#I made a new brush because I wanted softer art and it turned out better than expected

[rararazaquato]

chapter 2 is coming. here's makoto and kurumi.

a lot of design notes under the cut, both about these guys and the nda detectives

yuma was specifically given a little facial hair because, in the canon of the fic, he's been too busy to actually shave. however, the out-of-canon reason is that my art style is so chibi cutesit that it makes everyone look a bajillion years younger than they actually are. yuma's design is already a little young-looking despite most evidence in-canon pointing to him being an adult, so i wanted to give him that extra signifier of being a grown ass man.

the longer hair is also there for the same reasons - he hasn't gotten it cut for a while, and the bowl cut made him look childish.

because i have chronic same-face-syndrome, i put yuma and makoto in the same pose to emphasize that they are, genetically, the same person.

honestly, makoto's design versus yuma's in-game really makes it clear just how much a haircut and outfit change can make a character look older. with makoto wearing a suit and having hair that isn't in the perfect shape of a bowling ball, he looks a lot more like a young adult with a babyface. because i feel like he doesn't need the extra age signifiers (and because i feel like he'd want to differentiate himself from yuma more), i didn't give him the facial hair.

the "looking less like yuma" angle is also why he still bleaches and grows out his hair.

i like to think makoto starts taking better care of himself postgame, so i made his hair a bit fluffier and softer-looking to show he's actually been brushing and washing it. i mean, come on. canon makoto ily but you look like a greased-up yorkshire terrier.

i also gave makoto curtain bangs because girl... you have a forehead the size of the moon. i'm also a member of large forehead gang so i understand you pain but still.

makoto's outfit is actually loosely based on an outfit i own irl! i have a hawaiian shirt with similar colors (albeit a different pattern) and blue swim trunks with red lobsters on them.

makoto probably sunburns really easily, both as a result of being pale as fuck (yuma also has this issue) and being a homunculus (he won't die in the sun, but it does result in a mild allergy). so just imagine he's always lathered in sunscreen.\

mentally, makoto is the same age as yuma (so 20 when this fic takes place) and kurumi is 19 (i headcanon she's only a year younger than yuma). chronologically, they are both about four years old. #justhomunculusthings

i changed kurumi's hairstyle because her canon one is stupid. like why does she have two skinny ass braids hidden in her coat. give her those long luscious locks.

she's wearing disposable gloves to protect her hands, and almost all of her clothing is specifically designed to reflect uv rays.

you'll notice the inside of kurumi's mouth is actually a different color than any of the master detectives. that's the homunculus baby!!!

i gave her an ahoge because i hope she gets the protag treatment for the next game. also i hope she and shinigami become girlbesties and also that shinigami gets the fuck over herself. um ok now time for design notes abt the other people. artwork here if u didn't see the og one.

desuhiko actually does turn 20 in the timeframe of the fic. his birthday party is a future chapter.

he gets knockoff heelys in the upcoming chapter bcuz i think he'd enjoy them. but he got them flippy floppys in the meantime.

fubuki got a new hairstyle because i think she would be a bit more loose and silly as she starts going on more adventures.

her and vivia actually have two birthdays between the time i headcanon raincode to take place (march 2XXX) and the fic (july 2XXX+1). so while yuma is 19 in mdarc and 20 in usf, fubuki is 21 in mdarc and 23 in usf (and vivia is 25-27)

yes, that is ibuki mioda on her shirt.

i'm actually scared of needles so halara's earrings get a redesign. they get new ones in the upcoming chapter as well.

their outfit might be mostly long sleeves, but the jacket is lightweight and breezy and the jeans have wide legs, so it's actually nice and cool.

just realized this outfit is primarily yellow with some red and blue acccents. i can't believe i reinvented sollux homestuck. i'm sorry halara baby i didn't mean to compare you to an ugly bitch like that (this is a joke i actually like sollux)

vivia's outfit is inspired by the stupid shit i would make in the sims before i discovered custom content. i feel like he'd be a sims girly.

your guess for why yuma got facial hair due to never shaving while vivia, who is infamously too executive-dysfunction-riddled to leave the fireplace much less shave, has the skin of a newborn baby is up to you to interpret. possible options include (un)fortunate genetics on either/both of them, he is trans and hasn't started/doesn't intend to start t, or he just pays halara to do it for him.

actually i do think he pays halara to help him out with things when the chronic fatigue/executive dysfunction gets too much to deal with. fubuki will do it for free but also she is kind of bad at being helpful as a result of being fubuki.

aaand time for the general headcanons section

every single one of these characters is some flavor of neurodivergent. halara and kurumi are autistic, desuhiko has adhd, and yuma, makoto, fubuki, and vivia have both. i'm sure some of them also have other neurodivergencies but those are the two i'm most familiar with so those are the two that worm their way into my headcanons.

not a single one of these characters doesn't have ptsd. like i'm sorry but you cannot live through chapters 4 and 5 of rain code and not be mentally ill afterwards. most of em also have a few other mental illnesses because i love projecting on fictional characters <3

vivia's also got some sort of chronic physical illness (my personal headcanon is pots), and makoto sometimes uses a cane. yuma should sometimes use a cane but he has the bodily awareness of a fucking peanut and thinks it hurts everyone to walk.

yuma's gonna realize he's any pronouns nonbinary someday, but that won't be for a hot minute. makoto is the same, but he's a lot closer to that realization than yuma is. both are also bi, as is kurumi.

desuhiko is the resident kodakaverse problematic bicon. there's always one of em!

fubuki is a lesbian. "oh but she confesses to yuma in her final gumshoe gab!" well as i said before yuma isn't a man. it's a bit confusing to her because she doesn't know that yet but turns out she's just got that Sense where she can tell that yuma isn't exactly cis.

halara is nonbinary (obviously, that's basically canon) and pan

vivia is somewhere on the aroace spectrum (both out of general lack of interest and because sex and romance are physically/mentally straining) but he's generally gay-aligned.

#rain code spoilers #mdarc #rain code #mdarc unrestrained summer fun #(thats gonna be my tag for that) #makoto kagutsuchi #kurumi wendy #long post #i mean LONG post #ive been writing this for like an hour #yuma kokohead

[fregget-frou]

Tried making new brushes today and drew sleepy time Bright Eyes <33

I have an unhealthy obsession with this funky lil vampire oml,,,,

<33333

#hehehees pretty person #I gave them hip dips but you can’t really see them with the night shirt #THEIR HAIR IS SO FLUFFY I LOVE IT #MY BELOVED THORN PLEASE #I made a new brush because I wanted softer art and it turned out better than expected #redacted asmr #freggzocs #freggzartz #redacted asmr bright #redacted asmr bright eyes #redacted asmr fanart #redacted asmr art #redacted asmr fanfic #my OCs are irrelevant to canon but #bright will always be my favorite AUGH

[ponds-puddle]

Crushes ~{Bakugo}~

*NOT MY ART*

word count: 1952

-

Stop acting so childish. Do you realize how pathetic you look right now? Seriously. It’s pathetic. He was never going to be yours to begin with, so why are you so upset? You knew that he would never love you back. Why would he? And when did you become so pitiful? You used to be so strong, so independent. All you are now is worthless. No meaning. No purpose. Nothing. All you are is a mistake. All you do is mess up and let people down. Look at you. Look in the mirror. You’re hideous. Everyone thinks so. Look. Look at yourself. LOOK.

“Wake up, loser,” Bakugo huffed, nudging your face lightly with his knuckles. You made a small hmph sound, pressing your cheek onto his hand. The explosive boy blushed at the motion, staring down at your sleeping figure. His heart broke at the level of tension that was showing on your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and your mouth was contorted into a pained frown. 

“Y/N?” Bakugo said, this time a lot softer. He hoped that no one would wake up and find the two of you. He doubted it, the two of you woke up hours before anyone else. Knowing this, Bakugo squatted beside the couch, his hand turning to caress your face instead.

Your eyes opened slightly, the tears that had formed behind your lids were finally exposed. Bakugo felt his stomach turn at the sight of your tears. He was never good with comforting people, but in his head he knew that he’d do anything to make you smile again. 

“Hey there,” he said sweetly, brushing his thumb against your cheek. You weren’t sure you were awake. He’s never acted this way with you before, “Why’re you crying?” 

“I uh-” you couldn’t think. Not with the way his vermillion eyes kindly bore into yours, “I had a bad dream.” 

“Wanna talk about it?” he removed his hand from your face, opting to sit on the floor with his back against the couch. 

“It’s really nothing,” you said in an attempt to be nonchalant. Bakugo scoffed, dropping his head back onto the couch to look at you. 

“You know you can’t lie to me,” he said with a chuckle. You wanted to photograph him at this moment. The way his neck extended backwards had you swooning. 

“I know,” you sighed, tearing your eyes away from temptation, “I just don’t think this is something I can talk to you about. This is more Jirou, Mina, or Kaminari’s area.” 

“Why is Dunce-face included but I’m not?” 

“Denki gives better relationship advice,” you shrug, “Surprising since he’ll never be in one.” 

Bakugo snorted at your comment, but then it was like something connected in his mind, “Relationship advice? You’re in a relationship?” 

You laughed, “No I’m not in a relationship, Bakugo. I just like someone, that’s all.” 

You almost hit yourself in that moment. Despite how badly you did not want to talk about this with Bakugo, you always end up telling him the truth. It’s like you’re physically incapable of keeping things from him. However, you had kept this one secret for four years. 

“Who are they?” 

“I can’t tell you that,” you said mysteriously, pressing a finger to your lips, “It’s a secret.” 

“It’s Shitty Hair, isn’t it?” Bakugo scoffed as he crossed his arms, “I knew there was something going on between the two of you. After that night he helped you cook dinner. It’s so obvious.” 

You stared at the boy for a moment before bursting out laughing, “No it’s not Kiri!” 

“You even gave him a nickname!” Bakugo argued stubbornly.

“I’m telling you that you’re wrong!” 

“Shut up, you know I’m never wrong.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Guess there’s a first for everything because it’s not Kirishimia.”

“Then tell me who it is!” 

“No!” you laughed loudly, enjoying how frustrated the blonde boy was getting. 

“I won’t believe you that it’s not Shitty Hair until you tell me who it is!” 

“That’s so petty of you,” you tsk, shaking your head in shame. Bakugo glared at you, annoyed with how much entertainment you were getting out of this situation. 

“What will make you tell me?” 

You tapped your finger on your chin a few times, indicating that you were “thinking about it”. But then you just shrugged and said, “I guess nothing. Because I won’t tell you.” 

Bakugo huffed childishly as he stood up, “Fine, keep it to yourself then. Let’s just go make breakfast already.” 

You watched as he walked away, his steps comically wide. As if he wants the whole world to know that he was upset. All you could do was shake your head at his childishness and follow him to the kitchen. 

“What do you want to eat?” he asked gruffly, leaning against the counter. You walked over to the fridge, inspecting the ingredients. You were never good at cooking, it was mainly Bakugo. Usually he would hand you small things to cut or peel. Of course if it required a bigger knife, he was not gonna hand it over. You tried to get him to let you cut a potato when he first started teaching you to cook, but he just shut you down no matter how many times you asked. 

“I don’t really know what can be made,” you finally admitted after looking around the fridge. Bakugo sighed before walking over to you. He stood behind you, looking over you into the fridge. 

“What about an omelette?” he asked before resting his chin on your shoulder, “They’re really easy to learn. And you can cut things up for me.” 

“Can I flip it?” you asked, turning your head slightly to the side so you could give him puppy dog eyes. Bakugo looked over at you with half-lidded eyes, an unphased expression covering his face. 

“You’re cute,” he said quietly, lifting his chin to press his lips to your temple, “but absolutely not.” 

Then he took you by your shoulders and moved you so he could get the ingredients. You stood there with a dazed look on your face, your fingers brushing against his kiss. 

“What’s with you this morning, Bakugo?” you asked without thinking. The boy stayed crouched in front of the fridge, searching through the drawers. 

“What do you mean?” he asked in a huff. He knew exactly what you meant, but he wasn’t sure how to explain it to you without sounding like a freak. Hell, he couldn’t stop thinking about it either. So much that he’s been searching in the drawer for like a solid two minutes and can’t for the life of him remember what it was that he needed out of it. 

“You’ve been… different this morning?” 

Bakugo paused for a moment before sighing to himself. He closed the drawer and stood up straight, turning his body towards you. The way he held himself in that moment, the level of uncertainty that poured off of him was almost overwhelming, “Does it…” he took a breath, calming himself before continuing with a much warmer tone, “Does it bother you?” 

Vulnerability. That was a new shade of Bakugo. 

“Not knowing why you’re doing it does,” you said to the ground as you twirled your thumbs nervously, “But the actions themself don’t bother me…”

“Do you want to know the reason?” 

You looked up at him through your eyelashes before nodding. 

“I’m jealous of whoever it is you like,” he said sadly, stepping closer to you, “I’m jealous of any guy that takes your attention away from me. I’m selfish in that way. You make me selfish in that way.”

“Baku-” 

Bakugo stepped forward once more, standing within inches of you now. His hands reached out once more, his calloused hands holding your face as if it was the most precious thing he had ever possessed, “I treat you this way because it feels natural to me. Being with you feels natural to me. Does that reason scare you?” 

“Katsuki…” you tried out, your voice impossibly small. He had your face held up to look him in eyes, but that came with a disadvantage that he didn’t calculate. When his name left your mouth that way, that sweet little whisper… his face burned into a blush. And despite removing his hands from your face to cover his own, you still were able to see the bright red burning on his cheeks, “You’re the crush.” 

“Me?” he looked back towards you, his eyes widened in surprise. The blush was still evident on his face. He looked so vulnerable in that moment. That was one word that you wouldn’t ever pin to Katsuki, but right now you were witnessing a whole new side of him. He made it impossible to not love him. 

“Yeah,” you said sweetly. This time it was you who caressed the other’s face. You watched as Katsuki’s eyes gleamed at the feeling of being held. You wonder how long he’s felt this lonely. 

“I don’t get why,” he said softly, turning his face slightly away from your hand. You frowned before cupping his face in both of your hands this time. 

“Because you’re insanely strong,” you said as you placed a kiss on his right cheek, “And incredibly smart,” this time you kissed his left cheek, “Let’s not mention how handsome you are,” his forehead. 

Bakugo’s eyes dropped down to your lips as you spoke your next words, “And you make me feel safe.” 

At first you were intending on pulling his face to yours and being super cute about it, but Katsuki had a different plan. Something about hearing you say you made him feel safe brought out this whole different side of him. Different from his vulnerable side. His posture straightened almost instinctively and, when you caught on to what he was doing, you dropped your hands from his face just in time. Just in time for Katsuki to tangle his fingers into your hair, tugging your head backwards and pressing his lips hungrily against yours. You tried to suppress the small whimper from leaving your mouth, but it was no use. Katsuki swallowed the sound, stepping into you and forcing your back against the wall. Your hands desperately held onto the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer to you. Katsuki kept the hand wrapped in your hair, and dropped his spare hand onto your waist, gripping it tightly. 

After a moment the two of you were desperate for air and pulled apart. Katsuki kept his forehead against yours, a loving gesture. For a while the two of you just stared at each other, completely taken with one another. Katsuki smiled gently before removing your hair and holding your chin between his thumb and index finger, pressing a sweeter kiss on your lips this time. 

“Well this is new…”

Bakugo turned around to face the voice, keeping your body sheltered from whoever it might be, “Go away.” 

You slid to the side, catching the eyes of Kirishima who stood at the kitchen doors. When he saw that it was you, he smiled. 

“Hey! You told him! Good for you!” 

You winced. This wasn’t gonna be good. 

“SHITTY HAIR KNEW?”

“Technically everyone knew,” Kirishima said, nonchalantly giving you up, “Heck I think even Mi-” 

“GET OUT!” you shouted at the boy. He just laughed and turned around, headed back to his room. Katsuki looked down at you with a small grin, but it was borderline sadistic.

“Even who, Y/N?” 

“How about we try that kissing thing again?” 

“How about we make omelettes?”

“Now can I flip them?” 

Katsuki chuckled, placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “We can do it together.”

#bakugo #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #bakugo fanfic #bakugo mha #katsuki fanfic #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #katsukibakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha katsuki #katsuki bakugo headcanons #katsuki bakugo imagine #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo fanart #bakugou katsuki #bakugo fluff #bakugo x yn

[makeup-manifestation]

Time for another tutorial! Continuing on with the ToT boys, our next inspiration comes from detective/secret agent/general ray of sunshine, Luke Pearce!

I’m going to admit that I went with Luke next just to get him out of the way, not because I don’t love him but because I know that I would have difficultly coming up with a proper design for him, especially because his color scheme is kind of difficult to translate into eyeshadow without it looking weird or muddy. I sort of agonized over it for a bit, and originally I was going to go with something that drew a bit more inspiration from Peanut and the yellows that he is often associated with in promo art. But then, I made a mistake that eventually turned into something better! I when I was putting on my makeup this morning (because I often do these looks and do outfits to match them and wear them to class) I had taken my brush and taken some of my yellow, but when I started putting it on I thought “huh, this is looking more orange than I remembered.” And then I realized what happened. I had been messing around and experimenting last night because I was trying to see if I could recreate the freckles that the main character’s virtual avatar has from the movie Belle, because I’m going to see it tomorrow (this experiment failed, if I were to do it I properly would probably need a smaller brush or red graphic eyeliner), and I had forgotten to wipe the red eyeshadow off of my brush. So, when I used it this morning, the leftover red mixed with the yellow to make this warm yellow-ish orange (my palette already has an orange but it’s a lot brighter and looks sort of like a traffic cone, it has its uses but not for this)! I then improvised with some other colors and came out with something that looked really nice when it was all blended. That’s enough blabber, sorry if this feels like one of those recipes in which the author tells their entire life story and prevents you from getting to that awesome soup recipe in a timely manner, on to the tutorial!

Products used/recommended! (If you don’t have these, use whatever alternatives you have that are close to the shades that I used! They don’t have to be expensive, tbh most of my makeup is drugstore, the only stuff that isn’t is like my foundation and concealer.)

Makeup Revolution Reloaded Euphoria Palette (in case you can’t tell this palette is probably going to be in most of my tutorials, I love it to death it’s so colorful and it’s super pigmented when you use primer, plus it’s normally under $10!)

Wet n Wild Comfort Zone Palette (horrible confession I bought this palette so long ago that the one I’m using is the old discontinued version. It still works though, plus I checked and the new version that is being sold now has all of the same shades plus a few more, so I say that it’s still worth a buy, especially if you want some softer earthy tones for more every day looks!)

I was finally able to make out the text on my eyeshadow primer and match it to the actual product! It’s the Wet n Wild photofocus eyeshadow primer!

Eyeshadow “C” Brush (e.l.f.)

Small Angled Brush (e.l.f.)

Here’s the diagram! Written instructions will be below!

1. Apply your eyeshadow primer to your eyelids and creases!

2. Alternate between using red and yellow (the shades labeled as “1” on the diagram) on your inner corners until they mix into a pleasant yellowish orange (make sure to wipe off your brush when you switch colors!)

3. Wipe off your brush and take some of the olive green (the shade labeled as “2” on the diagram) and apply it to the rest of your eyelid. Make sure to blend it properly with the orange!

4. Wipe off your brush and take some of the brown labeled as “3” on the diagram and apply it to your crease. Make sure to blend!

5. Typically I prefer to line my eyes with black, and I usually use a liquid liner, but this look was coming out looking a bit earthy so I decided to just line using the small angled brush in the brown labeled “4” on the diagram so it would come out softer!

And that’s the tutorial! Tbh I was trying to avoid being super long winded in my intro but I want to drop this story: so I’m really bad at small talk with strangers, so of course icebreakers make me want to throw myself out of a window. I was my first official stats class of the semester (and thankfully the last math class that I will have to take in my undergrad, woo!) and my professor said “okay so take like three minutes to introduce yourself to the people sitting near you”, and then everyone sitting around me turned to other people and started talking, and the one other person next to me was a TA, so I was too nervous to actually say anything to anyone or interrupt so I was just kind of sitting there like this:

My social ineptitude aside, I hope you guys enjoyed this tutorial, and happy pulling! Our next ToT boy will be Vyn!

