#these turned out surprisingly well considering how much wine i had

[instant-delusions]

𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗿𝗼 : 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗱𝘀

ajax/tartaglia/childe x afab! reader smut

cw: fluff, idiots in love 😔, alcohol, cursing, cunnilingus, penetrative sex, unprotected sex

a/n: nr 1 genshin hater back writing genshin smut

there are two things fontaine is overflowing with : water & secrets.

on the surface, the nation looks bubbly and exciting (or... enticing) . though, much like the hydro archon herself, it's putting on a show to hide a disaster coming. with all the adventuring and traveling you did, this instance is definitely the most mind-boggling, a weak-ish celebrity archon, two magician siblings and a nation doomed to drown. interesting, to say the least.

paimon and you decided to stroll around the bustling city centre, looking for some fontainian food to get your mind off of things. suddenly, your giddy companion stopped floating, grabbing your arm tightly, "look!" she sqeaked, pointing at somebody. ginger hair, red scarf loosely falling off his shoulder, slanky body wrapped in a grey outfit - it's none other than, "childe!" paimon whisper-yelled. gaping at him, you stopped in your tracks.

said man felt eyes on him and shifted, trying to see who's attention he caught this time. stuffing the last piece of croissant down his mouth, he chewed and turned around - locking eyes with his beloved traveler. "mpfh!" he grinned, quickly making his way towards the two of you. noticing your stunned demeanor, ajax swallowed quickly and ignored paimon's inquisitive questions, studying the look on your face instead. "if it isn't my lovely traveler!" he exclaimed, making you snap out of your weird daze.

you were shocked, of course. not just by tartaglia's presence, but also by the interesting emotion resulting from it. after everything you discovered about him, it was safe to say that he was caring, charming and good. obviously, you considered him a friend, but friends don't make you feel this way - they don't give you butterflies, and they don't make you fuzzy with a smile. it's weird. feeling paimon grow quiet raising a brow at your uncharacteristic silence, you huffed and cleared your throat. "what are you doing here, childe?". he told you about how he was feeling down and thought traveling would make him cheer up. "did you choose fontaine because of their famous wine?" chuckling, he feigned heartbreak. "what, are you disrespecting shnezhnayan vodka? I'm offended."

sitting down at your hotel's restaurant, childe immediately asked about your adventures in sumeru. while you stuttered something about wanderer and the doctor, about their delicious food and skilled fighters, he leaned on his hand, sipping on his aged, dark red wine. curious, you asked for a taste as well, silently letting your taste buds accommodate the rich flavors.

paimon knew. after a good two hours, she saw the way childe shifted closer to you, laughing heartfully at your tipsy demeanor. she saw how he touched you and how his eyes lit up everytime you spoke. she also noticed your rose tinted cheeks and how you leaned in when he talked about his family, how you giggled freely at his jokes. surprisingly, she felt a mixture of worry and excitement filling her, for she knows how troubled your soul has been lately, seeing her traveler happily crushing on someone (even if it's annoying, arrogant, childish childe)...she encouraged it. "(y/n)... I'm sleepy!" paimon announced, snatching the room keys from your pocket. "I'm going. don't-" she raised a finger at tartaglia, "do anything stupid."

after hours of tipsy chatter, childe insisted on bringing you up to your room. "I don't wanna gooo..." you whined, clinging onto his arm with a sweet pout. internally, said man was exploding with affection, feeling weirdly dutiful, protecting you as if you were a little bunny stranded in the snowy mountains of his home country. arriving at your room's door, something doomed on you. paimon had the keys. paimon who's sleeping peacefully in your bed right now.

"uh...tartaglia?" you looked up to him, receiving a small 'hm?' sound in response. "paimon has my keys."

paimon has her keys.

ajax leaned onto the wall smugly, lips spreading into a sly grin. "ahh..see, my dear traveler, I'd invite you to my room, but..." he leaned closer to your face, his breath fanning over your forehead. "but...?" you inclined, hearing him exhale dramatically. "you've been so cute today, I don't know if I'd be able to keep my hands off of you." childe trailed a finger along the softness of your cheek, watching a rosy color bloom on it again. feeling overwhelmed by the sudden proximity, you stepped back, averting his hot gaze. you slumped down next to the door and whined, "I'd rather sleep on the floor."

needless to say, tartaglia did not let you sleep on the floor. he dragged you all the way to his room, feeling responsible for your safety (which he usually only does regarding his family). "c'mon, (y/n). change into this." he threw one of his shirts at you and gestured to the bathroom. quietly closing the door behind you, you started to undress and pulled the tee on, which smelled of dill and wood. you scrunched your brows in frustration, thinking about how the fuck you ended up in this situation while longingly smelling the fabric.

quickly, you made your way over to the couch situated beneath the window, only to be pulled back by a tongue-clicking ginger. "my (y/n), I would never let you sleep on the couch! please, take the bed." he said all gentlemanly, causing you to giggle and whisper a 'thank you.'. pulling back the covers, you sighed at the softness of the mattress, feeling like you're sinking into a fluffy sheep. suddenly, you felt the bed dip beside you and shrieked. "childe?!", receiving his signature smirk, you felt all shy again seeing his handsome features so close to you. he mumbled something about not wanting to take the couch either and snaked his arm around you, pulling you close. a sudden wave of comfort came crashing down, you felt his chest heaving with breaths and his skin all warm and soft. he trusted you to be this close. snuggling closer, you heard him exhale peacefully. it's weird, you thought. definently a good weird, but weird - you've seen this man with a crazed expression on his face, electricity crackling around him, you've seen him loud and charming. this is new, but you definitely liked domestic ajax.

nothing could be heard except some whirring outside the hotel, probably stemming from some sort of machine, which means the warmth erupting inside your belly has been getting hard to ignore. obviously, you couldn't deny childe's touching and flirting left you a bit ... needy. his pretty looks, mixed with his enticing personality totally got to you! you might be inexperienced, but with your inability to back down from a fight and the magic of liquid courage, you decided to take the first step. shyly shifting your ass against his crotch, you freezed at his instant hot exhale, ajax' hands coming up to your hips.

"m not sleepy." he said, propping his head up with an arm, blue eyes gazing down at you. nodding in agreement, you reached up, playing with one of his red strands. "feeling a bit more confident?" he asked, pulling you closer by the arm on your hip, making your bodies press against each other. you gasped, the ghost of his name on your tongue, as he buried his head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder. feeling his lips softly pressing against your skin, you laid down on your back, arms snaking around his body to guide him on top of you. "oh?" ajax leaned back to muster your face, seeing a mixture of excitement, smugness, and fear. "my, my. I like this side of you, lovely traveler." he commented, making you smile. "I really wanna do this..." you started, giggling at the way he hummed, clearly pleased with your statement, "but?" he inquired, his voice nevertheless laced with care. he softly played with your hair as he waited for your answer. "I'm...I've never...", you heard him gulp. "it's okay, (y/n). I'll take the lead, as always." he winked at you, making you huff. "don't remember you ever winning any of our fights, childe." he laughed, the sound making you giddy. slowly, he started to wander your body, tracing your curves and leaving a trail of fire behind. you felt your breath hitch and his growing heavier with each new, intimate part he discovered. slowly, he moved his hands underneath your (his) tee, resting them on your waist. "kiss?" he whispered, smiling at the way you nodded in response. leaning down, you felt the ghost of his lips on yours, "this your first as well?". his lips softly moved against yours as he spoke, barely touching them, barely a kiss. impatient, you guided him by his cheeks, elated as he finally pressed against you fully. his hands snaking to your hair, you enthusiastically nibbed and sucked on each other's lips, the idea of 'going slow' melting away after every kiss. ajax nudged against your lower lip with his tongue, to which you opened happily.

the sound of wet slurps and rustling of clothes filled the room, the harbinger tugging off your shirt with fervor. "mh, what...?" you questioned, feeling him dipping lower on your body, pressing kisses on your neck, to the valley between your boobs, your lower stomach, and the top of your thighs. "милая (rus. pretty), can I see? can I take them off?" you nodded feverishly, bringing your hips up, while watching him tug off your panties clumsily - he must be very hot and bothered too. at the sight of your weeping, wet pussy he gasped, cock straining against his pyjama pants uncomfortably. ajax felt so incredibly drunk, not off the wine earlier, but off the thought of finally having you. his lovely traveler. you watched as he moved between your thighs, a sort of wild look in his eyes - pupils blown and eyebrows scrunched, it was incredibly hot. his eyes moved from your pussy to your eyes, asking for permission quietly, which you granted by opening your legs further.

ajax pressed a kiss to your clit, making you jump cutely and continued to lick a long stripe down your cunt, collecting the juices leaking from it. feeling a sudden rush of need, he hooked his arms around your thighs, pressing his tongue flatly against you, delighted by the way you twitched for him. he heard you moan and whine, your hands tangling into his ginger hair to press him closer. moving back up, ajax switched between sucking your clit and lolling his tongue in infinity shapes around it. you arched your back with a shout of his name, flexing your thighs against his head, trapping him (not that he complained). "fuck, ajax, i'm-" said man dug his face deeper into you, failing to notice his inability to breathe. licking longer, harder stripes against your pussy to make you cream against his face more. there's nothing he wanted, no, needed more. with one final, aggressive buck against him, you came with a loud scream - neither you nor ajax cared for anyone hearing you.

the harbinger let you calm down, though he honestly couldn't hold back much longer. his cock leaking against his briefs as he watched your sloppy pussy twitch in the aftermath of his work. your body's curves kissed by the soft light coming from the stores outside. there's lots of things that are distressing him, but for this night and for any other day you grace him, his heart is at peace. you watched as he stood up to hover above you, pants and boxers scattered on the floor. smiling, you wrapped your arms around his middle and kissed him. "you're pretty." ajax was caught off guard, smiling back bashfully at you. he whispered a quiet 'thank you' and guided your legs around his waist.

"mh. I want you." he stated, biting your neck softly. his hardened cock was pressing against your inner thigh and you moved to touch it. aroused by the low moan coming from him, you pressed your thumb to his leaking tip, smearing it around until finally deciding to wrap your hand around him. ajax' was pale, long, and had a pretty pink tip - though he didn't let you commit to memory much, yanking your hand away. " 'm sorry, need you." he whimpered, bringing his own hand down to guide his cock to your entrance. you mewled once he slowly eased himself in, feeling how he stretched you out nicely, and how his dick throbbed and twitched inside.

ajax could hardly contain himself, your pussy wrapped around his cock was probably the best thing he's ever felt. you were warm and wet, moaning for him so prettily. his heart was beating so quick - the situation so intense and intimate, his eyes glossed over. he leaned down to kiss your neck again, finally pushing in completely. nudging your cervix with his tip and curving into you perfectly. he felt you squirm impatiently and let out a strained chuckle, almost cooing at your cuteness. the harbinger leaned back, wanting to see your expressions once he utterly fucks you out. some of your wetness leaked out just by him pulling out slowly, making you whimper out in embarrassment. ajax pushed in again quickly, establishing a deep, eager pace. your tits and curves jiggled everytime his hips thrust forward, making him hungry to grab at you. he swiped his thumb over your nipples and pushed his fingers deep into your skin, losing himself to the feeling of you. his traveler flooded his mind and body completely. "a-ajax, please." you didn't know what you were begging for, tears and spit ran down your face as you pressed your lips against his messily, making him groan into the kiss. hearing him curse in a language you didn't understand, you arched your back in response, making his brows furrow in concentration. "you're... you're gonna be the death of me." he snapped his hips against you sloppily, balls hitting your wet thighs, making the room echo with ungodly sounds. you felt your high approaching quickly, shuddering against ajax' body with vigor, babbling something nonsensical to him. though, he seemed to understand, nodding and picking up his pace. "come, please (y/n), come for me. господи! (rus. my god)". your whole body spasmed, as if you were either falling down the abyss or ascending to celestia - your vision became blurry, and your anchored yourself grabbing onto ajax, who came immediately after seeing your teary face while reaching your high, filling you with his warm seed as he collapsed onto you.

you were the first to come back to your senses, moving your bodies sideways. drawing stars on your harbingers back to ease him back into reality. he mumbled something along the lines of "sorry paimon, might've done something stupid".

there were two things you were overflowing with right now: love and... stickiness. but mostly love.

[cool-thymus]

A tiny drabble for the CUTEYOMI collection. @maireyart and i have been posting our short obkk stories on ao3; come say hi <3

My Favorite Cupcake

[obkk, insecure Obito, jonin parties, Kakashi has a plan, comfort, and cupcakes]

“Are you sure I’m invited?” Obito was walking next to Kakashi down a busy street of Konoha, gloved hands in pockets for extra warmth. He was starting to shiver, partly from the chilly autumn wind and partly from anxiety starting to creep on him.

“Huh? Why wouldn’t you be? Anko actually asked if you could be at her party tonight. Don’t overthink it, I was there.”

“Exactly…” Obito said quietly and dropped his gaze to the crunchy leaves on the ground. “Did you tell her to invite me?”

“No, totally her initiative,” Kakashi said, studying the visible part of his friend’s face. “What’s got into you?”

“I … I just. I… don’t know her too well. Seemed strange.”

“But you said you were looking forward to it. Everyone is finally back from their missions. We don’t usually have a chance to hang out all together like that. It’ll be fun.” Kakashi nudged him with his right elbow, softly hitting Obito’s leg with a plastic bag.

“What are we bringing by the way?” Obito took the bag from Kakashi’s cold hand and thoroughly inspected what he had picked from the store. Some booze, some snacks, and, surprisingly, a couple of blueberry cupcakes.

“Obito, no. Put them back.”

“But they are my favorite!”

“Obito, come on, don’t make your puppy eyes at me. Anko asked for these specifically.”

“Oh, Bakashi! Could’ve bought more for me too…” Frustrated and suddenly hungry, Obito grabbed the first bottle his hand landed on and gave the bag back to Kakashi. He knew that drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, but it would make his anxiety go away, and he’d stop shivering. He took a few gulps of what turned out to be wine.

“Your decision-making is… perplexing tonight,” Kakashi said, half worried, half amused.

They walked in silence for a while. The setting sun did little to warm the fresh September air, but the warmth was still there in the yellow and orange of the leaves covering the village.

“I want to go. I really do. Everybody says that I need to socialize more…”

“But?”

“Well… they’re all nice at first, but after a couple of drinks they gang up on me. I always end up being the laughingstock of the party somehow. ” Obito slowed down the pace and had some more wine from the bottle to keep the anxiety in check. “I know I’m not the prettiest guy, and I have some funny tics, but I wish people would just let it go already.”

“Hey,” Kakashi stopped and put his arm around Obito’s shoulders, making sure that his friend wasn’t startled by this. He pressed his temple against Obito’s curls and quietly said, “Nobody means to mock you. They just didn’t know how to react at first, making silly jokes to cope. And it turned into a habit. Just tell them that you don’t like it, and they’ll stop.” Suddenly, Obito was warm. But not as much from the half-embrace as from the comforting voice that had been his anchor for years through the recovery. After a minute, the cool air again filled the distance between them and they continued their walk.

“I hope it’s not gonna be a game night,” Obito resumed.

“You like playing board games.”

“That I do. It’s their pervy 'Truth or dare' thing that I hate. Why should it always be about sex?”

“You can just not play, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Not an option. If you refuse to play, it means you’re either a wuss, or hiding something embarrassing.”

Kakashi snatched the bottle from Obito before he could take another gulp. “Don’t let anyone bully you into things you don’t want to do.”

“Then give me my wine back, you big bully!” Obito said, with his usual grin finally making an appearance.

Kakashi considered something for a second and then promptly asked, “Do you want to practice?”

“Huh? Practice what?”

“Obito, truth or dare?”

“Erm... Okay. Dare!” The safe choice. Even with Kakashi, “truth” was not something he was ready to go for.

“Okay. Ditch the party.”

“Wha..? I’ve just told you that I was tired of jokes like—”

“No, not like that! I dare you to ditch the party and go somewhere less crowded instead. My place or yours. We have the food and the drinks,” Kakashi pointed at the bag. “You can have all the cupcakes.”

Obito beamed at Kakashi and trapped him in a tight hug without letting the other open his arms. Kakashi’s hand, at first pressed against Obito’s chest, made its way up to rest on his nape.

"Thank you," Obito mumbled into the crook of Kakashi’s neck. “I like this game better now.”

*** “Who had Kakashi and Obito bailing on us tonight?” asked Asuma, smirking.

“Everyone except Anko!” replied Kurenai and Aoba gleefully.

“Oh, come on! Am I supposed to pay everyone? They said they’d come!”

“Naaah, your loss, darling,” said Genma landing on the balcony of Anko’s apartment. “Just saw them heading to the Uchiha district, looking pretty happy. That Hatake bastard, he knows his game.”

“Do not disrespect my rival, Genma! And shush!”

“As if it’s a secret, Gai! Everything is as clear as day. How can Obito be so clueless!”

“And don’t you disrespect my rival’s precious person!”

[satoruin]

the teyvat host club is a place for readers with way too much time on their hands to be entertained by teyvat’s prettiest boys who also have way too much time on their hands

notes from lee: hello lovelies! i’ve prepared this event for a big milestone of mine and have had it in mind for a long while. i adore ohshc so i though to make an au out of it and i hope you enjoy it as well :))

please select one of our hosts:

(drabbles to be written and linked accordingly)

albedo; a scholar particularly interested in alchemy. he may seem shy but he blossoms while in his area of expertise and blooms a pretty pink under praise

ayato; soon-to-be ceo of his family’s company. he uses the time in the host club to relax from the pressing duties he has at home and thoroughly enjoys a deep conversation

al-haitham; a scholar that does as he pleases. he is not always at the host club, but when he is it is a rare treat for the guests of the club when he does attend

cyno; presides in another club but does not mind attending to guests at the host club. he particularly enjoys the reactions his guests give to his many jokes

diluc; he is set to inherit the wine industry of mondstadt. he was reluctant to join the host club at first but did so only to stop the persistent pestering of a certain someone. but it is not all bad of course, he’s grown quite fond of the time he spends within the club

heizou; out of everyone in the host club it seems he has the most time on his hands. he also quite enjoys figuring out his guests and seeing them flustered after some choice words

itto; he is surprisingly popular with the guests of the host club. many like his naive behavior and loud personality, there is always laughter to be heard around him

kaeya; a charming person who sees fit to flatter almost every guest in sight. his charms know no bounds, but it is a sight to behold when someone manages to flustered him

kazuha; he has a simply enchanting aura that seems to draw in guests along with his silver tongue and poetic words. he is quick to flush under the praise and attention of others

tartaglia; he is a bad boy, but not a bad boy, sure he’s picked a fair share of fights but he’s had a reason to. he’s somehow managed to persuade the headmaster into letting him stay, by his deep pockets or charm is unknown

thoma; he’s who the guests of the club consider as the manager as he wrangles the members into doing their jobs. though he will never turn away anyone who would like him as their host and always greets them with a smile

tighnari; another scholar, he’s particularly interested in botany and it is not unusual to see him surrounded by the flora he studies. when he entertains guests it is sure to be a good time with his witty remarks and enlightening attitude

xiao; a rather reserved host that can be quite harsh in his words, but is as gentle as the glaze lilies resting on the water. offering him the delicacy of almond tofu and an intriguing conversation always seem to be a good start with him

zhongli; a scholar interested in the history of teyvat, he’s one of the most knowledgeable members of the club. he is never opposed to telling stories about the past and it’s almost as if he lived through those events by how much detail he recounts

if there is a host you wish to see, you only have to ask!

drabbles of this ohshc au will come out on (hopefully) wednesdays and saturdays. we look forward to your patronage during the releases

[rendy-a]

Ready to Dance with the Third Years

This is the last preview before the event comes. I'll probably get to 500 followers some time this week, so watch for it! I hope you've been enjoying these little mood-setting fics until then.

