#or I’ll do it in the purling around the leaves

[butchratchettruther]

I DROPPED A STITCH GOD FUCKING DAMNIT

[dontjudgemeimawriter]

Flufftober Day 11: Poetry, Music, Art, and Craft

Here’s today’s snippet for Flufftober. Today’s prompt is: Poetry, Music, Art, and Craft and is form @flufftober’s prompt list.

I’m using the characters from Syndicate. These scenes are non-canon and written simply to practice with lighter content. Let me know if you want to be tagged in future responses for this event!

I feel like this is a lil less pure fluff but it's still cute. I only really followed "craft", hope that's fine. To non-followers: This incorporates the interaction between Raymond and Terran's kinda unique powers, but what they can do is fairly obvious I think.

--

Raymond's POV

When I got back to my room after my final, all I wanted to do was to not think about it, other finals, or any of the other things that could stress me out. It was time for a break. So I put on some tea, tuned in to my favorite radio station, and dug some yarn and knitting needles out of a drawer. I sat on the loveseat, leaned onthe arm, with my tea next to me, and cast on.

I was knitting and purling to the backbeat of the music when there was a knock on the door. I finished my stitch and went over to the door, peeking through the peephole.

Terran.

I thought for a minute. It wasn’t that I didn’t like having Terran around or I want to avoid him. But I’d just been getting into a relaxing afternoon, and Terran was very bad at relaxing, meaning that my afternoon of tea and yarn was probably over.

There wasn’t much I could do to avoid it, though. Terran would have heard me stand and walk to the door. There was music playing. It wasn’t like I could pretend not to be there. And I didn’t want to tell him to leave.

So I opened the door. “Hey.”

“Hey. Sorry— are you busy?”

I felt myself relax a bit. Not long ago, he would have barreled in, not asked if I was busy, gone right to whatever he needed or wanted to argue with me about.

“Not really. What’s going on?” Please, nothing too stressful.

“Nothing.” He didn’t meet my eye. “I was hoping I could hang out here for a little while.”

That was a relief. I swung the door open. “Sure, come on in.”

As he came in, I tried to peek into his head— not even a full mind read, just tried to pick up on emotions— Mika called it an empathy read. I hit stone. The focus wall that was up far too often. But under it, almost like a distant vibration, I sensed it was pushing down something else.

“You were knitting,” he said, spotting it on the loveseat. He picked it up (please, don’t let any stitches slip off!) gently, then set it back own and sat next to it.

“Are you okay?” He didn’t come over without reason often. I shut the door.

“Fine.”

I pulled the curtains closed, even though the natural light had been really nice. He relaxed when I did, when we were shut off from the outside world.

He wasn’t fine, though. That distant vibration didn’t mean excitement. “Something happen?”

He leaned his head back, pressing it against the wall. “Not really.”

“Should you drop focus?” He was usually more forthcoming when not under the spell.

He shook his head.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he snapped, and his head raised again, and this was why I didn’t like that spell. I stared at my feet. At least he noticed now, though, and didn’t get more upset, because his voice softened and he explained further. “I’m only fine because of focus. It keeps me from falling apart, okay? I don’t want to fall apart.”

I nodded. Something had happened. Or at least, he wasn’t okay, that anxiety I’d felt was worse than his normal levels.

He sighed. “I’m sorry. You don’t like that spell. I’ll go somewhere else if you want. I— I don’t want to drop it, but focusing at home was making it worse.”

“You don’t have to go,” I said. I moved my knitting aside to sit next to him, ran my hand down his arm. It made sense, home for him was a place of trauma, of needing to outsmart everyone, of survival. It was even good to hear that he’d got to me to get away from that. A reminder that he did feel safe with me, even if that didn’t mean dropping the spell. "Do you need something to focus on, then?” I had a feeling that even here his mind was still planning, on guard.

He met my eyes, and smiled slightly, and it made my heart stop for a moment. He so often looked serious, and his smiles, even when they were a bit pained like this, felt like something special. And this one was for me. “That might help.”

My face was getting hot and I ducked my head away quickly. I picked up the knitting again— perfect solution. “Here. I’ll teach you.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Come on, learning a new skill is a good way to direct that focus,” I said. I held out the needles in front of me. “You stick this in here, then wrap the yarn around, then…” I demonstrated a knit stitch.

“Can you really imagine me knitting?”

I hadn’t considered it, but the thought of Terran knitting immediately became the cutest, hottest thing ever in my head. I had to. I couldn’t stop grinning now, but I held out a needle to him. “Just try it.”

“Alright, fine,” he gave in.

I showed him how to drape the yarn over his pinky and index finger, then demonstrated the knit stitch again. He tried it, dropping the stitch by accident. I took it back to recover it. “That’s okay, it happens,” I said.

He tried again, and a stitch or two later, I watched him catch on. Stitches formed. It was so tight that the yarn squeaked when coming off the hook, but still, he was getting it.

“You can do one less loop around the pinky and it’ll be looser,” I suggested, but still his stitches turned out tiny. I could tell it was working, though, the task has engaged his focus and he seemed less anxious. When he got to the end, I explained that he would now be doing the back of it and how to do a purl, how it was just a backwards knit. That he caught on to quickly, and before long, had another row.

I leaned my head on his shoulder, partially just to see better. I pointed out how the knit stitches looked like Vs and the purls like lines, but as he picked it up and got into the rhythm I found myself just watching it. It was hypnotizing in a way that knitting myself never had been, along with the pulsing of his mind as it worked almost washing over me. I liked how close he let me get, wondered if he even really noticed.

Somehow, this was even more relaxing than it had been before he arrived.

--

Flufftober Taglist (ask to be +/-)

@puzzleddragon02

@drippingmoon

@sleepy-night-child

[smallpotatoknitwear]

WIP blanket update 01/25/22

Happy new year, everyone!!! It’s my first post of 2022, and I’m so excited to share it!!! I haven’t posted a WIP update in about 2.5 months, so I’m so excited to share this update!!! It’s been a crazy few months; I started a new job at the end of November, and am also working part time at a local theatre—I’m currently costume designing my first professional theatrical production, which is literally insane!!!—but I’ve still been knitting and crocheting plenty!

Not pictured: Raised Squared Waffle, because I finished it; Scrap Triangle Quilt, because I haven’t been working on it; Leftover C2C because it’s on pause until I have more leftover yarn to add into it!

Granny Square Quilt

I literally cannot believe how close I am to finally finishing this blanket!!! It feels like I’ve been working on it for forever, even though it hasn’t even been two years yet—I only started this blanket around May of 2020. I’m hoping to finish it up in the next week or two, as I’m so close!!! I’ve actually made a few more squares since I took this picture, so I’m even closer than I was when I took this photo!!!

Total squares: 220/270

Armonika Blanket

I’m pleasantly surprised with how this blanket is working up, if I’m completely honest. I wasn’t entirely sure how I’d like the Cherries Jubilee next to the Sweet and Sour, but I really like how they look next to each other! I have, however, decided that instead of going into Ballet Sorbet after the Cherries Jubilee, I’m going to go into Rainbow Jellies (from my Ten-Stitch blanket), then into Bumbleberry (Raised Squared Waffle), and ending with Ballet Sorbet. Overall, I really love it! It’s super squishy, thanks to the combination of knit and purl stitches, and the pattern has just enough going on to keep me interested without being too complicated! It’s also been a while since I’ve done much knitting, so it’s been really nice to get into that again!

Granny Stripe

It’s been a while since this blanket has popped up, and I admittedly haven’t been working very much on it lately. I think I’ve only done about a skein in a half, maybe two skeins, more of work since the last time I brought out this blanket, and it’s so wide you can barely tell that I’ve done any more work on it 😅 My goal at this point is to work on it as my go-to project about one week out of every month (more if I feel like it) and maybe try to finish it by the end of the year (unlikely, but I’m optimistic!!!)

Finally, we have a new addition to the roundup!!! I decided very last minute (a.k.a. on January 9th) to do a mood blanket for 2022, but I was too lazy and indecisive to decide on a color chart for the whole thing ahead of time. Instead, at the end of each day, I pick a color that feels appropriate to sum up my mood for the day, and do a row in that. That means there’s not much of a key, but pinks and yellows are good days, blues are good or neutral, greens and greys are neutral, and reds and oranges and browns are bad days. I’m doing rows of single crochets for Sunday-Friday, and a row including puff stitches for Saturdays. I did a chain of 200 (I meant to do 201, but miscounted) with a size I hook, and the puff stitch rows are *SC5, puff stitch* along until the last six stitches, which are all SCs. If I were to redo it/make another blanket like this, I’d chain 201 and SC6, puff stitch, then *SC5, puff stitch* along until the last six stitches, and SC those. I’m pretty proud that, so far, I’ve actually managed to keep up with this blanket! I’ve gotten behind a few days here and there, but always caught up within about three days. I really don’t want to get too far behind, because that seems like it would make it harder to find the right colors per day, so I’m really making an effort to keep up with it!

At this point, I’m not weaving in my ends, and instead leaving them as a fringe on each side that I’ll even out when the whole thing is finished. I have until the end of the month to change my mind and weave them in instead, but after January they’re staying as a fringe 😂 I’m using a size I hook and worsted weight yarn (primarily Loops & Threads Impeccable, with a few others thrown in; I will not be including a list), but I’ve also done a few rows with yarn held double to bring in sparkly yarn as another fun element.

[twotapbuz]

The leader and a body guard(Rin x reader)

(Sorry this took so long, school sucked all of my motivation away. You can find the rest of the series here: Eloni )

warning: violence, slight angst with a happy ending

Sometime after the rock revolution, Neon J decided to leave for a 3-week vacation

This meant that you and your coworkers would need to report to Rin

The first couple of days were difficult because Rin didn’t seem to care about the reports and would flirt with whoever was giving him the report

It wasn’t till week two that things began to spiral

1010 had been in the middle of a performance when a fight broke out in the crowd

You jumped out of where you were standing to help control the crowd

You assessed the damage after everything calmed down

The venue + stage was partially destroyed, Purl-Hew lost his glasses and an eye, Haym lost an arm, Zimelu and Eloni’s faces were cracked, and Rin was missing

Rin was missing

This was bad news as the factory still hadn’t been repaired yet which meant that he couldn’t be brought back until Neon J came back

And if Neon J found out that you lost a member of 1010, you and your co-workers would be fired

So your group split into two parts, one half would take Zimelu, Haym, Purl- Hew, and Eloni back to Barraca Mansion while the other half would search for Rin

You were placed into the latter

It had been nearly an hour since Rin was discovered missing and there still was no sign of him. You were definitely going to get fired. While the concert was in Cast Tech, you along with several others were sent to search Metro Division in case he simply went back to Baraca Mansion without telling anyone. You were about to head back when you heard the sound of crashing metal. 

“Hello, is anyone there?” You didn’t mean to say anything, but you were caught off guard. Against your better judgment, you began to walk towards that alley. You were desperate to find him after all.

“Stay back! RETREAT!” shouted a panicked autotuned voice. It was Rin.

“Rin? Is that you? Are you ok?” you rushed down the alley to find Rin hiding next to a dumpster.

“Don’t look at me!” Rin was trying to cover the right side of his face with his arm.

“What? Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah! Do not worry about me, I’ll make it back fine,” Rin tried to stand up, still covering his face, but immediately fell back down because his leg was missing.

“Look… everyone’s worried about you and you won’t be able to make it back by yourself with that leg,” you gestured at Rin’s broken leg. Please let me help you, I know some shortcuts.” You offered your arm. Rin hesitantly lifted his hand for his face and grabbed your hand for support. The metal that covered the right side of her face was gone, revealing the damaged hardware underneath.

You involuntarily flinched, he may not have been human, but it was still pretty jarring to look at something that looked like a person who was missing part of their face. Rin also flinched, covering his missing face with both of his hands now.

“I’m so sorry about that”, you rubbed your neck, “I just… well I didn’t expect the injury to be that bad.”

“You aren’t going to scream, are you?

“What? No, I'm very sorry about that. Besides I’ve seen way worse” you joked, trying to release the tension. Rin hesitantly uncovered his face once again and grabbed your hand and pulled himself up. The two of you dodged the groups of people walking through Metro Divison.

As the two of you were walking through, you couldn’t help but wonder about Rin’s reaction when it suddenly hit you, 1010 got severely injured during the rock revolution. One of these injuries included all of them losing their faceplates. Their fans unsurprisingly freaked out which caused 1010 to explode due to some protocol Neon J must’ve implemented. Your heart sank when you realized Rin’s reaction wasn’t because he was worried about his image, but he was scared of you screaming and what would follow afterward.

——————

After that incident, Rin seemed to act differently towards you. He took you more seriously and listened to your reports

Even after Neón J came back, Rin still came to you for your reports

Probably just practice for when Neón j retires, you thought

As the weeks passed, the time spent on the casual chats you had increased to the point you’d forgot to give him the actual report several times

“And that’s how we got Quienne and Bebe.” Rin had just finished telling you the story of how they got their cats by Haym and Eloni smuggling them in through a box. This was one of many of the 'behind the scenes stories' that Rin had told you. While they didn’t act that much different when they weren’t on camera or in front of a crowd, it was nice to be trusted enough to hear about their personal lives.

“So what about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any good stories? I don’t think it’s fair if I tell all of my secrets after all~.” Rin teased

“Well, I do have one. I was at a dance audition and waiting for my turn to perform and this dude that was performing was pretty much a circus act. He was doing all these frontflips and backflips and it was just crazy. Wish I had recorded it.”

“You used to be a performer? How come you stopped?” Rin curiously asked.

“Nah, I never made it past the first round of auditions. I didn't really mind since I only entered to support a friend.” You sipped on your coffee

“That’s a shame.” Rin paused for a moment. “You know I could always offer you lessons.”

 “that's really nice, but I’ll have to decline. No amount of practice can fix these two left feet.” You looked at the clock, realizing half an hour had passed. You quickly said your goodbye and left to avoid getting into trouble. Rin watched your back as he left, unsure why he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

——————

Rin was walking to his dressing room when he saw you walking alongside several other security staff. As rude as it sounded, Rin normally wouldn’t think twice about the people he worked with. Most staff would either quit from being harassed by crazy 1010 fans or get fired for secretly being 1010 fans who used the job to get access to 1010 content, or worse, 1010 themselves. Rin shuddered as memories of one of the many incidents came back. Rin could count on both of his hands the amount of current staff that has been working for over a year and you were one of them. Rin began to think about the early part of his career when he and his family would actively engage with the staff, talking about both of their personal lives and inviting them over to hang out in the mansion. He and his brothers stopped interacting with the staff after the high turnover started. What was the point of talking with them if they were going to quit and avoid 1010 like the plague or get fired and be avoided by 1010 like the plague. He was glad that he could talk to you. He also liked the sound of your voice and how your eyes sparkled brighter than the LEDs that lit up him and his brothers. Rin blushed at the last thoughts. The sound of your voice and the sparkle of your eyes? It’s not like he was in love with you or anything. He was technically your boss and your relationship was completely professional. Yeah, your interactions were one of his favorite parts of his day and your smile would always brighten his day, but even if he was in love with you(which he is not) there’s still the challenge of gaining the approval of his family and having to deal with his fan’s harassment. He couldn’t let you go through that. Though Rin couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to talk with you outside of work…even go on a couple dates… maybe he was in love afterall.

——————

You walked past Rin and smiled. Despite your attempts, you fell for Rin's charm just like his fans did and it took you no time to notice this. You knew you were never going to say anything, afterall, everyone knows the rule about not dating coworkers and Rin can choose practically anyone, why would he pick you?

——————

It was the first concert after the rock revolution

The fans were extra antsy due to the lack of content, so it was all hands on deck

You were positioned on the front of the stage

This concert was no different than the previous ones, 1010 were performing, a couple of their fans attempted to jump on the stage, and you could barely hear your own thoughts over the mix of music and cheering. Suddenly both of those stopped. You looked at the stage and so 1010 standing still in mid-performance. You were told about this situation during training: it was either a malfunction or a hacking. You prayed that it wasn’t the latter. 1010 suddenly began to move in sync, but it was different from their normal in sync movement. You saw two fans get tackled to the ground as a red saw blade passed them at what would’ve been chest height. Your radio buzzed loudly as you were given your new orders:

“Get everyone out of there.”

It was chaos as you rushed around to get everyone out of the venue. Those with superhuman abilities(pyrokinesis, levitation, etc) stayed behind to prevent 1010 from leaving the venue. Despite not having any abilities, you stayed behind too. You were running around in the back looking for anyone who still might be there when the rubble from an explosion behind you knocked you to the ground. You quickly got up and saw Rin towering over Neon J. Without thinking, you quickly grabbed a nearby pipe that came from the newly busted wall and smashed it over Rin’s head. This managed to stop his attack, but it also brought his attention to you. He suddenly ran towards you, grabbed you, and threw you against the wall. Your consciousness began to fade in and out as your head collided with the wall. You saw Rin approaching you, then darkness, Rin raising his arm to strike, darkness again, Rin being pulled away by Neón J, darkness again, the inside of an ambulance, and then nothing.

——————

You woke up in a hospital room. Your eyes scanned the room: on your right was a monitor accompanied by an IV drip. On your left was a small table with flowers, a get-well balloon, a couple cards, and a Rin with a worried face sitting on one of the chairs of the room. Rin noticed you were awake and quickly rushed before stopping unsure of what to do.