If you want to make a request, check out my pinned post and then shoot me an ask!

Other ToT looks:

Marius: https://makeup-manifestation.tumblr.com/post/673614434674032640/okay-yall-its-time-for-the-first-official

#makeup manifestation #tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #luke pearce tears of themis #luke tears of themis #makeup #makeup tutorial #mihoyo #gacha games #gacha hell #xia yan

[storiesforallfandoms]

not yours ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2104

request?: yes!

“Hi. Could you please do a Colson Baker imagine where Casie has something important going on at school and only the reader is there to cheer her on without Colson which causes Casie to get upset and immediately lock herself in her room crying when they get home. When Colson finally gets home, reader confronts him and he says something hurtful like “she’s my kid, not yours so back off” and maybe the reader has been apart of Casie’s life for years and loves her like her own so it hurts even more”

description: after he misses his daughter’s big opening night, colson says some hurtful things to the woman he loves, and has to be brought back down to earth by his eleven year old daughter

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, angst

masterlist

Casie was so excited to tell Colson and I that she had gotten a big role in the school play. Colson was excited, too. Casie was always more into sports than the arts, so it was a surprise to even hear that she had auditioned for the play, let alone that she had gotten a big role.

Colson vowed that he would be there no matter what. He even bought the two of us front row tickets to see it. He was beyond excited, and so proud of his baby girl.

But then, the night of the play came along and he received an important phone call from his record label. They wanted to have a meeting as soon as possible about his new album. He tried to push the meeting to another day, even just to the day after, but his label was adamant about having the meeting that evening, just an hour before the play.

“I’ll be quick,” Colson told me. “I’ll go in, pitch them the album, then leave. Worse case scenario, I miss maybe the first scene. You can fill me in.”

“Are you going to tell Casie?” I asked him as I watched him frantically prepare for his last minute meeting.

“No,” he decided. “She doesn’t need to know. I’ve spent a vast majority of her life on the road, I’ve missed so much, I don’t want her to think I’m putting my career over her again.”

“You’ve never done that,” I assured him, “but you should tell her just in case. Wouldn’t it be better if she knew, in case you’re late?”

Colson shook his head. This wasn’t exactly a surprise to me. I knew Colson was stubborn, and he was so devoted to Casie. I decided to take him at his word - he wouldn’t be long, he’d be there for Casie. He left for his meeting, promising again that he’d be to the play just in time for the opening of the play.

So, when I found myself sat in the front row, alone, just minutes before the play was supposed to start, and I was unable to get a hold of Colson, I wasn’t too surprised. I was worried for what Casie would say or think, but I wasn’t surprised that I couldn’t reach him.

When the lights went down, I tried one more time to reach him, but was sent straight to voicemail. I sighed heavily and put my phone on silent and slipped it into my pocket.

My heart broke to see that Casie was taking the stage right away as the play started. I watched her scan the audience, excitedly looking for Colson. When her eyes landed on me, I tried my best to smile and wave at her. I could see the hurt in her face to see the seat next to me empty. I wished I could do something more, but I knew this was it. I just had to be here for her, and hope that Colson would show up eventually.

When the show ended, I stood by the door that lead to backstage to wait for Casie to come out. I was the last person waiting when the door pushed open and the tear stained face of the eleven year old poked out from the door and looked up at me.

“He couldn’t even come to this?” she asked, her voice still shaking.

I opened my arms and hugged her tightly. She buried her head in my chest and I felt her body shaking as she cried. I wished I could make some sort of excuse for Colson to try and make things right, but even I was angry with him in that moment. I knew his career was important, but he was always saying how he never wanted to make Casie feel like she was second, and that’s exactly what he did when he missed her play.

The two of us drove home in silence. The minute I unlocked the door, Casie took off for her room. I heard her door close and the sound of her lock turning. I sighed and tried to call Colson again. Yet again, I got his voicemail.

“Hey,” I said, trying to keep my voice sounding calm, “so you missed Casie’s play. She’s really beat up over it. She locked herself in her room and is crying. You’re gonna have to do something huge to make this up to her. Hope you’ll be home soon.”

About half an hour passed when I heard the front door open and shut again. I was sat on the couch watching Netflix when Colson appeared in the doorway, a look of guilt on his face.

“She’s in her room,” I told him, not taking my eyes away from the screen. “Although good luck getting in. She wouldn’t even let me in.”

“I feel like complete shit,” Colson sighed. “I kept trying to leave, but they kept asking me questions. And Diddy was there, and I didn’t want to leave a bad impression on him - ”

“It’s not me you have to explain to,” I cut him off, pausing my show and rising from the couch. “Colson, you really broke her heart tonight. She’s been crying since the show ended.”

“I know I did,” Colson said. “I didn’t mean to. I meant to be there.”

“Then you should’ve been,” I snapped, my anger starting to rise. “I know that this next album is important to you, and I know it’s hard to try and turn down the record label, but you could’ve tried harder to move it just this once. Or you could’ve talked to Casie about it instead of hiding this from her. She was crushed, Colson, you should’ve seen her.”

“Yeah, this album is important, (Y/N). I can’t just blow off my record label, they have the power to completely tank my album or put it in development limbo. This meeting was important, I couldn’t pass it up.”

“Your daughter is supposed to be important, Colson!”

“She’s my daughter, (Y/N), not yours! Don’t tell me how to fucking parent!”

Hearing Colson raise his voice caused me to back down just a little, but the inclusion of Casie not being my child, or the implication that not even Colson viewed her as my child, felt like a knife through my heart.

Colson and I had been together for so long and, even though we still weren’t married, I considered Casie my own child, and she considered me a second mother. Colson had always said how happy he was that the two of us got along, and wanted nothing more than for his two favorite girls to like each other. He knew how much it would hurt to say that, and he said it anyways. He wanted to hurt me, just because I was telling the truth.

I blinked away the tears forming in my eyes and got close to Colson, so close that I could’ve gotten into his face if I wasn’t a solid foot shorter than him. “Then be a fucking parent and go talk to your daughter, asshole.”

I brushed past him and hurried up the stairs. I heard his footsteps following me and managed to slam the bedroom door shut and lock it behind me before he could get in.

“Don’t be childish, (Y/N), let me in!” he called.

“No,” I responded. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

I grabbed a bag and began throwing clothes into it. I had no plans as to where I was going, but I officially didn’t want to be in the house with him anymore.

When I opened the door again, Colson looked from my angry face to the bag in my hand. “Where are you going?”

“Somewhere far away from here,” I said as I pushed him away from me and made a beeline to the door. I couldn’t stop, or else I knew I’d turn around and stay. “Go talk to your daughter before you lose her for good, although right now, you fucking deserve that.”

