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shadowbriar · 2 years

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Fred Weasley - Stuck on the Puzzle

Pairing : (F/M) || Fred Weasley x Reader Word Count : 2.0k Warning : Drinking. Harsh language. Angst. Notes : Inspired by Stuck on the Puzzle by Alex Turner. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.

The mansion was filled with familiar faces and though he’s been surrounded with people he’d proudly call as family, Fred’s heart is still hung heavy. The alcohol on his hand helped nothing to ease his mind, only acting as a catalyst to the thunder blaring and heavy storm plaguing his mind. He wishes to leave the place. Apparate himself back to his loft and hide under his worn and full of holes blanket until the end of the month comes.

He would never forget how he could physically hear the sound of his heart dropping, shattering into a million pieces as the periwinkle envelope arrived at his doorstep. He recognises the comforting colour and how the paper was decorated with all sorts of flowers she’d once told him were her favourites. Her name was written proudly on the cover, along with another man’s.

It was her wedding invitation letter.

Fred wasn’t sure he’d be able to hoard so much hatred for himself until that day. Every what-if scenario was crushing his brain to a pulp. What if he’d asked her first for the Yule Ball? What if he didn’t get a cold feet that weekend before the Hogsmeade trip in 5th year? What if he didn’t hesitate and ask to sit next to her during their classes? What would happen then if he had just an ounce more of bravery? Would his name be the one standing next to her on their wedding invitations?

Everyday since he had to fight the irrepressible urge to burn said invitation. The sight of the innocent letter laying on his table was driving him mad. He wanted to shatter it into pieces, throw it into a bucket of thousand firecrackers, and bury the ash in a place where he would never return to. But the thought of disappointment on her face to have him be absent on such a special day haunts him. He needed to be there, even if it meant he would pulverise the last remaining strains of his fraying soul.

And so here he is, with George physically and mentally acting as his sole pillar of support, Fred puts on his best suit and most believable facade, acting like he’s happy for the couple. He dreaded the next two days. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.

“You seem to never grow out of your partying self, Freddie.” Alicia comments, noticing the empty glass he swaps with a new one every other minute “Years after school and you still act like the animal you are.”

Fred shrugs, chugging his drink before lifting the empty glass, “Cheers for the couple.”

The people surrounding him were starting to eye him in pity. It was common knowledge for the small group of friends that Fred was in love with her. Her name remains the only one name ever rolled off his mouth with such delight and adoration. The way his eyes sparkled whenever she was mentioned or how silly he would play during Quidditch practice whenever she watches. The fixation he had for her was enough to fuel a lifetime romance.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Angelina interrupts before Fred could take another glass from the server “You’ll be dead pissed before we get the chance to greet the couple.”

“That’s the mission, Darling.” Fred winks, drinking George’s drink instead.

Not a minute passed and the said couple finally came out of the mansion. The noises died down as every eye turned and watched the lovebirds with glee. Smiles were decorating every guest’s faces, including Fred’s. The sight of her after what seems to be forever felt like a long awaited rain after a drought. She’s still as beautiful as he last remembered her. If anything, even more charming now with her mature posture and a touch of makeup, enhancing every delicate feature she has.

Fred’s breath was taken away as their eyes met. Her smile turns wider as she waves her hand at him, looking grateful and beyond happy to see him there. And just with that trivial moment, Fred’s worry and dismay evaporates into thin air. For the first time since he arrived, he was glad to have come to the party.

His quest to get plastered tonight has now been aborted. If there is just a slight chance for them to exchange a word, he would want it to happen with his mind completely clear. He’d want to memorise every giggle, the crinkles around her eyes whenever she smiles, and the pleasant voice of hers when she calls his name. He wants to keep every detail of her and have it engraved in his head for after tonight, he would have to bid his last goodbye to her.

“Fred,” Her melodious voice calls from behind “You came.”

Her smile was intoxicating, making his head spin and chest filled with warmth that he could only reply with a nod and a smile he hopes isn’t freaking her out.

“I’ve missed you.” She says, coming in with an open arm as she pulls him for a hug “It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

Fred couldn’t utter a word. He rests his head to the crook of her neck, praying that he could pack away this very moment and have it hidden under his bed. The smell of her perfume and body heat was melting him. The void forming in his chest the moment she lets go would be the nightmare that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

“You’re awfully quiet.” She says with a chuckle “Did you drink the wrong tonic or something?”

He shakes his head, smiling, “Just basking the moment before you’re finally gone tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, now. You’re talking like I’m about to die.” She rolls her eyes, playfully nudging on his shoulder “I’m not gonna die tomorrow, Freddie. I’m just getting married.”

Fred smiles. Just getting married. As if that wasn’t something he should be grieving about. The word came out of her with such ease, not realising the heavy earthquake it’s giving to his tottering heart. If only she knew all the torments she’d unconsciously made him go through, would she still be as cheerful as she is right now?

“Congratulations.” Fred says, forcing a smile “Flint is a one lucky bastard.”

For a second there Fred thought that he’d seen a glimpse of sadness on her eyes. The kind of bitterness you have when you watch the person you love letting go. But as instant as it came, the emotion was swapped back into her default merriment that Fred had to convince himself that he was just seeing things. The alcohol might be taking its toll on him.

“Thank you, Fred.” She replied, her hand still clinging on his forearm “I’m parched. Would you accompany me to get some drinks? I’m feeling rather tired to greet and have small talk with other guests, so can you please be my wingman?”

Fred nods, following her step to get away from the crowd and into the champagne table.

The redhead boy no longer cared for the fact that people could see him staring. He’s thrown out his self-respect out the window. If people want to talk about the longing gaze and how pathetic he’s looking right now, he’ll let them. Let the whole world know the fool who’s been loving the girl for so long yet never had the courage to let her know that she’s now finally with another.

“Is there something on my face?” She asks, anxiously touching her face.

Fred shakes his head, “No, you’re just so beautiful tonight.”

“Oh, come on now, don’t be such a flirt.” She rolls her eyes, cheeks tainted with redness “Had you said that to me a couple years earlier we would’ve been the one getting married.”

The smile on is face diluted. She said it with such a remote manner yet the side eye she gave as she gulped another glass of champagne made him question her intention. Those aren’t the things you said to someone casually, especially not at the night before your wedding. Could her words hold any more meaning than the aloof gesture she’s showing?

“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Marcus said, disregarding the fact that she was standing with Fred “We’ve got guests to greet, why are you pissing yourself by the champagne table?”

