond his job description. Trading in a desk for freelance work is a daydream that helps Liu Qingge pass the tedium of his current position more often than he’d like to admit. Enough of his men have looked terrified during their daily reports as he silently sharpened Cheng Luan for word to spread that Cang Qiong’s head enforcer likes to threaten his underperforming underlings with the sword. Liu Mingyan had burst into laughter when the rumor had finally reached her. It keeps his men on his toes, so he lets it be. (If he imagines throwing himself out the nearest window, Cheng Luan in hand, and making a break for freedom, far, far away from paperwork and the endless droning of reports, no one but Liu Mingyan needs to know this. Everyone is allowed to dream.) Yue Qingyuan, as ill-suited to the mafia life as any leader can be, would likely let him leave with minimal fuss and no demands for recompense. If anything, Liu Qingge suspects Yue Qingyuan may actually send him off with a farewell party. Everyone knows how often Liu Qingge’s the trigger of one of Shen Qingqiu’s infamous temper tantrums behind closed doors. As excellent as Liu Qingge is at his job, Yue Qingyuan would be relieved to have Shen Qingqiu’s Most Hated Enemy #2 out of the way. After all, even the boss’s husband would have a difficult time throwing out one of Cang Qiong’s inner circle without good reason. It may have been easy to get rid of Luo Binghe, who had no reputation, power, or influence to his name, but the Liu Clan has a long and illustrious history, influence, power, and more money than it knows what to do with. Getting on the clan’s bad side would cause Cang Qiong more headache than Shen Qingqiu in all his righteous fury can. Shen Qingqiu’s voice ratchets up another dozen decibels. Liu Qingge thinks he can make out a few of the words. He signs a few more documents, checks the clock, and considers taking a break before the first of his men reports. Tea with Shen Yuan in the garden sounds appealing. He straightens his hair, smooths any wrinkles out of his waistcoat and resists licking his lips nervously. Maybe he should drop by the bathroom before visiting Shen Yuan’s office, make sure he is presentable. Don’t be stupid, he tells himself, even as he feels himself flushing. Five years working with the man and he still has all the dignity of a three year old when it comes to Shen Yuan. Shen Qingqiu’s voice continues to get louder. He’s nearly at the door when it is thrown open by Shen Qingqiu who proceeds to brush him aside. Yue Qingyuan sweeps in after his husband, shooting Liu Qingge a pitying look as he politely shuts the door behind him. If only he hadn’t taken the half-second to fix his hair, he despairs. He could’ve been long gone before Shen Qingqiu decided to descend like a plague of locusts. “Find him!” Shen Qingiu roars as he paces back and forth in Liu Qingge’s office, hair in disarray and face surprisingly pale. “Who?” Liu Qingge grunts as he reluctantly returns to his seat. “Shen Yuan!” Shen Qingiu slams his hand down on Liu Qingge’s desk, sending papers flying. The monitor shakes ominously, threatening to fall. Liu Qingge eyes the splintered surface and feels his own rage building. Until the name sinks in. He can feel the blood drain from his face as well. He turns to Yue Qingyuan who looks uncharacteristically strained. “Explain,” he demands. ---- In between the shouting and Cheng Luan being threateningly brandished against an inconsolable and raging Shen Qingqiu, Liu Qingge has understood three things: 1. Shen Yuan has gone missing. He is not answering his phone. The app Shen Qingqiu had secretly installed on his phone isn’t working. He cannot be located. 2. Shen Yuan was last seen the night before, wishing his brother good night before retreating to his quarters. 3. Shen Qingqiu is convinced Luo Binghe has him. Liu Qingge hates agreeing with Shen Qingqiu about anything. They once got into an argument over the weather because he couldn’t bring himself to agree with the other man. But Liu Qingge can’t help but agree that if Shen Yuan has gone missing, the prime suspect is his ex-disciple Luo Binghe. It’s no secret how much Luo Binghe desires his old teacher. Which is why Liu Qingge wastes no time in delegating his duties to Yang Yixuan and marching over to Huan Hua’s estate and demanding a meeting with Luo Binghe. He had told Yue Qingyuan not to worry, had explained that it would just be an exploratory meeting. It had been clear Yue Qingyuan hadn’t believed him, but Liu Qingge doesn’t feel too guilty about breaking into Huan Hua and raiding the estate. If Luo Binghe has Shen Yuan, he’d keep him close. Shen Yuan will definitely be on the premises. If Shen Yuan isn’t there, then that’s one suspect off the list. It isn’t his job to play detective, anyways. If either Yue Qingyuan or Shen Qingqiu had expected subterfuge or delicacy in handling the situation, they shouldn’t have turned to him, the head of Cang Qiong’s hitmen. They could have turned to Qing Qi and her hand picked spies or even sent some of Shen Yuan’s own grifters to put out feelers and gather information. One does not take out a hammer when precision work is necessary. If anyone is at fault, it’s Shen Qingqiu’s fault for demanding Liu Qingge to find his brother. (Liu Qingge ignores the Liu Mingyan in his head that giggles at his flimsy excuses. He’s absolutely not as emotionally compromised as Shen Qingqiu is. He’s making perfectly sound decisions. What else had they expected a trained assassin to do? He can’t smile and make small talk, tricking a target into exposing sensitive information like Shen Yuan does. What he can do is kill a man in seventeen different ways with his bare hands while blindfolded and shoot moving target with pinpoint accuracy at over six hundred meters. His only skills are beating people for information and killing people for information. He’s just playing to his strengths.) He tosses one terrified looking Huan Hua thug out a window and points Cheng Luan at another before taking a deep breath and hollering. “LUO BINGHE. COME OUT!” He waits one second, then two. After the third, he angrily incapacitates the terrified flunky hiding behind a potted plant and takes the stairs up. Wading through the endless waves of Huan Hua trash that come crawling out like cockroaches, Liu Qingge does his best to avoid permanently injuring or killing any of them. There’s no reason to start a war if Shen Yuan isn’t here. (But he is; he definitely is.) After half an hour of crushing every person who even tries to stop him, Liu Qingge makes it to a heavy set of doors. Luo Binghe’s office. “Luo Binghe!” The man in question sits behind his gleaming rosewood desk, Sha Hualing perched on the end of it, twirling her hair. Luo Binghe smiles thinly at Liu Qingge. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” he asks lightly. “I never expected the great War God of Cang Qiong to visit Huan Hua.” Liu Qingge twitches. “Return Shen Yuan,” he commands, Cheng Luan still pointed at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe’s smile gets sharper, “If Shizun has had enough of Cang Qiong and wishes to be with his dearest disciple, I see why I should send him back.” “No reason?” Liu Qingge resists stabbing the smug bastard immediately. “Is death not enough motivation?” “Death?” Luo Binghe laughs lowly, “I’m not the one courting it.” Sha Hualing rolls her eyes, rising from the desk with smooth grace. “I’ll go check on our...products,” she says as she leaves, shooting Luo Binghe a look that speaks thousands of words, all of them which make Liu Qingge turn crimson. “Shameless!” He bites out, head turning from Sha Hualing’s retreating back to Luo Binghe, before swiveling right back. “Shameless!” He repeats, face hotter than it should be. Luo Binghe retrieves Xin Mo from its place of honor on the wall even as he taunts Liu Qingge, “Cheng Luan, really? Is Cang Qiong so old fashioned that even its War God brings outdated weaponry to battle?” “As if the peashooters your men had were of any use,” Liu Qingge snorts. No gun, no matter how powerful it is, is dead weight in the hands of the incompetent. “You know as well as I do how useful good steel can be,” he continues as Luo Binghe draws Xin Mo. There’s a heartbeat as they both size each other up. Liu Qingge readjusts his stance, eyes Luo Binghe’s shifting his grip on Xin Mo. They’re about to strike, when the doors slam open. “BOSS! Shen Yuan has been kidnapped!” Liu Qingge’s murderous rage shifts. “SHANG QINGHUA!” Shang Qinghua stands in the doorway to Luo Binghe’s office, eyes wide. He trembles. “L-L-Liu Qingge?” He stammers. “BOSS?” Liu Qingge repeats, pointing Cheng Luan at the suddenly stiff Luo Binghe. “LUO BINGHE?” If it were possible, Shang Qinghua would probably melt through the floor. “Kidnapped?” Luo Binghe repeats, voice dangerously low. Shang Qinghua shivers more. He looks on the verge of tears. “Explain. Now.”

#Fandom: SVSSS #SVSSS: Mafia romcom #Fwee fic #Scum Villain's Self-Saving System #SVSSS

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writingthrones · 5 years

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the northern dragon- part 5.

PART 5: LOSSES.

TAGS: @psychosupernatural , @xleviiiix , @ashtronomyyyy , @starkbelova,@5aftermidnight , @makapaka11 , @mxxkscreate-write , @scorpiosmalfoy,@harrison-shot-first , @art-flirt , @jessyballet , @vaexvictis ,@callmeconceited (feel free to shoot me a message if you’d also like to be tagged!)

DESCRIPTION: the world thought that just 2 dragons survived, that house targaryen was missing its third head. but there was another– the youngest, the final child of the mad king and queen rhaella. of course, she was almost part of the near extermination of her house. but the honorable ned stark, unable to watch a babe be murdered for crimes she did not commit, rescued her from an awful fate. instead, she grew up amongst wolves within the walls of winterfell.

NOTES: here’s a bit of a longer one for you all! i really enjoyed writing this part and i hope you guys really enjoy reading it. as always, i’d love to hear all feedback and suggestions. thank you to everyone who’s sent nice messages or left comments and just anyone who has read at all. i’ve had so much fun with this and seeing how much people really like it makes me so happy :’)

WARNINGS: mentions of sexual violence.

The rest of the day, you didn’t see him. To be fair, you didn’t see him all that often as it is. He easily could’ve been with his advisors... still, you couldn’t help but to wonder if he was with her. Jealousy was not a good look on you and you did all you could to hide it. You spent the rest of the day trying to assist the men with minor wounds. Some of them stared and even commented on the fact that you sustained a few bruises but commended you on your ability to hold your own. They’d never seen a woman fight at all, but seeing one fight well was quite shocking. You didn’t let them see, of course, but you were rolling your eyes. Women could be just as capable if only the men gave them a chance.

As the sun began to set, you sauntered over to your tent. You hadn’t seen any sign of him since this morning. Sighing, you attempted to get your mind off it but performing mundane tasks. There was setting aside an outfit for the next day, polishing off the weapon that had been given to you, even making your bed. It was a stupid thing to do considering you’d be asleep in just a bit but you needed to do anything that held your attention away from your racing thoughts. It wasn’t clear how long you’d been awake at that point, but it seemed late. You couldn’t hear much noise anymore.

It was about time for you to get to bed when someone grabbed at the back of your head. They just managed to get at your wrap, the force of their pulling ripping it right of. Sucking in a deep breath, you didn’t move an inch, fearing that anything could set the attacker off. Then you could swear that you lost all ability to feel, absolutely paralyzed with fear. It had your heart racing— you tried to convince yourself that they just tugged hard enough to pull the hair underneath but you couldn’t fool yourself. The silver locks had fallen down your back. The person had their arm wrapped around your waist and they held you close while the cold metal of a blade rested lightly upon the skin of your neck. Part of you wanted to elbow them, attempt a fight but you needed to figure out who you were dealing with first. You would have to take the person out. They would put it together.

“Ah, so that’s why.” It was unmistakable, this was the voice of Jaime Lannister. You stood absolutely no chance against the Kingslayer, the one who had killed your father. In fact, it was his family who made sure that yours was taken care of. House Targaryen would be eliminated here and now but you supposed that was better than having your identity revealed to the world. You accepted your fate.

His free hand went up to your face, grabbing you by your cheeks in order to make you face him. He looked deep into your eyes and you just sighed. You quickly took note of the way the once dashingly handsome knight was now covered in dirt, his teeth unbrushed and hair knotted and dirty, no longer bare faced but instead a beard was beginning to grow. He looked awful. Inside, you rejoiced. They had given the man hell. Of course now, he would be free. He’d slit your throat, toss you aside and run into the night, finding his family in no time.

THIRD PERSON BREAK.

