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sanjisblackasswife · 2 years

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(NSFW/SFW) Having FWB Relationship with Law

If you like to read the Monster Trio Version you can read it here!

A/N: Ngl this may not be as good as the first one but one comment asked so nicely for it :(((. Also this is SUPER LONG—

CW: Mentions of sex, more Angst than usual because Law has mf trust issues, Law is pushing back his true feelings for the reader it’s not an actual one sided love, Fluff, FWB to Lovers(?), and yeaaahhh

You fell for him, but it was his idea—well moreso you were already in love with him before the agreement even happened

It was something you knew was going to happen when you agreed to it seeing that Law wanted nothing to do with an actual relationship with you.

He’s been your captain for as long as you can remember, and through out your journey he has seen you go through heart break after heart break after heart break of terrible men that do nothing but use your kindness and some even your body without any regard of your feelings

How it started:

You only did this because your feelings for Law never subsided so you tried to fill yourself with anything to get your mind and heart away from him but alas it never worked

One night you both were working together in search of something—you were like an assistant to him—and during your break with him you both started to turn to the topic of relationships.

“So you’re ganna keep on giving these idiot men a chance, huh?”

“Gatta get laid somehow.”

You somewhat regretted your wording swing as Law frowned at your response. You didn’t have sex with any and everybody it was only about 2 dudes you ever gotten that far with your entire journey; one being a green haired swordman and the other being some pineapple haired guy. They both were sweet, but you knew the relationship you wanted wouldn’t last.

Law got tired of your complaining. It wasn’t long until you blurred out something you knew you couldn’t take back;

“Well maybe if my captain was the only one to satisfy my needs I wouldn’t be searching it from random pirates.”

It was a stupid, stupid, STUPID thing to say. You knew it. He knew it, but it was too late now. You couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol because Law cut you off after one cup.

“Is that right?” His tone was dark, you look over at him across the desk you were already sulking in and furrowed your brows. Law got up to take away the empty glass being twirled in your hands to sit on his desk beside you. His eyes never broke from yours and he had an unreadable face. He didn’t look mad, disgusted, or annoyed. Amused maybe?

“Look at me.” He noticed you breaking eye contact first, flustered still at your outburst and grabbed your chin. “You know if I ever got into a relationship with you—or anybody else for that matter I’d just end up breaking your heart. So us being a thing will never happen. It would be too much of a distraction.”

“…I know..” You groaned, his words stung so hard you just wanted to go back to your room with a bottle of Sake and drink until you forgot about this entire conversation.

“But…Just know I never said I didn’t find you attractive…and that we could still make something out of nothing.”

If you were in a cartoon your left ear where he was sitting beside would have enlarged itself 3 times the size. Did you hear him correctly?

You sat up straight and before you could ask him to repeat himself he was already invading your mouth. It wasn’t long until the research you both were doing was forgotten and you spent the rest of your night a moaning mess under your captain.

How it’s going

If you would have told yourself 7 months ago you’d be having almost daily sex with Law just to not have any strings attached you would have laughed hysterically , but here you were; laying under him, heavy breathing being exchanged, and then having to get up and leave before anybody on the ship seen you.

The sex was amazing, it really was, but you still felt empty even though he always filled you up .

After taking what you now feel like is the walk of shame to the bathroom and then to sleep you just think, why doesn’t he at least want to cuddle you afterwards? Maybe some reassurance you’ve done good? Hell even a Pat on the head, but all you get is a quick kiss after he pulls out and the veiw of his back as he rolls over to go right to sleep.

One night you wanted to stay, just once, he really worn you out since he has been so pent up dealing with the strawhats and barely seeing you anymore you just wanted a little affection. Just a Little. And you’ll be on your way.

His back was facing you again, you admired his tattoos, wanting to trace them over your fingers as he held you close telling you how good you were for him, how beautiful you looked….

How much he loved you—

“What are you Doing?” His voice was cold. He broke you out of your empty thoughts and you noticed your finger making contact with his damp back. “You still want more or something?”

“N-no! I…I Just um…” Law turned over to make eye contact with you resting his head on his hand gazing at your body partially covered by the thin blanket. “I wanted you to…to hol—-“

“You want to be held?” He almost sounded like he was scoffing, you couldn’t blame him. You weren’t very subtle hiding your feelings for him even after he talked to you throughly that you both would never get into a relationship. It broke your heart a little when you thought that one day these moments of intimacy May run it’s course, and it may be soon from the way you seen him get so close with that one beautiful black haired Strawhat girl lately.

“I—forget it I’ll go.” Law almost did. Almost. But he knew he couldn’t. For the last few months he felt a tinge of guilt because he knew how much you loved him. He thought that maybe if you spent more time with him, got to know the real him besides just with sex— knowing how much of a grump he was, how straightforward and blunt he could be, maybe you’d be turned off and move on.

But he was so wrong and he felt bad. He started to feel like he was misleading you. He didn’t want that. He really didn’t want any of this he didn’t know how to be a boyfriend, how to take care of your romantic needs, how to share, how to be someone you need.

He knew that. He knew he couldn’t be with you.

So why was it when he seen you talk to that green haired swordsman today he got so angry? Was it jealousy? He knows about your past with him and he also knows you’re a grown consenting adult with no strings attached so WHY did it bother him so much?

Law grabbed your wrist, you looked back at him with sorrow and a hint of shock in your face feeling his grip tighten.

“You can stay.”

It was only three words, but it was what you always wanted to hear from him.

It was what you needed to hear.

You crawled back into bed hesitantly and Law noticed so he pulled you in closer to his chest. You heard his heart and it was pounding as if he were running a marathon.

Holding you was new, you both were still naked and a tad sweaty, your breath tingled on his collarbone, but this is the first time in a while Law felt…

Comfort.

Your fluffy body was something he enjoyed holding. Maybe he could get used to it.

But he didn’t want to he knew he would just end up hurting you in the end if he furthered this and thinking that caused him to back up a little.

“You can sleep here tonight. You’re probablyly—-“

“Why can’t you love me, Law?”

He nearly choked on his own breath hearing the hurt in your voice. You sat back up looking defeated. You’d probably end up getting kicked out because of this, but you didn’t care you wanted answers.

“You…you knew I still had feelings for you and you..you still put me in a position to fall more in love with you and it hurts!”

You didn’t mean to holler at the end of your sentence, but it was all too much. You hated yourself for getting into this situation and you hated him for allowing it.

“You knew I would never say no to you, and for us to be doing this for so long and I try to respect you not wanting to be with me so you don’t hurt me, but you’re hurting me more by being away. I want you! Do you know how hard it is going day after day seeing the man that you are in love with not feel anything back but in the same day can lay down with you and just fuck you?! I’m so STUPID to even let it go this far and I’m sorry! Okay!? I’m sorry I can’t stop thinking about you and about us! Not if we keep this up—“

“Then let’s end this.”

At that point your heart was torn. It was a truth you didn’t want to hear, but it was bound to happen eventually. Your eye immediately trickled with tears, you wanted to slap him, seeing how quickly he was willing to let you go especially after pouring your heart out, but—

“Let’s start something new then….I want to…I been wanting to for the past 3 months…but y/n I—“ Law sat up straight hitting his head on the headboard groaning—he didn’t want to spill his heart out because he wasn’t great with sentimental words but it was either that or just let you walk out of his room and possibly out of his life because he couldn’t believe if you guys broke off your little agreement like this you would still want to be in the same crew anymore.

And he couldn’t lose another person he loved.

“I’m sorry you feel this way…and more importantly I’m sorry for not being more attentive to your feelings. I…Y/N i do care about you….okay—?”

“I just…—”

“I don’t want to disappoint you…I thought that maybe if you seen more of me and realized who I really were you’d back off but now I feel like either way it goes I will hurt—-“

You cut him off with a kiss—it was a bit harsher than he was used to with you, but he managed to return the kiss back and pulling you closer to let you straddle him. You didn’t care about his stupid assumptions you knew he’d kill for you So what makes you think he’d actually hurt you on accident or on purpose for that matter? You also knew about his trust issues so you were willing to work on it for the sake of your relationship.

“Break my heart then, Law…” you muttered under his lips to then find his eyes. “If that’s what it takes to show you that you’re worth loving…then do it…break my heart.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

“That doesn’t even make any sense, y/n.”

“None of this really does make sense but….” You pulled back to admire his tanned skin, covered with a red tint and pulled back some of his strands of hair. “I’m willing to work on it with you.”

It was moment of silence between you both. He couldn’t look away from your eyes shining in the night as the moon bounced off of it. Maybe it was the post sex high or maybe he was really in love but you looked breath taking at this point.

“…I am too, y/n.—”

“I love you.”

You damn near cried on him and he did too, you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Wait what—“

Law rolled his eyes playfully and scooted you so close your nose was touching his.

“I…” he kissed your lips softly slowly rolling you over on your back,

“Love..” He kissed your warm neck with his hands rubbing the sides of your hips so gently.

“You.” Law bit the other side of your neck where your weak spot was and granting him a sight of you moaning just above a whisper, you were pretty like this.

He went back to your lips to return a most steamy and passionate kiss with his tongue rubbing against yours until you eventually end it with you sucking the tip of his tongue.

Freaky asses

“I love you, too Law.”

Law knew he had more to work on about himself so you both agreed that no longer will there be any of the “no strings attached “ rule, but now you both can start off with talking it slow

With you being his.

#one piece smut #one piece headcanons #black reader #one piece #law x reader #law one piece #law smut #law x you #law headcanons #trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece scenario #one piece x black!reader #one piece x female reader #one piece imagine #one piece angst #one piece fluff #one piece x reader

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katethewriter · 2 years

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Just a Typical Morning

from the 25/8 series

Summary: Natasha and Wanda attempt to wrangle their 8 kids in the morning before school/work.

Pairing: Wanda x Natasha, mother!wandanat x daughter!reader

Words: 5k~

Warnings: civillian!AU, pregnant!WandaNat(briefly), angsty Natasha(briefly), childhood asthma, a lot of kids, I mean A LOT of kids, poorly proofread, I think that's it, pretty fluffy

A/N: I have gotten a bunch of asks about this one lately, so here you go! While yes, WandaNat have 8 children, the story is still pretty centered on reader and her relationship with her moms. Also, I am in no ways an expert when it comes to asthma. I have had several experiences with childhood asthma with kids I have nanny'd or friends. I am working with that knowledge. If I have things wrong, please send me a message to educate me!!!

If you’d like a little more background info, you can read about each family member in Meet the Fam!

Natasha groans in agitation, awoken by the blaring of an alarm. She reaches behind her to hit snooze on the offending machine before rolling back into her previous position, wrapped around her wife.

Wanda sighs. She pulls Natasha’s arms around her tighter, but her wife has other ideas. Natasha trails kisses from her shoulder up her neck until she is nibbling on her ear. Her hands go on a journey of their own, returning to all of the places they had been merely hours ago.

“What do you think you are doing?” Wanda asks playfully. “I’m sorry was last night not enough for you?”

Natasha chuckles, but never sways her attention from the body against hers.

When a hand dips below her sleep shorts, Wanda rolls to face her wife. “Watch it, Romanoff,” she smirks against the red head’s lips.

Natasha grabs her lips with her own. Pulling away she returns her wife’s smirk, “its Maximoff-Romanoff.”

“Well, Maximoff-Romanoff,” Wanda swats at Natasha’s hands that have found their way to her ass, “there’s no way we have time for activities and for both of us to shower before we have to get the army moving.”

The redhead relents, pulling the brunette fully into her arms. Wanda nestles against Natasha and releases an exhausted sigh, despite having just woken up.

“You ok?”

Wanda shrugs.

“Thinking about the interviews?”

“Yeah, they rescheduled three and tacked them onto the end of today’s schedule. Who knows how long we’re gonna be there tonight,” Wanda releases a long sigh, sinking deeper into her wife.

Natasha runs her hands up and down Wanda’s back gently, “I can help you relax. Let me take care of you.”

“As much as I would love that, we don’t have time,” the brunette parrots her earlier statement.

“Come on,” Natasha gets out of bed, grabbing the other woman’s hand to coax her to follow, “take a shower with me. You know how good I am at multitasking.” She raises a suggestive eyebrow.

Wanda can only giggle while she allows herself to be led into the adjoining bathroom.

After a very satisfying shower, getting dressed and a speedy light makeup application, Wanda exits the bedroom to begin the day, starting with waking the little humans.

Walking through the living room, Wanda stops to knock on the door to the basement. She opens it to call down the stairs, “Y/n, time to get moving. Breakfast in an hour.” She continues on her mission, traveling upstairs next.

“Good morning, everyone,” the mother knocks on each door calling for those inside. “Boys, time to wake up. Lena, you too.”

She makes her way into the last room, lightly tapping on the door. “Good morning, princess,” she makes her way over to the toddler’s bed and sits on the edge. “Anastasia,” she sings lightly, gently rubbing the girl’s tiny back to rouse her, “time to wake up, my love.”

The three year old rolls over and sleepily peers up at her, “mommy?”

Wanda smiles and places a kiss to the girl’s forehead, “good morning, my sweet girl. Come on, lets get you ready for daycare.” She pulls away the covers and lifts the child out of bed. The mother changes her into the outfit she laid out last night. After some quick pigtails, Wanda settles the girl on her hip for the trip downstairs.

When she steps outside the toddler’s bedroom, Wanda is confronted by one of her younger twins.

“How come you bang on our door to wake us up, but she gets whispers and hugs,” Tommy asks, tooth brush in hand, but still in his pajamas.

The mother can’t help but chuckle, “well when you were 3, I woke you up with whispers too, but then you outgrew that and slept through the whispering.” She ruffles his hair then pulls him into a side hug, “you can still get hugs though.”

The boy manages to squirm out of the hug and turn back to the bathroom. “Nooo mom! You messed up my hair,” the 7 year old grumbles.

“Sorry,” Wanda chuckles bouncing the girl on her hip. “Everybody get moving. Breakfast in 45 minutes ok?” She waits for the array of ‘ok’, ‘yes mam’, ‘already on it’. After she is confident everyone is in fact working on it, she treks back downstairs to start breakfast.

She sits the still sleepy toddler on the couch with a sippy cup of milk to watch some cartoons while she makes breakfast. As she scrambles some eggs and gets some biscuits in the oven, the entire house comes to life around her.

This is one part of her life that Wanda wouldn’t change for the world. With her family moving around her, interacting and joking with each other, even when she has to break up some bickering, she loves her children with everything she has and can’t really figure out what she did to deserve them.

“Boys,” she calls in a warning tone, “Billy, you better not be finishing your brother’s homework.” The 2 boys look up from the table guiltily. “Pack up your backpacks. If it didn’t get done last night, then it’s not getting done.”

A look of fear covers Tommy’s features, “but I’ll get in trouble!”

Wanda turns to face her son, “I’m sorry, but you should have thought about that last night. There are consequences to your actions buddy. Next time, you’ll do all of your homework the night before and before you pick up a video game.”

The boy hangs his head in defeat, sulking while he gathers his books into his bag.

“Then, go pack your bag for track practice, too.”

Lena walks into the kitchen carrying a very worn pair of pointe shoes and her dance bag, “mom I need new pointe shoes. These are almost worse than my back up pair.”

The mother turns to look at her oldest daughter and the pair of shoes she presents to her. She nods, “we can go Saturday after the swim meet. Do you think they can last the rest of the week?”

The teen nods, tucking the shoes away in her bag.

“Good. Now, are you ready for school?” the mother asks.

“Yes mam,” Lena sets her bag to the side and looks back to her mother.

Wanda smiles, “perfect, could you help me cut up some fruit for breakfast?” The teen happily nods, pulling out the cutting board and whichever fruit her mother instructs her to grab.

Natasha and Alex walk into the kitchen one after the other. They’re laughing about something, most likely something that Alex said.

“Alright jokester, grab some plates and set the table for everybody please,” the redhead pats him on the back. She kisses her wife’s cheek on the way to pour herself a cup of much needed coffee.

While the liquid slips from the coffee pot to the mug, Wanda’s eyes rake up and down her body. She’s seen Natasha in her uniform practically everyday for the past 20 years, but the sight still does something to make her knees weak. Even despite this morning’s activities.

The brunette pulls the other woman close to her, “good morning officer.”

“Good morning to you,” Natasha smirks and leans in for a kiss. A kiss that is cut short-

“Gross, can you guys not please?” PJ groans as he enters the kitchen.

The two mothers break the kiss and laugh together. “Go help your brother set the table,” Wanda points her head in the direction of the table.

The chef turns to plate the food, while the officer calls for their youngest.

“Anastasia, guess what time it is,” Natasha prepares a small glass of water while she waits, although she doesn’t have to wait long.

“Puff, puff, puff, puff, puff, puff, puff, puff,” the toddler repeats with each quick little step she takes.

The officer picks her up and sits her on the counter, “that’s right. It’s puff puff time.” Natasha slides the basket containing all of the materials closer. She picks up the preventative puffer and removes the cap, “step one: shake, shake, shake, shake.” She shakes the puffer while the toddler giggles and shakes her shoulders.