“Awe, come on, Prefect,” Cater wined, “Just one shot?”  You rolled your eyes back at him, “And who would I even dance with?”  Today you were in the courtyard with the third year students turning it into a ballroom dance space via magic.  Well, mostly magic.  You were just trailing around the seniors and doing any odd task they handed to you.  When Cater had called you over, you expected some odd job to run and not…this.  “This place is totally camable but I just need some dancing to really light up those likes.  Come on, Prefect, do a friend a favor?” 

You hesitate; it’s not that you are unwilling its just that you don’t know how to dance.  You hesitatingly admit to this face and Cater is astonished.  What?  It’s not like everyone knows how to dance!  Looking for back-up, you call over to Trey, “You understand, right Trey?  Just not everyone knows how to do these fancy dances.”  He adjusts his glasses and gives you a surprisingly evil looking grin, “Oh, I can’t say I do, Prefect.  I’ve been dancing with Riddle since we were kids.”  Your expression must look astonished based off the laughter of the Heartslabyul boys.  “Yeah, Riddle always did enjoy orderly ballroom dances and liked to teach Chey’na and I.”  You could well picture it.

That doesn’t mean that everyone dances though!  You sweep your gaze over the room, looking for an ally in this.  You mistakenly rest your eyes for just a short moment on Rook but that was too long to escape notice.  In fact, by the way he quickly rose and came to join you in your conversation, it was obvious that he had been listening.  “Why, Trickster, you have not yet had the joy of dancing with a partner?  C'est vrai?”  You don’t respond but that in no way discourages Rook from continuing on.  With a dramatic gesture, he lays his hand to his head, “To never feel the heat of your dear one in your arms as you twirl beneath the moonlight?  Quelle dommage!  But Trickster, is this not the perfect opportunity to learn?”

Then, with a sly look on his face, he adds, “Perhaps you shall even find a Prince Charming to partner with,” and looks pointedly at a garden bench.  You look tentatively over it and find an annoyed Leona napping on the other side.  He seems as though he intends to ignore you but Rook approaches the end of the bench and allows Leona’s tail, flicking in agitation, to brush against his glove.  In a moment, Leona is up and sliding to the far end of the bench and away from the huntsman.  Rook smiles, “Why it is Roi des Lions!  I wonder what brings you to this bench?” 

Trey and Cater join you in leering over the side of the bench, all present knowing that Leona is here slacking off from duty.  You smile as wickedly as the others, “Gee Leona, what ARE you doing over here?”  Leona considers the attention, twitches an ear and remarks, “So the Herbivore needs to learn to dance, huh?”  You point your finger at him and shout, “Don’t change the subject!”  It’s no use though, he has appealed to the crowd successfully and Cater jumps right onboard, “Yeah, I’m going to get a great shot of the Prefect dancing for my magicam…just as soon as they learn how!”  You consider trying to appeal to Trey but when you turn your head, you see he now has that same wicked smile directed at you.  Traitor.

You scratch your head thoughtfully and attempt to weasel your way out of the situation, “It’s not so much that I NEED to learn to dance, its more like I just…am choosing not to dance.  Be…because there isn’t any music.  I mean, if there was music, I totally would but there isn’t so…”  Then you give your shoulders an exaggerated shrug as if to say, ‘Looks like there is nothing to be done.’  Suddenly, a dulcet tune played on violin reverberates in the courtyard.  Your expression drops in dismay as you turn to find Lilia holding an instrument.  “It’s quite a shame Malleus isn’t here.  He is far better at playing this one than I.  Unfortunately, it appears that someone failed to deliver an invitation to him.”  Cater guiltily looks away.  “However, I’d still be delighted to play a tune for the Prefect so they can learn to dance.  Dancing is an essential skill for young people.”  He then gives you a delighted chuckle, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

You force out a thin smile, “Oh, great.  Thanks ever so much, Lilia.”  You’ve amused him, you see it in his face full of plump cheek and gentle eyes.  It was nothing like the smile Leona was giving you; that was sharp, predatory, and calculating.  “So, what’s it going to be, Herbivore?  More excuses or are you going to show me what you’ve got?”  You raise your chin and give him the haughtiest look you could manage, “Well, Your Highness, if you are going to call for me to dance, how shall I refuse?”  Then you turn as you walk to position and jibe, “I just hope your feet feel the same way afterwards.” 

Leona gives you a tight look, but you feel that warning is fair.  You weren’t wrong, learning to dance was a bit more difficult than you expected.  It’s not even that you stepped on his feet on purpose, it’s more like you think you’ve finally gotten the steps only to have him turn unexpectedly or move in a different way and suddenly, there you are stomping all over his toes.  Leona was not amused but it felt like everyone else was.  You could see the snickering each time you stumbled.  Finally, someone was unable to hold it in, “Kwe he he!” came a laugh from the shadows and Leona whips his head around and snarks, “If you think you can do better, Radish Sprouts, feel free to cut in!”  A yelp and flare of flame confirms Leona had identified the source of laughter correctly.

Idia slowly creeps out from behind a tree and looks nervously at the group.  You can tell he is mumbling but cannot make out the words.  From the way Leona’s mouth creases into a tight line, you suspect he can.  “Does Idia know how to dance?” you ask in disbelief.  Idia gets a crazed half grin showcasing his sharp teeth and brags, “You’re a total noob.  I’ve got high score on all the Doko Dance games.  I’ve also memorized every cheer for my favorite idol groups.  Some might call me a pro even!”  Leona doesn’t enjoy the challenge and remarks dryly, “Well, well, it looks like Radish Sprouts wants to dance with the star of the ball after all.” Then he swivels you to face Idia and gives you a little push. 

You crash into Idia and its like you’ve tripped some switch to send him into panic mode.  The smile is wiped from his face and his fiery hair flames into a brighter red tone.  “What happened?  How did I trigger so much aggro?  I need to perform a stealth check to get out of this situation.  I don’t want to get paired up with the noob on this mission!”  Unfortunately, this time you are close enough to Idia to hear his rambling.  You aren’t mad, not really, because you’ve long since come to understand that Idia just is this way.  He can be annoying but is mostly harmless, except to your ego.

A sharp clicking of heals alerts you to someone’s approach.  “Is this where everyone has been?  I’ve finished the Pomefiore section flawlessly, but it looks like the rest of you still have work to do.” Vil finished his rebuke in a cold tone.  Idia squeeks and rushes off.  The others leave in a much more casual manner but seem to agree it’s not worth going against Vil over.  Except for Leona.  He bares his teeth and drawls, “I was so looking forward to the work, but it seems the poor Herbivore here needs a Prince to teach them to dance.”  He steps toward you, but Vil smoothly steps in between to block him.

“I may not be a real prince, but I play one on TV.  I assure you that, by the time the set-up is finished, I’ll have the Prefect dancing to the Pomefiore standard.” Vil cooly replies.  Leona gives a mock bow and saunters off to prod his dorm students into finishing the Savanahclaw chores.  You give Vil an awkward smile, “Gee, thanks for helping me.”  He smiles at you in a way that isn’t comforting at all, “Don’t be so eager to thank me, Prefect.  I am quite the demanding teacher.” 

You found this to be true.  Vil danced with an easy grace and skillfully avoided your clumsy steps.  Each mistake though was met with unforgiving correction.  It was a hard afternoon of practice but true to his word, by the time the sun was beginning to set, you could passably waltz.  You remarked on how good he was at teaching dance.  “I should be.  I’ve had my fair share of whipping country potatoes into shape.  You are hardly even the worst case I’ve had this year,” he responds with an amused grin.  You picture Epel when he says this and silently promise to treat him to something nice at lunch tomorrow. 

Finally, the last of the tasks needed for the goodwill dance are complete.  You head home to Ramshackle, weary but satisfied.  As you pass along the fence of the dorm, you spot some tell-tale green lights in the distance.  A small grin alights your face and you quicken your pace.  “Tsunataro!” you greet.  In the twilight, the fae prince was quite an intimidating sight but never seemed as such to you.  A barely perceivable smile sits on his lips as he returns the greeting.  “You missed the set-up earlier,” you comment, “were you busy?”  A strike of lightning flashes in the distance and you decide you should maybe let that subject drop.

“Well, it was boring anyway.  You didn’t really miss anything,” you begin, “Oh!  Except for one thing!  I learned to dance.”  You allow a prideful expression to grace your face.  “So now I’m fully ready to dance with the next damsel or Prince I come across.”  Malleus chuckles deeply, “Oh, so you are requesting a dance from me, Prefect?”  You startle, realizing how your random comment could be interpreted that way, “Oh no, not…I mean yes.  I do request the honor of a dance.  If you are willing…”  You trail off and look nervously at your friend.  When he smiles at you and gives a hearty laugh, you smile back before holding out your hand. 

The goodwill dance was only a few days away, but you were no longer afraid.  In this single day, you’d danced with a celebrity and two princes.  The time to be nervous was over.  You were the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm and a traveler of worlds.  This dance had better be prepared for you!  You grin up at the darkening sky, feeling your confidence surge.  You were ready to be the star of your own story.  Starting with this dance.

[randombush3]

A Nice Christmas

florence pugh x reader

summary: you spend christmas with your girlfriend

words: 942

warnings: none

notes: it’s just short and sweet. someone asked for angst but i haven’t had a chance to actually think about what i’m writing so i decided i wouldn’t do it justice right now. i wrote this at the most god-awful christmas gala i’ve ever been to, btw, and i’m glad it kept me entertained.

merry christmas to all of you ❤️

It’s nice having a Christmas like this.

Where the weather makes you walk right back inside, where family can come and go as they please.

You experience your first Pugh countdown-to-Christmas dinner. A big affair on the 23rd, something Flo assures you that you would enjoy. You do, surprisingly; finding that talking about the woman you love to people who love her as well only strengthens how you feel about their daughter/sister/niece. They’ve come to love you too. It’s great.

Then, for Christmas Eve, you and Flo stay curled up in bed until midday, fighting off a disastrously bad hangover together, practically crawling out of her childhood room with your overnight bags to say goodbye to everyone. You drive the car from Oxford to your family home on the outskirts of London, popping round to give your mum a kiss, your dad someone to play cards with, and be a climbing frame for your nephew’s growing confidence in movement. Flo is perfect with them — of course she's perfect — and the seamless feel to the season remains safe and sound.

Once back at your flat, you watch her bake gingerbread men. They fail miserably, but you eat them anyway, picking off the charred bits and swallowing the deformed heads of the cookies with a glass of white wine.

And another.

And when your girlfriend climbs into your lap with rosy cheeks and starts kissing your neck, you aren’t ashamed to reach for the remote and switch off Arthur Christmas in favour of a bit of Christmas Eve sex.

Which leads to Christmas Day sex.

You end up getting out of bed at ten in the morning, Flo clinging to your body because she fell asleep in nothing but a shirt and your flat is freezing. The Christmas tree standing proudly in the living room is the only source of light considering neither of you can be bothered to sort out the blinds, and she grins when you make breakfast for her, leaving you only to wrap herself up in a fluffy pyjama set. She throws you a new Christmas jumper that reads ‘ho-ho-hoe for Flo’; the first present exchanged today.

“A fan sent it to me for you,” she explains while your smile morphs into a frown, laughing in a way that fills the flat better than any cheesy Christmas song could. Your annoyance turns into a shiver as you step away from the heat of the cooker to run away. “Put it on, it will keep you warm.”

“Fine,” you grumble, slipping it over your head. You take your bra off under the jumper, much to Flo’s dismay, and then you’re left with nothing but underwear and the stupid jumper and she has no choice but to corner you for a pre-presents make out session pressed up against the worktop.

You give each other the less family-friendly presents before recording anything.

Like, your parents don’t need to know about the La Perla lacy thong she got you, or the frankly-obscene, nearly-transparent slip you bought her.

But everyone on her family group chat delights to see her eyes light up as she thumbs through the pages of the year’s photo album, especially when she looks beautiful and the only thing your relatives would say is missing is a ring and two children.

She gets you another bottle of the perfume you wear, along with the shoes your eyes had lingered on a little too long the last time you went shopping together, and a necklace with her initial (“oh, so now you own me?”, “no, you just play enough Taylor Swift for me to get the hint”). You love everything. You love her.

You give Flo the aforementioned photo album, a key to the drawer you’ve been hiding snacks in for the last couple of months, a bottle of the wine she loves but can never find, and a red version of the velvet jeans you own that she always steals.

Once everything has been given out, you catch her eye. She finds you look uneasy, shifty. You’re up to something.

You pretend to have found another present under the tree, right at the back. As you squirm underneath to retrieve it, you can only think about one thing: you should have done this ages ago.

“This is so cliché,” you begin, and Flo immediately clocks what you’re holding. “My mum would only give it to me once she had you round once more, just to make sure we aren’t fake dating or anything.” Your girlfriend raises her eyebrows, and you prepare yourself to be interrogated about your past relationships later. “I love you, I want to spend my life with you.”

“I want to marry you.”

You frown. “Can you not? I have a whole thing planned out.”

Somehow, Flo has a ring in her hand as well, but this isn’t your grandmother’s engagement ring. “Yeah, so did I.”

“Florence Pugh, I love you more than I think is possible, and you’re incredible and amazing, and will you marry me?” you say quickly, charging through the words so that you get to say you asked first.

“Only if I get to plan the wedding and name the children.”

“No!” you splutter.

“Okay, I have the final decision on their names,” she amends. “But then I also get to choose the film tonight, and decide who wears what on New Year’s. Spoiler: you’re not wearing much.” She winks at you suggestively and you’re betrayed by your blush.

“Whatever, Mrs L/n-Pugh.” You slide the ring onto her finger: it’s a perfect fit.

“Pugh-L/n.”

Absolutely not.

“Merry Christmas, Florence L/n-Pugh.”

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @wandasbb @karsonromanoff

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Kiss - Gerard Way x Reader

Prompt: K: Kiss (How do they react to a kiss? Flustered? Happy? Surprised?) (from this list) Reader: can be read as any gender (no pronouns used) Warnings: alcohol mention, food consumption (sweets) Word count: 1 369 A/N: Let’s ignore the energy bill and climate change for the sake of fiction.

The ice underneath the blades of your skates was slippery but you were glad you held a good balance. Even with the hand that was tightly clasped around your gloved fingers. You chuckled as Gerard tightened his grip on you, swaying slightly on his skates while you were gliding along in the thinning out crowd, late at night at your city’s ice rink, right in the middle of the Christmas market.

The surrounding buildings were already decorated with Christmas lights, the stalls that were built up on one side of the ice rink still selling their goods, ranging from tiny window decorations and figures, over soaps, baking equipment, sweets, mulled wine and savoury snacks. And right beside the rink stood the tallest Christmas tree you had ever seen. It was decorated in reds and golds, thousands of tiny lights illuminating the dark around you beautifully.

Before getting your ticket to the ice rink, Gerard and you had wandered over the market, hand in hand, looking at all the stalls. He had treated you to caramelised almonds, taking way too much delight in feeding you with them. You had felt a little childish, doing something so terribly cheesy so publicly, but nobody around you had minded, and while the glimmer in Gerard’s eyes had made the burn on your cheeks all the worse, the sight was definitely worth the slight embarrassment. What made it even stranger was that while yes, you were on a date together, and not the first one either, you were not really dating yet. At least you didn’t think you were.

Gerard had always been rather held back, and when he had not kissed you after a handful of dates, had barely managed to ask to take your hand, you had not been sure if he was even as interested in you as you were in him. But he had kept asking you out, always making sure to arrange the next meeting before the end of the current one, as if to leave no doubt that he wanted to keep seeing you.

A few dates ago you had carefully tried to ask him about it, when he had drawn back as you had slightly leant in, hoping he would let you kiss him. He had been a blushing stuttering mess, but the message had come across: he was shy and wanted to take things slowly. Which you were more than okay with. Only that you were not sure how slow “slowly” was. By now he had no problem holding your hand or feeding you sweets, but sometimes, whenever his eyes flickered to your lips, his cheeks would turn an adorable pink and he would avert his eyes.

Now his fingers clutched around yours once more as he struggled to keep his balance on the ice.

“This was a really bad idea,” he stated, a mixture of a chuckle and a whine, as he held out his free arm, trying to stabilise himself.

“Don’t worry, you’re doing just fine,” you assured him with a grin, squeezing his hand shorty. “Besides, it wasn’t me who suggested it.”

“I thought it would be romantic, but this is just embarrassing,” Gerard whined, almost punching an elderly lady, who skated by, as he flared around his arm, before breaking into a string of excuses to the lady who had not even noticed.

For a moment you blinked in surprise at his words. He had wanted this to be romantic. Yes, of course this was a date, but you had not even considered that he was making an active effort to make this romantic. For you.

“Okay, okay, stop. Calm down,” you snapped back into the moment, realising how hard Gerard was fighting to stay upright. Quickly you skated in front of him, turning so you were skating backwards, and taking hold of both his hands. “Try bending your knees, and don’t lean forwards so far,” you recommended.

Gerard followed your advice surprisingly well, which quickly stopped his swaying.

“See? You’re doing amazing!”