Fred wanted to take Marcus right there and then. How could he say such words to the girl who deserves the world. The lack of affection he’s shown to her has always made Fred question, what does Flint have that made him the one she surrendered her heart to? Did she even want him to be the one she marries?

“I was just getting some drinks, I’ll be right out in a minute.” She says with a forced smile, attempting to plant a kiss to her fiancé's cheek but failing miserably as he dismisses her and walks back out, not sparing a glance to Fred.

“Why are you marrying him?” Fred asks, the boiling anger in his head slowly taking the best of him “He’s a vile man, Marcus Flint. We used to make fun of him from all the stupid things he’d done and you would always scold me whenever we got in a fight. Why are you marrying the man you said you’d hate for life?”

She remains quiet, eyes locked on him as if she’s trying to convey a message her lips couldn’t deliver. There was regret, guilt, and despair evident on them. How her shoulders shuddered in an attempt to contain her welling tears was tearing him apart. He wanted to rescue her, take her hand and leave the party. Rescue her and hide her under his wing from the life she certainly doesn't deserve if she were to marry Flint. She’s supposed to marry someone who would worship her, someone who would bleed themselves to death for her, and Marcus Flint is certainly not that man.

But who was he kidding? Sure she deserves someone better than Flint but does that mean the man is himself? He couldn’t even ask her out for a silly date. What makes him think he’ll have the balls to kidnap her from her own wedding?

“People are complex beings, Freddie. Marcus isn’t always as cold as how he reacted just now. He’s just feeling stressed over the wedding.” She says at last, struggling to find an excuse for her fiancé's rude actions “I better get back and greet the guests. It’ll be bad for the family if people begin to talk about the bride’s disappearance.”

Placing her empty glass to the table, she reaches for Fred’s cheek and kisses it gently. The sigh she let go as her lips parted from his skin was dragging him deeper to the trench of desolation. With one last smile, she squeezes his forearm and begins walking away.

Fred watches as her figure soon disappear in the sea of people. A thousand questions running across his head at the same time. What’s to do now? What's he supposed to do now that he’s seen it firsthand that she isn’t getting the fairytale she very much deserves? And what is left of him to do after she defends her despicable fiancé?

What is it that Marcus had that made her stay? Was it because of his name and luxury? No, she isn’t the type to trade love for money, that couldn’t be the reason. Was it because of their family? She did mention how badly it would reflect on them if she were to show just a flaw tonight. So was that the true answer?

Fred takes one of the champagne glasses, gulping down the liquid before tossing the glass away with no regard. The mystery and scenarios screaming at each other in his brain were dementing. For the millionth of time, Fred Weasley has found himself stuck on the puzzle.

#fred weasley #fred weasley angst #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley scenario #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley preference #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x oc

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clockwrkcabaret · 5 months

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Yule Be Sorry

WARNING! This show is for adults. We drink cocktails, have potty mouths and, at least, one of us was raised by wolves.

The Clockwork Cabaret is a production of Agony Aunt Studios. Featuring that darling DJ Duo, Lady Attercop and Emmett Davenport. Our theme music is made especially for us by Kyle O’Door.

This episode aired on Mad Wasp Radio, 12.24.23.

New episodes air on Mad Wasp Radio on Sundays @ 12pm GMT! Listen at www.madwaspradio.com or via TuneIn radio app!

Playlist:

The Muppet Cast – Scrooge

Walter Sickert & The Army of Broken Toys – Squidmas Don’t be Late

April Smith and the Great Picture Show – Christmas Threw Up All Over You

Gayla Peevey – I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas

Lou Monte – Dominick the Donkey

The Polkamaniacs – Snow Miser Vs. Heat Miser

Asylum Street Spankers – What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?

Nathaniel Rateliff & The Night Sweats – Santa Baby

Christina Chong – Fck U 4 Xmas

Murder By Death – I’ll Be Home For Christmas

Holly Golightly – Christmas Tree On Fire

Reverend Horton Heat – Santa Bring My Baby Back

Scythian – I Saw Three Ships

Arlo Guthrie – The Pause of Mr. Claus

The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing – Fox

The Puppini Sisters – Mele Kalikimaka

Ella Fitzgerald – Santa Claus Got Stuck (In My Chimney)

Squirrel Nut Zippers – Santa Claus is Smokin’ Reefer

The Hellblinki Sextet – Emmet Otter’s Jugband Christmas

Fable Cry – Making Christmas

Katye Kellye and The Interruption – It Simply Isn’t Christmas…

Crash Test Dummies – White Christmas

Fred Schneider & the Superions – Jingle Those Bells

Mojo Nixon & The Toadliquors – Sleigh Ride

GUPPY – A Jew on Christmas

My Morning Jacket – When the Bells Start Ringing (feat. The Head & the Heart)

The Decemberists – Please Daddy (Don’t Get Drunk This Christmas)

Porn Orchard – This Holiday Season

The Bird & the Bee – Carol of the Bells

Feist – Please Be Patient

The Non Non Conformists – So Christmassy… this Christmas

“Weird Al” Yankovic – The Night Santa Went Crazy

Fountains Of Wayne – I Want an Alien for Christmas

The Kinks – Father Christmas

Check out this episode!

#alternative #Comedy #dark americana #folk #indie #Mad Wasp Radio #music #neo vintage #punk #Steampunk

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stationintern · 10 months

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everybody knows to dance!

This shortfic is inspired by Spud Infinity by Big Thief.

Luna throws good parties. Excellent parties. With lots of weed from her greenhouse and fancy lemongrass cocktails and crystals and rituals and friends and a kind of love that wraps you in warmth and leaves you feeling satisfied and understood. Harry likes these parties.

It’s late afternoon, and the sun is hanging low in the sky, casting its burnt orange glow across the overgrown yard where Harry sits in a reclining chair, staring out at the horizon. The glass in his hand is cool and slick with condensation, containing some fruity concoction that’s left him tipsy even though he’s halfway through. Gin’s always been a bit heavy-handed with the tequila, but nobody minds.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Draco says, because he always says that. He’s sitting in a chair that looks much like Harry’s, bright blue and pressed with handprints from various points in Moira and Giselle’s lives. He shoves his sunglasses onto his nose, sniffing.

A year ago, Harry was terribly depressed, slipping. Draco’s garment shop sat next door to Harry’s furniture repair business, and what an unlucky coincidence that was, at the time. Draco noticed the signs. How Harry would be in the shop more often than not, hardly taking breaks to eat, sometimes sleeping there and not changing clothes for a few days.