Jaime’s eyes went wide as he studied the young woman’s valyrian features. It was true, she was in fact a Targaryen. It was confirmed that Rhaegar’s children had been killed. Not only that but he could see Rhaella in her face and he knew there was absolutely no way for the woman to mother bastards-- so, she was certainly Aerys’s child. The more he looked, the more of her he saw. It made him feel weak. He hated Aerys, maybe the man had been good once but Jaime had watched him do awful things. Often afterwards he would take Rhaella into his bed and all that Jaime could do was stand outside and listen to her cries. He tried to burst in once, but the other men wouldn’t allow him.

They were meant to protect her too, he protested, but the men said they couldn’t from him. It left the young knight fuming. Each night it happened, he felt worse and worse. Rhaella was a good woman, she didn’t deserve the trauma he was inflicting upon her. So as he looked into this girl’s eyes, seeing Rhaella looking back at him, there was a strange feeling in his chest. It was like he couldn’t hurt her. It didn’t matter that half of her was the Mad King. Despite what many thought and even what he portrayed himself, Jaime was deep down a good man. He dealt with the disgrace that came along with slaying the king he had been sworn to protect because he knew in his heart he was right. He saved the people of King’s Landing from her father’s wrath and now he would save her from all those that would try to harm her should her identity be revealed.

The girl said nothing so finally he spoke. “So here’s how this is going to go: you are going to let me go, say nothing and I will let you live.” There was a pause before she spoke up, shaking her head to get him to release her face. “Kill me,” she said, her voice projecting confidence while her eyes told another story. He couldn’t. He failed to protect Rhaella, stood aside as children were slaughtered, he wouldn’t do it again. He paused for a long while. “Huh, strange. Loving your captor,” he said, flashing his familiar smug smirk. He couldn’t help himself but also, he needed to give reasons as to why he wouldn’t slit her throat right there and be done with it. “Wha— Just kill me, do it. I won’t just let you go. I’ll— I’ll scream but I won’t do this.” She went to open her mouth, and Jaime tightly clasped his hand over it. “Now why would I do that? You’re far more valuable to me alive. You scream and I’ll sneak into your king’s tent just as easily as I did yours. I’ll show you why they call me Kingslayer.” His voice remained threatening, but he was losing his patience. He wanted to let her live, maybe he’d even be able to use her later because staring into those eyes, he just wasn’t able to finish the job.

The girl tried to speak, but whatever it was had been muffled. “You’ll be of great use,” he added. He then placed his hand over her nose as well, meaning to send her into unconsciousness. After some struggling, she was out cold and he laid her onto the furs, covering her up as best he could and slipped out into the night.

BACK TO THE READER’S POV.

You awoke to men yelling and you were able to almost immediately pick out Robb’s angry, frantic voice. You were certainly alive which meant that Jaime Lannister had escaped. There was a sick feeling in your stomach, you just couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault. No, it was definitely your fault. You should’ve screamed right away, if he killed you then so be it but at least then they would’ve had a chance to recapture him. Then you began to wonder how many would’ve been killed in that effort, causing you to only feel worse. No matter what, this was a huge loss. The Kingslayer was a huge bargaining chip for Robb.

It was then that you remembered that Jaime had seen you-- the real you. He had served your family once, so it was obvious that he knew exactly who you were. It made you wonder if he had ever known about your birth or if it was just easy to put together. You held all the distinct valyrian features, making it abundantly clear that you were not a bastard. What could you do now? He had sworn to let you live but what did his word really mean? The man was known to be an oathbreaker. The anxiety was starting to make you feel truly sick so you hurried out of your tent and into the madness outside.

All of the men were frantic as you walked through the crowd, listening to bits from each person. Summed up: Jaime was gone, both of the men that had been guarding his cell were killed as well as two others who must’ve seen him. Obviously there was no way for any of them to know that he had visited your tent. It felt wrong to not say anything, at least not to Robb but what would really come out of it? He’d surely be suspicious of the fact that Jaime left you alive. You were still very confused but it felt as if all you could do was wait for it to blow up. You hoped it wouldn’t but there’s no way your secret, a secret like that, was safe with a Lannister. Even if he didn’t broadcast it all across Westeros, Jaime had made it clear that he would hold this over you in one way or another.

Wading through the dense crowd, you finally found Robb. He had been a little ways away from the crowd, presumably to get some air and calm himself down. Hesitantly, you reached out your hand to tap his shoulder. It clearly startled him, as he immediately took out his sword and made a move to put it towards your throat, but quickly retreated when he realized who you were. You breathed a sigh of relief, as did he. “What if this is all over, Y/N?” he asked, his gaze falling to the ground. The words sounded defeated but his voice projected only anger. “It’s not. I know this is devastating but you’re smart-- smarter than them. You’ve bested them at every turn. You swore to give these people their freedom back, you need to.” He sighed, “...I just-- I haven’t lost a battle but I am still losing this war.” You took a risk by stepping forward and thanked the gods that he didn’t recoil away again. “I believe in you, Robb. Your people believe in you.” You reached out, fingers just barely brushing against his as you attempted to take hold of his hand. He allowed it, but his hand hung loosely in yours.

Just like all the others, the moment wasn’t very long. “Thank you,” he said softly before walking past, shoulder lightly brushing against yours. Squeezing your eyes shut as to not let even the slightest tear fall, you gave yourself a bit of time before turning and walking back. Why did you continue to break your own heart? No amount of quiet moments alone would amount to anything between you two. You surely wouldn’t ever be a mistress even if by some odd chance he ever wanted that. It was in your best interest to serve him as best you could while remaining distant. In the back of your mind, though, you thought about leaving again. It was a dreadful thing to imagine but considering what happened last night, it could be in not only yours but Robb’s best interest to disappear. Robb did not need to be caught harboring a Targaryen princess-- albeit unknowingly.

When you made your way back, you found that Catelyn had returned with terrible news as well. Renly Baratheon was dead and the large army he held had left to support Stannis. The hits just kept coming, didn’t they? Still, you were happy to see her again, though you dreaded telling her the news that your secret was now in the hands of the enemy. As soon as you laid eyes on her, you hurried over, watching her face form a smile, although it was weak. As soon as you reached her, you opened your mouth to speak only to be cut off. “Let us speak in private,” she said softly, voice tired. The woman then lead you into her tent, sighing as she sat down on her bed.

“This is bad, Y/N,” she said, motioning for you to come sit next to her. “We’ve lost the potential alliance of the Reach, Jaime Lannister has escaped and I have a terrible feeling about this business with Balon Greyjoy.” You swallowed hard, nodding. You didn’t feel very good about the whole thing either. Theon may have loved Robb like a brother but Lord Greyjoy wasn’t exactly trustworthy. Theon was held as a means to keep the man from rebelling again but with the boy returned to him, who knows what he might pull. “Lady Catelyn...” your voice trembled, unsure of what you could possibly say about what had happened. The woman looked over at you, head tilted as she waited for you to speak again. How could you give her even more bad news? Possibly the worst of all, even. The reveal of your identity would be the final nail in the coffin. “Something--”

Just then, Robb burst in, breathing heavily. “Mother,” he sounded relieved and she quickly stood to embrace him tightly. You bowed your head, avoiding any eye contact with the king. Surprisingly, Robb did not dismiss you while the two talked but it’s not like he said anything of importance. They filled each other in on things you already knew then he left to see his advisors once again. Catelyn sat down once more, giving you an inquisitive look. “What was it you wanted to tell me, dear?” Your heart began thundering in your chest all over again, gaze quickly darting to the ground. “I...I don’t know how to say this. But...” the little you ate today was threatening to make its way back out, but you swallowed it down. “Jaime Lannister escaped after leaving my tent. He pulled my cover off and told me he would let me live because I’d be of use to him. I--”

“He what?!” She grabbed hold of your shoulders, causing you to jump. Her eyes darted around before she looked back, clearly trying to calm herself. “I-- I was about to go to sleep and he came up behind me, held a knife to my throat. I should’ve screamed, Lady Catelyn, I know but then suffocated me until I was unconscious... I’m sorry,” your voice shook terribly and tears began to spill down your porcelain cheeks. Her mouth hung open, the frustration, even anger, rather obvious as she searched for words. “Did he hurt you?” she finally asked softly, placing on hand on your cheek. “No,” you shook your head before looking down.

Catelyn sighed, “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Y/N.” Meeting her gaze, you did your best to be strong. “We send someone to recapture him. Hells, I’ll go-- I don’t know if it’s such a good idea that I’m here anymore anyway. But he couldn’t have gotten all that far just yet, at least there’s no way he’s found anyone he can tell or something would’ve happened already. We need to do it now, though, before he does.” The older woman looked deep in thought, so you simply awaited her response. “You can’t go. I don’t know if it’s the most wise decision, but I’d rather know where you are than not. Besides, I know someone who would be able to find him.” For just a moment, you thought about what Jaime had said-- calling you the Stark pet, that they were your captors. But he was just trying to get into your head... you couldn’t let his terrible words get to you, that was the point in saying them.

“I’ll go speak to Robb,” she said as she rose to her feet while you hurried out of there, thinking of ways to make yourself useful around camp. It was difficult seeing as things could not be more chaotic. By the end of the night, you had gotten almost nothing done but on the bright side, the camp had calmed to an almost normal state. You had absolutely no idea what Robb or Catelyn planned on doing next but you trusted that they would figure something out and whatever that was, you would help them with it.

Understandably, it was impossible to sleep that night. Leaving your tent, you went for a stroll through the fairly quiet encampment. Most of the men were asleep, save for those who stood guard who ignored you like they usually did. It was as you made a pass by Robb’s tent that you heard something that made you stop dead in your tracks. It was the giggle of a woman and instantly you knew who it was. As much as the thought made your heart ache, you couldn’t fool yourself into believing that it wasn’t her-- Lady Talisa. So this is where she was staying. In the moments you stood there frozen, rain began to fall in sprinkles that quickly turned to a downpour. Coming to your senses, you ran for your tent but you were already soaked. Falling to the ground, breathing heavily, you managed to stave off the tears. It was stupid and pointless and there were much bigger problems to be worried about. All you had heard was a bit of laughter, that didn’t have to necessarily mean what you feared, you told yourself.

The next morning, you felt absolutely awful when you woke up. It was like you hadn’t slept at all even if your eyes had been shut tight. But you needed to get up and face the day, so you forced yourself out from under the furs and got dressed quickly.

Just as you went in search of something to eat, you were ambushed, with the person clasping their hand over your mouth before you could make a sound. Managing to pull yourself from their grip, you pulled away to find a man you did not recognize, now pulling out a weapon and pointing it in your direction. “Listen, darling, the way this war is looking I’m not quite sure that I’ll be seeing home again..” he stepped closer, pointing the knife at your throat. “I don--” you tried to speak. “Shut the fuck up!” he barked at you, poking the cold steel at your neck. “Just make things easy, okay? I bet you’ve never even had someone look at you this way...” he stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing hold of your hip and pulling you closer.

Your blood ran cold when it became clear what he wanted. Without thinking, you spit directly into his face, causing him to recoil and curse at you, giving you time to run. He managed to grab at your dress, yanking it and causing you to fall and so he fell down on top of you. “Just relax you little bitch!” Pining you down by your wrists, he leaned down close to your face. Fear turned quickly into anger as you head-butted him with all your strength. It hurt but the adrenaline kept you from feeling the full extent of the pain. It startled him and gave you an opportunity to shove him off and start running for it again. Of course, he still managed to grab you again and so you turned to punch him as hard as you could square in the jaw. Only, you missed and instead he got one in on you. The throbbing pain radiated through your face and your eyes widened as you saw him grab hold of his dagger, so you immediately went to grab it in an effort to pull it away from him. Unfortunately, you grabbed hold of the blade, feeling it immediately make a deep cut to your palm. It hurt like hell, even with the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Holding tight, you somehow got the weapon away from him, switching your grip to the hilt instead. Knowing that this was surely between life and death, you did the only thing left and drove the knife through the man’s chest, screaming as you did so.

It was a little late, but men finally came rushing over. Your attacker had pulled the two of you off into the woods but it wasn’t too far. Then it wasn’t long before Robb made his way into your tent, rushing over to look at your wounds. “Shit,” he huffed as he leaned in close to look first at your bruised face, dried blood all over your nose and mouth. Next, he gently took hold of your hands and winced at the sight of the deep cut that had thankfully been stabilized. “I’m so sorry,” he said, looking up to you with a furrowed brow.

