#the dancing men do spell something out but i won’t tell what

[pherredraws]

i loeve you dai gyakuten saiban

#ace attorney #the great ace attorney #dai gyakuten saiban #dgs #tgaa #this is my valentines day post <3 i love you little game #the dancing men do spell something out but i won’t tell what #dgs 2 spoilers #tgaa 2 spoilers #just to b clear the hand reaching for stronghart is the professor #hopefully thats clear though lmao #well. the person who was in the professor’s grave anyhow #i tried to match these to the cases but i had to take liberties with some lol #like gina having Toby #and the legendary pair segment technically happens is 2-5 but they’re introduced in 2-4 so

[sophiasharp]

Magic Headcanons for the Papas

Part 2: Secondo

Part 1

Tall scary man with a staff is, unsurprising, equally scary with his magic, although not for the reasons you might think!

Because while, yes, Secondo is very handy with combat magic, where he really shines is the lesser taught field of enchantment: spells that enhance one’s own skills and mess with the minds of their enemies.

Most often, he uses these spells to make himself even more charismatic than he already is. He’s pulled many an influential leader to Satan’s side with that silver tongue of his, worming inside their brain to gain their trust faster than would be possible otherwise. It can have varying mileage depending on how susceptible to suggestion the person is, but rest assured he never leaves a conversation empty-handed.

Having said that, although the occasions where it’s needed are few and far between, Secondo is also capable of majorly messing with someone’s head: commanding people to do what he says, controlling the emotions of others, modifying people’s memories to fit his will, creating delusions that make friends fight friends, stripping people of their personality.

Say did you know that Power Word: Kill is an enchantment spell? You do now.

Post retirement, though, he mostly uses his gifts to charm the panties off of any particularly fine men or women he comes across outside the ministry. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

It is important to note that Secondo rarely uses his powers on people within the ministry- mostly because it would greatly damage his reputation if he were caught -and has never used them on his brothers. They trust him to never do it to them and he would never do anything to hurt that trust, even if it was for something benign.

He has, however, uses his powers to pull pranks on Terzo on occasion. You can’t tell me this man hasn’t cast Otto’s Irresistible Dance on his little brother at least once.

When Secondo casts spells, it makes the sound of a ticking clock, starting off faint but growing in volume the longer the casting takes. When the spell has specific targets, as is often the case with the types of charms he uses, only that target can hear the sound, and in most cases they won’t even notice it unless it’s pointed out. On the occasion the spell is made visible, it manifests as trails of a heavy green mist. On the whole, this makes his magic the most covert out of all his brothers- almost blink and you’ll miss it.

#the band ghost #ghost the band #ghost band #band ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost headcanons #ghost headcanons #papa emeritus secondo #papa emeritus ii #ghost secondo #Sharp's Headcanons #papa secondo

[chartreuseian]

I’m torn between wanting to know everything about your wips and not wanting spoilers… and I’m not sure you’d tell me about the blanket one even if I asked😆

So can I ask you about the Titanic one?☺️

I would ABSOLUTELY give you blanket spoilers, though it's not long enough for anything too exciting yet...

So Titanic fic! The idea is that Helen makes it across, but she's entirely destroyed by the experience and Nikola, who was always supposed to meet her in New York, shoves through all the crowds to find her and they have a rather adorable reunion where she finally realises she's alive and that she's made it and that she'll be OK.

He spirits her away and they spend the next week locked away in his hotel room as he takes care of her and slowly helps her heal (but they're not sleeping together just yet, so it's very soft and fluffy).

Below is a proper spoiler-y bit of what I have so far (Helen asked him how he found her in the crowd and he says it was because of her scent)...

--

“What do I smell like?” she asked, giving in to the curiosity.

Nikola laughed, and at once the spell was broken. He looked up to her then, smirking as he leaned towards her.

“Now, Helen,” he teased. “That is a dangerous question to ask when you have a vampire in your bed.” Helen laughed, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling and not entirely upset that the moment was gone. It felt too big to deal with now.

She felt Nikola go to pull away, loosening his grip on her hand as she moved, but she held tight to him. Holding onto Nikola was just about the only thing that had her feeling half way normal and she was not about to let him go. Drawing their hands across her body, she let Nikola’s arm come to rest over her waist, his body hovering uncertainly for a few moments beside her.

Then New York Nikola was back and he rolled even further, laying atop her while he pressed their clasped hands beside her head on the pillow.

Helen laughed at the boldness of him, but made no move to push him away.

He grinned down at her, cocky and self assured and so foreign to her that flirting with him felt thrilling rather than terrifying.

“Let me smell you,” he purred, waggling his eyebrows before ducking down to press his face into the crook of her neck. Helen half shrieked in laughter, squirming at the feel of his moustache as it danced against her collar bone. He took a long, exaggerated breath in, drawing his nose up the length of her throat.

“You are utterly ridiculous,” she said, still chuckling as one hand came up to land lightly on his shoulder.

“Oh come now,” he said, not lifting his head as he used his nose to push a few loose strands of hair back so that more of her throat was exposed to him. “You know how I feel about my favourite vintages. It is important to fully appreciate the bouquet.”

Helen let out an affronted sound and slapped at the back of his head. He pulled back, still grinning.

“Did you just call me old?”

“Are you, or are you not over 60 years old, Miss Magnus?”  he asked and she slapped at his shoulder.

“Which makes you-”

“A meagre 56,” he replied. “But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your fascination with younger men.”

She made the same noise of complaint once more, but Nikola was unrepentant, flashing her a broad grin before ducking back down to his previous place in the crook of her neck. He took another long breath, and this time she was almost certain she felt his lips graze her pulse. She did her best to cover her shiver with another sound of protest.

“Nikola,” she said, pushing at his shoulder.

He hummed, moving further atop her until he was laying between her legs. Even with the heavy blanket between them, she could feel his warmth.

“You smell like rain,” he said softly, his nose moving around to the hollow of her throat. “When it lands on fresh grass and the earth seems to open up beneath it.”

Then his mouth most certainly pressed against her skin.

“Like warmth and earth tinged with something sweet. Not floral, but…” He took another long breath but this time it didn’t feel quite as staged as before. “Sweet. Delectable.”

Helen found herself utterly unable to talk and she wondered, not for the first time, if there had been something to all those rumours of vampiric thrall.

“Like summer rains in Sandford,” he whispered so quietly she didn’t think she was supposed to hear it. He nuzzled at her pulse, and she found her breath catching. The press of his body against her was nothing like their innocent explorations all those years ago, yet the fire it stoked was alarmingly familiar.

Then he pulled back, offering her a dazzling smile as he rolled to the side of her. He didn’t go far, but it was enough that Helen remembered to breathe. Nikola pressed himself against her side then, bringing their joined hands down to once more rest across her waist.

“It’s probably a good thing I’m so fond of you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against her cheek. She turned then, looking at him. He was so close she could see the constellation of tiny freckles across his noise. “Makes it much easier not to drink you all up in one big gulp.”

Helen snorted with laughter, looking up at the ceiling once more, and for the first time in several days, feeling mostly confident that everything would be alright again.

#thank you :) #writing #fanfic #sanctuary #helen magnus #nikola tesla

[unreadpoppy]

To Win the Princess's Heart - Chapter 2

Raphael x OC (Genevieve) - Bridgerton season 2 inspired AU

Chapter 1

Read on AO3

Taglist: @littlemoondarling

A/N: Took me some time to get here but i'm finally on vacation from college, which means I'll have free time! yipee

After the ball had been wrapped up, Genevieve quickly went to her sister’s side and brought her to the drawing room, to give them privacy. 

Laverna was ecstatic. “Evie, did you see how much I danced tonight?” She smiled and lifted her skirt, showing her slippers. “Look! They were clean this morning and are already dirty from the dancing!” She then threw herself on the nearby loveseat, a hand over her head. “This was the best night of my life!”

Genevieve chuckled and sat next to her sister. “Indeed, you did not stop dancing for even a moment.” She took Laverna's feet and put them in her lap, and started to remove her shoes. She could only imagine how much her feet hurt. “Tell me, did anyone catch your eye? Considering how many men were begging for a dance.”

“Most of the ones who danced with me acted like boys.” She giggled and then blushed. “But there was one…he was a man.” 

Genevieve took a deep breath. “Who was him?” She asked, but already knew the answer.

“The half-devil.” Laverna whispered. “Lord Raphael.” The half elf noticed how her sister’s brow furrowed and asked. “Why do you make that face?” 

The tiefling sighed. “I just… I want the best for you.”

“What do you mean”?

Genevieve struggled inside. She wanted to warn her sister, to tell her to not ever talk to that man, but she didn’t Laverna’s night to be ruined. She could tell her what she heard at a later date.

For now, Genevieve shook her head and said “Well, you know how men can be. I just want you to be careful, alright?”

Laverna nodded. “Of course.” She leaned forward, struggling a bit but eventually, she held Genevieve’s hands. “But I have no worries, for I know you won’t let any harm come my way.” She finished the sentence with a smile. 

Genevieve also smiled, and kissed Laverna on the forehead. Then, she got up and held her hand out for her sister. “Come, you can tell me more about your night in your room.” 

…

Very far away from the princesses' residence, Raphael, now stripped down to a white shirt and pants (although he still wore his suspenders), found himself walking around his study room, while drinking whiskey. 

Sitting on a nearby chair was Haarlep, their shirt having been thrown away a long time ago. “What troubles you?” 

Raphael looked outside. “The older sister…she is hiding something.”

“Why do you think that?”

He sipped on his drink. “There was a moment, with her voice. It was as if she had cast a spell. I could even feel the magic in the air.” He raised an eyebrow in amusement. “She even looked nervous when she realized what she had done.”

“And what are you thinking of doing now?” Haarlep asked, bored. 

“I will discover this little secret of hers. Then, I’ll use it as leverage against her, eliminating the threat and making my way towards Laverna easier.”  Raphael finished his drink and turned towards Haarlep. “Which is why I’ll need you.” 

….

The next day, Genevieve found herself walking in the park, a parasol in hand to protect her from the sun and alongside her, holding onto his arm with her free hand, was an old friend, Wyll Ravengard, the son of Grand Duke Ulder. 

“How is Karlach?” She asked him. 

“She’s still adapting to this life but we couldn’t be happier.” Wyll smiled. He had just recently come back from his honeymoon, after battling so long to be able to marry Karlach, who was not a noble. “You must go visit us.” 

“I will.”

A moment passed and Wyll examined Genevieve. She had a frown on her face as she looked at the people around them. 

“Is something on your mind?” He asked. 

“What? Why you ask?”

“It’s just you have that look on your face. The one you make when something is bothering you.” 

She signed. “As you know, Laverna is looking for a husband, and last night during the ball, she felt smitten by Raphael.”

Wyll stopped walking. “The half devil?” Genevieve nodded. “This is bad news.” Given Wyll’s history with this type of fiend, it was no wonder to her that he was worried. 

“Precisely. I told her to be careful with him but I’m still afraid something worse might happen.” She gulped. “Besides, I overheard him saying something about manipulating my sister.”

“These fiends, they are all like this. You mustn’t let him get close to her. Should she make a deal with him, or worse, get married, the consequences could be dire” He signed. 

Genevieve looked at his horns. Nowadays, they didn’t bother him as much, but when he was first punished by his patron, Mizora, for breaking their contract, Wyll struggled to adapt to his new looks. It was around that time that she had gotten close to him, considering she was the only person in the nobility that was a tiefling. 

“I will try my best.” Genevieve said. “But… there is something else I’d like to talk about with you.” She pointed towards a bench that was in a more secluded area and shaded by a tree.

They made their way there and sat. Genevieve looked around and whispered close to him. “My magic has been getting out of control.” She looked down at her covered arms. “Last night, it even made my voice louder.” She held Wyll’s hands. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t worry, Genevieve. We’ll find a way.” He looked down at her left arm. “But don’t you think it would be better if you told your family about it? They could help you find a teacher. I even know a wizard, Gale of -”

“No!” She whispered. Looking around and seeing no one nearby, Genevieve removed the glove that covered her left hand. Although the tiefling had white skin, her left hand, from the point of her fingers to almost her elbow, was entirely pitch black. 

“Everytime I use magic, this takes more of my arm.” She looked back at Wyll. “I’m already the pariah of my family, if they knew I was a sorceress too, my grandma would get rid of me for once and all.” She quickly put her glove back on. 

Wyll sighed and nodded. “I’ll see what I can do to help.” 

“Thank y-” before she could finish, she heard the sound of someone falling down next to them. When she looked at where the sound came from, she was shocked. “Is that Astarion?” 

The white haired elf was walking away from where the tree was. When they called him, he ignored them and kept walking. 

“How strange.” Wyll said. 

…

Later that evening, Genevieve had been summoned by her mother. Walking in the room, she curtsied and asked “You called, Mama?” 

“Yes. Genevieve, there is a man that wishes to speak to you.” Agatha motioned her hand and none other than Raphael appeared in the room. 

“What are you doing here?” Genevieve asked. Her mother gave a disapproving look at her tone. 

“I wish only to remedy a misunderstanding between us, your highness.” He said, bowing his head. 

“I have no wish to talk to you.” She said, angrily. 

“Genevieve! Give the man a chance to speak.” 

“Yes, princess, listen to your mother.” He smirked. 

She huffed and then signed. “Alright.” Genevieve looked at her mom. “Mother, could you give us a moment alone? These are private matters.”

Agatha looked at the two of them for a moment and then obliged. After the elven woman left, Genevieve shot him daggers with her eyes. “What is that you want, devil?”

“You should be more careful with your tone, your highness.” He walked close to her. “Lest you want all to know your little secret.”

Her eyes widened for a moment but she tried to suppress her surprise. “I do not know what you talk about.” 

“You don’t?” Raphael smirked. In a flash, he removed her left glove and held her wrist high. “What is this, then?” 

She pushed him away. “Go back to the hell you belong.” 

“Don’t you want this back?” He said, raising the glove in his hand. Before she could speak, he began to talk, walking around the room while examining the piece of clothing. “You see, last night, I knew I had sensed the presence of a cantrip in the air, one coming from you, but I could not put my finger on it. You can imagine my surprise when my good old incubus friend told me how he listened to you moan and complain to Lord Wyll Ravengard about your…magic problem.” 

Genevieve’s face fell. Incubus could take the form of anyone they had…sexual relations with. It had not been Astarion she had seen, but a fiend wearing his face. 

She sighed. “You got me. Go on, go tell everyone what you’ve found.”

Raphael frowned. “What?”

“Isn’t that what you’re going to do? Snitch one me, so that my family will drive me away, leaving the path towards Laverna completely clear?”

He laughed, while Genevieve made a face. “Oh no dear, you misunderstand me.” He put a hand on his chest. “I would never do such a thing.” 

“Then what is it that you want?” 

Raphael smirked. “I can help you.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Help me?” Genevieve crossed her arms. “And how would you do that?”

“I could find the source of where your powers come from. Remove the magic, make that mark that covers your arm go away.” 

“Could you?”

“I have the means to do so. And should I find myself unsuccessful, I could, in turn, teach you how to keep that in control.” He walked close to her once again, taking her hand and putting the glove back on. “No more outbursts of magic.”

Genevieve took a deep breath. “And what would you want in return?”

“You’ll allow me to court your sister, and should she want, marry her. You won’t say a single bad thing about me to her, and you won’t stand in my way.” He smiled. “Quite simple if you ask me.” 

Genevieve furrowed her brows in thought. She did not know if she should trust him, especially considering what happened to Wyll but at the moment, he had been the only person to offer her some solution to her problem. But she also didn’t want him to get close to Laverna.

“I’ll do it on two conditions.” Genevieve finally said. “When you meet with Laverna, I’ll be the chaperone.” Before he could protest, she finished. “I won’t say a bad word about you, but it would look poorly to society to see my sister alone with a man. Besides, if she felt that I had given approval, she’d feel better.” 

She could only hope that Laverna wouldn’t actually fall for him. Maybe Genevieve could find someone who was a better match in the meantime.

“And what is the other?”

“If Laverna expresses that she doesn't want anything with you, you’ll let her go. You won’t force her hand.” 

Raphael thought for a moment and then nodded. “It seems that you have a deal, princess.” He smirked and snapped, disappearing in thin air. 

Genevieve sighed, thinking of what she had just done.

#raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael fanfic #raphael x OC #my writing #baldur's gate 3 #raphael x genevieve #haarlep bg3 #bridgerton inspired AU #baldurs gate wyll

[sidestepping]

Snippet. Sapphire-blue.

DISCLAIMER: Listen, obviously the game’s not out yet, BUT. Everything belongs to Larian Studios, etc. CONTEXT:  I followed a prompt to write something “blue” into trying out my Tav a little. That’s what came out of it, I’ll throw it here to cope with the fact that I won’t be able to play on release day. This lacks a bit of direct speech, but I was supposed to keep it to 600 words. SOME DETAILS: My Tav is a silly little bard named Hero, a half wood elf with a bunch of half-elf personhood issues, a love of poofy shorts, pretty flexible morals, terrible constitution, and top-notch expertise in dissonant whisper. Astarion is here too (the game decided they’re vibing).

