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unknownarmageddon · 7 months

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cross set his cup down, his tired eyes taking in the sloshing wave of his hot chocolate. it gleamed a pretty hazel brown in the light of the setting sun, steaming hotly, freshly poured. the sweet taste still burned his tongue in a sugary aftertaste that settled his rickety nerves.

the whisps fluttered up into the air, and cross felt a pulse of warm fondness, following the curling trails until the overlapped with the thicker pale smoke that killer himself blew out from where he sat outside on their short little balcony.

they moved in together just recently, and had finally settled into routine; cross with his daily cup of hot cocoa and killer with his daily smoke. cross's softened eyelights traced down the smoke, back to the source, only to find that killer was staring back at him.

the warm feeling in his chest sent his cheeks alight, tightening his throat and making his soul balloon in his chest, and he was helpless to the broad smile that broke out across his face. he felt dizzy with joy, with a happiness so strong that he felt like he'd choke on it.

the balcony doors slid open and the bitter twang of killer's cigarette filled the air, mingling with the sweet chocolatey smell, and cross couldn't think of anything else he'd rather smell.

"you're staring," killer chuckled, putting out his cigarette in his ashtray and hissing out the final little puff of smoke. it parted around him, spinning as he stepped through the fading cloud and sliding right into his rightful place beside cross, slotting himself against him so neatly that it floored cross once more with how perfectly they fit.

every passing day was another added moment of certainty that they belonged together. killer's head found its place on cross's chest, cross's arm settled where it belonged around killer's shoulders, and cross hummed as he pressed a kiss to killer's skull, "so were you."

"you just looked so damn pretty, i couldn't help myself."

cross's soul fluttered, and he felt a pressure bubble in his chest, a need to just kick his feet and squeal and shout his love from the rooftops, but all he managed was a shuddering breath, and he put his phone down, pulling killer's head up by the chin to slot their mouths together, relishing in the surprised, but pleased noise that rumbled between them from the depths of killer's chest.

this was it. killer was it, this was where it all was. cross didn't ever want to see an end to this, he'd give his everything if only to keep killer here, to keep time standing still--

cross opened his eyes.

the fire popped and cracked steadily behind him, warming his back, dimmer but still as hot as before. he'd have to add some fuel to it, killer was always prone to getting cold at night more than cross was.

cross carefully slid out of the sleeping back, taking gentle care not to move too harshly or suddenly, and he quietly knelt by the fire, nudging some branches and twigs into it and stoking the fire with the tip of his machete.

he stared into the fire, his eyelights dim in the dark, bags under his eyes, his sockets aching with a stiff dryness and stuffiness that came from lack of proper sleep.

a chilly breeze blew by, and he shivered as it went right through his worn shirt and pants. he didn't have his coat available though, not tonight.

he tended to the fire a little longer, and lifted his head, still heavy with sleep, to squint at the muddy red horizon, trying to gauge how many hours of night they had left. the dark was a little more diluted than before.

cross left the fire, and crouched by his backpack, his fingers numb from the biting cold as he found canned soup. it was the last one before they would have to eat dry packaged food, until they could find more.

he pushed the can into the hot soil close to the fire, burying it halfway and scraping some of the glowing bits of wood over it, watching as they pulsed red and orange over and over. he clapped his hands a bit, clearing the dirt from his hands, checking the distant horizon once more for a moment, letting his hands hover over the fire.

the chill finally sent him silently padding his way back to the bedrolls, hands warmed by the fire, the rest of him aching from the chill. it didn't matter, though. not tonight.

killer's head poked out just barely from the layers he was tucked in, his face pale even for a skeleton. his breath was shaky, thin and reedy, pained, his expression contorted in discontent.

he stirred as cross's warmed hands cupped his chilled cheeks, his eyes hazily cracking open to the a slit, and his eyelight, fuzzy and blurred with pain peered up at cross.

"...up..?"

cross shook his head, "no, no.. not yet--" he bit his tongue, hard enough to cut into the ecto, before adding a hesitant, "sweetheart."

the pet name was stilted from him, awkward and tinged with discomfort, but it earned a wry smile all the same, and that was all he wanted. it made it worth it. he could try, he could go that extra step, for killer's sake.

"c'm back t'bed," killer slurred, and cross scrambled to heed it, readjusting killer first, setting him closer to the fire and easing him onto his side with careful touches, wincing when killer whimpered at the movement.

"easy, i've gotcha," cross reassured, bowing over him to nuzzle a kiss to killer's skull, the act full of apologetic affection. killer settled again, whispering hoarsely, "m'cold.."

cross's mouth pressed into a thin, upset line of dismay at the watery tone, the sheer misery in killer's voice, and he grit his teeth before hastily shedding his thick, long sleeve shirt, "okay, just- one second, amor, one moment."

killer whined his protest, the sound wrenching at cross's soulstrings, but he forced himself to stay on task, standing by the fire to hold his shirt over it, close enough that he risked getting burned by any embers that went skittering up into the sky.

he gladly took that risk.

it took a minute, a minute longer than he would have liked, but he needed to warm up killer. he waited, letting his bones soak up the heat, retaining it far better than killer could, his magic greedily clinging onto the heat, the temperature letting his magic flow freely again and his natural heat, a fraction of it, returned to him. having high LV really was, sometimes, handy, and as much as he hated the occasional episode it brought him [and he fucking despised the pain it put killer in, he hated it so much, he fucking hated it--]

he was thankful to have it now, regardless, because it allowed killer some relief in times like these.

cross hurriedly returned to the bedrolls, trying his damned best to keep his touch gentle, to not jostle killer too much, as he pulled the fire-warmed shirt over killer's freezing bones, and killer's broken moan of relief soothed cross's rankled instincts, his soul calming just the slightest.

"okay?" he asked lowly, and killer's wavering eyelight flickered, focusing again on cross's face, and he even sounded a little better, just barely. it wasn't enough, no where near better enough for cross, but it was still something.

"m-mmn," killer mumbled affirmatively, and cross heaved his own relieved sound, and finally, slid himself back into the sleeping bag, still so careful, whispering apologies over and over at every hurt warble killer let out.

LV breaks were ruthless on killer.

cross's LV wasn't anywhere near as high as killer's. he hadn't started gaining any until after the world ended, only ever killing these days out of necessity; defending himself, catching food, fighting for supplies. survival. his LV was manageable. it gave him headaches, mild migraines at worst, left him itchy in a way that drove him up the walls sometimes, and gave him heat flashes, warming him to the point of shedding most of his outer layers if it was bad enough, but he was fine at the end of the day. it never lasted long.

killer's LV was... something.

it made cross wonder, sometimes; how the hell had killer's LV gotten so high? this kind of LV didn't come from just survival. killer never really told him why his LV was so high, and despite cross's curiosity, he didn't push for it.

it was another life, anyways, another person who'd collected that LV, and now it was killer who was left behind coping with it.

it drained the strength from his body, weakened his soul, pulled his magic thin, making it painful for him to move, to breathe, his magic stretched so thin at his joints that he'd described the feeling of moving like being torn in half. his bones itched fiercely, so much that it burned sometimes, the feeling leeching outwards from where his soul hovered over his chest. and the migraines.

killer groaning into cross's chest, his every other wail breaking with hitching sobs, his eyesockets, his nose, his mouth even, gushing with black liquid so thick that it strung between them every time killer pulled back, staining cross's shirt with thick clumps like honey or syrup. he was choking on it, spitting it up in chunky globs laced with red blood that made cross's own magic twist with nausea.

the migraines were the worst of it. killer compared the feeling to that of a concussion, of getting struck in the head so hard, you see white. it makes me want to scream, killer had said. on a scale of one to ten, one being a papercut and ten being a broken bone, it's a solid fucking twenty. i think the only thing that would hurt more is my soul getting ripped in half.

killer pressed his black-stained face into cross's bare sternum, and cross shuddered at how ice cold the sticky fluid was. it tickled the inside of his ribs as it slid in thick drops over his bare ribcage. cross ignored it easily, pulling killer's trembling body to his own, grimacing at the chill killer's body gave off.

that was another thing. it was either a burning feeling, leaving killer feeling so incredibly warm that cross had once caught killer lying fully nude in an ice-cold puddle, or it left killer so cold that he felt like he'd shrivel up into dust, trembling and whimpering in cross's arms as he desperately sought out every bit of warmth cross's body and the layers piled onto him could offer.

cross winced as killer's cold breath brushed over cross's collarbone, and cross finally caved into killer's earlier request from the night before, and let his ecto form fully, already warm with cross's warmer magic and his intent to soothe, his soul summoning as well, sitting readily contained within the opaque magic of his ecto and ribcage.

"okay?," he asked, checking first, and only when killer nodded, cross pulled him flush to himself, doing his best to wrap himself around killer, hugging him to his chest and letting his magic's intent to warm, heal, protect, soothe seep into killer.

another whimper bubbled from killer's open mouth, his eyes squeezed shut as his soul, as it always did when they were this close, phased through cross to sit within cross's ribcage, right up against cross's own soul, right where it belonged. a shiver wracked killer's body as his soul, buzzing with hurt and upset, pressed itself into cross's welcoming soul, soaking up the offered warmth and love.

cross held killer close, tense, uneasy, as killer folded his arms within the space between them, and he was so cold still, but, just a little less.

a little better.

"..i had a dream about you," cross whispered, low, because killer once told him that he hated the quiet.

killer huffed a quiet laugh, his soul's buzzing wavering, changing in pitches, and the faint murmur of affection passed between their souls. the corner of cross's mouth twitched upwards at killer's croaky voice, "t-tha's'cute.. whassabout?"

cross ran a hand up and down killer's back, his eyes shutting as he tried to recall the faint, fuzzy memory of warmth and contentment.

"well, it was.. short. but," cross rolled the words on his tongue for a second before recounting it, "the sun was setting.."

his voice filled the quiet, soft and as unobtrusive as he could make it, recounting every detail he could recall, until he recounted all he could remember, and continued on, making up more and more, their souls singing to each other within his chest.

he wasn't sure when it happened, only noticing it when killer's soul responded like it was speaking through water, and cross glanced down, and found killer sound asleep, his cheeks flushed a healthy red and expression soft and lax.

his breath was warm and steady on cross's bare chest.

cross's soul pulsed, warming, a feeling ballooning in his chest and tightening his throat, and he was helpless to the crooked smile that broke out across his face.

this was where it all was.

-p anon :]

"but i'll hold you like i do love you" arms by the paper kites

OH MY GOD????????????

#AUGHHHHH WAGH #holy dhit. holys hit #answering asks #anon asks #proximity anon #apocalyptic kross au #dude i’m entirely fucking insane #weeping wailing crying #hi this is REALLY really fucking good #my god #aughhhhhhhfhfjd #i don’t even really have anything coherent or smart to say about it it’s just everything ever i think #i love them immensely #the songs too dude god they add so much i think #really really good #this is so like???? slow and tender and quiet and i’m insane #it’s like it’s normal but it’s painful and i don’t fucking know it just slaps #this is where it all was………

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undertale-writing-times · 2 years

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“You’re cranky when you’re sick.” with Crank, please?

I thought it was funny so thank you :3

“You're cranky when you're sick” is what his datemate told him as they came into the room. When he opened his eyes, which argued cause damn, it was bright in here. He saw that they were carrying a bowl of soup.

“was that a joke?” He asks, with a little mhehehe type laughter; then he groans reaching up, covering his forehead. “Ugh... fuckin' headache” he grumbles to himself.

Y/n walks over, setting the tray down in front of him on his lap. “Yeah,” They say with a laugh, “But also you are. But, you know, this is your own fault. I've told you that eating like you do would just get you sick, but you didn't listen”

He slowly sits up, rubbing his hands over his face. He knew that he deserved this, but he still hated being ranted at. Yeah, he got sick, so what? It isn't like that's the first time he got sick before.

It does... it did it happen quite often, now that he thought about it. He got his brother to look it up, yeah, extra magic could get a skeleton sick if their body wasn't prepared for it. Annoying, but made sense.

“What's with the soup?” he asked, looking down into the bowl seeing the steam raising up out of it. It looked like chicken noodle... nice.

Y/n rests their hand against their hip. “You haven't been eating, so I decided to make you something. Now shut up and eat your soup”

That just makes Crank laugh again, and he would have rolled his eyes if he could. He lets out a little hum. “Thanks...” he mumbles, and picks up the spoon, starting to eat. It tasted just about what you would expect from soup in a can.

Y/n sits down beside him, rubbing at his shoulders. He would need to reattach his arm when he got up... he looks over his shoulder at them, and they smile at him, so he smiles back then shuts his sockets focusing on just finishing the food. His soul felt so warm, and he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

“You're the best datemate, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know” Y/n responds, and leans up, kissing at his cheek making him snort then nuzzle them. “I'm glad” he chuckles. Yeah... yeah this was really nice.

He should get sick more often.

#Sick fic #Sick #Mafiaswap #Mafiaswap Papyrus #Crank #Crank X Reader #Reader X Crank #undertale alternate universe #undertale ask blog #undertale alternate timeline #undertale imagines #undertale au

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wasteofbandagesxx · 1 year

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Bsd x reader

The hunting dogs in a nutshell

"Tecchou, was it really necessary to cut down the tree's?"

"The quickest way to our destination is going a straight line, jouno."

Tecchou and Jouno are members of the hunting dogs who are apart of the government organization. Y/n is one of them, she joined the team 2 years ago. Y/n's ability Is teleportation, they can teleport at least 5 people, no more than that.

The hunting dogs never failed their missions, not even once. That's how good they are at doing their jobs. They are unstoppable.

"Now, let's eat while we wait." Tecchou pulls out a boiled egg, but just not any boiled egg. "You know. Out of all the hunting dog members, your the one I hate most." Jouno is very judgmental when it comes to Tecchou, but y/n wouldn't blame him. Tecchou does have weird taste in food. "Hate me? Why's that?" Tecchou asked, y/n couldn't help but just stare at the two idiots. They make y/n wish they were never born, that's how fed up y/n is with their bs.

"Here we go again." Y/n mumbles. "It's because your soul is entirely lacking in artistry!! You'll put shichimi spice on strawberries just because you think similar colors pair well. You put sugar on rice, and then soup base on youkans." Tecchou just looks like he's fed up with Jouno's shit that he doesn't care anymore. He sent him a glare before stuffing the boiled egg in his mouth, a sudden gasp came out of Jouno's mouth.

"Now your eating a boiled egg with the shell on!! I wish you'd just die!!!"

"Oh my God, Jouno shut up!!!" Jouno let out a dramatic gasp as he turned to Y/n. "But y/n! This man is not normal!! He is a devil that eats weird food combinations!!" He shouted, shakily pointing a finger at Tecchou who just continued muching on his meal.

"Your heat rate and breathing is annoying Tecchou, please try to stop it." Jouno said as he used his ability to locate the detective agency. Tecchou and y/n held their breaths while Jouno was detecting the enemies location. "They are in a car, about 4 to 5 people in it. They aren't far away." He said with a smirk. "Well what are we wating for? Let's go!!" Before Jouno could even stand up, y/n stepped on his head and bounced off, Tecchou following behind. "Owww!! Guys wait for me damn it!!!"

Y/n stood on a rock and looked around, until they spotted the car. "Found them! Alr Jouno, do your magic or whatever." "Not only do I hate Tecchou, but you as well" Jouno stormed towards the two with a bump on his head. "Uh huh, I love you too. Now go get them tiger!" "You guys are gonna be the death of me." Jouno mumbles.

..........

"What's taking him so long?" Y/n asked. "I don't know, but he better hurry up." All of a sudden we hear a scream coming from the car. The 2 hunting dogs immediately looked at the cars direction and saw a blond blow getting kicked out of it. "That must've been Jouno, let's go." Y/n jumped off the road, along with Tecchou. An unknown red head made the car invisible and jumped out of the car, taking Jouno with him. "Run for it!!" The red head shouted. Jouno kicked him off and did a back flip before landing back on the ground by his other team members.

"Impressive! You erased the car and messed up my sense of location. Pulling out of the car along with you. But I let you catch me on purpose, illusions don't work on me." He said, smiling at the 2 boys. "I was hoping he would eat shit." Y/n whispered l. Tecchou nodded in agreement as we both watched what was happening.

"Do I kill them?" He asked. "Yes, we'll start with them before we continue to hunt. Please make yourself useful, therefore you are the best swordsman in our team." Jouno said. Tecchou held up his sword and got in a fighting stance, "Get ready."

"What's that noise?" Y/n asked, the boys didn't listen as they were too busy getting ready to kill the enemies. Suddenly a car appeared and bumped into Tecchou hard, everyone looked at him in shock as he went flying. "What the fu-"

To be continued ->

#anime and manga #bungou stray dogs

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victorluvsalice · 2 years

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Happy Birthday Nebby!

@nebbychan, as per your suggestion, here is something featuring Victor making an unusual new friend in a variation of the Forgotten Vows Verse which features a certain black cauldron in its history. . .

Alice clasped her hands before her. “All right. Let me get this straight. You were roaming the East End, looking for me, when you found your way down a certain alley blocked by a garbage heap.”

“Yes,” Victor confirmed, twisting his tie between his hands.

“For some reason, rather than just go in a different direction, you decided instead to climb over the heap.”

“I’d spotted Splatter in the area earlier and I didn’t want to start a fight.”

“Ah, fair enough. But during your attempt to navigate the garbage, you ended up cutting yourself on something, tripped as a result, and grabbed this old iron cauldron to steady yourself. Leading to your blood dripping into it.”

“That – is essentially what happened, yes.”

“And that’s when the cauldron lit up with mystical fire, and this person–” Alice nodded to the rather large, practically skull-headed man with glowing red eyes and horns standing beside them “–crawled out of it.”

“I was surprised too.”

“He then proceeded to thank you for freeing him from his torment, and pledged his allegiance to you.”

“Given he had just spared me from an eternity of imprisonment in a realm of pure evil and rage, being tortured by those I had hoped to harness for my own ends, I felt it only fitting to do so,” the man said, voice rumbling like thunder.

“I’m not questioning why you did it,” Alice said, holding up a hand. “I’m just – more surprised you didn’t bolt on instinct right then, Victor.”

“I almost did,” Victor admitted, biting his lip. “But I tried to run from Emily, and I ended up in the Land of the Dead anyway. . .besides, I really wanted to know what was going on, and why I suddenly had a horned, rotting corpse at my feet swearing fealty.”

“I suppose I would too. So he tells you his story, which is that he is the ‘Horned King’ of legend, who once tried to use that very cauldron to take over the world with an army of undead monsters animated by pure hatred for the living.” She shot the Horned King a look. “Which you are not planning to do again, right?”

“I have had many centuries to reflect on how badly that went,” the Horned King replied, grimacing despite not having much of a face to do so. “Many painful, awful centuries. Yes, I admit, I once wished to be a god among men. But now – I just want to live among them.”

“Good to know. So yes, this King–”

“I choose to go by ‘Hoki’ now.”

“All right then, Hoki then thanks you again and says you must be a very powerful sorcerer indeed to free him from the depths of the cauldron.”

“He is a powerful sorcerer,” Hoki protested. “I just assumed he was trained.”

“Um – to be f-fair, improving my magical abilities was the last thing on my mind when I ended up in the Land of the Dead,” Victor said, twisting up his tie some more. “Or here in Whitechapel, come to think of it.”

Hoki shook his head. “Hmph. This is why I decided that part of my service to you must be teaching you to master your magic. Yes, you are only committing minor acts of necromancy right now, on corpses already primed to rise, but – well. Uncontrolled power will cause you untold ills.”

“Oh, I’m not objecting to magic lessons!” Victor cried, waving his hands. “I promise you that! I’m just saying, it was never a priority before.”

“Right – so that’s about the time that you explained that Hoki’s – summoning, I guess – was an accident, and what you were doing in the alley? Houndsditch and Bumby and trying to find me?”