When you looked up, you noticed that it was not just him in the room. Talisa had accompanied him. At first you were upset, angry, jealous. Why in gods’ name was he just bringing her along wherever he went? But then she stepped next to him, speaking to you with concern in her voice. “Here, let me help you.” Unable to find your voice, you simply nodded and sat back on your bed while she assessed the damage done to your face and hands. “I’ll be back to check on you, Y/N, okay?” Robb said as he stepped backwards. Wincing, you nodded.

“Try not to move, okay?” Her voice was gentle. She meant well, you knew that. You also knew that you had absolutely no reason to be upset with her. If Robb fancied her, that wasn’t her fault or anything. Why wouldn’t he? She was beautiful and from what you could tell, quite kind.. and smart, as well. It’s not like your injuries were devastating or anything but you had seen what she was able to do before, the woman was a talented medic. You were lucky to have her helping you now. “I’m going to do my best for now. We don’t have much supplies left and you’ll need to keep that wound thoroughly clean if you want to avoid infection.” It felt wrong to harbor any ill-will towards her but it was hard to not feel upset, even as she was doing all she could to help you now.

“You’re quite strong, aren’t you?” she said softly as she patted alcohol on the cuts to your hands. “You fought and killed a man all while in a dress.” As she looked back into your eyes, she offered you a reassuring smile. “I did what I had to do,” you replied quietly. Things became awkward then as neither of you had anything left to say to the other. “Everything should be okay for now. I believe there’s going to be an effort to get more medical supplies tomorrow and I’ll make sure to come visit you when I have what I need,” she said, stepping back from you. “Thank you, Lady Talisa,” you said, voice raspy from all the strain. She nodded, “You should get some rest now.” With that, she was gone. In no time, you fell into a deep sleep, understandably drained.

The next morning, you woke up later than usual-- but hey, you were nearly assaulted yesterday. And can anyone really blame you? When you finally exited your tent, you were soon greeted by Catelyn who informed you that Robb had gone to negotiate with The Crag... and he brought the medic woman along with him. You felt your heart drop into your stomach as she spoke. You wanted so badly to believe that things weren’t the way you thought but you weren’t stupid. Neither was Catelyn.

“He’s going to make a mistake, Y/N,” she said, visibly nervous. “What do you mean...?” You wondered what she thought this mistake was. Clearly, she had the same ideas you did. “I see the way he looks at her-- he fancies her. She’s a beautiful girl, I understand but he made an oath and I don’t see Walder Frey just.. dismissing that. Westeros doesn’t care much for true love.” Marriages were nothing but politics. Even her and Ned’s relationship had started that way-- sure, they’d found love along the way but it didn’t change the fact that the arrangement between them had been strategic. “I don’t want to believe that he would do this after how important that crossing was..” her voice trailed off. It seemed that she had more to say but stayed silent nonetheless.

It remained that way for a bit before she finally perked up. “Oh my-- I’m so sorry, Y/N! I should’ve asked right away; are you okay? How are you feeling?” She reached for your hands but once she saw the bandages, she took hold of them very gently. “I wish I could say that I can’t believe one of these men could do something like this but...” her gaze cast downwards. “Yes, I’m fine, Lady Catelyn,” you replied, forcing a smile. “Everything feels sore but I’m alive. I suppose that’s what counts, yeah?” you allow yourself to chuckle just a bit, which causes her to smile. “I suppose it does,” she says softly as she pulls you into an embrace. For just a moment, you let yourself forget about the absolute mess that had become your life.

#game of thrones imagine #robb stark imagine #catelyn stark imagine #robb stark x reader #targaryen!reader #OOP this is a big one

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the-blind-assassin-12 · 5 years

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Beat the Heat

A/N: First of the Logan smooches and what do you know, its a d o o z y. (who’s surprised? anyone? bueller?) This goes along with the Oblivion/Simplify timeline. Countin’ down the kisses and this one comes in at 14. 6 down, 13 to go!

Word Count: 1,604

Warning: Z E S T.

Prompt from an anon, who i hope enjoys where this one went:

It was unseasonably hot for the fifth day in a row. Three months in to life on the outskirts of the tiny hamlet of Lake Louise had made you accustomed to the cooler weather even in the summer. But when temperatures dared to soar to to 30 degrees Celsius even at night, you had had enough. There was no AC in the cabin as it would hardly ever see any use, and even with every single window thrown wide open, the air was stagnant and thick, not even a cross breeze to cool things down. It had gotten to the point where sleeping outside was the only option; not that you or Logan minded that at all, climbing onto the over-sized patio lounges wearing as little as possible. What you did mind, was being unable to sleep next to him, legs tangled together and arms draped over his chest, due to the heat. While you normally loved sleeping under blankets even in the summer, the current heat wave was making that impossible and even sharing body heat was too much. Logan moved the two cushioned outdoor lounges as close together as possible, but the armrests acted as a divider between you as you slept...or tried to sleep.

You opened your eyes after several hours of feverish tossing, the soothing sounds of the lake lapping at the smooth gray stones and Logan’s quiet, rhythmic, open mouthed snores failing to pull you under the cover of slumber like they normally would. Turning on your side, you felt the frustration melt away. The furrows in your sweat slicked forehead relaxed as your eyes fell upon the man that you loved with your entire being. He’d stripped down to just his boxer briefs, lying propped on his side with his long limbs spread out as much as possible. One arm was extended toward you, hanging from the cushion, fingers curved but not closed. He’d fallen asleep with your hand in his, and even after you’d pulled yours back to change positions, his lay waiting for its return. A smile replaced your tired frown as a sigh fell from your lips. Love you, Logan.

As though you needed more warmth, you felt your whole body flush involuntarily like it always did when you looked at him, love and desire combining in your bloodstream to set you on fire. You thought about waking him, but you knew that he’d been having just as difficult a time falling asleep in what you’d come to think of as “sweltering” heat as you had and decided against it. But if he wakes up on his own… well that’s on him. Your smile grew wickedly as a wild thought crossed your mind, brought on by the heat and the way that you wanted him.

You quietly sat up and swung your legs over the side of the lounge, bare feet making contact with the cool stone slab of the patio. You hummed to yourself in satisfaction and considered laying your whole body on the slate ground, but you peeled your shirt off, sticking to your original plan like the fabric stuck to your skin. Dropping it, you slid your underwear off next, leaving both articles of clothing on the chaise where Logan would clearly see them as soon as those deep brown eyes opened. You headed down the few wooden steps to the lake-shore, carefully picking your way through the rocks until you reached the spot where the slope of the lake’s floor dipped dramatically. With a deep breath, you prepared yourself for the shock that always came from plunging into the icy water before jumping in with a loud, purposeful splash. The water was frigid like it always was in the glacial lake, but where you normally had to convince yourself not to run back to the shore and the warmth of a waiting shower, you relished the quick cool down, staying beneath the surface for a full ten count before resurfacing.

.. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..

The sound of a sudden splash startled Logan from the fitful sleep he’d been wrestling with. What the… He sat up groggily, blinking his eyes a few times while they adjusted to the low, silvery light of the moon. Running a hand through his hair to push it from his face, he immediately looked over in the direction of where you’d been lying, a moment of worry crossing his mind at your absence. But it was quickly dispelled when he saw your discarded clothing, a groan rumbling in the back of his throat at the thought of your naked body in the starlight. He stood quickly, yanking his own clothing off and throwing it on top of yours as he followed the phantom footsteps that you left on your way down to the lake.

He’d hated the fact that it had been too hot to hold your body close, to feel your skin at home against his, to indulge in you the way that he wanted and needed to, and the pile of clothing along with the sound of the splash finally clicked as he realized where you were. Why the fuck didn’t I think of that? His strides widened as he descended the last step, getting down to the shore and finally seeing you as you emerged from the shimmering water. Hair slicked down your neck and back, you slowly turned in the moonlight, the water obscuring your form from the chest down. He could barely see the curve of your breasts above the rippling waves that your splash had created. But I know...I know what’s under that water and… he tripped over his thoughts as he hurried to the water’s edge, and you smiled at him knowing what was on his mind.

“Nice and cool in here, Logan,” you called, more innocently that you should be allowed to sound. You smirked, raising yourself out of the water enough so that he could see your hardened nipples and the underside of your breasts. One hand came up to slowly move your hair over your shoulder, wringing it out so that water ran in rivulets down your exposed chest. You flipped your hair back behind you, showing off your throat. Oh, so that’s how she wants to play. “You should jump in if you’re hot.”

“Burnin’ up, darlin’,” he answered, thoughts racing to the forefront of his mind about how not even the icy water could do anything about how hard he was.

You let the hand you’d used to squeeze out your hair fall softly to your shoulder before running it down your slick, wet skin, eyes on him as your palm followed your own curves before disappearing into the lake so you could continue to touch yourself. Desire spread through him like a fever, stoking the flames that danced on his skin and in his blood from the temperature and the way that he wanted you.

You laughed as he waded in, taking a few long strokes until he was right next to you, arms cutting through the water with more intent than he ever used in his morning laps. Reaching for you beneath the cool, dark surface, his fingers found yours between your legs, right where he thought they’d be. “How am I supposed to cool off when you’re doin’ that, huh?” He gripped your hand, stopping your touch, replacing your fingers with his own and using the other hand to grip your hip. Your gasp was the most satisfying thing he’d heard in days, your lips falling open, your eyes rolling back. “So fuckin perfect,” he growled, nose pressed to the cool skin of your cheek before taking your bottom lip between his teeth. You hissed as he did. “You knew you were gonna wake me up with that splash, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” you sighed as he released your lip, plump now from his bite. “Are you mad at me?” You blinked up at him and he could tell that you were trying your hardest not to smile, to feign worry that he’d be upset with you.

“Only if you stop me,” he tilted your head to the side with his nose and chin, fingers still working their magic under the water as his tongue tasted the fresh droplets that clung to your neck.

You let out the most wanton moan he’d ever heard as you promised that you’d never stop him. Logan found himself wondering once again how he’d managed to get so lucky; how he’d found you, how he’d kept you, how he’d gotten you all to himself, and as always those thoughts filled him with a need to kiss you, to cover your lips with his and press your body against his own and swallow your sighs. Without another second’s hesitation, he did just that, devouring you with all the want he’d ever felt and then some.

His tongue pushed through your lips, sliding along your teeth as you gasped again at the sensation of two fingers entering you. His name slipped from your lungs down his throat as he deepened the kiss and deepened his touch, neither of you breathing, drowning in that kiss. The moon reflected off the water surrounding you both in silver circles as his free hand gripped the flesh of your ass before sliding up to the small of your back. He pressed his hips into your yours as he continued the kiss. You’d both be blue lipped and shivering soon, and he was already thinking about ways to warm you back up, all thoughts of the heat wave completely gone from both of your minds.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @agent-bossypants @lexxierave @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @ms-delos @songtoyou @gollyderek @traeumerinwitzhelden @breanime

#smooches #smooch drabbles #kiss prompts #kiss requests #logan delos #logan delos x you #logan delos x reader #oblivion #simplify #beat the heat #smutty #mc #smutterson #zesty #lemons #a kiss in the moonlight #lust

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 6 years

Text

Ice Packs (Wade Wilson x Reader)

A/N: This is one of the many non-requested pieces I’ve had in my drafts forever, and I was recently really drawn to finally writing the piece. It ended up taking a different turn than I expected, but I’m really proud of how in

Warnings for swearing and some sexual humor because, duh, it’s Deadpool aaaaaannnd a little bit of angst maybe. Is this considered angst? I don’t know. Also, minor Deadpool 2 spoilers (mention of Cable, Domino, and the events regarding Vanessa) but Deadpool 2 spoilers nonetheless; this piece takes place after it.