“How can you say that? I’m making a complete fool of myself,” he rolled his eyes. You could see how hard he was concentrating on keeping his balance, while following your instructions, and it almost made you laugh. Which would have been unfair, since you had started out way worse than him the first time you had ice skated.

“You’re not, trust me, Gee,” you smiled, squeezing his hands reassuringly. “Do you want to take a break?”

At his relieved nod, you looked over your shoulder and stirred him over to the barrier, intending for him grab onto the reel besides you, but he seemed to have gotten enough skill with which way he wanted to go, because instead of bumping against the barrier at your side, he caught you trapped between it and himself, holding onto the edge with hands at both of your sides. Surprised you looked at him, finding he was looking at you already, his eyes shimmering with an intensity you had not yet seen with him.

“Can I kiss you?”

His question took you aback, but the jump your heart made at his question was undeniable. The lights of the Christmas tree behind your back reflected in Gerard’s eyes, which were, for the first time, unashamedly fixed on your lips.

Quickly you nodded, uncertain whether you could phrase any words right now. But your nod seemed to be good enough for Gerard and secretly you were glad he did not tease you for your lack of words.

Instead his lips met yours, cold from the freezing winter air, but with his warmth quickly melting through. His kiss was soft, but full of emotion as his chapped lips moved carefully against yours. You felt him shiver when you placed a hand at his waist while he held onto the barrier behind you with both hands, just pulling himself a little closer so his body was flush against yours. Through the thick jackets you could even feel his chest expanding with each shaky breath he took and then released to fan warmly over your cheeks.

“Thank you for being so patient with me,” he whispered after he had pulled away from the kiss, barely far enough to properly see his face.

Blinking up at him, you smiled softly. “There’s nothing to thank me for,” you whispered, brushing a strand of hair out of his forehead that poked out from underneath his beanie.

“But it’s-“

“Nothing, you hear me?” Quickly you pressed another kiss to his lips, this time to the corner of his mouth, making him smile and look up at you from underneath his lashes. It made you want to kiss him all over again, all over his face, peppering every inch you could reach, but you resisted the urge, and just smiled back as he took a shaky breath.

“Okay,” he decided. “I think I’m ready to try again.”

Carefully he let go of the reeling.

“We don’t have to, you know,” you reminded him. “If you’d rather get off the ice we can do that too.”

“No,” Gerard shook his head. “I want to learn. And I get a good excuse to hold your hand.”

Following his words, he took your right hand into his left.

“You don’t need an excuse to do that,” you giggled, but closed your fingers around his.

“I know. But still. Besides, I was kind of hoping-“

He stopped himself, before he had finished the sentence, a new blush burning on his cheeks.

“What were you hoping for,” you asked curiously, studying his embarrassed face more closely as you pulled away from the reeling. How could anyone look so devastatingly pretty?

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, not daring to meet your amused eyes, as he carefully followed you back in line with the few people who were still doing rounds. “I mean… there is still the possibility of both of us falling and us accidentally kissing.”

His words were quiet, but stunned you for a third time that night. When you saw him glance at you, checking your reaction from the corner of his eyes, you shook your head with a chuckle.

“That can be arranged, you know?”

Taglist:

@alexstyx @jayloverthe3rd @robinruns​ @lookalivefrosty​ @butterflycore​  @omgsuperstarg​ @fivelegance​ @deadlovers​ @casmustdiee​ @cmtryghoul​  

[roguishcat]

Snip/Wip Day

Thank you so much for tagging me @fangbangerghoul and @kalmiaphlox! 💖

This is from 'Conversations with a vampire' chapter 7. I am hoping to post the chapter by the end of the week. (hoping being the key word!)

“We have been watching you, vampire. Oh, yes. I know what you are,” Mamzell Amira said casually, pouring herself some wine into a beautifully crafted gold goblet. “And if you were any less careful than you have been, you would have been dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Is it a threat?” Astarion bristled.

“A threat? Oh, no, my dear, dear frightened boy,” she said with mock concern, “We all have to watch ourselves, really. This one comes from a very prominent family. An illegitimate child, of course. But potentially an important chess piece. And with no official heir still and Tav turning sixteen soon, her worth just keeps going up.”

Mamzell Amira took a sip of her wine, letting the silence stretch. It was surprisingly quiet in her quarters, considering all the activity that was going on at Sharess’. There was most definitely an enchantment of some sort. He supposed a woman as rich as Mamzell could afford the services of a good mage.

“Why hide her in a brothel, of all places?” he finally spoke. “Why not send her somewhere in the countryside? Somewhere far away from the vultures?”

Amira scoffed, as if she has never heard something so ridiculous.

“And have her turn out a sweet, unassuming country bumpkin? How short-sighted would that be! If she is to run with the wolves, she must know how to show her teeth. Her killing that merchant came as a surprise. I would never have guessed that she had it in her.”

She sounded more proud than concerned.

“Besides, her father was one of the favourites at Sharess’. Shame about what happened to him, really. But these things happen when one is careless and gets mixed up with powerful people.”

So, a child of a prostitute and a noble. It wasn’t unheard of, although they had plenty of potions and spells to make sure there were no accidents. This meant that Tav’s mother wanted to have a child enough for her to choose to conceive. The fact that her father was now dead, he presumed, possibly meant that the decision was not well met. Either her mother was foolish and naïve, or wanted to get something out of it.

No pressure tags: @nyx-knox, @ladyduellist, @inkymoonbunny, @bellasmumblingsandmusings, @preciouslittlebhaalbae

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Starfield

Rating: T

Pairing: Sam Coe x f!Spacefarer

Word Count: 1241

somewhere close to me

Sunset washes the balcony in warm orange hues where Sam leans against the railing, sipping from his glass of Chandra Melbec. Wine isn’t his regular go-to. But this one isn’t half bad. The waiter’s description—if he’s remembering correctly—was a full bodied red wine with notes of chocolate and fresh earth.

Apparently he likes the taste of bittersweet dirt.

The sight of Shepard’s hand lingering on a very tall and very bald man, he does not like so much. Not that he blames the man for doing so. Shepard is a sight to behold and it isn’t fair.

“Hey, you look just like Sam Coe.” Everything in him wants to ignore the comment. But he plasters on a charming smile and turns to address the gala attendee. Just a kid, maybe pushing twenty, probably not unlike him at that age. Most likely being dragged around and forced to attend fancy events, riding the coattails of his wealthy parents. Sam softens.

“You know, I get that a lot.”

“Huh, weird. You’re not him though, right?”

“What if I told you I am?”

“Nah, you look too old to be him.”

Doing his best not to laugh he tells the kid, “well, we don’t all age gracefully.”

The kid stares at him a little dumbfounded but then his eyes light up and his mouth kinda hangs in an O as he processes the information.

“You are him! Can I get a selfie?”

Sam obliges, setting his glass of wine on a nearby table. Smiling big, the kid pulls out his phone and snaps a shot of them side by side. “My grandma’s going to love this! Thanks man!”

He wanders off and Sam sighs. Honestly, he never considered he might be popular amongst the elderly. Learn something new everyday.

Sam grabs his wine again. Takes a sip. Swirls the glass and watches the kid move on to the next conversation. Then his eyes drift back to Shepard where the tall man’s hand is settled just above the swell of her ass. His fingers barely graze the exposed skin on her back and he practically chokes on his next sip of wine.

It’s none of his business but his feet are already carrying him over there.

Shepard is all smiles, more than she usually is. “Oh, Sam, this is Dalton Fiennes, Ryujin’s Chief of Security. This is—“

“Akila’s very own Sam Coe,” the stoic man says while sticking his hand out.

Sam switches the wine to his other hand. There’s a little surprise that this man—Dalton—would be familiar with the Coes. Maybe his fan base consists of more than just grannys. Or, more likely, it’s his job to know anyone and everyone worth knowing. His job to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. He extends his hand to Dalton. Of course, the guy’s got a firm grip. It’s crushing but at least Dalton’s large and surprisingly soft hand isn’t on Shepard’s back anymore.

“So how did you two meet?” Sam asks, trying not to be too obvious as he flexes his fingers.

Shep says, “you know when you and I first met and I had just started working at Ryujin to make ends meet?”

Sam nods.

“There was a bit of a security issue which required us to work closely together. I was able to become well acquainted with Dalton through that.”

The emphasis isn’t lost on him nor is that smile that’s thrown at Dalton.

“Have to applaud her. Without her assistance, Ryujin would have had an insurmountable mess to clean up. She’s truly a unique and remarkable woman.”

“I wholly agree,” Sam says.

“Keep the praise coming, it’s nice to have the ego stroked every now and then,” Shepard says with a small laugh.

“I would gladly give you well deserved praise all night.”

Sam nearly chokes again, the wine burning as it goes down. They don’t notice. He watches as the two of them exchange a meaningful glance and then she looks away, taking a sip from her own glass of wine. Sam wants to tease her and he would if they were alone. Or maybe with their friends. Certainly not as the third wheel to whatever dynamic he’d found himself in.

The half beat of silence is interrupted when Dalton says,”excuse me. It appears I am being summoned.” He’s looking past them, listening to someone speak on his earpiece. Then he gives Shepard a charming smile and brushes his fingers down her arm, briefly squeezing her hand before letting it go. “It was lovely seeing you here tonight, Zero.”

Her name is a number and Dalton makes it so intimate and personal. Sam practically has goosebumps on his arms and he’s not even the intended audience.

“Hopefully, I will have the pleasure of crossing your path again.”

“Likewise. Have a wonderful evening Dalton,” she says.

Sam’s heart is in his throat. He downs the other half of his wine in an instant and follows Shepard back to the balcony.

“Was it just me or was there some heat between you two?”

It’s not some and there’s no question. But how else is he supposed to ask if she’s taken and that’s his competition?

Shepard’s cheeks are a lovely pink and he doesn’t remember ever seeing them like that before. She’s not really the blushing type. Usually she’s the one causing the blushing.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Sam leans over the balcony railing, though his attention is fully on Shep. “So you two—uh—“

“Do you really want to go there?”

“We don’t have to. But I would like to remind you of a certain someone who was really pushy on the subject of Jacob Coe.”

“Fair point.” She sighs. “It’s a yes—after I stopped working there. I—he, well.” She clears her throat, lost for a moment in what he can only assume is a memory. The blush blooms brighter, and she chuckles a little.

There’s a moment of regret as he hangs onto her every word. Not sure if he can handle the details that she might lay on him but to satisfy his curiosity, he needs to know.

“The simplest answer is we were—something but weren’t cut out for that something long term. Mostly myself to blame for that.”

He silently thanks whatever gods might be out there for sparing him.

She breathes deep and meets his gaze. “I realized that it wasn’t fair to be with him when I’m madly in love with someone else.”

“Oh.” Sam deflates.

Who the hell is she in love with? Someone from Constellation? Another random person that he has yet to meet? Even though a tiny voice in his head hopes that someone is him, he doubts it could be. But he doesn’t ask and she doesn’t tell. Everything about her is unreadable. Still, he thinks of the kiss on his cheek earlier. Makes him wonder. But he’s seen her kiss Walter on the cheek too. Something like that isn’t enough to go on when making bold and grandiose declarations of his—feelings. Not to mention—oh no—the revelation dawns on him. Did she see him as another father figure?

Though time suspends for him, everyone around them is shuffling to their seats. The gala performances are to begin. There’s more food to eat, wine to drink.

“Come on, let’s go find Walter and Issa.”

Sam follows, setting his muddied mind aside, hoping for something stronger than a glass of wine.

[the-furthest-city-light]

Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I was tagged for this by @sciencemyfiction and it looks super fun! I am going to cheat a little bit tho and post only from my One Piece fics as I haven't published anything else since 2018 and I think the writing sample will be more representative of my current styl

Flotsam and Jetsam

"When Big Mom's crew arrives on Zou, Sanji's first thought is, Damn, we didn't fuck 'em up enough before?"

Here I am cheating AGAIN because this line is actually from chapter 2 of Flotsam and Jetsam, "Instead of the Cross, the Albatross," but IN MY DEFENSE it's the only chapter of that fic that was meant to be its own standalone fic. The rest of those chapters are just things I didn't want to consign forever to the desolation of my scrapped file.

2. Found in the Crack of Your Palm

"'Oi, Luffy,' Zoro calls.  He punctuates his bid for Luffy’s attention by toeing his hip with his heavy boot."

3. New Seas Ahead (chapter 1)

“Oh come on.  Please?”

4. spill your wine

"Zoro’s had a shower and a nap and three platefuls of food before the scent of his new captain really hits him."

5. Same Song, Different Verse

"The first time Zoro sees Monkey D. Lucy, the sky is a hard, clear blue and the earth is packed dense beneath his feet."

6. New Seas Ahead (chapter 28)

"How is she doing that though?”

“It’s a mystery, Usopp.”

“She’s like a human trash compactor…”

7. New Seas Ahead (chapter 27)

"The oniwabanshu should have an easier time following them in the snow, but they don’t see another attack after Hakumai."

8. New Seas Ahead (chapter 26)

"When he wakes up, Zoro’s surprisingly not feeling like complete shit."

9. New Seas Ahead (chapter 25)

"Tama turns out to be fine, which is a relief.  And she eats the oshiruko well when they convince her to actually accept it."

10. New Seas Ahead (chapter 24)

"Are we there yet?"

I was actually super nervous to do this because hooks and opening lines are not my strong suit as a writer. My thoughts about the above are pretty much what I already knew. I have a tendency to set the place of any given scene before anything else. It's present even at the start of fics/scenes where the lines aren't explicitly about the sense of place or setting, and I usually accomplish this by calling reference to some time or place that the reader, as a One Piece fan, will undoubtedly be very familiar with and will instantly be able to recall the wheres and whens of the given scene.

In part this is intentional because in the Fair Winds and Following seas series specifically I jump over or outright skip certain events and catching the reader up to where we are now as efficiently as possible is important. HOWEVER, I definitely have a tendency to over-rely on this strategy, which is something I'm definitely thinking about and considering as I've been writing some original fiction!

Alternatively, four of the above entries begin with outright dialogue which is, funnily enough, my least favorite way to start a scene. I usually do it for the sake of a joke and to set the tone and sometimes place which all of the above entries are with the exception of "Found in the Crack of Your Palm." Also Usopp is the one speaking in both 3 and 6. Probably because I try to include his dialogue wherever possible in Fair Winds because I struggle to insert him into the plot and he's good at setting a mood.

I do think the "best" of these opening lines are from "Same Song, Different Verse," and also "spill your wine." Both of them do the thing where I'm establishing place but they also manage to tie in some important sensory information which becomes thematic as their respective fics go on. Food for thought.

Thanks for tagging me, Dev! I'm tagging @faggotzoro, @acewithapaintbrush, @thricepiercedpirate, @thychesters and @zaharya!

[flowercrown-bard]

Not a Real Marriage

(arranged marriage au - part 16)  

previous part / masterpost /  ao3

word count: 10700

Geralt wasn’t sure what he had expected Jaskier to look like the morning after an evening spent drinking with his brothers. If he was being completely honest, he didn’t expect to see much of Jaskier at all. He must be sporting quite the headache after last night, considering even Geralt with his witcher-metabolism had quite the ringing in his head this morning. If he hadn’t had duties to fulfil - and Vesemir’s dressing-down to look forward to if he neglected to do his tasks for the day - he would have stayed in bed until midday. Jaskier, however, looked rosy cheeked and surprisingly well rested, when Geralt bumped into him on his way back from feeding the chickens. 

For some reason, Jaskier was bundled up in several layers of clothes Geralt had lended him over the weeks. The red scarf he was wearing was so big that Jaskier’s nose barely peeked out. 

“Going somewhere?” Geralt asked, ignoring the hammering behind his temples. 

“I am,” Jaskier replied cheerfully. “At least I hope so.”

“Hmm?” 

“I believe I’ve been promised to be shown around the mountain? We haven’t done it yet and Vesemir said that the snowstorms are going to start soon so we don’t have much time left to go out.”

Geralt blinked. “You want to go on that ride today?”

“If you’re amenable. I would love to.”

Where Jaskier’s cheeks weren’t hidden away by the scarf, they turned a lovely shade of red. Geralt’s heart picked up speed and he did his best to blink away the misery of a hungover morning. He would be damned if he missed the chance of going on a ride with Jaskier because of a stupid thing like a hangover. 

“Yes,” he said quickly and with a little teasing smile added, “It would be a shame if you had to get undressed again after going through all the trouble of putting on all those clothes.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting undressed,” Jaskier muttered, the words muffled by the scarf. 

Geralt choked, forcibly forbidding his thoughts from straying into dangerous territory. Instead he focused on thinking of places he could show Jaskier. 

“Meet me at the gate? I need to get my cloak and get Roach saddled.” He waited for Jaskier to nod his agreement, before he turned away. After a couple of steps, he paused again. “Is there anything I should pack? Food? Some wine maybe?”

“No wine,” Jaskier said quickly. 

Geralt’s lips quirked up. Ah, so Jaskier wasn’t immune to the effects of a night of revelry after all. Jaskier was a brilliant actor, if he could just pretend to have a clear head this morning. 

“Are you sure you want to do this today?” Concern crept into Geralt’s posture. “We can do this some other time when you don’t have a headache.” 

He glanced out of a nearby window. The sky was already filled with snow-heavy clouds. Vesemir was right. They didn’t have much time until they would be trapped inside the Keep. 

“I don’t.” Jaskier grinned boyishly. “Vesemir gave me a cure for the headache. And a lecture about drinking with Lambert.” He let out a chuckle that warmed Geralt’s insides even more than the alcohol had warmed him the night before. “I take it he didn’t extend the same courtesy to you?”

Geralt snorted. 

“No. He thinks if he doesn’t help us with the headaches, we’ll learn some sort of lesson.”

“How lucky you are,” Jaskier said theatrically, as he reached into the pockets of his cloak, “to have a husband as charming and persuasive as me. Catch!” Without further warning, he tossed something to Geralt, who reacted on instinct. He caught the small bottle mid-air, popped the cork and sniffed. It smelled like bitter herbs. 

“What did you do to get him to give you this?” Geralt asked, perplexed and downed the tincture in one go. He shuddered at the bitter taste, but it would be worth it, if it meant he’d get to fully enjoy the day with Jaskier. 

“I told him that I wanted to go out today and that you wouldn’t be able to protect me if you had a hangover - and surely it wouldn’t be great for the treaty if I got hurt.”

Geralt lifted a brow. “Really? You played the political consequences card?” “Of course not. But I did tell him about my plans for the day and he agreed that it would be better if you didn’t have a headache for that.”