“Y/N” Rin said, unsure of what to do or say

“Rin”

“Y/N… I’m so sorry about what happened- I didn’t want to-I couldn’t stop- if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you-” Rin began to stutter out of guilt. He kept making sentences but giving up on them and starting new ones.

“Rin, please” Rin paused and looked at you. “It’s not your fault, I know you would never do this” the two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before you continued, “You know... if the offers still up… I’d be happy to accept those dance lessons when I get discharged." Rin began to smile

“Yeah, the offers still up”

——————

Neon J walked through the hospital’s halls. For the past two weeks, he had been personally escorting Rin to your hospital room. He knew Rin felt responsible for your injuries so he didn’t object to this despite the possible security risks(he couldn't keep his boys locked up). He had heard from Rin that you had woken up and he was glad that you were ok, but he had to cut your visitor time short due to an interview that all 1010 members must be present for. He walked into your room to find the two of you sleeping with Rin’s head on your lap. 

“It’ll be fine if Rin misses one interview.” Neon J thought as he closed the door. He also began to wonder how long it will be before Rin introduces you officially to the family.

[hansensgirl]

don’t fence me in.

summary | Your lonesome birthday celebrations are disrupted by two super soldiers on a mission.

warnings | Noncon turned dubcon sex, violence, drinking, breaking and entering, dark themes, smut, praise, choking, knifeplay but not really, threats, vaginal sex, anal sex, double penetration, threesome, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, nipple play, Captain kink, Sergeant kink, authority kink?, manhandling, +18 ONLY.

pairings | Dark!Stucky x reader, Dark!Bucky Barnes x reader, Dark!Steve Rogers x reader.

word count | 3,842 (i went overboard lol)

authors note | happy birthday @threeminutesoflife!! i hope you have a wonderful day, and i hope you have a wonderful day. mina, god damn it where do i start? your dark!neighbour!steve fic was one of the first dark fics i ever read, and it was amazing! you’re an amazing friend and your sense of humour is to die for. you’re one of the most talented writers i’ve ever met and to be honest i always end up re-reading your fics. ilysm, happy birthday!! (this isn’t the best birthday note i’m so sorry, i just woke up!) also i’ll add the keep reading break later!

You sighed as you slipped beneath the strawberry bubbles that resembled fluffy clouds. They engulfed your body and you could barely see your own hands and legs. A giggle escaped past your soft lips and you grabbed the flute of cheap rosé. It wasn’t much, but it was something. After nine long hours of answering phone calls and giving thanks for the birthday wishes, you were finally able to relax. You turned up the melancholic tunes of Ella Fitzgerald and gulped down the rest of your drink. You shut your eyes and hummed along to the tune of Don’t Fence Me In before beginning to sing along to the catchy chorus. “Oh give me land, lots of land under starry skies above-” No, you’re just going insane. Surely you didn’t just hear the loud squeak of your floorboards. You turned down the volume of the music and peaked out the open door of your bathroom. “Hello?” You called out, but the silent void of your apartment didn’t reply.

That was your first mistake.

You shook your paranoia off and filled your glass again, turning the music back up. Your intentions were to stay there until you finished the bottle of rosé, or until your fingers became prune-like. As the next song began to play, you heard another odd sound in the distance. A- A whir? No, no! It’s just the swishing of the water, or- or the music. You decided to keep your music at a low volume. Your breathing became erratic and your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest. There wasn’t anyone else with you, right? The slight tremor that your body now carried made the rosé in your glass purl. You still could hear Ella’s voice, and it was eerie. The room felt blue and dull, dispirated and desolate. You couldn’t hear anything else, just your breathing. But you weren’t stupid, you weren’t a coward.

As quiet as you could, you slowly stood up from the bathtub and tried to step out without disturbing the bubble-filled water. You grabbed your phone and pulled a robe on, not even bothering to dry your skin. Your eyes darted around the small room as you tried to find something to defend yourself with. The rosé bottle was a type of plastic that couldn’t harm someone even if you tried your hardest. You opened the cupboards beneath the sink and found a blow dryer. You could inflict a lot of harm with it for sure, but did you really think you could have a chance against not one - but two super soldiers? You tried to pace your breathing and you slowly began to walk out of your small bathroom. You carefully looked around your bedroom and you didn’t know what to do next.

Your teeth were chattering, just like that one time you woke up startled by fire alarms. Your heart felt like it was going to jump out again, and your sweaty palms nearly made the blow dryer in your hands slip out. You wiped your palms on your robe and you gripped the blow dryer even tighter. You opened the door and nearly shed a tear when it made a slight sound. You poked your head out the slight crease and you looked around. That was your second mistake. You walked out of your bedroom and into your living area, not as afraid as before. You whipped your head around repeatedly, feeling as if there was someone else in the room with you.

Goosebumps pebbled on your skin and the hairs on your neck raised on instinct. You opened up the closet and looked around. You even checked your kitchen cabinets just in case. That was your third mistake. You looked at your door and noticed that the lock was completely fine. Not one thing wrong. But still, how could you be so sure? You decided to trust your gut feeling for once. You unlocked your phone and froze up for a bit. What were you going to do? Clearly, the rosé had gone to your head. “Fear and alcohol, what a mix.” You muttered. You shook your head and exhaled deeply, before taping on the phone app.

You began to dial 911 slowly, letting your guard down. “Shh babydoll.” A voice rasped as a cold hand clamped itself on your mouth. You let out a scream, but the sound was muffled by the handle. You dropped your phone and the screen shattered as soon as it hit the ground. Everything soon began to turn a few shades darker, slowly but surely. The voices that spoke sounded as if they were distant, before turning to radio static.

—

“She’s up, Buck.” Steve calls out to the Sergeant. Your vision was blurry for a second, and your head had a slight thrumming to it. What happened? There was a man — no — two men. “Thank god doll, gave us a bit of a scare there,” the brunette coldly spoke, his eyes holding a stoic gaze that was directed at you. Your hands were tied with one of your handkerchiefs that your mother had gifted you a few years back. The knot nearly cut off your circulation, and through all your wriggling you just couldn’t undo it. Your feet were tied as well, immobilizing your legs.

Now how could you really escape?

Panic surged through your body and you began to flail around, screaming out for help. Your distress was muffled by Steve’s coarse hand and your flailing about ceased when Bucky gripped you tightly. They both chided you like a child, as if they wouldn’t have done the same if they were in your position. You took in their appearances. They both looked gruff, beards that covered their jaws and long hair that was a bit dirty. They were in tactical gear, almost as if they were on a mission. Were you the mission? Were they going to kill you? The thought had your chest tightening and you began to heave. Your eyes darted around and tears streamed down your face. Though they were muffled, the sobs shook your body violently.

“Oh no, baby. No no, don’t cry!” Steve taunted, not even bothering to wipe your tears. Bucky let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head, before looking down at your feet. Your tears increased and they soon sighed softly, wiping your tears away. “We’re not going to kill you, so hush.” Steve grumbled, loosening his grip from you. Bucky did the same but you still felt their strong hands lingering. You cowered away from them and they smirked. Bucky pulled the knife out of his thigh holster and you nearly blacked out with fear once again. He began to twirl it between his long finger and he maintained eye contact with you the whole time.

“But, you see, doll, if you try anything that doesn’t sit well with us, Buck and I can easily cut you until you pass out, or die.” He threatened, beginning to undress himself. You watched him instead of watching Bucky twirl his knife. You unconsciously bit your lip, making Bucky smile. As he slowly pulled down his boxers, Steve’s cock bounced up and slapped his lower abdomen, leaving a smudge of pre-cum behind. He had a raging hard on that was red and leaking, and the sight of it made you gulp thickly. “You won’t do anything, baby?” Steve asked, grabbing ahold of where your arms were tied together. You nodded furiously as you were desperate to stay alive at the hands of them.

Bucky knowingly smirked for the second time and he put the knife away before shedding himself of his tactical gear. Their rippling abs and greek god-like bodies made your jaw drop. “Close it, baby, before I shove my cock in there.” Bucky leaned down and untied your legs. He frowned at the angry marks the rope had left on your raw skin. He brought your feet up to his face and he peppered kisses across both of your feet. The feeling of his scruff against your feet was ticklish, causing you to jerk away from him on instinct. He growled and gripped your ankles even tighter, before using his grip to pull you closer to him. You whimpered from his force and nearly flinched away as he applied pressure. You thought that he would’ve popped your ankle right there and then if it weren't for Steve. He sharply ordered the brute soldier to yield, and you wanted to let out a sigh of relief.

Steve untied the robe slowly and you panicked. “S- Stop!” You cried out, making him growl. He ripped the robe off your body and you immediately felt goosebumps form. Your nipples turned into hard peaks and the two men let out moans. You felt humiliated under their predatory looks. Steve’s hands roughly palmed at your breasts, pinching your nubs every now and then. Bucky’s flesh hand crawled up your legs and towards your honey pot. You whined when you felt him rub your clit. His movements were rough yet sweet at the same time. He clearly was different from Steve in certain ways. An unwelcome gush of arousal flowed out of you, making Bucky’s plump lips curl into a sinister smile. It was the type of smile that made you feel both uneasy and titillated. He spread the wetness around and pulled a few whimpers out of you.

Steve latched his mouth on one of your bruised breasts as his fingers continued to twiddle with the other. Steve looked up and you and gleamed as your mouth fell open. Bucky had pushed one thick digit into your drooling hole and his metal hand reached for his cock. The pace he fingered you at was the same as the pace he stroked his cock with. Slow, tender yet rough. Your eyes followed the thick droplets of pre-cum that leaked from the tip of his cock. From there, you noticed the throbbing veins that trailed up and down his cock. Everytime his finger ever so slightly touched it, he cursed. You looked away from Bucky and tried to find something to focus your distant stare on. Steve’s hand left your breast and moved to the side of your head. He wiped the sweat on your forehead and his mouth let go of your nipple with a loud ‘pop’.

He pulled your head closer and closer until the gap between your bodies closed. Bucky’s finger sped up and you found it quite arduous to keep up with the kiss Steve has pulled you into. You whimpered when you felt that all-too familiar pressure beginning to build up. It seared through your abdomen, and the impending of it coursed through your veins. You cried out as you felt yourself cumming. You gripped Steve’s bicep for support and dug your nails into the already scarred skin. Your cum coated Bucky’s finger, the sight of the creamy substance making him moan. He didn’t stop thrusting, though. Instead he sped his thrusts up and began to grind the palm of his hand against your clit.

You couldn’t handle the overstimulation. You turned your head away from Steve and tried to move across the bed. Steve quickly grabbed ahold of you and pulled you back into him. Bucky pushed another thick finger into you and stretched your tight walls. It hurt for a few moments, but the pain soon turned into pleasure. Bucky thrusted his fingers in and out of you at a rough pace, your wetness coating his fingers. “Fuck, such a good fucking girl.” He grunted as he felt your cunt clench around his fingers. “Can’t wait to fill this pussy up, to feel it clench all around my big cock.” Steve groans, grabbing your hands.

He wraps them around his hard, leaking cock. A harsh squeeze to the back of your neck screams at you to start stroking him. You moved your hands up and down slowly, watching in awe. Thick beads of pre-cum leaked from his aching tip, just like Bucky’s cock. The fingers that were buried in your pussy slowed and the fire that had just surrounded you was dying down. You brought your mouth down to his cock and dragged your tongue across the tip.The husky, manly taste of Steve made you even wetter. “Good girl.” He praised as you sucked on the head lightly. The sooner you pleasured him, the faster it would all be over, right?

Steve shoved you further down his cock, making you gag and sputter. The veins on the sides throbbed with want and anticipation. You slacked your jaw as you took him into your mouth slowly. You swallowed thickly as you tried to relax your throat and you struggled to breathe. He bucked his hips up once your nose met his lightly trimmed pubic hair. The virtuous hero began to shallowly fuck your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks out and flattened your tongue against the bottom of his cock. He groaned everytime you gagged or swallowed, and your struggle made Bucky chuckle as well. Bucky pulled his fingers out of your cunt and he brought his fingers up to his mouth.

He sucked your juices off of his digits and moaned at the sweet taste of it as his mouth was filled with ecstasy. Steve abruptly pulled your head off and you struggled to gasp for air. You coughed a few times and tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes. “Such a good girl.” Steve praised you as he wiped the tears and spit from your face. “Now what do you say?” He questioned, making you furrow your eyebrows with confusion. You looked at him, then looked at Bucky. He quickly turned your head back to face him. He raised an eyebrow and sighed before speaking. “You gotta thank me, dollface. Do ya know how many girls fawn over me just for a taste? You’re lucky.” He spat. You whimpered at his tone, hating yourself for how you unhesitatingly opened your mouth to speak and to suck his cock. “T- Thank you, Captain!” You exclaimed, eager to feed his overly large ego.

“Fuck…” He groaned, his cock becoming even harder. “Shit, are you going to be a good girl for your Captain and Sergeant?” He asked, tilting your chin up. “Yes, Captain!” You nodded eagerly. Bucky lifted you up from behind and manhandled you around. You found yourself being sandwiched between the two Avengers. Bucky wrapped his coarse flesh hand around your throat and he squeezed your neck slightly. You grabbed his wrist out of instinct but you didn’t try to pull it away. Steve spread your legs and folded them up to your chest, and you didn’t bother closing them. Your clit throbbed with want and need as Steve ran his fingers up and down your soaking folds. The feeling of cold metal against your abused breasts made you moan. The lewd sound filled the air and the two of them couldn’t wait to have you moaning with their cocks in you. Steve’s fingers grazed over your sopping hole. You jerked away from him when you felt those very same fingers prodding at your tight rim. The hand that was around your neck tightened and you gasped for breath.

“You were being so good for us, dollface. What the fuck?” Bucky growled, pinching one of your nipples. “I- I’m sorry, Sergeant.” You shakily apologized. You watched as Steve’s jaw clenched and unclenched, undoubtedly terrifying you. You swore you saw your life flash before your eyes. They were like ticking bombs; one wrong move and everything can go wrong. Their features softened when they saw how fear etched yours. Bucky loosened his grip slightly as well. “It’s okay baby, you just need to be good for us and it’ll be good for you!” Steve spoke. He pulled his fingers away from your ass and pushed them into your tight cunt. You moaned as he stretched you out, his fingers massaging your walls. Your slick thickly covered his fingers, making him moan at the sight.

“You love my fingers in your sweet little pussy, right? Say it.” He taunted, speeding his movements up. You nodded pathetically and moaned loudly. “Fuck, I love your fingers in my pussy, Captain!” You cried out, feeling your orgasm surge through your body. You clenched around his fingers and your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. You bite down hard - just as hard as your orgasm had hit you - drawing blood. The metal taste of it isn't what you care for though. It's the ache that grows between your legs as he forces you to ride out your orgasm. “N- No! Stop, please. ‘S too sensitive” you whine out. “But, doll, you’re doing so well for us!” Bucky cooes, wiping the mixture of blood and saliva off of your lips. You let out a string of strangled moans as Steve rubs your lonely clit. “P- Please, Captain! Please, Sergeant!” You begged, the overstimulation becoming too much for you to handle. You couldn't believe how sensitive you were.

Your cunt fluttered as the Captain pulled his fingers out of your cunt. He wastes no time as he slowly pushes his soaking fingers against your tighter hole. You yelped loudly and looked up at the Sergeant with pleading eyes and Bucky nearly came right there and then. The tips of Steve fingers pushed in and you tightened up immediately. “Stop, please! It hurts Captain” you cried out. But your word fell deaf ears. Your exhorts spurred him on as he pulled his fingers out. Bucky released his grip on your throat and rolled you over. You straddled Bucky’s thick thighs and Steve came up from behind you.

“You're being so good, baby. Taking our fingers in that tight little cunt and taking your Captain’s big cock in your mouth… Now you’re going to get your well-deserved award, okay?” Your cunt clenched around air as Bucky praised you. His husky voice sent shivers down your back and a sick part of you wanted more. You wanted to hear him praise you more and more, you wanted to hear both of them praise you. Bucky looked down as he grasped his cock to rub it up and down your abused pussy. The red tip of his cock bumped against your clit before teasing your sensitive hole. He pushed in slowly and you shocked your head violently. It hurt so bad. Your nails clawed into his skin and you struggled to breathe as he bottomed out in your cunt. You felt so full, your arousal leaked down his cock and your entire body ached.

You nearly forget about Steve. His broad hands spread your ass cheeks apart, giving him access to your poor second hole. His cockhead slowly began to push in and you nearly blacked out from the excruciating pain. His cock was still covered with your saliva and it acted as a lube. It wasn't like it did anything. A third set of tears began to stream down your face. Bucky wiped away the tears and dragged his thumb along your bottom lip. “You’re doing so good, baby” he praised, his eyes blown out with lust. A sheen of sweat covered your foreheads, but the sight of Bucky was something that you’d never seen before. “Fuck…” He groaned, feeling your cunt convulse around his cock as Steve continued to push in. You wondered to yourself if he was ever going to bottom out, if they would ever leave, if this would ever end.

You all groaned in unison once Steve’s pelvis met your ass. Steve bent down to suck a trail of marks onto your skin. Bruises of all kinds littered your skin. They pulled their cocks out before slamming themselves back into you. You felt like you were being split in half by their cocks. They fucked into you hard and fast, their thrusted racking your body each time. Bucky’s cock nudged against your g-spot over and over and Steve growled each time you squeezed around them. You fell against Bucky’s chest and felt a growl rip through him. He fucked up into you relentlessly and Steve wrapped his arm around you. You felt him put his hand around your neck and lean down to your ear. He moaned loudly and you felt a new wave of arousal course through you. Steve’s other hand spanks you, the pain of it all pushing you closer to the edge. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck… Gonna cum!” You squealed like a schoolgirl, your jaw falling open.