Anyway, enjoy!

~~~

Tapping on the window of your (number) floor apartment drew your attention away from the evening activity you were pursuing. Upon further inspection--turning your head a few degrees to the right in order to peer out said window--you felt yourself relax as you recognized the white-eyed, masked face looking back at you.

“Hold on a sec, Wade--I mean Deadpool.” You hummed softly as you sat your things aside. Pulling the plush blanket draped over your shoulders closer against your person, you stood and shuffled over to the window. With the suited and warm-bodied antihero leaning close to the glass, probably to keep himself from falling down the apartment building’s side, the glass panes were becoming increasingly foggy.

“Heya, [Y/N]!” Wade greeted, tumbling through the window after you opened it. Now that he was in a lighted area, you noticed darker patches of red on his bodysuit, which was scuffed and torn in places. Still, despite his looks the smell of dirt and blood that clung to him, the behind-the-mask, avocado-looking man seemed cheerful enough.

That is, until he made his way to your couch, walking stiffly and softly grunting every couple of steps.

Immediately, your brows furrowed in confusion and worry. You had been friends with Wade long enough that he had incredible healing abilities and, even if he was in pain, he rarely showed as much.

“Wade, are you okay?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” The antihero, despite his currently distressed situation, was at your side in moments, tugging you against him and covering your mouth with a gloved hand. With comically shifty eyes in every direction, he continued, “The mask isn’t off, little troublemaker! Anyone could hear and figure out my secret identity!”

You rolled your eyes and swatted the undoubtedly dirty glove off away from your face. Using the sleeve of your sweater to scrub your face clean from any possible grime, you replied, “I’m the only one here, nutjob. Don’t contaminate me with your filth, jackass.”

Wade--Deadpool--gasped softly and placed an oh so delicate hand over his chest, feigning hurt. “You’ve wounded my soul, [Y/N].” After a moment of waiting for a reaction that wouldn’t come, he dropped the act and, chuckling, agreed. “Yeah, that fight was brutal. You’re probably right not to touch me.”

“Seriously, though, Livepuddle, what’s wrong?” Watching him continue his hobbling to your couch, despite the fact that you had just told him to stop his contamination, you were filled with concern again. Perhaps his healing abilities had disappeared somehow?

“Oh, yanno--” He waved his hand dismissively as he plopped onto the couch and stressed across it. “--just a little stiff after war. I may have been impaled once or a few times, and not in the fun way. Also, it’s Livingpuddle. If you’re going to insult my shitty superhero title, at least do it right.”

“Same difference, ballsack-lookin’ dipshit.” Sitting on the nearby end table’s edge, you tried to steer the conversation back to the topic of your concern, “Normally, that’s not enough to make you groan and hobble a drunk old dude. Seriously, Wade, what’s going on? Did you lose your healing or something? Is it bad?”

The blank eyes of the Deadpool mask shifted slightly as Wade glanced over your concerned face. After a moment, he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Dammit, [Y/N], why’d you have to do those sad eyes? You know I hate sad eyes. I don’t deserve sad e--” The man stopped in the middle of the phrase and jerked his head to seemingly stare at the wall in which the window he had climbed in was occupied. “Hey! Stop listening to 500 Miles by The Proclaimers when you’re writing something heartfelt and sad! At least listen to Cher or something!”

“Wade, now’s not the time for your weird, out of body bullshit,” you grumbled. You had been friends with him long enough to have witnessed these many of these strange, loud monologues; therefore, they weren’t very surprising but they could certainly be annoying when you were trying to have a serious conversation.

“I’ll admit, that song has a good twang to it but it’s way overplayed.”

You couldn’t tell whether that comment was in reply to you, or if he was still having an imaginary argument. In mild frustration, you reached out to grab his wrist, in hopes of also grabbing his attention once again--

Only to have him hiss slightly and yank his arm away.

The two of you shared a wide-eyed look, yours of surprise and his of… Well, you couldn’t be sure. As the realization of situation donned on you, you retracted your hand and instead rested it in your lap with it’s twin.

“Is it the cancer?” you asked softly.

Yet another soft grunt escaped mask-covered lips as Wade looked away and gently squeezed the wrist you had tried to grab.

You gave him time to choose his words and, eventually, he spoke again, “Sometimes it hurts. A lot. Especially after regenerating and healing, it gets really bad in places. The pain from a fight isn’t s bad.”

“I’m so sorry, Wade.”

“Don’t be. I don’t need the pity.”

“It’s not pity, it’s empathy.”

“I don’t deserve any of it.”

Thick silence bloomed again in the dim light of your apartment living room, and you leaned back on your hands as you tried to think up a way to help your friend. Slowly, an idea formed.

“I’ll be fine,” Wade murmured after a few more minutes of gruesome silence.

“What if we numb it out of you?” you thought aloud in response.

Even with the mask covering the antihero’s face, you could tell his eyes were glittering with a dark humor. “What? With death or alcohol and drugs? Maybe all three?” Then the humor lightened a bit, and you could vaguely see the grin and wiggling of eyebrows behind red fabric. “Or maybe another, more physical activity?”

“Shut up and undress, Wade.” You hopped up from the end table and walked towards the kitchen, hyperfocused on your fridge.

“Hah, fourth time’s the charm!” Wade jumped up after you, albeit slower than he normally would have, and marched after you. “The kitchen? How inviting, [Y/N].”

“Stop that. I’m getting ice.”

“Ice?”

You nodded. “And lots of it.”

When you gave no other response, Wade sighed and leaned against the kitchen doorway--only to grunt softly and pull away again. “Enlighten me, you teasing little minx.”

You visibly cringed at the pet name and, after grabbing all the ice packs and ice trays in your freezer to place then on the counter nearby.

“It might work, or it might not. Either way, it’s worth a shot-- Hey, that rhymed! Anyway, I know it’s unlikely that it’ll take away all of the pain, but people use ice baths to for muscles and pain and stuff pretty often so--”

“Waterloo’s good, but what about Super Trouper with that Cher appearance? Now that had tears in my eyes! When the old cast danced with the new one? Iconic!”

You huffed as you tossed the last couple ice packs into your bathtub, which was now partially filled with water, every non-food icy item from your freezer, and several bags of ice you’d accumulated after a trip to the gas station down the street. “Could you please stop talking to the voices in your head?”

Wade scoffed from his current perch. He was sitting gingerly on the edge of the closed toilet next to where you stood. He had stripped out of his suit and its dangerous accessories--you had to lend him a pair of boxers that you’d often but no longer would use for sleep shorts in the process--and now skeptically awaited the ice bath you were preparing for him. You had also helped him clean off the blood and grime from his battle earlier that night, and now you could tell by the newer looking scars and pinker patches of skin where Wade’s skin and a smaller appendage or two had regenerated.

“I’m not talking to the voices in my head,” he replied, as if that were assuring, “I’m talking to the narrator. See, Super Trouper’s a bop!”

“What the fuck, Wade.” Rolling your eyes, you stepped away from the tub to admire your work. After making sure it reached your standards, you gestured for Wade to stand--which he did unwillingly, followed by a low grunt. “Get in the tub.”

“I’d be much more willing to do so if I had a buddy to join me.” Despite the pain he was still in, the scarred man managed a toothy smirk to go along with his flirty words. “Perhaps, take a chance on me--?”

“Sir, get in the tub before I physically fight you into it.”

“Kinky,” was his only reply. Realizing he was getting nowhere in the current situation, Wade got to his feet and stepped into the tub. If he gained goosebumps, they weren’t visible on his scarred body from you vantage point; however, he gave a shiver and a quick “Woo!” in response to the cold before dipping his other foot in. Placing one hand on the shower wall and the other on the rim of the tub, he slowly lowered himself into the icy water and adjusted said ice around himself.

You took his place on the toilet lid and watched in anticipation. Of course, you weren’t expecting anything to happen very quickly; you weren’t really sure what you were expecting at all, considering the circumstances and the person you were trying to help. Still, if Wade’s pain worsened for some reason, or he started to turned purple and blue before the pain started to lessen, you wanted to make sure that he knew he didn’t have to stay in the ice bath if it was a useless endeavor.

However, as you watched, Wade began to relax in his icy spa. He was a little too tall to fit in the small apartment tub, so his feet rested on the edge and he sunk sunk down until only the tops of his shoulder, neck, and head were above the water. He rested his head next to the faucet, closing his eyes and sighing, and for a moment he seemed more serene then you’ve ever seen him.

He was in pain frequently, you knew, due to the cancer he still endured and the constant regenerating that he dealt with as a bodily defense against it. He was in pain more than frequently, actually, but some days it was worse than others and he hated showing the pain either way.

You were pulled from your heavy thoughts when Wade shifted, turning his head and opening his eyes once more. Seemingly calmer and a bit hesitant now, he shifted and raised one arm out of the tub. While reaching the wet hand out to you, he muttered, “Thanks for worrying about me.”

You responded by gripping his hand and squeezed. “I know it’s difficult to bounce back after losing someone. I also know that while people like Cable and Domino care but they’re smart enough to not get in your way. I, on the other hand, am dense and will continue to bother and irritate you out of affection.”

Wade Wilson didn’t talk. However, you could see the different kind of pain that bloomed in his gaze--before he closed his eyes and turned his head away again. You would have thought he was upset with you if he hadn’t squeezed your hand.

It was quiet after that. You continued to tightly hold Wade’s hand while he rested, keeping a close eye on his condition. It could have easily been some hours, and eventually, he began to doze off, his head slowly tilting back in your direction and leaning against the rim of the bathtub. You took that moment to rest your head on his--if it roused him, he didn’t show it--and mentally wished him well, as if the connection would take your thoughts and slam it into his own head to the point that the wish would come true. Then, you gently shook him awake to move him to a more comfortable spot as thoughts of napping with frostbite creeped into your mind.

Dramatic? Perhaps, but still a risk you weren’t a fan of taking.

#imagines-hub #marvel #mcu #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool headcanons #deadpool imagines #deadpool x reader #wade wilson imagines #wade wilson x reader #wade wilson headcanons #deadpool 2 #marvel x reader #marvel headcanons #marvel imagines #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons

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bigmoodword · 6 years

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11/11/11 Tag

tagged by @silver-wields-a-pen -- thanks a bunch! this was so thought-provoking.

1. Who is your favourite oc?

probably a toss-up between the two oldest:

a werewolf who hides his cold-burning hate behind a sweet smile and endless offers to make bitchin’ cups of tea/coffee/poison/cocoa

an immortal with unhealthy escapist tendencies, livin’ that long life as if EXTRA is their personal motto

at this point, they’ve run through several names each. here’s hoping i finally set 'em in stone sooner rather than later.

2. What themes do you struggle writing?

healthy, established romance. i can do flirtation and doomed relationships, but actually solid relationships are a whole different beast. it’s kind of funny, because although there are plenty of problems to work through even in the best relationship, i have a tendency to tidy them with too nice a bow. lucky me, that’s my life experience, but it doesn’t make for the most engaging story.

3. What’s been the best thing about writing your wip?

striking creative oil. it’s wonderful to be so enamored with an idea that all my doubts dissipate and the words just... flow. it’s a feeling i remember from childhood, and it’s a relief to know it can still strike.

4. What themes has your favourite story included?

survivor’s guilt. betrayal. missed opportunities. miscommunication. learning to let go. learning how to love oneself. abuse. wearing a mask. class struggles. systemic oppression. the importance of hope--whatever that ultimately means for you.

honestly, these tend to pop up in all my stories to varying degrees.

5. What time of day do you prefer writing?

i tend to switch between the night owl and early bird approaches. the former pops up when i’m on a serious roll, the latter when i’ve hit a rhythm of jotting down a few hundred words over coffee.

6. What’s your favourite relationship trope to write?

a very specific kind of unrequited love. like the two are this 👌 close to actually coming together--they’d honestly be pretty great!--except they fail to communicate mutual interest so each assumes the other isn’t. or maybe they’re too preoccupied with their own issues to have a good relationship, so temptations aside, one or both decide it’s better to pass. it’s the idea of “maybe in another life” or “if only we’d met x years ago or y years from now.” can’t get enough of it!

7. What detail about your ocs has surprised you?

they’re all so messed up. i mean. granted, most of them are born by taking a personality flaw (whether my own or one i struggle to understand) to a certain extreme, but even those that start on an even keel inevitably hit a significant low point. i think it’s an extension of the idea “everybody’s got something” but i hope someday i can manage to have a character that’s both interesting and well-adjusted throughout.