Baldur’s Gate, 1492. (HERO)

At the same time—your eyes fall on the glinting at the same time, you feel it in the tensing of his arm which is like the tensing of your own; split second, and a glance shared. Ears pricked like a hunting dog’s, yours and his, though his are as slender and thin as a butterfly wing.

“What do you say, darling?” he drawls, as if this is nothing to him. “Care to make it a bet?”

“A bet?” you tsk, as if this nothing to you. “But of course. Only, who will wipe your snotty nose when you lose to a sweet little lyre-player?”

The huff is almost as coquettish as his shrug.

“I don’t produce snot. Tell the little liar-player to study up on real elvish biology, would you?”

The hit could have landed nicely, perhaps, if you had cared a whit; as it is, it affords you an ample second to step up and salute your challenger, flicking his butterfly-wing ear, and quite close too.

“May the best elf win,” you taunt, with your gem-most voice, rasp-sparkling, a provocation as velvet-soft as his doublet’s velour against your palm, there, unseen and almost unfelt in this moment of floating.

And then he’s gone first, quicker than you are; so furtive and so shadow-like he forgets to keep his mask-smile pinned neatly to the canvas of his face. He approaches the patron from the other side, a ghost amongst noisier ghosts, while you prepare your attempt; but you know where your strength lies, and your strategy will only help his. One table, six men, one heavy purse embroidered with gold-thread. When they raise their eyes to you they will become blind to his hand.

Still, you play the game. You join the table, you smile. You lack beauty, but you delight them with a gibe; and soon enough they want a little tune, and they offer you a drink, and though you have none of the seductive songstress’ wiles, your allure sparks in the in-between where you exist, too slight to be a threat, too clever to be a jester, not enough of a man to be a competitor, not enough of a woman to be a target; just so, just right, so close, in the in-between, in the in-between where your hand could reach, as your eyes track the purse and your mouth shapes a star-sweet spell, and—

As you thought: the hand that purloins is not yours, in the end; a fingered moonglow turned night-black as it disappears into his cape. Before he melts back into the crowd he spares the time to throw you a laughing dancing crimson glance above the head of your unwitting non-victim. A smile a twirl.

So, what? You smile too. You pinch your lyre a little longer, and drink your free ale. You tell the purseless man his nose makes his face look like a groin, and they all react like it’s the most hilarious thing they’ve ever heard—liquor always helps with your business. When you bow one last time and kick your heel, their clapping is a thunder of mirth. Dickface even kisses your hand.

Astarion is waiting for you in the back, at a little table nestled into the dark.

“That, sweetling, is a lot of work for no reward at all,” he says, flaunting his plunder.

You sit in front of him; he’s waiting for your humbling. Ah, but you’re smiling too. Why are you smiling, says his own smile, thawing. Why are you still smiling?

“Are you sure?” you answer.

“I have the purse, don’t I? I guess that makes me the best elf, though that is a surprise for neither of us.”

“But look what I have, best elf,” you twinkle.

Prettily, flourishly, you produce the blue sapphire he wears on his belt. Wore. Wore on his belt. Wore on his belt and did not feel disappear when your sticky fingers caught it clean and gentle, before the game even started, right under his doublet’s velour.

Look at it: blue, blue and faceted, shaded with light like a night in the city, a swelling sea, set in elvish silver and gleaming richly.

You’re ready for his screech; for his hapless grab, thwarted by a supple juggle; your throat quivers with the laughter that soon will spill inside your mouth.

You’re ready, but you’re wrong.

There’s no screech. No grab. No juggle, and no laugh. It happens very fast. On his face the paint of humanness cracks like wood under an axe, and suddenly his poisoned blade pins your sleeve to the table, far too close to the skin for comfort. The sound of the dagger made you jump; his scalding glare makes you shiver.

“Never touch what is mine, Hero,” he hisses, teeth like a snake’s.

Something in you squirms, squirms meanly—a jolt of pride and cruelty. The temptation to rob, to provoke, to flee. The temptation to belittle, to jeer, to hurt. The temptation to win when you know this cannot be won. Strike back: stab the snake, dispel the shadow, pin the butterfly and make him beg like he has begged before.

Do it. Take it. Cut him.

Instead of giving in, you unlock your closed fist and let the gem go.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #hero #notebooks #party tales

[donttalkaboutmemes]

The Little Mermaid (1989) Lyric Meme

Under the cut you will find 80+ lyrics from the 1989 version of The Little Mermaid to use for your enjoyment!    

Fathoms Below

1.      “I’ll tell you a tale of the bottomless blue.”

2.      “Look out, lad, a mermaid be waiting for you in mysterious fathoms below.”

  Daughters of Triton

3.      “Then there is the youngest in her musical debut.”

  Part of Your World

4.      “Look at this stuff. Isn’t it neat?”

5.      “Wouldn’t you think my collections complete?”

6.      “Wouldn’t you think I’m the girl who has everything?”

7.      “Look at this trove, treasures untold. How many wonders can one cavern hold?”

8.      “Looking around here you’d think, sure, she’s got everything.”

9.      “I’ve got gadgets and gizmos a plenty.”

10.   “I’ve got whosits and whatsits galore.”

11.   “You want thingamabobs? I got twenty.”

12.   “I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see ‘em dancing.”

13.   “Flipping your fins you don’t get too far. Legs are required for jumpin’, dancin’.”

14.   “Wish I could be part of that world.”

15.   “What would I give if I could live out of these waters?”

16.   “What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?”

17.   “Betcha on land, they understand. Bet they don’t reprimand their daughters.”

18.   “Bright young women sick of swimmin’. Ready to stand.”

19.   “I’m ready to know what the people know. Ask ‘em my questions and get some answers.”

20.   “What’s a fire and what does it- what’s the word- burn?”

21.   “When’s it my turn? Wouldn’t I love to explore that shore up above?”

  Part of Your World (Reprise)

22.   “What would I give to live where you are?”

23.   “What would I pay to stay here beside you?”

24.   “What would I do to see you smiling at me?”

25.   “Where would we walk, where would we run, if we could stay all day in the sun?”

26.   “I could be part of your world.”

27.   “I don’t know when, I don’t know how, but I know something’s starting right now.”

28.   “Watch and you’ll see, someday I’ll be part of your world.”

  Under The Sea

29.   “The seaweed is always greener in somebody else’s lake.”

30.   “You dream about going up there, but that is a big mistake.”

31.   “Such wonderful things around you. What more are you looking for?”

32.   “Darling, it’s better down where it’s wetter. Take it from me.”

33.   “Up on the shore they work all day. Out in the sun they slave away.”

34.   “Down here all the fish is happy as off through the waves they roll.”

35.   “The fish on the land ain’t happy. They’re sad cause they’re in the bowl.”

36.   “We got no troubles. Life is the bubbles under the sea.”

37.   “Since life is sweet here we got the beat here, naturally.”

38.   “We got the spirit. You got to hear it.”

39.   “What do they got a lot of sand?”

  Poor Unfortunate Souls

40.   “I admit that in the past I’ve been a nasty. They weren’t kidding when they called me, well, a witch.”

41.   “You’ll find that nowadays I’ve mended all my ways. Repented, seen the light, and made a switch.”

42.   “I fortunately know a little magic. It’s a talent that I always have possessed.”

43.   “Here lately, please don’t laugh, I use it on behalf of the miserable, the lonely, and depressed. Pathetic.”

44.   “Poor unfortunate souls. In pain, in need.”

45.   “And do I help them? Yes, indeed.”

46.   “They come flocking to my cauldron crying spells, please, and I help them. Yes, I do.”

47.   “It’s happened once or twice someone couldn’t pay the price, and I’m afraid I’ve had to rake ‘em cross the coals.”

48.   “I’ve had the odd complaint, but on the whole I’ve been a saint to those poor unfortunate souls.”

49.   “The men up there don’t like a lot of blabber. They think a girl who gossips is a bore.”

50.   “On land it’s much preferred for ladies not to say a word. And after all dear, what is idle prattle for.”

51.   “Come on, they’re not all that impressed with conversation. True gentlemen avoid it when they can.”

52.   “They dote and swoon and fawn on a lady whose withdrawn. It’s she who holds her tongue who gets her man.”

53.   “Come on, you poor unfortunate soul! Go ahead! Make your choice!”

54.   “I’m a very busy woman and I haven’t got all day.”

55.   “It won’t cost much. Just your voice!”

56.   “If you want to cross a bridge, my sweet, you’ve got to pay the toll.”

57.   “Take a gulp and take a breath and go ahead and sign the scroll.”

58.   “Now I’ve got her, boys! The boss is on a roll.”

  Les Poissons

59.   “How I love les poissons!”

60.   “With the cleaver I hack them in two.”

61.   “God, I love little fishes. Don’t you?”

62.   “Here’s something for tempting the palate, prepared in the classic technique.”

63.   “Sacrebleu! What is this?”

64.   “It don’t hurt cause you’re dead!”

  Kiss The Girl

65.   “There you see her, sitting there across the way. She don’t got a lot to say but there’s something about her.”

66.   “You don’t know why but you’re dying to try. You wanna kiss the girl.”

67.   “Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do.”

68.   “Possible she wants you too. There is one way to ask her.”

69.   “It don’t take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl.”

70.   “Look like the boys too shy. Ain’t gonna kiss the girl.”

71.   “Ain’t it a shame? Too bad he’s gonna miss the girl.”

72.   “Now’s your moment, floating in a blue lagoon.”

73.   “Boy you better do it soon. No time will be better.”

74.   “She don’t say a word, and she won’t say a word until you kiss the girl.”

75.   “Don’t be scared. You got the mood prepared.”

76.   “Go on and kiss the girl.”

77.   “Don’t stop now. Don’t try to hide it how you wanna kiss the girl.”

78.   “The song says kiss the girl.”

79.   “Why don’t you kiss the girl?”

  Vanessa’s Song

80.   “What a lovely little bride I’ll make. My dear, I’ll look divine.”

81.   “Things are working out according to my ultimate design.”

82.   “The ocean will be mine.”

#ask meme #askbox meme #ask box meme #rp meme #roleplaying meme #sentence meme #lyric meme #disney meme #the little mermaid

[touyasdoll]

a soft consideration for you: hawks away on a mission, but he left you with a feather necklace (partially for his own piece of mind) and listens to you talk to him through it. he’ll wiggle it so you know he’s listening, and you’ll hold it closer to your heart so he can feel it beat. falls a little bit more in love with you when you kiss it and tell it you love him. sometimes he’ll make it tickle your nose or cheek as a way of telling you he loves you back- alternatively, he’ll tap out 1-4-3 or tap “i love you” in morse code.

-🌸

also side idea that’s late and totally unrelated: watching “Hush” (2016, horror movie, it’s on netflix, and it’s my favorite) with shinsou 🥰 that’s it that’s the whole idea

My heart tho 🥺 this is the sweetest, softest little idea and I adore it sm 💕

Also, I have zero regrets about the feather necklace I bought now, so ty ✨

I’ve never seen Hush, but it does look so good! If it’s a fav of yours, I’ll have to give it a shot, since we seem to have the same taste. In fictional men at least 😂

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Genre: fluffff

———

You’re sitting down to dinner alone again, pushing around the last few bites of your food, missing the laughter that’s usually enveloping you from the other side of the table.

Your eyes linger on his empty seat as you gently press the pads of your fingers over the feather around your neck.

“I miss you, baby,” you smile, closing your eyes as you picture his handsome grin.

The feather begins to move beneath your fingers and you smile wider, lifting them away from your chest to allow the feather to move freely.

“I hope it won’t be too much longer that you’re away. I’m going crazy without you here,” you admit, a tinge of sadness in your voice.

The feather flies up, hovering briefly in front of your face before it slips just beneath your ear, tickling you.

“Keigo!” You giggle, shrinking away from it’s touch, but it follows you, dancing it’s way across your cheek until it gives you a soft boop on the nose.

“I love that you can always make me laugh,” you smile softly, pressing your fingertip to the point of his feather. “Even from hundreds of miles away. Even without words.”

The feather zips to your chest, resting just over your heart and you carefully clasp your hand over it, letting yourself imagine the familiar feeling of his ear pressing against your chest as you hold him in your arms.

A series of taps pulls you from your reverie, and you realize it’s Morse code, a skill that you had picked up in your time with Keigo.

“I..love..you,” the feather spells out in gentle taps over your heart.

And you know that he can feel your heartbeat quicken when you whisper back, “I love you too,” before scooping the feather up with your fingers and placing a delicate kiss to it.

It dances in your palm, then stills for a moment, lying dormant in your hand and you reason that he’s likely busy, so you sigh and drop the feather back around your neck.

But it stays afloat, wiggling back to life and pulling the chain around your neck taut, frantically pointing you toward the bedroom.

“Yes?” You laugh, “Are you trying to show me something?”

The feather bows repeatedly, as if nodding an emphatic yes.

“Lead the way, I guess,” you beam as you stand from your seat, allowing the feather to tug you along.

It guides you into your bedroom, over to Keigo’s side of the bed, and gestures towards the drawer of his nightstand.

You inspect it curiously, “Is what you want to show me in here?”

Again, the feathers bows, pointing once more to the drawer as you bend over to open it.

There’s not much inside. A pen, a watch he never wears, spare phone chargers, and then a small, red box, a silk ribbon tying the lid to the base, catches your eye. That must be it.

“The box? Do you want me to open it?” You pick up the tiny parcel, staring down at it as his feather taps a short ‘yes’ on your shoulder.

You pull at the tail of the ribbon and it falls away easily, allowing you to lift off the top to reveal a sparkling diamond ring underneath.

A gasp leaves your lips, tears instantly springing to your eyes as you whisper incredulously, “Keigo..”

You press your hand to your chest, expecting to make contact with the feather, but it’s tapping another message just over your heart:

“Will..you..marry..me?”

#🌸 anon #hawks fluff #hawks x reader #hawks imagine #hawks drabble #drabbles #mha x reader #bnha x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #mha fluff #bnha fluff #hawks fanfic #hawks comfort #hawks #keigo takami

[chokemewanda]

Date

Natasha Romanoff x m!reader

Masterlist

Warning: swearing(?), sexism I suppose, clueless men.

This is a male insert reader which is something new I’m trying. I want to know how you’d like to see y/n so you can really insert yourself. This is for @bonkie-barnes who said they would like to see m!reader

Five times someone asked the Black Widow on a date and one time someone asked Natasha Romanoff on a date.

1.

“It’s not going to work.” You shot Matt down instantly when he began to tell you his plan. You only had to hear the words ‘okay, so The Widow’ before you were shaking your head.

He looked up from where he was signing his name with a flourish at the end of his mission report and frowned at you.

“What? How the hell would you know that?” He asked incredulously. “We’d be a power couple, together we’d have the record for most successful missions.”

“She holds that record on her own.” You reminded him and he rolled his eyes, punching your arm like you were being dense just to annoy him. He dropped his paper work into the basket on your desk and then folded his arms.

“I’m second.” No he wasn’t. He was just listening to the majority of the other assholes you all worked with and excluding certain people based on their past.

“Bucky Barnes is second, you just won’t count him because you’re an asshole.” You reminded him, signing off on the paperwork you had been reading and then lifted his mission report. “Also you keep spelling Kiribati wrong.”

Just to piss him off you circled it in red and handed it back, knowing he’d have to rewrite the whole thing.

“The Soldat has to equal the amount of missions he ran for Hydra before any of his shield ones begin to count.” Matt scoffed, snatching the paperwork from you and returning to his own desk, picking up two new sheets of paper with a grunt.

“That’s an awful negative way to look at things, fellas.” You looked up at Natasha Romanoff standing in the door, a brown file in her hands that hopefully contained the mission reports of her team.

“Fella. Only one of us is an asshole.” You sighed, accepting the folder when she made her way across the room and handed it over.

You flicked through the files and found three reports and sighed. “Stark-“

“Emailed it to you. Like twenty minutes ago.” Natasha assured you and you nodded, content to let it go just this once that he hadn’t written it by hand.

“You doing anything Friday, Widow?” Matt asked, looking up from where he was hastily rewriting his report. Natasha looked between you both and you just rolled your eyes before returning back to Steve’s neatly written report.

“No, unless a mission comes in.” She told him, leaning against your desk and folding her arms. You looked up briefly but instead resumed reading when you caught her smirk.

“I know something you could do.” Matt looked up and you winced, already anticipating his next line. “Me.”

“I can see how you’d think that would be okay but I’d rather do the fucking space Raccoon then ever let you put a finger on me.” You could help the outburst of laughter as she picked up a red marker and circled something on his report. “There’s only one ‘b’ in Kiribati.”