He recommended a Mind Healer– a lovely woman named Hera who happened to be a squib– and they began to play a game. How long until this woman realizes we are talking about each other? They regularly updated one another when Draco brought lunch into his shop, or dragged him to some stupid new cafe that just opened down the street. Harry wondered how they found room for all of them. Magic, probably.

Then, Luna started having her parties, and it all went downhill from there.

Harry likes him. He likes the way he scrunches his nose when he puts his sunglasses on. He likes how sometimes he’ll blow on food that is cold and then try to play it off as nothing. He likes the focused look he gets when he’s pinning and snipping away at a mannequin. He likes him.

“Mhm.” Harry slides deeper into his chair, closing his eyes and letting the warm breeze that marks early summer waft over him like a blanket. It’s dark when Harry wakes up. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but it’s a rare thing to be so comfortable.

Draco’s shaking him, mere inches away. “Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Mmph.” Harry says, quite eloquently.

“Dance with me.”

It’s like he’s been doused with ice water. His eyes snap open, staring into silver pools of light. “What?”

“Everyone’s dancing. Come dance with me.” Draco’s dragging him out of his chair now, gripping onto his hand and tugging him toward the farmhouse.

“I don’t dance,” Harry protests, stumbling behind him.

“Everyone dances.” Draco says, nonsensically, “We’re born with it. It’s in our bones.”

“Maybe for you-”

“Don’t make this a Pureblood thing. I’m trying to be whimsical.” Draco pushes open the screen door and it snaps back with a bang, “I’m going to let go of your hand now, to get this bloody thing open, and you will not run away. Understood?”

“Whatever.”

“Enthusiastic as ever.” Draco shoves the door open, snatching up Harry’s hand the moment they’re inside. The sound of a mandolin drifts into the hallway from the living room. Harry can hear Hermione laughing, a garbled sound, and wonders if Ron’s swinging her around like usual.

“I look stupid when I dance.” Harry whines.

Draco turns, looking stern, “You’re an alien.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Draco pokes him in the chest, “There is an alien inside of you, and you’re forcing it to stay hidden. The only time I’ve ever seen you dance was the Yule Ball, and that was years ago, and yes, you did look like a freak, but that’s normal. Have you ever been stoned?”

Harry is very confused, “Yes?”

“No– I mean, have you ever been stoned to the point where it feels like you can see every pore on someone’s face, or you start to notice every ugly thing about them until they’re terrifying?” Draco’s trying so desperately to get his point across, but with every new word that comes out of his mouth, Harry just finds himself more lost than before.

“No. Maybe you shouldn’t smoke we–”

“Well, I have, and people are disgusting, Harry.” Harry wants to laugh at the intensity on Draco’s face, “People look weird, very weird– even you– and that’s okay.”

“Where are you going with this?”

Draco grabs him by the shoulders, pulling them close until their foreheads are touching, and Harry could so easily lean forward and–

“People are terrifying, and that’s the only thing that makes them interesting. People go paragliding, and– and they muck around in caves and they dance on top of aeroplanes and they dance in their friends houses. It’s what we do. And we do it all for fun. So, please, dance with me.”

Harry nods, out of breath, even though Draco’s the one who’s been rambling.

They dance to folk songs and pop songs and at one point Dean leaps in to get a turn with Draco, so Hermione takes his place for a bit. Harry’s body is weird, but he’s moving it, and he’s having fun. He likes watching Draco move, long and carefree, smiling from ear to ear when he turns to see Harry grinning back.

Draco jumps in after Luna announces this will be the last song because she’s tired, and would like to go to bed soon, please and thank you.

It’s slower, so Harry takes some liberties and places his hands on Draco’s narrow hips, marvelling at the simplicity of it. Draco winds his arms around Harry’s neck and they sway like that for a bit, not really dancing but not not dancing either, and it’s nice.

“I still don’t understand what you were trying to say, earlier.” Harry murmurs, after a period of long silence. Draco’s so close now, cheek to cheek, his eyelashes tickling Harry’s skin.

Draco lifts his head, and their noses brush.

“I don’t think I understand it, either,” he murmurs. His breath smells like cranberry and tobacco, and Harry really likes him. “But, I think there’s something there, don’t you?”

Harry thinks of everything Draco said, and let’s himself look. He sees the way Draco’s eyes are slightly too far apart, nose a bit too long. There’s a mole on his right cheek and a patch of dry skin on his left. He’s got lines by his eyes, and his lips are slightly chapped, and Harry wonders what terrifying things he’s laid bare by letting himself get so close, before finding he doesn’t care.

“Yeah. I think there’s something.” Harry says, and then he kisses him.

You can also read this here on ao3, and maybe leave a comment or kudos if you feel up to it! i was listening to the song Spud Infinity by Big Thief, and the lyrics gave me such a vivid feeling that i can't describe, but i've only had once before. i was stoned at a college party, and all of a sudden i started to look very closely at people, and it felt like i was looking at them through a microscope. it made me feel insecure, wondering what people could see about me. but, the truth is, even as i managed to find "unattractive" things about the people i was with, it didn't change how beautiful i thought they were, they were just features of this person that i loved, and those things that are so often considered ugly or weird were beautiful because they were on a person, any person. so, i wrote this to try to get some of those complicated feelings out.

#drarry #drarry shortfic #draco x harry #drarry fic rec #drarry self rec

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windvexer · 1 year

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Hagging Out (December 2022)

December’s theme is Christmas & Hanukkah & Solstice & Yule Traditions, Old & New. (@graveyarddirt)

My December tradition - now two years old - is to be eaten by a yarn monster for a few months until I beat it back with the weapons of time and attention, transforming it into holiday gifts.

I didn't feel as if this year I had any discrete rituals where I sat down and said, "now I'm celebrating Christmas." Rather, I felt immersed in tradition for many weeks.

It's a bit tough to explain. I felt like I was riding the train tracks of obligation and duty. My days were filled with creation and production, and my nights were filled with a strange cocktail of anxiety and fulfillment - I felt myself doing more than enough, yet also never enough.

Since I joined this Hagging Out, I've had the theme on my mind - how am I celebrating the holidays? What am I doing that marks this part of the year as special for me?

It all comes back to the yarn monster.

Weeks of creation. Love crystalized, stitch after stitch, in manifold crafts. Fabric constructed out of care disguised as fiber. Unasked for, but freely given.

Many things I made, but I barely have photos of any of them. Because none of them were for me, not even the act of creation was for me.

And I think that is how I celebrated my Christmas. Present-opening was overall forgettable. People liked my gifts. But the present-opening wasn't the celebration.