Of course, the mothers would much rather their daughter did not have asthma. However, they are prepared, willing and dedicated to do everything possible to help her control the condition and live as a typical 3-year-old. That includes breathing treatments that are not typically labeled as fun, but they do whatever they can to make it as enjoyable for Anastasia as possible.

“Alright, last shakes,” the redhead lets the girl shake a few more times while she attaches the puffer to the spacer, “next-“

“Mask!” Anastasia says happily.

Natasha holds the mask flush to the girl’s face, “and now…”

“…puff,” they say at the same time.

Natasha squeezes the canister releasing the medicine into the spacer, which bleeds into the mask. “Deep breaths,” she says as she exaggerates her breathing as an example for her daughter, “one deep breath, two deep breaths, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Good girl one more time, are you ready?”

Anastasia nods, and Natasha squeezes the canister again. The mother counts as her daughter takes deep breaths as instructed.

“… eight, nine, ten. Very good girl,” Natasha removes the mask from her face and sets it to the side. She grabs the glass of water set off to the side, “here, water.” The girl takes a swig into her mouth, and her mother instructs, “swish, swish, swish, swish, swish, spit!”

Anastasia leans over the cup to spit it in without spilling. Natasha sets the cup in the sink and lifts the girl off the counter, “all done!” She sets the toddler back on her feet.

The officer spots her oldest daughter walk out of the kitchen to place a plate of cut fruit on the table. Leaning down to Anastasia’s level, she whispers, “I bet if you ask nicely, Lena will help you get into your booster seat.”

The young girl happily skips out of the kitchen after her older sister.

Natasha smiles at her little crew all moving around the kitchen/dining area. She notices a couple are missing and turns to go searching.

First, she checks the back porch and finds one of the two in question. She steps out onto the porch to join him, “good morning, Max.”

The twelve-year-old turns with a grin, “morning Mama!”

“All done watering, buddy?”

“Yes mam… Hey, come check this out!” he excitedly waves her over to the garden him and Wanda have been working on for the past few months. “I got a bud!” he points.

Natasha walks closer to take a look, “that’s awesome, buddy!” She wraps an arm around her son’s shoulder. “Ready to come in? I think breakfast is almost done. Plus you should go tell Mom about the bud!”

“Ok,” he smiles, setting the squirt bottle back in its place and running inside. His mother follows, but instead of heading to the kitchen, she turns the opposite direction in search of one more straggler.

Wanda turns with a large plate of eggs in one hand and a plate of biscuits in the other. “Breakfast is ready!” she calls through the house. Setting the plates on the table, she has to swat the hands of her oldest boys away from the plate of biscuits, “only one each, until everyone gets one.”

As she is making Anastasia’s plate, she looks around the table for a headcount. Including the toddler, she counts four already sitting around the table. She looks up as the little twins are making their way to their seats.

‘One, two, three, four, five, six…’ Wanda counts in her head, ‘six?’

Max comes bounding into the room, “Mom, I found a bud on the tomato plant!”

‘Seven.’

“That’s great, Max!” she loves that she has a buddy in her gardening endeavor, and for her, his pure excitement is better than any fruit they would yield. He takes his seat, and Wanda takes a look around the room to find who is missing.

The last empty chair, beside Natasha’s, tells her exactly who she is missing.

“I’ll be right back. Y’all start eating,” Wanda makes her way out of the room, looking over her shoulder to add, “Lena’s in charge.”

The mother makes her way through the house to the living room. She tilts her head when she finds her wife standing at the basement door with her ear pressed into the narrow gap between the door and the frame.

“What are you doing?” she asks amused.

Natasha pulls a finger up to her lips, “shhhh.” She motions for Wanda to come closer. “She’s practicing,” she whispers and pulls her wife to listen for herself.

The brunette leans her ear towards the cracked door as well and can’t help but smile. The most beautiful music floats up the steps. Her daughter’s skill and talent still amaze her.

They both listen to Y/n play for another minute, before they know they have to interrupt if they want everyone to be on time today. They both quietly make their way down the stairs as the music continues.

Y/n is so focused on playing the piece, perfecting it, that she doesn’t even notice her mothers have entered the room until one of them clears their throat.

The music ends abruptly as the teen looks up guiltily, “sorry.” She cracks the small smile that she knows will have them break, “good morning?”

Natasha and Wanda laugh. “Good morning,” they say in unison.

The officer checks the outfit Y/n has on and is satisfied that she is at least dressed for the day. “Are you ready for school?”

Her daughter nods, “my homework is all done, my backpack is packed. I just have to pack this up too.” She holds up the violin in her hand.

“Thank you for being ready,” Wanda nods, “but now you need to eat breakfast.”

“I already ate,” the teen counters.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, “I’ve been in the kitchen all morning, and I’m pretty sure I never saw you…”

Y/n blushes and smiles guiltily again, “I woke up earlier than you this morning. I was in the kitchen while you were upstairs.”

Wanda squints her eyes trying to detect if the girl is lying, but she can tell she is not.

Natasha chuckles and shakes her head. Making eye contact with her wife, she shrugs, “Secret Agent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda stops, leaning on the counter to take a deep breath. She tries to just breathe until the nausea passes. She’s barely 8 weeks along in her pregnancy, and the morning sickness is so much worse than it was with the twins.

“Come on kiddo, work with me,” she whispers placing a hand over her stomach.

The twins are finally down for a nap, and Wanda needs to use every available moment to tidy around the house. Natasha should be back from her doctor’s appointment soon, and she wants to have at least the kitchen finished by then.

Her wife actually should have been home a while ago. Every minute that ticks by gathers more worry in her stomach, so she cleans to keep her hands busy and her mind distracted.

With another deep breath, she continues wiping down the counters. While she does so, all kinds of scenarios run through Wanda’s head of what the doctor could have or could be telling to her wife.

The officer was forced more or less to go to the doctor by the chief. She’s repeatedly called in sick over the past couple months, and before she can go back to full active duty, she has to be cleared by a doctor.

Wanda moves on to washing bottles, checking the baby monitor every now and again.

The bottles are clean and drying on the rack when the door to the garage opens and closes. Wanda turns to greet her wife who stands stiffly just inside the kitchen entrance.

“Hi love,” the brunette smiles, drying her hands. “Did they clear you for active duty?”

The red head shakes her head no. She keeps her eyes low, unable to look at her wife.

Wanda’s shoulders drop. She knows that her wife was very much hoping to be cleared. “Well, what did they say?”

Natasha doesn’t answer, looking at the ground intently. Her hands fiddle nervously with a small piece of paper she carried in.

“Baby, what did they say?”

Silence stretches between them, and its eating Wanda alive.

The younger woman crosses the room taking her wife’s face into her hands, lifting it so they are looking in each other’s eyes. The glossy redness of the red head’s eyes ignites a further panic in her.

“Natasha, you’re scaring me. What is it?”

She doesn’t speak. She only looks down to the paper in her hands and raises it to display to her wife.

Wanda follows Natasha’s gaze down to her hands. She gasps and swears her heart stopped beating. Her mind is running away without her as she tries to comprehend what she is looking at.

It’s an ultrasound image of an unborn baby. A baby who looks pretty far along.

Wanda can clearly find the head, a torso of sorts, what looks to be the start of some arms and legs. There’s still a lot of development to happen, but this baby is much farther along than the one Wanda has inside of her. This baby is about the size Natasha’s would have been.

Wanda looks up; her eyes wide and dazed in shock, “this is from today?”

Natasha nods.

“…of you?”

She nods again.

The brunette stares back down to the image, “…but all of the tests…”

“False negatives,” the redhead speaks for the first time since she walked in the door.

“… and your period?” the younger woman takes the sonogram from her to examine closer.

“Spotting that is apparently very common.”

Wanda can’t take her eyes off the image, “how far along?”

“15 weeks,” Natasha holds her breath waiting for a response, but she gets none. The quiet is too much in her anxious state.

They had been trying for their third child for months, and this time Natasha wanted to carry the child.

The first attempt ended in tears when the red head got her period and the tests came back negative. It was hard for them both, but it was almost nothing compared to the second try a month later.

After the implantation, her period was late. She even got a positive test. They were so happy, ecstatic even, until it was all ripped away a week later.

Natasha began bleeding and every test after that was negative. They were both devastated beyond belief, Natasha most of all.

It was decided Wanda would try next, and she became pregnant after the first try.

They had believed both of Natasha’s attempts had failed. However, if Natasha is already 15 weeks along, the first attempt had to of been successful.

Now here they are both pregnant. That wasn’t the plan, and it had Natasha wallowing in worry of what her wife would think of the news.

“Please say something,” she begs.

Wanda doesn’t answer her directly, instead she drops to one knee and smiles happily, eye level with her wife’s stomach.

“You sneaky little thing,” she giddily addresses the very tiny human tucked away inside Natasha. “You’re gonna keep us on our toes, aren’t you?”

She presses a kiss to her wife’s stomach before standing to cup her cheeks and bring her in for a joyful kiss. She pulls away with a grin, “what else did they say?”

Natasha answers shakily, “that she’s due in y/b/m.”

Wanda melts instantly, “she? It’s a girl?” She couldn’t wipe the smile off of her face if she wanted to. That is until she sees that Natasha doesn’t seem to share in her joy, “what’s wrong? She’s healthy right?” She searches her wife’s eyes for an answer, “Is she ok? Are you ok?”

“We’re fine, we’re ok,” the redhead cuts off her wife’s worry spiral, “…its just… you’re ok… with this?”

“Ok?” Wanda asks incredulously, “what do you mean? Natasha, we mourned this baby. We grieved for her twice, and she came back to us. I am so much more than ok.” She strokes Natasha’s cheek and still finds hesitation, “what is it, love?”

The red head opens her mouth but struggles to find words, “…you’re pregnant, and I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have two babies.”

Wanda chuckles, “we have two babies. We’re about to have four. They’re gonna be only a couple months apart. They might as well be twins, and I think we handled that pretty well the last time, if I do say so myself.”

“Yeah, we did,” Natasha smiles. Her worry is beginning to morph into relief and joy. “… but we can’t both be on maternity leave. What are we gonna do?”

The brunette shushes her softly, “hey, it’ll be ok. You can work desk duty for as long as you can. If we need to pull from savings, we will. Plus, we still have the restaurant, and its doing well. We’ll make it work like we always do.” She pulls her wife into her arms.

Natasha returns the hug, holding Wanda as close as possible. She wonders how long they will be able to do this before baby bumps make it impossible. Bumps… plural. It sounds surreal.

Wanda pulls back to kiss her soundly. “Now, can we put aside the worry, and just celebrate this precious girl?”

Her wife grins and nods.

“Thank you,” she presses her forehead to Natasha’s, “and thank you for this gift.” She kneels again and slides a hand across her wife’s stomach, “even if you did hide her in there for almost 4 months.”

The red head laughs, “I hid nothing! All of the hiding was done by her, like she’s training to be a little secret agent.”

The pair share a content smile, then Wanda looks back to Natasha’s stomach.

“Our secret agent.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amused, Wanda rolls her eyes, “well little miss Secret Agent, you still have to sit at the table while we discuss the game plan for the day.”

After Y/n packs her violin back in its case, the brunette throws an arm around her daughter’s shoulder and walks her upstairs with Natasha following close behind.

When the three of them enter the dining room, the majority of the food is already claimed or eaten.

“I made them save some for you, Y/n,” Max says happily.

The mothers sit in the chairs in faux offense. “… and what about us?” Natasha asks playfully.

He blushes and looks at them sheepishly, “you too, moms.” They both send him a playful wink.

Y/n takes her spot between PJ and Anastasia. “Thanks bud, but I ate breakfast early today,” she smiles to her little brother.

“So, time for the game plan,” Wanda announces from her seat on the other side of Anastasia. “I’m working a bit later tonight than normal, so that will mix things up a little bit. Lena, Aunt Pepper is going to pick you up from school and take you to ballet with Morgan and drop you off at home after.”

The teen nods in between bites of her breakfast.

Natasha looks across the table, “P, no soccer today, right?”

“Nope, coach is on vacation, so we have the rest of the week off.”

“Ok, we need you to pick up Max from the middle school, then drop him and Alex off at swim practice. Those are your first marching orders,” she chuckles when he gives her a little salute. “Second, you need to go to the grade school to pick up the little twins.”

She then turns to the twin boys, “Billy, after chess club, wait for Tommy to finish track practice. He shouldn’t finish much after you. PJ should be there by the time you finish.”

Wanda eats the last few bites off her plate, then continues the plan for the afternoon. “Mama will get Anastasia from daycare, then pick up Alex and Max. Y/n, think you can walk to your lesson after school?”

Y/n looks up with a furrowed brow.

It isn’t a bad walk. Her coach lives in the neighborhood right next to the high school. It takes 15, max 20 minutes to walk there. The weather is supposed to be great all day long.

So why is she looking at her mothers like they’ve forgotten something?

The girl releases a breath and nods, deciding not to say anything.

“Alright, then we just need someone to pick her up after,” Wanda looks between the big twins, “you should both be home by then. I don’t care who, you can decide amongst yourselves.”

“I’ll do it,” Lena volunteers. She knows the second her brother gets home, 9 times out of 10, he starts some video game and doesn’t stop until moms make him.

“Thank you Lena,” Natasha smiles proudly.

Wanda looks around the table, “questions?”

Alex raises his hand slowly, “where do babies come from?”

PJ nearly spits out his water from laughing. The older children are either trying to hold in their laughter or staring at him in shock. The three youngest turn to their mothers with expressions of genuine curiosity.

Wanda squints her eyes in her son’s direction, “any real questions?”

“Mommy, where do babies come from?” the question is repeated in the innocent voice of her three year old.

Natasha steps in, picking up the toddler from her booster seat, “we will talk about that when you are bigger.” She sets the girl on her hip wiping her face with a napkin. She turns back to the table and addresses the rest of her family, “alright team, lets go. Everyone put their dishes in the dishwasher and help clean up the rest. Grab your backpacks and bags, and get to the door. I want everyone in a car in 15 minutes. Ok?”

A chorus of “ok” and “yes mam” bounces off the walls, and they all get moving to do as they were told.

She sets the toddler down to run and grab her daycare bag. She gathers Anastasia’s and her own dishes to take care of.

Wanda checks Ana’s daycare bag one last time, before sending the girl out to her car with Max. “You two wait for me by the car. I’ll be right there.”

The morning carpool arrangement is a delicate balance. Wanda takes Anastasia to daycare and Max to the middle school because they are both closer to her campus. Natasha can easily drop off the little twins at the grade school on her way to the station. While the four big kids pile into a car and drive themselves to the high school.

“It’s my turn.”

Wanda can hear footsteps along with the bickering of her oldest children approaching from behind.

“No, its not,” PJ counters, “I have the keys, so I’m driving.”

Their mother turns to face them, quickly plucking the car keys from her son’s hand. She holds them up for them both to see.

She looks to PJ, “did you finish all of your homework?”

“Of course.”

Wanda turns to Lena, “ballet bag?” The girl holds up the bag as a confirmation. “Good,” her mother nods and then looks between the two of them. “Now, who drove yesterday?”

Their reactions are simultaneous, almost like they are twins or something. Lena points to her brother while he shakes his head and tries to playfully smile his way out of this one.

“Well then,” Wanda hands the keys to her daughter, “be safe, no texting while you’re driving. Do you hear me?”

Lena smirks victoriously in her brother’s direction. “Yes mam,” she takes the keys and starts walking out of the house.

“Sorry bud,” Wanda pats PJ on the cheek before nudging him towards the door. “Have a good day, I love you,” she calls to them both, and they repeat it back to her, ‘love you too, 25/8.’

Natasha then approaches the door with the little twins hot on her trail.

“Can we ride with the blue lights?” Billy asks excitedly.

She stops in front of her wife, but continues to look to the boys, “you two ask me every morning, and what is the answer every morning?”

They both fold their hands together and put on their best pout faces. “Pleeeaaassse,” they beg in unison.

The officer tries to stand her ground, but their cuteness cracks her resolve. She smiles, “fine, but you get 20 seconds in the driveway before we leave.”

The boys jump in victory, bounding out the front door without another look back.

“I love you too,” Wanda playfully calls after them.

“Well, I love you,” Natasha pulls her wife close and leans in to press their lips together.

“Gross,” a voice sounds from behind them.

They chuckle at their second interrupted kiss for the morning. In the direction of the voice, they see Alex at the bottom of the stairs carrying his backpack and swim bag. Y/n comes in from the living room, and they both make their way to the door.

“Everything in your swim bag?” Natasha asks Alex as he passes.

“Everything,” he taps the duffel hanging from his shoulder. Y/n is right behind him.

Wanda asks, “Y/n baby, you have your violin?”

The girl holds up the case, but before she can say anything, her brother is chiming in.

“Of course, she has the violin,” he smirks in the doorway, “its surgically attached to her arm.”

Y/n rolls her eyes and pushes him through the doorframe, “ha, ha, ha, everybody’s got jokes.” She throws a “bye moms” over her shoulder.