Your eyes shut tightly as you came hard. Your chest heaved and Bucky watched you coat his cock with your cum. Bucky reaches up and grabs your breasts harshly. You clenched around Steve’s cock and he groans. “Shit! Such a good girl, milking your Sergeants cock huh? You love our big fat cocks fucking you, don’t ya?” His Brooklyn drawl is unlike anything you had ever heard, but his words were what had you moaning. They fucked you even harder, wrecking your holes. You babbled like a baby and your orgams began to blend into each other. “So. Fucking. Tight!” Steve shouted out, as each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust. You felt their thrusts growing sloppy, irregular. You moaned pornographically, your eyes rolling back into your skull as you neared your nth orgasm.

Stars fill your already hazy vision and you cream all over Bucky’s thick cock. “Oh fuck!” They both shout out, their balls tightening. Neither of them could hold back at that point. Bucky came inside of you and so did Steve. The warmth of it made you moan out of shame. They painted your walls and filled you up with their cum, before shallowly thrusting. Steve pulled out with no care, making your frown in pain. He watched in awe as his cum leaked out of your gaping hole. It held a slight tinge of pink to it, satisfying the Star-Spangled Man’s sadistic side. He lifted you off of Bucky’s cock and turned you around. You involuntarily wrapped your legs around his built torso and hid your face in the crook of his neck. You felt dirty, ashamed that you enjoyed it so much. Ashamed that they made you cum multiple times, and you didn’t even fight it all. Were you so lonely that you sought to find comfort in the two men that broke into your house and forced themselves onto you?

You felt Bucky’s cum beginning to leak down your thighs. It was so debauched, so scandalous. You felt your eyes grow heavy, tiredness wearing over you. But when you felt Bucky’s cock against your ass, you had a newfound feeling of energy. You tried to escape them, writhing in their strong grips. “Aw, poor baby thought we were finished, hm?” Steve jeered at you. Bucky chuckled in a soft yet harsh baritone.

“The birthday celebrations aren’t even over yet, doll.”

[teacup-crow]

Cabin Fever

CW dermatillomania, self-injury, insanity, mild violence. Set some time between S5M12 and M13.

Tom/Jody angst for @badthingshappenbingo with a happyish epilogue because I just couldn’t leave them sad. Also I’m vaguely ill and wrote this at 3 in the morning in a cold snap so please take this as a warning 😅

Tom was picking at his scars again.

Jody couldn’t help but notice it, the rhythm behind the click of her needles. Knit one, purl one, handcuffs jangling, nails-on-flesh. Finally, she snapped.

“Won’t you stop that?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up at her, spacey. “Your hair wants cutting.”

She sighed.

“You’re picking. Stop it.”

“I am?” He looked down at the rivets he’d torn in his skin and winced. “I’m terribly sorry, Miss Marsh. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s Jody, Tom. And you don’t need to apologise.”

Five minutes later, he was back at it. She set her teeth, trying to stop the shaking of her nerves.

“Hey, Tom, I’ve, uh, ruined this section a little. I don’t suppose you could unravel it for me, could you? And then keep going with the chain stitch I showed you? It would be a great help.”

“I will treat this duty only with the utmost seriousness, Miss Marsh,” he replied, his eyes sincere, but chuckling at himself just enough to make her shoulders drop in relief. “You can count on me, ma’am.”

“It’s Jody!” she replied, knowing he was about to make a mess. “I’ll be back soon.”

She stepped around him sitting cross-legged on the floor, fingernails caked in blood, picking through her yellow yarn. He had been in a bad way all afternoon: she should have given him something to hold hours ago, something to do with his hands. But to be honest, it had been a long time since she had been able to think straight either.

Noah Base was a maze, but not all that big once you got used to it. Comms desk, offices, sleeping quarters on one end; elevators, creepy eighties time-warp room and lab space on the other. In the middle, the kitchen, the tiny gym and the rec room, and finally, the upper level, with the storage cupboards and the emergency stairs spiralling up and to the exit that Janine had banned anyone from going through.

The weather had hit ten below freezing in the last few days, and as much as everyone itched to get their home back and stock up on vital supplies, it had been deemed too dangerous to run missions at least until the end of February. Which meant she was stuck underground with a group of grimy, grumpy refugees, the worst of the bunch being a recalcitrant teething toddler, an even more recalcitrant Amelia Spens, a Janine De Luca stressing hard enough to make the ice melt just by worrying, and Peter, the creep who’d led them here, who stared at her knowingly so often it made her equal parts irritated and deeply uncomfortable. And that wasn’t even mentioning Tom, who’d taken to following her around like a six foot four lost puppy.

It’s not that she minded his constant presence; most of the time, he was one of the few people in Noah who could cheer her up. On a good day, he’d regale her with fascinating stories about the things he’d done and seen and learned, and at night the images of deserts and rainforests and Oxford cobbles would permeate her dreams. On a less good day he usually stuck to card games with rules so complicated only he and his sister could win. But sooner or later, Tom was going to fully realise that they were trapped down here, and things would be… unpleasant. All they could do was pray the thaw happened first.

She headed to the gym - thankfully, Peter was absent from his usual spot - and stepped onto the treadmill, walking to warm up. She would run, and take a shower, and her thoughts would settle. Perhaps Sam would make her a hot tea and update her on any changes from the cams. Radio had been down and Rofflenet had been spotty since the snow-in, but Sam was always good at putting her mind off things. Perhaps Five would be down for laughing at all the old slasher movies they’d found in the eighties room back to back again, even though they’d stopped being funny after a while. Last time, she’d sat through hours of watching final girls stumble away from massacres bloody and shaken, their friends torn to pieces, and to her embarrassment had started sobbing. So, maybe she needed something else to shift the itching, burning feeling under her skin. She cranked up the speed. She bit the inside of her lip until she tasted iron. She ran, but she couldn’t escape the feeling of being buried alive.

Back before all this, when she’d got embroiled in that mess with the mafia, she thought she knew how it felt to be drowning in guilt. She used to lie awake at night, scrolling through pictures of her younger siblings at some resort in Spain, trying horse riding, archery, scuba diving. Her mum, lying out on a deckchair, finally not brassic, relaxed for the first time in her life. It’s all worth it, she’d told herself as she liked each one, it’s all worth it just for that, even as she worried and stressed that she’d end up in prison or some ditch at the side of the road. These days she was glad she’d given her family happiness in those last few months before everything had gone to shit, but the weight of guilt and fear had grown exponentially. Now she lay awake at night thinking about Maggie, always Maggie, right behind her, followed by all the others she’d left behind since. Cameo. Kytan. Kefilwe. She’d always had a good memory for faces.

When she got out of the showers, chaos seemed to have broken loose. Sam’s voice rang over the tannoy, begging them all to just calm down. Sara was wailing at the top of her lungs. The hallways were buzzing with activity and whispers, and Jody barged right into Janine as she ran for the comms room.

“My brother has taken a turn for the worse,” Janine said. There was a new bruise forming on her cheek. “He’s at the top of the staircase and is refusing to come down until he can get out of the base. The temperatures up there are… untenable. He won’t hear it from me, but…”

“Janine, I’ll go and get him. I’ll make sure he’s all right.”

“I’ll be right behind you, signal if you need assistance. I’ll be visiting the armoury first.”

“Armoury?” Jody queried, taken aback, but the older woman was already striding away down the hall.

“I don’t see why we can’t just shoot him and get it over with,” Amelia complained, peering out of her office, shaking out her freshly painted nails. Nail varnish! The smell of it shot to Jody‘s head. The one woman to paint her nails post-apocalypse would be selfish, bratty, treacherous Amelia Spens. “None of you can admit that he’s a dangerous liability.”

Jody hissed at her through gritted teeth. “Because he’s Janine’s brother, he’s a tactical genius and he’s getting better. And you of all people should be relieved that we don’t shoot anyone for being a dangerous liability. Which he isn’t.”

“You might want to know that right now your tactical genius is screaming for you and trying to chisel his way out of a reinforced nuclear bunker with a knitting needle.”

“And you didn’t think to come and find me sooner?”

She shrugged. “He’s not my problem, is he?”

Jody shoved past her with a few choice curses and bolted for the upper floor, taking the warped staircase two at a time. Floor five, four, three, two, one - and there, his hair plastered flat to his brow with sweat, Tom chipping fruitlessly at the bolts.

“Tom?”

“You’re here to stop me?” He asked, waving the needle dangerously close to her eyes, his hands free and flailing. Then, without warning, he flung it down the stairs, where it clanged on each step before hitting the bottom. “You’re here to stop me, Miss… Miss…”

“I’m Jody. I’m here to help.”

“Jody,” Tom grabbed her by the wrists, bouncing up and down on his shoeless toes. She noticed he was wearing the socks she’d just darned last week. He squeezed so hard she yelped. “Yes. I remember you, Jody. I asked you to come. Jody, my sister says I can’t go outside, but a little fresh air never hurt anyone, did it? Just a breeze. I just want to see the sky. Snow is soft, snow can’t hurt me! And I know, I know what she thinks of me, but I can’t hurt the snow. I wouldn’t! You have to believe me!”

“I believe you, I do…”

“Then tell her!” He begged, and held tighter. “Tell her! The baby keeps screaming in my head but the snow will make it quiet. It will all go away if we lie down out there.”

“Tom…” she felt helpless. “Sara’s just teething. She’ll stop crying soon, I promise. We all want to get out of here, but…”

He was muttering more to himself than her, but without warning, he slammed her against the railing. She whimpered, and tried to kick out at his legs, but he had her pinned tight. “I can’t stay here. She can’t keep me in another filthy cage, not again… she, she said she wouldn’t do that any more. But then the rules changed: ‘it’s not safe, it’s still not safe’. Inside, outside, none of it is safe! No such thing as safe, you know that. We’re going to rot in our tomb, Jody!”

His eyes burned with agitation, and his hands twisted. She shrieked.

“Please, Tom! You’re going to break my wrists!”

He blinked, and let go, looking at his hands as if they had a mind of their own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We’re all a little stir crazy.” She backed up, cradling her arms to her chest, heading towards the elevator. “Let’s just go back down, all right?”

He shuffled after her, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looping yellow wool around his fingers as they creaked towards the ground. Janine met them as the door rattled open, her sidearm in hand but not raised. Tom pushed Jody a little way behind him instinctively, as if to protect her.

“Jane? Miss Marsh’s wrists are dislocated. You should probably fetch Dr Myers. Oh, and kill me.”

Janine nodded grimly, and waved him forward with the gun as they headed to the unused rooms on the lower levels. Jody slumped to the floor in a daze, bruised, cold, miserable. Sara continued to wail, Peter and Amelia were bickering acidically in the kitchen, and Sam was blaring the same music for the fourteenth time that day in a misguided effort to keep up spirits. She longed for her little flat in London with her perpetually absent roommate, closing the door to silence at the end of the day, on weekends jogging through perfectly manicured parks with no destination in mind. She longed for open spaces, and danger, and the freedom to escape from it. She longed for a world that was long gone, buried under years and guilt and snow.

***

“How do you survive it?”

“Not very well, as you can tell,” Tom admits. It’s the next morning. A less-good day. They’re playing chess through a heavy door and he’s winning despite being unable to see his pieces. “Bishop to F4. Check.”

They all know he could escape this room at any time if he really wanted to, but so far he seems to feel safer with tighter walls around him. She moves his bishop and studies the board; her king is left with almost nowhere to go, trapped by his own pawns.

“The weather will break soon. It has to. King to B3.”

“Rook to A9. We can only hope. We need these missions to go ahead. For the sake of Abel.”

For the sake of you and I not losing our minds, Jody thinks. “Yeah. For Abel. Uh, King B2.”

“Queen to B7. Mate.”

“Well played,” she smiles, and it wavers.

“Best of twelve, Miss Marsh? I have nowhere else to be.”

“Commander de Luca, it turns out my afternoon appointments are all cancelled. And I hear I make better company than the cockroaches.”

“Hey! Don’t knock the roaches! But yes, your company is infinitely more delightful. There’s really no other way I’d rather spend a day.”

That, of all things, makes her laugh for the first time in ages.

[alittlebitmaybe]

tying you to me

For @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo

Prompt: crafting

Pairing: Geraskier, implied Geralt/Yen in one line

Rating: T for language

Warnings: None

Summary:

As they lay in bed, Jaskier snuggled and breathing humid against his chest hair, Geralt remembers the pattern from Novigrad. A sweater with stretchy ribbing around the wrists and bottom hemline, a high collar. Intricate cabling criss-crossing up the front, making the fabric thick and sturdy. The scroll is stuffed into one of his saddlebags where he’d put it after purchase when he’d cursed himself for wasting the coin.

Jaskier snuffles closer, his grip tightening around Geralt’s waist as he soaks the added warmth through his skin, and Geralt has an idea.

Or: Geralt doesn't know about the boyfriend sweater curse.

Read more on AO3 or below the cut!

Geralt learned to knit out of necessity. Winters in Kaedwen, especially up in the mountains, are bitter cold, and require not only animal skins but woolen socks, hats, scarves, blankets. They keep a flock of sheep for the very purpose. And before—when there were others, even occasionally a proper staff—it would be part of the normal workings of the castle to have several sets of hands dedicated to knitting up useful garments to keep them from freezing their balls off when the frost came.

There are fewer hands now, but also fewer balls in danger of freezing. Geralt and Vesemir handle the bulk of it, these days—Eskel with fingers too big and clumsy to be much help, Lambert too fidgety and quick to rip out all his progress into a tangled mess of wool in a fit of frustration. In the evenings they sit by the great hall fire in mostly silence and take turns spinning the roving into yarn, winding skeins, chipping away at the endless miles of plain stocking stitch, and seaming panels together. (Sometimes Geralt will embellish the design with cables, or a moss stitch—unconventional patterns he’s started to see in the larger cities, sold by the fancier merchants. He may have paid a few crowns for the scroll describing the pattern for one particular sweater he saw in a shop in Novigrad. He has not mentioned this to Vesemir.)

It may be necessity, but Geralt would choose it even if it wasn’t. These are the things his hands are good for: wielding a sword; harvesting various glands and organs; curling into fists; crushing windpipes; skinning rabbits. Bandaging Ciri’s scrapes. Bringing Yen’s pleasure. Curling around the back of Jaskier’s neck, drawing their lips together. And, when it’s over, when there’s nothing to kill and no one to care for, he can create. He can put it all to the side and count off to himself, knit-purl, knit-purl, knit-purl, knit, knit, knit, around and around, back and forth, and this thing will grow from the rhythm of his fingers, from the steady loop and pull that he’s done thousands of times, taught by some witcher instructor decades ago whose name he no longer recalls. He had bushy eyebrows that waggled as he worked. That’s all the memory that’s left of him.

Anyway, it’s easy to allow the hours to pass until Vesemir excuses himself to bed and the fire burns down and takes the light with it. One such night, just as Geralt is squinting at his work to finish this one last row, the hall door creaks open.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says sleepily, “are you still in here? ‘S late, love.”

Knit, knit, knit. “Mm,” says Geralt. “I’m here. Just finishing up.”

“I’ll wait for you, then.” Jaskier pads in his sockfeet across the stone to the armchair Geralt occupies. He sits himself on the rug with his back against Geralt’s legs, knees pulled up to his chest. “Brr. ‘S chilly, too.”

Geralt drops the needle in his right hand, maintaining tension on the working yarn with his left. He runs his free hand through Jaskier’s bed-mussed hair, brushes against his cold ear, down to the soft skin behind it. “Not wearing a coat.”

“Well I wasn’t heading outside, seemed like a—” He yawns, jaw cracking. “—a lot of trouble just to come downstairs. But I now see my mistake.”

“Always have to wear a coat at night,” Geralt says. “Or be under blankets. Or both.”

“Or acquire a personal witcher furnace, unless he’s down here ‘til gods know what hour making yet more mittens for the princess.”

Geralt looks down at the large rectangle he’s been working on. “Lap blanket,” he says. For Ciri, when she’s studying in the library. It gets drafty in there even with the fire blazing.

“For the library?” says Jaskier, tipping his head back to see Geralt. “Good thinking. She’ll love it.”

Geralt releases him and goes back to his work, but knits at most ten stitches before Jaskier shivers again, his teeth chattering before he gets himself under control. Setting the blanket aside, middle of the row be damned, he concedes, “Let’s go back to bed.”

“No, you’re—you’re not done with—” Jaskier cannot finish his sentence for the yawn that overtakes him. “M’kay. Let’s go.”

As they lay in bed, Jaskier snuggled and breathing humid against his chest hair, Geralt remembers the pattern from Novigrad. A sweater with stretchy ribbing around the wrists and bottom hemline, a high collar. Intricate cabling criss-crossing up the front, making the fabric thick and sturdy. The scroll is stuffed into one of his saddlebags where he’d put it after purchase when he’d cursed himself for wasting the coin.

Jaskier snuffles closer, his grip tightening around Geralt’s waist as he soaks the added warmth through his skin, and Geralt has an idea.