I think for me, the celebration came weeks and even months before. I sacrificed time, labor, and materials to celebrate the people in my life who are the most important to me. The rituals took me hours, days, weeks. The gift-giving was nothing but a formal closing of the ritual space.

I think that might be my holiday tradition: celebrating the people I care about, mostly by making things.

#hagging out #hagging out december 2022

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mixergiltron · 5 months

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Yo,ho-ho-ho,and a bottle of rum!

These holiday-themed cocktails will give you some Xmas cheer. Pro tip: leave one of these with the cookies instead of milk and see what Santa leaves you!

Mix #110 Nutty Like a Fruitcake

1.5oz Demerara rum 1/2oz spiced rum 1oz orange juice 1/2oz lemon juice 3/4oz orgeat 1/2oz orange curacao 1/4oz allspice dram 1 dash Angostura bitters

Shake with ice and pour into Mai Tai glass.

This is a sweetish drink. You really taste the curacao and it has a spice finish. Very nice.

Mix #111 Fall in Paradise

1.5oz Demerara rum 1.5oz apple cider 1.5oz pineapple juice 1/2oz lime juice 1.2oz allspice dram 5 dashes peach bitters*

Shake everything with ice and strain into glass.

*I didn't have peach bitters,so I used Angostura and a dash of peach schnapps.

Another sweet drink with fruit and spice notes. Quite good.

Mix #112 Yule Tai'd

1oz aged light rum 1oz aged gold rum 1/2oz heavy bodied dark rum 1oz lime juice 1/2oz cinnamon syrup 1/2oz Grand Marnier 1/2oz orgeat 2 dashes allspice dram ground nutmeg

Combine everything except dark rum and nutmeg into glass with ice and swizzle. Float dark rum and top with some nutmeg.

Created for a Tiki Tony drink card by Kerri Bacon and Chloe Drane,this is a holiday Mai Tai riff. Very cinnamon forward with a spice finish. I used Hamilton Navy Grog Blend for my float to give it a little more kick. I'll be having one of these with my Xmas dinner.

Happy holidays folks! Oh look,Xmas Elvira gifs!

#tiki drinks #tiki #rum cocktails #tikiculture #rum drinks #cocktails #rum #christmas cocktails #christmas #elvira

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fortheloveoffoodporn · 1 year

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Christmas Old Fashioned

Ingredients Maple Cardamon Syrup

1/2 cup pure maple syrup

1 cinnamon stick (or 1 teaspoon of ground cinnamon)

1 tablespoon cardamom pods, lightly crushed (or 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom)

Old Fashioned

2 ounces (1/4 cup) bourbon

1 ounce (2 tablespoons) lemon juice

1 ounce (2 tablespoons) orange juice

1-3 tablespoons maple cardamon syrup (ingredients listed above)

1-2 dashes bitters

ginger beer, for topping (optional)

orange zest and sugared cranberries, for garnish

Instructions

To make the maple cardamon syrup. In a medium pot, bring 1/4 cup water, maple syrup, cinnamon, and cardamom to a boil over high heat. Boil 2-3 minutes, then remove from the heat. Let cool. This syrup makes enough for about 6 drinks. If desired, rim your glass (see note).

In a rocks glass, gently stir together the bourbon, lemon juice, orange juice, bitters, and 1-3 tablespoons cardamon syrup. Add ice and top off with ginger beer. Garnish with cranberries and an orange slice, if desired. SUGARED CRANBERRIES

In a medium bowl, stir together 2 cups of fresh cranberries with 1/2 cup of pure maple syrup. Let sit 10-15 minutes. Strain the cranberries, then add them to a parchment-lined baking sheet.

Toss the cranberries with 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar until all the cranberries are coated. Allow the cranberries to dry, in a single layer, for at least one hour. Notes Spicy Sweet Rim: On a small plate, mix 1 tablespoon coarse sugar, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, and a pinch of cayenne. Run a lemon wedge around the rim of your glass and dip into the sugar mix.

#Christmas #Yule #Christmas Cocktails #Boozy holidays #holiday recipes #Xmas #Holiday

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bridgertonbabe · 2 years

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Okay I’m gonna need you to follow up the angst and pining Benedict…

Does he find out she over heard what he said and that’s why she was so dismissive of him? If so how?

How does it all work out in the end??

I am LOVING this and need to know more please and thank you 🧡

Anon asked: Girl, you can't start something like this and not give me an answer!!!! What happens when Benedict realised that Sophie heard what he said? Does he makes it up to her? Come on!! You can give me angst but give me a little Happiness 😭😭😭

Benedict doesn't find out for several years that Sophie had heard what he had said about her at the Yule ball.

A couple of years into the interrailing trip Sophie, Colin, Phillip, and Michael are on, a portkey transports Anthony, Kate, Simon, Benedict, and Daphne to the Greek island the gang are currently staying on to celebrate Michael's birthday. The party spreads out from the hotel villa and down to the beach and everyone's getting pretty wasted during the festivities. Benedict had hoped that after not seeing Sophie for a considerable amount of time that perhaps things would have returned to normal between them, but as soon as he had laid eyes on her looking like this;

Benedict knew he was screwed - his feelings for her hadn't lessened at all, they had only intensified (and that's not to mention the fact that the reason Gen broke things off with him was because one night in bed it had been Sophie's name he had cried out in the heat of the moment).

She was perfectly pleasant when they were part of a group but anytime he saw her by herself in passing, she continued to keep her distance and avoid him. It frustrated Benedict to no end and as he watched her dancing about with Kate and Daphne on the sands to Dancing Queen, he became determined to resolve whatever it was that had made them drift apart.

He thought he would be able to catch her for a moment alone when she popped back to the hotel to fetch some more drinks but when he walked into the bar he found that she wasn't alone - she was sucking face with Michael.

Benedict had run back to the beach, feeling like he was on the verge of his heart ripping in two because of course Michael Stirling would help himself to Sophie. After all these years of friendship it only made sense that someone as gorgeous as Sophie and someone as hot as Michael would get together - Benedict would have been surprised it didn't happen sooner if it weren't for the bitterness threatening to choke him. Michael fucking Stirling could have his pick of every last woman in the world - why did he have to go for the one woman Benedict wanted more than anyone else?

When Colin offered him a beer, Benedict downed the whole bottle before demanding his brother fetch him some Firewhiskey. He continued to drown his sorrow with more and more alcohol, and when he found himself swaying on the spot he decided to sit along the shore. He let the water gently lap at his feet as he stared off into the distance, his stomach then churning when he recognised Michael out in the sea, his hands all over a woman. Benedict was almost prepared to torture himself by watching someone else fondle Sophie, wishing it was him instead, when he suddenly realised that the woman Michael was getting off with was wearing a neon pink bikini.