“We love you,” Natasha and Wanda both say at the same time.

Both teens stop and turn in unison, “25/8.”

The mothers smile and nod, “25/8.”

“Now where were we?” the officer turns back to her wife.

Wanda leans in, “I think it was a little like this.” Their lips meet in the middle, and they savor the short moment as long as they can. When they break the kiss, they rest their foreheads together. “Please be safe,” the brunette asks quietly.

It’s a dangerous job. One that keeps Wanda constantly dreading that call.

“I will,” Natasha reassures her with a stroke of her cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They share one more, quick kiss, before they depart, going separate ways to officially begin the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoy! ❤️ let me know what you think!

Much love -k❤️

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podcastenthusiast · 9 months

Text

(Little fic set during the first Long Rest. Astarion experiments with the new limits of his vampiric nature. It goes badly and Tav helps.)

Now on ao3

The atmosphere at camp that first night is fraught with worry and uncertainty, everyone reeling from the recent trauma. Reminds you of home, really. You know a thing or two about sharing space with the only handful of people in this world going through the same horrid experience as you.

Now here you all sit sharing a meal together, too. Or, well, they are.

"Something wrong, Astarion? You're not eating."

The half-orc is looking at you with suspicion—no, with concern. They are all looking at you. Then this is your cue. Time to put on a show. Play your part.

"Well," you sniff haughtily, "to be honest, this is hardly the caliber of cuisine I'm used to. No offence meant, darling."

"None taken; Gale cooked."

"And I did my best with our severely limited provisions, thank you very much. Sorry it isn't up to your standards, Astarion."

You conjure distant memories of decadent meals as unreal to you now as the forgotten color of your own eyes. Can't have anyone sneaking a peak into your mind through your shared connection and seeing blood and vermin--your usual sustenance.

"Even so, please try to eat something," she insists.

"Why? To build team camaraderie? I can think of far more exciting ways to get better acquainted."

"We all need to keep our strength up," she says. "For the journey to that cure Lae'zel spoke of."

Maybe I don't want a cure, you almost snap. But that wouldn't align with the image you've woven for them of a carefree magistrate who must have a comfortable life in the city worth returning to. They cannot know the truth. At least not until they trust you enough to tolerate a monster in their midst. Until you've proven yourself more useful alive.

So you regard the stew warily. Hunger gnaws at your gut, never sated, but only for blood. Still... After a full day in glorious sunlight, perhaps you could decide to push your luck just a bit further. Who knows what other remarkable exceptions to your condition the tadpole has provided? What's the harm in a little experimenting?

You tentatively lift the spoon to your mouth.

———

Later, while the others are asleep in their beds, your evening is spent retching up the meager contents of your stomach into the bushes. Turns out the mind flayer tadpole can't or won't alter every inconvienient facet of your undead physiology. Walking in the sun? Yes, by all means. Eating food? Very much still a no. Makes perfect sense!

"I see Gale's cooking really didn't agree with you."

Her voice manages to startle you. Not many people can do that anymore. Damn. It will be more challenging to seduce her after she's seen you like this, so weak and sick. It's okay. You are a professional, after all.

You fumble for an explanation that would satisfy your traveling companion. Would she believe a garlic allergy, or is that too on the nose? You could claim someone tried to poison you. Or you did it yourself to avoid the inevitable transformation but got the dosage wrong, play her sympathetic heart like the strings of her lyre. That could work.

But she doesn't ask any questions, for which you are immensely grateful.

Your stomach rolls and lurches painfully again. You taste something metallic on your tongue, subtly spitting out a clot of old blood into the grass. Pray she doesn't see; she would think it's already too late for you. She fears the tadpole—fears death, fears becoming something else, losing control of her body, as any reasonable person would in this situation. You almost want to tell her things can get so much worse than that. Worse than she is even capable of imagining.

"Astarion, hey. Breathe."

You breathe. There's a warm pressure against your back. Her hand, you realize, solid and soothing.

"Look at me?"

You look at her.

She touches your forehead. Gentle. You can't recall the last time anyone touched you like that.

"No fever," she mutters as if to herself, withdrawing the hand. Your eyes linger on the veins in her skin. "You feel too cold, in fact, you're shaking. Come sit by the fire."

You obey. Allow her to coax you over to a bedroll. Somehow you have fooled her into believing you're worth caring for.

"I didn't know you're a healer," you hear yourself saying. Where are you? You don't feel entirely present in this moment. Perhaps you haven't been for quite a while.

"Because I'm not. Just a mother," she says, a touch wistfully, and you realize how little you truly know about this woman whose throat you held a knife to mere hours ago. She carries herself like a soldier but calls herself a bard. Probably middle-aged, if the greying hair and lines beneath her eyez are any indication. And she has at least one child, apparently. You wonder vaguely if anyone waits for her back in Baldur's Gate. You wonder how it feels to be missed.

You don't know what to say, however, so you don't speak.

"It's okay to be scared, you know," she says quietly. "I'm scared, too. But we're in this together."

You laugh bitterly. She sincerely thinks it is fear making you ill, doesn't she, like some pathetic creature. A mistaken assumption, obviously, but...

You are, though.

Terrified.

A fear so bone-deep and familiar it is home to you. You're afraid this has all been some bizarrely wonderful nightmare, that you'll wake up any moment in a gloomy crypt with Cazador looming over you. Even more afraid that it's real and you actually have something to lose. You would sooner eat another wriggling parasite--hells, an entire pot of that damn stew—than go back to Cazador.

He will find you, you're certain. He will send hunters to track you down like a dog. Escape is impossible. This is nothing more than a brief reprieve in the misery of your existence.

You're a little afraid, too, of her. Of this unrelenting, undeserved kindness. Of what happens to you when it goes away.

"Why are you helping me?" you ask. She must want something. Everyone does.

"Maybe I just need you well enough to fight tomorrow," she offers. "Or, consider: you're a person who could use some help. Simple as that."

"You're too good for this sorry world," you say it like an accusation. Too good to me.

She shrugs. "Well, go with the first answer then. Need anything?"

"No, I think not."

The one thing you need, you don't dare ask for. Not yet.

"Try to get some rest, okay? I had last watch so dawn can't be too far off."

"Wait."

"Yeah?"

"I...I would appreciate if you didn't mention this to the others."

That earns a strange look from her, but she nods. "Of course. Good night, Astarion."

You watch the sunrise for the first time in centuries. It is completely worth the awful, sleepless night which preceded it. Your days are numbered, you know, between the parasite and Cazador, but you are damn well going to make every second of that freedom count.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fic #sorry i had to write some hurt/comfort #be warned it's a little gross but not too much #i'll post on ao3 later

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novankenn · 28 days

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Saints of the Sword (v1-6)

(I am going to very BLUNT with this statement, even though it seems like it... THIS IS NOT an everyone betrays Jaune fic. There is much more going on including Jaune's own low sense of self-worth.)

The pair walked in silence. Neither saying a word to the other as Professor Goodwitch lead her once student and the former bully of Beacon’s first years towards the accommodations that had been arranged for him and his company. She was impressed with the young man. He carried himself well, and the air of contempt he used to surround himself with was gone. In all outwards appearances, Cardin Winchester was a changed young man. Which begged the question as to why.

“Mr Winchester, if I may?” Professor Goodwitch had heard everything Cardin had told the Headmaster, but she still wasn’t completely satisfied with his answers. Outward appearances can be very deceiving. “Why have you changed so much?”

“Professor?” Cardin paused in their journey to face the older woman. “What do you mean?”

“By all appearances you are no longer the brash, arrogant and deceitful young man who was once my student.” Glynda Goodwitch paused for a moment and gave the young man a minute to consider her words before speaking further. “I heard what you told the headmaster, and while I feel that is a partial reason… it is not the full one. Am I correct?”

“I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Mr Winchester, Cardin… I only wish to understand the dynamic between you, Mr Arc and your companions.” Glynda gave Cardin a soft smile. “I do apologize if I have over stepped, I was just curious.”

“To be honest, the training we did with the Rough Necks beat a lot of that bullshit out of us…”

“But?”

“Of course you would know there was more.”

“I do pride myself on being observant.” Glynda sighed as she noticed the tense stance Cardin was now in. “But if it is bringing up memories that you do not feel comfortable sharing…”

“Her name was Elise…”

“Pardon?”

“She was a new recruit, like we were. A cat faunus… her trait was her tail…” Cardin gained a far away look in his eyes.

“Cardin?” Gynda reached out and gave him a gentle shake by the shoulder. “Are you… okay?”

“Just memories.”

“She died, didn’t she?”

“Yes… she bled out in my arms.” Cardin swallowed and took a deep breath. “She took a hit for me… pushed me out of the way of a boartusk, and was gored because of it…”

“I’m sorry, to make you relive…”

“It broke Jaune. She and her were close friends, much closer than me and her… but that she did that to save me… stuck with me… her last words were she was glad I was safe.” Glynda could see the wetness starting to rim Cardin’s eyes.

“We’re… we’re almost at your accommodations.” Glynda offered him an out from his memories. “As you are not students you will not be expected to take part in classes, though if you wish you are welcome to attend.”

“We may do just that after we’ve rested some.”

The pair returned to their journey in silence, and for the next ten or so minutes not a sound or word passed between them. As they closed upon Cardin’s final destination for the night, Professor Goodwitch prepared to bid a farewell… until a hideous soul rending screaming burst through the air. Professor Goodwitch was shocked by the painful, primal sound, Cardin however wasn’t.

“Shit!” he swore as he dashed forward, as dorm room doors opened, expelling the entirety of Cardin’s company. “Jeanne!”

“In here!” Jeanne yelled back as she started pounding on the door across the hall. ”Joan open up! Joan!”

“Etienne! Guy!” Cardin shouted as he closed the distance. Still in shock at the sudden visceral nature of the screams, Glynda was unable to step in as two of the larger members of Cardin’s crew moved into position and drove their shoulders into the door.

Now, Beacon’s dorm doors were made to be stern stuff. Engineered to be resistant to accidental discharges of ammunition, sudden firs, and unexpected semblance activations. All of Beacon’s buildings were, in fact, engineered to be rather resilient… but no one told Etienne or Guy that. The pair were jarred by the impact with the door, and stumbled back, gripping their shoulders in pain.

“Wait! Use this!” Glynda shouted once she regained a semblance of focus to understand what was going on. She pulled out her scroll, activated the staff emergency code and tossed it to Cardin. “Wave it over the lock!”

With that simple motion, the door swung inwards…

/== Table of Contents ==/

#saints of the sword #volume one #rwby #cardin winchester #jaune arc #various OCs #team jnpr #team rwby #team crdl #mental manipulatio

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willshipanything-blog · 10 months

Text

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 13

We're still here, and getting towards the home stretch (she says, roughly 60% of the way through this damn fic 😅)

Driving back home dredges up some less-than-ideal memories for our little dove, and she ponders whether or not to ask Al those burning questions on the tip of her tongue...

As always, minors DNI, full tags on AO3 where the fic is also posted here

Full Chapter Index here

Enjoy lovelies! 💜✨✌️

Chapter 13- I Got You, Babe

After Max had shut his front door with a final wave and a promise to be back at the house very soon, you and Al turned towards the street. As much as you’d miss Max’s upbeat presence, the thought of once again having the house to yourselves, just you and Al in your private sanctum, had a satisfied smile curling on your lips. That is, until you realized that you’d actually have to get home first. Only one way to make that journey.

There was no vintage red car to whisk you home on the late summer breeze. Instead, the black van sat squat in the road, like some dark, shadowy wraith. Imposing, as if waiting by the sidewalk to swallow up an unsuspecting passer-by. To bundle them inside of its bowels and envelop them completely. A phantom taste of chemicals collected on your tongue. The sweet vanilla and cinnamon of the cola putrefied in your mouth, rancid, bile-flavored bubbles popping on your tongue like acid.

The van had gotten closer, stalking towards you, but that couldn’t have been right, could it? No, you had unconsciously been walking, Al’s warm hand clasping yours as he’d guided you towards the van, your feet dutifully falling into step beside his. But Al stopped in front of the passenger side door, swinging himself round to face you.

“Y/N.”

When you looked up, you noticed how those sapphire eyes shone behind squinted lids: he’d removed the clunky sunglasses. Removed any trace that might remind you of the day you’d first encountered him. All traces except for the metal beast towering beside you, that is. The van was a little harder to vanish away than a top hat and some playful magician schtick.

“You’re ok, dove. I’m right here with you, huh?”

You licked your lips, tasting the salty sweat; at least his sweet words were dispeling the rotten taste that had built up like a film of plaque around your gums. You nodded, but could muster nothing more in response than a weak clearing of your throat in a high-pitched mumble. Doubling his efforts, Al clicked open the door and held out a hand to help hoist you into the seat. You hardly needed help, but the gesture was appreciated, and you took his hand. Like some fairytale picture of a footman extending a hand to help you into a carriage. The image was droll (probably just what Al had intended) and as you sat on the surprisingly soft bucket seat, your smile reappeared faintly on your lips.

“Got no AC, so let’s open these up, shall we?” Al asked without really asking, already rolling down the window using the crank on the inside door. The glass descended completely before Al closed the door, giving a couple of firm taps in the now-empty space where the window pane would have been. Silently illustrating his thoughts: Look, Y/N, you’re not trapped inside. I’ve not trapped you inside. Not this time.

Al bolted round the outside of the van, making sure he joined you in the front as quickly as he could. As he hopped in beside you, you returned the smile Al gave you (though yours was only a fraction of the width of his charming grin), before he turned the keys and the engine purred into life. Instead of setting off, your hand was tugged softly to your left, Al holding it above the center console. You watched your entwined hands as his thumb stroked along the ridges of your knuckles, like plucking separate strings on a harp, perhaps hoping for a melody of soft affirmation from you.

You glanced towards him, the bright sunlight permeating the interior. Squinting past the blinding glare from the windshield, past the dust motes floating in the unstirring air, you found all the reassurance you needed in those ocean blue eyes.

“Where to?” he asked softly.

“Home.” It didn’t matter if there was nowhere else you could go. Because there was nowhere else you wanted to be.

Al retracted his hand to get into gear, and your own retreated back into your lap. But you weren’t getting away from Al so easily; no sooner had the van pulled smoothly out into the road than Al’s warm palm rested on your thigh. An easy gesture, and your body immediately turned into it, appreciating the touch, savoring it. Needing it. All you knew right then was how warm it all felt, how comfortable. The late afternoon sun, red behind closed lids. The steady thrum of the engine you could feel through the seat. Al’s assuaging hand on your bare skin, his ringed thumb undulating slowly (that tic that normally surfaced during his own nervousness, altered to soothe yours now instead).

A red light up ahead had Al braking, and you lunged forward slightly in your seat. The sudden jolt disrupted the rhythm of your reverie, and your now-open eyes darted around the van, flicking from the window, to the dashboard, before finding the back of the van in the reflection of the rearview mirror. It was mostly empty, aside from a few wooden boxes pushed to the side- full of props Al still used in the magic shows he occasionally performed. But the space was largely unoccupied, and felt big. Too big, like something was missing.

Or someone.

The fears of your past, the ones you’d trained to dispel from the forefront of your mind, suddenly pushed through like weeds through sidewalk cracks, growing uncontrollably. The scene flashed in your mind, but you watched the event unfold in third person, as if your memory was forbidding you to experience that horror first-hand again. Even with the distance, it was close enough to have your stomach churning.

Your body is splayed out on the van floor. You’re dazed and bruised but still clinging onto consciousness. Trying to fight back. A floppy arm punches the invisible air. A croaked scream tries to claw its way out of your throat. Tears stream from your red, stinging eyes. Above you, straddling your prone form, looms the Grabber. Dark, deranged and so, so strong. Too strong, you realize. He might as well be a shadow for all the good your fighting is doing. A pathetic blow from your blind fist only irritates him, an enraged growl the only warning before your wrists are yanked hard, becoming caged alongside your legs beneath his restraining grip. He moves in for the killing blows. A punch across your jaw. Another. And another and another. The fight becomes ever more futile with each lethal strike on your soft skin. Your body becomes weaker and weaker. Your vision becomes blacker and blacker until-

“Y/N.”

Al’s voice, honeyed but assertive, jerked you back into the present. The van was moving again but your mind had still been stuck at that red light. It hurt to look at Al, to see the clear torment in his eyes that you’d remembered such a moment. Al could usually conceal his emotions so easily- what must your own expression look like for him to shatter his cool, composed facade? When you didn’t answer, Al gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze before leading the conversation.

“Why don’t you find us a station, huh?” he asked, nodding towards the radio. If he was opting for distraction, you’d accept, happy to be steered away from the thoughts that had snatched you away momentarily. Your eyes averted from the rearview mirror and focused on the stereo Al had indicated towards. Pressing buttons and turning dials helped to shift your focus as you tuned the radio to find a station without static.

“Oh, perfect!” Al exulted as the melody chimed into life, almost immediately breaking into song right alongside Sonny and Cher. On each ‘I got you babe’ of the chorus, Al leaned towards you, nudging you with an elbow, daring to take his eyes off the road for too long a beat as he flashed his charismatic smile your way. He chuckled through his off-key crooning when (despite your objections and head shaking) an amused smile couldn’t help but bloom on your face.