*

The next evening, after dinner has been consumed and cleaned up, Vesemir and Geralt move to the fire as usual. Vesemir is working up a new hat for Lambert, who has the shortest hair among them and has one practically pasted to his head all winter long.

Geralt spares a glance to his blanket-in-progress, and then veers toward the wooden chest that stores their yarn stash. He puts aside plain ball after plain ball, until finally he admits defeat and turns to Vesemir and asks, “Do we have any dye?”

“No,” says Vesemir, not looking up. He knits with the yarn looped around the back of his neck to keep the tension, instead of around his fingers. He says it’s easier on his old joints. Geralt thinks it looks preposterous, but it gets the job done. “Not a drop. And that’s never bothered you before.”

“I’m thinking of making a gift,” says Geralt. “I think they’d prefer it to be dyed.”

“Ah, the bard. Yes. I suppose he would.”

“I want him to actually wear it.”

“Indeed.”

“He says coats are too bulky and ponderous, and they dampen his spirits.”

“Foolish boy. He’ll learn.”

“So we have no dye? Of any color?”

“None,” says Vesemir. “Though it may be that there are some old skeins in the back of the cupboard by the linens. I recall that some of our forebears had rather expensive taste, for witchers. Quite wasteful of them. If you ask me.”

Geralt murmurs his thanks, pulls on a cloak, and makes his way through the frozen corridors to the cabinet in the laundry. Along the way he passes the study, and overhears Eskel dominating Jaskier in another round of Gwent.

“Eskel, you dirty cheating bastard, there is no way you just had that card.”

“Where d’you think I kept it, bard?”

“Up your sleeve, behind your ear, under the table, I dunno—”

“Down your pants,” Lambert chimes in, and Geralt hears Ciri giggle. She’s been spending too much time with the witchers now that Yen has departed for the season. Geralt should probably intervene more often.

“—maybe you magicked me with a sign thingy so I wouldn’t notice, but I’m sure you didn’t have it in hand a turn ago, I’ll swear that on—”

“Yes, Lambert, I’ve got Gwent cards lining my codpiece, naturally, even a few stuffed between my—”

Geralt rounds the corner and their voices fade away.

As Vesemir said, there is a small box pushed all the way to the back of the cupboard in amongst the linens. He opens it without much hope, but is surprised to find it full to the brim with yarn of deep reds and blues, all of some soft texture very unlike the itchy wool they’re accustomed to. Sniffing it, he decides it is from some type of goat. He also decides, based on its lack of musty odor, that it is not nearly old enough to have belonged to one of their forebears.

Well, in exchange for the use of the yarn, he’ll allow Vesemir his secret.

He carries the whole lot back to the great hall.

“You found it,” Vesemir remarks, now nearly done with the hat.

“Right where you said,” says Geralt. “You don’t mind if I use it?”

“As much as you like,” he replies disinterestedly, “if you’ll leave me the fuck alone while you do.”

Fair enough.

Geralt selects the red—a deep burgundy that will pair with the blush on Jaskier’s cheeks after a few glasses of wine. He pulls the scroll from his trouser pocket, and begins casting on as the pattern instructs.

*

When he hears Jaskier’s tread in the hall, he hastily pulls the half-finished lap blanket over his new project.

“Bedtime, Witcher,” says Jaskier, peering over his shoulder. “Didn’t make much progress on that tonight, did you?”

“It’s a big blanket,” Geralt grunts. “Eskel’s been practicing sleight of hand since we were boys. Don’t play him for money.”

“I bloody knew it,” Jaskier exclaims. He wheels around and stomps back out of the hall, suitably distracted. “Eskel! You’ll never believe what Geralt’s just told me!”

*

The sweater is slow going, since he does have to put real work into the blanket every once in a while to keep Jaskier’s suspicions to heel.

Over the next few weeks, it becomes near an open secret in the keep what Geralt is up to. Lambert catches him cursing late one evening as he is ripping back several rows to fix a cable he’d mistakenly crossed the wrong way.

“Whazzat,” Lambert says, crunching on a mouthful of tree nuts.

“Fuck off,” Geralt says. He squints and carefully tries to secure a dropped loop back on the needle. If it ladders down, he’s done for—there’ll be no fixing it while maintaining the pattern. He’s not nearly good enough for that.

“Looks like you’re fucking it up,” Lambert chews.

“I am. That’s why I told you to fuck off.”

“Thought that’s just how you decided to greet me now. That’s what Vesemir does.” He shoves another fistful of nuts into his mouth, though Geralt isn’t sure he’s swallowed the first.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

He manages to pick up that last loop before disaster strikes, and moves the stitches around on the needles to make sure they all look right. Then he shoves the left-hand stitches all the way up to the tip so he can continue.

Lambert leans down to examine the fabric, then runs his finger down the pattern with his eyebrow raised. “This is some fancy shit, Geralt, you giant poof.”

“It’s not for me,” he says.

Lambert swallows, belches, and says, “My point exactly. ‘S for Jaskier, innit.”

Geralt doesn’t bother answering as he approaches the cable he’d made a mess of the first time around. Lambert claps him on the shoulder with the hand he’s been using as a nut-to-mouth delivery tool, which leaves salt behind on his tunic.

“That’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thanks,” says Geralt wryly.

“Anyway, I’m outta here. This boring bullshit still gives me hives.”

He exits the hall and the door shuts heavily behind him. Geralt finishes recrossing the cable and, turning to check his pattern, finds it covered in greasy fingerprints.

Eskel, on the other hand, sits himself in Vesemir’s usual seat one night and sets to quietly whittling a whistle. After several hours, Geralt holds up the near completed front panel of his sweater and says, “Do you think Jaskier will like this?”

Eskel doesn’t even look at it. “Geralt, you could spit on a log and hand it to him and Jaskier would love it.” His knife stills. “Maybe don’t do that, though.”

To their credit, none of the other witchers say a word—possibly for lack of caring—and Geralt is able to rely on them to keep Jaskier occupied most nights while he finishes the front and back panels and seams them up.

Before he begins work on the sleeves, the pattern warns, the wearer should try on the body to ensure proper fit.

“Well, shit,” he says aloud. He can’t ask Jaskier to try it on and ruin the surprise. He holds it up against himself, trying to judge if they are similar enough size to judge whether it will fit Jaskier. Geralt, certainly, is wider in the chest and shoulders, but as long as he can get it on without stretching it too much he should be able to check the length. And, if it fits Geralt or is loose, it will certainly be too large on Jaskier.

It will have to do.

The next morning he rises early and takes the sack in which he’s been storing his project to Ciri’s bedroom. He knocks softly.

“Ciri?” he calls, mouth close to the door. “Can I use your mirror for a moment?”

“Mnnngh,” he hears. He takes this as an invitation.

The only visible part of her, when he lets himself in, is a tangle of hair escaping from under the pile of furs on the bed. He sets his sack delicately in front of the only full-length mirror in the keep and says, “Morning, Princess.”

“F’ off,” the fur pile groans. “No it’s not.”

“You really have been spending too much time with Lambert,” Geralt comments mildly as he pulls the unfinished sweater out and checks it for damage in transport, though he knows it was safe in the bag and only traveled up some stairs. “He’s a bad influence.”

“I’ve always been like this when rudely awakened at the crack of dawn,” Ciri says, muffled. “Don’t think any of you are special.”

“You cursed at the royal servants?”

“Quite regularly.”

Geralt shrugs the layers off his top half down to his undershirt while she continues to stretch and grumble wordlessly in the warmth of her bed. He pulls the sweater over his head; the neckline snags on his ears but otherwise he should be okay to try to get his arms in. He squeezes his right arm in and up, aiming for the proper hole—

“Geralt,” Ciri says icily, “what, by the gods, is that?”

He turns around, contorted in the confines of the too-tight sweater. She’s sitting up with her hair a wild tangle and her eyes wide in horror. “What’s what?”

“That garment!”

“It’s…a sweater? I’m making it.”

Geralt thinks he may be missing something very important.

“For yourself?”

“…No, for Jaskier. He needs another—”

“Don’t you care about the curse?”

Geralt finishes fitting himself into the sweater and tugs it down over his stomach while Ciri continues to stare at him in expectant horror. Thus no longer trapped, he decides to engage. “The what?”

Ciri slumps forward, briefly puts her face in her hands. “Good gods, Geralt, you really can’t be helped. But I also cannot allow you to give Jaskier a handmade sweater. Despite your…personal challenges”—at this, Geralt tilts his head and opens his mouth to ask exactly what the hell that means, but she barrels on—“I really have become fond of the two of you, so I cannot let you carry on with this foolish nonsense.”

Her voice goes more posh the longer speaks. Geralt thinks she will make a fine queen someday. “Ciri, I—”

“And really,” she continues, “it’s like you’re trying to sabotage a good thing. He does nothing but care for you, and this is how you repay him? Honestly. Melitele’s tits!”

“Melitele’s—? Where did you learn that one?”

“I’m hardly sheltered. And you’re one to talk, caring about my language when you’re about to lose Jaskier for good!”

“For good? Lose Jask—okay, Ciri.” He sits down at the foot of her bed, probably looking downright silly confined to a sleeveless sweater that is at least one size too small for him. He can feel it constricting the rise and fall of his chest and stretching tight in his armpits. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. What curse?”

The expression she aims at him is sharper than at least four of the blades in the armory. “The sweater curse, Geralt. If one makes a sweater for a person one is interested in romantically, that person leaves within a fortnight. Everyone knows this.”

“Oh, of course. How stupid of me,” Geralt says.

Ciri raises an eyebrow that says Yes, obviously.

“So you’re telling me that if I finish this sweater and give it to Jaskier, he will suddenly no longer be able to stand the sight of me and will stomp off on down the mountain, even with the good foot of snow and ice blocking the path.”

She sniffs. “Indubitably.”

“Hmm,” says Geralt. “I think I’ll take my chances.” He claps his hands on his knees as he stands and moves back to the mirror to inspect the sizing more closely. The armholes are definitely a bit small—he’ll have to let out the seam to increase the circumference—but the rest, if he tries to overlay Jaskier’s body onto his own, seems like it should be about right.

Ciri leaves the bed with a fur wrapped around her as a cape and comes to his side. “You’re impossible,” she declares, though the royal snootiness is diminished somewhat by her morning breath and tangled hair. Then she reaches out and touches the textured pattern between the cable running up the front. “Though, you know, it is quite beautiful, if horribly misguided.”

He grins indulgently at her. “Thank you, Princess.”

*

“Have you heard of the sweater curse?”

Vesemir snorts. “Poppycock. Who told you about that old superstition?”

“Just came across it.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Vesemir looks at Geralt over his spectacles. “I hope that it’s not bothering you.”

“No,” says Geralt. “Of course not.”

*

He has fuck-all in his hand of cards, but he stares down at them like they might contain the secrets of the Continent.

“It’s your turn, Geralt,” Eskel says.

“I know,” he replies, absently rearranging the cards.

“So…you gonna play or pass?” Lambert asks. He digs his hand into the bowl of nuts at his elbow.

“Not sure.”

“Is something on your mind?” Eskel, again.

“No. Well…do either of you believe in the sweater curse?”

They both look at him blankly.

“Nuh uh,” says Lambert with his mouth full.

Geralt says, “Pass.”

*

He speaks clearly into the xenovox. “Yen? Are you there?”

“Geralt?” comes the reply, as if she were beside him in the room. “Is Ciri all right?”

“We’re all fine. It’s good to hear from you, too.”

“If there’s no trouble, then make it quick.”

Now he hesitates, but he chokes the question out anyway. “Do you know about the sweater curse?”

There is silence.

“Yen?”

“For the love of the gods, Geralt, please don’t bother me with frivolous garbage. I’m much too busy. Is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all,” Geralt says, suitably shamed.

*

The finished, washed, and blocked sweater rests folded at the bottom of his wardrobe for more than a week before he works up the nerve to bring it down to dinner with him in his knitting sack.

Even with the flaws that Geralt, as the creator, inevitably notices—a few loose stitches three quarters down the back panel, the right sleeve is slightly longer than the left—he has to admit that it turned out well. He could fetch a pretty penny for it in a large city. Silky soft, thick, and vivid burgundy, it would be a stand-out piece among any merchant’s wares even without the detailing that stretches collar to hem and even down the outside of the arms.

Knitting it was a nightmare. He will never do anything like it ever again, so Jaskier had better appreciate this one.

Still, every time he resolves to finally gift it, Ciri’s words echo in the back of his mind. You’re about to lose Jaskier for good.

On the ninth day, he shushes that voice, takes the sack, and marches straight into the hall for dinner. After all, if Yen and Vesemir aren’t worried, then he shouldn’t be either.

Everyone but Jaskier is there already. Eskel looks up from pouring ale into each mug and says, “Hullo, Geralt. What do you have there?” and Lambert says, “Ooh, didja finish it?” and Vesemir digs wordlessly into his mutton.

Ciri’s eyes zero in on the sack.

“Hello,” says Geralt. “Is Jaskier still washing up?”

“Yeah,” says Lambert. “He fell in a pile of snow.”

“Lambert pushed him into a pile of snow,” Eskel amends.

Geralt glares at the accused, setting the sack on the bench at his usual spot.

“He asked for it. Bloody said ‘Lambert, throw me into that snow over there!’ didn’t he?”

“Since you were alone with him at the time, I don’t think I can confirm or deny—”

“Geralt,” Ciri interrupts, “tell me you’re not still planning what you said.”

“I am,” he tells her.

“You were standing not ten feet away.”

“My back was turned—”

“You’re a godsdamned witcher! Or have you gone deaf?”

“Even after what I told you! I thought you were going to think about it!” Ciri pushes back from the table. “I forbid you from giving that to him.”

Geralt snorts. “Or what, Princess? Look, I don’t think Jaskier is planning to leave—”

“Of course he’s not planning to, the curse will make him! Why are you tempting destiny this way?”

“I’m just saying, Lambert, that it wouldn’t be out of your character to shove an unsuspecting bard into a snowbank.”

“Oh, and hustling him at Gwent wasn’t out of your character, so maybe you’re actually the one who shoved him. Thought about that one, Eskel?”

Geralt says, “If he tries to leave, I’ll tie him to the bed until the urge passes.”

She wrinkles her nose in disgust, but then moves past that comment. “At least let me give it to him. I’ll say I brought it from Cintra, or bought it on the way here.”

“And let my hard work go unacknowledged? I don’t think so. And why would you have bought a man’s sweater?”

Among the arguments, no one notices Jaskier enter the hall and come up behind Vesemir, wide eyed. “What did I miss?” he stage whispers.

“Just open your present, bard,” Vesemir mutters, gesturing to the sack at Geralt’s knee.

“Ooh, a present? For little old me?”

He picks up the sack and tests the weight curiously, before opening it and drawing out the most marvelous sweater he has ever seen.

“Jaskier, no!” Ciri cries, and everyone else falls quiet.

“What, why?” he says, looking between Ciri’s stricken face and the furrow between Geralt’s brows. “What is this?”

“It’s for you,” Geralt murmurs. “I made it.”

“You made it?” he repeats dumbly.

“Yes. For you. Because you were…cold.”

“Because I was cold?”

Geralt gently takes it from him and holds it up so he can see the full design. “That night, you came in when I was knitting, and you were cold. I wanted to make you something warm to wear that you would like.”

Jaskier squishes the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

“Do you,” says Geralt, “like it?”

“It’s stunning,” Jaskier breathes. Geralt may as well have hit him over the head with a hammer.

“I cannot believe you, Geralt of Rivia,” Ciri cuts in. “You never listen to anyone. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” With that, she turns on her heel and leaves the hall.

Geralt grimaces. “Do you, er, have any particular desire to leave me?”

“Leave you? Why would I—Geralt, is this a breakup gift? Is it pity?” He panics, pushing the sweater back into Geralt’s hands. “I don’t want your gorgeous pity breakup sweater, Geralt. I’ve played that game before.”

Geralt steadies him, as ever. “No, it’s—Ciri thinks there’s a curse, or something. And that if I made you a sweater, you would leave.”

“Oh,” says Jaskier. “Well, I assure you I will not. And in that case I do want the sweater.” He shucks off his coat right there at the table and pulls the sweater on over his tunic. “There!” He spreads his hands wide. “How does it look?”

The smile Geralt gives him is answer enough. “Perfect,” he says. “You look perfect.”

“Not bad, bard,” Eskel says.

Lambert shoots him a thumbs up. Vesemir does not appear to be paying attention.

Jaskier leans in and kisses Geralt on the lips. “Thank you very much,” he whispers. “I adore it and promise to thank you more appropriately later tonight. For now, shall I go after Ciri?”

“That may be best,” Geralt says. “I don’t think she likes me much right now.”

“My pleasure. Say,” he says louder, “while I’m gone, don’t let my food get cold.” He opens the door and barely feels the usual chill of the drafty hallways at all. Over his shoulder, he adds, “You can get Lambert to tell you all how he threw me in a snow pile today! It was great fun!”

“I told you—” he hears, but then the door closes behind him.

[thewalkingdead-imagines]

Negan Imagine ~ Magic

Summary: Negan takes you on a surprise trip to one of his favorite places on earth.

This is my entry for twdsunshine’s 3k followers writing challenge! I hope you all enjoy it!

