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thatsarcasticgemini · 3 years

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Alone time

Ash Lynx x reader

A/n: Banana fish broke me, but writing is my coping mechanism, so...This is an AU where Ash and the reader are married and live in Japan, Ash being a model. Also, Shorter is alive cause I said do ( i would die for him to live tbh). I am so sorry for any mistakes.

Babysitting is a very challenging task, especially when the kid is a carbon copy of the most intelligent, cheeky and bratty man Eiji had ever met. Isaac Callenreese was giving the man a headache and pills were not fixing it. Sure, he knew what he was getting into and knew how much Ash and Y/N needed a break from parenting, but why on earth did he agree? At least Shorter was there to help him right?

Wrong! Shorter was like a second kid. Yelling, running, coloring, making a mess and getting little Isaac even more agitated. Just how much energy did the 5 year old have?

“Shorter, please! You are 30! Your playing days are over. You’re gonna break something and I will yell. I almost had Isaac under control, but then you came along to ruin the peace we had. Isaac come here right now or I’ll call Ash!”

“Jeez, Eiji...you almost sound like a grandpa! I haven’t seen Isaac in about a year. I missed him a lot, you know? Little gremlin did a lot of growing up!” said Shorter, with the same goofy smile he had all those years ago. Isaac was seated on the his lap, looking up at his favourite uncle with a wide grin. Based off the resemblance between him and Ash, Eiji could already sense some sort of comment coming.

“Nuh-uh. I wanna stay right here. Call dad “dad” please. And I love uncle Shorter, he’s taller, funnier and smarter than you, uncle Ji. He was telling me how dad knows how to ride a motocycle! It doesn’t get better than this!”

“Yes it does. If you stay quiet for five more minutes, I can get the rice done and I can tell you how Ash and Y/N..”

“Mom and dad, uncle Ji!”

“How mom and dad met while we eat. Does that sound nice?”

“Dunno, let me ask uncle Shorter too.” The two began whispering to each other while Eiji rolled his eyes. Just one more hour and Ash would be here to pick his spawn up. After a minute, both Shorter and Isaac nodded their heads and went to sit down at the kitche table.

Once the table was set and the rice was done cooking, Eiji put it is bowls are brought it to the table. They all dug in, but Isaac seemed to be watching Eiji with great intrest, expecting the story he was promised.

“So Ash and Y/N...”

“Mom and dad. Continue uncle Ji.”

“Mom and dad met around 9 years ago. They met here, in Tokyo, and I am proud to announce that I am the one who got them to meet up, since Y/N went to the same highschool as me. We were both on the drama club in my third year. She was about 2 years younger than me, but she was so mature. Anyway, they started dating around three months after they met. The had a really pretty relationship. You dad was so hooked he embarrassed himself in front of her on multiple ocations. They got married two years later, lived together for two more years and then you came along. You were a very loved little boy. I wish I took a picture of the face your dad made when he held you for the first time.”

“Yeah! He teared up, but don’t tell him you know. You had this little puff of blond hair on your head, it was as fluffy as the little kitty we saw this morning, if not fluffier.” Isaac had look in his eyes that Eiji had only seen once before and that was when Ash told him about Dino and his childhood. The tiny blond seemed to be so vulnarable almost like a porcelain figure.

“What about mom? Was she happy to see me?” There it was. The love Isaac, much like his father, held for her. It was like they would both die if it wasn’t for her love.

“Well of course she was. She really loves you, you know? Your mom loved you even before she had the pleasure of holding you. You have been one of her favourite people ever since she found out you were in her belly. They both love you a lot.”

“Then why am I here? Why wouldn’t they take me with them? Why do they want alone time?” Eiji couldn’t find an answer. He looked at Shorter, who still had that dumb grin.

“Well, Isaac, mom and dad need to rest every once in a while. Since mom got pregnant with your brother or sister, she hasn’t really been able to rest properly, so dad wanted alone time with her to help her rest, but I am sure they will both be so very happy to see you.”

Just like magic, there was a knock at the door, Eiji went to open it, while Isaac trailed behind him, with his little backpack in hand. The door opened to reveal Ash and the boy jumped in his arms at the speed of light.

“Wow! Hi bub! I missed you so much. How was today hmm? Did you have fun with uncle Ji and uncle Shorter? Were they nice to you?”

“Mhm, they told me how you and mama met. I miss mama, is she in the car?”

“No bub, she’s at home. She missed you too. Told me we should race all of the cars and get home in under ten minutes. We have cake.” And with that, Isaac was set back on the ground and the little boy dashed to the car.

“Damn gremlin didn’t even say bye. Here i was thinking we have something special.”

“Hi Shorter! Hi Eiji! I can’t thank you enough for tonight. She really needed it.”

“It’s ok Ash. He is a little loud and Shorter here is never truly helpful, but it’s our pleasure. Are Y/N and the baby ok?”

“Hm, not really. I mean the baby seems to be fine, but she isn’t. Throws up everything she eats. The doctor said it is because her body is getting used to the pregnancy, but this didn’t happen when we had Isaac. I’m just worried for her.”

“She’s strong. She can take it I’m sure.” Shorter nodded, agreeing with Eiji’s statement.

“I know Eiji, I’m not worried about that. Truth is she seems happy to be pregnant. She’s beaming all the time, even after she got everything she ate out, and I feel bad. I feel like she’s in pain. Her smile makes me feel even worse.” Shorter laid a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, taking his sunglasses off.

“Ash...listen to me. Y/N is someone who’s never lied to you about anything. She’s been genuine about everything. She would never fake a smile and she would tell you if she wanted to abort the baby. The fact that she’s smiling and being her bubbly self only means that the pregnacy isn’t that hard on her. Trust me Ash. I see the look in her eyes when the baby is brought up in any conversation. She’ll be fine. You’ll be a bigger family. Loosen up a little.”

“Thank you Shorter. I owe both of you a drink. I’ll call you. Thank you for babysitting again.” And with that, all three of tehm smiled at each other while Ash picked the tiny shark backpack and went back to the car.

Once inside, the older blond turned towards the younger one, smiling.

“Ready to see mom, bub?”

“Mhm! Is she feeling better?”

“Yep.”

The car ride was one of the happy moments Ash wanted to hold onto. The sang together and talked about how Shorter told Isaac about the motorcycle.

“It’s true, you know? I do know how to ride one. When you’re older, I can teach you too.”

“I wanna ride one now. I’ve seen my friends with theirs, I want one too!”

“Those are lame. I’m talking about the real ones. That’s the true fun.”

Once at home, Ash dropped everything on the floor and went to help his son hung his coat on the wall. The little boy jumped out of his red sneakers and ran down the hall yelling for his mom.

“In the kitchen baby. I was cutting you a slice of cake.It’s vanilla, since I know you like the chocolate one’s less. Where’s daddy?”

“Right behind you.” said Ash, placing his hands on her hips and swaying her a little. She turned around to give him a kiss on the cheek, but her 5 month bump got in the way, making her pull a frustred face and Ash smile even more. Isaac pushed his dad to the side a little, making grabby hands at his mom. No matter how old he acted, his real age was always given away by his gestures around his mom.

Getting his slice of cake, Isaac turned back towards the living room. Eating on the couch was never truly forbidden.

“Mama, tomorrow is Yuri’s birthday. He celebrating it at home, I have the invitation in my drawing notebook. Can I go?”

“Sure you can. we just have to go buy a gift in the morning.”

“A birthday huh? That means a little more alone time for us two.” Y/N hid her face in her husband’s neck, smiling a little. Ash’s finger went to the back of her neck, getting her to look up at him to give her a kiss, but then...

“Gross! He likes cars mama, go brainstorm on that insted of smooching dad in the kitchen!”

#ash lynx x reader #ash lynx #shorter wong #eiji okumura #banana fish

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noctumbra · 4 years

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peaches: vi ─ two

summary ─ her voice was low and soft; she was talking to bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. she was expecting him to be mad at her, bucky realized. bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

pairing ─ dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ mentions of depression, crying, angst, jealousy, smut, +18, wall sex , what comes around goes around aka karma bitch

a/n ─ don’t be mad at me for the ending :))))) i’m just here to post this part, and i’ll be gone again. you guys have waited enough. i finished it just now and didn’t want to make you wait even more. please leave a feedback! thank you <3 i don’t own the gif. (ps: bucky now looks exactly like seb does in the gif)

series masterlist ─ part one

It had been… Bucky didn’t know how long, he stopped counting a while ago. He had been living in his bed for a while. The last time he left home was… the night he got his heart broken cruelly. He haven’t left his house ever since; he was getting the groceries delivered once in a week ─on Wednesdays─, forcing himself to eat at least half a sandwich or a bowl of oatmeal, also forcing himself to take care of his hygiene once in three days.

If he stopped doing even one of them, he knew he would crash very badly. Bucky was trying not to crash. His latest crush had been bad, and he really didn’t want to repeat that.

Bucky sighed as he closed his laptop. He had to go to the company for a meeting that couldn’t be done on Skype, but his delivery was about to come. He stood from his home-office desk and went to his bedroom. He could get ready while waiting the delivery, right?

“Gotta shave first, though,” Bucky murmured to himself as he saw his reflection on the mirror. His hair was longer, fluffier and somewhat curly. He now had a full-grown beard going on; it was dark brown and thick and looked unkempt. He ignored the very dark circles under his eyes. He ran his fingers through the beard. It looked unkempt, yes, but it wasn’t so bad, Bucky thought as his eyes assessed the situation. He could fix the fuzzy look and then have a proper haircut on his way to company.

Yeah, that would make him look decent.

Bucky nodded to himself and threw himself in the shower to wash away the day’s sweat. In ten minutes he was out, with a scissors in his hand, he was fixing his beard. It only took him three minutes and his beard already looked better than it did five minutes ago. Bucky dried his hair and brushed his teeth, finishing up the bathroom. As he stepped back into his bedroom, he heard the doorbell ring. He swore lightly and grabbed his sweatpants that he threw on his bed hastily.

“Coming!” Bucky yelled while trying to find his wallet. Letting out a small sound of triumph, Bucky ran towards the door. “There you go─” He lifted his head as he extended his cash filled hand.

But it wasn’t the delivery guy.

“Hello,” she murmured. Bucky looked at her, frozen. “I, um, wanted to check up on you because, uh, we haven’t heard from you for a while and… Papa got worried because he said that you looked upset while you were leaving, so, um.” She stopped talking.Bucky didn’t say anything but blinked. A part of him couldn’t believe that she was here, worried about him, but the other part of him was suspicious because it wasn’t her, Sam was the real worried one. Bucky knew that she didn’t care about him enough to worry just because she didn’t see him for a month.

“Dad said to leave you alone, said that if you wanted to see or talk to people, you would, but Papa didn’t buy it,” she continued. Her voice was low and soft; she was talking to Bucky like she would speak with a wild animal. She was expecting him to be mad at her, Bucky realized. Bucky wanted to laugh at her face while crying.

“So?” Bucky finally spoke, his voice was cold. “You’ve seen me, checked up on me. You can go back.” He made a move to close the door, but she stopped him before he could close it fully.

“Bucky─”

“I can’t,” Bucky said. “I gotta be at the company in two hours.” He tried to close the door again, but she wasn’t letting him fucking close it. “Step back,” Bucky snarled.

“I wanna talk,” she said, looking at his eyes. Bucky clenched his jaw.

“There isn’t anything to talk, now step back,” Bucky murmured through his clenched teeth. She wasn’t giving up, though, Bucky realized. “Y/N.” He warned.

“No, I wanna talk. Quit being stubborn,” she hissed at him, and Bucky ─ just snapped. With a growl, Bucky opened the door and pulled her inside. Her back slammed against the wall even before the door was closed.

“Stubborn?” He hissed. His face was so close to hers, the tips of their noses were brushing against each other. “I said I don’t want to talk, and you’re calling me stubborn? You got a fucking nerve, kid,” Bucky continued to hiss at her angrily. He was so angry, so sad, he just couldn’t help himself. “You’re tellin’ me that I don’t worth your time, that I’m not good enough for you─” Bucky felt himself choke on the words, but swallowing harshly, he continued.

“I ain’t stubborn, Y/N. I’m just heartbroken. I’m just ─ hurt,” Bucky finished with a snarl and pulled himself off of her. “When I said I don’t want to talk, I said it because I don’t want to be reminded of my heartbreak. I don’t want to recall that time again so that I can be sad after you leave. I’ve been hurt enough in this lifetime, I don’t want to be hurt anymore. Enough.” Bucky’s voice cracked as his eyes filled with tears slowly, he hated how his eyes got teary whenever he was angry. His chest was moving up and down with the adrenaline that was running through his bloodstream. She wasn’t so different: Her eyes were huge, lips parted, and she was panting. Bucky saw tears in his eyes and barely held his scoff back. Bucky turned around and opened the door. “Leave.” She stood on shaky legs and took a couple steps forward.

What Bucky didn’t expect was for her to slam the door shut and wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

Bucky let out a shocked little noise and tried to push her away, but he missed this so much. He missed her so much. It was maybe a bit masochist of him, but he wanted this. He wanted her back, wanted her beautiful presence and gorgeous body in his life back.

Fuck the heartbreak, Bucky thought, and he pushed her against the wall again, a growl escaping from his half-parted lips.

Caging her body between his and the wall, Bucky placed his left hand on her jaw. His right hand sneaked into her hair, grabbing a fistful, as he deepened the kiss. He was swallowing every single little moan, or whimper she was letting out.

It was only him who could hear those delicious sounds.

It was only him who could draw out those moans out of her.

It was only him who could treat her right, Bucky knew it goddammit, she was his.

Snarling possessively, both of his hands moved south on her body. Bucky grabbed her thighs in his palms so that he could hike her body higher. She let out a little gasp when Bucky lifted her easily and helped her wrap her legs around his waist. Her hands grabbed his hair and pulled painfully when she felt his mouth latch on the exposed skin of her neck. Bucky groaned at the delicious sting on his skull.

“Bucky, oh!” She moaned, “Please!” Bucky chuckled against the soft skin beneath his lips. Her body was trying to move, grind, between his and the wall. Bucky tsked teasingly.

“You don’t deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky murmured. His eyes were closed. His left hand that was on her jaw was now around her throat, loose. Bucky felt his fingers twitched with the almost unstoppable want of curling around that throat and maybe squeezing just a little. Growling under his breath, Bucky sniffed, filling his lungs with her soft, peach scent. The tears stung in his eyes: He missed smelling peaches on you so much.

“Bucky?” Her voice called out to him softly, worry hiding in that soft tone. “Are you okay?” Bucky knew that if he tried to speak, he’d probably just let out a sob, so he just nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you like this. I’m sorry.” Bucky shook her head.

“Shut up,” he grunted, and his lips were onto her again.

She whimpered into his kiss. Her hands were now on both sides of his face rather than pulling his hair. She was holding his face so gently, Bucky’s sobs started to threaten him to let out even more. Bucky ignored them. He tilted his head and let his lips stroke her swollen and slick ones. Her tongue traced an innocent line over his bottom lip, and Bucky groaned gently.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips. Her hands were trailing south slowly. Her fingertips were dancing on his naked torso, sending hot lick of arousal down Bucky’s spine. “I missed you. Bucky─ Sir, I need you,” she sobbed. “Please…”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “You do not deserve my kindness, Y/N,” Bucky repeated his words, his head hanging low. He should have pulled back and told to go home, but instead of doing that, Bucky let his fingertips graze over her clothed core. He needed her, too. He needed to feel her skin against his.

Taking a hold of her sweatpants, Bucky lowered and let go of her enough to pull them off. Then, she was up against the wall again with Bucky’s sweatpants pooling around his ankles. “He’s not me. He can never be me, you understand, Y/N?” Bucky asked, his voice was cold and demanding. She whimpered.

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured. Her eyes were black, tears were dry on her cheeks, lips were swollen and her hair was a mess. She looked so good and all Bucky’s. Bucky couldn’t help but moan at his own thoughts, and he grabbed her jaw to tilt her head back. He wanted eye contact.

“If you do this to me again, Y/N, I’ll lose it,” he whispered, “You hear me? I’ll fucking lose it. You’re mine, peaches.”

She whimpered, hips grinding against his slowly. “Will always be yours, sir, Bucky. Yes, I hear you, sir.” Bucky smiled darkly, satisfied with the answer he got. His free hand slipped under her t-shirt, his fingers stroking the line of her breast. She came here prepared, he thought. Rumbling deep in his chest, his hand closed over the swell of her breast and he squeezed. She moaned, head tilting back even more. Bucky nosed the line of her jaw and took a deep breath.

Bucky pushed his hips forward and helped her grind right on his cock. Moaning, Bucky pinched her nipple. “The sounds you make…” He murmured. “Mmm.”

“Sir─” She choked over her own moan when the tip of his cock brushed against her clit. Bucky grunted and ground her harder on his cock. It felt too good to feel her juices coating him in the filthiest way possible. It felt too good to have her under him back.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned and let go of her breast to grab his cock. He squeezed the base for couple seconds before he lined up. “No one will make you feel things that I can, Y/N,” he said, voice hard as steel and cold as ice. “You can’t find me in different men.”

She just whined. The words were failing her ever since she stepped inside, so she just whined and continued to grind. Bucky smirked and lined his cock. With one thrust, he was inside of her scorching heat. Her soft walls were clenching down on him, and Bucky thought he could come any second.

“Oh, fuuck─” Bucky choked on his moan. Resting his head on her shoulder, Bucky put his now free hand on the wall. His hips started to thrust: Slow at first, but the pace got faster as his desperation increased. His cock hitting her sweet spot with every single thrust, she cried out. Her nails were digging in and creating angry lines on Bucky’s back, but the physical pain was spurring Bucky faster.

His thrusts got deeper, harder and faster, and soon enough she was crying and screaming with pleasure. “Fuck, sir! Yes, right there, yes please, please!” She whined, sobbed and choked on her moans. Bucky was going delirious with the sounds she was letting out. He growled and brought his hand to grab her breast through her t-shirt.

“God,” he grunted. “Shit, peaches, so fucking good. So tight, wet. You hear that sounds? It’s your slick, baby,” Bucky moaned this time. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re drenching my thighs, honey, fuck.”

She molded her body against his and started to respond his thrusts with her own. Bucky snarled and pulled her off from the wall and shed her from her t-shirt. Now with the easy access to her breasts, Bucky plastered her back against the wall and leaned forward. Bucky took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked harshly.

“Ah!” She exclaimed with the sudden extra sensation. Her hands found Bucky’s hair and pulled. Bucky just grunted, hips driving even deeper now, he continued to suck on her nipple. Sometimes his teeth would graze the areola, bite down softly, Bucky made her lose it.

She screamed, back arching and pushing her chest to his mouth even more, she clamped down around him and came. Bucky groaned with the tightness around his cock. He forgot how tight her pussy got whenever she came. Bucky felt his balls tighten, too, his stomach was cramping softly. He was close, oh, he was so close.

“Fuck, fuck, ah!” With one last thrust, Bucky came inside of her.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that against the wall, but Bucky blinked and pulled out slowly. He still needed to go to the company. Delivery guy would be here any minute, too, he thought, and pulled on his sweatpants.

Bucky watched her collect herself. She put her panties and sweatpants on and grabbed the t-shirt that Bucky discarded on the floor. When she lifted her head, she got a hopeful look in her eyes. Bucky frowned slightly.