“Should I be concerned about your plans?” 

“Not at all,” Jaskier said, something tentatively soft entering his voice. “I think - I hope you’ll like them.” “I’m sure I will.”

He lingered another moment, unwilling to leave Jaskier, despite knowing that he’d see him again right away. 

He shook himself and went on his way to get ready. He rushed through getting dressed appropriately for the weather, though he refused to be hectic around Roach, as he saddled her. When he led her to the gate, Jaskier was already waiting for him, bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. When he caught sight of Geralt walking towards him, his face lit up. It almost reminded Geralt of their wedding day. Only this time, it was their choice to come to each other and Geralt didn’t feel like being led to the gallows. 

It was only when Jaskier began to fiddle with the strap of a backpack, that Geralt realised that Jaskier was holding onto one. It looked stuffed and when Jaskier moved to fasten it onto Roach’s saddle, there was jingling and light clanging. 

Geralt gave him a questioning look that Jaskier waved away. “You’ll see,” he simply said. He gave Geralt a scrutinising look that had Geralt shifting on his feet. He was suddenly painfully aware of the state of his old cloak; the fraying at the bottom and the holes on his shoulders, where his sword scabbard rubbed against the wool. It was probably not necessary to take his weapons with him, so he had left the steel sword in his room, but the weight of the silver sword on his back grounded him and helped settle his nerves. 

In one less than elegant motion, Jaskier unwound the scarf from around his neck and draped the red cloth around Geralt instead. He smoothed it out gently. 

“There,” he said, satisfied, “Now you won’t go cold.” Geralt frowned and already opened his mouth to protest, when he inhaled and caught the scent clinging to the scarf. It smelled of lute wood, paper and that distinct smell that was purely Jaskier’s. His breath caught in his throat. The scent was far too prominent for how little he had seen Jaskier wear this scarf. If he didn’t know any better, he would have said that Jaskier had used the scarf as an additional blanket in the night, but that was … he caught Jaskier’s eyes. There was a hopeful shyness in his eyes. Oh. Jaskier knew. He remembered what Coën and Aiden had told him yesternight about sharing clothes. And still he was wearing Geralt’s clothes. More even, he was giving Geralt something that smelled like him. Any words he could have spoken dried on Geralt’s lips, but he got the impression that Jaskier noticed his realisation even so. His shyness morphed into relief and he turned away to put a hand on Roach’s saddlehorn. He looked over his shoulder to Geralt. “Give me a hand?”

Jaskier was more than capable of mounting a horse by himself, of that Geralt was sure by now. But he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stepped closer and folded his hands together so he could give Jaskier a boost. Once Jaskier was seated, Geralt swung himself behind him into Roach’s back. 

With a content sigh, Jaskier leaned back against him and Geralt wound one arm around his waist, making sure he was safe and secure, before he gave Roach the nudge to move. He didn’t take the direct path to the spot he had decided on. Instead he steered Roach this way and that, wherever he thought Jaskier might like. Past a small waterfall, across a wooden bridge some bear-witchers had built, through a patch of flowers that still resisted the cold. Every once in a while, he explained the mountain to Jaskier. 

“This is where Eskel and I used to run off to as children.”

“This bit is part of the Trail we had to run as novices.”

“This is how far I got when I decided to steal Roach and run away with her, before I got lost and had to wait for Vesemir to take me back home.”

“This is where Lambert set of his first bomb and almost burned Vesemir’s moustache off.”

Those things weren’t full stories yet, but maybe Geralt would find the right words to tell Jaskier more about what these places meant to him and his family one day. Even so, Jaskier gave soft hums, chuckled and offered stories of his own. He talked about his own attempt at running away to become a bard - an attempt that had ended rather abruptly when he had realised that his dancing shoes weren’t exactly made for long distance walking. He talked about his sisters and travelling with his father. As he talked about his family at Lettenhove, Geralt realised that he used almost the same fond tone he used  when talking about Eskel, Lambert, Coën or Aiden. Not Geralt though. The tone Jaskier used to talk to Geralt was reserved only for him. 

After a while, they quieted down again, except for when Jaskier let out soft gasps, whenever he saw something he liked. Every time there was a particularly interesting root of a tree, a rabbit scuttling away or a pretty cloud, Jaskier looked over his shoulder to Geralt; always making sure he was seeing the pretty thing as well. Always letting him know that this ride was already making him happy. 

With every passing moment, Geralt felt himself being swept away by Jaskier's excitement more and more. It was contagious and made him see the mountain that was his home with changed eyes. When he finally pulled Roach to a halt, there was a small smile tugging at his lips, that he knew wouldn't leave anytime soon.

He helped Jaskier dismount, his hands lingering on his waist, even after Jaskier had come to stand securely on solid ground. Jaskier's hands in turn were holding onto Geralt's upper arms. After a moment, he let them slide down, over his forearms, until he was clasping Geralt's hands in his gloved ones. 

Geralt took it as an invitation to guide Jaskier along the hidden path leading them through thick pine trees. Roach followed dutifully and the anticipation was coming off of Jaskier in waves. 

Geralt pushed some branches aside, revealing the sight of a small lake. Along the edges, some yellow and purple flowers were blossoming that had stubbornly endured the harsh autumn and were now facing the impending winter with their heads held high. Jaskier gasped, and squeezed Geralt's hand.

“It's beautiful,” he gasped. He worried at his lip, visibly hesitating. “Does this place have meaning to you too?”

“Not yet.” 

Jaskier softened at that admission. 

“Would you mind giving me an Igni?”

The question came so unexpectedly that Geralt took a step back, dropping Jaskier's hand. 

“What?”

“Fire,” Jaskier explained needlessly. “That day at the hot springs, you said I could ask you if I ever needed a light again.” He went to Roach, pulling the bag he had fastened onto her, down. There was clanking again, and then, Jaskier was holding up two lanterns, small enough that they could fit into the palm of a hand. Judging by the bulge of the bag, there probably were at least four more lanterns in there. Jaskier brought them over to Geralt and held them up for him to light them. Jaskier’s face was cast in a warm orange glow, when Geralt cast the sign carefully. The flames danced in his eyes, making him look like something otherworldly. Jaskier gave him a beaming smile and placed the lanterns on the ground at the edge of the lake, before fetching the rest of the lights. The glow was reflected on the water that rippled softly in the breeze. Soon, the lanterns would be the only source of light here, with the sun going down in the afternoon already this season. And here Jaskier was, bringing with him light and warmth, as he always did. 

After Jaskier had put the last lantern in place, he pulled a blanket out of the bag and laid it out on the ground. “Are you sure that’s warm enough?” Geralt asked, eying the blanket with distrust. “The ground is almost frozen.”

“Right you are,” Jaskier said without a care in the world. “But I seem to recall that a certain husband of mine is far more resistant to the cold than me.” He patted the blanket invitingly. “And I also seem to recall that this husband doesn’t mind having me in his lap.” Despite the teasing tone, Jaskier’s raised brows and tilted head made it obvious that it was a question rather than an assumption. 

Geralt hummed in affirmation and lowered himself onto the blanket, making sure to sit in a way that would allow Jaskier to sit in his lap as comfortably as possible. Once Jaskier realised that Geralt truly didn’t mind, his face lit up and he snuggled against him, chest to chest, laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder. On instinct, Geralt raised one hand to cradle the back of Jaskier’s head. Idly, he played with Jaskier’s hair, eliciting a soft sigh from the bard. 

“I’m happy,” Jaskier sighed. “Here, with you.” He paused. “Always and anywhere with you, really.” “Me too.”

Jaskier lifted his head a little and their eyes met. With Jaskier’s back to the lanterns, his face was cast in deep shadows. Geralt’s eyes followed the shadow of Jaskier’s lashes. They fluttered, as Jaskier’s eyes dipped lower, to Geralt’s lips. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Jaskier said, a blush creeping over his cheeks. He reached into his pockets and pulled out something small and tangled. He cursed under his breath and fiddled with the thing until Geralt could recognise it as a braided bracelet. 

“It’s not as big as giving you a shirt,” Jaskier said sheepishly and Geralt’s breath caught in his throat. 

So Jaskier truly remembered that conversation. Giving him the scarf hadn’t just been something he had done on a whim. There was no ambiguity about whether he knew what sharing clothes meant to Geralt and he had still done it. And now he was giving him something else. His thoughts were so loud that it took him a moment to realise that Jaskier was still speaking. 

 “-and not as big of a statement as the dagger you gave me.” He patted his hip and only now did Geralt notice the sheathe Jaskier had fastened onto his belt. Something inside him unwound and he leaned closer to Jaskier, as if pulled in by chaos. 

Jaskier pulled off his gloves and took Geralt’s hand, clasped the bracelet around his wrist.

“I made it out of old lute strings. Since the song isn’t something you can carry with you.” He paused. “And since you haven’t heard it fully yet.”

Geralt looked down at the bracelet and caressed the tightly interwoven strings, until the tips of his fingers reached Jaskier. 

“Thank you,” he said breathlessly. “It’s perfect.”

The corners of Jaskier’s eyes wrinkled with joy, before a frown suddenly appeared between his brows. He pulled back, crinkling his nose. 

“What-” Geralt began to ask, but then he saw a snowflake land on Jaskier’s nose and Jaskier pulled the same face again.

A chuckle rose up in Geralt’s chest, starting out small, then quickly turning warm and loud like a roaring fire. He watched enraptured as the confusion on Jaskier’s face melted alongside the snowflakes and morphed into wonder. 

“Geralt!” A delighted giggle slipped past his lips. With all the grace than a newborn foal learning to run, he got to his feet and spread his arms, as if trying to catch the entire cloud that was hanging in the sky and all the snow it would bring. “It’s snowing!” Ignoring Geralt’s protests that he should put his gloves back on before his fingers froze off, Jaskier dropped the gloves to the ground and held his hands up, giggling like a child whenever he caught a snowflake in his palm. He spun around, as more and more snow began to fall around him. He must have gotten dizzy from all the twirling, for he staggered right into Geralt, who caught him. 

“Careful,” Geralt said, as he let go. 

“Guess I’m in danger of falling for you,” Jaskier replied with a cheeky wink. He tilted his head back and thankfully missed the flustered expression on Geralt’s face. He was far too busy sticking out his tongue and trying to catch snowflakes with it.

“Don’t just stand there all judgy,” he said, after catching one snowflake and grinning at Geralt triumphantly. “Join me.”

Geralt shook his head fondly but decisively. 

“Oh come on.” Jaskier tugged at Geralt’s arm, not making him budge in the slightest. “Don’t tell me now is the time that you remember you don’t know how to have fun.” “I’m having plenty of fun.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Geralt said softly, refusing to match Jaskier’s challenging tone. “It’s nice - seeing you be happy. Even though I still think you should put your gloves back on. You’re going to regret touching snow with your bare hands.”

“And I’m willing to endure you telling me ‘I told you so’ when it happens.” A mischievous spark gleamed in Jaskier’s eyes. “Besides, with cold hands, I can do this!”

Quick as lightning, Jaskier flung himself at Geralt, getting up on his tiptoes and stuck a hand in the back of Geralt’s cloak, right beneath his collar. A shiver ran down Geralt’s spine, as Jaskier’s icy hand pressed against the back of his neck and he lifted his shoulders instinctively. 

“Aha! So you’re not quite as immune to the cold as you always claim!” 

“I am,” Geralt grumbled. “You just surprised me.”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jaskier snorted. “You look like a disgruntled cat.”

Geralt growled and bared his teeth in reply. Laughing, Jaskier jumped back, thankfully - regrettably - removing his hand from Geralt’s neck. He evaded Geralt, as he half-heartedly made to snatch Jaskier, spouting nonsense about throwing him in the lake as revenge. 

“Roach, save me!” Jaskier squealed, as he ducked behind the mare, who gave Geralt a decidedly unimpressed look, as if saying ‘really? This is the man you fell in love with?’, but she didn’t move away, when Jaskier pressed his hands against her neck with a dramatic sigh. “Ahh, my dear lady, you are a much better hand-warmer than my husband.”

“Call her a hand-warmer again and she’ll bite you,” Geralt said amused, when Roach swatted at Jaskier with her tail, as if he was a pesky fly and crossed his arms. 

“Nah, she wouldn’t. You love me too much to let anything happen to my hands.” He wiggled his fingers and gave Geralt a boyish grin. Maybe he expected a reply, some teasing or protest, but Geralt was frozen, all words remained stuck in his throat, because yes. By the gods, yes, he loved Jaskier. Hearing him say it, even if only in jest, made something inside him soar. It made him want to say it as well. 

“Besides,” Jaskier continued, evidently unaware of Geralt’s swirling thoughts, “I can pay her back for her services. I promised to write a poem about her, remember?”

Truth be told, Geralt had forgotten all about that promise, but the thought of Jaskier taking the time to write about Roach made his heart beat faster. 

“Let’s hear it then.”

Jaskier cleared his throat, straightened his spine and put on the exaggerated expression of an arrogant poet. When he spoke, his voice took on a serious note that demanded attention.

“The mightiest mare, 

The sturdiest steed

The heroic-est horse

She is indeed. 

Prickly and pretty

and petty is she.

In conclusion: 

The best horse that ever I did see.”

He kept up the haughty expression for another moment, then a grin broke through, when Geralt snorted with laughter. 

“Heroic-est?” Geralt asked with a grin. 

 “‘Most heroic’ didn’t fit the metre,” Jaskier said with a shrug. “If that’s your only criticism, I consider that high praise. This shall be my best work yet.” With exaggerated swagger, he came back to Geralt, spreading his arms dramatically. “It’ll be known far and wide. Lords and ladies will demand that this poem be performed at all their courtly functions.”

Geralt shook his head in amusement. Jaskier was absolutely ridiculous. He loved him so much. 

He came to stand before Geralt and swept down into a low bow. When he came back up, some snowflakes fell from his head. Geralt couldn’t stop himself. Tenderly, he brushed some of the remaining ones that were stuck in Jaskier’s hair away. A small cloud of mist left Jaskier’s lips and when he looked up at Geralt, there were snowflakes clinging to his eye lashes. The playfulness from before was gone, leaving only softness and something fragile and beautiful.  Jaskier’s eyelids fluttered close, but for just a second, Geralt caught something in his eyes. A reflection of movement, where there should be none. 

He whirled around, pushing Jaskier back with one hand and reaching for his sword with the other, just in time to see a hideous beast with spidery legs burst through the surface of the lake. 

Vaguely, he noticed Roach rearing up with a panicked neigh and dashing away, but he had no time to get her to stop. Behind them, the kikimora scuttled out of the lake, pincers clacking and front legs poised to strike. 

Geralt cursed himself as he pushed Jaskier behind him with one hand. He should have noticed the monster before. Fuck, he should have checked the lake for danger before bringing Jaskier here, instead of stupidly trusting that any kikimoras were already in hibernation. He should have known better than to let himself get distracted by hearty laughs and soft looks. 

"What the hell is that?" Jaskier's terrified hiss snapped Geralt to attention. The bard’s hands were clutching his cloak tightly. It was all wrong. He should be running, getting to safety, leaving Geralt. 

But Jaskier had promised to stay by his side. For the first time, Geralt wished desperately that Jaskier would break his vows. But Jaskier stayed. 

"Geralt?" 

At the sound of his voice that had gotten shrill with fear, the kikimora's ugly head snapped around. Its beady eyes fixed on Jaskier. 

For a single heartbeat it stood frozen. Then, its instincts took over. Its feet scratched on the frozen ground as it darted towards them, toppling the lanterns as it did. The fire sizzled and died, but for the briefest second, the kikimora shrunk back, as it touched the hot metal of the lantern. The moment passed too quickly. Spurned on by the rage of having been burned, the kikimora darted forwards with renewed vigour.

And Jaskier still wasn't fucking leaving Geralt's side. 

Geralt pushed him back. His eyes didn't leave the attacking monster, but he could hear a thump as Jaskier's body hit the ground. It took all of his strength not to turn around and make sure he was alright. Gripping his sword tighter, he bolted forwards. As he moved, he formed Igni, heating his blade until it glowed hot red. He swung at the beast with all his might. Had he been on his own, it would have been an easy fight. But he was distracted by worry and the kikimora was furious with starvation from the cold months. It moved with lightning speed, striking Geralt’s wrist with an armoured leg. There was a clang. A jostle went through Geralt’s arm. The pain flared up a second later, but it was nothing compared to the horror twisting his gut, as his grip slipped. In a high arch, his sword was flung from his hand and landed uselessly on the ground.  Geralt darted towards it, but the kikimora blocked his way. He barely dodged the next attack and pulled up a Quen shield. The sudden light confused the monster for but a second. It reared up with an enraged screech. Geralt readied himself to cast another sign, when out of the corner of his eyes, there was a flurry of movement. His golden shield flickered, as his attention snapped to Jaskier. 

Jaskier, who was running past him, with his arms raised up to protect his face. 

“No!” Geralt shouted, a sound so wild that his voice nearly broke. “Get back!”

But Jaskier didn’t listen. Though his face was distorted by fear, he ducked beneath the kikimora’s hacking legs and towards the sword. There was not a heartbeat of hesitation. Jaskier reached for the weapon. As soon as his hand touched the handle, Jaskier let out a pained gasp that shook Geralt to the bones, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to draw his hand back. It took Geralt a second to understand, but when he did, his blood froze. Jaskier wasn’t wearing gloves and unlike Geralt, his skin hadn’t been mutated to withstand heat. And now, Jaskier was holding a scorching hot sword in his bare hands, because Geralt had let himself get disarmed within a single strike.

“Geralt,” he shouted and visibly gathering all his strength, he tossed the sword towards him. Despite his efforts, Jaskier wasn’t strong enough to throw the sword all the way to Geralt. It landed between him and the kikimora, leaving both Geralt and himself weaponless. Geralt could only hope the monster would attack the bigger threat. 

Of course, he wasn’t that lucky.  Startled by the sudden shout, the kikimora turned. Its pincers clacked and one of its piercing legs shot towards Jaskier. 

"No!" the sound ripped from Geralt's throat in pure agony. He flung himself forward, but even as he did so, he knew he would never reach Jaskier in time to push him away. 

The world became a blur. The only thing that mattered was Jaskier's terrified expression. There was movement, as Jaskier brought his hands up to protect his face - 

No. His hands didn't stop there, they went further up, towards the kikimora that suddenly hissed in pain. Something was glinting in Jaskier's grip. Silver and sharp.

With a start, Geralt recognised the weapon. It was the dagger he had given Jaskier as a wedding gift. To protect him when Geralt couldn't. 