And with that, I slammed the front door behind me as I left.

~~~~~~

I didn’t know where to go. Truthfully, I didn’t want to go anywhere. Not to stay for a long period of time. I just knew I didn’t want to be there with Colson anymore. What he said had really hurt, and he knew that it was going to. The fact that he still said it absolutely broke me.

I decided to park my car for a while by a beach. I was sat back in my seat, watching the waves crash against the sand, when my phone began to ring. I wasn’t shocked to see Colson’s name pop up, and I debated on not answering it. But part of me wanted to hear what he had to said, wanted to defend my actions and my decision to leave if he decided to fight over it.

I answered and put the phone up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hey,” came Colson’s voice. It was much softer than earlier, and I could hear the guilt in it. “Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m parked by a beach,” I admitted. “Just...needed to go somewhere to think.”

I heard him sigh with relief. “Okay, as long as you’re okay. Are you...are you coming back tonight? I think we need to talk about what I said.”

I thought long and hard about the answer to that question before deciding, “Yeah, I’ll be home soon.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

We both hung up and I sighed. I started the car and drove back to the all too familiar house. I decided to leave my bag in the car, in case things went wrong with mine and Colson’s “talk”.

He was waiting for me in the living room, an ironic turn of events. Except Colson wasn’t watching TV. His leg was bouncing, anxiously, undoubtedly waiting for me to come home. The minute I walked through the door, he stood up.

“I’m so sorry for what I said,” he said immediately, starting to approach me but then becoming hesitant. “I didn’t mean it at all, I hope you know that.”

I crossed my arms. “Which part?”

“All of it. Saying Casie isn’t your daughter, that you shouldn’t tell me how to parent, calling you childish. You were right, (Y/N), I should’ve pushed harder to postpone the meeting, and if they kept fighting I should’ve just cancelled it. The album can be postponed, but I can’t miss anymore of Casie’s milestones.”

I looked down at my feet, blinking away tears again as Colson’s words came to my mind. “I know she’s not actually my daughter, but she feels so much like she is now that...you saying that really hurt. It made me feel like I’ll never be a mother figure to Casie, or that I’m not allowed to be because I’m not her actual mom.”

“No, baby.” This time Colson didn’t hesitate to approach me and wrap me in his arms. “No, that’s not true at all. Casie loves you like you were her mom, and I know you love her like a daughter. I was upset when I said what I said, it wasn’t right for me to take it out on you like that. You were right to call me out like that, I’m sorry I upset you.”

I rested my head against his chest and let him hold me for a long time. Tears were still streaming down my face, but I didn’t feel as upset anymore. Just being there with him, and hearing the sincerity in his voice as he apologized, was enough to bring me out of my down mood.

“Did you talk to Casie?” I asked him after a prolonged moment of silence.

“I did,” he said. “She was the one who convinced me to call you. She also pointed out how stupid I was being and told me that if I let you get away that she’d steal the car and come get you herself.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped my mouth. Colson’s chest vibrated against my ear as he laughed as well.

“She’s still mad with me, but she deserves to be,” he continued. “It’ll take some time, but she told me I’ll be able to fix my fuck up eventually.”

“She won’t stay mad at you for long,” I told him. “She loves you more than anything.”

“I know, I love her, too. And I love you.”

I smiled up at him. “I love you, too, Colson.”

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #mgk #estxx #imagine #one shot #request

[thewidowsghost]

Fox - Chapter 58

Previously on Fox:

Natasha gazes up at (Y/n) fondly, blinking drowsily, her eyes are full of a soft affection. She smiles and rests her head back on (Y/n)'s chest, letting her eyes close again.

The two remain like this for a few more minutes until Natasha lifts her head again. "Is that waffles I smell?" Natasha asks, the drowsiness leaving her.

(Y/n) fixes a loving gaze on her redhead, and Natasha flushes at the sheer affection in her wife's (E/c) eyes.

"Yes, I made breakfast," (Y/n) says and Natasha grins, nuzzling her wife's cheek with her nose.

"I love when you make breakfast," Natasha says, rising from rolling off the bed, landing on her face.

(Y/n) blinks, confusedly, shifting over on the bed to gaze at her wife lying motionless on the floor.

"Um, are you okay?" (Y/n) asks, her eyes wide with concern.

Natasha jumps up from the floor and all but sprints out of the room and down the stairs.

(Y/n) chuckles, sliding out of the bed to follow Natasha.

3rd Person POV

"What are you thinking?" Pepper Potts asks as she and (Y/n) walk into Tony's basement lab.

"Hey, I'm thinking I'm busy," Tony replies, turning away from the two women. "And you're angry about something. Do you have the sniffles?" He asks Pepper. "I don't wanna get sick."

"Did you just donate . . . " Pepper begins but Tony cuts her off.

"Keep your business," Tony says.

" . . . our entire modern art collection to the . . . "

"Boy Scouts of America," Tony finishes.

". . . the Boy Scouts of America?" Pepper questions.

"Yes, it is a worthwhile organization," Tony says. "I didn't physically check the crates but, basically, yes."

(Y/n) and Pepper follow the eccentric billionaire around the lab, (Y/n)'s eyes rolling in exasperation.

"And it's not 'our' collection, it's my collection," Tony says.

"Actually, I think Pep can call it 'our' collection because she's spent over a decade putting it together," (Y/n) says, her gaze resting on her father.

"It was a tax write-off," Tony says. "I needed that."

"You know, there's only about eight thousand eleven things that I really need to talk to you about," Pepper goes on, both women moving to follow Tony around the lab.

"Dummy. Hey." Tony knocks on the robotic arm. "Hey, stop spacing out. The Bridgeport's already machining that part."

"The Expo is a gigantic waste of time," Pepper tells Tony, her nose stuffy.

"I need you to wear a surgical mask until you're feeling better," Tony says, placing his hands on Pepper's shoulders. "Is that okay?"

"Dad, that's rude," (Y/n) scolds, furrowing her eyebrows.

"There's nothing more important to me than the Expo," Tony says. "It's my primary point of concern." Tony continues walking down the path through the desks, computer monitors, and filing cabinets. "I don't know . . ."

"Dad, even I'll admit that it's our egos blown straight out of proportion," (Y/n) says and Tony glances at his daughter, shrugging in apparent disagreement.

"Wow, look at that," Tony says, finding an Iron Man poster.

"That's modern art. That's going up," Tony continues.

"Oh, no," (Y/n) rests her head in her hand in exasperation.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Pepper says, closing her eyes.

"I regret getting him that now," (Y/n) mutters, watching as her father crosses the room to where another piece of art is hanging.

"Stark is in complete disarray," Pepper continues, the two women following the billionaire. "You understand that?"

"No. Our stocks have never been higher," Tony retorts.

"Yes, from a managerial standpoint," Pepper argues.

"You are . . ."

"Well, if it's messy, then let's double back," Tony says.

"Let me give you an example," Pepper says, and (Y/n) decides to drop out of the conversation for a moment, letting the two older adults talk about Stark Industries.

"Let's move onto another subject," Tony goes on.

"Oh, no, no, no, no," Pepper scolds, you are not talking down the Barrett Newman and hanging that up!"

"I'm not taking it down. I'm just replacing it with this," Tony replies.

Let's see what I can get going here," Tony says, pulling one of the paintings off the wall and replacing it with the Iron Man poster.

(Y/n) kind of zones out but then she hears, "Pepper, you're not listening to me! I'm trying to make you CEO."

. . .

"The notary's here!" Pepper calls, walking into Tony's gym. "Can you please come sign the transfer paperwork?"

"I'm on happy time," Tony says from inside the ring with Happy.

"Sorry," Tony says unapologeticly as he punches Happy in the face. "It's called mixed martial arts. It's been around fro three weeks."

"It's called dirty boxing," Happy retorts. "There's nothing new about it."

"All right, put them up," Tony tells Happy. "Come on."

A woman with dark red - almost brown - hair and a Norwegian Elkhound trotting at her side, wagging her tail happily.

Happy's eyes flick over to the doorway and Tony looks as well, both men seemingly entranced by the woman.

The woman's eyes rest on Tony momentarily and the husky nudges her with her jet black nose. The woman spares a glance at the dog and a slight smile twitches on her lips.

"I promise you this is the only time I will ask you to sign over your company," Pepper says and the woman and husky walk down the stairs.

The dark red haired woman walks over to Pepper, the husky sitting beside her. The woman opens a binder, showing to Pepper.

"I need you to initial each box," the dark haired woman says softly, handing Pepper a pen.

The dark haired woman's emerald orbs widen with exasperation as Tony Stark kicks Happy into one of the pillars. The husky lets out a single yip and nudges the woman.

"That's it, I'm done," Happy says, his eyes narrowing angrily.

"Hey! What's your name, lady?" Tony asks, turning and pointing at the woman.

"Rushman. Natalie Rushman," the woman replies.

"Front and center," Tony tells the woman. "Come into the church."

"No. You're not seriously gonna ask . . ." Pepper trails off.

"If it pleases the court, which it does," Tony says.

"It's no problem," Natalie says, closing the binder and smiling at Pepper.

"I'm sorry," Pepper tells the shorter woman. "He's very eccentric."

"Cinder," Natalie says and the husky looks up. "Sit."

Cinder sits, her tail brushing the floor as she wags her tail.

The dog watches her owner, her ears pricked, but she relaxes when Pepper strokes her ears.

. . .

Natalie walks down the hall, Cinder padding after her, her tail still wagging.

(Y/n) morphs back into once they get in Natasha's car, and the woman smiles bemusedly at her wife.

"Had fun?" (Y/n) asks Natasha as they drive away.

"Your father is . . . " Natasha trails off and (Y/n) laughs.

"Eccentric?" (Y/n) offers, quoting Pepper from earlier.

"Yeah, that's the word I'd use," Natasha says and (Y/n) grins. "Where do you want to go to eat?"

"I'm not really that hungry," (Y/n) admits.

When Natasha stops at a stoplight, she turns, looking at (Y/n) in disbelief.

"What?" (Y/n) asks.

"Are you alright?" Natasha asks. "You're always hungry."

"I am not!" (Y/n) retorts, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Natasha continues driving, "You are too." Natasha smiles. "That's where Lena gets it."

"You're ridiculous, Mrs. Romanoff," (Y/n) says with an adoring smile.

"I could say the same about you, dear," Natasha replies, the redhead pulling up to the house SHIELD had given them.

The two women walk into the house, Natasha collapsing on top of (Y/n) on the couch.

"It's eleven o'clock in the morning, babe," Natasha says as (Y/n) lets her eyes close. (Y/n)'s eyes crack open again, gazing softly at the redhead. "You tired?" her voice is softer now.

"Going undercover in Dad's house is the most exhausting thing I've ever done," (Y/n) admits.

Natasha moves over to a closet, pulling out a blanket and crossing the room to lie with (Y/n) on the couch, pulling the blanket over themselves.

(Y/n) smiles softly, her arms wrapping around her wife's waist, Natasha's head resting on (Y/n)'s chest.

Word Count: 1411 words

Taglist:

@mariawilson24

@just-dreaming-marvel

@marsromanoff

@procrastinatingsapphictrash

@theofficialzivadavid

@chickenhavewisdom

@fayharper

@acertainredhead

@capsicle118

@rail-me-romanoff

@ssa-sapphic

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem reader

[yan-twst]

Hello! First off, I wanted to say I really like your yandere works. They aren't overdone, but they aren't overplayed, if that makes sense?? Anyways, would you be interested in writing yandere scenario with Vampire!Vil? I really like the new card!

warnings: general yandere themes, mentions of death and blood

they/them pronouns for darling

It was hard to hold onto hope, nowadays. They’d sworn to themselves they’d never give in- never give the horrible creature that held them hostage the pleasure of knowing he’d broken their spirit, but keeping a fiery attitude and fighting back was getting harder every passing day. Telling themselves they’d escape his suffocating embraces and affections one day, that this whole ordeal would become a simple bad memory, a nightmare for sure, a horribly traumatic experience, but something in the past- that was how they’d been keeping themselves sane, the promise it’d be over, but now more than ever, it felt like there’d never be any escape.

“S-stop…” as a human, there wasn’t much they could do but feebly push back against the vampire’s chest. Not only were vampires just physically stronger than humans, Vil was particularly keen on taking care of his body, the weights he kept in his room and his sheer strength proving so. And to add insult to injury, they were just weak now, as he bit down on the junction of their neck and shoulder once again, drawing blood. Maybe they were getting anemia or something, because it seemed to be impossible their desperate struggles weren’t bothering the vampire on the slightest.

“Be still. Don’t you understand it’ll only hurt more if you move, my love?” sighed Vil, unlatching his mouth from their neck to reprimand them. The sight of him with his lips painted a glossy red with their blood should have been grotesque, but… As much as they hated him, they had to admit Vil was ethereal. Everything about him- or well, his physical appearance- was perfect; from his beautifully sculpted face down to his lean body, there wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t look like a work of art.

It was too bad that such a beautiful body was host to such a rotten soul, really; if it was solely based on looks, perhaps they could’ve brought themselves to enjoy being intimate with him, he was the kind of man they’d have gladly taken as a fling or a fun night. But of course that wasn’t the case- Vil Schoenheit was nothing short of a fucking maniac, a bastard vampire who’d become obsessed with them and plucked them from their daily life, keeping them hostage in his ridiculously large house, drinking their blood and forcing them to live out a miserable life. 

Pain had long since ceased to be something they cared about. It hurt every time he pierced his fangs into their skin, scar tissue almost nonexistent with how he hovered over them and treated the injuries after every feeding, it stung when he put his mouth on the wound and sucked, licked, drew more blood from the punctures. Vampire saliva was supposed to be naturally anaesthetic, even aphrodisiac to an extent- and it was true, as much as they hated it. Perhaps that was why their body no longer responded with shock or any logical pain reaction to his bites, perhaps that was why their cheeks got red and their knees buckled despite wanting no enjoyment out of such activity.

“Get off me… Fucking leech…” their feeble attempts at pushing back had ended with them holding onto Vil and resting on his chest as their energy depleted, body too weak to hold itself up. It wasn’t what they wanted, but it was better than to collapse on the floor and be berated by the vampire once again over getting their clothes dirty. Still, just because they couldn’t fight back didn’t mean they’d be completely submissive; calling Vil a leech was clearly a move to annoy him, and judging by how he tensed up at being called so, it worked.

“You have no place to say those words, you…!” they smirked weakly at Vil’s tone, as he suddenly held them by the shoulders. Usually, he’d relish in them having to use his body as support- the fact he’d just rip them away like that meant they’d gotten under his skin. “Ungrateful little human- do you even understand your position? Do you know how many humans have wondered into this place and never come out? You’re a weak, insignificant creature- don’t you know any other vampire would have sucked you dry by now?”

“...” for a second, they were quiet. Was this it? They’d never begged Vil to kill them, although they’d certainly thought of it- they didn’t want to show weakness, but sometimes they’d wondered if it’d be better for them to just die of blood loss instead of having to endure whatever life Vil envisioned for them. For a split second, the anger in Vil’s eyes made it seem like he’d be willing to just do it, to bite down their artery and kill them; but as quick as the outburst came, Vil took a deep breath and seemingly calmed down.

“... Clearly, I haven’t done enough to educate you.” he sighed, and one of his hands moved to caress their lips. “You are my lover, after all. You aren’t just any human, you aren’t just livestock, and yet you insist on acting like one… It’s quite frustrating.”

“You’re keeping me around like a blood bag.” they replied feebly. The punctures in their neck were still bleeding, and they were getting a bit dizzy; usually by now, Vil would have patched them up so they didn’t bleed excessively, but he’d been thrown off his usual routine. They tried to ignore the word ‘lover’; they weren’t a lover, they were a hostage. Even in those fleeting moments of domesticity, when Vil would cook for them despite he not needing human food, or when he’d treat their wounds, they were a hostage. Even when he kissed them, when he caressed them, even if their heart raced, that was their human nature, yearning for touch after being deprived of seeing anyone but Vil for months.

“You’re incorrigible, darling.” sighed Vil. His tone wasn’t mad anymore- he sounded… Pleased, almost. His smirk showed his sharp fangs, and the look in his eyes made it clear he had some sort of plan. “Hm, no, not incorrigible. I know you have the potential to be an amazing partner for me, you just need to be polished. And I have all the time in the world to do so.”

With a swift move, Vil brought his thumb up to his mouth and pricked it, a sizeable bead of blood forming on the surface of the pale skin on his finger. Their eyes widened; never in all of their captivity had they seen the vampire bleed, not even in the very start of their kidnapping when they’d fought back with tooth and nail. The shock of seeing the vampire bleed was enough so they didn’t even realize the very same hand with the bleeding thumb was creeping closer to their neck, where the puncture wounds of the earlier bite were still fresh and bleeding.

“... And soon, you’ll also have eternity.” Vil’s smirk couldn’t possibly grow any larger, although his eyes had grown softer; almost… Adoring, in some sort of way. He had the same expression he’d had when he first met them (when he’d seemed like a storybook prince, those few months when they’d just thought Vil was a charming and ethereal young man, those few months before he showed his true colors and the depth of his obsession). And then he pressed his bleeding thumb into the wound on their neck, and it burnt. “I was honestly going to wait until you’d learnt to behave properly to turn you, but… I can’t just let you get weaker and anemic every passing day. Honestly, do you take care of yourself when I’m not around? It hardly seems so. But at least this should return your vitality…”

“What did you- what is this?!” despite having been dizzy and weak a few seconds ago, the mingling of their blood with his burnt so badly they couldn’t help but struggle. Vil didn’t even let them break away, quickly pulling them into his chest into an one-arm embrace while his bleeding hand still pressed firmly into their wound. A scream ripped from their throat; it burnt, it felt worse than anything they’d ever suffered. And the pain and burning just seemed to travel and expand, as if Vil’s rotten vampire blood was surging and flowing through their body.

“... of course, you’ll be a bit off the first months… It’s going to be a good opportunity for me to watch over you and your transformation. I’ll have to ask Rook to drop off more blood now, since you’re going to be needing quite a bit to get back on two feet…” Vil didn’t seem to think much of their thrashing and struggling, simply thinking of what he’d need to do in the future. “The pain will pass soon, don’t worry. Aren’t you a lucky little human? Don’t you know? I’m liberating you from death, from aging- I’m opening the door to eternal youth and beauty.”

Slowly, the human in Vil’s arms quit their flailing. He kept his thumb on their wound; he’d probably gotten enough blood into their system to turn them, but he wanted to be safe. They’d probably passed out from the pain; he smiled at their peaceful form, brushing the hair out of their eyes. They were so peaceful like this, so beautiful- he couldn’t wait for the day they’d behave this well, even when awake. Of course, they’d be unconscious for a good time now, while their body transformed from a lesser mortal body into one of a vampire, but time was of no issue for either of them now. He’d have all the time in the world to polish his gemstone, to bring forth the potential he knew shone inside of them. He’d seen how they acted back in their little village; their hard-working spirit, their fortitude and their attention to detail. Once they learnt to stop fighting back against him, once they learnt to embrace his affections, they’d make the perfect lover for him; he just needed to make them understand they had no choice but to exist as his for the rest of eternity.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #yandere tw #blood mention #death mention #Anonymous

[joyrose-fandomer]

Please, don’t fall for me (Sanders Sides fantasy school AU) Chap 3

Relationships : Future (Prinxiety, Intrological, Mocite, Platonique Moxiety and platonique Analogical)

POV : Virgil

TW : Water, Manipulation

Previous<<

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

Virgil couldn't focus on anything after that.

He kept looking at the pamphlet and the folded paper on his laps. 

The pamphlet showed a picture of a big white building. It looked like a bad copy of Harvard. 

It was named "Pine hills High school and College of art, sport and science" which was long for nothing and boring like literally any school.

But most importantly, it looked pricy. So Virgil looked around the pamphlet but he couldn't find any price anywhere. 

Tss, of course, they wouldn't.

It said on the pamphlet that the school had good infrastructure and good results in every sportive, artistic and scientific field. That it had 100% chance for the student to have a diploma and list several students that became important.

Virgil didn't know any of those names and most importantly, never heard of that school.

  On the other hand, the folded paper was a lot less fancy. There was no picture only a name and a few commentaries.

It didn't look official in any way. In fact, it was very obvious that Remy had written everything.

But it gave a strange feeling, like the ink and paper weren't normal. Like it could disappear at any moment if Virgil stopped looking at it or if anyone else looked at it.

He knew it didn't make much sense, but he could swear that he saw the words glitter from time to time.

"The Argus school" was the name written on the paper. 

"School for young magical creatures to learn how to control their powers in safety."

So, like a school of magic? When did Virgil step into Harry Potter?

  It was so cliché and suspicious, Remy was surely messing with him. 

What if it was all an elaborate prank?

What if it was a kidnapping technic and Virgil was falling straight for it?

Should he call the police?

Would they believe him?

But what if it was not a joke?

It was so unrealistic but it explained so many things...

That day when school ended Virgil didn't directly go home.

He went to the pool.

"Hello, do you have a ticket ?"

The young women at the entrance asked.

Oh. Well, he needed to confirm that too eventually.

The high school boy took a deep breath.

"No, I forgot...sorry"

Her voice was suddenly a lot softer.

"It's ok, I can give you one. It's 7$"

Alright, he won't have to meet her again, he could do it.

He took off his mask and hood

"I'm sorry miss. I forgot to bring money"

She blinked like she was trying to adjusted her eyes after being flashed with a stong light.

"Alright, I will take your name and you can pay later"

"Wait really?" Virgil exclaimed, not expecting the woman to actually let him get away with it so easily.

The woman smiled. "Yes, but don't tell anyone, I'm not supposed to do that. So what's your name ?"

"Virgil Apkallu"

"That's an interesting name could you spell it ?"

Virgil spelled his name like he always did. Before remembering an important fact.

"I don't have my swimsuit!"

She laughed. Virgil couldn't blame her, he really didn't think that through.

"Do you want to go home to pick it up?"

If he got home it would be too late, his father wouldn't let him go back out again.

He looked up at the women. Making eye contact with someone for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

"If I go home I don't know if I would be able to come back..."

She froze and thought for a bit before walking away and coming back with her wallet. 

"Here, go to the dispenser and get yourself a swimsuit"

"Wha- but it's your money, I can't"

"It's fine kid, it's just 2$. Now go before we close"

Virgil sighed and bought simple black shorts. He thanked the woman and she let him get in.

He felt guilty. He knew he didn't ask her to do all that and she was the one who insisted. But he couldn't help but feel like he manipulated that woman.

But it's what he was trying to do, didn’t he ?

The pool was empty. It was late and during fall it was too cold to go swimming.

The pool attendants weren't here, probably thinking that no one would come at that hour.

So Virgil had the water for himself.

Time to get it over with.

The good thing with being an anxious mess like Virgil is that you end up collecting techniques to get rid of disillusions.

Often the biggest disillusions were the hardest to get rid of. It's the ones that make the less sense. 

Like thinking everyone you meet want to kill you, or that your parents were secretly robots.

But the good thing is. The bigger they are the easier it is to prove your brain wrong.