8. Thoughts on including romance in other genres?

i’m ace, so romance often misses the mark for me. the fact my favorite romantic trope is two people not ending up together probably says a lot on its own. more specifically, unless the romance really adds to the wider story, i prefer it in the background. i think of certain characters flirting and growing closer as sprinkles atop the main plot’s cupcake.

9. Favourite writing snack?

coffee! i don’t tend to snack much in general, especially not when writing, but i’m always game to break out the bean juice.

10. Favourite villain trope?

the anti-villain. as a huge “fan” of gray morality, i guess that’s pretty darn predictable. while obviously i’m not here to root for villains, i like to understand them. i think it’s important to recognize how an otherwise good person becomes villainous, and i also have a certain affection for reformed villains. j/s

11. Best scene you’ve written?

oooo. that’s a good one. i’m not comfortable calling anything my “best” scene, but i tend to favor those where major plot points finally intersect. here’s one i still quite like--

background: urban fantasy, slayer organization, investigation into a recently caught perp

trigger warning: implied sexual abuse

Sven didn’t bother returning Nina’s call until he was in the werewolf’s ritzy apartment, and when she picked up, she immediately reported how the guy had copped to lying throughout his first interview.

As he examined the titles in the bookcases, Sven figured that meant his perp was smart enough to recognize a boon. The asshole who’d put him in a wheelchair had also thrown him a softball cover story, and if he played along, his pack wouldn’t get hurt. Lucky puppy.

Yet Nina remained skeptical. She specified how Nate—that beacon of truth—had caught the werewolf talking on the sly about a little friend. He wouldn’t just make that up, so of course she expected him to search high and low for any proof. Just in case.

He promised he’d do his best then sat cross-legged before the shelves. He put the phone on speaker, set it on a dizzyingly ornate rug, and began pulling books out. One by one, he’d flip robotically through the pages, looking for anything of note.

Meanwhile, Nina’s voice lost its authoritarian edge, “What was up before?”

“Nothing important. Just a guy. Lonely. Works at the hotel.” Having said the words, he tried not to picture her growing smirk. “One thing led to another and…”

“Good for you.” A pause. “Hey. Hey, Sven. Was he cute?”

“Quite.”

“'Quite.’” He could hear her rolling her eyes. “And? Did you, well, have a good time?”

“Debatably.”

“Huh.” Nina thought aloud, “See, you were awfully mad at me when I called you before. That would imply that you were, in fact, having a good time. Otherwise, you would’ve appreciated the excuse, right? Right. But you didn’t. Since we’re talking about you, that means something.”

He snorted.

“Really! It does, and I hope you didn’t just run this poor guy off, you know? You should try meeting up again. Do a little wine and dine. Something nice. Classy. You have that red sweater that looks nice; you should wear that.”

Sven looked down at said sweater. “… Right. Well, I gave him my number, so we’ll—”

“Damn, Sven! He must’ve been really cute!”

He remembered Drake’s anxious wiggling and cracked a smile. “Yeah, he was pretty damn cute.”

Bit by bit, he shared details, and Nina nearly blew out his phone’s speaker with a squeal. She insisted others would give up their firstborn for the kind of porno romance he apparently lived, and her office chair creaked as she huffed a triumphant sigh. She was so animated about the whole thing, as if it’d happened to her instead of him, and however briefly, he thought maybe he felt a fluttering of that same enthusiasm. He wanted to, anyway.

Even after hanging up, something twisted in his gut every time he thought about Drake calling or, hell, simply sending a three-letter text. But realistically, that was as likely to be dread as giddiness.

With pen and pad, Sven made notes about bookmarked passages as well as the odd comment in the margins, then restored each book to its original slot. Likewise, he compiled the contents of drawers, filing cabinets, and closets. He’d come prepared to scrub the evidence, but apparently, the evidence already suggested the werewolf lived alone.

There were no articles of clothing that deviated from the rest of his wardrobe. The master bath featured a single toothbrush, and the kitchen just enough rotting food to feed a particularly voracious adult male. He couldn’t even find a hair that wasn’t deep brown and short.

He bagged a phone and tablet for further examination, then muttered to himself about how he really should’ve done at least that much beforehand. That is, the first time he visited the apartment, but no. He’d made his catch, handed the perp off, and disappeared for a long run in the Boston fog like a coward.

To be fair, the place still gave him the creeps. It bothered him that the overturned furniture, smashed vase, and cracked mirror were all exactly where he’d left them. There were blood stains too. Deep brown and foul.

In a small safe, he found jewelry, yellowed woodcuts, and a first edition copy of Leaves of Grass. Extraordinary, sure. Cataloged, absolutely. Yet, save for the werewolf’s budding psych profile, such finds were also woefully meaningless.

He moved on to the lockbox dug out from under the king-sized bed. As with the safe, he was able to pop it open without too much difficulty, but unlike the safe, its contents raised eyebrows.

Polaroids. Hundreds of them aggressively rubber-banded into tidy stacks, all meticulously sorted. He held his breath as he unwrapped the first only to exhale a bitter “of course” at the revealed photos.

The shots lacked faces. Just bodies. All slender. All male. All dubiously legal. Twisted. Bound. Violated. Every single one manipulated with an escalating ingenuity. Clearly, the werewolf considered it an art-form.

After that first stack, Sven quickly flipped through the others. He was convinced the whole stash was worthless. None of the subjects had tattoos, piercings, or any significant scarring. No one depicted could be reasonably identified. He was wasting his time.

But he had to make sure, and the deeper he waded, the more his shoulders tensed, the more he felt walls close in. He caught himself listening for heavy footsteps outside the door.

Childish. At its heart, it was all so childish.

And pointless.

Then he found a stack with a face. He found Drake.

My questions

1. Who was your first OC? 2. What was the first story you ever wrote? 3. What book (or other piece of media) has most inspired you? 4. How do you fight writer’s block? 5. What is your favorite genre to write in and why? 6. How would you describe your writing style? 7. In general, do you think you’d get along with your protagonists? 8. What do you love most about your WIPs? 9. What is your favorite character trope? 10. What is your least favorite character trope? 11. What’s an upcoming scene you’re excited to write? Tagging: @mvcreates ; @whataremetaphor ; @phloxxiing ; @gaytivity ; @jessica-shouldbewriting ; @oyef ; @blurrywhitelies ; @savannahscripts ; @imaghostwriter ; @quilloftheclouds ; @maabon

#writeblr #tag game #11/11/11 #mywriting

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mooleche · 6 years

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Hiii I'm recovering from 3 days of antidepressant withdrawals, so can I have that whole "not nice OC asks" list for Nina? Yeah, the whole damn thing.

Dad holy fuck, sending you them BIG HUGS rn. I hope you feel better soon!

WHOLE DAMN THING HERE WE GO

1. What is one word to shut them up?

‘Enough'It's a very basic word but Nina knows that when it's used it's time to stop whatever she's doing that's causing someone to have to say it, mostly because her parents only ever used it on her when she was getting too rough with her sparring partners or when she was pushing herself too hard. It’s kind of a ‘snap back to reality’ trigger for her.

2. What is the thing they feel the most guilty about?

Giving up on her dream of becoming a real hero. Since she was born a mutant and grew up seeing Captain America and various other heroes fighting crime she wanted to use her powers for good to fight crime like them, so that's what she worked towards for like, a HUGE chunk of her life. So to have her health suddenly take a dive and then eventually get too hurt to keep up with her old antics crushed her spirit for a long time.

3. What is the worst pain they’ve ever experienced?

OH BOY. This would probably be when she was experimented on by Essex Corp. in her mid-teens. She was often punished for protecting the other children that were being experimented on and took on the brunt of what they dished out there, eventually leading to them going as far as removing her secondary mutation as a way to discipline her into submission. She was eventually rescued of course, and was able to repress these memories, but the amount of stress that was put on her body made it so that she could never fully fight crime again.

4. Describe their worst nightmare.

Having a child/seeing a child die. She's not SUPER into kids because of her lifestyle and taking care of Venom is already like caring for one, but she's got a mighty soft spot for them. This unfortunately changes after having a dream simulation of her future family used against her in a mission gone wrong, so she's terrified of putting a child in that type of scenario in the real world, instead putting her care into the children of the X-Mansion.

5. List 3 fears; one “surface level” fear, one “repressed” fear, and one “deep dark” fear.

Surface level - Dying. That's pretty much everyone's fear but Nina's faced it a few times too many not to worry that it could be around the corner at any second so she (stubbornly) lives her life to the fullest with Venom while she's able to repress it.Repressed - Needles. She doesn't remember why or how this fear came about (due to her memories of her terrible experience at Essex being shut away) but the sight of them makes her sick to her stomach.Deep dark - Losing control. Due to her symbiotic relationship with Venom and seeing how unhinged he can be in the wrong hands it's a deep dark fear of Ninas that one day she'll lose control of herself and Venom will completely take over. Despite all the reassurance that he gives that he won't do that she still is unable to shake the feeling that it will some day happen

.6. What is something that never fails to make them feel sick?

Large amounts of gore. She can stomach it more after being around Wade long enough, but the sight of too much blood/mutilation often leaves her sick to her stomach.

7. What feature (physical or otherwise) do they hate most about themselves?

Her body, but only because it can't handle much before it shuts down under stressful conditions. Also one large scar on her right side she has as a reminder of her last solo vigilante mission that ended poorly; a reminder that she had to give up what she loved most.

8. Do they have anything that triggers them?

The mention of Essex Corp always seems to trigger a deep-rooted feeling of fear in her that she can never piece together why until later in her life.

9. What is their greatest physical weakness?

Her body dsgkslgs. Due to all the experiments and stress put on her body she can't do much without overexerting herself. Bloody noses are always her red flag that she's overdoing it and needs to tap out.

10. What is their greatest mental weakness?

She's stubborn as hell and tends to keep things to herself for the sake of not stressing others out, which in turn ends up stressing everyone out even more.

11. Do they have any vices?

Despite getting nauseous around gore she's got a pretty big bloodlust. She loves fighting and will sometimes stray off the heroic path because of it.

12. Have they ever done something illegal? What was it?

She's killed a man before, which kind of births her bloodlust mentioned earlier and realizing that some people can only stop doing wrong if they're buried 6 feet underground.

She’s also erased a lot of students debts using her ink powers. Not all heroes wear capes ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

13. Which of the 7 Deadly Sins best describes them?

Definitely Wrath. You wouldn't suspect with how she acts normally (clumsy, easy-going, ect.) but she's very into the idea of torturing someone if it means getting the answers she wants or getting revenge by any means necessary.

Also probably Sloth, just because for her early 20's she spends a lot of her life in a bit of a depressed funk after everything that happens to her, but also a bitch loves naps.

14. Are they prone to outbursts (of violence, extreme emotion… exc… )?

Sometimes. Usually only if she or the people around her are being threatened will she get violent or start making threats. Or if she sees Scott Summers.

15. Who do they hate the most?

Scott Summers ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿Just kidding (kind of). She loathes villains that think they can get away with their crimes, or who are uncaring of the destruction they cause the rest of the world for their gain. Harassers and abusers are a close second but the ultimate bane of her existence is the scientist that tortured her when she was younger.

16. Is there anyone who makes them feel inferior?

Colossus. Which isn't intentional on his part, and she knows this, but he is such a momma hen to her most of the time that she feels like he doesn't think she's strong enough to hold her own on missions.

17. What sound always gives them a headache?

Anything that's TOO loud or high a frequency. Due to Venoms weakness to higher pitches of sound she has to be careful with some of the things she listens to or where she goes.

18. Is there a certain flavor that disgusts them?

Anything TOO sweet, which is a toss-up for her as Venom LOVES chocolate gsdkgds

19. Do they consider themselves ugly?

Not ugly, but she definitely feels she's serving a 'gross college student with no control of their life' look.

20. Do they consider themselves unloveable?Not really. She's fully aware she's lovable, but there are moments she's had where she's felt she couldn't be loved because she's a mutant.But then her parents burst through her door and give her a good fucking pep talk.