“Yes, exactly,” Victor said, clapping his hands together. “And that’s when he said he could easily summon you here and–” He shrugged. “Here you are.”

“Here I am,” Alice agreed. “Whisked away from the nightmarish realm of Queensland to your side.” She looped her arm through his. “Which I am not angry about in the slightest, trust me. I just – I’m still getting it all straight in my head.”

Victor chuckled. “That’s fine – I’m still getting it all straight in mine.” He touched her shoulder. “But – are you all right? I’ve been so worried ever since you wandered off. . .”

Alice stared at her shoes. “I’ve – been better. I’ve been wandering through Wonderland, killing my way through the brutal infection left by the Infernal Train, and I’ve – had some absolutely terrible revelations.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth. “I’ve been repressing a lot of things about the fire, I’m sad to say.”

“It’s understandable, Alice,” Victor said comfortingly. “It was the most traumatic event of your life!”

“Yes, but – Victor? You know that key that Dr. Bumby uses to hypnotize all his patients?”

“. . .yes?”

“It’s my sister’s room key.”

There was a moment of charged silence. “. . .why does he have your sister’s room key?” Victor asked finally, voice dark.

“Because he was utterly obsessed with Lizzie, and – I think him not being able to handle her rejection of him. . .is what led to the fire.”

Hoki raised what on a normal person passed for an eyebrow. “Would now be a good time to mention that my release may require another soul to be put into the cauldron in my place? To keep it stable?”

“Yes. Yes, I think it would.”

#nebbychan #Happy Birthday #fanfic #victor van dort #alice liddell #horned king #the black cauldron #I did what I could with what I knew!#this taking place in some sort of variation on the Forgotten Vows Verse felt right #I don't know HOW the Cauldron ended up in a trash heap in Whitechapel #but here it is #maybe it was dug up by someone who tried to use it for soup #the soup came out tasting like the souls of the damned #so into the street it went XD #but yes Bumby is now in some very serious trouble #and Victor has a very scary magic teacher XD #hope you enjoy!#queued

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imaginedreamwrite · 2 years

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if reader was the one to make johnny realize his vision of settling down, does that mean he’s seen her acting motherly to other kids? are there domesticated things that she does that makes him want her even more than he already does?

Johnny felt like he had been dragged to deaths door and thrown down an endless flight of stairs as this particular brand of cold had ripped right through him. He was ragged beyond measure and felt every exhaustive nerve ending firing off to the smallest sound that made his head throb.

He had been laid out for a few days, no worse for wear until last night. The endless seas of nausea had hit him with an iron weight right to the stomach and no amount of trying to cook himself free of symptoms had helped. He was a mess, an absolute mess of a man when the symptoms fired up, so much so that he couldn’t even open the door when someone knocked.

“You look terrible.” It was through blurry vision and sorely countenance that he saw you enter his bedroom with two bags full of something that you had set down on the floor.

“What’re you doing here?” He was trapped beneath layers of blankets, weary and strained. His eyes were rimmed red from the irritants of his illness, his throat was sore and likely swollen, he was an absolute mess.

And you, damn, were you truly breathtaking and beautiful. You were a vision to his poor state, an angel of mercy that he wished had been here from day one.

“Sue said you were sick,” you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a bottle of cough medicine and antihistamines, “I came to help you get better.”

“You have nothing better to do?” He wasn’t meaning to come off as an ass, he truly was curious.

Why would you spend your free time taking care of him?

“Good patients don’t talk,” you scolded him and cracked open the bottle of cough medicine, measuring out the right dosage before you handed it to him, “besides, you’re not exactly the best at taking care of yourself.”

Johnny took the cup from you and downed the medicine, wincing when the bitter taste had hit tongue. It made him wish for something better, a little sweeter, it the act of you taking care of him in itself was enjoyable. You were sweet, you were such a beautiful soul and Johnny swore in this moment that he had felt the proverbial shift in his emotions from mutual beneficial gain to adoring affection.

“I’m making soup, chicken noodle.” You announced after you stood, leaving the medicine on his nightstand. “How much water have you drank?”

Johnny couldn’t answer you, not now. He was too captivated by you being here, by you taking care of him like you really cared. It was more than just you being his sugar baby and his being your daddy, it was you extending niceties.

“You did drink water, didn’t you?” You questioned his silence with a frown and a roll of your eyes. “Really?”

“Can you just lay here? For a minute?” His request felt foreign to him and he expected you to walk away though when you lift the covers and slowly sank into the mattress, he had instinctively reached for you. “Tell me about your classes. I wanna hear it.”

Johnny was in love, he was gonna marry you.

You were gonna be the one to change his whole world.

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sukunas-angel · 3 years

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When The Clock Strikes Midnight Collab.

Sukuna x Female Reader

Little Red Riding Hood Theme.

Word Count: 2.4k

Trigger warnings: Non-Con. Please do NOT read if this bothers/triggers you. View at your own discretion.

Tags: NSFW, Non-Con, Little Red Riding Hood Theme, JJK, Jujutsu Kaisen AU, Sukuna x DFAB Reader, Predator x Prey Trope.

It hadn’t always been like this.

She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the rumours had started, or when fear had spread like a vicious wildfire around the village. She remembered a time before the whispers and the unofficial curfew. She remembered a time when the sun used to shine, and life as she knew it was just plain ordinary.

There was a cursed spirit that supposedly lurked in the woods that separated the small village from her grandmothers cottage. She wasn’t sure when or how it had arrived, just that people who dared go near the forest were never seen again.

She had lost classmates, friends. Too many she knew went venturing into the forest, to never return again. Some of them were brave; searching for missing family and friends. And some were stupid, sneaking into the dense wood on dares in the dead of night. It didn’t matter their intention. Whoever entered the forest, never came back.

Y/N was neither brave nor stupid.

No, certainly not brave. Even now, her heart raced fiercely in her chest as she slowly trudged through the sea of amber leaves on the forest floor. Her hands were clammy and balled into tight fists inside the oversized sleeves of her red hoodie. Her breaths came fast and laboured, creating a white smoke in the cold autumn air. No, she certainly wasn’t brave at all.

She just felt guilty.

The fear and hysteria had gotten so severe in the village that no one dared deliver groceries to her grandmother anymore. It had been almost 5 days since all ventures into the forest had stopped completely, and Y/N was certain her grandmother had to be slowly starving by now. She was far too old and frail to be foraging for food in the forest, and far too sickly to be going without proper nutrition.

Y/N wasn’t stupid.

She knew a journey into the forest meant certain death. She knew this, she really did.

But she couldn’t just let her grandmother starve to death.

She was the last bit of family she had. And starvation was such a slow and cruel death. She couldn’t handle the guilt, the overwhelming feeling of responsibility that weighed heavily in her chest.

So here she was, on a gloomy October morning, walking into certain death, with a basket full of groceries clutched to her chest.

It was almost funny.

No, it was funny. She giggled to herself. Actually, it was hilarious. She had ventured into certain death with nothing to arm herself with, but cans of soup. She giggled some more; perhaps she was dumb.

“How odd. They’re not normally crazy until after I’ve finished with them.”

Her body froze in place, and her eyes darted around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice. From what the village elders had told everyone, cursed spirits weren’t supposed to talk.

“No matter. You humans are always the same when you die. Snivelling, pathetic little shrimps right until the last breath.”

The voice was closer now, causing the hairs on her arms to stand on end. She turned her whole body suddenly, whipping her head round to face the incredible evil that stood behind her.

What stood before her wasn’t what she expected at all.

She hasn’t expected a cursed spirit to look so human. The elders had painted them as such ghastly creatures, a terrible sight for anyone who could actually see them. But the entity that stood before her was almost attractive. Something so pleasing to the eye that, if she weren’t scared out of her mind, she might’ve found him incredibly handsome.

His pink hair complimented his red eyes perfectly, and his frighteningly tall figure was sculpted and muscled beneath the white robe he wore.

“Y-you’re human?” She questioned uncertainly.

He looked human enough. Sure, he had odd black markings on his skin but that could just be paint, right? The elders had insisted cursed spirits were monsters, incapable of speech and very unlikely to be seen by the eyes of ordinary humans.

“You can see me?” He seemed genuinely delighted at the prospect, a large grin splitting his face, revealing sharp, pointed teeth.

Teeth that certainly weren’t human.

She shook her head dumbly, averting her eyes in a futile attempt to pretend she was blind to the presence in front of her.

“You shook your head to my question, which means you can hear me too. What an interesting little human you are,” he almost cooed to her, stepping forward in curiosity.

She stepped back instinctively, with every fibre of her being screaming for her to run. She was in the vicinity of an apex predator. She was the prey, she was helpless. She knew this in her very soul.

Run.

Her brain was screaming at her to sprint, adrenaline coursed through her veins. Her muscles were poised, ready to contract, to move her faster than she’d likely ever moved before.

But she couldn’t move.

“Humans haven’t been able to see me in millennia. Not since those jujutsu sorcerers were still around.”

He was speaking to her again, smiling at her in malice. His cold red eyes appraised her form, smiling wider when he noticed how ready she was to bolt.

“What’s the matter little human? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckled darkly, stepping even closer.

“You know, most people would have ran by now. What’s the matter? Too frightened to move?” He taunted her, making her blood boil at his mocking tone.

“What’s the point in running? I’d be dead within seconds. I’d rather face my death head on. I’m not a coward.” She spat at him, her eyes a raging fire.

She could tell he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the fear he brought to people, the chase when they ran. And she was sure he enjoyed killing them after.

Though she was terrified, and her body screamed at her to run as fast as she could, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

His resounding laugh startled her.

“What an interesting little creature you are!” He laughed in delight, clapping his hands together with a large grin.

“But your little front doesn’t fool me. I can hear your racing heart, little girl. I can smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins. I can taste your fear.” His voice lowered and he stepped toward her again.

She backed up now, cursing herself when her back hit the cold bark of a tree. She should’ve been more aware of her surroundings. He was too close to try moving away from the tree behind her now.

She was too frightened to try move anyway, her legs shook and she slumped slightly into the tree trunk, her knees weak from fear. She wanted to be strong, to face her imminent death head on.

But she was afraid.

His large figure caged her to the tree, his arm coming to rest just above her head. He looked down at her cruelly.

“You. Are. Terrified.” He whispered in her ear. She whimpered in response, her head sinking into her shoulders in fear.

“You know,” he started, a hunger settling in his crimson eyes once again.

“There was a story that went around this village back when I was human,” Sukuna purred, drawing his face closer to hers so that their noses almost touched.

“About a poor little girl…” he grabbed her fragile wrists in his hands, pinning them above her head. She watched him through fearful, wide eyes.

He could feel her heart hammering in her chest. He had forgotten how pleasant and warm a woman’s body could be. She was ever so pretty too, her large doe eyes had drawn him in from the beginning.

“And a big…” he put his lips to her ear, grinning at how she shivered in fear.

“….Bad…” he licked the shell of her ear, revelling in her cry of fear.

“….Wolf.” Sukuna growled, pushing his body into hers, trapping her impossibly tight against the tree. He licked up her neck, moaning at just how good she tasted.

So sweet.

She tried squirming away from him; being pinned so tightly between him and the tree was almost painful. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, she couldn’t bear to look at the beautiful monster in front of her anymore.

“You’re delicious.” Sukuna whispered in her ear, nibbling on the lobe.

“Did you eat the other people that came into the woods?” She’d tried to sound strong, but the wobble in her voice betrayed her.

He pulled back to look down upon her coldly. His cruel smirk told her the answer to her question.

“Yes.” He affirmed, stroking her cheek with one sharp nail while his other hand kept her wrists pinned above her head.

Her knees almost gave way at his answer, as her breaths came out in frantic gasps.

So many people…

So many people had been eaten. By this human-like monster in front of her.

Oh, god. Y/N thought.

I’ll be eaten too.

“A-are you gonna eat me?” She breathed, looking up into his cold red eyes. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Y/N didn’t want to die. She was too young. She had so much to live for, so much she wanted to do. She never even got to leave this damned village. She was born here, set to die here, without ever seeing anywhere else.

A wasted life. She thought miserably.

“No.”

Her eyes met Sukuna’s again in shock.

“Though you are delicious,” he grinned, his pointed teeth making her shudder.

“A human hasn’t been able to see or hear me in millennia. And here you are,”

“A pretty little girl, who stumbled so innocently into my territory,” he was whispering into her ear again, making her shiver.

“Who can see and hear me. Killing you would be a waste.” He nuzzled his face into her neck, groaning at how good she smelt.

“It’s been years since I felt the touch of a woman.” He told her, sucking lightly on her neck.

Her eyes widened as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

“No, no, no, no! No way…no way in hell will I…I’m not…I won’t be your whore.” She sputtered angrily, squirming wildly, trying to pull her wrists from his grip.

He dropped her wrists, stepping backwards. The grin on his face was feral.

“Such spunk for helpless little prey like you” he delighted.

“Let’s play a game.” He decided, a gleeful grin still playing on his lips.

“You’ll be little red riding hood,”

“And I’ll be the big, bad wolf.” He bared his sharp teeth at her, portraying just how wolflike he really looked.

“If you make it out of these woods before I catch you, you’re free.”

“But if I catch you, you’re mine.” He growled possessively.

“I’ll give you a little head start, it’s only fair. You’re such weak prey after all.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his posture undoubtedly relaxed.

Y/N knew he was certain of his inevitable victory.

She was sure he would win too, even with whatever ‘head-start’ he was so graciously going to give her. He’d single handedly pinned her against the tree like it was nothing, despite her using all her strength to squirm away. This ‘game’ of his was futile.

But, damn, she had to try.

She couldn’t just roll over and become someone’s whore.

She took off running, unwilling to hear him speak anymore. She thought perhaps if she ran and caught him off guard, she’d be able to put even more distance between them.

She could hear his loud laughter booming behind her, she’d never heard something so cold.

“Ten.” She heard him call, and she almost cried in response.

Ten seconds??

That’s what he called a head start?

She pushed herself harder, the muscles in her legs burning from the exertion. She wasn’t even sure the direction she was running in was the right one, she’d had no time to think. All she could do was run and hope that she reached the village in time.

“Nine.” He still sounded somewhat close.

“Eight.” His voice sounded somewhat distant now.

“Seven.” The end of the forest was nowhere in sight, but his voice was definitely fading.

“Six” she barely heard him, perhaps she’d put a decent distance between them now, she hoped.

She weaved in and out of the trees with an agility she never knew she possessed. The adrenaline pumping through her veins made everything clearer, focussed her enough to easily dodge stray roots and branches that would trip her or hinder her escape.

She wasn’t sure how long it had been, but she guessed he was probably chasing her by now. She just hoped she’d covered enough distance to escape him.

She didn’t hear him.

He was silent as he tackled her roughly to the ground.

Air was forced out her lungs in a gasp at the force of it, her dazed eyes meeting his as he pinned her roughly to the ground.

“No…no…” she breathed, tears pouring out her eyes.

He sat on her, his weight heavy on her waist, as he leaned toward her, her wrists being pushed painfully into the cold ground.

“I win.” He whispered into her ear, before licking it.

“No…” she whimpered as more tears fell.

“Yes.” He purred, nuzzling her neck again.

“You smell delightful.” He groaned again.

“P-please…” she whimpered, her chest heaving still as she gasped for air.

“And now the wolf devours it’s prey.” He growled, licking up her neck.

“You said you didn’t want to eat me!” She cried.

He chuckled, licking away a stray tear from her cheek.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He growled.

“I lied.” He grinned, as she cried out again, shaking in fear.

“However, killing you really would be a waste.” He continued.

He sat up again, keeping her arms pinned by her head still. He appraised her form again, smirking. Sukuna truly hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing something so beautiful in a long time.

“Good thing there’s more than one way to eat someone.” He chuckled.

Y/N gasped shakily as the meaning of his words dawned on her.

Sukuna pressed his lips against hers roughly, forcing his tongue between her lips. He groaned as he did, relishing how good it felt. How good she tasted.

Yes, there was more than one way to eat someone. She thought helplessly.

She wasn’t sure which way was worse.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #non con #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #when the clock strikes midnight collab #sukuna x reader #trigger warning #non consensual #little red riding hood #anime #collab

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Present from Mukami [PART 2]

ー The scene starts in the kitchen

Yui: Okay...The oven is preheated.

( ...Once the tart crust finished baking, I’ll pour the custard cream inside. )

( Then after putting plenty of Yuma-kun’s homegrown fruits on top, it’ll be ready. )

( I just have to wait for it to finish baking now, so I suppose I could go check up on the others... )

Selection

→ Check up on the nearby duo

Yuma: Ow!!

Yui: A-Are you okay, Yuma-kun!?

Yuma: Aahn? When did I ask for yer concern?

Yui: B-But...Your finger’s bleeding! We have to clean the wound and disinfect it right away...

Yuma: Aah? You’re fussin’ way too much. A lil’ saliva will do the trick just fine, geez. ...Nn...

Yui: ( Will he be okay...? )

Yuma: Oi, Sow...Don’t be starin’ my way. You’re distractin’ me...

Yui: I-I’m sorry...! Um...I just thought there might be something I can help with...

Yuma: There isn’t.

Ruki: Yuma, don’t be so harsh. You haven’t been making much progress this whole time. I’m sure there’s some tasks you can give her.

Yuma: Ugh...That’s not true...

Ruki: Don’t lie. There aren’t enough ingredients for the soup. If you can’t cut these vegetables, I’m putting someone else in charge.

Yuma: Ah, ya can’t! I’ll cut these!

Yui: ( I can tell he’s really motivated... )

( I wonder what he’s making...? )

( Ah...This scent coming from the pot... )

( It’s consommé...! )

Um, Yuma-kun? I’ll help out where I can!

Yuma: Fuck off!! There’s nothin’ for ya to help me with!!

Yui: ...Sorry...

Ruki: Yuma. Ask for help just for today. You’re going to cut these vegetables?

Yuma: ...Yeah, that’s the plan but it’s not really workin’ out as I’d like.

Yui: ( There’s several incisions... )

( I wonder if he’s trying to cut them into a certain shape...? )

Yuma-kun, are you cutting these in shapes?

Yuma: ...Shapes.

Yui: ...?

Yuma: Are you deaf!? I said star shapes!!

Yui: Star...shapes...?

Yuma: What!? Is it that weird I want to cut them into damn stars!?

Yui: N-No, it’s not strange at all. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all...

Yuma: ...We looked at them over at the deli counter when we went shoppin’, remember? Heart and star shapes...

I want to try that as well! Get it now!?

Yui: Y-Yeah.

Ruki: Yuma, stop losing your temper while holding a kitchen knife.

Also, it doesn’t matter if they’re shaped like stars or not, just cut them regularly.

Yuma: I’m strugglin’ ‘cause I can’t do that!

Yui: ( Honestly, it’s kind of a rare sight to see Yuma-kun get so serious about cooking... )

( Also, when I think he’s cutting them into stars, I can’t help but find that kind of cute! )

Ruki: Yuma. You’re being laughed at.

Yui: ...!!

Yuma: Aah!? What’s so damn funny, huh!?

Yui: I-It isn’t! I just thought everyone would be happy if they were star-shaped!

( I’m sure chaos will break loose if I call him cute... )

Yuma: Hah! That’s exactly why I’m tryin’ to cut these carrots into stars!

Ruki: It won’t make a difference in taste though.

Yuma: Ya eat with yer eyes too, right!?

Ruki: But there’s no point if it gets in the way of actually completing the dish, right?

Yui: W-Wait! I know a good hack!

( I feel as if they’ll start a discussion if I leave these two be now... )

Yuma: Oh...! For real!?

Yui: Yeah!

Um...It’d be a piece of cake if you have cookie cutters.

Yuma: Ahー Now that ya mention it, I’m pretty sure we have some of those layin’ ‘round?

Yui: Really?

( I’m honestly a little surprised we’ll easily find some cookie cutters in this house’s kitchen... )

Yuma: Let’s just say Azusa likes to use those for his own pleasure.