If you don't turn into a wolf under the full moon, you're not a werewolf.

If you don't have magic powers you're not a witch.

And if you can't breathe underwater you're not a siren.

A normal human can't survive underwater for more than 5 minutes, a trained diver can stay at best 12 minutes.

Virgil only had to stay underwater until he felt the huge to breathe.

If he could stay underwater for longer than that without needing to go out to breathe then... haha no, it was stupid last time he was just confused because he fell into the pool in the middle of a panic attack. 

He will be out in a few seconds.

He slowly went down the stairs. The water was colder than he remembered.

It was probably reckless to test that alone but at least no-one was here to stop him.

Once he was in, the cold was a lot more bearable. In fact, it was numbing pleasantly.

The only swimmer went around the pool using the border to hold himself. But he didn't really need it, it was mostly the lack of confidence.

Eventually, he let go of the side of the pool and swam to the center of the water.

He felt free. Like floating in space. Swiming was so easy, it was second nature.

Virgil set the timer at 0.

And go !

He let himself sink.

The echoes of the empty room, the lapping of the water, the far-away cars.

It all dissolved into silence.

The golden hue of the sunset reflected all around, slithering in the water like hundreds of glowing vines.

Virgil was still holding his nose under the water but he didn't feel the need to breathe. Actually, he was already breathing. 

He brushed the side of his neck. His skin was taking off but it didn't hurt.

He breathed in.

Water entered the gap in his neck.

He breathed out. 

Water went out of the gap.

Gills.

He never had gills. Since when did he had gills?

He let go of all the air he was holding in a string of bubbles. 

He watched them float away. Reflecting the sunlight, making them shine the away fairy lights would.

Bright and clear.

When he tried to breathe through the nose, the airway seemed blocked and he ended up breathing by his Gilles again.

He was breathing underwater. He could see underwater.

He could see and breathe better than on land.

His hair fell on his face.

He could see his own eyes reflecting in them like a mirror and his eyes reflected his hair the same way.

This was new. Usually, they were both jet black. 

He swam to one of the Hublot around the pool.

His hair reflected the pool around, perfectly merging with the water like they were trying their hardest to disappear. His eyes were hardly any better. They were glossy and blue with gold lights just like the water around.

Usually, his eyes were so dark he could barely see his pupils well now that his eyes were different... He still couldn't. Apparently, his pupils also got this mirror effect.

This one was probably not a new thing. The boy could remember every time someone had the great idea of pointing a flashlight at him only to scream because his pupils were shining like a wild animal.

The confused boy swam around. 

It was so simple, like taking a walk around the park.

So peaceful,

So comfortable,

So pretty,

So safe,

It felt like home.

Virgil didn't know how much time he spent here. He didn't want to look at the timer. 

He didn't want to walk. He didn't want to choke on air. He didn't want to feel the pressure of the world.

This was where he belonged. He was happy.

He didn't want to go.

He looked up. The golden light turned silver.

It was night. He needed to go home.

With a sigh, the half siren swam out. Posing the timer but not looking at it.

Everything was so heavy out there. Virgil dresses up slowly and difficultly. His clothes stuck to him and made moving even harder.

Taking a deap breath of his inhaler and dragging himself away from the pool.

The woman looked surprised that he was still here but she still waved him goodby with a smile.

The cold autumn wind gave him a headache, the boy hid his wet hair in is hood and walked.

By the time he arrived home, his body was freezing.

His mind bearly felt anything.

"Do you have any idea how late it is? 

I was so worried! Where were you ?!"

His father immediately yelled when he opened the door.

Virgil stayed silent. He didn't feel guilty, just, empty.

He walked around mindlessly, working only on muscle memory. His father still yelling behind him but he couldn't hear anything.

When he took off his hood his father went silent and stared at him wearily.

"Virgil, why are you soaked ?"

His son took a deep breath and locked eyes with his parent with a serious expression.

"Dad. Who is my mother ?"

***<>============<>***

Sorry, the story didn’t advence a lot this chapter, I really just wanted to right water again ! (^u^’)

Tag list : @angstysunshine @sander-sides-fics 

@moments-of-selves @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes (I still don’t know if you want me to tag you or not so if you want me to stop just tell me ok ? (^u^))

#sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #sanders side au #virgil sanders #sander sides

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay: #30, wreckage with Danbrey in either SFW or NSFW? Thank you so much!

Here you go! I went with SFW. Dani’s design is based on a Golden Shiner, Aubrey’s on a red-tailed shark.

“Dr. Harris Bonkers? Where are you, you sneaky sea bunny?” Aubrey circles the rocks, sets her hands on her hips and flicks her tail with a frown; for a creature with small fins, that bunny can be incredibly evasive. 

“We only have an hour to practice, silly bunny. If you don’t come out, I won’t be able to use you in the show.”

When her pet/assistant doesn’t emerge, she sighs and swims off to her super secret test stage. Then she smacks straight into someone and shrieks in surprise.

“GAHoh, oh my god you scared me.” 

“That, that makes two of us” the mermaid she collided with stares at her, golden eyes wide with alarm.

“I’m sorry, this place is always abandoned.” She gestures to the sunken ship, one that’s been here since her grandparents were children. 

“I, um, I kind of figured. That’s why I holed up here.” In the filtered sunlight, her tail glitters pale gold. A treasure at the heart of the wreck.

“Are you new in town? I feel like I would’ve remembered seeing you before.” She smiles, hoping it comes across as smooth but not too smooth because she does not want to freak out the cute mer floating in front of her.

“Yeah. I can’t afford any of the spots in town.” She sighs, giving Aubrey the distinct sense this is not a new situation for her.

“You could come live with me! Not like, with me with me, but I live in the Lodge in town and I know there are rooms open. It��s super cheap.”

(If it wasn't, Aubrey would give her the “cute mers with freckles” discount).

“Um, okay, sure. Let me get my stuff.”

“Sweet! Wait, uh, it might take a few more minutes, I have to find my sea bunny.” She swims into the wreck after the other mermaid, poking her head into her pets’ preferred hiding places. 

“Is this him?” The mer holds up two woven seaweed bags. On top of one of them is Dr. Harris Bonkers, so white he almost glows in the darkened hull. 

“It is! Come here you naughty nudibranch.” She scoops the bunny into her palms, then sets him on her shoulder. 

“He’s cute” The mermaid pets his side, “what’s his name?”

“Dr. Harris Bonkers, PhD. That last part is a human school thing, but he worked hard for it.”

“Nice to meet you doctor. I’m Dani.” She smiles at Aubrey, the expression as beautiful as moonlight on dark water, “what about you?”

“Aubrey.”

“Nice to meet you too.” She gives the bunny a final pet and swims out of the ship. Aubrey hurries to catch up to her so they can travel side by side. 

“So, um, what do you use the wreck for?”

“Magic practice!” Aubrey sweeps her hand  through the water, leaving a rainbow of light in it’s wake, “it’s not, like, super secret or anything, but there’ve been a few, um, mishaps that mean it’s better if I practice away from town.”

“Mishaps?” Dani shoots her an amused smile.

“I once made a huge chunk of reef disappear. It took a whole day to get it back. And there was the time some seaweed floated past while I was practicing and turned into a sea serpent. Relatedly, sometimes a sea serpent follows me around and calls me mom.”

Dani laughs and Aubrey suddenly has so many stars in her eyes you could use them for navigation. 

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“I mean, it really isn’t. Those are the only big fuck ups, but I’ve decided I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’d hate for someone to get hurt because of me. Um, what about you? Just come to Kepler for a change of scene?”

“Sort of. I’m an open ocean mer by birth but it gets lonely, and sometimes your own kind will chase you off of nice places to call your own. So I decided I’d come here and try to make a home.”

“The Lodge is a good place for it. I, um, I ended up in Kepler after my mom died and my dad and I drifted apart. Mama gave me a place to stay and kept an eye on me; I bet she’ll do the same for you.”

It’s a bet she wins every time. Mama welcomes Dani in with a smile, tells Barclay to make a big dinner to celebrate a new resident, and shows her to her room. Aubrey stays by her side, chatting as she unpacks her bags. Her belongings are sparse, practical, and the only flashy item is a comb with a pearl handle. 

They talk until Dani is yawning and Aubrey keeps bumping into walls because she’s too tired to fight the current every freaking second. Aubrey says goodnight, tells Dani to come find her if she needs anything. Dani promises she will, brushing their tails together before closing the door. 

As she swims to her room, Aubrey’s thoughts swirl like a school of sardines. Dani’s room is so bare. Dani deserves a room overflowing with beautiful art and sea glass jewelry and vases of sea flowers. 

It’s lucky, then, that Aubrey knows just the mers to help her out.

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

“Oh wow” Dani holds the strands of blue and white glass up to the windows, “Aubrey, this is beautiful”

“Glad you like it” she feels like the red in her tail deepens whenever Dani smiles at her like this, “Ned owed me a favor, and I thought some sea glass curtains might make the room more, um, homey.”

Dani swims to her, rubbing their cheeks together, “You’re the best.”

“Heheee, um, I mean, I’m super glad you like it!”

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

“Did you draw this?” Dani turns in a slow circle, searching for the perfect spot to hang the picture Aubrey brought her. 

“Nope. Indrid did. He was selling some of his stuff this weekend, and I remember you saying you thought Atlantis was one of the prettiest places you’d ever seen. So I, um, I figured you’d like one of his pictures of it. You know he’s actually from there. Like, he’s one of the citizens who sunk with the city.”

“That’s wild. Wait, doesn’t that make him super old?”

“Yeah. Duck doesn’t seem to mind though, and he tries hard to keep up with the times. He mostly succeeds. Mostly.” She snickers, remembering the time Indrid tried to say he thought Duck was handsome and it came out as “looks like a million red-hot lobster claws.”

“C’mon” Dani hooks their tails across each other, ushering her across the room and causing her to completely forget what she was saying, “help me decide where to put this.”

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

“I wasn’t able to wrap these, but they’re totally a present for you.” Aubrey holds out the two pots of starweeds, “Duck said they’re a great way to garden in a small space. I know you’re helping with the big garden out back, but I kinda figured you wanted some in your room too.”

Dani takes the pots, not bothering to keep their hands from touching, “Thank you, firefins, they’re lovely.” She sets them on the windowsill, picks up her comb on the way back, voice much softer when she asks, “would you brush my hair before we go down to dinner?”

“Sure!” She loves brushing Dani's hair; if it’s the only time she ever makes the other mer sigh happily, the only time those golden tresses cascade down her fingertips, she’ll die happy. 

As she carefully guides the brush through Dani murmurs, “my mom gave me that. She said it’s been in our family for generations. Apparently an ancestor was given it by a human lover.”

“Dang” Aubrey’s amazed anything this beautiful wasn’t just swallowed up by the open water, “I’m glad they hung onto it; it really is gorgeous.”

“I um, I, I want you to have it.” Dani turns to look at her just as Aubrey pulls back.

“Dani, that’s so sweet, but I can’t take this from you. It’s you connection to your family. To your mom.”

“Oh.” The mermaid takes the comb when she holds it out, “okay. Let’s, um, let’s just go meet the others.”

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

“...been like that for the last two days. I know you spent a bunch of time in the open ocean, so I wanna know everything there is to know about what dating is like for mers out. I’ve got to show Dani just how much I care about her.”

“I see” Ned rests back in his chair, watching Aubrey as she swims back and forth in agitation, “I shall do my best, my friend. Let me think...gift giving is common, but that’s the case for all but deep sea merfolk. Painting your scales...no, that was southern mers in general. Aha!” Ned snaps his fingers, “because open ocean mers are nomadic, giving them things for building a home is a sign of commitment and romantic interest. If the feeling is mutual, one might also offer a precious item as a token of affection.”

“Precious item? Like a family heirloom? Hypothetically?”

“Yes, I’d imagine that would fit the bill nicely.”

“Aw beans! Thanks Ned, gotta go, talk later byeeeee.”

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

“Dani!” Aubrey rounds a patch of sea grass.

The other mer looks up from where she’s collecting urchins, “Aubrey? Is everything okay?”

“No! Or maybe yes. Dani are you, were you trying to tell me you wanted me to be your girlfriend?”

“Yes, but I’m starting to think that wasn’t as obvious as I thought it was.”

“Nope!” Aubrey launches herself forward, gathering Dani in her arms. The other mermaid laughs, rolling them over to lay in the soft grass. 

“I’m sorry” Dani kisses her cheek, “I thought I was being obvious.”

“I mean, I guess you were, we just had a communication breakdown. I just...I can’t believe you’d give me your most treasured possession.”

Dani leans down, kissing her until her lips are buzzing with delight and their tails are wrapped tight around each other, “Sweetheart, the only treasure I need is right here.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty #mermay #mermay fills

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

It was cold in Gotham, cold enough for Dick to wear his heavy jacket, his new boots, and his good scarf while he stood outside Wayne Tower. Behind the podium, Bruce began his speech. 

“Hello,” he said, flashing a grin. “I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and I won’t keep you long today— I promise.”

That got an appreciative laugh from the crowd gathered around them. Dick squeezed past a few people and into the front of the circle, where he could see. At eight years old, he stood several heads below the adults. 

“It’s a new year tomorrow,” Bruce continued, “and here at the Tower we’re celebrating our new programs. They’re all fine initiatives, and I’m not going to talk about them. As a matter of fact, I’m not going to talk about anything.”

The crowd murmured softly. Bruce grinned again. 

“I’m supposed to give a speech, or so they told me. I thought for a long time about what I was going to say, and I just couldn’t figure it out, until I talked to Dick Grayson, my foster son. That’s him over there.”

The cameras that had been focused on the stage turned with Bruce’s gesture, towards Dick in his position at the front of the circle. He gave them a little wave. 

“I asked Dick what I should do,” said Bruce, “and he told me this: just shut up.”

The crowd laughed again. Dick took a bow. 

“Shut up,” Bruce repeated, “and he’s right. I have a loud voice, in person and in the world. I’m a billionaire, a CEO, a rich kid from Gotham that’s never wanted a thing in his life. I’m not the one who should be talking. I do enough of that.”

Bruce’s grin turned into a grave expression. He looked out over the cityscape. 

“I should listen. I should shut up and listen, and I urge all of you that are like me to do the same. We need to listen to the voices that matter: the experienced, the knowledgable, the ones who can tell us their own stories. We need to let them speak.”

Bruce shrugged. “That’s all I have to say before I get off this stage and let some other people talk. I’d like to thank Dick for his wisdom, because he is very wise. That’s one of the many reasons I love him.”

Wait.

What?

Dick froze, but only for a second. He didn’t have time to process with cameras focussed on his face; he couldn’t afford to let his smile drop and show the crowd the truth— that Dick had never heard those words before. 

I love him?

What? Why would Bruce say that?

Who did he think he was?

Dick set a small smile firmly on his face and held it there as Bruce’s voice buzzed in front of him— buzzed because Dick couldn’t understand what Bruce was saying anymore. He didn’t know anything beyond the heartbeat thumping in his ears. 

I love him? I love him?

Dick startled back into reality as the crowd broke into applause. On stage, Bruce gave a final grin and made his way down the steps. He slipped into the front row, alongside Dick, while the next speaker bounded up to the microphone. 

The cameras panned away from Dick, finally. He let the smile slide from his face. 

Bruce noticed. He glanced down at Dick, curious, and raised an eyebrow.

In return, Dick gave Bruce the flattest look he could muster, then spent the rest of the program staring intently at the other speakers. Dick and Bruce took pictures afterwards. They mingled, Dick circling the square while Bruce watched with concerned eyes. 

Dick stepped into a camera blind spot and glared at him. 

Bruce stepped into another. He raised his eyebrows again, this time in a what-are-you-doing sort of expression. 

Glare.

Question?

Glare.

Bruce’s eyes flicked up in exasperation. Dick jerked his head to the side, indicating the entrance to the Tower. He slipped inside as soon as the cameras weren’t looking. 

Dick took the elevator up to Bruce’s office, watching the crowd beneath him get smaller through the glass as he went higher and higher. He turned down hallways decorated for the New Year— golden lights and silver streamers— and into the familiar room. 

Bruce appeared seconds later, as quietly as he always did, like he had materialized in the office. He opened his mouth to speak. 

Dick beat him to it. 

“Hi,” Dick snapped. “What was that?”

“What was—?” Bruce raised his hands, apparently confused.

“That!” Dick put his own hands on his hips, drawing himself up to his full height. “What did you say about me?”

“I said you were… wise?”

“Not that part.”

Bruce’s face hardened. He stepped forward into what Dick recognized as a defensive stance. 

“I said I loved you?”

“You said you loved me!” Dick turned away and paced down the center of the room. “Why did you say that?”

“I—”

“Why would you say that on a stage? Oh, I get it, I’m—” Dick spun around again and strode back down the tile, arms outstretched. “—I’m Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and I want you to like me! Look at this little boy. Isn’t he cute?”

“Dick.”

“I’m so glad I could help with your speech and your credibility and your— your reputation and—”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Why am I acting like this?” Dick’s mouth fell open in shock. This was Dick’s fault now? He was the one behaving irrationally? No. No, he was not. 

“Yes!” Bruce stepped forward again, forcing Dick to take a step back. “All I said was I love—”

“All you did was play father in public!”

“Dick,” said Bruce. His voice went lower, scarier. “What are you talking about?”

Dick’s vision fuzzed out for a moment: silver static and a roaring in his ears. He felt his face go red in rage as he marched forward, jabbing a finger into Bruce’s chest. 

“That! Is! Your! Batman! Voice!”

Bruce blinked, taken aback. 

“You do not get,” Dick snapped, “to Batman at me, or yell at me, or say— say what you— Don’t say that!”

“Don’t say that I love you?”

“I said don’t say it.”

“Okay!” Bruce crossed his arms. “I won’t say it anymore. Are you happy?”

“No! Don’t say it, and don’t— don’t look at me like that or, or talk to me like you’re—”

“I don’t understand why you’re upset.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Dick glanced at the golden lights strung from the ceiling, back to Bruce, lights, Bruce again. How was Bruce not getting this? It was simple enough. How much detecting did it take?

“Dick,” Bruce began. Batman again. 

“That!” Dick pointed wildly. “That right there! Oh it’s always ‘try harder, Dick, be better, Dick’ and ‘Robin, you’re making mistake after mistake,’ but then the second you need to look good in front of a crowd, it’s different.”

“This has nothing to do with—”

“Don’t say,” Dick ground out, “things that you don’t mean.”

They glared at each other. 

“I didn’t,” said Bruce. 

“Didn’t what?”

“Say… something I didn’t mean.”

“Oh.”

Dick let his hands fall back to his sides. He turned away from Bruce, looking out through the windows to the skyscrapers across the street. Those glittered with lights too. As Dick watched, snow started to fall, floating outside the glass on gusts of invisible wind. Single flakes thickened into a barrage of white that whipped through the Gotham air. 

“Say it again, then,” Dick whispered. “You can— you can say it once.”

“I don’t—?”

“I said fine! You can say it once!”

“I…” Bruce’s voice sounded softer now, while Dick was turned away. “I love you?”

“Okay.”

“And if you don’t want me to say it anymore, then I… won’t.”

“Not now,” said Dick. “Just… not for now.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then.” Dick squeezed his eyes shut, opened them, held his breath, let it out. 

“Does that…” Bruce trailed off, unsure. “Does that make it better?”

“No.”

“Do you… want a hug?”

“No.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Um.” Dick struggled for a moment, turned around, raised a hand, then put it back at his side. “I want…”

Bruce waited expectantly. 

“I want a smoothie,” Dick decided.

“It’s cold?”

“I want a smoothie. And, and I want to watch the fireworks tonight, and I want Alfred to come with us.”

“Okay.”

“I want to, um, I want to go to school next week, and come back again, and…”

“And?”

“And I… want?”

Bruce nodded thoughtfully. “You want to stay?” he suggested. 

“Yes,” said Dick. He found that he was crying, tears smearing everything around him into a blur of gold and silver, silver and gold. The first drop fell onto the leather of his new boots, and he brushed the rest away with the sleeve of his coat. 

“Yes,” he repeated. “I want to stay.”

Happy New Year from Kenza and Amy! We’ll say it once: we love you very much.

art by @kurawastaken​

#can't believe I forgot to tag Kenz wft @ me #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batfamily #fanfiction #mine #and kenza's!!!! #isn't it beautiful #happy new year! welcome to a new decade #a better one? we'll make it happen

[peach-the-owl]

I think you not going to like this,74 and 87. But hear me out. child cries realize that it old group of the child after seeing the remain of child's old group. saying child fault after leaving the old group behind. But for Nein, they tell child the old group give their life to let child live. A burial for old child group, telling old group real goal, is see child a better future with new family they found. Yeah my English not good, but hope you like this. Try Destiny 2 Journey vocal 2 for this

It is done! So, I think I get idea, but I also decided to add in some creative liberties of my own, so to speak, because it’s the spooky season and who doesn’t love trauma! May have overdone it a little, idk but it was a fun ride. I hope it was worth the wait 😁

WARNING: This is gonna get a little graphic

Carry On

Mighty Nein & Child!Reader

74- Why are you crying? 87- It's my fault this happened.

You met the Mighty Nein several months ago when you were but a lone wanderer, concerned for a lost child they took you in hoping to help find your family. You told them that while you were traveling your family had been attacked by a strange looking group of gnolls, at least that’s what you could remember anyways. As you journeyed along you recognized the route you were taking, this was the same road you’d last saw your family and an eerie sense of being watched crept into you.

"We should be careful around here." You say huddling closer to Jester in the cart, she puts an arm around you and gives you a kind smile.

"Hey don’t worry about it, we’re always super careful." You wanted to believe her, but you’ve been with them long enough to know that wasn’t always true. The sound of rustling foliage catches everyone’s attention as these creatures that looked like gnolls jumped out and attacked.

It was like déjà vu, the long track down the road, assurance that things would be just fine, the rustling leaves that lead to an ambush it was exactly like what happened last time. Everyone sprang into action, while you were left in the cart trying to calm yourself, you look over and notice one of these gnolls was staring at you like it knew you somehow. You duck away from view and grab your weapon to defend yourself, the cart shakes as the gnoll jumps onto it and lets loose a cackle, something sounded off from the usual laughs gnolls normally made though. Even stranger is that it doesn’t attack you right away either, instead it grabs ahold of you before you can take a swing at it and covers your mouth to stop you from calling for help, it then proceedes to carry you deeper into the forested area. You can hear the shouts and sounds of battle grow fainter the farther in you go, you struggle and manage to wriggle free of this things grip and book it in the direction you could only assume you came from. Not looking where you’re going you trip on a tree root jutting out of the ground and stumble into a clearing, the area smelled rancid and upon looking around you could tell why. Bodies littered the area some more decayed then others, all of them twisted and mangled into strange positions, you could feel bile raising to your throat and had to physically stop yourself from vomiting.

"Isn’t it a beautiful sight? Such wonderful art." That voice, you knew that voice. Turning your head you see the "gnoll" remove its headpiece revealing a man underneath.