21. What is something that causes them great anxiety?

Losing control of herself or messing up a mission she's on.

22. Do they have any mental illnesses?

She suffers from PTSD, Depression and Anxiety.

23. Have they ever been assaulted/abused/raped?

She was abused severely back at Essex Corp, which she has managed to block out completely, and has gotten her fair share of fights in while acting as a vigilante.

24. Do they fear the possibility of being assaulted/abused/raped?

Somewhat. She knows it's all definitely a possibility, especially in her line of work, but having Venom with her makes her feel better about wandering the streets at night most of the time.

25. Have they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust?

Yes. But it was under the guise that they thought what they were doing would help her in the long run when it ended up just slapping a band-aid on a dam.

26. Have they ever been seriously injured?

Boy has she! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

27. How many times have they been in the hospital?

A handful of times in her teens, and then in her early 20s due to a lethal attack that almost left her for dead. After that she gains Venom and usually goes to Hank McCoy when needing medical services (no matter how many times he tells her he's not her personal hospital)

28. Is there a certain type of person that disgusts them?Racists, Anti-Mutant supporters, Rapists, take your pick. If they're doing bad things she most definitely does not like them.

29. Does what they cannot see scare them?A bit, yeah. She often will stay awake at night talking about it with Venom because he's technically old as shit, to which she'll sometimes wake Colossus up so he can give his 2 cents which is usually 'Go back to BED'.

30. Have they ever been bullied?When they were younger, yes. Being a mutant often makes you the Caesar of jokes, which she hated and resorted to eventually wearing half gloves as a result to cover her markings.

31. Do they have self-confidence or self-image issues?After losing her strength to fight she is often plagued with self-confidence issues, not feeling like anything is up to par with what she would like. Having a group of supportive friends and loved ones around her pulls her out of this hole eventually though.

32. Do they have a bad relationship with their parents?God no. Her parents are her heroes and while they aren't mutants themselves, have been with her 100% of the way to make sure she could live life as comfortably as possible.

33. Have they ever been in a relationship that didn’t work out so well?The majority of her relationships all ended on decent terms. She keeps in touch with them to keep the friendships going because they're all still cool folks.

34. Have they ever self harmed?No, she was always too nervous to go through with it.

35. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?That her body return to normal. Or that she could gain her old mutation back.

36. Are they in control of their emotions, or are their emotions in control of them?Because she's the current host of Venom she's kind of forced to keep her emotions in check. That of course doesn't mean that she doesn't have a hiccup in the road every now and then but she does her best to keep them both centered.

37. Have they ever had their freedom taken away?Yes. A few times to her displeasure, but she's always managed to get it back and get her revenge for it.

38. Have they ever been imprisoned?slgjksgdl yes, she's even gone as far as getting herself tossed into the Ice Box intentionally for missions

39. Have they ever been accused of something they didn’t do?Later in her life, yes. She gets set up at least once in order to do someone else's dirty work, which she does not take to kindly.

40. Do they often blame themselves for other people’s problems?Sometimes, yes. But only if she wasn't able to help in the matter as expected.

41. Do they get sick often?Nah, despite being a walking enigma of health she surprisingly doesn't get sick.

42. Are they comfortable with where they are in life?She likes to think she is. At the start of her new chapter in life she's kind of drifting around in college and just trying to live as normal a life as she can despite wanting to do more but not wanting to overwhelm her body in the process.

43. Do they wish that they could change their pasts?Yes. There's large chunks of her past that she has no recollection of and wishes (though fears) that she could change or at least SEE them.

44. What’s one thing they wish they could do more often, but can’t?Protect her loved ones and/or spend more time with Colossus, since they're schedules are always so borked.

45. What is the emotion they most commonly experience?Exhaustion or Confusion sgkgls

46. Have they ever contemplated suicide?Unfortunately, yes. During her teen years after her experience she fought heavily with it due to not knowing what happened to herself in the gap of memory missing, just the emptiness that stayed with her.

47. Have they ever gone so far as to attempt suicide?No, while she considered it many a time she decided against it because her desire to figure out what happened overpowered the desire to die.

48. Is there anyone that they would willingly kill?Oh honey. Pick a name out of the hat, she's good to go LOL

49. If [name] was put into ______ situation, they’d rather die than live to see it through.This is WAY far off but in her story, but probably the reawakening of Knull. Since he's the god of symbiotes it would ultimately destroy her because it would mean Venom would be reverted to his original feral self and Knull would probably force her to watch as he takes over Earth, a situation she would attempt to thwart but would be more than welcome to die than see him reach his goal.

50. Create your own!Time to reveal a sad plot in Nina's story (since I don't know when I'll get to this hhh) -Nina and Colossus actually met each other when she was younger when the x-men came to her rescue at the Essex corp, but because of Charles Xavier doing his special MIND TRICKS she holds no recollection of ever meeting him or any of the conversations they held when she was recovering from the incident at the mansion. So they have this strange familiar feeling when they first meet but think it's just a possible attraction to one another and can't place why :')

#long post #oc shit #Nina Knight #master-sass-blast

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patiencekindnesscourage · 6 years

Text

That was a yes...

Cherry clambered over the final log that lead into the area surrounding Bardock’s pond, sliding down the hill that created a natural barrier and stretched into the foothills. Bardock didn't appear to be home, likely off taking advantage of the warm weather to find a mud hole to wade in and fight the summer heat. The paladin sighed softly. Wallowing meant she'd be cleaning muddy fur out of his gear for weeks... and out of her own armor and clothes as well. It was a hassle, and time consuming, but she understood that it did help keep the bugs off of him. Turning, she popped over the log to make sure Grant was doing okay through the thick brush. "We're here!" She grinned, vanishing again to set her pack down against the trunk of a tree and stretch, taking in the cool air. "It's good to be back, isn’t it?"

Grant smiled, following not too far behind he propped down his own things against a nearby boulder. "Been a long time," He said. For the past month they had been planning this little trip, and especially now with everything going on they needed it. It was a quiet to place to relax, and especially to think. "We really should come here more often, eh? Only a day's trip from the city." He came up behind Cherry and wrapped his arms around her. "It's been an absolutely lovely day so far, darlin'. First that breakfast, and now we'll finish it off here."

Cherry inhaled heavily, savoring the scent of sweet grass as it cooled from the heat of the day, the subtle musk of the forest around them and the crisp, clean smell of the pond. She loved it out here. Saying they needed this little getaway was an understatement after the past months events and injuries, Roxy going missing and the threat of war, it didn’t look like things would be improving any time soon. A night under the stars was exactly what the doctor ordered, at least for a night or two. "Too long." She sighed softly, sinking back within his embrace, arms gently hugging his own around her. "I can think of few places better to finish a good day. And i'm glad you enjoyed the breakfast." Mostly she was glad she didn't burn it. "Just you, me, and the stars."

Grant nodded. He took in a deep breath, then let out a relaxed sigh. "Mhm..." He kissed the crook of her neck. "A beautiful night... a beautiful woman. Let's set up, eh? I have a little somethin' for you, but first... mind gettin' a fire started while I unpack?"

The paladin smiled softly, coloring beneath his kiss as she shared the view with him for a moment, taking in the peace and comfort of the man she loved. Finally, she gave a chuckle and nodded " I'll get the fire going... And I brought the leftover biscuits. Well... four, I gave the rest to William." She extracted herself slowly to gather the kindling and clear a patch of soil for the fire, digging down slightly before steepling the wood and digging around for her flint.

Releasing Cherry, Grant moved over to the boulder where he left his things. "Great! I brought some bacon. Found a few pods of okra too at the market before we left." He opened his pack, and gathered up the food he had brought, all packed neatly in cloth. He set them by the fire, then started to set up their tent. When he was finished, he produced a bottle of brandy from his pack, the expensive kind he kept on the top shelf of his liquor cabinet. 'Corlain Brandy.' "This little hideaway will always be special to me, darlin'. Nothin' but good memories here, because right here... this was when I really fell in love with you. Here," He handed the brandy over to her. "Let's open this thing up. Real special vintage, eh? Been agin' since before Orcs were on Azeroth. They say it's like heaven in your mouth. Just gotta get a corkscrew and some glasses from the ol' pack."

"You found Okra?" She blinked, lighting the fire and beginning to slowly feed it until it built itself into a decent blaze. Dusting her hands off on her pants she peered curiously at the brandy. She had seen it at the top of the cabinet, mostly collecting dust. Where it was placed, she figured it must be something truly special and left it where it was. She had heard of the vintage from several friends but never having actually seen it before, didn’t realize what it truly was until now. It wasn't entirely surprising that grant had a bottle of it, in fact, it seemed strangely fitting, he tended to collect odd vintages for special occasions and kept them like treasure within his cabinet. Turning the bottle over in her hands, she smiled, feeling her cheeks heat up beneath her growing blush. "It was my secret for years, mostly a place to escape for me to go to and think, or even just relax..." She said quietly, looking back up to him. "And your first visit here I threw you into the pond, and realized when you splashed back up... that I loved you too." She moved over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "It's one of my favorite memories. And if this is as old as you say it is, we might not want to sit too close to the fire."

Grant chuckled softly. "And I remember I got you back for throwin' me into that pond, so we're even." He rummaged through his pack for awhile. "And the whole place is our wonderful little secret. Ought to stay that way too." Smiling, he gathered up a corkscrew and two drinking glasses. "Now I believe I made a little promise awhile ago. About when you finished that Westfall breakfast." He fell to a kneel, and set the glasses down by the fire. "Darlin', I've told you this before, and each time I meant every word of it. You're an amazin' woman, and everyday spent with you has done nothin' but put a smile on my face or made me smell the roses. My time with you is somethin' I don't ever want to end, and so... let's make it that way. You and I, darlin'... always." He unholstered one of his revolvers, and popped the cylinder open. An empty cartridge fell out of it, and looped around it was a truesilver ring with three small diamonds of a clear cut on the head. Inside the stones was a faint swirl of blue arcane energy. It seemed to shine, but gave off no light. "Chereisie Crawford... I'd be the happiest man in the world if you made me your husband." He smiled, eyes staring up at her as he presented the ring.

Cherry wrinkled her nose at him. "Yes, we are even... at least until it happens again." She winked teasingly, adding a final log to the fire while he collected the corkscrew and glasses. "This place will always be our little secret... beyond Bardock of course, but I don't think he's talking." She smiled affectionately, clutching the bottle against her chest until he knelt. The small paladin blinked at him, feeling her cheeks suddenly flushing more. She stared in surprise as he unholstered one of his revolvers, revealing the cartridge with the ring held around it. The paladin swallowed suddenly, looking roughly like a beach fish and still clutching the bottle of brandy.

She had always thought he was being playful when he claimed he'd propose if she made the breakfast, her own goal of making it to give him something she knew he loved, that he missed, and to surprise him.

Cherry nearly dropped the bottle as she stared at the ring, then at him, quickly putting the bottle down before it actually did drop. "Oh..." She stuttered softly, gaze finding his as he smiled up at her, releasing a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in. Too many words and emotions bubbled up in her head, colliding in a chaotic mess that left her tongue tied, grasping for the right words, something eloquent.

Tears began to build within her gaze as she nodded and slowly knelt before him. "I... yes... " She finally managed, breaking into a smile that lit her freckled features.

Grant closed his eyes for a moment, and smiled. "That was a yes..." He murmured to nobody in particular before opening his eyes again. His hand gently caressed her cheek, fingers brushing away tears as he pulled one of her gloves off to slowly slide the ring on. Then he kissed her, arm pulling her in and holding her close. He was exactly where he wanted to be. With the woman he loved so deeply.