Yui: ( ...What on earth is he doing with them...? )

Yuma: Whatcha gettin’ all down for? Don’t worry. They’re still unused.

Yui: That’s not the problem!

*Rustle*

Yuma: Here, this is what you mean, right?

Yui: Yeah! It should be easy with these!

You cut the carrots into slices first and then use the cookie cutter to cut out the shape.

Yuma: Heehー I’m pretty sure I can pull that off on my own. No need to help me.

Yui: Eh? ...I-I’ll help out as well!

Yuma: Well, Ruki’s been on my case as well, so I guess I’ll leave those veggies up to ya.

Yui: Yeah, thanks. I’ll carefully cut them.

Yuma: ‘Course! These are the veggies I poured my heart and soul into after all!

*Chop chop chop*

Ruki: You’re finally providing the ingredients, it seems. I’m sure I’ll be able to create a nice-tasting dish with these.

Yui: These vegetables make a big difference after all, don’t they?

Ruki: Exactly.

*Chop chop chop*

Yui: ( ーー There we go. I guess we finished chopping everything up for the soup? )

Ruki-kun, can I put them inside?

Ruki: Yeah, I’ll leave that up to you. Yuma, how are those star-shaped carrots looking?

Yuma: Perfect! It’d be borin’ to just put them in the soup, so I made enough to sprinkle on top of the salad as well!

Ruki: ...Do you like them?

Yuma: Yeah! It’s kind of fun to pop them out one after the other! I wonder if there’s anythin’ else I can cut with these?

Yui: Then let’s make cookies next time! I’m sure you’ll be able to put those to great use!

Yuma: Why ‘later’? We still have time to make some, no?

Ruki: ...Right. It should be fun to have one additional dish.

Yui: Then, for the recipe, it’s in this book so...

Yuma: Oh! I’ll get to it then!

Ruki: Seems like Yuma really took a liking to cutting out shapes. Well, I guess we can let him have his fun.

Yui: Fufu, right...!

Ruki: Well then, shall we taste the soup? ...I’m curious.

Yui: ( Yuma-kun is having fun, but Ruki-kun seems to be enjoying himself as well. )

Ruki: ...

...

...What? If you have the time to stand there watching me, then start moving those hands already. Get on with your own task.

Yui: Y-Yeah...Right. Sorry. However...

Ruki: ...?

Yui: U-Um, I’m curious about the taste of the soup as well...So I was wondering if you’d let me have a little sip?

Ruki: ...Be my guest. However, it’s just average. Something is missing...

We need to think about the balance with the other dishes as well. I can’t make the taste any richer. Should I add more water...?

Yui: Hm...You’re right. I do think it is plenty delicious already, but...

Ruki: Nobody asked for your opinion, but I suppose I’ll let you think about it if you want to.

Yui: ( Hm, let’s see...It might be good to draw out the flavor of the vegetables a little more. )

Ruki: Should we add more acidity from the tomatoes?

Yui: Ah, wait. In that case, why don’t we try adding a bit of lemon juice?

Ruki: Lemon juice...? It would work the same in terms of adding acidity, I suppose...

Yui: They’re fresh vegetables, so I feel like it’s adding a lot of sweetness.

Ruki: ...I see. I suppose I’ll try adding some then.

Yui: Yeah! What do you think...?

Ruki: Not bad. Seems like it was a clever suggestion coming from someone like you. Want to try it?

Yui: Can I? Thank you!

...Yeah, it’s delicious!

Ruki: Right? I’m looking forward to serving this to the others as well.

Yui: ( Ruki-kun looks happy. I hope everyone else will like it too... )

Ruki: I suppose I should lower the heat so it doesn’t overcook. Okay, next up’sーー

Yuma: Say, it slipped my mind for a sec, but...

But what are we doin’ with this turkey?

Ruki: Aah, that one. I bought it because it’s a staple of any Christmas feast, however...

Yui: ( They’re both looking at... )

Me!?

Ruki: You’re the one who brought it up, so I assume you know how to prepare it?

Yui: Ah, yeah. For the most part...

Yuma: ‘Kay. We’ll leave this bad boy up to ya then.

I’ll get back to my cookies.

Ruki: Good idea. It’d be a waste of time for all three of us to work on the same dish. You should do it.

Yui: ( ... )

( I feel as if this was kind of pushed on me... )

*TIMESKIP*

Ruki: ーー We’re pretty much done. How’s your chicken looking?

Yui: Yeah, I think it’ll be okay...Yuma-kun, how’s the cooking time?

Yuma: It’s lookin’ hella good. Smells nice from the herbs, no?

Ruki: ...It definitely triggers the appetite. Okay, let’s get to plating them.

Yui: ( Thank god. I was honestly a little worried when they left it up to me. )

I’ll put out the plates then!

Ruki: Yeah, thank you.

Also, I’d like to carry all finished dishes to the dining room if they’re done with the decorations over there.

Yuma: Speak of the devil.

ー Kou and Azusa enter the kitchen

Kou: We’ve come to check up on you guys~ How are things looking on your end? ...Wait.

Waah! It smells great here! Seems like you guys safely got everything ready in time as well~

Yui: Yeah, we just need to put everything on the plates and carry them to the dining room. How are the decorations looking?

Azusa: Just fine...Kou said that we should...make the final touches together...

Ruki: The final touches...? I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I suppose we should get all the food ready first.

Yui: Yeah!

→ Go to the dining room

ー The scene shifts to the dining room

Kou: Ah, M-neko-chan! Did you come to help us out? I’m so glad~!

Yui: Yeah! I came here hoping there was still something I could help out with but...It seems like you’re almost ready with the preparations.

Kou: Pretty much! We’d get scolded by Ruki-kun if we slack off after all!

Yui: Fufu, good point. You have to finish before they do, or the food will go cold after all.

The table looks completely different from usual as well. Just a few hours left till we can get this Christmas party started!

Azusa: Say, Eve? Am I doing it right? I’m lining up the stuff we bought today. Tell me if I made a mistake, okay...?

Yui: Don’t worry! You didn’t make any mistakes.

( The Christmas-colored table mats are so cute! )

( The napkins placed at every seat are lovely as well. And above all... )

( Seeing those candles kind of takes me back to the Mass at Church. )

Azusa: Is something the matter?

Yui: Ah, no. I’m just looking forward to spending Christmas in such a wonderfully decorated room.

Azusa: I’m glad you like it...

*Cling*

Azusa: ...Fufu, this is the last one. The table has been all set...

Yui: All of the silverware has been polished to perfection. Did you do this too?

Azusa: Yeah. It’s especially important to sharpen the knives, or they won’t cut as well, right?

Yui: Sounds like something you would think of.

Kou: Hm. Props to you for getting all of M-neko-chan’s praise, Azusa-kun.

Yui: ...Kou-kun? Is something wrong?

Kou: Nn~ I’m just a little jealous of Azusa-kun.

Yui: Eh? J-Jealous?

Kou: Fufu, just a little bit? You’re only giving him compliments after all.

Yui: You did an amazing job too. You put together the Christmas tree, right?

Kou: Yeah, exactly~ Fufu, it really does feel nice to get praised by you!

That being said, I’m still in the middle of decorating it though.

Azusa: Is that so? In that case, I’ll help out. I’m done with my work after all.

Yui: Decorating the tree, right? I’ll lend a hand too!

Kou: Okay! Let’s decorate it all together then.

Azusa: The tree...It looks prickly...

Yui: Fufu, it really does!

Azusa-kun, you hang ornaments on the branches like this.

Azusa: I wouldn’t mind if the tree decorated me with its needles.

Kou: Pfft! Azusa-kun...Geez! We obviously can’t let that happen.

Yui: E-Exactly, Azusa-kun!

Azusa: ...Is that so? That’s a little disappointing. I’m sure that having my whole body stabbed by those needles is a pain I can only experience today...

Kou: I don’t mean to judge you for your personal preferences, but today you can’t do that.

Azusa: I couldn’t have my knife...And I’m not allowed to stab myself with the tree either...Is Christmas really supposed to be fun?

*Rustle*

Yui: Azusa-kun, I’m sure you’ll enjoy it! Christmas has to be a precious time you spend with family after all...

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: ( Ah, I grabbed his hand in the spur of the moment, but... )

I’m sorry. Um...I just want you to understand. I’m sure it’ll be fun, so let’s try and forget about pain for today?

Azusa: ...Sure. If you insist...

Kou: Haah, thank god. Well then, let’s get back on track and decorate the tree!

*TIMESKIP*

Azusa: Hey, look. This soft, fluffy padding. If you put it underneath your mouth, it looks like a white beard.

Yui: Fufu, you’re right. You look like Santa Claus right now.

Azusa: Santa...Claus?

Yui: Yeah. Santa Claus comes to visit on his sleigh every year on Christmas day, you see.

Then he gives presents to all good children.

Azusa: Heeh...

I’ve never met him but...I see...Only to good children, huh...?

Kou: Pretty sure nobody in this household qualifies~ (1)

Well, getting our hands on what we want with brute force fits us much better anyway, don’t you think so, M-neko-chan~?

Yui: ( Um... )

Azusa: Kou is right...

Yui: Y-You too, Azusa-kun...!?

Azusa: Fufu...

Yui: ( I feel as if I shouldn’t linger on this topic for too long... )

U-Um...Kou-kun? Could you put this on the tree for me?

Azusa-kun, you should continue decorating as well, okay...?

Kou: Fufu, right! Right now we have to stick to the Christmas mood!

Azusa: What should I do with this cotton padding then?

Yui: Ah, right. It’s something meant to mimic snow, so you have to tear it up and sprinkle it across the branches.

Azusa: Okay, gotcha.

Kou: Can I just put these bells and snowman ornaments wherever I want?

Yui: Yeah, they don’t have a set place or anything. I’ll leave it up to your personal taste.

( I should get to decorating as well. )

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: ( ...Every year, I would always decorate the tree by myself instead of Father since he was so busy. )

( However, this year... )

...

Kou: What’s wrong, M-neko-chan? Your hands have stopped moving?

Azusa: Is something bothering you?

Yui: ( I’m decorating with everyone. Fufu, I’m kind of happy. )

No, it’s nothing. Let’s put on the lights once we’re finished with the ornaments!

Kou: Roger! I’m so excited to put the lights on~ They’re the thing I had the most trouble choosing at the store.

Yui: I see.

Kou: We chose them together. Ruki-kun has that cool image so he’s black, no?

Azusa: Yuma is orange...right?

Kou: Exactly! We chose our own favorite color.

And this light pink is you! Fits you perfectly, no?

Yui: Waah! I’m so happy! ...Thank you!

Azusa: Fufu, I’m glad you’re happy.

Yui: Let’s put them on then.

( Covering the whole surface... )

( ... )

( Yeah, this should do...! )

Azusa: I finished adding the cotton decorations.

Yui: I’m done over here as well!

Kou: The ornaments are looking perfect as well! In that case, let’s test whether the lights work or not.

Yui: Yeah! Good idea.

Kou: Here we go! Lights on!

*Click*

Yui: Wah...How beautiful. There’s different colors lighting up.

Kou: We made the right choice! I’m looking forward to enjoying these all together!

Azusa: Yeah, it’s really...pretty.

Kou: Right~? I can’t wait to show Ruki-kun and the others!

Yui: ( Huh? But I feel as if something is missing. I wonder what...? )

( We put plenty of ornaments and lights on the tree... )

Kou: Hm...? What’s wrong, M-neko-chan?

Yui: Ah, yeah...I feel as if it’s not quite right yet...

Kou: Could it be this, perhaps?

Yui: Ah! The big star you put on the very top of the tree!

Azusa: ...Once we add that to the tree...It’ll become even more beautiful, right? Let’s put it on, Kou...

Kou: Nu-uh~ This is a special star, so I thought it’d be better to put it on once all five of us have gathered here together.

Azusa: ...I see. Yeah...Good point.

Yui: In that case, let’s go check up on them once we’re done here.

ー Ruki enters the room

*Thud*

Yui: Ah...

Ruki: I’ve come to check up on your process. Are you done with the decorations?

Azusa: Yeah, we just finished. What do you think?

Ruki: ...Yeah, it looks beautiful. The three of you really tried your best.

Kou: Hooray! Nothing quite boosts one’s self-confidence like a compliment from Ruki-kun!

Azusa: Yeah, me too...I’m very happy.

Kou: Say, Azusa-kun, M-neko-chan? Can you both raise your hands for a sec?

Azusa: What...?

Yui: ...?

*Tap*

Yui: Kyah!?

Azusa: Wah! W-What was that...?

Kou: A high five! It’s a way to celebrate a shared success! I’m looking forward to Yuma-kun’s reaction as well~

Azusa: Yeah...I put Yuma through a lot of trouble earlier...So I hope he’ll like it...

Yui: I’m sure he will! I’m excited.

Ruki: There’s no shame in rejoicing, but there’s still some work left. We’ll carry the food here. Lend me a hand.

Yui: Yeah!

( I’m sure the crust should be about done by now as well... )

( I’ll go finish it by adding the custard and fruits! )

*TIMESKIP*

*Thud*

Yui: This should be the final plate of food, right?

Ruki: Yeah. We’ve carried everything here. Yuma, pour our drinks.

Yuma: Already on it.

*Cling*

Yui: ( The candles have been lit and there’s a warm buffet laid out. The room is decorated as well... )

Kou: Haah~ Looking good, don’t you think~? Seeing all these different dishes lined up on the table~

Azusa: Looks delicious...

Yuma: It doesn’t just ‘look’ good. I can promise ya the taste won’t disappoint either. Ya better look forward to it!

Kou: Geez, you’re way too excited, Yuma-kun.

I can’t wait to try this cake loaded with fruit you made either.

Yui: Really? I’m glad to hear that.

Ruki: You two gave it your best shot as well. The elaborate decorations help lighten the mood up as well.

Yuma: Hell yeah. When the room is decorated this way, I immediately get those ‘today’s a special day’ vibes.

Altho it still feels a little weird for us Vampires to celebrate Christmas.

Ruki: Haha, you have a point.

It may be strange for us Vampires, but this day only comes once a year. It shouldn’t hurt to celebrate every once in a while, right?

Kou: I appreciate all the praise, but we’re not quite done yet~

Yuma: Aahn? Whatcha mean?

Azusa: We have to put the biggest star on the very top of the tree.

Ruki: ...? Why did you not put it on yet?

Kou: Eeh~? I mean, this is such a rare occasion, so I wanted all of us to be here and witness its completion.

Yuma: I see. Sounds good? I don’t dislike that way of thinkin’.

Azusa: Well then, Kou. Here. Put it on top.

Yui: ( Azusa-kun is handing the star to Kou-kun... )

Kou: Thank you, Azusa-kun. Well then...Here, M-neko-chan~

Yui: ...Eh?

Kou: None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you after all.

So I want to leave this up to you!

Yui: No way...Are you sure I can put it on?

Ruki: Don’t sweat the details. If you don’t put that on, we can never get the party started.

Yuma: Oi, Sow. Get on with it.

Azusa: ...Put it on with your very own hands.

Yui: Thank you guys. Well then...

*Rustle*

Kou: Ready? Lights on!

*Click*

Ruki: Hooh...

Yuma: Wow! What’s this? I didn’t know these trees light up!

Azusa: ...I like Christmas.

Yui: ( How pretty. I could gaze at it forever... )

Kou: Well then, we’ve finished decorating so let’s get to our seats and eat now!

Yuma: Yeah! Nothin’ like enjoyin’ a meal surrounded by those shimmerin’ lights!

ー Everyone sits down at the table

Ruki: Oi, Yui. You should sit down as well.

Yuma: Geez, ya slowpoke! Whatcha doin’? Hurry up and get yer ass over here.

Kou: Come on, we’re going to get started without you, M-neko-chan!

Azusa: Eve, hurry...Everyone already took a seat.

Yui: Ah, yeah, wait! I’ll be there in a sec...

*Cling cling*

Everyone: Merry Christmas.

Yuma: ‘Kay! Time to chow down!

Ruki: Thank you for the meal.

Kou: I’m digging in~!

Azusa: ...Let me have a taste...

Yui: Thanks for the meal!

Kou: Mmh~! Yuma-kun’s vegetables never fail to amaze me!

Yuma: I’m the one who grew them, so they’re obviously gonna be delicious!

Azusa: ...Nom, nom.

Ruki: I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.

Kou: Although I’m a little curious about these oddly-shaped vegetables.

Yuma: The taste’s still the same so whatever!!

Ruki: Yuma, don’t shout too loud.

Yuma: Che...Those are the duds. There’s some proper stars in there as well.

Kou: ...These are supposed to be stars!?

Ruki: Right. Yuma shed blood, sweat and tears to make those.

Azusa: ...The fruit tart you made is delicious. The crust is crisp...

Yui: I’m glad to hear that. Yuma-kun is the one who grew the fruits on top as well.

Azusa: Yuma is amazing. I don’t think I could ever grow vegetables...

Ruki: Yuma is great at taking care of things after all. Why don’t you try looking after someone else as well for a change?

Azusa: ...Look after someone else...?

Yui: ( I’m honestly having trouble picturing that... )

Yuma: In that case, why don’t you let him take care of you, Ruki?

Ruki: ...!

...Azusa, forget what I said just now. Understood?

Azusa: Yeah, sure...

Kou: Ahaha! This is so much fun. Hey, M-neko-chan, thank you!

Yui: ...Eh?

Kou: I’m thanking you for teaching us about Christmas.

It’s our first time celebrating such a fun event, so we’re all in high spirits!

Yui: ...I should be the one saying thank you. I thought I would be spending the day alone...so I felt a little down.

However, I’m really happy you all worked together to create such a fun Christmas for me. Thank you, everyone...

Yuma: Hah, we didn’t do this for ya or anythin’. We only went through with it ‘cause it sounded fun.

Yui: I’m still glad regardless. For letting me join your Christmas party.

Yuma: I mean, ya are kind of a bother to us, but did ya really think we’d leave ya out?

Kou: Ah~ Yuma-kun’s flustered~!

Yuma: Haah!? Why would I get flustered!?

Ruki: You’re red all the way to your ears. Why don’t you be honest with yourself?

Yuma: You too, Ruki!?

Ruki: Hmph...My bad. Seems like I’m having a bad case of ‘the slip of the tongue’ today.

Yuma: Che...!

Ruki: Yuma, cheer up. We’re actually spending Christmas as a family.

Azusa: Exactly...

Kou: Me too! Food tastes so much better when you get to enjoy it without being upset!

Yui: ( I didn’t think it would be so fun to spend time with everyone like this. )

( Huh...? I just thought ‘fun’... )

( Right. At some point, the time I spend with the Mukami family must have grown dear to me... )

Kou: What are you grinning for?

Yui: Um...This may sound strange, but I thought it’s fun to spend time with you guys.

Azusa: ...If you’re happy...then so am I.

Ruki: I thought you were an odd human, but you’ve exceeded that point...You are basically being held hostage after all.

Yui: Right. I know it’s weird but...

Kou: You’re really living up to your name~ Although that’s exactly what makes you cute!

Yuma: Heh...If we ever hold a Christmas party again, ya better help out too.

No way in hell I’m wastin’ my time makin’ some cake, so I’ll leave my fruits in yer hands.

Also, we need someone to make the cookies.

Yui: Thank you...! I better practice a bunch in preparation for that day!

Ruki: Let’s leave it at that. The food we worked so hard on will get cold.

Kou: Ah, Azusa-kun you’re adding spices again~ You shouldn’t ruin the taste of the food.

Azusa: ...Just a sprinkle. I want to make this an even more fun experience...

Ruki: Haah...Can’t you guys at least enjoy a meal in silence?

Kou: But this is what suits us best, don’t you think?

Yuma: It’d be kind of creepy if things were all quiet.

Ruki: ...Right. I suppose this is quite tame for a Vampire’s holy night.