"Mr. Roland? You did this?" It was shocking, horrifying even to think that someone your family had once trusted would do something like this.

"Now don’t fret child, instead why not marvel at my latest masterpiece." He gestures towards something, you fearfully look over eyes widening and body trembling at the sight. Bloody bodies twisted beyond their limits with bones jutting out every which way, dried organs draped around arms and legs like they were fancy decorations, some of their faces were pinned up to look like they were smiling while others still held looks of agony. These people, this "masterpiece" was your family or what remained of them anyways.

"We… we trusted you." The words came out so fast and shaky making you wonder if you even spoke them at all.

"And it was a wonderful choice, just look at how amazing they turned out, in fact I should be thanking you." You give him a confused look. "You see if it wasn’t for your family doing everything they could to help make your escape I wouldn’t have this masterpiece at all. Perhaps I should let you flee again, after all you’ve brought me more people to work with and what a colourful bunch they are too." Your breathing hitched, this was because of you? They were like this because of you, and now the Nein were next… all because of you. Tears streamed down your face, vision blurring as the weight of the situation pressed down on you.

"Oh dear child, why are you crying?" He sounded as though he was mocking you now and as much as you wanted to look away or run you find your body having become unresponsive to your thoughts. When he speaks again his voice sounds as though it’s circling around you from all directions. "Could it be you feel left out? Well if that’s the case… I’ll be happy to have you join them!" You were too distracted to focus on his words or hear the loud thud along with a grunt of pain from behind you.

"Come on kid we gotta go!" Whoever was talking now you couldn't place their voice, still stuck on the horrific imagery that was now burned into your brain, it wasn’t until you felt hands on your shoulders did you finally react with a flinch. The sight of crimson eyes and lavender skin help readjust your focus. "Hey, hey, hey! Look at me kid, there’s no time for that we gotta go, now!" Legs shaking you slowly get up, only to stumble when you try to walk. With a swift motion Molly picks you up and dashes away from the clearing, your breathing was heavy and your head still felt a little hazy after what you just saw but you were still able to focus enough to see Roland give chase after you, a large slash wound across his chest and abdomen. Even with the nasty wound he still managed to gain on you, panic filling every part of your body the closer he got.

"B-be-behind you!" You managed to give a warning and with another swift motion your placed on the ground, hearing the sound of metal clashing before turning to see Molly blocking Roland's attack. You were able to see the road from where you stood but still found it hard to get your body to do what you wanted, feeling as though you frozen in place, so you did the only natural thing left that you could do…

You screamed.

Curling yourself into a ball, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears you let out an ear piercing shriek, soon gentle arms pick you up making you once again flinch on reaction but the calming voice that follows eases your worries a bit.

"It’s alright (y/n), you’re going to be okay." Fjord brings you out of the tree line and sets you down into the cart. "Wait here, I’ll be right back." You reach for him as he disappears back into the forest, slowly you lower your arms once again curling up into a ball for any sort of self-comfort, letting tears cascade down your face as the situation fully sinks in.

"It’s my fault this happened. They all died because of me, now I’m gonna lose two families." You sob to yourself thinking only of the worst outcome, so wrapped up in your own world you weren’t sure how much time passed, maybe a minute, maybe an hour you didn’t know anymore. The feeling of something soft and fluffy nudging against you pulls you from those negative thoughts, slowly uncurling yourself to see Frumpkin butting his head against your hand asking for attention. You place the cat onto your lap brushing your hands through his soft fur, looking around your eyes land on Caleb standing a few feet from the cart giving you a empathetic look, had he heard you? It’s not long after the rest of the group emerges from the forest, some of them looking more roughed up then others, most notable being Yasha and Beau.

"So anyone know about that creepy ass clearing?" Beau blurts out, getting a few glares from the party as she realizes her slip of the tongue. "Umm… sorry, the question still stands though."

"M-mr. Roland called it his art." You say it quietly, but still loud enough for them to hear.

"Who’s Mr. Roland?" Jester questions, with a curious tilt of her head. You explain to everyone how he was supposedly a friend to your family, helping with jobs and looking after you and your siblings when your parents couldn’t, and finally how when your family had been attacked several months ago you had thought he was aiding you in the fight.

"No one survived, except for me… they all died because of me." You hug Frumpkin closer to you as fresh tears streamed down your face.

"That’s not true-"

"How do you know!" You shout at Fjord, cutting him off and immediately feeling guilty for doing so, you still continue but softer. "He said it himself that they all died while I was running away."

"They died because you ran away or to help you run away?" You snivel as you think about it again, but it was still hard to focus on your own thoughts. There was, however, one thing on your mind that kept taking priority over all else you just weren’t sure if they’d all agree, better to ask now then never though.

"Can-can I ask you all to do something for me? It’s ok if you don’t wanna, but I was wondering if we could maybe… go back and give them a funeral, or something." As you spoke your words fade to a soft whisper, feeling embarrassed by the request, resorting to hiding your face in the fur of the cat still trapped in your arms. The party talks amongst themselves while you try distracting yourself by playing with Frumpkin's paws.

"Hey." Looking up you see Veth in front of you offering her hand for you to take, so readjusting Frumpkin you take it as she leads you off the cart again and back towards the tree line. While your walking she keeps her hand firmly in yours. "I know this must hard for you, are you really sure you want to go back and see the… aftermath?" Was it not for the situation you’d find it almost funny how despite being about the same height she still acts very motherly to you, or maybe it wasn’t that funny at all, either way you knew what you wanted to be done.

"I’m sure, I don’t want them to be left here as a crazy mans 'art project' they don’t deserve that and I…" You pause, the words catching in your throat. Veth gives you a few gentle squeezes for reassurance to continue, after a minute you find your words again. "I want say goodbye properly. Is that dumb, does that sound dumb?"

"No no, it’s not dumb at all, in fact that’s very brave of you. Some grownups don’t even have the nerve to say goodbye, so just know I’m proud of you for that." You give her a small but genuine smile. By now you had made it back to the clearing, and with some deep breaths you step into it see the rest of the Nein having already dug some holes in the ground to act as graves. The bodies of your family and other poor victims who fell prey to Roland already being placed in some, Caduceus being the one instructing everyone on the proper procedures. It took a few hours so by the time they finished burying the bodies the sky had turned to dusk.

"Is there anything you’d like to say?" Caduceus asks you softly, as if his words could shatter you if he wasn’t careful. You open your mouth but find it to be a struggle to think of something to say now, having been put on the spot in front of everyone trying to force any sort of sound out to no luck. Your face slowly turns red at the feeling of embarrassment that washes over you.

"I have something to say to them if that is alright with you." Caleb says, looking to you as if to ask permission, you tilt your head a little in confusion but nod. He steps forward and clears his throat. "I may not have known them, but if (y/n) is an example of their kindness and acceptance of others, then I can understand why they would do anything to keep them alive." He turns and gives you a gentle smile, you faintly return it.

"It always hurts to lose someone you love, but if I can learn not to let that chain me down and accept love from others again then you can too." Yasha surprised you with her sweet words but there was something uplifting about them that you couldn’t help but raise your smile at.

"My turn! Ok… may the Traveler bless your souls for sending us this sweet little child to call our own, ummm… that’s all I got." Jester pipes in, bringing a sort of joy to cut down the lingering tension, it almost makes you giggle.

"As a mother, I know I’d happily give my life again to protect Luc knowing that he’s still alive and will carry on my legacy." Veth says, almost reminestantly. It made you slowly realize that maybe your family did the same so you could carry on their legacy too, if that’s the case then you’d accept it.

"I do believe the kid's made things more lively since they joined and I for one wouldn’t want to trade that for the world." Maybe not as heartfelt of a speech as the others, but you honestly expected nothing less from Molly, he even struts over to you and ruffles your hair earning a small laugh from you.

"Wait, are we taking turns? Uhh… it’s been nice having someone to look out for and teach the ways of the world to, it always feels like we have a purpose even when we feel useless." Fjord stumbled over his words a little, not fully expecting everyone to contribute but found his grounding at the end, his and everyone’s words so far having helped raise you spirits more and more.

"Ummm… look I’m not really good at this emotional stuff but I’m glad your here with us." Like Molly, Beau's little speech wasn’t all that heartfelt but her words were genuine and that’s all you could ask for.

"You all did amazing, I’m proud." Caduceus says, he then gently places his hands on the ground and casts Decompose while muttering a prayer of safe passage for the deceased to the Wildmother. The area quickly sprouting various fungus’ and some (favourite flower/s) the clearing becoming a beautiful patch of nature once again from the horror show that it once was. You are then brought into a group hug, a warm feeling of true belonging coming over you.

"I’m really happy I found you." Tears slide down your cheeks, but no longer ones of sorrow, these were tears of joy.

"We’re glad we found you too."

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #jester lavorre #jester & reader #nott the brave #nott & reader #caleb widogast #caleb & reader #caduceus clay #caduceus & reader #fjord #fjord stone #fjord & reader #beauregard lionett #beauregard & reader #yasha nydoorin #yasha & reader #mollymauk tealeaf #mollymauk & reader #nothing romantic here

[longing-and-heartache-and-lust]

the drug, the dark, the light, the flame, Ch.VIII

[previous] [next] [Ao3]

A brand new chapter of my work for this year’s @geraskierbigbang in collaboration with the incredible @gen-syz-art as my artist ✨

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The ride back into the town is lost behind a haze of pain.

The wounds on Geralt’s thigh are still bleeding even as he dismounts Roach and makes his way towards the inn, his head spinning with blood loss and the remaining effects of his elixirs.

The innkeeper and the guests all gasp at the sight of him but with his stomach somewhere in his throat, Geralt couldn’t care less.

He stumbles through the door of his room and all but collapses onto the bed, his hands refusing to work properly as he gets himself out of his armour.

Once he finally gets proper access to his thigh, he winces. There are four deep, ragged tears in the flesh, all of them still bleeding, and if it wasn’t for Geralt’s slow heartbeat, he would’ve been dead already. Swallow helped with keeping him conscious and strong enough to walk but with wounds like this, it wasn’t enough.

Breathing heavily, Geralt drags himself to the water basin in the corner of the room and brings it with him back to the edge of the bed, soaking a rag that had once been a shirt in the water and pressing it to his thigh. The light fabric turns red immediately.

He has to stitch the wounds if he doesn’t want the scars taking up the entire expanse of his thigh, and it takes him everything he’s got to reach into one of his bags and find needle and thread there. His hands are still shaking but he’s got enough experience to know his way around.

Having wiped off as much blood as he can, he sets the dirty rag aside and casts another Quen over himself, groaning at the dizziness that it brings. He’s barely got enough energy for Signs, but without them, he will bleed out before as much as half the stitches are in place.

As the wounds close, bit by bit, Geralt feels both better and worse.

His head no longer spins as bad as it did before, and the nausea subsides, but it takes him all the self-control he’s got not to close his eyes for too long, for he knows that if he does, he will immediately pass out.

Mercifully, it doesn’t last long.

He gets all four wounds stitched and bandaged even before the sky behind the windows starts lightening with the first rays of the sun.

Soon - way too soon - he’s going to have to be up in the saddle again, making his way back towards Tretogor, but right now he can allow himself to rest, and as soon as his head hits the pillow, he slips into unconsciousness, exhausted and hurt.

***

The next day, he’s back on the Path.

After paying the promised two hundred crowns, Jorund did suggest that Geralt stay for another few days, until his wounds healed a little more, but Geralt knew that he’s saying that through clenched teeth. The werewolf could’ve killed his wife and children, and Geralt made sure that that’s not going to happen, that’s true, but regardless, he was still a witcher. Nobody wants witchers in their town.

No, Geralt wasn’t going to stay any longer than absolutely necessary.

His leg still hurt, making it hard to walk, but he’d had far worse, so after sleeping through the entire night and early morning, he collects his pay and leaves.

And though he hates to admit it, every time he thinks about going back to the mansion, seeing Jaskier again, something deep in his chest flutters with anticipation, almost the same way that it does in the late autumn, when he turns Roach towards Kaer Morhen.

It almost feels like coming home, he thinks and then immediately chases that thought away.

***

The journey that took him nine days the first time now lasts only a little short of two weeks.

The pain keeps him up at night and slows him down during the day, making Geralt stop Roach more often just to try and breathe through it, taking the edge off. He’s forced to keep her at a slow gait, as well, because every time he flexes his muscles to lift himself up from the saddle, the pain gets paralyzing.

For the first few days, he doesn’t let himself think about this journey as of the one that will take him back to the mansion, back to Jaskier. He knows from the very start that will not be able to leave it behind, will not be able to break his promise, but for some time, he stubbornly doesn’t acknowledge it.  

By the end of the ninth day, though - the day he would’ve already been there, had it not been for his thighs - he finds himself annoyed with still being on the Path.

There is a pull of impatience somewhere in his chest, and though he manages to ignore it during the entire day, when he stops for the night and is left alone with his thoughts, he’s powerless against it.

He falls asleep thinking of what it would feel like to have Jaskier in his arms, in one of those enormous beds in the mansion.

And so when he finally sees the familiar silhouette of the estate three days later, he has to bite his lip not to urge Roach into a faster gait.

The sun has almost completely set, and the golden light has now changed into the blue-green one that makes it almost impossible to tell whether it’s twilight or the very break of dawn. Geralt loves this time of the day, when the air gets pleasantly colder and his senses heighten. He can almost forget about the pain.

Before he can as much as dismount, Asra and Lucio come running from somewhere behind the mansion, having picked up his scent. They bark a greeting at him, their long tails wagging from side to side. The purple collars are a sharp contrast to their white fur, almost glowing in the pale light.

Just as they make it to the gates, the main door of the mansion opens, and Arthur steps out.

“Master Witcher,” he says, coming closer and inclining his head politely. “You are much expected.”

Geralt mirrors his gesture and gets down from the saddle, trying not to wince at the pain that the first step brings. It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be, and he can force himself not to limp if he really wants to, but it’s going to take another couple of weeks for the wounds to fully heal.

“Master Julian is in the main library,” Arthur says, opening the gates and taking Roach’s reins from Geralt. “He will be delighted to see you.”

Unsure of what to say, Geralt just nods and thanks the majordomo as he turns to take Roach towards the stables. Trying not to think of the pain in his thigh, Geralt crosses the garden towards the main door, Asra and Lucio close at his side. He tugs his gloves off and pets them on the heads, fingers drowning in the soft fur.

He knocks, because just entering seems like the most impolite thing he can think of, and once the door opens, he’s immediately hit with the now-familiar scent of dried herbs and vanilla. Without even realising, he takes in a deeper breath, letting it fill his lungs.

“You’re here,” Jaskier smiles, so impossibly bright, his cornflower-blue eyes shining, voice barely above a whisper, like he doesn’t quite believe it.  

But then his arms are around Geralt’s neck as Jaskier pulls him into a tight embrace, their chests pressed together close enough for Geralt to feel the quickened beat of the younger man’s heart.

“I promised, didn’t I?” he says, unable to hold back his own smile and wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s back, the warmth of his body sending little sparks up the witcher’s spine.

Jaskier doesn’t let go for a few long, torturously good seconds, and when he does take a step back, his hands slip down Geralt’s shoulders and arms, until he catches the witcher’s fingers with his own and pulls him into the hallway.  

Geralt lets himself be led willingly, his every sense narrowed down to the feeling of Jaskier’s fingers where they are pressed against his own.  

It takes the edge off the burning pain in his thigh, dulls it, makes him let his guard down, and by the time he realises that he’s limping again, it’s way too late. Jaskier’s smile immediately turns into a frown, his thin brows knitting together.

“You’re hurt,” he says, and it’s not a question.

Geralt tries to brush it off, though he already knows that it’s no use.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “A scratch.”

Jaskier’s frown deepens, and he gestures at Asra and Lucio, sniffing at the witcher’s thigh with heightened interest, with a move of his head.

“They smell blood on you,” Jaskier says, clicking his tongue at the dogs when they poke their noses at Geralt’s leg. “Sit down.”

Geralt’s not entirely sure whether that’s addressed to him or the dogs, and he falters for a minute, but then Jaskier gives him an expecting look, and he does as he’s told, though with little enthusiasm. Though he tries not to, he still winces as he sits down.

“Tell me what it really is,” Jaskier says.

Geralt sighs but obeys.

“I got a werewolf contract near Gelibol,” he says. “He scraped me with his claws.”

Jaskier folds his arms over his chest and gives Geralt a dismissive look, clearly unimpressed.

“He scraped you,” he repeats mockingly. “If it’s a scratch, like you keep saying, how come it’s not healed yet?”

Fuck, Geralt thinks, God damn his witcher knowledge.

He shrugs, but says nothing. Jaskier rolls his eyes and sits down next to him.

“Will you let me help you?” he asks, softer.

Geralt almost considers it, thinks about the feeling of Jaskier’s hands on his skin again, but then the image of having to undress flashes through his mind, and Geralt clenches his jaw until it hurts to keep control of his body and prevent blood from spilling over his cheeks.

There are limits even to his heart.

“I’m just tired,” he says, meeting Jaskier’s impossibly-blue eyes. “It’s nothing serious.”

He can tell that Jaskier doesn’t believe a word but after a few long seconds of him waiting for the witcher to break under his gaze, he gives in. Geralt, however, has to pay for that, because while Jaskier contemplates whether or not he should let him go, he bites on his lower lip, and it’s the single most distracting thing Geralt has ever seen.

“Well,” Jaskier finally says, clicking his tongue. “In that case, I think you should get some proper rest. It’s a bit late for dinner but the cooks are still in the kitchen, I’ll ask them to make something nice for you. And while they’ll be on that, how about a bath, hm?”

A bath is a luxury that Geralt hasn't had since the night before the hunt. He craves the relaxation that only hot water can bring, and his wounds are healed enough for it not to cause too much bleeding.

Despite all that, he says:

“I can’t ask you to--”

“You’re not asking,” Jaskier retorts, cutting him off, but the irritation in his voice is pretend. “I’m offering.”

Geralt is hyper-aware of how close Jaskier is to him, of the scent of his skin and his hair, of the warmth radiating off of him. Feeling like he’s jumping off a cliff and into a lake of cold water, Geralt shifts just enough for their knees to touch. Just like the impact of diving into freezing water, it takes his breath away.

Jaskier’s eyes dart up to meet his for a second, sparkling like the stars. His lips are bitten red and parted just enough for something deep in Geralt’s chest to catch ablaze.

“They’ve missed you,” Jaskier says, nodding towards the dogs that refuse to leave the witcher’s side, poking at him with their wet noses and licking his hand when he reaches out to pet them.

Before Geralt can think about what he’s about to say, the words already leave his lips:

“Have you?”

Jaskier cocks a brow at him, clearly amused.

“Maybe I have,” he murmurs teasingly, his knee brushing over Geralt’s. “Why, Witcher? Would you want me to?”

Gods, Geralt wants to kiss him.

And he can’t deny that the thought of Jaskier missing him stirs something in his chest, makes the possessive little side of him purr in satisfaction. If Jaskier missed him, it means he’d thought about him, and that resonates through the witcher’s entire body in an internal shiver.

“It’s been a month,” Geralt says, controlling his breathing carefully. “Maybe I do enjoy the idea of you thinking of me every now and then.”

Saying that out loud seems to require much more courage than fighting werewolves on a full moon, and Geralt’s heart skips a beat, but the way Jaskier’s lips curl up in a pleased little grin is an inspiring reward.

“Well, my darling,” he murmurs, and the endearment goes straight to Geralt’s heart. “In that case, you will be pleased to know that I have thought about you. Especially in that little library upstairs.”

Geralt thinks back on that morning, on them hiding from the cold of the thunderstorm together, on the way Jaskier gasped at the feeling of Yrden binding his wrists, if only for a second. Geralt still thinks that using the Sign like that was too brave of a decision on his part but he can’t forget the way Jaskier’s heart rate picked up in response.

Before he can come up with an answer, though, Jaskier already gets up, his fingers brushing down Geralt’s thigh as he does so.

“And now that you know that,” he smiles, running his hands through the fur on Asra’s neck. “You can go and enjoy that bath.”

Geralt bites back a disheartened little sound, though only just.

“Are you going to be here later?” he asks, standing up and ignoring the stab of pain in his thigh. “Or should I look for you somewhere else?”

Jaskier shakes his head.

“You should rest. I’ll have the dinner brought up to your room. And if you don’t fall asleep right after you’re done with that bath, I’ll come sit with you, if you want.”

Your room, echoes through Geralt’s mind.

“Bring the dogs,” he smiles.

***

The bath really does work wonders on him.

By the time Geralt is done with his dinner, it’s already full of steaming-hot water, and when a housekeeper asks him what kind of oils and salts he’d like, Geralt just blinks at him for a moment or two, feeling a little overwhelmed by the selection. The housekeeper then quickly goes over every single phial and jar - Geralt counts twenty-seven - telling him about properties and benefits, and in the end, the witcher decides to go with eucalyptus and sage, for he is assured that they help relieve headaches and clean the airways.

After the housekeeper leaves, having bid Geralt goodnight, it still takes the witcher a minute or two of just taking in his surroundings before finally stripping off his armour and clothes and getting into the wide tub.

Hot water envelops him like the softest of blankets, and Geralt fails to bite back a low moan of satisfaction.

Some part of him still thinks that he shouldn’t be here, like this is too much and he should’ve found a way to turn down the offer, but that part is quickly silenced by the low thrum of pleasure through his entire body. It fills him with thrilling anticipation to know that after he gets out of the water, he will be able to slip right under the soft fur or blankets, the bed already familiar enough for him to feel comfortable on more levels than just physically.

He thinks of Jaskier’s offer to join him - not in bed, he has to remind himself - and that fuels his anticipation even more.

It’s already dark outside, moonlight shining in through the window at the far end of the room, but Geralt allows himself not to track how much time has passed. He washes his hair that might or might not be getting a little too long, checks the healing wounds on his thigh, making sure they don’t bleed too much from the hot water, and stays in the tub until the pads of his fingers become wrinkly with moisture. Frog fingers, as Lambert tends to call them.