2.

You swirled the glass of Probably very expensive wine again and looked around to see which of your friends you could pass it off to. Red wine was awful and the more expensive it was, the worse it was.

“Think I might have a chance.” Joey whispered in your ear, eyes locked on Natasha who was laughing while dancing with Thor.

She looked stunning, an emerald dress looked as if it was part of her body, an extension of her that rippled like water. She was grinning as Thor dipped her again, her leg coming out of the split in her dress so delicately that you’d swear a new religion just to her.

“Never in a million years.” You told him, your eyes still on her smile as Thor smoothly passed her on to Bucky who laughed and joked while turning her in a slow sort of waltz.

“What makes you say that?” Joey asked and you looked away from the dazzling smile to find him loosening his tie, a cocky grin on his lips. It annoyed you that you knew he was going to make that smile disappear, that she was going to go back to the smirk she used to hide when someone upset her.

“Matt had the same idea just the other day.” You told him honestly but Joey only shrugged. God, you needed new friends. “Never mind, go for it. I’m sure she can’t wait for a chance at the guy who shot himself in the ass while holding his hun like a tv cop.”

“Shut up.” Joey elbowed you and then confidently made his way over, intercepting Bucky and Natasha, stealing both of their happy little smiles. It hurt just to watch but it hurt even more to see what he was saying, leering at her like a man who hadn’t seen a woman in years.

“I just think we have a lot to offer each other.” You could read his words from her but even worse was his expression, his eyes much lower than hers.

“My eyes are up here.” You could see her annoyance and propped your drink on the table next to you, already planning to intercept this train crash.

“Yeah but you’ve got more to offer than just your eyes.” She clenched her jaw just before you reached them and you paused when the much bigger, much more intimidating Steve landed a hand on Joey’s shoulder, clamping down hard.

“I’m going to have to ask you to walk away from the lady.”

3.

“How are you feeling?”

You looked up blearily from your folded hands and blinked several times to focus in on Natasha at the end of your bed. She swam in and out of focus so you closed your eyes again.

“Vision is still swimming, head hurts, like a lot.” You told her honestly. You heard her sigh but had no time to think as you lurched and puked into a sick bag left by the nurse looking after you.

“I could’ve took the hit.” Natasha sighed and you opened your eyes but still couldn’t focus on her expression. “You shouldn’t have interfered.”

“You had already taken a hit.” You groaned, a hand held up to cover your eyes. She smiled sympathetically as a doctor shuffled into view.

“My man. Saving the damsel in distress.” Jake’s pay on the shoulder left you reeling, your vision blurred and your stomach twisted which made you lurch for the puke bag again. “I’ll patch up your shoulder now.”

Natasha walked away, a last look over her shoulder at you before Jake pulled your curtain closed, cutting you out of her sight.

It was a while before the ringing in your ears receded enough to zone in on the conversation. You winced when you listened to Jake and wondered why you surrounded yourself with idiots.

“It’s just we see each other a lot and you’re such a good patient. You don’t wine or complain and I like that in a woman.” Jake was telling Natasha and you didn’t need to see her face to know that awkward smile that would be taking over her lips.

“You like that I don’t complain?” She asked drily and you winced when Jake let out an affirmative noise. They were so beyond saving. Every last one of your friends.

“Yeah, some girls are ridiculously whiny.” You knew that all the women in his social circle would rip him a new asshole if he said that to him, so why did he think he could say it to Natasha?

“I can finish this.” Natasha sounded all business and you wished there was something you could do that would help but every movement made your head ache and your stomach twist.

“I still have several stitches to do.” Jake sounded confused, like he couldn’t figure out where he went wrong.

“I’d rather bleed out than finish this conversation.” You couldn’t blame her in the slightest. In fact you were considering shaking your head just so that the pain would drown out the sound of Jake’s voice.

4.

“You miss being out in the field?” Steve asked as you handed out the mission brief. You could only laugh and shake your head, passing the next one to Bucky.

Everyone else chose to take their briefs on their StarkPad’s but the soldiers just preferred the traditional paper and ink for the sake of nostalgia so you always had at least two printed documents available.

“Not in the slightest, I get to pack you all out and then head home to bed until you all come back for the debrief and write up reports.” You chuckled. “I prefer the behind the scenes.”

“You might have the right idea.” Natasha huffed, resting on her folded arms. She was running on fumes at this point, having already run two back to back missions.

“Glad you see it my way, you’re on comm’s for this mission.” She gave a tired thumbs up without looking and you were pretty sure she drifted off to sleep.

After the briefing you hung back for any questions from your team or the accompanying Avengers. After a discussion with Layla about schematics of the building you both followed Natasha out.

“Might ask the Widow out for a drink.” Layla told you, her eyes roaming Natasha’s profile.

“Good fucking luck with that.” Matt scoffed, tapping away on his StarkPad. “Why would she date you?”

“She’s a little fruity, why else would she turn you all down?” Layla asked and you sighed, wishing you could just bang their heads together. “Oh maybe because they’re all asking the wrong person out.” You scoffed, pausing when you couldn’t find your phone in your pocket.

“What?” Layla and Matt echoed but you only shrugged, turning back the way you came.

“Never mind, shoot your shot. Have a good mission.” You left them there, gaping up the hallway as you went back in search of your phone.

5.

“I basically saved your life so you kind of have to.” You stopped in the doorway, watching where Corey had Natasha stuck in conversation.

“I have to accept your offer for a date because you got a shot when I managed not to?” Natasha asked slowly, like she wanted Corey to hear how stupid he sounded.

“Basically, yeah.” Corey nodded, shrugging like there was no possible issue with it.

“I only almost got shot because I was busy turning down Layla and you think I’m in the mood to be asked out again?” Natasha asked and you wondered how the mission had gone so poorly that Natasha had almost gotten shot while on comm’s.

“Can you blame us? We all want some of that Black Widow bite.” Corey laughed and you pressed a hand to your face.

“We’ll as embarrassing as this is for everyone involved, I’m going to have to interrupt.” You spoke up and Corey turned to look at you with a glare. “Director Fury wants to speak with you.”

“Why?” Corey asked and you shrugged.

“Something about workplace harassment.” You shrugged and Corey looked puzzled, pushing past you out the door.

“The lights are on but nobody is home in the boys head.” Natasha told you and you laughed before shrugging.

“I surround myself with idiots just to make myself look better.” You told her and she laughed before sighing warily and narrowing her eyes.

“You’re not looking for a piece of the Black Widow bite?” She asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Nah, I got my eye on someone real.”

+1.

“What did you mean? Before, in the briefing room with Layla?” Natasha asked, watching where you stood in the doorway.

“You could hear me earlier?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Why are they asking the wrong person out?” She asked, more insistently. “Who is someone real?”

“They’ve all asked The Black Widow out, an overly-specialized and dehumanized character from what they’ve gathered in the media portrayal of you. No one has asked out Natasha.” You explained, feeling almost stupid now that you had said it out loud.

“How would you do it?” She asked, almost quietly. You’d never heard her sound quiet.

“I’d invite you to my apartment, I’d make you dinner and offer you a few drinks.” You told her, shrugging one shoulder. Her eyes shuttered and you watched that cold look take over.

“You’d hide me away?” She asked simply.

“No, I’d offer you your privacy.”

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff drabble #natasha romanoff reader insert #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x male!reader #m!reader #male reader #mcu #marvel #marvel cinematic universe

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Trick or Treat

The next A Very Bouncey Halloween installment and a belated birthday gift to my darling @veritasrose. Thank you so much for the last year of friendship, I look forward to celebrating with you again. <3 you are much loved.

tw: curses, Geralt is an idiot, competent Jaskier

---

Light flashes through the room and momentarily blinds Jaskier, who stumbles back against Geralt. He mumbles an apology to the ever-sturdy Witcher as he waits for his vision to return and when he blinks clearly for the first time after a few long moments, the bard feels utterly and totally confused by the scene unfolding before him.

The Duke’s grandest ballroom, which had been bustling with excitable party guests only moments ago, is now flooded with ghouls, ghosts, vampires, and monsters of all sorts. A woman with swan’s wings is huddled in one corner, squawking angrily at anyone who tries to draw near. A minotaur stumbles through the center of the dance floor, lowing in frustration as he tries to control his bulky limbs. Two werewolves wrestle for dominance atop the furthest banquet table to their left. As Jaskier takes it all in, he feels Geralt’s hands wrap suddenly around his bicep; the Witcher is clinging to Jaskier fiercely, leaning his not insignificant weight against the bard’s side as his eyes grow round and watery.

“What’s happening?” Geralt finally asks. His tone of voice seems breathy and high, filled with a terror - almost totally foreign to Jaskier’s ears. Geralt fears nothing and yet… “Let’s get away from this dreadful place, please!”

“Aren’t you going to try and solve this problem?” Jaskier asks, glancing at his companion. He gestures at the various monsters roaming freely past the buffet table. “You’re likely the nearest Witcher, after all.”

“I’m no Witcher,” Geralt declares. He splays a hand over the very center of his blue velvet doublet (a nearly perfect imitation of the way Jaskier reacts to a perceived offense). “I am a Count. Witchers are dirty things, not meant for such a public life as my own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Geralt, now is not the time for a prank of this nature,” Jaskier huffs. “Something is clearly going on here. We need to help these people!”

“I know something is wrong,” Geralt sniffles - fucking sniffles - and squeezes the bard’s upper arm even more tightly. The sound of Geralt crying shakes Jaskier into understanding, even as Geralt begs: “But I don’t know how to help! Please get me out of here, Milord, I’m scared.”

Milord? Jaskier mouths to himself, even as he wraps one comforting arm around Geralt’s waist and ushers him away from the growing chaos at the center of the ballroom. Jaskier hurries them down one suspiciously empty hallway after another until he reaches the small suite that he had accepted as payment for his performance at the party. Jaskier ushers Geralt inside and locks the heavy oak door behind them.

“My Lord Geralt,” he gets the not-quite-Witcher’s attention. “Do you mind taking a seat by the fire for now? I’ll be right with you as soon as the room is secure, and then we can figure out what’s going on and what to do from here.”

“Yes, Milord,” Geralt nods. He hurries to comply with Jaskier’s request, to the bard’s continuing shock and awe, and stays still and quiet as Jaskier removes his doublet and rolls up his sleeves. Using the strength he’s spent twelve years at Geralt’s side developing, Jaskier shoves a bookcase, a dresser, and an unfortunately designed roll-top desk in front of the locked doors for added protection.

Moving behind Geralt with practiced efficiency, Jaskier also closes, shutters, and locks every window in the room, pulling the curtains closed to keep any light from spilling out and alerting stray creatures of their presence.

When he’s finished locking down all of their room’s possible entrances and breathing hard from exertion, Jaskier tugs the Witcher’s xenovox from his bag and flips it open, waiting with bated breath until Yennefer’s irritated voice snaps: “What do you want, Geralt?”

“Who is that?!” Geralt cries from his place near the fire. He has a white-knuckle grip on the overstuffed armchair he’s perched in and his clothing is mussed; Jaskier motions for him to be quiet and Geralt bites his lip, worrying the soft pink skin between his unusually dull canines.

“Was that Geralt?” Yennefer asks. "Did Jaskier summon me?"

“Yes and yes,” Jaskier replies. “I think he’s been cursed or enchanted or something. I was hired to play at the Duke of Rinde’s All Hallow’s Eve celebration and Geralt accompanied me - even dressed up for the occasion - but something happened at the party and now he’s acting strangely. I don’t know what to do.”

"What's happening?" Yennefer prods.

"Geralt is acting rather out of sorts. He’s speaking strangely, he wanted to flee the party rather than investigate the source of the changes-”

“What changes?”

“Everyone sort of… Well, a good portion of the party guests suddenly transformed into their costumes,” Jaskier explains, his speech stunted by his disbelief. “I know it sounds incredible, and it was! One moment we were all enjoying the music and the next… there was a minotaur and a mermaid and a faun… Geralt went nearly mute and started clinging to my arm like some sort of aristocratic maiden!”

“Oh shit,” Yen groans.

“Who is that?” Geralt repeats. Jaskier continues to ignore his companion. He knows that the moment he turns his attention to caring for Geralt, he won’t be able to tear it away again, and he needs to finish this conversation with Yennefer first.

“Why are you swearing?” he asks the sorceress. “What is it?”

“Geralt asked me for advice about this stupid ball a few days ago, while you were busy making arrangements with the Duke. He wanted to impress you with his All Hallow’s Eve costume and prove that he could be just as fancy and well-mannered as all the other men of your status.”

“Why in the world would Geralt want to dress up and act like a nobleman? It makes no sense! He detests small talk, he hates vanity, and he finds most men of my station to be cowardly and overly delicate - myself included! I just- I don’t quite understand why he’d go through all of this just to impress me. Or why he thinks this kind of thing would be impressive in the first place.”

“Jaskier, please tell me that you aren’t as stupid as our mutually beloved Witcher…”

Jaskier considers for a moment, pondering the things that he does to impress Geralt: gathering wood, learning to cook with game meat, preparing the Witcher’s potion ingredients while he's out on hunts, organizing their packs when they're spiking camp, brushing Roach’s mane… Realization dawns suddenly and all at once. He has a moment of pure understanding, a moment much beloved by every poet, bard, and playwright across the Continent: “Oh.”

Yennefer gives a tired laugh. “Yeah.”

“So he’s stuck as… a noble?”

“I suppose,” she sighs. “I’ll portal you to my location and we can figure things out in peace. Get your things together, I’ll open it up in precisely five minutes.”

“What’s happening!?” Geralt demands. Jaskier pulls the Witcher/Count to his feet and bows shallowly.

“I am Jaskier Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. I will be your protector and chaperone for the foreseeable future, Your Lordship,” Jaskier bows shallowly. “I’m going to gather our things together and then we are going to meet up with a very lovely sorceress, Yennefer of Vengerberg.”

“Is she a friend of yours?”

Jaskier barely manages to hide his surprise at Geralt’s utter lack of recognition. His memories of Yennefer have also been taken, then.

“She’s a mutual friend.”

“Are you my friend?”

“I would like to think so,” Jaskier smiles. Geralt remains oblivious to the bard’s heartache, even as he curls himself against Jaskier. He tucks his face against Jaskier’s shoulder and sobs quietly. The bard runs his hands comfortingly up and down Geralt’s spine for a long, soothing moment. The smooth, royal-blue velvet tickles his fingertips. “Shh, dear heart. I’ve got you. Everything will be alright, I swear.”

“I trust you,” Geralt whispers.

Just as Jaskier is about to reply, Yennefer’s portal snaps open in the center of the room. Jaskier hands Geralt a set of bags and hauls his own over his shoulder. “Time to go, Your Lordship. Just take one little step…”

---

“Do you know who I am?” Yennefer asks. Geralt shakes his head before burying his face in the back of Jaskier’s shoulder-blade.

“I’m so frightened, Milord.”

Frightened? Milord? Yennefer mouths. Jaskier shrugs nearly imperceptibly and makes a panicked gesture in the Witcher’s general direction.

“I don’t know what to do either!”

“Well, start from the beginning. Tell me what happened at the party before all of… this.”

Jaskier recounts every detail he can remember in the most straightforward way possible, momentarily renouncing his poetic skills in favor of efficiency - for Geralt’s sake, of course, not Yennefer’s. When he's finished he asks: “And you said he did all of this to impress me?”

“Yes.”

“But why?” Jaskier repeats his earlier question. Yennefer understands that his meaning is different; Jaskier understands that Geralt is interested in him romantically, but the bard can't seem to get it through his head that Geralt has deemed him worthy. Although, knowing the Witcher, he isn't even sure how to go about doing such a thing in the first place.

"I just... I don’t quite believe you," he adds.

“He loves you,” Yennefer reiterates. "And now he’s stuck like this until the effects of the spell wear off, so I suggest you take his precious Lordship to one of my spare rooms and make yourselves comfortable. I’ll see you both for breakfast, providing the magic is null and void by then.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“I hope you enjoy small talk, you bardic bastard.”

Yennefer smirks and disappears from the room in a whirl of black and white silk, the scents of lilac and gooseberry curling through the air in her wake.

Geralt clings to Jaskier’s bicep again as the exhausted bard stands, keeping his larger body pressed against the human’s side as if Jaskier is the one who wields the Witcher’s swords. “So I’m under a spell?”

“Yes, darling.”

“At least I have you here to protect me, Jaskier. You’re so brave and strong; my hero!”

“It’s usually the other way around, dear heart, but I appreciate the sentiment. Now, how about we find a comfortable place to bed down for the night, Milord?”

"Alright."

Jaskier moves Geralt's hand so that it's curled around the inside of his elbow, the proper etiquette for a platonic escort, and leads him quickly down the long hallways of Yennefer's sprawling manor house. He chooses the blue-themed bedroom at the back of the East Wing, far from the sorceress' own suite of rooms.