“C’mon, dove. You’re not gonna make me sing both parts now, are ya?”

A key change for the next verse (which did not complement Al’s limited singing range), didn’t seem to deter him at all:

“I got flowers in the spring. I got you to wear my ring.”

Still half-watching the road, he tilted his head and, relenting to that wide-eyed, encouraging nod, you made it a duet:

“And when I’m sad, you’re a clown. And if I get scared, you’re always around.”

When Sonny (accompanied by Al’s discordant warbling) sang of putting your little hand in his, Al gripped yours theatrically across the console, swinging it and not letting go until the final refrain.

Al’s singing and his goofy playfulness had soothed your worries. Even with those awful remembrances, you saw how desperately he was trying to eliminate that part of himself, trying to divert your own mind from wandering back all those months ago. It didn’t feel selfish on his part- you really believed he was more concerned with keeping you happy than cleansing his own soul of those things, however much his own regret ate away at him. That was worth something, how hard he was trying to make you happy. Worth enough for you to come out of your shell since you’d clammed up at the sight of the van, to engage in a little playfulness of your own.

“Max was right. He does have better music. A better singing voice too!” This was better: the light banter, goading Al into a playful repartee with you which you knew he could never resist.

“Ouch, that cut deep! But I have somethin’ Max doesn’t have, little dove,” he crooned, retorting right back.

“Yeah? What’s that then?”

“I got you babe.”

You could scoff and roll your eyes as much as you liked at Al’s truly awful sense of humor. But it didn’t lessen the smile on your face, or the pink blush you could feel illuminating your cheeks.

Since that first reassurance outside Max’s, everything Al had said was almost a placeholder for something deeper. If he’d have come right out and told you not to worry about being thrown into the back of the van (even as a dark joke), your panic might have kicked in on instinct, a knee jerk reaction to the violent memory. But his soft words- about home, about music, his smalltalk about anything at all- helped keep your eyes and mind occupied on the here and now. It wasn’t a malicious distraction, like those devious machinations in the week had felt. In a twisted sort of way, Al’s intentions were pure: he wasn’t keeping you from any secret, but coaxing your mind to better places than the past ordeal he had inflicted. Not diverting you from things you didn’t know, but from the things you did. The things you’d endured at his hand. You didn’t mind a little subterfuge from those past agonies.

It all seemed so silly now, thinking the black van was anything more than that. You could look at Al and no longer see the Grabber. Could watch him don those damn masks and yet still feel nothing but a lustful rush of pleasure. See the pink jeweled ring on his finger and think only of the promises it signified. Yes, the van was just a van. Not lying in wait, ready to stow away and ferry some unwitting victim towards the basement cell. Just Al in the driver’s seat and you sat beside him, his warm palm on your knee to stem the nerves that might have it bouncing. The song faded out and the upbeat opening riffs of ‘Free Ride’ thrummed into life.

As the van turned into your street, your eyes flickered momentarily to the house across from Al’s. The mollifying band-aid Al had applied with his tender words and sweet diversions peeled back, the unease bleeding from the open gash of that unhealed wound. Too busy worrying about the van, you’d almost forgotten about the questions you wanted to ask. Needed to ask. If Al sensed your sudden unease as he pulled up the driveway, he said nothing. Perhaps he knew the fine line between useful and nefarious distractions: taking your mind off the van was a kindness, but continuing to do the same about the house was a dangerous game, one that both of you knew was all-too-transparent. That truth was hanging on by a mere thread, and Al didn’t want to be the one to snip it completely.

You rolled up your window as Al killed the engine and hopped out of the van on his side. Reaching for the handle, you pulled and it gave a clipped sound, the door unyielding to your touch. Panic rose in your body, and you yanked on the handle a couple more times, to no avail. It was suddenly stifling in the van, baking hot and suffocating. You sucked in an audible gasp, as if short on air (which, if you were in the initial stages of a panic attack, you were sure to be). Logical, rational thought had abandoned you, and it wasn’t until Al was right there in front of you that you realized he’d opened the door, muttering shamefaced apologies about the child locks he didn’t know how to fix.

You were relieved, a little embarrassed, and annoyed that, even after Al’s genuine reassurances, the thought of being trapped in the van had affected you so. Al took your hand to help you out of the van, but he let you lead the way back into the house, an implicit gesture that you quietly appreciated.

As you crossed the threshold into the house, all the dizzying thoughts of the previous week- the sinful distractions, busy commotions and mad rushes that had overtaken your life- had ceased entirely. Like an empty void, filled with a humming white noise now that every external interference had dissipated. Just you, and Al, and the questions you had. Was it too soon, barely through the doorway into your newly re-acquired privacy, to begin asking? You wondered if you put it off now, whether you might ever summon the bravery to ask again.

You loved Al, despite his darkness. Hell, you loved him because of that same darkness sometimes. Surely your relationship could withstand another hard truth, even if that truth was Al covering another lie. Another lie would just be another inky smudge on his ledger, hardly noticeable besides the other sins tarnishing his blackened soul. Your shared secrets would remain just that. And your shared promises would remain intact, solid and unbreakable as the golden band you fingered with reflective contemplation.

“Hey dove,” you discerned Al asking as he shut the door behind him, his keys clanking in the ceramic bowl by the door “If you’re ok in the van, we can go out in it sometime. Get ice cream, or go watch a movie at a drive-in. Maybe one day even take a trip into the Rockies, if you w-”

“Al, I need to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

Your voice was hard and flat, steeling yourself for whatever outcome this question might lead to, however unpleasant the consequences of that conversation. However angry it might make Al. You’d dealt with those raging emotions of his before, and had matched his fiery anger when you’d needed to- an inferno that could burst so fiercely, his own rage looked smoldering in comparison. But when Al’s eyes whipped up to yours, you didn’t locate a trace of ferocity in his expression. No knitted brow, no tense jaw clenched in anger, no eyes dark with rage. You ascertained only one emotion in those watery blue eyes and trembling lips. Al was terrified. One look at the fear in his eyes, and you faltered.

So many uncertainties, so much conflict between two sides of your mind. Whether to ask questions that were sure to end in conflict and distrust, or whether to trust that Al really wasn’t hiding anything worse than the awful truths that you already knew. One certainty, however, was how deeply Al cared. You thought of how he’d been recently.

How he’d been helping Max all these weeks, the effort he’d put in to rekindle that relationship, the time and money gladly sacrificed to ensure his little brother stayed this time around.

How he’d opened up about his past, bared those scars for you to see- was it not enough honesty for you?

How he’d adopted that goofy persona to dispel your fears in the van, his silly distractions and soothing touches a genuine attempt to sever your memory of Al from that dark half he hated even more than you did.

How he’d looked at you in that polaroid photograph, adoringly, reverentially. How he thought of you as utterly his, and him belonging to you entirely.

“My little dove.” Al stepped forward, cupping your cheek with trembling fingers, the cold ring on his pinky sweeping your jawbone. His promise was right there, encased in the pink morganite gem, entwined in the gleaming gold band on the hand he’d lifted to your face. Hadn’t he kept that promise? To take care of you- well, he showed that in almost every action he did, each act, every kind word and soft touch. It was just like he’d said- ‘my little dove’- you were his to take care of, and you’d made that choice to belong to him. He hadn’t answered your question yet, but perhaps you didn’t want him to in that moment, your courage crumbling beneath you like time-worn bones.

You’d been down this road before, two choices warring in your mind until one won out. Back then, it had taken you a long time to make that decision. But you’d made the right one, eventually. You’d wanted to wait until it was just the two of you- but you didn’t have to follow through the first moment alone, right? Maybe time to wait, to think, to decide: maybe that wasn’t a bad thing after all. You could wait a little longer. You had nothing but time with Al, after all. His pleading eyes still looked across his outstretched arm towards your face, waiting for a question he thought would break him. A new question formed in your mind, and a wry smile curled on your face, wanting to dispel the fear you still discerned in his.

“Just one question, Al,” You placed your hand atop his, where it still caressed the bone-white scar on your cheek, as if in waiting expectantly to wipe away hurtful tears from your eyes. He swallowed a breath, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, waiting in tense uncertainty for your interrogation.

“We don’t have to play the quiet game anymore, right?”

Al jolted, clearly expecting a different question than the one that dripped from your tongue. It took just a brief moment for the realization to hit him before a wash of relief flooded through the blue oceans of his eyes. He exhaled slowly, as if catching his breath, before he smirked at your deliberately loaded question.

“Hmm,” he chuckled in that rough purr, curling a hand around your waist and pulling his body towards yours, his other hand still fixed against your quickly-reddening cheek, “If you aren’t screaming my name in the next five minutes, then I wouldn’t be doing my job properly, would I?”

A witty retort almost left your throat, but escaped only as an incredulous scoff when Al pushed you roughly against the wall. Maybe the ache would register in your skull and back later, but the thrill meant you hardly noticed it, the pain forgotten behind the sudden rush of adrenaline. Pressure around your wrists now; Al had gripped them both, hoisting them above your head and slamming them into the wall, where he used just one of his unnaturally strong hands to pin both of yours in place.

Towering over you, Al brought his lips to meet yours, grazing them softly before placing a chaste kiss on your mouth. He pulled back, eliciting a confused stare and slight moan from you at the incongruous, tender gesture. Those crooked white teeth flashed, at odds with the onyx eyes, though both evidenced his growing hunger.

“Aww, what’s wrong dove, don’t want me to be gentle?” he teased knowingly. You squirmed beneath his grip, arms restrained and body caged. He grabbed your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to face the waking beast within him. “You gotta tell me- do you want me to. Be. Gentle?” He punctuated his words, your need only growing with each slow, teasing comment he spoke.

“No.”

“That’s my girl.”

And with that, Al crashed into you with his full force. Tongues collided in deep, breathless kisses, teeth nipped where both of you chanced upon the other’s skin, and breathy moans escaped both of you as you tore into each other. With your hands fettered, you could do nothing against Al’s ministrations as he worked his way lower, sucking and teasing your pebbled nipples through your thin shirt as his free hand glided up your thigh towards your heat. His fingers traced your wetness through your underwear as you bucked into him, desperate for him to rip the panties off you completely so he could touch your bare, throbbing cunt. He relented to your whining plea, dipping a hand beneath the waistband, palming your clit as his fingers entered you, pumping and curling in every way he knew drove you to insanity.

Your breathing faltered, coming out in staccato bursts as your climax grew nearer. Al pressed his cheek to yours, telling you to come, telling you to say his name as he undid you completely. His prophetic vision manifested, and you screamed his name as your core clenched and you came all over his fingers. It hadn’t even taken the full five minutes.

Al released you from his caging grasp as you released a weary exhale from your comedown, the only semi-coherent response to what he’d done to your body. Though before your shaky legs could buckle under you, Al was already pulling you along the corridor towards the bedroom. Clearly, he wouldn’t be satisfied until the neighbors complained about the obscene racket you two might cause. A part of you thought the same.

Your bleary eyes looked down towards his hand that had entwined itself in your own, your swapped rings mere inches apart in the shared clasp of fingers. Those golden bands remained unbroken, same as your promises- he hadn’t lied, because you still hadn’t asked the questions your logical mind knew you should have. A few more snatched moments of bliss, just like this one, could continue before your inevitable bout. You could have a few days to enjoy the intimacy, the warmth of you and Al. Your body and soul could withstand the postponement of those questions, even if your mind might regret such a short-sighted decision.

She’d been about to ask. Ask about the house, about the secrets he’d still not been brave enough to reveal. Al knew it. But his dove changed her mind, and opted for a distraction of her own at the final moment.

Al suspected she’d seen the genuine fear in his eyes at the confrontation finally coming to a head (he hadn’t needed to act out the terror when it came so easily at the thought of speaking about what he’d done). But he wondered too whether a part of her didn’t really want to know, whether she was content with the blissful ignorance and lustful diversions that, up until now, had been Al’s party trick. Her’s too now, he mused.

But his little thing wasn’t like Al- she was brave enough to speak out, to do the right thing (apart from the glaringly obvious ‘wrong thing’ of staying with him, of course). She’d ask. Eventually. It was like the sword of Damocles hanging over him, the thread taut, only one cutting question away from falling. But he’d played dangerous games before. He’d play with his dove, would her close until she would inevitably turn away once she learned the truths buried in that house. He’d cling to her until the final second, until it was game over for him. It would be a game well played, if he’d been allowed to play with her.

#the grabber #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the black phone #black phone fanfic #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw #albert shaw x you #the black phone fanfic

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beth--b · 2 years

Text

Fall

“One last contract Jask, we need the coin,” Jaskier muttered to himself as he walked beside Roach. Jaskier looks at Geralt’s unconscious form slung over the mare’s saddle and shakes his head. “For fucks sake what am I meant to do with you now? At least you have some sense about you Roach, I know you will get us to the keep but really it would be much easier if Geralt was conscious.”

It was late Fall and time to head to the keep for the long cold winter ahead. Geralt getting hurt and being out of commission for the trek up the mountain was not part of the plan.

He continues to chatter at the mare and berate the Witcher as he makes his way up the trail. It was going to be a long trip to Kaer Morhen with Geralt unable to lead them. He had made the trip a few times now, and Roach knew the way but it was not an easy journey under the best of circumstances and these were certainly not those.

If he kept talking though he could pretend that everything was alright, that Geralt was just being his usual silent broody self and he was riding Roach. Not that he was out cold and would be for who knows how long. He had taken a contract at the last town near the base of the blue mountains, it was unusual for any monster activity there with the number of Witcher’s that passed through, but a manticore had been spotted nearby and the people wanted it dealt with before Winter set in and no more Witcher’s would be there to deal with it until the Spring.

Geralt had been able to kill the beast but he had taken too many hits himself, along with a dose of venom in doing so. He was low on potions so Jaskier couldn’t just give him Swallow or Kiss to help speed up the healing process and he had nothing to counteract the venom.

read it on ao3 here

Jaskier had seen this happen before, or at least something similar. Geralt’s body had basically shut down to aid in healing and to let him work the venom out of system, without proper treatment or potions it could take some days for him to regain consciousness. In the meantime Jaskier would need to try to get them to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir would be able to help Geralt once they were there. He only hoped that they made it before the snow set in.

After several hours of trekking up the path Jaskier gave up talking to himself in favour of focusing on his surroundings. He knew that there were many things in these mountains that could kill a man, the path was dangerous on its own the further one travelled, without worrying about wolves or wargs or forktails.

If he was lucky he might come across Lambert or Eskel on the journey but he wasn’t holding his breath.

When it began to get dark Jaskier finally spotted the small cave the Witcher’s used as a place to stop the first night on the trail to the keep. Jaskier sighed in relief and led Roach over the cave. The bard removed the saddle bags and set up their bedrolls before heaving Geralt over his shoulder and laying him out on his bedroll. He got a small fire going near the mouth of the cave and then checked Geralt’s wounds. Satisfied that the deep gouges in his chest were not infected and the stitches were holding well he moved to the head wound that Jaskier had at first thought had killed his Witcher from the sheer amount of blood.

Again, the stitches along Geralt’s hairline looked good. He then checked the more minor wounds and once done, he set about removing Roach’s tack and scrounging up some food for himself.

With nothing left to do but sleep he lay beside Geralt and carefully lay his head on the Witcher’s shoulder. He fell asleep listening to the slow but steady breathing of his love.

Jaskier woke at dawn and after checking Geralt’s wounds once more and changing his bandages he saddled Roach and tried to wake Geralt enough to help get him back on the mare. He wasn’t confident it would work but finally he got enough of a response from Geralt that with Roach kneeling he was able to get him into the saddle again.

After breaking camp and packing away the last of their belongings they set out again for another long day.

If Jaskier could keep up the same pace he would be able to reach the next stop over point by nightfall and then tomorrow they would reach the Keep and Vesemir.

“You can do this Jaskier. He would be able to get you there no problem.”

Getting himself some dried fruit and nuts from the saddle bags he set off again, Roach following behind him.

The day passed in much the same way as the last. Jaskier spent some of his time chatting to Roach, he checked Geralt a few times, tucking his cloak in around him, and finally lapsed into silence. Geralt was slightly warmer than he should be, though Jaskier was confident it was just his body fighting off the venom and nothing to be too concerned about. It was getting colder as the day wore on and the cloud cover was getting heavier. It wasn’t unheard of for an early snowfall this far North, it may only be Fall but Jaskier was growing increasingly concerned at the prospect of snow.

His fears came true as it began to lightly snow as dusk approached. They hadn’t made it as far as he had hoped and they would be travelling to the stop over point in the dark at this rate, the path ahead made more treacherous as the snow covered the ground.

“Fuck,” he growled to himself. Feeling exhaustion deep within his bones he nevertheless began moving faster, Roach keeping pace beside him. Jaskier reached out and kept one hand on her bridle as the sky darkened, hoping between them they would be able to keep steady and not slip. He only hoped he would be able to find the cave as night fell.