Chuckling at his memories, Geralt finally steps out of the tub, reaching for the provided towels to wrap one of them around his hips and ruffle his wet hair with the other. His entire body feels relaxed and pliant, like hot wax, the pain in his thigh subsiding at last, and by the time he slips into the freshly made bed, it’s like those two weeks on the Path never really happened.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

He must know every step taken within the mansion, Geralt thinks.

“It’s open,” he says.

The door handle turns, and the first thing he sees are two long white noses. Asra and Lucio slip into the room even before the door is fully open, and make their way to Geralt, their claws a comforting little tap-tap-tap against the polished wooden floor.

Jaskier follows them with a look of fond exasperation on his face.

“Why, Witcher, don’t you look lovely,” he smiles, settling down into a chair next to the bed. “The dinner was to your liking, I hope?”

Geralt thinks back on the wine-baked pheasant and roasted vegetables. It might very well be the best meal he’d had in his entire life.

“Exceedingly,” he nods. “Thank you.”

Seemingly against his will, his eyes travel across Jaskier’s entire figure. He’s not wearing the matching breeches and doublet that he’d had on earlier in the evening, opting instead for a slightly oversized shirt and loose trousers of light cream colour, an already familiar dressing gown over them. The voluminous silk bell-sleeves flow down the armrest of the chair like water.

There’s something new mixed into his scent, something heady and sweet, like pomegranate, and it doesn’t take Geralt long to guess that it’s one of the bath salts or oils.

Just like him, Jaskier had already taken his bath, and somehow the informality, the quiet intimacy of seeing him like this sends a little shiver down Geralt’s back.

“Are your wounds looking any better?” Jaskier enquiries, clicking his tongue at Asra when she attempts to jump up onto the bed. “Oh, these dogs just get untamable whenever you’re around. They think that if they are allowed to sleep with me in bed, they’re allowed to sleep in any bed they like.”

Geralt chuckles, watching Asra settle down by the fireplace with Lucio, instead. They curl up together, dark eyes closing peacefully.

“There’s barely any blood now,” he says, answering Jaskier’s question. “As I’ve said, it’s nothing serious.”

Jaskier narrows his eyes, giving Geralt a look that lets him know that he’s not buying it.

“Have you bandaged them?”

Geralt hasn’t. Mostly because he doesn’t see a point in it, given that the wounds are not fresh, but also because searching through his bags for a clean strip of fabric seemed like too much work after a long bath.

His silence tells Jaskier all he needs to know.

“Then I’m afraid I must insist I do it myself,” he says.

As Jaskier gets up to make his way across the room and disappears behind the bathroom door where, Geralt assumes, the bandages can be found, he is suddenly hyper-aware of only wearing a shirt and smallclothes.

He knows he shouldn’t react like that, for it’s just his body and he’s not even naked, but there’s just something about having Jaskier this close while he’s playing all those little games with him, that almost feels overwhelming. And it doesn’t help at all that Geralt isn’t used to being taken care of, even if it’s just someone bandaging his wounds.

But Jaskier is already back in the room, a roll of light-coloured cloth in his hand, and it’s too late to say anything.

“Come on,” he urges, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Let me see.”

Pointedly ignoring the way the air suddenly feels hotter, Geralt complies, lifting one of the edges of the fur blanket and granting Jaskier access to his wounded thigh. All the stitches are still in place, holding the edges of the cuts together, but Jaskier still goes a little pale, sucking in a breath.

“Scratches, Geralt?” he says, flicking his eyes up to meet Geralt’s.

Geralt holds his gaze but doesn’t have anything to say in his defence. Jaskier, though, doesn’t really seem to be waiting for an answer, moving closer and unwrapping the bandage in his hands. He keeps his eyes on the healing wounds as he wraps the first layer of soft cloth around them.

His fingers are warm where they brush over Geralt’s skin, sending shivers down the witcher’s back, and slowly, Jaskier’s frown fades.

“Gods, Witcher,” he says, fighting back a smile now that he’s sure that the wounds won’t re-open. “You do know that there are easier ways to get me to touch you, don’t you? You need to stop getting yourself hurt.”

Geralt suddenly feels like all the blood he’s got in his body rushes to his cheeks. He prays to all the gods he knows that it won’t be noticeable in the light of the fireplace.

“It’s not--” he starts but can’t quite find the words.

“It’s not what?” Jaskier murmurs, teasing, his knuckles brushing over the inside of the witcher’s thigh almost accidentally as he tucks the ends of the bandage under one of the layers.  

It would be so easy to just catch his wrist and tug him into a kiss. Pull him down onto the pillows, lick into his mouth to see if he tastes as sweet as he smells.

Geralt can almost feel it, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from reaching out. But those thoughts, somehow, give him enough courage to play by Jaskier’s rules.

He takes in a breath, regaining his composure.

“Well,” he says, very aware of Jaskier’s hand still resting on his thigh even though the bandage is secured. “It’s not me that insists on helping, is it? So maybe you’re the one looking for excuses to touch me.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows jump up in surprise but the grin on his lips only grows wider.

“Is that what you think, Witcher?” he asks, bracing his other hand against the bed to lean in closer.

All Geralt has to do is surge forward, and his lips will be on Jaskier’s.

“Is that not how it is?” he says, answering a question with a question.

He holds Jaskier’s gaze even as the younger man brushes his fingers along the inner side of his tight again, unapologetically deliberate this time, and Geralt can feel a spasm of lust somewhere low in his abdomen as a response.

His hips are still covered with the blanket, but if Geralt had a little less control over his body, he would’ve already been half-hard.

“I would tell you,” Jaskier says breathily, his voice barely above a whisper. “Or maybe even show you--”

He leans in even closer, until Geralt can feel his breath on his lips, and tips the witcher’s chin up with a knuckle of one finger. This close, his scent fills Geralt’s lungs from wall to wall, leaving no room for anything else, and it’s more than enough for the witcher to give in, to give himself over to whatever this can lead to.

Jaskier lets go of his thigh and runs his palm over Geralt’s chest, tilting his head just enough for their lips to slot together perfectly if one of them was to close in the remaining distance.

“Show you just how I could touch you if you wanted,” Jaskier breathes, the pad of his thumb brushing over Geralt’s lower lip. “But I’m afraid, you’re still hurt.”

And before Geralt can stop him, he breaks away, laughing, leaving Geralt with nothing.

The fire in Geralt’s chest flares up, and he has to take in a very deep breath to clear his head. Oh, the things he would do if he only could. But he’s not about to lose this little game by breaking this fast. If Jaskier wants to test his self-control, well, he can’t say no to his host, can he?

“Well,” he murmurs, making himself look as unaffected as possible and reaching out to take Jaskier’s hand, bringing it up to his lips and leaving a kiss on his knuckles. “With your hands, I’m sure I will be healed in no time at all.”

Jaskier’s eyes sparkle as he watches the witcher, and it makes the disenchantment fade into nothing in a matter of seconds.

Geralt runs his thumb over the younger man’s fingers, not quite letting go.

He knows that it’s over now, but that doesn’t have to mean that there needs to be a distance between them again. It can just be something a little more… non-provocative.  

Maybe it’s the rush of adrenaline that hasn’t yet worn off, or maybe it’s Jaskier’s scent still making Geralt feel lightheaded, but he pats the empty space beside him, lifting his arm in both a conciliatory and an inviting gesture.

“Come?” he offers.

Jaskier only hesitates a moment, more pretend than genuine, before climbing up onto the bed with both his knees and slipping under one of the furs, making himself comfortable in Geralt’s arms. There are two layers of blankets separating them but Geralt can't find it in him to mind it too much.

He wraps his arm around Jaskier’s shoulders and pulls him a little closer, more than happy to let him rest his head against his chest. He can’t quite remember when was the last time that he’d held someone in his arms like this.

“Tell me about that werewolf hunt?” Jaskier asks after a moment, finding Geralt’s other hand to press the pads of their fingers together.

He seems warm and comfortable, like he could stay like this for a while, let Geralt enjoy it, and, well, if all Geralt needs to do for that is tell him about his last contract, he’s more than willing to.

“If you fall asleep, I don’t know which bedroom to carry you to,” he warns, because when Jaskier was giving him a tour of the mansion, he didn’t mention which rooms were his.

Jaskier huffs a laugh.

“If I fall asleep, you can just keep me here.”

That sounds very… tempting.

Geralt had never considered himself too much of a storyteller but, to his surprise, once he starts talking, the words flow easily. Jaskier listens to him with the same fascinated attention as one might pay to a particularly imaginative bedtime story, and somehow, Geralt finds comfort in it.

One story bleeds into the other, and before he really knows it, he tells him about two more werewolf hunts that he remembers especially well.

Jaskier listens to him without interrupting, rubbing little circles into the witcher’s palm or following the lines of his fingers, and though he doesn’t fall asleep, after some time he doesn’t seem entirely awake, either.

It’s well into the night that Geralt finally grows tired of talking, and though he doesn’t want to let Jaskier go, keeping him close seems too intimate, on the verge of overstepping, so despite himself, Geralt runs his hand down his shoulder, getting the younger man’s attention.

“It’s late,” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. “You should go to bed, you’re barely awake.”

Jaskier takes in a long, deep breath, propping himself up on one elbow and rubbing at his eyes sleepily.

“You’re right,” he says, just as quiet. “A little longer, and I would’ve dozed off right here.”

Geralt doesn’t stop him as Jaskier pulls back and slips out of the bed, calling for his dogs softly to wake them up.

“I will see you when we decide to wake up,” Jaskier smiles, his hand already on the door handle. “Goodnight, Geralt.”

Geralt echoes back and when the door behind Jaskier closes, he finally feels how tired he is. And the perspective of sleeping for as long as he wants, nestled comfortably among pillows and cushions, seems very attractive.

He stretches with a low rumble, and turns to his side, pulling the furs up over his shoulders. One of them still holds Jaskier’s scent, and before he can stop himself, Geralt pulls in closer to his face.

Falling asleep, he can almost imagine Jaskier next to him.  

#geraskier #the witcher #geraskier big bang #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the drug the dark the light the flame #my writing #calton writes

[pagesandmagic]

Roots of Growth || JJ Maybank x reader

hellooooo OBX world. I’ve decided to dip my toes into the world of obx because JJ is everything and more. So here we go. 

about: she’s new to the group, and brings a new idea, which should have been done months ago. based on the song, “north” by sleeping at last

tw: none // just lots of fluff and love and friendship.

if you have a request, send ‘em on over - i loveeeee requests. 

We will call this place our home The dirt in which our roots may grow Though the storms will push and pull We will call this place our home

Chateau was home. Each of the pouges felt it that way. Each of them had a different story, each one a painful road that led them to the Chateau. Maybe it was their parents, maybe it was their lifestyle, maybe it was the pressure they felt from their entire world. In the Chateau they didn’t have to worry about what the world outside looked like, they didn’t need to pretend to be anything. It was a safe haven, a place for them to bring their brokenness and feel whole. Yes, it was home.

And just like a work of art We'll tell our stories on these walls

She was new to the pouges. She had just moved onto the island town when she met JJ. He took her for a touron, she thought he was an arrogant asshole. She “spilled” her drink on him. He kissed her. The rest was history. It had been two months since she met the rest of the pouges and fit in like a missing puzzle piece. Her home life wasn’t great and over the last few weeks she had opened up to each of them about it. Most of the time it happened after a long day spent on the water, everyone sitting in a circle on the pull out couch. JJ would always be next to her, holding her hand or rubbing circles on her back. He was always there. The walls of the Chateau knew more of her story than any other past relationship or friendship. 

They were sitting cross legged on the living floor, surrounding the coffee table playing a card game. Their skin was tinted red from the sun and hair wet from a day spent on the HMS Pouge.

“JJ, remember the last time we played this you cheated?” John B chuckled under his breath, which elicited a groan from Kie and Pope. Clearly it was still a sore spot with the group.

“Ahh, well you see John B,” JJ sighed, pulling the cards closer to his face, pretending to analyze the cards in order to make a decision like his life depended on it. “I don’t really understand how you can cheat at ‘Uno’” he smirked, “you’re either good or bad. I’m just really good.”

“You’re not good, JJ. You just cheat.” John B shook his head.

“Wait, what is he taking about.” She chuckled. Clearly this had happened before she ever came along, but she was curious to how John B thought her boyfriend was a cheater. JJ placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed, sending shivers through her body and butterflies in her stomach.

“Believe me, it’s nothing important,” JJ smiled, and placed his card on the deck. The last one.

“You’re not serious,” John B hit the table with his hand, causing the rickety wood to collapse in front of each of them. Their groans echoed through the living room.

“JB, why?” Pope rubbed his temples.

“Honestly was that worth it?” Kie huffed.

JJ pressed his lips together, suppressing a chuckle. The newest member of the pouges looked around at the Chateau. It was pretty broken. Most of it was just barely holding on. She wondered why this was the first time she was seeing it all. Probably because she had taken on a pretty strong smoking habit that JJ had helped her form, not that she was complaining.

“Guys, this place is kind of a disaster.” She started, “Look, I know I’m new here, but this place has become more of my home than my own house. Being here has given me something that I haven’t had in years.” She paused, looking at each of them, ending with JJ. “A family.”

The tears had welled in her eyes, an idea coming to her head. “Can we fix it up?”

The room stood quiet. Each person preparing their own thoughts, organizing the ideas in their head and wondering how to proceed forward.

“That’s a great idea,” John B spoke. He knew the place had become run down, but chose to ignore it, hoping it would all fix itself someday.

JJ gave her hand a squeeze, “I love that idea,”

A little broken, a little new. We are the impact and the glue Capable more than we know To call this fixer upper home

It didn’t take long for the group to get to work. The next morning each of them set off to fix up the Chateau. Sarah and Kie started painting and repairing the walls which took a considerable amount of time since most arguments ended in a punch to the wall. JJ worked on the landscaping of the house and said that it “soothed” him. John B and Pope worked on painting the exterior of the house and repairing what they could from years of storm damage. She decided to deep clean the entire house. Before she came around, it was the three boys who spent most of their time in the Chateau, and it showed.

It was a beautiful July day in North Carolina, she opened up each of the windows letting the warm air inside. Jack Johnson played through the TV in the living room, the easy listening filling the rooms of their home. The smell of the laundry detergent wafted through the house, creating a “homey” smell, as Sarah called it. She washed the dishes which had been piled up since before she arrived, as they had been using paper plates instead.

This was a home she wanted to stay in for a long time. A safe place for her friends to gather. A home that people would gather in and a place where the door would always be open. 

She was changing the sheets in her and JJ’s bedroom when she felt a pair of sweaty arms wrap around her waist. “I’m pretty sure this is the hottest I’ve ever seen you,” he said into her neck. JJ. This boy had become her everything. They hadn’t spent a day apart since meeting. Theirs was a love that happened quickly and without warning.

This blonde haired boy had been the person she fell asleep next to each night and woke up to every morning. He was the one who taught her to fish through fits of laughter and trying not to gag after each catch. He was the one she smoked with for the first time. He was her first. She remembered her life before him, but she didn’t want to. Everything was brighter with him, more vibrant and joyful. 

He smelt of fresh grass and sweat, “I’m pretty sure this is the sweatiest you’ve ever been.” she chuckled, turning back to kiss him on the chin. He hummed at the feeling of her lips. 

“Just the way, you like it, amiright?” he kissed the back of her neck, before letting go. He placed his hands on his hips looking at the room and at the way she swayed through the room. 

She was his rock. He always had John B and Pope to reply on, but she was different. She made him want to be better, to do better. She made his world softer, less harsh than before she came along. She was the first girl who made him feel a pit at the bottom of his stomach thinking about losing her. She was it. He knew it. 

She could feel his eyes on her. He was never shy when it came to his admiration of her. “Thank you,” she said through the smile across her lips. She turned to see him leaning against the wall, arms crossed and his brow furrowed, unsure of why she was thanking him. 

She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His hands found their way to the back of her neck, running his fingers through her hair. “Thank you for finding me.” she whispered, “Thank you for giving me a family.” she stepped back to look at him in the eyes, but never letting go of his waist. His hands brushed the hair out of her face and pushed it behind her ears. His touch was so gentle, his calloused hands told the story of his life, filled with hard grueling work just to stay afloat. He cupped her face, meeting her eyes. “Thank you for bringing me home.” 

Smaller than dust on this map Lies the greatest thing we have The dirt in which our roots may grow And the right to call it home

And that’s all folks! I hope you enjoyed it! I’m pretty rusty when it comes to writing these, so hopefully my editing went well. haha. 

#jj maybank #obx #outerbanks #outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank writing #outer banks imagine #outer banks writing #outer banks fanfiction

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 12//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd *bold tags don’t work! Let me know if you would like to be added to the list!)

For the six weeks I was aware of my pregnancy, I had learned almost everything an expecting female should know at sixteen weeks along. As a human I never learned much about pregnancy or babies and honestly never expected to. I figured I would learn more once my sisters were married and expecting their own. I never anticipated that I would be the first. Now, of course, being a faerie changed all of those preconceived notions. I was mated, in love, and both my mate and I desperately wanted a baby of our own. But after having tried to conceive for the last decade, I was honestly a little embarrassed that I didn't educate myself more on the condition.

However, Madja made sure to inform Rhys and I of what to expect based on whatever stage I was currently in. At four months along, well into the second stage of my pregnancy, Madja advised us that I would soon "pop." We must have looked equally confused at the phrase, because the healer then explained that soon my pregnant belly would become more pronounced—that I would start to show. I naively thought that it already happened, seeing as Rhys was obsessed with the small swell that was my stomach, but Madja expressed that this minor swelling was more of my body bloating from the hormonal changes occurring in my body.

In passing, my pregnancy wasn't at all noticeable. I often chose to wear my usual leggings and soft sweaters around the estate and whenever I ventured into the city—visiting my painting studio Ressina had graciously taken over after current events kept me away. The only time my stomach was truly noticeable was when I was either naked (much to my mates' pleasure) and when I wore the gown that hugged my every curve during our visit to the Court of Nightmares. Even then I had to flatten the fabric in order to really accentuate the curve to Keir and the rest of the court. However, among the fae, my condition was easily noticeable thanks to my scent. Every time Rhys and I had journeyed into the streets of Velaris for walks along the Sidra, dinner at Sevenda's, or otherwise, we received approving smiles from passersby who took notice—all too polite to come outright and congratulate us before we made an official announcement.

Once we had actually announced the news, days after the Court of Nightmares, most every fae—lesser and otherwise, frequently and eagerly praised us. It was such a contrast to the reaction at Hewn City, that I couldn't help but get a little emotional every time someone gave us a gift or offered a piece of advice. Many times, Rhys and I heard of their excitement for when I would start to show—of when my belly would "pop."

And now, standing in front of my floor length mirror wearing my silken dressing gown, I realized I had indeed popped.

I stood astonished as I viewed my new pronounced belly in the mirror, despite it still being rather minor, there was now a distinct outward curve from below my bust line to my hips. I turned to the side to get a better view of my new stomach and blinked; wondering at just how long it might've taken me to notice this change. It had been another week since Rhys and I sent out letters requesting to move up the summit meeting; convincing Tamlin to attend as well. While it only took a couple of days to hear back from all the courts, we were still exchanging letters to iron out the details.

Kallias had been the first to respond, expressing his and Viviane's shared desire to meet early since their child was due in only a matter of weeks. Their child would still be a newborn by the time our summit would normally take place, and neither had the inclination to leave behind their baby or part ways with the other so soon after the birth. After Rhys confirmed with Kallias that it was safe for Viviane to travel, he sent a request for a room for us to stay in—and for me to recover in after winnowing to Thesan's palace.

We both agreed it would be wise to express to Thesan why we needed the room, and the High Lord of the Dawn Court readily agreed—having already received the same request from the High Lord and High Lady of the Winter Court. Along with his approval of the room, he also sent us his congratulations in the form of a large crystalline vase filled with a colored variety of delicate flowers that grew exclusively at his court. I was a little hesitant upon first seeing the bouquet, recalling that the last time we received a gift from a court they had been the blood rubies from Tarquin—after taking his half of the Book of Breathings. Rhys reassured me, however, that flowers were indeed a good sign—the extravagance of the arrangement showing Thesan's support.

"Well look at you," Rhys said from the doorway with a devilish grin, pulling me from my thoughts as I met his gaze. "Or should I say look at you two?"

I grinned at him through the mirror as he crossed the room, getting on his knees before me as he took in the full view of my stomach. His violet eyes were full of adoration as one hand traced the new curve and the other rested on my hip.

"You really are showing now, my love," he said before placing a chaste kiss on my skin.

I smiled and brushed a stray lock of his blue-black hair from his face before he stood again and encircled his arms around my waist. He pulled me gently against him and our grins widened when my newly formed stomach pressed against the hard planes of his.

"You better enjoy being able to hold me this close while you can," I teased. "Pretty soon my belly will be getting in the way."

"Of all the things that could come between us, Feyre darling, this," he said, moving his hands to hold either side of me "is the best."

My face flushed with pure joy as he lowered his brow onto mine, his violet eyes sparkling with an equal amount as I laid my hands on his chest. "Will you still feel that way when I'm as big as a house?" I asked timidly.

For a while I was pondering over the fact that pregnancy now meant my body was going to change—drastically. Realistically, I always knew it was going to happen, but after hearing talks of just how excited everyone was to see the physical evidence of my pregnancy, the reality of this transformation began to settle over me. My figure had been through a few changes before; once transitioning from human to fae and adopting near-perfect features. Again during that period of darkness after Under the Mountain, when I had gone gaunt and pale; my body at its weakest. After coming to the Night Court—to Velaris, I recovered. My cheeks filled in, the color on my pallid complexion came back, and the rest of my figure filled out to a slender physique. Training with Cassian and learning to fly with Azriel had added more weight to my frame, coming strictly from my newfound muscles. Over the last decade, I maintained that lithe and fit shape, but being pregnant meant everything was becoming...soft—or at least softer. As much as I loved and reveled in the joy of knowing my son was growing by the day, I couldn't help but wonder at how Rhys might react to said changes.