The soft purling of the streak sounded through the air, mixing with the gentle breeze that whirled through the crowns of the trees, just enough to let their leaves rustle as you watched nature’s beauty unfold right before your eyes.  Tiny blossoms of lilac heather peaked through the spots of earth in between the rocks that formed the streak, their color enhanced by the warm light of the dusk that broke through the trees and danced over the water. It glimmered, like little diamonds that adorned the crowns of the waves as it made its way down the stream. It looked like a view you’d only see in movies, so filled with magic that you couldn’t peel your eyes from it. “Sweetheart, I’d love to stay here longer but I gotta get us to your surprise destination before sunset...’cause that’s where the real damn magic happens”, you heard Negan’s deep voice rumble, a chuckle falling from his lips as his warm hand grasped yours a little tighter and made you finally look back up at him,”Promise, it’s gonna be even prettier than here.” “Not really sure if that’s possible”, you said with a soft grin, watching the roguish smirk on his face expand a bit more over his handsome features. “Lemme prove it to you”, he said, winking before he nodded towards the small beaten path you’d been following until now,”It’s not far anymore.” “Alright...I’m curious”, you said, feeling a warm tingle run through your body as Negan tugged softly on your hand.  It didn’t need more than that for you to follow him, move back onto the path as your excitement grew with every step you took. Barely a minute later he lead you off the trial, into the undergrowth. It wasn’t too thick, just enough to still comfortably walk through it, though this little twist peaked your interest all the more. You kept looking out for something, kept observing Negan to see whether his reactions changed but he kept his pokerface on until more light started to gush through the spaces between the trees.  You could peak through them just enough to divine a glade behind them, though the curve of the small hill you were walking up kept you from seeing its entirety yet.  “Ah wait”, Negan suddenly said, stopping as he shot you a grin and earned a curious but confused look of you. “Surprise is surprise, right?”, he chuckled, his hand leaving yours for the first time in a whole while as he moved behind you. “What are you doing?”, you asked with a small laugh, turning your head towards him just as he rose up his hands to your head and you started to put two and two together. “Baby, I know you. If I’d tell you to close your eyes for the last few feet you’d peak. You’re curious as fuck”, he said, chuckling deeply as you let out a groan and nudged him softly with your elbow.  “Just sayin’ the truth, now close your eyes and lemme put my hands over that beautiful face of yours”, he said, winking at you one last time before you turned your head back around and allowed him to place his large, warm hands over your eyes.  “If you let me stumble over rocks or roots, I’ll chase you”, you chuckled as you made your first careful steps upwards, testing the ground beneath your shoes’ soles while a deep laugh rumbled through Negan’s chest. “I’m faster than you, doll”, he teased back, still leading you forwards,”Won’t let ya fall though, promise.” You only hummed in response, still focusing on your movements before you started to feel the soft breeze becoming a little stronger, barely noticeable but still enough to realize that the trees that had been shielding you from it up until now were gone.  “Alright, gonna let ya go now but I need you to keep your eyes closed for just another second, I wanna see your reaction”, he said, waiting for you to nod before his warmth left your face. You listened, keeping your eyes closed as you heard him move beside you while you almost bursted with excitement. “Okay”, he finally said before you started to open your eyes that slowly began to adjust to the light around you. 

For a moment, your breath seemed to stop as you started to take in the beauty that unfolded right before you, even more beautiful than the view earlier, just as he’d promised.  A small valley was stretching out right in front of you, most of it covered in the blossoming, lilac heather and here and there, a few bright green grassy spots were peaking out in between them. A few birches had struck roots within the deepest spots of the valley, their white stems were lit up in warm, orange tones right where the evening sun hit them and from up here, they almost seemed small. Right beside them, a few deers were grazing peacefully while two or three others were napping in between the heather, though you were sure there were more of them hiding in between the flowers, finding their peace for the night.  it looked magical, from the flowers, to the trees, to the deers, everything seemed to be bathing in the warm dusk light that let the scenery look like straight out of a fairytale.  “Wow”, it fell from your lips as you were still staring at the landscape, so taken aback by its beauty that you could barely say anything else. “I was right, huh?”, Negan asked, a big grin plastered over his face as you peeled your glance from the pretty view and nodded. “How did you find this?”, you asked, glimpsing at him as he let out a deep chuckle and shrugged his shoulders. “Magic”, he grinned, though a small snort left his lips as you tilted your head a little and raised your brows, too curious to be satisfied with his answer. “My mom used to take me here sometimes as a kid”, he finally said with a small sigh, his glance wandering back down the valley,”Y’know, when things got too hard and she thought we just needed a break from reality.” You gave him another small nod as he glimpsed back at you, the big grin now a small but warm smile as he moved in to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you gently into his side. “Always wanted to take you here but it only blooms like that once a year”, he said, nodding towards the heather,”It’s always beautiful but I thought it would be the best to introduce you to it when it’s in its full damn beauty.” A bigger smile started to grow on your lips and a fuzzy feeling spread through you as Negan glanced down at you and tightened his arm around you a little, “And ‘cause I thought the both of us could use a damn break from reality too...well, I thought now was the right moment.” “Thank you”, you mumbled, still taken aback as you wrapped an arm around him to hug him back, nuzzling your nose against his shirt as a wider smile grew on your face,”I don’t even know what to say.” “Already? This isn’t all though”, Negan retorted with a chuckle, enough to let you look back up at him as he gestured towards the backpack that hung from his shoulders,”Didn’t pack this fucking big bag for nothin’.” An excited expression pressed in over his features as he didn’t say more but instead loosened his embrace and grasped your hand so he could start to lead you down the hill.  You didn’t move all to far down, just a little until you could spot a small, natural platform that had formed through the hill’s curves, a sweet little spot between some small heather flowers that seemed like a perfect place to rest.  You watched as Negan let go of you and moved towards the spot, kicking a few smaller rocks off of it before he let down his backpack and pulled a wrapped up picnic blanket out. He was quick to spread it out over the grassy ground and dragged his backpack closer before he plumped down onto it and grinned up a you. “C’mon, lets get comfy”, he said, patting the blanket as you moved towards him and sat down on the fabric while he reached back into the backpack, grinning wider as he could see the curiosity plastered over your face.  “Alrighty, here we go. We’ve got our two besties, whiskey and wine”, Negan said proudly, pulling two bottles out, wiggling some cooling pads off of them that fell right back into the bag before he moved his hands to feel the glass surfaces and let out an excited sound,”Those fuckers actually stayed cold...can’t believe this cooling shit actually worked.” He grinned to himself before he reached back inside and first took two glasses and then two smaller boxes out, holding them up for a moment as he gave you another wink. “And some snacks...got some bread, spread, fruit and some of those bacon-cheese sticks stuff you liked...y’know all that good shit”, he said, placing them beside the backpack before he pulled another one out and let your mouth drop slightly open as you saw how much of an effort he’d made. “Baby, if you keep your mouth this open some bug’s gonna fly in there”, you heard him say with a smirk as he looked back up at you, moving his finger up to gesture with a wiggle at your lips before you let out a snort and playfully swatted his finger away. “Idiot”, you laughed, only watching the smirk on his lips grow wider ,”I’m just impressed....that surprise worked.” “Good”, he mumbled, before he moved over to grasp your hand and give you a nod, “C’mere.” You didn’t need another invitation to climb over to him and move into the spot between his legs, sighing as you could lean back against his warm, broad chest. His arms were quick to wrap around you and cradle you closer, holding you tightly as he pressed a kiss against your temple. A thick but content sigh fell from your lips as you felt his rough beard stubble brush softly against your skin, nudging you to sink deeper into his embrace. “You wanna drink something?”, he mumbled against your skin before he backed a little off and raised his brows at you while you quickly nodded. “Yep, can’t let it get warm after you did all that to keep ‘em cold”, you said with a grin as Negan reached for the bottles, “Think I’ll start with the wine.” “Yes, Ma’am”, Negan chuckled, moving in to pour some wine in one of the glasses for you before he got some whiskey for himself and handed you the drink. “Cheers”, he said, raising his glass to you before he let out a deep chuckle,”Oh and look into my damn eyes, doll. Y’know what they say, no eye contact during a toast gets ya seven years of bad sex, can’t have that.” “Well, I don’t think bad sex is possible with you either way”, you chuckled as you raised your glass to him as well, grinning as he let out a thick laugh. “Damn, you’re trying to make me blush?”, he chuckled back, winking at you before he let his glass clink gently against yours, sure to keep your eye contact. “Maybe”, you chuckled, before you took your first sip and let out a content sigh, “That’s good.” “Sure hope so”, Negan grinned back, gulping down some of his whiskey while you leaned back against him and cuddled closer, feeling how he wrapped his arm tightly around your waist and rested his head against yours as your glance swayed over the landscape.  The sun was starting to sink behind the skyline of the trees, surrounding their crowns with a glowing line of its last but warm light, while its last rays were dancing over the grass and the heather. It seemed to look more magical with every passing moment, with each new spot you seemed to discover and with each glance you got at the flowers, the grazing deers and the softly swinging trees. A large smile was spreading over your face as you cuddled closer into Negan’s embrace, allowing him to engulf you with his warmth and comforting scent while more and more happiness washed over you. “Thank you...so so much, it’s perfect”, you mumbled, placing your glass securely beside you before turning your head a little so you could look at him ,”You’re the best...I got so lucky with you.” Negan’s eyes lit up as the small laughter lines at the sides of his eyes wrinkled softly and his dimples sunk slightly in as a warm smile widened his lips. You knew how badly he needed to hear this last sentence from time to time, reassure him that he was being a good partner to you. And he was, not only a good one, he truly was the best you could have ever wished for.  Glancing only a mere second away he placed his glass beside himself, sure to not drop it before his glance captured yours again as his rough hand reached up to cup the side of your face. Leaning in, he let his lips meet yours in a kiss, loving and surprisingly soft, yet with enough passion to let you realize how much joy he was feeling as well. “I love you, Sweetheart”, you could hear him mumble against your lips ,”So goddamn much.” He moved in to peck your lips once more, allowing you to taste the hint of whiskey that was still laying on his lips before he backed a little away to look you over, the adoration in his eyes giving you an even warmer feeling than the one that was already cozily making itself at home in your body. “I love you too”, you mumbled back with a bright smile before he moved to cradle you back against himself, hold you tight but comfortably as you watched the sunset fill the rest of the sky.  Sighing softly, you sunk deeper into Negan’s embrace, trying to soak up everything about the moment that would turn into a dreamish night, with drinks and snacks, the most beautiful view you could imagine, and most importantly, with Negan right by your side. 

[i-used-to-wear-the-fedora]

NSR Beauty and the Beast AU, Misunderstandings

Based on @chiquitabanana5 's AU!

"This way!"

"How do you know where we're going?!"

"I don't!" Mayday ran through the mansion's halls with Zuke close behind. The creatures the glowing eyes belonged to were close behind. Their forms obscured by the darkness but it was clear whatever was chasing the duo, they were huge. The footsteps thundering down the halls were loud and fast.

"May what-erk!" Zuke's question was cut off as he was yanked into a side room by his partner. Slamming the door shut Mayday and Zuke quickly retreated into the furthest corner. The creatures began to bang on the floor, handle rattling.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God..." Zuke kept repeating as he fell to the floor.

"Let us in." A gravelly voice called from outside. Something raking against the door...claws? There was a loud crunch of a fist punching through the door. Mayday and Zuke shrieked in horror, watching the fur covered hand reach to unlock the door.

"We're to die. There was so much I wanted to do." Zuke was shaking as he spoke. Mayday's eyes shifted as something occured to her.

"I've got an idea!"

"May, whatever you're thinking. Don't." But it was too late as May ran over to the flailing arm. Grabbing it on her hands, Zuke watched in a mix of confusion and horror as she bit down on it.

"What the hell?!" One of the voices on the other side of door yelped. Trying to shake May loose but she was determined.

"May! What are you doing?" Zuke gaped at the girl who finally unclamped her jaw, the hand retreating.

"Fighting back!" She made a face before spitting out some fur. "Eugh, it's like licking a battery." The audible attempts at forcing the door open had stopped when one of the voices on the other side spoke up.

"Can you open up? We're not going to hurt you." Mayday and Zuke looked at each other, both incredibly unconvinced.

"You were literally just chasing us." Mayday said angrily, crossing her arms.

"To be fair, you did break into our house." One of the creatures said. To be fair it...wasn't wrong.

"We thought this place was abandoned." Zuke tried to explain. "We just needed a place to stay for the night. We're stranded out here." There was murmuring on the other side of the door. The creatures talking amongst themselves for a couple of minutes before quieting down.

"We'll help you."

"What?" Mayday asked.

"We have an old limo in the garage," one of the other voices said, "we can fix it up! Might take a while but it'll get you home." The musicians were still unsure but to be fair, what other option did they have?

"Can you come out now? Preferably no biting this time."

"I make no promises." May spoke as she unlocked the door and carefully opened it. The hallway was lit now, allowing the duo to clearly see their pursuers.

"Whoa. You're...tall..." Was all Zuke could get out when he saw them. The group of five was indeed, very tall. Their faces were shaped like that of a weird deer creature's. Patches of fur were scattered, showing the robotic parts underneath. They were all different colors with weird hairstyles. The red one with a mohawk was clutching his hand. He was eyeing Mayday wearily.

"That's a word for it." Mayday gaped. "Okay, I get the others are living objects but what are you?"

"May!"

"What? It's an honest question." One of the deer creatures, the green one, kneeled down to face then. The grin he had on would be nice and welcoming if it was anyone else. But instead it showed off all of his sharp fangs, like a wolf barring it's teeth. Mayday and Zuke did their best not to flinch when the deer spoke.

"I'm Eloni. And these are my brothers," he gestured to others, "Rin, Purl-Hew, Haym and Zimelu! It's nice to meet you!"

"Speak for yourself," the red haired one said. "Please tell me you've had your rabies shot."

"My what?"

"Don't mind Zimelu. He's an ass."

"She bit me!" Zimelu snarled.

"It was self defense!" May snapped back, about to start a fight when the yellow one stepped between them.

"Okay, it's really late guys, we should all turn in for the night."

"Oh joy!" May and Zuke turned to see the living objects from the foyer now gathered behind them. The computer monitor clapping it's desk legs together. "They can stay in the upstairs guest room!"

"But dad-"

"Dad?" May squinted at the desk then at the weird deer creatures. "I have questions."

"Come along now children!" The computer quickly rushing them away from the brothers. Out of the corner of his eye, Zuke catching the white brother, Rin?, staring at him. "The room's a little dusty but you're going to love it! Wait until you meet Eve, she's just the best!"

"Eve?" Zuke asked as they were led up the stairs to a paint splattered door. The computer's leg knocking on the door.

"Eve! We have guests!" The door swung open, something bright red being thrown out the door and narrowly missing May's head.

"I'm busy J, tell them to come back later." The room was a mess, articles of clothing and paint stains scattered everywhere. In the middle of the room was a pink and white dresser standing in front of a half dressed mannequin. "Inspiration has struck me and I need..." She trailed off when she turned around to see the duo. "Oh my God."

"Ugh, hi?" Mayday watched as the dresser waddled over to them.

"Live models!" The dresser exclaimed, grabbing the red girl by the face with her metal arms. "So plain, so pedestrian! A perfect canvas!"

"I'll leave you to it." The computer desk exited the room, slamming the door behind him. Zuke watched as the dresser whisked Mayday to the center of the room. There was something...familiar about her.

[nsr-junction]

oh i'd love a short onionshipping drabble of rin and zuke being stupid together. maybe some shenanigans in baracca mansion?

Wooo! Thank you so much for the request! I had a lot of fun with this one!

Here’s a short all about Rin just being a big ol’ smitten dumbass

———

Bright white lights shone through the hallways of Barraca mansion, right before a robotic figure came running down. Rin turned a corner and found himself in the kitchen.

Just his luck, Haym was still there microwaving a glass of milk for himself as he usually did around this time at night.

“Yo, Haym!!” Rin started, perhaps a bit too passionately, as Haym jumped.

“Oh gosh! Rin!” Haym put a hand against his chest. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry! I just really need your opinion on something!” Rin quickly pulled out his phone and showed his brother the screen. “Look! Zuke texted me! What should I say!?”

“Well… read the text to me!”

“NO!” Rin pulled his phone against his chest in defence. “Do you just open fan mail!?”

“Uh… yeah-“

“NO! You savour it! You have to judge what’s on the inside by the envelope, the handwriting, the SMELL! You have to think of what to reply before you even read it! It’s part of the whole experience!!”

Before Haym could confuse himself any further by trying to figure out his brother’s logic, his attention was pulled to the microwave beeping.

“My milk’s done, so uhh… Just tell him how much you love him! Call him cute names, like ‘Teddy Bear’ and stuff.”

“That’s… cute!” Rin watched as Haym took his milk and walked to bed. He sat alone in the kitchen for a moment, not quite satisfied with his brother’s advice.

A new idea popped into Rin‘s head. “Purl-Hew!” He figured that the self proclaimed ‘King of Cool’ would have some valuable input.

———

“Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew, Purl-Hew!” Rin pounded at his brother’s bedroom door until it was opened.

“Someone better have died, I need my beauty sleep.” Purl-Hew leaned against the doorframe. His sleep mask was barely pulled over his eyes as he waited for Rin to state his business so he could leave him alone.

“Zuke texted me!”

Without a word, Purl-Hew slammed his door closed.

“I need help with the response, and you’re the coolest guy I know!”

After a moment, Purl-Hew’s door slowly opened again. “I’m listening…”

“What do I respond!?”

“Well, what did he send you?”