As they approached where Jaskier was sure the cave should be he slowed down keeping an eye out for the opening to the Witcher’s cave. He knew there were others along the way but he wasn’t sure what they may harbour in their depths so he didn’t trust using them. Most creatures tend to steer clear of the cave’s along here that smelt of witchers, not to mention that there was always firewood and a spare blanket or two and as the temperature dropped Jaskier was sure they would need all the warmth they could get.

It was now full dark and Jaskier had lost count of how many times he had stumbled, only his grip on Roach keeping him from falling. His fur lined cloak was no longer enough to keep him warm and he was almost at breaking point. Finally he spotted the marker for the cave. Nothing obvious if you didn’t know what to look for, but Jaskier knew and he almost cried in relief at the sight.

Although small, the cave was tall enough that Roach could come inside as well and Jaskier led her in, repeating the same tasks as the night before, though the long day and cold temperatures had slowed him down making everything far more difficult that the previous evening.

Once Geralt was off Roach and covered under furs in his bedroll Jaskier build a small fire near the mouth of the cave, though with his fingers clumsy with cold it took far longer than it should have.

Once he had finished his tasks he sat in front of the fire, trying to get some warmth back into his fingers. Once the feeling had returned he dragged his own bedroll beside Geralts and covered them both in all their furs as well as the couple of musty blankets stowed in the back of the cave.

Despite his exhaustion, sleep did not come easily and Jaskier lay awake long into the night worried about how they would make it to the Keep the next day if the snow continued through the night.

When dawn came Jaskier had already risen and broken camp. The sooner they left, the sooner they would reach Kaer Morhen.

Geralt had roused enough to drink some water and eat a little jerky before he had passed out again. Jaskier reassured himself again and again that he was alright, his body just needed rest to heal. He had lost huge amounts of blood along with the fucking manticore venom, and if he was human he’d have bled out long before Jaskier could stitch his wounds.

Jaskier always liked to correct his lover when he said he wasn’t human, though in these circumstances Jaskier could not be more grateful for that fact.

As they made their way out of the cave Jaskier was dismayed to see the snow had continued through the night, the way before him covered in an ankle deep layer of snow.

He pulled a blanket free from their saddlebags and wrapped it around Geralt as best he could, before pulling his own cloak around himself with a shiver.

“Come on girl, soon you’ll be in a nice warm stable, we just need to get home. We can do this. We have to do this,” he began to make his way through the snow leading Roach along the path.

By mid morning the snow was falling in thick flurries around them and Jaskier could hardly see the path before his eyes. He was seriously worried that he may not be able to make it, and wouldn’t that be terrible to have made it so close only to fail in the last stretch.

Shivering, he leaned into Roach’s side for a moment trying to work out what to do. He was beginning to lose feeling in his fingers and toes and he knew that hypothermia would soon become a real concern. He had never been so grateful to be shivering as he knew that meant things were not yet so dire that he couldn’t push on. He briefly checked Geralt and found that the Witcher was cool but not too cold to be worried about. At least that was one thing to be thankful for.

Finally pulling away from the mare he set forth once more. He kept his head down and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. After what felt like years but was in reality several hours, Jaskier became aware of the fact that he was no longer as cold. A part of him knew that there was something deeply wrong here as the snow was still falling and he was now walking in snow up to his knees. He couldn’t feel his toes, could hardly feel his legs for that matter.

He was so tired.

Maybe he should stop.

Roach nickered, nudging his cheek with her nose. Jaskier looked at the mare and remembered why he couldn’t stop. He needed to get Geralt home.

One foot in front of the other.

He kept going until he reached a wall. He wasn’t sure why there was a wall in the path, why would someone put a wall there?

But then the wall was moving and there was someone speaking with him.

“Eskel?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Jaskier come on, we need to get you inside. What the fuck happened?”

“Geralt, he needs help. Manticore venom, no potions,” Jaskier ground out, he felt like he was going to fall but he needed to tell Eskel, Geralt needed help.

There was muffled shouting nearby and then a flurry of motion as someone lifted Geralt down from Roach’s back and someone else led Roach to the stable. Jaskier was dimly aware of Eskel wrapping his own cloak around him and leading him towards the keep but before he could make it inside Jaskier lost the battle with keeping himself on his feet, numb legs giving out beneath him.

Eskel managed to catch Jaskier around the waist and lifted him into his arms, the bard turning his head into his warmth and going limp in his arms.

***

When Jaskier is next aware of his surroundings he is warm, almost painfully so and his toes and fingers burn causing him to moan.

“Jaskier?” Eskel asks, leaning over the bard.

“Eskel? What happened? Is Geralt alright?”

Eskel helps him to sit up and wraps a blanket around his shoulders. Jaskier looks around the room relieved to see the familiar walls of the room he and Geralt share in the keep.

“Hey Jaskier, Geralt’s fine, or he will be soon. Vesemir had checked him over and given him an antivenom and a dose of Swallow. How are you feeling?”

Jaskier took a moment to feel relieved that Geralt would be ok before thinking about answering Eskel.

“Ah tired I guess and rather sore. But I’m alright, at least I think so.”

Eskel nodded as though that was the answer he expected.

“You’ll feel some pain as you warm up, much longer out there and you would have been lucky if you hadn’t lost your fingers and toes, or your life for that matter. You’ve been out for a few hours. Next year maybe try for a slightly less dramatic entrance, hmm?”

Jaskier smiled and nodded. “Of course dear Eskel. When Geralt’s feeling better I’ll be sure to tell him no contracts at the bottom of the fucking mountain again shall I?”

“You and me both,” Eskel agreed. “Now you should get some more rest but before you do, are you hungry?”

“A little, something warm would be wonderful.”

“Alright I’ll be back shortly.” Eskel stood up from the chair beside Jaskier’s bed and headed out the door to get some food.

Jaskier lay back down while he waited, he wanted nothing more than to go to Geralt but he knew he’d never make it in this state. He would eat, sleep some more and then go to his Witcher.

Jaskier wasn’t aware he had dozed off until Eskel woke him with a gentle shake of his shoulder.

“Oh sorry Eskel, didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said, yawning into his hand.

“It’s fine Jaskier. Here eat up while it’s warm.” Eskel passed over a bowl of warm stew and sat down beside the bed again, staying nearby until Jaskier finished before taking the bowl and standing again.

“Call out if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier replied, already half asleep once more.

***

The next time Jaskier woke he was hot.

While it was preferable to being cold he couldn’t quite understand why he was so warm.

When he finally blinked his eyes open he saw the source of the heat and decided he didn’t mind being a little over warm after all.

Geralt had obviously woken while Jaskier slept and joined him in their bed. With the fire banked high and the extra blankets plus a Witcher in the bed it was no wonder Jaskier was so warm.

He managed to push some of the blankets away, still feeling warm but no longer uncomfortably so, he settled back on the pillow beside Geralt. He softly stroked a finger along Geralt’s jaw, the stubble making his sensitive fingers almost sting, not that it would stop him from touching though. After a few moments had passed he went to pull away only to have Geralt’s hand reach up and capture his, pressing Jaskier’s palm against Geralt’s cheek.

“Hm stay,” Geralt rasped, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

“Not going anywhere love,” Jaskier whispered, turning his head and pressing it up against Geralt’s neck. “We made it and I’m not going anywhere.”

Geralt finally released Jaskier’s hand only to turn onto his side and wrap the bard in his arms.

They were both safe and warm and had the whole Winter to spend together.

Jaskier was on the verge of falling asleep again before he forced himself to speak once more.

“Before I forget Geralt, no more fucking contracts at the bottom of the path. I’m not sure Roach and I will be there to rescue again if we have a repeat of this year.”

Geralt just snorted and shook his head. “Deal. Next time we’ll send Lambert back down the mountain.”

Jaskier laughed and pushed himself up enough to lean in and kiss his Witcher before replying. “Good, though I won’t be the one to tell him that. I like my body parts exactly where they are.”

Geralt just hummed and pulled Jaskier back against his chest, breaths evening out as he fell asleep again.

Jaskier fought the pull of sleep a little longer just to revel in the feel of Geralt against him. Despite what he had said he hoped he would always be there if Geralt needed him. Just as Geralt was there for him.

#witcher trick or treat #treat: fall #hurt geralt #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #bamf jaskier #hurt jaskier #witchertort2

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tomtenadia · 1 year

Text

Thicker than blood - 30

Chapter with a few discovery and finally the beginning of the end as in the worst is almost over...

Ten days had passed and Rowan had kept track by the normal cycle of the sun rising and setting. Ten days. Aelin had been in Maeve’s hand for three weeks now. The bond had gone silent once again and a part of him was glad. Not feeling her pain allowed him to think clearly. He had followed a tricky path uphill and trudged through thick snow. He had one last ridge to cross and then he would be there. Maeve had taken Aelin far away. In the middle of the mountains there was a small hidden valley and he had spotted a house. He had a feeling that was the place. Before leaving he had found a satellite picture that showed a small helicopter nearby. Being a cop and the right friends had been useful.

Night was setting again when he decided it was time to leave his cavern. Blood had finished a while ago but he had been feeding on animals. He was old enough to be able to go for almost a week without feeding, but the journey was taking a toll, and, in order not to waste too much time, he had been walking at dawn and dusk too, the sun not too hot and he had endured in order to get to Aelin faster. But because of that he had to feed more regularly to heal.

He grabbed his backpack, lifted it on his shoulder and then tied his hair. He touched his face and felt a nice layer of beard on him. He wondered if Aelin would like his rugged appearance. A timid smile appeared on his lips and then his thought went back to the mission ahead.

He was about to set off when he felt a presence. His hand grabbed the knife at his side and was ready for attack. He waited until he spotted a tall figure emerge from the side of the mountain.

Rhoe Galathynius was there. How?

“In a hurry?”

Rowan was speechless. How had he managed? He had at least a three day lead. And how did he found out?

“Oh yes, you are surprised to see me,” said the man as he dropped his backpack for an instant “When you disappeared Lys gave me the keys to your flat and saw all the maps. So I followed.”

“How?”

“I am old,” a soft smile appeared on his face “I have very little need to stop for feeding or even rest so I caught up with you and…” a grin “I know a few shortcuts.”

Rowan sighed. Maybe having Rhoe at his side was good. The man had definitely more experience.

“I was a soldier, I am used to long campaigns and rough camping.”

“I am sorry I left that way. I just could not sit and wait any longer.”

Rhoe nodded “We are going to get our girl back and destroy Maeve in the process.”

Rowan nodded.

Rhoe removed a few blood bags from his backpack and passed them to Rowan “Eat. You will need all of your strength.”

Rowan accepted the bags and drank eagerly. Animal blood never left him fully satisfied.

Once he was done Rhoe nodded and the two resumed marching together towards their final destination

Lorcan was buried in his office with piles of reports on his desk. The last ten days had been a flurry of non stop work. Maeve had decided to unleash all of her minions in town and cause chaos. Newborns had taken to the streets and his units had been overwhelmed with work. The attacks had been relentless and in different places at the same time. Luckily, a lot of vampires had started patrolling the streets at night alongside the paranormal unit. However, even with the extra help they still had lost people. Those same vampires who had helped had been offered to join his unit if they wanted and a good number of them had accepted. He had discovered that a few of them were ex junkies who wanted to help out and had welcomed them in. In those days he had been thinking about Rowan too. No one knew what had happened to him and Rhoe had taken leave of absence too and he had a feeling they were together. He hoped his friend was okay. He wanted to apologise to him for suspending him and throwing him in jail. Elide had made him understand how wrong he had been.

Elide, their dating had slowly taken a more serious turn and he had to admit that he loved the result. She was amazing.

He sighed and pushed his thoughts away and went back to work.

It was an hour later when a knocking at the door pulled him back from his reports.

“Come in.”

Elide walked in with a messenger bag strapped on her shoulder. She went for a quick kiss and then plopped exhausted on the chair opposite to him.

She looked troubled.

“What is it?”

Elide grabbed her bag and extracted a large pile of files and dumped them on his desk “I spent the day at the deviation centre with three other ME. We finally gained access to the morgue.”

Lorcan prepared for bad news.

“How bad?”

Elide sighed. None of the people in the centre had deserved the treatment they had received “The ones who had been executed before Hamel was deposed, had just been killed instantaneously,” she grabbed a pile of folders “But in a separate room we found the cellars with the bodies of the ones who had been used as lab rats,” she started showing him pictures and he felt sick at the images. A very sick game had happened.

“These vampires here were made almost humans, but as we studied them we realised that their bodies did not survive the ordeal. Their genetic code in the end was so messed up that the body stopped functioning,” she explained pointing at the pictures with the tortured bodies “this level of mutations happens over a very, very, very long period of time. The body adapts slowly,” she paused “These monsters tried to push such changes in the span of months. And we only managed to have a look at the few hundreds still in the cells. I don’t want to imagine all the ones they have disposed of.” She looked at the man with sadness “Connall’s body is still in the morgue. Aelin’s morgue. I think we need to tell Fen and allow him to give his brother a proper final send off.”

Lorcan nodded “I agree. I will speak with Fenrys and we will get something organised.”

Elide nodded “I am going public with this. I have already contacted the press. The people deserve to know. All those who lost loved ones need to know the truth.”

Lorcan nodded in silence “I will support you. As chief of the paranormal unit.”

She stood and went for a kiss “This is so horrible, Lor.”

He pressed his forehead to hers “we will make it better.”

She sighed against him “any news of Rowan?”

Lorcan shook his head “Hopefully he is fine,” a kiss on her head “are you free?”

Elide pulled back and looked at him “Why, chief?”

“I need to get out of here.”

Elide stood and grabbed his hand “Let’s go chief. We both need some fresh air.”

Lysandra was laying with her head in Aedion’s lap while reading a book and her fiancee busy flipping through the channels “Why do we bother with a tv? There is nothing worth spending time watching.”

Lysandra chuckled and placed the book aside and looked up at her fiancee “I have ways to keep you entertained, if you are interested.” She turned slightly and her hand landed on his crotch palming him.

Aedion groaned and she slowly felt him harden under her touch. His shorts creating a thin barrier between her hand and skin. In provocation she lowered the shorts, exposing him to her and her hand palmed him hard. Aedion threw his head back and moaned loudly “Fuck, Lys,”

“What, my love?” Lysandra looked at him and licked her lips sensually.

Slowly she sat up and removed her, actually his t-shirt, and revealed her naked form to him.

“You are stunning,” he breathed while his hands landed on her breasts and started massaging them, paying particular attention on her already hard peaks.

She straddled him while her mouth claimed his “no foreplay. I need you now.”

Aedion chuckled and lifted her in his arms and walked to the bedroom and deposited Lys on the bed then proceeded to remove his t-shirt and shorts and joined her in bed. Lysandra flipped them over and straddled him.

Aedion smiled wickedly and pillowed his hands behind his head “Go wild.”

Lysandra did not need another invitation.

It was an hour later when they collapsed in bed exhausted, Lysandra sprawled on his chest, her hand gently caressing him “Aeds, I am terrified for Aelin,” she buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She felt his arms wound around her in a tight embrace “Me too. I want to hope that Rowan and Rhoe will find her in time. It’s not two years but I am afraid of the state in which she will be when she gets back to us.”

Lysandra kissed his neck “Maybe this time having Rowan will help her recovery?”

“Maybe.”

“I have read some old books from Rhoe’s library. There are some interesting theories about vampire bonds.”

Aedion hummed interested.

She kissed his pec “I know you need to find a scientific explanation and I agree but I am also a hopeless romantic.”

Aedion chuckled and kissed her head “As you know, the blood from a bonded partner is a bit more effective than the regular one.” Lysandra stood and ran to the bookshelf and grabbed a book and joined him back in bed “but the ancients stories also talk about a special bond, a very rare one between two souls, so powerful that it could even heal a vampire on the brink of death,” she looked at Aedion’s curious face “it’s called the carranam bond.”

“Here,” she pointed at the pages and read them to him “if this truly has these strong powers maybe it can explain why only Rowan’s blood, even if it’s basically synthetic and lethal, can actually heal her.”

Aedion was silent for a moment “You are right. I haven’t been able to find a scientific reason. If I follow haematology rules, Aelin should be able to drink only from a person with golden blood,” He commented while stroking her long hair “we know her affinity with A+ was engineered. But at this point, given the reaction with Rowan’s blood I am really willing to leave it to magic.”

Lysandra kissed his chest “Apparently if they are carranam they realise they are mates the instant they taste the other person’s blood. It took us a while, remember?”

He hummed in agreement “Hopefully this special bond will help her.”

Lysandra straddled him again “It’s so romantic,” with her canines she brushed his neck and felt him shiver. The temptation was great but they had decide to follow the rules and be traditional so they still had to wait before joining that way. “Soon Lys,”

She smiled “And then we will take a week off because I am not letting you out of this bed.”

Aedion laughed “I am looking forward to it.”