“Bucky…” She started, her lips curled up with a soft smile.

“I don’t forgive you,” he cut her off. “I don’t know when will I do that, or ever to be honest.” Her face fell and she suddenly got angry.

“You─ used me? If you didn’t forgive me, then why did you fuck me, huh?” Bucky looked at her with his eyebrows raised and an amused smirk on his lips. “I can’t fucking believe you!” She hissed at him. Bucky let out a dark laugh.

“This,” Bucky said. “This is how I felt when you said those things to me in your kitchen. That’s what you did to me. You used me and discarded me like I’m trash, Y/N. That’s exactly how I felt that night.” She looked like she had been slapped, and Bucky enjoyed that look a little too much. She needed to understand how she made him feel that night. She had to. “Now you know,” Bucky finished his words and opened the door. “I’ll call your parents and let them know I’m still alive. Thank you for coming by.”

She looked at him like she wanted to say something, but the look on his face made her decide against it. She put her hair into a bun and walked out. “I’m sorry,” she murmured before Bucky closed the door on her face.

I deserved it, she thought. It does hurt like motherfucker. She chuckled to herself bitterly and went back to her house.

She needed to earn his forgiveness, she knew that much, and she was going to do right by him. Whatever it takes, she was going to do it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #dadsbestfriend!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes x reader #peaches

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askhubertvonvestra · 3 years

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hubert, what type of physical affection is your favourite? do you like to be held against a loved ones chest with their arms around you? have your hair stroked and scalp scratched? light fingers drawing patterns on your back? a shoulder rub after a tense and stressful day? feeling a lover’s skin against your own? and don’t just say “nothing”, everyone craves some type of touch!

That is too bold. If existent at all, such information is not something I would have publicly accessible. What relevance does it hold for you to know what sort of physical affection I prefer, if any? We are at war, and our priorities go well beyond how our forces spend their personal time outside of combat. Being an Adrestian general and minister to the Imperial household does not exclude me from such consideration.

[Yep, I’m here to spill the beans again, lol. To the surprise of absolutely no one, what kind of physical affection he prefers really depends on the situation and who it is that’s offering. Alois is getting a hard no if he ever tries to hug Hubert, but people close to him are fairly likely to get a yes. (I know I have Hubert hug every anon who asks, but that’s too cute to pass up. So here we are.)

There are times when Hubert is strictly in a state of mind where you Cannot touch him at all. Keenly paranoid and on edge like that, his skin is just crawling at the idea and he wants nothing to do with any kind of physical comfort or affection. Hubert’s in a resting state of being watchful and borderline paranoid as it is, but there’s a sort of tension to that extreme version of it that makes it pretty clear he’s not up for any sort of touch.

On a fluffier note, he does like physical affection more than he lets on. A little goes a long way with him. A touch on his shoulder, resting a hand over his, that sort of thing. In a romantic relationship, he finds it easier to do things like being held against a loved one’s chest and let them hug him while he just relaxes for once in his life. The right person could run their hands through his hair, but he’d take a bit to get there without feeling tense and restless. Hubert would just rather be giving than receiving, however unhealthy that is, and it takes time for him to come around to accepting affection and care that way.

I personally headcanon that his back is especially sensitive, so he would actually be opposed to drawing patterns or shoulder massages or any of that until much, much later into a relationship. There’s a lot of emotional baggage associated with gentle touches, and he’s got to take it slow.

His favorite physical affection, though, is probably having a loved one’s head in his lap or against his shoulder/arm while he reads to them. Because he’s a nerd and acts of service are his number one love language, so physical comfort and contact is at its best for Hubert when he’s doing something for them.]

#you asked and I was all too happy to answer (even if Hubert hated that)#it's our little secret shhhhhh #long answer #ooc #headcanon #fe3h headcanon #fe headcanon #hubert von vestra headcanon #hubert von vestra #fe3h hubert #fe16 hubert #fe hubert #fire emblem hubert #ask hubert von vestra #ask hubert #anon ask

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jabberwockprince · 3 years

Photo

redesign of my first and beloved tiefling, Silence Z’hendix Pix

he’s now fluffier and has an easier hair to draw (for me at least) but still loves colorful strings and gold :punch: :pensive: on the left is his current self as we left it on the campaign and on the right is the mandatory kid version

also also random facts, ramblings about him and the old designs under the cut

okay so ORIGINALLY he covered his OWN FUCKING HORNS with his braids because of some asinine shit about his family being war criminals and being recognized by their very distinct horn shape (its deadass bnuuy ears shape) but for the redesign i’ve decided that he just. breaks off his own horns and replaces them with prosthetic ones - yes, shiny ones, his entire thing is “im running away from the military and the government for deserting, so i must become a super extravagant and annoying bard, yeah that’ll throw them off, they’re looking for someone with depression” so getting shiny golden horns isn’t too weird

the eye and star freckles are bc this mf subclassed in warlock and made a pact with a star, Howl Pendragon style yes.

he gets to keep his mama’s pearl earrings forever bc it makes me soft and cry everytime i remember. and he still loves colorful strings bc i love the colors

dont think too much about the inconsistent eyelashes, they’re light yellow but i forgot while drawing the left one

his left side (shoulders and back) are scarred bc of that Funny Time He Spent At The Military :tm: (the military being the clearly obvious evil authoritarian empire in the entire campaign, our Big Bad) where they just Mark Every New Recruit With A Tattoo and obviously you cant just have that if youre a sexy tiefling on the run, so. you know. slime acid.

there was also something about his family having a tradition that involved cutting your right ear off to honour the founding member of the family - which is later something that makes Sil go “maybe I really come from a cultist family, no wonder communicating with these specific deities was so damn easy” and he’d be 100% right

BASICALLY his family was founded by Chastity Z’hendix Pix, a tiefling who went “yeah, I know about religion, watch this” and created a sex cult worshipping an ancient deity - so this idiot is the reason every Z’hendix Pix has to :

cut their ear, as one does during family dinners

have an adjective/noun name but make it ironic (SILENCE being a loud ass bard, CHASTITY beign a sex cult leader, etc)

get casually approached by some deity (which one ? who knows, this family is old and has dabbled a lot in the occult) and subclass as a warlock

eat hot chip and lie

anyway here’s the og ref sheet

like what are you wearing from the waist down, sir, what’s all this, who allowed it

#dragons and dungeons #dnd tiefling #character redesign #original character #artists on tumblr #purinsu art #silence z'hendix pix #ITS 1 AM IM SO TIRED I DONT KNWO WHAT IM WRITING

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izukubuns · 4 years

Note

hi!! is it alright if i can req for a scenario where shouto slowly realizes he has feelings for his childhood friend?? everyone would know that the two are pining for each other but shouto is just a lil oblivious to his feelings and his friends ;v; i hope this was specific enough!! sorry if its a bit vague;;

.:it was always you:.

warnings: shouto being oblivious, light angst

word count: 2.8k

a/n: LMAO IM SOOOOOOO SORRY THIS SPIRALED. no but truly i got emotional, so sorry if it isn’t what you wanted. im definitely willing to write another, fluffier version of this prompt in the future, though. thank you for requesting <3

“kou?”

“s-shou..”

“huh? i can’t hear you.”

your tiny hands rested on your hips as you tilted your head in confusion. you were at the grocery store, your mother was talking to a friend. this friend of hers had a child as well, and your mother had insisted that you make a friend. fine, no problem. little ol you loved making friends. todoroki, however-

“shouto!” he yelled. you were currently in todoroki’s face, your nose just a couple inches from his. he wasn’t sure why you were so close, your eyes locked on his. you blinked, then finally smiled. “oh, well why didn’t you say it before! i’m (y/n)!” you were missing a front tooth. todoroki couldn’t help but notice, and it made him laugh a little.

“ma says you’re the same age as me. that means we should be friends, right?” you said, looking at your mother, then back at the boy in front of you. “i wanna play with you, shou!”

playdates became frequent. whenever the two women would meet, they’d bring you and todoroki along with them. more often than not, your playdates were at the park. you were more rowdy than your candy cane haired friend, almost always scraping your knees for the sake of “adventure”. you had even fallen out of a tree once, resulting in plenty of scrapes and bruises.

“(y/n)! are you okay?! m-mom!” todoroki would panic, calling out for help. you’d just smile at him, always getting up and brushing it off like it was nothing. “it’s okay, shou! i’m strong! it doesn’t hurt!” there were tiny tears in your eyes, but todoroki ignored them. if you said you were strong, then he believed you.

“we’re both gonna be awesome heroes, remember? that means you’re strong, too, shou.” you’d always call him strong, pick him back up when he needed it. when really, you had always been the stronger of the two. while all might was his idol, he swore to himself that he’d become as strong as you, too.

todoroki wanted to follow you everywhere.

until eventually, the todorokis stopped showing up.

you’d always ask, “ma, how come i don’t get to see shou anymore?” “is that auntie rei on the phone? can i talk to her and shou?”

“rei and shouto are busy with their family. we’ll get to see them soon,” your mom would say, smiling and holding your hand. her smile never reached her eyes. “i miss shouto, ma. isn’t auntie rei your friend? don’t you miss her too?”

she inhaled sharply, looking anywhere but at you. “of course, baby. i miss her so much. but we’ll get to see them. another time.”

however, your mother knew that there was a large possibility that you wouldn’t see rei or shouto for a long time.

*:..｡∞♡∞｡..:*

the next time you saw todoroki, he almost didn’t recognize you. if he was being honest, he barely remembered you. after all those years that his father had put him through, he’d blocked out many things from his past.

when he first saw you again, it was the first day of class. you were talking to some classmates, your back turned to him. unconsciously, he stared at your figure, trying to figure out why you seemed so familiar. he didn’t snap out of it until he saw mina pointing at him and smiling, drawing the attention of the others. it seemed like an eternity before you finally turned around. but when you did, oh when you did.

he felt like he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him. his memories came rushing back to him as if he was on the brink of death, watching his life flash before his eyes. you grew up... quite nicely. and you were powerful, he observed.

todoroki watched as your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth fell slightly open. you moved to come closer, but then aizawa entered, ordering everyone to sit down. you sat behind midoriya, so your seat wasn’t too far from his, which resulted in him staring at the back of your head. about a week into the new school year, you finally confronted him at lunch, confirming both his and your suspicions.

“todoroki, huh? never knew you were the son of such a big shot,” you said. todoroki’s usual blank expression twisted into a frown. “whatever. it’s not a big deal.”

you flinched at the harsh dismissal of your statement, but quickly gathered yourself. “it’s funny to see you after such a long time. you really disappeared on me. my mom missed you, too,” you admitted, hoping to shift the mood. however this only upset him further, much to your confusion. he snorted, keeping his head down towards his food.

as the days went on, you prodded, trying to get him to open up, only for him to reject, or simply ignore you. this wasn’t the shouto you knew all those years ago. shouto was never this abrasive. while you two acted as normal classmates, your attempts to get him to open up were futile. though a while later, you’d soon discover the reason for his actions.

he’d admitted his past to you after the sports festival. ever since his confrontation with midoriya, he felt bad for the way he treated you. none of this was your fault, he thought. you had made him happy at one point, so why was he trying to pretend like you were a nuisance? just looking at you had frustrated him.

though, looking at you didn’t actually make him mad, it made him sad. his father had taken him away from you so soon, too soon. he wasn’t allowed to see his first and only friend. he couldn’t help but let his negative emotions take over after seeing you all these years later.

after battling with his inner self, todoroki finally resolved to apologize to you.

“my past doesn’t matter. my actions… were uncalled for. you don’t have to forgive me. i was–“

“todoroki, it’s okay. thank you for telling me. i’m glad, actually. i was worried about you. though, i would like it if we could be friends again,” you smiled that ridiculously gentle smile, making his heartbeat speed up. why was he nervous? you didn’t make him nervous.

in fact, you had always made him feel strong. safe. he used to feel like he could do anything when you two were together.

not nervous.

the two of you started growing close again soon after. while you were good friends with midoriya, iida, and uraraka as well, they noticed that you and todoroki were different.

they noticed how he’d keep his eyes on you, no matter who was talking. todoroki didn’t stare longingly at them like that. whenever you needed something like a pencil or an eraser, todoroki had already slid one onto your desk before you could even turn around. todoroki didn’t care for them like that.

they noticed how frantic he was when he couldn’t find you during the training camp incident. how he only calmed when they found you, when you assured him that you would be alright.

but most importantly, todoroki smiled at you. he couldn’t help himself. he didn’t realized how much he missed your presence. now, you were even better than before. you weren’t just brave, you stayed true to your word and became strong. he learned this all too quickly when you promptly caught him off guard and kicked his ass during training. he wasnt just impressed, he was proud of you. not only that, but you were kind. you stayed as warm as you were back then, especially towards todoroki himself. not that he’d notice.

not when he was busy smiling like an idiot.

midoriya, ever observant, was positive that todoroki didn’t realize he was doing it. he’d stop smiling as soon as his attention was off of you. sure, he smiled every once in a blue moon, but never directly at someone. especially not like that.

ya know, the longing stare, the soft smile that was reserved for you and you only. yeah, his friends knew he was in deep. when they’d confronted him about it, he was just confused.

“i’m not sure i understand. i behave that way with the rest of you, don’t i?” he inquired. uraraka sighed. “no, todoroki, you don’t. you don’t get all goo goo eyed for the rest of us.”

“goo goo eyed? what does that even mean?”

“it’s when you get all ‘uwahh’ for someone when you see them! it’s like–“

“uraraka, let me try to explain!” midoriya interrupted, worried that she’d confused him even more. he sighed before he began. “todoroki, what do you think of (y/n)?” he said slowly.

“i think they’re nice. they’re skillful in battle, and their grades are good, as well. they’d make a great hero. they’re always thinking of others, and putting someone else first. though, i wish they’d take care of themselves as well. it’s easy to tell when they’re not feeling well, but they wont admit it. th–“

“okay, stop,” midoriya interrupted, unable to bear his friends lovesickness. “now what do you think of iida?” “iida’s a reliable comrade. you are as well.” the group waited for him to go on, but that was it. midoriya almost facepalmed while iida sighed. todoroki just outed himself and still didn’t realize?

he frowned at his friends’ reactions. “did i say something wrong?” todoroki asked. uraraka smiled at him. “no, you actually said everything right.” this only confused the boy further. iida cleared his throat, looking todoroki in the eye. “todoroki, you’ve known (y/n) for a long time, right?”

“you could say that, yes.” “have you ever thought about... kissing them?” todoroki literally choked on air. kissing? you? no, he hadn’t, not even when you were kids. just like now, you two were thinking about becoming heroes back then. now that you two were even closer to accomplishing your dreams, that was the furthest thing from his mind. well, until now.

“what about hugging them?” iida pressed further. now that he was being questioned directly, todoroki finally thought about it. thought about you smiling at him, wrapping your arms around him. he thought about your laughter being reserved for him only. he thought about how your hands would fit in his.

todoroki thought about everything.

he found himself smiling, cheeks hot. but... he wasn’t using his quirk? this was quite the odd feeling to him, but the warm thoughts of you weren’t unwelcome. he bit his lip to keep the smile from growing even wider. “todoroki?” uraraka said, bringing his attention back to his friends. he cleared his throat and looked away, embarrassed. he felt… exposed. they were all smiling at him, like they knew something he didn’t. it was midoriya that spoke the words that todoroki was absolutely not ready to hear.

“todoroki, you like them. as more than a friend. and we think you should give it a shot when you’re ready.”

*:..｡∞♡∞｡..:*

he definitely wasn’t able to sleep that night. actually, for a few nights. at first it was due to his constant thoughts of you, but then his sleep schedule started to worsen because of school, stress, the usual. it was particularly bad one night, so he decided to wander in his room. later, todoroki found himself walking into the kitchen, only to find you.

of course it was you.

you didn’t notice him at first, with how quiet he was. you were still in your bed clothes, getting a glass of water. when you finished you finally turned to see him, eyes widening in surprise. “sho– todoroki?”

“oh… hello.”

“as quiet as ever, huh?” you leaned against the counter to sip your water. “couldn’t sleep?”

todoroki nodded wordlessly. moving to stand beside you, both of you staring ahead at nothing in particular. he was a bit uneasy after what his friends had made him realize. he’d thought of a million different scenarios since then. “you know, i’ve missed you,” you started. he jerked his head up to look at you, quicker than he’d intended.

you smiled, closing your eyes to think for a bit. “i was really sad for a long time when you and auntie rei stopped coming to see us. my mom and i, that is.” todoroki kept his eyes on you, taking in your profile as you spoke.

“i never forgot what we said, though. that we were gonna be strong and become heroes? i’m glad. i never would’ve seen you again if i had given up,” you said with a smile.

“i know we’re gonna be busy and everything as pro heroes. helping people, ya know? of course you do. i just… don’t want you to disappear again. i really wish i could’ve been there with you. i hate the thought of you suffering alone. being alone. at least, when we’re older, call every now and then, okay?”

todorokis chest started to ache. you’d told him that you were glad to see him again before. but saying you missed him? did you have any idea how much weight that held over his heart?

“i know we were just kids, but you were always important to me. i...” you trailed off. finally, you looked up at him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i kinda had a crush on you back then. funny, right?”

no. not funny. not at all. “i thought that maybe we could get married and be a perfect duo. both of us the number one heroes,” you said with a laugh, putting your cup down. todoroki still had his eyes on you, not believing his ears. his face was growing hotter. and hotter.

“i was even going to propose–“

his left side burst into flames.

you jumped backed, arms held in front of you, “todoroki?!” was he upset by what you said? did you set him off by talking about his childhood again?

once he realized what was happening the flames were immediately gone. todoroki looked at your protective stance, guilt punching him in the stomach. now, of all times? he could have hurt you. he never would’ve forgiven himself.

“(y/n), i’m so sorry, i do–“ he was breathing fast, too fast. “todoroki, slow down. dont apologize. im the one who should be apologizing. it was something i said, right?” you asked, cautiously coming closer. todoroki looked into your eyes. he searched for any sign of fear, disgust, but god damn it, it wasn’t there. only genuine concern they were still the kind eyes you always had. why, why were you so damn nice?

“it is what you said. what if…” his mouth was moving faster than his mind.

“you had a crush on me back then, but… what…” he looked at his feet, searching for the words, before looking back at you. you came even closer, looking at him. you silently asked him to continue. “what if i... have a crush on you now?”

your eyes grew wide, but you stayed silent. todoroki didn’t know what to do but spew more of his jumbled thoughts.

“hugging you... k-kissing you?” he hated how weak he sounded, repeating his friend’s words from before. “i want to. i want to do it, but...” slowly you reached up to stroke his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. you remembered how he liked the touch. you waited for him to tell you to stop or flinch away, but all he did was grab your arms and hold them gently. he brought them down, still holding them, as if you’d disappear if he let go. his grip shifted to your hands, as did his gaze.

“im so... damaged. i dont wanna force you to deal with me. the way i am... i don’t think i’m good enough for you. you’ve always been amazing. you’re so perfect. but i want to do these things with you. i want to be as close to you as possible, i just don’t know how, i–”

“hey, shou.”

he paused. shou. that’s right, you hadn’t called him that in years. yet, he felt his body relax and his nerves dissipate. “it’s okay. you were hurt. you’re still hurting. if i didn’t want anything to do with you, i wouldn’t be here, now would i?” you said quietly, trying your best to calm him. he shut his eyes, relaxing into your touch. his shaky breathing slowed.