Benedict scrambled to his feet and hurried his way through the throng of party guests before tracking down Sophie knocking back a cocktail. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowds, bringing her to a secluded part of the beach around the corner from the rest of the party.

“What are you playing at, Ben?” she asked him once she wrangled her hand free of his.

“Sophie, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he exhaled, hating to be the one to tell her this and see her get upset.

“Tell me what?” Sophie pulled a quizzical frown.

“I... I saw Michael... getting off with another woman.”

Silence stilled between them, the music and the party enjoying themselves off in the distance. Sophie stared at Benedict and then snorted with laughter.

“Bloody hell, Ben, I thought you were going to say something serious!” she cackled.

“Sophie, he’s cheating on you!”

“What?” she squawked. “Cheating on me? What are you talking about? We’re not together!”

“I saw you making out with him!”

“Yeah, we’re makeout buddies.” she shrugged. “It’s what we do. Doesn’t mean we can’t get off with other people.”

Though dumbfounded by her response, Benedict immediately felt lighter; she wasn’t with Michael. There was still a chance -

“Anyway why would you care if Michael is making out with someone else?” Sophie asked.

“Because you’re my friend.” he replied. “I don’t want you to get hurt,”

“Pft! You’re such a hypocrite!”

Benedict glowered. “A hypocrite? Why am I a hypocrite?”

“Oh don’t play dumb!” Sophie dramatically scoffed in her inebriated state. “You’re such a hippo hippoey hypocrite, Ben!”

“Wait... are you calling me fat?” Benedict swallowed as the alcohol coursing through his body made him more prone to sensitivity.

“No, you idiot! You’re a hypocrite! You go around saying stuff and it’s shitty stuff and you don’t care what stuff is stuff someone else is going to be hurt to hear because you’re a hippogriff - no, wait, a hypocrite!”

Benedict was aware he was too drunk to truly follow anything Sophie was saying, not to mention the amount of times she had repeated the word “stuff” had left him confused.

“I’m... I’m not fat.” Benedict limply responded.

“Ugh! I know you’re not fat, you dumb whore!” Sophie staggered forward. “You’re sexy and you know it, Ben, so stop fishing for compliments, you stupid sexy man.”

Benedict’s mouth opened in shock - Sophie thought he was sexy. She had said it twice now. And if she thought he was sexy -

“Do ya think I’m sexy?” he grinned at her, eagerly awaiting her response.

“Ben!” she groaned irritably and butted her head into his chest, resting it there as she grumbled under her breath before looking up at him, her chin still against his body. “You’re so annoying! You know you’re sexy and I’m sick of it!” she whined and then splatted her hand over his mouth. “I mean all you have to do is stand there and you look sexy, it’s not fair! You’re so greedy! If you weren’t such a hippopotamus you would give me some of your sexy! Sharing is caring, Ben!”

Sophie thought he was sexy! She also thought he was a hippopotamus for some reason but the main takeaway was that she found him sexy! And she wanted him to give her some of his sexy!

He then licked her hand that was covering his mouth, startling her and making her drop her hand away as she stared at him incredulously.

“Why’d you do that?” she shouted.

He then grabbed the same hand, holding it to his face and then, whilst maintaining direct eye contact with her, pressed his lips against the palm of hand. He saw the moment Sophie tensed up, her eyes now conveying a want he had never witnessed before as goosepimples tickled her skin.

“Sharing is caring.” he echoed and kissed her hand again.

For a moment neither of them said anything or moved. Voulez Vous was pumping from further down the beach as they continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Benedict wasn’t entirely sure who moved first but in the next second her lips were on his, Sophie’s hands clutching his face as his arms held her tightly to him.

The intensity Benedict had felt during their first kiss several years ago was at long last replicated and burnt even more ferociously as their embrace deepened, their tongues mixing together, teeth clashing, and a moan emitting from Sophie’s throat. At some point they lost balance, stumbling down into the sand together, their kiss unyielding as Benedict rolled over until he was on top of her. One of her legs was wrapped around him, her foot nudging his bottom, as her hands caressed his chest, her fingers trailing across his muscles.

“Sophie.” he groaned as she began to nip at his collar.

It had never felt like this with anyone. The way he had kissed Tessa, Gen, and every other woman in his past paled in comparison to the way it felt to trade kisses with Sophie, to grope her, to be on top of her. He had wanted this for so long and he now knew she was all he’d ever want.

He kissed below her ear as he palmed her breasts, squeezing her nipples through her bikini top, smirking when she gasped his name out as a direct result of his wandering hands. His hand trailed further down her body, reaching her shorts, and he began unbuttoning them, needing to be even closer to her than he already was.

“Yes, Ben. Please.” she whined and surged up to meet his lips with a hunger-filled kiss.

It was only as he pulled down the zip of her shorts that Benedict realised how wrong this all was. It was all so very wrong. Sophie deserved better than a drunken fumble on the beach. She deserved to be of sober mind, as did he, and they should be in a bed, taking things slow and building up their desire, making it as tender and as intimate as possible. He wanted it to mean something when he first made love to her. Sophie Beckett deserved nothing but the best.

He dropped his hands away and pulled back from her kiss, hovering above her as she stared up at him in confusion.

“Sorry. I can’t do this.” he exhaled breathlessly. “Not with you, Soph.” he shook his head. “You -”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish as suddenly he found himself pushed off of Sophie as she scrambled to her feet.

“Soph,”

“No!” she cried down at him. “No, Ben! I can’t believe I let you do this to me again!” she choked and Benedict was astonished to see tears shooting down her face. “Why do you do this to me? Why do you make me feel like such an idiot? It’s not fair! And now you’ve ruined ABBA for me!”

“Sophie, I -” he tried to sit up, to ask her why she was suddenly so distraught, but she kicked sand in his face.

“I hate you!” she wailed. “All you ever do is hurt me!”

Benedict felt his heart lodged in his throat as he watched her storm off back to the party.

Sophie hated him? He made her feel hurt? What had he even done? Surely it was nothing more than a drunken cloud of confusion that made Sophie so suddenly upset.

He managed to get to his feet and hurried after her but when he rounded the corner she was already lost to him within the crowd. He searched in vain for her but to no avail and after twenty minutes made his way up to the hotel, hoping to find her there. When he reached the area where he knew her room to be he came across Phillip emerging from one of the rooms. Just as he went to ask him if he had seen Sophie, Phillip hauled him into another room and threw him down in a chair.