Something within her broke, all those bundled emotions spilling out in a happy chuckle. She swallowed again and grounded herself in the warm caress of his hand. Warmth flooded from her as she sunk into his kiss, holding him tightly and folding within his arms as he pulled her in. The tears came slowly at first, trekking freckled cheeks to land on his chest and her own, building into a light rainfall of joy. "I never want it to end either." She whispered softly. "You are a blessing in my life, my Light." He kissed her again. He was stilll smiling, and suddenly, with her in his arms, he playfully brought them both to lay comfortably on the soft patch of grass. His eyes darted to the stars briefly, then turned to meet Cherry's eyes. "You make me so damn happy, Cherry!" He excalimed. "I love you so much, and I know things ain't exactly the most peaceful especially with everythin' that's been goin' on, but I know no matter what happens we'll pull through it, and see it to the end. I can't see a future without you."

Cherry 's own smile couldn't be removed even if she tried, returning his kiss and adding several of her own until he lay them both on the grass. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, still in pleasant disbelief. She hated how she could never find the words she wanted when emotions were involved, left smiling up at him, tugging her other glove off to toss to the side and freeing her to cup his cheek within her palm, chuckling at his exclamation and turning even more red. "I wish I was as eloquent as you." She smiled. "You make me happy too, more than I’ve ever felt, ever knew that I -could- feel. Every day and every night, every moment... I love you, Grant Cousland... there is no future without you." The paladin admitted, caressing his cheek and letting him feel a small touch of what she felt, not wanting to overwhelm him. "Good or bad, so long as I'm with you, we can survive anything."

@redeemed-gunslinger

(taken from rp logs, so I apologize fort the choppy format)

#Grant and Cherry #Rp snippets #He's so adorable!!!

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stealther-gurl · 6 years

Text

Lifeguard AU (Aqualad x Reader)

Word Count: 1500+

@actualaqualadtrashcan (and others) wanted an Aqualad lifeguard AU! Sorry I couldn't think of a better title for this one ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Though it was summer, New England hardly ever got above seventy-seven degrees Fahrenheit. But for (Y/N), that was boiling hot. Every day they were sitting on the big white chair marked with a red cross. The lifeguard seat was meant for two, but the Happy Harbor beach was never crowded enough to warrant more lifeguards.

Until today.

"Jake, I don't need a partner!" (Y/N) told their boss. "I've been doing this for three years, and everyone on the beach knows me well enough not to cross me."

"(Y/N)-"

"And if you're worried that I'm getting soft because things are getting too calm, I swam out to save a six-year-old and a gross old guy who went past the sandbar yesterday."

"(Y/N)," Jake said sternly. "It's not that I don't have confidence in your ability to enforce safety and to save those poor saps, but it's national park regulations. Lots of people have been moving to the Harbor in the past year, and by law, we are required to hire at least one more lifeguard, whom I've already found. Plus, this way you'll be able to sit back and relax."

(Y/N) huffed and marched towards the office door. "I hate sitting in that chair."

"Don't forget to be here early tomorrow! I want you to show our new recruit the ropes!"

(Y/N) slammed the door behind herself.

In all their years on the job, (Y/N) had never been late to work. Today, however, they waited in their car for ten minutes after they parked just to tick of Jake.

Jake ignored their attitude, all smiles to keep things flowing smoothly for their newest lifeguard.

"(Y/N), this is our new fish, Kaldur." Jake pointed with his thumb at a dark-skinned, tattooed guy who had to be at least six feet tall, and that blond hair had to be dyed.

"Kaldur, this is going to be your mentor, (Y/N). They’re the only other guard we've got, but they’re the best we've ever had, and the most dedicated." Jake was so buttering them up right now, but it was not going to work.

"It is a pleasure to be working with you," Kaldur stuck out his hand.

(Y/N) eyed him, grabbing their life board as they pushed past him. "Charmed." They huffed.

They could hear his footprints as he followed them across the sand. So he was going to be one of those insufferable puppy-dog types, wasn't he?

"Mister Jake said you were to teach me about being a lifeguard here." He said. One hand was around the second board provided by Jake, the other was shoved deep in his khaki shorts pocket.

"Not much to teach," (Y/N) snapped, propping their board up on the seat and pushing their hair back. "You make sure people follow the rules, and save their bacon if they get stupid and start to drown." They boosted themself up onto the seat.

Kaldur nodded, deep in thought.

"Hey! No glass bottles! We've got bare feet here!" (Y/N) gave a short burst on their whistle. The man carrying the bottles of root beer glared at them, but nevertheless, he headed back to the parking lot to put his bottles in the car.

(Y/N) nodded promptly and put on their sun visor, already scanning for any more potentially dangerous situations.

They didn't spot any, but what they did see was Kaldur running after the man, calmly inviting him to perhaps buy a commemorative pitcher from the beach's gift shop to put his root beer in instead. The man wasn't too happy about "wasting his money," but he didn't seem as bitter as when (Y/N) yelled at him, and he even shook Kaldur's hand before joining his family on their towels.

A group of elementary-age kids that (Y/N) typically considered "troublemakers" came up to Kaldur and asked to get a better look at his tattoos. (Y/N) wanted to yell at Kaldur to get back to work, but he was being incredibly patient with the kids.

(Y/N) didn't want to admit that they became very interested too when he took off his shirt to show them where the tattoos snaked up his arms and connected on his back.

Kaldur was the first to notice when a boy was wading right for a jellyfish. He helped the kid avoid the stingers, and even helped the fish swim to safety. He also noticed a pod of dolphins farther out to sea and pointed them out to a little girl with dolphins on her swimsuit. He even gave a brief swim lesson to one of (Y/N)'s classmates who seemed afraid of the water

Meanwhile, (Y/N) hadn't even left their stupid chair.

"Who's the new guy?" (Y/N)'s friend asked them a few hours later, leaning against the guard chair.

"New guard." (Y/N) said, squinting at the water. Was that kid drowning?

"He's cute," Zoe said, licking her frozen yogurt cone. She eyed Kaldur, who was helping a couple kids place a flag on top of their sandcastle.

"You're gonna wait thirty minutes after you finish that before you go swimming, right?"

Zoe sighed and saluted. "Yes, Sergeant."

"Help!" Several kids screamed, pointing out to the water. (Y/N) squinted, and out beyond the sandbar they could see the telltale struggle in the water of someone drowning. They jumped down from their seat and sprinted across the sand, diving into the waves. Their strokes cut through the water, and they made good time out to the kid, even with the waves.

"It's okay, I got you," they told them, recognizing the thrashing person as the girl Kaldur had taught earlier.

"Got too cocky, didn't you?" (Y/N) muttered to themself. Their rescue-ee was too busy coughing up water to hear. (Y/N) grabbed the teen under her arms, kicking as hard as they could to keep them both afloat. Then a huge wave came crashing down, forcing both of them under the water.

The wave smacked (Y/N) down against the rocks at the bottom, and another wave tossed them upside down. They gasped for air and felt something grab their arm.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

Of course Kaldur had to come out and save them. He set (Y/N) down on the sand, and Zoe handed them a towel

"You saved me!" The other drowning victim cried, throwing her arms around Kaldur. The poor boy blushed as she kissed his cheek and everyone began to cheer for him.

(Y/N) turned on their heels and marched up to the guard chair again.

Zoe ran after them. "(Y/N), are you-"

"No, no I'm not okay!" (Y/N) snapped. "The new guy just showed me up, of course I'm not okay!"

They slammed the door to the gift shop and Jake poked his head out of the office.

"So, how's the new fish doing?" He grinned.

(Y/N) slammed a king-size Hershey's bar on the countertop.

"That bad, huh?" Jake winced as he rang up (Y/N)'s order.

"Try good," (Y/N) mumbled. Jake raised a brow in their direction, so they elaborated.

"He's a better lifeguard than I've ever been, and I think I have a freaking crush on him but there's no way he'd like me back after I've been rude to him all day and he has a bunch of way cuter girls falling at his feet."

"Are you sure that he thinks they're cute?" Jake asked, "Because he's staring through that window at you like some lovestruck idiot."

(Y/N) couldn't keep themself from not turning around to look out the window.

Both they and Kaldur looked away pink-cheeked.

Jake patted (Y/N)'s shoulder. "I had a whole bunch of applications from people who wanted to be lifeguards, and I told myself I'd only hire one more for now, to keep your ego intact until you could learn a little humility from this one. There were probably a dozen other people more qualified to be a guard here, but something made me chose him.

"Maybe it was meant to be."

(Y/N) sighed, thinking over what Jake had said as they walked out of the gift shop.

Kaldur was waiting right outside the door.

"Hey."

(Y/N) looked at their feet and broke the candy bar in half. "Chocolate?"

"Thank you," Kaldur nodded and accepted the treat.

"Look, I'm sorry, I've been a huge jerk to you when you've been nothing but nice to me and you saved my life, so...can we just...you know..."

"Start over?" Kaldur asked.

(Y/N) nodded. "Yeah."

Kaldur stuck out his hand. "I would like that."

(Y/N) shook his hand. They laughed, both realizing too late that their hands were covered in melted chocolate.

"HELP!" Someone hollered, and they both looked up abruptly.

"Do you want to get it, or should I?" (Y/N) asked.

Kaldur smiled at her. "How about we both do it? Together?"

(Y/N) tossed him a life board, and the two ran towards the waves.

#young justice #lizart writes #aqualad #young justice fanfiction #young justice x reader #kaldur'ahm #young justice one shot #aqualad x reader #young justice drabble

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starlight-parkers · 7 years

Text

My Girl (Peter Parker x Mutant!Reader)

Summary: you take peter to a party and your friends take a liking to him.

Authors note(s): This was a request from @imaginesyes, sorry it took so long... hope you enjoy it doll xx

Warning(s): a cuss word and some fuff >.<

My Girl

"Hiya Peetie!"

"HOLY SHIT"

Peter yelped as he dropped his books. The pace of his breathing increased as he tried to recover from his fright, the young brunette bent down to gather his books before jumping and falling back onto his butt when he noticed her standing there, his books scattered around him once again.

She grinned down at him like a Cheshire Cat whilst he took in her appearance from his position from the floor. Smooth supple legs were exposed due to her wearing that black skater skirt he loved so much, her feet we clad in black and white high top converse-that were overly dirty because of how often she wore them-whilst she was draped in one of Peter's midtown sweaters. And of course, she donned some Lacey black cat ears, just because. The girl standing before him, held out a hand for the young genius, still flashing her pearly whites.

"Don't scare me like that!" He yelped, as she giggled at him.

"Whatcha doing down there Peetie!?" She gushed, her white teeth standing out against her black lipstick. Peter rolled his eyes at his girlfriend's antics before grabbing her hand and almost collapsing into her as she hauled him up.

"What do you want (Y/N)?" the teen scientist sighed, gathering his books before placing them in his locker which he slammed shut.

"That's not a nice way to talk to your girlfriend now is it Mr Parker" she teased, batting her eyelashes up at him. Peter felt his lips quirk up into a faint smile as he looked at his girlfriend, she grinned right back at him before linking her arms with his and walking down the corridor.

"Sorry angel, what's up?"

The girl ceased her walking, taking Peter's hands in her own and stopping in front of him. She teasingly pressed her body flush against Peter's, bringing her lips up to his ear. "Well..." she begun, tracing patterns on Her boyfriend's firm chest with her index finger. Peter felt himself tense under her touch, he both loved and hated the affect she had on him. The pair had been dating a little over a year, ever since (Y/N) had shown up at the avengers compound with Wade. He had been enamoured with how she carried herself and she felt exactly the same way about Peter. "There's this party at the X-mansion on Friday night and-"

"Nope" the super-powered male stated blankly, cutting his girlfriend off. Out of his peripheral vision, Peter could see her facade falter, she was used to getting her way with him, especially when she put on a confident act. He never really said no to his girl. "No parties, you know I hate parties"

The mutated girl detangled herself from Peter with a pout, yet their hands remained intertwined. The taller boy held her at arms length, his eyebrows quirked in amusement. "But Peterrrrr, I want you to meet my friends"

(Y/N) didn't have many friends at Midtown, most of them were from the X-mansion. (Y/N) was born a mutant, with powers very similar to the Cheshire Cat, she was able to teleport and disappear whenever she pleased. Since she could handle her mutation from a young age, her parents allowed to continue to attend regular school whilst training with Charles Xavier. The young mutant girl had practically grown up there, so was able to form very close bonds with the other mutants her age. In all honesty, if it hadn't been for Wade, (Y/N) wouldn't have plucked up the courage to speak to Peter.

"I know darlin'" Peter cooed, cupping his girl's cheek, she immediately leaned into his touch, her own hand coming up to cover Peter's. "I'm just not ready yet, okay?"

The bell rung over the couple as (Y/N) annoyedly nodded her head in agreement. The pair shared a quick chaste kiss before continuing their journey to class. "Mark my words Mr Parker, I will get you to a party one of these days"