Maeve was walking with a quick pace on her way to Erawan’s lab. The date of the big political rally was getting closer and Aelin was not ready yet apparently, and she was loosing her patience. Her plans were slowly falling apart and her niece was her last weapon. Police and the paranormal unit had started working together and the numbers of her vampires were dwindling and all of a sudden it seemed like the movement of the Reborns had died down. They were running out of volunteers to transform. She was furious. Darrow was ruining her plans. She had tried an attack on him but it had failed spectacularly. Apparently the ad interim mayor was already beloved by vampires and humans alike. And her main target, Rhoe Galathynius, had disappeared.

She finally reached Erawan’s office and she stormed in not even bothering to knock.

The man stood quickly “What?”

“I gave you one task, and you are failing me.”

“She is not there yet.”

“I want her to be a killer and you are not delivering.”

Erawan moved closer in challenge “I can’t do it all at once. It takes time. I am not risking to kill my best project ever.”

Maeve snarled and her hand went around Erawan’s neck “I gave you an order. Make my niece a killer.”

“Any faster and I kill her.”

She kept squeezing his neck “you find a way to transform her safely. If you kill her you are dead too.”

“Science cannot be—”

The man did not have the time to finish the sentence. Maeve grabbed a knife from the tray and slashed his throat and left his body collapse on the floor.

Then she turned to Aelin’s unconscious body and grabbed the small level to adjust the flow of the IV. She pushed it completely open and watched as the liquid started flowing faster.

“You are going to help me ruin your father. I will destroy your family and you’ll be my weapon.”

And as the door closed horrible screams spread in the room.

Maeve grinned and walked away.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin galathynius #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #lysaedion #elorcan

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mayra-quijotescx · 3 months

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Made it to and from the gallery on public transportation today, proving to myself It Can Be Done and I am a Strong and Independent Possum Who Need Not Get In A Car.

And I am satisfied with the knowledge that I can do this and it's only (i know, i know) like 2.5-3 hours out of that day.

but good lord.

(whining under the readmore)

Every step of the journey felt like a goddamn song by Muse from the aughts with how unsubtly and copiously it beat me around the ears with how profoundly shitty our society is.

first of all, we have a 7-mile trip taking an hour and 15 minutes each way in a major city. Even in other parts of the US, that's rightly regarded as absurd. Local Route is once every 30 minutes and mandatory to reach Trolley, on which I spent most of my journey, and from Trolley I had a fifteen-minute walk through one of the most desolate neighborhoods within the Loop to reach Gallery.

METRO has a $1.25 fare expectation of riders (having a Q Card helps because then you can stretch that fare across multiple buses instead of having to dump change at every bus you get on.) It also wastes an exorbitant amount of its budget (probably more than it gets from the fares itself, though I can't prove it) on hiring fare inspectors, whose sole purpose is to swan about on our laughably tiny trolley network harassing anyone who looks poor to make sure they paid before getting on the trolley, and to write them $75 tickets if they didn't. (I carry an extra Q Card in case this happens in front of me, and have had to intervene in such a way three times in the last year. And I don't go outside much.) Coming and going, there were three hanging about in each trolley car I was in, so I felt like I had to be vigilant the whole time.

By the time I reached [Trolley drop off point] on the towards-gallery part of the trip, I was glad for the 15-minute walk ahead of me because it meant I could clear my mind from what was a very loud trip... until the walk took me from the bail bondsman mini-district into the area directly around Gallery, which is getting flipped up into a dumping ground for new real estate investment properties despite having no nearby grocery stores, no immediate-vicinity bus routes, one food place (costly brunch joint that may or may not be a side hustle of Close Proximity Bail Bond Office #2), and downright fuckall else. There's a hastily-kludged bike line if that sweetens the deal, which I walked in for the final stretch due to the sidewalklessness of it all.

There are a couple of other gallery/studios embedded amid the runaway construction of Generic Luxury Apartment Block No One Can Afford #8953-8957, and one mostly built Generic Luxury Apartment Block No One Can Afford, lazily named "The Artist" after the class of people least likely to be able to make rent there. Lest one accuse it of being a mere unoriginal clone of 50 other similar giant boxes found in the turbogentrified Greater Heights/Montrose area, there's a small piece of genuine vintage railroad track installed out front between the sidewalk and the pothole-studded road. The piece of track leads to nowhere and connects nothing. It's too obvious to write a poem about.

I would be hopeful that all this runaway development would at least bring more people to the vicinity of Gallery and the nearby studios, but again, these look like additions to the investment/tax dodge portfolio for some rich jackoff who's like as not to have never set foot in Houston, not places that real people are going to be able to live in.

Anyway, I'm home safe, and was at least able to immediately launch myself into the shower after sweating buckets from 30 minutes of walking around in 75F weather in February, which I won't dwell on because I might get fully seized by a climate doom spiral if I do : )

#who else up staring into the abyss

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sombersummerskies · 4 months

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A Champion's Love: Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Interrupted Travels Word Count: 5097 CW: Minor Violence

Want all the chapters? -> Masterlist

~~~ <> ~~~

That morning you were awoken by a rather energetic Zelda. She’d already ushered you awake by pulling the blinds open, filling the room with sunlight that overpowered the dim light of the blue lamps. You tried to blink some of the sleep from your eyes as you watched her scamper around the room, getting ready.

“We’ve got some rather important tasks ahead of us, _____. Fixing the Divine Beast will be no easy feat, and I can’t quite imagine what might be wrong with its mechanics. I searched through all of Mipha’s notes last night, and even through other books and records that made mention of Vah Ruta, but I couldn’t find a single thing about a shortage of energy,” she explained as she changed into some clothing the servants had left. You slid out of the bed, cringing as your bare feet met the cold stone floor of the room. You stood and walked over to the drawers, debating in your head whether or not you should put on the same outfit as yesterday or try your hand at some of the Zora clothing. You pulled out a soft, deep blue tunic and examined it thoughtfully, before the princess quickly caught your attention once more. “Well,” she began, pulling her braided hair back as she looked up at you, “I’m going to head down to the library and grab Mipha’s journal, just in case it does offer us some help. Why don’t you go and find Sidon and we can all meet up in the plaza in roughly twenty minutes.”

You nodded your head curtly in response and she gave you a sincere smile before stepping out of the room. Once she was gone you shrugged off the robe you’d fallen asleep in. You took a quick minute to wash up in the pool of water in the room, using your nails to scrub at your skin and get off any grime and dirt and sweat that’d built up during your journey from Kakariko to Zora’s Domain.

Once out of the pool, you grabbed a towel from a stack that’d been laid out for you, savoring the soft, plush fabric as you dried off and walked back over to the drawers of clothing. You pulled on the blue tunic you’d been looking at earlier, careful not to mess up your hair too much. You found a pair of pants in the drawers as well that were similar to leggings- they seemed form-fitting and the fabric was rather smooth, likely to make movement in water easier.

You tugged on those pants and afterwards put your boots on as well. You took a few moments to fix your hair and make it presentable, merely using your hands to do so since there was no brush or comb in the room.

Once satisfied with your general appearance you walked over to the bag of items you’d brought along with you and pulled out a chest piece- the Zora Armor that’d been gifted to you weeks prior. You put it on over the tunic you were wearing, making sure each part was secure. You felt confident in this armor, it had significant value to you.

After defeating Ganon you looked at this armor differently. Previously it was a piece of armor you wore rarely- in fact you’d only worn it once, when you and Sidon were trying to calm Vah Ruta so you could board it. You hadn’t put it on since, even after Cotera repaired and upgraded it.

Then the armor had been a mystery to you. Something from your past that you knew next to nothing about. It was made by a girl who loved you- Princess Mipha, one of your best friends who fought by your side until her bitter end. You lost her to Ganon.

But now Ganon was gone and your memories had returned to you. You saw the armor she crafted for you in a new light. You’d avenged her- along with the three other champions and practically all of Hyrule. You could wear this armor in confidence now, knowing that when you wore it you wore it for her.

You may not have loved Mipha in the same way she loved you but she was still one of your best friends, even now that she’d passed. But her soul was at rest now, and even you knew that she would’ve never been happy if you carried guilt with you.

Once you had the armor on, there were two more things you needed. One, the Master Sword. You hooked its sheath around your torso and grabbed the sword, grinning when you felt the energy from the sword hum in your hold. You maneuvered your arm and tucked the shield away as your other hand reached into the bag.

Your fingers found a cool metal and you quickly pulled out a band- the bracelet that Sidon had gifted you after your first meeting. You turned it in your hand, smiling at it fondly, before slipping it on your arm and letting it sit on your bicep over the armor.

You used one of the mirrors in the room to give yourself one final look over, before heading out in search of Sidon.

…

Roughly ten minutes later you and the prince were walking side by side up a set of stairs. When you’d gotten to his room, you were surprised to see that he’d just woken up. He explained to you that after your conversation from the night before he’d been able to achieve a deep rest, and had been able to sleep in for once.

After he shook himself awake and got dressed- well, dressed as the Zora did, simply adorning himself in his usual accessories- the two of you were heading to the plaza to meet with Zelda. A soft blush dusted your cheeks as you walked beside him, though you’d been tired last night you vividly remembered the kiss he’d placed on your forehead after bringing you back to your room.

It seemed as though Sidon had something similar on his mind, as a faint blue tint had settled on his face, contrasting his bright red scales. You pulled your gaze away from his face though, not wanting to be caught staring, and instead brought it down to the floor- before something caught your eye.

You found yourself gazingat one of his hands, and noticed he was wearing a ring on his pinky finger. It was a teal color, and felt oddly familiar to you, yet you couldn’t figure out why… until it hit you.

“Wait a minute- are you wearing the earring I gave you as a ring?” you asked him, a grin on your face as you laughed a bit.

He jumped a bit at the sudden question since you’d been silent moments before. He stopped in his tracks and looked down at his hand with a look on his face that also seemed like he’d forgotten he was wearing the ring. “Oh- oh yes, I had it resized a small bit so I could wear it, so it wouldn’t be easily lost. Should I ever need to contact you with Archimedo, it will always be nearby,” he answered, using his other hand to brush his fingers across the ring, and you noticed the blush on his face increased.

You giggled a little, finding his reaction quite charming. “Ah, don’t feel embarrassed about it, I’ve been wearing your bracelet too,” you reply, showing him your arm.

“Well, I suppose great minds think alike,” he smirked, showing off his sharp teeth with a bit of a sly grin, “now then, we’re supposed to find Princess Zelda, yes-”

But before he could finish talking he was interrupted by yelling. Multiple voices yelling. Yelling… children?

“Miss _____!! Hylian Champion!”

“Prince Sidon, Prince Sidon!!”

Both you and the prince looked at each other quite confused, before turning towards the plaza. You saw four Zora children running directly towards you at top speed, and had to brace yourself when two of them tackled you and clung on to your legs.

“Woah there, give me a bit of a warning before a surprise attack like that, you guys,” you laughed, turning to look at Sidon and the two other children who stood in front of you.

“We’ve been looking for you all over, Miss _____, we’ve been wanting to make you your gift!!” one of the children who was grabbing onto you exclaimed.

This one was a young boy- well, young for a Zora, he could have easily been a few decades old already. He had bright blue scales, a similar blue to the tunic you wore beneath your armor. If you remembered correctly, this was Tumbo, he’d eagerly introduced himself to you and the ceremony a few weeks ago when you’d appeased Vah Ruta.

“A gift? Oh, I remember Sidon mentioning that you all had a surprise for me,” you replied thoughtfully, and you could see the little smile playing on Sidon’s lips as he watched you interact with the kids.

“Yes, but we need time to make it! Are you staying in the domain again today?” one of the other children asked curiously- this one wasn’t hanging onto your body, but instead standing and looking up at you intently.

This was a young Zora girl, though you could tell from her demeanor that she must’ve been older than Tumbo. Her scales were red, similar to Sidon’s but not quite as bright as his, and you tried to rack your head to recall her name- you believed it was Finley, but you weren’t so sure.

Sidon piped up this time to answer the question, walking over to stand behind you so the children could look up at the two of you at the same time. “Well, _____, Princess Zelda and myself are all going on a little bit of a venture today-” he began, earning a disappointed groan from all four kids, “however, I estimate we should return before nightfall, and that gives you ample time to prepare this surprise of yours,” he continued on, placing his hands on your shoulders as he spoke.

The children cheered at this, but you found yourself flustered and a bit distracted at his touch on your shoulders. It felt somewhat intimate, him standing so closely behind you with a gentle hold, but you shook it from your mind. Surely, you must’ve been overthinking.

“Oh great! We’ve got a few hours guys, let’s get going-” one of the other children exclaimed, the one that was on your other leg. This little zora also has red scales, similar to Finley’s. She seemed to be closer in age to Tumbo, and if you remembered correctly this was Laruta.

The four children quickly scuttled away, and one of them stalled for a moment to look back at you.

“Um, thank you Miss _____, for everything you’ve done. Also you should come to our family’s general store again,” she said shyly, before turning to catch up with her friends. She had blue scales, almost exactly like Tumbo’s, and you believed that this was his sister Keye, who would’ve been the youngest of the bunch.

A little grin settled on your face when you watched them run off, and you looked up to see Sidon staring down at you with a soft smile, almost in an admiring way.

“W-what?” you asked him with a little blush, wanting to hide your face but not able to run away from this.

“It’s nothing, young one, you’re just rather good with children, I hadn’t quite noticed this since I myself was only a child at the time,” he replied, tilting his head to the side as his hold on your shoulders loosened, “you captivate them. You even got little Laruta to look up to you, and normally all she can stare at is me. I’m very sure she’s apart of my- er… fan club.”

You giggled, and as you laughed you happened to lean back and bump your back against his torso. You both stilled, eyes going wide. Somehow that touch was different- you were accustomed to friendly hugs, but after that forehead kiss you’d received last night, everytime the two of you touched now felt…. different.

Things were changing between you and the prince. You just weren’t quite sure how.

You moved forward, and Sidon’s hands fell off of your shoulders. You coughed a bit awkwardly, trying to rid your face of the blush that’d settled.

“My apologies, was that too much-” Sidon began, but you quickly interrupted him.

“No no no, it’s um… it’s fine, it was fine, you’re fine… um… yeah…” you trailed off.

An awkward silence fell between the two of you. Oh you hated this. You didn’t want to be awkward with him. You guys were good friends right? Friends… why did you suddenly detest calling Sidon your friend? A part of your mind simply hated how it sounded.

Before your mind could torture itself with those questions anymore though, a voice called out to both of you and broke the silence.

“Sidon, _____! Are both of you ready?”

You turned to see Zelda walking across the plaza towards you, flanked with a group of four zora guards. “The king thought it best that we bring some protection with us. The monster presence has lessened greatly since Ganon's downfall, but it’s good to be well prepared.”

She had a bookbag with her, which you could only assume carried some of the journals and notes from the library.

“Great, lovely, well... I suppose we’re good to head out right?” you reply, looking around at the group you’d be traveling with. Everyone nods in agreement, and Sidon goes to speak with the guards to pick the safest route since they have two Hylians traveling with them.

You looked out into the distance, up in the Zora upperlands where the dormant body of the Divine Beast was sat. “See you soon, Ruta…” you murmur under your breath, before moving to walk beside Zelda and Sidon as you head towards the Great Zora Bridge in a group.

…

The trek through the land surrounding Zora’s Domain was a mostly peaceful one. The terrain was gorgeous, the mountains surrounding the domain were hues of purple and blue, with luminous stones sticking out in random clusters. The path was decorated with lamps the Zora built from luminous stone as a guide, and though the lamps were beautiful you were far more distracted looking out into the distance than just admiring architecture.

You’d become friendly with the four Zora guards who were tagging along as well. You learned their names were Bazz, Dunma, Tottika, and Rivan. Bazz was the captain of the guard for Zora’s Domain, and Rivan was actually someone who you knew from your childhood.

When you were far younger, before your training to become Zelda’s knight, the two of you were good friends and would play around when you visited the domain. His family was closely acquainted with the royal family, and since you were Mipha’s friend he then became your friend too. His friendship then eventually led to him becoming a guard, and you congratulated him on the accomplishment.

While on the way up Ruto Mountain the seven of you passed one of the big stone monuments that had carved writings into them- a history of the Zora, most of which were told from the point of view of King Dorephan. The one you passed happened to be about Prince Sidon, who quickly tried to divert your attention away from it.

“No no, please, we must read this and tell Princess Zelda and our Hylian Champion allllll about it,” Captain Bazz says with a grin, and you’re able to see Sidon toss him a deathly glare out of the corner of your eye.

Bazz made a great show of dramatically clearing his throat as he readied himself to read the monument. You turned to see Sidon staring down at the ground, one of his hands covering his eyes as he puffed out a frustrated sigh. You felt a bit bad for him, but had to admit that watching his friends tease him this way was a little funny.

“The History of the Zora!... Addendum Two; Prince Sidon’s Great Escape,” Bazz began, though he spoke in a grandiose and exaggerated voice that made the other three guards laugh, and both you and Zelda giggled as well, “there was once a giant Octorok in Hateno Bay, large as a mountain, which terrorized the village’s fishers. Hearing of their distress, Prince Sidon went forth to personally eliminate the offending Octorok.”

You were already interested in the story. An Octorok the size of a mountain? It seemed practically unheard of, you almost wanted to question Sidon on whether or not it was true. You glanced over at Zelda and saw that she was absolutely hooked on the story, and you could understand why, Bazz was a very talented storyteller.

“But this Octorok was a tricky beast, oh yes. After the prince dodged one of the stones it spat, it inhaled him whole,” Bazz paused for a dramatic effect and you could hear the princess quietly gasp beside you, “such had been the fate of many strong warriors who went to slay the Octorok. Not a single one had come back alive. Just as it seemed Prince Sidon would be counted among them, the giant Octorok twisted in pain.

The tip of a silverscale spear pierced the Octorok’s stomach from within, revealing itself as the source of the beast’s agony. Incredibly, Prince Sidon had fought his way out by stabbing his spear over and over into the monster’s stomach. Unable to bear the pain, the Octorok coughed up the prince and scrambled to escape. Ever since, the fishers of Hateno Bay have passed down this heroic tale: The Prince who Slew the Fell Octorok.”

Bazz received an applause from his captivated audience once he finished his dramatic reading of the stone monument, and he sassily bowed and took in the praise he got from you.

“Ah yes. We all love that enthralling tale, now may we please move on,” Sidon sighed behind you, and when you turned to look at him you could see an embarrassed blush on his face.

The group continued on its trek and continued to move southwest of Ruto Mountain, letting Zelda lead the way since she was using the Sheikah Slate’s map. After a while of walking, you stopped being involved in the group’s conversations and merely listened instead. This also leads to you beginning to lag behind and eventually falling to the back, walking beside Sidon who wasn’t taking part in the conversation either.

“So… why’d you wanna avoid the history lesson?” you asked him curiously, since you could tell he was still a bit perturbed after the whole thing and you’d hate it if he wasn’t happy like his usual self.

He frowns, his bright yellow eyes dancing around before they focus on you. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy the story. I know it’s an enthralling tale, though I don’t have the fondest memories of the experience. I dislike it because I feel as though I didn’t perform to the best of my abilities. My original goal was to slay the Octorok, rid the people of the bay of it forever, but I didn’t succeed. Plus… getting eaten by an Octorok isn’t exactly the heroic act I wish to be remembered for,” he explained with a bit of a sour tone.

You purse your lips as you listen to him explain himself. “Sorry, but I have to respectfully disagree. While you may not be satisfied in your performance, you by no means did a bad job. You scared away a giant Octorok, one that all soldiers before you had failed to do the same with. All those fishermen in the bay are probably indebted to you, you saved their livelihoods and kept their home and place of work safe. Isn’t that something to be proud of?” you explain, giving him a meaningful look with a sincere smile gracing your lips, “besides, it gives you a cool story to tell. And a pretty cool scar too,” you laugh, pointing up at the faded scar on the side of his head.

You knew you’d been able to cheer him up a bit when you saw his familiar grin again. “Thank you, young one. I suppose that is one way to look at it,” he sighs happily, looking down at you with a cheerful glint in his eyes.

‘There’s the Sidon I know and love-‘

You were taken aback by that thought. You weren’t expecting yourself to associate the word ‘love’ with the prince. It felt foreign in your mind as you repeated it back to yourself. ‘Love? Why was that the word that came to mind?’

Your smile had twisted down into a frown as you thought through all of this, and you barely noticed the look of concern Sidon was giving you while you mulled over all of these thoughts. He raised a hand to try and place it on your shoulder, to offer you some moral support. He didn’t know what your plight was but he’d offer you any help he could.

Before his hand could make contact with you, a shock arrow went whizzing by, and the prince had to jump back to avoid it. Your wide eyes met the Sidon’s surprised ones and you immediately drew your sword. You could see ahead in the path Bazz instructed his fellow guards to get into formation around Zelda, keeping her protected as she was weaponless.

“Prince Sidon! It looks like a horde of Lizalfos are camped here… and they’ve spotted us,” Dunma called out, cringing at the sound of a horn being blown in the distance. You recognized that horn all too well, it was the sign that monsters were near and you were being targeted.

You watched as Bazz quickly maneuvered, grabbing onto a spare spear the group had brought and tossing it through the air. Sidon caught it gracefully, his grip on the weapon firm and confident which clued you in on the fact that he was well versed in spearmanship, much like his sister was.

“You four, escort Princess Zelda up to the Divine Beast, she has the map and I have faith in her to lead you there. Avoid fighting these Lizalfos, they’re equipped with shock arrows meaning we’re all vulnerable,” Sidon instructed, a stern look in his eyes as he tried to form plans in his mind.

Three more shock arrows went whizzing above your heads, and all of you ducked closely to the ground while continuing to discuss this. You could feel Sidon tense up beside you, and now all you wanted was to get out of this situation as quickly as possible.

“What about you and _____?” Zelda quickly asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she looked back at you. She had the Sheikah Slate held in her hands tightly and you could practically feel the worry she was feeling for you right now. Ever since the calamity she’s hated the thought of you being in danger.

“Zelda…. we’ll be fine. We’ll meet you five at Ruta, Sidon and I are both strong, we’ll be able to get there on our own,” you replied, giving her a smile to try and assure her.

She nodded her head, taking one last look back at you and the prince before being ushered off the path by the guards, following the Slate to find another way up to Vah Ruta.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your back, not realizing your nerves were so high already. “Calm down, young one, it’s only me,” Sidon spoke softly, though you could hear a waver in his voice that showed he himself wasn’t exactly calm at the moment either, “I believe there’s a river nearby. Since you have the Zora armor we can travel by water, and I have serious doubts that any Lizalfos here can match my speed when swimming.”

It seemed like a good enough plan in your mind. Avoid the Lizalfos ahead by swimming around their camp, and once the coast was clear you could travel by land again. All you had to do was get to the river without being shot or speared.

You thought it over in your mind and remembered something Sidon had told you about long ago- Zoras are incredibly, incredibly, vulnerable to anything electric. You turn to look Sidon dead-on and grab his arm. “You need to promise me that if any arrow comes our way, we’ll do the best to avoid it- and if either of us gets hit with an arrow, it’s going to be me.” you told him, the most serious you’d ever been with him.

He looked back at you in shock, and quickly shook his head. “_____, no, I cannot say that-”

“Sidon,” you interrupt him, your voice shaky despite how stern you were trying to sound, “please. You’re a prince, you have a duty to your people, do not risk harm trying to protect me. I have Mipha’s Grace, if I get hit I’ll be fine, but if you get hurt I don’t know if I’ll be able to save you, I didn’t even bring elixirs with me.”

Neither of you speak after this. All that can be heard is the distant sounds of Lizalfos hissing under the winds hitting the mountain side. Sidon swallows nervously before nodding his head slowly, still maintaining eye contact with you, “alright, young one… I promise.”

You smile despite the anxious adrenaline you were feeling, and the two of you slowly get up from your crouched positions. As soon as Sidon stood at full height, the sound of a horn being blown could be clearly heard.

Your grip on the Master Sword tightened, but you froze up when you felt Sidon take your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “The river should be this way,” he told you, his eyes looking around frantically.

You nod and suddenly the two of you are off, sprinting through grass and off the path, Sidon leading you and never letting go of your hand or loosening his grip. You can hear a few stray Lizalfos following behind, not close enough to make dangerous attacks, but close enough so that quick movement was still necessary.

Luckily, Sidon knew this land like the back of his hand, and within minutes you were at a river bed. You tied the small bag of supplies you’d brought along tightly, glad nothing inside would be damaged too badly in the water.

Sidon had let go of your head, though you noticed he’d done so rather slowly. He leapt into the water with his spear, surfacing to look back at you expectantly. “Ready, young one? You’ll do marvelous, just like the last time we were in the water, I’m sure of it,” he told you, his familiar and encouraging grin gracing his lips.

Those words were all you needed to hear to sheath your sword and get into the water after him, wading for a few small moments before the prince met you halfway. He quickly helped you onto his back. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders carefully, and he gave your arm one pat to reassure you before speeding off in the water.

The feeling was exhilarating, just as it had felt weeks ago when the two of you worked together to appease Vah Ruta. You could barely hold back the laughs and cheers of excitement that passed through your lips, loving the feeling of the wind whipping past you and the water practically splitting just to let Sidon through.

The ride didn’t last long though, sadly. It was just to get away from those Lizalfos. Sidon had swam south towards where the Divine Beast was sitting, and he’d swam up one waterfall to increase your elevation and make the trek up the mountain a bit simpler. He came to a stop at the edge of the river, panting but with a grin on his face afterwards.

“How exciting! I know I shouldn’t be happy about being caught in a dangerous scenario, but you must admit the adrenaline rush is a joy to experience, young one,” he sighed happily, and you rested your head on his with a smile on your face.

Very slowly, you slid off of his back and sat on the river bed instead, soaked in water but not really caring. Not a second after you’d sat down, however, you were once again interrupted in the middle of your travels.

A snorting sound could be heard, and you turned your head only to see a tall silver Moblin walking over with a dragon bone club in his hands. “Shit…” you cursed, quickly standing up and drawing your sword.

Sidon pulled himself out of the water to stand beside you as well, holding his spear out cautiously. “Shall we run once more? Or take on this enemy head on?” he asked you, and the time to make a decision lessened as the Moblin stomped towards you angrily.

“It’s just one Moblin, how difficult could this be?” you reply with a shrug of your shoulders.

The answer was very difficult. Because of course it wasn’t just one silver Moblin like you’d assumed.

It was three.

You and Sidon had tried to work together to fight them, standing back to back as you defended yourselves from these monsters. But when the third Moblin swipes at you, you have to dodge out of the way quickly, meaning you’re now separated from the prince.

Your nerves spiked up, and for a moment you panicked. You had to remind yourself that Sidon was not only a prince, but a trained warrior and soldier. He could handle his own against idiotic Moblins that simply flailed their clubs around.

You found yourself sparring with one of the moblins, and it was simple enough, all you had to do was time your strikes right and dodge his swings. After a few slices with your trusted sword, your enemy was down, and disappearing into a cloud of black smoke.

And then you turn on your heel, and feel your heart stop.

You turn just in time to see Sidon get slammed in the gut with two clubs at the same time from both Moblins he was facing- and be sent tumbling towards the ground.