“I can’t read it yet!! The whole point of the letter experience is-“

“Okay, okay. I don’t have time for any tangents. Just… play it cool, I guess. Tell him ‘What’s up’, that usually works.” Purl-Hew slowly closed his door, hoping Rin would take the hint and leave.

“But what if-“

“GOODNIGHT!” Purl-Hew slammed his door once more, this time with no intention of opening it again for the night.

A ping sounded from Rin’s phone, and he slid down the wall to the floor. “Craaaaaaaaap…” It was another text from Zuke. “What do I do…”

Another idea popped into Rin’s head. “Zimelu! He’s responded to a lot of messages on the internet, he’d know what to do!”

———

Music blasted from the other end of Zimelu’s bedroom door. Knocking seemed to be out of the question, so Rin invited himself in.

“Yo! Zim!” Rin tried to shout over the music, but Zimelu only turned the volume up.

“Zim- hey!” Rin ran to his brother’s speakers, and yanked their cords out of the wall.

“What the hell, dude!?” Zimelu finally acknowledged the other being in his presence. “I was trying to sleep!!”

“You!… You fall asleep to loud music?”

“You don’t?”

“Okay, Uh…” Rin regained his train of thought. “I need your help with something, Zuke texted me-“

“Congratu-freakin’-lations, can you plug in my speakers now?” Zimelu leaned back into his bed while tapping his fingers on his leg.

“I have no idea how to respond!”

“Oooohh.” Zimelu sat up to get a better look at his brother. “You’re doing that stupid thing where you think of a response before you read the message?”

“It’s not stupid!” Rin crossed his arms. “It’s thoughtful and romantic!”

“Whatever you say, buddy.” Zimelu rolled his eyes. “Okay, what you want to do is respond with a ‘hey’, then wait half an hour until you respond. Shows the right amount of ‘care but don’t care’”.

“Isn’t that a little mean?” Rin tilted his head to the side.

“Didn’t you come to ME for MY advice? Now plug in my speakers.”

With a sigh, Rin shoved the cords back into their outlets and left.

Yet another ping sounded from Rin’s phone, and he groaned. “Damnit, who can I ask now? Dad doesn’t want us disturbing him at night…”

A final idea popped into Rin’s head. He was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but he didn’t have much choice.

———

“Hey! Eloni!” As Rin called for his brother, a loud thud sounded from the other side of the door.

“…Loni…”

In a moment, Eloni quickly stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. “What do you want!? I’m busy!”

“Geez, I can just go.” Rin turned his back, but Eloni jumped to grab his shoulder and turn him back around.

“Wait wait! You already got here, so-“ Before Eloni could process his feelings, his bedroom door slammed open from an apparent draft. A packed bag sat on his bed, and his window was wide open.

“Are you-“

“LOOK!” Eloni interrupted. “Don’t tell dad about this, and I’ll do whatever you want.

Rin weighed his options, but decided to turn a blind eye to Eloni’s apparent escape for the time being. “I need your help, Zuke texted me, and I don’t know what to respond!”

“Zuke, huh?” Eloni smirked, much to Rin’s distaste.

“Eloni, I swear to god! This isn’t time for an awful pun!”

“No pun, dear brother.” Eloni sauntered into his room, his smirk never leaving his face, and he grabbed his bag. “I think you should respond with ‘Sorry for making you wait out in the cold for so long’”

As Eloni slipped out of the window, Rin’s mechanical heart skipped a beat. CRAP CRAP CRAP!! He had forgotten that Zuke was coming over for the night.

Without minding how loud he was, Rin ran down the stairs and swung open the front door as fast as he could. Zuke was there, sitting on a curb with his bag on his lap, resting his chin on it.

“I’M SO SORRY!!” Zuke jumped up at Rin’s sudden exclamation, and couldn’t manage to get a word in before Rin tackled him to the ground in a hug. “It was so stupid of me! I can’t believe I forgot! I just wanted to respond to your text romantically, and think , and-“

Hey! Hey!” Zuke chuckled, and helped the other to his feet. “It’s okay. I’ve done the same, man.”

“Really?” Rin smiled, relieved that Zuke wasn’t angry at him.

“Yeah, I’ve forgotten about performances before just because I was practising the drums!”

They both laughed, and made their way inside.

“Oh god, you must be so cold!” Panic began to set in on Rin’s face once more.

“No, really, it’s okay. I-“

“NONSENSE!!” Before Zuke could finish his sentence, Rin scooped him up. “My darling ideal boyfriend will only be treated to the best within the walls of Barraca Mansion!”

“O-okay…” Zuke blushed, and buried his face into Rin’s chest.

[kieraambers]

Malfunction - Epilogue

Neon J stretches as he finally got off the plane, happy to finally be back in the city he knew well. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know someone new was following him, as expected. It was a rather large man in a blue hoodie with a very distinct helmet that looked like the far reaches of space. Neon J let out a mechanical laugh as the man walked next to him before patting him on the back.

“Welcome to Vinyl City, soldier!” He said with pride. “I will be scheduling a meeting at NSR tower in the next couple of days. We will discuss your Lights Up Audition there. In the meantime feel free to look around our home, Supernova.” Supernova nods calmly.

“Very well. I will see what this city has to offer to me.” He seemed to smile as he said this. The two turn towards a crowd down the hall of the airport, hearing a lot of talking coming from there. “What do you suppose is happening over there?” Supernova asks as he turns to Neon J. Neon J’s radar quickly showed a blue dot amongst the crowd and Neon J laughed.

“Ah, one of my troops is here to pick me up. Do you think you can get to the hotel you're staying at, or do you need me to call someone?” Neon J asks.

“I can handle it by myself, thank you.” Supernova responds.

“Very well. I suppose I’ll see you at the Lights Up Audition then.” Neon J says, to which Supernova nods again. After giving Supernova a goodbye salute, Neon J walks over to the crowd and calls out. “Purl-hew!” The crowd quickly parts for Neon J and Purl-hew turns, smiling and quickly makes his way towards Neon J before saluting, which Neon J returns.

“Captain! Are you ready to come home, sir?” Purl-hew asked.

“Affirmative! Vehicle is outside?” Neon J responded.

“Affirmative, sir.” Purl-hew replied, almost breaking into laughter.

“Then let us move out!” Neon J commanded before dropping his salute, followed by Purl-hew dropping his. Neon J makes the crowd disperse before continuing to walk with Purl-hew and soon exiting the building, getting in the flying limousine he had made. Purl-hew goes below deck before coming back as the car drives off from the airport.

“Destination, Barraca Mansion.” Purl-hew reports.

“Excellent. I hadn’t expected that crowd around you when I got back.” Neon J admitted.

“Eh, a lot happened while you were gone, Captain.” Purl-hew replied, chuckling a bit. “If we ever find the time we’ll tell you what happened, but I doubt that since you’ll be telling us about the trip.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Neon J snapped, causing Purl-hew to chuckle more.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Captain.” Purl-hew says, turning and waving it off. Neon J’s sight was quickly diverted from the chuckling androids face to the androids back when he turned however.

“...Soldier? Where did you get that scar?” Neon J asks, pointing to a light black scar along the back of the android. Purl-hew’s smile disappears briefly.

“...like I said, a lot happened while you were gone.” Purl-hew said with a slight shrug. “We’ll tell you later.” Neon J, despite clearly being displeased with the answer, pushed no further. The car soon pulls up to Barraca Mansion and the two enter the house, quickly hearing Zimelu shouting while Haym and Eloni laugh happily. Purl-hew rolled his eyes from behind his glasses. “WE’RE HOME!!!” He called as the two found the three brothers in the dining room, playing a game on the table. The three quickly stand up and salute to Neon J. However, before Neon J could say something, he quickly noticed a scar across Eloni’s face. He briskly walked towards Eloni, which made Eloni flinch a bit, and grabs Eloni’s face to get a better look at the scar.

“...How did this happen?” He says, turning Eloni’s face towards the three brothers.

“Again, a lot happened.” Purl-hew repeated himself. “You just got back from the airport. You should rest. Then we’ll tell you.” Neon J huffs, not liking the withholding of information from him, but lets go of Eloni. One cycle around his radar, and he speaks up again.

“Where’s Rin?” He asks.

“In the workshop, sir.” Zimelu was the first to respond.

“Ah, very well. I’ll go see if he’s alright. Also at ease.” He says as he turns and heads towards the workshop, the three brothers lowering their salute. He opens the door to the workshop, looking around briefly before noticing Rin. Rin had his head on a desk, currently in sleep mode, a work in progress in front of him, tools scattered across the table and a blueprint underneath him. Neon J smiles internally and leaves, only to come back with a blanket, which he lays over Rin’s shoulders. He ruffles his hair before whispering.

“Good night, son.” And with that, he leaves him to rest.

[artoutforblood]

I’m rereading Cirque du Freak again and it reminded me of an old oc of mine and their adopted dad ;-;

yes i know theres another character named Arrow don’t @ me

TW: child molestation (not by gavnur) and child assault and spoilers for CdF

Arrow Purl (born Abel Arrowood) is Gavnur Purl’s adopted kid. He rescued and made them half-vampire when they were 8 years old when he found them half-dead, in the middle of being murdered and molested by their attacker after they had been abandoned by their birth parents in a nearby shopping mall. 

Although he had initial doubts, if he were to save them, he had to make them half vampire so they could survive. Even knowing what could eventually happen to them in the future as a half-vampire, he couldn’t leave them to bleed out from their wounds with their last memories being violated. 

Even with the excelerated healing abilities, it still took them a week or more to heal from the fatal wounds with constant supervision from Gavnur. During the process, their brown hair turned fair silver, with some locks retaining their original color, and their brown eyes got a silver sheen to them. Gavnur chalks this up to the strain of the recovery and the transformation into half vampire, at least at first.

Eventually, they awaken in a daze, half crazed from the memories of their assault, and Gavnur quickly hypnotizes them into forgetting the event entirely and then lulling them back to sleep. When they wake next, they only remember being lured into the alley where he found them and nothing afterwards. The attack left them with several scars on their torso and the slash across their eye and neck, and they know they were attacked and was hurt terribly and Gavnur had to make them half vampire so they could survive because he told them, but isn’t aware of the specifics.

Though they’re initially wary of Gavnur due to previous neglect from their parents, they are still grateful to him for saving their life and taking them in. Gavnur Daddy-Issues Purl immediately takes to them and starts raising them as his own. 

Because of Arrow being missing instead of dead, and only being noticed that their gone by their past school teacher as their parents gave no missing persons reports, Gavnur cuts their hair, hides their gender, and gives them the new name Arrow and his last name, passing them as his nephew and adopted son from his deceased sister. 

Arrow is cautious and easily anxious and scared, and sticks to Gavnur like glue in most situations, often grabbing an article of clothing in reach or his hand. That being said, as they get a little older, they become curious and starts asking more questions about becoming a vampire and everything that comes with it. Most adults are fond of them because they are polite, kind, and have remarkable good behavior. Around Gavnur, they’re more outgoing, witty, and can be a troublemaker. 

Within a year, Arrow grows to love Gavnur dearly and begins calling him their Daddy. Arrow comes to hold him in high esteem and puts his livelihood over their own, much to his chagrin as the opposite is also true on his side. He spoils them with love to the point they can climb up in his lap at any point, even during situations where this could be considered impolite, and he’d let them. The relationship becomes a bit codependent as a result.

As time goes on, Arrow starts showing signs of having premonitions, put into three categories: Sense (most common), Know (as in knowing what a person has or plans), and See (least common and only happens when in direct contact with an object or person. They see the future as it will happen.) A future Seen is impossible to change, unlike a future Sensed. Younger Arrow often can’t put these events into words well, and sometimes forgets that it happens at all. They become more powerful and easier to remember and channel as they get older.

Theres a lot of stuff that happens, but I don’t feel like writing it all down. They do meet Larten before the events of CdF, and then later when Darren and Larten are with the Cirque. They have a horrible, foreboding feeling that something terrible will happen dealing with the four of them, but still makes fast friends with Darren and gains Larten’s affection. Darren see’s echoes of Annie in them and gets attached.

It takes Arrow thirty years to hop up in age, a year before the events of Vampire Mountain, where they look about 17-18. This makes them a late bloomer if I remember half vampire aging correctly. Darren is utterly shocked when they meet up again in Vampire Mountain, only for Arrow to tease him and remind him that they have always been much older than him.

The two’s relationship is that of close siblings. Before, Darren saw himself as the big brother, but that’s soundly flipped on its head and Arrow takes the mantle from him. Arrow is still somewhat childish and the years of traveling with Gavnur has made them more sure of themself, optimistic and cheerful, and gave them a sense of humor, but now that their body and mind has matured, they’re more responsible and is better able to understand adult conversations.

They elect themself to take the Trials first, to give Darren time to train, and takes it upon themself to watch over him and considers his safety very carefully. 

Then, well, Gavnur died, and it all changed. Arrow decides that all vamaneze deserve to die, and after Darren becomes a prince, they fall into depression and despair. Never leaving their room, never speaking, never moving, wanting nothing more than to starve to death and see their father again.

Larten, Darren, and Harkat come to visit and try to get them to eat something or drink blood, but nothing works. Until, Larten visits and puts a letter Gavner wrote on their bedside table. When he leaves, they read it, and realize it was written for them. Leading up to the event of his death, Arrow had been sensing something about to happen, and having dreams about him dying. They had been bringing it up often and anxiously, and the night before his death, they even crawled into his hammock like they did as a kid and begged him to never leave them.

This letter was to tell them that he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise, but that no matter what happened, he wanted them to live a full life knowing that he loved them, and that he wanted them to have plenty of stories to tell when they met again in Paradise. 

This was enough for them to respond to Darren when he came to see them next, and the two ended up bawling on the floor. Darren because he felt guilty about Gavnur’s death, and Arrow mourning him and reassuring him it wasn’t his fault. They had Seen that future, and knew it was unchangeable. Larten comes to find them there later, with Arrow holding Darren as Gavnur had held them, and he comes to sit beside them. As Arrow grabs his cuff, he sheds a few tears for the boy he had once raised.

After this, Arrow becomes cynical, pragmatic, easily annoyed and angered, and devotedly loyal to Darren and Larten as they are the only family they have left, and they refuse to let them die. Any and all threats to them and their safety is met with severe and unprejudiced hostility. However, they become apathetic and uncaring about their own well-being, throwing themself into training and swordplay to a point that Larten has to step in. 

When Tiny comes telling of the prophecy, there is an immediate air of two opposing magnets coming near to each other. The earth shakes under their feet, the clouds clash and throw lightning that day, the air itself tastes of ozone and fire. The two recognize each other as dangerous and powerful enemies. Tiny doesn’t try to stop them from joining their crew, as he himself admits that he doesn’t even understand what they are enough to say no. 

When Vancha joins the band, the two do not hit off at the beginning. They’re disgusted with his bad hygiene and he thinks theyre a bit of a stick up the ass because of it. But, eventually, the two’s bickering becomes a thing of the past, replaced by affectionate jokes that are only sometimes at each other’s expense. Vancha bathing doesn’t hurt either.

Insert more stuff that I don’t want to type right now.

But. If you read CdF, you know what happens. And Arrow is left as a shell hellbent on killing all vampaneze, and initially fights tooth and nail against Evana’s plan to bear a half-vampire and half-vampaneze child, declaring: “IT WON’T BRING THEM BACK!” 

When Vancha grabs their arm and says, “What’s more important? Killing vampaneze, or our survival?” And in that moment, they saw their own, unchangeable future. 

They get older. They get older. They get older. And the world moves, and moves, and moves, and but they do not. Every second is an empty eternity, a lonely, torturous and slow death until they are berried where they stand, and the world is thrown into darkness and silence. 

They give no more resistance, and returns to Vampire Mountain. There, they take a vial and ask Madam Octa to bite the thin film over it and fill it with enough venom to kill a vampire.

They sit in one of the caves open to the outside, knowing Vancha will come to find them. When he does, they talk about the future, and they tell him that he has his responsibilities to tend to as the father of the future child. He asks what the vial is for, and they tell him its a sleeping potion, and that they hadn’t been sleeping well for a long time.

They make a small incision along a vein and asks him to stay while they fall asleep, because they’re scared of falling asleep alone.

“When the morning comes, I’ll be able to breathe again.”

He starts to ask what they mean, but they put the venom in their mouth before putting their lips to the cut and shooting the venom into their blood.

The world is black and silent.

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

(this takes place 2020 btw)

      Lizzie let out a soft sigh as she runs her fingers through her long golden locks. She has been swamped the last couple weeks with collage and her job, so many people asking for her help in studies and clients. Just so much to do! She barely have time for herself, let alone her boyfriend since high school.

Her spring green orbs shoot at the door when there’s a knock leading to the cafe’s small garden.  “You look glum, what got ya down?” Asked a fellow worker and friend of Lizzie, Doll, as she walks into the garden more with a unlit cigarette between her fingers. “It’s nothing Doll... Just stress.” Lizzie muttered in reply as she watches hr friend light the rolled paper up and takes a puff.  Doll glanced at her with her sapphire blue eye uncovered by her barely groomed or tamed brown hair while smoke leaves her nostrils. “Got any plans for tomorrow?”  Lizzie only raised her eye brow in response which led to her friend’s face grow in worry, “You know, Friday...Of this week...of February.”

Suddenly it clicked to Lizzie.