He has to help Geralt change out of his lordly costume, the Witcher-turned-Count fumbling uselessly at the laces and buttons as if he'd never seen a fastening before in his life. Geralt whispers shyly as Jaskier pulls a nightshirt over his head: "Thank you again, Milord Jaskier. I feel as if I can't help but continue indebting myself to you."

"Think nothing of it, dear heart," Jaskier smiles, ignoring the pang in his chest. "I am happy to help you."

Jaskier tucks Geralt into bed before changing into his own nightclothes, tossing his things back into their travel bags as he swaps outfits. He feels Geralt tense up when he sits on the edge of the bed and his eyebrows narrow in concern.

"Are you alright, Geralt?"

"Are you going to share a bed with me?"

"Would you rather I didn't?" Jaskier answers with a question of his own.

"I... I wouldn't mind it if we shared."

Jaskier wishes he had Witcher sight, so he could catch a glimpse of the blush no doubt attempting to stain the Witcher's face. Despite the mutagens, Geralt's face still went pale pink when he encountered a strong emotion. It was adorable. And incredibly rare.

As soon as he pulls the covers over his chest, Geralt glues himself to Jaskier's side, snuggling close. "Feels safer," he says in lieu of explanation.

"Goodnight, dear heart."

"Goodnight."

---

"Fuck," Geralt groans, sitting up in bed. Jaskier sits up beside him, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Milord," he teases.

"Shut up," Geralt groans. Jaskier does get to see him blush this time, and the bard revels in it; he would trade all the gold in the world to see Geralt flush like this. "I can't believe I cried on you!"

"It was rather adorable, actually."

"Hmm."

"Still..." Jaskier reaches out, tentative, and cups Geralt's cheek with his palm. He turns the Witcher's face and locks their gazes together, blue meeting gold. "Still, I think I prefer you as you are. My big, strong Witcher who cares so much about defending the little guy. Willing to step in and help wherever and whenever he can."

Geralt's eyes get a little glassy and he leans forward, pausing and letting Jaskier make the final decision. The bard meets him halfway, pressing his lips against Geralt's without any sense of urgency at all. It's warm and sweet, time fading away as they let their feelings pour through this one simple gesture. When they pull apart again, Geralt gives a surprised, lopsided smile. "Oh."

#geraskier #geraskier fluff #a very bouncey halloween #geraskier first kiss #geraskier and buffy #btvs au #geraskier fluff and silliness #curses #cursed geralt #nobleman geralt #yennefer was there #bamf jaskier #competent jaskier

[sukifans]

Can I request a small Zuko x Fem!Reader, where the reader can't fall asleep and Zuko offers to cuddle with her, and she falls asleep very quickly?

SLEEP // zuko

WC: 1.2k

WARNINGS: none, pure fluff

A/N: my first request!! let’s gooooo!! hope u like this anon, i am so soft for warm zuko. perhaps i wrote this instead of studying for my lab practical... don’t look at me. also i didn’t proofread so don’t come for my ass okay

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

The flimsy silks of your night robes whipped around your calves in the frigid evening wind. Being from a village not too far outside the Si Wong Desert, even the Fire Nation’s winter was enough to chill your bones. As much as you disliked being cold, you still preferred the tropical seasons to the constant abusive desert heat you grew up with. Lucky you that a group of insane kids came through your town talking about finding Wan Shi Tong’s Library all those years ago.

The memories made you smile fondly to yourself and you made a mental note to write Katara in the morning and ask her to send some warm furs. Sure, you could probably get something much quicker from a local vendor, but Sokka always boasted about how his people make the best blankets. You folded your arms across your chest and shuddered in the biting wind, leaning forward against the balcony railing as you looked out over the sleepy city.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you glance over your shoulder and you smiled at the sight of a rumpled-looking Zuko. “Evening, Fire Lord,” you hummed.

“It’s far too late at night for you to address me by my title, Advisor.” He ran a hand through his already mussed hair and came up to stand beside you, leaving a respectable distance between you. Even so, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body and you subconsciously shifted closer.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“Not really,” he sighed. “You neither?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Too cold.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye with a wry grin. “So you decided to come stand outside, in the cold?”

“The inner machinations of my mind are an enigma, Zuko. Don’t try to keep up.” You laughed at his eye roll. A particularly harsh burst of wind blustered across the balcony and you pulled your arms in tighter around yourself, shivering.

“C’mere, idiot,” he chuckled, reaching out to pull you closer. Your mouth dropped open in faux-outrage.

“That’s an awfully rude way to speak to your top advisor on Earth Kingdom relations,” you huffed. You still let him move behind you and hug you to his chest, wrapping his arms around your middle.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You’re shaking like a leaf, (Y/N). You need to go back inside.” Despite his words, neither of you made to move away from the railing. You started to feel warm and sleepy, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against his shoulder as you melted into his embrace. He clasped your hands in his own, clicking his tongue when he felt your freezing fingers. You could still feel goosebumps along your skin, but now it was from the way his hot breath danced across your exposed collar bones. He flinched a little when you turned your head to press your cold nose against his neck. You could swear you felt his pulse racing just as hard as yours under his skin.

You opened your eyes again and moved so your lips almost grazed his ear as you whispered, “are you having those nightmares again?” You knew your friend went through sleepless spells plagued by terrible dreams of his father and the war and losing his loved ones. When he’d joined you and the Avatar and your friends, you were the first to notice how he’d sometimes jump awake at night, panting and sweating. One night, not unlike this night, during his first year as Fire Lord, he’d bared his soul to you and described the horrors he faced in his sleep. Ever since, you’d often sought out each other out when rest was evasive.

He simply nodded and buried his face into your hair, declining to elaborate. He didn’t know how to tell you that recently he’d been dreaming about losing you; that sometimes he’d wake up with your name caught in his throat and his cheeks wet with tears. You hummed in understanding and removed one of your hands from his to card your fingers through his hair soothingly. The gentle motion of your nails scratching against his scalp was almost starting to lull him into a trance state. You giggled when he let out a little contented sound.

“Don’t laugh,” he grumbled, “it feels nice. You know what you’re doing to me.”

“You’re like a happy, cute little turtleduck getting a head scratch.”

“I’m one of the most powerful men in the world, (Y/N); please don’t call me a ‘cute little turtleduck.’” He lifted his head from your shoulder with a groan and you turned in his arms to face him, not missing the way the moonlight illuminated the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t act like a cute little turtleduck and I won’t call you one.” You raised your arms to drape around his neck and pressed closer to his warmth.

In moments like these, when Zuko looked at you like that, you wished he would just throw caution to the wind and kiss you already. You two had been toeing the line of “more than friends” for years at this point. It all drove you crazy—the lingering glances, the brushing fingers, the comforting touches, the tender embraces, the sweet smiles. You loved him and you knew that he loved you but any time there looked to be some progress he’d shrink away. With Zuko, your relationship felt like a complicated waltz of one step forward, three steps back, nine steps forward, twenty steps back. All you could do was follow his lead and wait.

His hands skimming up and down your sides made your heart do somersaults in your chest, knocking around your breath. “You’re lucky I have a soft spot for you.”

“You and I both know you’re all bark and no bite,” you laughed, poking his muscular chest. “All warm and squishy under that big, tough Fire Lord exterior.”

“Just don’t let the bad guys hear you say that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, my lord.” He felt a pull in his stomach at your use of that title and you again noticed the pink tinge of his face that usually accompanied the nickname.

“Alright, Advisor (Y/N),” he slid his hand down your arm to lace your fingers together, “let’s get you back to bed.”

“You gonna keep me warm, Lord Zuko?” you asked as you walked beside him back inside and through the torchlit palace halls.

“Of course. Can’t have you getting sick, now can I?” Neither of you mentioned that you both slept better with the other in bed.

He led you into his chambers, where the bed was bigger and the sheets were softer and a fire always roared in the hearth. You laid your thin robe over a chair in the room, leaving you in just your nightdress as you followed him under the covers, snuggling up against his chest with his arm around you. As soon as you laid your head down on his shoulder you started to nod off. You smiled to yourself, happy that you were awake enough at least to feel the kiss Zuko pressed to the top of your head and hear the whisper into your hair that sounded suspiciously along the lines of, “I love you.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka

ZUKO/SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @buckywiththagoodhair @hypercakeiii

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #prince zuko x reader #firelord zuko x reader #zuko fic #zuko fluff #zuko #mine #requests #avatar the last airbender #atla #avatar fic #atla fic #atla x reader

[kaunis-sielu]

Blackbird: 10

As the last song ends you slow your movements. Steve guides your hips down onto his lap again. Your hands are around his neck, you don’t know how they got there but honestly you don’t really care. He stares at you, neither of you say a word as you stare back. You’re not sure but you feel like your heart is pounding so hard that Steve will be able to hear it. His hands are warm on your hips, he’s warm beneath you and your heart is racing. Another song is playing from your playlist but you’re not paying attention. You’ve danced for attractive men before but this is somehow different.

“Steve! We’ve got an issue!” Bucky calls through the door breaking the spell you’d been under.

“Buck this better be fucking good.” Steve snarls as you hurry off of his lap and grab your sweatshirt. He stalks to the door and unlocks it then yanks it open.

“Her place is on fire.”

“What?”

“What!” You echo, your place?

“Firefighters are putting it out but it doesn’t look good.”

“Let’s go.” Steve says and you hurry after him.

“I want to come.”

“No.”

“It’s my place!”

“I said no.” Steve growls turning on you, “this is a tactic. Start your place on fire, you come running, Rumlow snags you.”

“You can’t keep me here!” You snap following him as he starts away from you again.

“Birdie I’ll lock you in your room. Do not test me.”

“I’m coming with.”

“Dressed like that?” Bucky interjects eyeing your shoes and bare legs and again Steve growls lowly. “Relax Cap I know. No touching.”

“Birdie you’re not coming.”

“Yes I am.” He lets out a heavy sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose then says, “Fine. Two minutes to change. Meet me downstairs.” You gape at him for a second then hurry down to your room. You change quickly then make your way down to where his car usually is. It’s gone.

“Fucking asshole!” You snap before making your way out onto the street. You call him and he sends you to voicemail.

“Birdie.” A voice calls and you turn to see him straddling a navy blue motorcycle, “Come on.” He passes you a helmet that you shove on before you climb onto the back of his bike. It takes minutes to get to your house. It’s not on fire anymore but it is smoking heavily.

“Do not leave my side. Got it?” You nod mutely as you stare at your home. You take his hand needing something to hold onto as your heart breaks. Steve leads you to where the fire chief is.

“Sir you can’t be here!” The fire chief yells over the ruckus.

“That’s my girl’s house.” Steve says and the fire chief looks at you.

“Where were you?”

“Not home all night if that’s what you’re asking.” Steve answers for you when you stare at the man in surprise.

“It looks like it was started intentionally. Lucky you weren’t home ma’am.” He says giving you a suspicious side eye.

“Why the hell would I start my place on fire? I just had a new window put in! I love my brownstone! Most of my stuff was in there!”

“I never said you did ma’am.”

“Sure sounded like it to me.” Steve growls and you nod.

“My apologies ma’am.” He says, “you won’t be able to go inside tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Not safe. Come back in the morning.” Steve glances down at you, you can feel his eyes on you but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from your smoldering home.

“Could he have done this?” You ask Steve softly.

“Don’t see why he would but I don’t know.” Steve tells you honestly, which you appreciate. “Getting to you in your home would be much easier than getting to you in mine.”

“Is she going to be safe?” You ask not wanting to say Ada’s name, there are too many people around.

“Yes.”

“Let’s go then. Nothing I can do here tonight.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yea.” He leads you back through the crowd and passes you the helmet again. After he puts his own helmet on he slides your body closer to his with a tug of your legs then starts the motorcycle.

When you pull back into the garage with Bucky to your left you don’t move as reality hits you. Your home is gone. Much of your stuff is probably gone.

“Sweetheart?”

“It’s all gone. My home is gonna be a gut job. I’m going to have to pick up another half night at the club to afford this. And do more private dances. I’m so fucked.” You see the two men exchange a glance but are still surprised when Steve backs the motorcycle out of the garage. “What are we doing?”

“Trust me?”

“Yes?” He nods then pulls away from the house, you drive for somewhere around two hours. When he pulls the motorcycle to a stop you’re confused.

“Come on Birdie.” He takes your hand and leads you into the park then down a path through the woods. He goes to cut off the path when he sees that you’re in a pair of shorts. “I’m gonna carry you through here.” He says turning his back to you then waits for you to climb on. You hesitate for a second but then see all the stuff you’re going to be walking through and hop up onto his back. He walks for a couple more minutes before you arrive at a very well hidden pond, it’s down in a little valley that if you didn’t know was there you’d fall right into. Steve sets you down then brings you through a cave and around a corner and suddenly you’re at the edge of the pond.

“What are we doing here?” You ask as he lets go of your hand.

“I come here to relax. To think. You need a minute to unwind so here we are.” He says taking his leather jacket off. He peels his shirt off then sits down on a rock to take off his boots. “The water is warm.” He assures you, “and I’ve got some supplies hidden in the cave. Towels and stuff.” Ah fuck it. You decide, he’s seen you practically naked more than once, hell earlier you were practically naked in his lap. So you toe off your tennis shoes and yank off your socks as he drops his pants and boxer briefs and jumps into the water butt naked. You tug your shorts off and after a moment your underwear, then your sweatshirt and sports bra are next. You hurry into the water before Steve turns around.

“Okay?” He asks and you realize he’s asking for permission from you.

“Yea.”

Tag list:

@andahugaroundtheneck @connie326 @also-fangirlinsweden @lumar014 @loving-life-my-way @pagina16ps @emdying @dumblani @valsworldofcreativity @blackwidownat2814 @sky0401 @dontbescaredtosingalong @fanatic434 @abschaffer2

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #mobster!steve rogers #mob boss!steve #mob boss steve rogers x reader #mobster!captain america x reader #mobster!steve rogers x reader au #mob!au #blackbird story

[blackcatrph]

** evermore sentence starters.

willow.

“ i'm like the water when your ship rolled in that night. ”

“ you cut through like a knife. ”  

“ i never would have known from the look on your face. ” 

“ the more that you say, the less I know. ”

“ i'm begging for you to take my hand. ”  

“ life was a willow and it bent right to your wind. ”

“ i could feel you sneakin' in. ”

“ you are a mythical thing. ”  

“ i come back stronger than a '90s trend. ”

“ wait for the signal and I'll meet you after dark. ”

“ show me the places where the others gave you scars. ”

“ anywhere else is hollow. ”  

champagne problems.

“ you booked the night train for a reason. ”

“ bustling crowds or silent sleepers, not sure which is worse. ”   

“ i dropped your hand while dancing. ”  

“ your mom's ring is in your pocket, my picture is in your wallet. ”

“ your heart was glass and I dropped it. ”

“ you told your family for a reason. ”

“ you couldn't keep it in. ”

“ no one's celebrating. ”

“ your hometown skeptics called it champagne problems. ”

“ love slipped beyond your reaches. ”

" this dorm was once a madhouse. "

“ don't think we'll say that word again. ”

“ sometimes you just don't know the answer. ”

" she would've made such a lovely bride. ”  

“ what a shame she's fucked in the head. ”

“ she'll patch up your tapestry that I shred. ”

gold rush.

“ eyes like sinking ships on waters, so inviting I almost jump in. ” 

“ i don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch. ”

“ everybody wants you. ”

“ everybody wonders what it would be like to love you. ”

“ i don't like that falling feels like flying 'til the bones crush. ”

“ what must it be like to grow up that beautiful ? ”

“ i see me padding across your wooden floors. ”

“ it fades into the gray of my day-old tea. ”

“ it could never be. ”

“ my mind turns your life into folklore. ”

“ i can't dare to dream about you anymore. ”

“ the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure. ”

'tis the damn season.

“ If I wanted to know who you were hanging with while I was gone, I would have asked you. ”

“ it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass. but I felt it when I passed you. ”

“ there's an ache in you. ”

“ but if it's all the same to you, it's the same to me. ”

“ you could call me "babe" for the weekend. ”

“ the road not taken looks real good now. ”

“ the holidays linger like bad perfume. ”

“ you can run, but only so far. ”  

“ i escaped it too. ”

“ remember how you watched me leave ? ”

“ now I'm missing your smile. ”  

“ hear me out, we could just ride around. ”

“ i won't ask you to wait if you don't ask me to stay. ”

“ i wonder about the only soul who can tell which smiles I'm faking. ”

“ the heart I know I'm breakin' is my own. ”

“ we could call it even, even though I'm leavin'. ”  

tolerate it.