“im far from perfect, ya know. i’m the one not sure if i’ll be good enough for you. but if you’ll have me, i’d be glad.”

you? not good enough for him? never. never in a million years. he couldn’t believe it took him so long to realize that he’d been craving you. he’d tried so hard to be content by himself. then, midoriya came along with the rest of his friends, picking him up bit by bit. yet, he was still missing something. you, you were his final piece.

yeah.

it was always you.

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sonderthroughthestreets · 4 years

Text

Splitting Universes

Here is the sobbe fic that I wanted to write for their anniversary last friday but obviously im late for it lol

Someone said that Sander said “In every universe” because it comforts Robbe with his multiverse theory and that Robbe said “At least in this universe” because it comforts Sander who believes that life is what you choose to make of it. Sooooo, here is Sander painting on Robbe’s back while talking about the universe and brown-haired Sander asking Robbe to marry him. Hope you enjoy!

“Hold still, will you?” Sander’s voice faltered into a chuckle.

He was sitting on the floor, back to the edge of the bed, legs crossed, holding Robbe as he tried to glide his paintbrush across the skin on his back. The two of them had summer break before the start of the next year and they’d somehow found themselves fooling around, dancing in Sander’s room and finally settled into a spark of an idea in Robbe’s mind to let him paint his back. His shirt was gone and he’d sunk into the floor, crossing his legs too, leaning forward instead of letting himself lean back in the comfort of Sander’s arms.

“The paint is cold. I’m cold ok,” Robbe scoffed, turning his head to try to meet his eyes with a smile. But Sander smirked with half-lidded eyes and pushed his head back into place. He let out a breath of the tiniest laugh.

It was killing Robbe not to look at him. Especially not after he grew out his hair. Sander had cut it a few years ago and let it go back to its natural brown, let the bleach blond wash out and wash away. It was terribly short then, but now it had grown out in longer locks that he just had to style every morning. Today, it was tousled in a messy-but-every-hair-was-perfectly-in-place kind of way. It looked similar to when his hair was bleached but darker roots had replaced the white wash. Some days Robbe could swear he’d seen Sander like this his whole life and others he felt like he was looking at a whole new world.

He also wished that he could see his face right now, the concentration he wore when a creative mood strikes.

“Are you almost done?” Robbe asked.

“Not even close,” Sander answered, his fingers moving swiftly, changing between brushes and colours.

“Can you at least give me a hint?”

“Mmhhh,” he mused. “It’s something we talk about a lot.”

“That could literally be anything,” Robbe pouted. He wanted to know what Sander envisioned across his back.

“Let’s talk about it now,” he dipped his brush in water. “You think that when someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself,” he said. Nothing more. Silence as Robbe contemplated.

“You’re painting me the universe?” Robbe shifted to try to look back at him.

“Hold. still.” Sander gripped his shoulders.

“What kind of universe?” Robbe pondered. He lazily ran a finger down his own palm as he awaited his answer, the fan humming in the summer heat.

“I don’t know” he smiled, though Robbe couldn’t see it. “Any universe you want.”

The way he said that made Robbe smile too. The way that when he said it, he meant all the universes, that he could have any universe because in all of them, one way or another, they were together.

“Hhmmm,” Robbe murmured in contentment. He stared around Sander’s room: the Bowie posters spread across the walls, his camera laying on his disorganized desk, papers and drawing utensils scattered, his easel in the corner, the dresser off to the side, his clothes neatly folded on the bed. The open window let the warm breeze through and the sky made everything in his room glow the softest, palest blues, greys and greens. Robbe’s eyes finally landed on his shirt discarded on the hardwood floor and he felt shivers all over again as cold paint slid on his skin.

It was moments like these where they talked some, then fell into silence, talked some more and finally fell into each other’s touch that eased both their minds. Sander was very quiet now.

“What are you thinking?” Robbe asked.

A sort of sad smile crossed his face, one that he couldn’t see.

“Sander.”

And Sander knew that tone all too well. He delicately placed a hand on Robbe’s neck, softly smiled into his hair and kissed his head. Once, twice, a third time for good measure.

“Do you remember our first night at the hotel?” he asked softly.

“How could I forget?” Robbe sighed happily. But his fingers weren’t on him anymore and Robbe actually felt heat dissipate from behind him as Sander leaned back a bit. He turned his head the slightest, hesitant to look at him for fear he might actually ruin the work on his back. Robbe waited patiently. He recognized his insecurities at play but he wasn’t quite sure of what.

“I know that..” Sander started. “I know that that night I wasn’t...but I meant every word...and I know that I asked once already...”

He was grasping for courage to say what he wanted. Robbe knew he could be ever so confident in his words, even more so in his touch, but sometimes it faltered and he saw him sheepish and insecure. Things started to click in Robbe’s mind. They hadn’t exactly talked about this since that night. At least not seriously. It was always fun banter, like an inside joke or like the continuation of an ongoing plan that may or may not ever be seen through. They were so busy living in the moment, the future had seemed so far away.

It had been

“When we get married I’m painting everything in the house. We’re not buying prints”

“When we get married?”

“We’re getting married right now”

It had been

“Mr. Driesen”

“Oh, we’re married now?”

“In my mind we are”

It had been

“Do you think I should get another ring?”

“Depends. Do you want to be called Mr. Ijzermans?”

It had been

“You’re making croques again? Marry me”

“Okay”

Laughter and kisses always followed. Comfort in agreeing a million different ways was always found. But a concrete, tangible answer was never there.

Robbe understood now why Sander had seemed hesitant and unsure with all this talk of the universe and decisions. They’d been together for more than two years now yet they hadn’t really made official plans for marriage. They were still studying in uni which meant of course, they’d wait until after, but it was never a conversation that lasted very long. While Robbe had talked about all his theories, Sander had made sure to tell him that he’d choose him in every universe. But sometimes it seemed he became overwhelmed with that many versions of them and he didn’t want to think of a world where they might not choose each other every day. Robbe shifted his legs carefully and placed a hand on Sander’s knee, feeling the fabric of his shorts cling in the heat. A signal, a sign, a plea to carry on. They could both feel a nervousness set in, their hearts fluttering in this fleeting moment.

Sander sighed.

“Robbe Ijzermans” he said. “Will you marry m-“

He didn’t even get to utter the question before Robbe turned around, took his face in his hands and connected their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

When someone makes a decision, the universe splits itself.

Sander had a lot of time the past couple of years to think of this. Robbe loved to talk about the multiverse theory, the parallel universes, and the alternate dimensions. He talked his ear off about how each can be so different and in one he’d find himself being a skater or a gamer, in another he’d find himself studying anthropology, and in another he may even have gone to an elite school. Or more so maybe he could’ve been the one studying art instead. Or how he could be in one where he didn’t meet his friends, in one where he didn’t have to miss his mama so much growing up, or one where his dad made different choices. Choices. Decisions. It always came back to that. If we all made different decisions, life could’ve been very different, Robbe had said. And once we make a decision, there are two worlds, one where you chose one thing, another where you chose different.

Whether Sander wanted to admit it or not, that scared him a lot. It scared him to think there could be a world where he continued on with Britt or worse, one where he hadn’t met Robbe. And with each decision solidifying closer and closer a world where Sander and Robbe stay together, he had wondered if living in this universe was enough. If not thinking of the other worlds and staying here together was enough.

Robbe had soothed his worries, tapped the worry lines on his forehead, kissed his temple and had run fingers softly through his auburn hair. He had reminded him of his own theories of life becoming what you choose to make of it. He had reminded him that they were together in this universe.

But nothing was reminding him of that fact more than this kiss they were now sharing.

Sander’s fingers tangled in Robbe’s hair, now a bit longer and fluffier, his mouth softly tracing unspoken words into his lips. He felt Robbe’s hands slide from his face to his neck to grip his black t-shirt and pull them up as they both rose to their knees, a more comfortable position than before. They both let each other fill their lungs up in this hot, searing kiss, somehow both passionate and gentle. Sander breathed out as he broke apart first.

“Will you?” he teased.

“Yes,” Robbe pulled him in for another kiss. “Yes.”

And just like that a decision was made, a world was created.

Sander broke the kiss again.

“I don’t have a ring for you,” he smirked.

“I don’t care,” Robbe’s mouth etched up as he drew closer, searching his lips. Both of their eyes twinkled in an enticing, tantalizing manner. Instead Sander leaned back and smiled, standing up to get his ring from the dresser.

“Here,” he slipped it onto Robbe’s slender finger.

“Thank you. It doesn’t fit,” he snorted because sure enough, it was a little loose and sliding off his hand. This proposal was far from the real thing Sander had planned, especially since they were still students, struggling to keep afloat in the midst of studies and spending time together, but this moment was finally real.

As Sander took back the ring and slid it on his own hand, Robbe asked,

“Did you really paint the universe on my back?”

Right. He’d almost forgotten what prompted him to think about their future together in the first place.

“Come,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom in the hall. He took Robbe’s hands and lead him to the mirror where he turned him around and showed him.

It was a galaxy of stars and sparkles, colours of blacks, dark purples, greens, pinks and blues all mixed into a combination of an ethereal light. It was everything Sander had been thinking about with Robbe. His fears, his doubts, his joy, his love.

“In every universe, right?” Sander entwined his fingers with Robbe as they both stared at his back in the reflection. Robbe took the time to stare at it a while longer.

“Yeah,” he said. Then he looked at Sander with dark, dilated eyes, squeezing his hand. “But especially in this universe, too.”

#wtfock #wtfam #thank you so much bianca for reading this over #💖#also this is probably like my first official fic ive written so sorry if it kinda sucks lol #fic #my fic #omg all my italicized words got unitalicized🤦‍♀️

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atths--twice · 4 years

Text

Christmas Gala, 1996

Mulder and Scully attend a Christmas gala in 1996, wearing the outfits they wore to the 1997 Golden Globes. How will it look to everyone when they arrive together? What will the gossips have to say?

The music from the band filled the room. Everyone in attendance looked very snazzy in their fancy clothes, much better than the usual business suits seen roaming the halls of the FBI.

Agent Mia Decker stood watching couples take to the dance floor. Some of them were partners sharing a dance before returning to their spouse or friends, and some were husbands or wives. They danced to the music and laughter was heard throughout the room.

The decorations were beautiful this year. This was Mia’s third year at one of these Christmas galas, and this year, 1996, was by far the best. The golden lights twinkled and the room smelled of Christmas trees. Mia looked around and her eyes landed on Assistant Director Skinner.

Oh my, she thought, he cleans up quite nicely. A crisp white shirt, black tuxedo, and he even had a smile on his face. Hmm, not bad. She kept looking around the room and she saw many agents she recognized. She saw Agent Pendrell constantly looking toward the door, his eyes lighting up when it opened and then his shoulders slumping when it closed. Mia smiled, she knew who he was looking for.

Everyone knew he had a crush on Agent Scully. Well, everyone except Agent Scully it seemed, Mia thought with a smile.

She had been in the lab recently when Agents Mulder and Scully had been asking Agent Pendrell questions about a case they were working on. Agent Scully had asked him many questions and Agent Pendrell hung on her every word, smiling a big goofy grin when Agent Scully had asked for his findings. Mia had watched him blush when she praised him for his work.

They had thanked him for his help and left the lab. Agent Mulder had held the door for her and whispered something in her ear as she had walked past. She had grinned at him, their eyes locking onto the other. Mia had never seen them interact, but had heard of their silent communication from her friend Holly. She had confided in Mia that she thought they were sleeping together, but Mia dismissed that idea. Every male/female partnership fell under that scrutiny and it was unfair.

Watching them as they had left the lab though, seeing for herself the looks they had given each other, she had not been so sure. They were definitely not like her and her partner, but that was not saying much as her partner was a no nonsense woman and Mia was not. They had not exactly meshed and become the best of friends.

Watching Agents Mulder and Scully though, she had been intrigued by them. They were on another level when it came to being in tune with one’s partner. She had glanced back over at Agent Pendrell and he had sighed as he also watched them leave. Mia had smiled at Agent Pendrell, he really had no chance.

Agent Pendrell was sweet, brilliant, and endearing, but he was no Fox Mulder, who seemed to exude sexuality without even trying. He had made an appearance in a few of her own nighttime fantasies and she had woken up very happy. Mia had walked past Agent Pendrell as she left and patted his arm. He had not needed to say anything, his knowing eyes had said it all.

Mia smiled now as she watched him, again watching the door. She walked over to him to offer her moral support. Silently of course, no need to draw attention to his crush and make him uncomfortable.

“Agent Pendrell,” she said, standing next to him, causing him to turn his head from the door. “You look very handsome this evening.”

He smiled at her and she saw him blush. He looked down and then back into her eyes. She grinned at him and he nodded.

“Agent Decker, you look very beautiful,” he said with a smile.

“This old thing?” she said, waving to the new dress she had spent days searching for, making sure it was just right for the evening.

They both chuckled and she grabbed a waiter as he walked by, snagging a glass of champagne for each of them. She handed Agent Pendrell his and they clinked their glasses together.

The doors opened again, and she looked over at the same time as Agent Pendrell, and she heard him choke on his champagne. There stood Agents Mulder and Scully, standing in the doorway, looking a bit uncomfortable, but absolutely stunning.

Agent Scully was wearing a dress the color of the champagne they were drinking. It was floor length, had short sleeves, and a plunging neckline. Mia had never had feelings for a woman before, but seeing Agent Scully in that dress, she could understand why Agent Pendrell choked on his champagne. She was absolutely breathtaking. Her breasts alone were cause for a gasp and Mia could not stop staring at them, even though she knew it was not right. She shook her head and kept looking at her whole ensemble.

Diamond earrings, hair blown out and fluffier than Mia had ever seen, her makeup done to perfection, Agent Scully was a vision and Mia was sure every woman in the room was jealous of her beauty.

It was hard to drag her eyes away from her, but Mia made an effort. She looked at Agent Mulder and noted his discomfort. He wore a black tuxedo, the white collar up instead of down flat, the bow tie more of a satin ribbon around his neck. His hair was slicked backed a bit more than usual, but looked really good. God... really good.

Mia looked at both of them, as he placed his hand on her lower back, his mouth close to her ear. She smiled and walked into the room, with him following right beside her. They walked past Mia and Agent Pendrell, smiling as they did, heading toward A.D. Skinner.

“Breathe, Agent Pendrell,” Mia said under her breath as she looked at Agent Mulder’s hand on Agent Scully’s back, wondering how it would feel on her own.

Next to her she heard Agent Pendrell take a deep breath and set his drink down on the table next to them. He then took a few more deep breaths before he was able to speak.

“She looks gorgeous,” he said, standing close to Mia. “Well, she always does. I mean she is gorgeous. It’s not the dress, she is beautiful... oh my god...”

He turned away as Mia continued to watch them. It seemed half the room was also looking their way, whispering to one another, even pointing at them at times.

How rude, Mia thought. They were all adults and fellow agents. They should not act like teenagers at a dance who just caught two people making out in a closet. She rolled her eyes before she turned to Agent Pendrell.

“Come on, Agent Pendrell, I think we should dance,” she said, taking his hand without waiting for an answer, and pulling him to the dance floor.

She put his hand on her waist and the other in her own. She put her hand on his shoulder and they began to dance, or some version of it anyway. She knew he was still watching Agent Scully and she did not really care. She was trying something out, hoping it would work.

She threw her head back and laughed loudly. Agent Pendrell looked at her in astonishment, but she did not explain why she acted that way. She moved her hand from his shoulder to his chest before she laughed again.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his expression thoroughly confused.

“Finding you a dance partner,” she said quietly, hoping she was right. “Never underestimate the power of the fake laugh. It can...” Then she heard it.

“Excuse me, may I cut in?” Came a voice from behind her.

“Jackpot,” she said under her breath, looking into Agent Pendrell’s eyes. She winked at him and stepped back, allowing Agent Scully to step closer to him. She smiled at Mia before placing her hand in his, allowing him to guide her further onto the dance floor.

Mia grinned as she watched him visibly relax the more they danced. She even heard Agent Scully laugh for real and she knew he would hold that like a treasure in his heart.

“That was kind of you." She heard Agent Mulder say quietly behind her. She turned around and his eyes were full of laughter, his mouth lifting at the corners.

“Why yes, it was kind of me, to leave you partnerless. Whatever will you do?” she asked, with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“Touché,” he said and put out his hand. She took it and he turned her to the dance floor. He put them in the correct dance stance and then led her across the floor.

“Fox Mulder knows how to dance?” she joked close to his ear. He laughed and blamed the country clubs he grew up around. She smiled back and she saw him look over at Agent Scully.

She watched him watch her and she knew. Maybe they were not sleeping together, but he loved her, she knew it without a doubt. His eyes roamed over her head to toe and then he looked back at Mia.

“You’re Agent Decker, right?” he asked, his eyes never leaving hers.

“I am. But call me Mia. Agent Decker is so formal,” she said rolling her eyes.

He smiled and nodded. “You just solved that big homicide case, right?”

“Yeah, that was... a weird case. I actually almost came to you two for help, but my partner wouldn’t hear of it,” she said apologetically.

“Ah... you’re partners with Agent Connor right? Yeah, she and I are... not the best of friends,” he said with a goofy smile. Mia’s heart flipped over and she made a mental note to enjoy this moment, knowing she would never get it again.

“Let’s not talk shop anymore. It’s Christmas, Agent Mulder, the room is beautiful, the music is wonderful, and the company is quite nice. Let’s just dance,” she said, keeping the tone light.

He grinned and agreed. He pulled her a little closer and she breathed in his scent.

Sexuality...

She knew it.

Hopefully being this close, she would smell him on her for days. She closed her eyes as they spun around, his hand pressed to her lower back. So that was how it felt. She shivered at the intimacy of the gesture they did almost subconsciously.

How did she handle it every day? Mia wondered. How did Agent Scully not combust when he touched her? He had his hand on her for one dance and she felt hot and flushed.

The music stopped and they turned toward the band and clapped. Mia looked over toward Agent Pendrell and saw Agent Scully say something to him and put her hand on his arm. He smiled at her and she headed over toward her and Agent Mulder. Her dress sparkled as she walked and Mia shook her head. She was truly beautiful.

“Agent Decker, right?” Agent Scully said, putting out her hand.

“Yes, but call me Mia,” she said, taking Agent Scully’s hand in a firm grasp, and shaking it.

“You just had that strange homicide case, right?” she asked.

“Yes, I was just telling Agent Mulder that I had considered coming to you two for help, but..” She shrugged, shaking her head.

“Agent Connor is your partner, right? Yeah... she and Mulder are not exactly on the best of terms." She laughed and Mia stood there stunned.

It was almost the same conversation, how did they do that? She saw her flick her eyes quickly to Agent Mulder's and his barely perceptible answering nod. Agent Scully smiled at Mia and excused them both as they walked again toward A.D. Skinner. They stopped before reaching him, Agent Mulder’s head close to hers again. She laughed as he stood back, a real laugh that came from deep within. He crooked out his arm and she took it, still laughing as they walked away.