“Phil, what -”

“Stay away from her.”

Benedict was taken aback by Phillip’s stern tone of voice. He had only ever known his brother’s friend to be quiet and soft-spoken. Now Phillip’s low voice matched his towering figure, making him far more intimidating than he had ever been before.

“What?”

“How could you do that to her again?” Phillip snapped. “It was cruel enough the first time around - does Sophie mean nothing to you?”

“Of course she does!” Benedict argued - Sophie meant everything to him. “I’d never hurt Sophie,”

“And yet here we are again!” Phillip barked.

“Again? I don’t understand,”

“The Yule ball, Benedict.” Phillip stated bluntly.

The Yule ball?

“I don’t know,” Benedict began, trying to figure how on earth he had hurt Sophie, considering she was the one who asked him to forget about the kiss they had shared that had turned his world on its axis.

“You kissed her!” Phillip cut him off. “You kissed her and got her hopes up and then you turned around and told your mates that she was nothing more to you than your little brother’s friend and that you only brought her as your date because nobody else had asked her!”

Benedict felt his stomach plummet at this revelation. He had completely forgotten ever saying that to Henry and Wetherby and he had never realised that Sophie had overheard him. Suddenly it all became crystal clear why Sophie had kept her distance from him all these years, why she accused him of hurting her again, why she had called him a hypocrite when he told her he didn’t want to see her hurt.

“You were such a dick to her!” Phillip continued as Benedict processed this stunning information. “For starters there were plenty of guys who wanted to ask her to the ball - you were the one without a date! And you should have known better than to use her as a rebound to get over your ex!”

“She wasn’t a rebound.” Benedict said quietly - his family had believed his misery during the latter half of his seventh year had been because he was heartbroken over Tessa; but it was Sophie who he had been struggling to get over.

“And just when I thought she was finally over you, you go and do this to her?!” Phillip spluttered. “You have done nothing to deserve her love. If you had any respect for her you’d leave her the hell alone.”

Benedict wanted so desperately to explain that he only told her he couldn’t continue with what they had started on the beach because he wanted to treat her better, for their first time to be special, to explain how she meant more to him than anyone else. However he was hung up on what Phillip had just mentioned.

“What do you mean she was finally over me?” he gulped - had Sophie liked him?

“You’re so fucking dense!” Phillip exclaimed. “That poor girl has been in love with you from the first day you met!”

Benedict truly felt winded. If what Phillip was saying was true then that first kiss at the Yule ball had meant as much to her as it had to him, and probably even more if she had loved him for nearly five years before that. She had been in love with him and then heard him say she was nothing to him other than Colin’s friend. In that moment he realised just how badly he had hurt her - if he felt pained by having her scream how she hated him in his face, he couldn’t begin to imagine how wretched he had made her feel after she heard him say that after their life-changing kiss.

“I... I didn’t know,”

“No of course you didn’t!” Phillip lambasted.

“Please, let me talk to her.” Benedict begged him. “I need her to know how sorry I am. Phil, please, she means so much to me,”

“If she means so much to you then I’d hate to see how you treat those who don’t mean anything to you.”

“No please, you don’t understand, I lo-”

“No!” Phillip shouted. “You’re drunk and in no fit state to even understand what you’re saying! Just go to bed and leave her alone!”

The next day Benedict woke up with the world’s worst hangover, which only doubled over in pain when he remembered the events of the night before. As awful as he felt, he wanted to speak to Sophie, to apologise for everything and tell her how wrong he was for everything, and even beg her not to give up on loving him; not when he loved her back.

But by the time he finally arose at well past midday, Sophie and Phillip had already left the island on a boat trip and they wouldn’t be returning until after the portkey that had brought Benedict and the others there had taken them back home. He didn’t want to accept defeat but Benedict conceded that even if Sophie hadn’t flitted off that she wouldn’t want to hear anything he had to say to her.

And so he was transported home, taking his overwhelming guilt and broken heart with him, wondering how on earth he could ever make things right with Sophie again and have her love him once more.

#asks #not me adding even more angst #also me: i will pepper in some mamma mia into this bridgerton harry potter au because i am ridiculous #and while i don't see lily james as sophie i couldn't resist that one look from mamma mia 2 #because my my how could benedict resist her #and yet again i know i haven't actually provided the details of how they actually get together in this au #but i will be providing that information soon #i just couldn't help but sprinkle a little more drama to proceedings #bridgerton drabble #harry potter au #benophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett

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spilledbutter · 2 years

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👀 I'm here for leaving a prompt! I'll obviously ask for Jaskel! 😬 And uhm... fake dating and mutual pining bc... ofc, they're idiots in love?? 🥺

ask and you shall receive! up on ao3, too 🙂

part two coming in the next few days! ---- Title: like cardiac arrest (high voltage when we kiss)

----

Summary: Jaskier needs a date, fast. Problem is, dating is harder than it used to be. Luckily, Eskel's willing to help him out.

Or: Two idiots in love think it's a great idea to pretend to date each other. No one is fooled.

Jaskier/Eskel | Rated: M | WC: 2k+ | CW: coarse language, sexual thoughts

----

The idea was absolutely ridiculous. Jaskier had truly outdone himself this time, really.

It had all started with Valdo fucking Marx, because of course it had. The idiot, for all that Jaskier found him lacking, could throw a decent party, and his Yule parties were all the rage. They’d been at a bar together with Essi, Shani, and Priss one evening. During a lull when the ladies had excused themselves to get refills, Valdo had turned to him with a sly smirk on his smarmy face.

“Julian, dear, you are coming to my party this year, right?”

Jaskier had narrowed his eyes at his given name, mistrusting of the other man’s tone for all that the words seemed like an invitation.

“Of course, Valdo, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he smiled, full of teeth, “Though I expect the caterer this year will actually have taste buds–honestly, Valdo, I don’t know what you were thinking last year. Cocktail wieners? The scandal.”

Valdo stood there fuming silently for a moment before that damned smirk covered his thin lips again.

“Nothing but the best for you, Julian. Though I expect you’ll be bringing a date this year? Your showing last year was so pitiful, really, and I’d hate for you to shame yourself publicly like that again.”