Yui: ( I’m truly glad I was able to have such a fun Christmas... )

( I wish I’ll be able to experience this sight once more somedayーー )

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) ‘NG’ is a term which has recently picked up in popularity in the Japanese language. It is an abbreviation of the English phrase ‘no good’ and is used to refer to things which are forbidden or don’t qualify.

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← [ Part 1 ]

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #vandead carnival #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #vcpresentfrommukami #diabolik lovers translation

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jacks-wylan · 4 years

Text

Follow me home

Here’s my @thewitchersecretsanta for @itsmajel. Sorry for the late, darling! I hope you like it, even if it’s not what I had in mind at first and rushed a bit at the end (life got in the way sobs). Still, i hope you appreciate geralt and jaskier being horse girls, the almost-not-fake-marriage and a little cameo of Valdo Marx that does nothing at all (but come on, everyone wants Valdo to be present at Jaskier’s wedding right?)

❀

The missive is delivered right in his hand one fine morning, at the start of spring. Geralt is minding his own business, sipping a piss–tasting ale in the darkest corner of a tavern in Oxenfurt, and he's waiting for his bard to deign him of his flamboyant presence as he has done for almost twenty years now.

Jaskier is late, though, and Geralt can't help but frown, worried, when a boy – a young boy, dressed in a rich uniform – bows to him and calls him Sir Witcher, handing him the letter. To be honest, the whole gesture scares him: no one ever bowed to him before.

When he opens the missive, Geralt sighs, recognizing immediately Jaskier's flourish handwriting.

“My dearest friend,” he reads, and that is not a good sign. “If I only try to write the real reason of my absence there by your side in Oxenfurt, a single parchment would not be enough, and I am quite sure you would not even read the whole ordeal, ignoring my request of aid. Once you reach for me here in my birthplace, I will explain everything. Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” Geralt blinks, “What the fuck.”

Geralt feels his heart dropping down in his stomach, dread pooling there as he scrambles up from the chair, grabs his swords, leaves some coins on the table, and runs outside. He doesn't even mind the next words written in the missive, the gentle, “Yours always, Jaskier.”

He just puts the already crumpled piece of parchment in Roach's saddlebag, hops on the horse, and heads towards Lettenhove – ignoring the shouts of the same boy that has delivered the missive. He knows the way, he doesn't fucking need company, and also, whoever he was he would just slow him down.

And Jaskier hasn't much time left.

He rides for a day and a half, avoiding inns and taverns, sleeping just when needed. He follows the seashore, remembering from conversation that Geralt pretended to ignore that Jaskier passed his childhood bathing in salty waters, breathing fish–smelling air. He remembers that whenever he played in Kerack courts, he always said that it felt like home.

Jaskier never once mentioned Lettenhove, though.

Geralt arrives in Lettenhove by twilight. It's a cheerful city, decorated for a festivity he has no knowledge of. There is a bonfire in the middle of the marketplace, already lit, with some people dancing and drinking wine around it, children laughing and screaming as they play catch. He watches around, in search of a familiar colorful figure, but he sees nothing of importance, so he heads toward the nearest tavern, set on asking every single soul if they know anything of Jaskier the Bard.

He growls at the stableboy, when he takes Roach's reins from his hands. “You know of a bard around here?” he asks the boy, helping him take the saddle off Roach.

The boy nods, guarded, “Well, yes! A bard is going to play tomorrow, for the wedding!”

“Wedding?”

“Don't you know, sir?” the boy cocks his head to the side, watching him from the other side of Roach. Another one that calls him sir, that's kind of creepy. “The long lost Viscount is finally going to marry tomorrow! That's why we are all celebrating.”

Geralt hums. Jaskier probably has been called to play at his birthplace court, and he needs assistance for this. Maybe one of the many ladies he loves is the future bride of the Viscount, who probably Jaskier hates for no reason at all, and for this Jaskier has brought misfortune upon his head: what if he's imprisoned? What if tomorrow, instead of his performance, Jaskier will be hanged beside the bonfire because he fucked the wrong maiden?

Damn him and his cock, “And this bard, you remember his name?”

“No, sir. I'm just a stableboy.” the boy shrugs, “Don't know who're the lord's hosts. But I got a glimpse of him when he came the other day, and he's really...” he scrunches his young face, “Excessive.”

Gods, yes. That's definitively Jaskier.

Geralt nods as a thanks, trying not to think about the the worst, and heads towards the inn. It's not the first time Geralt has to pay for Jaskier's debt in order to take him out of prison, and it's definitely not the first time he has to help Jaskier escape from imprisonment, and yet, now something seems... off. Geralt can't quite pinpoint what, though.

He eats soup, and drinks water. No one is looking at him feed himself alone at a table, too busy in the wedding's arrangements to pay attention to a lonely Witcher – as weird as it is. He takes a room, and the innkeeper doesn't grimace nor make him pay more while handing him the key, and it's probably the merry time around that makes all this people happy and all, but it still feels so damn strange.

“We will tell the Viscount of your arrival!” says the innkeeper, as he goes upstairs. Geralt just shrugs: he doesn't know why, and he doesn't care. If they have a job for him, he can ask Jaskier's freedom as a payment, at least.

For now, he just drops his belongings on the floor next to his bed, and lays on it to try gaining some sleep. Tomorrow, whatever happens, surely Geralt has to fight against something – be it a drowner or two, or a regiment of soldiers.

The next day, Geralt wakes up with someone stomping as they run up the stairs, stopping in front of his door and knocking loudly, too loudly. He groans, and glancing at the window he left open the night before, he notices that it's barely dawn – he has a half mind to just ignore the nuisance and go back to sleep, but he suddenly remember why he finds himself in Lettenhove in the first place and thinks better of it.

Slowly, he gets up, passing a hand on his eyes to wipe the sleep away, and the person on the other side of the door hasn't enough patience nor time, this morning, because they knock again and shout: “Geralt! Open up, I know you're awake, you oaf!”

Geralt blinks. That voice is definitely Jaskier's.

He walks to the door and unlocks it. Immediately, Jaskier pushes the handle, and if Geralt wasn't a fucking Witcher with quite good reflexes, the angle of the door would have definitely hit his forehead. Not a great start, for the day, it would be. “Geralt! My darling friend! You are here just in time!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt says, calmly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“What does it mean, what the fuck I am doing here?” Jaskier passes under his raised arm to enter inside his room, in his hand a heavy bag from where a mouth–watering smell comes. “That was I that called you here, remember? I believe you got my letter. I brought breakfast!”

Geralt grits his teeth, following him as he makes himself at home. “Yes, that's why I don't understand why you aren't in prison.”

Jaskier frowns, as he puts fruits and sweet rolls out of the bag. “I totally have no idea why you think I should be in prison right now.”

“You little– here, look.” Geralt grabs his satchel and takes out Jaskier's letter, showing him the peculiar words he'd chosen. “Please, my friend, I beg you to come here in Lettenhove as soon as possible. I don't have much time left.” he reads with a growl. Gods, seeing him here safe and sound is a relief, but he feels like he's been mocked, and it irritates him. “I though you were in danger, Jaskier, so I came here– wait, why you signed it...? Yours always...?”

Jaskier tears the letter off his hands, a panicked expression twisting his face, “It was in the heat of the moment, alright? I though I was gonna die any day without you – I mean, without your help to take me out of this mess. Don't mind it!” he folds the letter and puts it in his silk trouser's pocket. “Anyway, I think that explanations are in order.”

“You think?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes. Then, he motions at the food he's served on the bed, “In the meantime, eat. The tale is long, and kinda boring.” Once Geralt is seated on the floor by the bed, a sweet roll in his mouth, Jaskier seems to be enough satisfied to start explaining. He does it with a huff, blowing a strand of hair away from his eyes – and Geralt no, he has totally not followed the motion with barely concealed awe, “My friend, before your arrival, I really thought this would have been the end for me. You are my only hope to make it out alive.”

“What have you done?” Geralt asks, flatly.

“Absolutely nothing – apart being born. You see, my darling Witcher, there are things that are... expected from me. My father actually pretends those things that I, no, I totally refuse to do. One of those things, is marring a completely unknown rich woman just for the sake of... you know, I really don't know why. Perhaps is because people will now stop spreading rumors about me, or worse yet because my father expects an, ugh, an heir. From me! My sister gave birth last summer, and he still expects me to have an heir! Isn't one enough, I wonder? How many heirs a Count needs, to be in peace with himself? It's really beyond my comprehension.”

“Jaskier, wait.” Geralt almost chokes on the sweet roll he is swallowing at Jaskier's words. Did he hear it right? Is he talking about marriage and children? Is he really Jaskier the man in front of him, or he's a doppler trying to fuck up with him? “The wedding is yours?” he asks, and that was really the last of his worries, but evidently all his mind and mouth were able to elaborate is just that.

“Unfortunately, yes. Thank all the Gods that you are here just in time, Geralt! One more day, and it would have been one day too late.” Jaskier walks towards the window, and looks down at the decorations with a dreadful grimace pulling his mouth. “Can you believe that hateful man how far is gone with this farce? With this charade? Hell, he even called the worst bard of the entire Continent to play during the banquet!” he sniffs, outraged. “But you're here! I shouldn't have doubted you! I have a plan to make all of this blown up, and you are the centerpiece of it.”

“The stableboy mentioned this bard. I thought it was you, by his description.”

Jaskier gapes, widening his big, blue eyes in a comical way, “Sad that he's gonna lose his job for this! Gods, how dares he compare me to that... that scoundrel–”

Geralt shakes his head, an amused smile tugging his lips. He's gonna admit it, he feels mostly confused by the stream of words coming out of Jaskier, as always. He just understands that he has an important role in his plan to not get married, and he guesses that he will help him regardless of his motives. Jaskier is... a free spirit. Geralt can't see him married off with someone, unless his wife–to–be is alright in never see him again because he'll be too busy walk the Path with him.

Hm. That is why the thought of Jaskier married is so foreign, so strange, so unbelievable? Because that would mean Geralt will never have him around again, in that case?

Geralt frowns, and raises his eyes to look how the bard is still muttering offenses against the young stableboy, “Isn't the Viscount the one who's gonna get married?”

“Yes, 'tis I, Julian Alfred Pankratz, the willingly estranged Viscount that has finally returned home to his so boring obligations and blah blah blah.” Jaskier motions in the air with his hand. Then, he blinks, looking down at Geralt, “I did never tell you this, didn't I?”

“That you were a fucking Viscount? No, Jaskier.” says Geralt, and he knows that he's able to conceal the bitterness in his voice – and yet, considering the guilty faces Jaskier is making, he probably didn't do it right this time.

“I beg for your forgiveness, my friend. I never told you this not because I don't trust you, because I do. You know that, and never doubt it again.” Jaskier sighs, and finally he walks away from the window to sit next to him on the floor, “It's just that... I always run away from this life, even in my mind it's always been like I've never lived here before, never borne here, that there weren't people waiting for me to stop being egoistical and take my responsibilities. This is the reason I never mentioned it before, you have nothing to do with that.”

Geralt can understands this, and he'd be too hypocritical of him to say that he doesn't do the same – he, too, runs away from unwanted, from scaring, responsibilities. So he just nods, and Jaskier smiles, relieved.

“I bet you are wondering why I am here, then. Why I don't run away from here once again.”

“I bet you're gonna tell me anyway.”

Jaskier gasps, a hand dramatically posed on his lips, “That I'll do! How did you know that?” he chuckles, then gets quiet. “Mhh, well, it's for another egoistical reason. I'm just tired to run away from... from what is my home, after all, I hate it or not, it still is. My mother died this summer, and I wasn't here to give her one last kiss. Actually, I don't ever remember the last time I've seen her, and now all I have is a grave.” he shrugs, as if he doesn't even care. Geralt can smell, though, in his scent, a touch of sadness, and regret. “My sister gave birth to the chubbiest baby I've ever met in my entire life, and I wasn't here for her. I wasn't here for her for her wedding either. What I'm trying to say, Geralt, is that I want too much to be free to also come here, just once in a while, to bring present to my nephew and lay flowers on my mother's tomb.”

Geralt clears his throat, slightly uncomfortable, “I'm sorry for your mother.”

“Don't be. Last time I've seen her, I was eighteen. My sister almost didn't remember my face, when I came here a couple of months ago.”

Geralt hums, and grabs an apple. “So, this plan?”

“Yes, the plan.” Jaskier claps his hands, and absentmindedly accepts the apple Geralt is handing him. “Today is the wedding day, and I'm going to meet the lovely lady my father has chosen for me, but! Listen this, because you will totally praise my brilliant mind this time.” he takes a bite at the apple, munching with fervor as he tries to gather the words to explain his so brilliant plan, and Geralt feels a smile tugging at his lips at the sight. He's ridiculous. Geralt is, too, obviously. “I organized a horse race.”

Geralt frowns, “Good.”

“It'll make sense, hear me out. I somehow convinced my father to accept this my... caprice. He thinks that it is just to entertain the guests, but I made very clear that it will be the winner who's gonna marry me! At this point, I guess my father doesn't really care who will be my bride, as long as I'll be married once and for all. And, and,” he stops Geralt before he could ask clarifications with a finger closing his lips, “I will participate. You will do in my behalf, of course, you know I can't ride a horse for shit, and I am so sure that Roach will make the other horses eat her dust! I will win the race, and I'm gonna marry myself.”

“That's...”

“Brilliant?”

“Stupid. It will never work.”

“Whaaat?” Jaskier pouts, crossing his arms against his chest, “Why? It has to work!”

Geralt knows that nobles gets embarrassingly excited by these kind of things – the scoops, the scandals, and whatever they comports – but he doesn't think that a scam like this will work. Not that Geralt knows his father at all, in what way he's going to react at Jaskier's, hm, trap, but if he really wants Jaskier married and soon–to–be–father, he won't surely accept the whole 'I won at a game so I will marry myself' thing.

Hence, this is stupid. But looking at the sad pout on Jaskier's face, Geralt can't find in himself the power to tell him that his plan has all kinds of holes in it. So, he mutters, “If... if you're sure about it.”

“I am! So, you're on?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Of course,” Jaskier rolls his eyes, fondly, as he does every time Geralt says something uncalled for. “You always have a choice, my dear. After all, there will be a lot of nobles, a lot of meaningless chatters, a lot of stabbing behind the backs, a lot of songs from a terribly bard. I wouldn't wish it even to my worst enemy. Well, sure, without your help I'd die within the day, slicing my own throat with a cutlery out of desperation and boredom, but this is not a forcing towards you by any means.”

Geralt smacks his shoulder, and Jaskier shrieks an amused ouch, massaging the hit spot. Put like this, he no, he really doesn't have a choice. How could he leave him be, when Jaskier is looking at him with those puppy eyes, with his lower lip slightly protruding, with those desperate words about his demise?

Well, he knew that he wouldn't have any choice since he received his letter back in Oxenfurt.

“Fine.” he sighs, then, “What do I have to do?”

“Nothing too complicated, darling. You just have to be faster than my... fiance's horse. Actually, I think Roach would do most the work. Never joined a horse race before?”

“Have you ever seen me in one?” he asks, rhetorically. No one would challenge him in anything, nor offer him to join a competition that, usually, is for noble's entertainment, so it's naive of Jaskier to ask something like this. But Geralt knows that Jaskier, most of the time, doesn't fully comprehend how people take Geralt at arm's length, and gets mad when he witnesses the – maybe deserved, maybe not – cruelty they have towards him.

“No, but maybe you have in my absence. Who knows what you do when I'm not around!”

“I do what I always do, Jaskier. I walk the Path, I fight, and I try to survive. I have no time for games.”

Jaskier scrunches his face, clearly discontent of his words, “So unfair.”

It doesn't matter if it's fair or unfair, it's still Geralt's life, and Jaskier needs to understand that nothing will ever change, no matter the fact that he doesn't like it and he deems it humanly wrong.

So Geralt doesn't respond, and a quiet silence falls on them whilst they finish their breakfast. Jaskier wipes away the apple juice from his mouth with the hem of his luxurious chemise, and the gesture is so little nobility that Geralt still doesn't believe the fact that in front of him there is a Viscount. That the bard that followed him for almost two decades is a Viscount – and he had no clue at all.

Jaskier winces and grimaces, when people start to shout and sing and claps from the roads outside. “We need to go. My wife–to–be is probably arrived.” he rolls his eyes, raising from the floor and reaching out to help him do the same. “I bet my precious lute that she is as unhappy as me about this arrangement. Gods, I don't even know her name! She probably doesn't know mine either! This is bullshit.”

Grabbing his stretched hand, Geralt prepares himself to what's about to happen.

He doesn't have a good feeling about this.

Jaskier's fiance is flawless, with a curved body and straight blond hair. She's not a teenager as Pavetta was during her wedding – the only banquet Geralt has ever participated, and he's for the first time in all his long life praying that this won't end like hers ended – and she walks with her chin held high, an expressionless stare pointed in front of her. Maybe it's her face, but Geralt thinks that Jaskier is probably right, and she's as unhappy as he is in this whole situation. After all, a lot of years passed since Jaskier was twenty and ready – for his father, at least – to get married: she has probably found someone else to love in Jaskier's absence, because her brown, stricken eyes resemble so much Pavetta's.

Well, Geralt thinks. Maybe Jaskier's plans will work, if he has his fiance's support.

Geralt watches as Jaskier and his fiance's meet for the first time in the farthest corner of the main square, with Roach neighing quietly next to him. Jaskier's eyes are full of pity, as he, with a sweet, small smile, kisses the back of her hand, so lightly that his lips doesn't even touch her sun–kissed skin. They don't exchange words apart for empty pleasantries, and Geralt feels an hollow inside of him at the sight.

He doesn't want a meaningless, unloved marriage for Jaskier.

He nudges Roach forward as the cheerful crowd follows the soon–to–be–wed couple to the magnificent palace at the end of the main road. He doesn't think Geralt will be welcomed there inside, no matter what Jaskier wants – he is too busy with his father and fiance, right now, to mind his comfort – but he thinks that, at least, he can go in the Pankratz's stables, considering that Roach will be one of the horses that will compete.

He is surprised, though, to find a servant in there that shows him the way inside the palace, indicating him where to go to the chambers allocated to him. He's too confused to try asking for explanations, and too stunned to growl at the stableman as he takes Roach's reins from his hands.

Maids prepare him a bath, and new, perfumed clothes are brought to him. Geralt doesn't feel enough relaxed to take off his armor and stay only with the clothes Jaskier – obviously – sent to him, so when he heads to the stables again, he tries to ignores the confused stares from servants and maids as he walks the corridors with frilly, clean clothes under his stained, clearly old armor.

In the stable, he finds himself to be surprised again, when he sees Jaskier nuzzling Roach's nose, hugging her neck from time to time as he murmurs sweet nothings in her flicking ears. “You will be my forever heroin, Roach, if you win this race. I know, I know, it's child's play for you, my horses – or, everyone's horses, don't get so offended, Gods – are snails compared to you, my girl. Still, you have to give all your might, regardless of the incompetence of others.”

Roach snorts, and tries to bite Jaskier's fingers. Geralt suffocates a laugh just to not interrupt whatever is going on between her and Jaskier.

Jaskier gasps, but the idiot doesn't take his hands off the horse, “You're so touchy! I didn't say that you are incompetent! Gods, sometimes you are worst than your owner. Ohw! I said sometimes!” his words are followed by a couple of kisses on her muzzle that she tries to shy away from – with not much force, though. Geralt knows that Roach is totally able to headbutt Jaskier out of her way, if she really wants to. “Anyway, what I meant, you prickly horse, is that mistakes are not allowed. Not if you still want me run after you throughout the Continent! And I know you want me. Who else is gonna give you this, if not me?” he asks, taking a small sugar cube from his pocket.

Roach stops stomping her foot on the ground, suddenly very docile.

“Yeah, I know. If you help me, dear girl, I will give you a whole bag full of your favorite treats. All for you, to eat all at once if you wish!”

“Are you done spoiling my horse?”