Mia was in a state of shock. She felt frozen to the floor as the band began to play again. She shook her head to wake herself up, get out of her stupor. She moved off the dance floor, but kept an eye on them the rest of the evening. She saw A.D. Skinner and Agent Scully dancing, then she danced with Agent Pendrell once more. A couple other men had a turn dancing her around the floor, but never Agent Mulder. He watched her though, and her eyes always found him after each dance. A homing beacon always finding its way.

The party was beginning to wind down and Mia was ready to leave. She went out to the coat check and waited for her coat. She took it from the attendant and headed outside. It was freezing and smelled like it would snow tonight. She was sliding her coat on, when a door opened a bit further down from her, and two people walked out.

“You’ll be cold, Mulder.” She heard Agent Scully say as Mia finished putting on her coat.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he replied.

She saw that Agent Scully was wearing his tuxedo jacket and he had no coat, his hands thrust in his pockets. Mia saw him shiver, but Agent Scully did not see.

“Of all the nights to forget my coat,” Agent Scully said, turning toward him.

“Well, you’ll be in the cab in a minute, it should be fine,” he answered her.

She nodded at him as he stepped closer. Cabs were pulling in and leaving with their passengers, and no one seemed to be paying attention to them, except for Mia, who stepped a little closer and felt something on her face. She looked up and saw that it was starting to snow. She smiled and watched it fall for a minute.

Still smiling, she looked back at them and saw that he was brushing snow from her hair and then pulling his jacket tighter around her, trying to keep her warm. Agent Scully kept her eyes on him the whole time, a smile playing on her lips. They began to sway slowly, almost dancing, if one could call it that, as they did not actually move.

Now Mia knew why they did not dance inside the gala. If they had, they would have had to stand close and then everyone would have died because the ballroom would have spontaneously burst into flames What was up with these two? How did they affect others this way? They had to know their power. Right?

A cab pulled up and Agent Mulder glanced at it.

“This is yours,” he said in a low voice that sent a shiver down Mia’s spine. A bedroom voice that she filed away for future fantasies.

“Hmm...” Mia heard Agent Scully respond.

No one was around, save for the three of them, and the cab driver. It was quiet, the snow falling creating a peaceful feeling. He looked at Agent Scully and smiled. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, smiling as she stepped back.

He grinned back and Mia saw her hand reach for his. The jacket was long and covered her fingers, but Mia saw how their fingers locked together for a few seconds.

Agent Scully dropped his hand and he reached to open the car door for her. She stopped him and looked into his eyes again.

“Merry Christmas, Mulder,” she said, her hand on his chest. She stood up close and kissed his cheek again. Her hand moved to his face and her thumb ran softly across his lips.

Mia felt like a voyeur looking in on a very private moment. She was close enough to see all of this, but they seemed to not see her. She wondered if they really did not know she was there, or if they simply did not care. Nothing they were doing was overly sexual and yet Mia felt as though she was seeing them in the afterglow of lovemaking.

He smiled at Agent Scully as he opened the door and made sure she was all inside, checking that her dress was not hanging out of the car. He closed the door and the cab drove away, as he stood watching it before he shivered again and turned around.

His eyes widened when he saw Mia standing there. They stared at one another, neither saying anything. She saw his jaw clench and then he swallowed before stepping toward her, his hands again in his pockets.

“You’re heading out too?” he asked, his eyes traveling across her face, reading her expression.

“I am,” she said, trying to keep her own expression neutral.

“Hmm...” he said, rocking on his heels.

They were quiet for a minute. Mia would have loved to be inside his mind, wondering what he was thinking and how to approach how much to divulge to her, as he wondered what she had seen.

“She’s going away for the holidays,” he said, watching her intently again. “She’s stopping at her place, changing, and then heading out. She was just saying Merry Christmas.”

He held her gaze and he looked sad that she was leaving, and yet he seemed to be happy from the kisses she had bestowed upon him before she left. He could not stop his smile from creeping in when he stopped talking.

“Hmm...” Mia said, teasing him a bit, enjoying her time with him. He raised his eyebrows at her and she grinned. He smiled and they both started laughing.

The snow began to fall harder and Mia knew she needed to get home before the roads became too dangerous.

“Well, I should get home. This snow is going to start piling up. You should get home too,” she said to him. He nodded and looked around, watching the snow fall.

God, he really was a handsome man, she thought. She shook her head and took her keys from her clutch purse and put them into her coat pocket.

“You should get inside, as your coat seems to have left without you,” Mia said to him, bringing his attention back from the sky.

He looked at her, his eyes and expression different. He looked worried and on the verge of saying something. She shook her head at him and smiled, putting her hand out and waiting. He took his hand out of his pocket and grasped hers gently.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Mulder,” she said quietly, hoping to convey to him that she would not say anything of what she saw this evening.

He searched her eyes and he seemed to understand. His shoulders relaxed and he placed his other hand on top of hers. He held her hand between his and smiled at her, his relief almost palpable.

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek and she closed her eyes at the touch, as she breathed in his scent one last time. Jesus... but she could do bad things to this man. He stepped back and she smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, Agent Decker,” he said with a grin, putting his hands back in his pockets. She smiled back and turned to walk away.

“Oh, Agent Mulder,” Mia said, turning around, seeing him heading back to the ballroom. He turned toward her, tilting his head, and shivering again. “Just wanted to remind you that we all saw Agent Scully in that dress.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, making sure he understood her words; how the men would be seeing Agent Scully in a different light after tonight. He nodded after a second and smiled slowly. She nodded back and turned around again. Glancing back once more, she saw him through the door to the ballroom. He raised a hand to her and disappeared inside.

She smiled as she walked to her car. She had, of course, heard of the office pool about whether they were sleeping together. She had never participated, finding it left her feeling uncomfortable. After tonight, she knew all those who gossiped about them would have more to whisper about. That dress alone would fuel the office fire for months and up the ante for those putting money in the pool.

She arrived at her car, opened the door, and got inside. She turned it on and shivered as she waited for the car to warm up. She touched her cheek where Agent Mulder had kissed her and she smiled. He really was a good looking man. And he was, without a doubt, one hundred percent in love with his partner.

She laughed, turned the heater on as hot as it would go, turned on the radio, and put the car in drive. She drove out of the parking lot and headed home.

She shook her head, thinking of the way they had looked at each other as they danced in their own way, while they waited for her cab. She hoped they would not wait too long to admit to each other what anyone with eyes could see. It may not be how partners were supposed to behave, but love.. it does not give a shit how it is “supposed” to do anything.

It showed up and let itself be known, waiting in silence, or getting right in your face until it was heard. She smiled as Christmas music filled the car, the snow fell steadily down, and she made a Christmas wish that they would listen, because love was definitely trying to get their attention.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Christmas 1996 #Golden Globes outfits #Christmas Gala #Platonic Partners... yeah right...#They are just so pretty

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exsqueeze-me · 4 years

Note

Can I ask for a scenario of the moment when Bardock bonded with his S/O, please? ❤️

(I hope you enjoy, dear! I was completely out of ideas for this, so I hope you're okay with awkward, kinda smug Bardock! If you'd like something fluffier or more serious, please re-ask and I'll get on that asap!)

Bardock had been pondering over the subject of bonding for quite a while now. He had already accepted you as his mate, but wasn't quite sure if he wanted to bond you. There really wasn't any need to. There wasnt much competition on this planet, at least, not enough to where he felt a need to stake claim on you.

He was sitting there, lost in thought, as you prattled on about your day. He was usually content to just sit and listen to you talk, but he had a lot on his mind. He hadn't even realized you stopped talking until you waved your hand in front of his face. His head snapped towards you.

"You okay, Bardock? You spaced out there for a while." It was a bit unusual to see him so lost in thought.

"Its nothing you need to worry about." He ruffled your hair and went to go train for a bit. He needed to have a bit of time to think over this on his own.

The day carried on as usual. Bardock trained most of the day, coming back home every few hours to check in or eat. You did whatever it is that you do while hes away and made a point to smother Bardock with love every time he came back home. It was always fun to see his face go red at your affections.

Things only got a bit odd when Bardock finally came home for the night. He stopped you before either of you made it to the bedroom to sleep. He looked like he was considering something, but didnt know how to word it to you.

"Do you.. are you willing to be my mate permanently?" He said awkwardly. It was very clear that this wasnt really a question that was commonly asked, even among Saiyans.

"Um.. yeah? I thought we already established that?" You thought you were already his mate, but then again, you still had no idea how Saiyan traditions worked.

"Yes, but this isn't something you can just go back on in a few years. This is a permanent arrangement." He was internally getting frustrated at how bad he was explaining this, but it was already out there. There was no going back now.

"Like marriage?"

"What? Maybe? I dont.. just tilt your head for me." Bardock was finished explaining. If he kept trying to, this would only get more awkward.

You raised your eyebrow. If this was some Saiyan marriage ritual thing, then you would let him do his thing. Maybe you could even convince him to partake in a marriage ceremony. Although with the way he was, probably not.

Your thoughts were cut of when he sunk his teeth into your exposed neck hard enough to draw blood. You yelped out when the pain hit. It wasnt bad, but he literally just bit you.

"What was that!?" You squeaked out as he pulled back.

He looked at you with a tiny, somewhat smug smirk on his face.

"Like marriage."

For his smug demeanor, he had no idea what marriage was exactly. He only had a small idea that it was like bonding, and from the look on your face, he was right. He was more smug that now, not only were you officially his, he looked like he knew what he was talking about.

#Bardock #this kinda sucked #if youd like this rewritten ill gladly do so #dbz

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mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

A Few Pinches

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW (I’m so sorry), little orgasm denial, chocking, dom/sub, the usual. Fluff, teasing.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: To the requestee, I hope you enjoy! If anyone would like me to write a fluffier, clean version of this I certainly can! This is also my first Witcher fic so go easy on me. My requests are open!

Prompts: #7. “If you pinch me one more time.”

#77. “Don’t play with me sweetheart.”

Request: 77,7 for the prompt list with Geralt?

Masterlist

The sun seeped through the curtains of your small little cottage. The golden rays illuminating the wooden floor, the dust settling in the air. It was, at least so far, a calm, peaceful morning, which came rare when your life was twined with one of a Witcher’s.

Geralt slept soundly behind you, his arm draped over your waist. The heaviness of it was warm and comforting, something you missed dearly when he would take his leave. Your Geralt would come back to you though every time, whether he was wounded, dirty, or bloody; he would always come home to you.

You stayed in bed with him until noon. He needed the rest and would squirm and mumble every time you moved, arm tightening around you. There was no way you could fight your way out of that. So you laid there, basking in the naked warmth of the room and his body. His breath was hot and even on the base of your neck, tickling the strands of hair that stuck to it.

“Geralt,” you whispered, shaking his arm. Or at least attempting to.

“Geralt.” You said louder. He still didn’t budge.

You called his name louder a few more times, only receiving a small grunt in return. You sighed, resorting to squirming your way out of his arms. He only tightened his grip, not enough to hurt you, but enough to keep you still against his chest.

“Stop moving,” he finally mumbled into your hair.

You snort. “Geralt, it’s late noon. I have to get up.”

“No, you don’t.”

Sometimes you really hated that man. Fighting your way out was not an option, so you did the first thing that came to mind: you pinched him.

He ignored it at first, barely felt it until you started to pinch harder, nails digging into the skin of his arm; not enough to draw blood of course, but enough to get his attention. He growled your name in a warning. He was definitely more alert now.

You smiled triumphantly. “Yes, my love?”

“If you pinch me one more time.”

His tone was left for no argument, but one of the many things that made Geralt of Rivia fall in love with you was your stubbornness. The sheer strength and will to keep anything going; it was a little admirable in his eyes.

You grinned, catlike and all. “Or what?”

Geralt growled when he felt your ass pressing up against him, rubbing teasingly on his growing length. Your body hummed with anticipation, already becoming wet from the way his breaths started to deepen and the way his arm hugged you tighter if that were even possible.

Suddenly you were flipped over on your back, hands pinned above your head in one of his, the other grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling until your neck was bare to him.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart.”

You smirked, opening your legs for him to settle in between. He hummed approvingly, pressing the tip of his nose against the planes of your jaw, inhaling your intoxicating scent.

You wiggled your hips, rolling them against his. The brush of his erection made you moan, legs hugging both sides of his hips.

“Hm. Always a brat,” Geralt grumbled.

You chuckled. “Only for you, my Witcher.”

His lips ghosted over your throat, hovering just over your pulse point before nipping at it, no doubt marking you as his. Your hips begin to rock against his in a gentle rhythm. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, over the muscles of his chest and back, to bring him to the brink of pleasure just by your touch alone; but his grip on your wrists was bruising, anything but gentle, but you didn’t mind – rough was how you and Geralt liked it.

“Now who’s the one teasing?” You whined, sultry all the same.

His chest shook from his laughter. “It’s not very nice, is it?”

You huffed. He finally took pity on you and crashed his lips against yours, the kiss harsh and sloppy. His tongue traced along your lips, demanding entrance. You let him in without fight, moaning at the distinct taste of him. You bit down on his bottom lip as he went to pull back, and he went in for another kiss, this time sweeter and more tender. When he pulled away his golden ember eyes dark and playful, hair mused from his slumber, he was a carving of everything beautiful and dangerous; it made your core ache to the point of pain.

“No,” you finally relented. “It’s not.”

He grinned. The hand that wasn’t holding yours trailed over your chest, covered only by the thin blanket draped around you. You sighed when his fingers brushed against your perk nipples, admiring the planes of your body.

“Ah!”

Geralt rubbed the raw skin of your ass, already turning red from his smack. He gave it another smack, receiving a loud cry in return. He ripped the blanket from the both of you, all barriers between your naked skins gone. The heat radiating from him was divine, soothing to your trembling skin.

His fingers trailed down your naval until they hovered over your wet heat. He circled around your slit, gathering your sweet essence. You moaned softly, panting, when he ghosted over your aching bundle of nerves, applying enough pressure to make you shiver – though it still wasn’t enough.

“I know what you want,” he cooed. “But why should I give it to you? When you were being so rude to me?”

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing him under your breath. “I- I’m sorry. I was being bad and I shouldn’t have disturbed you like that.”

He was panting quietly as well, the hand that had been gripping yours with increased intensity finally releasing them. He sat up on his knees, grabbing your hips and lifting you up before lining himself at your entrance. He barely gave you a chance before he plunged in, filling you to the brim. You both moaned loudly, your hands gripping the sheets; you were sure you were going to rip them by the time he was done with you.

Your body, alive and shaking from every thrust, every drag of his long and thick cock against your sensitive walls, thrummed with electricity as every nerve in your body hummed in euphoria. His hands were like steel grips against your hips, bouncing you on his cock with unsurprising vigor.

One of his hands palms your breast, tugging on your nipple on his way up to your throat, giving it a small appreciative squeeze. Your breaths slowed, coming out hoarsely at the combined pleasure; eyes rolling in the back of your head. Each brush against the soft, spongey spot inside you consumed you in fire; a tight coil in your lower stomach threatening to implode.

“Why should I let you cum?” He growls as he feels you pulse and clench around him, his pace unrelenting. “After that little tryst you pulled?”

You gritted your teeth, struggling to form words from the delicious fog only Geralt could create in your mind, your body.

“I- I’m - .”

You were so, so close. Your hips moved against his in a fury, his cock pulsing inside of you; the feel of his veins felt nothing but incredible, fulfilling.

Suddenly he stopped, leaving only the tip inside. You growled, glaring up at him as he did the same to you. He slapped your ass hard, making you cry out in pain.

“I asked you a question, girl,” he snarled.

“I’m sorry,” you babbled. “I’m so fucking sorry Geralt, it won’t happen again!”

He chuckled darkly, admiring the view before him; your hair splayed out like a halo across your pillows, body red and flushed, lips swollen and eyes glassy.

“Good girl.”You mulled at the praise and clawed at his arms as he started back at his brutal pace. The coil in your stomach tightening once again. And when he pinched that soft bundle of nerves you wailed as you clenched around him, velvet walls suffocating for all he was worth.

“Geralt! F-fuck Geralt!”

He looked down between your bodies, watching as his girth slid in and out, glistening with your juices; the sight alone was enough for him.

Your face contorted in pleasure as he grunted, giving you a few more harsh thrusts before releasing himself deep inside you, sighing and growling. He collapsed on top of you after the haze of his pleasure started to calm. The whimper that escaped you when his thrusts slow to a stop is music to his ears, better than any song Jaskier could ever sing.

Hot skin pressed heavily against yours, you held him to your chest as the both of you panted. Your hands felt like home, like the epiphany of comfort when they rubbed up and down the planes of his back, scratching lightly. You reveled in the soft grunts, the way his arms were wrapped under and around you; you kissed the top of his head, smiling at the hum that left him.

A thought came over you, and a devilish smile graced your lips. You ran the tips of your fingers over a soft, tender spot in between his shoulder blades before pinching him. Again.

Geralt snapped his head up with the speed only a Witcher could perfect, glaring at you.

You giggled, only earning a clenched jaw in return. “It’s time to get up.”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure you won’t be able to walk for a week.”

Tags: @creamysacrilege, @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @outlawers, @hejahockey, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @angel-hunter-winchester, @tedpicklez

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher #the witcher netflix #henry cavill #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia x you #the witcher fanfiction

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kissjane · 4 years

Text

BENEFITTAL TO BOTH / Short(ish) fic

Some anon wanted David to hug his pillow because it smells like Matteo… here ya go.

I’m sorry, once again I didn’t deliver on the tooth-rotting fluff. It seems I’m not in the fluffy mood today, BUT I made a note to make the rest of these way fluffier!

#36 from this prompt list.

Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings

Matteo left, and David waved cheerily. He waited until he heard the front door close before he sank back on his bed, hid his face in the pillow, and beat futilely into the mattress.

It didn’t help in the slightest. The empty, hollow feeling inside didn’t vanish. Everything felt tainted somehow, and even the joyful feelings - those that used to wash over him whenever he was close to Matteo - seemed dulled, weakened.

He should have known this would never work out – never mind the fact he had been drunk and Matteo had been high when they came up with this cursed plan…

They sit on the balcony, wrapped up in coats and scarves and beanies against the October night chill. This is where they end up often recently, fed up while all the hooking up and making out going on inside. Every party is the same nowadays.

“I think I should just get it over with,” Matteo suddenly says to the moon.

David startles. Matteo is usually not the one to break their companionable silence.

“Get what over with?”, he asks, carefully.

“You know. Kiss a guy. Sex.”

David nods.

“Yeah, me too. But I guess that won’t work for me. You could do it, if you wanted.”

“Why couldn’t you?”

David looks over, and sees Matteo staring at him, his eyes red from the weed.

“Because, I could hardly just hook up with some random stranger. I’d have to tell them, you know…”

Understanding dawns in Matteo’s eyes.

“You could do it with somebody who already knows, though.”

He thinks about that.

“Like who?”

“Uh…” Matteo ponders the question. “Sam?”

David stares at Matteo, and they both start giggling. Abdi would be livid.

“Any other suggestions?”, David inquires, as their laughing fit subsides.

Matteo shrugs.

“Me?”

David’s breath hitches. He turns his head slowly. Matteo is staring at the sky again.

David, for a minute, tries to talk himself out of it.

But he doesn’t want to.

Matteo is sitting here, offering David everything he ever wanted – well, maybe not exactly, but in a way, he is.