"Sure you will babe" the boy chuckled, kissing his girlfriend's cheek. She simply grinned at Peter as she let her body disappear into thin air, only her smile remaining - for a short while. Peter jumped back from his girlfriend, head whipping around to make sure nobody saw.

"Babe! You know you shouldn't do that in public! Someone could see you" Peter chastised, looking over his shoulder once more. His girlfriend smiled once more, it was much wider this time. Peter was almost certain that in her invisible state, she had winked at him too.

"Try and stop me" she cooed with a silky tone, before lightly tapping Peter's ass, causing him to gasp out and then pout, a crimson hue gracing his creamy cheeks. All the while his girlfriend watched in amusement, before teleporting and reappearing at the end of the corridor, in a skilful manner, so nobody had noticed. Peter gazed after her, as she sashayed away with a sway in her hips as she walked to her next class.

Peter stood by his locker, rubbing his cheeks to get rid of his blush, wondering how he ever deserved such a girl.

(Y/N) groaned as she lay on her back, one leg bent at the knee and the other outstretched. She had her arms folded behind her head as she leisured on the cool surface of a high metal shelf. Her (eye colour) hues almost drifted shut as she listened to her boyfriend and his mentor drone on about physics.

The girl's tail roamed freely now, it was part of her mutation. The soft black fur tickled her cheek as it waved about, her now-visible cat and ears twitching at the touch.

(Y/N) rolled onto her stomach and sighed, when she didn't even get so much as a glance from her boyfriend, she sighed again.

And again.

And agai-

The clattering of tools sounded in (Y/N)'s ears as Peter dropped a drill in frustration."Babeee" he whined.

"Peterrrr" (Y/N) drawled, mocking the boy's tone. A large grin graced her features as Peter ran a hand through his hair and then down his face.

"I'm sorry Mr Stark" Peter apologised, causing Tony to push up his goggles, a smirk tugging at his lips. "She's being really bratty today"

This caused the older man to let out a large chuckle and (Y/N) to furrow her brows. "Bratty?"

Peter laughed as his girlfriend sat upright, hitting her head on the ceiling. She let out a few curses, practically fuming. "Yeah" the spider boy nodded, returning back to his work. "She's salty because I didn't agree to go to some party on Friday"

At this point, (Y/N) had disappeared before reappearing by Peter's side, her hands folded over her chest. She glared at him, her slightly puffed tail swishing violently behind her ~ a sign of anger. "Sorry if a girl just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend" She snarled, baring her sharpened white teeth.

"We can spend time together now" Peter stated absentmindedly, picking up a drill and getting back to work. Tony looked between the angry young female and the focussing young male, a small smile tugging at his lips. He shook his head playfully before picking up so goggles and tossing them to (Y/N).

"C'mon Ms (L/N)" Tony spoke as she turned to address him. "You're a smart kid, why don't you join us?"

The girl growled again as Peter looked up."I don't want to"

"But babe-"

"No!" She snapped. "I'm sick and tired of you blowing me off, you're always at this damned 'internship' and we never spend time together."

"But-I"

She growled, the pupils of her (eye colour) eyes becoming small slits, much like a cat. "I said shut up!"

At this point, Tony was fully engrossed in the young bickering couple, they reminded him exactly of himself and Pepper. Tony leaned forward on the table, resting his elbow on the cool surface.

"I'm just asking for one day of your time Peter, we've been going out for a year and I've met all of your friends but you haven't met any of mine." (Y/N) huffed with a frown. An idea popped into her mind, as mischievous glint in her eye as he begun to pretend to sulk. "Do you even care about me?"

Peter shook his head desperately as his mentor begun to quietly chuckle, Tony knew Peter was totally whipped for this girl. "No no, baby, you know that's not true... it's just that I-"

"Oh god, I don't know how much more of this I can take." Tony drawled, dragging himself up and circling the table before slinging his arms round both of the teenagers. "Ms (L/N), I would absolutely love it if you took Mr Parker over here, to that party of yours on Friday night"

"You would?!" Both teens chorused, as (Y/N)'s expression changed to an excited one and Peter's changed to a shocked one.

"But Mr Stark- the internship" Peter fumbled, trying to find an excuse, Tony shook his head before leaning closer to Peter.

"Internship my ass, underoos, you've got a pretty little young lady here dying to spend time with you" the older man stated, causing (Y/N) to blush. "You're going to that party"

Peter watched as his girlfriend squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly and swishing her tail about. She gave Tony a toothy smile, showing him her pearly whites before pressing a platonic kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Mr Stark! Thank you!"

"No worries, I'll lend Pete one of my cars and he can take you out for a nice dinner before hand... all on me" Tony continued, winking at Peter who was starting to feel sorry for himself. (Y/N) squealed again, disappearing in a flash before reappearing on the other side of Tony, giving him another hug.

"I can't thank you enough Mr Stark!"

"Anytime dollface and you can thank me by telling Wade to stay away from the compound, the guy's nuts!" he grinned as (Y/N) nodded enthusiastically before turning to face his young apprentice. "Make sure you have enough fun for the both of us kiddo! We're done for today"

Peter grimaced as the billionaire left the room, leaving the boy with his now overly excited yet lovable girlfriend.

The brunette vigilante let out a shaky breath as he pulled Tony's sleek black car into the driveway of the X-mansion. He leaned back in his seat after parking the car before turning to watch his girlfriend swipe on a thick layer of clear gloss. He admired her from the side, her hair was completely straightened (he had to watch her for 3 hours as she did so), tumbling down her back, the eye lids of her large (eye colour) eyes were painted with a golden tint and some black winged eye liner. The rest of her makeup was simple, although Peter thought she didn't need it. The girl wore a black cropped shirt underneath a loose flowing checked shirt that she'd borrowed from the teen superhero. She donned her signature black high-top converse along with some black ripped skinny jeans that hugged her figure beautifully.

As he admired her, he couldn't help but think. ‘You can do this Peter, you love her. You owe it to her to meet her friends’

"Peetie, baby, you're staring" she whispered, looking over to him. At this point she'd let her tail and ears appear, knowing she was safe in the confines of the car, where the windows were tinted. Peter gave her a sheepish smile, before leaning over the gear to press a kiss to her glossy lips.

"I'm sorry" he murmured against her lips, closing his eyes and sighing. She cupped his cheeks, allowing him to lean into her touch.

"You're nervous" she frowned, as he slowly opened his eyes to look at her again.

"Baby I-"

"You don't need to be" she interjected, running her hands through his hair softly. "You're an amazing guy, Pete, they'll love you. I love you"

The teen smiled at his girlfriend's words, he couldn't reply with words so he just kissed her again. The pair pulled back before things got too heated and Peter allowed her to reapply her lip gloss before they headed inside.

Music was blaring throughout the mansion and Peter could only recognise a tune or two as his girlfriend tugged him through the crowds. Many of the young mutants where dancing around like crazy, some even making out (despite Charles' rules). The young superhero could feel his nerves creeping up on him every time (Y/N) stopped to talk to someone, he wanted to make a good first impression on her friends.

After a while of walking around, (Y/N) begun to squeal excitedly. She briefly let go of Peter to hug a red-haired girl and then a brunette beside her. Peter watched as they chatted happily, he blushed when the girls turned to look at him with smiles and giggles. A few minutes later, the trio walked over to Peter who stood awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Peter these are my friends Jean and Jubilee" (Y/N) grinned gesturing to the two girls in front of him. "Jean is a brain freak and Jubilee's just cool"

"Hey!" Jean whined as the other three teens giggled. "So who's your friend (L/N)?"

Peter's brows furrowed, friend? He thought that they knew you were dating. "Actually I'm her-"

"Best friend!" (Y/N) interjected frantically. The others shared a weird look as the girl tried to cover up her mistake. "He's my best friend, yeah, uh um... he's spider man!"

Peter frowned at her antics as she looked up at him nervously, her eyes conveyed that she'd explain later so he opted not to say anything. "Wait?" Jubilee squeaked like a fan girl. "You're the spiderman?!"

"The one and only" Peter chuckled at the girl. The group went on to talk for a while, Peter gradually feeling more comfortable around the mutated teens. They shared more common ground as they all had powers in some kind of form, he knew they wouldn't expose their identity because their powers were just as secret.

Soon enough Jean and Jubilee went off to get some drinks and the couple found themselves slow dancing to an old Shawn Mendes song. Peter grinned as his girlfriend hummed the melody into his chest, as they swayed together like the couples around them. He couldn't help but think back to how she'd referred to him as a friend, what was that about?

"So, I'm your best friend, huh?" He teased, causing her to pull away, he sighed at the loss of contact but his pout soon faded as she quickly grasped his hands. She blushed as Peter smirked at her. "C'mon now angel, don't be shy. You're usually so confident"

"Sorry baby" she laughed, leaning back into his chest. "I haven't told them that I'm dating you yet"

"And why's that?" Peter smirked, as they resumed their dancing.

"They're both obsessed with Spidey and I didn't have it in my heart to tell them that I'm dating him" (Y/N) explained with a faint smile, looking up to meet the amused gaze of her boyfriend. He shook his head, a small smile of his own gracing his features as (Y/N)'s fluffy tail lightly brushed over his hand.

"They'll figure it out sooner or later" Peter snickered as the shorter girl rolled her eyes. "You're a good friend"

"And you're a good boyfriend"

Jubilee and Jean soon came back with four red cups filled with cream soda. They group talked and drank their drinks before (Y/N) excused herself to the bathroom. Peter, Jubilee and Jean continued to talk, but the young male became increasingly uncomfortable when the girls started asking him random questions.

"Is the suit really that tight? I bet it makes you look good!"

"Do you work out? I swear I can see a six pack from under that checked shirt"

"You're so cute"

"You're totally my type"

It's not that he wasn't flattered, the girls were sweet but he felt like he was betraying his girl. Peter was comfortable with this kind of stuff around (Y/N) , because she was his girlfriend, she understood him more than anything or anyone else. The (hair colour) girl didn't just find him attractive, she liked him for him. Not Spider-Man, not Tony Stark's apprentice, but plain old Peter Parker from Queens.

"Hey, one more question Peter" Jean piped up, pulling the boy out of his thoughts. He nodded, giving the girls the go ahead as he sipped his lemonade.

Jubilee cut in. "If you had to take one of us on a date, who would it be an why?"

Peter spat out his drink.

Now it's not that he didn't think these girls were pretty, but he couldn't think that way about anyone except for (Y/N). He loved the girl for crying out loud! His gaze nervously shifted between the girls who stood in front of him expectantly. It was when his girlfriend rolled up beside him that he knew what to say.

"Sorry I'm so late girls and Peter, I got caught up with Scott ~ oh Jean he's looking for you by the ~ oh!"

(Y/N) was cut off as Peter pressed his lips eagerly to hers, pulling her closer by the hips. Her (skin colour) arms weaved away around Peter's neck, before tangling in the hairs on the nape of his neck. Her soft black tail wrapped itself around Peter's leg, pulling him even closer whilst her cat ears twitched at the sensation of Peter's tongue dancing with hers. The couple kissed like nobody was watching and like they were the only two people in the world. Soon their lungs began to mutually burn with the need for air, so they pulled apart.

"Sorry ladies" Peter whispered breathlessly, turning to face the other two mutants. "But she's my girl"

(Y/N) looked between her two friends, a pink flush dusting her cheeks. "I guess I should've introduced him as my boyfriend... not my best friend"

"A heads up would have been nice" Jean agreed, with a chuckles as Jubilee nodded her head. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

"I didn't want to ruin your celebrity crush" the girl giggled, still wrapped in Peter's arms.

"It's just a crush girl" Jubilee scolded playfully, her cheeks dusted with a blush. "And although I'm absolutely mortified because I flirted with my best friend's boyfriend, I'm happy for you guys!"

"Yup he's a keeper! Totally cute!" Jean added with a whisper. The three girls let out some giggles before excusing themselves to find Scott (who'd somehow lost his glasses - well Peter Maximoff had taken them) leaving the couple behind.

"Your girl, huh? That's new" (Y/N) teased, pressing herself to Peter's chest, causing him to tense under her touch. She dragged her soft black tail, down the side of his face, gazing lovingly into Peter's brown hues as she cupped his cheeks. He placed his creamy hands over hers, gazing back with the same intensity.

"They needed to know that you're the only girl for me, I could never want anybody else"

(Y/N) smiled, a grin just like the Cheshire Cat, as her boyfriend pulled her close once more before pressing a long passionate kiss to her pink lips. Just to let her know, that she would always be his girl.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it @imaginesyes

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