He was referring, of course, to Jaskier’s horrible (but inevitable) break-up with Tess de Stael, his on-again off-again for the last few years. They’d had a record-breaking blow-out the weekend before Valdo’s party, and he’d showed up, alone and bleary-eyed, and gotten drunk out of his damn mind. Tess had showed up fashionably late, a young, handsome reprobate in tow, and had proceeded to suck his face the entire night. Jaskier, in response, had taken an entire bottle of vodka from the bar and holed himself up in a corner, licking his wounds.

He had nothing to say for it now, of course, least of all to Valdo. Dating was… hard. He’d sort of missed the online dating wave while he was with Tess, and since then, every time he opened one of those sites–he became overwhelmed with the repetition and disconnectedness of it all. It was so… detached. He absolutely hated it, hated swiping left and right, being judge, jury, and executioner for the short bio that summarized all that a person was. So he’d stopped that rather quickly, figuring he’d try his luck the old-fashioned way.

It had worked, sort of. He’d met a few lovely people, spent a few lovely nights wrapped up in them (and over them and under them). It never went anywhere, though. He definitely hadn’t met anyone he liked enough to parade in front of his friends–he loved them, truly he did, but they could be a mindless pack of hyenas when they spotted prey. He didn’t want to subject a passing fancy to that.

“Oh? Nothing to say to that, hmm? Don’t worry–I’ll make sure the reservation is for Julian Pankratz, party of one.” Valdo laughed and laughed at his own, shitty joke, and Jaskier was filled with an icy resolve to prove him wrong.

Jaskier straightened his spine and squared his shoulders. He smiled, sweet and demure and menacing, batting his eyelashes at Valdo. “No need, my dear, I have just the person in mind. I know your memory’s fading in your advanced age, so text your planner now and let them know I’ll be needing a plus one.”

Valdo scoffed, but couldn’t hide the intrigued glimmer in his eyes. “Alright then. Just make sure your mystery date actually shows up, and not with another date this time, hmm?”

Jaskier gave him the bird before heading off to the bathroom to panic.

Shit. Now he needed to figure out who the fuck he was bringing.

—-

It was going horribly. A disaster, really.

Jaskier had been to bar after bar, cafe after cafe, movie after restaurant after yoga class and more, all in search of the love of his life. He’d started browsing discount sites, picking up new hobbies in the hopes that he’d meet new people and seem fun and interesting in the process. He’d even gotten desperate enough to reopen his old dating profiles, searching for someone at least passable. For all that Jaskier was flirtatious and outgoing and gregarious, it was extremely hard to find someone he could connect with enough for it all to seem genuine.

It was fucking hard. He was running out of jokes, and get-to-know-you questions, and cute outfits. And patience. If he had to ask one more bland person what their hobbies were or what they would bring to a deserted island he was going to blow his fucking top.

He was running out of time. He only had a month until the party, the bitter November wind a reminder as it blew through the shoved-open door of his favorite local haunt. He was going to look so fucking pathetic if he failed.

He said as much to Eskel through his fingers, head in his hands.

Eskel, his longtime friend from college, had met him for drinks and was currently witness to him being an absolute mess. The other man, in his master’s program at the University of Oxenfurt, didn’t find time to make it out very much. When he did, it was usually with Jaskier or his brothers. Jaskier always tried not to let that get to his head, too prone to being love-drunk and floating on clouds in the other man’s presence as it was.

Eskel–smart, sweet, handsome Eskel–who had always been out of his reach. Eskel, his best friend’s older (“By only a month,” Geralt always eye-rollingly reminded him) brother, who he’d met in freshman year when Geralt had taken his pitiful roommate with a shitty home life back home with him for Thanksgiving. Eskel, who couldn’t seem to help himself from laughing at Jaskier’s jokes even when they weren’t that funny, who came out to Jaskier’s first big gig even when he had his thesis defense the next day, who always, always made time for him. Eskel, the honest-to-gods love of his life–who could never, ever know.

The man in his thoughts heaved a deep sigh, resting a comforting hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I don’t know why it even matters, Jask. You hate Valdo Marx. Since when does his opinion mean anything to you?”

Jaskier groaned, not wanting to explain the real reason, the dreary path his thoughts had taken. He dropped his head onto the bar in a true fit of pique, uncaring of the slightly-sticky surface leaving questionable residue on his cheek.

“It’s not that I care about Valdo-fucking-Marx, it’s–it’s the principle of the matter! Tess—” His voice came out more choked than he intended, and he cleared his throat, blinking hard. “Tess was–hard. To move past. I just keep thinking, what if…”

He trailed off, running a frazzled hand through his hair. “What if I can’t find anyone else? What if, as shitty as our relationship was… that’s all I deserve? What if I never find anyone else?”

His voice had gotten quiet, now, the last few words coming out in a whisper. He found he couldn’t look Eskel in the eye, finishing his speech in the rim of his empty cocktail glass. Gods, he really was pathetic.

“Jaskier.”

The voice was warm and smooth like the sweetest mead. He looked up into eyes equally as warm–the color of fresh honeycomb, or the sun on a clear, summer day. Despite his best efforts, his stomach clenched, heart giving an anxious flutter. His friend looked serious, a slight furrow to his brow, as he gazed at Jaskier. It didn’t seem fair, given the conversation they’d been having, that all of this single-minded focus was on him. Melitele, help me, he’s so gorgeous.

“You have to know that’s not true. You deserve the world, Jaskier. I know that… that someone out there sees that.” Eskel swallowed thickly and Jaskier found himself distracted by the bob of his Adam’s apple. Jaskier’s mouth suddenly felt dry, the room too hot. He floundered, just on the wrong side of tipsy, for the right thing to say in response to a confession as earnest as that.

“Well! I’m sure you’re right, Esk, I’m just being silly. And drunk. You know vodka makes me sad.” He laughed at himself, as he always did when he wanted smoke and mirrors, when he needed to disguise the truth. Don’t. Don’t come any closer, I won’t be able to control myself. I’ll say what I really feel for you, what I always have.

Eskel continued staring at him in that quiet, thoughtful way of his. When Jaskier stopped his babbling and returned his eyes to Eskel’s, he noticed the other man seemed to be searching for something in his expression. What, he didn’t know. He must have found it, because eventually, Eskel nodded, seemingly willing to let the subject drop for now.

“Let’s get you home, then. No need to waste your money when you won’t even enjoy it.”

Eskel stood and Jaskier followed him out into the cool, late-autumn night. The air was chilly and the street was wet from a recent rainfall. The streetlights shone brightly above them, making the cobblestones glimmer like jewels. They fell into step beside each other easily as they began the short walk home, Jaskier’s flat on the way to Eskel’s.