“Okay.”

Matteo’s head whips sideways, and his blue eyes bore into David’s.

“Okay?”

“Sure,” David says, trying to sound noncommittal. “I mean, if you are okay with it.”

“Sure,” Matteo says, just a bit hesitantly. “I was the one to suggest it, after all.”

He really should have known. They hadn’t talked about it anymore that night, and the next day David had a splitting headache and the burning hope Matteo would never bring up their conversation again. But the next week, without discussing it, they both had stayed pretty sober, and when the time came when they would normally find a quiet place to sit together and watch the skies, they instead had gone out, and without speaking, had gone to the flat share, and – did what they had set out to do.

And it had been good. Really, really good. David had worried a lot about getting hit by dysphoria, but Matteo had been so soft and caring and his fingers and his mouth had chased all other thoughts out of David’s overwhelmed mind.

And somehow, it must also have been good for Matteo, because the week after that, they had looked at each other and wordlessly disappeared from the party again, and then the next week too, and the next.

And now here he was. He had told himself earlier he wouldn’t bring Matteo home tonight. He had planned to talk to Matteo, discuss calmly that the idea had been to just do it to get it over with, as Matteo had put it so eloquently on that balcony, and now, well, they got it over with and so there was no point to keep getting it over with. But then Matteo had smiled at him, that weird but cute half-smile of his, and David had felt his legs turn to jelly and he’d told himself one more time couldn’t hurt.

But he had been wrong, because it did hurt. In fact, even when they had been together, cuddling skin to skin, David had felt almost nauseous at the thought of Matteo leaving soon, of this being just about sex for Matteo.

He grabbed the pillow where Matteo’s head had been moments earlier, coming down from his high, a blissful expression on his face. His eyes had been closed, and David had been sad about that, because he loved to drown in the blue – but then again, if they had been open he wouldn’t have been able to stare at Matteo for as long as he had, trying to memorize each and every detail, wishing he was better at portrait drawing so he could immortalize this image. He closed his eyes, trying to remember Matteo’s face, his body. The pillow still smelled faintly like Matteo’s shampoo – something citrusy, earthy. He pressed his face against it, cursing himself for his pathetic weakness for Matteo.

He let himself be enveloped by the scent, falling into a fantasy he’d had dozens of times since they started doing this – Matteo falling asleep in David’s bed, curled up against David, David waking up to a sleeping Matteo, kissing Matteo first thing in the morning, watching how the mist lifts from Matteo’s sky-blue eyes as he slowly wakes up. The pillow was a poor substitute, and with a grunt, he threw it aside. He needed to talk to Matteo. He needed to stop this, now that he still had a chance of coming out of it with his heart relatively intact.

Suddenly he heard knocking at the door – it startled him, but Laura was out, maybe she forgot her keys? He opened the door and almost did a double-take.

Matteo was standing there, looking determined.

“Hi,” Matteo said, his voice firm, but then he faltered.

“Did you forget something?”, David asked uncertainly, when Matteo remained silent.

“Yes,” Matteo replied, not looking at David, but staring at his feet, shuffling nervously. David didn’t understand why Matteo seemed so jumpy – unless he just was really embarrassed about having to come back to David’s bedroom after what they did earlier.

“Can I – can I come in?”, Matteo asked, finally looking up. His eyes were big and a bit wild.

In response, David pulled the door open wider and Matteo stepped through, moving towards David’s bedroom. David followed, trying to calm his heart at the sight of Matteo, his hair tousled even more than normally because of David’s pulling at it earlier.

Inside his bedroom, Matteo stood at the foot of David’s bed, looking down again. David said nothing, unsure of what was going on, afraid of doing the wrong thing.

“Listen,” Matteo suddenly said, “I’m really sorry. I should never have suggested for us to – you know,” he vaguely gestured to the bed, sheets still wrinkled. “I should have been honest with you.”

David felt his heart crack ominously. He had been wrong, when he thought he could let this go with his heart intact. Matteo’s next words would break it completely, shatter it into a million pieces, irreparably.

“It’s okay –”, he started, but Matteo interrupted him.

“It’s not okay. I was selfish and I used you and I should have given you all the facts, but I didn’t, and now… Now I’m afraid I’ve ruined everything between us, but I can’t keep doing this. I’m sorry, David.”

David stood motionless, trying not to fall apart in front of Matteo.

“You didn’t use me… We agreed together on this…”, he retorted, weakly, his voice brittle.

“But I lied,” Matteo whispered, his eyes getting wet. “I lied to you when I suggested it. I made it sound like I just wanted to have sex with somebody, but that was a lie. I’m in love with you, and I didn’t tell you. I should have given you all the facts. I’m sorry if I have messed everything up… I know you don’t feel the same, but I can’t keep doing this with you. It breaks my heart every time we’re together and I have to remind myself it means nothing to you. I just… I hope we can stay friends, still…”

His voice trailed off, and a heavy silence fell.

David replayed Matteo’s words over and over inside his head. Was he dreaming, or did Matteo just tell him he was in love with him?

“You’re wrong,” he finally said, stepping closer to Matteo, tilting Matteo’s chin up with a finger, forcing Matteo to look at him. “You’re so wrong, Matteo. It means everything to me, every time we are together. I’ve been in love with you for so long. I don’t want us to be friends, I want us to be boyfriends, and I want us to keep doing – this,” he mimicked Matteo’s earlier gesture, “because we love each other.”

Matteo stared at him, transfixed, and then, slowly, a smile appeared on his face, and he almost fell into David. David caught him, and together they toppled down onto the bed.

“Stay?”, David asked, not wanting to pressure Matteo, but unwilling to let go of him, afraid he would wake up if he did. But Matteo nodded, burrowing closer into David. David inhaled the same scent he’d smelled on the pillow before, and he hoped it would infuse the sheets, the pillows, the mattress, his whole bedroom – and maybe it would, now, now that Matteo would stay.

#I write things #50 cliché prompts #davenzi #druck fanfic #all the davenzi shipping anons #where is the fluff???

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midnigtartist · 5 years

Text

hey more mermauk au

The water, once so familiar and inviting, now feels as though its pressing in on him from every side. Instead of carrying him, he can feel it tugging on him, weighing him down. He tries to swim up, His chest burns like it's never burned before and he has to fight to keep his mouth sealed around the swell of air that presses against his lips. It's so hard to move now. No matter how much he kicks and flails he hardly makes any progress, these new limbs not strong enough to push him forward, up towards the glimmer of sunlight on the surface of the water above him. Still he claws his way against the current, no webbing between his fingers to help him but that's alright. He keeps pushing and kicking and fighting his way up up up until his head finally breaks the surface.

Molly opens his mouth wide and takes in a great, gasping gulp of air, right before a wave comes crashing over top of him, forcing him back under. Luckily, it seems the ability to orientate oneself under water is learned and not genetic. Even though the push and pull of the sea spins him like a top, Molly is eventually able to right himself, breaking the surface once more. He blinked salt out of his eyes and kicks hard against the water to keep his head above it so he can look around.

He can see the beach, a short ways off, and the dock that he’s seen Caleb perched on many times before with the cuffs of pants rolled up to the knees. More importantly, Molly can see the house, Caleb’s little house sitting way at the top of the rocky cliff side and the sight of it makes his heart hammer in his chest. Won’t he be surprised to see Molly striding up to his front door like a proper person on his own two legs. He can almost imagine Caleb’s face when he sees him, those bright blue eyes of his round with shock.

With that image in mind, Molly feels his limbs get a bit stronger, and its with a giddy resolve that he fights against the pull and swell of the waves, swimming towards the beach as fast as he can. Eventually his hands and knees scrap against the sandy shoreline and finally, Molly is able to pull himself free of the surf and push himself up onto his new, strange legs. He can’t lie, it’s a struggle at first to find his balance. The sand shifting under his feet certainly doesn’t help him find firm footing and his knees quake under the weight of him, but after a few stumbling attempts, Molly manages to right himself. He lets out a triumphant huff as he straightens up, arms spread wide to help maintain his balance. He lifts a shaking leg, and takes a single step.

A surge of pride rolls through him, just as another wave crashes down on top of him, sending him sprawling back into the water.

Fuck!

He comes back up spluttering out sea water and has to drag himself out of the tide before he’s willing to give it another go.

The second attempt is much easier, it doesn't take nearly as long to stand this time. He plants his feet on the dry sand and pushes himself upright with his hands until he’s balanced once more on the two thin pegs that are his legs.

Well you see, know that wasn’t so difficult was it. He thinks to himself and takes a few more, less the graceful steps away from the ocean. Once Molly’s sure he's not about to be tackled by another wave, he takes a quick moment to asses himself.

Weaver bless him, he has legs. Long purple ones that jut out from his hip bones where his tail had once been. Legs with knees and calves and feet with weird looking little nubs at the end that he burrows down into the soft sand. He runs his hands down them, bending over so he can touch the backs of his knees and that's when he notices two more new protrusions from his lower half. The one in the front is fairly easy to guess what it is. Though it's a bit strange to just see it dangling there limp between his legs, it's definitely not the most interesting thing going on down here. Something long and thin and sinuous is wiping back and forth behind him. He goes to grab it, to investigate, but only succeeds in falling over onto his arse. And it's all so bizarre and wonderful that he has to laugh. It leaves him in a soundless whoosh of air and, well shit. He opens his mouth to speak and all that comes out is a shrill, dry, screech. His brows draw down into the furrow.

That’s exactly what isn't supposed to happen.

Molly reaches up to touch the chain of the silver necklace dangling from his throat. This was supposed to make him proper human, or a proper person at least. With legs and feet and, gods what was it Caleb called them, lungs? Yes. with lungs and a voice that works on land too. He runs a hand over his side, across his ribs where his fingers slid over two long gills that wrap their way around his flank. Which is just more confusing because he feels like he's breathing just fine without them. Maybe the Moonweaver’s magic can only do so much. Or maybe he should have been more specific with his request. He had only asked for legs, a lot of room for interpretation there. Caleb would probably know what's going on, he knows all sorts of things from those books he's always reading.

Oh gods he’d almost forgotten about Caleb in the excitement of it all. Quickly Molly scrambles back up to his feet. Hot, dry sand is sticking to his legs and hands and his arse, and no matter how hard he tries to wipe it off the only thing it seems to do is spread it around. So sand is something that is definitely better in the water, he concludes. Doesn’t matter, he did all of this so he could see Caleb and there's been a notable lack of the red head up to this point. Molly looks back up to the cliff face where Caleb's house is.

The path up looks steeps and maybe a part of Molly is worried that maybe his frail new legs won't be enough to carry him up there, but he's certainly not just going to sit here on the beach and wait, in the hopes that Caleb will come and find him. He found a way onto land, he's sure as hell not going to let a little cliff stop him. But as he's making his way over to the place where the sand ends and tufts of shrub brush start to sprout, legs occasionally trembling underneath him, something small and bright orange streaks out of a patch of grass. Molly lets out a yelp of surprise as the thing sprints past him, a blur of ginger chasing a terrified crab as it scuttles towards the dock. Naturally he follows. He turns so fast it nearly knocks him off kilter, but he manages to catch himself before he eats sand and scrambles after the crab and the ginger blur. The blur is much faster than the crab. They race across the beach with Molly on their tail, making it as far as halfway up the dock. Molly watches the blur as it jumps and lands on the poor thing, coming down on it with its- well it's umm,,,,,

Coming to a less than graceful stop on the old wooden dock, he stares at the blur with his head cocked to the side, because this is the most bizarre creature he's ever seen. Its small, with a pointed face like an otter. Maybe it is an otter, it has the same four legs and the hair all over its body. But its ears are pointed and its eyes are an intelligent gold rather then glass black and its tail is longer and fluffier. If this is an otter, then there’s something very wrong with it.

The not otter is starting at him inquisitively, the caught crab dangling from its mouth. It gives him a quick and scathing once over before its back arches up and its hair sticks up on end and it hisses at him.

Rude little bastard, Molly thinks. He hisses back, baring pointed teeth at the creature. He could probably eat it, if he wanted to.

“Frumpkin? Are you out here?”

Faster than Molly has time to react, the not otter drops the crab and bolts between his legs back towards the beach, towards the sound of that familiar voice. Molly feels his heart start to race in his chest.

“There you are, boy, I had not seen you in a while, and I was starting to worry, ja. Oh yes, you are a good kitty, very good- oh!”

Quickly Molly school his face into an alluring smile, and turns, slowly, to face Caleb. He’s clutching the mean little frumpkin to his chest, hair drawn back in a loose ponytail. He watches Caleb's eyes take him in, a light, giddy feeling bubbling up in his chest as they go round with amazement and his jaw drops slack.

“Mol-lymauk?” he breaths.

Oh and Molly can’t help it, he beams, blindingly bright at Caleb and nods.

Slowly, as if in a trance, he sets the frumpkin down on the sand, and takes a few shuffling steps towards him. The breath catches in Molly’s throat. The suspense is almost to much to bare so on new legs Molly starts to jog down the dock towards Caleb. He must have miss stepped though, or misjudged how slick the wet wood of the dock was, but one second he's making a beeline for his favorite human, and the next the clear blue waves of the ocean are swinging up to greet him. He makes the mistake of taking a breath after he's hit the water, an old instinct that quickly fills his lungs with salty sea water.

“Mollymauk!”

For a long moment the world is spinning, his lungs are burning, and he cant breath. And then he feels hands under his arms, pulling him up and out of the sea. He breathes in air and coughs out water, as Caleb heaves him back up onto the dock.

“Mollymauk are you alright?!” Caleb asks, his hand resting on Molly’s shoulders while he chokes.

Molly nods, whipping the back of his hand over his face. He can feel more water dribbling out of his nose and the sensation makes his skin crawl and his eyes water. After a moment of furious hacking and Caleb's hesitant hand rubbing small circles over his back Molly is finally able to get a decent breath in, and when he does he turns to look at Caleb with a grin plastered across his face.

Their eyes met and Molly feels a hand on his shoulder pause. “Gods, it really is you.” Caleb mutters.

Molly rolls his eyes. Who else would it be, he wants to say, but can't.

Caleb runs a hand over his face, over his unshaven jaw. “But you are- you have-” his eyes trace over Molly’s legs, before quickly jumping back up to his face. Molly swears his sees a light dusting of color in his checks. “How is something like this even possible?”

Oh well that’s an easy enough question to answer. Molly catches the chain of his necklace between his fingers and brings it up to eye level for Caleb to see the silver, crescent shaped pendant dangling from the end. Then he points to the water and then to himself and folds his hands like he’s praying. Then he points to the necklace and then to his legs.

“I prayed to the Moonweaver to let me come on land and she gave me this necklace that gave me legs, so i could come and see you,,,”

He lays his hand on Caleb's shoulder and beams.

Caleb blinks. “I aaah- I do not think that that was as clear an explanation as you thought it was but umm- if I am understanding this correctly this necklaces is- some sort of magic?”

Molly seesaws his hand, sort of yeah, something like that.

Caleb nods. “Well I cannot say that I fully understand it, yet, but we can worry about that later I suppose. Let’s ahhh- lets start with getting you cleaned up, ja? Can you stand? Here ummm-”

Molly allows him to slip an arm around his shoulder and help him to his feet. It's much easier than trying to do it by himself, and really, he can’t complain about the warmth of Caleb’s hand on the small of his back. He leans back a bit into it, and finds himself stumbling. Caleb tightens his grip.

“Careful Mollymauk.” He says. “I do not know if I am strong enough to pull you out a second time.”

Molly hums his understanding, steadying himself on his feet. Once Caleb is sure he's not going to topple over, he lets his hands drop. He gives Molly another shy once over, before catching his eye and dropping his gaze to the ground. “I aahh -here”

Quickly Caleb shrugs out of his coat. Molly watches him curiously as brings it around him and drapes it over his shoulders. It's warm and soft and smells of old book and cinnamon.

“There, that’s better. Are you comfortable Mollymauk?” he asks.

Molly nods, tugging the coat tighter around himself.

“Ja ja, that is um, gut, lets go. Umm-” With much hesitation, Caleb takes Molly’s free hand and sets it on his shoulder. “Just- Just hold on to me and we will get you up to the house.”

Molly flashes him a thumbs up. Lead the way.

The walk up to the house isn't strenuous but its is long, and by the time the pair of them are cresting the top of the hill, Molly is clinging rather fiercely to his companion so that his knees don't give out. They wobble under him, clearly not used to this amount of work. Caleb is holding him around the arm to keep him from falling over.

“Nearly there.” Caleb mutters as they approach the front step

The house is modest and cozy looking, like a cottage, with planter boxes in the windows and silver chimes hanging by the door. Molly likes it quite a bit. He leans up against the wall while Caleb gets the door open, and then helps him inside.

“Jester are you home?” Caleb calls out as kicks the door shut behind him.

“I'm here, Caleb!” a female voice calls from behind one of the door frames.

“Can you come in here and help me, bitte?”

Suddenly there’s the sound of something scampering across the wooden floor and a moment later, another fuzzy, four legged creatures comes barreling from around the bend in the hall right at them. It's not a frumpkin, Molly’s got no idea what this is. But its bounding at them with its tongue lolling out of its mouth and its tail wagging excitedly.

He jumps, digging his nails into Caleb’s shoulder as the thing comes to a skidding halt in front of him.

“Nein, Nugget, down boy, down stop.” Caleb cries, trying to push the creature back with his foot while balancing Molly on his other arm. “Jester please, I need you.”

“Oh don't be such a baby, Nugget is only saying hello” the female voice comes again, and human figure enters the room. Well, more human than anything else Molly has seen. She has pastel blue skin and bright pink eyes and horns that curls against her head like his.

She pauses in the doorway when she sees them. Molly smiles at her, and waves.

“Caleb” the woman, Jester he would assume, says. “Caleb what happened?”

Caleb shrugs. “This ahhh- this is Mollymauk.” he says sheepishly. “Is he okay?” she asks. She runs over to them, shooing the nugget out of her way.

“Oh ja, he is fine, I think.” Caleb says. Molly flashes Jester a thumbs up. He feels just fine, maybe a little wobbly but fine other than that. Caleb continues. “Ja he is fine but I need to run a bath for him, can you help?” Jester nods vigorously. “Of course, of course Caleb, come on.” Tentatively, she puts a hand on Molly’s shoulder and Molly lets himself be lead deeper into the house, busing himself with looking at all the odds and ends Caleb has hanging on the walls. “Caleb what happened?” Jester asks again.

“I umm I found him while I was out on the beach.” Caleb says. “He was like this when I found him.” “Oh no! You don't think he was shipwrecked do you?”

“,,,,, perhaps,,”

“Oh that’s terrible!” she cries. She turns to Molly. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

Molly shakes his head. No, he definitely not hurt. He pats her hand gently, hoping to assure her.

She blinks up at him. “Can you not speak Molly?”

Again he shakes his head, and gestures to the gills on his flank, hidden now by Caleb’s coat.

“Something with your ribs?” Jester asks, before rounding on Caleb again. “See Caleb he is hurt! I bet he punctured one of his lungs and now its all shriveled up like a raisin.”

“I do not think so, Jester but I will check.” apparently they’ve reached wherever they were headed because Caleb uses his free hand to open the door and gently shoves Molly inside, barring Jester from entering with his body in the door frame. “I promise if there is something wrong I will come and get you right away, alright?”