~~~ <> ~~~

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Next Chapter

#botw #breath of the wild #totk #tears of the kingdom #loz #fanfic #x reader #reader insert #female reader #prince sidon #prince sidon x reader #sidon x reader

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pumpkin-spiced-latte · 1 year

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Since quite a few people seemed to rather enjoy the six sentence post from yesterday I thought I'd post the entire scene

London, 1941

He spends his first day back in England in months on a train down to Devon, to visit the grave of Mama and Daisy, and the evening on his Aunt Fanny's old, faded sofa, listening to the news of his siblings and cousins, while Fanny promises solemnly to not tell his father about the visit. The journey back to London drags on and on, people on the tracks apparently, but once he reaches Kings Cross it’s a short walk to the Folly, where he trudges right up the steps to the lab they’ve given David for the duration of the war – however long that might be – crossing the room until he reaches one corner, where he can slide down to the ground between a metal cabinet and wooden workbench that had been pushed up against the wall, weighed down with copious amounts of notebooks and notes, some kept in boxes, some stacked precariously high, David’s thoughts spilled out over the paper. He hasn’t even taken the time to take off his coat and scarf, far too warm for the sweltering heat in the lab.

David himself only looks up from his experiment once he’s done, though Thomas has no way of telling what exactly he has finished.

“Are you quite alright, Thomas?” he asks and takes off his glasses to clean the round lenses with the sleeve of a dark blue jumper peeking out from under a lab coat that had once been white.

“Splendid,” Thomas grunts, and runs a hand through his hair, already messy from the wind outside.

David, who has had enough time to map out his responses over the years, slips out of his lab coat and approaches him, heaves a box from the end of the bench so he can sit next to Thomas, who rests his head against his leg. Almost immediately there are fingers combing through his hair, brushing a curl out of his face.

“Would you like to tell me?”

“Not particularly”

“I think you ought to"

“Later. Maybe"

“Your sister called,” David tells him instead, “she wants to see you. Stephen as well. They’re your siblings, you can’t avoid them forever”

“I know. I just – Just not right now. Can you tell Drina I'm still on the continent the next time she calls?”

“Somehow I don’t think she'll believe me. Especially considering Henry was on the continent with you and came yesterday. Victoria knows your on home leave”

“Curse the day your nephew decided to marry my niece"

“They’re children. Can you truly begrudge them some happiness"

Thomas sighs, rubs his cheek against the coarse wool of David’s trousers, closes his eyes. “No. That doesn’t mean I have to like it"

“I know. But still, please talk to her. I have a feeling every time we talk she likes me even less, and if she doesn’t hear from you soon she'll show up at Folly and castrate me for hiding you from her"

Thomas nearly laughs “We can’t have that, of course"

“Are you sure she doesn’t know?”

“Without a doubt. She’d be much worse if she knew about the sodomy. To both of us"

“Would you like to help me with some experiments?" David asks in an obvious attempt to lighten the mood, "I have some test tubes that need to be blown up"

“You know I'll gladly blow anything for you, Davey"

David laughs and pulls him upright, presses a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad you're back home"

Thomas says nothing and lets David lead him towards the table he’d been working on when Thomas had arrived. The set up looks complicated, but most things David does in his lab are so far beyond Thomas’s comprehension that he no longer even bothers to ask.

Once more dressed in his lab coat David lines up two dozen tubes, “I think we’ll start with a simple werelight,” he says, “and go on from there”

He isn’t sure how much time they spent in the lab, Thomas performing various spells at David’s request, but when David sets down his pen, apparently satisfied with the results at last it’s already dark outside.

“You should go to bed, Tom,” David says and Thomas lets his werelight blink away, plunging the room into sudden darkness. Either there’s another power outage or David’s simply forgotten to turn on the lights again.

“I don’t even know where that is" He is a CO now and therefore, by Folly mechanisms, entitled to one of the rooms on the second floor, which he'll still share, but with only one other man. He'd rather crawl into bed with David, but, of course, that won’t be poss-

“In that case I have some good news for you. We're sharing until you leave again"

“Honestly?”

“Yes. Apparently most find me to be an insufferable roommate”

“Because you are, David”

“I beg to differ”

The room is bleak and unpersonal, except for an old photograph on the edge of the desk that also serves as David’s nightstand, now that another bed has been shoved inside and every unnecessary piece of furniture put up in the attic, of David and his brother, dead now for over two decades, killed in some trench in France, and a small stack of books he faintly recognises as some of David’s favourites. Waugh, Collins, Wells and the like.

None of it feels quite tangible and it might very well have been a dream, if it weren’t for the weight of David’s arm wrapped around him. No matter how lonely, how unhappy, he is, when he imagines David’s embrace it never feels real

“What are you thinking about, pumpkin?” David, already half asleep, asks.

If I die will you put up a picture of me as well? A neat little collection of the people you've lost, trod under England's heel?

“Nothing. Go to sleep"

David’s never been one who had trouble falling asleep, and after a few minutes he can hear him snoring, firm against his back, breath ghosting over Thomas’s neck. If he’d ever been such a sleeper he certainly is no longer, considering the things haunting his dreams, despite the sense of secruity and comfort David’s presence gives him.

He'll have to mess up the bed in the morning, he thinks, before the maid comes to clean the room, make it look as if he’s slept in it. He doesn’t know how long he stares into the soft shadows of the room, but it seems like he is lulled to sleep faster than he normally falls asleep these days

#rivers of london

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mimicdragon · 5 months

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more and more I keep needing to question that Batman ‘identity’ the knowledge I have, the stuff I responded to and said while playing, it just doesn’t make sense to me

My friends who’ve watched me play and a few I recently talked about my experiences with said they do fall under something that could be in the fictionkin experience and is fair to find odd; I mean who only has touched Batman 1966 and a tiny bit of the animated version

responds to seeing Kane Industries with as much disdained as if it was Dagger Corp on first meeting without prompting especially when the game itself kept trying to show him as good.

Who expects fear for Alfred in such context when he’s just meeting a friend and is so comfortable while I’m ready to throw down.

Who has noticed and was taking in a symbol the game brought no attention to until half way through that could have been easily considered graffiti just like all the rest

Who knew exactly where a bunch of them were without much effort

Whom had a panic during one point with only seeing the walls of a room and a ‘bed’ couldn’t stop apologizing to Jason and regretting I used him for that mission. Who knew he would be taken but hoped it wasn’t ‘there’ and knew before anything in the game let me knew it was full of fear-based hallucinating gas and movable rooms.

Just so many things. Even more I’m not even listing because it’s so unreal it’s hard to list them

Who or what am I

How did I know all this and are so detailed involved

One might think the person who hid the pages, but that’s impossible. He doesn’t know what I do; he was outside the group. He was too scared to be in the city.

I feel no fear, but hate. I almost yelled out Kane’s name when the Voice first appears on screen but my tongue was tied. I was overwhelmed and exhausted. I wasn’t surprised by the traps but underwhelmed. I don’t know

I keep typing and rambling to finally get these feelings on a page instead of tight in my chest and only vaguely at my friends.