"You think I would sneer at the changes in your body or a few permanent stretch marks?" Rhys asked, a bit stunned, reading the insecurities hidden behind my words.

"No! I just...I don't-" I sighed, searching for the accurate way to describe my feelings. A surge of emotions hitting as I sought the right words. "I'm afraid that if I find them ugly, if I hate them, then I'll convince you into hating them too. I know you'll keep telling me I'm beautiful and that I look perfect, but with the way my hormones are wreaking havoc on me, I'm afraid I'll complain so much that you'll begin to see what I see. That, or I'll complain so much that you'll get annoyed with me."

Rhysand's look of shock disappeared as he cupped my face gently in his hands, his violet eyes besotted as he stared into mine. "Nothing you could ever say or do will change my opinion of you, or how I look at you, Feyre darling," he started softly. "You are my mate, my wife, my equal, and now the mother of my child. You will always be that, and so much more, in my eyes, no matter how unattractive you might feel at a certain moment."

I smiled as he pressed another kiss to my brow before moving to my lips. I kissed him back eagerly, draping my arms over his shoulders delicately and pouting a bit as he pulled away prematurely.

"You can't just say perfect things like that and expect me not to shower you with kisses for the rest of the hour," I teased.

His grin was mischievous as his eyes raked over my body, still clad in my silk dressing gown, lingering on my breasts appreciatively as he took in those changes as well. "I would gladly take the rest of the day allowing us to get lost in each other's arms, darling, but we did get the final word from Thesan in regard to the summit."

I languished at the loss of our time alone; at the duties that being High Lord and High Lady were currently stealing from our time as a couple but resigned with a nod. "All the final preparations have been made; the date is set?" I asked, staying in his embrace.

He nodded, "We'll leave tomorrow," he said. His expression grew a bit somber as his hands moved back to my waist, thumbs stroking along the curve of my stomach.

What's wrong? I asked through the bond after a moment of silence passed between us.

"It's Beron," he replied aloud. "He responded that he will be accompanying Eris this year, along with the rest of his entourage."

My blood chilled. Along with sending an imploring letter to Tamlin every year, we also sent an invitation to Beron—who always vehemently denied and in his place Eris attended alone. After our secret negotiation with Eris before the war, we often tried to guess when he would call in his favor—to remove his father off the throne so that he may take over as High Lord, but after all these years he still remained ambiguous in those plans. Over the course of the decade, his meetings with Keir decreased, and while we kept a close eye on those visits and made sure to show up every time he did, we were still anxious that he might also be a participant in Keir's coup. Our plan was to confront him at the summit meeting and gather whatever information we could. Beron's attendance now made said confrontation tricky.

"Do you think Eris is involved?" I asked.

Rhys shook his head. "When we struck that deal, he wanted our backing when it came time to install him on the throne. As ruthless as he is, a part of me believed him when he asked for an alliance," he explained.

I chewed on my lip as I contemplated it. As the eldest of the Vanserra sons, Eris was indeed cruel—especially after what had come from his rejection of the marriage alliance with Mor centuries ago. Still, after his aide in the war and his confession of saving Lucien, it was possible he was still an ally.

"I find it hard to believe he wouldn't know of Beron's plans. He claims ignorance at every summit, but would Beron really keep him in the dark for this long?"

Rhys frowned, "After the war, and all the convincing Eris did on our behalf for the war-effort, it's possible he's turned to another one of his sons to prepare for the throne once he's gone. It might even be part of whatever negotiations he's in with Keir—to support the son of his choice to take over as High Lord one day."

I sighed heavily, seeing the truth in his words and nodded, "So how do we question them now?"

"Beron isn't a stranger to openly sharing his distaste, and something tells me he'll really hate this," he said, motioning to my stomach. "So, we wait for him to dig his own grave. That'll be telling for us, and the others."

I gave him a wry smirk, "Something tells me that this summit isn't going to be as peaceful or quaint as it has been in the past."

"Ah Feyre darling, when have any of our summits been quaint?" He regarded with a grin.

I laughed as I remembered our past summits, which almost always ended with us eating dinner with the other High Lords—along with Vassa, Jurian, and Lucien. We were still wary to refer to Jurian as a friend, but he was most certainly an ally as he served by Queen Vassa's side. Regardless, those dinners always ended up being a rather boisterous, yet enjoyable gathering of friends. It was reassuring to know that while our decade-long tenure of peace was currently in question, at least we could rely on the friendships we had formed with the other courts and the mortals.

"Good point," I said with a sigh. "I just hope everyone else will support us."

"You still don't fully realize just how well-liked you are, do you?" Rhys asked with a warm smirk. "The males might not openly admit it, but they greatly admire you, Feyre darling. And from what I've seen between you, Mor, and Viviane, the High Lady of the Winter Court also holds you in high regard."

I smiled again, trying to hide the blush creeping in on my face. "So, what you're trying to say is; I have nothing to worry about?"

He nodded, almost mocking in his tone as he tapped the tip of my nose. "Precisely, my love."

I tried not to laugh, shaking my head at him. "Prick."

"Right again," he said, this time capturing my lips with his as I laughed in reply.

XXX

The next day Rhys and I were the last to arrive at the front foyer of the manor. Our usual entourage of Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Nesta waited for us—along with Amren and Elain to see us off. I had always found the latter a strange pairing, but oddly fitting as well. Elain, always one to refrain from any sort of confrontation, preferred to stay away from our summit meetings. Meanwhile, regardless of her transformation as a true high fae, Amren still possessed that air of anonymity as well as intimidation. Her foreboding nature served us well in the Court of Nightmares and would probably aid in our situation with Beron and Tamlin, but our second-in-command never attended the summits. She often claimed that being surrounded by that many animated personalities would render her so exasperated to the point of a migraine. So, she stayed behind and watched over Velaris—as well as kept a close eye on Elain.

"It's about time you show up," Cassian teased as Rhys and I approached the group. "That youngling is already slowing you two down."

"That tends to happen when a pregnant female has her head buried in a toilet for hours," Rhys snarled back, a protective hand coming to rest on the small of my back.

Cassian's mood shifted to one of guilt and I saw Nesta and Mor turn a scowl of disapproval in his direction. I held my hands up in reassurance, "Ignore him, Cassian, the mating bond is making him grumpy."

"But you're not well," Azriel said before Cassian could reply, his hazel eyes carefully taking in my current state.

Unfortunately, it was true. I woke up with another bout of nausea that kept me in our bathing room for the better part of the morning. I was growing weary of these spells of sickness, especially given how seriously Rhys responded to them. Every time I was the least bit unwell, he insisted I remain in bed. Until today, where I determined that we couldn't postpone this meeting regardless of my illness. It was an unfortunate side effect of pregnancy I would have to continue to deal with, and I refused to let it hinder me further.

"I'm all right. Just a part of the process," I said, hand resting on my stomach.

They all looked at my hand, unease looming in the air, but I straightened my shoulders regardless.

"We should go, I don't want us to be the last ones there. The meeting is already going to be delayed until after I have time to recover from winnowing," I said.

"You and Viviane both need that time," Mor said. "All those haughty males will just have to deal with it."

Nesta huffed in approval, and Amren crossed her arms with a wicked grin. "I say milk that time for all its worth. Though I've never been, I've heard from all of you how well the High Lord of Dawn accommodates his guests."

"I've also heard how well everyone attends to a pregnant female. It's so rare among the fae—us, that I'm sure they'll give you anything you need," Elain chimed in, touching my arm delicately.

I gave them a tired smile and nodded, acknowledging their advice as well as their concern. Rhys had expressed just how weary and pale I looked before we left our rooms, and I was sure they all saw it in me now.

"And if they don't, we certainly will." Azriel added, more out of reassurance to Elain than to me.

"By force if we have to," Cassian joked, some of his ease returning.

"That's very sweet of you all, but I'm fine," I insisted, turning to Rhys.

He nodded before addressing the others, "Why don't you all go ahead? We'll be right behind you, and we'll join you in the chamber once Feyre's recovered."

They all nodded in approval before I could protest; Mor taking hold of Cassian's shoulder just as Nesta placed a hand on his arm wordlessly. Azriel disappeared first before Mor winnowed my sister and Cassian away in a whirl of black. I turned back to Rhys incredulously just as Amren led a wary-eyed Elain down the hall that led to her garden, asking something about a new herb she was growing.

"You didn't have to send them ahead of us," I chided, crossing my arms.

Rhys's returning smile was impish, "Now who's grumpy?"

I shoved his shoulder, "I'm serious Rhys! What will the others think?"

He gripped my arms gently, pulling me back to him. "The others will be placated by Thesan until you and Viviane recover. Once we meet with them all in the chamber, and we reveal your pregnancy, they'll understand," he reassured.

I chewed on my lip, considering. "You're sure they won't feel slighted by seeing our entourage present without us?"

Rhys chuckled, "Feyre darling, I bet they're all taking bets on whether you're pregnant or not as the real reason why we're holding the summit this early in the first place." He kissed my temple. "I hope this paranoia is just a temporary symptom of your pregnancy. You are High Lady of the Night Court, you bow to no one," He reminded me.

I nodded with a withering sigh. "I know. This summit just holds such higher stakes; we're not only announcing my pregnancy to our friends, but we're asking for alliances in a civil war that might break out in our court. It's...nerve wracking."

"Understandably so, my love." He kissed my forehead again, his violet eyes burning into mine with admiration. But we'll get through this together.

I smiled and closed my eyes as dark talons caressed my mental shields gently, I slipped them down—reveling in this quiet moment, this peace, alone with him in our minds. He pulled back, physically and mentally, and grinned at me.

"Shields up?" I asked as mine clicked solidly back into place.

"Always," he purred in my ear as one arm came to wrap around my waist.

I closed my eyes as I felt the darkening effects of winnowing begin to engulf us. Prior to pregnancy, the feeling was quick and had a subtle impact—making me dizzy for a moment as I adjusted to my new surroundings. Over time, it hardly bothered me at all. Now it felt sluggish, the darkness hitting me with a force that felt as if I were being dragged through thick mud, and when the light of my new surroundings finally came into view my mind was racing and spinning as if I had been twirling on pointe with my eyes closed for several minutes.

Unfortunately, this harsh vertigo was seemingly getting worse as my pregnancy progressed. I gripped onto Rhys, my nails digging into his arm as I tried to ground myself. I kept my eyes shut tightly as the spinning continued, and I could hardly register the myriad of voices around me. I knew one belonged to Rhys, presumably talking to whatever sentry awaited us at the Dawn Palace. I winced as I felt myself being swept into Rhys's arms and rested my forehead against the crook of his neck as I gulped in a few deep breaths, fighting against the continuous swirling of my surroundings.

When the world finally stilled and my breaths began to slow and came easily, I heard the gentle timbre of Viviane's voice alongside Rhys's and another male I assumed to be Kallias. I couldn't make out what they were saying at first, but I realized I was slowly gaining consciousness as their voices floated in. I hadn't realized I had fainted until I opened my eyes and saw the intricate details of the ceiling of Thesan's sunstone Palace. Rhys was seated at my side on an impossibly soft lounge, his attention back on me as I muttered incoherently.

"What was that, my love?" He asked, concern all over his face.

I blinked and cleared my throat, "I fainted?" I asked, my hoarse voice.

"Just for a few minutes," came Viviane's voice from beside me.

She was in a lounge similar to mine, only a few feet across from me. Her mate standing guard beside her as she sat upright. My eyes were immediately drawn to her large, round belly; a pale hand perched delicately atop it as her own weary gaze met mine.

"Congratulations," she said happily, though I could hear the exhaustion clear in her own voice.

"Oh, Viviane, look at you," I said, trying to sit up but stopped when I felt another wave of dizziness threaten to hit.

Rhys eased me back onto the back of the lounge, "Don't try to sit up just yet, Feyre. You need more time."

I nodded as I readjusted myself against the pillows on the lounge with his help and smiled back at Viviane, "You're huge," I cooed.

I heard Kallias choke back a snarl, a hand coming to grip the back of Viviane's lounge as she rolled her eyes. "Kallias's male-bonded 'tendencies' assume anytime someone says that to me, I'll be inconsolable," she reasoned.

Kallias cleared his throat as he met my gaze, "Apologies," he glanced back down at his mate, "But to be fair, the one time I said it, you burst into tears and shut me out of our rooms for hours."

"That was different, I had only just begun to show, like Feyre." She said, motioning to me.

I glanced down at my stomach, my hand laid atop it in similar fashion to Viviane. I looked at her belly again, astonished that in only a matter of months my stomach would look the same. When Kallias's eyes trailed to me, Rhys's own unabashed snarl ripped from his throat as darkness seeped into the corners of the room. I gripped his hand to calm him just as Kallias's own guard was thrown up, causing Viviane to heave an impatient sigh.

"Honestly, you two and your male instincts will be thrown out of this room if you don't put a leash on it," she snapped.

I heard Kallias mutter an apology just for her ears as Rhys offered a sheepish grin, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"How are you feeling?" I asked her, wanting to shift the conversation back into a lighter one.

She beamed, running a hand along the expanse of her belly, "Honestly? Exhausted doesn't begin to cover how tired I actually am, but in spite of it all," she looked up at Kallias, her icy blue eyes warm. "We're so excited."

Kallias sat beside her, his hand coming to caress her stomach lovingly. I smiled as Rhys's own hand came to rest on mine.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl?" I asked.

"A girl," Kallias answered, his eyes never leaving Viviane's stomach.

She beamed, "The midwives told us it was a girl, and they're well known for predicting the gender of our courts younglings. They haven't been wrong in centuries."

My heart squeezed at the painful memory of the Winter Court's younglings; of Amarantha's cruelty wiping through the many young and innocent lives of their court. I knew Rhys felt the same shame as we watched Viviane and Kallias share a tender moment, marveling over her swollen stomach and their unborn daughter, and I squeezed his hand again.

It's in the past, and they are healing. I said down the bond, reassuring him.

Rhys squeezed my hand back and gave me a warm smile in thanks. I can't wait to see you like that, round with our child and both of us counting down the days until his arrival

Let's hope I'll be as graceful as Viviane.

I have no doubt about that, Feyre darling

"Do you know what you're having?" Viviane asked with a sly grin, knowing she was cutting into our silent exchange.

Rhys and I shared another before he announced proudly, "A boy."

"Congratulations Rhysand," Kallias said, crossing over from his mate's side to shake Rhys's hand.

Rhys stood to return the gesture, offering his own congratulations as Kallias motioned my mate over to the open archway in the room—a subtle request for a private word. I turned my attention back to Viviane as the two males stepped away.

"It doesn't get any easier does it?" I warily asked.

Viviane gave me a sympathetic smile, "I'm afraid not. Just wait until you start to feel your little one move," she indicated to her stomach. "This one leaps at just the sound of Kallias's voice."

I stared at her stomach in awe, "She can hear you?"

"So, can yours. In fact, he's been able to hear your voice from the beginning. As he grows, he'll be able to hear other outside voices, especially your mates."

I looked down at the swell of my stomach, distinctly smaller than Viviane's, but still visible through my gown. "All this time I've been teasing Rhys about talking to him, not realizing he could actually hear me all along," I said in awe.

She warmed, "Isn't it remarkable?"

I nodded as I caressed my belly lightly but cast a worried glance back at her when she winced and shifted in her seat. She put up a hand to signal to Kallias, who snapped his head in her direction at the sound of discomfort, that she was alright and huffed in annoyance as she turned back to me.

"Enjoy those movements while he's small, because once you reach the end stages it's all feet and elbows in your ribs," she complained as she pressed against one with two fingers.

"Is she moving right now?" I asked, moving upright in my seat to get a better view of her stomach.

She nodded, "Do you want to feel?"

I blinked, mouth agape and was on my feet—albeit still slowly and cautiously as I was just starting to feel better, and crossed over to sit beside her on the lounge. I saw Rhys glance at me, posing a question down the bond before I reassured him that I was all right. Viviane guided one of my hands to the side of her stomach and I sucked in a shocked breath at the swift kick I felt on my palm.

"That was a kick?" I asked, completely stunned.

Viviane grinned as she nodded, "She's strong, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is," I said, mesmerized as I moved my hand to a different spot on her belly; a grin breaking out on my face as I felt another kick.

Viviane adjusted herself again, "She kicks my ribs a lot more lately, now that she's moved into position."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"The midwives say she's moved into the correct birthing position, head down here," she explained, gesturing to her pelvis and then gestured to the apex of her stomach, "And feet up here."

"And that means you're ready to give birth?" I balked, a little nervous that the High Lady of the Winter Court may very well go into labor during our summit.

She chuckled, reading the panic in my face, "Technically yes, but the midwives say I still have a couple of weeks to go. The baby is just getting herself ready."

I nodded in understanding. So far, I hadn't yet considered what labor would be like. Madja had been guiding Rhys and I week by week, sharing with us any warning signs to look out for, but no mentions of labor just yet.

Viviane must have also read that concern in my eyes and placed a reassuring hand on mine, "Don't worry, you'll learn more about the birthing process as you get further along. When I was at your stage, I was just glad not to be puking my guts up every day."

I grimaced, "It was bad for you too?"

She nodded, "There were days I could barely get out of bed!"

I took comfort at that, glad to know I wasn't the only one to have suffered, "But you feel better now?"

She shrugged. "In a sense. I'm not as queasy anymore, but now my back and feet ache—understandably so," she said, motioning to her stomach again.

I smiled empathetically, "Does Kallias never leave your side?" I asked, wondering if their mating bond was as sensitive as Rhys's and mine.

She laughed, "Not for a moment. Especially now that my time is near."

"I'm surprised he's even talking to Rhys right now," I said, gesturing to the two males standing across from one another underneath the intricate open arched window.

"Kallias is probably warning him of what to expect," Viviane said as she followed my gaze.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed, weary. "Our midwives informed us of what the labor process will be like once the time really comes. Not only about the pains and the birth itself, but how...delicate the mating bond is. Females become withdrawn, reserved, as our bodies naturally prepare for the undertaking it will face in order to give birth. Males, on the other hand, grow even more protective if you can believe it; not as aggressive as they are when the bond is new...but more mindful and vigilant. They can apparently sense when their mate is about to go into labor and feel the need to do everything in their power to make sure she is comfortable for that moment."

I watched Rhys and Kallias as she explained, noting the grim line on Rhys's face as Kallias probably went into more depth of what he would experience as a mated male. "Do you think you're getting closer to that time?" I asked.

She shrugged again, "Not yet. As Kallias likes to put it, even this far along I'm as feisty as ever," she laughed lightly and caressed her stomach. "I can tell it worries him though. Bringing about a youngling isn't easy, and I can tell he's anxious to see me in pain."

I frowned, "Will it be terrible?"

She smiled sheepishly, "I'm not sure yet, but I can't imagine it'll be pleasant. But...everyone tells me it's worth it, especially once we see our babies...nothing else is supposed to matter."

The dreamy look in her eyes reassured me and I caressed my own stomach lightly. I can't wait to meet you.

Neither can I. Rhys said through the bond, and I met his gaze as we both exchanged a quick smile before returning to our conversations.

As I kept stroking the gentle swell of my stomach, I couldn't help but wonder if our son could hear us through our bond—if he didn't already have both of his parents voices fully memorized.

#feysand #feysand babies #feyre x rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre cursebreaker #feyre darling #high lady Feyre #high lady of the night court #high lord rhysand #high lord of the night court #illyrian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #sjm fandom #cassian #nesta archeron #elain archeron #mor #amren acotar #Azriel #high lords #prythian #court of dreams #a court of nightmares and starlight #court of nightmares #high lords meeting

[edna-skiffens]

Calm in the Storm - 3.1K

Calm in the Storm / Harrison Osterfield

Summary: You’re terrified of storms and your friendly neighbor, Harrison, comes over to help you stay calm.

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm and cuteness, storms is guess

A/N: This is an excerpt from a fic I’m working on but may never finish. Ha. (But if it ever does get finished then act surprised when it reappears, possibly slightly different.) LMK if you like it and would be interested in a slow burn, college AU fic. :)

Another crack of thunder roared in the skies, sending a shiver down my spine and a scream from my lips. Call me a wimp if you want. I hate storms. Capital ‘H’ Hate them.

What makes this situation even worse is it being late at night and the meteorologist saying that it won’t let up for hours. The wind is howling, the eerie sound of the flood warning is going off and they tell us of trees down on numerous roads. Apparently half the county is out of power, but thankfully we still hav-

With a flicker of light I’m plunged into darkness, wishing I could’ve knocked on wood sooner.

I think I might have screamed again. I’m not even sure. I just know that I really don’t appreciate Mother Nature tonight.

There’s a rapid knock at my door which evokes the third scream from my lungs this evening; I’m going to lose my voice.

I creep my way to the door, careful to not give away my presence in case it’s a serial killer. They are the only ones out in this weather, right? I mean, that’s what the movies make you believe.

I shouldn’t answer. I’ll just wait here until they go away and they’ll never know someone was in here. But what if it’s someone lost in the storm? I can’t leave them out there. But that’s probably what the serial killer wants me to think.

The knocking starts again, causing me to jump and cover my mouth so my squeal won’t give away my position.

“Y/N, open up. It’s Harrison.”

Harrison? Why doesn’t he go to his own apartment upstairs? At least it’s not a serial killer. God, I hope.

I open the door to see a soaked and slightly irritated Harrison, flashlight in hand. “What took you so long? I knocked twice.” He huffed as he brushed past me and inside the dark apartment. “God, don’t you own any candles. You know the power is out?” I’m starting to regret letting him in as he blabbers on, but I answer anyway.

“Yes, I obviously know the power is out. I haven’t had time to gather any candles.” I answer while fiddling with the flashlight on my phone to find any element of light I could use. “And I was scared,” I admitted in a much softer tone and volume, “I had to make sure you weren’t a serial killer.”

His laugh makes me jump much like the thunder had. “Are you serious? You thought I was a serial killer?”

“Well not you, you. But it could have been a serial killer at my door. It’s storming something horrible outside, that’s how it always happens!” I try to rationalize my thinking.