Jaskier jumps and a bunch of sugar cubes falls from his closed palm, “Holy shit, Geralt, do you perhaps want me to have a heart attack? You almost succeeded here!”

“Dramatic.”

“I'm serious, Gods.” Jaskier leans on Roach hugging her with an arm, and she doesn't mind at all, too busy eating all the treats fallen on the dusty ground. His other hands is posed against his chest, at the height of the heart. “That's why Roach is my favorite: she at least huffs and snorts to make her presence known.”

Geralt caresses Roach's neck, and her ears flick in acknowledgment. “Trying to bribe her won't work.”

Jaskier pouts, and frowns at the now clean ground where just second before the treats he brought for Roach laid, “It was working before you interrupted so rudely. By the way, did you rest? I see you changed with the clothes I had sent to you. They are really nice on you, I have to admit, but, dear, you don't need your armor in a horse race.”

“You will never know.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow at him, “Aaand that's why you are the wise one between us. Uhm, I'm gonna buy you a new armor, though. This one is falling to pieces.”

“You don't have to buy me anything, Jaskier.” Geralt sighs, and drops his eyes off Jaskier to pay attention to Roach, distract himself in adjusting her saddle and controlling her shoes. If she has to race, she has to have all the needed comforts – in no way Geralt would ride her with a broken shoe or a loose saddle.

“But I want to! Whatever. You are saving my life, it's the least I can do. Money won't be a problem at all, on the contrary: for the first time, my father's money – also mine, I'd like to stress – would be finally used for something useful. He spends all our wealth in women and wine, the old fucker!”

Geralt almost says that put it like this, Jaskier isn't so different from his father, but he thinks better of it. So he just hums, letting him continue blabbing about the disgraceful ways his father lives even before his mother's death.

He really has a lot to say regarding this argument. Distractedly, Geralt wonders if Jaskier will remember that they have a horse race to win before it's too late, or if he'll be too preoccupied in blaming his father for all his bad habits to notice the hours pass. He will probably find himself already married the moment he'll finally stop talking.

Suddenly, Jaskier claps his hands, “Now, Geralt, we have to go, we wasted enough time in chitchats. I already talked to my father, and he knows that you will be the other participant. You are competing against the best knight serving my fiance's family – I didn't even bother learning his name.”

“Do you at least know your fiance's name, now?”

“Yes, but I want to forget, as she wants to forget mine. We want absolutely nothing do to with each other, and believe me, for the first time in my entire life, I'm relieved to know that someone hates me.” Jaskier shrugs, and takes his hand in his, tightening slightly his long fingers around his much larger palm. For a second, he gets distracted by the casual gesture: he will never comprehend how a man's touch can be so warm, how can it make his skin tingle so strangely and yet so pleasurably. “Let's go now, I want to show you where the racecourse is located. It's a circular racetrack, really, the horses have to run around the stands where my family and my fiance's family will be to watch the... the challenge, and the first one that reaches the starting point is the winner.” he sniffs, “I feel strange, Gods, I'm starting to feel anxious. Don't get me wrong, I know you are going to win without any doubt, but I can't get out of my mind the feeling that something will go irremediably wrong.”

Geralt has the same feeling since the very beginning, but he just follows Jaskier silently out of the stable after giving Roach a see–you–later kiss on her muzzle. He doesn't add anything more to Jaskier's worries, and he mostly ignores the townsfolk that stop them on their way to the racetrack, giving Jaskier gifts as small bouquets of wildflowers and flower crowns.

A young girl tries to give him one too, and Geralt almost panicked as he crouches before her and she puts the too small crown on his head. Her mother doesn't even try to snatch her away from him, and Geralt supposes that it's thanks to Jaskier's influence. The whole town is acting as he is just one of the many guests came here for the wedding.

Thankfully, Jaskier doesn't comment Geralt awkwardness.

Jaskier shows the racecourse when they finally reach it, situated in a dusty clearing just out of town. Geralt doesn't care as Jaskier starts telling him how the workers have built this in no more than a week time, but he is particularly aware of Jaskier's hand still closed tight around his.

Jaskier stops midsentence when a sudden strum of a lute echoes around the empty racecourse, and the disturbing scent of anger and disgust coming off Jaskier imbues his senses. They both raise they stares and up on the stands, seated there with no care at all with a lute posed on his lap, there is a bard, apparently.

“What the hell is he doing here?!” Jaskier fumes, and if only stares could kill, the bard would be dust on the ground. “Hey! What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Practicing for you wedding, Julian.” the bard answers, throwing them an amused grin, “There's chaos out there, and talent needs tranquility to reach its peak. Speaking of, why are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back in your chambers to get ready for your grand day?”

Jaskier stomps a foot on the ground, petulantly, “There will be no grand day! Get out of my way!”

“I won't be so sure of myself in your place, Julian. I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face. But I am your servant today, so, as the lord commands.” the bard bows with a hand posed against his chest, then hops down the stands and disappears back towards town, as Jaskier's face becomes purple with anger.

Geralt asks, “Who is he?”

“My worst enemy, my recurrent nightmare, my crux and disgrace.” Jaskier passes a hand through his hair, “So, no one you needed to meet, no one important to know.” with a frown, he looks up the sky, a hand shadowing his eyes against the shining sun. “It's almost midday. It's a matter of time for the guests to start to arrive. Geralt, my friend.” Jaskier turns to him and, sadly, his hand leaves the grip on his. “I need to go. Win this race, and I'll be forever yours.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Forever in your debt, I meant!” Jaskier shrieks, red in face, as he runs away the same way the bard disappeared, a cloud of dust raising from his feet in the haste of it.

With a resigned snort, Geralt turns around to go to Roach and get her ready for the race.

But the bard's words keep swirling inside his head, amplifying the bad feeling about Jaskier's plan: I am sure that someone has distorted your request about this race, and all of this is going to blow out in your funny face.

Well.

The stands are full the moment Geralt comes back at the racecourse with Roach trotting happily next to him. Jaskier is there with his family, seated at the center of it, at one of his side an older man that is his spitting image if not for the gray hair and serious expression, the other his fiance.

A young lady with a chubby baby sits beside his father, and even if she doesn't resemble Jaskier a lot, Geralt thinks that she's the sister he talked about.

Geralt is welcomed with a grand applause, followed by another when a knight in a white armor, riding a equally white stallion – the irony – takes place next to him at the starting point. They give him a thumbs up as Jaskier's father is shouting the rules and the motives of this sudden, at his saying uncalled for, race from his position.

As he talks, Geralt looks at Jaskier. He has a stricken expression twisting the usually smooth lines of his face, a vein popping on his forehead as the same bard they met before sings and strums behind him. He's not relaxed at all, even though he said that he is not afraid of Geralt to lose the race. So, why so tense?

The bed feeling intensifies.

Geralt caresses Roach's neck as she snorts, a bit annoyed by the cheerful crowd around them. He murmurs words of comfort, not dissimilar to the ones Jaskier told her in the stables whilst trying to bribe her – that is, until Jaskier's father shouts to them to get ready and in position.

There is a short countdown, and Roach tenses.

When the “Go!” is shouted, Roach runs. It's blurry after that, all Geralt can see – even with his enhanced senses – is just the road in front of them, all his – theirs – attention is to win this competition and get over with all of this.

He hears the stallion behind him, and Roach cleverly, with his guidance, gets in front of it to block its way, so it can't go past her and it's forced to slow down like this.

Clever, clever girl. A wave of pride overwhelms him, and he's sure that also Jaskier, up where he is enjoying the show, is feeling the same way.

Obviously, he and Roach are the first to cross the finish line, and everyone around them shout and scream and cheer the winner – and considering that it's Geralt the winner, it feels so strange. He drops off Roach and she seems to balks at the praises the people are shouting at her and at her clever talent, stomping her feet at the ground and neighing happily. She even trots around herself, in a very funny dance. Somewhere behind him, Jaskier's laugh trills, louder than any cheer.

The knight drops down their stallion too and gets closer to him. They takes off their helmet and Geralt is surprised to see that his challenger is a beautiful woman, with cropped short hair and a satisfied grin on her sweaty face. She stretches an arm towards him to shake their hands, before going.

“Father!” Geralt hears Jaskier say out loud. Raising his eyes, Geralt sees him standing in front of his father, excitement written on his face. Next to him, his fiance has finally lost her stricken face, and she seems so relieved that she just stays seated there, with eyes closed, and a hand against her heart. “My challenger has won. So it means I won!”

“Yes, my son. The Witcher has won.” repeats his father, calmly.

“Exactly. So I can marry my–”

“Your Witcher. You can marry him. It's what you were after since the beginning, weren't you?”

Jaskier inhales sharply, dropping his mouth wide open. “W–Wh–w–whha–”

The bard bursts out laughing, almost falling down on his butt.

Geralt panics, and hopes he did hear wrong for the first time in his life. He looks at Jaskier, waiting for something, anything that would hint him their next move, but Jaskier seems to be turned into a stone, eyes growing distant.

“I won, father.” he says, in the end, with a thin voice. “I've got to chose, now.”

“No, the Witcher has won, Julian. And you did chose: it was you that organized all of this and let the Witcher participate.” his father says, candidly. Then, he turns towards Geralt, the blue eyes that so much resembles his son's looking down at him with no particular emotion hidden behind them, “So, Witcher. Will you merry my son?”

Geralt is still panicking, sadly. That's why he says, “Yes..?” right before biting his tongue.

Jaskier winces as if slapped. His ex–fiance is looking at the scene with a curious gaze.

The bard is still laughing his arse off somewhere on the ground.

When Jaskier's father claps his hands and orders his servant to take Geralt back to the palace so he can get ready for tonight ceremony, it all clicks in Geralt's mind.

He's fucked.

Three hours later, the sun is almost setting down over the horizon, and Geralt finds himself in his chambers, in front of a mirror, trying to close the white doublet the maids brought to him.

He's angry, and not just because the buttons have no intentions to stay put. He's angry because he doesn't like at all the situation he's finding himself in, and he's even banned from going to see Jaskier wherever he is right now, to ask for explanations, to at least know how is he supposed to do to take them both out of this mess.

He feels like relaxing a bit, though, when he hears familiar steps approaching his door. “Come in,” he says even before Jaskier tries to knock.

Geralt hears a sigh, then opens his door with the utmost care as if scared to make even the smallest of the noises. When the door clicks shut behind him, Jaskier finally raises his eyes to meet his stare on the mirror. “Geralt, I–” he blinks, “Wow. You are quite a sight in white.”

Geralt just snorts, fuming. He gives up trying to close the buttons of the doublet to turn toward Jaskier with a dark glare, arms crossed against his chest, and the strange twinkling inside Jaskier's eyes dim, walking closer to him with a subdued posture. “Geralt... uh, are you mad at me?”

Geralt sighs. And, as always happens, he can't stay mad at him for too long: especially if he looks at him with those puppy eyes, so expressive that they seem to beg more than his mouth could ever do. “No.”

“Oh thank the Gods. I am so, so sorry, Geralt, it wasn't supposed to go like this! I mean, I am actually really surprised that you said yes to my father when he asked you if you wanted to marry me, but–”

“I didn't know what to say!”

“I know, calm down! It's okay, really, I already made up a new plan.” Jaskier says, excited.

“This doesn't make me feel better.”

“Miscreant!” Jaskier huffs, the gets closer and starts ruffling with his clothes, closing the buttons of his doublet and straightening the wrinkles, “I understand that the simpler plan is the most effective. You just have to say I don't, when the Melitele's priestess will tell the vows and ask you again if you want to marry me. The ceremony will be very brief, you don't have to worry about this, considering the little time we had, so you don't even have to prepare a speech. Aren't you happy? All you have to say is I don't!”

“That's it?” Geralt doubts it very much.

“That's it!”

Geralt grunts, unconvinced. “And your father will leave you alone, even if you don't get married?”

“I talked to my sister before coming here. Apparently, being left at the altar is a scandal. No one wants a groom or a bride that another disavowed, no matter the reasons.” Jaskier shrugs, “Gods forbid if an abandoned person gets a second chance.” he adds, sarcastically.

“And you're okay with it?”

Jaskier looks at him incredulously, “You're kidding? I'm more than okay. I don't want to marry anybody, Geralt, not now, nor ever. My life is perfectly fine as it is.”

Geralt finds himself frowning at the ground, something akin at nervousness churning his stomach at Jaskier's words. He should not care, after all, what Jaskier wants to do with his life, it's nothing of his business – and yet, he doesn't like the thought that Jaskier will never want someone stable to love for the rest of his life.

Is he starting to think like Jaskier's father?

Shit.

Jaskier probably notices his face darkens, because he gets even closer and grabs one of his shoulders, tightening slightly his grip when no reaction comes from Geralt, “Are you fine, Geralt? Believe me, I am truly, truly sorry for throwing all my family's mess onto you. But fret not, my friend! This will be the end, at least I can assure you this.”

Geralt looks at him. He has a plain robe on, clearly he was also preparing for the ceremony before sneaking out to come here, to him; his face is blotched red, maybe for embarrassment, maybe nervousness, Geralt can't say; his scent is mostly covered by some sweet perfume he used while bathing. He still is making puppy eyes at him, hoping to soften him as he begs for forgiveness.

But in the end, there's no motive for him to ask for forgiveness: it was Geralt who panicked and said that yes, he wanted to marry him. Thank fuck that it's all going to end soon, because this whole situation is becoming ridiculous.

There's a lot of ridiculous things he's done for Jaskier, after all.

But this? This beats them all.

“Whatever, I have a little gift for you.” Jaskier says, searching inside the pocket of his robe and taking out of there a silk, blue hair ribbon. “I know that I've already broken traditions by coming here, because one should see the bride – in this case, the groom – right on the altar, not before. But,” he says, showing him the ribbon. Geralt touches it with a knuckle, and it's as smooth as it looks. “this one is nice. They say that we need something old, something new, and something blue. You are what we have of old,” he laughs at this, and Geralt just smiles at him, “and our clothes are relatively new. What we missed is something blue, and all I've found is this. May I comb your hair?”

Geralt looks at him, then at the ribbon. At last, he sighs, “Sure.”

Actually, he feels a bit in trepidation as Jaskier commands him to sit at the vanity and settles behind him. His long fingers starts, slowly, almost carefully, to separate the white strands in three parts. Geralt watches as he combs his hair with care and confidence – it's not the first time he does that after all – but somehow this time it feels... different. Sacred, he would say, if only he was a poet.

Jaskier's hums under his breath does help the moment, making it even more intimate. He makes a plain braid, not too complicated, but taking his time nonetheless. Geralt definitely doesn't shivers when Jaskier's fingers brush against the skin of his neck, and no, he's definitely not too aware of Jaskier's breath too close to his ear when he leans to catch loose strands of hair.

Definitely not.

“Here you go!” Jaskier concludes, as he makes a flourish bow with the ribbon at the end of the braid. “Perfection.”

Geralt tells himself that he doesn't notice Jaskier's fingers lingering a bit more than necessary on his hair.

“I should go, now. I hope no one notices my absence.”

Geralt nods, “Hm. Go then.”

“Yeah, I–” Jaskier bites his lower lip, as he poses his hands on his shoulder. Their eyes meet through the mirror, and Jaskier seems to almost be saying something, but then thinks better of it. He smiles at him, with an healthy glow on his cheeks. “Thank you again, Geralt. What you're doing really means a lot to me.”

Said that, Jaskier leans towards him and leaves a smooch on his cheek, loud and a bit wet.

Then, he literally runs. “Ta!” he shouts as the door closes behind him.

Geralt freezes on the spot, a hand pressed on his cheek, where the ghost of that brief kiss still lingers there. His head completely shuts down. What the fuck was that?!

His mind can't make a coherent thought for the rest of the evening, finding himself by the altar without knowing how and when it happened. Jaskier is slightly late – if he understood well, they were supposed to reach the altar together – but Geralt knows why he isn't here yet, and in his altered mind he still can't get over that kiss.

Not that Jaskier never touched him before, being so tactical and friendly even with complete strangers – but, but kisses were always off limits. Combing hair? Yes, sure. It happened plenty of times. Massages? Also okay. Geralt still remembers fondly when Jaskier helped with his very uncomfortable problem on his bottom. Sleeping together and finding their limbs tangled together the morning after? Nothing wrong with that at all, it always happens when friends sleep together.

Right?

Hm. Put it like this, the kiss – on the cheek, mind you – seems to be the less intimate thing they've ever shared.

Then why..? Why does it bother him so much?!

Jaskier appears next to him on thin air, apparently, because Geralt didn't acknowledge his arrival at all, not until his tense laughter trills beside him as he almost trips on the last step of the altar. When he motions at him to try and steady him, Geralt's mind shut down again as his eyes finally fall on him.

Jaskier is also dressed in white like him, with golden embroidery running through his doublet and trousers, and he has an ephemeral aura around him that almost blinds his eyes. Jaskier returns his gaze with a sheepish smile, a blush on his cheeks and a quick shrug, as if to say Sorry for the late. Even if it's all a farce, I had to be on top regardless.

And on top he is, fucking hell.

Geralt can't quite take his eyes off Jaskier, as the Melitele's priestess starts talking out loud for all the guests to hear. Every time Jaskier notices his gaze, Geralt lowers his eyes as if caught doing something prohibited. Gods, he feels like a teenager. He feels like a real groom on his real wedding day – maybe? He doesn't really know what a groom may feel during a wedding.

This exchange of stares happens three times more. At last, Jaskier chuckles and the priestess looks at him oddly.

Suddenly, Jaskier takes his hands in his, raising them at heart length. They both turn towards each other, staring into each other faces. Geralt panics slightly, having heard not a single word that came out of the priestess' mouth. Jaskier is biting his lips, red in faces – he's probably trying to suppress one of his usual loud laughs. He's laughing at him!

He doesn't matter that at the moment Jaskier is the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his pitiful long life, he's ridiculing him and now he's mad. Kinda.

“I do.” says Jaskier, solemnly.

Geralt frowns. What was the question?

The priestess nods, then turns her pretty face towards Geralt, “And you, Geralt of Rivia?”

Shit. Fuck. What was the question?!

“I...” he asks Jaskier for help with a begging look, but Jaskier just tilts his head to the side. “I... do.”

The priestess nods again, but Jaskier blinks, “What?” he mouths.

“Was that..?” Geralt panics, because oh Gods, he now understands that the question was the question, the only question he needed to answer, the question Jaskier clearly has told him to say I don't. “Shit, no. I don't. I... don't.” The priestess jerks as he tries to mend his terrible mistake, “I don't want to marry, you heard me? I don't.”

Chaos erupts around them as Jaskier's father shrieks a “What?!”; the bard laughs his arse off again somewhere, hidden in the middle of the crowd; Jaskier's sister has a hand on her lips, feigning a surprise she doesn't really feel.

Jaskier is, instead, looking at him with a curious expression. Their hands are still tangled together in a firm grip, and Jaskier tightens slightly the grip to bring his attention on him and him only – not that Geralt had attention on anyone or anything, or else this mess wouldn't have happened in the first place, but still. Jaskier's thumbs are caressing the back of his hands, and the gesture is making him so aware of him and totally not of their surrounding.

“You said...” Jaskier prompts, after a minute passed just looking at each other.

“I panicked.”

Jaskier chuckles, “I noticed. Why?”

Geralt pursues his lips. Fuck, Jaskier is mocking him again, “I was distracted, and I haven't heard what the priestess said, so–”

Jaskier says, “You were looking at me, I know this. I distracted you?” Jaskier gets closer, almost a breath away from Geralt's face. Geralt feels trapped. “Tell me, I distracted you? Were you enough inebriated by my presence that the thought of marry me crossed your mind, and you weren't against it at all?”

Geralt says nothing.

“Geralt?”

“Will you marry me?” he blurts out, regretting it the second after. Yes, alright? He was thinking since that blasted kiss in his chambers that he would mind being Jaskier's husband, and being kissed again, and maybe meet his nephew and accompany him to bring flowers to his mother's tomb. So? Sue him for living in a fantasy for once in his life.