“ i notice everything you do or don't do. ”

“ you're so much older and wiser. ”

“ if it's all in my head tell me now. ”

“ tell me I've got it wrong somehow. ”

“ i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it. ”

“ i greet you with a battle hero's welcome. ”

“ i take your indiscretions all in good fun. ”

“ while you were out building other worlds, where was I? ”

“ where's that man who'd throw blankets over my barbed wire? ”

“ i made you my temple, my mural, my sky. ”

“ i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. ”

“ always taking up too much space or time. ”

�� you assume I'm fine. ”

“ what would you do if I break free and leave us in ruins. ”  

“ took this dagger in me and removed it. ”

no body, no crime.

“ he did it. ”

" it smells like infidelity. ”

“ that ain't my merlot on his mouth. ”

“ i think I'm gonna call him out. ”

" i think he did it, but I just can't prove it. "

“ no body, no crime. ”

“ i ain't lettin' up until the day I die. ”  

“ his mistress moved in. ” 

“ there ain't no doubt. ”

“ somebody's gotta catch him out. ”

“ i've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene. ”

“ they think she did it, but they just can't prove it. ”  

“ i wasn't lettin' up until the day he died. ”

happiness.

“ i see this for what it is. ”

“ all the years I've given Is just shit we're dividin' up. ”

“ i can't face reinvention. ”

“ i haven't met the new me yet. ”

“ there'll be happiness after you. ”  

“ there was happiness because of you. ”

“ there is happiness past the blood and bruises. ”

“ haunted by the look in my eyes. ”

“ leave it all behind. ”  

“ tell me, when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk? ”

“ when did all our lessons start to look like weapons? ”

“ i hope she'll be your beautiful fool. ”

“ no, I didn't mean that. ”

“ i can't see facts through all of my fury. ”  

“ there'll be happiness after me. ”

“ in our history, across our great divide, there is a glorious sunrise dappled with the flickers of light. ”

“ i can't make it go away by making you a villain. ”  

“ no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you. ”

“ now my eyes leak acid rain on the pillow where you used to lay your head. ”

“ after giving you the best I had, tell me what to give after that? ”

dorothea.

“ do you ever stop and think about me?”

“ you got shiny friends since you left town. ”

“ i got nothing but well-wishes for you. ”

“ this place is the same as it ever was. ”

“ it's never too late to come back to my side. ”

“ the stars in your eyes shined brighter in Tupelo. ”

“ and if you're ever tired of bеing known for who you know, you'll always know me. ”

“ you'rе a queen sellin' dreams. ”

“ they all want to be you. ”

“ are you still the same soul I met under the bleachers? ”

“ i guess I'll never know. ”  

coney island.

“ break my soul in two looking for you. ” 

“ if I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to? ”

“ did I close my fist around something delicate? ”

“ did I shatter you? ”

“ sorry for not making you my centerfold. ”

“ lost again with no surprises. ”  

“ it gets colder and colder when the sun goes down. ”

“ what's a lifetime of achievement If I pushed you to the edge? ”

“ you were too polite to leave me. ”

“ will you forgive my soul when you're too wise to trust me and too old to care? ”

“ sorry for not winning you an arcade ring. ”

“ were you waiting at our old spot? ” 

“ did I leave you hanging every single day? ”

“ did I paint your bluest skies the darkest grey? ”

“ the sight that flashed before me was your face. ”

ivy.

“ i'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones. ”

“ your touch brought forth an incandescent glow. tarnished, but so grand. ”

“ i just sit here and wait, grieving for the living. ”

“ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. ”

“ i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland. ”

“ my house of stone, your ivy grows. and now I'm covered in you. ”

“ i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed. ”

“ your opal eyes are all I wish to see. ”

“ clover blooms in the fields. ”  

“ what would he do if he found us out? ”

“ he's gonna burn this house to the ground. ” 

“ i'd live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time. ”

“ so tell me to run, or dare me to sit and watch what we'll become. ”

“ it's a goddamn blaze in the dark. ”

“ it's the goddamn fight of my life. ”

cowboy like me.

" dancin' is a dangerous game. "

“ now I know I'm never gonna love again. ”

“ i've got some tricks up my sleeve. ”

“ takes one to know one. ”

“ you're a cowboy like me. ”

“ i never wanted love, just a fancy car. ”  

“ i could be the way forward. ”

“ the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up. ”

“ the old men that I've swindled really did believe I was the one. ”

“ now you hang from my lips like the Gardens of Babylon. ”

“ forever is the sweetest con. ”  

long story short.

“ i tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me. ”

“ the knife cuts both ways. ”

“ if the shoe fits, walk in it 'til your high heels break. ”

“ i fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole. ”

“ long story short, it was a bad time. ”

“ i always felt I must look better in the rear view. ”

“ missing me at the golden gates they once held the keys to. ”

“ but if someone comes at us this time, I'm ready. ”

“ i wanna tell you not to get lost in these petty things. ”

“ your nemeses will defeat themselves before you get the chance to swing. ”

“ rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky. ”

“ long story short, I survived. ”

marjorie.

“ never be so kind that you forget to be clever. ”

“ never be so clever that you forget to be kind. ”

“ what died didn't stay dead. ”

“ you're alive, so alive. ”  

“ never be so politе that you forget your power. ”

“ nevеr wield such power that you forget to be polite. ”

“ if I didn't know better I'd think you were listening to me now. ”

“ you loved the amber skies so much. ”

“ and if I didn't know better I'd think you were singing to me now. ”

closure.

“ it's been a long time. ”

“ seeing the shape of your name still spells out pain. ”

“ it wasn't right, the way it all went down. ”

“ i got your letter. ” 

“ i know that it's over, I don't need your closure. ”

“ don't treat me like some situation that needs to be handled. ”

“ i'm fine with my spite, my tears, my beers and my candles. ”

“ i know I'm just a wrinkle in your new life. ”

“ it's fake and it's oh so unnecessary. ” 

evermore.

“ i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong. ”

“ i was catching my breath. ”

“ i had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore. ”

“ I can't remember what I used to fight for. ”

“ you cannot think of all the cost and the things that will be lost. ”

“ can we just get a pause? ”

“ is there a line that I could just go cross? ”

“ when I was shipwrecked I thought of you. ”

“ in the cracks of light I dreamed of you. ”

“ it was real enough to get me through. ”

“ i swear you were there. ”

#sentence meme #sentence memes #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp meme #ask meme #roleplay meme #lyrical meme #lyric meme #memes by j

[honestsycrets]

Love in a Cup | Floki x Reader

❛ pairing | Floki the Boatbuilder x Autistic!Reader, Floki x Helga. light!Ragnar x Reader

❛ type | one... shot?

❛ summary | Aslaug gives you a cup to give Floki: but your morals keep you from delivering. Tricky things, they are.

❛  warnings | Non-Autistic writer, first time writing autism, first gen vikings, love potions, light physical abuse, one-sided love, sister wives, jealousy, ragnar’s feely hands, trickery, mention of witchcraft, witch!aslaug (but good witch!), semi-mean reader, doesn’t follow Hirst’s specific timeline.

❛  sy’s notes | gif to ofmanderley (really in love with their work). not that happy with this piece but i’m exhausted with it.

Floki was her world. 

When she breathed, when she slept, it was as if she was symbiotic with his presence. Whatever Floki threw at her: insulting a suitor or murdering someone close. That was why, for the longest time, you repressed all thoughts of him when you were with Siggy, Helga, and Aslaug. You were the only one of the four and the youngest who had not married. It did not bother you. It gave you time to play with Ragnar’s youngest boys as a maiden who lived in the Great Hall. 

You whirled to the strumming of the oud. Sigurd mimicked the swirl of your hips and twirl of your wrists. Every once in a while, you tumbled over the little boy. As hard as you worked at dancing, the balance between strength and balance didn’t always add up. 

In the corner of your eye, Floki stood watching. His unapologetic smile, lips wrapped around the rim of his cup, gave you encouragement. He was watching-- with Ragnar by his side whose thumbs were hooked tightly in the belt looped around his waist. 

It was only when the music abated that you heard your name traveling like a howl on the oud’s notes. You tumbled out of a spin and dipped down to pick up the little boy. He was the one place where you felt free. That space where the music met the song. His bouncy golden hair was slick with moisture. 

“Yes?” 

Aslaug crossed the dark planks with a drink between her fingertips. You noticed her fingers twiddling along the surface. She looped her hand through your arm and began to walk with you despite the warriors’ complaints.

“Floki was watching,” she whispered. You couldn’t help sneak a slight glance at the man, whose blackened fingertips waved at you in succession, wild like the unpredictable ocean beating the sandy floor. She speaks again. “Why don’t you give him this?”

You handed over Sigurd to a slave and took the cup from her fingers, turning your back toward Floki. Your fingers grazed around the lip of the cup, drawing repeated circles. “What is it?” 

“A drink.” 

A drink, you soothed yourself by repeating it again and again. “But what else?” 

“Do you trust me?” 

Of course, you did. Perhaps Aslaug made some bad decisions, selfish ones, but you never doubted her love for you. You wrapped your hand around the bone cup and gazed into the surface of the mead. It glimmered with a golden sheen. It was no ordinary cup. 

“I-- I think so. But why?”

You turned over your shoulder where Floki was. His fingers rolled in Bjorn’s face and told him some raunchy joke. He laughed wickedly as Bjorn’s cheeks pinked. Ragnar must have run off with Athelstan outside for some privacy. Aslaug prompted your name again. Her palm settled on your golden shoulder. 

“Married men are always the hardest to catch,” Aslaug slid past you. “But not impossible.”

You glanced down to the golden cup and dipped your fingers in the gilded liquid. It coated your fingers like molten gold. It affirmed that whatever she gave you, it wasn’t mead. Or at least, not mead alone. It’s tainted in some way. When you turned up your head again, Floki’s lips were by Helga’s ear. He held her with warm consideration, rubbing her distended but empty belly. Light dances along the surface of her eyes. Everything pumps with a distinct, obnoxious loudness. You shake your other hand free of anxiety and turn toward the door.

It’s time to go.

You pushed through crowds of drunken couples, men with grabby hands, and women who laughed with the purest joy. You breached the doorway. Cool air bit your cheeks. Although winter was on its way out, you felt its touch nipping your cheeks.

You reclined against the wooden longhouse with a cup of mead charmed with love’s fleeting kiss. It wasn’t as if you were unfamiliar with spells. You made simple ones as a healer: mending Torstein’s arm was nothing short of the touch of Eir. Besides: if Aslaug made it, you decided, it had to be a love potion. 

Freyja, you thought, what next? You should spill it on the ground, let it dry and return to the love of the earth. But then what would happen if someone else came upon it as it dried? Would they use it for their own devices? Steal the heart of someone just like Helga: sweet, unsuspecting, and perfect? No. You would go the beach and dump it into the depths of Kattegat’s deep lake. 

“Look at you, moping all alone.” 

Light filtered out from the double doors of Ragnar’s mead hall. Floki bounced out and came to a stop in front of you. His hand rested on the head of his axe. You become suddenly aware of how this might look. A lone woman standing outside, lamenting your sorrows to Hati as the moon shone dolefully above. Floki comes closer.

“Ah--” you pursed your lips. “There are men standing guard.”

“They are still men,” Floki chirped. “They’ll do what suits them.” 

“Hm,” you nodded through his assertion. “And Helga?” 

“What about her?” There’s a pause before Floki reached for your cup. He loosened your fingers around the horn cup and brought it to his nose. He knew what it is, too. His tone darkens, playfulness undercut by a sharpness in his eye. “A tonic. A love tonic. What poor fool were you trying to trick with this?” 

“Floki,” you struggled to meet his eyes. Not that you could on regular days, but flicking your hands free of the animals crawling underneath your skin, you hoped that he would listen for once in his short life. “Go away.” 

“No. Why would I? I’ve been waiting to see something like this,” words pushed past his lips. “You are always so stiflingly good. No one is truly that good at heart. Who was it for?” 

You said nothing. Not with guards watching weird and weirder speaking alone: not forgetting that Floki was indeed a married man and you were a single woman living under Ragnar’s protection. Or, under Aslaug’s. 

“No?” Floki tilted his wrist and swirled the liquid around. He brought the cup to his lips and threw his head back to drink the potion. Your hand lurched to catch his gloved hand, squawking in desperation. 

“Athelstan!” you lie. “It was for Athelstan!”  

He ignored you and downed the drink in no more than three large gulps. Shame flooded your stomach when he pulled the cup away. You whirled away from him. 

“You liar.” Floki chucked the cup to the side. It clattered and rolled. In a last-ditch effort to protect what was, you snapped your hands to your eyes. If he couldn’t look you in the eye, you tell yourself, Aslaug’s potion wouldn’t take. Besides; why would you want to look into his silvery-blue eyes? They would be like Níðhöggr’s eyes-- when he tore you alive for tearing Floki from Helga.

“I wasn’t lying,” you murmured into your hands. Your cheeks were hot, but the tears soaking your fingertips remained as a constant reminder of the truth. “It’s the truth. Now go away, don’t look at me! You’re Helga’s!”

“What are you talking about?” Floki seized your forearms. 

“Go away!” 

As willowy and thin as he is, you expected him to be weaker than he was. He forced your fingertips from your eyes. You looked anywhere but his eyes: the make-up down his slender cheeks, his warm brown beard, or straight past him. For a moment, you try. But you’re locked with the reality of Floki’s impassioned stare. He met your gaze boredly.

“It… didn’t work?” 

“Not on me.” Floki hummed. “I thought you knew that.” 

“I told you. It wasn’t for you,” you bit out. “I didn’t even make it.” 

“What a lie.” 

“I hate you.” 

“An even worse lie.” Floki stands there otherwise unaffected, giggling at your deemed stupidity. He stood like the idiot, not you-- he laughed at your discomfort. 

“If you didn’t ruin it, maybe I would have given it to him!” 

“Go ahead, make him another.” he twiddled his fingers in your face, voice rising. “He won’t want you. All he wants to kiss his cross.” 

With that inflammatory answer, you lashed out. You did the only thing you could think to do: Thwacking him on the side of his gaunt jaw. His jaw gave a click as you pushed out from under him, biting back the tears welling up in your eyes. 

“I hate you, Floki.” 

He isn’t the type to chase and luckily, you’re not the type to apologize. You whirled the door open, bumping into Helga whose sweet smile felt like a hundred fallen suns. It’s too warm for what, inevitably, Floki will tell her. Tomorrow she will hate you. 

She called your name. You brushed past her for your warm bed in the Great Hall. Its woolen sheets felt prickly under your back. As the night progressed and the loud voices became soft whispers, you heard Helga’s soft voice like the scurry of the housecat that sat between your numb legs. Everything had gone numb. 

“Can I see her?” she asked. 

You closed your eyes. If you were a better communicator, maybe you would have told Aslaug to tell her no. But lo, you did not, and Aslaug agreed in turn. You forced your eyes shut and awaited a lashing out. If you were asleep-- maybe she’d go away. Save your beating for tomorrow. She kneels before you. You feel her warmth, her willowy hands grasping yours, willing you to open your eyes. You press them together harder, if possible. 

“If he loved you, it would be okay,” she cooed awful acceptance. Over and over. A wretched chant from the perfect woman. “You could come home.” 

As time passed and the drunks are collected, she took her drunk from the Great Hall too. You were left staring at the cat between your legs and the dread in your belly. 

She’s too good for you.

Helga doesn’t hate you the next day. 

Not that you expected her to. Her soft eyes were all the familiar, soft, and loving that any man or woman could need. Instead she told you, with pitiful sweetness, that you were welcome to marry Floki. Imagine your discomfort when you recounted the fight-- and the source of the welt across Floki’s pale skin.

Aslaug bid her time like a patient goddess, mindfully telling you that it wasn’t all for not. Whatever that meant. At the end of the next day, you sat nursing your aching heart with an ale that you usually took to ease pounding headaches when the light came in too strong. If only you could tear your heart out and pin it up in the stars. Then you would be happy. 

Alcohol made your fingertips tingle. Or maybe it was the soft fur of Aslaug’s marital house cat that made your fingers tingle. One or the other. At some point, you felt Ragnar slip in beside you. Whether it was the weighty scent of his sweat or his large palm that cupped the bottom of your back, inching like a worm to squeeze your ass, you weren’t sure. You squeezed the cat in your lap like a hunk of bread. 

“Don’t look now,” Ragnar hummed, flowing into your belly with warm affection. The man was like an older brother. One you didn’t question: just listened to. “But Floki is watching.” 

“But why?” 

Unlike Aslaug, Ragnar’s words were always followed by certainty. So despite his hand caressing your ass and the kitten kneading into your thighs, you turned your head into the side of his neck. Athelstan swung his leg over the other side of you like a second shadow. His patient smile another reassurance. Still, your hand shook in anticipation over the cat. 

“I think he’s jealous.” Athelstan chimed in. 

Heavy footfalls alerted you to the fact that Floki was quickly advancing. Unlike his patience with Ragnar, he shoved Athelstan unceremoniously to the side of a quickly overcrowding bench. Your sweet kitten bounced laps to the wooden floorboards. 