It was quiet enough for Jaskier’s drink-addled brain to wander, unavoidably returning to the subject of his date. It wasn’t due to a lack of trying. He’d tried everything he could think of, truly. Maybe… Maybe it wasn’t the right time for him to find someone he really liked, or he surely would have found them already (pesky hidden feelings for Eskel aside). That didn’t change his situation, though. If only there was a way for him to get a date without having to continue like this…

The idea came to him in a bid of drunken genius.

“That’s it!” He stopped in the middle of the street, grinning like a maniac. “Eskel, I’ve finally figured it out, you big, beautiful brute!”

He flew towards Eskel and threw his arms around his neck, pressing a sloppy kiss against his cheek. Eskel, without hesitating, caught him around the waist, a faint dusting of pink rising up his neck. Jaskier was too pleased with himself to notice.

“What, Jask? What did you figure out?”

Jaskier beamed from his place in Eskel’s arms. “I thought I needed to find someone to date seriously, because how else would Valdo and the others believe it was real? But–and hear me out–what if I hired someone instead?”

Eskel looked downright flabbergasted. “You want to hire a date to the party?”

Jaskier was nodding furiously, pacing away from Eskel as he thought. “Yes, I can see it now! I’ll put it on one of the local neighborhood message boards: CUTE SINGLE LUTE PLAYER SEEKS DATE TO TRUMP SWORN ENEMY.” He fanned his hands in front of him with a flourish. “Honestly, how could anyone not want to? The mystery! The intrigue! Me!”

Jaskier had stars in his eyes, thinking he’d finally found a plausible solution to his problem. Surely hiring someone would be much, much easier than finding someone to actually date. Because that was impossible–the closest he’d gotten in the years since he’d met Eskel being Tess. The truth, kept locked in a box deep within his heart, was something he didn’t like looking too closely at. His most closely guarded secret–that he didn’t think anyone would ever mean as much to him as Eskel. That’s why he’d never been able to really commit to another. That’s why he was alone, now, fleshing out this stupid plan. The man before him bested all others, and he didn’t even fucking know it. What an absolute crock.

He felt a hand catch his elbow, pulling him from his musings, and spun around to face his friend. Eskel was… blushing? Now that was unusual. Jaskier took a closer look at him, and, oh, he was definitely flushed, and he wouldn’t meet Jaskier’s eye.

“Esk? What is it?” Jaskier was overcome with immense concern, rarely seeing the other man like this. “Are you feeling okay? I always tell you that you work too hard, you don’t rest enough, you–”

“I could… be your date. If you want.”

Jaskier froze, as still as the dead. There was absolutely no way he’d heard that correctly. No possible fucking way.

Eventually, Jaskier found the strength to croak out, “What?”

Eskel, for his part, flushed even harder. “If you’re going to–hire someone, post it on a message board–it’s not safe, Jaskier. Gods only know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you. I’d rather you were safe. I can just as easily be that person for you–if you’re going to hire someone, anyway.”

Jaskier was struck dumb, mouth hanging open. He idly heard his mother’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that was a sure way to catch flies.

Eskel continued in a murmur. “Besides, it would probably be easier than with a stranger, since we know each other so well.”

Eskel seemed to realize, belatedly, that Jaskier had yet to respond. He seemed nervous, his fingers twitching, before he moved to rub at his scars–old, worn, faded with time. Still so beautiful. “So, songbird? What do you say?”

Jaskier was stunned. There was no way around it, he was absolutely speechless. Valdo Marx would be cackling if he could see him now.

There was no way he could do this. Eskel made good points, of course he did, he was the smartest person Jaskier had ever fucking met, but Jaskier’s poor fool heart could never last if they did this. Not when faced with a mockery of what he’d always wanted.

And yet… His words from earlier returned, unbidden, to his head. What if... What if this was his only chance? He and Eskel could never be, not really. Eskel was light years away from him, untouchable as a shooting star. Jaskier would rather suck Valdo’s big toe than press his luck and ruin everything he and Eskel had. But if they were “dating”… This could be his one chance to see what being with Eskel would really be like.

He’d wanted him for so, so long. Gods only knew how much he’d wanted. He would be a fool–-to do it, not to do it.

He was trapped in his indecision, but sensing the rapidly rising tension in his friend made up his mind for him. He could never let Eskel think poorly of himself, that it was him, that he was the reason for Jaskier’s hesitation. Even if it was true, in a way, it was nothing like the way Eskel was probably thinking.

Jaskier let out a weary, bone-deep sigh. “...Okay. We’ll do it. But I think we need to come up with some terms. Ground rules.”

Eskel seemed to relax, looking a little lighter, but he still held tension in his shoulders, around his mouth. He looked like he was expecting a blow at any moment. “Okay. Like what?”

“Well… We’ll need this to be believable. You’re right–it’s good we’ve known each other so long, but that might actually make it harder to sell to everyone.” Jaskier rubbed his jaw in thought. “We need a story. For how we got together.”

“Hmmm. How about… after Yenn’s birthday?”

They’d all gone out together, the whole group of them, for Yenn’s thirtieth a few weeks ago. She wanted to greet the new decade with a bang and they’d all gone barhopping together, getting increasingly trashed as the night wore on.

“We could say we went off together. One thing led to another, we confessed our feelings…” He shrugged, like it was nothing, like he wasn’t tearing Jaskier apart with a few simple words. “Seems realistic enough to me.”

Jaskier, heart aching, nodded. “Okay. We’ll also need to–touch. More than we usually do, I think. I’m usually very… affectionate, in relationships, so it’s to be expected.” He cleared his throat, already regretting this, because he was an absolute idiot. “Would you be okay if I held your hand? Gave you a cuddle?”

“You already do those things, Jask, so that’s not even a stretch.”

“What about�� if I kissed you?”

That stunning, cherry-red flush was back, high on Eskel’s cheeks, and this time, Jaskier noticed. He was enchanted, unable to look away. So godsdamned lovely.

Eskel seemed embarrassed as he nodded in agreement. “Assumed that would be part of it, anyway. ‘S fine.”

There wasn’t enough air in the world right now. His heart was pounding against his ribs, wanting to fly out of his chest and into the hands of the man before him. An offering on a silver platter–please, I love you, let me be yours.

Jaskier felt like he was dying inside. He smiled, extra bright.

“Okay. We’ll start this weekend.”

(1/2)

#asi writes #prompt fill #jaskel #jaskel fics #jaskier/eskel #jaskier/eskel fics #the witcher #witcher #jaskier x eskel #jaskier x eskel fics #eskel #julian alfred pankratz #witcher fanfiction #jaskier

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