“Oh no! I almost missed Valentine’s Day.” She shrieked before her shoulders slummed and she sighed, “I don’t think me and Ciel are doing anything. We rarely do anything for that day since...things.”  Before Ciel she actually dated his brother, however by highschool the two never stuck for long which broke Lizzie’s heart and it took her and Ciel a long time to get with the fact they like each other and started dating... Ciel’s brother still doesn’t talk to them long. But as she said her and Ciel never really done anything major for Valentine’s Day besides maybe some gifts and sitting and cuddling while watching a movie, nothing big.  “I get it. Me and my loves don’t do much either. I’m just happy our boss is givin’ us the day off that day.” Doll said with a proud grin which luckily got Lizzie to smile warmly back.

~

Lizzie glanced over the table to Ciel as they sit in silence in their small two bedroom apartment’s small dining room and kitchen.  “Um...” She started to speak, causing her boyfriend to lift his head up some in response. “I was thinking, since I’m a bit more free now, maybe we could go to the park tomorrow after classes? We can feed the ducks and everything like back then.” She smiled bright and with a bubbly giggle to match perfectly, only stopping for a moment when Ciel’s lone blue eye stared at her for a moment before looking at his plate with a mumble of, “I can’t. I have some stuff to do still before finals in the summer.” “Oh...” Lizzie looked down at her food. “You’ve been busy awfully a lot...”

Ciel got up from his seat and goes around to give the cute blonde a kiss on her cheek. “I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Lizzie simply nodded before getting up and walking pass him towards the bathroom, hearing Ciel call out, “You barely ate. Are you alright Lizzie?”  “Oh..! Yes, I am fine. Just had a big lunch earlier that’s all...”

She felt a tingle of guilt linger in her chest when she cut the door. She hardly lied to Ciel before ever. There’s never been secrets between them. Then again...this never happened before...

~

Lizzie stepped out the school bathroom with a paper town to her lips and the looks of worry on her coworkers faces.  “Are you okay pinkie?” Asked Peter with a raised brow. “Mhm..” Lizzie hummed through the paper towel. “I’m okay... I have no idea what’s wrong with me. I’ve been feeling off for a while now.” “Maybe you should tell the boss?” Wendy chimed in, clearly worried for her friend.  Doll looked at her before walking closer.  “Answer me honestly, when was the last time you and your boyfriend had sex.” “Jesus Doll-” Peter stared at the two wide eyes like Lizzie at the shock of her openly asking such a thing.  “W-Wh-Why-”  “Just answer me.”  “U-Um... I don’t know... maybe...a week ago...” Doll looked Lizzie up and down and smiled big. She then grabs her friend’s arm and drags her out. “Boss! Me and Liz don’t feel well, we’ll be back!” 

~

Lizzie stared wide eyed at the positive pregnancy test sitting on her bathroom sink in front of her.  Her pregnant... Sure she thought of it once or twice but it never came in conversation between her and Ciel... How would he react to that?

Her body jerked some when she felt a vibration in her jacket’s breast pocket. She reached into the pocket and takes out her cell phone to see a text from Ciel; 

Lizzie couldn’t help but tilt her head.

Yeah, she left in a hurry and she usually forgets something when she leaves... But why would Ciel be there before her? She pondered for a second, wondering if through text is the easiest to tell him about the pregnancy. 

Finally, she replied;

~

Upon arrive to her work Lizzie took quick notice no one was there. No Ciel. No would be customers. No coworkers. No friends. Just her.

Lizzie pulled out her phone again to text him the ask of his current location before her green eyes catches something shiny in the back.  Curious she typed the door’s password in and entered the cafe and walked to the source of the light to see something that for certain amazes her more then anything... There stands Ciel all dressed in a fine suit in the cafe’s garden with rose petals and candles let on the hardwood floor and the single table with two chairs.

A smiled formed on her lips as she stares at the sight, her feet gently guiding her forward to the outside again.  “Ciel,” She began barely a whisper. “This is lovely.” Ciel smiled in returned and kisses her knuckles, goosebumps going up her spin and flesh. “But of course my Queen. It’s for some celebrations of love.” “Celebrations?” Lizzie asked the purl of the word.  “Doll told me when I was setting up.” He says with a happy smile.

Lizzie felt her face turn hot as she tries to explain herself.  “Lizzie...” She stopped when she sees him slowly reach for something in his pocket. Her eyes widen more and shined with tears quickly, perhaps it’s the cold weather or the new hormones circling through her but she couldn’t help it, when she sees the heart shaped box coated in red.  “There’s been no second of my day that isn’t better without you. You and I went through so much and you always make me happy about being alive. I only wanted nothing more then to repay you one day. And even now when I worked so hard on this night you still make me smile with such a miracle. And I know that this child will grow up with so much love from you and I... I always want to make your days happier as you have done mine, to make you smile and be loved as you have done to me... Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford... will you make me happier then ever in my life... and marry me?”  He then opened the small box to reveal the most beautiful diamond ring Lizzie has ever seen in her life...

“...Yes!”

[atths--twice]

Knit Four, Purl One

For @x-files1993​ for the Secret Santa Exchange and the prompt “Mulder knits and makes Scully a sweater.” 

An alternate universe in which Mulder and Scully meet as a result of a tragic occurrence in Mulder's work life. She is exactly the person he needs, right when he needs her most.

Chapter One

March 1996

Fox Mulder sighed as he walked empty handed out of the shop. He was jostled about by the other pedestrians as they hurried about their day. His hands in his pockets, he sighed again as he kept his head down. He had gotten the time of his counseling session wrong, not having written it down last week, and he’d had an hour to wait.

As he had walked out of the counselors office, he had thought about his conversation with Samantha the previous night, reminding him about their mother’s birthday dinner that evening. He did not want to go, not at all, but of course he would be there. Samantha had reminded him about getting a gift and he swore as he hung up.

Wishing he could claim to not have had the time, he knew the hour mix up would give him plenty of time to find something. He had walked down the street intent on grabbing the first thing he found sufficient.

Three shops had been passed through quickly and still he had found nothing. Feeling discouraged and a bit angry, he opened the door to the next shop, stepped inside, and nearly walked right out again.

His mother was not an overly sentimental or knickknacky type person. She felt things should serve a purpose, not just sit on a shelf collecting dust and as a result she was a difficult person for which to shop.

This shop, full of tchotchkes and cutesy little things, was definitely not her style. Crafty things and happiness seemed to ooze out of every corner and he felt his annoyance rising.

But then, he noticed a teal colored wall, with shelving shaped like diamonds, holding skeins of yarn in vibrant colors. For some reason, that drew his attention and pulled him forward, despite his previous desire to leave.

“You need help with anything?” A voice said and he turned to find a woman with long wavy reddish hair. She was wearing a flowing dress, a lacy long sleeveless shirt over it, and a choker necklace. She stared at him with raised eyebrows and he shook his head as he cleared his throat.

“No. No that’s okay. I uh… I was actually just leaving,” he said, attempting to step around her, no longer wanting to look more closely at the yarn, but she did not move.

“Leave? But your hands are empty,” she stated and he looked down, as did she. Looking back up at her, she gave him a cheeky smile and it irritated him.

“Nothing here I’m interested in, so…”  He started to walk past her, ignoring the astonished noise she made, when a different woman came into the room and his heart dropped.

She was carrying a vase of flowers, an almost secret smile on her face. She had to be related to the other woman, their hair similar in shade, but she was a bit shorter. When she looked their way, her blue eyes seemed to see right through him. She smiled wider and he took a deep breath, realizing he had stopped breathing when he saw her.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Hello!” she said, setting the flowers down and coming over to them. “Did you find what you’re looking for? Did you need help with anything?”

“He says there’s nothing here that interests him,” the woman behind him said and he turned to look back at her. She stared him down, almost daring him to say otherwise.

“Oh,” the shorter woman said and he turned toward her, feeling flushed and slightly uncomfortable. She looked at him with her blue eyes wide and he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I uh… I just meant I hadn’t found anything… yet.”

“Hmm,” the woman behind him hummed but he ignored her, fixated on the woman in front of him.

“Well, I’d be happy to help you if you’d like.” She smiled and his heart raced.

Jesus Christ, she even had a dimple in her cheek.

“Missy? Would you mind getting that gift ready for Mrs. West? She should be in later.”

“Not one bit. Glad she at least was able to find something interesting to buy.” She walked past them, turning to look at him with a smirk and he sighed.

“Please don’t mind her. She’s my sister and quite snarky at times. This is my shop and we’re sort of working together right now and she’s driving me a little crazy.” She had leaned in and said that quietly as the woman who was her sister walked away. She smiled again and stuck out her hand. “My name is Dana. It’s nice to meet you.” He took her hand and nodded.

“Fox Mulder.”

“Seriously?” she asked, scrunching her chin quickly and clasping his hand with her other hand. “I’ve never met someone named Fox.” He let go of her hand and put his hands in his pockets. “I knew someone named Red, which always made me giggle. And even a… Coyote, but never a Fox.”

“Yeah… well,” he said with a shrug, suddenly irritated again as he glanced around.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said and he looked back at her, finding her smiling. He shrugged again, angry at himself for feeling annoyed by her.

“So what can I help you find?” she asked, clasping her hands together.

“Uh… I honestly don’t know. I just came in here because I have somewhere to be and I got the times mixed up.”

“Oh… well then, I understand you not finding anything to interest you.”

“I didn’t mean… I do need to find a gift. For my mother. This just isn’t really her style.” He waved around the room and she nodded, keeping her eyes on him.

“Not a knickknack person, I get it,” she smiled. “Not a problem. Not everyone is. I promise I won’t be offended if you walk out and leave with nothing.” She smiled and he suddenly wanted to buy something, anything really, just to see her smile like that for longer.

“I…” He took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Please don’t feel any pressure to buy anything. It’s cold out, you’re killing time… I understand.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes widened and he put his hand back in his pocket, both of them now in tight fists.

“Why would you not care if I didn’t buy anything?” he asked harshly and she stepped back a step, crossing her arms and holding his gaze. He stared and felt like an asshole more than he ever had in his life. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“I’ll let you look around. See if anything strikes you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said again and she nodded, her eyes still watching him.

“Have a look around,” she said quietly and smiled, though not the same as before.

“Yeah…” He nodded, his hands still in fists in his pockets. She walked away and he looked at the door, wondering if he could make a run for it without being noticed.

But then, her sister Missy walked past him and turned to glance at him as she did. She raised her eyebrows, looked at Dana, and looked back at him. Rolling her eyes, she walked away and he let out of breath.

Glancing at his watch, he saw he had twenty minutes and the walk to the office would take five. Fifteen minutes. He could make it that long.

Walking around the store, he kept sneaking glances at Dana as she spoke with her sister and a couple of other customers who came into the store. She was happy and light and sweet Jesus, when she laughed, it stopped him in his tracks.

Standing by the wall of yarn again, he picked up a colorful skein of it and then set it down.

“Still didn’t find anything?” He heard and he put his hands in his pockets with a sigh. He looked to his left and found Dana beside him, smiling happily. Her happiness irritated him and he remained quiet, biting back the rude response that threatened to come out.

Her smile began to falter and he hated himself again. Hated the way he was these days; hated it so much.

“That’s okay. Thank you for coming in today. Hopefully you’ll find the gift you’re seeking.” She touched his elbow and he felt it through the many layers of clothes he wore. She started to walk away and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“How about a scarf?” he called, opening his eyes. She stopped and turned around, tilting her head to the side. “You have all this yarn, I’m sure you have some scarves or things made from them for sale.” He shrugged and she smiled, waving her arm in front of her, to his right.

“On the shelves beside the yarn. Any particular color?”  She walked over to the shelves and he followed.

“Uh… I… I don’t know.”

“For your mom, you said?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s what? Sixty?” She looked him up and down and he nodded in surprise; she was spot on.

“Hmm…” She hummed as she turned and looked at the items behind her. “How about this?” She took down something in a rich red color and held it out to him. He took it and held it in his hands.

It was soft, very soft and as he ran his fingers over it, he smiled, remembering a blanket his grandmother used to have with that same softness. He used to wrap himself in that blanket when he was little, lying by the fire, warm and cozy while his mother and grandmother laughed and drank tea in the other room.

“What do you think? Will that do?” He looked up and she smiled at him. “It’s just a simple pattern, but I always feel that’s best with a scarf. Anything too busy or bulky takes away from the point of the scarf.” She took it back from him and smiled again, running her fingers over the stitches, as she held it in her hands. She looked up at him again and raised her eyebrows, asking a silent question.

“Yeah, I’ll take it,” he said with a nod.

“Perfect. I’ll wrap it up for you.” He nodded again and followed her to the register, admiring the swing of her hips in the jeans she wore.

The scarf was wrapped in lilac colored tissue paper and tied with a teal ribbon. A gold sticker with an embossed S was put onto it and then placed into a bag. He paid for it and she handed him the pale grey bag with the store's logo- two black knitting needles poking through a heart shaped ball of teal yarn, nearly identical to the ribbon she had used and the wall of yarn.

“Thank you for coming in today,” she said, smiling again and handing him his change. “I hope your mother enjoys her gift.”

“Hmm,” he hummed and nodded, looking down and then back into her eyes. “I had the time-“

“So you said,” she cut across him and he stared at her, not quite sure what to make of her. “Regardless of how or why, I am glad you stopped in today. Please come back soon. Perhaps for another gift? For your wife or girlfriend?”

“I don’t have either.”

“Pity,” she said and he watched her try not to smile. “I mean… you could’ve been back sooner if you had.”

“Yeah… well.” He picked up the bag and cleared his throat. “Thank you… goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Fox.” He nodded and turned around, saying nothing further. He walked past Missy, who stared at him the entire time, making him feel very uncomfortable.

Pushing the door open, he walked out into the cold winter air. Adjusting his coat, he looked to the right and fell in step with the other people walking. Glancing at the shop window for one last look, he saw Missy shaking her head and Dana shrugging her shoulders with a smile.

She did a double take when she saw him looking at her and she smiled happily, her blue eyes like lasers as she watched him.

“Knock that shit off, man,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re in no shape to be of any use or good to anyone. Least of all a woman like her.” He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, the gift she had wrapped swinging from the bag on his arm.

_______________________

“How are you feeling this week, Fox?” The counselor asked as he sat down across from her. “Anything to report? Any changes?”

“Not exactly,” he said with a heavy sigh, his hands in his pockets.

“Still feeling angry?”

“Yes,” he answered, his voice low, his jaw clenched.

“All the time?”

“No… but it comes up at inappropriate times. I… I don’t know when it will happen, but I recognize it.”

“Have you ever acted on it?”

“What? What do you mean?” he asked, looking at the counselor, feeling his heart pounding and his anger rising. “Do you mean have I ever hurt anyone? Would I ever hurt anyone? Are you serious?”

“Fox,” she said, clasping her hands and leaning forward. “I don’t mean attacking someone. I mean angry outbursts at home, or in the car, and yes, with others. It’s not just physical anger. Words, looks, tone… they can all hurt. It’s not only physical.” She stared at him, smiling softly and he felt his anger calming. He took a deep breath and nodded his head before looking down and unclenching his fists in his pockets.

“It’s… it’s like I can feel it building, especially when, as shitty as it may sound, when someone is happy or jokes around with me. As though their happiness annoys me, angers me. I don’t know why.” He shook his head.

“You’ve been through a lot, Fox. You’ve healed physically, although I know you still have moments of pain. But the emotional and mental are often even harder. It doesn’t seem it at the time, as the physical takes all of our strength in that moment. We push it down and focus our energy elsewhere and once that becomes second… then the next step is harder because, well, we want to be better. We feel better, but we aren’t. Not really.” He nodded and sighed.

“I do feel better physically, but sometimes the pain is there.” He rubbed his chest near his shoulder where the bullet that nearly ended his life had gone through his skin. “I’m incredibly lucky to be sitting here speaking to you. To have what he…”

“Fox…” she said softly. “We’ve discussed this. What happened was not your fault. Your partner was in danger and you yourself were shot. He left you no choice.”

“I know that. I do,” he whispered, still rubbing at his chest. “I just think of all the different ways… the outcomes that could have happened if I’d done things differently. If I’d…”

“Fox…” He looked at her and she smiled softly. “It’s not your fault.” He nodded again, tears filling his eyes, which he tried to blink away, but she saw and handed him a box of tissues. Taking one, he nodded and wiped at his eyes.

Smiling again, she waited until he had gotten himself under control. When he had, he nodded and they continued the session, his heart feeling heavy despite the positive and uplifting words being spoken.

________________________

“Hey! There’s my big brother!” Samantha called with a smile as she walked up to him, putting her arms out and grabbing him in an embrace. “I’m so happy to see you, Fox.” He hugged her back and smiled, though it was forced.

“Happy to see you too, Sam,” he said, kissing her cheek as he pulled back. She put her hands on his face and looked at him, her eyes searching his and he shrugged slightly.

“Hey, you’re here. You shaved… this morning, but you shaved. You got a gift, I see. You’re here.” She smiled and patted his face before letting him go.

“I’m here,” he whispered. She tucked back her long curly brown hair and nodded, reaching for his arm.

“Mom’s already inside. It’s too cold out for her. Ready?” She squeezed his arm and he nodded, although he did not feel ready, and he cleared his throat

They stepped into the restaurant and she guided him to the table where their mother sat waiting. She smiled as she saw them and stood to her feet.