“God, Y/N. You do realize you don’t live in a Lifetime movie.” He laughs with a much lighter tone. I just roll my eyes, realizing that any other response will result in an endless cycle of teasing at this rate.

“Why are you here any way?”

“Well, I heard your screaming from my apartment and wanted to make sure you were okay.” My heart swoons for a moment, until he continues his thought. “I mean, I had to come protect you from all the serial killers out in this storm..” I whack him with my arm as he cackles, resembling something of a demented monkey.

“Very funny. I don’t like storms, okay?”

“But why?”

“I don’t know? Why are you so funny looking?”

Great comeback. One for the books.

He only rolled his eyes, sensing that I wasn’t in the mood. And we both knew that I was lying because he was far from funny looking.

“Well don’t be scared. You’re safe with me.” He smiled at me in the dim light and we stared for a moment before he continued. “Okay, okay. Let me see what I can do to help.” He said while hanging up his raincoat and walking away, flashlight in hand.

I found all the candles I owned and the two battery powered lamps. I gathered them together in my living room when Harrison joined me.

“I called the power company. They said the better parts of three whole counties are out of power and the storm isn’t even over yet.”

I let out something between a groan and a whine, not caring how much of a child I was acting like. “What does that mean?”

“It means it could be awhile before we get power back, maybe even all night.” He gave me a soft smile before continuing “We best buckle down.”

Every time a particularly loud clap of thunder roared I couldn’t help but jump. I felt so tense. It was growing increasingly annoying and I think Harrison even picked up on it because he stopped teasing me about my fear of storms.

“Let’s do something to distract you.”

“What?”

“Clearly, you’re terrified. Why? I don’t understand. But still, you are so let’s do something.”

“Well what would you suggest? We don’t have power, we don’t have a great source of light, we-“

“Have a bundle of pessimism from the lovely lady on the right.” He mocked in an overdone voice.

I rolled my eyes, trying to reign in my sass before apologizing. “What would you suggest?” I could tell he didn’t actually have a plan by the way that his eyes scanned my apartment, but they suddenly stopped signaling a thought.

“Go and gather all of your blankets and sheets and quilts for me.”

“Harrison.”

“Just do it.”

I decided to just listen to him and collect his requests, letting the focus of the tasks distract me from the storm. When I re-entered the living room he had chairs and barstools from my kitchen placed in a sporadic pattern. Seeing my puzzled face, he turned to me with a smile.

“We’re making a blanket fort!”

“Oh my gosh.” I deadpanned. 

“What? What could you possibly have against a blanket fort?”

“Nothing. I used to make them all the time when I was little.”

“So what’s so bad?”

“I made them when I was little.”

“Well what’s wrong with being young every now and then?”

“I mean, I don’t know.” I replied after a moment of thought.

“Exactly. Now put those down and help me move the candles. If we burn this place down it’ll be a much bigger mess tomorrow.” He laughs and I find myself laughing too.

“Speaking of mess, you’re helping me clean this up in the morning.” Without realizing it, I think I just insinuated that he was staying the night. Or did I? He could leave then simply come back in the morning. Stop overthinking everything, Y/N. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there, I guess.

“Aye, Aye, Captain.”

We spent some time working on the fort, the storm never dying down, but my fear of it moved to the back of my mind with a new focus on creating a masterpiece.

Per Harrison’s suggestion, we hung the larger sheets from my ceiling fan. He had to stand on my stools to reach them while I provided light and was ready incase he fell.

“How am I supposed to catch you if you fall? I feel like we would both get hurt in that situation.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’d never hurt you.” He looked down with a wink. “Plus. I’m not going to fall.”

“Oh really? You’re that confident huh?”

“No. Well.. yes, but I mean I’m done.” He turns around narrowly on the stool and smiles widely.

He hopped down and surveyed the area before we agreed on connecting the sheets to the taller bar stools and two, currently useless, floor lamps. The kitchen chairs were then used to bring the sheets up just high enough for us to comfortably sit up in. 

“Hey, can you grab something to anchor these sheets? They keep slipping off the chairs.”

“Yeah. One second.” Grabbing a flashlight as a guide I searched for things I thought would be useful before returning to Harrison. “Okay I brought some books that could be weights for the sheets. More ponytail holders to tie them together because we are running low. And some fairy lights from my bookshelf.” I smiled proudly, “I forgot they were battery powered.”

“Great.” I handed him the books and he stopped to observe them in the dim lighting. “Of Mice and Men, The Grapes of Wrath, Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities, The Complete Works of Shakespeare?” 

“Yes?” He looked up at me with a tilted gaze before shaking his head with a smile.

“Nothing.”

“No. What.”

“You’re always holed up in your apartment reading or studying. Which is fine. But it’s okay to have some adventures outside of these pages, you know.”

“What’s the point in that when I could be working towards my future?”

“To have fun.”

“I have fun. I have my own fun.”

“I have no doubts about that, sweetheart. I’m just saying you don’t know what you’re missing. If you’d let yourself loose every once in a while you’d discover there is a lot more than your type of fun.”

“I don’t like to waste my time. But, the power is out and reading in the dark gives me a headache and it’s scary outside so.. Here we are.”

“Here we are.”

We got to work finishing the fort. I grabbed soft blankets and pillows for cushion support on the floor. Harrison draped the fairy lights across the top for ambiance. We brought the two battery powered lanterns I had into the corners for light, too wise to bring a candle inside all of this fabric. We made ourselves comfortable with snacks and battery powered flashlights, leaning back against the pillows, taking in our work of art.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’d say this is a pretty great creation.”

“Oh? Are you a blanket fort aficionado?”

“Maybe I am and I kept that from you. Would that hurt your feelings?”

I took a second to pretend I was pondering the thought, “No.”

His laugh brought a smile to my face involuntarily. Before I knew it I was laughing with him. As the contagious laughter died down another crack of thunder shook the building, erasing my smile immediately.

Harrison must’ve noticed. He simply raised his flashlight against the blanket roof and started making figures with his hands, coming up with elaborate stories for each character. I wanted to act mature and roll my eyes at another childish gesture, but he had my giggling and I couldn’t help notice his smile as well. 

When his story time ended I gave him an applause that led into a moment of silence before another loud crack of thunder. It seemed to be getting worse outside. I rolled onto my stomach, hiding my face in the pillow, trying to escape somewhere calm..

Suddenly, there was a noise repeatedly slamming against the front of my apartment. I jumped again with wide eyes, into a type of plank position as if I was ready to army crawl away from whatever was out there making this noise. “What. Is that?”

“Relax.” Harrison placed a hand on my back attempting to soothe me, “I’m pretty sure it’s your porch swing slamming against the building. The wind must be picking up. Here, I’ll take care of it.”

He crawled over me to exit the fort before I heard my front door open and shut. A moment later I hear him enter again, muttering a few curses under his breath.

“Thank you. What did you do?”

“I unhooked one of the chains so its resting slanted on the ground.”

“Oh. Well that seemed to work. Thank you.” I smiled sheepishly, taking in his wet clothes. The wind could be heard whistling outside and my mind was back on the storm. If he got that drenched from under the awning it must really be coming down out there. Another roll of thunder shook the apartment, tensing my body. “So if you have any ideas for how to stop the thunder I’m all ears.”

“I think you need another distraction, neighbor.”

“Okay, well we’ve made the fort and watched your shadow puppet show. Now what?”

He sat thoughtfully for a moment, trying to come up with something in the days of television and internet. “Is your computer charged?”

“It should be. I keep it plugged in. We don’t have internet though.”

“That’s fine. Go grab your laptop and your favorite DVD.” I grabbed my phone, turned on the flashlight and left to collect the few items in mind. 

“I noticed you got kind of wet outside so I thought you might want to borrow this sweatshirt to stay warm.”

“Oh thanks.” I handed him the oversized sweatshirt from our school and opened my laptop, smiling because it was at 100% battery. “What’d you pick?” glancing back at him I noticed he was mid-change and his abs were literally shining from the rainwater and lamplight. Oh my. Attempting to focus back on his question, I didn’t say any words, only smiling as I showed him the cover of the DVD case to Beauty and the Beast, animated version. “Really?”

“It’s only the best movie ever.”

“Oh is it now?”

“Well that or Tangled. Hard to choose.”

“Who knew that Miss Y/L/N was a Disney fanatic?”

“Who isn’t?”

“Well, okay. I said you could pick.” I let out a tiny shrill of excitement while placing the DVD in the player and got situated on my stomach. Harrison followed suit, though I’m not sure if he was as excited. 

Throughout the movie I held in my desire to sing along, but I couldn’t hold back my adoration and wonder throughout the movie. It doesn’t matter how many times I see the same movie, it never gets old.

“I see why you like this” He spoke up during the scene where Beast showed Belle his library. I loved this part.

“How so?”

“You’re like Belle in many ways. You’re such a bookworm.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, other ways too. I don’t know. I just see it.”

I smiled to myself taking in the compliment; at least I took it as a compliment. “Thank you.”

Somewhere towards the end of the movie I felt myself grow drowsy and made myself more comfortable. I didn’t expect myself to fall asleep, but I must have because when I woke up sometime later Harrison was still wide awake and watching Tangled.

“Well this is a sight to see.” I spoke through the grogginess of sleep, clearly surprising him.

I glanced at the screen to see it was the scene where Repunzel and Flynn Ryder entered the festival in the village; my favorite.

“I like this movie.”

“I like Flynn Ryder.”

“It reminds me of us.” Harrison seemed to be continuing his statement. I looked away from the two dancing on screen to give him a drowsy, yet puzzling look.

“How so?”

“She’s been in her tower her whole life. He helps her break out and takes her on these wild adventures. She’s a little nervous, though she knows deep down it’s what she wants to do. She finally experiences the world. And they have fun.” And fall in love. “You don’t see the parallels?”

“Uhm, now that you mention it, I guess I do.”

We watched the rest of the movie in mostly silence until it ended with my laptop warning of low battery. Harrison closed it and pushed it away as I tried to keep my eyes open.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For tonight. For distracting me. For the fun. For the porch swing. For everything.”

He simply smiled while settling in, himself. “Of course.”

This time I knew I was drifting into sleep, but I welcomed it.

When I woke up my eyes stayed closed. I felt someone’s fingers gently brushing the side of my face, moving my hair behind my ear. I faked sleep a few moments longer, enjoying Harrison’s touch before I let my eyes slowly flutter open and feeling his hand pull away.

“Good morning.” He greeted me.

“Morning.”

“It seems as though the storm has stopped. I think we are going to live.” He smiled. “Just some light rain to deal with today.”

I smiled back at him, the effects of sleep fading from me slowly. “Thank you.”

“You already thanked me last night.”

“I know, but I felt like doing it again.”

“Well, you’re welcome again.”

We sat in silence for a few moments and I tried to fight off the sweet thoughts of sleep that were luring me back in. Suddenly the news could be heard on the television, the lights shined above our heads and little noises could be heard everywhere.

“Looks like the power is back.” He enthused.

“Looks like it. I guess we should get to cleaning this up.” 

Harrison made no effort to move but let out a chuckle instead.

“What?”

“It's okay to lay here for a bit.”

“I know. But I need to charge my phone and-”

“And the world can wait.”

“Yeah but I didn’t get anything done last night so I should really-”

“I am sure it’ll get done.”

“But-”

“But nothing. It’s okay to take a minute for yourself. The world isn’t burning down outside. Well.. actually I haven’t looked since last night. Maybe we should check.”

“Haz!”

“I’m kidding! My point is it’s okay to relax or to have fun. Enjoy others’ company.”

I gave him a small smile and settled back into our makeshift bed on the ground. The television, lights and rumblings faded away along with the thoughts of any responsibility.

“You don’t have to be so responsible all the time.”

“I just want to be productive with my time.”

To that he responded with a light chuckle. When I gave him a puzzled look he answered, “You know, you are scared of thunderstorms, you love Disney movies, I finally convinced you to build a blanket fort with me, but you still try to act so mature. I see you, Y/N. You don’t have to keep up the act. I told you, you’ll always be safe with me.”

We laid there for a little while longer until we decided to finally clean up the place. He left soon after and the guilt of wasted time rushed in. I decided to charge my phone and laptop while throwing out all the now-spoiled food. I heard my phone alert me with a text message, shortly after it turned on.

Harrison:

Look what I found. Just for you.

My heart fluttered at the sweet sentiment and the thoughtful picture. Maybe some storms aren’t so bad after all.

----------

A/N: Let me know what you think! :) And follow if you liked it.. I’m new but have a lot more planned.

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfeild imagine #harrison osterfeild x reader #fluff #harrison osterfield one shot #y/n #y/n insert #self insert #self-insert #y/n use #writing #my writing #tale teller #harrison osterfield fanfic #harrison osterfield x y/n #college au

[trade-baby-blues]

Blink

Pairing: Jim x Reader 

Word Count: 2052

Warnings: angsty!! major injury, mentions of death, depression etc

A/N: Requested by an anon. Definitely more inspired by the song Andria by La Dispute than the song you sent me but...I hope it still satisfies you! Will also post it on AO3 later and update with a link to that as well!

“I promise I’m fine,” Jim said, flashing his best smile. He even squinted his eyes a little, hoping it would make it more realistic, but there was no fooling Teresa Ruiz. She regarded him the way one would a work of modern art at a museum. She looked at the lines on his face and tried to parse a meaning from them, tried to study every rise and valley in his skin as if it would reveal some great truth. She looked at him like he was infinite. It made Jim realize just how small he was. 

He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. He began to drum his fingers against the arm of the chair until he heard the scratch of pen on paper. “What are you writing now,” Jim asked, desperate to fill the silence. 

“My grocery list,” Teresa said nonchalantly. “At least one of us should get something out of this session.” 

“Look,” Jim said, leaning forward again, “we don’t have to keep doing this. You could just sign my release forms, and then I’ll be cleared for duty and out of your hair.” 

“I could.” Teresa kept writing. Jim watched her, listened to the scratching of the pen as it grew louder and louder until it seemed to be coming from inside his own skull. 

“You could, but?” 

“But I don’t believe you’re fine.” 

“God, how would you even know how I am when you’re writing your grocery list?” Jim threw himself back against the chair, allowing his hands to clench around the arms and shutting his eyes against the office and the world and her. 

Teresa sighed and dropped the notepad onto Jim’s lap. His eyes opened as his hands found the pages. “Oh,” he said softly. 

It wasn’t a grocery list. Of course it wasn’t a grocery list. 

Lack of interests. Refusal to open up. Fear of loss. Fear of silence. 

"Fear of airports," Jim quirked his eyebrow up. "How do you figure that one, doc?" 

Teresa leaned forward to grab her pad back. "Because your jaw clenches every time you mention it."

"I'm not scared of flying," Jim said, trying his best to relax his jaw. He hadn't noticed how tense it was until Teresa mentioned it. 

"I didn't say you were."

"And I'm not scared of silence either. That's all there is in space." 

"Prove it." 

Jim snapped his jaw shut and crossed his arms, fully aware that he was acting like a child. His eyes bounced wildly around the room from the clipboard in Teresa's hand to the clock on the wall which refused to go faster. Was it even moving at all? After an eternity, the secondhand dragged itself forward once. Twice. Three times.  

"Why would I be scared of airports?" 

"Because of what they represent." 

Jim scoffed. Still, his eyes bounced around the room. "And what's that?"

"You tell me."

"This is so stupid. They don't mean anything, and I've got better things to do that wax poetic about the 'deeper meaning'," Jim punctuated his outburst with finger quotes as he stood to leave the office. His hand was on the door handle when Teresa spoke again, freezing him in his tracks:

"Loss," she said. "They're full of goodbyes."

"Yeah, so is this office. Goodbye," Jim said as he pulled the door open. His mouth was curled in a smirk yet he couldn't help feeling like he'd lost this round. 

She doesn't know what she's talking about. Jim tried to comfort himself. This is pointless. I'm not scared of airports. They don't mean anything. 

Jim kept these reassurances up all the way back to your apartment - his apartment. It was just his now, he had to remind himself. He fought back a wince as he hit the light switch, half expecting you to be fast asleep on the couch as he often found you: hair loose around your chin, a thin spot of drool creeping from the corner of your mouth, and, if he really strained his ears, Jim could hear the softest snores drifting from your mouth to his ears. 

Instead, the silence roared at him until Jim turned on whatever was queued up on the music player. He turned the volume up until he could feel it in his teeth. He could hear Teresa’s voice in his head saying “scared of silence” and turned the music up more until even that became a distant whisper under the heavy bass. 

Jim could feel your hand on his, your fingers brushing his wrist. He held onto you like his life depended on it, like he would float away if you let go of him. You brushed your knuckles against his cheek and his eyes fluttered up to you. He couldn’t remember ever being this nervous. His heart beat faster than it ever had - faster than when he stole his step-dad’s car, faster than his first lift-off in the Enterprise. He felt dizzy on you. 

You giggled, trailing your fingers down his cheek to his lips as you leaned in. Your lips ghosted over his and Jim melted into you. 

His eyes opened, hands fisted into the sheets below him, and sighed. Jim rolled onto his back to stare at his ceiling. He could feel your lips on his still. His hands shook as much as they had the first time you kissed him. 

He was running now. Vines bit at Jim’s ankles, branches brushing his cheeks. He had to go faster. Had to catch up. Jim could hear you up ahead. Your shrieks floating to his ears, catching in his throat as he finally burst into the clearing, launching off the bank into the water. 

“Christ,” he yelled once his head was above water again. “You didn’t tell me the water was so cold.” 

Your laugh was like windchimes. “I thought the shrieking would be a hint.” 

“Oh, that was you? Thought maybe a velociraptor escaped.” You laughed again, splashing Jim with water as he swam closer. 

He reached out to touch your hair, but his hand went through you. A branch breaking to his left caught Jim’s attention. When he looked back, you were gone entirely. 

Jim’s eyes shot open, greeted once more by the blank ceiling. He spared a glance at his alarm clock. 3 a.m. With a groan, Jim turned onto his side, curling himself around a spare pillow and willing sleep to take him just to see you again. 

People were talking. Jim could hear them talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying. All he could focus on was your fingers on his wrist, your thumb brushing the skin where his palm and wrist met. His hands were shaking again. Why were they always shaking? 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You slipped your hand under Jim’s chin, forcing him to look at you through those infuriatingly long lashes of his. 

“Do you have to go?” Jim’s voice was softer than he wanted and he winced, trying to shove away the image of a little boy scared of losing the person he loves most all over again. 

“That’s my line.” You stepped closer to Jim. The image of you clinging to his shirt as he left on mission after mission flew through Jim’s head. He felt a pang of guilt before you kissed it away. “It’s two days, babe. You’ll blink and it’ll be over.” 

And it was. 

Jim blinked and then his phone rang. A voice on the other end asked him to confirm his name. To confirm yours. Asked about your relationship. Jim excused himself from the mission briefing as his heart climbed higher and higher in his throat until it stopped entirely. 

“Yes, this is Jim Kirk. Yes, she’s my girlfriend. Yes, she was on a flight to New York. What do you mean the shuttle crashed?” 

The operator on the other line continued to talk, but Jim couldn’t hear it. “Wait, wait, start again,” Jim begged, hoping he could make it out this time. Surely, he’d misheard. There was a mistake. There had to be. 

Bones peeked his head out of the meeting room, eyeing his friend warily. Jim handed him the phone, still unable to process the words. Unable to process anything but the screeching in his ears and the sobs threatening to rip from his throat. Bones took the phone, calling after Jim as he sprinted away. 

The airport felt bigger now as he ran in. Why did he come here? What could they do? Jim couldn’t stop himself from running ahead to the gate, half expecting you to be waiting there for him. The sobs came freely now as he tried to push past the security checkpoint. Jim pleaded with the officer, not entirely sure what he was saying between shouting your name as if it could bring you back. 

A sob wracked Jim’s body as his eyes snapped back open. He took a breath. Ran a hand down his face. Maybe Teresa was right. Maybe he did hate airports. 

-

Jim hated hospitals too, but he was here. He was here for you. His hand shook as he pressed the elevator call button. The crinkling of cellophane filled the air as he tightened his grip on the flowers in his left hand. 

Jim blinked and the elevator came. He blinked and the doors opened again, letting him off. He blinked and he was at the door, hands clamped around the cool metal of the doorknob as he tried to remember how to breathe. 

You looked as angelic as ever, despite the monitors and IVs hooked up to your body. Jim swallowed against the growing lump in his throat. He placed the flowers on the bedside table as the beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, reminding his own heart to beat. 

“Hey,” he croaked out, reaching for your hand. It was limp in his. Clammy. “Good to see you.” 

Bones said talking to you would help, but what could he say? How could he talk about the minutiae of his day when you were in a coma? How could he say anything when he spent every second fighting against the guilt threatening to swallow him whole? Hell, Jim should’ve died. He should’ve died and Bones saved him, but he couldn’t save you. He couldn’t do anything but ensure you were ‘comfortable.’ 

How could this be comfortable? The starchy hospital sheets scraping against your skin. A tube down your throat helping you breath. Jim wanted to help you, but for the first time in his life he didn’t know what to do. He felt frozen. 

“I saw Teresa again yesterday. I hate to admit it, but I think she’s helping.” Jim laughed. “You’d really like her. She doesn’t put up with my shit either.” Jim closed his eyes, imagining your laugh. The smile made his muscles ache, too used to disuse. He could almost hear what you’d say. How your eyes would crinkle at the corners and your fingers would slip around his wrist again. The pressure was almost palpable. 

His eyes opened, focusing on the fingers brushing the skin where his palm met his wrist. A gentle squeeze which may as well have been around his throat as the breath left his lungs. His eyes shot to your face, still bruised in places Jim couldn’t wait to kiss. The pressure on his wrist came again just as he began to think he imagined it, and he watched your eyelids flutter open. 

Jim called for the nurses, never taking his eyes off you in case you disappeared again. The nurses worked quickly, not bothering to try and dislodge Jim. He’d been glued to your side since you were brought in. 

Your throat felt raw, voice cracking as you tried to speak. “It’s okay,” Jim said, pressing his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose. Kissing your eyes, your cheek. Every inch of skin he could reach. “You don’t have to say anything.” 

“Guess it was a little more than two days, huh,” you croaked weakly. 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh as he blinked away tears. Nothing would interrupt his vision of you. He stroked your hair, half expecting to wake up alone in his own bed again. “That’s okay. I’ll always wait for you.” 

Tag List: (i stole this taglist of an earlier fic I posted so if you do/don’t want to be tagged let me know!)

@outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @brooke-taylor0323 @slither-in-a-half @cuddlememerrick @reading-in-moonlight​  

#i continue to suck at endings lmao #star trek imagine #jim kirk imagine #jim kirk x reader #james t kirk imagine #james t kirk x reader