“No, darling.”

Of course not. How could he? He didn't want to marry that beautiful lady, surely he has no intention to marry a blasted, stinky, grumpy Witcher. “Alright.” he swallows down the bitterness of rejection, even if he shouldn't really feel so bad. He knew the response the second he asked, so.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, though. He actually feels really surprised when Jaskier leans on him and kisses him. Not a smooch on his cheek, no, a kiss on his lips. His head, obviously, shuts down again so he doesn't reciprocate, just enjoys the soft lips moving on him, and finally his scent, under the layers of sweet perfume, reaching his nose. “Silly Witcher. No, I don't want to marry you, or anyone really. I believe that I needn't to demonstrate to no one my love: not to my father, and not to Melitele herself. So I needn't a frivolous ceremony and a signed contract, a white doublet and a hundreds of testimonies to love you 'til death do us part.”

“Okay.” says Geralt, even if nothing is okay, because surely he got something wrong? He doesn't think he fully understands what Jaskier means.

“You marvelous, silly, naive man.” Jaskier sighs, fondly, “Did you know that we can make love even without a marriage contract? Let's leave everyone to their scandal. My sister is having the time of her life, she'll take care of everything.”

“Make what?” Geralt's almost afraid to ask, but Jaskier's expression is soft and fond – he seems in love. More than he's ever been, that is.

Jaskier winks, “I'm gladly going to show you, love.”

What happens next is a blur, Geralt notices just Jaskier's kisses, hugs, and soft, naked skin under his fingertips.

This time he understands the whole situation very, very clear.

#geraskier #thewitchersecretsanta #the witcher secret santa #mine:fyccina

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theichabbieclub · 4 years

Text

Slashers (or something) reacting to their s/o singing a song from Positions (Ariana Grande)

TW: Implied smut, slight NSFW

Michael Myers (six-thirty)

You were washing the dishes as you started to sing.

"I know I be on some bullshit. Know I be driving you crazy."

Was the first thing Michael heard. Well, he thought this song was accurate af. He loves you. You did drive him crazy a lot.

He didn't let his presence be known until he heard you sing

" So come here and give me so kisses. You know I'm very delicious."

He was all over you instantly, grabbing you and throwing you over his shoulder, heading directly to the bedroom.

Michael could careless about the soapy suds and water splashing into the floor.

Jason Voorhees (west side)

You basked in the warmth that cascaded from the fireplace. You sat on the soft rug in the living, right in front of the fireplace.

It was cold outside, snowing hard as Jason prepared lunch for the two of you.

Chicken noodle soup. You could almost taste it. The warm broth and the seasoned chicken.

You smiled as you began to sing softly, your fingers brushed lightly against the smooth but soft frabic of the rug.

"I don't wanna think too much. I just wanna feel. You know that it ain't no rush. Let me keep it real."

You sat with Jason in the living room, with a folding table in front of you. You allowed the soup to bring warmth to your body.

You sang as you laid your head on his chest.

He really enjoyed your voice. You stopped to eat a few bites but didn't continue afterwards.

Jason tapped your throat with his index finger ever so gently.

You got the indication that he liked your voice. A smirk spread across your lips and you started singing again.

"Just let me be in your life, like that. In your life like that. I'll bring the life right back. I'll bring the life right back."

Candyman (pov)

You sat in your car, your hands feeling the heat that flowed from the vents. Your eyes looked at the golden sky. It looked so pretty.

You started off a humming and that slowly turned into singing you heart.

You sat back as you sung.

Your window was down slightly and you didn't even notice Daniel.

"You know me better than I do. Can't seem to keep nothing from you. How you touch my soul from the outside? Permeate my ego and my pride."

He smiled but decided not disrupt you, not yet anyway.

Daniel sighed silently in content, listening to your heavenly voice.

"I wanna love me. The way that you love me. For all of my pretty and all of my ugly too. I'd love to see me from your point of view."

He walked around your car and you finally noticed him, smiling as he appeared in your passenger side of your car.

You wrapped your arm around his arm and laid your head on his shoulder, snuggling close to him as the two of you took in the sight of a stunning sunset.

Thomas Hewitt (nasty) (implied smut) (female reader in this one, sorry)

He had been in a mood all fucking day and night. Thomas had went into the basement to blow off stream and you had gotten increasingly horny

You had decided to record and send a cover of a song to Thomas.

Maybe that would get him out of that rut.

"Got me all up in my feels. In all kinds of ways. I be tryna wait but lately I just wanna keep it real." You sang, biting your lip as you made eye contact with the camera.

"No more playin' safe. Let's take it all the way. I'm just saying I just wanna make time for you. Swear it's just right for you. Like this pus*y designed for you." You arched your back as you continued to sing.

You finished the song and stopped recording before sending it to Thomas' phone.

You heard fast and hurried footsteps getting louder and louder. You mentally prepared yourself for him.

Hannibal Lecter (TV) (just like magic)

This was the first time that Hannibal had heard you sing.

"Heard it's tricky at the top. Gotta keep slim ego for a thick wallet. Losing friends left and right. But I just send them love and light."

Your voice was so heavenly as you wrote in your notebook, your pen gliding effortlessly across the page.

Hannibal knew that you were a bit self conscious about your singing.

Sooner or later, he was going to help you be more comfortable about your singing.

But for right now, he just stayed out of sight, sighing as your smooth but soft voice.

"Good karma, my aesthetic. Keep my conscience clear. That's why I'm so magnetic. Manifest it. I finesse it. Take my pen and write some love letters to heaven."

Dracula (aka: @thecount-dracula ) (positions)

Whenever you think he's not around, he is. Yeah good luck being alone.

You had started on a recipe for some bread an hour ago and now you were covered in flour, flecks of it on your skin.

You sighed at the flour covering every surface in your kitchen. This is going to be a bitch to clean but you didn't really care. You had the week off.

You sang quietly to yourself as you cooked.

"Heaven, sent you to me."

You stopped singing and jumped slightly as you heard Dracula's voice.

"Heaven? Are you certain about that, Y/N?"

You choked on a laugh as you continued to prepare your bread.

Bubba Sawyer (reader has long hair, just a warning) (my hair)

You were cuddling with Bubba, the soft sound of the fan filled the vicinity of the room. There was currently a thunderstorm happening outside and the two of you had finished your share of chores earlier in the day before the storm.

You pulled away and slightly pulled at the the ponytail that your long locks were in and soon enough your hair had fell down your back.

You noticed Bubba eyeing your hair and you smiled.

"I'mma give you some instructions that you can't be scared to try. I want you to touch it softly like the way you do my mind." You sang softly.

Bubba glanced at your hair, his eyes diverting to you. Confusion flashed in his expressive eyes.

"It got body and it's smooth to touch. The same way as my skin. Don't you be scared.. to run your hands through my hair."

His fingers ran slowly and gently through your hair as he pulled you closer to him.

Bo Sinclair (obvious) (1st time writing for Bo. You've been warned)

You had your headphones in as you sang, scrolling down your twitter as you were extremely bored.

Everything was fucking spotless.

Bo smirked when he had came home from work, and heard your voice.

"Ooh. Hard to think when I'm under you. Tell you all of my dirty truths..."

He was in the room in 0.6 seconds flat. Had you not had your headphones in, he would've scared the shit out of you.

"This what you sing when I'm away, doll?" He came into your line of vision as you laid on your bed.

Your cheeks became warm with embarrassment.

God, this was going to be a long night.

Brahms Heelshire (love language)

You danced around, in just your underwear and an oversized sweatshirt.

Brahms heard you singing some quite provocative lyrics and he was rushing to get to you.

"Been a minute since I had something so sweeeeet."

You smiled as the song continued. It was so catchy.

"If you're gon' keep speaking my love language, you can talk your shit all night."

Brahms finally made it to you and he instantly pulled your body to his chest. You squealed slightly.

"That's the- B-Brahms." You moaned out as he attacked your skin with soft but quick kisses.

It wasn't long before he was leading you to the bedroom.

Damn, you didn't even get to finish your dance party.

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sincerelyella · 3 years

Text

It’s Your Love - happy birthday Burnsy!

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Drake x OC (Alyssa); Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: It’s Your Love by Tim McGraw & Faith Hill

Characters belong to Pixelberry; OC Alyssa Devereaux belongs to my sister @burnsoslow; Ella Brooks belongs to me.

Summary: The gang coordinates a surprise for Alyssa’s birthday.

A/N: It’s my Burnsy’s birthday and I’m sure everything I’m going to say she already knows! Firstly, I’m so sorry I changed my mind about which AU and which song for this fic like 47545024 million trillion times. Burns just freaking gets me mmkay? She’s my nakie twin, my soul sister, my football bestie and my biggest cheerleader. GUYS! Idk how I could have gotten through this year without her checking in on me, our football conversations or her amazing (and haaawwwwt) fics. Some dialogue in this fic, btw, was taken from a conversation we really had (and as usual, she is hilarious).

Burns, you know that I love you a BUTT TON and I will fight ANYBODY for you (where’s my vaseline?!) Thank you for always being in my corner, for giving me SEVERAL pep talks this year (because I’m dramatic), for believing in me when I sometimes didn’t believe in myself, and for loving me SO HARD. I really hope you have an amazing day and you enjoy your bday dessert and that you like this little fic.

-> please note, this is a rereblog and I am adding this fic to my ML. Today is not actually our sweet Burnsy’s birthday even though we would all like it to be lol

A/N2: This is set in The Loft AU by the way! Check it out here if you haven’t seen these guys’ shenanigans.

Warnings: Adult language, sexual innuendos, and major fluff guys!! The birthday girl wanted to be swooned and I will do my damndest to give her whatever she wants today.

Thank you so much @alyssalauren for letting me vent and letting me harass you with my whining … and listening to me change my mind about this for WEEKS - and also prereading for me along with @ofpixelsandscribbles. I love you guys so much!

Words: 3149 (oops)

Alyssa was not feeling well. The more she coughed, the more she felt like death. “Oh, God, I feel like my brain is going to explode into itty bitty pieces,” she moaned with her arm draped over her face.

Drake bit his lip in an effort to stop a chuckle. She’s so fucking cute, and whiny. But cute. “Baby, it’s just a cold, you’ll be fine.” He slid onto their large king-sized bed and began to rub her lower back.

“It’s not! It’s the plague! Those kids at school don’t cover their mouths and sneeze up into the air! Like, I can see particles of their spit, just wafting,” she complained as she waved her hand in the air, mimicking the particles. “I bet you it landed on me or I inhaled that shit and now, look at me!” Her cute nose was reddened slightly from blowing out copious amounts of snot. She was seriously thinking about shoving some tissue in each nostril just to make sure nothing dripped.

Drake moved his hands upward and massaged her shoulders gently. “I can make you some soup,” he nibbled on her earlobe. “And make you feel … relaxed.”

“Mmmm,” she shivered at his words and sniffled. “Yes, baby, make me feel relaxed!”

A little while later

After Drake’s impressive two hour session of making Alyssa feel better, loud knocks sounded at their bedroom door.

“Lyssa!” Ella bellowed. “Lyss, you’re not answering my phone calls! Are you dead?!”

“No,” she croaked from the bed and stifled a laugh when Drake tripped trying to put on his boxers. “I was just getting my back blown out by my hot boyfriend.”

“Ew, TMI! Okay, are you covered up? I’m coming in!”

“No!” Drake yelled as he hurriedly threw on his pants. “Do not come in here, Brooks! I’m fucking naked!”

“Like I haven’t seen a naked man before,” Ella pushed open the door and rolled her eyes at Drake. “You aren’t even naked, Walker, get a grip.”

“No damn privacy around here,” he grumbled as he looked for a shirt in the closet.

“Hi!” Alyssa called out hoarsely from the bed as she tucked her comforter around her naked body. “I didn’t go to work today, I felt like death was coming for me.”

“I could hear you coughing from the kitchen. So, your blood pressure and that gnarly cough you have are what’s concerning me.”

“Yeah,” Lyss frowned and sniffed. “The cough is rough.”

“And gunky huh? Are you spitting up weird colored stuff?”

“No, it's clear and phlegmy!”

Ella narrowed her eyes on her best friend. “Lyss, did you take your blood pressure today?”

“I … umm no, I don’t like the machine.”

Ella let out a sigh. “You have to babe!”

Lyss’s bottom lip quivered. “I get scared my arm will explode.”

“Lyssa.”

The lip quiver always works with Drake. “… yes?”

“Your arm won’t explode.”

“If it malfunctions it could!”

Ella rubbed her hands over her face. “Alyssa!”

“In one of the Halloween movies, Michael Myers killed someone in the hospital by putting a BP cuff around their neck and pumping it until their head exploded!”

“What the fuck? Okay, no more Halloween movies for you!”

“But-”

“It’s not going to explode, Alyssa. You need to take your blood pressure. Do I have to hogtie you?”

“No ma’am, I’m taller than you!”

“By ½ an inch!”

Ella switched tactics. “If you don’t do this, I’m going to get Drake on you.”

Lyss giggled. “That’s hardly a punishment.”

Ella’s eye twitched and Alyssa held back a laugh.

After another 10 minutes, Alyssa finally agreed to only check her blood pressure if Ella did it for her and Drake had to hold her hand. Once the numbers were acceptable to Ella, Alyssa added to her terms. “Also, I want chicken noodle soup and those little soup crackers” - she sniffled - “and coffee.”

“Why not tea? That’s better I think,” Ella brushed some hair off of her best friend’s forehead.

“Coffee.”

“Cream isn’t a good idea for-”

Drake gave Ella a look.

“I mean … sure!”

“I’ll get started on that, baby,” Drake leaned over to kiss his girlfriend on top of her head. “Be right back.”

Ella waited until he closed the bedroom door behind him. “Lyssa.”

“Hmm?” She was already settled into the fluffy pillow and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Do you have a fever?” Not waiting for an answer, Ella leaned forward and felt Alyssa’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“Nu-uh,” Lyss mumbled and coughed.

“Lyss?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t you want to put on some clothes?”

“Mmm, nope, I’m good naked.”

Ella chuckled. “Okay.”

She stood and left Lyss alone to rest. Ella wandered into the kitchen to find Liam and Drake as they stared into a large pot of broth.

“Is she asleep?” Drake asked while he stirred.

“Yep, she’s passed out,” Ella peered into the pot. “You need to add more onions.”

Drake tasted the broth again and shrugged. “Okay, more onions it is.”

Liam handed Drake the bowl of green onions. “So, what do you have planned for her birthday? Are you proposing yet?”

“I had planned to take her to the park and have a picnic,” Drake paused as he tasted the broth again from the ladle. “But seeing as how she’s not wanting to leave the bedroom, I might have to rethink my plan.”

“Hmmm,” Liam tapped his fingers over his mouth. “Why don’t you just have a picnic in the bedroom with her?”

“I guess,” Drake frowned. “That’s not very romantic.”

“You’re trying to be romantic, Walker?” Leo said as he walked into the kitchen with Maxwell with several bags from Nordstrom.

“Yeah, I am, if you must know.”

“I can help you out!” Leo’s wide grin made Drake narrow his eyes.

“What’s in it for you, Rys?”

“Oh, I just love helping my friends! Let me put all my stuff down in the bedroom, I’ll be right back.”

As soon as Leo was out of earshot, Drake hissed. “I don’t trust him!”

“I know,” Max replied. “It’s Leo we’re talking about. After he saw the movie Titanic he started the Billy Zane fan club.”

Ella stopped washing the dishes in the sink and turned. “Wait, what?!”

“Yeah,” Liam added. “Look it up, they’re called the Zaniacs.”

“Why does that make me angrier than anything he’s ever done?!”

Liam shrugged. “He also roots for Billy Zabka’s character in The Karate Kid.”

“Alright, guys! It’s romance time!” Leo announced as he came back to the kitchen.

Three days later

Leo, Maxwell, and Liam were busy setting up things for Drake and Alyssa’s outing at the beach.

“Why is Ella not helping us?” Maxwell huffed as he and Leo carried large boxes of twinkling lights.

“She’s here for Lyss, and to make sure Walker doesn’t sweat too much and get dehydrated,” Leo laughed as all three looked at Drake in the kitchen pacing back and forth.

“Fuck you guys,” his chocolate brown hair a mess after running his fingers through them more times than he can count. “I’m just … nervous.”

“Yeah, we can see that,“ Leo cackled as they walked out into the hallway and waited for the elevator.

“It’s going to work,” Liam reassured his best friend as he grabbed the guitar by the door and followed Max and Leo out.

“Drake, it’s going to be fine,” Ella put her hands on his shoulders to stop him from wandering around the kitchen; it was making her dizzy. “Liam is the King of Romance. Don’t listen to Leo, Alyssa is going to say yes.”

“How do you know that?” He began to babble and couldn’t stop himself. “What if this is too soon? What if she hates my singing? What if she says no?”

“You should be worried about whether she’ll get out of bed,” Ella looked towards the bedroom door.

“Oh my God, is she still in bed?!” He inhaled too quickly and began to cough.

“Okay, Walker, I was kidding. You know she adores you. She said ‘I love you’ first for crying out loud,” she gave him a concerned look. “Are you getting sick?”

“No, I don’t … get sick,” he sputtered as he continued to cough.

“Well you are pretty delicate, maybe you should slow down.”

He waved off her comment as his coughs began to dissipate. “I’m not delicate, I’m just” - he lowered his voice to a whisper yell - “proposing to my girlfriend and I don’t even know if she’s going to like this damn plan!”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Okay, so let’s just forget that you got sick watching Frozen.”

Drake glared. “No. I did not.”

“You also got a nosebleed watching Up,” she smirked.

“Oh my God, will you ever let that go?!”

Ella let out a chuckle. “Okay, fine then, why don’t you go and take a shower?”

“I already did,” Drake looked down at his sweat-stained shirt.

“Yeah, why don’t you go and take another one.”

He nodded. “Be right back.”

30 minutes later

“El! I need help!”

“Lyssa? What’s wrong?” Ella let herself into the bedroom Alyssa and Drake shared.

“My sinuses hurt and I dropped my dress and my book on the floor.”

“Okay?”

“Can you pick it up for me? It hurts to bend over.”

Ella hid a smile and bent to pick up Alyssa’s black dress and her book titled Remember Two Things. “I’ve been meaning to read this, how is it so far?”

“Oh it is so good,” Lyss put the book on her nightstand and pulled the dress over her head. “I’m at chapter 18 and these two have been in love since college-”

“No spoilers! I’m going to read it after you,” Ella found Lyss’ shoes under the bed and helped her put them on. “You take that medication I gave you?”

“The pill was too big.”

“Alyssa!”

“I’m kidding, yes, I took it,” she dimpled. “It was a gel capsule.”

Ella let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, good. You don’t need your sinuses to act up while you’re out.”

“Where is he taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Alyssa pouted. “No, I don’t.”

Drake appeared in the doorway with a brand new shirt that was miraculously dry. “Ready baby?”

“Yeah, I’m ready,” she stood and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “Thank you for helping me!”

Ella shooed the couple out the door and quickly called Liam to let them know they were on their way.

***

“Baby, why did you take another shower?” Alyssa eyed Drake’s damp hair.

“I … slipped in something Max spilled on the floor in the kitchen.” Fuck, I suck at lying.

“Oh,” Lyss chewed on her bottom lip and studied Drake’s side profile as he drove his truck through the streets of Los Angeles. “I was thinking … you’ve taken such good care of me while I’ve been whiny and sick and I wanted to thank you.”

“Of course, I care about you.”

“I love you, baby, I feel like we’re so good together.”

“We are, Lyss, I love you too,” he reached over and intertwined his fingers with hers.

Drake slowly pulled the truck into a parking spot and turned off the engine. “Come on, I have something I want to show you.”

Alyssa nodded. She hopped out of the car and took Drake’s outstretched hand as he led her into a walkway with arching shrubs above them. “What is this place?”