She looks like she wants to argue, but Molly catches her gaze over Caleb's shoulder and nods. He's fine.

Jester sighs. “Fiiiiiiiiiiiine, but if he dies don’t say I didn’t try to help you.” and with that she turns on her heel, and Caleb shuts the door after her. “You’re not going to die, are you?” he asks Molly.

Molly shakes his head. He doesn't think he’s dying, no.

Caleb runs fingers through his hair, pulling a few stands loose of his ponytail. “Good, that is gut. Now ahhh- lets the umm -let's get you cleaned up.”

Molly looks down at himself. There’s sand caked up over his legs and his arms and his tail and stuck between the nubs on the ends of his feet. He grimaces as he wiggles them and feels the unpleasant grittiness against his skin. He nods at Caleb.

Probably best I get clean up yeah.

Caleb nods as well “Ja, we do not want you tracking sand all over the house. Here-” he offers his hand and Molly gladly takes it, allowing Caleb to lead him over to a large white basin against the far wall He has to grip the other’s forearms as Caleb directs him to step over the high walls of the thing and then sits down inside it.

Sitting there with his knees bent up towards his chest, he gives Caleb a look, and taps the walls of the basin.

Caleb seems to pick up what it is he’s asking. “Oh! Ja um, this is a bathtub, I forget that you do not know this. This will help you get cleaned up.” he says, moving so he can fiddle with some strange pipes at the foot of it. “You can just throw my coat there on the floor, Mollymauk, I don't want it to get wet.”

Molly does as he's asked, slipping the coat off his shoulders and tossing it over the side of the bathtub.

Caleb nods his approval, sticking some sort of plug into the opening in the floor of the tub, just as water starts to flow from the pipes. He stands up, wiping his hands off on his trousers. “It will take a little time for it to fill up but ahhh- it's something.” he says. “If it is too hot just turn this one this way.” he turns the right tap to the right and back again. Molly gives him a thumbs up.

Caleb nods. “I would ahh- I would give you some privacy, but I am afraid the tub might overflow,,,,” he sounds almost guilty about it.

Molly waves it off with a hand.

Rather have you stay anyway.

Caleb fidgets, and after a painfully long moment of watching him not know what to do with his hands, Molly takes pity on the man and taps the side of the tub again. Come sit here.

It seems Caleb understands because, after some deliberation, he sets himself down on end of the tub where the taps are. Molly hums his approval.

The water is warm, and quickly climbing up the sides of the tub now. Molly takes the quiet moment to stretch his legs out. Bending them at the knee, rolling his ankle back and forth. He lifts it as high as he can then lets it drop back into the water with a splash. He hears Caleb chuckle and glances up to find the human’s eyes already on him.

Molly smiles, he can hardly believe this is happening. That he gets to be here, on land, with Caleb.

“I do not know how this is possible, but it is very good to see you Mollymauk.”

Molly nods. He’s so glad Caleb feels the same way.

And it's all thanks to these. Molly stretches one of his legs towards Caleb. They’re pretty amazing, yeah?

The gesture gets another laugh out of Caleb. “Ja ja, they are pretty cool.”

They are cool, and once I’m cleaned up we're going to go exploring, you and I, and I’m going to have you show me everything I can see with a pair of these things.

He wiggles the little nubs at the ends of his feet.

“Very cute.”

Molly beams at the praise.

Hell yeah he’s cute.

#midnigtwrites #widomauk #mermauk au

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pixelatedrose · 4 years

Note

Hey can you write prompt 38 "Who do you think i am?! A god?!!" "Yes." For prinxiety please but if you dont want to thats fine.

Prompt 38 Prinxiety

"Who do you think i am?! A god?!!" "Yes."

Word count: 5,763

Warnings: uncensored swearing, really bad decisions being made that heavily effect other people, forced change

To Be With You

What happens when an immortal falls in love with a mortal?

Well nothing good.

"Roman, you're staring at him again." Patton, god of the sky, weather and truth, said.

Roman, god of the sun, day and passion, sighed dreamily. "But have you ever seen him, Pat?" He sighed again from where he lay on a fluffy cloud, looking down at the world below. "He's got the most beautiful face, and his hair! And his eyes are just perfect!" He rolled over and kicked his legs in the air like a four year old child. "He's BEAUTIFUL!!!"

Logan, god of moon, night and knowledge, looked up from his ancient Celtic scroll. "You are really quite insufferable, Roman. I actually can't recall the last time you fell so sickeningly in love with a mortal. I'd forgotten how awful it was." He said in a monotone voice from where he sat in a chair.

Patton pouted. "Oh, Logan! Be nice!!" He walked over and ruffled a very distracted Roman's hair. "Roman's in love! Remember when you were in love?" Logan looked back at his scroll and coughed, a light shade of pink dusting his face.

Patton smirked, walking over to the taller god and leaning down to bring his face close to the other's. "I believe I remember something along the lines of 'The stars aligning themselves so that we could be together for the rest of time and eternity.' Does that ring any bells, hm, Lo-Lo?"

Logan put his scroll down on a nearby table. "The only thing I recall," he pulled Patton into his lap and smiled. "Is you crying uncontrollably, love."

Roman decided to move away from the couple that was now making out and to his room. He pulled out his gazing ball, an object all gods had, and gazed lovingly at the form of his mortal love gardening and pruning rose bushes. The view wasn’t quite as lovely as it was from atop the clouds, but it would have to do for now.

His mortal was truly gorgeous. His dark raven hair was tousled by the wind and looked fluffier than anything Roman had ever seen. His pale skin reminded him of the moon’s shining surface and he wished he could touch it with his own dark hands. His eyes were the most beautiful though. His Alexandria’s genesis turning his eyes the most extraordinary shade of purple ever. They were amazing. And Roman swore if he ever saw them up close, he would fall into them.

Roman let his head rest in his arms as he looked into the ball. “My love, if only you knew what you’d done to the heart of this god…”

~~•~~

“Roman! Are you in there?” Patton’s voice came from the other side of Roman’s door, waking the God up. He had apparently drifted off while his mortal had started working his job as a seamster. His spy glass had long gone dark with lack of attention and his room had gone dark without the light of the sun.

“Yeah, I’m here!” Roman called, putting his glass ball away. He opened the door to his room. “What’s up, Sky?”

Patton smiled. “Nothing much! It’s meal time though!”

Every day, around the same time, the gods would gather up the offerings the mortals made to them.

Roman nodded and went off to gather his portion of the offerings. While they ate, Roman talked about his mortal. More like ranted, but he could hardly tell the difference.

“My heavens, Roman!” Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “I honestly cannot wait until you inevitably outlive that puny human.”

Patton gave a little gasp. “Logan!! How could you say that?!”

“It is going to happen either way. I’m simply stating my opinion on it.” Logan sniffed. “And if it will shut Roman up, all the better, I say.”

Roman was suddenly thrust into the spiraling reality that he wouldn’t ever get to be with his mortal love.

He hardly noticed the ongoing argument between the God of the Sky and the God of the Moon as he got up from the table and left. He locked himself in his room and cried. He felt more like a child than a god. But it really did break his heart. He would never get to hold his love. He’d never get to run his fingers through that thick raven hair. He’d never get to touch his pale, fair skin. He’d never get to look into his beautiful, exquisite purple eyes.

And so Roman cried until an idea struck his mind.

~~•~~

Roman snuck around Patton’s room, and passed quietly by Logan’s study. He ran up the steps to the biggest part of the heavens and took a deep breath, swallowing his apprehension.

And Roman knocked on Life’s door.

Maybe this was a bad idea...Definitely a bad idea. I mean Life probably won’t even come to the door! He’s always so busy so-

The door swung open and Roman was face to face with the god of Life, love, and joy.

He smiled down at him. “Oh, hello Roman!”

Roman bowed down, very quickly regretting his decision to come to Life. “Greetings, Life. I’m very sorry I-”

“You can just call me Emile, Roman!” Life smiled, pulling Roman up out of his bow. “And don’t you tell me you’re sorry for bothering me! Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m here to help!”

Roman was once again reminded of how kind Emile was. “Right. Emile, I have...I have a request…”

Emile smiled, leading Roman inside. “A request? Oh I haven’t gotten a request since Patton begged me to make butterflies about...Oh it’s been at least 2,000 years now I guess.” He sat down on a white cushioned chair and gestured for Roman to sit too. “So tell me, dear Sun, what is your request?”

Roman shuffled his feet and sat down, his hands in his lap. “It’s sort of a big request, and I’m sure you’ll say no, but….” Roman looked down at his feet and considered lying. Patton would know if he did and then Logan would chastise him for bothering Emile with something so trivial. Roman met Emile’s shimmering eyes, solidifying his resolve. “I want you to make a new god.”

Emile looked a little shocked, his smile falling away for a moment. It returned, a hint of mischief glittering in his swirling eyes as he leaned forward on his knees. “A new god, Roman? Do you have a subject in mind, or are you just getting bored of your friends?”

Roman smiled suddenly, his chest flaring up with passion. “I do have someone in mind! He’s the most perfect person for the job, I’m sure of it! He’s kind and hardworking, and he has the most magnificent mind!”

Emile smiled and leaned back. “You’re in love with a mortal, aren’t you?”

Roman’s smile didn’t falter. “I am. And what a shame it is that the others will never know what it’s like to fall in love with imperfection!” He stood up. “I beg of you that you make my love immortal that he might live with me in the heavens!”

Emile started to laugh. It was a heavy and delighted one as he nearly fell off his chair shaking from it. “You, dear Sun,” He said, calming his voice, eyes alight with humor and color. “Are still so young!” Roman’s smile started to fade before Emile continued. “I will grant your request. I don’t usually do this, and Remy’s going to try and kill me over this, but for your love, I’ll do it. Though it will take a few days at least. Because it is your request, I will make you my assistant in creating this new god.” He leaned forward again, his ever changing and shining eyes glowing with splendor. “Now, what is the name of this mortal that has stolen your heart?”

“Virgil Aegir.”

~~•~~

Roman and Emile worked hard for four whole days, Roman insisting that he had to be perfect. In time, Virgil was ready to become a god. Emile kicked him out so that the actual name and life giving process could be done without risk of messing it up.

When Roman asked about what Emile meant by giving Virgil a name, Emile smiled. “It’s what he will rule over. Your names are Sun, Day and Passion. Patton’s names are Sky, Weather and Truth. Logan’s names are Moon, Night and Knowledge. Remy’s names are Death, Balance and Justice. My names are Life, Love and Joy. As such, Virgil will receive three names, three powers, three purposes. Now go, before you get yourself hurt.”

Roman sat outside the mansion’s steps, listening to the silence of the heavens as the sun began to sink out of sight, washing the Earth in oranges and reds.. There was a sudden explosion behind him and Roman shot upright and spun around.

Emile burst out of the large doors coughing, smoke spilling out into the open air. Roman ran up the steps to help the god of Life.

Logan and Patton ran up to the smoking mansion.

“Roman!! What did you do?!” Logan demanded, racing up the steps.

Emile coughed again and waved his hand at Logan, smiling. “Oh don’t worry, Logan! It wasn’t his fault! This just happens every time I finish creating something as big as a god!”

Logan’s eyes grew wide. “A god?!”

Patton ran up the stairs, his eyes shining. “We’re going to have a new god?!” He bubbled. “Oh this is wonderful, Lo-Lo!!”

“Not when it’s obviously Roman’s fault!!” Logan argued.

Emile smiled. “Oh, dear Moon, you’re as stubborn as ever! Yes, it was my Sun that came to me with the request, but it was my choice to create him.”

“The point is that Roman bothered you! He should have never made you do something so strenuous!!”

Patton pouted. “You did this last time I asked Emile to make something, and it turned out just fine, Logan! Stop pestering Roman!”

Emile laughed, drawing the attention of the other gods. “Oh you all are still so very young!!” Colors danced in the old god’s eyes like dandelion fluff dances in the wind. “You all have much to learn about the light of your world!!”

“H-hello…?” A timid voice sounded from the doorway.

All heads turned to the small figure.

Roman could have melted under the beauty he saw before him.

His pale skin was perfect and looked softer than silk, faint, white star shaped freckles dotted his arms and cheeks and his hair looked even fluffier, the tips fading into a deep purple that reminded Roman of secrets that had yet to be uncovered. He wore a long cloak that was purple on the outside and contained galaxies swirling on the inside. His deep purple shirt wrapped around him, sewn with silver thread. A silver belt hung around his waist and tight black pant disappeared into knee high purple and silver boots. His shirt’s long, loose purple sleeves were sheer from the shoulder down and long, flowing streams of sheer purple fabric tied themselves to his wrists and vanished behind his back, presumably held and hidden under his belt. And his eyes...His eyes lay unchanged, a beautiful, striking amethyst, so clear and deep they seemed nearly otherworldly.

He was the most magnificent person Roman had ever laid eyes on.

Roman walked up to him and held his perfect face in his hands. “My darling love, you’re here!” As Roman bent down with every intention to kiss the smaller figure, he pulled away, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s chest.

“Who the hell even are you?” He said, his perfect eyes flitting around anxiously. “Or where am I?!” The boy started to stumble backwards, panic clearly settling in. “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Emile gently moved Roman aside and grabbed the boy’s hands, pulling them up and smiling warmly. “My dear Star, you’ve been plucked up from the earth and been created more! Someone here loved you enough to set me upon the task of creating a new god out of you, that they might be with you!” Emile quietly took him down the steps and, with a flick of his hand, a new room popped up, this one covered in tiny stars and a glass roof. He took him over to it, the others following behind like a lost herd of sheep.

“You are the god of the Stars.” Emile said, gesturing up at the stars in the sky above them, just starting to blink into existence in the sun’s absence. He turned back to the boy and moved his pale hands to cover his perfect lips. “You are the god of Secrets.” Emile let the pale hands fall away from the star-freckled face. “And…” He threw his arms wide, his smile never faltering. “You are the god of Time!”

The boy’s eyes went wide in fear. He started to shake his head. “No, no, no no no!” He started slowly. “No, I’m not a god! I’m a seamster that lives in a small town!”

Emile lightly shook his head. “I’m sorry, dear Star, but your life before is over now.”

He ripped his hands from Emile’s light and kind grasp. “No!! Stop calling me that!! My name is Virgil Aegir and I am not a god!!” Virgil locked his hands in his hair.

Emile’s kind smile turned sad. “Your name is still Virgil, my dear. But what is done cannot be undone. You are a god. And in time, you’ll do wonderfully at your job.”

Virgil crouched down to the ground, trying to get away from everything. “No I don’t want to do this!! I never wanted to be a god!!”

Emile’s smile finally fell away. “If you must search for someone to blame, look toward the Sun. He requested that I bring you into the heavens so he might never know the pain of losing you.” Emile started walking back to his mansion, pausing and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I should have seen this coming. I’m sorry.”

As soon as Emile disappeared through his doors, Logan turned on Roman. “You absolute fool!!” He yelled. “You brainless excuse for a god!! Look at the mess you’ve made!!” He threw a hand in the direction of the paralyzed god silently panicking as tears dripped down his face.

“Logan, stop!!” Patton said, trying to pull the arm off of Roman’s shoulder. “He didn’t mean any harm!!”

Logan turned on the sky god. “Well he caused it!!” He shouted.

Roman’s anger was starting to flare. “You wouldn’t understand!! And you will never understand!!” He pointed angrily and Patton who had started backing away. “You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid that the one person you love more than yourself,” He jabbed a finger at Logan’s chest hard. “Will die knowing that you never will!!”

“It wasn’t your choice to make!!” Logan yelled.

“You would have done the same if Patton was mortal!!”

“But Patton isn’t mortal and will never be mortal!”

“But that’s not the point! I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him!!’

“The point is, Roman, that you made a mistake! And now someone is hurting because of it!!!”

“HEY!!!” The voice drew their attention to the puffy-eyed god of stars. “Was anyone going to show me how the hell to do this?!!” He shouted.

The two arguing gods stopped and looked over to Virgil. “I don’t care why I’m here anymore! All that matters is I’m here! And I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or where I am even!”

Logan turned and walked away. “I have a task that requires my attention.” He said stiffly, Patton running after him.

“I guess it’s up to you to show me around then, Princey.” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

Roman nearly sputtered. “Princey?”

Virgil flushed slightly, hardening his eyes and looking away. “Your outfit reminds me of a prince’s, that’s all. Don’t read into it.”

Roman chuckled slightly. “I make no promises, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.” Virgil said. “I’m not your ‘love’, got it?”

“As you wish, my Star. Shall I show you the ropes of the heavens, so to speak?" Roman asked.

Virgil blew a piece of his hair up out of his face with his breath and rubbed at one of his eyes. "Sure." He finally said, uncrossing his arms and trying to force a smile. "I'm here now, aren't I? Might as well try and enjoy it."

~~•~~

“Emile!!” Emile heard his name booming from inside the place he called home.

Emile sighed, knowing who it would be. “That’s my name, Rem! Don’t wear it out!”

Remy materialized in Emile’s living room pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t got time for your cute nonsense, babe.” Emile turned away from the god of Death and focused his attention on making tea. “You made another god without talking to me about it first, didn’t you hun?” Despite the pet names, Remy’s voice was anything but sweet and sympathetic.

Emile smiled, focusing on the tea kettle. Sure, he could just make some tea materialize out of the air, but he liked the traditional ways. “I did make a god. It was about time we got a god to rule over time anyway!” Emile held up two different plants. “Mint or vanilla, sweets?”

Remy waved his hand. “Vanilla, love. And that’s totally not the point!! You took a human to make this god!” Emile turned around, expecting to see Remy pacing again. Though he hardly caught himself as the god of Death was hardly six inches away from his face, ever blind eyes brimming with fury. “Remember what happened last time you did that, Life?”

Emile recalled the memory very clearly. His smile was sad, just a ghost of what it had been before. “I do…”

The kettle behind Emile started whistling.

Remy reached past the god of Life and picked up the kettle. “So you know the mess you’ve made, huh?” He moved over to the counter and poured the boiling water into each of the ancient Chinese pottery cups that Logan had gifted Life one year.

Emile sighed. “Listen, I think it could be different this time!!” He crossed over to where Death had sat down with his cup of vanilla tea. He accepted the cup of peach lemon tea that Remy held out in his free hand and sat down across from Death. “Thanks, honey.” He took a sip before continuing. “Listen, I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I have a really good feeling about Virgil! And you know…” Emile crossed over to where Remy was and slid himself into his lap. “Everything worked out just fine last time, too.”

Remy sighed. “I guess it was okay in the end... but that doesn’t mean you should be doing it all the time, babe.”

Life planted a small kiss on Death’s cheek. “I know.”

~~•~~

Roman had been showing Virgil around the heavens.

“This is where the Sky sleeps!”

“Wait isn’t that just night?”

“No, the Night sleeps over there.”

“But isn’t it day when the night sleeps?”

“No, I’m the day and I sleep over there.”

“So when you sleep it’s night?”

“Sometimes. I tend to take little naps throughout the entirety of a day rather than sleep in one sitting like humans do.”

“But when you sleep it becomes night?”

“What does this have anything to do with where the sky sleeps?”

It was filled with questions upon questions upon questions. Some of them Roman didn’t know how to answer.

“What happens if you fall off the clouds?”

“I’m not...sure. No one’s ever fallen off the clouds before…”

“Does time flow differently up here?”