“What are you doing, Ragnar?” he asked Ragnar. With a sassy flick of his fingers, Ragnar’s hand fell away from your ass. He reached for a hunk of your meat, sliding it into his mouth with a less than a ceremonious smile. 

“You were watching.” 

Floki bristled. You turned toward him. Perhaps he could fool others with that tightly-knit jaw or the wildness of his eyes, but not you. You knew Floki too well for that. Your handset on his scrawny thigh. 

“Of course I was watching. You brought that priest--!” he hissed, glaring Athelstan off of the bench. Somethings the priest might have held his ground and accepted Floki’s typical beratement. Not this one. “To force her into warming his dick.” 

Ragnar swallowed his hunk of meat, wiping his fingers against one another. Just when you think he is about to say something, Floki goes on. “If you want to poison your mind with a Christian, fine,” Floki pressed. “But don’t sully hers too.” 

“Floki,” you dared. “Isn’t that a choice I should make?” 

Like a snake, his dark eyes flickered back on you. Something wasn’t right there, you decided. You pushed him from a state of indignation to one of range. He snatched your shoulders in his large willowy hands. Ragnar flicked the remaining bit of meat and leapt out from the table to Athelstan. 

“What does that mean?” he quipped, voice raising into a shout. “Were you planning on fucking him? Were you?”

You could have quipped back something mean. Perhaps, better luck next time? It lingers on your tongue a moment but seized by the panic that rides in Floki’s voice, you simply slumped forward with the stress. Your cheek connected with the exposed hairs poking from his tunic. 

“You are so stupid. I hate you.” 

His hand hovered in the air. Then, twirling down, he drew his hand through your hair with a suppressed sigh blossoming from his chest. He reached for your cup of alcohol. “What kind of answer is that?” 

“It’s a no, Floki. A no.”

He giggled. The warmth of his bouncing chest warms you somehow. Although you know that he’s going to put you through hell, you glanced up at him. His scrawny finger drew a line under your chin before he’d squeeze it for emphasis. He parts his lips to speak. You beat him there. 

“Yes, Floki-- it was for you.” 

I knew it! He bellowed out amidst full blown cackles. You sigh through them because of course-- he would have to show off in these little victories. The knowledge that the cup was for him or your affections-- as he perceived them-- were all his. 

He reached out to lift you from the table, spinning his jaunty feet over the floor. He’s more than your boatbuilder. More than a Viking. More than a man. He’s your Floki. You know he wouldn’t let you fall to the floor with even drunken, flowy step to the door because after all, Floki was the one who taught you what it meant to dance.

“Let’s go home. I want to see you dance.”  

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit​ @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur​ @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse​ @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1​ @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia​ @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys  @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim​ @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa​ @soleil-dor​ @strangunddurm​ @superwolfchild-fan @willbilliamson  @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

#Floki x Reader #floki the boat builder x reader #Vikings imagines #vikings/reader #vikings x reader

[aminiatureworld]

A Sea of Fragments II

Part I here

Word Count: 2,516

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Second chapter here we go! I’ve been very excited to continue this series, and I hope you find it as fun to read as it was to write. I already have mapped out a plan for where the story is going, though I’m not sure how many chapters it will take. We’ll see how it goes!

Dear Signora,

I am happy to inform you that the task you sent me has been completed. The fortune teller, though they still refuse to reveal their name, appears to be somewhat legitimate. I’m not sure what you’re going to do with this information, but I hope you’re prepared for a difficult time, as…

 Scaramouche sighed, putting his pen down, although not after scribbling haphazardly on the paper in front of him. It had been two weeks since he’d first recruited the mysterious clairvoyant, and altogether nothing of consequence had happened. Not for lack of trying, of course; the Harbinger had taken to banging on the door of an inn almost every day, demanding that the unwilling coworker inside come out and do something. Honestly Scaramouche was surprised he hadn’t been asked to vacate the premises at this point, though of course that wouldn’t’ve stopped him. Still it was becoming a tiring ritual, and though Scaramouche himself wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant when he suggested you work with him, he was certain this wasn’t it. Something had to happen, and soon. If not, well the Harbinger wasn’t above kidnapping unwilling colleagues; regardless of their threats to burn down his living space.

“At the very least I’m getting them out of that damned inn.” Scaramouche muttered to himself, for the time wasted was appalling, the inn being located not in your own village, the closest villager to the camp, but in one farther away. Standing up, crumpling the unfinished letter in his hands and throwing it into the trash, Scaramouche walked out of his tent and towards the now all too familiar road. He wasn’t doing this anymore.

Walking along the road, unfortunately there were no waypoints in villages this small, Scaramouche thought over the whole matter once more. He’d not expected you to agree to his offer of working with him, especially not after supposedly reading his future. Nor had he expected to truly believe you. And yet something about your demeanor had certainly changed since you’d looked into his future, accepting his proposal aside. Scaramouche wasn’t one to pry about such things, he didn’t really care what you saw in his future, especially after your revelation that doing so wasn’t an exact science. He had to admit though that the longer this went on the more he wondered what exactly you had seen. What had you seen to make you agree to his proposal, then refuse to even open your door to him? Or had you simply said yes on a whim and were now regretting your decision?

It was baffling to Scaramouche, and what he didn’t know or understand irritated him. He was a harbinger, and though you might’ve been blessed by the gods or some such thing, you’d still agreed to work with him. He’d see this through, if it was the last thing he did.

 The inn was just as rundown as it had been the day before, and Scaramouche’s feet dragged as he made his way up the stairs towards the offending door. Knocking as softly as he could, not wanting to bother the other rooms and get kicked out, he called out. “It’s time for you to get to work. You’ve had two weeks to recover from whatever shock you’d had in the woods, and now you must uphold your promise.”

 You stared at the door, still lying on the bed, the place where you’d spent most of your time recently. This routine had played out for two weeks, and you were becoming tired of it. Honestly, couldn’t the idiot realize when he wasn’t wanted? You thought that you’d made it clear enough.

Ignoring the banging for a moment you stared up at the ceiling. Two weeks, for two weeks you’d agonized over what you’d seen. What you’d expected to be dulled by time still came as a shock, and if you closed your eyes the image of you smiling at the Harbinger danced around in front of you. You didn’t regret your decision to work with Scaramouche, the determination for a better future still lay firmly in your heart; but you hadn’t realized how much personal agony it would cost. Certainly your now conflicting feelings weren’t helping, as you couldn’t help but wonder if your sudden awareness of the person now knocking on your door was caused by anything genuine, or simply by what you saw might come to pass.

The knocking was louder now, and you groaned, dragging yourself out of bed, thankful that you’d at least had the sense to have changed out of your pajamas. You were going to answer him today. It was what you’d been telling yourself all morning. You couldn’t live at this inn forever, the bill was beginning to rack up terribly. And, conflicting feelings or not, you weren’t about to steal away in the middle of the night. That would be perhaps the stupidest move one could make when dealing with a Fatui harbinger to whom one had made a promise.

 Scaramouche let out a huff of surprise and relief as the door suddenly began to make way. This was some progress. Usually your early morning conversation was shouted through the closed door. Although you barely appeared from behind the door at first Scaramouche could see the improvement in your health. At least now you didn’t look to be constantly seconds away from once more passing out. As if reading these less than generous thoughts you scowled. Looking around, as if making sure there was no one around, you grabbed Scaramouche by the wrist and dragged him into the room, closing the door with a firm click behind you.

Though the inn was certainly bedraggled, the room you were housed in seemed nice enough. The furniture was sparse, only a bed, a small table, a chair, and a pair of sad looking dressers. Sitting down cross legged on the bed you pointed towards the chair. Smirking, Scaramouche sat down.

“Are we not talking today?” He asked snidely.

“Nice to know your personality hasn’t improved.” You shot back.

“Maybe I’d be a bit more amenable if you had left this room at all in the past two weeks. Do you even eat?”

“Thank you for so graciously caring for my wellbeing, but I’m doing just fine, thank you.”

“We had an agreement.”

“I know.”

“Then why won’t you hold to it?” Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, his temper wearing increasingly thin. He didn’t like yelling, found it beneath him; yet right now he wanted nothing more than to find some secluded area and scream. Letting out a hiss of a breath he shook his head. “Why did you let me in if you won’t even look at me?”

As if on cue your head snapped forwards. Although it seemed as if you were about to say something your expression quickly shifted into something unreadable. You said nothing, simply staring at him, that odd, opaque expression leading him to silence as well. The transformation was so sudden that it managed to throw the Harbinger completely off guard, and he found himself scrutinizing you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking of.

As you continued to stare at him Scaramouche realized that he was losing time. Shaking his head slightly, he spoke again.

“I want you to move into the camp.”

“Over my dead body.” You replied venomously, the spell obviously broken. “I refuse to live surrounded by members of the Fatui.”

“Well then where are you going to live, you can’t stay here forever.”

“I’ll… figure something out.”

“I’m offering you a solution to your housing problem. You can even live on the edge of the camp; but I refuse to continue this song and dance of walking six miles just to get you up. Consider it part of your work benefits.”

“What a lovely benefit, being housed against your will.”

“You made it perfectly clear you have nowhere else to go. You abandoned your village, you’ve holed yourself up in a random inn, you made a promise, an agreement, to work for me. Have you forgotten that?”

“Of course I haven’t!” You snapped, once more tilting your head towards the wall. “How could I forget after what…” You trailed off.

“After what?” Scaramouche pressed, but you shook your head, merely glancing at him once more.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does if it’s affecting our bargain. Something must’ve happened. You’ve been acting, strangely.”

“How would you know how I act?” You scoffed. “Anyways, my behavior is none of your business. I promised to work with you, and I will, if only to stop this stupid conversation. But I won’t move in with the Fatui. They’re the worst sort of organization. Besides,” you added, voice lowering slightly. “I’m not comfortable staying in unfamiliar places.”

There was a pause in the conversation, as Scaramouche wracked his brain. He needed to get this to work. He couldn’t stand this; no matter what, he’d make sure this conversation didn’t drag on any longer.

“Fine then,” Scaramouche finally sighed, “let’s make a deal.”

“We seem to be making an awful lot of those.”

“It’s the only way apparently to get you to do anything. Here’s the deal. I arrange it so you’re allowed to use your own furniture and belongings in your tent. You can use one of the extra harbinger tents, they should be big enough for that. If I promise to do so, will you promise to move out?”

“I’m not letting random Fatui members sack my house, not even on your orders.”

“Then do it with the. I’ll just send some men to carry the heavier furniture, you can handle the rest. Agreed?”

You paused, staring at him, expression much more readable this time, being one of distrust. Still, eventually you nodded your head and Scaramouche finally began to feel some sort of relief.

“Good. Now pack whatever you have. Thankfully it’s early enough to have this finished today.”

And with that he stood up, not bothering to look behind at you as he walked across the room and out the door.

 --------- 

Scaramouche entered the tent, nearly running into you in the process. You glanced back at him, letting out a quick “sorry”, before scurrying over towards your cot – your bed had ended up being too bulky to move.

“I see you’ve finished.” Scaramouche spoke up, feeling slightly awkward, not sure how to converse with you in a way that wasn’t arguing. Luckily you didn’t seem to notice, nodding enthusiastically.

“It’s so odd to seem my dresser on the grass floor.” You giggled softly.

The Harbinger stared for a moment, realizing that this was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile out of you. It was almost transformative, and for a moment he found himself forgetting all the haggling it took for you to get here. Walking towards you, slightly unaware of what he was doing, he stopped a few inches away from you. You seemed caught unaware, and as you stared at him your smile slowly faded, instead replaced once more by that odd expression you carried when you look at him. This time you seemed a bit more agitated however, and instead of lingering you shook your head slightly, walking sideways towards the dresser you’d just mentioned. Suddenly aware of himself Scaramouche mimicked the gesture, stepping back towards the tent opening.

“Well,” he said, voice stilted, “I’m glad that we’ve finally resolved this. I’ll let them send dinner to your tent tonight, though I expect you to eat with everyone else afterwards. I’ll see how you are later.” And, not wanting to start another argument and still trying to process what had just happened, Scaramouche marched out of the tent.

The late afternoon air was finally beginning to cool down, and Scaramouche took in several deep breaths. Not wanting to deal with the presence of various underlings he made his way out of the camp and towards the woods, the woods in which, about five miles away from here, he’d met you for the first time. Now, leaning against a tree, he thought back on that night, on everything that had happened since then. Mostly he thought about the odd experience in the tent.

Scaramouche hadn’t really meant to walk up to you, he found being the proximity of people odious most of the time. The action was completely instinctive, devoid of any motive to intimidate or to scare. It was just, it was just the fact that he’d liked your smile, it had drawn him in, literally, apparently. As had your expression, what was that expression? He wanted to ask about it again, wanted to know what was going on. This whole experience was alien to Scaramouche, your interactions all the more so. A normal underling would’ve never talked back, would’ve never forced concessions out of him. And yet that wasn’t the only abnormal thing. A normal underling would’ve never been so important, and, more importantly, would’ve never drawn such a strange reaction out of him. A reaction he was still feeling the effects of.

It wasn’t simply walking up to you, no, nothing was that simple. It was how he’d felt, the way he didn’t mind being that close, wanted it even. The way a part of him was somewhat disappointed when you – rightfully – drew away. Even now he still felt those lingering feelings, that alien want to be closer to someone, to learn about them, to… what? That was the beginning and the end of it, wasn’t it? He wanted something, and he didn’t even know what that something was. Information he supposed. It was always that in the end; something that he could use, a bargaining chip. Maybe he just was getting tired of these concessions.

 It was dark by the time Scaramouche returned to your tent. You were slouched forward on your cot, a book held up to your face, your attention utterly captivated. Looking up at the shuffling of feet you saw the Harbinger staring at you, as opaque as before. Although your initial instinct was once more to look away you instead met his gaze, letting out the faintest crack of a smile.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“It was nothing. If you’re going to be my clairvoyant assistant, well, this was for the best.”

Your whispered something and Scaramouche leaned forward.

“What?”

You repeated the word again and the Harbinger’s brow furrowed.

“What does that name have to do with anything?”

“It’s mine, idiot.”

“You could’ve just said that.” Scaramouche scoffed, glancing away. “Thank you.”

“It’s my thanks, for doing this for me.”

“I see.” Scaramouche stood there silent for a moment. Eventually he looked around and nodded. “All seems to be in order. I hope you’re an early riser, tomorrow we’ll get to work. So make sure to sleep. I…” he began to turn towards the tent opening. “I hope you’ll be comfortable.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Good. Go to sleep.”

The sound of your name whispered into the night by him was something that would keep you up for a while longer.