I don’t know what this is but the court of owls and I have a bond I could only guess

I wish I didn’t have to keep this questioning up and just have answers. This isn’t an enjoyable experience

I just wanted to play a game with Todd in it because Todd is a comfort character with how similar we are and plus he’s hot in the game with that nice figure. I wanted just to have fun and play and enjoy myself

And instead I’m on a questioning journey I don’t understand

How does one even walk through this experience to get to a satisfying conclusion to be able to just move on. I don’t need 100% answers, that’s silly to expect we can never be sure, but at least something to grasp ahold of would be nice

#Spoilers for Gotham knight #fictionkin #questioning kintype #i hope these tags are right new #Long post

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kiarazuri · 1 year

Photo

Chapter 9: JJ

JJ stops just outside the Bonbon Street gate to catch his breath, leaning his back fully against the brick wall and breathing in deep, even swigs of the cold morning air. Fuck that really just happened. I really just fucked a DuCiel, a gorgeous DuCiel with warm, mischievous eyes, soft, sweet lips, and whose voice could make a statue’s belly flutter. He can’t stop smiling. He needs to tell Eya. The husbands don’t usually share partners but there’s something… JJ can’t put his finger on it, but something that makes him sure that Eya would take to Lottie just as much, if not more, than he did. An image of Lottie’s cum-drunk face flickers through his mind, quickly joined by Eya’s familiar, sleepily satisfied face nuzzling against the DuCiel’s temple. When the former turns his head to nuzzle back, it starts off a series of soft, sweet kisses from the witch before the two blissfully drift off in each other’s arms. The soft, calm thought makes JJ’s insides flood with warmth—it feels right. JJ knows that he’s supposed to be thinking about the Kandy Killer, supposed to be investigating the DuCiel’s—investigating Lottie—but all he can think at this moment is they need to meet, he needs to get them together, needs to see them together and be in both of their presences at once. It’s like an itch under his skin. He pushes off from the wall and beelines straight for the motel. As he walks, the lingering scent Lottie left on his hoodie envelopes him, helps calm the itching under his skin and makes the journey easier on his nerves. He doesn’t think it’ll stop completely until he’s able to touch Eya, able to kiss him and tell him about his morning, able to finally confirm that yes, he needs to meet Lottie, but it’s better than no relief at all. He makes it halfway before he’s forced to stop. There’re police and a horde of people blocking his path, all crowding around a narrow alley between a butcher shop and a bar. The happy bubble in his gut turns to stone and drops. The itching under his skin worsens, transforming swiftly from anxious excitement into fearful dread. He’s trying to discern his next move (does he continue on to the motel? does he work the crowd? does he try to get info from the police without his fake badges or AJ to help?) when his phone dings!. He digs it hastily out of his pocket as he tries to see around the crowd without actually joining, his mind still parsing through his options. He answers without looking at the ID: “JJ.” “There’s been another murder,” AJ announces. “Yeah, I can see that, I’m at the scene,” JJ replies. Within seconds, Eya’s pushing his way out of the crowd, aiming straight for him. JJ hangs up and pulls Eya into a hug, burying his nose in the smaller man’s hair. If Lottie smells like sweet cakes and warm sugar, then Eya smells like spiced rum and coconut, both comforting, but only one familiar. Only one smelling like home. It helps loosen the stone his stomach has become. “What d’we know?” “Woman, late 40s, mundane—as far as we can tell,—killed with a giant candy cane through the heart. Jawbreaker firmly in place,” Eya rattles off, face buried against JJ’s chest. JJ sighs. “Shit. Where’s AJ?” “Talking to the police,” Eya answers, pulling away to look him in the eye. “They say the attack happened around midnight but the body was only found about an hour ago when the butcher went to throw something into the dumpster,” he explains, pulling away to grab something from his pocket. It’s a green gemstone (Moldavite, JJ thinks it’s called, for finding people) at the end of a bronze chain. In his other hand is a— “Is that the murder weapon‽ ” JJ whisper-screams, pulling Eya close to him and glancing rapidly at their surroundings. They’re a good few feet from the crowd and everyone’s so focused on the crime scene that they’re not paying any attention to them, plus it’s so early that there’s not that many people out anyways, but still. WTF. “Relax. I switched it out with a fake. No one’ll know but us,” Eya assures, he doesn’t even look up. When JJ finally calms down enough to look down at him he finds his husband holding the moldavite over the giant bloody candy cane and muttering what is no doubt a location spell under his breath. As JJ watches, the ruby around Eya’s neck flashes, a pulse of light, of power, expelling from it in a wave. JJ only feels it for a moment—like a soft adrenaline rush—but for the moldavite it acts as a catalyst. The once still stone starts to spin. And spin. And spin. Getting faster and faster with each turn till it’s nothing more than a blur around the candy cane’s head. Then it stops. Pointing directly towards Délicieux Carré. The stone in JJ’s gut is about to fall out of his ass. “Fuuuck.”

To Be Continued in Chapter 10 💗

#me #mine #tct #catct #catct chapter 10 #tct chapter 10 #the chocolate trickerie #charlotte and the chocolate trickerie #chapter 10

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ohshc-parental-guidence · 1 year

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He’s a bit tied up

nsfw obvs

Yuuichi wasn’t a player, per say, he was more along the lines of someone who accidentally stumbled into having sex with many of his female coworkers. Often.

He’d never had sex with more than one at once, though. So when about four of his nurses propositioned him after work, he was a little confused.

“You want to sleep with me? All of you?” They nodded, although that didn’t really answer his question. “Ah, alright, do you want to take turns then, or..?”

They giggled at that, seemingly finding it amusing. “Oh no sweetie,” one of them spoke, smiling, “at the same time, are you comfortable with that?”

He paused, not used to people making sure he was comfortable with things. It took him a moment to respond, but when he did, he smiled. “Of course I’m comfortable with that, would you like to come to mine or shall I come to one of yours?”

“You can come to ours, we’ve already got it ready.”

The thought of them having planned this so much turned his stomach in loops, he didn’t think he’d felt so flustered in a very long time. He tried to sweet-talk them during the car journey but that had ended up with one of them just gently stroking his hair and shushing him.

He’d learnt that they were a polycule on the way, and that they’d been eyeing him for a while. They wanted him to relax a bit and to let them take control, he hadn’t subbed in a while but figured he was up for it if they were willing to take the lead as much as they said they were.

He was led into the bedroom as soon as they arrived, and one of them began gently walking him through what they had planned for him. It turned out they wanted to have him tied up, and once he’d given them the green light, she began to restrain him. She was very gentle when she did so, praising him the entire time. That was all the foreplay he needed to get hard, but he was a little too embarrassed to admit that. It was the first time he’d been tied up like this- one of his last girlfriends liked him in handcuffs but that was about it, and all his previous hookups had seen him be the dominant party, so he was very excited for this change of pace.

Once he was situated, she left him alone there. He hadn’t expected that and it did leave him a little needy. It only took a few minutes for them all to enter, but it felt like forever to Yuuichi. He whined a little at the sight of them, unable to speak through the gag.

“Aw Yuri, you gagged him~” one of them whined, “how are we supposed to use his pretty little mouth if he’s gagged?”

Yuuichi went bright red at that, and that made the girl giggle. She put a gentle hand on his cheek, “you want that, baby? You want me to use you?” He nodded vigorously at the idea, pulling against his restraints as if that would help. “Ah, ah, ah~” she chuckled, “you’ve gotta be good for me, ok? Can you do that?” He nodded again and she looked pleased.

He was flipped onto his back and he lay there for a moment, trying to get a better view as they stripped. After another moment, the girl removed his gag and positioned herself above him, “are you ready honey? Sure you can manage it?”

He nodded again, trying to lean up and read her already. One of the others giggled at that, “oh he’s very eager, Rin~”

“Good, because I’m not getting off until I’m satisfied.” With that said, she lowered herself onto his face and he began his work. He considered himself rather skilled at cunnilingus and if her moans were any indicator- he was correct.

“Ohh~ I’m almost jealous~” one of the other’s giggled, “but I’ve got a better Idea.”

Yuuichi was curious as to what she meant but found the answer when he felt the familiar sensation of a condom being slid over his dick. She meant to ride him, to fuck herself using him- that thought made him harder than he already was. Then it happened; she slid herself onto him, and he let out a whine into Rin’s pussy. He could feel her shudder above her, and felt pride at making her feel so good.

He had wondered what they meant when he was told they wanted to fuck him at the same time, but he wasn’t confused anymore. Especially when he felt a finger enter his ass and begin to attempt to spread him open. He struggled to keep up the pace he was keeping with his tongue. This was more than he’d ever felt before, and he worried about how he’d feel afterwards.

It felt so good, though, so he persevered. It did occur to him, though, that the fourth girl hadn’t even touched him yet. It seemed she sensed his curiosity, as she chuckled at his squirming self, “oh no sweetheart, I’m just planning on watching. Don’t you worry about me, just worry about being a good boy.”

The surprising high he felt at being referred to as a good boy, was almost as good as when he felt something new entering his ass- a strap on, surely. The thought excited him, he hadn’t been pegged since his last girlfriend broke up with him so it had been a while.

Being ridden, being pegged and even performing cunnilingus, it was all quite a lot, so it was no wonder it took no time at all for him to climax. He shuddered and whined as he did so, but the girls weren’t finished with him yet. The one pegging him did pull out, though, praising him for being so good for her. The one on his face, Rin, finished only a minute or two after him, but was quickly replaced by one of the other girls.

The girl riding him came next, so she and Rin winded down by making out- they made sure to tell him what they were doing as he definitely couldn’t see. He worked hard to make the third girl climax, although it took a while longer than it had with Rin. Long enough for him to be hard again by the time he finished.

Rin was the one who pointed it it, “aw look at him~ He’s all excited again~”

One of the other girls decided to reward him for being so good by sucking him off as the other two stroked his hair and praised him verbally. Yuuichi didn’t think he’d ever felt such bliss before, and worried he never would again. He’d been so overstimulated but it had felt so good, and he wanted to feel it all again but knew he was far too tired for that.

Once he came for the second time that night, he was untied and carried into the bath and washed by two sets of hands. He was dizzy, so very dizzy, and tired as well. So when they assured him he could sleep in their bed with them, he was very relieved to hear it. They carried him back to bed, and tucked him in between them- praising him the entire time.

He only hoped he could wake up first so he could try to make them breakfast as thanks.

#yuuichi #nsft

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mi6014ikepearson · 1 year

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DIRECTING - “FINALISED IDEA. GREAT FILM.”

when draft after draft featuring premises far and wide are common-place in your production; it can be hard to narrow down your ideas, and head in one singular general direction - and this was very much the case for my experience with the module..

with ten of my strongest concepts that were the most visually clear in my mind, out in the open - and an inability to decide on a particular direction to head in: I went back to research, and from my new findings - developed an idea that would combine my favourite elements from my previous ideas, and take the project to the next level, removing any personal bias in the creative process and allowing me to best satisfy the briefs.

FINAL FILM IDEA, DRAFT ONE - “THE GERIATRICS: INVASION”

here’s the vision:

two pals talking around the water fountain at work about last nights “sport ball” game - one in orange, one in green

we pan down after hearing faint incohesive rambling from a comedic representation of how people see scotch drinkers

the duo react with concern at its sudden appearance, but continue their conversation

we get a far shot of the orange man walking across the road, followed closely behind by the critter - still maundering away.

this is followed by a close-up shot of the orange man in the elevator with the critter, pretending not to notice its constant chattering away, as we cut to see them talking from a high angle.

we get a slow tracking shot of the man arriving at home, and throwing his keys down - still accompanied by the critter’s incomprehensible mumbling

we get a closeup side shot of the orange man spreading marmalade on his toast

following this is a birds-eye view of the orange man laying on his bed, turning to the side - as the critter is comedically standing next to his bedside, continuing to ramble through the night.

we cut in a short sequence to the orange man, in multiple positions trying to sleep - with his head under the pillow, on the other side of the bed, etc.

the orange man looks disheveled as he brushes his teeth, the critter being visible in his hallway through the mirror (over the shoulder shot)

finally we see the orange man at the pub with his friends, not looking all too good.. the critter is seemingly not there, as his rambling begins to fade in

cut to a shot of his friends staring at him bewildered, as their eyes dart to the floor watching as the critter approaches the table, carrying a tray; with a drink for the orange man, encapsulated in an orange mist

using a low angled shot from the floor, the orange man looks over at the concoction and raises an eyebrow in curiosity

he grabs the bottle and slams it repeatedly into the creature’s skull as his friends look on in horror..

we focus in on a mock-up bottle resting over a pile of orange mush, as a Scottish voice announces “this ain’t your grandad’s whiskey” as the legal elements appear from screen left, until everything that is necessary is on screen

the orange man turns to the screen, face covered in marmalade

we end with a crossfade into the logo, and the Scottish voice reading: “William Lawson’s: no rules. great scotch.”

fade to black

after creating a simple screen-test: I have decided to alter the shots so that it is short enough, and flows more coherently

THE SCRIPT - “DRAFT #5: THE GERIATRICS″

VISUALISATION

THE FINAL SCRIPT - “RECUT, RE-EDIT, WRAP-UP″

MI6014: WILLIAM LAWSON’S SCOTCH - “THE GERIATRIC”

SCRIPT DRAFT #4

we follow the journey of the Geriatric, a 2D composited ‘toon who wanders through the woods, and winds up in the city: where he finds Antonina, his self appointed new best friend, who he meets his untimely (and delicious) end to..

we open on an establishing shot of vines overgrowing the cobblestone walls of the path through the woods, quickly transitioning into a short montage showcasing the Geriatrics journey to the big city.

we cut to the top of the Geriatric’s hat, he is noticeably short - as bushes and trees are seen in the background, whilst he travels through the woods.

next we cut to a shot of his head; looking through the treeline, looking up at the sky surrounding him

piece by piece we build up an idea of what this character looks like, as to remain an element of mystery and thus retain the audience’s attention

from here, we will only see the left-most side of his body as he wanders the path: one leg at a time

finally; the teasing will stop as the body of the Geriatric is revealed, when he playfully hops across the zebra crossing of a barren road.

introducing our primary figure in the story; the audience are now interested in what this character is going to be doing, and where this advert is going, based on the wonderful sense of mystery presented in the opening sequence

cut to a long shot of a wall; with the window slightly off-centre: as the Geriatric attempts to climb up the electrical box and make his way inside

it’s here where we witness him scaling the walls of a building; to look into the window above.. is this something he usually does? part of his routine? why is he doing this - his motivations are unclear, as he is a being that runs on instinct, alone: and is thus more interesting to observe: like a wild animal, with no end-goal in site.

from inside the room we watch as the Geriatric presses his face against the window - his eyebrows strangely malform inside his skin to reveal his eyes; narrowing as he stares in..

we cut to showcase two co-workers (Antonina, and Kasia) talking around the water cooler; only for their conversation to be interrupted, as the camera pans down, following their eyes;

they look down, at their feet, they spot the geriatric caricature; looking up at them

we cut to a closer shot of the Geriatric as he removes his hat; clearly a gesture of respect: and implying that this critter is humbled by their presence; and as such, in their mercy - he is not a threat to them, and they are not a threat to him.

we use a slide transition to cut back to the barren zebra crossing from before - the camera cuts into a long-shot with the road resting slightly below centre

as Antonina walks across the zebra-crossing - we cut to see she is being tailed by the small geriatric we saw earlier: clearly she has taken a light to this little guy.

we begin the next shot, on the grey and rainy outdoors; the journey home was perilous and the two are seeking shelter in Antonina’s house

we begin the next shot in darkness, from inside the bedroom as the door opens, showcasing Antonina’s silhouette, in the hallway, as she flicks the light switch on.

in quick succession we get the next sequence shots, timed to the music :

the first of her flipping on the light switch

the second of her dropping off her bag next to the door

the third her throwing her keys in an orange pot, next to the door

the fourth of her dropping off her boots on an orange carpet

the fifth her flipping the kettle on

the sixth of bread perturbing from the toaster

and the final of this sequence is her reaching for some marmalade on the edge of her counter

while reaching for the marmalade on her toast she accidentally knocks an unmarked bottle off the counter.

we follow from the path of the bottle; as it falls off the counter, casting a shadow on the Geriatric, and the music slows down..

this is starkly contrasted by a sudden abrupt cut that shows the bottle has squished the Geriatric; and he remains a pile of orange mush.

Antonina reacts in shock, as we cut to closeups of the floor; showcasing a puddle of marmalade surrounding the bottle..

We watch as Antonina’s face shifts from shock to intrigue as the cogs in her brain turn and she conjures an idea, in a sort of “eureka moment”

we cut to two friends (Joel & Alishia), who are standing next to one-another, the advert’s events taking place in the conversation the two are having as they discus the origins of the new flavour

Alishia: “wait - that’s genuinely how it happened?”

Joel: “.. yeah”

The two stare off in silence as the screen cross blurs and the logo appears on screen..

“

William Lawson’s:

no rules,

great Scotch.

“

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