Relief and horror battled inside his chest, as he watched Jaskier slash at the kikimora. His movements were frantic and uncoordinated and he was holding the dagger in his non-dominant hand; the other was cradled against his chest.  He clearly had no idea how to fight and the first hit stayed singular. It must have been a lucky strike when the beast hadn't expected its prey to fight back. There was no chance that Jaskier would survive for long if he had to keep fighting on his own. 

But he didn't have to. That first strike had bought Geralt the time to get close enough to pick up the sword. He leaped onto the kikimora's back. With an ugly snarl, he gripped his sword in both hands and thrust downwards. The kikimora buckled beneath him, as the blade pierced the armoured flesh right behind its head. Geralt fought to keep his balance, twisting the sword. 

Finally, the ear piercing screeching stopped and the creature's body collapsed. 

It narrowly missed Jaskier, who saved himself with a quick jump backwards.

For a moment, Geralt remained where he was, irrationally afraid that the kikimora would get back up, if he removed his sword. He waited for any sign of life. But the beast only twitched in response to him moving his blade. Before him, Jaskier was panting and clutching his hands close to his chest. 

"Geralt?" he asked in a small voice and took a staggering step forward. 

And just like that, Geralt could move again. His grip on the sword slackened and he leaped down onto the muddy ground, hastening towards Jaskier. He held his arms wide open and Jaskier didn't waste a single second before flinging himself into Geralt's embrace. 

"That was reckless," Geralt mumbled into Jaskier's hair, as his hand came up to cradle the back of his head. "Reckless and stupid and…" 

The words dried up in his mouth, when he noticed the shivers that shook Jaskier's frame. Quickly, he unwound the scarf from around his neck and put it back around Jaskier’s. 

"We should get back," Geralt said as he pulled away. "You need to get back into the warmth. "

Jaskier nodded mutely. Somehow this silent compliance was the worst of all. Geralt pulled Jaskier’s uninjured hand from his chest and took it, praying that his touch would be grounding for Jaskier. When he turned to where he had left Roach however, his heart dropped once more. Roach hadn’t just staggered away during the fight. She was fully gone. Fled, when Jaskier wouldn’t.

“It’s alright,” Jaskier said weakly, when he saw Geralt’s stony expression. “We’re going to find her. I’m sure she’s alright.”

He sounded so hopeful, so bloody optimistic that Geralt didn’t have the heart to tell him that Roach’s wellbeing for once wasn’t what he was worried about. They had to find Roach, and quickly too, if they wanted to make it back to the keep before the night fully fell. Already, there was barely any daylight left and the snow was no longer simply drifting through the air daintily.

“Let’s go then,” he said and lightly tugged on Jaskier’s hand. 

The one good thing about the snow was that it had started to form a thin layer on the ground, making it easy to spot where Roach had run off to. Geralt let go of Jaskier’s hand, as they began setting off after her at a brisk pace and tucked him against his side instead, doing his best to shield him with his body. Geralt bit back a curse, when he followed the tracks and saw them taking a turn - in the opposite direction of the Keep. He sped up his walk, but with every minute that passed, Jaskier’s feet dragged more on the ground, until he staggered more than he walked. Around them, the woods were getting dark quickly, making it impossible for Jaskier to see where he was going. Bitter wind tore at Geralt’s hair and turned the snowflakes into biting needles that pricked his exposed skin painfully. Next to him, Jaskier lowered his head and pulled his shoulders up, trying in vain to protect his face from the biting cold. The skin of his hand was an angry red. Fuck. In his hurry to find Roach, Geralt had forgotten to pick the damn gloves up again. They needed to get to Roach. Now. 

Growling in frustration, Geralt picked up Jaskier, cradling him against his chest. Like this, he could move faster, but he couldn’t shield Jaskier from the wind as well as he had before. He hoped he would not come to regret that trade off.

He didn’t know for how long he was marching through the woods - too long, that was for certain - before finally, he heard soft snorting not far ahead. Roach.

Geralt sped up. He nearly missed the cave, hidden by trees and overhanging ivy, but the sound of Roach scraping at the ground with her hooves alerted him. He heaved a sigh of relief, when he entered the cave. It was big enough to allow Roach to find shelter at the entrance, only narrowing towards the back. A quick look revealed an old bedroll, crossbow bolts and dry kindling someone had left here. Likely another witcher, who had equipped this cave with the bare essentials, in case he had to seek shelter again. 

Geralt grit his teeth, as outside, the wind howled louder than before. Jaskier stirred weakly in his arms. He had to get him back to the Keep. He wasn’t safe here. But who knew how long it would take them to get back? Geralt couldn’t risk Jaskier’s body cooling down even more by riding with him through the storm. 

Deep breaths. Geralt closed his eyes, doing his best to focus on the beating of his own heart, as if he was meditating. Shutting his emotions down. Not letting himself get distracted. But beneath the layers of numbness he forced around his heart, he wasn’t strong enough to stop a part of himself to vigilantly listen in on Jaskier’s heartbeat. It was steady and strong as ever. Geralt had known it would be. Jaskier might be cold and hurt, but he had not gotten nearly injured enough to be in immediate danger and he was bundled up as warmly as he could be. Still, Geralt’s hands and breath were shaky, as he carefully placed Jaskier on the ground. It was too cold, too damp. Every part of Geralt screamed in protest, when he let go of Jaskier, but he had to. Just long enough to get a fire started. 

Deep breaths. He couldn’t let his mind get clouded by worry and that uncomfortable squirming in his stomach that threatened to take away his ability to act rationally. 

As quickly as he could, Geralt put the kindling into a pile and lit it up. Then, he hurried back to Jaskier’s side. 

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked. His eyes were glassy as he blinked up at him. 

“I’m here.” Carefully, Geralt scooped Jaskier back up and pulled him into his lap, so he wouldn’t have to sit on the cold stone floor. “You’re going to be alright. We just have to wait a little, until the snow eases up.” Jaskier shivered and pressed closer against Geralt, who draped his cloak over him as best he could. Jaskier in turn wrapped his arms around Geralt’s middle to get even closer to his warmth, but as he pressed his hands against Geralt’s shoulder blades, he drew back with a hiss. 

“What’s wrong?” Geralt sat up in alarm. 

“Nothing,” Jaskier said too quickly. His smile that clearly was meant to be reassuring looked brittle, with a flash of pain staining it. He must have noticed Geralt’s disbelief, for he added, “It’s just my hand…”

Immediately, Geralt reached for said hand. He cradled it as gently as if holding a butterfly, yet Jaskier still sucked in a sharp breath. Geralt glanced up at him and was relieved when he found no more pain in his expression than there had been before. Jaskier gave him a brittle smile. Carefully, Geralt turned his hand over. His heart dropped. 

There, across Jaskier’s fingers and palm were angry red blisters. How could he not have noticed just how badly Jaskier had burned himself?

‘You love me too much to let anything happen to my hands.’ The memory of Jaskier’s words echoed cruelly in his mind. 

“We need to get ointment on that,” Geralt said and his voice shook only a little. He was sure no one who didn’t know him in and out would notice. Jaskier’s brows knitted together and Geralt swallowed thickly. “We have some at the infirmary.”

He glanced at the entrance of the cave. At the snow falling steadily still, cast about by the wind that seemed to pick up by the minute. Alone, he might have been able to  make it through that weather. But Jaskier’s hand was so cold in his. His teeth were chattering and the brim of his trousers, where they hadn’t been protected by his cloak, were drenched with snow.

Geralt couldn’t risk exposing him to the elements any more before he was properly warmed up. Subconsciously, he shifted closer to Jaskier, offering him a little more of his own body heat. 

“Well, at least it’ll be no trouble cooling the burn,” Jaskier, who must have read Geralt’s thoughts, joked with the hint of a smile. 

“Ever the optimist,” Geralt replied, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice despite his worry. “One of us has to be. But I don’t think it’s optimism. I just trust you.”

He said it so easily. As if there was no doubt in his mind about it. As if Geralt’s incompetence wasn’t the cause for him getting hurt in the first place. 

A warmth spread through Geralt’s chest, flowing into the rest of his body, until he felt his face heating up. Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes. 

“We’ll need to at lead bandage your hand,” he said. “And keep you warm.”

Jaskier made an affirmative noise. Geralt looked at Roach, mentally itemising the things he had packed. Naturally, bandages hadn’t been included in his preparation for their trip. 

His eyes fell on the red scarf around Jaskier’s neck. Geralt reached for Jaskier’s dagger at his hip and with a harsh movement cut off a long thin stripe of the scarf. It wasn’t ideal, but it had to do. At the very least, it would do the job of warming Jaskier’s hand. 

He moved, so he was kneeling opposite Jaskier and could have a better view of what he was doing. He was so focussed on his task of wrapping Jaskier’s hand, that he didn’t notice how strangely quiet Jaskier had gotten, until he realised that his hand was trembling. 

Gralt stopped. His eyes snapped up to meet Jaskier’s. 

“Are you -”

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier said with a choked laugh. “It’s nothing bad.” Unconvinced, Geralt made a questioning noise. 

“I just…” Jaskier lifted his bandaged hand a little, “the red cloth? It reminded me of our wedding day.”

“A joyful memory to add to an already perfect day,” Geralt snarked. All the sarcasm couldn’t hide the bitterness and hurt he felt. Jaskier had been so excited for today. As he had been for his wedding. And Geralt… no. He had to stop that train of thought. They were friends. Jaskier liked him. This marriage might not be what either one of them had imagined, but it still was good. It was good. 

Jaskier wasn’t the fragile little lordling Geralt had feared him to be. He was so much stronger than he looked and he would get through this too. 

As if to prove Geralt’s thoughts right, a genuine smile stole onto Jaskier’s lips. 

“It is.” Swiftly, he leaned in and let his lips brush against Geralt’s cheek. “There. Now it’s just like then.”

His lips felt icy on Geralt’s skin, but they left a hot tingle in their wake, when he pulled away. A lump formed in Geralt’s throat. His hand rose without his permission and he cupped Jaskier’s cheek. With his thumb, he caressed the freezing skin and felt him shiver beneath his touch. “Dance with me.” The words left his lips before he could think about them. 

Jaskier blinked at him. A small cloud escaped his mouth, as he gasped lightly. 

“What?”

Decades of rejection and fear made Geralt’s courage want to shrivel and hide away. But Jaskier still hadn’t flinched from his touch and would never do so.

“Dance with me,” he repeated slightly louder. “You’re going to freeze if you don’t move. We need to keep you from falling asleep and  warm you up.” He got to his feet and held an inviting hand out for Jaskier to take. “And I never gave you that wedding dance.”

Geralt’s heart fluttered nervously in his chest, as Jaskier stared at his hand. Slowly, like the sun pushing through clouds, Jaskier’s lips stretched into a smile and he placed his uninjured hand in Geralt’s, letting him pull him up. Jaskier’s feet must have been well on their way of falling asleep and the cold was already getting to him, for he stumbled into Geralt’s chest with little grace, only catching himself by placing his other hand on Geralt’s shoulder. He kept the touch of his injured hand light, yet it burned into Geralt, as if he was clutching him tightly. 

Geralt let the hand not holding Jaskier’s slide down to his waist and hold him close. Jaskier’s face was so near to his. The urge to hold Jaskier close was a flame raging through every vein of his body. 

They stood frozen, unmoving. 

“I believe I was promised a dance,” Jaskier whispered, his voice barely audible over the howling of the wind and the cackling of the fire. 

Geralt could do nothing but nod. He took a step back, pulling Jaskier along and began to awkwardly sway them. The movements would have looked clunky even with a band accompanying them, but without any music at all to give them a guiding rhythm, it must have looked utterly ridiculous. The pathetic attempt of a witcher to give something soft. 

But Jaskier was looking up at him, a smile dancing around his lips and in his eyes, and Geralt felt the knot of anxiety unwind in his chest. All would be well. Jaskier was moving and smiling. He would make it through this. 

Geralt’s tongue darted out to wet his lips - a nervous tick he must have picked up from Jaskier - and did what he normally only dared to do after drinking with his brothers: He sang. 

Or rather, he hummed. It was a clumsy attempt. He had never been musically inclined and the wedding seemed so far away now, he barely remembered the tune the wedding band had played. The only thing he remembered was how important the song was. So he did the best to shape the rumble in his chest into the right notes. Jaskier’s eyes widened and his lips parted into a silent ‘oh.’

Geralt stumbled and faltered, but the rising awe in Jaskier’s expression kept him going and after a moment of silent listening, Jaskier joined in. His humming was much steadier than Geralt’s awkward attempt at singing and Geralt did his best to follow his lead. Then, Jaskier’s humming deviated from the melody Geralt had repeated before. Heat and shame rose in Geralt’s cheeks. He hadn’t realised how badly he had hummed the tune, but then he realised that his own notes weren’t dissonant to his husband’s. Jaskier was harmonising. 

Geralt faltered, disguising his misstep as part of the dance and Jaskier followed without hesitation. Geralt swayed them to the side, led his husband through a spin and pulled him back in. Close, so close. His hand wandered from Jaskier’s waist up to rest between his shoulder blades. He could almost imagine feeling the beat of Jaskier’s heart through the thick layers of clothing. 

He didn’t notice coming to a standstill, but then Jaskier placed his head on his shoulder and Geralt wouldn’t have been able to move if he had wanted to. He couldn’t let go of Jaskier anymore, not even for the brief moment it would take for him to twirl. Geralt ran his hand up and down Jaskier’s back. When Jaskier’s hand wandered from his shoulder to the nape of his neck to play idly with his hair, Geralt closed his eyes and let his head fall forward to rest it against the crown of Jaskier’s head. A soft sigh ghosted over his skin as he held Jaskier as close as he could. 

“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered. 

Geralt didn’t know what to reply, so he remained silent, except for the rumble in his chest that he knew Jaskier found so much joy in. The soft sound of Geralt’s contentedness and the fast beat of Jaskier’s heart were the only sounds around. 

Geralt’s brows furrowed. No sound. The wind had stopped howling. His head snapped to the entrance of the cave, where the fire had almost burned down completely. Blinking, he scrutinised the dark world beyond the cave and - it was dark. No more treacherous white was flying through the air, beautiful but deadly. The snowstorm had passed. Geralt left Jaskier’s side to get a better look at the sky. Night had fully fallen and the sky was clear. With a sky like that, it would only get colder, but the stars shone bright, offering comfort. 

The sound of Jaskier’s footsteps followed Geralt, and he pressed himself against his side, seeking warmth once again. Geralt laid an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his arm. 

“We can leave,” he said, trying to put as much optimism into his voice as he could. “Do you think you can ride? It’s going to be cold.”

“I can,” Jaskier replied confidently, though Geralt couldn’t help but notice the slightest tremor in his voice. 

“I’ll keep you warm,” he promised. 

Jaskier nodded, but trepidation stole itself onto his face.

“I know this mountain is your home,” he began slowly, his injured hand picking at the red cloth, “but are you sure it’s safe to leave in this dark? What if Roach stumbles or slips on the snow? I don’t even know where we are anymore. It all looks so different cast in white…”

“It does,” Geralt agreed. Jaskier’s face fell and his eyes dropped to the ground, as he likely prepared himself for a night of freezing in the cave after all. 

“But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed.” Geralt cupped his chin and tentatively tilted his face back up, first to meet his eyes and then farther up still. “Do you see it?”

“What?” Jaskier asked automatically as he squinted up into the night sky. Geralt could see the moment he realised what Geralt was talking about. “Oh.” His eyes softened. “There it is. Our secret constellation.”

“We’ll follow it home,” Geralt said, and something melted in his chest, when Jaskier echoed tenderly, “Home.”

--

The ride back to the Keep wasn’t a pleasant one. Geralt did his best to shield Jaskier against the cold with his body and distract him from the pain in his hand by recounting any tales that came to mind. More than once did he feel Jaskier go limp, as sleep threatened to take him into its embrace and Geralt felt a pang of guilt each time he had to jostle him awake again. 

“Soon,” he would whisper. “We’ll be there soon. Stay awake for me a little longer.” “Alright,” Jaskier would mumble, “for you.”

Then, without fail, Jaskier would sit up straighter and his head would tilt up - his eyes fixed on their constellation. The stars above the path leading them home. 

By the time Kaer Morhen’s gates came into view, Jaskier’s head had found its home against Geralt’s chest and his eyes were drooping again. Still, he fought valiantly to keep his promise and stay awake. 

Geralt spurned Roach on one last time. When they finally passed the gate, it felt as if a heavy stone sat in his chest was crumbling to dust. They had made it. Jaskier was truly safe again. 

Geralt hurried to put Roach in her box in the stables and despite Jaskier’s protests that he could walk, he picked him up and carried him into the Keep. He only took a quick detour to get the ointment to treat burns from the infirmary and apply it to Jaskier’s palm, before rebandaging it. Then, he picked up Jaskier again. His mind was filled with images of holding Jaskier close at night, safe and sound in his arms. Those images were the only thing giving him the strength to keep going and climb the stairs to their room. 

Perhaps it was the fact that Geralt had accompanied Jaskier to his room so many times that it felt like second nature at this point, or maybe he simply let himself be lulled to inattention by the familiar home-scent of Jaskier; whatever it was, it made Geralt forget with every step he took, that it was Jaskier’s room and not theirs until he got fully lost in his comforting fantasy.  It was only when he pushed the door open with his shoulder and laid eyes on the room that held no trace of Geralt ever having spent a single night here, that the realisation crashed into him like a bucket of ice water. This wasn’t theirs. He had no place in Jaskier’s bed.

His instinct told him to drop Jaskier off quickly and retreat, but he forced his body to move gently, slowly, as he undressed Jaskier and helped him put on dry clothes to sleep in. Then, he placed Jaskier on the bed and pulled the blankets over him and snuffed out the candles he had lit upon entering.

“Now you can sleep,” he whispered into the darkness of the room, running his hand soothingly over Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier blinked up at him and narrowed his eyes. Geralt reckoned he tried and failed to make out more than Geralt’s general shape in the dark. ��Geralt?” he asked quietly and reached out blindly. 

Geralt caught his hand mid-air and clinging to the last remnants of that foolish inattentiveness that had made him forget that he wouldn’t spend the night holding his husband close, he pressed a kiss against his palm. 

“You’re safe.” He rubbed a small circle into the back of Jaskier’s hand with his thumb. “Goodnight, Jaskier.” There was a long pause, in which Geralt started to believe that maybe Jaskier had fallen asleep already, before Jaskier replied, “Goodnight.”