#series #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #my writing

[edenmemes]

misc lyric sentence starters

pt. 1

❝  i guess it’s one of those nights where i’m bound to want you.  ❞ ❝  fear ain’t gonna save ya, so run for your life.  ❞ ❝  when the thunder roars, the winds will blow, and through the storm i ride alone.  ❞ ❝  no tears will i cry from my animal eyes.  ❞ ❝  i’m not spinning on this planet just for me to make you smile.  ❞ ❝  you are always around to make me smile.  ❞ ❝  i couldn’t think of the right words, now it’s just too late.  ❞ ❝  if i ever were to lose you, i’d surely lose myself.  ❞ ❝  rage is a quiet thing. you think that you’ve tamed it but it’s just lying in wait.  ❞ ❝  sometimes to run is the best thing.  ❞ ❝  sleep on me, feel the rhythm in my chest, just breathe.  ❞ ❝  tell me, did you see the news last night?  ❞ ❝  if past you were to meet future me, would you be holding me here and now?  ❞ ❝  i heard them calling from the distance, so i packed my things and ran.  ❞ ❝  who are you really? and where are you going?  ❞ ❝  maybe this time i can be strong, but since i know who i am, i’m probably wrong.  ❞ ❝  i’m wondering where it all went wrong. i was growing up right, i was a good kid.  ❞ ❝  i know i’ve done wrong and i’ve paid for it.  ❞ ❝  if i want it, i’ll straight up take it from you.  ❞ ❝  even if it hurts, having you by my side is all i need.  ❞ ❝  i have nothing left to prove ‘cause i’ve got nothing left to lose.  ❞ ❝  they say the best memories are the ones that we forget.  ❞ ❝  i like the way you try to run with the wolf pack when your legs are tired.  ❞ ❝  did you ever fight it? all of the pain.  ❞ ❝  i said i’m okay but i don’t know what to do without you.  ❞ ❝  do you like the person you’ve become?  ❞ ❝  i’ve been waking up with your voice in my head.  ❞ ❝  i’ve got nothing left to lose, ‘cause i already lost you.  ❞ ❝  you are a stranger here, why have you come?  ❞ ❝  it’s in my heart, it’s in my head, i can’t take back the things i said.  ❞ ❝  when i hear them use your name, i get all choked up inside.  ❞ ❝  tell me, do you hate me, or do you wanna date me?  ❞ ❝  you make me laugh until i die. can you think of any better way to choke?  ❞ ❝  i’m so sorry that the world has fallen down. i wish i could do something more.   ❞ ❝  i don’t want to leave, but i can’t stay.  ❞ ❝  believe me, i’m speaking plainly and painfully, s.  ❞ ❝  do you ever stop and think about me?  ❞ ❝  i remember tears streaming down your face when i said i’d never let you go.  ❞ ❝  i jump from thought to thought like a flea jumps to a light.  ❞ ❝  lost a part of me, but i am still here.  ❞ ❝  your heart is strange like mine.  ❞ ❝  i see you holding your breath with your arms outstretched, waiting for someone to come rip open your chest.  ❞ ❝  my heart is sweet as candy. i’ll only give it to you. ❞ ❝  it’s a problem, i can’t help it. i made you crazy about me. ❞ ❝  i was yours before you called me mine.  ❞ ❝  you are an angry man. there is hate in your heart.  ❞ ❝  i’ve been living in a bad dream. i wish that somebody would wake me.  ❞ ❝  think twice ‘cause i can’t act nice like everyone else.  ❞ ❝  don’t misunderstand, my easy smiles are for myself.  ❞ ❝  i am in trouble. can’t get these thoughts out of me.  ❞ ❝  i’m afraid of pain. both yours and mine.  ❞ ❝  i can tell just what you want. you don’t want to be alone.  ❞ ❝  innocence died screaming. ask me, i should know.  ❞ ❝  so much pride running through my veins.  ❞ ❝  i keep sending you a signal, but you’re the only person who doesn’t notice it. ❞ ❝  it’s never too late to come back to my side.  ❞ ❝  people couldn’t believe what i’d become.  ❞ ❝  every once in a while, the little things make me smile.  ❞ ❝  did you ever notice i’ve been ashamed all my life?  ❞ ❝  just close your eyes, the sun is going down. you’ll be alright. no one can hurt you now.  ❞ ❝  there ain’t no use in crying. it doesn’t change anything, so what good does it do?  ❞ ❝  i can see it as clear as day. close your eyes, so afraid, hide behind that baby face.  ❞ ❝  pain, joy and even thinking...everything disappears if i love at you. ❞ ❝  i can feel it, i’m in danger. i can’t run away.  ❞ ❝  in a world full of lies, my only truth is you.  ❞ ❝  believing nothing feels like such a hollow way to be.  ❞ ❝  i don’t want to leave, but i can’t stay.  ❞ ❝  won’t you lay your healing hands on my chest?  ❞ ❝  in your hands, there’s a touch that can heal. but in those same hands, is the power to kill.  ❞ ❝  the only place i ever loved is a place i left behind.  ❞ ❝  it’s so hard to tell which side you’re on.  ❞ ❝  if anyone asks who i am, i’m here to save this darn earth.  ❞ ❝  when you look at yourself, are you a man or a monster?  ❞ ❝  it won’t be long ‘till i’m dead and gone.  ❞ ❝  why am i being like this? why am i so nervous?  ❞ ❝  i don’t want to become one who can’t overcome.  ❞ ❝  when you grew up is this what you had in mind?  ❞ ❝  i want to know you better.  ❞ ❝  being pretty is a sin. it’s my sin.  ❞ ❝  do you wanna know what is on my mind? i feel like i don’t belong here lately.  ❞ ❝  no one makes you feel the way you do.  ❞ ❝  i’m a little too intelligent for you and your friends.  ❞ ❝  you can’t take back the damage you’ve done.  ❞ ❝  if i ever were to lose you, i’d surely lose myself.  ❞ ❝  i know i’ll kill my enemies when they come.  ❞ ❝  you can’t change me. i’m a bad man.  ❞ ❝  got no connection, no faith or direction.  ❞ ❝  one thing that is clear: it is all downhill from here.  ❞ ❝  i’ll never let the two of us be friends.  ❞ ❝  i'll show you ruin. i’ll show you vengeance.  ❞ ❝  how rare and beautiful it is to even exist.  ❞ ❝  the beauty of this mess is that it brings me close to you.  ❞ ❝  have i become the man that i hated once?  ❞ ❝  i lost myself when i lost you.  ❞ ❝  the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you.  ❞ ❝  i never could keep my mouth shut when i needed to.  ❞ ❝  so, tell me, how does it feel? you’re all alone.  ❞ ❝  when i’m like this, you’re the one i trust.  ❞ ❝  i want something good to die for to make it beautiful to live.  ❞ ❝  what’s gonna be left of the world if you’re not in it?  ❞ ❝  i was once poison ivy, but now i’m your daisy.  ❞ ❝  can you carry it with no regrets? can you stand the person you’ve become?  ❞ ❝  everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.  ❞ ❝  i knew that we'd be more than friends when i saw you shining. somewhere in my heart i knew. ❞ ❝  i’m a ghost walking on an empty street, no name anymore, no need to call for me.  ❞ ❝  i used to rule the world. seas would rise when i gave the word.  ❞ ❝  never be so kind you forget to be clever.  ❞ ❝  you’re like lightning in a bottle. i can’t let you go now that i got it.  ❞ ❝  i wish everybody knew what’s so great about you.  ❞ ❝  i’m still haunted by those open wounds. i won’t express them truly to you.  ❞ ❝  you could drag me through hell if it meant i could hold your hand.  ❞ ❝  there’s something tragic about you, something so magic about you.  ❞ ❝  see me bare my teeth for you.  ❞ ❝  i feel no need to forgive but i might as well.  ❞ ❝  feels like i’ve known you my whole life. i can see right through your lies.  ❞ ❝  'what’s wrong?’ you’ve been asking. but i don’t have an answer.  ❞ ❝  pulling me closer, i’m drawn by your command.  ❞ ❝  the secrets you tell me, i’ll take to my grave.  ❞ ❝  if what you see is what you want, fight for it.  ❞ ❝  i know you got my back and you know i got you.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know where we’re going but i’d like to be by your side.  ❞ ❝  the arrow that you shot will come back to you.  ❞ ❝  you drive me crazier than a wingless bee.  ❞ ❝  sweet, sweet fate, i’ve had about all i can take.  ❞ ❝  i think with my heart and i move with my head.  ❞ ❝  long story short, i survived.  ❞ ❝  i want you back. the you of the past.  ❞ ❝  i just wanna say sometimes, spontaneous is good.  ❞ ❝  if you walked a mile using my feet, you would go a little easy on me.  ❞ ❝  this ain’t no place for no hero.  ❞ ❝  tell me what you want from me. tell me what you need.  ❞ ❝  where is the hope in a world so cold?  ❞ ❝  you’re living in fear that no one will hear your cries.  ❞ ❝  your love is scaring me. no one has ever cared for me.  ❞ ❝  it’s like i’ve seen you before, known you before.  ❞ ❝  for as long as i love and as long as i love, i will never not think about you.  ❞ ❝  i don’t know what i’d do without your comfort.  ❞ ❝  you had something to hide. should of hidden it, shouldn’t you?  ❞ ❝  we don’t know how this could end. let’s hope it won’t have to.  ❞ ❝  don’t ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash.  ❞ ❝  the sun will rise, and we will try again.  ❞ ❝  there’s demons in your mind and they scream when it’s too bright.  ❞ ❝  now only this seems clear: i need to move, i need to fight.  ❞ ❝  i'm going out, standing tall, i won’t let them break me.  ❞ ❝  do you walk in the shadow of men who sold their lives to a dream?  ❞ ❝  if you think i can’t hold my own, believe me, i can.  ❞ ❝  can it be i stayed away too long?  ❞ ❝  yeah, stay with me forever, now what you say? ❞ ❝  who imagined that cruel ending?  ❞ ❝  come on. come a little closer.  ❞ ❝  why do you want to spend your precious time filling with hate?  ❞ ❝  we’re always connected, aren’t we?  ❞ ❝  you’re exactly what you’re meant to be. there ain’t nothing wrong with you.  ❞ ❝  actually, i am so greedy only for me.  ❞ ❝  i called your name every day. a thousand times. ten million times.  ❞ ❝  your silence is my favourite sound.  ❞ ❝  i keep smiling like a person who is possessed by something.  ❞ ❝  embrace the darkness and i will help you see that you can be limitless and fearless.  ❞ ❝  look in the mirror and tell me what you see. is it still you?  ❞ ❝  my home is a girl with eyes like wishing wells.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i feel like i don’t wanna smile.  ❞ ❝  by day and night, and even early morning, i have your face in my mind. ❞ ❝  in your twinkling eyes i feel like i’m going to melt. ❞ ❝  i’m falling under your spell.  ❞ ❝  don’t make me hate you more.  ❞ ❝  i don’t even know me. i can’t explain.  ❞ ❝  if you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed.  ❞ ❝  i need to ask you questions like: would you want to dance?  ❞ ❝  it’s too late to change events. it’s time to face the consequence.  ❞ ❝  and for every king that died, oh, they’d crown another.  ❞ ❝  i know sometimes you get so caught in a dream, but now it’s time to wake up from this.  ❞ ❝  when the stars look down on me, what do they see?  ❞ ❝  i miss the friends i had to leave behind.  ❞ ❝  if i had a heart i could love you.  ❞ ❝  the more you say, the less i know.  ❞ ❝  your heart’s a mess. you won’t admit to it.  ❞ ❝  i do not want to be cold to you but you left me no choice again.  ❞ ❝  i’ll never be your chosen one.  ❞ ❝  what is fate revealing? will i survive or will i fall?  ❞ ❝  watch me make them bow one by one.  ❞ ❝  you leave no trace behind, like you don’t even exist.  ❞ ❝  in this twilight, how dare you speak of grace?  ❞ ❝  you know you’re fighting in a losing battle.  ❞ ❝  the only thing that’s holding me from going wrong is you holding me.  ❞ ❝  i keep looking at you and it feels like i've been staring at the sun.  ❞ ❝  if you love me, then say you love me.  ❞ ❝  i've seen enough now to know that beautiful things don’t always stay that way.  ❞ ❝  you better act your age or you’re gonna find yourself alone some day.  ❞ ❝  your silence is my favourite sound.  ❞ ❝  maybe one day, you’ll understand why everything you touch surely dies.  ❞ ❝  what if i told you that things will never improve?  ❞ ❝  you should never ever trust my kind.  ❞ ❝  as young as i was, i felt older back then. more disciplined, stronger and certain.  ❞ ❝  i know you miss the old days. the old days are gone.  ❞ ❝  i'm a wanted man, i got blood on my hands.  ❞ ❝  promise me that time won’t erase us.  ❞ ❝  your touch brought forth an incadescent glow, tarnished but so grand.  ❞ ❝  how am i gonna be an optimist about this?  ❞ ❝  you win some and you lose some. i’ve been losing for a while now.  ❞ ❝  my shadow’s the only one that walks beside me.  ❞ ❝  i know that i did you wrong, but will you trust me when i say i’ll make it up to you somehow?  ❞ ❝  about time for anyone telling you off for all your deeds.  ❞ ❝  quiet now, you’re gonna wake the beast.  ❞ ❝  you’re such a sweet young thing. why’d you do this to yourself?  ❞ ❝  this is a bad town for such a pretty face.  ❞ ❝  just know you’re not alone.  ❞ ❝  if i have to wait for you, i’ll do it and not give up as time goes by.  ❞ ❝  i don’t trust this thing that beats inside my chest.  ❞ ❝  i know i took the path you that you would never want for me.  ❞ ❝  sometimes i think of doing terrible things.  ❞ ❝  don’t you worry and lean on me.  ❞ ❝  i’ve wished for something endlessly...i seem to have finally found it.  ❞ ❝  all this bad blood, won’t you let it dry? it’s been cold by years, won’t you let it lie?  ❞ ❝  so softly i’ll remind you, of the ways you let me down.  ❞ ❝  now i’m a ghost of what i once was.  ❞ ❝  why don’t you place your hand in mine?  ❞ ❝  don’t be afraid. you know you are where you’re meant to be.  ❞ ❝  tell me, what you waiting for?  ❞ ❝  please, this is just too good to be gone.  ❞ ❝  you look like yourself but you’re somebody else.  ❞ ❝  don’t let the darkness eat you up.  ❞      ❝  i can hear your pulse racing from here.  ❞ ❝  to capture a predator, you can’t remain the prey.  ❞ ❝  heavy is the crown, but only for the weak.  ❞ ❝  to the ends of the earth, would you follow me?  ❞ ❝  i’ve told a million lies but now i tell a single truth.  ❞ ❝  you’re supposed to save me from me.  ❞ ❝  i think we both know the way this story ends.  ❞ ❝  i am a human being, capable of doing terrible things.  ❞ ❝  i heard a scream in the woods somewhere.  ❞ ❝  i do not feel nostalgia for a past life. a new chapter, new thoughts.  ❞ ❝  your traces remain and they torture me.  ❞ ❝  this is never gonna go our way if i’m gonna have to guess what’s on your mind.  ❞ ❝  do you feel the hunger? does it terrify you? or do you feel alive?  ❞ ❝  do you ponder the manner of things in the dark?  ❞ ❝  some legends are told, some will turn to dust or to gold, but you will remember me.  ❞ ❝  there's nothing that i'd take back but it's hard to say there's nothing i regret.  ❞ ❝  i’m sorry for everything. everything i’ve done.  ❞ ❝  time to let it go. it won’t let go of me.  ❞ ❝  i don’t want no one to know i’m vulnerable. why?  ❞ ❝  we just need to go through it and grow, don’t cry.  ❞ ❝  i’m not entirely here. half of me has disappeared.  ❞ ❝  can we always be this close forever and ever?  ❞ ❝  i love me. not so perfect but so beautiful.  ❞ ❝  i’m highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you.  ❞ ❝  i don’t care if your love is a risk to me, with you i bet everything.  ❞ ❝  i know if i’m haunting you, you must be haunting me.  ❞ ❝  i love the way you can see the good in everything.  ❞ ❝  i heard that evil comes disguised.  ❞ ❝  you are a mythical thing.  ❞ ❝  oh, stupid things i do, i’m far from good, it’s true.  ❞ ❝  you gotta be so cold to make it in this world.  ❞ ❝  anger destroys your soul.  ❞ ❝  don’t you tell me what you think that i can be.  ❞ ❝  your mind is playing tricks on you, my dear.  ❞ ❝  i might be proud, but at least i’m proud of something. you've taken pride in becoming nothing.  ❞ ❝  you got my attention, so what’s your intention?  ❞ ❝  what if i let you in and you don’t like what you see?  ❞ ❝  all the promises at sundown...i’ve meant them like the rest.  ❞ ❝  ain’t it warming you, the world going up in flames?  ❞ ❝  this sick, strange darkness comes creeping on, so haunting every time.  ❞ ❝  i don’t want to rest in peace. i’d rather be the ghost that annoys you.  ❞ ❝  i hope you know that i’d give it all for a moment with you.  ❞ ❝  maybe i’m hopeless, but i’m only human.  ❞ ❝  don’t look at me with those eyes.  ❞ ❝  you don’t know how lovely you are.  ❞ ❝  just say the word. we’ll take on the world.  ❞ ❝  i just need to know that you won’t forget about me.  ❞ ❝  the time has come when you and i must part.  ❞ ❝  i can see the pain in your eyes.  ❞ ❝  you’ve got a warm heart, but it’s disintegrating.  ❞ ❝  no light, no light in your bright blue eyes.  ❞ ❝  you’ve got a lot to say from the one that walked away.  ❞ ❝  i don’t even know if i believe everything you’re trying to say to me.  ❞ ❝  lay down your arms. i don’t wanna fight anymore.  ❞ ❝  they made a monster out of me.  ❞ ❝  i said i am no evil man then i paused as if convinced of what that meant.  ❞ ❝  no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart.   ❞ ❝  i belong with you, you belong with me. you’re my sweetheart.  ❞ ❝  i had the strangest feeling your world’s not all it seems.  ❞ ❝  yeah, remember when you wanted to forget me?  ❞ ❝  if you don’t love me now, you will never love me again.  ❞ ❝  i'll be laughing while you’re running. you won’t see me coming.  ❞ ❝  we created something phenomenal, don’t you agree?  ❞ ❝  i still dream ‘bout the good old days when we took care of each other.  ❞ ❝  this is the way that i will break you, my dear.  ❞ ❝  make sure nobody sees you leave.  ❞ ❝  i learned to be in love and learned to be alone, satisfied body and hungry soul.  ❞ ❝  sorry i was never good like you.  ❞ ❝  you know you will not gain strength from this path. you know you will not gain peace from this path. but you are addicted and on this path.  ❞ ❝  time cast a spell on you but you won’t forget me.  ❞ ❝  we’re connected by a thread. if we’re ever far apart, i’ll still feel the pull of you.  ❞ ❝  i’m still thinking, let’s pretend to fall asleep now.  ❞ ❝  i turned and ran to save a life i never had.  ❞     ❝  i’m not sorry. i’m just getting started.  ❞ ❝  i don’t think i can love anyone but you, dear, that’s for sure.  ❞ ❝  let me occupy your mind as you do mine.  ❞ ❝  i know that i caught your eye.  ❞ ❝  i wonder what’s on your mind.  ❞ ❝  the more that i fight it, the more that i think about it.  ❞ ❝  i’d rather be alone, i am not good in crowds. ❞ ❝  a voice within me keeps repeating: you --- you --- you.  ❞   ❝  what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?  ❞ ❝  tell me what do you mean when you say that we’re not okay.  ❞ ❝  i loved you then and i love you now.  ❞ ❝  when your eyes are closing, where do you wish you were instead? ❞ ❝  what if you hear the thoughts that haunt me in my sleep?  ❞ ❝  the light is coming to take back everything the darkness stole.  ❞ ❝  as much as i definitely enjoy solitude, i wouldn’t mind perhaps spending little time with you.  ❞ ❝  i feel that i’m finally growing weary of waiting to be consumed by you.  ❞ ❝  in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you.  ❞ ❝  it pains me to see you cry.  ❞ ❝  you will always be my favourite ghost.  ❞ ❝  every moment with you is like the first time.  ❞ ❝  started with a word, now look where we are.  ❞ ❝  you keep telling me that i’m wrong. your eyes only see what they want to see.  ❞ ❝  i just cannot make it through the day without thinking of you lately.  ❞ ❝  just say that you don’t want me, just say that you don’t need me. tell me i’m the fool.  ❞ ❝  we made the best of what we had, you know?  ❞ ❝  there’s an ache in you.  ❞ ❝  you are the ghost that rattles my bones.  ❞ ❝  i’m just as good as anybody. i’m just as bad as anybody.  ❞