“I don’t believe so...But I could be wrong. I’ve never been a mortal after all.”

“How many gods are there?”

“I’m not actually sure. I know of at least six now, including you and me, but now that I think about it, there could be tens more…”

Roman showed him his favorite spots, watching the new god look around curiously. In fact, Virgil was so consumed by what was going on around him, he had forgotten what had even happened to him.

Roman looked up at the sky and smiled. “It’s time now, Virgil!”

Virgil looked over at the taller god. “What? Is something cool about to happen?”

Roman smiled. “I guess! It’s nearly dawn, which means you need to put the stars to rest, Vee!”

Virgil started to panic. “I can’t do that!! Who do you think I am?! A god??!”

Roman stared blankly at his love. “Yes.”

Virgil laughed demonically. “Oh shit!! Haha!! I am a god, aren’t I?!”

Roman stared at Virgil. “It’s alright, my darling! This is what you have been remade to do!”

Virgil looked at him with panic stricken eyes. “But I don’t know how to do it!!” Virgil had grown comfortable around Roman. There had been points during the night cycle where Virgil had to put his trust in the sun god. He was also coming to realize he quite liked the taller god, though he’d never admit such a thing. Virgil grabbed Roman by the shoulders and quietly lay his forehead against his chest. "I don't know what I'm doing…" He said, trying to calm down.

Roman considered bringing the smaller god in closer, but decided he'd made enough bad choices for one day. He held Virgil at arms length and bent down to meet his panicked purple gaze. "Listen, Virgil," He started, smiling a very soft and comforting smile. "I can try and help you as much as possible, but you can do it. I believe in you! There's a reason Emile agreed to make you into a god, little starling! You'll do wonderful!"

Virgil seemed to consider Roman's words for a moment before nodding. "Alright…" he said, a minor tremor in his voice. "Tell me what I should do." He turned away and faced the sky. "I'll put the stars away, or whatever."

Roman smiled, his eyes sparkling. It was something small that, in hindsight, might have made Virgil slip just slightly deeper in love with the god of the sun. "That's my starry knight!"

~~•~~

Virgil had managed to put the stars to rest with a bit of effort that night. He had decided to retire to his room after that and slept.

Months had passed now, and Logan was starting to ease up on both Roman and Virgil. He had been completely cold toward Virgil, nearly ignoring his presence entirely. Whenever Logan and Roman had to interact, it always turned into a shouting match, each much too prideful to fess up that they were wrong.

It had been taking a toll on Patton and after a few weeks forced the two opposite gods to sit down and work things out.

It was an entire day and night that they were gone trying to make amends and the mortals thought the world was ending when the moon fell over the sun, casting a shadow across the Earth.

Logan and Roman emerged from Patton’s house and smiled. Roman walking over to Patton to apologise for his behavior and Logan crossing over to Virgil.

"I'm very truly apologetic for my abhorrent behavior towards you. You, like Roman and Patton, are a god. And should be treated as such. There is little excuse for my actions and I beg your forgiveness."

Virgil backed up slightly, waving his hands and an awkward smile alighting upon his face. "Ah, no! It's all fine! I forgive you, Logan!"

Logan let himself out of his apologetic bow. “This is a very pleasant outcome, I believe!” Logan respectfully held out his hand to the smaller god and smiled. “I look forward to spending more time with you, Virgil!”

Virgil would have missed the way Roman smiled fondly at the small god of stars.

Roman had only fallen deeper in love with Virgil since he’d arrived. And he’d had a good amount of time to reflect on the mistakes he had made. He knew he had been wrong. He wished he could take it all back. Seeing how what he’d done effected Virgil, it made his chest burn with guilt. He never wanted anything like this to happen. All he had ever really wanted was to be with his love. Logan had argued that Roman would just move on and fall in love with another mortal again after Virgil had died, but Roman didn’t think so.

Sure it had happened in the past, but this time felt different. Roman hardly had known anything about Virgil before he went to Emile. Every other time Roman would have become obsessed with wanting to know more about him from afar.

But he didn’t want that. He hadn’t wanted that. He had wanted to know him up close. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him. He wanted to hear him. He wanted to laugh with him. He wanted to know all the edges and corners of his mind for himself. He wanted to know him.

And he knew he didn’t want to have Virgil all for himself. He had experienced ‘love’ like that before, and this was not that. He wanted to watch Virgil grow and be free. And in a few more months time, Roman would come to realize that he loved Virgil so much, that he would be willing to let go of the pretty god and never see him again if that was what he had wished.

~~•~~

It was a sunny and warm day as Virgil and Roman sat on the fluffy clouds, drinking in the sunlight. They had grown very used to each other- Roman having fallen deeper in love with the god of the stars, and Virgil finding himself on a deep and irreversible spiral of adoration for the god of the sun.

Virgil had also become very close with the other two gods, and had found himself lacking the desire to return home. There wasn’t any way for him to return home anyway, so why bother wanting to? He liked it here. Quite a lot too.

It was this fateful day that Virgil met the god of Death, Balance and Justice.

Roman opened his eyes at the sound of someone approaching, turning to find the god of Death making his way over to the pair of smaller gods.

He instantly stood up in respect. “Death! What brings you this way? Is there anything we may assist you with?”

Death waved his hand at Roman. “Honey, please. You know you can call me Remy! And besides, I’m not here for you.”Remy turned to Virgil, who was still sitting comfortably on the cloud. “Get up, babe, I got something big to tell you about.” Remy’s blind eyes stared eerily at Virgil.

Virgil stood up and followed Remy as he started to walk away. It was strange. He felt like he should have been unsettled by the god of Death, but he wasn’t. There was a strange warmth about the tall god that made Virgil feel comfortable.

Roman walked with them as Remy began to talk, heading in the direction of Logan’s study. “Now I know that what happened to you was, like, totally unfair and shit, and I’ve been looking into a way to totally make it completely fair! Well, I had Emmy help too of course, I mean I kinda hate reading so why would I waste time doing that?” Remy entered the study where they found Emile sitting in a large chair reading an old book. “Anyway, hun, you can go ahead and take a seat wherever I guess and I can tell you the fab news!”

Virgil sat down, giving Roman a confused side glance. Roman shrugged his shoulders in response and sat down next to him.

Remy clapped his hands together, the bright smile on his face a contrast to his drab outfit. Roman was once again reminded of what a cheery fellow Death actually was. “Alright! So We-” Remy cut off, his dead gaze turning to Roman. “I’m not so sure you should be here, sunshine. Seeing as you were-”

Virgil placed a hand on Roman’s. “No. He stays.” His crystal eyes were solid and bright. Roman didn’t know exactly where his passion had come from, but it was clear that Virgil wasn’t going to bend on the subject.

Roman’s face lit up slightly when Virgil didn’t let go of his hand, instead opting to link their fingers together.

Remy shrugged and continued his animated talking. “As I was saying so fabulously!! With a bit of research and persistence, we found you a way home, mr. dark and stormy!!”

The world froze.

The air around them all felt so fragile, like it would shatter to pieces if any of them breathed.

Somewhere, a child was laughing at daisys spinning in the air.

Somewhere, someone was celebrating their wedding.

Somewhere, a grandmother and her best friend shared an old crinkling joke, whispy and light.

Somewhere, a father was singing their child to sleep.

And Virgil could hear it all as if he had been the people themselves.

Everything was so very very wide and quiet and frozen.

Virgil had a way home.

“W-what…?” Virgil finally managed to let the words escape his mouth.

Remy smiled, bouncing a little. “You get to go home, honey cakes!!”

Emile stood up and smiled softly. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but essentially yes. Me and Remy found you a way home.”

Roman’s heart was beating out of his chest. Or was it stuck stone still? He couldn’t tell…

Virgil hardly heard Remy and Emile listing off how it would work, how he would be able to go home.

“Can I…” Virgil cut in harshly. “Can I just get some space to think about this?”

Remy stopped his rambling as Emile smiled. “Yes of course, Star. We will leave you to your decision.”

Life and Death left the study hand in hand, and as Roman started to get up, Virgil’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Wait..” He said softly. “I want you to stay…”

Roman sat sat back down and tried to meet Virgil’s gaze, his own golden eyes laced with concern and worry.

Virgil had the chance to go home. He had ruined his life once already, Roman wasn’t about to let himself ruin it again.

“So how soon will you be leaving?” Roman asked softly.

Panic struck Virgil’s amethyst eyes like lightning. “What?!” He stood up fast, almost knocking the chair over, letting Roman’s hand fall away from his. “What makes you think that I’m leaving?!”

“You finally have the chance to go home! I can’t keep you from that again. I won’t let myself. Besides, you had an entire life down there!” Roman stood up from his chair.

“So what?! I have an entire life up here too! There’s Patton and Logan and- and you!! I don’t want to leave you…” Virgil stepped closer to the taller god, and hesitantly moved his hand toward Roman’s.

Roman, as oblivious as ever, continued. “Patton and Logan would be fine! They’ll probably be ecstatic for you when they find out that you’ll be able to go home!! They care about you too and want to see you happy!” Roman stepped away and started pacing.

“That’s not exactly what I meant, Roman. I could leave them and be fine eventually.” Virgil stepped closer again, catching Roman’s arms. He sighed and rested his head against the god of the Sun’s chest. He let his hands travel down his arms and quietly hold Roman’s dark hands. Virgil thought of his mundane life before. He thought of the way he would never get to be who he wanted to be as a human, how as a human he would be told that he should marry a girl and have children to help with the family business. He thought of how he had longed to be something more, do something more. He thought of how ever since he came to be a god, he’d been happier. How Roman had always been there to help him when he didn’t understand what to do. How Roman was always there. How he would laugh with him, and how his smile made his heart thunder in his chest, how he longed to never part from him. Virgil thought about how he loved to be a god with Roman by his side.

Virgil breathed out, his eyes watering slightly at the thought of having to leave him. “I don’t want to leave you, Roman…” He wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned in more. “I think I’m more scared of losing you than I am of going back…I know I told you time and time again that I didn’t want to be with you, but…”

Virgil looked up to meet Roman’s eyes, and found himself unable to speak. He could no longer find the words to express what he was feeling.

So instead he brought his hands to cradle Roman’s face, and silently he kissed him.

It was sweet and Virgil thought that Roman tasted like sunshine and sweet lemons and honey. It was wonderful and felt so very right and pure.

Roman’s hands wrapped around Virgil’s small waist and, as surprised as he had been at first, he kissed Virgil back. He nearly whined out loud when they finally parted, but he let it happen.

Virgil’s face was flushed as he quickly realized what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry, I really don’t know what I was thinking- Actually I don’t really think I was at all but-”

Roman quietly brushed his hand across Virgil’s cheek, bringing the smaller god’s rambling to rest. “Does this mean you’re staying…?” Roman smiled softly.

Virgil returned the smile, holding Roman’s hand against his cheek and melting into the warmth of his skin. “Yeah...I think it does, Princey…!”

Their lips met again and they melted into one another, paying no mind to the world around them, the only thing between them being their own beating hearts, alive with passion abound and secrets untold.

So what happens when an immortal falls in love with a mortal?

Well…

Ask the stars and he’ll tell you.

Holy heck so uh...I got really carried away with this one. So sorry it took so long to get out! And I know I added probably a lot more details than needed and it’s probably not as shippy as you’d like, but I really hope you enjoy it!!

#stripestar128128 #writing prompt ask #sanders sides #ts sides #prinxiety #gods au #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #emile sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts remy #ts emile

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mail-me-a-snail · 4 years

Text

Pink in the Night

Hugo Wallace’s story continues! in this chapter, we learn of the baker’s real name, and finally settle this emotional debacle

tag list: @txmmy-rose @immabethehero @spoken-paper-plane @cryptic-phantom17 @iv0ry-keys tw: mild nsfw, brief description of broken bones read pt.1 here

The rain beats against the ground. Somewhere, thunder cracks and lights the world up for one moment. The trees rush past Hugo Wallace in a wild blur as he races through the forest, trying his best to keep his footing as hot tears muddle his vision and the ground becomes muddy.

"Stupid," he berates himself, "Stupid, stupid, stupid. The one you love doesn't love you back, even though you knew he wouldn't, so you run away, crying like a child. Stupid, stupid—" "Doctor Wallace!" yells the baker from somewhere behind him over the rain. "I told you, don't follow me!" His voice cracks on the you. "Doctor Wallace, please, listen—" The ground gets rockier and muddier and it’s harder for him to maintain his balance. There are more trees now, crowding the edges of his vision. He's stumbling in the dark because he left his lantern in the grove. Another stupid, stupid decision, all because of this Bird Man nonsense. He isn't even using his cane; it's swinging as his arm does, like he's ready to hit something, because he is more than ready to. His clothes are sopping wet. "What do you want me to say, doctor?" The baker persists, footsteps closer, followed by the sound of branches being moved aside. "Do you want me to tell you I don't love the Bird Man? Would that help things?" Hugo wants to say yes, but the confusion drips so strongly from the baker it leaves a sour taste in his mouth. "Drop it, please, for the love of God, drop it!" Hugo shouts, "Clearly, you're in love with a silhouette!" "That's not—" he growls in frustration, "Where are you even going?" "I'm going home. I'm tired and angry, a-and upset, and I just want to go—" "HUGO!"