“It used to be a secret spot I went to when I was single,” he glanced down at her while she stared up at the greenery in awe. “I would just come down here to be alone.”

Suddenly, the archway lit up in thousands of little twinkling lights that illuminated their way down to the end of the walkway. “Oh my God,” Alyssa squealed. “I love this so much, it’s beautiful!” They came to the end of the lights and began to walk onto sand.

“Only a little bit further,” Drake mumbled as he took in the ocean, then focused his gaze on the large purple blanket that was sprawled out on the sand a few yards in front of them.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a little picnic the guys set up for us,” he gave Alyssa a nervous smile. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! What’s for dinner?”

“Taco pizza and for dessert,” Drake excitedly climbed onto the blanket after removing his shoes. “S’mores brownie pie.”

“S’mores?!” Alyssa peeked into the large basket that held the pie. “Can we eat dessert first?”

Drake let out a loud laugh. “Whatever you want, baby it’s your birthday.”

Lyss opened the box where the taco pizza sat and she inhaled deeply. “Oh, no, we’re eating this first.” She grabbed a plate and separated two pieces, one for her, one for Drake.

“Thank you.”

They settled into a comfortable silence as they watched the waves cascade over the sand; the sun was slowly fading, disappearing behind the ocean, leaving its yellow-orange coloring over the blue hue of the water. Alyssa was sitting in between Drake’s legs, her back against his chest.

“This hit the spot,” she patted her stomach. “Taco pizza just like in Remember Two Things.”

“That’s where I got the idea from,” he kissed her on top of her head. “You told me how taco pizza sounded amazing and I had to get that for you.”

“You are amazing,” she leaned her head back and touched her lips to his. “Is that a guitar? Why didn’t I notice that before?”

Drake’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Uh, yeah, I had Liam bring his guitar out here.”

“Do you” - she pulled away from him and turned all the way around with widened eyes - “do you play guitar, baby?”

He nervously scratched the back of his neck. “I … Well, sort of. Liam taught me when we were teenagers.”

“That is so hot,” Lyss mumbled and she bit her bottom lip. “Will you play for me?”

Drake nodded. “Hopefully I’m not too rusty, it’s been years.”

“I know I will love it.”

Drake picked up the acoustic guitar behind him and began to tune it. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he went through each string and turned the knobs in turn. Alyssa watched as he dug into his jean pocket and pulled out a guitar pick. How is a man with a guitar so sexy?

“Here goes nothing.”

He strummed the guitar and smiled when it didn’t sound off-key. He took in a deep breath and began to sing.

Dancing in the dark, Middle of the night

Taking your heart, And holding it tight

Emotional touch, Touching my skin

And askin' you to do, What you've been doing

All over again

Alyssa was taken aback. She had no idea he played guitar or sang a note until today. Drake Walker singing country music just did something to her; not to mention the fact that she loved this song.

Oh, it's a beautiful thing, Don't think I can keep it all in

I just gotta let you know, What it is that won't let me go

She couldn’t stop herself, she started to sing along with him. It was a duet anyway.

It's your love, It just does something to me

It sends a shock right through me, I can't get enough

And if you wonder, About the spell I'm under

Oh it's your love

Their eyes were locked as they sang together. Alyssa harmonizing with him made his stomach do flip flops. He was a nervous wreck just thinking about singing and playing this damn guitar in front of her. But once she started to sing, he wanted to stop so he could hear her angelic voice instead of his rough one.

“Drake?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize I stopped.”

“That was so beautiful,” Lyss’ eyes were full of unshed tears. “I had no idea you could sing, baby.”

“I’m sorry I stopped, I wanted to hear your voice instead of mine.”

“Come on, let’s keep going!”

“I … I wanted to ask you something first.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

He set the guitar down on the blanket next to him and reached into his other pocket. “Lyssa,” he pulled out a black velvet box but didn’t open his hand just yet. “I wanted to make your birthday special, and I was so fucking nervous because I didn’t know if you’d like all this.”

“Anything we do together I love, baby,” she grasped his free hand with both of hers. “Don’t ever think I won’t like something you plan for us.”

Drake nodded. “I love you and I chose that song because it’s your love that keeps me wanting to wake up every morning,” he opened his left hand and she saw the box in his hand.

“Is that …”

“Alyssa Devereaux,” Drake opened the ring box and there sat three round diamonds on a gold setting. “Will you marry me?”

The tears were falling and one hand was clamped over her mouth in shock. She was crying so hard and overwhelmed with so much emotion that she struggled to speak. “Y-yes, Drake, yes!”

Drake’s entire face lit up at her words; he slid the ring on her finger and leaned over to kiss her. “Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?”

Cheers erupted from behind some bushes behind them, and the couple turned in surprise. Leo, Maxwell, Liam, and Ella jumped out, all with their phone cameras pointed in Drake and Lyss’s direction.

Drake scowled. “What the fuck?”

“Guys!” Alyssa jumped up and waved her left hand in the air. “We’re engaged!” Ella pulled her in for a big hug and the two of them began jumping up and down.

“Nice going, Walker,” Leo smirked as he shoved the last piece of taco pizza in his mouth. “You still sing real pretty too, just like in middle school.”

“Fuck off, Rys,” Drake snarled.

“You did good, brother,” Liam stepped forward and pulled his best friend in for a manly hug.

Drake gave him a half-smile. “Thanks for setting this up, and for all your help, Li. I know Twiddle-Dumb and Twiddle-Dee didn’t help much.”

Liam shrugged. “They picked up your pizza and pie. Got one for themselves while we were waiting for you to pop the question.”

“Taco pizza is the bomb,” Maxwell announced with a mouth full of food. “You guys are engaged! When’s the wedding?!”

“We’re still on cloud nine from being engaged, Max,” Alyssa chuckled. “We’ll all plan it out when we’re ready.”

“All of them?” Drake asked incredulously as the gang began to clean up the picnic area. “All of them are helping us plan?”

“You’re stuck with us forever, gorgeous,” Leo called out to Lyss. “You sure that’s what you want?”

Alyssa looked over at her fiancé, who just so happened to look at her. “I am so sure.”

#It's Your Love #a Burnsy birthday fic #via The Loft gang #oh no my hole #all the holes #they totally coke canned it #hey soul sister #my nakie twin's bday fic #nakie twins #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices trr #trr #choices the royal romance #choices trr au #Drake x Alyssa #Liam x Ella

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daintykeith · 4 years

Text

DESERVING

Title: Deserving

Summary: A one-shot love story featuring Arthur Morgan and John Marston in which John struggles to understand Arthur's new behavior around camp.

Word count: 1.6k+

Notes: mild cursing | feedback is appreciated!!!

Tags: @southernlynxx @rdr-secret-cupid

I’m your secret cupid, @southernlynxx !!! I'm so sorry this took forever dear; the past few weeks have been totally insane and out of my hands to control. I chose your first wish and decided to mix it up with some good reassurance (happy) angst which i found fitting for the theme;

John trying to understand & accept Arthur’s affection around camp! I hope you enjoy it, happy late Saint Valentine’s day!!!

P.D → I was inspired by this photo I took in my game! Totally worth it.

John never thought it would be like this.

At first, it was awkward—maybe bizarre. But that was just the beginning.

As the sun rose from the West, John walked out of his tent like a dead man; dark bags under his eyes and scratching his side, yawning without shame. Thirty minutes of sleep—or less—felt great. Just what he needed, right? Taking guarding rounds at night for the past few weeks to avoid him. Yes, that man. The one who had become his greatest relief and headache at the same time, Arthur Fucking Morgan.

While John agonized, Arthur was at his best. Refreshed, clean, and glowing like a damn pearl who had found its way to the surface, gleaming under the Sun—too shiny for John’s liking. Thankfully, his tormenting and seductive eyes were nowhere to be found yet. But, why was John avoiding him as if he was a pest? It’s complicated, you’ll understand later on.

John walked to the empty soup cauldron and grabbed the coffee pot next to it and a metallic cup nearby. He sighed as he sipped from the coffee he had just poured himself; feeling the smoke coming off his mouth like locomotor steam. He needed it to be functional, it had become his coal and main source of energy.

He stood next to the fire in the common area, waiting for Dutch to give a speech he had asked everyone the night before to hear. Why the hell would he give a speech so early in the morning when even the rooster hadn’t yet given his call to the sky? He wondered, staring his distorted reflection in the coffee in his hand.

It was a quiet morning, everyone who woke up, quickly waved at John and left to grab a coffee, or so it remained until the feared one appeared. He walked graciously without effort, his shirt had some buttons undone that showed his chest and collarbone, looking like a damn angel. He rinsed his face and John saw with detail from afar how every drop of water dripped down his face and neck. It made him thirsty. That man was no other than Arthur Morgan.

Arthur ran his hand through his hair and over his nape. To John, that man could’ve been the Devil himself walking on Earth, an angel who had fallen from Heaven for his ego. He was too full of himself, afly in making everyone blush in a moment’s notice. Before John could realize, Arthur was staring at the red in his cheeks and grinned, satisfied from his reaction.

“Damn you!” John whispered, looking anywhere but at him as he burned his tongue and narrowed his eyes.

Arthur, with his smug grin, quickly grabbed his coffee and sat next to the fire a few feet away from John, who didn’t know Arthur was just mesmerized with his foolishness, head over heels for a stubborn and reckless but loveable little piece of shit—a nickname truthful to his nature. A true rascal! Against his better judgement and all prognostics, an all-standing jinx befell upon him like rain in a desert.

He admired John from the ground, his strong jawline, the scars on his cheek that ran to his nose and the corner of his lips. However, his foul mouth didn’t catch up with his beauty—quick witted and far too fast for his train of thought that always got him in trouble. Arthur drank from his coffee and looked at John in the eye who, this time, didn’t turn their gaze away but held it dearly.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” John asked with his raspy voice, trying to sound uninterested but contradicted by the widened pupils in his curious eyes.

A walking contradiction, Arthur thought with a grin. “Wanna’ know?” He took a long swig of his cup and let it sit in his lap.

John hesitated for a moment. "No." Nevermind.

The blue-greened eye man cleaned the corner of his mouth with his thumb and licked it and slightly blushed. "What a shame."

John couldn't stop staring Arthur, something had lit in the corner of his mind.

"Anyway, what does Dutch want this early in the morning?"

"Don't know, don't care." Arthur rolled his eyes and looked at his feet.

John gulped, bothered by Arthur's sudden behavior to which he decided to blind the eye on.

"He's been acting... strange," John mutters, making a long pause.

He was right. Dutch had changed; it was the gleam in the eye he had always told them to not have—those of an ambition far too great, burned by being too close to the Sun. Everybody had noticed but kept quiet, making a silent agreement in not talking about the matter. John had a hunch of what it meant, but also kept quiet.

"No more than you; what's going on with ya'? Did the wolves eat the brain whole? You've been avoiding me!"

Did he notice? He knew he wasn't hiding the fact so well, but admitting it hurt his pride.

"The hell you sayin'?! No, I haven't!"

Arthur smiled in response, as if it was the answer he was expecting.

"Why?"

John narrowed his eyes.

"Why what?"

"You know."

He stood up, spilt the coffee left in his cup into the fire and slowly walked to John. His body swung with temptation, a fierce cat-walk with a daring look in his eyes. John felt like his feet were stuck to the ground, unable to take just one step aside to avoid the storm walking straight to him. His metallic eyes were bewitched by Arthur's; he sure knew how to charm him every damn time.

He didn't stop until he towered over John, trapping him with his voluptuous figure.

"Why are you so shy?" He whispered to John in the ear with a burning breath that heated and tinted his cheeks in deep red.

John forgot how to breath. He was so close that he felt their bodies touch and their minds collide.

"I, uh..."

"you what, dear?"

How shameless could the bastard be? Didn't he have any limit?

"I don't wanna talk here; let's go somewhere else." John imposed in a soft mutter.

"Alright."

They went to John's tent taking hands. They were cramped in such a small place, where their breathing burned eachother's skin and only a dim light shined through the entrance. A long pause arrived when the world had seemed to stop rotating and time had gone somewhere else, making everything but them oblivious and unimportant.

"I don't understand why are you doing this," John said with long sigh, finally giving in.

John rested his head in Arthur's shoulder, feeling his body finally relax after the tense moment.

"I thought we were a secret, ya' know?" he muttered, "a thing only you and I knew. Our thing."

Arthur combed his fingers through John's black hair, softly caressing the back of his head and humming in agreement.

"I don't seem to understand why you smile at me every time you see me or why you, like, want to touch me every time you can—or when you look at me like that."

"Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No! I, ugh... I don't know."

Arthur chuckled. “I get it.”

John sighed in relief. Did it mean he would stop acting weird? I mean, Arthur would always be a bastard no matter how you look at it, but he called it an improvement.

“I'm sorry” he continued ”, but there's no stopping me in loving you.”

What. In. The. World. That's not what he meant!

“Arthur, you're not listening—”

“Every damn word, of course I do...”

“Then why are you doing this?!” John buried his head deeper, frustrated. “I'm an asshole, okay, I get it. But that's not a reason for you to do this to me.” Enchanting me, making me drunk with every word you whisper. Damn you.

“John, I—”

“I don't deserve it.”

A long silence between them came to be except for the more recurrent footsteps outdoors, stumping into the grass and dirt. John held tighter to Arthur, who stepped back only to take a closer look to his face, eye to eye.

“Listen closely, you little piece of shit.”

John flinched to the sudden grab by his collar, wanting to look away but Arthur only held his gaze closer.

"There's no denying that you are an idiot— but my idiot. I'm a fool myself, an old dirty bastard that's only getting older with every day that goes by, thinking that I'm the happiest man alive every damn time I look at you and even though I know I don't deserve it either. I ain't a good man, John. And you fucking know it." He grabbed his collar stronger as if it was a threat, with that dead look in his eyes that had seen the deeds their owner had done.

After Arthur realized what he did, he let John go.

“If it was about deserving, John, you would've never been mine."

He gently took John's hand laid it in his face, placing a gentle kiss in the back of his hand.

John couldn't speak a word. His mind had gone blank except for the beautiful image of Arthur lovingly playing with his fingers, laying kisses in the tip of his fingers, and the words that uttered in the corners of his mind, echoing Arthur's whispers.

"I'm sorry, John. But I beg you, let this damn fool love you and show it to you."

John placed his hand in Arthur's earlobe. As if both had read their minds, they looked into each other's eyes before leaning into a soft, gentle kiss.

Their kisses never tasted sweet. It was rough, with sweat and blood that was so common in there lives. Neither of them deserved the sweet taste of paradise, but they were making one of their own.

“You make me feel like a fool, Arthur.”

“You too.”

John wished this moment lasted forever. He wanted to enjoy the moment when their souls had gotten closer, but a voice outside called.

“Arthur, John, Where are you?!” Dutch called, irritated of waiting.

They separated and held each other's gaze for a moment.

“We should go,” John whispered tenderly as he rolled he eyes.

“Let's go,” Arthur chuckled.

Arthur gently held John's hand before heading out of the tent, ready for the world.

#rdr secret cupid 2021 #Morston #Morston2021 #Arthur Morgan #John Marston #rdr2 fanfic #rdr fanfic #rdr2 photography #rdr2 community #rdr2 #red dead redemption two #red dead fandom #red dead photo mode #rdr2 Morston

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Whether It Works Out Or Not: Winter’s Cold, Part Two

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: High Honor!Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit T.

AN: Thank you all so much for being here! Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the epilogue!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @nelba @scribblenotes76 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy @misty-possum @gallowsjoker @midnightbeauty35 @lackofhonor @renegademustelid @missfronkensteen @newplanetshine

Part One: Strangers

Part Two: Friends

Part Three: More

Bonus One: A Brief Diversion

Bonus Two: Back In The Cage

Winter’s Cold, Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional distress and self-loathing. Stay safe!]

The first time Arthur really felt...aware, like he was actually inhabiting his body instead of floating above and slightly to the right of it, he realized that he could hear chirping birds. A breeze stirred his hair; there must be a window open nearby.

It dawned on him after several moments that he could breathe. It still hurt, it pained him, but he wasn't hacking and wheezing every second. Dread flooded his soul then; either he was dead, or the law was in the process of meting out the rope for his noose. Bit of a raw deal for all those hellfire preachers if eternal damnation was only some downright mild discomfort (at least after everything else) and a lazy little breeze.

His whole body still felt like it weighed too much to move. The idea of opening his eyes was a distant, faint notion; barely a fledgling consideration in the back of his mind. Arthur was more than content to lay just wherever it was that he had fallen, sunshine wavering in dappled patches across the insides of his eyelids.

He dimly noticed that fabric was covering his mouth and nose. A bandanna, or some kind of mask? To keep him from spreading the infection, he surmised pragmatically. Through the material wafted a scent from his childhood, the alive smell of freshly-cured hay. Beneath it was the ever-present odor of manure, the crisp tingle of pine. So he must be in the mountains somewhere.

Odd. Last he knew, he was being shipped off to the city to be read his last rites. Had they decided to let him convalesce in the wilderness, drag him back from the clutches of death and then set his backside afore the law?

Very odd indeed. But then again, justice had always been more of a performance than a true enforcement of moral integrity.

I sound like Dutch.

He drifted off again. Just thinking was exhausting, like wading through swamp mud.

More medicine. Balm for his chest. A stew, lip of the bowl pressed to his mouth so he could slowly slurp it up. Rich, meaty broth, soothing his throat. How many days had it been?

He couldn't even bring himself to move when he felt the familiar press of a flat blade against his neck. Hot water soaking into his skin, a warm cloth moving in circles to scrub away whatever grime was around his nose and mouth. The person was meticulous, sure strokes carefully ridding the man of the stubble he harbored on his face. How long had it been since he shaved?

Christ alive, Arthur was tired. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to live or not. This caretaker, whoever they were, clearly wasn't letting him go without a fight. But he was so tired.

He wavered for what felt like a lifetime, hovering at the edge of eternity in the green fragrance of curing hay. It was safe here, at any rate. Nothing would harm him in this peaceful tomb. He could rest until he began to feel like he was in control of his body again, and one fateful day, Arthur Morgan finally realized that he wanted to see how much worse living could manage to be.

His eyes opened slowly, squinting against the near-blinding illumination of sunset that played pink against the unfinished beams over his head. Lord, just doing that much had taken the wind out of his sails. Maybe he was already dead.

His eyes rolled shut wearily, blinking open again what felt like moments later to find the place dark. Night had fallen. Time was slipping past him, it would seem. There was a faint taste in his mouth: venison stew with wild carrots, if he had to guess. He didn't even remember eating.

He squinted in the blackness, trying to force his eyes to adjust so he could at least take in his surroundings before he lost consciousness again.

Hay. Everywhere. He appeared to be in a loft of some kind, bales stacked neatly all around the tick he laid on. Night sounds filtered in through the open window, bats squeaking and the booming call of an owl telling him that the hour must indeed be late.

Arthur lapsed back into senselessness once more. He dreamed of hearing violin music and catching sight of a massive, pale buck through the window. It watched him from a far-off hillside, ears flicking back and forth to catch every sound.

He dreamed of Irene. Her smile, her eyes, the kisses in the tent that they had shared...

Maybe, maybe sat like a block of lead in his gut. 'Maybe' was all he had ever had. A chance, a mirage. Pretty words from men and women who had made him feel useful, needed.

So he had poured from himself until he was empty and it still hadn't been enough.

He was a fool. What was it that Irene had said to Jamie? "I'm not letting anyone else dig my grave and usher me into it."

Arthur, in contrast, had practically handed Dutch the shovel on a silver platter.

I gave you all I had.

…

He was aware that someone was nearby, and he managed to open his eyes again for a brief moment. Long enough for him to hallucinate that it was Irene tending to him, Irene giving him whatever horrendous medicine it was and washing away the bitter taste with hot soup and small sips of tea. He must truly be long gone, mad with delirium or fever or the consumption that had wracked his chest until he felt paper-thin.

How would she even be here? How would that have even happened? There was no way.