#rp meme #roleplay meme #roleplay starters #long post for ts /

[yoditorian]

close to what

frankie morales/reader

as part of @din-damn-djarin‘s birthday song challenge, i picked dancing under red skies by dermot kennedy. it’s a favourite song of mine, i think it’s beautiful, and i felt like it fit this idea i’ve had swirling around for a little bit. this fic is extremely personal to me but it’s also not pretty. i don’t want to romanticise addiction or use it as a plot device, so PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

the support group and hospital drop-off box is drawn directly from my own experience. my inbox and ask box are always open if you need to talk, but i am by no means a professional. if you are struggling with themes of this fic a quick internet search should help you find resources local to you 💛

main masterlist

word count: 3.2k // warnings: addiction, PTSD, nightmares (inc. death mentions), recovery and relapse, therapy mentions, hospital mention, references to past substance abuse, implied reader is in addiction recovery, swears probably, ‘they’ as a pronoun in reference to the reader

Your ringtone is obnoxiously loud in the darkness of your bedroom but at least that means you don’t have to worry about where it is, reaching out blindly towards your nightstand where it blares by your head.

“You’re from the group thing, right? He’s mentioned you a few times.”

You don’t recognise the voice on the other end, maybe you should have checked who it was before answering. You pull the phone away from your ear for a second and glance at the time first, 4:03am. No call at four in the morning can involve good news. But it’s the name on the screen that has you wide awake in a split second: Frankie. 

“Is he okay?” You ask, putting whoever it is on speaker while you fumble for the lamp on your bedside table. An old sweater hangs over your bedpost, the logo of a sports team you’ve never heard of cracked and faded beyond recognition, and you tug it over your head in a panic.

“I don’t know, he’s locked himself in the bathroom. I just- he won’t come out. He won’t listen to me, he always listens to me.”

There’s a stifled something and a quiet knock. But no sound from Frankie, just the shaking sigh of the man you’re speaking to. He tells you his name quietly, Santiago, and you remember Frankie mentioning his oldest friend. An image pops up in your mind as you wrestle your jeans on, a fuzzy picture on Frankie’s phone screen, passed to you over the sticky table in a diner, of two men standing knee-deep in a river. Soaked to the bone but grinning ear to ear. Pope’s got him, if no one else has. That’s what he told you.

You stay on the phone with Santiago on the drive over, convincing yourself it's out of concern for him instead of the anxiety churning in your stomach. Frankie still makes no sound in the bathroom, the door stays locked, and you try not to think too hard before you have all the facts.

The Santiago that meets you at Frankie’s front door is a far cry from the man in the photograph. He looks exhausted, on the verge of tears. You’re pretty sure you’re not faring much better. 

“Last door,” He breathes, “Down the hall.”

You follow his instructions, finding the only closed door in the hallway and tapping lightly on the painted wood. Listening for a moment, you can just barely hear a shuddering breath. That’s better than nothing, at least it means he’s alive.

“Frankie?” You try, praying that he’ll relent when he realises it’s you. Santiago stands at the other end of the hall, wringing his hands together, phone trapped between his ear and his shoulder as he whispers frantically into it. He barely catches himself from crashing to his knees when the bathroom door clicks softly. 

“Can I come in?” You have to ask him. All this has to be on his terms, he has to set the boundaries. Anything less than that is dangerous, you won’t risk him hurting himself. 

He says nothing, but the door pulls back just a fraction of an inch and that’s all the confirmation you need. You push the door open enough to slip inside and shut it softly behind you again. 

Frankie’s sitting on the floor, his back against the bathtub and legs stretched out in front of him. A quick look over proves he’s not hurt, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief if it weren’t for the little ziplock bag between his knees. 

He’s very pointedly not looking at it, or you, instead choosing to glare at a spot on the ceiling. You maneuver yourself to sit opposite him, against the wall with your knees tucked up against your chest. 

“Did you take any?” It almost feels wrong to break the silence that’s settled over the two of you.

You wait with bated breath until he gives the slightest shake of his head. He hasn’t touched it. Okay, that’s the worst case scenario eliminated. It’s enough to have your heart rate calm a little, it doesn’t make things better by a long shot, but at least it’s something.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” You ask, picking at a loose thread of your sweatshirt. 

His chin falls to his chest and he pulls his knees up towards him and you’re sure this is it. This is where you lose him. But Frankie takes a deep breath. And then another. And then, he musters the courage to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t see pity, not like he thought he would. You don’t look disappointed or upset or angry, the way he was so sure you would be. You’re just waiting, letting him take the reins, he stores the knowledge away. In case he ever needs to dig you out.

“I don’t know what happened,” God, his throat is scratchy, “I just- I had a bad night. And I called Pope, and then-”

He breaks off with a heart-wrenching crack in his voice and you can’t help but reach out to him. Just a hand, stretched across the space between you. He holds onto you like his life depends on it.

“And I remembered I kept a bag on top of the medicine cabinet. And now you’re here.”

It’s to the point, simple, methodical. Like he’s back in the army and giving a flight report to his CO. You wonder if that’s what he needs right now, maybe spelling things out is better for him than asking what it is you can do. It’s easier, sometimes, when someone just tells you what’s going to happen. 

“Do you want to take it?” You have to know, for his safety if nothing else. You need him to tell you if there’s going to be a problem, if there’s a risk and he needs more than you. He knows you’re not going to walk out the door and give up on him if he says yes. 

It has to be his choice. 

Frankie shakes his head again, a grimace on his face like he feels sick at the thought, and you squeeze his fingers between yours. You need him to understand that he hasn’t failed, that he won’t fail. Tripping up and falling behind are part of the process, and you know he knows that. He’s been going to the support group longer than you have. Recovery is messy and far from simple. He’ll get back to where he was, one bad night isn’t going to ruin him.

Your lower back aches from the hardwood floor but you show no sign of discomfort, waiting until Frankie is completely back in his own head before you make any move to suggest where to go from here.

“There’s a drop-off box at the hospital, you fancy a drive?” You keep his hand in yours, terrified that he’ll slip back if you let go. 

God, he hates this. He hates that he can’t even look at you for more than a few seconds without his resolve threatening to crack. He hates that you’re not angry at him for any of it, not even a little bit. He deserves anger, he deserves your disappointment.

You were never supposed to see him like this, that much he’s sure of. Or, he convinced himself of at least. He’s been going to group and therapy and he’s kept up his tests and he’s stayed far away from anything that might even tempt him a little. And that was before you even showed up. Standing awkwardly in the doorway with a nervous smile and eyes the size of dinner plates. But he’d been by your side in a flash, asking you to give him a hand setting up chairs, and that was it. 

Frankie knows the ins and outs of recovery, you don’t need to tell him that he hasn’t failed. But he can’t help feeling like maybe he never really started in the first place, leaving that one bag out of sight. Life had been busy enough to preoccupy him, between everything else he kind of just forgot about it. He let it gather dust and it should have stayed that way. 

And then, it felt like he was falling out of the sky. And he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Nightmares aren’t an unusual thing for him, or for any former soldier, but the memories they stem from seem to warp into something else entirely when he’s too tired to pay attention. Sometimes he’s alone in the helicopter, sometimes he’s with family, sometimes strangers. It was his team tonight. A vivid memory of a time he almost couldn’t save them. 

The crash never happened, he knows that. He’d righted the bird and got his team to safety the way he knew he could. But that knowledge doesn’t stop his mind from wandering, from drowning him in fear when he imagines what might have happened had he not done his job. If they’d crashed in the middle of nowhere. Would any of them have died on impact? Would they have been left stranded, wounded and starving? He’s woken up in a cold sweat too many times, each ending more horrific than the last.

Tonight had been the last straw. And Frankie had found himself in his bathroom, patting along the top of the medicine cabinet, before he could even realise what he was doing.

He’d called Santiago, still blinking back images of his best friend’s bloody and lifeless face, just to hear his voice initially. But he hadn’t managed to explain anything past the sob lodged in his throat, and he’d heard the jingle of car keys before he could tell Pope he didn’t need to drive all the way across town at two o’clock in the morning. 

At least nobody had called Will, because that would have meant that Benny would have shown up too. Maybe even Tom would have dragged his ass out of bed. Frankie didn’t need to disappoint all his friends in one night. 

Santiago is bound by friendship, best and oldest, he’d never say anything if Frankie didn’t want him to. And you, you’re bound by- well, you’re not really bound by anything. You could get up off of his bathroom floor right now and never look back. Get to your feet, and walk right out of his life. But you won’t. 

He knows you won’t because you’re still holding tight to his hand, even though the angle and distance has you leaned forward awkwardly. You’re still looking at him like you believe in him, even though he almost threw everything he’s worked so hard for down the drain. You’re here, despite everything. Despite only knowing him for a couple of months, despite getting a call from a stranger at four in the morning, despite everything he’s done to be undeserving of anything good or kind in his life.

You’re here, still, looking at him like he can do anything. That’s something. That’s enough for him.

“I don’t even want to look at it.” Frankie croaks, and keeps his eyes steady on yours even as his voice wavers. To anybody else, he might sound unsure. But you hear that steely determination underneath it all, the same one that’s convinced you to keep moving any time you’ve faltered. 

“That’s okay, I can take it.” You waste no time in snapping the little bag up in your free hand, and stuffing it in your back pocket. A phone rings in the hall, hurriedly answered, and you suddenly remember the other man waiting outside.

Frankie’s still looking at you, dark eyes unsteady and unsure, and you squeeze his fingers to ground him. He comes back to you, slowly, and takes a few shaky breaths. 

“Do you want him to come with, or?” You leave the question open. His choice, entirely, the way everything tonight has been. He lost control for a moment and fought, tooth and nail, to get it back. You can’t take any decision about this away from him.

He shakes his head, loosens his grip on your hand, and asks you to give him a minute. It hurts, leaving him alone on his bathroom floor. But he’ll come out, you’re certain of that much.

“Is-” Santiago cuts himself off when you emerge and pull the door just shy of closed behind you, like he’s afraid to even ask the question. Let alone know the answer.

“He’ll be okay. We’re taking his last stash to the drop-off box.”

Santiago’s whole body sags in relief, and you can’t help but lean against the wall for support yourself. The little ziplock bag in your back pocket is a weight you don’t think you’ll ever stop carrying, even after it’s disposed of, but you’re more than happy to bear it when Frankie steps out of the bathroom and Santiago tugs him into a hug that almost breaks his ribs.

It’s easy to forget, when you get that low, that you have people. But they’ll always show up when you call. 

You leave them to their moment and shuffle back through to the main room, your car keys and phone left on the kitchen counter where you’d abandoned them. You’re not sure why you bother checking your messages, maybe it’s to keep your hands busy, maybe it’s so you don’t feel like you’re intruding on Frankie and his oldest friend. They speak in hushed tones as your thumbnail scratches back and forth across a crack in your screen protector. 

“I’m sorry.” Frankie’s voice is rough, muffled into the other man’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be,” Pope squeezes him just a little tighter before pulling back far enough to look him in the eye, “Be sorry you didn’t tell me they were so pretty.” 

It should feel odd, the way that he speaks as though the last few hours haven’t even happened. How a simple, harmless joke is all it takes for Frankie’s heart to settle. Pope doesn’t hate him, couldn’t hate him, 

“Didn’t I?” A shy, shaky smile settles on his features as Santiago stifles a yawn, “Crash here tonight, you’re not driving anywhere on no sleep.” 

Ever the caretaker, even in the wake of his worst moments. It’s a hard habit to break after all they’ve been through. Something tells Frankie, even as Pope relents and walks through to the living room to find a blanket and settle on the couch, he’ll still be awake once they get back. 

You’re quiet when he follows you out of his apartment, quiet as your footsteps echo in the stairwell, quiet when you cross the street to your car and unlock the doors. Part of him still worries that you’re disappointed, that you’re angry or upset or that he’s fucked up so bad that you’ve already decided to drop him home without a word and he’ll never hear from you again.

But another look at you out of the corner of his eye as you plug your seatbelt in disproves any other theory he might have. You’re quiet because you know that he doesn’t need you to talk, that he just needs you right here beside him so he can be brave enough to take the next step.

The radio is playing some acoustic, folky sounding song that neither of you have heard before, and it’s comforting to just sit and absorb the peace of the night as you drive. You’re conscious of Frankie’s eyes on you, although you’re sure he’s trying to be subtle about his staring. His seemingly unwavering attention does little to quiet the voice you’ve been hearing in the back of your mind for the last few weeks.

He still can’t quite believe it. That you’d wake up, in the middle of the night, and haul ass across town for him. For him. Something about it somehow makes ribcage feel like it's about to burst and cave in at the same time. But now is definitely not the time to be thinking about the tiny baby crush he may or may not be developing on you. 

You don’t miss the way he tenses when you pull into the hospital parking lot, muscles locked so tight that a stiff breeze could shatter him into pieces. He turns to you when you say his name softly, and his eyes are wide with a terror so familiar that your heart breaks in your chest.

“I can’t do it.” He chokes the admission out like it’s poison, and in just four words you can hear every ounce of hatred he has for himself in this moment. He thinks he’s weak, because he can’t even throw a little plastic bag into a hatch, because he can’t even bring himself to move. 

“That’s okay. Did you want me to?” You offer, it’s plain as day on his face that he doesn’t know how to ask you.

You’re grateful for the unusual warmth of the night when you step out of the car, comfortable enough not to need a jacket at this time of day. The sky is just starting to turn that odd shade of blue-grey, the barest hints of dawn on the horizon. Another day, just like tomorrow will be. Sometimes, the next day is all you can hope for. 

The metal handle is cold when you wrap your hand around it and haul the creaky hatch open, you fish the bag out of your pocket and don’t even pay it a second glance as you set it on the little shelf and let the door snap shut. Gone. But you can still feel it eating away at you, you can still see how it weighs on Frankie’s shoulders when you shuffle across the concrete and climb back into the car.

He says he’s not hungry when you ask, and you don’t push it. He’ll eat when he’s ready. He’ll live when he’s ready. You don’t mind, you’ve got a better idea anyway.

“Where are we going?” He asks when he realises you’re heading completely the opposite way from his apartment building. You shoot him a smile, turning your eyes back to the road before you can read too far into the look in his eyes. 

The beach is dead, just like you thought it would be, and you’re grateful as you shut off the engine. 

“We are gonna throw rocks in the sea.” You say and part of him wonders if you’ve always known exactly what he needs. 

If someone had told Frankie, twenty four hours ago, that he’d be skipping pebbles on the sea with you at sunrise, he would have laughed. But here he is, flecks of the rising sun on the sea reflecting on your face, and you’re smiling at him like that as a breeze ruffles his hair. Maybe this is all he needs to find the courage to stare right down the barrel of his faults. He doesn’t know how you do it, maybe you can do it together.

You reach over and take his hand when you spot the lone tear tracking its way down his cheek. 

“You’ll be alright. I promise.” You smile just as the sun finally breaks fully over the horizon, sky streaked with orange and pink. 

“Yeah, I know.” Frankie can’t help but smile back.

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