With that, he pulled his hand from Geralt’s grasp and turned away, pulling the blanket so high up that Geralt could barely see his face anymore. He hesitated, taking in the sight of Jaskier snuggled up warm and cosy and safe - and so clearly dismissive of him - one last time. Then, he turned around, pulling the door close as quietly as he could. The walk back to his own room had never felt that long, lonely and cold. 

Jaskier is safe, he repeated over and over in his mind, nothing else matters. 

Only, it did. It fucking mattered, because Jaskier had lit lanterns around a lake. Because he had caught snowflakes with his tongue and laughed as though nothing in the world could make him happier than sharing that moment with Geralt. Because Geralt’s cheek still tingled where Jaskier had kissed it and because Geralt wished he’d had the courage to dance with Jaskier during their wedding. It mattered, because Geralt wore a bracelet Jaskier had made for him. 

It mattered, because with every fibre of his being, Geralt loved Jaskier. 

And it mattered, because when he entered his room, it was cold and empty. 

His movements felt wooden and reluctant, as he made himself walk over to his bed and put on his sleeping clothes. He let himself fall onto the bed heavily but even as he sat down and finally rested his feet, he knew his mind and heart would know no rest that night. With a deep sigh, he slumped forward, put his elbows on his knees and burrowed his hands in his hair. He closed his eyes, but only images of the day, of dancing and laughing and Jaskier trusting him so wholly, flashed through the darkness. When he opened his eyes again, they landed on the parchment that had been laying on his nightstand for the past months. Ever since he had gotten word of the engagement. Despite knowing exactly what he would find, he reached for the parchment and looked at it. Jaskier’s smiling face looked back at him. Geralt’s heart clenched painfully, as he traced the laughter lines around the drawing’s eyes with a gentle finger. In the past months, he had come to know those lines perhaps more intimately than anyone else. Certainly more than he had ever imagined he would. He knew how Jaskier sounded when he laughed, how he felt leaning into Geralt or holding onto him because he had to physically share his joy, how he looked so utterly radiant with his lips stretched wide and his head thrown back. 

He knew that no painting in the world, no matter how masterfully done, could ever come close to the real thing. Geralt could look at this drawing before going to sleep however many times he wished - it would make no difference. It was no substitute for holding Jaskier in his arms. 

He didn’t think. For once, maybe his mind and his heart would have told him to do the same thing anyway. Without wasting another moment, Geralt got up and crossed his room. It was stupid. If there was any mercy, Jaskier would already be deep within the realm of dreams by now. Yet, Geralt didn’t stop. He had to go see him. He had to tell him. Jaskier deserved that much. He deserved to know that he was loved.

Geralt was just stepping out of the door, when something came crashing right into him and tumbled back with an indignant little squeak. A very familiar sound. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, perplexed, all thoughts of his intentions wiped away by the unexpected sight of Jaskier standing in his doorway. “Geralt!”

“What are you doing out of bed?” Geralt took Jaskier’s shoulders gently and looked him over intently for any signs of hurt or fright. “Did you have a nightmare? Is there anything you need?”

“No - that is, yes. Actually. There is something.” Jaskier started fidgeting with his bandage. “Could I maybe come in?”

“Of course.” Geralt took a step to the side and Jaskier slipped into his room. Geralt occupied himself with lighting some candles so Jaskier could see, but in truth, he simply needed the time to get his racing heart back under control. When he finally felt ready to face Jaskier again, he found him looking at the portrait of himself, a strange expression on his face. 

“Ah,” Geralt said awkwardly, “That…came with the letter your parents sent us. To arrange the engagement.”

Jaskier’s lips quirked up a little and he slung his arms around himself. Geralt desperately wanted to wrap his own arms around him, but if Jaskier had sought him out after the day he just had, he must be truly distressed and Geralt wasn’t sure how to act. 

“I never got a picture of you,” Jaskier said. 

“Oh.” He swallowed. “So, the first time you learned what I looked like was…”

“Just before our wedding. Yes.”

“That’s…” Geralt trailed off, not sure how to end the sentence. A part of him that clung to learned behaviours wanted to apologise, but a different part saw the warmth of affection  in Jaskier’s eyes. 

He cleared his throat. “What is it you need?”

Jaskier’s brows shot up and his mouth opened into a little ‘oh’ as if he had forgotten the purpose of his seeking Geralt out. “I - I suppose I just didn’t want to be alone.” Jaskier furrowed his brows. “No, that’s not it. I wanted to be with you. For tonight. If that’s alright.”

“It is,” Geralt blurted out immediately and his heart jumped, when that elicited an actual smile from Jaskier. “I want to have you with me tonight too.”

He wanted to have him by his side every night and every day for the rest of his life. His entire being longed to share his bed, his Path, his world with Jaskier. The flutter in his chest got stronger, when Jaskier pulled back the furs on Geralt’s bed to get in. It was so perfect. So much like what Geralt wished for, what he had selfishly dreamed of in the solace of his lonely nights.

A sudden pang of guilt shot through him and  before he could stop himself, he blurted out, “Wait. There’s something you should know first.”

Jaskier dropped the fur. “What is it?”

“I -” Geralt’s throat went dry. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and it was as if he had forgotten every word he had ever known. How could he tell his husband he loved him? How, when longing and fear had been at war inside him for so long that it felt impossible to end the fight now. 

But Jaskier had come to him. Over and over he had chosen him. It was time Geralt did the same.

“I never made my wedding vows. To love and cherish you,” Geralt said finally, the words feeling inadequate and rough, “But I made you another promise. To tell you if I ever did fall in love. And I am. In love. It’s terrifying and - and beautiful and I don’t think I could fight it if I wanted to. I don’t want to. Not anymore.”

A guarded expression crossed Jaskier’s face, but beneath it, Geralt thought he could see hope. He clung to that slither of hope with the desperation of a drowning man. With the faith of a man in love. 

“Do I have your permission, Jaskier?” He stepped closer, slowly at  first, then with more confidence, when Jaskier gravitated towards him as well. Geralt took Jaskier’s uninjured hand and pressed it against his chest, right above his heart that beat to the rhythm of Jaskier’s song. “Do I have your permission to love you?”

“Geralt -” Jaskier broke off, his voice too choked to speak. 

“You don’t have to love me back. I - it would be enough to love you.”

“No,” Jaskier said firmly. 

Something broke inside Geralt and a gaping whole opened up where his heart had just beaten with hope. He averted his eyes and pressed his lips together. He gave Jaskier a court nod, as he took a step back. But Jaskier refused to let go. 

“No, that would not be enough,” Jaskier said, pulling Geralt back in. “Because I love you, Geralt. I love you.” 

“You do?” Geralt’s eyes widened. “I - I had hoped, but I didn’t think -”

“Stop thinking then,” Jaskier interrupted him. “I think we’ve done far too much of that. It didn’t do us any good.”

Geralt’s lips tilted up. “It didn’t.” He twisted his hand to weave his fingers with Jaskier’s, linking them together. It felt right. So right to finally do this  and have Jaskier know what it meant. 

“Jaskier,” he asked tentatively. “I know I don’t know how to do this right, but…may I court you?”

“What?” A startled  laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips. 

“May I court you?” Geralt repeated, looking Jaskier in the eyes and doing his best to show his sincerity. 

“Geralt, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we’re already married.”

“I know,” Geralt said, feeling the corners of his mouth quirk up in response to Jaskier’s laugh. “Gods, believe me I know. But what we have isn’t a real marriage. I want to be with you for real. I don’t want to hold you and always know that we are only married on paper. We didn’t say our vows, I refused to dance with you, we didn’t kiss. You deserve better. You deserve a real wedding. This is not whatI want or what you deserve. I don’t just want a marriage based on politics and without the promise of…”

“Devotion?” Jaskier tilted his head to the side and gave Geralt’s hands a squeeze. “I can make you that promise right now, if you want. I gave it to you so many times over and you didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” Geralt said. “I just…”

“I know.” Jaskier looked down at their joined hands. “Me too.” “I want to do this right,” Geralt said. “I wasted so much time going about this the wrong way. You deserve to be courted. You deserve - lights and flowers and…and…”

“A husband who loves me?” Jaskier offered. “And whom I love? Because I believe I already have that.”

“I want to give more to you. I don’t want to rush this. Being with me isn’t easy. The Path is harsh and life with me will be hard. I want you to know this - really know this. Give me a year of courting you, of showing you my life, before you decide if you want it to be your life as well.”

Jaskier looked at him for a long time. “I don’t think my opinion will change, but yes.” A choked sound escaped his lips, as they stretched into a brilliant smile. “Yes, I want to be courted by you. I want to be with you in whichever way you want.”

He didn’t wait for Geralt’s reply, simply flinging himself into his arms. Geralt held him tightly, so tightly. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest and he couldn’t have stopped himself from smiling wide as a fool, if he had wanted to. Maybe he was a fool. But he was a fool in love, with the one who held his affections in his arms. 

Jaskier’s slim frame shook and Geralt worried that he was sobbing, until he recognised the muffled sounds against his chest as laughter. He hummed questioningly, making Jaskier giggle only more.

“So, does this mean we should get a divorce?” Jaskier asked, pulling away just enough to be able to look at Geralt. “So we can court again?” He jabbed a finger at Geralt’s chest. “Because if so, then I change my mind. I refuse to be divorced. I quite like being your husband.”

Geralt snorted. “I quite like it too.  And I don’t think our families would be too happy about having their contract nullified.”

“Right,” Jaskier said, pulling a face. “Bureaucracy. What a romantic topic to bring up. So, no divorce then? We just continue as we have but without all the -” he waved his hand through the air, “not-talking-about-feelings?”

“Sounds perfect.” Geralt paused. “Maybe we could also change the sleeping arrangements?” 

“Please!”

Without waiting another second, Geralt scooped Jaskier up. His heart skipped a beat, when Jaskier let out a delighted little squeal and wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck to steady himself. 

“Is this really necessary?” Jaskier said in between giggles. “The bed is right there. I could have walked three steps.” “It is,” Geralt said firmly, something soft coiling in his stomach. “Maybe I just like holding you close.”

“How convenient then, that I just so happen to like being held by you.” One of Jaskier’s hands left Geralt’s neck to cup his cheek instead. “Something tells me that we could make great husbands.”

“I think you might be right. I’d love to find out what we are like being husbands with purpose.” 

“So do I.”

“But courting first.”

Jaskier heaved a heavy sigh, but gave Geralt a fond look. Geralt was loath to part from Jaskier for even a heartbeat, so as soon as he laid him down on the bed, he got in right next to him and put an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. They fit perfectly together. He felt the rest of the stress of the past months fall away as he melted against Jaskier. His husband. The man he loved and would court. Jaskier, in turn snuggled as close to Geralt as possible, his hand tracing random patterns on his chest. 

“There’s one more thing I want to change,” Geralt whispered. 

“Hm?”

“I know this should probably not happen before the courting comes to an end but…can I kiss you?”

“Geralt!” Jaskier gasped in mock-affront, his eyes crinkling at the sides, as he failed to hold in his laughter. “Are you seriously asking me - your lawfully wedded husband! - to share a bed with you and kiss you? Unchaperoned? How scandalous!”

Geralt rolled his eyes fondly at Jaskier’s antics. “Is that a ‘yes’, then?”

Jaskier’s giggles quieted down and an expression of pure softness and open love replaced the amusement. 

“It’s a yes,” he whispered back and leaned forwards, closing the space between them. The kiss was chaste and over quickly, yet Geralt could not imagine a more perfect kiss. 

Except, of course, as he drifted off to sleep with Jaskier curled up against him, his mind was already wandering to the future. To flowers and song and, if he was lucky - and something told him that for once, he would be - another kiss from his husband on their second wedding.

—

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[liminalpebble]

Violet: Chapter 18, The Nativity

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The holiday season descended upon their little London social circle in a great wave of mirth and relief. It glowed like a luminous hearth against the heavy cold and darkness of deep winter. Even Will, generally adverse to parties and social graces was feeling the festive spirit and enjoying the company of the few people he liked. Not to mention that the relief of Violetta no longer being his student was nearly palpable for the both of them.

The Reverend had shaken each student's hand as they filed out after receiving their final grades for the semester. Violetta was the last in line.

“Miss Vespero,” he said with a sly grin, “Thank you for an enlightening and challenging semester. I foresee you doing quite well in the world and wish you all the best.”

As she shook his hand, his thumb stroked a delicate little circle on her wrist which shot a spark through her.

“Thank you, Reverend. I hope I wasn't too disruptive.”

He smiled and looked to the floor, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Sometimes a little disruption is a good and necessary thing. It's been quite enriching for me. In any case, shall we declare our contest a draw and leave it at that?”

He looked up to meet her eyes inquisitively, and she raised her eyebrow in that impudent expression that drove him to animal madness. “No, Father. It's fairly clear that I've won. And I'm not a victor who is generous with sharing her laurels.”

He gave a crooked grin, a wink, and whispered under his breath, “That a girl.”

----

The Ambrose abode flared into rowdy life. The maids decorated and prepared for the upcoming parties, swaddling the mansion in red and green garlands while day after day callers came to greet the beloved couple and welcome them back. Violet was startled by all the commotion after having the grand home mostly to herself for so long, but the colorful decorations, laughter, smells of find food, mulled wine, and fresh evergreen were, she had to admit, a welcome intrusion. I think I needed a bit of this. I just didn't realize it, she thought to herself.

The first gathering was casual and intimate, comprised of those the Ambroses' considered their chosen family. They had invited Will's adult children and their families to the house for several cozy days with their father. Violetta was afraid it might feel a bit awkward, seeing this side of his life, especially considering that his oldest daughter was rather close to her age, but it all felt surprisingly natural. She caught herself gazing with warm admiration from the door frame as he sat cross-legged on the floor, making silly faces and cuddling his first grandchild (a baby boy who had just begun to crawl). Although the sight didn't tempt her in the least to have children of her own, it melted her heart with a new and unexpected wave affection for him. She had never seen this soft playful and completely unguarded aspect of him, overjoyed to be in his element, surrounded by his family.

The little group sat in a circle on the floor as the baby crawled around in the middle. They chatted over his coos and giggles while Jo spoke quietly to her father. “Papa, I worry about you out here in London. Are you sure you won't come back to Essex? I know you tend to be lonesome.”

Will finished making his comical expressions at his grandson then answered her. He was still gently holding his pudgy little hand as he gave Violetta the slightest knowing smile. “Jo, darling, I'm doing just fine here. Really,” he assured her, patting her shoulder. “I'm finding so much joy in teaching. I was a bit sad at first but it's turned out the be the breath of fresh air I needed. Oh! And the college has the most exquisite library!” Violet smiled to herself at that, but didn't dare to meet his eye. Jo nodded and grinned in tacit surrender, just glad to see her father uncharacteristically content. As she did, Violetta was stunned to realize how much she looked like Will, with her curious aquatic eyes and shy smile.

Jo noticed her curious look and asked sweetly, “Violet, what are you thinking, love?”

“Pardon me. I was just taken aback by how very much you resemble each other.”

The father and daughter looked to each other and chuckled. Will said, “you're not the first to see it. We hear it often.”

Violetta felt a tug and looked down to see the baby wrapping his little fist around the fabric of her apron. Giggling at her, he started to climb. Will and Jo smiled their matching smiles as she exclaimed, “Aww Violet, darling, little Emil seems to like you!”

“That's...that's sweet,” she said. The tiny human made her nervous. She had never been around children, especially not babies. Her aristocratic family was more in the habit of delegating the care of their offspring to hired help, and seeing them as rarely as possible.

“You're welcome to hold him,” Jo said.

“Umm...I've never tried that before. I don't know.”

Will scooted over to her, lifting his tiny grandson easily in his large hands, arranging her arms around him to support his head and body. “There,” he said kindly, “that's not so scary, is it?”

Violet looked to both of them, equally proud that she was doing it and red-faced with embarrassment that she was afraid to. “He has your eyes,” she said, looking first to Will and then to his daughter.

Will tilted his head in consideration, “Well, all babies have blue eyes for a time. They change after awhile.”

“I...uh...I'm ashamed to say with all the scientific curriculum I've studied, I never knew that. “

Jo laughed. “Papa tells me you were very studious and fearless in your classes, and yet little Emil here makes you nervous? I promise you, being around him is significantly easier than enduring my father's lectures.”

Will rolled his eyes at her playful jab.

Violet laughed. “Oh no. I see my reputation precedes me.”

Will elaborated, “Just a bit, I'm afraid. But not to worry. I've mostly said nice things about you behind your back, Miss Vespero. It was very satisfying to be challenged.”

“Mostly?” Violet said, and they all chuckled.

It was just half a second of a friendly glance, but Jo (just as emotionally perceptive as her mother always was) noticed something in it. It was so quick, so subtle. She wasn't sure if she had imagined it, but she thought she saw something between them. Jo initially felt a little jolt of surprise at the idea. It would be an unusual pair, certainly, she thought. But soon a feeling of contentment settled over her. She had only recently met Violetta, but she liked her immensely; a modern and progressive young woman like herself, sharing the same struggles for equality. She smiled with quiet thought as her father often did, satisfied that he might not be so alone after all. Jo decided he was in good hands if he was indeed in Violet's. And judging by that tiny glance, he was very much in the palm of her hand and probably head over heels.

All of their eyes suddenly followed the sound of the door bell, and a new guest being greeted. Violetta's enjoyment was abruptly snuffed out as Luke Garrett swung into the room. Had he even been invited today? She suspected not.

Luke crowed, “Hello, Violet, Ransomes. Aww...look at that. How natural you seem with a baby! It's a regular nativity scene in here,” then laughed at his own cleverness. (No one else did). Violetta gave him a glare that said, in no uncertain terms, that she would be throttling him if not for the infant currently occupying her arms. She stayed calm and simply greeted him politely, then excused herself to help in the sanctuary of the kitchen. Emil gave one last determined tug to her skirt hem, trying not to let her go, but Will scooped him away from her in that practiced graceful way all parents seem have a knack for.

As she came into the kitchen, Greta rolled her eyes in solidarity, handing Violetta a nearly empty wine bottle, encouraging her to finish it off right from the spout. She gladly obliged and then said, “thanks” wiping her chin irreverently. “I needed that.”

Greta winked. “I know.”