Arthur almost loathed himself for choosing to live at that moment, because he was clearly missing a few more screws. He knew that some agues raged so strong they could burn the brain right out of a man and he feared that was the case with him.

Not that he'd had much brain to lose in the first place.

Christ, he did wish she was here. He wished he could take her hand and never let her go again.

Allowing her leave that final time was a regret that had haunted him even more prominently than his bitter failure with Mary, for all that he knew there was nothing he could have done to make her stay with him. Irene had been on her own too long, flown too far and high to ever be tied down to some old, miserable bastard again.

Mary had come to know him under false pretenses, and she had never truly reconciled herself with it. In a way, Arthur hadn't either. He had known she wasn't his from the very beginning, had known that he was playing a part or living a lie whenever he was with her. It never would have worked out, and it never did.

But Irene, despite their deceptive start, came to him with a certain honesty. The haphazard performance of masculinity had done little to hide her true nature, the kindness that she claimed to see in him so freely displayed in her as well. It also didn't hide the burdens she carried, though he hadn't understood the sadness in 'Frank's' eyes when they had spoken.

The trials she had gone through...he at least had the gang, but she was wholly alone. She had endured, like a pine tree rooted on a crumbling and wind-whipped bluff. Storms of life howling all around and yet…

And yet, when he had last seen her, she had held herself proudly in Lemieux's mansion, unshaken. The guts and wherewithal that had seen her thus far would continue, and Arthur had wished her nothing but the finest of luck even as he had sent her on her way.

…

There were folded clothes on the floor beside him when next he stirred, and on top of them was a note. Arthur had no idea how long it took him to sit up, never mind move his arm, manipulate his fingers into picking the note up, unfold the note to read it…

Lord, living certainly seemed to require a lot of steps.

Arthur,

Not sure if you'll really be awake today, but I've noticed you moving around a bit of your own volition. Left the clothes in case you feel up to getting dressed. I am uncertain if you'll recall, so I'll remind you that the waste bucket is in the far corner.

The note was unsigned.

Arthur huffed out a breath, clearing his throat experimentally. He reached for the union suit on the top of the pile, planting his face in the article of clothing with a groan as his head suddenly felt too heavy to support. "C'mon Morgan." He encouraged himself, the words thick in his mouth. Shit, how long had he been out for? It was like he had forgotten how to speak.

Just pulling the suit up and over his legs was a task of Herculean proportions. Arthur doggedly kept fighting the urge to pass out, the desire to lay back down and let time zip by again. He had made the choice to live and by God, he would follow through with it even if it killed him.

The longer he worked at getting dressed, the easier it became to keep his eyes open. Socks on over the suit, shirt, pants. His suspenders hung limp at his sides, but he did tuck in his shirt as best as he could after he relieved himself.

Boots. Boots, one tipped over on the space beside the ladder, the other within reach of the bed.

Next, climbing down the ladder. Mercifully the loft was not particularly high. The whole barn seemed rather small as far as barns went, obviously originally built with one stall. A second one appeared to have been hastily grafted onto the building at a later time.

Arthur had to take a breather at the base of the ladder, clinging to it just to keep his balance. His knees felt like they were made out of jelly. Had his boots always been this damn heavy?!

He floundered onward after a moment, grateful for his hat as he emerged into the blinding sunlight of the outside world.

Arthur rubbed his eyes, nearly losing his footing as he did so. He had already been uncertain of the reality of his current situation, and this idyllic scene in front of him wasn't helping matters!

A small paddock stretched out on the left, and a cozy-looking cabin was nestled into the green, flower-dappled glen alongside the barn he had just emerged from. Arthur staggered to the paddock fence for support, draping himself over it. From the shadow by the barn, a shape stirred. He forced himself to focus on it, his eyes widening when the horse meandered lazily out into the sunlight to graze.

"Chase!" Arthur rasped, his voice rough and cracking from disuse. The mare's head jerked up and she looked around. His heart leaped in his chest when she whinnied excitedly at him, trotting across the paddock and bumping her nose against his chest. Arthur held her tightly, cupping her muzzle and scratching beneath her jaw. "That's my sweet girl, my good girl." He murmured, feeling foolish for getting choked up.

There was an explosive snort to his right and a familiar pink nose snuffled over his shoulder. Arthur squinted, turning his head to the side and realizing that it was Bluster. The horse whickered, mouthing at the sleeve of his shirt.

Arthur Morgan was speechless. He must be dead. How else could he have his horse, and Irene's horse besides? He sat there mutely for God only knew how long, just petting Chase with his eyes closed to luxuriate in the sensation of sun on his skin.

Behind him, the wind carried faint sounds to his ears, and he flinched when he caught a child's high-pitched squeal of laughter. Just where the hell was he, if he was indeed alive? What buffoon would nurse someone like him back to health, yet leave him unbound and unguarded? Something was very odd about this whole scenario.

Arthur turned and leaned back on the fence, narrowing his eyes against the glare of the sun as he looked up at the ridge of the glen. There was an abrupt flash of motion to the left on the edge of the gully, and he watched a woman that he desperately wanted to recognize chase after a child. The little one was fairly shrieking with mirth, scurrying away from their pursuer until they flopped down dramatically and allowed themselves to be caught.

It felt like his heart had left his body, the damn thing soaring and shattering all at once. A girl, it was a little girl, her hair the color of a pale buck. Irene scooped the child up, laughing breathlessly and tossing her into the air before spinning the two of them in a dizzying circle.

Irene.

Arthur swallowed hard. Fate was indeed a cruel mistress if this was the vision he was greeted with upon making his decision to live! He continued to just slouch against the fence, silently observing the duo as they frolicked at the top of the ridge. Irene had flowers in her hair just like she had at the Mayor's little soiree, and he realized dimly that her dark brown curls were much longer. Just how much time had he lost?

He finally mustered up the strength to wave at them and he liked to think that Irene went still out of happiness. In a moment she caught the child up and fairly bolted down the hillside, her skirt hiked around her knees as she ran.

"Arthur!"

Christ, Christ he wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for the sight of her with a babe on her hip, the agony of maybe, maybe that ripped at his insides. In another life, it might have been his child that she had been playing with. In another life, this might have been the home that they had built together.

But instead, she had gone on and made a fruitful existence without him. He couldn't, wouldn't blame her for it. He had cut her loose, after all.

Irene came to a halt inches away, her chest rising and falling from the effort of her sprint. "Y-You--you're up!" She panted, her smile burying itself in his ribs like a blade. Christ, his heart was too weak for this.

The child in Irene's arms gawked up at him with crystal blue eyes and he tried to muster up a smile, startled when Irene embraced him tightly. He felt her fingers dig into his back, and then her shoulders quivered while she buried her face in his chest. "Oh no, c'mon now Miss Irene." Arthur said hoarsely. "I ain't worth all that fuss, it's okay."

...

"Mama?" Anna asked tentatively. "Mama okay?"

"Mama's fine, love." Irene managed to say, kissing her child's forehead. "Just very happy is all. You remember my friend Mister Arthur, right?"

"Sick." Anna replied, her attempt at a fake cough making Arthur chuckle. "Better now?"

"I'd reckon so, little miss." The man drawled hoarsely. God, that voice. Irene hadn't realized just how much she had missed him. She had seen him every day, of course, nursing him back to health, but he hadn't been conscious for most of it. "S'pose I have your mama to thank for that."

Irene noticed him glancing over her shoulder, like he was expecting someone else to show up. "Your friend, Mister Trelawny--"

Arthur chuffed out a breath through his nose, making Anna giggle. "Friend? Man's a cockroach in a waistcoat." He groused.

"Yes, he mentioned that the two of you may not be as close as he posited. Nonetheless, it's thanks to him that you're here now, alive."

"Really. Huh. So I am alive, then. I wasn't shoah. This place is…" Arthur gestured vaguely around. "S'beautiful, Miss Irene." His tone was melancholy. "Like a dream."

"I'd like to think I chose well, Mister Arthur. It hasn't been easy, but the two of us have made it work." Irene said proudly, nuzzling her nose against Anna's. "My tough little frontierwoman."

"Just...what, you an' the baby?" Arthur asked, his confusion evident.

"Yes. Who else would there be?" Irene replied with her own question, brow furrowed. Arthur blinked down at her. His eyes darted momentarily to Anna, and Irene bit her lip, wondering whether he would put it together immediately.

"I-I jus'...I figured there might be a third person, is all." Arthur stammered.

Irene couldn't help her sad smile, shaking her head at him and extending an arm. "Come inside, Arthur. It's nearly suppertime anyways."

It was so strange, finally having him in the main room of her little house. She had thought about this scenario more times than she could count. Just the walk across the front yard thoroughly tired him out, and the man seemed more than content to doze in one of the kitchen chairs while she put the finishing touches on the evening meal. Obviously it would take time and care for him to regain even a fraction of his former strength. He had been bedridden, or something close to it, for nearly five months!

Anna played noisily on the floor with a few carved horses that Irene had made for her when she was teething, their forms scored with scrapes and marks from the event. The child didn't seem apprehensive about the large man currently nodding off in the chair by the table, which had Irene feeling hopeful. Maybe, just maybe…

"Dinnertime." She said softly, "put away your toys, love."

Anna pouted, holding up a finger. "One?" She bargained, clutching her 'favorite' horse to her chest. "One for Art'ur."

"Oh it's for Arthur now, is it?" Irene teased, wiping her hands off on her apron. "Go on then, you scallywag."

The little girl fairly beamed, placing the horse with a laughable amount of care alongside Arthur's arm. Then, she impatiently bounced in place as Irene fetched the riser for her chair so she would be level with the table when she sat.

"Ah ah, go wash up! You know the rules." Irene instructed the eager child, sending her on her way to the porch.

"She is just the cutest damn thing." Arthur mumbled, almost like he was talking to himself. His fingers idly played along the curves of the little horse by his fork. "How old is she?"

"A touch over two. She was born during the winter." Irene watched Arthur nod absently, and what she was about to say got caught in her throat as Anna toddled back inside.

Arthur accepted the coffee Irene poured him with all the gratitude in the world, his eyes closing in enjoyment as he took his first sip. "Ah, that's good," he sighed. "Ain't nothin' like a decent cup of coffee. Feel like life is comin' back to me."

"Well, don't forget to save room for dinner." Irene buttered Anna a little piece of bread and scooted it across the table to keep her occupied while she loaded two plates with corn, mashed potatoes and a spoonful of precious pork gravy from tomorrow's slow-cooking dinner. "Corn is Anna's favorite, right love?"

Anna nodded, blue eyes wide as she munched on her bread. "Mine!" She announced sharply, scrunching up her nose when Arthur chuckled at her.

"Sweeting, be polite. There's more than enough for all of us, you know that!" Irene chided her daughter, rumpling the little girl's hair fondly after she placed Arthur's plate in front of him. "Always enough here."

Anna's plate, as usual, required a bit more preparing, so she brought it along with her own to her chair beside the child. Anna immediately started digging into the mashed potatoes as her mother carefully shucked the kernels off the cob in neat rows. "Th'nk y'Mama." Anna said through a mouthful of food.

"You're welcome Anna, but slow down. No one will take it from you." With a touch of amusement Irene noticed Arthur visibly slow his pace in response, the man obviously used to wolfing his food. "Drink your water, Anna."

Arthur ate mainly in silence, aside from a few appreciative grunts. He couldn't contain his laughter when Anna started to imitate his sounds, the man apologizing for his poor table manners. "Forgive me, Miss Irene, I've always been awful at eatin' in the presence of polite company."

"Mama says I'm a little piggy." Anna informed Arthur, seeming confused when he burst out laughing again.

"If you're a li'l piggy, Miss Anna, then I must be the biggest boar alive." He said once he managed to rein himself in.

…

Arthur lingered on the front steps, the lantern in his hand ready to light his way back across the yard. He felt exhausted, stuffed with good food and more than ready to get a full night's rest.

So what was he waiting for?

Many thoughts had gone through his head during dinner. How beautiful Irene still looked, how good of a mother she clearly was. Anna was a precocious little thing, those blue eyes bright with the possibility of mischief.

Her eyes…

Arthur didn't dare to hope that one of he and Irene's little diversions had borne fruit, if only because it would throw into question his oh-so-noble attempts at prevention. Had he truly tried as hard as he could to be safe, or was there always that selfish desire in the back of his mind waiting to be acted upon?

He jumped guiltily when the door opened and Irene stepped out, half-turning to face her with a brittle grin. "Howdy ma'am. Little one safely abed, I take it?"

"After a bit of deliberation, yes." Irene sighed, her posture weary. "She's very opinionated for someone who cannot manage eating a carrot unless it has been sliced into wheels. I do fear for the future, Arthur."

The future.

Arthur cleared his throat. "Irene, is...did we…?"

She put a hand on his shoulder, silencing his stammering with a sad little smile. "Later, Arthur. Right now, rest is what you need."

He wanted to deny that, but it was fairly impossible to do so. He was nearly asleep standing up as it was. "Tomorrow?" He bargained through a yawn.

"Tomorrow. I promise."

Summer’s Warmth, Part One

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x original female character #high honor arthur #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption 2 epilogue #rdr2 fandom #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 epilogue #rdr2

26 notes · View notes

notyetneedcoffee · 4 years

Text

With A Cherry On Top

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

New Naughty Series

You answered the phone with less usual enthusiasm. “Hey.”

“Pepper said you went home. Are you okay, Sweetheart?” Steve’s concern radiated through his voice.

“Fine.” You sighed.

“But you went home.”

Groaning miserably you admitted, “It’s just female stuff. I’m hurting and feel like crap.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup about twenty minutes ago.”

“Okay well,” Steve chuckled. “I’ll just bring dessert then. Tonight’s date night note says ‘share something sweet’ anyway.”

“Steve, no. Really. I’m not going to be very good company. We can do it another time.” You snuggled down in your blanket more.

“Nonsense. Don’t argue with me when I’m determined to take care of you. I’m on my way.”

His mock “captain” voice made you laugh. “Okay, but I am not to be held responsible for what you see when you get here. You’ve been warned.”

“Understood.” He laughed.

By the time you managed to get up, brush your teeth, and straighten up the kitchen, Steve was knocking on the door. You pulled it open. He looked you up and down, from messy bun to fuzzy socks, and smiled. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“You’re a sap.” You rolled your eyes, but accepted his sweet kiss as he came in and disappeared into the kitchen. You followed, curious what was in the grocery bag, but he shooed you away.

“Go get back on the sofa. Leave this to me.” Steve patted you bottom and sent you on your way. “What are you watching?” He called out.

“Antiques Roadshow. I just need something neutral right now.”

He laughed. You could hear him moving around. “I saw an episode once and there was a set of really cheap dishes you used to get at Woolworth’s. Ma would get them because they were cheap. That show said they were worth so much money! She would have fell over.”

You heard the whistle of your kettle. As you looked up, Steve came in with a hot water bottle in a red cozy. “Here, Sweetheart. I don’t know much about cramps, but Pepper said you were coming home to cuddle with a heating pad. And I do know that an old fashion hot water bottle is still better than electric heating pads.”

Taking the hot water bottle, you pulled it close. The heat radiating from it felt great. “Thank you.”

“Okay, sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Steve grinned and vanished back into the kitchen.

The warmth soaked into your body, and you curled around it. Wrapped up in the corner of the sofa, you just spaced off as you listened to him move around. It was very sweet of him to come, but you just felt off and down and wanted to cry.

“Sit up, Beautiful.” Steve came in with two bowls of ice cream. Not just ice cream, though, full-blown ice cream sundaes with different kinds of ice cream, whipped cream, syrup and a cherry on top.

“Wow.” You crossed your legs and accepted the bowl. “This is amazing.”

“It’s from that place across the street from the tower.” Steve spooned a huge amount in his mouth.

“Oh my god.” The chocolate was so rich. It tasted so good. “This is amazing.”

“Right?” Steve smiled. A particularly bad cramp twisted your insides and you grimaced. His hand rubbed over your knee. “I wish I could make it better.”

“Thanks, but it’ll pass.” You took another bite.

“Can I ask you something?” Steve spooned more ice cream in his mouth.

“Anything.”

“I don’t remember you going through this before. Is um...”

“The birth control I’m on, I only have a period every four months. Sometimes when it comes around, it’s really bad. It’s sort of a trade-off. Have a level five or six period pain twelve times a year, or one or two that’s a level nine.”

“If you don’t have them as often,” Steve seemed honestly curious. “do they last longer.”

“No, but they can be heavy.” You spooned more chocolate drenched ice cream in your mouth. “Thank god they came out with the cup.”

“The what?”

You laughed. “Do you really want to talk about this now? We’re eating.”

“We don’t have to talk about it at all. I just, um, I want to understand.” Steve shifted a little more towards you.

“Okay.” You ate a few more bites of the sundae, finishing it off. “What do you want to know?”

Steve set both the bowls on the coffee table. He pulled you closer, your back up against your chest. You snuggled closer, relishing in the feel of him. His warm breath tickled your ear as he rubbed his nose him your hair. “How long are you usually in pain?”

“When it’s bad? A day. Maybe two.” You held on to his big arms wrapped around your chest. “You feel so good.”

His lips pressed against the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “What’s a cup?”

“A menstrual cup. Instead of a tampon or a pad, it’s a silicone cup. Think of it kind of like a diaphragm. Except instead of keeping your swimmer out, it holds the blood in until I empty it.”

“My swimmers?” Steve chuckled. “So, ah, are you sensitive?” His hands cupped your breast through your tee shirt, feeling your nipples harden under his touch. He placed a wet kiss against your neck. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You snuggled even closer as his hands found their way under your shirt. His large hands massaged your breasts, pulled at your nipples. Heat washed over you. With a whine you turned your face closer to his, with a sigh. “Steve.”

His mouth covered yours in a slow wet kiss. Stretching out his legs on the sofa, he pulled you all the way onto his lap. He ghosted wet kisses along your neck. “So, is it true that orgasm helps relieve cramps?”

“Steve.” You sighed again as his hand dipped below the band of your sweats.

His middle finger slipped lightly between your folds. “Mmm, you’re wet already baby.”

Lying your head back against his shoulder, you melted into his touch. His strong arms held you against his firm body. Fingers slipping around your sensitive clit, Steve purred in your ear telling you how beautiful you were. His tongue traced along your sensitive skin. You reached back, burying your hand in his hair. “Oh, god.”

“That’s it, Sweetheart.” He breathed. Steve’s hips rocked his erection up into your ass. His hand massaged your breast. Fingers dancing over your wet core. “You are so fucking sexy. Oh, shit, you feel amazing.”

You felt the fire coil low in your belly. Steve’s breath washed hot over your skin. You writhed in his arms, but he held you firm. Breath came in pants. Legs widened for him. Eyes fell closed. Thighs twitched.

“I love the way you feel.” He groaned, hips pushing into your ass harder. “The way you respond. Mm, so good.”

You gave a little whine as his fingers slid through your wetness, dancing over your clit in just the way he’d learned that drove you mad. Teeth scraped over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled at his hair. Steve groaned, pulling your writhing body tight against him, rutting into hard.

“Yes,” Steve laid open mouth kisses on your neck. “Come for me, Baby.”

His pace picked up. Your body trembled. Steve’s teeth grazed over the cord behind your ear. A shiver slid down your body. You moaned low, heat flooding over you like rich warm honey. Every fiber, every muscle, releasing and leaving your limp and pliable in his arms.

“That’s my beautiful girl.” Steve hummed with delight.

Lazily you rolled over, kissing his long and slow. Steve’s finger dug into your hips with a satisfied moan, his hard cock pressed against your belly. Rising to your knee and straddling his hips, you reached down to unbutton his jeans. He caught your hand in him, running his nose along yours. “You don’t have to, Sweetheart.”

“Mmm,” You smiled. Pulling your hand free and slowing unbuttoning his jeans. “I know. But now you’ve got my mouth watering.”

“Damn,” He grinned. “I’m up for more dessert.”