Hugo's stomach dips as he falls straight off the path's end. At first, he thinks that this is it, that this is his end—a less than satisfying death at the bottom of a cliff. Oh, well. At least this emotional debacle would be over. The pain that comes with his jaw smacking hard against the forest floor, rattling his teeth, his mask scratching his face, and the bruising along his body reminds him he is very much alive. The breath is driven out of him and he struggles to breathe, but he is alive for the most part. His cane falls beside him. Dirt and rain shower him. He's covered in mud and his robes stick to his body. He looks up. He had fallen into a ditch, maybe five or six feet deep, and can see the trees overhead. He could climb out. His head hurts like hell and what's worse is that he can't see a thing in the darkness. "Hugo!" The baker's face pops over the lip of the ditch, eyes bright with worry. "Are you okay?" "Baker?" He groans, sitting up. Two of the baker's face shifts in and out of his swimming vision. A severe flame erupts in his left leg as he tries to stand, and he swears loud enough to scare away all the animals. As a physician, he knows his leg is broken. He feels around his pant leg for blood. The skin isn't broken, thank God, but the bone—his fibula, by the source of pain, it seems—is still shattered. The skin around it is already swelling. There goes climbing out. "M-My leg; it's broken." "Shit," the baker breathes, then slides down the hill to meet him. He leans down on one knee. "Tell me what to do, Hugo. I'm no doctor." The pain is already fading into numbness. Not good. He's going into shock; the edges of his vision are already turning a fuzzy black. He drops onto his back, feeling weak, sending a puddle splashing up around him. "Hugo!" The baker's strong, calloused hands help him sit up. One of his hands is placed right against Hugo's heart, which is thumping rather slowly, despite his wish coming true. "Hugo, stay with me. Tell me what to do." Hugo's head lolls and turns to the baker. He can see the anguish in those beautiful hazel eyes. It hurts him to see the baker so worried. His red hair and beard are wet from the rain, hanging around his face, making him look like a sheepdog with long jowls. Hugo's anger dissipates in a matter of seconds, though it might just be the shock. "F...first," he slurs, "Get me out of t-this hole." The baker hesitates, then puts one hand under Hugo's legs, careful not to jostle the broken one, and the other on his back. He lifts the doctor up without strain. Hugo throws an arm around his neck. "You weigh no more than a sack of flour does," The baker observes, "You should really eat more." "I-Is now r...really the time?" He lifts Hugo onto the other side of the ditch. He then hoists himself up and Hugo can't help but watch his muscles bulging as he does it, giggling to himself in delirium. Thunder claps again, and he can see the way the baker's wet shirt leaves little to the imagination. The baker sits beside him, unperturbed by his giggling. "Y-You must set the bone," Hugo undoes the clasp around his jaw and lifts his mask just until his mouth is exposed. "C...cane, give me my cane." The baker goes back to the ditch, climbing out with the cane in hand. He wipes it against his shirt, staining the cotton black with mud. Hugo wrinkles his nose; he doesn't exactly have many options here. "This will hurt," The baker warns, as if Hugo doesn't know that already. The doctor puts the cleaner part of his cane in-between his teeth. The rain coursing down his chin makes it hard to keep a grip, but he just bites down with all the strength in his jaw. He gives the signal. He tries to hold onto both the cane and the feeling of the baker's hands on his exposed leg as he nearly loses his mind in the pain and screams into his cane. Once it's over, he lets the tool drop and nearly drops down himself. The baker's hand on his back is the only thing grounding him. He's become deaf to the sound of rain and thunder because if the world's mad, then so is he, so the world has no right screaming like this. "S...Splint," Hugo blinks slowly, trying to get the words out. "Sticks. Two. Wrap." "O-Okay." The baker forages for sticks and finds two of roughly the same length. He tears fabric from the hem of his shirt. Following Hugo's instructions, he splints Hugo's leg. Then, the doctor promptly passes out. -- Everything is warm. Too bloody warm. Hugo wakes up covered in a sheen of sweat. He tries to move the heavy blanket off of him, but his motions are sluggish, like his brain and nerves aren't communicating. There's something cold and wet across his forehead. He relishes it. Every part of his body hurts and even blinking does, too. He wants to say something, but the sound that comes out of his chapped lips is a rasp. He realizes, with a start, that he's not wearing his mask, or his uniform. He's wearing a cotton shirt that isn't his, plastered to his chest because of the sweat. The room itself is cold, even with the fireplace roaring pleasantly and casting light on everything. The window outside shows the chaos of a thunderstorm. Rain pounds the roof. The walls are painted red. The bed of his is comfy, pillows presumably filled with goose down. The blanket is woven and threadbare. His mask is hanging on a coat rack in a corner of the room, along with his hat. He tries to adjust his position, but his left leg is in severe pain. When it flares up, he remembers why; the chase through the woods and subsequent fall into a ditch, where the baker splinted his leg and carried him out...this was probably the baker's house. The thought warms his cheeks more than the fever does. He shivers. He startles when the baker walks in, sporting a similar cotton shirt. He's holding a bowl with a spoon. Hugo can see the steam rise from it, but he feels nauseous at the thought of digesting anything. "You're awake," the baker says softly, lacking his usual gruff. "How do you feel?" He pulls a chair towards Hugo's beside and sits down. "Like s...shit," Hugo replies, every word sluggish. He squints at the baker, the firelight behind him burning his retinas. He looks away. "I expected as much." The baker presses a hand against Hugo's neck and the doctor prays the other man doesn't feel his pulse quicken at the contact. The baker draws his hand back. He has to hide his sore disappointment. "You're burning up, doctor. Come on, I know just the thing." He props Hugo up to a sitting position and takes the cloth from his forehead. The doctor's head hangs, and to his embarrassment, leans into the baker's shoulder. The baker isn't surprised and keeps a solid hand on his nape. All this touch—it's so new and scary to Hugo and yet he craves more. More of calloused hands. More of being held. More of him. Even breathing hurts for Hugo, and his breathes come out shallow. He hates being so weak. He's been attending to plague victims for a straight year so far—he's never gotten sick until now. Of course, it's not the plague, though. No one in Honeycliff has been infected...yet. "You must eat, doctor," the baker holds a steaming spoon in his other hand. "When I was a boy, my sister would have me eat this when I got a fever. Besides, you're too skinny. You can't fight the plague without some meat on your bones, now can you?" He holds the spoon to Hugo's lips, but the smell, as warm and comforting as it is, with hints of rosemary and thyme, spins his stomach over and he turns his head and buries it further into the baker's shoulder. The baker sighs, right next to Hugo's right ear. It shakes his messy hair. "I did the same, when I was younger," he chuckles, then grows serious. "Please, Hugo, you must eat." Hugo pauses. Then, he looks up at the other man, squinting at him with shiny eyes. His freckles pop out like stars. His beard is fluffier now that it's been dried. "Why do y...you do that?" He whispers, because anything above so hurts his chest. "Do what?" "You s-switch from 'doctor' t-to my name. You did the same thing in the forest...when I fell, you called my name. Every other t-time before this, it has always been d-doctor, or 'Doctor Wallace'..." He plops his head onto the baker's chest, gripping the blanket tightly. "...I don't understand you." A bead of sweat rolls down his nose. "I don't understand it, either, d..." He catches himself. To Hugo's surprise, he starts stroking the back of Hugo's neck, fingers tangling in his messy hair. "...Hugo. It just happens—spontaneously, then I remember that there's a pretense that comes with knowing you, so it—I correct myself..." "There's no pretense with the man you saved," Hugo picks at his shirt. "And whom you gave your shirt to. Did you..." He hesitates. "...undress me?" The baker is silent for a moment. "Yes," he murmurs, then adds, "But only your shirt. I kept the pants on. They dried well enough by the fire." "Oh. Good, good." He blushes a red bright enough to rival even the baker's wild locks. He's glad the other man can't see his face. Those hands being so close to his chest...it's enough to make his whole face red. "Will you eat now?" Hugo resists groaning and nods. It would be better to get it over with. He leans away and sits up properly. The baker's hand goes back to his back. He opens his chapped lips and takes a sip from the offered spoon. It's not entirely bad, and his stomach doesn't feel like a waterwheel, so he keeps eating. He was right, of course, about the spices; rosemary and thyme, with the slightest hint of lemon. They don't speak. The fire, the rain, and the clacking of the spoon against the bowl are the only sounds that make up a conversation. They leave things unsaid; this kind of thing doesn't just end in a ditch. He's much hungrier than he thought. The bowl gets finished much quicker than the plague spreads. "There you go," the baker says with a fleck of pride, and Hugo can't help the way it makes his heart flutter. The baker leaves the bowl on the mantel, then comes back to sit by the doctor's side, grasping his hands in his lap. He's about to speak, but Hugo cuts him off. "I...I don't think I know your name," he admits sheepishly, "I'm sorry. I lo...I love your bakery, so it's, um, strange I never got your name." "It's Thomas," Thomas says, "Thomas Gray. It's alright. I don't suspect you know the farmer's name either, nor his wife's. You've been here with us for all of—what is it now—three months, and you hardly know our names." Thomas's tone isn't accusatory, but observational, even humorous. Hugo's glad he finds it so funny, because he's embarrassed. He couldn't give a shite about the farmer or his wife or their kids, so he's more embarrassed about not knowing the name of the object of his desire than their names. Being a plague doctor isn't a highly personal job, after all. "Thomas," he tries the name, and it feels right, that it should be coming from him. "Thomas, you're Scottish, aren't you?" "Yes. The plague did start with our sailors. My family and I hopped onto the nearest wagon and made it here, in Honeycliff. We separated, however, so my father's serving as a plague doctor in another town and my mother as a seamstress in London. My three brothers have gone off to do odd-jobs in the villages." "You're the oldest?" "The youngest, actually." At Hugo's odd look, he laughs. "Yes, I am the youngest. My older brothers are all titans." Three other men built like Thomas. Hugo thinks that's the closest thing to heaven he'll achieve in this world. The silence returns, if only for a moment. "So, about last night—" The baker starts, but Hugo is quicker. "The soup was lovely. Y-You should give me the recipe, sometime." "I-I suppose. Hugo, last night—" "Would you look at that, the rain's stopped!" "It very much hasn't. Will you please let me speak?" Hugo opens and closes his mouth, struggling for a reason why they shouldn't have the conversation Hugo's been dreading since he woke up. He finds nothing. He motions with one sweaty hand for Thomas to continue. The baker takes the hand in his own. "Hugo Wallace," he says, "You were right when you said I was in love with the Bird Man. Because I was. Because I knew it was you." "W...what?" He looks up at the other man. His hazel eyes are honest. "Honestly, did you think I was just some big Scottish oaf who couldn't connect the dots like everyone else in this village? There is only one Bird Man around here, and it's the man with the very obviously bird inspired mask." Okay, he did used to think of Thomas as stupid, so color him surprised, but he still doesn't understand it. Hugo shakes his head. "I don't—then why did you answer me the way you did? That you 'didn't know' if you loved me?" "That," Thomas sighs, "I was very stupid to say. I didn't want to confess yet because it was all so...so sudden. I wasn't nearly prepared and I didn't even know if you felt the same way." You have no idea how much I love you, he almost says, but stops. How much does he actually love Thomas? In a wonderful display of hypocrisy, he's fallen in love with Thomas's image, with his body. He doesn't know the first thing about this man besides the fact that he is Scottish and has three brothers. "I do," Hugo admits, "but in the same manner I thought you had loved the Bird Man. I don't...I don't know you as well as I w-want to. And I do, I want t-to know you. I want to get to know you. We can start over. Will you...will you have me?" Thomas's other hand props up his chin, making the doctor look up at him. His thumb brushes Hugo's lips. The look in the baker's eyes is gentle, but serious. "There is no question of it, Hugo," he whispers, "I love you, Dr. Wallace. I have, ever since you moved into the village. I have loved you since the time you first came by my shop, looking in from the display window, and I knew how much you had wanted to go inside but you couldn't because of the plague, so I set up the delivery service especially for you. And...And I will love you, even if you don't feel the same once you get to know me." Hugo's eyes drift to Thomas's lips. He licks his own, and grabs the hand under his chin with both of his. Their freckles mesh together in one big pattern of stars. "I love you, too, Thomas," his voice cracks on the baker's name. There's a stone lodged in his throat. "Tell me you l-love me again, just once more." The baker chuckles. "I will make sure you don't forget it." Thomas tugs him forward and kisses him. Oh. He closes his eyes and leans into it. Oh. He has never felt such warmth. Their lips press together, pushing and pulling like waves. Hugo tastes thyme and rosemary, sweet on those lips, familiar on his. Something tugs at his fingertips, at his toes, at the bottom of his stomach. He curls his hands into the front of Thomas's shirt, trying to rid himself of the pins and needles that build up underneath his skin. They pull apart for a moment to breathe. Gasps. Soft breaths. Hugo's lips are not so chapped now. He's so eager that he's the one who pulls Thomas back into the kiss. He throws the blanket aside. He tilts his head, grasping at the other's lips, wanting so much more. A muscular arm wraps around his midsection, pulling him closer, and the other keeps a hand on his thigh, squeezing just that much. His touch is electric. It's like every nerve in Hugo's body is a firecracker. He's finally getting what he wants. So, why does the stone in his throat and the heat behind his eyes get harder and harder to ignore? He pulls away, trying to stifle a sob. "Hugo," Thomas murmurs in concern, cupping his cheek. Hugo leans into it. "Are you alright?" "I-I'm sorry," Hugo sniffles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I don't k-know what's come over me. It's been a v-very long time since I've been...touched like this. I have been starved, so to say." "I understand." Thomas's smile is full of patience. "I k-kissed you," Hugo starts to smile despite the tears, "but I don't think I did it right. Can I try again?" "And again, and again, and again," Thomas presses a kiss to his forehead. "As much as you'd like to, doctor." And he does. He kisses Thomas. Again, and again, and again. "I love you, Hugo Wallace," the baker says while they're pressed against each other, gasping for breath, "I love the way your eyes are a different shade—blue and hazel, just like m-mine. I love..." Hugo tugs at his bottom lip and he growls, losing his train of thought for a moment. The doctor is trembling. "...I love your bravery, y-your strength. Even if you are snarky on the outside, your heart is tender." Hugo's hands, with hungry minds of their own, lift up the hem of Thomas's shirt. They touch the muscles there, then travel upwards. The other groans; he is just as needy as Hugo is, he knows it. He wants so badly to take off those trousers and empty this pool of warmth in his stomach. His eyes are distracted by the wonderful V that is formed by the baker's hips and the orange fuzz that peaks out from under. Thomas's lips press against his neck, leaving cold, cold kisses against his flushed skin. He nibbles a bit, before eventually biting down, long and tense, savoring the moment. He groans, the sensation setting off another few firecrackers, and grips Thomas's hair tightly as the other man's tongue laps at the spot. "A reminder," he hums against Hugo's neck, sending shivers down the man's spine. "And a gift." The baker's calloused hand holds his waist under his shirt, thumb rubbing into the freckled skin. The other is still teasing his thigh. "You are so precious in my shirt," Thomas whispers in his ear. The hand under his shirt wanders, and Hugo sucks in a breath. Just as quickly as it came, it's removed. Hugo hisses, partly out of frustration, because he just wants to be torn apart. Just as his hands are about to tuck into Thomas's trousers, the baker pulls away and stands, fixing his shirt and hair. Hugo blinks slowly, not understanding for a moment, before he gasps. "Thomas," he whines, breathless, grabbing the hem of the other man's shirt. "Don't leave it at that. I...I want t—" "I know you want more, my love," Thomas says, amused, patting Hugo's messy hair. "But your leg is broken and you've got a fever. I don't want you to strain yourself." "T-This old thing?" He gestures to his left leg, which is in a rather well made homemade cast. "It won't stop m-me, Thomas. Please." "You are sick," Thomas shakes his head firmly, hands on his hips. "You need rest." Hugo pouts, then flops onto his back. The disappointment and warmth are already starting to ebb. Thomas draws the blanket around him and brushes the hair out of his face. He kisses his forehead softly. "Goodnight, Hugo," he murmurs, "I'll see you in the morning." "Goodnight. I love you." "I love you, too." The baker leaves the room. The doctor touches his neck, pressing his finger into the bruise the baker had marked there. It stings pleasantly. He grins. As he drifts off to the sound of rain tapping against the windows, he thinks of the kiss between two silhouettes, and thinks of the ones that are yet to come, when they start over and become people, become more than just lips and breath. He thinks of the canvas-like palms of the baker holding him close—not destroying him, like he had wanted. Thomas is far more than muscular arms and hearty laughs. He is gentle. He is kind. He is not afraid of contact. That is all Hugo can ask for.

#oc #writing #plague doctor #plague doctor oc #fiction #my writing #mine #note: this is alternate history #so #its not entirely based on the bubonic plague

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stressedspidergirlsfandomblog · 4 years

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one of my beta’s pointed out one of my fics was a little too depressing. So here I am fixing some of the things I never finished writing, and trying to add some fluffier nonsense. When I finish it and my beta has a chance to edit it, it’ll go up on ao3. This is just the newest section of the chapter I had no idea i hadn’t finished like... 2 months ago... yep. .... don’t... yeah. I know. When I finish this section I’ll finish the other fic that’s... basically done anyway.... and then... get back to work on this one again... but like... the other chapter... I didn’t finish that I didn’t forget about i Just had to reread an entire novel to make sure i wasn’t flubbing it. (I do research. See? I care?)

When morning comes Geralt reluctantly pulls himself out of bed. He splashes his face with cold water from the basin and it does little to wake him up. Grateful for a small mirror he scrapes away days of facial hair from his jaw with a little sigh of relief. That task accomplished, he binds his hair back from his face and heads down the stairs to find himself some food. There’s not much else to be done. His leg is stiff but less horrible than usual, and while he’s still tired, it’s not the same bone-deep weariness that had been dragging at him earlier. Amazing what a night in a bed will do.

Able to get some things they can eat, he heads back upstairs to their room and settles the dishes quietly on the small vanity table. He avails himself of the salve Yennefer has been using on his leg and sighs in relief. He feels a bit like an addict. Every few hours he needs his fix or he won’t survive. He glances at Ciri, glad she’s still asleep in Yennefer’s arms. Silently he resettles the jar on the table and picks at some of the food.

Having gone to sleep earlier than the others, Ciri wakes up and finds Geralt not in bed with her. She looks around blankly and sees him sitting at the table. She gets up to join him and nibbles at some of the bread. Not awake enough to be truly interested in food she picks up the comb and starts working the snarls out of her ashen hair. By the time she’s done she’s awake enough to make a face at Geralt and remove his headband. He glares but she looks over at Yennefer and raises her eyebrows at him.

He silently concedes her point and she brushes out his hair and ties it back with thread so that he won’t need the headband. Yennefer’s right, it does look stupid, Ciri feels. Kissing his forehead when she’s done, she feels awake enough to properly eat breakfast. He shows her how to peel a fruit she’s never seen before and they eat together in companionable silence.

When Yennefer starts to rouse, Geralt knows she’ll wake the bard whether he’s ready or not. They should be moving on soon. He’s been seen, and people will comment on the white-haired witcher moving among them. Better not to give Skellen or Rience a chance to catch up with them.

The witcher and his girl slowly pack up their things as Yennefer gets up and washes her face before brushing out her hair. She offers Geralt the salve for his leg and he shakes his head, indicating he’s already found it. He’s starting to smell a bit like the elderberry used along with Stellaria Media and what he thinks might be rosemary. There’s arnica, too, he knows, and while the smells together aren’t all that pleasant at least it helps. Ciri helps Yennefer with her notes and various bottles. As she packs, Yennefer fills her stomach with the meagre offerings Geralt had managed to get them. She wonders if perhaps she should send the bard down to get them more food. Noting he’s still asleep she debates how best to wake him up.

The unfortunate victim of that look many a time, Geralt chooses to wake Dandelion himself. With gentle caresses and a kiss or two he manages to rouse his sleeping lover. He’s rewarded for his ministrations with a soft smile and cornflower blue eyes regarding him steadily. “We need to get moving,” he tells Dandelion.

“I might uh, need a little help,” the bard flutters his eyelashes a bit.

“With what?” Geralt asks.

“Oh, I’m not sure I’m all the way awake yet,” he drawls. “Perhaps a few more kisses would help?”

Ciri makes retching sounds behind them as Geralt leans over to oblige. Dandelion makes a rude gesture in her direction that makes her laugh. A few moments later, Geralt pulls away to make sure his things are packed and ready. He also wouldn’t mind stealing some kisses from the sorceress while he waits for the bard to get ready. She chuckles a bit when he pulls her aside to kiss her and ignores Ciri’s complaints about them all being disgusting.

“It could be worse, Ciri,” she warns, violet eyes dancing in amusement. “It’s just kissing,” she adds knowing full well if they had somewhere safe Ciri could go it would be a lot more than just kissing. She allows Geralt a few more seconds of her time before she pulls away. “Best to start getting the horses ready,” she kisses his cheek and smiles at him. She knows he’s disappointed. There will be plenty of other chances to steal kisses along the road.

“Go with her,” Geralt tells Ciri. “Kelpie is liable to end up a pile of ashes if you don’t. I’ll be down next,” he tells her. Dandelion is finishing up his own breakfast and working to wake himself up the rest of the way. He’d mostly repacked the night before, seeing no need to make his own life any harder.

Food finished, face and hands washed, he looks at Geralt, who is waiting anxiously for him by the door. “It takes them longer to saddle up than it does us,” he reminds Geralt, thinking that’s what the witcher is upset about. “What’s wrong?” he asks, picking up his saddle bags and doing one last sweep of the room. His lute is already slung ‘round his shoulders.

“We’re….” Geralt coughs and his throat squeezes. They had fought, and then just ignored it. Which was somewhat unlike Dandelion. Not that Geralt could think of any resolution to the problem other than to ignore it.

Dandelion strides across the room and hugs Geralt tightly. “We’re alright, my love, we’re alright,” he promises. “We’ve had spats before,” he presses kisses against Geralt’s cheeks and neck. “We will again, but I imagine we’ll always be alright after. How could I stay angry with you?”

“You’d find a way,” Geralt mumbles. “If you truly wanted to, you’d find a way.”

“I could never want to,” Dandelion protests. Geralt had never much seemed to care if they got into tiffs before they’d started sleeping together. The bard cups his cheeks and forces Geralt to meet his eyes. “Love is many things Geralt, but the kind of love I have for you is more than anything I feel you could imagine. We’re human, we’ll make mistakes, but Love, Geralt, love does not anger, it does not boast, and it will not allow us to ruin everything over an argument any more than we ever ruined our friendship. Love keeps no record of wrongs.”

Geralt leans in to the touch and kisses the bard, pressing him into the wall.

“Geralt, you understand I wasn’t even angry with you, right? Perhaps things got heated because of how you avoid dealing with things or answering them. But I wasn’t angry with you. Just, the world has hurt you and I wish I could undo it. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry we’ll butt heads again. Please know how much I love you.”

The witcher nods, but he has nothing to say. So he kisses Dandelion instead, trying to show he understands, and he agrees. They probably will pick another fight eventually, they’re both criminally stubborn. It takes him a few seconds, but he remembers that they need to leave. And that the women are already downstairs in the stables saddling horses and will not be pleased that he and the bard chose to dally. With a groan of irritation, Geralt pulls away, wishing he didn’t have to. From what he could feel against his hip, the bard isn’t any happier than he is about the situation.

“Geralt?”

“Stables,” he reminds his lover.

“Ah, yes. Well then.” He adjusts himself to hide the effect the kissing had on him and smiles as Geralt does the same. He reaches out to hold Geralt’s hand and then remembers the less attention they draw to themselves as they leave, the better. It’s not entirely uncommon for men to bond or be close, or women, but a witcher and one of the most famed poets on the continent would draw raised eyebrows. Especially considering how many songs he’d written about Geralt and Yennefer, it would be even more strange to see the White Wolf and Dandelion together in a more romantic capacity.

By the time they reach the stables, Ciri is already saddling Pegasus and Yennefer is holding the reins of both her own mount, and Kelpie. Geralt quickly saddles Roach and adjusts her bridle and his packs across her saddle before mounting up. Yennefer gives him a knowing smile and he has the grace to look away in embarrassment.

The road is relatively quiet and they all feel relieved to be mostly alone. There’s another smaller town about a day away, they’ll see about resupplying and perhaps finding another inn. It might be a stupid risk, but they can always double back around so people think they’d continued on the road and then camp out in the woods.

Ciri engages Geralt in conversation about various monsters and he’s more than happy to elaborate on different types of ghoul and any other creature that prefers dead flesh to live. Not that they won’t go for live flesh if it happens to pass by. He ends up explaining to her about the necrophages that poisoned him badly and while he does not tell her about running into Visenna or the days of delirium he does impress upon her how dangerous they are. She realizes towards the end of the story that this is how he found her, and how Destiny brought them together. In some ways, this is the start of her story. He had been trying to find her, and had been told she was dead. In almost dying himself, he’d ended up in a cart that took him right to her doorstep. He was her destiny just as much as she was his.

#geraskefer #geralt x dandelion x yennefer #geraskier #gerlion #yenneralt #yenralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #cirilla of cintra #ciri #yennefer of vengerberg #dandelion #geraltxjaskierxyennefer

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