---

Charles Ambrose eyed his pocket watch with a scowl as they all milled about the large parlor sipping drinks. He had hoped that the act would hint to Dr. Garrett that it was well past time for his departure (from a gathering he hadn't been invited to in the first place). Katherine and Charles sighed to each other, communicating about it in that wordless way that long-married couples are capable of. Realizing they weren't getting anywhere with subtle manners, they simply tried to ignore him as much as possible and enjoy the other guests on this otherwise pleasant afternoon. Eventually a socially-exhausted Violetta escaped to the library, rubbing her temples and trying to breathe deeply, but the cause of her headache followed closely on her heels.

Garret swaggered in saying, “Fancy a chat, Violet?”

How she hated the way his grating voice wrapped around her name.

“I'd rather not, Luke,” she sighed out, exasperated.

“Oh, but I think we might have a good deal to talk about.”

“Such as?” she snapped, raising her voice slightly.

“We might want to lower our voices, darling. I'd rather not announce your secrets to the whole house.”

Violetta felt her red-hot blood drain from her face as it blanched to a nauseous sallow hue. He smiled like a snake.

“So who is she, Violet?,” he asked, swirling his drink with unbothered ease.

She?, Violetta thought, Thank god he thinks that. I guess he doesn't know everything.

“I have no idea what you're talking about Garrett.”

“Oh, but I think you do. Which lovely little London lady gave you all those pretty bruises. If that's what you like, you should have just said so. I could have happily given you some myself.”

Her eyes went wide. “Garrett! That was a private medical exam! Did you force poor Spencer to break confidentiality? You should lose your license for this.”

“Oh come on, Violet. Spencer and I share a practice. He didn't tell me and I didn't ask, but I happened to hear. Now tell me, who's the lucky lady keeping you from marrying me? Maybe that sweet little cook I saw you swigging from the bottle with, like a sailor? Maybe Martha, that little communist bother? She seems your type...troublesome.”

“You are not entitled to know my personal business, and I will not tell you.”

He shrugged, “Well that's your choice of course, but your family thinks rather highly of me. If I were to tell them about your little indiscretions I'm sure they would believe me. Not just that, but oh dear, they would be terribly disappointed! They might just beg me to marry to you to save your poor soul and save face. But don't worry, I'm no prude. If your girlfriend happens to be an attractive one, we might as well have a guest in the bedroom.”

She came closer and growled out, “You're disgusting. And don't you think my family would expect such threats of blackmail just to get my dowry? It wouldn't be the first time they'd heard unfounded rumors to those ends.”

He stood a hair's breadth from her face and grabbed her chin. “And what exactly do you think you could do about any of this, hmm? I guess there's always the convent since you don't need men anyway.”

“Why are you doing this?” She asked, voice sounding more shaky and weak than she intended. “My family would give you a grant on your own merits. They do it all the time. Why are you so intent on ruining my life!”

He tutted, giving an exaggerated sad face. “Oh poor princess, a grant is one thing but a lifetime of funding is quite another. Oh, and I've changed my mind since my last offer. I was going to give you a life free of children, dedicated to whatever pursuits you desire, but you look soooo sweet with a baby in your arms. It melted my heart a bit to think how cute you'd be when properly domesticated. Also, it would be terribly unfair to deny the world the gift of a Garrett heir.” He tugged her chin roughly toward him and kissed her cheek. His breath had the rotten-fruit stench of too much brandy and she recoiled violently, backing up into the book-shelved walls.

“But most of all, Violetta. I'm encouraging you because I really am growing to like you, like this game...this little back and forth we have.” He came closer until she was cornered, pressed into the leather and paper spines, and said, “I know it's all a bit much to take in. I'll give you two weeks to mull it over while you enjoy reading all those rejection letters. Maybe then you'll consider your options with a bit more realistic clarity. Farewell, dear girl. See you soon.”

And then the beady-eyed imp was gone, swinging out of the house as abruptly and ungraciously as he had entered it. Violetta wasn't sure how long she stood there with her back against the books, staring blankly, with her mouth open. She could still smell his sour brandy breath on her cheek and dove into her pocket for a handkerchief. Scrubbing furiously until her cheek was raw, she still couldn't clear the reek him, the touch of him, from her consciousness. Finally she dropped the cloth and simply began to weep, the dark orbs of her eyes misting over as tears streamed down her face. She tried to stop and tried to keep her hiccuping gasps quiet. She could only be grateful that the hubbub of the little afternoon party drowned out her pathetic whimpers.

Before she knew it she looked up and there was Will in the door frame smile dropping into an expression of horror as he said, “Violetta, we're about start with....Oh god! Darling, what's wrong? Was it Garrett?? What has he done to you!”

She nodded, but was too distraught to answer completely so Will simply held her as she cried into the placid softness of his blue sweater. She forced herself to take deep breaths, filling her nostrils with the smell of Will's lavender laundry soap to replace Garrett's odor. Violetta composed herself enough to quickly explain everything that had just happened in a frantic whisper, knowing their private moment would be limited. When she finished, she still couldn't pull away from Will's sturdy chest as the tears fell. She took solace in the fact that if anyone saw them, they would simply see a vicar comforting a young friend who had just received some kind of terrible news.

Will growled out in a low but furious voice...one she had never heard from him before, “There's a special place in hell for that awful man.”

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[ghostlieart]

Some jojo sketches from the other night!! I was incredibly wine drunk!!

[kurogane2512]

~Enticing~

Characters: Vampire! Signora x Fatui fem! reader

Synopsis: being a good subordinate to your superior like always~

Warnings: (18+) MINORS DNI, biting, mentions of blood, blood sucking, blood loss, fingering (reader receiving), shower sex.

You could feel it everywhere, a gaze following you. Like a predator looking at its prey, waiting for the right moment to pounce and devour it. It was a cold yet alluring gaze and you knew who it belonged to all too well. You could feel her silently watching you from afar whenever you were nearby, you could almost see her licking her lower lip in your mind as her gaze scanned you from head-to-toe.

During training, you could sense her gaze was fixated upon you even when she was addressing the whole unit, you were so tempting for her. She tasted you once and made you hers; you were her meal, her dessert, sweeter than the most expensive wine she ever tasted- so enticing, all for her. Once you knew her secret, she made sure that you kept it hidden. Not like she had to do much since you were already very loyal to her.

You offered to become her food source, her blood-bag if she so desired. She tasted you once to see if you were worthy of her, if your blood was satisfactory and surprisingly, it tasted divine. She felt dizzy the first time she tasted it and almost lost all her restraints. But, despite the ruthless persona of the Fair Lady, she treated you well. Well-fed, well-dressed and ripe for herself.

“Surrender, tiger~” she ordered while pinning you on the ground, her foot stepped on your arm to keep you down.

‘Tiger’ was the nickname she had only for you which was quite ironic considering she was the tiger in your relationship and you were just a little bunny she made her food source. Calling you this way in front of her unit always made everyone jealous of you.

“I can still go on.” you replied determinedly.

“Hehe, that’s admirable but knowing when to give up is important too, tiger~”

You sighed and nodded your head, she removed her foot and you stood up, stumbling towards a bench to sit down, your body adorned in cuts all over. Archons, only she knew how she was holding back from tying you up right at this moment and devouring you.

“Dispersed. Same time tomorrow, none dare be late.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Everyone began going out, ignoring you completely since nobody liked you for the way your superior treated you better than others, she was clearly biased for you. If only they knew what you knew....about what she is- a vampire.

“Come to my chambers this instant.” She ordered while holding your jaw in her palm and you started following her as she went to her private chambers in the Zapolyarny Palace.

She opened the door and sent all maids and servants away, locking the door once you both walked in.

“Take a shower first.”

This surprised you, you thought she’d push you on the bed straightaway and dive her fangs into your skin but she was being considerate. You obeyed and took off your clothes then suddenly noticed a large cut on your arm, it wasn’t deep but some blood still flowed out if you kept your arm down.

You turned the shower on and stood under the warm water, letting it wash away any dirt from the training. Signora planned to wait for you outside and make preparations, she took a glance at you standing under the shower and how you were trying to keep your injured arm away from the water.

That’s when she saw the blood....and she couldn’t hold back her desires. What a waste to let such divine blood wash away. She entered the bathroom and took off her dress in front of you. For the love of Tsaritsa, watching her undress was enough for you to feel blessed to have this sort of relationship with her. She smirked and came under the shower, standing in front of you. She took hold of your injured arm and licked up the dripping blood.

“I told you to not waste a single drop of your blood, didn’t I, my tiger? You should know better than to let it wash away like this~”

She slurred while licking up the cut, drinking every drop as it dripped down and soon enough it wasn’t dripping any more. She licked her lower lip, she was thirsty for more. That certainly wasn’t enough, if anything, it tempted her even more and she couldn’t wait to devour you any longer.

She came closer and pushed you against the wall, the shower flowing between you two now. She wasted no time in capturing your lips with hers, such sweet and enticing lips, filled with divine blood just inches away from her own crimson lips. She parted from the kiss and trailed her tongue down to your neck, revealing her fangs finally.

Good thing she didn’t have to spend time in preparing you since your skin was already wet from the water. You felt her lick at a spot then sink her fangs into you, your head immediately moving to the side to give her more access. She sucked your blood out intently, making you slightly dizzy from the blood loss and the close skin contact with her.

Your bodies pressed against each other, her knee was between your thighs, grinding on your core lightly. She let go of that one spot and immediately sunk her fangs on the other side, your voice crying out.

“Sshh~ Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you, my tiger~”

Her voice vibrated against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Low slurping sounds could be heard as she sucked your blood out and licked any residual blood around the area. You were a panting mess by now, her sucking was always relentless but today it felt rougher.

Suddenly, she grabbed your waist and flipped you around, pushing you against the wall further and pressing her body onto yours. You were taken by surprise as she held your arms to the side, pinning your palms flat on the wall.

“M-Ma’am, wait-Aahn~”

You didn’t know if that was a moan or a scream you let out the moment her teeth sunk into your shoulder. You could swear she bit much harder and deeper than before, her vampire instincts had taken over completely. Your back was arched and pressed into her while her fangs sunk deep into you and sucked your blood out, your head leaned down as her hand pulled you closer by your belly.

The same hand glided down towards your sensitive nub and lightly held it, rubbing it around. Your head shot up with a loud moan but was pushed back down, your forehead pressing against the cold wall. She turned the shower off and came even closer to you, her knee going between your legs to grind at your core.

“I told you, just relax and I’ll take care of everything. Be a good subordinate and I’ll reward you nicely, my tiger~”

She whispered in your ear then went back to bite at your neck while her fingers rubbed your clit then she inserted 2 finger inside you, your eyes widening in surprise. Archons, how was she doing this? She had strangled you completely like a predator strangles its prey when devouring it. Your head started feeling dizzy from the continuous blood loss but she knew your limits well by now and was sure to be mindful of them.

She was finally satisfied with your blood and parted from your skin with a soft moan, clearly enjoying your taste.

“Well done, you are doing so good for me~”

She again whispered in your ear and now her focus was on her fingers plunging inside you, curling and scissoring at every spot. She adored the marks left behind by her fangs on your skin, she placed soft and gentle kisses on the places she bit you in order to soothe any pain and reward you.

“Are you close, my tiger? Cum for me now~”

She thrusted her fingers in and out, grazing your deepest spots and your head flew back to rest on her shoulder and she placed soft kisses on your face too now. Finally, you released all over her rutting palm, your juices flowing out on her fingers which she brought near her mouth and licked them off completely.

“Mm~ Everything is so delicious about you. Turn around for me, will you?~”

You nodded and slowly turned around, still recovering from your orgasm. She gazed at your flushed face and panting state, her hand caressed your face before leaning to kiss your lips once again. Kissing your superior, the 8th Harbinger was a privilege everyone wished to have but only you got. It felt so serene and loving to her to be able to kiss someone she genuinely liked.

“You are mine, Y/n. Your body, your blood, your life belongs to me. Is that clear?”

You nodded with a smile and wrapped your arms around her waist and hugged her, “Yes, ma’am.”

[monsterkisserlove]

The Mirror Image: Chapter Two

What will you do with your massive crush on maybe the kindest Orc you’ve ever met and your scheming best friend…

TW/CW: Drinking, animal neglect

Pairing: M Orc/F reader

a/n: SFW but will become NSFW as the chapters go on, those chapters will be well marked though. However, under 18s DNI! This blog and these fics ain’t for you.

Chapter 1

“Who’s not your anything?” A deep voice rumbled gently from next to you, a large, familiar shadow falling across the table.  

Oh perfect.  

Khureg heard that.

“Oh-, um, nothing! Just a joke?” You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your voice wavered. Ren clearly did notice by the patronising face they were giving you.  

“Oookay...,” Khureg trailed off, sliding into the seat next to you despite how much more room was on Ren's side, he just must prefer this seat you told yourself, “So how was your day at work? I hope it wasn’t too cold on the walk over here for you.” The Orc asked with a sweet smile.

“Hi Khureg, nice to see you.” Ren interjected, a sly smile curling their mouth, turning to look at you with one sharp eyebrow raised.  

Blush on green skin was so beautiful, you thought, paying no mind to your friend’s interactions. “Oh, yeah, hi Ren. How are you doing?”  

As the pair were talking about their respective days you started to become incredibly distracted. Honestly a war party could have been raging through the bar and you wouldn’t have noticed as you were so transfixed on the dark freckles over Khureg’s nose and neck. At this point you could probably tell him how many freckles the Orc had and what different constellations they formed.

Gods, you had it bad.

A clicking in front of your face brought you back down to earth, shaking your head out of reverie you turned to the impatient Naga, seemingly they’d just asked you a question.

“Sorry, I wasn’t here for a minute, what did you say?” You replied apologetically, missing the way that Khureg’s eyes darted to your pinkening cheeks before staring at his hands, as if worried that he’d be caught.  

“I have asked you thrice now, what would you like to drink? I’m going to the bar.” Ren snarked at you, but you didn’t take it to heart. While the Naga was impatient, they were also your best friend, snarking was just who they were. You could ask them anything and while they might gently roast you, they’d sort it for you.  

“Umm, can I just have a glass of wine? I need to be up early tomorrow to work on my portfolio.” Ren nodded, his slit eyes darting back and forth between you and Khureg.

Slithering out of their seat, Ren made his way to the bar but not before quipping over his shoulder. “Not a problem, but talking about hair stuff, don’t you have a question for big and handsome there?”  

Ren’s smirk was so big you could practically feel it melting your face off.  

Maybe you needed a new damn best friend.  

“A question for me?” Khureg rumbled, turning to face you. Well, more like looking down to face you considering the remarkable height differences. When standing you only came up to his chest, which just distracted you further as all you could think about was if you ever shared a bed with him, you could literally sleep on top of his chest.  

Gods, Ren really was simultaneously the best and the worst.

“Well, yeah, you’re always so helpful and good and generous with your time and I just wanted to ask you if you could help me with one more thing? Ren told me about a brand that I haven’t tried yet for Naga’s and Ren can’t help because of shedding, you know Naga’s and their sensitive skin! And I know that braids are a delicate thing to do for Orcs but well it’s not an Orcish braid and I would really appreciate if I could practice on you and-,”  

Khureg stopped you before you started going blue in the face from your never ending ramble by putting one of his massive and surprisingly soft hands on your shoulder.  

Finally, you remembered to take a breath, smiling nervously up at the Orc.

Why were you even nervous!?  

It’s not the first time you’ve asked for help!  

But it felt different now, maybe because he was sat so much closer to you than usual.

Maybe it was the way his golden eyes almost sparkled in the low light of the bar.

Chuckling, Khureg squeezed your shoulder gently. “That’s absolutely fine, you know I don’t mind you playing with-, styling my hair. For your job, of course.” The Orc corrected himself quickly.

Gods, Khureg was amazing, you thought, your face lighting up and you did something unexpected. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around the Orcs considerable chest, your hands couldn’t even touch, you thought gleefully.  

A small oomph left his chest but he rumbled quietly, the sound vibrating all the way through to your spine and further down...  

Large, strong arms encompassed you back, pressing you right into his shirt.

Oh, he even smelled amazing.  

It wasn’t like this was the first time you’d hugged Khureg! You’d known the Orc for a year now, you were close friends.  

But this time felt different.

It made your heart flutter just like every other time you’d been close to him but this felt like comfort.  

Like being under a blanket on a rainy day.  

Like the first hot drink on a winter morning.

It felt like home.

Maybe it was the way he held you just a little tighter than normal, maybe it was the dark lighting and the privacy of the booth. You didn’t know, but you weren’t complaining.

Soon Ren returned with your drinks and you detangled yourself from Khureg’s warm embrace. The rest of the night went well, drinks flowed in moderation and before you knew it your thigh was pressed against the Orc’s. You’d arranged a night in the week for Khureg to come over, you also invited Ren but unfortunately, they were busy. With what, they didn’t say but you weren’t about to pry and lose any alone time with Khureg.  

It seemed, however, that both you and Khureg, had missed the sly looks that the devious Naga had been shooting you both all night.  

Ren did sometimes wonder how either of you managed to get through this life being this damn oblivious.

The following week stretched on, going both far too quickly and all at once way too slowly. It was a painful week just because of that. Work and study went on as usual, nothing at all exciting or even disastrous that may distract you from daydreaming about Khureg spending some quality time with you.  

Ren had sent you the picture of the braid they’d described however, it was a little strange. Not the braid of course! That was utterly beautiful, and you couldn’t wait to practice it. Just, in the images that Ren usually sent you got multiple references which included different views of the style so that you knew whether your version was sitting right or not.

Whereas this single picture looked cropped, it was only the braid and nothing more. You had no idea who it was on, or even if it was actually a Naga?

Oh well, you wouldn’t complain, Ren had been such a help with everything that you really didn’t mind too much.  

And, this was another opportunity to be close to Khureg.

Gosh, you missed playing with-, styling his hair.

It had been well over a month since you’d last used him as a hair model for pictures and practice.  

Suddenly, Wednesday night was upon you, and you’d spent all day tidying your flat irregardless of that fact that not only had Khureg already been there before but it was also already spotless. You’d stocked your fridge with his favourite beer and had placed the usual order with your mutually favourite pizza parlour when the door rang.

Jumping up off your worn sofa, you wrenched the stiff door open to reveal Khureg wearing a tight henley shirt, the first three buttons undone, sleeves pushed up to the elbows revealing strong, thick forearms and a pair of grey sweat pants that lined his legs indecently.  

“Hi!” You managed to squeak out, “Please, come on in.” Stepping back from the door, you let him stoop through the entrance and you fanned your face behind his hulking figure.  

“How’s your day been?” You asked, plopping yourself on the sofa next to him.