“Hello, Fox,” she said, pulling him close for a hug. He held her for a second and then pulled back. She, like Samantha, held his face in her hands, her eyes taking him in. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Not like I have anything else going on,” he said, letting out a bitter laugh. She caressed his cheeks with her thumbs and he sighed. “Sorry. Of course I would be here. Happy birthday, Mom.” He pulled back from her and handed her the bag on his arm.

“Oh, how lovely. Thank you, dear. Let’s sit. People are beginning to stare.” She set the bag on the table, the logo facing him and as the waiter came over, he found himself wondering why Dana had chosen that particular logo. What had drawn her to that one.

“Sir? Would you like a drink?”

“Sorry,” he said, shaking his head and ordering an iced tea.

Their dinner was good, the conversation light and easy, but he still found himself drifting in and out of it. Hearing updates about people he had known, left him with that angry feeling again; their lives untouched by the pain he was suffering.

“Hey, you okay?” Samantha asked, touching his back and he looked at her, breathing hard and standing quickly to his feet, knocking into the table and spilling their glasses of water.

“Fox! What are you doing?” his mother said, reaching for a napkin and looking at him sharply. He stepped away and walked outside.

He paced along the side of the restaurant, taking deep breaths, his hands clenching and unclenching. The cold air filling his lungs felt good, stinging as he breathed in.

“Fox.” He heard behind him and he closed his eyes, halting his pacing. Turning around, he opened his eyes and looked at Samantha. She was pulling her coat around her and staring at him with concerned eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“You don’t need to apologize. But I think I do.”

“What?”

“I keep pushing you. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not-”

“I am and I can see that now. Should have seen it before, but I guess I just wanted you to be okay. Wanted to have you back because… I almost lost you.” Her eyes filled with tears and he stepped toward her, pulling her close and sighing. She cried as she clung to him and he closed his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I know that…”

“No, Fox.” She pulled back and she wiped her eyes. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve… Dad dying… and then you shot not long after… it’s been hard on all of us. I know it’s been worse on you, but I… I don’t know how to help and I thought by making you do things it would help you, but I think it’s done the opposite.”

“No. It hasn’t. It’s not anything you’ve done. I know your heart is in the right place. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m angry a lot of the time and I hate it. That’s not me.”

“No. No, it’s not.”

“The medication is helping with the depression I’m still feeling, but the anger… Sam, I can’t describe it.”

“Fox, you had to make a terrible choice and it nearly cost you your life. And your partner’s life. Of course you’re angry.” She stared at him and he nodded. “The question is what to do with that anger.”

“I know.”

“You can’t keep it bottled up and have it explode like it did tonight. I know,” she said, putting up a hand as he started to tell her that was an accident. “That was an accident and barely anything, but I’ve seen it in you and I’ve ignored it. But not anymore.” He nodded, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know what to do. I feel like my mind is racing, but I’m standing still. It’s… it’s like this build up that comes on fast and sometimes goes quickly, but other times, I’m angry for awhile.”

“What have you done to try and combat it?”

“I’ve… gone for a run,  long walks… I’ve tried meditation… as hooky as I’ve always made it out to be. I’ve tried shooting hoops, but my arm is still a bit too stiff for that.”

“Which pisses you off.”

“Which pisses me off, yes.” They both laughed and she smiled at him. He shook his head and sighed.

“Well, we’ll have to find something that can help you calm your mind. I’m sure there are lots of creative outlets you haven’t thought of.”

“Creative?” He gave her a look and she laughed. “Can you see me sitting in a park, painting a picture?”

“Only if you’re wearing a beret,” she teased and he laughed. She linked her arm through his and pulled. “Come on. Let’s go back to the table so Mom can open her gifts. We’ll think of something that brings out the creative side in you.”

He scoffed and shook his head as they walked inside. He was not a creative person, never had been really. His own insecurities got in the way along with his father’s voice in his ear that anything involving ‘artistic ability’ was for girls.

Shaking his head again, he sighed as they walked to the table, their mother smiling with relief.

__________________

An hour and a half later, he closed his front door with a sigh. Dropping his keys on the table, he walked into the kitchen for a beer. Popping it open, he took a long pull and let out a deep breath.

God, he was exhausted and honestly, he had hardly done anything that day. Shopping, therapy, and dinner. Hardly a rough day and far easier than he’d had in the past eight years as a detective.

Sighing again, he walked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. He set down his beer and took off his shoes, looking forward to going to bed. Reaching into his jacket pockets, he took out his wallet and cell phone.

A piece of paper was stuck down deep in the pocket and he pulled it out, finding the receipt for his mother’s scarf. He stared at it, thinking about Dana and her happy blue eyes. Eyes that had not seen or felt the pain he had.

His mother had loved the scarf, admiring the rich color and the stitching. Samantha had given him an inquisitive look, the gift not one he would normally choose. He had said only that he had gotten it in a shop as he waited for his appointment, not mentioning Dana or her sister.

Staring at the receipt, he wondered if she would be interested in hearing how his mother had liked the gift. He felt he rather owed her an apology anyway, acting like an asshole and insinuating her shop had nothing to offer. He should pay her a visit tomorrow and tell her he was sorry.

Besides, he really wanted to see her again. See her smile, her eyes lighting up as she did.

“Tomorrow,” he said, with a nod, setting the receipt down on his dresser, and beginning to change his clothes. “Tomorrow.”

[esther-creek]

Here's a depressing little stream of consciousness type of thing I wrote earlier. I really didn't do much editing soo it's a bit raw and ugly and to be honest I probably shouldn't share it but whatever, I'm in a raw and ugly ~mood~ so that suits me just fine ninety-nine 🤟🏻 ▪ ▪ I'm a vase shattering in slow motion (a shard a day keeps the girl afraid) an unravelling scarf un-knit one, un-purl one (keep the cold in with this chic winter pattern) mind descending down down down flights of steps by Friday I'll be underground somewhere like Hades but with more floral armchairs I've seen this movie before the girl unwinds fast like a yo-yo but I don't know any tricks and the string will tangle around my neck (keep the cold in) she'll leave a trail of breadcrumbs or blood drips for you to dissect after the fact (a shard a day til she's no longer sane) ▪ ▪ #poetry #poetsofig #spilledink #poetsociety #poemsofig #poemsofinstagram #poetscommunity #poetrycommunity #poetryisnotdead #micropoetry #micropoem #bymepoetryaus #bymepoetry #writersofig #writersofinstagram #writersnetwork #instapoet #poetscafe #voicesofpoets #streetwritersofficial #originalpoem #poemoftheday #poetrylove #poetryforthesoul #PackPoetry https://www.instagram.com/p/CMMP9aIrSHV/?igshid=45niptd9u4ou

[sophiexwrites]

A Gift from the Ghost King

Inspired by this awesome headcanon from @give-nico-a-gun, thanks a ton for the inspo! It’s come to be a long-ish one, 2.2k words.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Christianity and needles, but not in the medical context... it’s really just harmless and sweet.

Setting: General Riordanverse/PJOVerse with canon/established Solangelo.

Mentioned couples Christmas sweaters from the shop (link).

Note: because most people recognise American-English more than normal English, I’ve decided to go American this time, like dropping the u when I have to and using ‘sweater’ instead of jumper so that no-one gets confused (fingers crossed I do it properly).

Nico and Will, for all their opposites, had one major thing in common: they were raised Christian. Neither were quite sure why, since their mothers were well aware of the Greek pantheon of gods rather than a monotheistic one, but they supposed their childhood communities wouldn’t have taken sweetly to the change. 

Which meant the emo teen wasn’t focusing on Halloween this October, but on Christmas. Already. What do you get someone who claims to have it all? 

Talking to his friends didn’t help much. Most of them suggested medical equipment or a simple day off; there were even a few jokes about sunscreen that Nico didn’t quite understand. Those of them who knew Will better said they were buying him new arrows, notebooks or trinkets to fit his sunny-surfer-dude aesthetic - those were great ideas but Nico couldn’t copy them. Will knew him well enough to tell whether it was Nico’s idea or not. The pale teen scowled, wondering why he even asked. He was completely stumped. 

Until early November, that is, when Will began to drop hints. Nico only realised it when when his boyfriend convinced him into a store just to look at their collection of couples Christmas sweaters, covered with sickeningly sweet messages and nicknames.

"Aww. look Neeks - this one says ‘Don't go bacon my heart’!" Will laughed a laugh that turned Nico's cheeks to bright red, pointing at the sweater closest to them. It was attached to another one, reading ‘I couldn’t if I fried’, along with a drawing of a fried egg reaching out toward the other’s bacon.

The hints came a few more times before Nico swallowed his pride and decided to learn how to make one from scratch. Why DIY? Because everything Will did for Nico was done himself: from writing and playing his own music (nevermind how Will’s voice was definitely not winning X-Factor material), to the fake Mythomagic set full of realistic depictions of the gods, or the admittedly adorable summertime picnics with more food and baked goods than Nico could ever eat. Nico felt it was time to return the favor, and step one was learning how to knit.

It started clumsy and full of holes. Nico seemed to have a talent for dropping stitches. The section he was working on started too tight, then so loose that it was almost falling apart. After two weeks of constant secret practice, however, along with more YouTube tutorials and undone rows than he was willing to admit, Nico made something basically shaped like clothing. 

But it was just regular, boring clothing. Of course, Nico knew Will would be overjoyed at just that, but this was the first Christmas the couple planned to spend together, at camp. It was time to go big or go home.

Long story short, Nico swallowed his pride again: this time, to ask his step-mother how to embroider. He was met with suspicious glances and wary questions before Persephone began cooing in delight.

“Oh, that’s the cutest thing! Who knew you could be so soft?” She giggled, already rushing around for threads, test fabrics and needles. “Though I suppose you take after your father, he’s secretly a big softie, y’know - now, are we doing patches, appliques, or diving in the deep end and sewing right onto the yarn?” Nico had a rule not to dive into anything, but with Christmas soon approaching he had to learn fast. Somehow, too, he had to keep it a secret from Will. By December 10th, he’d pretended the wide-eyed needles poking out of his cabin floorboards were totally a prank from Cecile, and Hazel definitely left behind the scrap of paper filled with wobbly cursive last time she visited... Will simply hadn’t noticed. Nico was just glad his boyfriend didn’t have time to read what was on the paper before he snatched it away; that would have ruined it all.

Christmas came quickly, fronted by sleepless nights of embroidery and fingers full of pinpricks for Nico. But he was glad to have it done by Christmas Eve, all wrapped and stashed under the black tree in the Hades Cabin. Usually, he would be spending the night alone, but tonight a warm Will-shaped bundle of joy hugged him while they slept. Nico could only hope he would be as happy the next morning.

“Is this one from you?” Will asked, voice quiet with hidden excitement. Nico nodded, too nervous to speak, pulling at his plain hoodie. The wrapping fell away as Will teared and tugged, soon left left cradling a lump of fabric. “This is... beautiful, Nico!” The nervous boy’s chest sagged in relief, smile stealing onto his face as Will threw off the sweater he was wearing and donned the new creation, spinning around in his rush to the nearest mirror.

“Do you like it?”

“Oh Gods, Nico, of course! Did you make this? Thank you so much!” Will held it up before putting it on, gifting Nico with a laugh like soft rain pattering down on a warm summers day as he read the words out loud. “Significant Annoyance? That’s perfect!” Nico laughed with him, glad the nickname was still well-received, as the teen slipped it on.

He was the greatest model Nico could have asked for. A narrow frame showed off the fabric well: a stunning blue, deep and bright at the same time. Nico thought he’d chosen it because it was cheap, but when Will put it on he realised it’s because it matched the doctor's eyes perfectly. The body of it fit well, even if the arms were a little loose, which made Nico glad he hadn’t painstakingly added rows upon rows of purled stitching for a cute pattern or edge. It wouldn’t have been worth the struggle - the embroidered words were centerpiece enough. They spilled across Will’s chest in a haze of silver, grey and white; threads mixed and blended in the way Persephone had learn from Athena herself. The 20 letters had taken ages to get right, but to see them coupled with Will’s pure joy and excitement as he studied them in his reflection made all the effort worth it.

Needless to say, it beat Will’s gift to Nico that Christmas... which may or may not have been a good thing, because Will’s competitive nature soon swarmed up, and he was already making a gift of his own by the New Year.

“Kayla!” He rushed, panting, into the Apollo cabin from the infirmary. “Please tell me you know where I left my other needle?” Will held a lonely knitting needle in his right hand, pointing it at his half-sister.

“Laundry pile.” She replied, waving behind her towards said pile. It was mainly full of denim and orange cotton, but Will managed to extract the pale wooden tool after some digging. “Why, are you making something again?” It had been years since Will had done any knitting, having been taught by Malcolm Pace of the Athena Cabin during Will’s first few weeks at camp, so Kayla had every reason to be curious. 

“Yep.” Will fell onto his bed, after fishing out a ball of yarn from under it. “You know the sweater Nico made me?”

Kayla laughed, sitting up straight. “The one you’ve been wearing almost every day since?” 

“Yeah, I want to make him one too.”

“What, for Christmas next year or something? Are you just going to hand it to him now?” His head was bent too far over his busy fingers to see as she raised an eyebrow at him, but he knew her sass too well. 

“Oh, totally. You know me, just can’t wait to be organised and do everything in advance.” He grinned down at his work, shaking his head slightly with concentration. He didn’t want to drop a stitch, after all. “It’s his birthday on the 28th, I’m going to give it to him then.”

His sister aww-ed in delight, deciding (for once) to leave him be so that he could get it done on time. Will appreciated that, because he had a lot of work to do in the coming month - or, rather, 27 days.

Will certainly worked hard in those four weeks. Between shifts at the infirmary, general camp stuff and counselor responsibilities, he barely had time to himself let alone keep spending enough time with his boyfriend to make everything seem normal and knit him a sweater. Much like Nico had, he considered just buying one ready-made or getting someone else to help him, but he was eager to do it properly. So, it was a relief after sleepless nights and busy days that Will was finally finished with the sweater three days early; only the embroidery left. But Will was tired and had already misspelt half the terms on his latest patient file, so he had to keep it simple.

GHOST KING 👻  He finished, snipping the end of the silver-white thread. Will held it up to Kayla and the light, dusting off any last threads. “What do you think?”

“Ghost King...” Kayla read, a small smile on her face. “With a tiny ghost, too! That’s adorable, Will.” She wandered a little closer, inspecting the gift in the light cast from the sunrise. “You used a template, right? Because you can’t draw, and your handwriting has never been that good.”

“Geez, Kayla, no need to be so harsh.” Will smiled, clearly joking. “Of course I did, it’s got to be perfect for tonight.” It was already Nico’s birthday; Will stayed up all night to finish on time. Kayla knew this and sighed, deciding to make her brother get some rest.

“I’m covering your shift today, you need to sleep before you have your date tonight.” She decided, swinging Will’s bag over her own shoulder and giving his weary face a last look. “Seriously, sleep. I’ll make up some worthy excuse and tell Nico, he’ll understand.” Will protested for only a moment before yawning, and flopping down onto his bunk.  A sleep couldn’t hurt...

He woke up near sunset that day, almost time to meet Nico. It was a rush for him to get ready and properly awake, but he made it to the woods just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. 

“Will!” Nico waved from the edge, a small look of worry on his face. “I was, um... beginning to think you wouldn’t come.” He admitted, and Will felt his face burn in shame for making his boyfriend worry, even a little.

“Of course I’d come, I just slept in all day. Sorry.” He said, and they wandered a little deeper into the woods, searching for the clearing. Nico insisted it was no problem, which made Will feel more at ease. He was still excited, however, to show Nico what he made (the gift was hidden in his bag, with food for the birthday picnic). 

The two made their way into the clearing in content silence, Will secretly itching to see Nico’s reaction to his gift. But he remained as patient as he could, happy to enjoy Nico’s smiles, quiet laughs and stories, enjoying his birthday together in the peaceful way Nico loved. In fact, Will (and Kayla, but she was sworn to secrecy) was the only demigod at camp who knew it was the Italian boy’s birthday - all Nico’s other friends were off in New Rome or the mortal world, after all. It made for far less stress on Nico’s half: he didn’t want random people wishing him a happy birthday all day. No, Nico di Angelo was perfectly joyful to spend the night with his Significant Annoyance under the stars, especially when he surprised him with a gift.

“Here you go.” Will said, presenting a soft package wrapped in black paper with tiny ghosts. The Son of Apollo bought it specially for that, and the remaining roll would stay unused in his cabin except from wrapping Nico’s other gifts: so he was relived to see the other boy smile ever so slightly. 

“Thanks, Will.”

“Don’t thank me yet, you haven’t opened it!”

“Okay, okay!” He almost laughed, ripping the paper to reveal an equally dark sweater. “Wow, did you make this?” Will hummed in excited agreement, watching Nico unfold and hold it up to the moonlight. 

“Oh my Gods.” He read the words and for a moment Will thought he was going to hate it. But then Nico laughed - no, giggled -  a clear, pure sound cutting through the crisp air like a knife through cake. “It’s pretty cool, thanks Will.” The compliment wouldn’t seem like much to an outsider, but Will knew it meant a lot. Nico turned to look at the blond with his dark brown eyes, plain and simple in a way Will could get lost in forever. They were creased at the sides as he smiled, a true smile with his eyes that Will enjoyed so much. He looked good, too, with the well-fitting black sweater on, small letters and tiny illustration embroidered on the neckline. 

“Stop staring.” Nico suppressed a smile, going red as his boyfriend shook his head slightly before looking Nico in the eye again.

“Aww, but you look so cute!”