Khureg sighed, stretching his arms. “Not so bad, but where it’s coming up to Yuletide the practice is getting ready for the pets that will be given as presents just being dumped because families can't handle them. It’s just stressful really as we’re doing so much work for something that we know is going to happen but it’s completely preventable! It just makes me so mad; you know?” The Orc vented to you as you nodded in agreement.

Being this passionate about animal welfare was just another thing you loved about him, as if he couldn't get any more perfect. You could just listen to him all day, and to be fair you nearly have before, when he had excitedly rambled about a new vaccination clinic that the practice had implemented under his leadership around three months ago. When Khureg had realised that he had been talking without interruption for a long time he faltered and apologised profusely.

At that moment you could’ve screamed, you were on cloud nine just listening to him.  

Conversation was flowing, most likely due to the beer you’d bought and nothing at all to do with that fact that you're similar people with similar interests, one of which being each other but no, it wouldn’t be that of course.  

When the doorbell rang to announce the pizza, Khureg was up and across the room before you’d even registered the sound of the door, his soft movement just another thing that you admired. After paying and tipping the delivery guy, you both got to work devouring the pizza.  

“Oh, let you give you my half of the bill-,” Khureg waved you off. “Don’t worry about it, my treat.” That smile he gave you melted your heart.  

“By the way, your door is sticking, I can fix that for you?” He offered as he ate half a slice in one go.

“That’s okay, you don’t need to do that for me.” You shrugged it off, you were fine with your door despite how annoying it could be.  

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to,” Khureg smiled, his eyes drifting down to your lips, “you’ve got a little something there.” The Orc gestured to the corner of your mouth and when you went the wrong way to wipe it off, Khureg smiled and took a napkin, gently cleaning the sauce from your face. Thick thumb tracing your full, bottom lip for the briefest moment that you thought you imagined it.  

Your faces were closer than you realised, your tongue darting out to ghost over where he had touched.  

The tension was broken however when your phone slipped from your pocket, the thump bringing you both back to reality and you sprung apart from one another.  

Khureg and you shared a nervous laugh, him rubbing the back of his neck as you quickly fetched your phone from the floor.

“Well, should we get started before I get too tired to focus?” You asked and when he agreed, you stood and grabbed your case of hair tools and products while he made himself comfortable at your dining table.  

Standing behind him, you carefully removed the tie that kept his hair folded in a messy bun and his long, glossy hair cascaded over his broad back and over your fingers. You started as you always did, running your fingers through his locks from the top of his head, to the nape of his neck all the way down to the ends.  

Music was playing softly in the background, just loud enough that you missed his sigh of euphoria as you caressed his skin and hair.  

Neither of you spoke during the process, just enjoying the proximity of each other and the simple joy of touching another and being touched.

Humming gently, you propped up your phone with the reference picture displayed and began studiously copying the image, twisting, pining and plaiting his hair until it represented the desired style perfectly.  

Moments like this really did make everything feel better, just you and Khureg in this space with no one else and no other issues to be thinking of.

Just the peace of being happy, safe and cared for.

After an hour or so you were happy with the result and ushered Khureg into the bathroom to look in the mirror as you held a smaller mirror behind him so he could see all of it.

“So what do you think? I did a pretty good job, huh?” You grinned, really rather proud of this braid. Hopefully Khureg would acquiesce to you taking a picture for your portfolio.  

Khureg was silent.

The Orcs cheeks burning a deep green, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed, unable to get any words out.

“Is everything okay?” You enquired, your smile slipping slightly. Did he not like it?  

“No-, I mean yes! Of course, I’d love to start courting you!” Khureg exclaimed, wrapping you in an embrace so tight that your feet left the ground, your face pressed into his shirt before you could ask him what was going on!?

Chapter 3 

[beyondspaceandstars]

“We Go Way Back”

Relationship: Yelena Belova x Reader Warnings: angst, attitude, possible vague Black Widow spoilers Summary: Your and Yelena's date night takes an unexpected turn when a surprise guest shows up at your shared apartment. A/N: So. I saw Black Widow on thursday....i loved SO much.......maybe even found a new comfort character..........and now here we are :) please enjoy

Masterlist

You were just finishing up dinner when two arms snaked around your waist. You giggled, staring down at the sautéed vegetables, as you leaned into your girlfriend’s touch.

"Smells good," she mumbled against your neck. Light kisses were beginning to litter your skin.

You sighed. "Thank you, love," you said, giving everything a final stir before turning off the burners. You went to start carrying items to the table, thinking your girlfriend would let up on her hold on you, but that ended up not being the case.

With a joyous laugh, you playfully scolded her, "Yelena, please," you smiled. "Do you want to eat or not?"

She hummed. Her hands drifted now to your sides and began creeping their way to your hips and thighs. "Depends on what you had in mind."

You let out a faux surprised gasp. "You’re shameless." You shook your head and peeled her hands away from you. She let out a little defeated sigh but you just shot her a playful look and continued with your initial mission of setting the dining table.

Thankfully, this time, Yelena lent a helping hand as opposed to lending her hands…elsewhere. The latter was a common occurrence, especially before date night dinners, such as ones like these. There had been one too many meals you were forced to reheat everything after you let Yelena get carried away.

After the food was placed — a nice spread of local meats, fresh produce, and bakery bread — you began working on getting plates and cutlery. Yelena had taken it upon herself to start breaking out the wine. She brought out two bottles you had just bought that morning based on the recommendation from the butcher. You maybe took cooking and dinners a bit too seriously, hoping everything was right especially when it was for your love.

You set out the cutlery just as Yelena finished pouring two (hefty) glasses of wine. You shot her a smile in thanks and began filling each of your plates. You did have to pat yourself on the back a bit, everything smelled wonderful.

Once you two had full plates and eager stomachs, you sat down and dug in. Yelena immediately let out an exaggerated moan as she practically devoured the meat. You blushed at her enthusiasm.

"This is wonderful, dear," Yelena praised and took a sip of her wine. "Very reminiscent of my momma’s cooking."

Your ears perked up at your girlfriend’s mention of her family. She did that every now and then, slip in random comments about them. You liked trying to explore it but knew the topic was a delicate one. You trod carefully.

"Yeah?" You asked, moving some vegetables around on your plate. "Did she cook a lot?"

Yelena shrugged. "We’d have dinners together, all of us, pretty much every night."

All of us. You had heard so far of a mother and a father but could there be more? Or were you reading too much into it?

Eventually, you settled on, "Family dinners sound very nice." That was enough, you thought. Just safe but still engaged. You eyed Yelena as she continued to eat. She hadn’t noticed you stalled or, well, she probably did, but wasn’t saying anything. You took large gulps of your wine, impulsively.

Just as your liquid courage was getting to you to maybe inquire further about your lover’s family, a hard knock at the front door disrupted the entire dinner. Both of your movements stopped abruptly. You looked between the door and your girlfriend.

"Were you expecting someone?" You asked.

Yelena shook her head. Her fork dropped with a loud clang as she pushed away from the table. In quick, determined strides she collected the gun kept in the side table in the living room. You watched her, quite stunned by her response. You don’t think you ever actually saw any of her guns come into action. When you first moved in, she just explained they were a precaution. You never asked what kind of precaution. You feared you were getting your answer now as Yelena walked to the entryway.

Gun drawn, pointed dead on with the wooden door, she called out, "Who is it?"

"You can put the gun down." Surprisingly, that was a female voice answering your girlfriend’s demand. Your brows furrowed in curiosity. You watched for Yelena’s reaction but she was still so stoic and intense.

Yelena scoffed. "Are you sure?"

Probably a bit foolishly, you decided to chime in. "Love," you said, "is everything okay?"

The female on the other side of the door spoke again, this time with an element of shock in her voice. "Love?"

Yelena let out a dramatic sigh as she relaxed her stance and surrendered her gun, placing it on the little table in the foyer. What seemed to be a bit reluctantly, Yelena opened the door forcefully.

Despite the mystery woman finally being revealed, it answered approximately zero of your questions. There, in the doorway, stood a redhead whose unamusing expression mixed with a slight smugness matched your girlfriend’s. The two just stared at one another, neither dared to move, as if they were challenging one another to try it.

Curiosity finally getting the best of you, you stood from the dining table and slowly made your way to the front door. Your fingers fumbled in nervousness as you stepped with caution.

"Hi, there," you said with a weak smile and gentle wave. The redhead’s eyes flicked over to you only briefly. Still, you continued, "Are you alright? Do you need something?"

"Oh, do I."

Yelena shook her head. "The only thing she needs is to leave."

You turned to your girlfriend, "Who is she?"

"Natasha," the redhead explained. "Me and your love here," she nodded towards Yelena, "we go way back."

You didn’t know how she had the air in her but Yelena let out another ridiculous sigh and stomped away. Like some defeated child, she took her seat once more at the dining table. You had never seen her like this before, so unattached and dismissive. You wracked your brain on how to mend this.

You turned back to Natasha. "Please, come in." Natasha took the offer quite well and gave you a nod of thanks before entering the apartment. You followed her into the dining room.

"We were just starting dinner," you explained as you raced for the kitchen, grabbing Natasha her own set. "Sit, have some food."

Natasha mumbled a "thanks" as you began filling her plate now with food. You even offered up some wine despite Yelena’s weird look she shot you when you reached for it. You ignored her odd behavior and took your seat once more. Somehow, the tension from the situation just got worse. Neither woman was eating now.

You cleared your throat as you prepared to dig into your meal once more. "I hope it’s still warm. If not, I can pop everything in the oven to warm."

No one said anything.

"Alright then…" You shrugged. "If I may, how exactly do you two know each other?"

That was the question that opened the flood gates. Yelena turned to you abruptly. "She’s my sister."

"Sort of," the redhead quickly retorted.

Your jaw went slack. Your appetite completely abandoned you now as your interest was greatly piqued. "Your sister?" You asked and looked between the two women. Well, they didn’t really look alike…

"Not biologically," Yelena explained. "We just kind of…lived together for a while."

"I see," you nodded. You scraped your fork against your plate, awkwardly. "If I may again, what brings you here, Natasha?"

The question certainly made Yelena perk up as she stared down her sister — or, whatever they considered each other. You resisted the urge to grab her hand under the table, unsure of what level of affection she was comfortable showing in front of this woman.

"Some business to attend to." Short and sweet. You felt these two were definitely related on some level.

"This couldn’t have waited until the morning?" Yelena gritted.

Natasha shrugged. "I guess it could’ve but then, apparently, I would’ve missed out on this lovely dinner with you and your… your, what? Girlfriend?" She took a bite of food. "Hmm, tastes close to someone else’s cooking." A shrug. "Anyways, I didn’t know you dated."

"You don’t know a lot of things."

"Okay!" You explained, trying to salvage whatever was left of this civilized conversation. Natasha and Yelena shared a look before turning to your flustered state. "We’re very happy you dropped in, right, love?" You glanced at Yelena. "And you’re more than welcome to stay, Natasha. I’m afraid all we have to offer is the couch if that would be okay."

Natasha glanced behind you at the living room before nodding. "That would be great," she smiled.

***

It wasn’t until you were standing at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes from dinner that Yelena approached you to talk. Natasha was off getting ready for bed and your girlfriend hopped on this opportunity.

"I’m so sorry," she said as she stood beside you, taking on the role of the dryer in your little dishwasher assembly line. "I-I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry she dropped by, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her—,"

"Love," you shook your head, giving her a sympathetic look, "it’s okay. I’m not really mad you didn’t tell me or that she’s here. From what I gather, it’s a complicated relationship."

Yelena let out an annoyed huff. "You have no idea." A beat. "But, still. I shouldn’t hide these things from you. She was a big part of my life and now you… you’re a big part of my life. It’s only fair."

Your heart warmed at her admission. She could be quite the affectionate one when she wanted to be. Quickly, you leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She tried hiding her blush but failed beautifully.

"For what it’s worth, she seems very interesting," you shrugged. "I think she could be fun to get to know. Probably has a few embarrassing stories about you as a child."

Yelena gasped. "Don’t even think about it."

"Too late," you giggled, mentally marking that down as a subject for conversation. A brief silence passed over you two as you finished up with the dishes. Reaching the end of the chore, you said, "So, should I be on the lookout for any other siblings?"

Your girlfriend chuckled. "No," she admitted. "Natasha is it."

You let out a content hum in understanding. "One day we should have them all over."

"Them?"

"Yeah," you nodded, "your whole family. A nice, big family dinner. That could be exciting, right?"

Yelena rolled her eyes. Whether it was playful or not, you couldn’t quite tell. "That’s certainly one way to describe it."

[glowingbadger]

Can I get some SFW and nsfw modern day Kaeya and Diluc stuff? Ty ty!

Damn I hadn't even thought about ModernAU Genshin before lol should be interesting- lesgoooo~

Side note- Genshin refuses to make actual sense of any of the ages of its characters, so I'm going with, like... mid-20's, semi-recently out of college for these two.

Kaeya, Diluc x GN Reader - ModernAU! headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Kaeya:

- He's in law school, and has a real knack for discovering hilarious and exploitable legal loopholes. It's also a field that suits him for a number of reasons- it makes use of his infectious natural charm, and keeps him entertained with the 'stories' you happen upon working with people's legal and personal problems. He's also the best dressed in any of his classes, and in any given courtroom. Those who know luxury clothing when they see it can't help incredulously wondering how he affords his wardrobe while still technically a student.

- Kaeya is such a shitposter. He habitually 'likes' any and everything you post on any and all social media platforms- but he'll also comment "mmm who's that sexy thing" beneath the most innocuous images of you. He sends you dumb memes at concerning hours of the night- frequently while intoxicated, and especially when you've had a stressful day.

- As a partner, Kaeya is surprisingly loyal. His friends (and yours) will joke about him being a total slut, how you must have to keep him on such a short leash. He doesn't take offense to this though, and in a way, he gets a kick out of being perceived this way. But in truth, since he's been with you, he's never once considered anyone else. When you're alone together, there's a warmth in his gaze and a gentleness to his touch that no one else has ever seen.

- Everywhere Kaeya goes, he seems to "know a guy." He's always got an in- and an elaborate story of how he met this person and why they're, frankly, worryingly open to doing him favors. It's rare that a date with Kaeya goes by without you being offered free drinks, free desserts, a better seat at a restaurant or theatre, etc. Generally, when pressed, he'll wave a hand and say, "Babe come on, you know me- I just love making friends." Though you've heard whispers that some of his "friends" are just people who can't afford to be on his bad side.

Diluc:

- Was on track to become a police officer for some time, but it took barely a month from completing his training for him to become entirely disillusioned with the entire system. He quit (bluntly and forcefully, I might add) and now works as a P.I. His quietly thoughtful and serious nature puts clients at ease while allowing him to examine each case efficiently and effectively. I also figure we'd still carry over the "bartending at night" angle from the games- it's a great way to network and gain intel while undercover.

- His phone is basically a device for work, the news, and sometimes for contacting you, and absolutely nothing else. He hates the constant noise of social media, and refuses to jump on trends when things move too fast to get meaningfully invested in anything. Still, while he tries to angle his screen so you won't see it, he has set a picture of you as his wallpaper.

- Diluc loves the quiet, domestic side of your relationship. He treasures things like cooking together, cuddling on the couch with a movie, or even working on chores and projects together. He comes from money (though he doesn't talk about it much), so the more down to earth life that he's made with you is precious to him, and he appreciates all of the little moments that reaffirm your bond. That said, he does have an excellent memory for things like birthdays, anniversaries and such, and he is not shy about spending some cash on such occasions.

- Your friends all think he's super hot (and they're right), but are also a bit intimidated by him. Once, you tried showing them a sweet message he sent you drowning in heart emojis and they insisted that couldn't be him. Now there's a running joke in your friend group about your secret side-guy who leaves you nice voicemails when you've had a bad day and has flowers sent to your work- since they're convinced someone as serious and put-together as Diluc couldn't be your incredibly affectionate boyfriend.

NSFW 18+ v

Kaeya:

- Kaeya loves showing you off, especially in an outfit he bought just for you. It seriously turns him on to watch you over a nice dinner out wearing something a bit risque that he selected for you, noting the appreciative glances in your direction from others nearby, and knowing that you're his. The way his line of sight wanders your body all night makes it exceedingly clear that he can't wait to tear that lovely outfit off of you when he has you alone.

- Definitely the adventurous and experimental sort when it comes to kink, and he especially enjoys a bit of exhibitionism or semi-public fooling around. During a similar date night, with you looking so positively delicious across the table, he'll watch with a wolfish smirk as you squirm from the vibrations of a toy he pushed inside of you earlier that evening. He reclines in his seat and levels his gaze on you, saying, "My, darling, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed..." as his hand fiddles with the toy's remote. Then, once he gets you home or- even better -to a hotel, he'll press you against the window as he fucks you into panting, mindless bliss. Sometimes he doesn't even want to wait that long, and he'll find somewhere to park his car and fuck you in his back seat

- Kaeya has sending dick pics and lewd selfies down to an art. Seriously, his pictures are beautiful- of course helped by the fact that his body is gorgeous as well. Naturally, he loves to receive erotic images of you as well, and will save each and every one of them for "later use." If you're into it, he'll gladly send you a video of himself stroking his cock just for you, while describing every filthy thing he imagines doing to you in explicit detail.

Diluc:

- Generally speaking, Diluc wants to wine and dine you before the spicy business. He's a romantic at heart, and he wants you to know that he adores every part of you- and your body just happens to be one item on that list. He's not as obvious with his desires as some, but lingering gazes across the dinner table, or a hand at the small of your back trailing around your waist, all make his intentions clear. There's no doubt your lovely evening together will end with his strong body pressing you against his matress, his lips at your throat and your thighs clinging around his hips.

- He's generally fairly private about his sex life- not shy, per say, but insistent that your mutual pleasure is something for only the two of you. He's also not likely to sext or send lewd photos unless you really, really want them (and he's kind of adorably awkward about it at first even if he does try for you)- but if you tease him by sending him something naughty, his mind short circuits. His face burns crimson and he stops whatever he was doing and just stares at your beautiful body on the screen, as though he can already feel you in his hands.

- Diluc is a busy man, so there's likely to be stretches when the time and energy for sex simply isn't there. But once he's wrapped up a case and he finally has some time to breathe, you can bet he'll lift you into his arms and carry you to the bedroom the first chance he gets. You might even start to suspect that it's a way for him to vent his work stress when his thick cock pounds into you so nice and steady and deep- but you're certainly not about to complain, especially when you've been without him for so long.